General Rüavii, the Dustpan
General Yoor Rüavii
They would gather within as mites under raspberry leaves. Uniforms to have ever remained inside yon city walls, only concerned in seeming magnificient, these shite-sacks of silk-socks. Damn them. They are worse than bub. They send men to die and never leave their clubs-- ought to have them whipped. Yet grand-father a legend, or mother was married to a L'ostav. How else can man reach such a rank, and never see blood, own of others? So shake the goddamned leaf, and see'gif some fall off, and then-- test their motivation. They cannot be fired, nor sent away, yet they *can* be made to quit. Or broch't to yon kings ill grace, and have him offer either pension or a puny place at court. How the devil's tits does an army, any army, function with yon prick-fingers in command? Were we lucky to gain L'ostav, and not-- what they had. I see why his Grace would have so hiren me, or rather, I having posen yon idea ta him. At times ya get what ya want just for the asking.
By God I should not take pleasure in this, and I honestly before yon Fathers see this as matter of the utmost gravity - yet to see them fall, and their motivation evaporate? It is amongst the ambrosia for any officer to be Salt: to chew their shiten sorry selves. So am I in it to bring them ta ruine, and fell'pon them. I got the task mayhaps not worthy of mine puny hide, yet one I thoroughly take pleasure in. Is this reverence I feel? To serve, truly. I would laugh, yet I mine requires to remain as stone. Uniform, Coalition, Duke, all. Whence they come, they serve, they fall, so I comb, not swerve, take call; haf I aught seen, one of blue blood in Green? One haf I been, true brood of mount, now their Dean.
The goddamned doorman just shat himself. He knows - does he warn? Nay time. Just smile and slap his shoulder. Kick in the door and yell 'Fuck sake ya kunker bastards, did I say 'at ease' ya horses arses for command, SALUTE!' And they jump as if never having seen a sergeant afore, and they havn't, 'cept the commoner in the corner, who knew aye right'dere how ta straighten back. And they immediate-lick know 'at they are the ones fucked now, as my corporals and guards step in and an attention block the exit front, for if they snunk they arses out back they haf given up and they know it is their slip of release before a royal official.
'General! Rüavi Yoor, I believe?' they always have something to say which either seeks to dismiss me, or prove they *have* done their jobs.
'It is *sir*, colonel. It will not help ye. Haf'ye some, if ought to say upon the Duke finding yer binges around yon club, which should have gone ta shoes for the men, and horses?'
'I beg your pardon?!' they yelled almost in unison. Some of them merely spat out 'What?!' as if their field whore cut a loaf into their nose.
'It matters not shite worth, if they are 'your' wallets, for they 'were' your wallets, and now it is Coalition gold. Duke's due! This has happened before, and it can be compared to matters to have transpired in the past. Learn ye not? Now ye will. Get their arses out, no matter if they have the other cheek on the shoulder-- ladies, I am sorry to wield such language. Sword-tongue they call me. Not that reason, miss.' so I decided to 'vokothel', sweet-talk to the tavern girls, some of whom are not harlots, but in the search for knighted boots to marry.
'O, 's fine, Mölqaran. They have their swords'ite, we've seen and felt them. You noticed two capn's jest snunk out the back?' the girls grinned, and kept counting their money. Coalition whores, as of now!
'O miss, I do believe they will practice no longer their fencing with anyone more than a right hooker.' the Mölqaran spoke, and the girls laughed.
'Good time for ya, we've all heard. Darlin', we'll see you in six months!' and they called 'ta-ta!' and waved their handkerchiefs, as the baffled 'officers' were being pushed out by duty to King and Country, which was to keep yon kunkers warm ever, yet chilled now, spine, boot and lever. About dozen of them, and the rest had snunk out back. Drunk-- but it was barely sun-down. Not overly drunk to not be able to sign, by standing line. The villa was nice. It had a door, and a yard, maybe even some walls - two ald'n crummy trees had stood watch where now stood some commoners to have heard the bellows, and then the dragoons with military police insignia. Mark of Khórr-- surrounded by hangman's noose. Don't fuck with the snake, the Duke spake, do not thread on me, lest best ta flee: yon book will see ye hang fron a tree.
