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The Chosen Few: The Broken Order {Reboot}

Ur'ldon

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a part of The Chosen Few: The Broken Order {Reboot}, by RCJJ23.

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RCJJ23 holds sovereignty over Ur'ldon, giving them the ability to make limited changes.

673 readers have been here.

Copyright: The creator of this roleplay has attributed some or all of its content to the following sources:

http://www.roleplaygateway.com/roleplay/the-chosen-few-the-broken-order

Setting

Default Location for The Chosen Few: The Broken Order {Reboot}
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Ur'ldon

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Minimap

Ur'ldon is a part of The Chosen Few: The Broken Order {Reboot}.

10 Characters Here

Merriwyn Mahariel [64] "Magic is still a mystery, the elders know only a fraction of its wonders."
Tevran Shaetue [63] "My vows are unbreakable, my faith unshakable, and my loyalty unending."
Choice [63] "Liberty or Death?"
Mera Atkinson [61] "It began with blood. With blood it shall end."
Stephen Lothbrook [59] "Honour, Faith, Hope... It is real. It must be real."
Vimoreth Koren [56] Peace is the ultimate goal of the order and I shall uphold that goal to my fullest extent
Catherine Nightingale Lionhart [56] " Poor Watchers, they won't have the honor of sharing a grave with me!".
Alcuin Grimfell [29] "Words are faster than my arrows, but only just."
Ozmorin Lionhart "the Lonely" [6] "A man who walks alone can not be stabbed in the back"

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Setting

7 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Choice Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Merriwyn Mahariel Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Catherine Nightingale Lionhart Character Portrait: Vimoreth Koren Character Portrait: Stephen Lothbrook
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Through a haze of exhaustion Tevran finished cleaning his sword and a swirl of unbidden memories came.

"Remember boy, you take care of this sword before you take care of yourself. It will one day be yours, as it is mine now, and it was my father's before me, and so on. This is the soul of our House, and as long as it remains in the hands of a Shaetue, the House stands."
"Don't worry Father! I'll be the bestest warrior our House has seen! I'll be strong and brave just like you!"
A small smile from a man long dead appears.
Another image enters.
A young man, tears streaming down his face which was contorted in rage and grief, scooping up the same sword from the bloodied ruin of his father and charging a man. Being struck with agony of a physical kind to match the hole torn by his father's death. A hole torn four times as big with the destruction of the rest of his family. Blissful blackness entered.


These are the thoughts running through Tevran's head as exhaustion finally claims victory and he passes out. As with all sleeps after the use of the Gift, he would be unawakenable for at least four hours, and when he did awake, his muscles would be knotted with agony for hours more.
But for those hours, he would remain asleep with no dreams, and no pain, propped up against that tree while the blood and sweat dried into his shirt. Truth be told, he wouldn't even notice being moved. A battle could happen and he wouldn't awake.

Setting

8 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Choice Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Merriwyn Mahariel Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard Character Portrait: Catherine Nightingale Lionhart Character Portrait: Vimoreth Koren Character Portrait: Stephen Lothbrook
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Merriwyn listened to everyone as they attempted to come up with some plan, Tevran was right most of the order was in no position to move, let alone fight, yet with the advancing army they had very little in the way of choices. Merriwyn heard Stephen's question and she stepped in, "I think that can wait until we get to Tyrule, with these army and the castle we are quite literally beset by foes on all sides and we must get as far as we can." She then looked to the Commander. "With all due respect, Lieutenant Commander, it only takes 2 hours if the entire party is healthy and capable of rushing, with Mera and Tevran, rushing may be more trouble than it's worth." Merriwyn heard the crash of rock on brick and turned to see a catapult had struck the wall and caused it to crumble. She then looked to Tevran, who seemed to have slipped into an unconscious state.

She made her way over to him, she knelt beside him and shook him, "Tevran?" She whispered, but he did not even stir. "Tevran." She said a bit louder, and shook him a bit harder. She closed her eyes, took a few deep breathes and focused. She could feel the energy around them, but it was all clutter, she had to search through it all for his, and she found it... he was in a coma like state, impossible to wake him from until he awoke himself. "Vimoreth!" Merriwyn cried out, she whipped her head over to look at him and Mera. "Allen, Tevran's gone into a deep sleep. We need to carry him from this place, he will not awaken until his body heals. There's nothing I can do."

