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Una Markett

Bastard daughter of King Edenhelm and central in the plot to usurp the Crystal Crown upon his death.

0 · 243 views · located in Golden Vale

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by Prose

Groups

A nation on the continent of Siv'en. It is led by a King and six Jarls that rule the six districts of Skyfall from the Exalted Mountains down to the Empyrean Sea. Their numbers are large and their armies are mighty.

So begins...

Una Markett's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Trent Character Portrait: Qenna L'Tone Character Portrait: Bigsby Big Hat Character Portrait: Aebbe Dmowska Character Portrait: Una Markett

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#, as written by Prose
The sun was sitting high in the blue sky above the Golden Vale. The Exalted Mountains were swaying steadily in a high breeze, casting long shadows across the hills beneath. Beads of sweat gathered on Una's temples and ran down in small rivulets of moisture.

The horse beneath the warrioress's thighs was lathered from the hard ride. The poor beast was blown and near death. Una must make for the Skyfall Citadel. She carried a message of utmost importance for King Lesym Tharcey Edenhelm, the Gods' grant him health and passage from the plague.

It had been entrusted to Una the devious plans of her house: Markett. Times past it had been known that she was a highborn bastard of King Lesym Tharcey Edenhelm and now her birth had given the needed opening for Markett to seize the throne away from Princess Cordelia.

Princess Cordelia must marry, Una thought to herself in desperation. Her eyes carried toward the far distant shores of the Empyrean Sea. A maelstrom was brewing darkly. It hovered over the lands, and darkened the skies until they were black.

It was time to find shelter and a new horse. Alas, dark times made it difficult for Una to find an accommodating inn. Finding a new mount would be even more difficult. The plague spreading across Skyfall was not restricted solely to its human citizens. It consumed all.

"N-No!" Una cried out as the steed gave out beneath her. It screamed before collapsing forward. Una was pitched from her leather saddle and sent tumbling across the ground. The dead horse flipped and landed on her leg. Una shrieked in agonizing pain.

A booming roll of thunder pealed across the Golden Vale as the looming storm drew closer. It was several more hours before Una was able to get herself out from beneath the dead horse. Her ankle had been wrenched and it was a gruesome affair for the warrior to gather up a saddle bag and a what appeared to be a cloth-covered sword. Krinsgate was not far...

She merely had it make it a single league.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Trent Character Portrait: Qenna L'Tone Character Portrait: Bigsby Big Hat Character Portrait: Aebbe Dmowska Character Portrait: Una Markett

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An orc traveled along the roads with the setting sun, his fee thudding along in scuffs. The first to be noticed about this orc was that he was simply massive.

Perhapes that was typical of orcs, their natural raw strength, as there were always tales of them surplexing the greatest of beasts and challenges, right next to the usual ones of their beastly raiding and haphazard violence. Certainly, he dressed no differently from his kin, for beneath a wolf pelt cloak, he wore nothing more than a kilt made of yarn cloth, and a leather strapping that ran across his chest, securing most of his supplies, such as many canteens, coin purses, that for security were spiked. His left waist was slapped repeatedly by the scabbard of some blade, something long and thick.

The orc himself however, was imposing. Standing at seven feet, eight inches, the orc towered above most hominoid creatures, even if he was considered at a normal height for his kin. His legs and arms were bursting with strength, someone who hiked, and traveled regularly, or perhaps someone who participated in heavy duty work often. His jaw was quite large and broad, to accommodate the two tusks that protruded up towards his cheeks, and his eyes were a tad sunken into his skull. As if to add to this, the orc held a few honorable across in the form of perhaps claw marks across his chest, turning the green skin into something of a yellow straw color, as well as a mark along his jaw line, perhaps a blade, or passing shot. It seemed as if he had been in a scuffle were, despite his impressive build and intimidating factor, the odds and perhaps, even the weight, were against him.

Those green, emerald, earthy eyes however... And that grin upon his face... They spoke nothing of a history of fighting and arguing, they spoke nothing of contempt. They simply spoke of a jolly and uproarious attitude about life. Some people could even call that face friendly.

His name was Oaklum Stoneheart, and on this evening, on one of his many hikes, he heard a scream of pain ahead of him.

The orc gave pause, stopping for the moment, his hand coming around to grip the weapon strapped to his waist. His eyes began to scan his surroundings, that face of merriment dropping for but a moment. His nostrils flared, sniffing.

"Hrmg." The orc went, and he broke out into a jog, the ground complaining with massive thuds. He kept up this jog, spotting what appeared to be a pile of... Horse.

And it's rider, whom was limping their way along.