This spake the General, Yoor Rüavi, and grinned at the commanders to have neglected their charges for several months. Heavy pause, thud. 'Attention!' and they stood up sloppy. 'Please identify yourselves for intelligence.' And they did. 'Tar' times twelve, and two commoners, no surprise; they had boot-polish on their hands, and imagine the other one on his lips as well. 'Charges: seventeen counts of neglience of military duty; four counts of theft of military goods, categories 1-11. One count of impersonating a member of the diplomatic Corps. Ten counts of embezzlement. There is more.' spake the general. He then stopped, and stared down the clad is if to bore through them with gaze alone.
'You. You have a choice to make. Physical for three months, after which ye do the practical. Three months after that, ye do the academical. Yes, I given't shite if ye can't read as if Eberyt the-fucking-Tall. Get! One line sees ye return ta court embezzler-- Plenty of those thar. The Lord provided, and King of yon tolerates ye. The other one ye will see ye serve. Pick! Now keep. In. Mind. That one? Release from vows ye made. Slip of release, ye get it booked and ye're officers of the Duke no longer. The other one: you are *officers* to have made an *oath* and His Majesty will shite on you, if the Duke will not, should you flag and fail. Sergeant, count ten seconds, after which these shitens will fall into line or get their eyeballs fucked by a Raq'huemean cock!'
They panic as if rabbits, the older ones almost weeping as they scramble for the release-line, with the sole commoner shaking his head and stepping over to the physical. Well, perhaps he did try to warn them. Unfortunate.
'--Nine, and... ten.' called the sergeant back. Rüavii narrowed his eyes.
'Administer standard punishment, after which form the gauntlet. Gentlemen, you will bleed in peace what you would in war. And pray to yon Fathers that the Duke is sated with my description of your *ribs* showing! Sergeant. Begin!'
Then the Man with the Dustpan told the other commoner to show his back, and he pulled his coat off. Aye, yaa it had them, lines from flogged--
'Ye don't mind more, do you?'
'Nay'don't mind more, sir.'
'What is your name, aldin'?'
'Uncle Prüs'zi they call me.'
'Will they hit ye hard, the men, the gauntlet?'
'We'll see.'
'Good man.' and the general saluted and sent the commoner along-- Times were ancient and ald, when only the common would be so flogged. Hrch, blue bloods ought to have read all the print.
And the noble three were shaking in their boots, soon to see blood. How'd I get this post again? Butterflies and honey all and everywhere, then rainbows double and soft butter dip me loaf. I am in love!
By God I should not take pleasure in this, and I honestly before yon Fathers see this as matter of the utmost gravity - yet to see them fall, and their motivation evaporate? It is amongst the ambrosia for any officer to be Salt: to chew their shiten sorry selves. So am I in it to bring them ta ruine, and fell'pon them. I got the task mayhaps not worthy of mine puny hide, yet one I thoroughly take pleasure in. Is this reverence I feel? To serve, truly. I would laugh, yet I mine requires to remain as stone. Uniform, Coalition, Duke, all. Whence they come, they serve, they fall, so I comb, not swerve, take call; haf I aught seen, one of blue blood in Green? One haf I been, true brood of mount, now their Dean.
The goddamned doorman just shat himself. He knows - does he warn? Nay time. Just smile and slap his shoulder. Kick in the door and yell 'Fuck sake ya kunker bastards, did I say 'at ease' ya horses arses for command, SALUTE!' And they jump as if never having seen a sergeant afore, and they havn't, 'cept the commoner in the corner, who knew aye right'dere how ta straighten back. And they immediate-lick know 'at they are the ones fucked now, as my corporals and guards step in and an attention block the exit front, for if they snunk they arses out back they haf given up and they know it is their slip of release before a royal official.
'General! Rüavi Yoor, I believe?' they always have something to say which either seeks to dismiss me, or prove they *have* done their jobs.
'It is *sir*, colonel. It will not help ye. Haf'ye some, if ought to say upon the Duke finding yer binges around yon club, which should have gone ta shoes for the men, and horses?'
