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Alcuin Grimfell

"Words are faster than my arrows, but only just."

0 · 302 views · located in Ur'ldon

a character in “The Chosen Few: The Broken Order {Reboot}”, as played by Mustache Squid

Description

Image
Image

Name: Alcuin Grimfell
Race: Dwarf
Rank: Lieutenant
Birthdate/Age: Winter of 893 Fourth Era, 36
Gender: Male
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral



Appearance:
Alcuin stands a little under five feet. He is a dwarf, no questions asked. That being said he doesn’t fit the stocky nature of some of his kin. He is muscular but lithely so. He doesn't wear a beard, or his hair long because it might get entangled in his bowstring. Practicality outweighs tradition in his mind. He has gray eyes and black hair. He wears light armor, usually favoring blue. Though that is not the stealthiest of colors.

Personality:
Alcuin is well spoken, well dressed, and carries an easy-going air about him. Many enjoy to take stabs at his past, and he enjoys rebuffing their need to learn more about him. “What happened, has happened, and living in the present is more rewarding.” He is charming, yes, even if humans are a bit put off by his size. Eloquence is his strong suit. That being said his inability to speak the truth about himself, his causes, or others—can be more than disconcerting. Alcuin is quite the secret keeper. Some may doubt his loyalty to the Watchers, but he assures them that they are of the same interest. “I would have not joined had the Watchers carried a different torch than myself.” The nature of ‘that torch’ is an explanation for another time. He is there when he is needed, and that is all that matters.

Skills/Abilities:
Marksmanship: Alcuin is a talented ranged fighter, capable of firing off arrows in rapid succession. While his proficiency lies heavily in using his short bow, he is also talented with throwing knives (and less useful: darts, he is pretty good at winning tavern bets.) He wears a short sword on his back, but only for a last ditch method. While many a swordsman has trained him in how to properly use it, it is not his most his most combat ready ability.
Artificer: Not the most useful ability in a skirmish, but in a tactical battle it is more than helpful. Alcuin can create traps, devices, and other small mechanical items to help in a battle. While they are more than useful being set up ahead of time, he has created a few things that can be deployed instantaneously. There is a spring-action bolt that is loaded into a device on his arm. Creation is not the only way Alcuin can use this ability, he can also disable traps and devices as well. More complicated ones will take longer, but the simple traps he can disable with ease. This is also useful for complicated locks, and other sealing mechanisms.
Diplomacy: This skill has it uses, sometimes. Alcuin does know that most things cannot be solved with words, but he does give it his best shot. This is probably the most telling ability of his past. He is worldly and uses that knowledge to find bridges in many conversations. And while far from savant, he is capable of picking up on continuity issues when people lie.




History:
Alcuin is the eldest son of a merchant. One could more-or-less surmise that given the pieces that he presents. Still, he doesn’t really care to discuss his family life or the events that forced him to leave. “Trivial,” he says. “Practically swimming in the egotism of youth.” And maybe it is that continued egotism that keeps him away, or maybe it is duty with the Watchers.

Away from the dwarfen civilization, Alcuin used the knowledge of his family's trade to scratch out a meager existence. The money eventually ran out, just like his wares. He didn’t know anything about human investments, and had made poor choices. Destitute and not wanting to limp back home, Alcuin employed his secondary set of skills. They had once been the folly of a curious mind and agile digits. Odd how such things can become your life. Needless to say, he stole. That drew the attention of a crime ring called Red Fingers. It was either join them or be removed as competition. Alcuin rather enjoyed living.

Years passed. The reputation of the Red Fingers escalated, though not solely with his help. He was just another cog in a wicked machine. But that gave him time to perfect his skills in both archery and artificing. He visited various towns, and got to see the sights of the world. At least the underbelly of them, anyway. While Alcuin had been far from a pious person, he didn't own the downright cruel nature of his comrades. This may be how he managed to escape. The Red Fingers had received a rather cut and dry job to raid a merchant's caravan in a rather deserted part of the woods. It turned out to actually be a raid by the king's men. At that moment Alcuin knew what he had to do, he pretended to be a victim of the Red Fingers. "I was abducted and forced to work into their ranks." Which was a little of the truth peppered in with lies. He never really had a choice in joining them. He also never tried to leave, either. Whether the lie was particularly eloquent, or whether the king's men were confused on what to do with a dwarf, Alcuin managed to not be captured.

Now, with his slate clean, Alcuin was in a rather odd predicament. He figured he could go on doing what he had been doing, or carve out a better life. Or at least one where he didn't sleep next to cutthroats and cut purses. He had heard some of the king's men speak of the Watch, the most holy of orders. Alcuin wasn't the most pious of individuals, but he also wasn't the most corrupt either. Usually he did whatever struck his fancy. And that struck his fancy. He had never cared for the Red Fingers, and if he could use the information he acquired while with them to help others, then even better. That was several years ago, and while he may never be as devout as the others in the order, he'll not falter either. Though, he doesn't say much about his past, as there seems to be quite a bit of disdain for bandits--even if Alcuin left that life behind.

So begins...