Oaklum's instant assumption was that the orc somehow spilled, and injured the... Man? Woman? He couldn't tell at this distance. Yet it was a simple enough guess. Horse falls were dangerous. It vaguely occurred to him that perhaps he should leave this be, after all, an orc charging out of no where would seem like he was taking advantage of her weakness.

And he pushed those thoughts aside, continuing his jog until he was close enough to shout.

"Oi! Oi ye', za git wid' da' limp! Zats 'ioght, ye! Ya 'ioght there!?" Came out his booming voice.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Trent Character Portrait: Qenna L'Tone Character Portrait: Bigsby Big Hat Character Portrait: Aebbe Dmowska Character Portrait: Una Markett

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#, as written by Prose
Upon hearing a voice, Una turned her head and saw who called out. Her blue eyes went wide in dismay. It seemed an orc was running around in the Golden Vale. A long time past the humans had pushed their kind out of their borders. However, the laws had changed beneath the King's rule and some returned. The sight of an orc was still a rare occurance and frightening to some. The fear of them still ran strong in some old houses when Skyfall was riddled with territorial wars.

Una clutched the wrapped package to her chest protectively, and she stood as resolute as she could with such a lame ankle. It hurt even to place weight down on it. This was not a situation Una wished to be in. If the orc decided to attack she could be an easy target to maul and leave viscerated.

"Please! I have nothing!" Una cried out, thinking the orc to mug her. Her short blond hair swayed in the windy gust that tugged at her ragged clothes. She wore a simple leather jerkin over a roughspun white tunic and soft deer leather breeches. Her boots were sturdy enough but as it seemed, not sturdy enough to protect her from a horse's weight.

"I'm just a simple messenger heading to Skyfall," Una said to himself to deter her would-be murderer. And then a thought occured to Una. Mayhaps this was an assassin sent from House Traegar? Had they found out who the bastard was that Markett intended to us in order to seize the throne? No one outside of the family knew exactly who it may have been but there were whispers at court, or so Una had been told.

It could have been even her own family that intended to end Una. She had snuck away a fortnight ago from the outlands of Skyfall intent of giving warning to Princess Cordelia of the treason being committed against Edenhelm. They would put a stop to Una without a second thought if they needed. After all, Una was nothing but a bastard child and expendable in their scheming.

"Please, I just need to get to Krinsgate..." Una pleaded before taking a misstep and spilling herself onto the ground.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Trent Character Portrait: Qenna L'Tone Character Portrait: Bigsby Big Hat Character Portrait: Aebbe Dmowska Character Portrait: Una Markett

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The Orc grunted. Please! I have Nothing! He slowed his jog as he came to see what was now obviously a woman, backing away from the orc, to the point of slipping and falling.

While considerably annoying that once more in his treks, he was mistaken as some brigand, he couldn't help but grin. Something about the innate fear from his kins mere presence just put a jolly smile on the greenskin's face.

Pushing those thoughts aside, he considered the moment. She obviously had something precious to her, holding it to her chest, regardless of her exclamation that she had nothing. Her mention of being a messenger allowed his thoughts to click, as he glanced over the package.

Then... Krinsgate. . .

"Wa'h? On da' foot?" He almost bellowed, as it was obvious to him what her situation was. "Bwah-ha-hahaha!" Came his bellowing, cheerful laugh. "Zon' be stopid! 'Pwease, I 'ave nuddin'!" He laughed again, before sobbering up with a wipe of his jaw, approaching. "I zon' care 'bout woz ya' got 'dere. 'ere." He extended his hand, leaning over to offer his grip to her.

"Ya won' make 'et on da' foot. Lez' get ya goin'."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Una Markett

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#, as written by Prose
The 'parcel' Una was holding was an elongated and cross-shaped object. It could have actually been a cross or it could have been a sword with a crossguard. It was wound tightly in canvas cloth and tied with leather thongs. Not a single inch was uncovered to give a hint as to what it really could have been.

As the green beast bellowed his humor, Una cringed involuntarily. And then we he offered his help, reaching a hand out to her, Una crushed the heavy wrapped thing against her harder.

"I'm not sure that I need your help," Una snapped at the brute. "I am sure that I am fine on my own!" The woman pushed back on her good foot and put a few inches distant between the two of them.

"Go be on your way, green-skin," said Una. Green-skin was the only name she had for him. After all they had not yet exchanged pleasantries.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Una Markett Character Portrait: Oaklum Stoneheart

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The last seemed to make the orc take some sort of offense to. But why? Oaklum himself referred to himself as a greenskin... Yet this was out of self-depreciation, and was a joke between him and anyone he knew. Who in Sterks name was this woman to take him by the name Greenskin?