'I beg your pardon?!' they yelled almost in unison. Some of them merely spat out 'What?!' as if their field whore cut a loaf into their nose.
'It matters not shite worth, if they are 'your' wallets, for they 'were' your wallets, and now it is Coalition gold. Duke's due! This has happened before, and it can be compared to matters to have transpired in the past. Learn ye not? Now ye will. Get their arses out, no matter if they have the other cheek on the shoulder-- ladies, I am sorry to wield such language. Sword-tongue they call me. Not that reason, miss.' so I decided to 'vokothel', sweet-talk to the tavern girls, some of whom are not harlots, but in the search for knighted boots to marry.
'O, 's fine, Mölqaran. They have their swords'ite, we've seen and felt them. You noticed two capn's jest snunk out the back?' the girls grinned, and kept counting their money. Coalition whores, as of now!
'O miss, I do believe they will practice no longer their fencing with anyone more than a right hooker.' the Mölqaran spoke, and the girls laughed.
'Good time for ya, we've all heard. Darlin', we'll see you in six months!' and they called 'ta-ta!' and waved their handkerchiefs, as the baffled 'officers' were being pushed out by duty to King and Country, which was to keep yon kunkers warm ever, yet chilled now, spine, boot and lever. About dozen of them, and the rest had snunk out back. Drunk-- but it was barely sun-down. Not overly drunk to not be able to sign, by standing line. The villa was nice. It had a door, and a yard, maybe even some walls - two ald'n crummy trees had stood watch where now stood some commoners to have heard the bellows, and then the dragoons with military police insignia. Mark of Khórr-- surrounded by hangman's noose. Don't fuck with the snake, the Duke spake, do not thread on me, lest best ta flee: yon book will see ye hang fron a tree.
This spake the General, Yoor Rüavi, and grinned at the commanders to have neglected their charges for several months. Heavy pause, thud. 'Attention!' and they stood up sloppy. 'Please identify yourselves for intelligence.' And they did. 'Tar' times twelve, and two commoners, no surprise; they had boot-polish on their hands, and imagine the other one on his lips as well. 'Charges: seventeen counts of neglience of military duty; four counts of theft of military goods, categories 1-11. One count of impersonating a member of the diplomatic Corps. Ten counts of embezzlement. There is more.' spake the general. He then stopped, and stared down the clad is if to bore through them with gaze alone.
'You. You have a choice to make. Physical for three months, after which ye do the practical. Three months after that, ye do the academical. Yes, I given't shite if ye can't read as if Eberyt the-fucking-Tall. Get! One line sees ye return ta court embezzler-- Plenty of those thar. The Lord provided, and King of yon tolerates ye. The other one ye will see ye serve. Pick! Now keep. In. Mind. That one? Release from vows ye made. Slip of release, ye get it booked and ye're officers of the Duke no longer. The other one: you are *officers* to have made an *oath* and His Majesty will shite on you, if the Duke will not, should you flag and fail. Sergeant, count ten seconds, after which these shitens will fall into line or get their eyeballs fucked by a Raq'huemean cock!'
They panic as if rabbits, the older ones almost weeping as they scramble for the release-line, with the sole commoner shaking his head and stepping over to the physical. Well, perhaps he did try to warn them. Unfortunate.
'--Nine, and... ten.' called the sergeant back. Rüavii narrowed his eyes.
'Administer standard punishment, after which form the gauntlet. Gentlemen, you will bleed in peace what you would in war. And pray to yon Fathers that the Duke is sated with my description of your *ribs* showing! Sergeant. Begin!'
Then the Man with the Dustpan told the other commoner to show his back, and he pulled his coat off. Aye, yaa it had them, lines from flogged--
'Ye don't mind more, do you?'
'Nay'don't mind more, sir.'
'What is your name, aldin'?'
'Uncle Prüs'zi they call me.'
'Will they hit ye hard, the men, the gauntlet?'
'We'll see.'
'Good man.' and the general saluted and sent the commoner along-- Times were ancient and ald, when only the common would be so flogged. Hrch, blue bloods ought to have read all the print.
And the noble three were shaking in their boots, soon to see blood. How'd I get this post again? Butterflies and honey all and everywhere, then rainbows double and soft butter dip me loaf. I am in love!
