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Erik Measborn


0 · 456 views · located in The Three Realms

a character in “ leave of the King”, as played by SparxALot


xxxxxE R I K x M E A S B O R N

n a m e: Erik Measborn
n i c k n a m e s: Drake, Wild Rider, Beast Tamer,
a g e: 36
g e n d e r: male
s e x u a l i t y: heterosexual
o r i g i n: xalterra
s p e c i e s: human
c l a s s: beastmaster
r o l e: prisoner

f a c e c l a i m: Chris Hemsworth
h e x: #3b827e


h e i g h t

w e i g h t

h a i r
sandy blonde

e y e s

m a r k i n g s
he has many scars from battles endured and beast taming. Scars criss-cross and zag along his back, down his left arm and the most signifcant is a bite mark by his shoulder, not far from his neck. His pet and he did not always see eye to eye.

a p p e a r a n c e
While rough and rugged in appearance and no conscientiousness of his scars, Erik makes a handsome convict. He is undoubtedly tall and firm in sculpture with messy thick hair that he does not keep but it is his dark blue eyes and special gift that make him stand out.

C L A S S:xx B E A S T M A S T E R

p o w e r x // xBeastmasters are called such because they have the rare ability to bond with creatures all across the Kingdoms, although, creatures are exceptionally rare to even encounter these days. Still, the beastmaster is at one with those that do exist and is often able to avoid hostile situations and attacks with understanding instead.
The beastmaster typically bonds with one individual creature above all and the two are known to unite as a formidable companionship is formed. Erik has been fortunate to find this creature, a dark large agile feline he has named Gheara.


p h y s i c a l i t y x // x Erik is a strong and tall man. Though he may not have the hardiness of a dwarf, Erik's strength, stamina and endurance are exceptional for a human. Particularly a human left to waste in a dungeon.
n a t u r e x // x To know and predict and bond with nature is one of Erik's unique skills. He can almost read it.
s t r e n g t h x // x * * *


a r c h e r y x // x While proficient enough with many other weapons wielding, a set of bow and arrows are set to course anywhere in his hands.
r e p u t a t i o n x // x Beastmasters are rare these days and due to the incident and Eriks's rough nature, he is believed as wiley and wild as the creatures he links with.
s t u b b o r nx // x Erik is as stubborn as they come, choosing to ignore a cautionary rumour and not listen to words of warning.


c o m p a n i o n sx d e a t h// x For someone (or something) he cares about to die right before his eyes, is awful. Erik imagines it is the worse thing that could happen, worse than his own death and worse than torture which he would rather endure.
c o n f i n e m e n tx // x While he lives in it presently, to be reconfined and have his liberation taken again is something he despises and could be considered cruel. He does not wish to die in a cell or spend his lifetime there if he can help it.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx Grounded xx Noble xx Protective xx trait x

Erik was once a patient man who would claim to not have it in his being to harm a single hair on any other being. He was the children's favorite, participating in games, laughter, and tales with a twist, kind of the token fun uncle. And while a slither of that lives still in Erik, most of it has been banished after his arrest.

He is a very down to Earth man and realistic, if not a little pessimistic these days and for that reason he tends to keep to himself and does not talk about himself. He is generally disciplined although everybody has their ticks and there within Erik is somebody quite impulsive when the right topic or threat occurs. A voice in his mind may caution to be smart but it is easily pushed aside in favor of action, mainly concerning those he loves and cares for. Even when rage or hate may consume him, he does not enjoy slicing folks of any realm down, and would never stab a man in the back, even when it can be argued they deserve it. Not only is it dishonorable but meaningless. If your life is being taken, you deserve to know who from at the least is his logic. It makes it both more personal and respectful.

These days it seems Erik has little self-worth, the way he throws his body into battle, his brooding moods, but its more of a matter of believing he's lived his life to the greatest potential and there are so few left for him to love to hold on for so better him than somebody younger or with greater and brighter potential. It's not to say he won't fight with his last breath and all his energy.



As a younger lad, fight as he may, emotions ruled him. Sparring would be fun until there was one blow too hard, and attraction for a woman would turn into love and the wish to marry her. That's how he became a young father. It was from affair and Erik did not know he was the other man and she was untrue. This woman could not lay eyes on the bastard child as it grew up to be more Erik in behavior and carried Erik's eyes and his blonde hair darkening to something of Erik's shade, so she did not wish to keep their son. So he became a father figure taking up the role with courage and devotion when he was left in Erik's care. They played tag, hide and seek, sparred and Erik taught him to read. Fatherhood was good but not long lasting. Illness took his boy and though he grieved heavily he tried his best to persevere.

