Setting
Default Location for The Chosen Few: The Broken Order {Reboot x2}
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Ur'Idon is a part of 
The Chosen Few: The Broken Order {Reboot x2}.
6 Characters Here
Samanta Lamra [10]
Valeryn Terynis [10] "My word is my honor, and I will not shirk it for anyone."
Jathra affalen'Bhatura [10] "Words before swords."
Stephen Lothbrook [10] "Honour, Faith, Hope... It is real. It must be real."
Veran Ruthgard [10]
Merriwyn Mahariel [10] "Magic is still a mystery, the elders know only a fraction of its wonders."
Start Character Here »
The silence that settled on Castle Halwall after the cacophony of sound that existed earlier was unnerving, almost unnatural in the change. Inside the castle walls were the site of a massacre, the massacre of the Watcher Order. Nearly two hundred men and women had entered in the late morning, now in the afternoon only the bodies of the dead were still above in it. There, only two were moving, the servants assigned to body duty, to move the corpses for later disposal.
"I dun't like dis, dyou think twas' a bit hasty of Lord Ulfric to order all dem Watchas offed?" One of the says as he lugs a body of a Watcher towards the pile of bodies in the center of the courtyard.
"I think you should keep your voice down lest you want to have a meetin' with the 'eadsman, b'sides I trust our Lord's judgement, them Watchers are too dangerous for their own good." The other responds in a noticably quieter voice as he grabs the other end of the Watcher, helping his friend throw the body into the pile of corpses.
"The common folk won't be happy, what with dem Watchas been helpin' dem all out an' all The first one says, in a more hushed tone now
"That's why Lord Ulfric won't tell them, easy that way. Now help me out with this one, he's a big one." The second one says as he grabs the legs of one of the soldiers' bodies.
"What dyou think happened to da Watchas that survived?" The first says.
"Nothing good, not at all." The second one replies.
Unknown to both of them, nothing had yet happened to the Watchers in the castle dungeons below, for many the uncertainty of capture was worse than the certainty of death, a sentiment likely shared by some of the prisoners in the cells while others would see this as 'live to fight another day', for any small chance is at least a chance at all, and that chance was coming.
Lieutenant Commander Veran Ruthgard did not expect to still be alive, especially with the damage he had done to Lord Ulfric's ranks. Accounting for all of his injuries, they had not been the worse he's had by far, to him this injuries were akin to paper cuts, annoying certainly but not debilitating. Still, he focused his mind on the pain, mentally blocking it to clear his senses. When he managed to clear up his mind, he took stock of the room around him. It was dark, and smelt of excrement, both from the rats and from the bucket in the corner of the room. There was a straw mat which he had been lying on earlier and nothing else. He suspected at least a few other Watchers had survived the near annihilation of the Order, even if Grandmaster Trepe hadn't, being one of the first one to fall to the archers that had been the prelude to the death and carnage that soon followed.
Now he sat on the floor, resting and praying to the Holy Trinity and his own family's patron god Nargul, for protection and the strength to fight if the chance ever came.
"I dun't like dis, dyou think twas' a bit hasty of Lord Ulfric to order all dem Watchas offed?" One of the says as he lugs a body of a Watcher towards the pile of bodies in the center of the courtyard.
"I think you should keep your voice down lest you want to have a meetin' with the 'eadsman, b'sides I trust our Lord's judgement, them Watchers are too dangerous for their own good." The other responds in a noticably quieter voice as he grabs the other end of the Watcher, helping his friend throw the body into the pile of corpses.
"The common folk won't be happy, what with dem Watchas been helpin' dem all out an' all The first one says, in a more hushed tone now
"That's why Lord Ulfric won't tell them, easy that way. Now help me out with this one, he's a big one." The second one says as he grabs the legs of one of the soldiers' bodies.
"What dyou think happened to da Watchas that survived?" The first says.
"Nothing good, not at all." The second one replies.
Unknown to both of them, nothing had yet happened to the Watchers in the castle dungeons below, for many the uncertainty of capture was worse than the certainty of death, a sentiment likely shared by some of the prisoners in the cells while others would see this as 'live to fight another day', for any small chance is at least a chance at all, and that chance was coming.
Lieutenant Commander Veran Ruthgard did not expect to still be alive, especially with the damage he had done to Lord Ulfric's ranks. Accounting for all of his injuries, they had not been the worse he's had by far, to him this injuries were akin to paper cuts, annoying certainly but not debilitating. Still, he focused his mind on the pain, mentally blocking it to clear his senses. When he managed to clear up his mind, he took stock of the room around him. It was dark, and smelt of excrement, both from the rats and from the bucket in the corner of the room. There was a straw mat which he had been lying on earlier and nothing else. He suspected at least a few other Watchers had survived the near annihilation of the Order, even if Grandmaster Trepe hadn't, being one of the first one to fall to the archers that had been the prelude to the death and carnage that soon followed.
Now he sat on the floor, resting and praying to the Holy Trinity and his own family's patron god Nargul, for protection and the strength to fight if the chance ever came.
Valeryn came to a a snap, his eyes quickly opening to take in his surroundings and status.
First, he was alive, which was good.
Second, he was in pretty bloody awful pain, which was bad.
Third, his left arm was the limb hurting, and it felt extremely wet, which was really bad.
Fourth, he was sitting in a filthy cell by himself, except for a few bones left from its previous occupant.