Setting

8 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Choice Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Merriwyn Mahariel Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard Character Portrait: Catherine Nightingale Lionhart Character Portrait: Vimoreth Koren Character Portrait: Stephen Lothbrook
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Sinking to the ground, Mera thanked Vimoreth as he moved away. Head lolling to the side, blood-shot eyes stared blearily as Choice jogged happily into the clearing where the rest of the watchers were assembled and plopped down next to her. This infuriated Mera, blood-covered face turning even ruddier as she attempted to contain her anger. Sitting up slightly, she attempted to punch Choice yet all her arms did were move slightly to the side. Grunting, she muttered, "Oh sod off. If you're so damnably happy go back and kill Ulfric for me. Maybe someone will stab you on the way back so I can have some peace." If only her arms could move then Mera would pummel the little bastard. She resorted to glaring sullenly. Good enough for now.

Catherine Lionhart walked into the clearing soon after, seemingly unperturbed at the situation yet breathing slightly heavily. She herself must have encountered some form of trouble inside Castle Halwall. Too bad she escaped whatever it was. Mera would not have cared for Lionhart's death. Lionhart probably didn't care about Mera either considering what she had said to Catherine in the dungeons. Not that she would ever take it back. Deciding she would be a better target for glaring than Choice, Mera shifted her gaze. She felt souseless just lying there on the ground. If anything she was a liability to the rest of the Watchers. That just would not do.

As Stephen entered the clearing, Mera's heart saddened at the pitiful sight they were. Eight men and women, one of them doubtful in allegiance, and no protection from any noble family. The Order had fallen so far over the course of a day. Yet there was still hope. Stephen's question brought that to mind. What were they to do? There were still many that supported the Watchers, or at least what they stood for. Betrayals such as the one Ulfric committed would certainly cause some sort of feeling in the common people, even with those not affiliated with the Watchers. Some might view this as an opportunity to finish of the Order but there were certainly as many if not more willing to join, recreate the Order, make it stronger than it was before. They did not need the Church. The Church was simply an organization. The Trinity recognized faith no matter how it was displayed.

Stumbling to her feet Mera felt reinvigorated if not exactly well. Breathing in, she collected her thoughts. "I can tell you what we should do. Rebuild. Reorganize. Make ourselves powerful. Never again can we be allowed to suffer such an event as the one today. We are guided by the Trinity and we preserve their faith on this earth. The war currently is for control of a kingdom. I say we make our own side."

Setting

9 Characters Present

Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Choice Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Merriwyn Mahariel Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard Character Portrait: Catherine Nightingale Lionhart Character Portrait: Vimoreth Koren Character Portrait: Stephen Lothbrook
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#, as written by Bugsly
"We cannot wait any longer for Ser Lothbrook, he will need to find his way to Tyrule on his own. This army is too small to be on its own, I fear that there might be a larger force on its way and if they arrive before we leave, then we would be much more pressed to get to Tyrule than we are now. We will need to cut through the woods to save some time and avoid unnecessary attention. It should only take two hours to walk from here to the outskirts of Tyrule, less if we hurry but I don't think we're going to be able to do that. I will take the lead, considering I'm probably in the best shape to fight off anything that might accost us on the way."

Vimoreth nodded his head in agreement with Allen. He wanted to get as far away from Halwall and put all the violence behind them. Traveling through the woods would offer a good combination of protection and swiftness that roads did not. They had no idea if Ulfric has roaming forces, hell even a large group of bandits could be a threat to the Watchers now.

"I apologize for the delay. I attempted to recover the rest of the equipment, but it was for naught. Have you decided on what we must do once we reach Tyrule, Commander? We are beset by foes on all sides. I fear we cannot be neutral any longer and I'm loathe to trust any lord now."

