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Catherine Lionhart

"Surely there is some way I can help...right?".

0 · 166 views · located in Ur'Idon

a character in “The Chosen Few: The Broken Order”, originally authored by Ersatz Creed, as played by RolePlayGateway

Description

Catherine Lionhart
Image


Race: Human
Rank: Squire, Weapon Bearer
Birthdate/Age: 16
Gender: Female
Alignment:Cluelessly Neutral



Personality: She is rather ignorant on many subjects, not because she lacked the want to learn but because she could not afford to. This and her lack of experience, a trait shared by most of the youth, make her seem stupid at first glance, very eager to fill this lack of knowledge in her head, and also very obnoxious. It is not odd for her to pester those above her with questions about anything and while it is a rather noble quest for knowledge it is without a doubt a very annoying one. As perhaps the most junior member of the order, she has very little combat experience and what she does know she has not the chance to put into practice in an actual fight. This gives her a sense of inferiority, worthlessness even. Catherine feels like she is deadweight but rather than let this bring her down, it fuels her. This young girl wants to show herself and those placed above her that she is useful, this is both good and bad. When someone else is picked to do a task she feels like she could have accomplished just as easily, she takes it rather personally. Catherine does not take failure easily either.

She can be very gullible and easy to trick or mislead and she has perhaps too much in faith in those placed above her, in her superiors. Her good morals and faith in the Trinity can also be used against her.


Skills/Abilities: Marksmenship- As a child, Catherine would go down into the woods near the farm she labored on, to the river, gathering rocks as she went for her slingshot. Once at the river bank she would shoot out these rocks at various trees on the side for her own amusement. This has made her a rather good shot but its not something that has been noticed by the Order and should definitely be exploited.

Sneaky- The very same woods that she would sneak into were hunting grounds and off limits to the peasantry unless with permit from the Lord of the castle. Many a time she had to sneak past these men to get in and get out.


Double Time- Being a simple weapon bearer has not only made her stronger from carrying the weapons of various different Knights in the Order but has also made her fast and prompt as she would also need to deliver said weapons to their respective owners.

I speak Serf- For some reason, fellow commoners seem more willing to listen to her than others.


History


Catherine was orphaned, her parents for whatever reason decided not to keep her. Now while there was an Oprhanage, the only way that it could support itself was by of course, making the children do hard labor. Some were sent off to the mines or other such places whilst Catherine, was sent to the fields. It was a difficult childhood, she never received a formal education and to this day she cannot read and her writing could use alot of polishing. Food was never plentiful but she survived and by saving whatever coin she could get she was able to treat herself every now and then. Despite all this hardship her character was not corrupted. She did not steal or join the various criminal groups that operated in the streets as some of her friends did and she was bullied for it.

Then in the market place, she stood up for man who was being harassed by the Guards and accused of being a pick pocket (a friend of hers). She confronted them about this in the middle of the act and grabbed the attention of many bystanders. Now despite this, she was but a peasant, an orphan and these were men of the law, who by profession (so everyone thought) were above the law. It was not going end well. Fortunately for her one of the onlookers was a member of the Order of The Watchers. He was swift in coming to her and her friend's rescue after becoming aware of what was happening. After a brief brawl, this Knight took her out of the town she lived in and with hard work and his word, she was able to join the Order as the lowest possible rank with the most simplest of tasks. A Squire who held the weapons her fellow Knights could not carry on them when they traveled.

So begins...

Catherine Lionhart's Story

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Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Catherine Lionhart
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  Catherine awoke to the dark, cold, and dampness of the dungeon and the squeaking of rats that scurried about on the filthy stone floor. As she came to she was struck first by the foul odor caused by the filth and second, by pain. Her body ached, she had been trambled by her Brothers and Sisters who were, at first, rather eager to fight their way through this horde of enemies that descended on them. After that she was captured, rather swiftly, but not without a proper beating which was what knocked hee out in the first place. Aside from these bruises and a cut from a busted lip, she was fine. At least physically.

 Waking up in the darkness of the dungeon had initially scared her to death for she thought she had been made blind and then she had moved her hands to push herself up off the ground and touched a rat, she jumped again. She hastily scurried away from the filthy little beasts and trembled in disgust as she then smacked the few that had climbed  onto her off. In silence she say, with her heart racing and her mind working past the fear and confusion till it had become crystal clear that she was in a dungeon, she had been captured, and she did not know what had become of the other Watchers, or at least not to it's full extent. Surely some were able to escape death and capture, right?

 With that being said, the young and inexperienced Squire walked to the bars of her cell and overheard a women singing and saw the guard pass by her cell. When she was certain that he was gone and too far away to hear here, in a hushed tone, she called a few names in hopes that would answer back...or perhaps not answer back her poor optimistic cluelessness leaving her to believe that if they did not reply perhaps they had managed to escape.