With these things running through his head Valeryn clutched his arm to his body to look at it better, and closed his eyes briefly before he hurled. There was a laceration running along the outside of his arm, just below the elbow, and he could see his bone. He sat for a seconds, still as can be, breathing deeply to steady himself, and then began to call out "Hello? Are there any of my brothers and sisters of the Order alive here? I am Brother Valeryn, and-" his sentence was cut off as a fresh wave of pain brought tears to his eyes, and a groan was torn from his throat. His will was broken briefly, and the pain overwhelmed him, like the waves of the seas crashing over a child's sandcastle. He fell forwards into the bars of his cell, letting loose a yelp of pain as he did so, for his savaged arm banged against the cold iron. With his face pressed against the bars he could see a little more, and he saw a guardsman.
The man was leaning against a wall, armored in rusty chain that hadn't been cleaned in a few years, and barely contained the man's gut. A shabby mace was clutched in the fellow's fist, and the reek of alcohol permeated the air. Glaring blearily at Valeryn, he said
"Oi! Whatchu talkin bout the Order? You lot is finished, ya hear? Gonna make you all squal like wee sucklin pigs, and I'm gonna laugh. You buggers killed my cousin Thurn, and ya deserve to die." After this brief speech, he waved his mace around threateningly, and then resumed his lazy position, setting the mace between his feet to take a swig from a canteen.
First, he was alive, which was good.
Second, he was in pretty bloody awful pain, which was bad.
Third, his left arm was the limb hurting, and it felt extremely wet, which was really bad.
Fourth, he was sitting in a filthy cell by himself, except for a few bones left from its previous occupant.
With these things running through his head Valeryn clutched his arm to his body to look at it better, and closed his eyes briefly before he hurled. There was a laceration running along the outside of his arm, just below the elbow, and he could see his bone. He sat for a seconds, still as can be, breathing deeply to steady himself, and then began to call out "Hello? Are there any of my brothers and sisters of the Order alive here? I am Brother Valeryn, and-" his sentence was cut off as a fresh wave of pain brought tears to his eyes, and a groan was torn from his throat. His will was broken briefly, and the pain overwhelmed him, like the waves of the seas crashing over a child's sandcastle. He fell forwards into the bars of his cell, letting loose a yelp of pain as he did so, for his savaged arm banged against the cold iron. With his face pressed against the bars he could see a little more, and he saw a guardsman.
The man was leaning against a wall, armored in rusty chain that hadn't been cleaned in a few years, and barely contained the man's gut. A shabby mace was clutched in the fellow's fist, and the reek of alcohol permeated the air. Glaring blearily at Valeryn, he said
"Oi! Whatchu talkin bout the Order? You lot is finished, ya hear? Gonna make you all squal like wee sucklin pigs, and I'm gonna laugh. You buggers killed my cousin Thurn, and ya deserve to die." After this brief speech, he waved his mace around threateningly, and then resumed his lazy position, setting the mace between his feet to take a swig from a canteen.
Merriwyn marched with the others, one the outside the flag bearers carried the flag which had brought such hope in such a dismal time, it felt good to finally be part of something, something actively helping the people, defending the weak rather than claiming to, helping the poor rather than caring for it's own selfish gains. It seemed all of the Watchers had been pulled from the front lines, from the refugee camps, from the villages and even the elders from the Watcher Stronghold had abandoned the safety of its walls and made for Halwall Castle.
She could see them at the front, they rode steeds rather than walked, the Grandmaster at the head of the large force, unlike the rest of the Order, Merriwyn had been stationed in one of Lord Ulfric's villages, tending to the ill and injured, so the journey wasn't as long for her, but for most it had been a gruelling and tiresome journey, having travelled miles upon miles to get to Lord Ulfric's domain, let alone the seat of his power.
As they approached the looming walls of the city, a sense of dread washed over Merriwyn, she felt nothing good coming from the city, she spotted the guards on the walls whisper to each other, she looked at the rest of the Watchers, most were too exhausted to look around. She knew a lot of the force wasn't even order members, some of them were caravans who decided to join the force in an effort to seek refuge from the war. When the gates shut, she was in a panic, watching as the chaos descended on the surprised force. She spotted a child, one of the caravanners daughter, the attackers were unrelenting, cutting down everyone in their path, one stood for the young girl. "NO!" Merriwyn screamed, running for the man, she threw her hand out as she cried the incantation. "Bela ed' templa!" The soldier was hit by an invisible force which sent him flying a few metres back.
"They have mages!" She heard one of the soldiers shout, she glanced to the side to see who had shouted it, thenshe felt someone grab her arm and yank her.
"Merriwyn, they'll kill you if they think you're a threat." Merriwyn recognised the voice, it was Tevran, one of the Order's knights, the man she loved. "Please forgive me." He whispered before kissing her, followed by a blunt smash to her head, Merriwyn instantly blacked out.
***
Merriwyn sat up in her cell, panting and cold from her sweat, her head ached as she moved to quickly, she put her hand to her hair and when she removed it to inspect it, it was wet, red and sticky. Her head throbbed as she focused her already weaning energy on the cut. "Tanka harwar." A faint glow emanated from her palm as the many glided over the wound and healed it. Merriwyn didn't dare stand for fear of fainting again.
"Hello? Are there any of my brothers and sisters of the Order alive here? I am Brother Valeryn, and-" Merriwyn recognised the voice.
"Valeryn!" She picked herself up and approached the iron bars. "Valeryn, it's Merriwyn! Did you see what happened to Tevran? Is he alright?" Merriwyn leant against the bars, she spotted the fat guard, her face visibly contorted to show her disgust at his overall appearance. "Excuse me! Please! I should see to the Watchers, if their wounds are too-"
"Enough o' yer jabberin'!" He slammed the pommel of his mace against the wall. "Me lord said nuffin 'bout healin' scratches."