Alcuin Grimfell's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard Character Portrait: Merriwyn Mahariel Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Alcuin Grimfell Character Portrait: Choice Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Stephen Lothbrook Character Portrait: Catherine Nightingale Lionhart Character Portrait: Vimoreth Koren
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#, as written by RCJJ23

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard Character Portrait: Merriwyn Mahariel Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Alcuin Grimfell Character Portrait: Choice Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Stephen Lothbrook Character Portrait: Catherine Nightingale Lionhart Character Portrait: Vimoreth Koren
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#, as written by RCJJ23
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, 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 Allen 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 Grand Master Alistaire 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.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard Character Portrait: Merriwyn Mahariel Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Alcuin Grimfell Character Portrait: Choice Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Stephen Lothbrook Character Portrait: Catherine Nightingale Lionhart Character Portrait: Vimoreth Koren
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Catherine Nightingale "Lionhart". A woman who prefered to be being courted by some foolish Noble so she could place poison in his drink than the "luxury" of being someone's wife. A woman who liked to take what wasn't hers and constantly test the fitness of the city Guard. Characters like her deserved to be in dungeons, to be beaten and tortured for their crimes before being hanged before a public. No she did not deserve the courtesy of an execution. Such a thing was reserved for nobles, soldiers, and knights, people who deserved a more honorable way to go off before the Makers. Funny how the world should work on way, and actually functions in a completely different way. In the cells around her were men and women of character, Knights, Watchers no less, and they were to share a dungeon with her. Perhaps they'd be killed before she was or perhaps Lord Ulfric would deem their fate uniform, paint them all with the same brush, and have them all hang or be beheaded by the same axe. Well...that is if Catherine had actually planned to sit in this cell till that bastard Ulfric decided to finally kill her. However it would not be so. A woman like Catherine had her connections and the Lionharts would not send an agent of theirs to complete such a task without assisstance. A man amongst the guards was her inside man. He had taken the liberty of having her equipment snuck in and locked away. It was him who let her know about the preparations for the Watchers, which made it wise for her to delay any action on her part till after their demise. Of course Ulfric would fail to slay them all, and now these surviving few were stirring. Soon enough he would come with a map of the castle interior and the location of her gear, after this he would give her time to study it before coming back to hand her the key. At the moment Catherine had no intention of helping the other Prisoners or the Watchers, it would not benefit her or the Lionharts.

Seconds turned to minutes as no one in the dungeon spoke. Catherine found the silence and boredom to be the worst things about being in a dungeon. She had heard of people who had been in Dungeons for years, she'd rather die then be locked in one room for years. The longest she had ever spent in a dungeon was two weeks and it nearly drove her mad. Rather then sit there in silence Catherine decided it would be better to strike up conversation.

"So tell me Watchers...Your all Knights and men and women of valor and such. How do you feel about thieves?". Catherine sat on the straw bed that was in every cell, doing well to keep away from the rats. "This is after all where one would, or better off I should say, where one should expect thieves and other such low lives to end up...Yet you are here...What crime have you committed to share this dungeon with your lessers?".

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard Character Portrait: Merriwyn Mahariel Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Alcuin Grimfell Character Portrait: Choice Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Stephen Lothbrook Character Portrait: Catherine Nightingale Lionhart Character Portrait: Vimoreth Koren
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Merriwyn rested her head against the iron bars,she had used her green cloak to sit on, it was more comfortable than the hay pile and far cleaner, well it was until she had set it on the ground. She sighed, a weakness to her breath as all hope had fled her, the silence was both peaceful and cruel, it provided her a suitable place for silent meditation but it was always interrupted by her guilt. She knew she wasn't the only Watcher in the dungeon, but they all seemed to be soaking up the quiet for none spoke.

One of the rats rested on Merriwyn's lap as she gently stroked its head, disease ridden and, no doubt, flea infested, the disease she could deal with no problem but the fleas, they would be problematic. As she sat, gently stroking the rats head without any attention being paid, her eyes merely staring blankly at the dungeon hallway, until she heard a woman's voice slice through the silence.

Merriwyn shook her head against the metal, ruffling her hair up even more as she shook herself from her daydream. She wanted to speak up, but she did not know what to say, her voice croaked, still rough from her crying, her eyes swollen and her cheeks rosy. "We are not called the Judges…" She managed to whisper, implying how judgement does not come from the Watchers, or at least, that's how she saw it. "Our only crime is seeking peace for this pathetic human squabbling." She cursed, before playing with her necklace, a pendant of her mother's giving to her so as to provide good luck and safe journeys, stamped into the metal was a star, the symbol of Jornea and Nore, the gods of travel and pilgrimage.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard Character Portrait: Merriwyn Mahariel Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Alcuin Grimfell Character Portrait: Choice Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Stephen Lothbrook Character Portrait: Catherine Nightingale Lionhart Character Portrait: Vimoreth Koren
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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 a thief 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.

"We take anyone who is willing to work for the good of all. Our crime is nonexistent, as Lady Mahariel has told you. Perhaps you hope to work with us for your redemption? We would welcome you if your heart is with us."

As idealistic and naïve he might sound, he knew his words would insult the thief. True nobility and offers of redemption had a way of offending people more than the vilest insults ever could But he must offer it.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard Character Portrait: Merriwyn Mahariel Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Alcuin Grimfell Character Portrait: Choice Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Stephen Lothbrook Character Portrait: Catherine Nightingale Lionhart
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#, as written by Bugsly
Vimoreth Koren rested his head against the wall, his eyes red and a solemn look on his face. He felt as he did when his brother passed on the battle of Gelden Plains, a great pain in his heart and mind. He had finally found an order which had no bias, simply defended those who were in need of aid, he had made brothers and sisters in the order and he had watched many of them be cut down by arrow and sword alike. He had been against the decision to join Ulfric, not openly as he held no high position of power in the order but nonetheless he saw it as a decision that went against what the order stood for. He had only survived when he was struck from behind, the pain of the blow only worsened the emotional pain in his mind.

He heard a woman ask what the order thought of thieves and he heard a man respond with a veiled insult. He cared nothing for this idle chatter, he knew there was one thing he had to do, and that was escape.