He looked over at Ser Stephen when he approached, he wanted to voice his concern on not aligning with or trusting anyone, as his father and brothers fought for the Grand Duke Aliger. But he felt this was not the time to debate and frankly he was not sure if he could trust anyone after Ulfric. Remembering his father fought for Aliger he walked over to the edge of the clearing after Mera stood up and walked away. He looked upon the forces assaulting Halwall. He tried to spot his family’s banner but found nothing.

“Good” Vimoreth thought to himself “Father still has not committed his forces to the war.” He breathed a sigh of relief as he remembered home and his brothers and sisters, a castle by the sea, salty air, fish as fresh as can be. Looking upon what was left of the order he considered going back home, as there were so few Watchers left was there really a point in staying any longer? He would stay for the time being out of loyalty for his fallen comrades. There was also the fact that the Watchers needed everyone more than ever now anyways, he would not leave them for his own comfort.

While he was looking over the Grand Dukes army he heard Merriwyn cry out for him, he turned around and rushed over to her and Tevran. He knelt down next to Tevran opposite Merriwyn. He focused on Tevran’s energy and tried to alleviate any kind of pain that Tevran was feeling, this was sadly to no avail. He then looked up at Merriwyn expectantly.

“I can help carry him if you wish Merriwyn, but you’re right there is not much we can do. You’re the better healer here, tell me what to do.” He looked at her before turning toward Allen awaiting his orders.

Setting

8 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Choice Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Merriwyn Mahariel Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard Character Portrait: Catherine Nightingale Lionhart Character Portrait: Vimoreth Koren Character Portrait: Stephen Lothbrook
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As the two healers of the group looked on to a man who had fainted and the others continued on with whatever idle chatter they had commenced, Catherine slipped away from the group. She did not stray too far, she just posted herself on a branch of a tree where the voices of the others were audible and she could still see them and vice versa. If one would watch her it would seem like she was merely dazing off into the distance, day dreaming perhaps, not at all paying attention to the chatter below but in truth she was fully aware of where they all were. Whilst imprisoned she had spoken of having her father helping the Watchers and this may still be true, but this was when her freedom was in question. Now she is free, her mind able to paint a much larger picture and look at it from different angles. Sure her father could find some way to reward them in a manner that would also benefit him, maybe even use the Watchers for his own gain altogether, they did seem rather ignorant to the true inner workings of politics and the minds of the nobility, it would only take the right words and the correct courtesies here and there. She, after all, was truth of this. They knew of her family's reputation, no doubt, and yet still permitted her to stay. Up in this tree, sitting on a branch, the adopted daughter of the infamous Viscount Richard Lionhart pondered the if the Watchers would be useful to her family as they were or if they were worth more dead...

Why, you must think she's insane. How could someone kill the Watchers, Knights of renown skill and zeal? Rather easily in all honesty. Ulfric had done away with the lot of them not too long ago. These Knights were powerful in combat but still very much mortal. And for all their skill and all their fame, in the current state that they are in right now, tired from their escape, still licking wounds they had suffered in the recent scraps against the guard and those that had ambushed them before in Ulfric's trap, were they faster than Catherine's arrows? All those capable of combat had already made themselves known, from greatest to least. Their commander claimed to be the best sword arm at the moment, and so he would fall first with an arrow to his neck and it would be an easy shot from the angle she had. Caught off guard, they would no doubt hastily look for their attacker and in that small time she would have readied and released yet another arrow. The shots after this would not be as effective. The element of surprise would be gone and they would all be out to kill her. Catherine would use her particular set of skills to run...to hide...and to stalk the survivors until they were all dead. But the question remained...should she? If she was to take this route it was best to do it now while they were weak...but she was not certain if it was wise to do so. Catherine did not fear not being able to remove them if she must later on, she was far too skilled not too, but this was her best chance..."Maybe I should, she begun to reach for an arrow. "No...my father will decide what will become of these Knights. I shall be thier companion until he says otherwise...".

