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Merriwyn Maharien

"Magic is still a mystery, the elders know only a fraction of its wonders."

0 · 408 views · located in Ur'Idon

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

Description

Image
Image
Name: Merriwyn Mahariel
Race: Elf
Rank: Sister of the Order
Birthdate/Age: Born Winter 903, 4E (Aged 24)
Gender: Female
Alignment: Lawful Good

Appearance:
Merriwyn is a slender beauty, her hair is a light blond, which sits in curls down her back unless she actually does something with it, usually put into a plait or bun. Whilst her eyes are like clear sapphires, revealing her connection to magic when she performs a ritual, the blue will glow and even dully illuminate a dark room, and her skin has a slight golden glow to it, as does the rest of her family's skin.

In regards to clothes and armour, she tends to stick with battle dresses when brought into battle, armoured with iron gantlets and shoulder guards, her torso protected with a bodice like armour, made from iron, covering a plain robe and a pair of brown slacks covered by the robes skirt and leather boots. Outside of battle, Merriwyn will more than likely be dressed in a Pilgrim's gown, made of soft, peach coloured fabric and with a shawl and a sash of a darker shade.

Personality:
Merriwyn is a kind and loyal elf, her heart goes out to the poor and would give the last of her food to anyone, much like her food, she does the same with her trust. Her eagerness to see the good in people, results in her seeing past the bad and ends up putting herself in dangerous positions by trusting those she shouldn't, although even if she doesn't trust someone, she is bound to tell the truth no matter what.

However, when she does trust someone, they can expect a deeply loyal friend and even more valuable ally, not only for the ancient magic she knows of but of her wisdom, she can prove an adept advisor on a number of concerns, her preferred areas are obbviously magic or elven related areas, but will offer her advise on any and all matters at hand.

Skills/Abilities:
Restoration magic, as an elf she was raised in the last bastion of True-Elves, the eldest of her people knew more of magic than the humans of the southern world and under his guidance she learnt a lot and is now using that magic for good as a pilgrim healing those who are ill and in need of aid.

Alteration magic, along with being taught powerful healing spells, she was taught minor spells in protective wards and even in a few small spells, such as telekinesis and a small light wisp.

Alchemy, as an elf, she has a deep connection with nature and as such is a natural with ingredients for healing salves and even some poisons.

History:
Born and raised in the bastion of Orn'shaile, where the Mahariel family are regarded as nobility among the elves and as such, Merriwyn was given the best the city could offer, the best teachings, the best fashions, the best food and yet she still maintained a humble and truly noble demeanour her whole live. For the first few years of her life, she and her siblings were observed to see what the Gods intended for them, it was discovered she was meant to be a scholar or devout to the gods, which put in the tuition of the Elders, as a scholar she was required to guard an ancient tome, feared for it's powerful ritual, each scholar of Nature was required to guard one until they die.

During her time in the tuition of the Elder, Merriwyn would stay up late studying the remaining ancient scriptures of the elves, in hopes of one day being able to utilize such magic, just like the Elders themselves could, however, only the elders would even be able to acheive such power. After finishing her study of magic, Merriwyn yearned to use her magic outside of the Bastion and in the outside world of Man, she wanted adventure, and so decided to undertake a Pilgrimage to the outside world. On her travels, she helped many strangers with ailments and qualms, her charity extending from rich to poor alike, often accepting payment from the rich which she would then use to feed the poor or donate to the church of the Divine Trinity. Then one day, whilst tending to an ill beggar, she was spotted by a Watcher, who witnessed her act of kindness, offered her a place as a Watcher and she accepted, taking her place as a healer of the brave men and women who served the Order, she would travel with them and offer them aid when needed.

After the war started, Merriwyn couldn't stand to watch the hatred and the fighting, she watched as men lay dying and wounded and she could do nothing as she was ordered to remain impartial. However, she did give each of the dying soldiers a blessing from the Divine Trinity and the Gods of Nature. As they marched for Halwall, a great sense of dread washed over her yet she did not act, for worry it was just nerves. When the gates shut and the legions descended, Merriwyn did her best to fight but she was no fighter, merely a healer, and as such she was seen as no threat and so was swiftly apprehended and locked away, having her ancient scroll confiscated Merriwyn has become a shame to her people and must find the scroll before it falls into the hands of someone who can utilize the corrupted magic.

So begins...