Luckily he was knocked out before he could use any spells so the guards did not see fit to restrain him in a manner appropriate for a magic user. He began reciting the incantations in his head trying to remember his illusion and fire spells.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard Character Portrait: Merriwyn Mahariel Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Alcuin Grimfell Character Portrait: Choice Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Stephen Lothbrook Character Portrait: Catherine Nightingale Lionhart Character Portrait: Vimoreth Koren
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Choice couldn't help but smile in amusement at her fate. Snatched from one dungeon only to end up in another, and this one smelled worse. She knew several other Watchers had survived, but their silence told her they were more interested in mourning their dead than planning their escape. Odd, that the guards had them in separate cells but didn't station anyone to supervise them directly. Then again, they hadn't covered her head or knocked her out when they dragged her down here, so she figured they weren't the brightest. Either that, or they planned to kill them all very soon. Choice decided she wouldn't like to stick around to find out.

She memorized the path the guards took her along to bring her here, and the lock on her cell was nothing special, which was why she was currently at the rear of her cell, twisting and bending a few pieces of straw from her cell's mat into something that resembled a crude lock pick.

A woman spoke up, her voice mocking and intentionally provocative. Choice smiled and moved to the front of her cell to listen in. A couple of Watcher's retorted, predictably spouting their ideological nonsense and defending their innocence. Choice couldn't help but laugh out loud when one of the watchers invited the other prisoner to join them.

"Hah! You sure make a compelling case. 'Work with us for redemption! We'd welcome you if your heart is with us!' What a joke." Her voice was dripping with sarcasm. "Surely, the lady here would be so much better off in this dungeon if she'd only join up with us, the heroic Watchers." She shook her head in the darkness, reflecting on her own poor choice to remain with the Watchers when she could have escaped. She turned in the direction the other prisoner's voice came from and continued. "What about you, Princess? Why are you here? Ability to avoid pesky guards not as impressive as you thought?"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard Character Portrait: Merriwyn Mahariel Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Alcuin Grimfell Character Portrait: Choice Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Stephen Lothbrook Character Portrait: Catherine Nightingale Lionhart Character Portrait: Vimoreth Koren
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Vision slowly came back to Mera, hazy and wavy as a ship at sea is. Pounding filled her head and stars burst in her vision as she staggered to her feet, falling against one of the walls. Sliding down, she grimaced as the dank filth of the wall came off on her clothing. Not that it mattered as she had been lying on the ground unconscious. As she hit the ground her stomach lurched. Leaning over, she vomited on the floor of the cell. Gasping, she attempted to stand but was taken by a wave of dizziness before vomiting again.

Crying softly as she kneeled on the floor, memories of the past few hours returned to her unbidden. Riding with the rest of the Order into Castle Halwall under Lord Ulfric's invitation, entering the enclosed courtyard. The screaming and battle-cries as the first arrows flew into the mass of Watchers. Next to Ser Selby, she had attempted to fight back but was crushed by the press of bodies. Helpless, she watched as Selby, her mentor and friend, was cut down by one of Ulfric's guard. Someone had clubbed Mera viciously on the back of the head, knocking her out. She assumed she should be grateful to survive the attack but she wasn't.

Grief faded quickly to numbness as she sat there, waiting and staring. Friends, people she had stood beside, bled beside, ate beside, all dead in the petty power struggle for the throne. What reason was there for this betrayal? The Order could have helped! A waste of life, so much death and despair.

Numbness gave way to rage as she sat there, a cold fire burning deep inside her. Hands twitched as she thought of the one responsible for this; Ulfric Ducant. he may not have wielded the blades and bows that killed her Brothers and Sisters but he ordered the attack. It was he that had planned the slaughter of one of the noblest orders in Calaris. He was guilty. There was only one sentence for such a crime.

Standing, she approached the bars as some of the Watchers began speaking along with one who was there for some other crime. Gripping the bars, she analyzed them, judging the gap between the individual bars. While not small, they were not too large either. Question was, were they large enough? Sliding her left arm through, she popped the shoulder out of place and maneuvered her body so that her entire arm was outside. Resetting her shoulder, she breathed out and glanced both ways down the corridor. Nothing. This was the crucial point. If she was caught she would be helpless and most likely killed. If the bars were too narrow, she would not be able to free herself. If they were wide enough, then she was free. Contortion was a useful skill. Holding her breath, she began to wriggle slowly through the bars, praying that her body would not lodge between the bars.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard Character Portrait: Merriwyn Mahariel Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Alcuin Grimfell Character Portrait: Choice Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Stephen Lothbrook Character Portrait: Catherine Nightingale Lionhart
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Tevran's first impression was one of pain. A massive bolt of pure agony that started in the laceration on his thigh and shot up towards his brain. A myriad of other, lesser pain also launched a barrage towards his poor skull, and a tortured groan was torn from his throat. He muttered a quick prayer for strength against the pain and began to take notice of his surroundings. A typical cell, nothing special with a pile of straw for rest and a bucket for waste. After this quick glance he realized others were speaking. A thief, and several watchers it seemed.

Realizing that all this squabbling was probably for naught, seeing as they would all be dead by the next day, he decided to spend it in prayer. He stood as tall as he could and put his hands together in supplication. His voice thus began to rumble out in a heartfelt plea to the Trinity.

"Oh Gods, I have been a loyal servant for you these many years. I have spread your word! I have bled for you! But my time on this mortal plane is coming to an end it seems, and I wish to ask that you look upon your faithful Watchers in their time of dying. Excommunicated we may be, but my soul belongs to you! Thus do I ask for your blessing in this dark hour O glorious ones." Just as he finished his prayer, another mighty jab of pain struck him and his breath hissed out as he fell to his knees. "My brothers and sisters! We must pray, and hope that our plea for salvation is answered! Bow your heads now and say what needs must be said, for in all likelihood we have but a day. The excommunication is a big mark against us, and only with mighty prayer will we overcome it." And so he bent his head while he knelt with blood slowly oozing out of the wound and into the cobblestones and began to mumble prayers, unaware of the heroic efforts of Mera to reach freedom.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard Character Portrait: Merriwyn Mahariel Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Alcuin Grimfell Character Portrait: Choice Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Stephen Lothbrook Character Portrait: Catherine Nightingale Lionhart
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"Hah! You sure make a compelling case. 'Work with us for redemption! We'd welcome you if your heart is with us!' What a joke." came a familiar voice dripping with sarcasm. "Surely, the lady here would be so much better off in this dungeon if she'd only join up with us, the heroic Watchers."

