Red Dead Redemption - A Crimson Fist Narrative Writeup
Jul 1, 2020 13:05:45 GMT
Grimes, Pieni, and 5 more like this
Post by Varis/G'Lorth/Sundilar on Jul 1, 2020 13:05:45 GMT
No end to these bastards.
Absently she pats Mutt’s neck, the fiery roan mare blowing hard under the weight of her barding, not to mention the squat dwarven killer perched on her back. The air is straight from a furnace, and Red’s gambeson has been soaked since half a minute after she rode through the portal.
The forces of Avernus have pulled back for a moment, spooked by the colossal eruption of the distant volcano.
Guess they know something we don’t.
Regardless of their reasoning, it's given the forces of Daring and K’ul Goran a chance to regroup and organise their withdrawal through the now collapsing rift.
Crazy bastards did it. They actually did it.
“I can’t ask you to do this, Gretcha.”
The diminutive halfling woman looks up plaintively from the back of her fairytale mount.
Ridiculous creature.
Red pats Mutt reassuringly, and the mare gives a soft snort, as though echoing her rider’s thoughts.
“You don’t have to, sunshine. That’s why I’m a soldier, an’ you’re...whatever you are. Besides, I’ve already spoken to your flyboy. It’s decided.”
Sheryl frowns slightly, though whether in hurt or offence Red can’t tell. She softens her voice a little.
“I appreciate the sentiment, girl, but this is what we do. Go on now. Get your people to safety.”
Sheryl pauses for a moment, looking like she wants to say more, but Red shoos her off with a gauntleted hand. As the halfling woman disappears into the crowd of retreating Dawnlanders, Red turns to her troops.
The Order is a line of steel, everyone who rode to Avernus save Conrad and his scouts, who hold the other side of the rift, passing orders and protecting against any breakthrough. Even the Squeaks are here, looking pale and grim in their new plate. The first unit of Cordelia’s troops make it through the rift, and the ballistae crew start wheeling through their weapons. Across the plain, the forces of Hell begin reforming, turning their attention back toward their foe. Red turns down the line, her eyes lighting on Kamar. She walks her mount down to stand beside the half orc’s huge destrier. The thing tries to nip at Mutt, but the mare is tougher than she looks. Red lowers her voice.
“Big Girl, someone needs to tell the Boss what happened here. You’re going back with the rest of the army.”
The big half orc is silent for a moment, then she shakes her head, eyes forward.
“Boss wouldn’t like it.”
Red looks at her for a long moment, then turns to Tam. The slight young man sits awkwardly in his saddle, field dressings around his right thigh slowly blooming crimson.
“Tam, you’re up. I need someone to ride back-”
The sandy haired youth shakes his head, eyes cloudy with pain but fixed ahead by sheer force of will.
“Boss wouldn’t like it.”
Gritting her teeth she turns to where Kallin and Elspeth sit their horses side by side. She opens her mouth to speak, but Kallin cuts her off, ice blue eyes meeting her grey.
“Boss wouldn’t like it.”
Spitting on the ground she turns to survey the rest of the Crimson Fist forces arrayed around her.
“Any of you fuckin’ pricks intend on followin’ fuckin’ orders?”
From halfway down the line, Valerie’s voice pipes up. The tiny half elven woman sits on a roan gelding that’s almost twice as tall as she is.
“Permission to speak freely, sir?”
Red grits her teeth.
“Spit it out.”
The scrappy woman fixes her with an indolent grin.
“No fuckin chance. Sir.”
Her retort is drowned out as, from among the troops gathered around the shrinking rift, a voice rings out, clear and calm. Red turns, locking eyes with Sheryl as the bard’s battle hymn washes over the Order line. She nods once to the woman and pulls on her helmet, muttering curses that would sour milk.
Stubborn bastards.
At the back of her mind, she hears a familiar voice.
“They learned from the best.”
She shakes her head to clear it. No time for sentimental bullshit. Zariel’s forces have reformed, seemingly having overcome their dismay at the eruption and the closing rift. Now they advance on the retreating forces of the Light, intent on inflicting as much damage as possible before their quarry escapes.
Time to pay the butcher’s bill.
“Allright you self-righteous pricks, looks like you’re all set on dyin’ in as stupid an’ heroic a fashion as possible. There ain’t time enough in six lifetimes for me to beat that level of stupid outta ya, so alls I ask is you take as many of those pricks with you as you can manage.”
She gestures with her hammer to the onrushing horde, before turning back to her troops. Her family. She lowers her voice.
“It’s been an honour.”
She tightens the straps holding her shield to the stump of her left arm, raising her weapon to signal the advance.
“For Daring, and for the Crimson Fist!”
Fifty sets of hooves thunder across the igneous wasteland, shouts of defiance and battlecries almost lost in the rushing of wind and the cacophony of the fiendish horde.
The two lines collide.