"William...Astrid...Caspain...Ser Gregory? Are any of you here? Hello?".

 None of them replied. Again , with foolish optimism she thought they had escaped perhaps. She sighed and asked. "Who here is a Watcher?".

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Catherine Lionhart
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The first conscious thought that came into Tevran's bloodied and battered skull was pain. Great, burning pain. The back of his head felt like one massive bruise and his leg was reminding him in short, bright stabs about how it had been slashed in the ambush. His knuckles were split and oozing from where he had punched a man-at-arms in his helmeted face. With a loud groan he attempted to focus his vision and see where he was. A cell. Not a nice, fancy cell with an actual bed and a decent chamber pot with food and water. No, a tiny little thing with a small pile of straw and a bucket. The mortar was worn and the stone cracked, and the overall feeling was one of neglect. As Tevran took this in, he began inspecting his leg. Someone had tied a crude wrapping made out of shirt around the gash, but he winced as he removed the rude bandage and looked at it. The skin was irritated, red, and swollen, which warned of inbound infection. If he didn't get a healer soon, he would probably lose the leg. Though that was rather long term thinking considering where he was at the moment. Chances were he wouldn't be worrying about his leg falling off due to infection, he probably had a date with the headsman. But then he heard an argument between a man and a woman, followed by some mournful singing in a foreign tongue, elven perhaps. This was shortly followed by an almost childlike call for attention from a young sounding woman. He tried to say something, but his voice rasped out at first from lack of water, and then he tried again.
"Aye, I am of the Order. Who asks?", his voice rumbled out in a gravelly approximation of his normal tone, for another thing that beset the knight was the lack of water he had recently drank.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Catherine Lionhart Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard
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#, as written by RCJJ23
Allen awoke, lying in a pile of straw. The bruises and cuts that covered him were not the worse he's had by any means, but it still hurt. He only barely tried to move, careful to not reopen any of his wounds that had scabbed. After a few minutes, he managed to rise to a sitting position, and he checked himself carefully for any wounds that he could not feel through the dull ache that filled his mind. All in all, he was fine but he was going to have a headache for a few weeks. He could still remember how hours earlier, he was one of the few left fighting the damned traitor Ulfric's men, how he was finally beat into submission, coated in the blood of the enemy. He shook off the thought before it could go any further. He could still remember as the men that he'd known for years were cut down, one by one.

He heard an argument a few meters down the hall, and he got up, shuffling over to the bars of his cell when he heard the singing. It was melodic, in a foreign tongue. Having learnt a little of the other race's languages, he could recognize that it was Elven, and even understood a bit of it. Then over the singing he heard a younger woman call out. He recognized a few of the names, for he was friends with some of them. Then it asked if there were any Watchers. He heard a man's voice calling out, identifying himself as a member of the order. Allen thought for a moment before calling out.

"I am too."

His voice came out differently, not like his usual self but had a more raspier tone, and he coughed before sitting down against the wall next to the cell door, leaning against it, kicking the rats that got too close.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Merriwyn Maharien Character Portrait: Catherine Lionhart Character Portrait: Alcuin Grimfell
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Betrayal. It was a four letter word. Alright, not literally, but Alcuin still viewed it as such. It was the one thing you didn’t want to hear, and yet it was thrown around with as much emphasis and lackadaisical planning as a slur. The dwarf had been betrayed before, and in return had done the same. That had all been a part of his past though, that little nugget of sealed information that he stored in his head right betwixt his ears. The Order of the Watchers were not the type to betray or be betrayed in kind. Yet, here Alcuin was in a dank cell underneath some equally dank castle. He leaned against the bars, not wanting to sit in the muck and grime that pooled at his feet. Fortunately he had sustained minimal injuries. Then again he was an archer, that was the idea. The only part of his that had gotten scuffed up was his nose. It was the first contact point to hit the ground when Ulfric’s men had slammed him down. It had long since finished bleeding. The swelling would go down in a few days, but the bruising would linger a little longer than that.
“And there goes my good looks,” Alcuin grumbled underneath his breath. Though, he was aware it was better that he took minor aesthetic damage then, say, not being alive at all.

So many of the Watch were dead. Warm laughs, stoic faces, hard hearts, and bleeding ones--they had all come from different places with different roots to call their own. What they all had in common was their need to do good. A need that Alcuin wasn’t the best at. All those poor souls that would have done the world a lot better than he could. Well, that was assuming he had much time left. They were either to wither down here, or to reach the chopping block post haste. Maybe a noose. Oh, maybe Ulfric’s men would just slit all their throats in silence and dump them into a river. No, no, if they wanted to do that they would have already. There had to be a reason that some of them were down here, because a mass execution hadn’t followed the fight.