"I might have known that would get a response out of you if you were here, Choice," Stephen noted with a slight laugh, recognizing yet another of his comrades. He listened to a shout from another Watcher, this one about the necessity or repentance before they died. This time, Stephen sighed.

"No. I refuse to accept this is the end. Something will come."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard Character Portrait: Merriwyn Mahariel Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Alcuin Grimfell Character Portrait: Choice Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Stephen Lothbrook Character Portrait: Catherine Nightingale Lionhart Character Portrait: Vimoreth Koren
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Merriwyn listened to the commotion in the hallway as the guard hit Mera, she lifted herself up and pressed herself against the bars, the rats scuttling from her. "Mera!" She called out, no doubt that kick hurt, especially seeing as she was trapped between the bars. "Who are you to beat a woman of the gods?" She asked, angry at him for hurting her friend. "The Gods do not look favourably on those who harm their devote, let along betray and slay them." She warned him, a silent threat in her words, regardless of the soft voice it came from. "But the gods may forgive your act if you let me heal the injured, such a good deed may even free you from your lord's treachery." Merriwyn pleaded, the words now soft and innocent and not just veiled as such. The guard did not look convinced and merely smacked his blade on the iron bars, causing Merriwyn to release a surprised gasp.

Merriwyn returned to her seated position and silently prayed to the gods, until she heard a voice shout out. "Lord Allen?" She called out, "You live? There may be hope yet." A smile started to rise on her lips, they may not have been out of the jail, but now there was inspiration and inspiration is the spark which ignites the flames of hope. She stood up and looked down at the rats, she may not have the animal empathy of the hunters but she certainly could try. She got down on her knees and whispered softly in elvish, asking the rats in aiding her to get her friends out, the keys would be difficult to steal but a distraction most certainly would not be hard, all she would need is for the rats to swarm him, that would certainly distract him long enough for the others to whatever it is they need to hatch the escape.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard Character Portrait: Merriwyn Mahariel Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Alcuin Grimfell Character Portrait: Choice Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Stephen Lothbrook Character Portrait: Catherine Nightingale Lionhart
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Tevran's breath was becoming more and more ragged as his face paled from blood loss. The top of his head was now pressed against the bars, and the prayers he muttered were more disjointed as sense left him. He heard a guard wander in and smack one of his fellow watchers, and rage consumed him. His fists clenched and he smashed them into the bars as he got back into a more upright position. "Hey heathen! Instead of picking on a poor lass why don't you come mess with me eh? I'm sure you aren't frightened of a wounded brother of the order." His feverish brain was coming up with a vague plan to keep the guard distracted and perhaps slam his face a few times into the bars. But as he moved some more he realized he didn't have the strength to grapple with the guard. So he decided to settle for putting the fear of the gods into the man and keeping him distracted.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard Character Portrait: Merriwyn Mahariel Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Alcuin Grimfell Character Portrait: Choice Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Stephen Lothbrook Character Portrait: Catherine Nightingale Lionhart Character Portrait: Vimoreth Koren
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Choice smirked at Ser Stephen's reply. Pretty Boy, as she called him, was one of the few Watchers she actually liked. Despite his naivete, which she enjoyed taking stabs at, he knew which end of sword goes where and, as his nickname might imply, he was easy on the eyes. She opened her mouth but was cut off by another Watcher, whose voice she did not recognize, calling them to prayer. She broke out into a snorting laugh, her giggles punctuated by Stephen's voice in reply.

"No. I refuse to accept this is the end. Something will come."

"Or I'll save us all..." She muttered under her breath as she returned to the rear of her cell to work on her lock pick.

Moments later, the voice of a guard came crashing down the hall, and Choice set the makeshift straw pick down beside her mat, out of sight.

"Oi! Shut your blabbering down there lest you want me to tear you a new one you maggots!"
Hearing that, a very dumb idea popped into Choice's head. Then, she heard the guard's voice again, followed by the distinctive sound of leather boot connected with human torso. Whoever was on the receiving end of that was not having a good day. Another voice she recognized spoke up, Allen Ruthgard, a Lieutenant-Commander whom she affectionately nicknamed Big Al.

"Watchers of the Order, save your strength not for idle chatter but for an oppertunity if it ever came, and if it never comes then may the Gods damn our souls if we don't put up a fight, for we are Watchers and not damned dogs to be put down!"

The Lieutenant-Commander's words were wise, but Choice liked to make her own opportunities. She just needed to wait for the guard to reach her cell. The same voice that had defended the Watchers against the thief spoke up as the guard passed her cell. With her voice louder now, Choice recognized it as Merriwyn, one of the few elves in the Order. She offered redemption to the guard and was answered with the loud bang of his sword on the bars of her cell. As he approached Choice's cell, she chose a more aggressive approach. Just as she was about to open her mouth, she heard the man who had been praying start shouting at the guard, obviously doing what Choice was about to try. She thought about it for a second and decided to make the best of the distraction.

