Chivalry: A Tale Of Two

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Gloucester, Sep 29, 2014.

  1. Chivalry: A Tale Of Two

    |Played by: Gloucester & Barnaby Jones|
    A realistic but not-so historically accurate adventure.


    A man of average height. Somewhat scrawny but unoticeable while wearing his city guard clothing. His hair was dirty blonde, he had brown eyes, and a defined, clean shaven face. Rarely ever wears his helmet despite his safety.

    Marke Ertez


    City Guard

    Marke walked morosely through the kingdom. Clousden, to be precise. A large kingdom set in the hills far away from other towns and populations. It was only a few hours ago that he'd finally been accepted as city guard after hours and hours of vigorous training and practice. Those were long hours that he felt were wasted as they seeped into the night, and he felt ever more discouraged every time he'd been rejected. This time, however, he had finally passed inspection and training. While this was good in the moment, he was expecting to be set upon a grand adventure, unfortunately, he wasn't.

    "You're to watch the city from the gates. Protect the wall, citizens..." He was told after his test, though he zoned out halfway through his job explanation. This was not at all what he was looking for, especially after all his hours of training and hard work. Could they not see all the effort he had put in? Was he not good enough to escort caravans or dames? They must've been blinded by his good looks. Something caught in their eye. "Oh, and put your helmet on for God's sake." The Constable scolded him before leaving. Marke of course didn't, as then how would everyone recognize him as the great city guard he was?

    Marke knew better than to argue about his positioning. The best thing he could do is take the job, do it well, and show everyone once again how great he really is. So he did. He left the Castle and made his way through the bustling town to his assigned gate. He carried his helmet with him, but had no intention of putting it on anytime soon. Only if the Constable or someone else were to come check up on him.

    "Congratulations, Marke! I know you'll do a fine job!" Marke picked up his head and spotted one of his old friends, Henry. A simple baker who Marke often refereed to as 'Grain'. His long brown hair was greasy, and his apron stained with flour. Grain did have the friendliest smiles and the best of attitudes.

    "Thanks, Grain! You need not worry while I'm on duty!" Marke waved and gave a smile. That picked him up slightly, and his pace fastened as he reached his place. Grain smiled back and walked back into his bakery.

    Marke's sword bounced against his leg as the gate came into view. It wasn't the main gate, of course. Marke wasn't that good enough to guard that apparently. A simple traders export gate. A stone bridge ran across the top and other guards patrolled over head. Marke didn't see anyone else in position, it seemed it was just him to guard it. That wasn't too bad, he supposed.

    He reached his spot and stood on the right side of the gate. The wall was forgiving enough to block out the sun giving Marke perfect shade. He stood up firm, readjusted his sword, and fixed his his hair. He was ready for a long shift.

  2. Character Bio (Outline) (open)

    Image (open)

    Derrick was a tall man, dressed in the standard chainmail-splint armor with the city guard overwear. If he was ever seen at a melee, he would be wearing his Father's helm. Underneath it, he was of average looks, like most peasants he had short brown hair, his eyes were a sea green, and plenty of stubble.

    Derrick Willhem


    Wall Guard

    Coming through the East Gate was a group of minstrels serving the local lord. They were on their way to the castle, stopping on through the town first. Derrick was apart of the guard assigned to their caravan for their journey, a whole two weeks long. The lord was almost over-protective of his bards, sending them out with a group of six guards for their every expedition.

    Derrick looked at the city. It was built on a terraced farmland, the original builder of the city was the son of a farmer. The inspiration came from when the builder was staring at a water fall, he saw a city, full of people and life. The builder's plan was to have five districts. The Commons, Market, Fountain, Central, and Militant.

    At the bottom creating the 'pool' were the Commons, Market, and Central districts. Then as you went up the hill you would find the Fountain district, the militant district, and finally the Castle. All of the city was supported by the original water spout that supported the farm it was built upon.

    Water flowed throughout each district, coming all the way to the castle, to pool up at the Fountain district at the very bottom. Waterwheels stemming into 'The Fall' were frequent, the ones at the bottom in the fountain district helped manual laborers pull the water from the 'The Pool' back up the hill.

    Once they arrived through the gate, Derrick could hear the guard on post, a fat bearded guard, complaining to himself about a shift in guard, and that he had a whole other two hours of nothing to do. Derrick smirked, he remembered when he had to perform wall shifts.