Alcuin was drawn from his thoughts by an argument. A woman begged to help the wounded, and another man was more-or-less assured that she shouldn’t. Soft, lithe singing followed that in the elven language.
“If you don’t want the guard back down here, you’ll stop caterwauling,” Alcuin said. Maybe that hadn’t been the best way to get his point across, but he really didn’t want the last thing he heard before he died to be elvish dribble. An opinion probably only held by himself. “Not to be rude. I would just hate for something to happen to an elvish lass like yourself.” Not that Alcuin thought highly of the elves, but she seemed to have good intentions and a soft heart. And now was a wretched time to be mildly racist.

Another voice broke through the murky dungeon. It was also lithe, but wracked in pain. Alcuin couldn’t tell if it was physical, emotional, or a bit of both. She asked if there were any from the Order here. The dwarf looked around at the cells. It was hard to find faces that were anything but. Who knew, though. Maybe Lord Ulfric enjoyed locking up anyone that passed through those gates.
Alcuin rolled his arm around in its socket. The guards that had hauled him in here hadn’t been delicate. Fortunately they hadn’t pulled anything too hard. He could still extend it and retract it well enough. It would just ache for a while. “Aye,” he finally responded. He didn’t want to interrupt anyone, now. There were a lot of voices that sounded immensely in pain. Once again, he counted his meager blessings that he was lucky enough to be an archer.

“Now if I could find something flat, thin, and sturdy, maybe I can pry the back of his lock off,” he said to no one but himself. Alcuin needed to do something with his hands. Listening to his fellow Watchers bemoan their fate was a little too dark for his liking. Had his jailers been so kind to give him a piece of wood and a knife, he would have whittled--poorly. But they had been of their right minds and not given the dwarf any form of stabbing apparatus. Fair enough to say he would have been out of here already. Instead he just scanned the ground for a rock that fit his description. He didn’t have much hope of finding one, but it was better than biding his time til death.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Catherine Lionhart Character Portrait: Alcuin Grimfell Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard
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  Catherine had thought that she would be happy to hear the voices of her fellow Watchers, that knowing she was not alone in this rat infested dungeon would give her some sort of comfort. But when she heard the tone in their voices, she was made to doubt her original assumption. They sounded like they were in pain. And thus far she had only heard 3 voices sound off, meaning that only 4 of them were either conscious or present I'm this dungeon. But she drived on.

"Well...", she continued in hopes of finding out what fate befell her friends and fellow Watchers. "I'm Catherine...A Squire. I was knocked outed fairly early in the fighting so I don't know what exactly went on...Did...did anyone escape...or we the last ones?".

 As she near the end of her speech, she begun to realized the grim fate that they may have fallen on her friends and the fact that they may not live another day, and her voice reflected it. Her original optimism was steadily leaving and was being replaced with uncertainty. In her chest, her heart went into double time, her old positive thoughts fleeing her mind to male way for darker ones. Catherine tried to calm herself, "Don't think such things, you don't know.". She told herself as she awaited a response from the others that she heard.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Merriwyn Maharien Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Catherine Lionhart Character Portrait: Alcuin Grimfell Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard
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Mera smiled as Merriwyn manipulated the guard into letting her out of her cell and into Mera's. While the validity of what Merriwyn had said may have been completely inaccurate- Uflric might have been relieved to deal with a few less Watchers in the dungeon- but it worked all the same. Stepping aside as the cell door was open and again closed, she grinned weakly at Merriwyn. Gods, her head hurt.

As the door closed and Merriwyn introduced herself, she responded with her own name, "Mera Atkinson o' Lakesbridge. It be on back of me head. I do think the skull be split open at the base." Raising a hand, she indicated the point where blood still leaked slowly, draining her strength drop by drop. If Merriwyn had not been present, the bleeding might have not stopped until Mera herself was dead. But that was no worry anymore. She sat down with her back to Merriwyn, lifting up her own hair so that the view of the injury would be clear.

Recalling the other shouts, she said, "Don't mind Alcuin. He be a tired man, lost as much as we others did. Safety do be what he cares about at the moment, that of his and rest o' us. Thank you for healing me, I do not know how much longer I would have lasted." Ending her small part, she called out to the other Watchers in the dungeon, particularly Catherine, "Aye, some o' us be alive, perchance some escaped. Do nay fear, we shall get out o' this mess."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Robert Turya Character Portrait: Merriwyn Maharien Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Catherine Lionhart Character Portrait: Alcuin Grimfell Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard
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It sounded like a slow rain for a moment. The constant droplets running from Robert's shoulder down to his hand before falling onto the cold floor beneath him. He stood there, back resting against the bars of the cell, thinking that this wouldn't be such a bad way to die but deep inside he knew he was destined for the humiliation of a public execution. He continued standing there watching the blood roll off his fingers, until a series of voices cut through the veil off darkness that filled the dungeon.