The guard spun around and began moving towards the shouting, and Choice sprang into action. She scooped up her makeshift pick and deftly swung it into the lock. In her years living on the street, she'd had to pick far more complex locks than this, and she made short work of it. The moment she heard the slight click of the tumblers in the lock she knew she was out, and slipped silently into the corridor. The guard still had his back to her, and she thought about opening another cell, but her pick was spent. She looked frantically for something she could use as a weapon and, upon finding nothing of immediate interested, settled for surprise and dumb luck.

Well, I'm either going to be a hero, or die with a sword in my gut in this filthy hole. She shrugged and charged at the guard.

As she reached him, she kicked at the back of his right knee, the momentum catching him unaware, dropping him to his knees and causing his forehead to slam into the one of the bars of the shouting prisoner's cell. She glanced at the ragged Watcher but did not recognize him, smiled gleefully, and then grabbed the stunned guard by the hair on his head and proceeded to repeatedly slam his face into the grimy, cobblestone ground as hard as she could manage.

"Should...have listened...to the elf...you fucking...fuck!"

Setting

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Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard Character Portrait: Merriwyn Mahariel Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Alcuin Grimfell Character Portrait: Choice Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Stephen Lothbrook Character Portrait: Catherine Nightingale Lionhart Character Portrait: Vimoreth Koren
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Choice bludgeoned the guard's face quite thoroughly, turning it into a bloody pulp and painting the ground a shadowy shade of carmine. When she was satisfied he was no longer going to be an issue, she stood, chuckling, and spoke in a deadpan voice:

"I have been told I cause headaches."

Just then, the thief spoke up again. Choice turned to face her as she did, blood still speckled on her cheeks.

"Perhaps the Gods are real after all and they do this to spite me! Girl listen to me for what I tell you is beneficial to all you Watchers. I am not a common thief, I am the Daughter of Viscount Richard Lionhart. My name is Catherine and that man's name was Schmidt, he was an agent of my father. If you look in his pockets you will find a map of the castle interior and on that very map is marked the location of equipment he was going to use to aid me escape. Free me and the Lionhart family will be in debt to you Watchers."

Choice looked back at the corpse on the ground, and shrugged.

"Huh. Right, and I'm the long lost daughter of Lord Doran Trent." She laughed, obviously more amused at her own personal joke than a normal person would have been, and retrieved the map and keys from the guard as she continued. "Listen, Princess. I was going to let you out anyway, 'cause I'm such an upstanding citizen..." She paused as she unfurled the map. "Oh hey, guys, she wasn't lying! Would you look at that!"

Choice opened Allen's cell first, and then moved down the corridor unlocking the cells one by one until she came to Catherine's. She gave a coy smile and chuckled as she turned the key with exaggerated sluggishness.

"Promise you wont hurt me for killing your friend there?"

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Characters Present

Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard Character Portrait: Merriwyn Mahariel Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Alcuin Grimfell Character Portrait: Choice Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Stephen Lothbrook Character Portrait: Catherine Nightingale Lionhart Character Portrait: Vimoreth Koren
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Merriwyn listened to Tevran shouting at the guard, she could hear the pain in his voice and she worried, as she watched the guard approach his cell from the bars before a dark shadow raced towards him and took him down with a boot to his knee. Merriwyn watched as she bludgeoned his head into the ground and she looked away disgusted. Before long she heard the locks open and Merriwyn thanked the young Watcher, "Thank you, Choice." Before she made her way to Tevran's cell, he was shuffling to get up but he was pale and the large wound on his thigh. "Don't move, I can heal this."

Merriwyn crouched down beside him and let her hands hover slightly over the wound. "Poika tuulo' 'kshapsae." She whispered, curing the wound of any infection that had set in due to the conditions of the room, before moving on to heal him. "This may burn a little." She warned him before focusing, the wound would need a greater healing spell and it would require her to pass some of her health and energy onto him, leaving her weaker in the end. "Tanka tel' taurnin." She watched as her hand glowed with a bright yellow hue and a beam shoot from it and covered the wound in a magical glow, which slowly sealed the wound and returned the colour to his body, replacing a lot of the lost blood and leaving Merriwyn feeling very drained by the time it had finished. Her head hung limply from her shoulders as she took in each breath. "It is done." She managed to whisper to him.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard Character Portrait: Merriwyn Mahariel Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Alcuin Grimfell Character Portrait: Choice Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Stephen Lothbrook Character Portrait: Catherine Nightingale Lionhart Character Portrait: Vimoreth Koren
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As her body slipped through sluggishly, Mera cursed as the guard came into view down the corridor. Slithering back into the cell as fast as possible, she was still kicked in the side by the guard. Falling to the ground gasping, Mera felt the location of the blow. Feeling a slight crunch, she grimaced and lifted the tunic to reveal the side. Mottled bruises ran across her body but remained concentrated around the point of the kick. She must have broken something after being rendered unconscious. That would certainly be a hindrance.

Rising from the ground, Mera simply watched the guard. She felt no anger towards the man or his actions for all of her emotion was consumed by the thought of revenge against Ulfric Ducant. If anything, she felt pity for the guard. A small click rang out from further down the hall. Glancing in that direction, Mera studied Choice as she ran up to the guard, kicking in his legs and proceeding to smash in his head. So the man was an agent of the thief's. How interesting. And the thief was nobility, nonetheless; if she was telling the truth, that is. Spitting on the ground at Catherine's apparent display of piety, she sneered.

"You shan't ever be a follower of the gods, Lady Lionhart, so spare us your drivel," Mera scoffed. "I know of your kind and I've heard of your family. The most you'll ever be is a petty husk born to luxury." As choice unlocked the cell, Mera pushed open the door stepping outside tenderly so as to not cause herself dizziness. Reaching up to her hair, she withdrew the pin that kept it in position, a small metal needle; it was large enough to kill, however. Flipping the piece so it rested against her palm and up her wrist, she turned to face Choice.