Merriwyn Maharien's Story

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Character Portrait: Merriwyn Maharien
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Merriwyn sat in her cell, the bottom of her dress soaked in mud and blood splattered across the rest, her sleeves were soaked in the blood of one of the few she'd tried to save before she was subdued and trailed to the rat infested pit humans called a prison. Her shoes squelched in the mud as she paced the cell, whilst her eyes were closed and her hands were clamped around a simple clear crystal. "Benedictione caelesti, serva eos in litem." She chanted over and over, as she clenched the gem in her palms, for a few minutes.

The sounds of another's footsteps caused her eyes fly open and her to run over to the grimy, iron bars, her hands gripping the bars tightly.
"Please, ser! Let me help the injured!" She cried at the guard who paced the halls. "These cells are dirty and their wounds will corrupt!"
"Enough of yer blabbering!" He yelled at her, smacking his sword off the bars.
"These men and women will die if I don't see to them!" She called out again, hoping to appeal to his humanity. "We are people of the Gods, will you so blindly follow the orders of a man betraying us? Only the hells will wait you if you do."
"Know yer place, knife ears!" He smacked the bars harder, before gripping her dress and pulling her tight against the bars, causing her to let out a yelp. "Now quit yer yammering and sit quietly." With that he pushed her down and into the dirt of the cell, a pained gasp escaping her lips.

Merriwyn lifted a hand through her hair, to remove the strands which had fallen into her face. "Utinu en lokirim." She muttered under her breath. She pushed herself back up and perched herself back on the thin plank of wood, that hung from the wall, and started to sing a song her mother used to sing to her when she got scared.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Merriwyn Maharien
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Pain suffused her conscious as she came awake, throbbing back and forth across the veins of her body. Cold, damp rock touched her face, grime sticking to her body as it lay upon the stone floor. Opening her eyes laboriously, Mera groaned as lights burst in her head, blinding her for a moment. Raising an arm to her skull, she found a lump where a club had struck her during the fighting, knocking her out instantly. Congealed blood came away with her fingers, a thick liquid shining faintly in the light of the dungeon. For a moment she couldn't remember where she was or how she had gotten there. And then it all came back.

She whimpered as she remembered the gates of Halwall Castle being opened to admit the Watchers, an invitation to proceed inside. It had seemed so safe at the moment, as if nothing would happen. What a lie that was. All the horror of watching Ser Selby being cut down in front of her flooded back through her. She wanted to cry but there was nothing left in her body at the moment to bring up tears. Scooting up on the far wall of the cell, Mera slowly stood, taking care that she did not do so too quickly lest she fall. As she finally reached her full height, dizziness struck her, causing her to stumble forward into the bars and hit them quite heavily.

Grasping the metal, he became aware of someone singing a song nearby, but in a language that she had never heard. Was it...Elvish? She had never had the chance to personally meet one, and for what it was worth, it seemed as if she could do so now. Leaning slightly, she could make out Merriwyn leaning against the bars of the cell, much like Mera was. Mera called out to her, "Hello? Are you ok?"

Setting

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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: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Merriwyn Maharien Character Portrait: Alcuin Grimfell
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Merriwyn's singing ended when she heard someone called out at her, she immediately stopped and sighed, she recognised the voice as that of Alcuin's she may not have been in the Order long but he was certainly one of the few Watchers she'd heard about, every time she saw him, someone whispered a rumour in her ear.

Shortly after being hushed, another voiced called out to her and Merriwyn looked over her shoulder to spot Mera, her skin seemed pale and she seemed as if she was ill.
"I am well, are you?" Merriwyn asked, picking herself up and standing at the bars. "You do not seem to be in good health." Merriwyn tried to look down the corridor to find a guard and another was making his way up the corridor, Merriwyn called out to him. "Ser, please! I must see to her!" The guard merely laughed, without even halting. "Do you think your lord will be very happy if he doesn't get to watch the promised number of Watchers die? I imagine he may even have you killed in her place." Merriwyn felt bad for manipulating the young guard, but all humans are the same, worrying after their own neck.
"M'lord would do that?" The guard asked, his eyes were deeply filled with worry.
"I think he would, he did do it to a few hundred men and women he deemed unruly." Merriwyn didn't know where this was coming from but she kept going with it, until the guard swiftly and nervously fumbled with the keys to open the lock.

Merriwyn willingly obliged to not causing any trouble for the young guard so long as he let her help the injured woman and, like all elves, kept her promise. Now in the same cell, she introduced herself to you human. "Merriwyn Maharien of Orn'shaile, where are you injured?" She asked politely, looking for any sign of the wound.