Setting

9 Characters Present

Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Choice Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Merriwyn Mahariel Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard Character Portrait: Catherine Nightingale Lionhart Character Portrait: Vimoreth Koren Character Portrait: Stephen Lothbrook
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Ozmorin Lionhart the Lonely


A fire raged against the night, sending assaults of light flickering against the sea of shadows, and around this fire the men, clad all in a dark grey, danced with overflowing mugs in their hands, caring not if some spill on the rugged dirt. The padding of feet sent thunder into the silent night, but even it was overcome by the bellowing of the songs that came from the harty men's throats. A merry song rang from them, and a jubilant radiance poured from the party of over forty strong. In this ever shifting pond of dance and singing, stood one man still, like a rock in a brook with the world coursing around it but it ever still, and he had only a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye. He stood there with some of the revelers around him over a head taller, but he seemed, he did, tower over them all, and he did not break out into song, but a joyous song played in his heart.

Suddenly, seeming to come out of a black wall that was the night the fire could not fight, and he looked both exasperated and tired. Ozmorin, the one who would stand alone against a dancing tide of joy, had a smile that did not falter when brought forth with a man who did not share with his gay times.

"Bring joy to thy self Steff, for you are home with your fellows! You are home with your Merry Loners! I will not stand for a sullen man at my fire tonight! Sadness is for war, and we are not fighting. At least, we are not losing! Leave the sadness to them, they die tonight. We live!" Ozmorin's voice roared out, and all the men that were dancing stopped to listen, but then quickly raised their glasses in response to his words.

"Yaaaaa!" chanted the men in concurrence with their leader's words.

"Not to damper a festival such as yours, but I have a letter. From Richard." Steff blinked around nervously; the men smiled akwardly and nervously to see Ozmorin's reaction.

"What rabble is Junior wanting this time? An assistance in the war?" The men in unison laughed at the mocked name of Junior.

"No sir, not from the runt. From Richard the First."

Ozmorin's face suddenly grew dark and stern, and the light of the fire that gave joy to them now showed harsh shadows on his hard face. The entire group fell quiet; the only noise was the light crackling of the raging fire, now seeming more malicious than inviting.

"Give me the letter." Ozmorin was cold with his words, and everyone in the group was compelled to give him the letter even though they did not have it because of the power in his voice.

He read over the letter with a face of stone. He read diligently over the letter. His mind stuck on some words. Find the watchers. Come back home. Part of family again. Pardon. Gold. Sincerely, your Father...Father.That was the first time Richard, the man who he considered a father, called himself his father. The first time...

"Pack up and get ready to head out. We have Watchers to track down and kill." His words were law and indisputable. To them the Watchers were already dead.

Setting

8 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Choice Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Merriwyn Mahariel Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard Character Portrait: Catherine Nightingale Lionhart Character Portrait: Vimoreth Koren Character Portrait: Stephen Lothbrook
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Merriwyn looked up to Vimoreth as he inspected Tevran, she kept her hand on Tevran's shoulder, her gaze occasionally returning to his peaceful face. "If we follow the roads, we may come across a farm who would spare us a horse or two, which would make this much easier, but for all we know we'll be attacked on the roads. Bandits hoping to prey on refugees will no doubt start to litter these roads soon." She pushed herself to her feet and located Catherine in the trees. "From what I can gather he's in a resting period, he'll only awaken when his body allows it." Her gaze returned to Tevran and she sighed.

She looked around at the other Watchers, and addressed them. "Who knows this area best?" She looked at each of them, hopeful one was familiar with the grounds they stood on, otherwise she would have to address the forest and she was tired enough as it was. "I only ask because if we could get a horse or two, we could get the most at risk, Mera and Tevran, to Tyrule faster."

Setting

9 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Choice Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Merriwyn Mahariel Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard Character Portrait: Catherine Nightingale Lionhart Character Portrait: Vimoreth Koren Character Portrait: Stephen Lothbrook Character Portrait: Ozmorin Lionhart "the Lonely"
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The Fall of the Order struck the disunited realm in various ways. To the claimants of the Throne, it was seen as a sort of blessing in disguise, seeing as this potential thorn had been removed. The peasants took the news much harder though. It was the Order who had stepped in and saved them time and time again, and now they were gone. Who else would save them from this bloodshed? Who would stand up for them? In this time of seemingly endless darkness, a new organization arose from the ranks of a small smattering of villages. They named themselves the Watch, and they were a pact for the defense of their homes. Every day the men trained for an hour in the use of spear, of club, and of short bow. They slept with their weapons, and they were ready to move within a minute. The common folk would not just stand around waiting for their throats to be cut. They may have lost the Order, but now they would defend themselves.