"Don't think you're any better Choice, you who scorn the Watchers. Take care lest you find reason to be against us." Shrugging her shoulders to loosen the muscles, Mera began walking towards the entrance to the dungeon. Stooping, she retrieved the sword from man's dead hands as she walked and tossed it to Allen.

"A pleasure to see you alive, Lieutenant-Commander Ruthgard. The Trinity must smile on us to have left you to help us," she greeted, continuing past. Sliding the needle down so that the tip extended between her fingers, she strode up to the dungeon door and took position near it, ready to lunge towards any that would enter.

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Characters Present

Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard Character Portrait: Merriwyn Mahariel Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Alcuin Grimfell Character Portrait: Choice Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Stephen Lothbrook Character Portrait: Catherine Nightingale Lionhart Character Portrait: Vimoreth Koren
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For his part, Ser Stephen watched the drama play out with interest. He insantly felt guilty when he learned that the guard who had been killed by Choice had turned out to be a potential ally. At least, he was a potential ally of the thief. Lionheart... The very name brought up rumors of betrayal and intrigue in his memory. It seemed as if the Trinity was on their side if Lady Lionheart could be trusted... A very big if, he knew. Choice may call him naive, but he was not foolish. He smiled when he saw the very woman he was thinking of unlock his cell.

"Choice, you are a beautiful site," he told her with a grin as he stood up. His wounds bothered him as he moved, but they were like miniscule bug bites compared in the face of the feeling of freedom as he stepped out of his cell.

"Don't think you're any better Choice, you who scorn the Watchers. Take care lest you find reason to be against us."


"Sister-Seargent, that is most unkind. If she had so chosen, Lady Choice may have simply absconded by herself," he reasoned formally as he followed Choice. He wanted to place a hand on her shoulder and thank her, but she was in conversation with the thief. He knew she would not want to look weak in front of her. Instead, he spoke.

"We must hurry. If I know Ser Petyr, he would want to take charge of the prisoners. I do not fancy any of use taking him on in our current state," Stephen reasoned. It felt strange referring to his father so, his body cut and fatigued, his face covered in dry blood. It hurt less somehow to put some distance between them.

****

Ser Petyr Lothbrook said nothing as he stood in the room above the dungeons in the prescence of his liege lord. He was there to serve, not take charge. Nonetheless, he could not help but look at the petty bureaucrat in conversation with Lord Ulfric in contempt. Such men knew only the papers and stamps before them.

"Milord, your cause is righteous in the eyes of the gods. Allow me leave ot execute the traitors to the Realm," he stated. He did not mention the identity of a certain boy among them. There was no need.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard Character Portrait: Merriwyn Mahariel Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Alcuin Grimfell Character Portrait: Choice Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Catherine Nightingale Lionhart
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Tevran was preparing his battered body for combat when another one of the prisoners broke loose and beat the guardsman down. A wry smile took his face then, but his body betrayed him. He was beginning to collapse when his cell door was opened and the elf Merriwyn rushed in and took a hold of him to heal him with her magic. Tevran felt strength suffuse his body and a lovely warmth go through his leg, taking away the pain. However, this seemed to take a toll on Merriwyn, who sagged in utter exhaustion after she finished. Tevran, feeling rejunevated, moved to stand up, putting a muscular arm around Merriwyn to keep her from falling. "Milady, I do believe thanks are in order. The Gods are indeed blessed to have one so skilled in their employ. I hereby swear to the Gods above to keep you safe to the best of my ability whilst we are in this accursed castle. Now come, this cell is no place to be. Do you require assistance in moving Sister? You seem to be unhealthy after using so much magic." As he finished speaking he looked out to see all who had escaped.

The Lieutenant Commander Allen was free, and this was good. They may have tried to cut the head off the order, but it seemed some of the leadership had remained. There was of course Merriwyn, as well as Sister Mera, who had seized a blade and gone to the exit. And then there were faces he did not recognize. One announced herself as a noblewoman by the name of Lionhart, but Tevran got the feeling that she was merely a sinful servant of the noble family. However, she was offering assistance, and if that is what sustained the Order, then so be it. Prayer for redemption could be held later. Now they must move quickly if they are to survive their escape.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard Character Portrait: Merriwyn Mahariel Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Alcuin Grimfell Character Portrait: Choice Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Stephen Lothbrook Character Portrait: Catherine Nightingale Lionhart Character Portrait: Vimoreth Koren
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Merriwyn managed to lift her head to look at Tevran with a slight smile. "My oath to the order is to care for and heal the wounded of the order, regardless of my state," She told him. "I think I can manage myself well enough." before she could refuse him, Vimoreth stepped into the conversation, offering to protect her so as Tevran could take up the fight with the other soldiers of the Watchers. "Brother Vimoreth is not wrong, Tevran, your particular skill set would be best used in fighting the renegade lord and his men." Merriwyn looked to Vimoreth with a kind smile and refused his offer to help. "I thank you for the offer, but I think I can manage, I'll just be lagging behind slightly."

Merriwyn followed the survivors to a door, "Sister Mera, Lieutenant-Commander Allen, how are we to proceed? Are we to simply fleeing or are we arming ourselves and fighting our way out?" She asked, hunched over and taking in heavy breaths, it would certainly be an effort for her to get out of Halwall, but Merriwyn wasn't going to die in a human dungeon, let alone such a putrid one.

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Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard Character Portrait: Merriwyn Mahariel Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Alcuin Grimfell Character Portrait: Choice Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Stephen Lothbrook Character Portrait: Catherine Nightingale Lionhart Character Portrait: Vimoreth Koren
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Stephen frowned when he heard Mera's statement. And people thought he was idealistic. Even he knew that the handful of them couldn't fight their way through the castle to kill Lord Ulfric and even if they did, then what? The Order would die with them and their name would never be cleared. As he was about to voice his objections, however, the foolish woman had already taken off.