"But no doubt, he expects to make an example of us at an execution, he'll be expecting this number, and if less come out, he won't be happy. His example won't have the same impact." The guard seemed to ponder her words, before nodding, a sigh of relief washed over Merriwyn as he took the bait.
The guard unlocked her cell and yanked her out, his hands were dirty and calloused and not soft, his rough skin making her delicate and soft skin bruise under the pressure, her robes had been torn and blood soaked, she did not represent the sisters very well. He brought her to Valeryn's cell and shoved her in, the push forced her to fall onto the dirt covered floor and ruin the robes more.
However, Merriwyn picked herself up and turned to see Valeryn's arm, her expression of anger turned to worry and she audibly gasped, she spotted the bone and visibly shivered. "I need to clean the wound before I do anything." She lifted her hands and hovered them just above the wound. "This will hurt." She warned him, she took in a deep breath and before she uttered the incantation she placed her hands on the wound, the blood soaked her hand and she swore she could feel some bone."Ama handasse." The spell made a green aura flow from her hands and it danced around both her hands and his arm, the spell would only cleanse his wound of infection and dirt, but in no way would it numb the pain, it would be the equivalent to pouring boiling water into the flesh, Merriwyn could feel him squirm but she had to stay connected to him, so she had to apply more pressure to keep in contact with him.
Having cleansed his arm, she reeled back, her head throbbed worse than it had a few minutes ago, she was becoming lihght headed and draining too much energy too quickly, she steadied herself against the bars, but her whole body ached, her head throbbed and her arms were too weak to move, her back felt like she had sat arched for too long and strained the spine, but if she didn't do something, Valeryn would loss his arm or worse, die of infection.
Merriwyn sucked in a deep breath and pushed through the pain, "Give me your arm, this won't hurt, I promise." She hovered her hands over the wound this time and uttered the same incantation as from before, "Tanka harwar." The familiar white glow shown down in beams and the wound visibly healed itself, but her hands started to shake uncontrollably, she was using too much power and she had only started the incantation, she was no great healer from the Bastion, she couldn't heal without growing tired, but she was all the Order had that was close enough to a healer from the great bastion of the True elves.
Merriwyn visibly swayed as the spell came to an end, the magic hadn't fully healed the wound but it was enough to prevent any serious consequences. Merriwyn quickly set herself on the floor, her breathing was deep and loud, her skin was pale and looked far less vibrant than before, her eyes even seemed to have clouded over, too much magic at the one time had drained her.
She could see them at the front, they rode steeds rather than walked, the Grandmaster at the head of the large force, unlike the rest of the Order, Merriwyn had been stationed in one of Lord Ulfric's villages, tending to the ill and injured, so the journey wasn't as long for her, but for most it had been a gruelling and tiresome journey, having travelled miles upon miles to get to Lord Ulfric's domain, let alone the seat of his power.
As they approached the looming walls of the city, a sense of dread washed over Merriwyn, she felt nothing good coming from the city, she spotted the guards on the walls whisper to each other, she looked at the rest of the Watchers, most were too exhausted to look around. She knew a lot of the force wasn't even order members, some of them were caravans who decided to join the force in an effort to seek refuge from the war. When the gates shut, she was in a panic, watching as the chaos descended on the surprised force. She spotted a child, one of the caravanners daughter, the attackers were unrelenting, cutting down everyone in their path, one stood for the young girl. "NO!" Merriwyn screamed, running for the man, she threw her hand out as she cried the incantation. "Bela ed' templa!" The soldier was hit by an invisible force which sent him flying a few metres back.
"They have mages!" She heard one of the soldiers shout, she glanced to the side to see who had shouted it, thenshe felt someone grab her arm and yank her.
"Merriwyn, they'll kill you if they think you're a threat." Merriwyn recognised the voice, it was Tevran, one of the Order's knights, the man she loved. "Please forgive me." He whispered before kissing her, followed by a blunt smash to her head, Merriwyn instantly blacked out.
***
Merriwyn sat up in her cell, panting and cold from her sweat, her head ached as she moved to quickly, she put her hand to her hair and when she removed it to inspect it, it was wet, red and sticky. Her head throbbed as she focused her already weaning energy on the cut. "Tanka harwar." A faint glow emanated from her palm as the many glided over the wound and healed it. Merriwyn didn't dare stand for fear of fainting again.
"Hello? Are there any of my brothers and sisters of the Order alive here? I am Brother Valeryn, and-" Merriwyn recognised the voice.
"Valeryn!" She picked herself up and approached the iron bars. "Valeryn, it's Merriwyn! Did you see what happened to Tevran? Is he alright?" Merriwyn leant against the bars, she spotted the fat guard, her face visibly contorted to show her disgust at his overall appearance. "Excuse me! Please! I should see to the Watchers, if their wounds are too-"
"Enough o' yer jabberin'!" He slammed the pommel of his mace against the wall. "Me lord said nuffin 'bout healin' scratches."
"But no doubt, he expects to make an example of us at an execution, he'll be expecting this number, and if less come out, he won't be happy. His example won't have the same impact." The guard seemed to ponder her words, before nodding, a sigh of relief washed over Merriwyn as he took the bait.