Eventually, he took to the wilderness, seeing the other children and parents became a heartbreaking reminder to watch and know he could never take his boy in his arms again. Away from civilization, Erik was able to discover his abilities and for years he resided there. It was also there he met Ghaera as a cub with plenty of fire in her. Though she was only young and little, severely undersized against a man, she tried to protect her deceased siblings, huddled in a den. Whether it was environmental, or infection, Erik took Ghaera into his cloak and kept her warm, fed and watered. Eventually his care led to a strong connection with the creature, and though they've had several disputes and accidents, particularly when Ghaera was in her teens, she was moody and did not know her own strength, and when Erik would occasionally revisit civilization (she did not like this) there was always a bond between the two.

His heart, commitment, dedication and home was always in the wilds with Ghaera so he never stayed long in the keeps or villages, but in such a setting was where he caught word of a hunting party. Erik ran the fastest he had in his life that day and when he saw a stealthy archer taking aim at his beast, he tackled him. The hunting party turned their attention to the commotion and pinned Erik down. Men held his arms and others stepped on his legs to keep him on his knees and when he faced the threatening blade coming to his neck, Ghaera interfered. Things turned rapidly red.

p r o n o u n c i a t i o n s x // x Measborn: Mayz-born / Maze-born
Gheara : Yar-rah

c r e a t o r x // x Sparky x // x c s x b a s e d x// x Scar.-

So begins...

Erik Measborn's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Bayard Volström Character Portrait: Phaedra Raephen Character Portrait: Varric Dalgaard Character Portrait: Theon Mercier Character Portrait: Avila Baravond Character Portrait: Ottaric Drengsorn Character Portrait: Erik Measborn Character Portrait: Aedan Tylarro Character Portrait: Asa Ilriane Character Portrait: Maedoc Thibault Character Portrait: Athelia Nelmos Character Portrait: Ephra Rouden Character Portrait: Helena Bigge Character Portrait: Thorund Kilhig Character Portrait: Erynion Reyyarus Character Portrait: Thadhrion Gaethdal
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

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#, as written by mjolnir

bayard volström
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
bearx|xhumanx|xknight warrior


varric dalgaard
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ravagerx|xdwarfx|xbandit rogue


phaedra raephen
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thalinx|xelfx|xassassin rogue


Every day had seemed like the last for months in Ilyos. Not that Bayard minded, he liked the lull in action. It wasn't often that he had to be on his toes. Most of the Ilyosie never caused much trouble aside from the occasional drunken brawl. And what people who decided to break laws beyond that would spend the remainder of their now shortened lives in the dungeons. Of course, there was always something to do for the knights of the King's Guard, especially the Captain. But that day it seemed all that was needed was patrolling, if you could even call it that. It wasn't often that patrolling guards had to do much of anything, other than escort drunks home or help find children that stay out later than their curfew.

Bayard strolled slowly along the west bridge, making his way away from the keep. He didn't particularly have a destination in mind, but his feet always seemed to guide him to the same place. The docks. His left hand rested on the hilt of his sword, as the heels of his boots clicked quietly upon the stone walk way. He smiled and nodded his head toward people who passed by. With his attention focused on the gently rolling tide that lapped against the docked boats, Bayard didn't realize the sound of tiny feet pitter pattering up to him.

"Bay!" The small voiced sang from behind him as her little hand tugged on the hem of his shirt.

He couldn't fight the smile that crept across his face. Bayard quickly reached down, and scooped up the young Penelope. He spun her around playfully, before raising her up so that she could sit on his shoulders. The bubbly blonde giggled the entire time as Bayard held her hands and spun around with her on his shoulders. "And how is my favorite girl today?"

Penelope laughed happily, holding tight to his thumbs. "I brought you something!"

"Oh you did?" Bayard moved his hands to gently hold her feet as she wiggled on his shoulders. "Careful," he laughed, making sure she didn't fall as she squirmed.

After a moment or two of her moving around, Penelope's small hand shoved something into his face. "I made this for you."

"Wow," he said leaning his head back to try and see the gift. Her little arms held it so close to his face that it tickled his nose almost making him sneeze.

"It's a necklace!"

"I knew that," Bayard fibbed, just then finally seeing the small blue flowers tied together by their stems.

"It'll match your feather," she said as she tried her best to put the necklace over his head. Bayard raised his right hand and helped her get it over his head without breaking it. Penelope then grabbed his hair and pulled it up and over the chain of flowers. "Do you still have your feather I gave you?" she asked as her fingers started digging through his brunette locks.