However, this move would not please the Lords, for it was not just marauding bands of raiders that the Watch tried to fight off. It was soldiers, tax collectors, anyone who tried to take anything from the villages, and as such the Duke of that area, who ruled from a keep near Tyrule, was gathering his retinue and raising his men-at-arms to quash the Watch. Four hundred well armed, armored, and trained soldiers versus a thousand militiamen, scattered among four villages. It wouldn't even be a contest, unless some outside force could come to their rescue...

Setting

8 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Choice Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Merriwyn Mahariel Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard Character Portrait: Catherine Nightingale Lionhart Character Portrait: Vimoreth Koren Character Portrait: Stephen Lothbrook
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Ozmorin Lionhart the Lonely


A giant map was pinned to a table, and it was besieged by twelve or more men. All the men, however, gazed not at the map but at Ozmorin; he was seemingly well in thought. They all waited for his plan.

"I've been over Lord Ulfric's blueprints and it seems they would come out this way." He pointed to a section on the map, but the men still only looked at him. "However, by the Trinity I know not even Watchers, the pompous pricks," all the men laughed, lightening the mood, "could have made it out unscathed. So, logically, they would have to go here to resupply and rest." He pointed again, but this time the men felt comfortable enough to look, being happy for the merriness they are accustomed to returned. The little words on the parchment read Tyrule. "They could not take the road for their minds are full with gore and betrayal, so no doubt they will cut through the woods. Where we do best. So here, at an abandoned ruin, for which they will have to stop if they want rest for the wounded. Here we will ambush."

The word ambush swept through the group, as if a party of children heard their favorite game mentioned.

"And if they avoid the forest, in which case they will most likely die anyways, and some how make it to Tyrule, I have this for the Lord Mayor of Tyrule himself." Ozmorin held up a fancy envelope with Lord Ulfric's seal. "This is forged to look like it came from Lore Ulfric himself, and it reads that the Lord Mayor will invite all the Watchers to a feast, and there kill them like fish in a barrel. There is no doubt he will think this letter official. Send this immediately." He handed off the letter and took a histrionic bow.

The men laughed and cheered and sang with approval. The jolly had returned to the group. All was well and the hunt to begin.

Ozmorin walked off with a peppy swagger, and he thought of plans for his homecoming. Their deaths were certainly certain to him.

Setting

7 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Choice Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Merriwyn Mahariel Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Catherine Nightingale Lionhart Character Portrait: Vimoreth Koren Character Portrait: Stephen Lothbrook
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#, as written by RCJJ23
"I am sorry to say that I'm not entirely familiar with the area, but I know enough to proceed through the forest. As I said before, I feel that I should head in first while you carry Mera and Vimoreth carries Tevran. Choice and Stephen will take up the back. Lady Lionhart may do as she pleases since she technically is not obligated to follow my orders. Though if you feel more comfortable, we can take the roads and risk being run down by soldiers, though they may be preoccupied and may not ask into a group of refugees heading towards the town. Any bandits should find suitable resistance with us. The travel time will only be an hour if we do take the roads."

He looked to the rest of the Watchers to see their responses.

Setting

8 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Choice Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Merriwyn Mahariel Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard Character Portrait: Catherine Nightingale Lionhart Character Portrait: Vimoreth Koren Character Portrait: Ozmorin Lionhart "the Lonely"
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Its always the strangest when something completely unexpected happens. When a dreamless sleep is full of dreams for example...
Screaming. The sound ripped at his very soul, and begged him to help, but he just couldn't move... Agony, rippling over him, both physical and emotional, burning his face and his heart. Everything was in a red haze as he stared at the women of his House as they were shepherded into a corner of the room. His mother screamed and tore at her hair at the sight of her husband and son fallen, her daughters were sobbing, and his newlywed wife merely stared in shock. The look of shock quickly turned to horror though, when the Northern Bear grabbed her and threw her to a group of his men.