"Woz da'!?" He called out, jabbing a meaty index finger at her. "I dun' recall givin' ya 'ermission ta' call m'eh a 'reenskin! Woz ya' think ya' are, some nob'ah git!? Sod 'et, wouldn' matt'ah 'nyway!" The orc calmed some after venting this in a yell, before he crossed his arms.

"Ya know wha' 'appens a nioght fall 'ummi'eh?" The orc grunted, yet didn't wait for her to awnser. "All sorts o' animals are both gettin' up, 'en going ta' sleep. Buz 'dey got ta' get to 'dere restin' grounds, o' dere huntin' 'ounds... Nothin' usuall'eh attacks us sapient folks 'ess we piss 'em off..." He tilted his head, shrugging his shoulders as if he made a point.

"Bu' if ya' ev'ah watch a pack o' wolves... 'Dey nev'ah go for da' health'eh memb'ahs o' da herds. 'Dey pick da' sick ones o' da lame ones, folk who can' 'un o' defend 'emselves." The orc made a rather off hand gesture to the woman's leg... And then offered his right hand once more.

"Da names Oaklum ya' git. Da' might'eh oak, 'en I'm 'ere ta drag ya' pans'eh ass out from da' 'ilds fo' something decides that leg 'o yours makes ya' easy."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Una Markett Character Portrait: Oaklum Stoneheart

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#, as written by Prose
Una could barely understand the beast. Every other word was garble in that gods awful mouthy way orcs had of speaking. She suspected a long time ago that it was their tusks that caused the horrible accent.

The orc, for whatever reason, seemed to moreso want to help Una than to harm. That didn't abolish all doubt in her mind, however. Some brigands were just more clever than others... even an orc or two.

Una sighed in exasperation and looked around at the rolling hills and the encroaching storm. She would never make it before that storm hit the vale. A bolt of white-hot lighting crackled through the air and struck the earth.

"Fine!" Una said in defeat. "Just to Krinsgate, and keep your knobby hands where they belong!" She was a cleric after all and needed no creatures hands defiling her body. Albeit, Una had not been in practice in her order for quite some time, and yet still the gods had not abandoned her. Una still retained some of her powers.

"We need to hurry before the storm hits," Una said over whatever the orc may have been saying. She wouldn't have understood a word of it anyway, Una figured.

"Krinsgate is just three miles east of here," Una directed the orc while taking his hand. A groan of pain came muted between the woman's lips. Her blue eyes became hard and scrutinizing while the orc lifted her up and beared some of the woman's weight.

Una stood five-feet and something over six more inches. Her lean frame held muscle on her bones but the woman's total weight couldn't have been more than one-hundred and forty pounds at maximum. For a warrior cleric, Una was small and compact compared to her male counterparts in the order.

It'd be nothing for an orc to handle.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Una Markett Character Portrait: Oaklum Stoneheart

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Indeed it wasn't.

A three mile trek at a pace of a snail was certainly not on Oaklums mind, not with a storm fast approaching. Another time, he'd be given to the trek. Hiking, traveling, hunting, when he wasn't in civilization, that was his life, and this would have been nothing more than like taking home a recent kill. Albit a living one he had no intention of eating...

But this creature was in no mood for the woman's insistence on simply walking with support. If she wanted to be possibly harmed, or killed in a storm, that's her business for being stubborn. But Oaklum was here now, offered his help, and it was accepted.

So in his mind, the human didn't really get to judge him based on how he helped.

The moment the woman began using the orcs arm as leverage to lift herself up, the orc swiped down, trying to carry the woman in what was typically called the 'princess bride' carry, with one arm under her legs, and the other cradling her back. Of course, the orc himself wasn't familiar with the carries name, or the possible implications that are spawned from their corresponding fairy tales, but he was familiar with how convenient it was to carry someone, considering the minute weight involved.

"I ain' gunn'ah let ya' be 'o stubborn git 'en get caught in da' storm cause ya' 'dink ya can walk. Three 'iles ya' say? Eas'eh peas'eh." And the orc went to break out in a jog, trying to secure his grip on her.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Una Markett Character Portrait: Oaklum Stoneheart

0.00 INK

#, as written by Prose
Una stared up at the skies and prayed to the gods to give her strength and resolution. This had to be one of the more embarrassing moments in all of her adventures, or clerical trials. They answered with droplets of rain beginning to fall around the two as Oaklum ran.

Each of his steps jarred Una's teeth. They clacked together as she tried to maintain her grip on the covered sword. It was far more important than her own life; an ancient thing and legendary.