    Luckily, he was able to prove himself worthy of a title of Lieutenant Guard, a group of five people hand selected by the Captain of the Guard. The way he did this was by challenging the Lieutenant Guard Aatrox Percival to single melee. The Lieutenant Guard was convinced that Derrick was unworthy of the title, and did everything he could to throw him away from the eyes of Captain David Brant.

    After entering town, the minstrels headed off towards the Fountain District to entertain the populace. Derrick and the five guards headed towards the barracks.

    "Lieutenant Willhem! Shall you meet us in Central for a drink? We are celebrating First Festival early!" One of his fellow guards said excitedly.

    "The year hasn't even passed yet and you wish to celebrate new beginnings?" Derrick laughed. The men of the Guard at least, those with honor, were cheery folks. Derrick found that welcoming, and was known to rarely eat at the Officer's table in the barracks.

    They joked merrily along the way, and Derrick after plenty of prodding agreed to convene at Saldrid's Muggery. The biggest commons inn throughout the entire city.

    When Derrick arrived at the barracks he made his way to the Captain's office. Little did he know he was a bug flying into the spider's web.

    "Derrick Willhem, second son of Sir Castran Willhem." The 'Sir' seemed forced. "Welcome back soldier." Soldier was the customary term for those without ranking. To say the least, it offended Derrick.

    However, the voice behind the insult was not of the Captain. It was no other than Lieutenant Guard Percival, with the Captain's ring upon his finger.

    "Where is Brant?" Derrick asked, sparing no hint of warmth in his voice.

    Captain Percival grinned, an evil and ugly one at that. "Dead. Two days after your departure, I of course being appointed as the new, Captain of the Guard."

    This was bad news for Derrick, his would be rival is now his commander. "I see... Captain."

    The evil smirk only grew bigger when Derrick added Percival's title to his begrudging. "Well, you'll be happy to be informed that you are being assigned wall duty of the East Gate. Your new posting commander is me."

    Derrick was angry, he wanted nothing more to kill the man right here. The man who since his first day working as a guard has tried to take Derrick down. But, as a soldier does, Derrick remained visibly calm.

    "Don't interrupt the stream. Be happy! Most guards of your rank would be happy to report directly to me. After all, it is an honor." Captain Percival seemed to be enjoying this moment.

    "May I take my leave Captain?" Derrick looked at the wall, not wanting to give him the pleasure of eye-contact.

    Captain Percival nodded. As Derrick turned to leave, he spoke up. "Wait... I'll be needing your Lieutenant Guard ring soldier."

    Derrick turned, took it off, walked over, and put it on his desk.

    --~~-- Chivalry --~~--
    Walking up to the East Gate, Derrick eyed the fresh, blonde, and un-bearded, guard manning the wall. Derrick could always tell when a recruit just passed his way into being a guard. They always had this look in their eye, that one day they might raise their stars. Derrick knew from experience that the tide flows down, not up.

    Derrick leaned on one of the merlons and yawned. Staring out at the rolls hills Derrick asked, "So whats your name soldier?" Derrick winced after saying soldier, he was too accustomed to his old position.
  3. Marke quickly rose to attention. His eyes were staring at the ground elsewhere, and his disposition was much like a school boy who wasn't interested in the lesson. All of that shifted when Marke caught glance with the new person who appeared to be dressed out for the job. "Oh, uh, I'm Marke. The new guard of the east gates. It's pretty uneventful thus far. You are? " Marke sighed but did his best to look interested. He had no idea that another person was going to be working with him. To Marke it wasn't a bad thing, but if this person was anything like other city guards, they were probably fun hating, adventure deterring, and relaxation abhorring. Guards in Clousden took things way too seriously.

    Marke stuck out a hand after wiping it off on his clothing. He had to act somewhat polite to the new person.
  4. Derrick rubbed his eyes while Marke gave his report-like talk. In a humorous manner Derrick said "I'm the son of a knight who just demoted from Lieutenant Guard. Derrick." Taking Marke's hand Derrick flashed a weak, but existent grin. "Pretty uneventful. As always. There's more guarding to be done within the city than on the walls."

