War For The North {In Character}

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Hansi The Blind Guardian, Nov 29, 2014.

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  1. Chapter One​
    {Murder she called, murder}​

    The cold hallway lit up with a warming orange light of a torch peaking around the winding stair case. The dungeon floors had been awfully quiet considering it was midmorning. The inmates were normally loud, especially the Orcs that has been locked up. Oddly, not today. The torch led down to the bottom floor, the very bottom floor under the earth. There were multiple cells lining the walls, but only one man was on this floor. Unlike the first few floors there was no torches or light in the cell block. The man holding the torch walked down the block, lighting up the empty cells momentarily. Finally, the man reached the last cell of the hall. a raggedy looking inmate sat in the corner and looked up at the light, not yet used to light anymore.

    “Call me a demon of the night, but put out that light.” The old man said quietly, grey hair in his face as he spoke. His voice was a low, deep mumble.

    “Shut up.” The holder of the torch groaned. He pulled a key off his belt and unlocked the cell. He slid it to the side and walked in. He knelt down against the old prisoner and removed his hood. He held his torch near to his face for a split second, then put his torch down.

    “Now it makes sense.” The prisoner nodded. He grunted in surprise as his shackles were unchained. “Leave one cuff on. I might need it.” The man nodded and stood up. He picked up his torch and turned around. He walked over to the cell door and closed it again, this time he was on the other side. The torch slowly went back down the hall. The prisoner sat against the wall and smirked under his beard.

    King Polin scratched his beard as he sat in his map room with his most trusted advisor Rolin Scown. Scown was suggesting making a treaty with the Elf king Amras Siannodel, for they could be a useful ally if the Orcs return from the south.

    “Are you as mad as an old bag making up children’s tales?” Robert bellowed in a laugh. “Elves are useless, imagine them in war.” He whipped a tear from his eye and listened to a speech from Scown as to how the treaty would be a good thing. “Okay. We’ll make a vote. Get the LuBelles here. The boy and his elder. If they feel it is worth the journey, we set sail.”

    #1 Hansi The Blind Guardian, Nov 29, 2014
    Last edited: Nov 29, 2014
  2. , gold [​IMG]

    Kristoff was with the Royal Crew of Hemlock and his father Adrian watching over the kingdom. Rolin Scown, The Royal Advisor informed them that the King needed to talk to him and his father. Kristoff's father Adrian LuBelle was the man in charge of the Royal Crew; one day Kristoff would take his father's place. In his father's old age it would be soon, Kristoff was the go to when it came to planing out ideas for the Royal Crew, and so far he has never made a mistake yet. On the way to the castle Rolin told Kristoff and Adrian about the plan to make a treaty with the Elvin King. Adrian nearly fell over with shock and bewilderment, "How dear you even suggest such a disastrous idea?" On the other hand Kristoff thought it would be a great idea to make a treaty. The worse thing that could happen was The Royal Crew would have to kill some elves; no big deal. Once inside the castle Kristoff and Adrian bowed in respect to their King, "Your Grace!" They said in unison. Once all the hellos and such were done, Kristoff and Adrian sat down to discuss the treaty idea. Kristoff of course had to talk first. "I think the treaty idea would be marvelous, we could have an ally of sorts...now Your Grace I know you despise elves but in this situation it's our best option for now. The worst that could happen is we get to decapitate some sneaky elves that try to break the treaty." Adrian in his strong deep voice spoke after his young and eager son. "Your Grace excuse my son...I know you would never make a treaty with those "creatures", we can stand alone and defeat anything that comes are way...it all decides on what you want. If you want to set sails to the elves, then I say lets go! If you want to stand on our forces alone then I say lets stand! It all depends on you...Your Grace." Kristoff started to chuckled he couldn't believe that his father would rather fight an uneven battle, instead of making a treaty and have more men to take blows for the Royal Crew. "Excuse my father for he must of forgotten are wonderful saying -To Fail Is To Die A Miserable Death!- now I do think we're strong enough, but the elves can take the brunt of the damage from those..."beasts." We could attack when they're at their weakest. It's a genius idea I call -The Waiting Viper.- We strike and kill when they're least expecting it." Kristoff father hates to admit it, but when Kristoff has a plan they are usually magnificent ones; but for now they would have to wait for the King's orders.
    #2 PlastixRoyalty, Nov 29, 2014
    Last edited: Dec 6, 2014
  3. Robert had been troubled by this matter as his advisor had gotten the captian and his kin. Robert found himself pacing, one hand on his sword. His blade was named "Dagmor", which was Elvish for "Destroyer Of Evil". Funny, because in his books Elves fell under the matter of evil. It would be fantastic to cut off the Orcish troops, the rumors of Orcish warbands siding with each other really did unsettle robert. His cape flapped just lightly over the ground as he moved back and fourth.[/spacer}

    "My lord, master LuBelle and the little one are here to see you now." Scown bowed his head as he entered the map chamber. Still feeling a cloud of dread and nervousness rain inside him, Robert took his seat at the small round table. He listened to father and son argue a little, then nodded as he heard Kristoff's final idea.