"Of course I do," he said. Bayard reached his left hand behind his ear, after moment or two he found a deep blue feather that was fastened to a braid in his hair. Penelope instantly giggled when she saw it, running her finger tips over it.

Penelope sighed contently as she rested her cheek upon the top of his head. Her right hand continuously brushing the blue feather. Bayard adjusted her on his shoulders slightly before continuing walking toward the docks. "Hey, Bay?"


"The next time you go out on one of your adventures... Can you bring me back a feather too?" She leaned forward, looking down at Bayard. Her little hands grabbed the side of his face, tilting his head back so he could look up at her. Penelope's plump little face framed by her blonde curls.

Bayard descended the wooden stairs that lead down to the King's naval fleet. "Purple!" she chirped. Before he could respond, Penelope bounced on his shoulders with excitement seeing where they were. "What are we doing here?" she teased, as if she didn't already know.

"Visiting a friend," Bayard answered as they neared the ramp that lead to the ship. If he didn't hurry and get Penelope off his shoulders, she probably would have jumped off. He lowered her down to the ground and the second her feet touched the dock, she took off in a sprint. "Careful!" he called after her as she ran up the ramp to the ship.

"Aedan!" Penelope called out when she reached the deck of the ship.

Bayard followed her up the ramp slowly, not nearly in the rush that she was. He raised his hand, knocking his knuckles against the ships railing. "Knock, knock. Permission to come aboard?" He called out toward Aedan, even though he couldn't see him. Penelope continued to run around and search for Aedan furiously.

Just before he stepped onboard, he heard someone clear their throat from behind him. Bayard pivoted on his heels, turning around to face the culprit. Standing below him on the dock was King Guardsman Percy. "Sir Volström," he greeted with a bow. No matter how much he heard it, Bayard hasn't gotten used to the titles and treatments that came with being Captain of the guard.

"Percy," he replied. Bayard glanced over his shoulder toward Penelope, making sure she was in sight and ok. Then he descended down the ramp until he was face to face with the man. "Is there something you need?"

"The King requests your presence immediately, Sir. Along with Captain Tylarro."

Bayard sighed. Of course, a quiet day couldn't last forever. It never did. He glanced back over his shoulder toward the ship. "Aedan... Penelope," he called out to them, before turning his attention back to Percy. "What's wrong? Is the King ok?"

"Yes, of course, Sir. Sorry, I did not mean to worry you. Just following orders." Percy held out a rolled up piece of parchment that held his orders along with the seal of the king. "I've just been told he requests both of you, presently. He has sent messengers to gather you, Captain Tylarro, Ottaric Drengsorn, Athelia Nelmos and Helena Bigge. And that you shall head to the dungeons to meet him, immediately. I apologize, I do not know anything. Just that it is urgent."

Bayard raised his right hand, scratching at his beard. After a moment, he nodded his head toward Percy. He then turned toward Penelope who came running down the ramp to him. Bay squatted down so that he was more at her level. "Hey," he smiled, taking her hands in his. "I have to go. Percy here is going to take you back to the home. I'm sure Madame Charlotte is worried sick about you." He gave her a slight smile, playfully tugging at her hands.

Penelope frowned. "You always have to go."

"I know," he sighed softly, pulling her in for a hug. "How about this... When I'm done, I'll stop by and tell you all another story about Aedan and my's adventures. Deal?"

She quickly perked up, a smile growing upon her face. "Ok!"

Bayard stood up and walked Penelope over toward Percy. He took her little hand and held it out to the guard. "Straight to the orphanage, Percy. And you," he pointed down at the little blonde. "Don't hurt Percy too much. He's fragile." He laughed and patted the guard on the shoulder as he walked away with Penelope in tow.

Once alone, Bay looked over at Aedan, nodding his head in the direction of the keep. "We've been summoned," he said with a roll of his eyes. Although meeting in the dungeons was new territory, he didn't expect anything of it. It seemed anymore that every time they were summoned it was because of something irrelevant. But alas, they had to answer the call.


The dungeon was dark, cold and wet. It didn't matter the time of year, or the weather outside, it never changed. The waterfall that surrounded the cells kept everything in the perpetual state of uncomfortable dampness. Instead of eery silences, the sounds of dripping and rushing water echoed throughout the handful of cells. Five cells total made up the small dungeon. It comes as no surprise in regards to the reputation of how Ilyos deals with their prisoners.

It could be argued that Phaedra was put in the worst cell of the dungeon, if there was such a cell. It seemed the waterfall tended to slip into this cell more than the others and she didn't know any better, it looked to be open to the heart of the falls. She sat with her back against the left wall, her legs stretched out before her and her ankles crossed. With a sigh, she let her head slowly lean back until it was resting upon the wall.