"You may want to run faster," Una urged with dark eyes. "The storm is catching and the plague preys on the weak." The plague that was spreading across Skyfall was unnatural and incurable. Clerics' prayers to the gods' went unanswered and any potions the alchemists' could conjure were useless. Only those who dealt in death had profited so far. King Lesym Tharcey Edenhelm had caught it and was now laying on his death bed.

A streak of lightning split the air and landed fifty feet from the odd pair. It was soundless and unnatural. A rune burned itself into the earth and faded. A sound of gurgling and angered moans rose from where the lightning had struck. The undead began to stir from the centuries old sleep beneath the earth.

As hands clawed for purchase on the sodden ground, Una yelled at the orc, "Put me down!"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Una Markett Character Portrait: Oaklum Stoneheart

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The orc skidded to a stop, eyes upon the strike of bolt... So close... It didn't seem right. Lighting sought trees, poles, higher ground. They were on a road... The strike ignored everything else... And made no sound.

The orc went to lower the woman from his grasp, none too subtley given his current apprehension, as his right hand came to grasp the hilt of his weapon, earthen eyes centered on the ground ahead... Then came those horrid moans.

"Well da' ain' 'ioght." The orc grunted, clacking his great maw as he came to glance around himself.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Una Markett Character Portrait: Oaklum Stoneheart

0.00 INK

#, as written by Prose
"That's because it's not, you stupid brute," snapped Una. She had seen and learned of this magic. It could have been only one practice and that was necromancy. House Traegar. When the orc had practically dropped Una on the ground, the woman immediately set to uncovering her sword. Her deft fingers unfitted the knots that held together the canvas concealing her sword.

A miasma of violet and green mist poured from the gaping hole in the earth before them.

"Don't touch the mist," offered Una. She threw back the canvas folds and a bright, ethereal, light pierced through the creeping shadows of the storm. The light was holy and warm. Power thrummed from the sword almost in a song. Una's fingers greeted the gold-gilded hilt like an old lover. The double-edge was as sharp as a razor, and the cross-guard was almost impractical with its working.

"Stand me up, green-skin!" demanded Una. The miasma was pouring more thickly out of the recess while human-shaped shadows lumbered within it. And then the first broke through the cloud, revealing an ancient dead body from centuries past. It was nothing but a skeleton, the worms having eaten away at him. Pools of violet power gathered in the eye sockets of its skull and stared down at the odd pair before him. It clutched a rust pocked sword and began to charge with other shadows close behind.

Still the miasma crawled along the ground with finger-like tendrils reaching out toward their prey. One touch caused paralyzing pain.

An ancient language was breathed out from between Una's lips in prayer.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Una Markett Character Portrait: Oaklum Stoneheart

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Oaklum decided he would latter settle the insults from the human later, as his eyes gazed onto the charging dead. This noxious cloud, the undead, the woman's demands, what a wonderful day it was turning to be.

The orc complied just enough with the woman's orders, reaching a hand down to her shoulder, to stand her up and steady her, but that was all she would receive, as the lead skeleton continued it's charge. There was no time to constantly hold the woman up in the orc's mind, as he didn't know what he plan was, and it wasn't the time where he could ask. So she'd have to try and stand on her own.

What Oaklum did do, however, was unsheathe that mighty blade at his side... Runes were carved deep into the metal, old orcish, which would read Nol'dum Cleaver. The orc stepped forward, placing himself at an off set position, where Una still had a view of the undead, but the orc could easily side step to bash the charging undead should it choose her as it's victim.

Then, quickly did the orc run the blade along his thumb, drawing open a wound upon it, and as the blood came to profuse, the orc ran his thumb along the runes, wetting them with blood.

The sword grew an angry red, as if it had suddenly been heated in a forge fire. The orc lowered the blade to his right hip, the point pointed forward for a thrust, while his left hand drew back, and retrieved a hide shield from beneath his cloak.

His feet were spaced, his left foot forward, his shield before him, the large, thick, red sword at his side, ready to thrust... As the skeleton made forward, the orc braced his shield, stepped forward, and sought to smack it aside with raw strength.

His demeanor was... Odd. There was no yelling. No war cries. He did not issue challenge, nor did he seem to take offence. He was silent in everything but movement. His breath was conserved, his muscles tense, and his face only registered a steel visage.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Una Markett Character Portrait: Oaklum Stoneheart

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#, as written by Prose
Oaklum's aid was enough for what Una needed to do in order to protect them both. Her eyes watched the orc as he unsheathed his blade and activated an enchantment placed on his sword. She stood bearing her weight heavily on her good foot. Her lips continued to whisper out words of power in a strange language.