    Robert stood up and pulled a dagger out from the holster on his hip. He dug it into the drawing of Hemlock, and dragged it through the sea, across the east and to the west. "We set sail for the west on the first sun rise of the morrow. I want an entire fleet. There is to be no deaths at sea. We make the Elves think they actually have an understanding with us. After we eliminate all orcish forces, then we attack. Now gentlemen, go and pack your things. You will be on my boat."

  4. Amras Siannodel, Aran of the Tel'Quessir, stood at the balcony just outside his chambers and stared with weary eyes out over the City of Eyllis-Yaara'Eplith. The night was clear and crisp, the light of the moon, bright, and revealed the splendor of the City just as if it were bathed in the light of day to which Amras noted, would be along soon enough. Amras pulled the furs about his shoulders tighter, the cold bite of the night air foretelling that the season of snow was not far off. Though tired, his mind did a quick calculation from the reports he had read earlier in the eve concerning foodstuffs gathered from the harvests and stored away for the consumption of the Military and the City's population, though assured by his advisers that there was plenty, he could still recall a time during his Fathers reign when the grainaries and storage houses were near to empty.

    Amras turned from the balcony, closed the heavy curtains to shield his chambers from the night's cold then moved to a side table, lifting the finely crafted decanter of Saerloonian Glowfire and poured an equally crafted goblet full of the decanters contents, then taking the goblet and returning to stand in front of the table that served as his desk. Once he lowered himself down into the chair, he sipped at the goblet before sitting it upon the table and then once more looking out over the reports that laid strewn across the tabletop and was the source of this evenings restlessness.

    Numerous reports from the Ranger patrols along the Southern Elve border concerning Orc Warband activities were laid out before him, given the fact that the Orc's were a warlike race to begin with and often times known for strutting about, rattling their swords against shields and shouting their war cries, was not the cause of great concern, however it was the increasing number of reports with each passing cycle of the Moon over a period of five cycles, that was now cause for concern. Amras had no reason to cast doubt as to the validity of the reports, the Ranger patrols were not only the best trained, but their ranks were filled by the most seasoned veterans of the Army, therefore if it was deemed important enough to be reported by them, it was important for him to pay heed.

    Amras took quill and parchment and wrote a request wishing to know the readiness of all Elven Forces and how much time would be needed for them to be ready to march, then paused a moment in thought, struck through the last part of his request and issued an order for all Forces to be placed in a state of readiness should the need arise for them to march south. He sat back with a sigh as his thoughts turned to the Human Kingdom to the east, there was little doubt they had not received similar reports as well, and from what little he cared to know about the impetuous and brash race, there was little to no doubt that chances were they were already marching in response. Amras folded the parchment and affixed his seal upon it and addressed it to the High General of the Elven Legions, then sent for a courier to deliver the parchment, once the courier arrived, Amras gave him the parchment along with an order to find to find Loque Sevanthian and inform him that he was requested to come to the Palace.
    #4 KnightsTemplar, Nov 30, 2014
    Last edited by a moderator: Nov 30, 2014
  5. He had been up since before the sun had come up. He was up and already at the table that the queen transformed into his blacksmith's shop. Salem King, one of the lesser known blacksmiths of Tymriel. He lived with his wife, Gwendylon in their medium sized home. It only had two bedrooms, a serving room and a living room that also served as the kitchen. His shop was his true home. He could see the street from it. He had his anvil, a fire pit, multiple butckets of water, and weapons hanging from every wall and pilar he could get a weapon hung on.

    He slammed his hammer down on a steel sword he had been working on. He stopped to whipe his brow then looked at the sky. The sun was fairly bright. It must have been mid morning. He shook his head and went back to pounding away on the sword. Before he left, he made a nice breakfast consisting of crispy bacon, well prepared eggs and aa glass of fresh orange's juice. He even left enough for his lovely wife. He took the almost finished sword by the hilt and slowly let it down in the water, the heat sizzling as the water kissed it.

    Eight Hours Earlier, In The Elven City To The West​

    Everything had been so quiet and peacful in the might. That is, if you lived in the west. The warband snuck up on the castle of the high elven king and hid to the bushes. Of course, they had a latter with them. Their leader gave the signal, and four orcs wielding crossbows stepped up to the shrubarry line. They took aim at the four guards on that side of the kingdome wall. For once, the orc's got their targets on the first try. They fell down, dead. The leader took a small team of fifteen orcs with swords as long and wide at their legs, and cross bows on their back. They leaned the latter up against the wall. The leader was the first up the latter, then the others. They came to what looked like an entrance to the large kingdome. They all pounded against the large, wide double doors, and they sprang open. No guards met with them. Strange. They walked to a room that had a door made of steel, and had a crown engraved in it. The leader chuckled to himself.

    As soon as the door opened, the king's chamber filled with the stench of the leader's natural Orc smell. He looked at the king, and the mail courrier. "Lovely evenin', aye ya' lord highnuts?"