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

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Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Merriwyn Maharien Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue
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Merriwyn listened to Tevran as he described his wound, she shook her head again, tutting at the state Ulric's men had reduced the Order to. "I'll be there as soon as I can, that wound must be cleaned of the infection, lest it fester and you lose the leg." The magic hadn't seemed to affect Mera in any negative way, if she had a headache it was common and would pass in a matter of minutes, but she didn't seem to be fainting or foaming at the mouth, so Merriwyn deemed it safe to leave her be, for the time being.

As the guard returned to put Merriwyn back in her cell, she then went to Tevran's cell and had him lock her in there with Tevran, however this time he stood outside the door to make sure there was no secret plotting, or possibly to witness something. "You humans are awful weird," She whispered to Tevran. "It would seem no trust can be put in anyone."

Merriwyn looked at the dirty bandage, "Ed' i'ear ar' elenea!" She exclaimed as she inspected not only the dirty bandage but the wound to. "I can't heal this, if we get out of here, I will have to prepare a ritual." She rubbed her hands for heat, before uttering the spell. "Tanka tel' taurnin. Poika tel' taurninin." She chanted three times, as both were greater spells her hands emitted a soft glow. Once finished with sealing and cleaning part of the wound, she started to breath heavily, the magic had worn her out as, her head hung limply as she breathed. "Puig." She managed to mutter, cleaning the bandage with her magic, with little energy left, it took a lot from her to do so.

As she went to get up, Merriwyn couldn't breath, she started to hyperventilate, she had pushed herself too much without anything to draw from, she used a lot of her own magic and in turn a lot of her energy was drained, as she swayed, her body too heavy for the now weak Merriwyn, her eyes half shut. "Amin anta kaim." Merriwyn whispered more to herself than anyone else, her body and mind too tired to speak the common tongue of humans as she expressed her need to rest. Once back in her cell, she curled up into a ball on the straw bed and lay there simply breathing and lazily watching the rats, as an elf they did not bother her as they had the others.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Robert Turya Character Portrait: Merriwyn Maharien Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Allen Ruthgard
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"It did be my honor to have met you, Sister Merriwyn. I did never have met a Fae before, so it do have been my pleasure," Mera responded as Merriwyn finished healing her. Already Mera was beginning to feel better than she had before, a warm feeling that swept through her body and removed the traces of sickness she had been feeling all this time. Magic really was an amazing thing to see and experience.

Thinking back to the slaughter that had been conducted by Ulfric's men, the destitute condition the Order was left in, Mera growled, "I do be hoping the scoundrels suffer when they do pass to the next life. It be the only fair thing they will get there." Spitting on the ground, she watched as the guard transferred Merriwyn to the cell occupied by Tevran. Surely there was a way to escape this predicament with what they had, some detail or opening they had missed.

As Allen called out to the others, Mera responded, "It do be a pleasure to meet you, Brother Allen. My name do be Mera Atkinson o' Lakesbridge. And do that be you, Brother-Lieutenant-Commander Turya? Already the situation do be looking better than it be before."

Turning back towards the guard, she watched the man stand there watching Tevran and Merriwyn. The gods-forsaken man stood there as if he was powerful. How the scum would scream when it came time for the Seeker to collect his dues. Spitting towards the man, she threw an insult, "Oi, you there, god-forsaken bastard! How about you do be letting us out so as we can teach you a lesson o' your own?" Pressed up against the bars, she bared her teeth in a twisted smile at the soldier, hoping for him to respond. If she could just get those keys...

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.

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Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Merriwyn Maharien Character Portrait: Tevran Shaetue Character Portrait: Apollo Cormac
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Through a small crack in the wall Apollo had a narrow view of the world outside. He could only see what the small crack allowed him to see. He was oblivious to everything and anything else. He spent the majority of his imprisonment, thus far, peering out the small crack in the wall. While his brethren and sistren slowly stirred--waking up from their forced slumber and beginning to gauge what situation they had been put in--Apollo continued staring out the small chink in the wall. He hadn’t been knocked out, nor very injured, because when he knew the situation at Halwall Castle had turned against the Order’s favor, he also knew that it would be unnecessary, and possibly fatal, to resist. Though he scrupled to surrender while his fellow Watchers were being slaughtered left and right, in the end he knew it was best to save the fight for another day. And now here he was, though confined within the tiny walls of a dungeon cell, safe and uninjured. In other words, he was alive, while many others who chose to resist Ulfric’s army were dead. And that, too him, was rationalization enough for the choice he made.

