The Fall Of Lucius Carter

[Chaseman57 21]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_nksp7zjrYE

 

     The siege of the Dreadfort by the Teutons and their allies had dragged onto the third night. The sky was illuminated by the stone monolith of a tower, now alight with flames shooting upwards. A heavy rain fell, wearing down on the armor-clad men defending the castle, rolling off their armor in thick drops. Most of the men were behind cover, as Teuton arrows whizzed by their heads. However, on the roof of the Dreadfort, two weary men stood erect, manning a ballista, their armor brilliantly lustrous from the rain, reflecting off of the flames. These two figures wore the red tabard of the White Rose.

 

     "Load!" Lucius Carter yelled, to his companion, Dafin Winter. Lucius winded back the mighty string of the ballista, huffing inside his helmet. He inclined his head downwards, at the shifting shapes of their enemies in the brush below the Dreadfort. The Unoathed beside Lucius nodded doggedly, cradling the oversized ballista bolt and placing it into the immense weapon. Lucius grunted his thanks to the man, before pulling back on the weapon's lever, sending the huge bolt rocketing towards the Teuton forces. It flew true, blowing a jagged hole through the Teuton's lines, causing many men to fall. "Hit!" Lucius registered, a tired grin crossing his face.

 

     Lucius and Winter had been manning the weapon for hours now, not stopping. What little Teutons did advance were stopped in their tracks by Lucius' spot-on firing, and he had been determined and gritty enough to stay out there, pushing back their foes. "Lucius, are you t'red?... Lemme at 'em, I'll have a go at it..." Dafin offered, his shoulders drooping from his exhaustion. Lucius pulled off his helmet, running a hand through his mop of hair, "No, I'm fine... just fine." He cracks a persevering smile, "Load, Dafin." "Aye, s'r..."

     

     Lucius looks around at the burning Dreadfort, and the stray arrows striking into the curve of the ballista, before returning to his duties. He cranks back on the string of the immense ballista, until a loud click is heard. Dafin places the bolt in, his mouth hanging open with exertion. Lucius squints into the night, before a glint of metal catches his eye. He manages to raise a brow in confusion, before the arrow slams into his neck, the zipping sound of it's flight ending in a soft thud as it crashes into his arterial vein.

 

    In that moment, Lucius's blood spurts out over the startled Winter, and he takes a stumbling step back, hiccuping up blood. Lucius falls onto his back heavily, staring up at the starry night sky, breathing raggedly. He turns to his left, looking at the crumbling spiral of a Dreadfort tower, and thinking of his cousin, Sam. Dafin rushes over to Lucius' side, "Lucius, s'r! Lucius... Lucius... Lucius..." Lucius's vision slowly fades, and so he breathes his last breath on the roof of the Dreadfort, his blood pooling under him slowly. His mouth moves slightly, and he utters, "Dafin... -geck-... win this!" before he lays still at last.

 

     Lucius Carter, the determined, loyal young man from Renatus, who always finished what he started, always gave a comforting pat on the back, always drank himself drunk with his friends, always cracked a joke at the wrong time... was dead.

[ACanadianCraft (Nate) 682]

Jullius ducked behind the main roof of the Dreadfort, small chips of wood lodged in his face and blood running down that side, engulfing at least three quarters of his head in crimson. He loaded a bolt into his trusty crossbow and peered over the roof. He took careful aim and fired a bolt into a squad of Teutons. He grimaced as the bolt made contact with the distant Teuton and turned his attention toward those who remained on the rooves.

He watched as a stray bolt flew through the air and embedded itself in Lucius' throat. The action hardly registered in Jullius' mind as Lucius spurted blood onto Dafin. He watches as Lucius fell to the ground before sliding down the roof for cover.
"Those Carter boys were always trouble..."

[DelaneyG 1279]

Arthal had manned the ballista before Lucius. 

"Arthal! Man this one!" Alexei had said, before him and Arthal moved over, letting Lucius and Dafin take over.

 

 

Hours after the battle, Arthal stood on the battlefield among his brothers-in-arms, holding the wound on the side of his head. His good friend Sam came up beside him, speaking softly, "I guess we did it." 

Arthal questions what is wrong and learns of Lucius' fate. He climbs to the roof of the DreadFort with Sam, and aided bringing the body down, in which he saw Gilahad's. 

 

A sad day indeed for the Roses.