Men and horses scream, the sound of tortured metal fills the air, savage cries and unholy screeching tearing at her ears. Like a hammer through an overripe melon, they sink deep into the enemy formation, stuttering and then halting it’s advance. Behind them the last of the K’ul Gorani forces pull back through the rift, firing a Parthian volley as they go. They’ve bought the time that was needed, but their own charge is bogged down now, and the enemy begins to envelop them.
She lays about her with her warhammer, crushing skulls and shattering bones, Mutt always moving, lashing out with steel shod hooves. She sees Valerie decapitate a purple skinned fiend before a glaive catches her in the thigh. Kamar demolishes a bronze clad devil, her huge destrier trampling the thing into the powdering stone.
There’s a flash of pain across the left side of her face, helmet strap snapping at the force of the blow. Her left eye goes dark. Snarling, she turns and caves the devil’s head in with her warhammer. Mutt stumbles as something hits her in the chest, and suddenly Red is sailing through the air, tumbling across charred earth, a sharp pain in her left shoulder. Pushing herself groggily up on one hand, she spits blood and gravel.
I think there was a tooth in that.
She looks around, sound and time slowing as though she were underwater. She sees Kamar held aloft by a towering fiend, arms pinned and guts spilling, screaming defiance as she tears the monster’s throat out with her teeth. Tam goes down under a wave of chittering horrors, sandy hair stained crimson with his own blood. Kallin and Elspeth fight back to back, the blue skinned tiefling woman holding her friend up as death closes in around them. A lumbering devil closes on Red, eyes aflame and mouth filled with razor teeth. She ducks under a cross-cut and attempts to parry an overhead but the force of the blow jars her hammer from her grip. Undaunted she pulls a dagger from her belt, just managing to deflect the next strike with her shield, though the pain from her ruined shoulder makes her black out for a second. Then she’s on the thing, driving her blade in under it’s chin again and again until it topples back. She stands there panting, vision swimming, breath coming in shallow gasps as she looks around for the next opponent. Something hits her in the back and she crumples to the ground.
A towering figure in black plate looms over her, a vicious flail dangling from his gauntleted fist. Between the Hellknight’s legs she can see the rift, green and purple energy flickering as it finally collapses to nothing. She wrenches her ruined face into some semblance of a smile, blood staining her teeth.
“You are strong, for a mortal. My mistress could use such as you. Let me help you, little one.”
The Hellknight’s voice is like a wood rasp on wet bone. Red spits up at him. The tacky red phlegm dribbles off his greaves. Her native brogue is thick with pain and defiance.
“Get ta fuck, shithead. I serve the Crimson Fist.”
“Very well.”
The Hellknight raises his flail, and Red looks up to the sky for the last time. It’s a good sky. Not as open as Daring, not as clear as the Dales, but still. A good sky. The flail falls.
I’m comin' home, Lil.
Absently she pats Mutt’s neck, the fiery roan mare blowing hard under the weight of her barding, not to mention the squat dwarven killer perched on her back. The air is straight from a furnace, and Red’s gambeson has been soaked since half a minute after she rode through the portal.
The forces of Avernus have pulled back for a moment, spooked by the colossal eruption of the distant volcano.
Guess they know something we don’t.
Regardless of their reasoning, it's given the forces of Daring and K’ul Goran a chance to regroup and organise their withdrawal through the now collapsing rift.
Crazy bastards did it. They actually did it.
“I can’t ask you to do this, Gretcha.”
The diminutive halfling woman looks up plaintively from the back of her fairytale mount.
Ridiculous creature.
Red pats Mutt reassuringly, and the mare gives a soft snort, as though echoing her rider’s thoughts.
“You don’t have to, sunshine. That’s why I’m a soldier, an’ you’re...whatever you are. Besides, I’ve already spoken to your flyboy. It’s decided.”
Sheryl frowns slightly, though whether in hurt or offence Red can’t tell. She softens her voice a little.
“I appreciate the sentiment, girl, but this is what we do. Go on now. Get your people to safety.”
Sheryl pauses for a moment, looking like she wants to say more, but Red shoos her off with a gauntleted hand. As the halfling woman disappears into the crowd of retreating Dawnlanders, Red turns to her troops.
The Order is a line of steel, everyone who rode to Avernus save Conrad and his scouts, who hold the other side of the rift, passing orders and protecting against any breakthrough. Even the Squeaks are here, looking pale and grim in their new plate. The first unit of Cordelia’s troops make it through the rift, and the ballistae crew start wheeling through their weapons. Across the plain, the forces of Hell begin reforming, turning their attention back toward their foe. Red turns down the line, her eyes lighting on Kamar. She walks her mount down to stand beside the half orc’s huge destrier. The thing tries to nip at Mutt, but the mare is tougher than she looks. Red lowers her voice.
“Big Girl, someone needs to tell the Boss what happened here. You’re going back with the rest of the army.”
The big half orc is silent for a moment, then she shakes her head, eyes forward.
“Boss wouldn’t like it.”
Red looks at her for a long moment, then turns to Tam. The slight young man sits awkwardly in his saddle, field dressings around his right thigh slowly blooming crimson.