"I need to go and retrieve Sister Mera, she is on a fool's errand. Who ever is assaulting this castle likely won't care about us as collateral damage, go and find the way out. Wait for me outside the walls, but if you cannot head to Tyrule and wait for me there. If I don't arrive in the next three days head to the Sanctuary, I can trust you can lead these Watchers in my absence?"

Stephen stiffened at his commander's words. He had never led his fellows before. He had never risen beyond the rank of Brother of the Order. Besides that, he also had connections to their enemies. He opened his mouth to object.

"I'm sorry but you must."

At the commander's look, Stephen nodded. He took the sword offered him and, shaking his head, he turned to the others, "We should arm ourselves and make for the servant's entrance."

With that said, he entered the guardroom and searched for his things. It would seem he would have to make do with a guard's sword, but his spear hadn't been moved. Sheathing the sword in a sheathe he found and attached to his belt, he turned to the others, his gaze lingering on Tevran slightly longer than on the others.

"We are retreating. Don't take any foolish risks. We must get to safety and rebuild the Order."

***

Ser Petyr's gaze met his liege lord's and he nodded even as they heard the clash of the first valley of the siege engines, "Yes, milord. But I advise you to deal with the Watchers. If they escape, they would slander your name and join your enemies."

With that said, he left, drawing his sword and shouting at any soldier within shouting distance. The gates must be held, he decided. His son could wait if his lord did not deal with him and his comrades during the battle.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard Character Portrait: Merriwyn Mahariel Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Alcuin Grimfell Character Portrait: Choice Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Stephen Lothbrook Character Portrait: Catherine Nightingale Lionhart Character Portrait: Vimoreth Koren
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Merriwyn followed the rest of the order into, what she could assume was the gaoler's office, she looked at the dead man by Mera's hand and sighed, all of the bodies within these walls were wasted potential and pure devastation, and no doubt the effect would be felt three-fold come time. And as she looked at the body from her position next to the door, the room shook and Merriwyn barely held herself up, if not for the wall beside her. She spied outside the slit window and witnessed the siege weapons and marching army. "No doubt this keep will be surrounded within the hour, I'm afraid if we wait that army will fall on our heads." Merriwyn informed Allen as he spoke to Stephen, "Gods protect you both." She said as Allen rushed after the injured Mera.

Merriwyn followed suit with the others and searched the shattered crate, without a second glace she could tell the ancient scroll was gone, causing Merriwyn's eyes to widen in shock whilst a worried gasp escaped from her lips. "By the Gods! Where is the scroll?" She managed to take herself out of her shocked state to search the gaoler's desk, with luck on her side, she found a charter of the prisoners and their possessions, this crate was to be sent to the smelter and made into the standard military weaponry, whilst Merriwyn's scroll was sent to an agent of Ulfric's in one of the Academies in the capital, a relieved sigh escaped her lips before a slight giggle followed. "The goddess truly smiles on me and the Watchers." She took the charter and snatched a satchel from the desk to carry the charter and anything else she found useful.

Merriwyn, recalling the information she processed for the Order, looked to Vimoreth, he was from one of the academies and he may be able to help her determine the risk. "Vimoreth, you are from an academy in the capital, this is correct? Did you know of any other magi who hailed from Halwall, most particularly a member of a noble family?"

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Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard Character Portrait: Merriwyn Mahariel Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Alcuin Grimfell Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Stephen Lothbrook Character Portrait: Vimoreth Koren
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Tevran stood with his sword drawn, just waiting to be unleashed upon the enemy. Alas, it seemed he would not have his desire, for the man left in command, Stephen, seemed to be a more cautious sort. He also seemed to be onto Tevran's desire for battle, for he seemed to stare at Tevran a little longer than the others. Thus did Tevran give a short bow of his head at Stephen's orders, and walked over to him. "Brother, I would like to lead the way in this endeavor. I need this." For though Stephen did not know of it, the Shaetue family curse, or gift, was beginning to wake up. Activated by excessively high amounts of adrenaline and other bodily chemicals, it was beginning to dump its own chemical mixture into Tevran's blood stream. His muscles were beginning to flex abnormally large, his eyes were dilated and beginning to be tinged with red. His fingers drummed on the pommel of his blade in a mad tattoo. His breathing quickened. His higher reasoning was starting to shut down, and all he could think about was killing the sorry bastards who had killed his brothers and sisters the day before, and daring to spill his blood. Red tinged his vision.

Meanwhile, a squad of five guardsmen and their sergeant had been dispatched to the dungeon to quickly terminate the prisoners. Little did they know what they would run into. They thought they were going to be shooting their crossbows into cells. What they would find would be some of the finest swords in the land free and armed.

"Hey Sarge, some of them are women right?" One of the men asked, a rather blocky brute with a nose that had the look of one broken multiple times.
"Aye. What of it Slate?" The Sergeant, a grizzled old veteran in his forties asked.
"Well, me and the lads were thinking, seeing as those bastards lobbing stones into the castle are gonna overrun the place, we might as well have some fun before we kill the bitches. Ya know, really send our love to the Gods." and at the end of that he let a mean chuckle out. A few of the other men let out chortles and nodded.
"Well boys, you're free to take who ya will. Just don't go to soft on em. I saw enough of our lads get killed by frail looking women yesterday. Women they may be, but the Order turned em into real fighters."
"No pain no gain eh Sarge? Ain't that what ya said on the training field?" Another one of the men asked before they all burst into chuckles. They were now almost at the dungeon.