While Apollo was contemplating, much was going on outside of his cell and between the other Watchers who had survived, not through cowardice, but through perseverance or sheer luck. But after a large boom sounded outside the prison, the shot came crashing into the castle walls, and Apollo’s time for contemplation came to an end. A few moments later, amidst the chaos, he heard someone’s voice call out, "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!" A fellow Watcher, one whose name he did not know, came and unlocked his cell as well as other cells inside the dungeon. Knowing that this opportunity to escape was no less a gift from the Divine, Apollo wasted no more seconds sitting against the wall which he had been looking through before. He briskly grabbed whatever belongings he had in the cell, if the guards hadn’t already taken them away, and sprinted into the dark corridor. Within the fray of the exodus of prisoners making their way outside the prison, Apollo could see some of the other Watchers leading the throng of people outside of the corridor. He quickly followed suit, not with the Watchers, but with the minor nobles and convicts, and made his way outside of the dungeon hall. There was sufficient help back in the dungeon to get everyone safely out. It was his job, Apollo decided, to secure a weapon and try to neutralize any threats coming towards the prisoners and the other Watchers. This battle wasn’t doomed like the other one was, so no more of his Order needed to die. Apollo continued running down the corridor, and caught up with some other Watchers making their way out as well. This time, Apollo decided, surrender was not necessary. But by no means would he hesitate to surrender if the situation later called for him do so again.

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.

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Character Portrait: Mera Atkinson Character Portrait: Merriwyn Maharien Character Portrait: Alcuin Grimfell
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One moment Alcuin was fiddling with the lock, trying to his thin and sturdy stone between its cracks, and the next thing he knew they were greeted by a nasty tremor. He grabbed onto the bars in enough time not to fall into the murk at the bottom of his cell. The back of the lock came off during that. That would be been a blessing on his part had the other Watchers not secured the keys.
Alcuin hissed through his teeth. “Can’t I ever prove my mettle?” He said as his door swung open. It was bad enough that half the members of the Watchers spoken down to him, literally. Now he was being hustled along by members of the Watchers that he swore were lower ranks than himself. Eh well, this was not the most formal of situations—people can break ranks when their lives depend on it. Unless they are running the opposite direction of the fight. That is usually looked down upon. Alcuin doubted that anyone in the Watchers would do that.

He looked around at the prisoners fleeing. Immediately he felt better about his wounds. They seemed very minimal compared to the causalities that the others had received. Then again he hadn’t put up much a fight when Ulfric’s guards had come for him. He was out of arrows and knives. There was only the sword on his back, but by that time they had their blades pointed at his neck. Yes, Alcuin could draw his sword and maybe get it a half an inch out of the sheath before he was stabbed numerous times. So instead of throwing away his life, he held his hands up. That was when the guards so fondly reacquainted him with the ground.
Alcuin was sure he needed to realign his nose, but that could wait. The Order of Watchers poured out of the dungeon with courage and bravado springing from their lungs. He followed. No enthusiasm poured from his lips. He had always been a man of stealth. Not particularly stealthy to announce your presence to an entire castle filled with your foes. Though if Alcuin was right, Ulfric’s men had more to worry about than just the escaped Watchers. There were more men outside, with siege equipment.
“That is particularly good timing, isn’t it? I wonder if they witnessed all of the massacre, or just some of it.” Humans. Filthy, honor-less swine. Whatever they could do to get the upper hand they would do it. Even if that meant using the ambush of the Divine’s men to their advantage. Alcuin stilled his tongue before he said anything too blasphemous. Aside from the elven maiden, everyone else here was human. And not the recipients of his ire.

Alcuin poured into the next room with the rest. He was on the elfish lass and Mera’s feet. Mera spouted out something about finding the man who did this and ran into the castle on her lonesome. The elfish girl called after her but took a tumble. Before Alcuin could properly help her up, she was on her feet. Right, she wasn’t some court lady. She was capable of taking care of herself. As was Mera. Still, Alcuin didn’t like her braving the ramparts just to get one man, on her own. As the other men of the Watchers took swords, Alcuin pilfered as many daggers as he could before he took off after Mera.
“I’ll retrieve Sister-Sergeant Atkinson,” he said to the elfish woman. “You let the Lieutenant Commander know.”
Honestly Alcuin wished he had the time to grab a bow. But he was assured they would be using long bows in a castle; the flight of the arrows to get over walls and breach enemy lines. There were probably some skirmish bows here and there, but Alcuin didn’t have time to try to pilfer around to locate them. He had to retrieve Mera. It didn’t help that his legs weren’t as long as hers. Though, truthfully, she wasn’t too much taller than himself. But she had a lead on him, and he was trying to be cautious and not call all of Ulfric’s men to him. Fortunately he had whatever army was outside to thin out enemy presence in the hallways.
“Mera Atkinson,” Alcuin said in a low and raspy voice. “Where did you get to, lass?”

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.