A disc of golden light appeared beneath the point of the sword that Una had placed into the ground. Both of her hands grasped the hilt. Her blue eyes watched as Oaklum began the defense against the horde. The skeleton lost several steps, raised its sword, and charged toward the orc. It orbs of strange light seemed to grow infuriated and enraged.

The miasma crept even closure. Just a few more inches and it would touch first upon Oaklum's boots. It seemed to effect the undead none. Their assault was unfettered. Three shadows from within the mist became more clear. These were fleshier creatures with sinew and skin flopping on their bones. Pairs of matching orbs to the skeletal being stared back at Una and Oaklum.

A few more words were uttered from Una's lips, her tone commanding as the prayer progressed to its end. She jabbed the sword into the earth deeper. The disc of golden light past Oaklum's feet and met the miasma. A dome engulfed them both, providing a screen of holy light that gave protection from the estranged mist. The undead seemed to pause for a moment, gauge the dome's purpose, and then resumed their fight unaffected.

Una gave Oaklum an urgent stare. She did not know if he would turn to see it, but still she must try. It said that she would be unable to stand and fight. She could not break her hold on the sword and that as long as he stay within the boundaries of the dome, he'd be safe from the crawling miasma, and the miasma only.

If Oaklum missed it, nor paid attention to how the paralytic cloud gathered around the edges of the golden dome...

... they would both die.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Una Markett Character Portrait: Oaklum Stoneheart

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The Orc's eyes drifted about for a few moments, as the golden light arced about him. He took in it's boundaries, and inched back to accommodate. He was not just a fighter... He was a warrior... Empowered by the teachings of the great Sterk! And sterk did not take to stupid deaths.

Oaklum would not fall to the dead, and as the Skeleton came back, it's point raised forward, the Orc threw his left arm to the side, knocking the blade away from his foe's hands, before driving forward the great blade of red... It utterly shattered it's opponent to pieces, as the blade pierced the rib cage, shattered the age old bones, and then finally broke the spine at the back, sending the upper torso flying back.

Then the other three creatures came to the orc's eyes... As the dead started forward, Oaklum already concluded on what to do.

As the dead started forward to strike, Oaklum stepped back, letting them climb into the dome... A few things occured to Oaklum then. There was a set time that these dead had to kill them, as they were not waiting for the dome, or it's caster, to wear themselves out.

Oaklum grinned. Slaughter awaited him, as the three attempted to enter... He braced himself as the three entered... And stepped forward, shoving his shield against the left figure, sending the dead stumbling back out of the dome. The other two closed, the second swinging for him, but it was meant with a parry of his blade, the flat of it knocking aside of the arm, before the orc threw his head forward, bashing the dead straight to the ground with his forehead.

Of course, the third took the chance to jump upon the orc, opening gashes along his back and side with it's savage clawing...

The orc merely grunted, elbowing the dead with a left, sending it back a tad, before it swung the great sword from the right, embedding itself in the head for a moment, before it ripped the weapon away...

The last dead head, whom was struggling to rise of the ground, didn't have a chance, as the orc rose his boot, and slammed it down on the head, squishing the rotting skull, before turning his attention back to his surroundings.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Una Markett Character Portrait: Oaklum Stoneheart

0.00 INK

#, as written by Prose
Una watched as Oaklum cut down the foes with relative ease. Knowing that she was the very reason these beings were risen from their graves was a discomforting thought for Una. The gods had not yet abandoned her and had sent this orcish fiend to protect her. It shifted Una's opinion of the green-skin and she viewed him as a gift.

Seven of the undead rose from their graves. A peal of thunder rolled down the hills of the Golden Vale and finally the barrage of rain came flooding down from the clouds above. It was cold, stinging rain that clouded one's long range view.

Una began to laugh. The rain was another gift from the gods above. She looked upward and let the rain fall down on her cheeks. It hurt slightly but it was a blessing; a baptism of faith.

"The gods' watch over us, friend!" Una said. The miasma began to disperse and recede from the dome of light. Those who were undead and rotten began to falter and fall to pieces, bone by bone. The magic that had held them together was being dispelled by the very water that purified the vale.

Water began to run down the small hill, rolling over the pocked earth where the silent strike had landed. Running water was the easiest way to disrupt any magical foulness. After a few moments the miasma disappeared completely and Una let fall the protective spell. The light from her sword dimmed but never truly disappeared.

Una sank down onto her knees into the muddy ground, still smiling. She held the legendary blade across her lap.