The guard unlocked her cell and yanked her out, his hands were dirty and calloused and not soft, his rough skin making her delicate and soft skin bruise under the pressure, her robes had been torn and blood soaked, she did not represent the sisters very well. He brought her to Valeryn's cell and shoved her in, the push forced her to fall onto the dirt covered floor and ruin the robes more.
However, Merriwyn picked herself up and turned to see Valeryn's arm, her expression of anger turned to worry and she audibly gasped, she spotted the bone and visibly shivered. "I need to clean the wound before I do anything." She lifted her hands and hovered them just above the wound. "This will hurt." She warned him, she took in a deep breath and before she uttered the incantation she placed her hands on the wound, the blood soaked her hand and she swore she could feel some bone."Ama handasse." The spell made a green aura flow from her hands and it danced around both her hands and his arm, the spell would only cleanse his wound of infection and dirt, but in no way would it numb the pain, it would be the equivalent to pouring boiling water into the flesh, Merriwyn could feel him squirm but she had to stay connected to him, so she had to apply more pressure to keep in contact with him.
Having cleansed his arm, she reeled back, her head throbbed worse than it had a few minutes ago, she was becoming lihght headed and draining too much energy too quickly, she steadied herself against the bars, but her whole body ached, her head throbbed and her arms were too weak to move, her back felt like she had sat arched for too long and strained the spine, but if she didn't do something, Valeryn would loss his arm or worse, die of infection.
Merriwyn sucked in a deep breath and pushed through the pain, "Give me your arm, this won't hurt, I promise." She hovered her hands over the wound this time and uttered the same incantation as from before, "Tanka harwar." The familiar white glow shown down in beams and the wound visibly healed itself, but her hands started to shake uncontrollably, she was using too much power and she had only started the incantation, she was no great healer from the Bastion, she couldn't heal without growing tired, but she was all the Order had that was close enough to a healer from the great bastion of the True elves.
Merriwyn visibly swayed as the spell came to an end, the magic hadn't fully healed the wound but it was enough to prevent any serious consequences. Merriwyn quickly set herself on the floor, her breathing was deep and loud, her skin was pale and looked far less vibrant than before, her eyes even seemed to have clouded over, too much magic at the one time had drained her.
Ser Stephen Lothbrook sat on the floor of his cell, his hands clasped in prayer despite the many wounds dotting his body. Mere cuts, he thought with a frown. Dried blood covered half his face, but he paid it no mind. Oh Holy Trinity, have You forsaken us as well?
Stephen felt like a fool. It was he who encouraged the others to accept Lord Ulfric's invitation. He was certain that with his support, they could end this war. He did not expect their betrayal. None of them did. So many had died and yet he lived, a touch of sentimentality on his father's part, he suspected. Why did Lord Ulfric betray them? What had he to gain? The Order was willing to work with him and he threw it all away to continue his petty war with the Grand Duke.
He listened to the guards mock their order and he was heartened to hear a familiar voice. Merriwyn was a kind soul. He was glad he survived. For what purpose? He thought. They were all as good as dead. No, he thought. Not yet. There was still hope. He watched her heal one of the other survivors, Valeryn, he thought his name was. He frowned at the way her face paled.
"Rest now, comrade. Any further use of your magic will be of more harm than the wounds you heal," he said gently.
"You even sound like a woman," a guard snorted. Stephen ignored him. Instead, he lay his head against the wall, resting his body from the battle before. He had killed many men before being brought down by his own father. He was both physically and emotionally exhausted. A little whining from a guard did not bother him at all.M
Stephen felt like a fool. It was he who encouraged the others to accept Lord Ulfric's invitation. He was certain that with his support, they could end this war. He did not expect their betrayal. None of them did. So many had died and yet he lived, a touch of sentimentality on his father's part, he suspected. Why did Lord Ulfric betray them? What had he to gain? The Order was willing to work with him and he threw it all away to continue his petty war with the Grand Duke.
He listened to the guards mock their order and he was heartened to hear a familiar voice. Merriwyn was a kind soul. He was glad he survived. For what purpose? He thought. They were all as good as dead. No, he thought. Not yet. There was still hope. He watched her heal one of the other survivors, Valeryn, he thought his name was. He frowned at the way her face paled.
"Rest now, comrade. Any further use of your magic will be of more harm than the wounds you heal," he said gently.
"You even sound like a woman," a guard snorted. Stephen ignored him. Instead, he lay his head against the wall, resting his body from the battle before. He had killed many men before being brought down by his own father. He was both physically and emotionally exhausted. A little whining from a guard did not bother him at all.M
Jathra rolled over at the sound of movement outside his cell. He had been laying on his side and staring at the back wall his cell, contemplating his situation. This Ulfric was surely mad. Jathra could understand an ambush, could understand keeping prisoners for some use later. He condemned the ideas, but he could at least understand them. However, Keeping so many caged simply to kill them later was not something Jathra could understand in the slightest. Such a waste of time and resources. Still, Jathra was no stranger to madness, he had seen men perform such irrational actions before. Jathra wouldn’t let the confusion hinder him.
As the unofficial watcher recruit rolled his thoughts drifted to more immediate matters. He spotted the source of the commotion, a woman seemed to be pleading with a guard to let her treat some of the other prisoner’s wounds. Though the guard’s accent made it difficult for Jathra to understand his words, though his sentiment seemed clear that he didn’t agree. As Jathra was about to roll back over, he was surprised to see the woman convince the guard to let her treat another prisoner.
Might be lucky, he seems a fool. Jathra thought to himself, stifling a grin. It seemed their captors were incompetent enough that the watchers might be able to escape. As the woman was moved to another cell Jathra sat up and moved closer to the caged door.
