Bryn T. Orik, the Yamakage of the Mountains, stood at the edge of the cliff of his dwelling overlooking the Anghor Mountains. The cold ripping of the mountain winds tore at his white hair, whipping it back with an unforgiving force. The mountains were a rugged place to live. He wore a long white robe lined with green fur on the inside for protective warmth. The emblem of the Rebellion was plastered vibrantly in red on the back. He wore no shirt underneath and kept it unbuttoned, as he enjoyed showing his scars to the rest of the world. His shape defined him, from his rigid muscle to the deep creviced scars marking dangerous blows from several swords and claws. A plume of smoke rose from the cigar positioned loosely in his mouth, and a grunt escaped his throat. A stern expression crossed his face, as it was rare to see a smile anywhere in these desolate mountains. The Rebellion had just suffered a great loss in the northern forests in a march on the coast, and he had been forced to retreat back to the mountain. Rations had been short as it is, and now he had to support an army not only of his own troops but troops from the Tundra as well. The Rebellion was losing, he was losing.
He had come to the highest spot in his mountains in order to contemplate his next move. His dwelling was the only place in the range that he could see his entire village. He looked down on his people, the people he had sworn to himself to protect. What would he do next? Would he settle down once again to regroup his army? In doing so, the supplies would be cut even shorter than they already were. Or would he try to lash back out at the Empire? No, that would be foolish. It would result in even more lives being lost. The only way was to try to wait out the injuries of the loss, heal up, and send the Tundra warriors home. At least then the mountain soldiers would only have to provide for themselves, but only if they could last spending double the supplies for the time being. Bryn bowed his head and placed his fingers on his forehead. He was confused, didn't know what to do. His father would have known what to do, but Bryn had not had that much experience as Kage, he had only been ruler of this rebellion for a few years. Just then, he had an idea. Perhaps it was time they expanded? He knew of the farmstead just outside of the Anghor Mountains, and he knew of the surplus of crops there. The only issue would be getting the family to trade with a poor rebellion. They could trade weapons, ores, metals, but what good would those be to a farming community? Nonetheless, they needed food, and the fsarmstead was their only hope. Luckily however, Bryn had a personal friend from back in his soldier days that was a member of that very family of farmers. The elder son of the rich and esteemed Tekuta family, and the Shinkage of the Depths, Shizen Tekuta.
It was decided then. Bryn would need to travel to the underwater village, and would need to seek supply allegiance with the Tekuta family, even though their son had already pledged himself as a diplomatic ally. Bryn did not believe in gods, or a single God, he believed in simply intuition, so praying would do nothing to aid this situation. He would simply have to try. He turned into his dwelling in order to gather supplies for the descent of the mountain. He would pack lightly, but would indeed bring several weapons to ensure safety.
After all, the mountains were a rugged place.
[Exit]
Mon Nov 05, 2012 1:22 am