The Bear. A massively built man who had killed his father. Had endured the smashing blows of the Lord Shaetue in the full fury of the Gift, and then grabbed his arm, stopping a blow, and slamming a dagger through the metal of his faceplate, right into the eye, felling his father. But in this dream, Tevran managed to run forward and cut the Bear's hand off at the wrist, and triumph was his! His father cheered, but when Tevran turned to face him, the dagger was embedded deep into his eye. He looked at his family and the blood dripping down their slit throats. They all clapped and applauded him, and a terrified scream erupted from the young Tevran's throat.

In the waking world, the shift was shown in his countenance. Sweat beaded around his forehead, and his hands clenched into fists, nails cutting into flesh and drawing blood. His lips drew back in a snarl, and he shook his head. A soft moan of "No" escaped.

Back in the dream, he was standing in the courtyard of Ulfric's castle, kneeling on one knee while the soldiers closed around him, the slain scattered around him. He had struck down several, but his leg was slashed, blood gushing down. A soldier stepped forward to stab, but Tevran quickly thrust up, taking the man in the groin. A scream similiar to a pig being slaughtered escaped the man's throat, and another trooper quickly bashed Tevran's head with a spear pole, knocking him out.

Tevran's back arched and he moved forward, only to fall backwards again, hitting his head on the tree he was leaned against, falling to the ground. A single tear streaked down his worn visage, falling down and tracing the livid scar..

Setting

8 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Choice Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Merriwyn Mahariel Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard Character Portrait: Catherine Nightingale Lionhart Character Portrait: Vimoreth Koren Character Portrait: Stephen Lothbrook
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Image


Forty men, eighty feet, swiftly and silently glided through the wood; they easily moved over and around the thick brush. With bows around their backs, they evaded and dodged, weaved and slithered on, noiseless marching through the beautiful forest. The growth glowed a bright green; light broke through the towering canopy in places, the pillars of dense and bright light seemingly holding up the rustling and dancing roof of leaves. One was tempted by the thought of them being tangible, that if you reached, your hand would meet a golden column keeping the picturesque top up. The men moved joyously and lightly along, excited for the hunt. For the kill.

About a mile away, traveling leisurely adjacent to the marchers, Ozmorin strolled on a paved road that seemed to be endless with an equally infinite length of radiant green on either side, and he made small talk with his closer friends in the ranks of his men when, suddenly, his scout, the fastest in all the kingdom, came dashing out from the shadows.

"Ho! Fellow? By my bow, it is Fellow! Tell me, my fellow Fellow, how are you so swift? So quick? Never mind it, for another time. What have your eyes seen for us, lad?" Ozmorin spoke light and welcoming.

"We-well, my, uh, lor-I mean Sir!" Fellow, which was indeed his name, fumbled with nerves. He was new to the Merry Loners and intimidated by the renowned and prestigious man, but he swallowed his fear and continued, being comforted by the tone that Ozmorin spoke with. "I caught sight of seven watcher and another following. Well, uh, well, I thought that one might be dead, or dying, so um, maybe sev-I mean six watchers" He spoke terribly and stumbled with many words.

"Calm my merry, or rather should be merry, fellow! Speak softly and slow, so that I might understand." Ozmorin soothed the poor and weary man, watching as his words untensed the man's muscles.

"Many of them were unknown to me. There were two mages, a she-elf and another, but I didn't catch their style of sorcery. There was a short amored woman, but she seemed wounded or exhausted. There was another woman as well, I think. Also, there was a man they seemed to regard as their leader, but I recognized him not. However, I recognized three of them. As a man of the Northern lords, as are most of your men, the story of the traitor bastards that betrayed the north are known well, and none other than the last wretched Shaetue laying there, already dead or dying. Wet from sweat from head to toe." Fellow grew angry with the mention of the Shaetue.

"Go on, Fellow. I care enough for a Shaetue as if you told me they carried with them an ass for company. Their house is dead." Ozmorin spoke blunt as some of the men spat at the ground with the sound of the name. Richard, Ozmorin's father, owned a summer home, or rather a keep, in the north, but lived usually in a nice villa right outside the capital. However, Ozmorin being alienated, was never allowed in the villa and stayed in the north all year long, so he was just as much a man of the north as the bulk of his men were.