Jathra watched and listened as another of the watchers spoke up, this one seemed to be acquainted with the woman and was giving her advice to not exhaust herself treating others. The guard chided the man for his concern. Jathra scratched the back of his head as he watched the guards movements and responses, trying to get a gauge of to exploit in order to escape.
The man was likely easily provoked, but he was just as likely to call more guards in if Jathra chided him. He didn’t seem all that intelligent, but he likely let the woman out from underestimating her gender and obvious profession as a healer. The man would likely not give Jathra the same opportunity.
Jathra sighed and cursed under his breath in his mother tongue. He could yet think of no sure way to exploit the guard’s ineptitude at the moment. Therefore, he simply resolved to keep observing, hoping an opportunity would present itself. He scanned the other prisoners he could see through the bars to his cell, keeping an eye out for anyone who else who looked like they were contemplating an escape plan.
As the unofficial watcher recruit rolled his thoughts drifted to more immediate matters. He spotted the source of the commotion, a woman seemed to be pleading with a guard to let her treat some of the other prisoner’s wounds. Though the guard’s accent made it difficult for Jathra to understand his words, though his sentiment seemed clear that he didn’t agree. As Jathra was about to roll back over, he was surprised to see the woman convince the guard to let her treat another prisoner.
Might be lucky, he seems a fool. Jathra thought to himself, stifling a grin. It seemed their captors were incompetent enough that the watchers might be able to escape. As the woman was moved to another cell Jathra sat up and moved closer to the caged door.
Jathra watched and listened as another of the watchers spoke up, this one seemed to be acquainted with the woman and was giving her advice to not exhaust herself treating others. The guard chided the man for his concern. Jathra scratched the back of his head as he watched the guards movements and responses, trying to get a gauge of to exploit in order to escape.
The man was likely easily provoked, but he was just as likely to call more guards in if Jathra chided him. He didn’t seem all that intelligent, but he likely let the woman out from underestimating her gender and obvious profession as a healer. The man would likely not give Jathra the same opportunity.
Jathra sighed and cursed under his breath in his mother tongue. He could yet think of no sure way to exploit the guard’s ineptitude at the moment. Therefore, he simply resolved to keep observing, hoping an opportunity would present itself. He scanned the other prisoners he could see through the bars to his cell, keeping an eye out for anyone who else who looked like they were contemplating an escape plan.
As he laid against the bars he noticed more commotion. One of his Sisters of the Order was asking the idiot guard to see about healing him. Valeryn blacked out briefly, and when he awoke he was against the wall now with the Elven Healer grasping his arm speaking a magic spell. Sheer burning agony suffused his arm briefly after the first spell and Val gasped in pain. Cold sweat burst from his skin and his breathing quadrupled in speed. Then, then came the second spell. Bone repaired, muscle knit to muscle, skin to skin, and his arm was whole once more. Valeryn looked down in amazement, for the bleeding had stopped! Yet there was a massive scar in its place. Then, looking to Merriwyn, who was swaying with exhaustion, her life energy seemingly drained, Valeryn said "You have my thanks Sister. Without your spellcraft I would be dead in the next ten minutes."
Valeryn then shifted the numb Merriwyn back to where he had been in order to take position at the front. He decided that in order for escape to be had they'd have to quickly neutralize the oaf guarding them. Taking a pugnacious stance, he called out to the guard "Hey! You with the gut! I was wondering about why you carry that mace."
The guard angrily stomped over there "Lissen here ya guttershite, I carry this mace so I can break mouthy little buggers like yaself"
Valeryn smirked, and then said "Really now? I was under the impression it was because no woman would ever sleep with you willingly." Blood suffused the man's face and he opened the jail cell door to beat Val to a pulp. As he moved in Valeryn's expression shifted into that of a man who is just taking the trash out. As the mace came down Valeryn deftly slipped past the clumsy blow and landed a quick jab into the side of the guard's thigh. As the man clutched at his leg Val pulled the mace from his grip and threw it to the side and quickly jabbed -one two three- three times into the side of the guardsman's neck. Said guardsman fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes.
Picking up the mace as he walked out, he smashed the locks of the cell doors, releasing the captives. Six brothers and sisters of the Order of the Watcher, and a score or so other prisoners. Valeryn stepped back into his former cell, and asked Merriwyn "Do you need help walking Sister?"
Valeryn then shifted the numb Merriwyn back to where he had been in order to take position at the front. He decided that in order for escape to be had they'd have to quickly neutralize the oaf guarding them. Taking a pugnacious stance, he called out to the guard "Hey! You with the gut! I was wondering about why you carry that mace."
The guard angrily stomped over there "Lissen here ya guttershite, I carry this mace so I can break mouthy little buggers like yaself"
Valeryn smirked, and then said "Really now? I was under the impression it was because no woman would ever sleep with you willingly." Blood suffused the man's face and he opened the jail cell door to beat Val to a pulp. As he moved in Valeryn's expression shifted into that of a man who is just taking the trash out. As the mace came down Valeryn deftly slipped past the clumsy blow and landed a quick jab into the side of the guard's thigh. As the man clutched at his leg Val pulled the mace from his grip and threw it to the side and quickly jabbed -one two three- three times into the side of the guardsman's neck. Said guardsman fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes.
Picking up the mace as he walked out, he smashed the locks of the cell doors, releasing the captives. Six brothers and sisters of the Order of the Watcher, and a score or so other prisoners. Valeryn stepped back into his former cell, and asked Merriwyn "Do you need help walking Sister?"