"I do believe we'll live today..." said Una. "Thank the gods." She paused for a moment and watched the orc with an inquisitive stare. It seemed the way Una regarded him had changed drastically since her revelation. Una even smiled at him in a friendly manner.

"Thank you."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Una Markett Character Portrait: Oaklum Stoneheart

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The orc grunted, having not relaxed in the slightest. After all... The dead must be coaxed to life, and it was only the dead they released back into the afterlife...

The orc hissed, glancing back at the human. "Woz ya' think we'r doin? Throwin' a part'eh out 'ere in da' open? Someone brought da' cods ta' loif, 'en I doubtin' they left da' area." The orc sniffed, smelling the air through his nostrils, of the death, decay, the savage... slaughter of the beings, it was simply nothing more than so. Pitiful creatures. May sterk banish them for being useless.

He offered his hand. "If ya' can do sumdin' 'bout 'dat, do 'et, but if not, lez 'et movin' fo' they realize da' du' might'eh Oak banished 'dere pitiful nat'ah."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Una Markett Character Portrait: Oaklum Stoneheart

0.00 INK

#, as written by Prose
Una knew who had urged the creatures to move from their eternal rest. It could have only been House Traegar; a house well known for their dabbling into magics that were sinister and dark. The King had not yet outlawed the practices but the Holy Order of Clerics frowned upon it heavily. Inquisitors were sent often to the Traegar's keep.

The King would hear what had happened this day.

"It was House Traegar, and no I cannot heal myself." Una said with some impatience. Human clerics were forbade to heal themselves unless it was a life or death situation. Otherwise it would be abusing their gifts from the gods, and a slight against the Order. Una once believed that this was common knowledge but perhaps not, she thought to herself silently.


Sterk...?

"Is Sterk your god then?" Una asked curiously. She knew nothing of orcs and their culture. The only information Una had on their race was that they were brutes that valued strength and battle prowess. They tended to raid and pillage more than anything else and had not developed complex societal standards.

The cold of the rain began to sink into Una's bones and she shivered. Listening to whatever explanation Oaklum offered, Una insisted that he continue to help her to the inn at Krinsgate. She took his offered hand and helped to lift herself from the ground. An almost inaudible sigh escaped her lips.

Oaklum was more than likely going to carry her again.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Una Markett Character Portrait: Oaklum Stoneheart

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And so he did.

Oaklum sheathed his weapon, yet kept his shield attached to his arm, not entirely read to let go of it's protection. When his blade was secured, he lowered his arms, grasping the woman, and lifting her up.

"Sterk." He said, almost as if to clarify something about the name.

"Sterk is da' 'od o' strength, 'en rightious fur'eh. She admires da' mortal wid' whom overcomes, 'ho learns... Strength 'ez our tool, 'en our wit grasp's our 'rength." The orc glanced down at the human. "Pow'ah, is fickle. Strength 'ez relative. Ta' keep both, wit, 'aitence, in da' art o' fioghtin' 'en battle, must be'h used."

He glanced forward again, still walking. "Her enemies are da' weaklings, bu' na' da weaklings da' 'ave no 'hoice. Da' weaklin's who 'ave a 'hoice, 'en send oth'ahs ta' die fo' 'dere own gain. Those 'ho use pow'ah 'en 'rength without da' 'esponsibilit'eh."

The orc passed by the corpses he dispatched... Stepping on one of them, emitting a squelching sound as the weight obliterated an already caved in skull. "En s'eh despises gits 'ho would 'efile da' hon'ahed dead, who 'ied fightin'."

What at first seemed contradictory, as the orc did literally just defile one such corpse, would make sense to someone who read into the words, as Oaklum avoided the lifeless torso of the earlier dispatched skeleton. Amongst all of the dead that had fought, only the skeleton rose with a sword already in hand. Only did the skeleton, in life, die with it's sword for one reason or another, drawn.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Una Markett Character Portrait: Oaklum Stoneheart

0.00 INK

#, as written by Prose
Una still caught only every other word the orc said. She even tried to hear what he had to say this time. It was frustrating. She gleaned that Sterk was a goddess who's domain was over battle and the fallen, or rather those who were fighting and the manner of which they fell.

When Oaklum stepped on a corpse, it went unnoticed. Una clutched the blade close to her heart and curled into a smaller ball in the orc's arms. It was getting too cold and the rain was unrelenting. The sun was blotted out from the dark gray clouds, and most of their light came from strobing streaks of lightning across the sky. The legendary sword provided some heat but not enough.

"My name is Una," the woman offered out of the blue. Una had just noticed that never had she given to the orc.

"Can I tell you a story?" she asked. It wasn't as if there was anything else for them to do other than talk. Too awkward it would have been to just have him carry her for the two miles left without much conversation.