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Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard Character Portrait: Merriwyn Mahariel Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Alcuin Grimfell Character Portrait: Choice Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Stephen Lothbrook Character Portrait: Catherine Nightingale Lionhart Character Portrait: Vimoreth Koren
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Stephen walked slightly behind the others, not as eager to engage in combat, but ready to do so if he must. Truthfully, he pitied the guards. They had no choice but to follow Lord Ulfric's orders, whether they agreed with them or not. He stopped cold, however, as he heard a conversation between the guards.

"Well boys, you're free to take who ya will. Just don't go to soft on em. I saw enough of our lads get killed by frail looking women yesterday. Women they may be, but the Order turned em into real fighters."

"No pain no gain eh Sarge? Ain't that what ya said on the training field?"

Stephen felt his face burn with disgust and anger. Apparently, he wasn't the only one. The fight started soon enough and the knight only had the chance to stab one guard through the neck with his spear before the last one threw himself at their mercy. He grinned somewhat as Choice prevented Tevran from killing him in his bloodlust, but he scowled as the guard forced her to kill him.

"Heh, next time I'll just leave him to you. Now can we get out of here? I'd prefer not to be around when whoever is currently fucking Ulfric's castle up comes tromping through here looking for pretty girls like myself to deflower."

"It's a pity few truly appreciate your beauty, Lady Choice," the knight stated with a grin, referring to more than her physical appearance as he scanned the room for a door leading to the servants' corridors marked on the map. He grinned and opened it.

"Here. We should run into a few guards. If I know my f-, if I know the knight in charge of the castle's defenses, he'd have any entrance to the castle under guard, secret or not."

Setting

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Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard Character Portrait: Merriwyn Mahariel Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Alcuin Grimfell Character Portrait: Choice Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Catherine Nightingale Lionhart
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 "I promise.". Were the only words that came out of her. Despite how much that Watcher's, Mera, words rattled her, Catherine decided to turn the other cheek for now. For the remainder of the time there Catherine remained to the rear and silent, going unnoticed for the most part. The crafty sneak thief had no intent letting the Watchers go but she also did not intend on leaving her equipment there as it was evidence that  the Lionhart were involving themselves in these Games for the throne which contradicted the Neutral stance her Father was claiming to take. Not to mention that the equipment had been purchased out of her pocket.

 At the first opportunity, she silently darted away from the Watchers and to where she recalled the equipment had been hidden away. It took her some time time navigate there, avoiding the Guard and Servants of the castle by either patience, cunning, or creating some distraction to lure them away from their post. She did get lost a few times, thanks to her working off memory alone, but she managed to find it.

 Conveniently enough ol Schmidt had decide to hide her goodies in an indoor chapel, rather smart of him as not many would expect weapons and the like to be kept there. It was like any humble chapel, various horizontal columns of benches with an alter at the front where the Priest would ramble on about those imaginary friends the fools call Gods. To the left just behind the Alter was a door, which Catherine presumed led to the Priest's office and maybe his living quarters. Lionharts were not known for their zeal, Catherine did not hesitate to barge into the office and ransack the place in search of her equipment, which she found in a chest hidden behind bookshelf where the stones were lose. It seemed such a waste to go after these things, they were only a belt with a dagger and a dozen or so throwing knives, A quiver of arrows, and a finely decorated ebony bow. Items someone of her status could replace easily but they had sentimental value to her. Now with her thing secured she headed to the door and would then head for the Servants Corridors where she hoped to meet up with the Watchers.

 As Catherine exited the chapel a voice behind her shouted. "Halt!". Damn Guards, she thought and chose flight over fight, knowing that she was still much lighter then them. She ran to where she hoped the Servants corridors would be, well aware that she would need to fight the Guards if she could not lose them in the chase.

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Character Portrait: Merriwyn Mahariel Character Portrait: Alcuin Grimfell Character Portrait: Choice Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Stephen Lothbrook Character Portrait: Vimoreth Koren
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Merriwyn went to answer Vimoreth, but suddenly guards burst into the room, Merriwyn took herself to a corner of the room to avoid the conflict, which was over within a few seconds. She watched as the man surrendered and Tevran still made for him, blade in hand and blood boiling, Merriwyn wanted to stop him but she was frozen in fear, thankfully Choice stepped in his way... but then she plunged her blade into his chest, she let out a gasp and was visibly shaking. She was not one for blood and battle, the slaughter was enough for her to witness but now she would have to watch more of it for her freedom. She slowly blinked and took in a deep breath and looked to Vimoreth.
"That... that was some good elven." She managed to utter in her shocked state.

Merriwyn ran through the door, not even acknowledging Stephen's warning before taking off down the corridor, she wanted to be out of there faster than any of the others, as she ran she cared not for how much noise she was making, so long as she got out of the castle without witnessing anymore bloodshed. Merriwyn followed the passage before her robe was yanked back, she let out a pained yelp as the clasp tightened around her throat. She was pulled back by one of the guards and she let out a scream, his face was scarred and he only had one eye.
"What was all that ruckus, knife ears?" He asked, he must have only thought she was a serving girl or priestess. Merriwyn didn't answer, she simply stared at the guard who held her forearm tighter than he should have. "Wait... you were in the dungeons? How'd you get out?" Merriwyn's eyes widened in fear and the man grinned. "You're a naughty little elf, aren't you? Merriwyn tried to push herself free from his grasp but he was far stronger than her, her magic had weakened her and her panicked state had only added to it. He threw her against the wall and she let out a scream, before she slumped to the floor, too weak to pick herself up.
"Please! Stop! She screamed, echoing down the passage, no doubt attracting more guards. The guard took a step closer and she saw the glint of the sword hilt and she grabbed it, slashing upwards and cutting the man's torso, but it was in no way deep and he was now angered. He kicked the sword from her grasp and tackled her.