Physical Description
General Physical Condition
Somewhat fat, with a short body and thick limbs. Very resilient to the elements, very good endurance.
Body Features
Seemed tanned even in the middle of winter, with his skin being thick and coarse-looking, yet his women would attest it was soft to touch and by no means hardened by 'elements'-- some hookers would ponder if he was in fact from Rämenara, one of the natives - such was his skin, which was typical to an extremely northern, or southern native.
Facial Features
Nose stumpy with a small crook, jaw-line fairly modest, yet chin quite pronounced. Forehead seemed quite low: Yoor's eyes were often bulging out as he was chewing others, making it at first amusing for the subject, then confusing, and then infuriating.
Identifying Characteristics
Yoor had been with a dozen units in his time, and as some Taergaledian soldiers, had tattoos instead of medals after a succesful campaign. He had several, in fact most soldiers did not serve long enough to have the standard tattoos in all four limbs-- Yoor had the 2nd Tvbéra under L'ostav applied to his belly, and was a confusing sight indeed upon taking off his shirt, as he seemed like a wealthy elderly aeldor with 'some' boxing experience, and not a veteran horseman for decades. He had scars as well. Here and there one could see he had been in a hundred fights.
Physical quirks
Seemed to walk as if recovering from having both his hips displaced. Life on horse-back had its effects...
Apparel & Accessories
Coalition Dragoon blue and black for uniform, with heeled mukleys. Plain clothing whilst camped: generally nothing more than a plain white cotton shirt and loose-fitting, knee-high undershorts. Yoor would nap and rest as much as possible, in order not to fall into the 'bub-pit' of some of the other officers - upon getting reports, he would merely pull on his coat and sit behind a proper desk, or if there would be no desk, he would pull on his pants as well, but seldom boots. After which, he would resume sleeping, never being woken for good news.
Specialized Equipment
None to speak of. His horses tended to be leathered and extremely well-trained. He would break in his mounts by himself - Mölqaran mares would be delivered to him as a steady trickle. Wore no Qum, and disliked armor. Generally carried only a fine saber and two muskets, and at times participated in charges.
Mental characteristics
Personal history
Yoor had absolute trust in his officers. He would regularly sleep through the night following a march, and nap often during day-time. At times, he would merely close his eyes - even in the middle of a report - and drift, letting his subordinates do their trained tasks. When he was awake, however, Yoor would act with alacrity and efficiency. His tendency to delegate made his Dragoons an efficient, experienced force to picket with, recon and flank.
Gender Identity
Male. Same as most high ranking officers, he did not think 'he', 'she' but 'sir'.
Sexuality
Typical to the Kiri, somewhat repressed sexually. Married, yet had no children before his Coalition service; rumours spoke of him being dysfunctional, yet he did have several women in his day-- Work came first. Very common for people in the Coalition Horde.
Education
Professional officer from a fairly advanced age - in his thirties upon becoming äla-commander of 200 horses. Learned to read and write somewhat late in his day, with horses and ropes being his life whilst living a herds-boy in the Heartlands. Having seen his family succeed financially, he asked to be schooled, and later scored quite high during his Raq'huemean, a score he did not boast with, as he did not remain in the city to become one of the Blacks, and deemed the city a nightmarish pit of evil and cruelty.
Bit of a reader late in life, he was friend of civilized subjects - as history and logic - and was fond of Mihurite philosophy. Impatient, however. Countess Khaerlemmen discovered a tome of his, which had a bookmark on page 7--
Bit of a reader late in life, he was friend of civilized subjects - as history and logic - and was fond of Mihurite philosophy. Impatient, however. Countess Khaerlemmen discovered a tome of his, which had a bookmark on page 7--
Employment
Having been amongst the very few commoners to have reached a division commanders rank, and kept it for more than a full year, Rüavii was a very skilled organiser of men, and 'Hammer of the Clad' whence it came to meritocratic election in keeping officers, or firing them. His men would grin at him chewing out nobles to have been 'dumped' into his service, who were in the level illusion of war-time service meaning parades, couple of battles, and then drinking. Taergaledian armed forces had not had a war before 7-629 on their own turf in two-hundred years. Many nobles were officers, nearly all higher ranks were noble, and none of the were truly interested in the 'science' or war, nor organisation-- they sought to advance themselves, and connect.