"There was once a girl who decided that she didn't want to be a lady's handmaid. She was a bastard child but born into a noble house. Her sisters all got to become beautiful ladies and were arranged wonderful marriages by their mother and their father. The bastard, though, she wasn't worthy of such honors.

"Never did she get to feast at the high table with her family. Never did she get to be trained in the finer ladies' arts. But, luckily, she did have brothers, brothers that loved her very much.

"They taught her the sword, bow, and how to ride. She was welcomed in their lessons, and to train with the master-at-arms in the keep. They took her in when she wasn't wanted and she became something great, something they never expected."

"And then her father found out. Everyone was punished, and she was cast out from her own home."

Una shivered and asked in a small voice to Oaklum, "Do you think Sterk would take me if I died?"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Una Markett Character Portrait: Oaklum Stoneheart

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The next words Oaklum spoke were... Oddly clear of his gutteral accent, as if they were rehearsed... No, as if they were known by heart.

"What doez Sterk have use for nobles? Nay, even a better 'uestion, woz does Sterk have use for da common man? Does she have use for either?" The orc grunted, looking ahead at the road as he trudged along. "Da' awnser is neith'ah. Sterk has no need for people whom 'upposedl'eh claim themselves above one 'noth'ah. She has no 'eed for 'ummies 'o 'lves, 'o dwarves, o' even greenskins, 'ho proclaim 'dere authority upon some legend that 'appened in-" At this, he attempted to mimic some whiny autocratic lord, which quite odd, and awkward with the accent. "Age fo' gott'n time 'dat we dun' know 'bout, bu' should ad 'ere to 'nyway."

He shook his head, and resumed his normal speech. "She 'az no need fo' da common git, whom swears their fealty blindly to' one lordin' git o' anoth'ah, whom does not question it when he is ripped away from family, for a war over nothing over than a shtick o' land."

The orcs eyes gained fire, as the earthen hues gained the steely visage, the same as he had in combat with the dead, as his grip on the woman hardened, not in a painful manner, but more like iron clasps that weren't tightened all the way. "Woz sh'eh has need fo' Una, is men and women. Nobilit'eh 'en authority means nothing, when in the 'ists of battle, blood and sweat mix, where not even so called 'mages' who are experts in such 'ields could tell what is what. In a fight, 'obility means nothing. 'Et 'ez like air. We 'reath 'et, but nev'ah give 'et thought. The onl'eh thing tha' matt'ahs in a fioght... Is how fast, 'en how effectivl'eh, ya can kill da' oth'ah git."

His eyes then glanced to the woman. "Prove ya'elf worth'eh, Una. Bring forth your 'rothy cause through all 'lood 'en steel. Faulter not to th' silver tounge, faulter not to the fool. Faulter onl'eh to the blade, claw, or teeth that end you, for to be deemed worthy enough ta' be killed by anoth'ah, is proof that your 'ause is 'rong enough ta' give others pause."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Una Markett Character Portrait: Oaklum Stoneheart

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#, as written by Prose
The gods were speaking to Una, and they were speaking through the mouth of this orc-man. The King was dying and Princess Cordelia needed to be protected when that time came. She would need those loyal few around her to fight to usurpers that wish to tear the kingdom apart with war. Una would have to forsake her house and turn from them. Cordelia had to be warned about House Markett.

"Fight with honor, die with honor," said Una. There would be plenty of it soon and she knew that she could die in the battles to come. Would Sterk take her when the time came? Una did not know, nor did she truly care. She was an orc goddess and Una's beliefs laid in man's own.

"There's a war coming, Oaklum," warned Una. "The Kingdom of Skyfall is going to be torn apart soon and it's all because I was born that its even happening."

"I have to get to Skyfall Citadel and warn ... warn my birth father," admitted Una. Oaklum may not catch what Una had confessed to him. She was well known throughout Skyfall as a bastard of House Markett, but her father's house was not of theirs.

King Lesym Tharcey Edenhelm was a well known lecher to get children on the women he fancied. Una had been one of those and kept as the secret of House Markett for twenty years. When Una found out her history, and when they had told her what she must do, Una ran.

... and now here she was in the company of an orc sent to her by the gods.

"If you wish to find your way to Sterk, all you need so is follow me," Una said to him, giving the orc a calculated look as she shivered from the cold.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Una Markett Character Portrait: Oaklum Stoneheart

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"I go where 'ah will." He muttered, but internally, he decided for the time being, it'd be best. After all, he was not adverse to a little bit of fighting and slaughtering. Never mind the fact that he craved travel. . .