"Another in their presence was Sir Lothbrook. Stephen Lothbrook."

"Really? I thought his father would spare him in his own home. How queer."

"And..." Fellow trailed off and seemed reluctant to continue.

"Well?"

"Catherine. Your sister."

Ozmorin paused and stared blankly, and then a smile broke out onto his face. "New plan, tell the men to head to Tyrule and wait for my orders, I'm going alone to the ruins. The Lord Mayor fell for our trick and plans to betray them at the feast. A slaughter!"

The men dove into the forest to carry out his commands, and thus he was alone. A light, however, shone in Ozmorin's eye, and when he glanced to inspect, he saw the perfect example of a plate-armored knight standing before him with a sword and shield readily drawn.

"Outlaw?" The knight's voice was so stupidly muffled that Ozmorin could not help but laugh.

"Friend," Ozmorin held out his hand, "good wishes to you and yo-" Ozmorin's hand was smacked away with a fluid but slow motion.

"Outlaw!" Ozmorin realized the knight was as dumb as he looked.

"Funny tale, my father paid a priest to knight me when I was fourteen, before I even squired! So, my dear, you should call me Sir Outlaw!" Ozmorin drew his bastard sword and knocked the knight in the head with a single action. but, although the blow left a hefty dent, the knight came at Ozmorin unscathed.

It was a seemingly funny affair, for every time the knight would swing a heavy and mighty swing, Ozmorin would simply be swift and move out of the way. After, he would mockingly tap the end of his sword against the knight's shield, adding to his frustration with his nimble foe, so he would often unleash exasperated screams. Ozmorin knew that the knight wore too heavy of armor, and he could tire him out, he would be able to finish the knight. However, Ozmorin was a fraction of a second too slow and a strike knocked his sword from his grip, and when Ozmorin reached for it the knight bashed the shield against Ozmorin's face, busting his lip and sending him on his arse. On Ozmorin's attempt to gain his feet, the knight sent a kick to his face, again sending him lurching back to meet the ground, and Ozmorin laid there in pain and with a bloody face. The knight situated himself over Ozmorin, and rose his sword high in the air.

"Honor has conquered all!"

When the knight looked down, however, Ozmorin spat blood at the knight's head, most landing in his eye, and this forced the knight to wince back and stagger. Ozmorin reacted quickly, getting to his feet and grabbing the knight's shield. He kicked his feet out from under him, simultaneously stripping the shield, and watched the knight clank down onto the stone. He kicked off the knight's helm, and sent the sharp end of the shield into his left eye.

A sound was made much similar to the smashing of a warm pudding, a squish, and a red geyser of blood poured from the man, leaving him squirming with a feminine scream on his tongue. Ozmorin picked up his sword and, with cold accuracy, drove the weapon through his right eye, going through brain until he felt his sword go through another layer of skull ad touch road. The knight suddenly stilled, and Ozmorin left the blade sticking out of head and into the air as he attempted to clean his face.

"Fuck. Honor."

Setting

9 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Choice Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Merriwyn Mahariel Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard Character Portrait: Catherine Nightingale Lionhart Character Portrait: Vimoreth Koren Character Portrait: Stephen Lothbrook Character Portrait: Ozmorin Lionhart "the Lonely"
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(Deepest apologies for the hiatus.)

Mera shook her head as Allen spoke. She didn't need to be carried. She was perfectly, absolutely- stumbling into a tree she groaned as her arm scraped against the bark. Maybe she wasn't as well as she thought she was which wasn't very much. At least lying to herself made it feel better than before. Steeling her mind, Mera prevented herself from grunting as she pushed her knee back, forcing the leg to full extension. Swinging her chest up afterwards, she held herself by force of will alone. Joints groaned as they were forced to unknot, sending spasms of pain shuddering through Mera's body. Yet she stood.

"I do not need to be carried as of yet. I can push through whatever we face. Be sure of that. As to how we should proceed, I believe the road is best. Speed here is key. The forest can hide too much; we will not know what is there until it is too late. And if someone decides to attack us, whether or not we are on the road or not does not matter. We are too few and too weary to fight efficiently. I say let us proceed."