Her gaze did not falter from Thadhrion who shared the cell with Phaedra, sitting across from her. She didn't let a single emotion wash over her face. Instead, her jaw was clenched and eyes squinted in deep thought... Or potentially trying to smite him with her mind. But smiting didn't seem like a realistic option. As she stared, she couldn't help her foot tapping. Her nostrils seemed to flare with every breath like she was just waiting... Waiting for her top to blow or the words to finally form sentences in her mind.

A large drop of water fell from the ceiling, landing right in the center of her forehead. Phaedra growled out of frustration, wiping the water from her head. She pushed off the ground, quickly moving to her feet. Before she knew it, she was pacing around the small cell, walking back and forth from one side to the other. It seemed as though the more she walked, the more claustrophobic she got in the cell. Her hands quickly tore her scarf from out her neck and threw it at Thadhrion.

"Do you have any idea what you've done!?" And there it was. Phaedra's anger finally boiled over and formed words. Words that lashed out from her lips like a whip toward the elf in her cell. "If you would have just listened to me, we wouldn't be here!" She stormed over to him, snatching her scarf up from his lap. "I told you not to follow me. To leave, and forget about me. I am not who you think I am." She stared down at him. "Phaedra is dead," she hissed at him under her breath so only he could hear.

Phaedra walked over to the iron bars that faced out to the other cells. She raised her hands to grab them until her knuckles went white. Her head fell forward until her forehead was pressed to the cold metal. "You ruined... Everything. Mercier would be dead if you would have just let me be." She sighed, tapping her finger tips against the bars.

To say that Phaedra was livid was an understatement. Not once had a target slipped through her fingers. There was a reason she had the reputation she did. But then Thadhrion just had to show. He belonged in Avalon, far far away from her. If he would have just let her be, she'd have the King's head and be on her way to redemption. Now she'd most likely see the end of her days from inside that miserable damp cell. To say she wasn't tempted to jump out the hole and let the waterfall take her would be a lie. But she didn't. She simply stood there, grasping the iron bars like they were the king's throat, refusing to turn around and face Thadhrion.


Unlike many of the prisoners, Varric didn't see his time in the dungeons as the end of everything. He has spent more than his fair share of time in cells throughout Xalterra and this was no different. There was just a lack of a wall and some water. No big deal. He didn't even mind it, aside from being wet all the time. His fingers had been prunes for days by that point. It was annoying but not intolerable. Varric spent most of his time trying to run through different escape ideas. Most seemed fairly improbable or unsuccessful if attempted, but that didn't mean if he were given the opportunity that he wouldn't try.

He laid with his back on the ground, far beyond caring about what parts of him were in puddles or being dripped on. Varric didn't even seem to mind the rats that scurried in every once in awhile. His short legs were stretched up along the wall and his arms crossed over his chest. On more than one occasion he found himself eaves dropping on the other prisoners in the different cells. He was particularly interested in Thalin. In all the years that he had known the woman, not once had she been captured or failed to kill a target. Interesting that when it came to this one particular kill... A King no less, that she failed. Varric couldn't help but wonder if it was a case of morals, a miss calculation, if she was outnumbered by guards... But as he heard her yelling from across the dungeons, it sounded more like whomever the frosty headed elf was played some part in her failure.

Varric sighed, swinging his legs from the wall and shifting so that he was sitting up. He ran his hands back through his hair and scratched his scalp as he sized up his cell partner. He couldn't fight the urge to smile at the fiery headed elf. Asa was definitely attractive. And the fact that she was a pirate elf just added to her appeal. After all, there was a reason he sought her out on more than one occasion when he needed someone with a ship. There was always something about a strong woman that got him going, and the fact that she seemed thoroughly uninterested only made it more fun.

"So, Red." Varric rested his head back against the wall. He entangled his fingers and then rested his hands in his lap. "What got you down here?" He cocked his head to the side slightly. "Because if it was my fault, I'd say I owe you a drink when we get out of here." Varric flashed her a sly smirk. "And if it was her fault, he continued, pointing at Thalin who stood in the cell across from them, staring right at him. "I guess that means I'd have to kill her."

From across the dungeon, Thalin laughed a could and emotionless laugh. "Oh, please,"she said with a roll of her eyes. "Could you even reach me?" She slid her arms through the gaps in the iron bars, letting her arms hang as she stared at him. She raised a threatening brow toward him.

"Is that a Dwarf joke?" Varric faked being offended, pressing his hand to his chest in shock. "I think that was a Dwarf joke," he said toward Asa.