"Fion. I'll stay wid ya' fo' a bit. Buz' dun' expect m'eh ta' senselessly follow ord'ahs! I awns'ah ta' no one." The orc huffed, walking along in the rain. The blade in his sheath slowly cooled from it's state of red rage, and with it, Oaklum sighed, before he reared his head back, and went to smack it lightly, lightly being for an orc in terms of lightness, against the cleric's head. "Daz' fo' callin' m'eh stopid!" He called out, before loudly laughing that joyous manner of his. "Bwa-ha-hahaha!" Came the easy going boom.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Una Markett Character Portrait: Oaklum Stoneheart

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#, as written by Prose
The storm was still raging after the sun had fallen behind the horizon. Una had dozed off and on in Oaklum's arms. When she opened her eyes Una could see the massive gate of Krinsgate. It was oak and fortified with cast iron bands. Men walked the tall walls, and a bow peeked from between arrow slits here and there.

"Krinsgate," said Una in a tired voice. Her mouth tasted foul and her back ached from how she was being carried. Perhaps a cleric was in town and she could be healed, or at least a hedge wizard.

"You may want to be careful here," warned Una just as a shout of, "Who goes there!" came from the posted gaurd. An approaching orc with a seemingly capture human wasn't exactly a welcomed sight.

"An orc! An orc! Sound the alarm!" came the cries from the battlement.

"Oh no..." breathed Una. She looked up at Oaklum and said, "Don't do anything careless. Let me handle this and put me down!" It wasn't a command but Una definitely urged the orc by squirming in his grasp. That, too, did not help what the guards were witnessing.

Several arrows were now aimed for Oaklum.

"Hold your bows! Don't shoot him! He's friend not foe!" Una cried out to the watch.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Qenna L'Tone Character Portrait: Bigsby Big Hat Character Portrait: Aebbe Dmowska Character Portrait: Una Markett Character Portrait: Oaklum Stoneheart

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#, as written by Marcus
"Yes indeed!" Bigsby shouted out at the armed guardsmen who seemed to be doing their duty without little in the way of common sense but more so in bravado than anything. It was strange to think that the old wizard was able to make his way up onto the battlements and past several other guards before smacking one of the young man upside the head.

"Do you not see that this orc here is carrying a woman in hand! One foul slip from those nocked arrows and she might as well be dead by your own hands rather than by the poor sod down bellow and his supposed captive. Open your eyes and look at her." Bigsby brought an old gnarled finger down upon the two only to gaze upon the young girl and orc with his sapphire hues. It would feel unsettling to most as those unnatural orbs seemed to flicker slightly from beneath the mages massive hat.

"Open the gate and let them in. The Lady Markett and her companion are my guests here. I would feel sorry for the fools who trained this lot if those arrows would have been set free from their strings." Bigsby began to frown and made his way down from the battlement and back into the market bellow. Several of the guards only seemed to be dazed and confused by the sudden appearance of big hatted wizard whilst others seemed inclined to follow such commands as the price of not listening to the man had silently come to them in threats of a telepathic nature.

Meanwhile in the markets not far away it would be obvious to the students of the wizard that things seemed to grow more interesting by the minute. But there would still be no sign of the mammoth sized hat that belong to the old codger or the wizard himself.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Qenna L'Tone Character Portrait: Bigsby Big Hat Character Portrait: Aebbe Dmowska Character Portrait: Una Markett Character Portrait: Oaklum Stoneheart

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The Orc groaned. Here he was, standing infront of a 'civilized' town wall. Here he was, again, bows pointed at him, as sounds of alarm was sounded. Here he was, yet again, judged for being a greenskin.

Idiots.

Of course, atleast the woman in his arms, which he began to let down onto her feet at her struggle, screamed for them to stop. Then there was some git with a giant hat that acted all important up there... He didn't mind it, but it would be better not to scream 'Orc! Orc! Orc!' In the first place.

"Y'all are a bunch'o soddin' gits, pointin' bows 'en 'rrows, 'en sticks at'ah lone orc! Wha! Woz ya' think I'm gunn'ah do 'eh!? Punch down ya wallz!? Toss up 'ah stables beddin'? Da' worst I 'ould do 'ez turn 'round 'en moon ya!"

He growled, crossing his arms. "'Et takes true 'allz ta' not kill'ah git in da' foice a' dang'ah o' fear! Now, if ya' dun' 'ave da' 'equired genital's, I'll b'eh sure ta' instruct ya' on what 'appens when ya' shoot sum'on who 'az a 'air." The orc shouted out, staring up at the battlements, his arms crossed, his feet spaced, ready.