Robert's ears perked up, but he said not a word at first. No, instead he listened to his compatriots attempting to gauge their resolve in this desperate state. Some pleaded for help, others called out to friends they knew were no longer amongst the living, but Robert couldn't help but admire their spirit. Perhaps it was the Watcher in them that made them still have hope in this desperate hour, or perhaps the Order just attraced such resilient members. Either way Robert's heavy heart lightened just a bit from they strength they still had. Robert cringed in pain as he attempted to pull himself up from the floor, which in turn enticed a nasty cough to overtake him as he stood. He hadn't felt it at first but Robert knew he was in pretty bad shape, however; he knew to take victories where he could find them and being alive was certainly one.

"Stay strong." He called out to the others muddled about the dungeon."Only in death do our vows release us. Until then all we can do is make killing us as difficult as possible for these godless bastards."

Robert knew his words were mostly empty, but somewhere inside he knew that this wasn't the end. He was a Lieutenant-Commander of the Order of the Watchers and he would be damned if he was carted of to the block without a fight.



Above the stink and despair of the dungeons Lord Ulfric was pacing back and forth with a look of concern plastered upon his face. His scouts had reported a large force of men heading towards Halwall, and from the look of it they were prepared for war.

"Gods be damned! They'll be on us in hours! How long will it take to summon my banners?" Lord Ulfric barked out to an older pudgy man with a stack of papers in his hands.

"Your retainers will be assembled and riding towards Halwall by this evening sire, but...." The older man spoke before he was cut off by Ulfric.

"But they will not arrive in time! I know this already!" Lord Ulfric shouted as he knocked the papers from the man's hands. "We cannot lose Halwall. It is our only avenue of attack in the east. Perhaps....perhaps eliminating the Order so soon was a mistake, they would have been an asset in this coming battle."

"No my lord." The pudgy man spoke as he gathered up his papers. "You must not second guess yourself. You did what you must, no more no less."

"You are right my friend." Ulfric said as he let out a sigh and sat down behind his desk. "But I cannot help but feek the Gods have turned their back to me."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Robert Turya Character Portrait: Merriwyn Maharien Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Catherine Lionhart Character Portrait: Apollo Cormac Character Portrait: Alcuin Grimfell Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard
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Merriwyn shook her head in disgust at the injuries to her ally and the squalid conditions she was forced to reside in. "These men are barbarians. Attacking the unsuspecting and then locking them up in such conditions, and with the men and women of the Gods, they will most certainly be for an ill fate when the Reaper and the Seeker comes for them." She seemed to almost rant to Mera, mixing the gods of her people and the humans. "I wonder how the Church will take this betrayal, regardless of our breaking off, we are still people of the faith." Merriwyn rubbed her hands, the friction warming them up as she uttered a few elvish incantations. "Tanka tel' taurnin. Poika tuulo' 'kshapsae" A spell of healing for sealing the wound and a spell of cure for any corruption which may have begun to set, without the proper conditions for a proper healing ritual, Merriwyn would have to make do with sealing the wounds and clearing any infection. She repeated the incantations at least three more times just to be sure.

Merriwyn recalled Mera's comments on Alcuin hushing Merriwyn and she merely nodded, "We have all lost a great deal, some more than others," She agreed, she had heard rumours of expulsion from his home kingdom. "It was my honour to heal you, no need to thank me. No need to call the guard back either, I think I'll stay until he passes back." Merriwyn listened to the conversation and decided to put her own input. "I did witness a few of the sisters and brothers fleeing, but how far they got I am not aware. Yet I do not doubt the Betrayer sent more after them." Merriwyn admitted, a sadness to her voice, her head shaking slightly in shame. "I'm sorry I did not do more. Yet I can do some good now, how many of you are injured?"

She had to make sure Mera was fine after being healed with elvish magic and after sitting with her for a few more minutes, she would attempt to heal anyone else injured, hopefully the now fearful guard would return and be willing to let her help anyone else injured.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Robert Turya Character Portrait: Merriwyn Maharien Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Catherine Lionhart Character Portrait: Apollo Cormac Character Portrait: Alcuin Grimfell Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard
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#, as written by RCJJ23
When Allen heard the voice, which he could vaguely recognize as the one of Lieutenant-Commander Turya since he had served with him in the past though he doubted that he would remember him, he delivered a prayer although he was by no means devout. He delivered a prayer to the Judge to cast his divine justice on those who betrayed the Order and a prayer to the Ruthgards' patron god, Nargul, to give him the strength to fight when the time came, if it ever came. They hadn't bound him so he would give them a good fight if they came to cart him away. Then remembering the squire calling out her name he decided to say his as well.