Setting

8 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Choice Character Portrait: Merriwyn Mahariel Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard Character Portrait: Catherine Nightingale Lionhart Character Portrait: Vimoreth Koren Character Portrait: Stephen Lothbrook Character Portrait: Ozmorin Lionhart "the Lonely"
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Stephen looked to be considering their options. The forest held its own dangers, but the road was likely crawling with hostile forces. He shook his head and looked apologetically at Mera as he spoke to contradict her suggestion.

"I know these lands well enough. I am no ranger, but I grew up here. I believe I can lead our company through the forest without incident. The road is at this moment too risky. If we are lucky, they are controlled by Lord Ulfric's enemy. If we are unlucky, they are controlled by Lord Ulfric. One is sure to kill us and the other is likely to kill us anyway. The nobility do not care for us. They want us gone."

Setting

8 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Choice Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Merriwyn Mahariel Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard Character Portrait: Catherine Nightingale Lionhart Character Portrait: Stephen Lothbrook Character Portrait: Ozmorin Lionhart "the Lonely"
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Lady Lionhart's eyes fell upon the Knight with the feminine facial features and held back a chuckle, half from his appearance and half from his comment. How amusing that they did not know of the danger within their group.. ."Damn the nobility,", she thought. "It is I who holds your lives in my palm.".

Catherine, who had remained in the tree, jumped down and upon hitting the ground, rolled and propped her self up on her two feet. "Huzzah, you are in luck Watchers!", she begun with a warm, friendly smile on her face. "If it is the woods you choose to venture through, allow me to aid you traverse it. It's many dangers cannot hide from my eyes and they cannot escape my bow. Now should you take the road Ill follow you still, I do owe you all my freedom and the least I can do is ensure you all remain safe while it is within my power to do so.".

Catherine waited for a response but in the mean time she turned to Mera, scarcely able to resist smirking at her current state, thinking. How fortunate for her, that the only one who perhaps sees through her ruse, was in no state to stop her. Perhaps it would be more fun for her if she were. To watch this Lady Watcher try and struggle to save her companions, when she could not even save herself. How delightful and all in the name of the Lionharts. But this would remain fantasy for now. She turned back to Stephen, the Ser Knight with womanly features, her mind brainstorming and plotting, no these words were too neutral for what she conjured in her mind. Lady Lionhart was scheming. Oh yes that witch Catherine, the godless adopted daughter of Viscount Richard, she was brewing something against this young man.

But what could this frail young lady do to this knight. Surely her arrows could penetrate his breastplate but why endure that? Was Woman not spawned from a part of Man? Is he not complete without her?

Catherine approached stephen, only taking perhaps one step more than she should, her smile still kind and welcoming and her eyes seeming to be wanting of something from him. "So it is you I follow Ser or?".

Setting

9 Characters Present

Character Portrait: Choice Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Merriwyn Mahariel Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard Character Portrait: Catherine Nightingale Lionhart Character Portrait: Vimoreth Koren Character Portrait: Stephen Lothbrook Character Portrait: Ozmorin Lionhart "the Lonely"
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#, as written by Bugsly
Vimoreth tried to heave Tevran onto his shoulder but the armor and his weight made it hard to carry him.

“Could I get some help with this?” he asked, hoping someone would help him carry the knight. Being in such close proximity to Tevran he felt a quick pang of emotion erupt from Tevran’s mind and stumbled due to the disruption. Vimoreth heard a soft “No” come from Tevran. What was going on in this mans mind? He wondered, something really truly horrible Vimoreth though to himself.

Hearing the other conversation on what path they should take Vimoreth opted to voice his opinion.

“I think that we should take the woods, I’m with Ser Stephen on this, speed is not important to us, safety is paramount with our wounded. My fighting condition at least less than ideal right anyways.”

He considered the Lionhart woman after she descended from the trees, while the family was clearly dangerous she seemed trustworthy. Her demeanor was friendly and open and she was clearly willing to help. Vimoreth trusted her intentions.