    "The river flows black at the bottom." Derrick sighed, "At least that's what everyone was saying a few months ago. I've been gone on caravan, all the way across the mountains. I haven't been hear for the rumors, and as a guard of the city, it's always useful to know if you'll be fighting dragons, armies, or the people you are sworn to protect." Derrick crossed his arms looking out at the landscape. "Sorry, the affairs of the city have always interested me, and I can droll on longer than a farmer's second son can drink his life away. Sometimes I think I was born to be a merchant or Lord and not a upholder of the law. Became to busy with chasing the idea of honor and raising my stars. Telling stories again, sorry. So you can stop me talking, tell me, why did you become a guard?"
  5. Marke chuckled a little and stared at Derrick with confusion, and even some doubt. "Well, Derrick, you've been on adventure that I wish I was doing. You have no clue, not the slightest! What would I have to do to partake? If it was up to me, I'd be out there fighting dragons and monsters, expelling evil from the land! Doesn't that kind of adventure sate? It's most tasteful on my tongue." Marke unknowking clutched his sword in his hand. The very thought... Fancy. Here he was next to someone who had lived the life Marke wished he had. Though he couldn't tell if he was more questioning of his adventures, or envious. The jelousy gnawed at him. "Well, I suppose you'll make for good company. I'm sure you've got all assortments of stories to tell." Marke stepped a bit closer to the new guard. "If you'll be willing to tell them of course." He shrugged.

    Marke stopped himself, he nearly brushed over the fact that Derrick was demoted. Oh, how inconsiderate of him! He must've been feeling some sort of pain that Marke simply glanced at. He quickly attempted to take back his mistake. "Oh, but do not think I do not feel for your demotement. I've been there too, and I'm still there to this day. The pain of hardwork being rewarded with crumbs isn't foreign to me..." Marke kicked out the ground spitting up dust from the earth.
  6. "Hard work is only rewarded by those have done the same. Our new... Captain, has never known what it is to work." Derrick cracked his knuckles. "But, such worries are mundane and only trouble the mind. Stories? I have a few. No fighting dragons, slaying armies, or ascending to the gods. Common stories but, none the less entertaining."

    "For example. My Father taught me and my late brothers how to duel with swords when we were young. There was one day when I picked up his training axe and short sword, no shield, bearing the axe in my right hand. They laughed, and doubted my skill. Of course, to defend myself from my brothers' taunts, I challenged them. All three to duel me at once with their choices of weapons." Derrick smiled remembering.

    Beginning to gesticulate he told his story as old elders would tell stories to children around a fire. "One of them picked up a spear, the other a sword and shield, and finally the last a mace. Now let me point out, while I may seem capable, and strong. I was not much of a threat to my brothers. They were towering giants."

    Derrick raised his hand as if gripping a sword and axe. "I began to take my stance, all three of them encircle me, and prepared their attack. A spear flew by me first, I parried it off with my spear and moved to strike with my axe. The spearmen managed to dodge my axe, but from behind came the swordsman. Almost catching me off guard he began to sweep up with his sword. I caught his shield with the bowl of my axe. I pulled the shield down to contend with his sword, and then proceeded to drive my own sword into his chest."

    The story at this point was a blend of words and reenactment, "One down, two more to beat. I turned to meet a flying bag of steel marbles aimed for my head." Derrick mocked a face masked with panic, "I was able to catch the chain with my sword before cleaving my opponent with my axe." Derrick, maintaining eye contact with Marke, held up a single finger. "One left."

    "Now the last, was Victor. If the others were skilled, then Victor was a master duelist. With a spear, there was no one who could best him. Not even our Father." Derrick clenched his fists in the air. "He was my final opponent, and was to be the most challenging part of this combat."

    "He struck first, a straight thrust for my chest. I jumped out of the way and tried to close in to swing my axe. The spear kept me at bay, Victor was able to step away and direct the spear to defend him at the same time." Just then Derricks eyes grew big. "Then I had a thought, I knew how to win against Victor. I got him to perform another thrust, and again leapt to the side. As I predicted, he moved to defend himself and keep me at range."

    Derrick clapped his hands, "My plan was successful in it's preparation. I caught him in the slow swing of his spear. I brought the head of the spear to the ground with my foot, jumping to swing my axe and sword to meet him from both sides." Derrick paused, almost as if he was searching Marke's eyes. "Then, he dropped his spear. Stepped to the side, and I fell to the ground baffled at his quick re-action. Before I could regain myself, he stole my sword and held it to my throat."

    Derrick smiled, "That was the end of the story. I was never able to beat him." Derrick stopped as if he was expecting some sort of disbelief to spew from Marke's mouth.