"I am Brother-Sergeant Allen Ruthgard; of Garnum." He added his place of birth as an afterthought, as he was unsure if any of the other prisoners in the cells or even one of the guards were from around there and knew of the Ruthgards.

Allen sat there for a few more moments before slowly getting to his feet. He had to bend his head down to avoid knocking it on the ceiling of the small cell. From there he explored it a little. All there was was the straw mattress, a small wooden bucket and rats. Nothing too special about this prison cell. The aches still permeated through the block his mind was setting up, but it was getting further away and it was sharpening his pain dulled senses. He went back over and sat on his mattress and waited.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Robert Turya Character Portrait: Merriwyn Maharien Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Catherine Lionhart Character Portrait: Alcuin Grimfell Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard
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Waiting patiently just outside the stone walls of Halwall was Grand-Duke Aliger, and with him was a host of men numbering greater than twenty-thousand. The Grand-Duke smirked as he looked up at the battlements of Halwall and towards Lord Ulfric, who in a fit of rage and desperation was shouting unaudible threats at his foe. Threats or no, Ulfric knew there was nothing that could be done. He had been out played and all the world would soon know it if they did not already. After finishing his rant the disgruntled lord said a few words to his commander before disappearing back into the heart of Halwall, for the fighting would soon begin.

The plan that was now being enacted was one that took several weeks off careful planning and coordination by the Grand-Duke's agents. When word reached Grand-Duke Aliger that Ulfric was planning to dispose of the Watchers he knew his chance to strike a critical blow against his most powerful rival had come to fruition, so the Grand-Duke and his men bade their time until the last moment before striking. Aliger knew if Ulfric was planning to enact this plan he would do so at Halwall, and Aliger knew that he would bring few men to lure the Watchers into a false sense of peace. After the deed was done Ulfric's men would still be recovering from their figh, and it would be then Grand-Duke Aliger would strike.

Now was that time, as both of these military titans readied their men for the assault. Ulfric's men began to stirring all throughout the castle and below the walls Aliger and his army prepared for a siege. The experienced and well trained engineers of Aliger's forces had been preemptively preparing siege engines, and just as the Grand-Duke turned his back to Halwall castle to rejoin his men the first engine fired.



From the barks and hollers from those above the dungeon Robert knew what was coming, or at least had a good idea. He looked down the corridor towards the others but as it appeared no one knew what was happening, including the troublesome guard. Robert could hear one of the others throwing insults his way and perhaps that was the cause of his obliviousness to the situation, but whatever the cause its was truly a fortunate event. It was shortly thereafter that Robert's prediction of the outside events came to be when the siege engine's first fired shot slammed into the walls above sending a large tremor throwing the chamber the Watchers now resided in.

The guard had already been flustered due to the insults he had endured, and once that was combined with the empty wineskin around his belt and the shaking of the ground it had not taken much for him to fall forwarda into the bars off lady Mera's cell. That was the chance Robert had been hoping for.

"Quickly!" Robert cried out down the corridor. "Grab him! Grab him!"

This was a one time chance and he only hoped those residing in that destined cell could act fast enough to ensure their escape. Robert could do nothing but watch on, tortured with the thought that he should be the one doing this, however; with his arm in shambles he knew he could do nothing. It was up to them now, and with a little luck and favor from the gods perhaps they all might live another day.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Robert Turya Character Portrait: Merriwyn Maharien Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Catherine Lionhart Character Portrait: Alcuin Grimfell Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard
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The guard stepped towards, enraged and flustered by the various insults that he had had to endure, not to mention being "commanded" by Merriwyn. As he drew near, the castle shook with the impact of the first siege engine's shoot. Stumbling into the bars of the cell, Mera drew back lightly so she would not be hit. Grabbing the man's head, she pushed it back, smiled...and proceeded to vigorously smash his skull into the bars. Screaming subsided as the man slumped, knocked unconscious by the vicious assault. Blood leaked from a crack in his head, but the man still breathed.

Kneeing the guard in the face through the bars one last time for good measure, she eased the man down to the floor before relieving him of his keys. "You do no be needing these anymore," she muttered. Extending her arms around, she inserted the keys into the lock before giving a sharp twist. A satisfying click emanated from the mechanism. Pushing the door open against the weight of the man, she darted out furtively.

Rushing to the cell occupied by Tevran and Merriwyn, she proceeded to unlock the door for the pair. "Free our Brothers and Sisters, I shall keep watch down the corridor." Handing the keys to one of the pair, she returned to where the guard lay and unbuckled his sword belt. Drawing out the standard blade, she give it a few swing for testing. She grimaced at the feel. It was nothing at all like the light, agile blades she favored. However, the clunky thing would have to do.