Water dripped slowly from the ceiling, trailing a path down the uneven crevices in the natural stone wall at which Samanta stared. Rather than spend precious time and resources to remove the natural stone areas and replace them with quarried pieces, the original builders of this castle had decided to utilize the naturally sturdy rock walls to form part of the foundation. A much cheaper path and possibly safer, though the hand-holds afforded by uncut stone would make any attempt at scaling the walls in unmanufactured areas much easier for an attacking force or escaping group of people. Escape...
Reaching the bottom of the wall, the water mingled with splatters of blood. A red tint colored the stream, pooling on the floor in front of Samanta. Scratches covered Samanta's hand as well as larger gashes the bled even hours after their creation. The pain felt good, a release from the reality which she endured these past hours. Her left hand began snaking its way towards the wall, seeking respite from the acidic memories of betrayal and loss. A voice calling out halted her movement, head tilting slightly as she attempted to make out the speaker. Muffled by crusted blood in her ear and a nasty concussion suffered during the battle, the noise resolved into a familiar voice, although it took Samanta several moments to puzzle through the inflection. Merriwyn.
Spinning her lithe body around adroitly, muscles spasmed as pain shot through nerves, stopping her suddenly in a half-turned position. Dropping to her stomach, Samanta finished swinging her lower body into position before proceeding to crawl forward to the bars, heedless of the grime contaminating her wounds. Grimacing, rage and sorrow painted her face in flickers. Must reach the bars.
Pushing her arms against the floor, she stumbled the final foot into the bars, slamming into the metal. Reveling and horrified at the pain, a sigh escaped her lip. Scanning the hallway as she slumped on the bars, Samanta smiled as Valeryn swiftly beat the guard, leaving the portly man unconscious on the ground.
Swiping two fingers across the blood on her left palm, Samanta's right hand traced a red pattern across her cheeks, a grin plastered on her face, fading quickly into a mournful visage. She stepped backwards as Valeryn opened the bars of her cell. Plans conflicted in her head. Confusion at what to do with freedom. Perhaps...
Stepping through the open portal, her gaze swung across the small gathering, deepening her sorrow. So be it. Striding towards the exit of the dungeons, she saluted Veran as she passed by, murmuring, "'Tis good to see you, Lord Ruthgard. Shall we escape this hell hole?"
Reaching the bottom of the wall, the water mingled with splatters of blood. A red tint colored the stream, pooling on the floor in front of Samanta. Scratches covered Samanta's hand as well as larger gashes the bled even hours after their creation. The pain felt good, a release from the reality which she endured these past hours. Her left hand began snaking its way towards the wall, seeking respite from the acidic memories of betrayal and loss. A voice calling out halted her movement, head tilting slightly as she attempted to make out the speaker. Muffled by crusted blood in her ear and a nasty concussion suffered during the battle, the noise resolved into a familiar voice, although it took Samanta several moments to puzzle through the inflection. Merriwyn.
Spinning her lithe body around adroitly, muscles spasmed as pain shot through nerves, stopping her suddenly in a half-turned position. Dropping to her stomach, Samanta finished swinging her lower body into position before proceeding to crawl forward to the bars, heedless of the grime contaminating her wounds. Grimacing, rage and sorrow painted her face in flickers. Must reach the bars.
Pushing her arms against the floor, she stumbled the final foot into the bars, slamming into the metal. Reveling and horrified at the pain, a sigh escaped her lip. Scanning the hallway as she slumped on the bars, Samanta smiled as Valeryn swiftly beat the guard, leaving the portly man unconscious on the ground.
Swiping two fingers across the blood on her left palm, Samanta's right hand traced a red pattern across her cheeks, a grin plastered on her face, fading quickly into a mournful visage. She stepped backwards as Valeryn opened the bars of her cell. Plans conflicted in her head. Confusion at what to do with freedom. Perhaps...
Stepping through the open portal, her gaze swung across the small gathering, deepening her sorrow. So be it. Striding towards the exit of the dungeons, she saluted Veran as she passed by, murmuring, "'Tis good to see you, Lord Ruthgard. Shall we escape this hell hole?"
Veran looked up, brought out of his trance by the sound of metal hitting rock, and he watched as a man, one that he recognized as Valeryn, a Watcher that he had served with, shatter the lock that was built into the door. He nodded his thanks to the man before rising from his seated position. Before he could leave his cell however, Samantha, a Sister-Sergeant he knew well, her face a grim visage, two lines painted on her cheeks with what looked like blood, passed by and muttered a few words to him.
"Tis good to see you, Lord Ruthgard. Shall we escape this hell hole?"
Veran nodded.
"Yes, we shall."
Above the dungeons, Lord Ulfric Ducant paced across the room repeatedly, a look of what seemed to be a mixture of fear, anger and uncertainty. His advance scouts had reported that a large forces was marching towards Halwall, a force much larger than the one he had in the castle, especially after the damage the Watchers had inflicted in its death throes.
"Damn our luck! They'll be at our walls within hours! How long will it take to summon my banners?" Lord Ulfric barked out to the older, rather chubby man whose hands were filled with various papers
"Lord Ulfric, your men will be prepared and marching here by the evening but-" The man spoke before being cut off by Lord Ulfric.
"But they will not reach us in time! I know this already!" Ulfric roared as he shot a hand up that knocked the papers out of the man's hand. "We cannot lose Halwall, it is our only road of attack in the east! My men are weak because of the fighting with the damned Watchers... Perhaps eliminating them so soon was a mistake. They would have been helpful in the coming battle..."
