06-12-2017, 02:16 AM
Joric was almost relieved as he worked. Dragging fallen trees to the pyre felt like retribution. He failed Ban. He failed Leo. He failed Deon and the General - he failed the whole gang. This was penance for what he has done. He did not deserve to get off so easy. Chopping massive logs blown down by storms into haulable lengths was a lot of work, then carrying the thick trunk over his shoulders would have been back breaking work. While Joric's great strength and resilience made the job more possible, it was by no means easy.
We were supposed to be unstoppable.
The plan was perfect. They had been training years before Boar-Pit even made a move. Boar-Pit was supposed to be an up-and-coming star of Camelot, but they botched their first big deal. Botched it big time. As he returned with the fourth log, he looked onto the bodies again. He uttered not a word, but there was still a silent apology. The log was laid on the pile, completing the bottom level.
Joric sighed. Sweat rolled off his brow, causing his tunic to stick to him awkwardly. As he pulls the wet cloth from his body, he notices the stains of blood. His chest tightens. Forcing away the rising thoughts of that demon Prime, he strips from the bloody shirt and continues his work.
Despite Joric's rotund gut, his arms were thick as tree trunks, and vaguely rounded. The man was definitely obese, but just beneath that rounded exterior was a powerhouse. And yet... that Prime seemed so much stronger. His thick arms felt like twigs when he stared into the demon's eyes, and his skin felt as thin as paper.
I froze.
The little admittance almost physically hurt him. Of all the things that could have happened, Joric had froze on the battle field, and because of that his friends died. He did not know Leo as much, but Ban...
He and Ban had been around for quite a while. Joric had always been a large man - he simply loved food! Ban, on the other hand, was a very picky eater, thanks to an easily upset stomach. They both had grown up in a rough village. To get by, Ban had trained to become a city guard, but time and time again failed because of his violent personality. Ban, on the other hand, was routinely beat up by his peers. Not a day went by that someone did not try to take him to his knees.
Ban could have joined them, but instead, he drove them away. Joric would not fight, but Ban would - and did. He enjoyed the pummeling of his enemies until they begged for mercy, and then he reveled in their limping retreat. Joric did not enjoy fighting. In fact, he considered himself a gentle soul.
Joric and Ban remained close, with Ban eventually getting Joric to spar. Joric was an excellent punching bag, he knew how to take a hit. Joric enjoyed the spars much more than fighting those smaller than him. He was naturally tough, naturally strong, and even Ban had to learn to duck and weave to keep Joric's meaty fist from landing flush.
Then General Boar discovered them. Two up-and-coming fighters that stood above the every day Secondary were given a target worthy of their strengths. Primes. Joric toyed with the idea. The idea of fighting those weaker than him was heart breaking, but challenging the strong? It had seemed like such a good idea at the time.
At this point, Joric regretted it. He regretted ever joining the Boar-Pit. If he hadn't, he and Ban would still be satisfied with beating the snot out of each other, then toasting over cheap mead then sleeping it off to repeat it all the next day.
That's all gone now... Ban is dead... and we don't get to come back...
We were supposed to be unstoppable.
The plan was perfect. They had been training years before Boar-Pit even made a move. Boar-Pit was supposed to be an up-and-coming star of Camelot, but they botched their first big deal. Botched it big time. As he returned with the fourth log, he looked onto the bodies again. He uttered not a word, but there was still a silent apology. The log was laid on the pile, completing the bottom level.
Joric sighed. Sweat rolled off his brow, causing his tunic to stick to him awkwardly. As he pulls the wet cloth from his body, he notices the stains of blood. His chest tightens. Forcing away the rising thoughts of that demon Prime, he strips from the bloody shirt and continues his work.
Despite Joric's rotund gut, his arms were thick as tree trunks, and vaguely rounded. The man was definitely obese, but just beneath that rounded exterior was a powerhouse. And yet... that Prime seemed so much stronger. His thick arms felt like twigs when he stared into the demon's eyes, and his skin felt as thin as paper.
I froze.
The little admittance almost physically hurt him. Of all the things that could have happened, Joric had froze on the battle field, and because of that his friends died. He did not know Leo as much, but Ban...
He and Ban had been around for quite a while. Joric had always been a large man - he simply loved food! Ban, on the other hand, was a very picky eater, thanks to an easily upset stomach. They both had grown up in a rough village. To get by, Ban had trained to become a city guard, but time and time again failed because of his violent personality. Ban, on the other hand, was routinely beat up by his peers. Not a day went by that someone did not try to take him to his knees.
Ban could have joined them, but instead, he drove them away. Joric would not fight, but Ban would - and did. He enjoyed the pummeling of his enemies until they begged for mercy, and then he reveled in their limping retreat. Joric did not enjoy fighting. In fact, he considered himself a gentle soul.
Joric and Ban remained close, with Ban eventually getting Joric to spar. Joric was an excellent punching bag, he knew how to take a hit. Joric enjoyed the spars much more than fighting those smaller than him. He was naturally tough, naturally strong, and even Ban had to learn to duck and weave to keep Joric's meaty fist from landing flush.
Then General Boar discovered them. Two up-and-coming fighters that stood above the every day Secondary were given a target worthy of their strengths. Primes. Joric toyed with the idea. The idea of fighting those weaker than him was heart breaking, but challenging the strong? It had seemed like such a good idea at the time.
At this point, Joric regretted it. He regretted ever joining the Boar-Pit. If he hadn't, he and Ban would still be satisfied with beating the snot out of each other, then toasting over cheap mead then sleeping it off to repeat it all the next day.
That's all gone now... Ban is dead... and we don't get to come back...