Some nobles were in it to show their valour - and these were dangerous, and Rüavii knew this.
Some nobles were in it to show their valour - and these were dangerous, and Rüavii knew this.
Mental Trauma
Very grim and joyless on the surface. Yoor Rüavii felt homeless everywhere, and was mainly interested in the journey, and not the destination. Quite depressed, and often suicidal, even chewing out officers gave him often on pause on his existential agony of seeing everything, deep down, pointless. His ferocity and determination mainly stemmed from this feeling: if my world has no stars shining on it, then it is *my* task to lit them, or merely lay down and die. Am I worthy of yon task? Nay. I cannot lit the lid of the land, for I am not God. But I can do my part, and *then* lay down and die. I only wished I had not lived these times-- yet my task, my power, is seeing to the world I would like, as Lady Khaerlemmen said.
Often drunk to medicate his depression. Had oddly few war-time traumas, and seemed resilient to killing and seeing death.
Often drunk to medicate his depression. Had oddly few war-time traumas, and seemed resilient to killing and seeing death.
Taboos
Nobility taking their pick of the litter for being sons or daughters to whom they were lessers in all ways-- Yoor could barely contain himself watching noble excess. Priests he hated as well, for being clad: often times both parties had redeeming members, yet the Dragoon was always hostile to those affiliated with the Kho-ho.
Personality Characteristics
Motivation
Has a passion for cavalry and horses, and a strong desire to remain a soldier until death. Utterly detests un-earned merit by blood, and takes great pleasure in driving noble officers into their breaking point by very creative means, or alternatively, taking their young and training them to become the kind of commanders he would have respected a young dragoon.
Deep down, Yoor Rüavii sought to carve via the Coalition a nation in which nobility remains noble for being *noble* meaning those to deserve it. He was no revolutionary-- saw himself an agent of natural selection whence it came to officers corps, and by extension the entire empire. He did not realize just how his person would affect the soldiers, to whom a great number of other commanding figures had to cater to in order to remain leaders...
Deep down, Yoor Rüavii sought to carve via the Coalition a nation in which nobility remains noble for being *noble* meaning those to deserve it. He was no revolutionary-- saw himself an agent of natural selection whence it came to officers corps, and by extension the entire empire. He did not realize just how his person would affect the soldiers, to whom a great number of other commanding figures had to cater to in order to remain leaders...
Savvies & Ineptitudes
Poorly read for a full general, yet of exceptional common sense and 'feel' for people and ground. Sharp, yet not an academic: utterly bored by thought of studying and reading en-length.
Likes & Dislikes
Bit of a sugar-tooth. Yoor had poor teeth-- this would bite him back, as he was fired from his post in the Taergaledian general staff for failing the basic soldiers test of gnawing through a piece of sinew.
Required lemons and oranges later in lafe, utterly required them, and went as far as to build a hot-house to savour citron later in life.
Required lemons and oranges later in lafe, utterly required them, and went as far as to build a hot-house to savour citron later in life.
Virtues & Personality perks
Soldiers' general, who was able to command respect and loyalty, as well as terrify, with his sergeant-like ferocity, any who would use the armed forces to advance at the cost of which-- Very brave, steady under fire, and able to use comedy as defence against the desolation of then-modern warfare.
Vices & Personality flaws
Eventually garnered a reputation as a mad-man, who hated nobility, clad or not, and was seen a bludgeoning barbarian in it for nothing but thrill of murder and loot. Rüavii was thoroughly undiplomatic.
Personality Quirks
Tended to eye people 'sideways' that is, turn his head slightly upon speaking with someone, as if preparing for a sardonic remark. As he did this, he might quickly twitch his right index finger, much like pulling a musket trigger-- he remarked once having noticed he would win an argument seconds later; winning a pistol duel in words, so to speak.