[Norman 492]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MeFezGJF7mA

 

     Samuel Geminine, cousin of Lucius, cradled his arbalest in his arms, wheezing from the chunk of wood from a destroyed ballista that had lodged itself into his steel chest piece when the large weapon was hit by an enemy projectile. The wall in which he was taking cover behind was being showered with bits of debris, along with the seemingly never-ending rain. Sam was huddled against the wall running across the roof of the Dreadfort, using his crossbow to dispatch any Teutons coming too close for comfort. He put a hand over his shoulder to his bolt quiver – finding nothing. "Damnit...", he mutters under his breath, raising his voice, "I'm outta bolts! Anyone got any bolts?" He looks around between the men scurrying frantically around the wall, cursing. Peeking out of his firing slit, he is met with an arbalest bolt lodging in the wall beside him. Samuel recoils, gripping the bolt and placing it into his own crossbow. He peeks over the wall, firing it, "Yeah, 'ere, 'ave it back, you Teuton shites!" The recycled bolt hits a man clad in chain armor in his left breast, and he is thrown back, wailing. Samuel grins, and then looks to his left – seeing Lucius being totalled by the arrow. "LUUUCIUUUS!" Samuel's eyes widen, his grin fades, and he takes a step forward, extending his hand as if to help his beloved cousin – as a flaming ballista bolt crashed into the side of the wall he was using as a firing spot, sending him flying onto the floor and knocking him out as the building crumbles, becoming engulfed in a fiery explosion.

 

---
 

    Samuel came to suddenly, his eyes flashing open. A constant ringing was in his ears, and he managed to pull off his helmet with shaking hands. He felt a hard slap to the side of his head, and noticed a large gauntlet on his shoulder, pulling him. The ringing stopped for a few moments, and his mentor and Knight, Jason Clamedeus, appeared before him, his large frame filling his vision. Jason's mouth opened, and he yelled something at Geminine, but Samuel could only hear him as though through a thick wall. "What?!" "Squire, on your feet!" Samuel's head lolled and he extended his gauntlet, heaved up by Jason. Clamedeus put a large hand on Sam's shoulder to steady him, and Sam looked all around, dazed. He is on the ground floor of the Dreadfort, among the rallied Rose men. The scene of Lucius being slain by the stray arrow replays in Samuel's head, and his eyes narrow. When the order to charge was given, Samuel stormed into battle beside his comrades, a primal, gritty battle cry releasing from his throat in a terrifying roar – "FOR LUCIUS!"

 

---

 

     Samuel stood over Lucius' body after the battle, his close friend Arthal Lowedge standing behind him. The warrior took a step back, allowing Samuel to kneel before the body of the young man whom he had protected all through their childhood. Samuel stared down at the glazed eyes of his cousin's body, and his eyes squeezed shut, as he ran a hand over his eyelids, closing them. Lucius' body looked oddly at peace, and Samuel nodded once, sniffling, "You were a 'ero, 'Magnus'. Your mother would've been proud." He removed Lucius' Rose tabard, wrapping it around his corpse as a proud, patriotic veil. He pulled up his cousin's corpse, carrying it down from the Dreadfort with Arthal at his side.

     Lucius died a hero, and Sam would make damned sure that all of the Roses would remember it.

[Peter Chivay 2494]

The King of Kaedrin solemnly leans back in his Throne. "Another lost that day... all for a war we get nothing out ov'." Reminiscing on the events of that faithful victory. Thinking of these events, Peter slowly picks up the blade that accompanied him to the battle, fully dented and scratched. He tosses it across the Throne Room, the loud dinging echoing as he blade rebounds off the floor.

 

"This war will be won not fer' Blackmont, not fer' Carrion, but fer' my fallen Roses. It shall beh' won... or I shall die trying." With those finishing words, Peter clenches his fist in both anger and anticipation. Feeling the true rage boil in his Kaedrini blood.

 

Lifting himself from the throne, Peter makes his way upstairs in the Keep. Only to further his plans for attacking the North.

[Abeam 511]

Alexei Nicodemus solemnly watches as Arthal and Samuel carries Lucius' body down from the rooftops, a bolt still buried in his armored form.

          

He thinks back, remembering his command.  "Arthal!  Man this one here!  Lucius, Dafin, take over!"

 

Alexei presses his hand against a wound on his side, contemplating whether the decision was right.  His comrade died under his command,  "He died a hero, he died a member of Squad Three."

 

 

[dafsr2 4]

Dafin Winter returns to Lucius grave afterwards and looks down a gloomy look on his face.  He unstraps his helmet and then proceeds to take it off and fall to a knee.  He then opens his hand and drops several flowers and what appears to be a medal engraved with unfamiliar symbols and just waits there staring into the grave as it begins to rain. He then looks up to the sky and manages to mutter the words "We won..." He then stands and turns around and walks off muttering curse words.

[Danny 2232]

Moved to the Great Library. It shall be sorted into appropriate category shortly.