"No my Lord, you must not second guess yourself, you did what was required, no more, no less." The other man said whilst gathering up his papers.
"You are right, my friend. But I cannot help but feel that the Gods have forsaken me..."
Below, Veran was already up the stairs leading to Trinity knows where, having taken charge and ordered Valeryn to free whatever other prisoners there are, as they would serve as a decent distraction, and being in a decent physical condition compared to most of them, decided to take the lead. One man, Jathra as he was told, said that he was a Watcher recruit, given the opportunity when his life was saved by a Watcher during the battle. Veran took his word for it, and brought him along as well, after all, with their numbers so low they would need all the recruits that they could get.
There was a knock at the door.
"Rodrick? What's all that banging going on in there?"
Veran stayed silent.
"Rodrick? I swear if you're getting some whore to get down with you..."
There was the sound of jingling keys as they were flicked through and a solid thunk as the lock to the door was unlocked, and the door creaked open.
"Rod...rick?" the guard beyond the door said as he saw what looked like a giant towering over him.
There was a roar as Veran charged the man, lifting him up by the shoulder and running him into the opposing wall at the end of the room, slamming him into the hard stone, the sound of metal on rock again ringing out through the room, and he delivered a powerful right hook into the man's jaw, knocking him out cold as he held him by his left fore arm against the wall, before lifting the man up and slamming him back onto the ground to make sure he was not going to be getting back up anytime soon.
This was when he took a look around the room after he relieved the unconscious man of his keys and blade.
It was clear that this was the guards room, where they stored all the prisoners possessions that would need to be sorted through. There were a few more blades on various racks and some pieces of armor. Veran himself still had his armor, it was mostly intact, with only a few dents in his chestplate and cuts into the leather that needed to be repaired. Around the rooms there were tables piled with various books and ledgers, no doubt recording the prisoners taken, their possessions and otherwise. There were a few chests around the room, a door that lead to the outside and most importantly, a map detailing of the castle pasted on the wall.
The door he locked, as it would give advance warning in case anyone came to check up on the guards. He took the map down from the wall and cleared a table out that was in the center of the room and laid the map across it, and started studying it.
"Tis good to see you, Lord Ruthgard. Shall we escape this hell hole?"
Veran nodded.
"Yes, we shall."
Above the dungeons, Lord Ulfric Ducant paced across the room repeatedly, a look of what seemed to be a mixture of fear, anger and uncertainty. His advance scouts had reported that a large forces was marching towards Halwall, a force much larger than the one he had in the castle, especially after the damage the Watchers had inflicted in its death throes.
"Damn our luck! They'll be at our walls within hours! How long will it take to summon my banners?" Lord Ulfric barked out to the older, rather chubby man whose hands were filled with various papers
"Lord Ulfric, your men will be prepared and marching here by the evening but-" The man spoke before being cut off by Lord Ulfric.
"But they will not reach us in time! I know this already!" Ulfric roared as he shot a hand up that knocked the papers out of the man's hand. "We cannot lose Halwall, it is our only road of attack in the east! My men are weak because of the fighting with the damned Watchers... Perhaps eliminating them so soon was a mistake. They would have been helpful in the coming battle..."
"No my Lord, you must not second guess yourself, you did what was required, no more, no less." The other man said whilst gathering up his papers.
"You are right, my friend. But I cannot help but feel that the Gods have forsaken me..."
Below, Veran was already up the stairs leading to Trinity knows where, having taken charge and ordered Valeryn to free whatever other prisoners there are, as they would serve as a decent distraction, and being in a decent physical condition compared to most of them, decided to take the lead. One man, Jathra as he was told, said that he was a Watcher recruit, given the opportunity when his life was saved by a Watcher during the battle. Veran took his word for it, and brought him along as well, after all, with their numbers so low they would need all the recruits that they could get.
There was a knock at the door.
"Rodrick? What's all that banging going on in there?"
Veran stayed silent.
"Rodrick? I swear if you're getting some whore to get down with you..."
There was the sound of jingling keys as they were flicked through and a solid thunk as the lock to the door was unlocked, and the door creaked open.
"Rod...rick?" the guard beyond the door said as he saw what looked like a giant towering over him.
There was a roar as Veran charged the man, lifting him up by the shoulder and running him into the opposing wall at the end of the room, slamming him into the hard stone, the sound of metal on rock again ringing out through the room, and he delivered a powerful right hook into the man's jaw, knocking him out cold as he held him by his left fore arm against the wall, before lifting the man up and slamming him back onto the ground to make sure he was not going to be getting back up anytime soon.
This was when he took a look around the room after he relieved the unconscious man of his keys and blade.
It was clear that this was the guards room, where they stored all the prisoners possessions that would need to be sorted through. There were a few more blades on various racks and some pieces of armor. Veran himself still had his armor, it was mostly intact, with only a few dents in his chestplate and cuts into the leather that needed to be repaired. Around the rooms there were tables piled with various books and ledgers, no doubt recording the prisoners taken, their possessions and otherwise. There were a few chests around the room, a door that lead to the outside and most importantly, a map detailing of the castle pasted on the wall.
The door he locked, as it would give advance warning in case anyone came to check up on the guards. He took the map down from the wall and cleared a table out that was in the center of the room and laid the map across it, and started studying it.