Hygiene
Seems disheveled - however, this is due to him being quite aged for a Coalition officer. Office tends to look like a gale swept in-- however, General Rüavii would again appear to be unorganized, but in fact he takes on exceptional amounts of work and does it diligently.
Tended to smell of horse and snuff. Clad properly, with only his cavalry stripes and the golden 'fangs', meaning the pine woodline ornament of the Coalition general officer on his sleeve.
Tended to smell of horse and snuff. Clad properly, with only his cavalry stripes and the golden 'fangs', meaning the pine woodline ornament of the Coalition general officer on his sleeve.
Social
Contacts & Relations
Ravenously popular with his men. Certain elements ventured as far as to name children after him, which amused and touched him greatly. He was known as the God-father to Coalition Horde, and even went on to donate greatly to funds helping yon war-orphans.
Family Ties
None. Yoor had brothers and sisters, yet did not contact them, and they, in turn, respected his solitude. Late in life he cared for his ranging kin, however, and came to be respected amongst the East-Fringian horse peoples.
Religious Views
Converted to Adherence, then stopped visiting the temple in favor of Orthodoxy, even went on to study texts by very obscure Somnists, with several druids looking to ordain him, seeing material in Yoor, honesty and feel for the wild to become their ambassador to the Fringe-- a right druid himself! He laughed at their faces, and slapped their shoulders.
Some say he did this out of disrespect for religion, in general-- in truth, Yoor was merely curious. His irreverence to formal laws regarding turning coat were amongst the many things the common respected him for.
Some say he did this out of disrespect for religion, in general-- in truth, Yoor was merely curious. His irreverence to formal laws regarding turning coat were amongst the many things the common respected him for.
Social Aptitude
Seldom gregarious, unless drunk. He would drink and dine with other horsemen, and virtually always keep a sharp eye on his subordinates whilst.
Despite being easy-going on the surface, Yoor was quite strict in matters of conduct and honor. He would slap a man to intrude upon a cup-carrier, or chew out some fools to insult and argue, looking for their swords: Yoor would order them bare footed, and in the ring.
Despite being easy-going on the surface, Yoor was quite strict in matters of conduct and honor. He would slap a man to intrude upon a cup-carrier, or chew out some fools to insult and argue, looking for their swords: Yoor would order them bare footed, and in the ring.
Wealth & Financial state
'Fuck all.' he'd remark and laugh, upon some notary or other asking if he has assets to dispose of in case of death. 'Cain't take that shite with me, can I? Och fine, fine. Here is a list.' and he'd scribble something on a piece of parchment, and throw on lap:
"1.Estate ---- (unnamed) and all the air within. 2. Do I still owe money if the supplicant is dead?"
"1.Estate ---- (unnamed) and all the air within. 2. Do I still owe money if the supplicant is dead?"
Conditions
Ethnicity
Honorary & Occupational Titles
Inspector of Coalition Cavarly
Life
585
659
Circumstances of Birth
Some say he is Mölqaran by blood - one of their Travelers, 'gypsies' to be exact. Did not know his father.
Circumstances of Death
Death by heart failure. Was buried with all honours, and a special mention by the Empress of Kiri.
Birthplace
Yoor would jest that he is from 'nowehre'. This could well be true - that he knows not.
Children
Current Residence
Had an abandoned mansion by the Heartlands-Khaerlemmen border. He sought loan to renovate it, and was denied. Spent much of his days drinking in the empty halls, sleeping on floor with his saddle for a pillow. Was soon recruited by the Coalition Horde.
Gender
Male.
Eyes
Yellow-ish brown.
Hair
Balding, with a jaw-length cut which may have looked quite stylish in his youth.
Skin Tone/Pigmentation
Brown, with moles here and there.
Height
Stumpy: 180cm.
Weight
Plump.
Quotes & Catchphrases
'Wet yerself - as him, him, her and half my staff. Go change. And welcome to the War.' to his new adjutant, upon being fired at by artillery at Mangyn.
'I entertain!' upon hearing some 'Tar' announce himself to his doorman whilst taking in reports, followed by 'Pike off!' should he hear a knock on the door. 'Szerlihe, get the cleaver.' he would growl to his hound if the 'Tar' would force himself in.
Aligned Organization
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