Walking quickly to the stairs, she took up position to prevent anyone from coming into the dungeon.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Robert Turya Character Portrait: Merriwyn Maharien Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Catherine Lionhart Character Portrait: Alcuin Grimfell Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard
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As Merriwyn poured healing energy into Tevran's battered body he could feel himself getting better, and then watched in amazement as his wounds were tended, for in his experience the only healers he had met were hacksaws with needle and thread to sew the flesh back together. But it seemed to take a toll on the Elf, who after finishing seemed to sag a little, as if all her energy had left her, and she fell into the straw pile muttering phrases in elvish. Tevran gave a sad smile and said in his rumbling voice "My thanks Sister. Though I fear you healed me in vain, for I do believe we all have an appointment with our maker on the morrow." Merriwyn seemed oblivious though, probably because of the sheer amount of energy she had expended in such a short time, and thus Tevran turned his attention to outside the small cell, where another one of his Sisters was trying to get the guard riled up.

He smirked as the hapless guard endured a barrage of scathing insults, and then gave his first true smile since awakening as the whole cell block rocked as if hit by some terrible force causing the guard to stagger into Mera's cell where she quickly incapacitated him by slamming his not quite thick enough skull into the bars. She quickly stripped the keys from him and tossed them to Tevran, who deftly caught them and quickly unlocked his and Merriwyn's manacles. He threw a quick Thank you to Mera and turned towards Merriwyn.

"Can you move on your own, or do you need help? I can carry you if I must. Tis how I can begin repaying my debt."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Robert Turya Character Portrait: Merriwyn Maharien Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Catherine Lionhart Character Portrait: Apollo Cormac Character Portrait: Alcuin Grimfell
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Merriwyn barely nodded her head in appreciation for Tevran's thanks, but her body could barely handle breathing let alone moving any part of her body. She has used her magic to treat serious wounds before but they have only ever been one person per hour, otherwise she'd seriously tire herself out as she just had, 2 people needing greater magic in the space of 20 minutes, she had exhausted herself and now was not the time for doing so.

Merriwyn felt the ground shake beneath her as she lay there, a feeling of dread washing over her as she lay on the hay. However, when she heard some sort of struggle and soon after the jingle of heavy keys, she looked at the doorway just as Mera appeared in it and unlocked the door for Tevran and Merriwyn.

Tevran knelt before Merriwyn and offered help to her, she looked up to him with a weak smile. "There is no debt between us, you need not worry about me." Merriwyn took a heavy breath and prepared to lift herself up. "Free the others, I will manage." She told him after finally rising, although she lent heavily against the wall.

Merriwyn slowly made her way down the corridor, each step heavier than the last, she eventually climbed the steps and met with Mera.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Robert Turya Character Portrait: Merriwyn Maharien Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Catherine Lionhart Character Portrait: Apollo Cormac Character Portrait: Alcuin Grimfell Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard
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Tevran acknowledged her refusal of help with a smile and remarked "May the Warden watch over you." And then turned towards the hallway, keys gripped in his hand. He walked out, and rushed from cell to cell unlocking them. Not only were the other Watchers released, but various other minor nobles and others who had displeased lord Ulfric. For the most part they were fairly ragged but if they were armed then mayhaps they could flank the guards and escape by seizing one of the gates.

"Alright all of you! This way! We need to find an armory of some kind to arm ourselves! The Divine are on our side! We shall not fail! The betrayer will fall, and burn in Oblivion forever! Our cause is righteous! Now forwards!" His voice boomed out in a way that made the former prisoners jump, and then start moving forward. Following them, Tevran strode forward confidently, gazing about for a sword he could use. For as the last of the order, they can't afford any more losses.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Robert Turya Character Portrait: Merriwyn Maharien Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Catherine Lionhart Character Portrait: Apollo Cormac Character Portrait: Alcuin Grimfell Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard
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Everything changed so suddenly...


It was safe to say that Catherine was inexperienced. She was but a Squire, one who's first taste of combat consisted of being trampled by her own friends and then captured by the enemy. She could not read, she could write letters...some words...not sentences, and she had never seen or heard what those mighty creations of War were capable of, what siege weapons could do. Unprepared for what came, the only thing that kept Catherine standing was the bars of her cell that she held on to. Her heart begun to pound against her ribs, Catherine was afraid and she didn't know exactly what was going on. The Lady Sergeant, Catherine had forgotten her name, was out of her cell. The Guard must've slammed his head into the bars and got knocked out, then she just took the keys from him. She freed those near her and one of them, another Watcher no less, went cell to cell, freeing everyone who was in the dungeon.

"Alright all of you! This way! We need to find an armory of some kind to arm ourselves! The Divine are on our side! We shall not fail! The betrayer will fall, and burn in Oblivion forever! Our cause is righteous! Now forward!"


It was odd. All the others did not hesitate for long to leave their cells and go forth. However, Catherine hesitated...and hesitated. [i]What good am I to them? I can't read...I can't write...I've never fought before...I'm more useful to the Watchers in here...I'm sure the Lieutenant Commander would...wait..Ser Robert!".