“Tam, you’re up. I need someone to ride back-”
The sandy haired youth shakes his head, eyes cloudy with pain but fixed ahead by sheer force of will.
“Boss wouldn’t like it.”
Gritting her teeth she turns to where Kallin and Elspeth sit their horses side by side. She opens her mouth to speak, but Kallin cuts her off, ice blue eyes meeting her grey.
“Boss wouldn’t like it.”
Spitting on the ground she turns to survey the rest of the Crimson Fist forces arrayed around her.
“Any of you fuckin’ pricks intend on followin’ fuckin’ orders?”
From halfway down the line, Valerie’s voice pipes up. The tiny half elven woman sits on a roan gelding that’s almost twice as tall as she is.
“Permission to speak freely, sir?”
Red grits her teeth.
“Spit it out.”
The scrappy woman fixes her with an indolent grin.
“No fuckin chance. Sir.”
Her retort is drowned out as, from among the troops gathered around the shrinking rift, a voice rings out, clear and calm. Red turns, locking eyes with Sheryl as the bard’s battle hymn washes over the Order line. She nods once to the woman and pulls on her helmet, muttering curses that would sour milk.
Stubborn bastards.
At the back of her mind, she hears a familiar voice.
“They learned from the best.”
She shakes her head to clear it. No time for sentimental bullshit. Zariel’s forces have reformed, seemingly having overcome their dismay at the eruption and the closing rift. Now they advance on the retreating forces of the Light, intent on inflicting as much damage as possible before their quarry escapes.
Time to pay the butcher’s bill.
“Allright you self-righteous pricks, looks like you’re all set on dyin’ in as stupid an’ heroic a fashion as possible. There ain’t time enough in six lifetimes for me to beat that level of stupid outta ya, so alls I ask is you take as many of those pricks with you as you can manage.”
She gestures with her hammer to the onrushing horde, before turning back to her troops. Her family. She lowers her voice.
“It’s been an honour.”
She tightens the straps holding her shield to the stump of her left arm, raising her weapon to signal the advance.
“For Daring, and for the Crimson Fist!”
Fifty sets of hooves thunder across the igneous wasteland, shouts of defiance and battlecries almost lost in the rushing of wind and the cacophony of the fiendish horde.
The two lines collide.
Men and horses scream, the sound of tortured metal fills the air, savage cries and unholy screeching tearing at her ears. Like a hammer through an overripe melon, they sink deep into the enemy formation, stuttering and then halting it’s advance. Behind them the last of the K’ul Gorani forces pull back through the rift, firing a Parthian volley as they go. They’ve bought the time that was needed, but their own charge is bogged down now, and the enemy begins to envelop them.
She lays about her with her warhammer, crushing skulls and shattering bones, Mutt always moving, lashing out with steel shod hooves. She sees Valerie decapitate a purple skinned fiend before a glaive catches her in the thigh. Kamar demolishes a bronze clad devil, her huge destrier trampling the thing into the powdering stone.
There’s a flash of pain across the left side of her face, helmet strap snapping at the force of the blow. Her left eye goes dark. Snarling, she turns and caves the devil’s head in with her warhammer. Mutt stumbles as something hits her in the chest, and suddenly Red is sailing through the air, tumbling across charred earth, a sharp pain in her left shoulder. Pushing herself groggily up on one hand, she spits blood and gravel.
I think there was a tooth in that.
She looks around, sound and time slowing as though she were underwater. She sees Kamar held aloft by a towering fiend, arms pinned and guts spilling, screaming defiance as she tears the monster’s throat out with her teeth. Tam goes down under a wave of chittering horrors, sandy hair stained crimson with his own blood. Kallin and Elspeth fight back to back, the blue skinned tiefling woman holding her friend up as death closes in around them. A lumbering devil closes on Red, eyes aflame and mouth filled with razor teeth. She ducks under a cross-cut and attempts to parry an overhead but the force of the blow jars her hammer from her grip. Undaunted she pulls a dagger from her belt, just managing to deflect the next strike with her shield, though the pain from her ruined shoulder makes her black out for a second. Then she’s on the thing, driving her blade in under it’s chin again and again until it topples back. She stands there panting, vision swimming, breath coming in shallow gasps as she looks around for the next opponent. Something hits her in the back and she crumples to the ground.
A towering figure in black plate looms over her, a vicious flail dangling from his gauntleted fist. Between the Hellknight’s legs she can see the rift, green and purple energy flickering as it finally collapses to nothing. She wrenches her ruined face into some semblance of a smile, blood staining her teeth.
“You are strong, for a mortal. My mistress could use such as you. Let me help you, little one.”
The Hellknight’s voice is like a wood rasp on wet bone. Red spits up at him. The tacky red phlegm dribbles off his greaves. Her native brogue is thick with pain and defiance.
“Get ta fuck, shithead. I serve the Crimson Fist.”
“Very well.”
The Hellknight raises his flail, and Red looks up to the sky for the last time. It’s a good sky. Not as open as Daring, not as clear as the Dales, but still. A good sky. The flail falls.
I’m comin' home, Lil.
o7