Had Merriwyn have let herself, she would blacked out completely, making any chance for escape impossilbe for the others, unless they were to abandon her, she heard Valeryn thank her but she couldn't quite make it out, her entire senses were being purged in an effort to regain some energy, her sight was blurred and her hearing disrupted, her sense of touch had gone numb and the scent of the dungeon had left her all together, had she anything to taste, it would be bland and tasteless, even textureless. She didn't even feel Valeryn move her, her entire body was numb to the idea of being moved about.
A few moments later, her senses had returned to her, but she was exhausted, she needed to get out of the dungeon and if not to a campsite to a forest, she could draw from the natural deposits of magic and energy to regain some of what she'd lost temporarily. She sucked in a heavy breath, which ached her ribs, she went to push herself up when Valeryn's showed crept over her, she looked up and into his eyes as he offered his aid.
"Do you need help walking Sister?" Merriwyn shook head, put welcomingly accepted his hand in helping her up.
"I will only slow you down," She gave him a weak smile. "You and the stronger watchers should take the front, I will hang back with these prisoners, if needs be I can protect them, but it's doubtful it will even come to that." She urged him to follow Veran.
She heard the commotion from the bottom of the stairs, but ignored it, she was focused on getting herself up the stairs and to regrouping with the Watchers, she had assembled the remaining prisoners, nobles and peasants alike, no doubt the nobles were political prisoners and the peasants were conscripts who refused to fight, obviously there were common criminals, but the Order would have use for all of these people if they got free from Halwall.
She climbed the stairs with the group, she surveyed the room, and spotted the chest which contained the prisoners' possessions, she made her way stiffly towards it, it wasn't big enough for her staff, but her scroll and dagger would certainly fit inside, along with her potions belt and tome of elven spells, sifting through and gathering all of her affects, Merriwyn looked about for her staff, it had no more magic contained with it, it had little more use than a walking stick but given the right place she could charge it again. She scanned the rack of weapons, nothing and it wasn't until she noticed a pile of junk did she recognise the intricatly carved wood and polished glean, the staff had been split in two and they were to use it as fire wood. Merriwyn felt a wave of helplessness at the sight, but she simply clenched her fist around the hilt of her dagger and assembled with Veran.
Having looked at the map for long enough, it was clear there were plenty of ways out of the castle but the best one, she'd have no clue. She looked at the nervous civilains who were nervously huddled together.
"Which of these pathways is the best way out?" Merriwyn asked them, one of the finer dressed woman snorted.
"Well obviously the front gate." One of the criminals laughed at her and Merriwyn looked at the pair with an annoyed expression, to which the man stepped forward.
"You'll want to follow this path," He traced his finger along a passageway. "It's a small exit, it's mainly to be used to evacuate the nobles of Halwall during times of attack, since the city seems to finishing it's victims off from within, it shouldn't be too heavily guarded." Merriwyn thanked the man before looking to Veran.
"What do you think, Lord Ruthgard?" Her voice hid any pain she was feeling, her entire body ached and if it came to it she'd be in no position to fight.
A few moments later, her senses had returned to her, but she was exhausted, she needed to get out of the dungeon and if not to a campsite to a forest, she could draw from the natural deposits of magic and energy to regain some of what she'd lost temporarily. She sucked in a heavy breath, which ached her ribs, she went to push herself up when Valeryn's showed crept over her, she looked up and into his eyes as he offered his aid.
"Do you need help walking Sister?" Merriwyn shook head, put welcomingly accepted his hand in helping her up.
"I will only slow you down," She gave him a weak smile. "You and the stronger watchers should take the front, I will hang back with these prisoners, if needs be I can protect them, but it's doubtful it will even come to that." She urged him to follow Veran.
She heard the commotion from the bottom of the stairs, but ignored it, she was focused on getting herself up the stairs and to regrouping with the Watchers, she had assembled the remaining prisoners, nobles and peasants alike, no doubt the nobles were political prisoners and the peasants were conscripts who refused to fight, obviously there were common criminals, but the Order would have use for all of these people if they got free from Halwall.
She climbed the stairs with the group, she surveyed the room, and spotted the chest which contained the prisoners' possessions, she made her way stiffly towards it, it wasn't big enough for her staff, but her scroll and dagger would certainly fit inside, along with her potions belt and tome of elven spells, sifting through and gathering all of her affects, Merriwyn looked about for her staff, it had no more magic contained with it, it had little more use than a walking stick but given the right place she could charge it again. She scanned the rack of weapons, nothing and it wasn't until she noticed a pile of junk did she recognise the intricatly carved wood and polished glean, the staff had been split in two and they were to use it as fire wood. Merriwyn felt a wave of helplessness at the sight, but she simply clenched her fist around the hilt of her dagger and assembled with Veran.
Having looked at the map for long enough, it was clear there were plenty of ways out of the castle but the best one, she'd have no clue. She looked at the nervous civilains who were nervously huddled together.
"Which of these pathways is the best way out?" Merriwyn asked them, one of the finer dressed woman snorted.
"Well obviously the front gate." One of the criminals laughed at her and Merriwyn looked at the pair with an annoyed expression, to which the man stepped forward.
"You'll want to follow this path," He traced his finger along a passageway. "It's a small exit, it's mainly to be used to evacuate the nobles of Halwall during times of attack, since the city seems to finishing it's victims off from within, it shouldn't be too heavily guarded." Merriwyn thanked the man before looking to Veran.
"What do you think, Lord Ruthgard?" Her voice hid any pain she was feeling, her entire body ached and if it came to it she'd be in no position to fight.
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