Catherine remembered hearing the Lieutenant Commander's voice and how he sounded. He did not sound like the man she had heard of, the man whom the Squires, through a series of exaggerated and far fetched rumors spread amongst themselves, had learned to adore and admire and respect. The Squire was sure that if the Watchers were to survive they would need a leader...and he was it. If his voice was anything to go off of, he was not doing well and would need assistance. She could be that assistance, she could do that much. "Sir!", she called out. "Commander! Where are you?".

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Robert Turya Character Portrait: Merriwyn Maharien Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Catherine Lionhart Character Portrait: Apollo Cormac Character Portrait: Alcuin Grimfell Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard
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#, as written by RCJJ23
Allen got up when the door was unlocked and walked past Tevran, muttering a thanks as he passed. He advanced past the prisoners and up the stairs past Mera when the door burst open. The guard there had his sword drawn, expecting trouble. What he didn't expect is trouble taking the form of a monstrous mountain of a man with the hand to hand skills to eliminate him as a threat.

It happened quickly, with Allen shoulder charging the man into the room behind the door. It was a small office, mostly for dealing with records and prisoners being put into the cells below, at least that was what Allen could see whilst he was carrying a grown man with only his shoulder. He thundered down the middle of the room, with the guard on his shoulder too shocked to do anything, before being slammed into the wall, the impact making him drop his sword. Then he was lifted up by Allen and slammed into a nearby desk. It was rotten, rickety old mess with it barely supporting the ledgers that were piled on top of it so it was no surprise that under the force of a man being slammed on to it that it gave way, not even breaking in half but shattering as the old wooden legs splintered and the top broke. The sound was negligible, especially in the cacophony of shouts and the sound of whatever siege engine's loads were slamming against the stone walls. So unless someone was right next to the door, the prisoners would remain undetected.

The guard however was still going, flailing his arms weakly at the towering shadow in front of him, though he couldn't reach and even if he could, his arms would have been broken. That was quickly rectified when Allen knocked him unconscious with a swift kick to the temple. He took the man's belt off and fixed it on himself before picking up the blade that had been on the floor and sheathed it, then he took a better look around the room. It was as it was before, albeit with a bit of redecoration in the form of a broken desk and an unconscious guard. He saw a sword rack, with only four more swords though it could hold more. Otherwise it was rather bare with two more similar desks and a bench. He picked up the swords in his arms and passed them on to any Watchers that wanted to take them before taking position beside the door leading out of the office and into Halwall Castle.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Robert Turya Character Portrait: Merriwyn Maharien Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Catherine Lionhart Character Portrait: Apollo Cormac Character Portrait: Alcuin Grimfell Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard
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Mera smiled as Merriwyn drew level with her. The elf seemed tired but enthusiastic to be free. They all were, if in different manners. "It do feel good to be out o' them cells, Mera said, leaning against the wall in a position of rest. She still had not recovered fully from the healing and other injuries plagued fer still. That did not mean she was not ready to strike, however.

Looking down the stairwell as Tevran began organizing the escapees, she was pleased by the chaotic order that had come out of it. No structure was visibly present in the group and not everyone knew each other, but the simple goal of escaping held them together in a bond. If not for the entire escape, at least for now.

A bang shot throughout the dungeon as the door behind Mera slammed open revealing a guard with sword drawn. Before she could react, Allen, who had drawn past her, barreled into the man, carrying both of them into the next room. The fight was over as quickly as it had begun, Allen swiftly rendering the guard unconscious. Following him through the door, Mera saw him gather up the swords and distribute them to the rest of the Watchers. Deciding she had a few moments to spare while everyone organized themselves in the office, Mera began rummaging through the desk. Most of the papers were simple orders on what to do with certain prisoners or transfers, but one or two letters seemed more important from the brief glance she spared everything. Picking up three letters, she secured them in the belt of her pants as she had no other place to store them in.

Moving over to the door leading outside of the office and into the rest of the complex, she eased the frame open and peeked outside. There was no one in the immediate vicinity but shouts could be heard in the distance. Rubble lay scattered throughout the corridor, some pieces small while others were fairly large, about the size of a man's chest. Whoever was attacking must have come prepared for such an undertaking for the castle to be attacked so quickly.

A rage seized her as she once again thought about the massacre that had occurred not too far from here. So many friends that she would never see again simply because one man saw them as a threat. Knuckles turned white from the pressure she was exerting on the sword hilt, hurting her hand due to the tightness of the grip. One man was responsible for this. Mera would not suffer him live.

Facing the rest of the group, she called out to the nearest Watchers, "I do be having some business to take care of. If you do escape, I shall find you. May the gods protect you." With that, Mera began loping off into the rest of the castle, searching for one man. Ulfric Ducant. Whoever survived this day, he would not be one of them for she was a herald of the Seeker. She was Death.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Robert Turya Character Portrait: Merriwyn Maharien Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Catherine Lionhart Character Portrait: Apollo Cormac Character Portrait: Alcuin Grimfell Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard
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Merriwyn stood in horror as the guard opened the door, Mera was her only protection and she was just as frozen in shock as Merriwyn, but within seconds a tower of a man ran through and tackled the guard and the pair went right through another door behind him. With a sigh of relief, Merriwyn made her way into the first room, scanning the surroundings for a chest, maybe the gaolers had stored their confiscated goods in here, but Merriwyn had no such luck and when they moved into the next room, her luck was just as low.

Merriwyn lent against a wall, her body still drained from using her magic too much. She bowed her head in thanks to her saviour, but just as she was about to rest a little more, Mera ran off on her own and Merriwyn tried to chase after her, to stop her from leaving. "Mera, no!" She cried out after her, reaching out as if to grab her but she fell to the floor, letting out a cry of pain as she hit the hard stone floor. She pulled herself up from the dirt, weakly steadying herself on the frame of the door. She took in a few heavy breaths as she watched Mera get smaller as she get further away.

As Merriwyn watched, she remembered the scroll she was sworn to protect. "Oh gods no." She exclaimed to herself, she had to get the scroll back, before it fell into the hands of someone who could wield the ancient magic contained in its letters. If it was still in the hold, it may be destroyed unless the ancient wards hadn't worn off, and if it was outside the hold, no doubt it was on its way to being translated and studied. She quickly went back to check the ledgers and see if there was any mention of the scroll, the gods favoured her and it seemed the scroll was being sent to being studied, ripping the page from the book, she put it in her sleeve pocket and waited on the others.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Robert Turya Character Portrait: Merriwyn Maharien Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Catherine Lionhart Character Portrait: Apollo Cormac Character Portrait: Alcuin Grimfell Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard
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Merriwyn watched as Tevran led the battle, she with a few other prisoners who were in no way capable of fighting, remained in the small office, after Mera had run, Alcuin cam up beside her and informed her of his intentions, Merriwyn didn't want anyone to separate from the party at all but at least Mera wouldn't be alone if Alcuin went after her.
"Of course, thank you, Alcuin." Merriwyn looked to the people she was in the office with, a mixture of nobles and beggars alike. Merriwyn was confused as to why noblemen and women were locked up with the beggars, but did not ask, she merely clung to the door frame and watched as Tevran led the charge.

With the courtyard cleared, Merriwyn informed the others and they made there way out into the courtyard, she grabbed a dagger from the body of one of Ulfric's men and turned to the others. "I suggest you grab a weapon too, we cannot have the others doing all the fighting and having to worry about us." She ordered them, the beggars eagerly picked up a weapon whilst the nobles seemed hesitant, but Merriwyn had no patience. "I will not have my brothers and sisters sacrifice our freedom because you could not weild a weapon yourself." Merriwyn had little patience for nobles and their snobbery at the moment.

Merriwyn caught up to the Lieutenant-Commander. "Lord Turya! Lady Mera has went after Ulfric and Alcuin has went after her." Merriwyn informed him, with a bow of her head to show respect to the Lieutenant-Commander. "May the gods guide them."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Robert Turya Character Portrait: Merriwyn Maharien Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Catherine Lionhart Character Portrait: Apollo Cormac Character Portrait: Alcuin Grimfell Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard
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The surge of men howling for vengeance swept into the courtyard, with the knight Tevran at the forefront. The guards, whose focus had been on the outside looking at the marching army only watched in shock at the prison riot. A few tried to move forward to engage the mostly weaponless prisoners, but Tevran casually swept aside their feeble attempts to fight with swift parries and brutal thrusts of his blade. Blood spattered all across the rough stones of the courtyard, and screams of agony began to fill the air to go with the grunts and wordless panting of men locked in mortal combat. And still the booming of the siege engines' constant bombardment continued, pounding against the old stones of the fortress. Tevran was locked in a brutal fight with the captain of the guard, a grizzled middle aged sergeant with close cut hair who made short economic chops with a hand axe while blocking Tevran's cuts and thrusts with a stout shield. "You should have given up and died with the rest of your treasonous comrades! It would have been quick at least!" The captain snarled out between gritted teeth.

Tevran growled out "It is not treason to rid the nation of your heresy" and then batted aside the axe and drove his blade through the captain's throat and into his skull. A look of shock struck the man's face as he fell over. Tevran flicked the blood away, and then looked around. About half of the escapees were dead, but the rest had picked up weapons and were fighting. Meanwhile, soldiers were pouring through a breach made by the siege weapons and cutting through the few guards standing.