  6. Eight Hours and fifteen minutes Earlier, In The Elven City To The West

    Amras perked an eyebrow as the lone Orc entered, the rest of his band blocking the entrance as they gawked into the chmber, he did his best not to openly gag at the stench as the Orc moved closer. Amras dismissed the courier then returned his attention to the Orc, whom judging by the crude and brazen manner in which he acted and spoke, was some sort of Leader, Amras sat back in his chair, clapped his hands together, then addressed the Orc calmly,

    "Well, that was certainly a brutish and ill conceived entrance, if I may say, but then your kind is not known for being subtle is it?, tell me Orc, at what point in your life did you ever get the odd notion that a beast such as yourself could ever dare hope of being stealthy?, Honestly, however stealthy one such as you could be.... the smell alone was enough to reveal you from half a league away, remind me to offer you the gift of soap before you leave if you would please, and I will see to it a wagon is loaded for you to return to your lands with.... I must admit though, the skill with crossbow was impressive, and cost me five gold coin in wager...I thought certainly it would of taken at least fifteen to twenty shots to kill the guards, which by the way where made of bundles of straw, had they been real, your life and that of your band would of already been forfeit".

    Amras contenounce slowly changed from that of calm and serene to that of tempered anger, he rose to his feet and moved to the front of the table, not wishing to come any closer to the Orc least he vomit from the stench, he fought back the urge and continued to address the Orc, this time his tone of voice more commanding and assertive.

    " I am Amras Siannodel, Ruler and Protector of the Tel'Quessir, your presence is an affront to me, you have been tracked here long before your band were within range of setting eyes open the City of Eyllis-Yaara'Eplith... it is only becuase of curiosity as to why you attempted to try being stealthy that you were allowed to reach this City and given the nature of your entrance into our City, and my chambers. the only natural assumption is that it was your intent to do harm, to which I will not allow, now before I have you taken to the dungeon and then put to death, would you care to explain why you chose to grace me with your stench and fowl manner of speech?".

    Amras raised his hand and instantly five of the Elven Royal Guard slipped from hiding with bows drawn and aimed at the Orc, as sounds of marching boots could also be heard coming from either side of the hallway till fifteen more stood on each side of the Orc band, poised and ready to strike, swords drawn and the desire to be the first to kill one of the fowl beasts, gleaming in their eyes.
    #6 KnightsTemplar, Nov 30, 2014
    Last edited by a moderator: Nov 30, 2014
  7. The orc listened, feeling almost disgusted by the accent and manor of speaking the elf had to offer him. As the troops circled around him, he kept his shield at his side, and sword on his back. Among the Orcs blocking the door was one who was still in the hall. He observed the events unfold. He ran to the big double doors they had broken open and raised a thumbs up towards the forest line.

    Maggot the Damned looked down at the castle through eye pieces, two telescopes that had been melted together. "Set up, boys!" He spat out. The ground rumbled faintly as four large machines rolled up to the forest line. They were each long and wide, and on the front of them were pointed in cones, made of strong but rusted steel. On the top was a chimney in which thick black smoke rose out of, and beside that was the barrel of a long cannon that's loaded, aimed and fired from the inside.

    "ya don' know who 'ah 'im?" The orc flashed his brown and yellow, missing a few teethh, yet still toothy grin. His breath smelt of dead pig carcass, and ass. "Ah im Greenwarth!" He laughed loudly, before quickly grabbing one of the guards by the face and throwing him at the wall. "Destoyer o' nations!" With the new found hole in the defences he raised his shield and broke through them, his sword out and ready to disembowel the king. The orcs at the door had their crossbows ready, prepared to fire. "Kill muh, an' yer entire castle goes dawn."


    Attached Files:

  8. , gold [​IMG]

    Kristoff and Adrian went to get what they needed for the "trip." The only thing Kristoff needed from their home was his lucky double swords, with these in his hands he has never lost a battle yet. Those prissy elves and dirty orcs won't know what hit them, when I get there. On the other hand Adrian needed his helmet, sword, and his lucky sun necklace;that he always wore to battle. "Father I don't know why you think that little necklace is "lucky", you've been in how many wars and you've still came back half dead." Adrian just laugh at his foolish son. "Yes...but without this I would have never came back at all." Kristoff just shook his head, they started walking out towards the castle. Once they reached the King and the Royal Crew, Kristoff and Adrian were all set ready for anything to come. "Your Grace my father and I, we are ready to go to battle." Adrian gave orders out to the Royal Crew to get on their boats and get ready. Kristoff and Adrian got on the King's boat and waited to sail out.

    #8 PlastixRoyalty, Nov 30, 2014
    Last edited: Dec 6, 2014
  9. The ship of the king was not like any other sailing galley. They were more like pirate ships, but not the royal ship. It was more of a rectangle with railing and sails, and a captian's quarters. It had a chimney with black smoke pumping out of it, due to the fact it didn't run on men rowing it. It ran on magic orbs created by the sorceror who sailed with the king. The king's quarters was like a room, in the sense that it had a bed, a desk, maps on the walls, and three windows.

    Robert walked onto the ship and breathed in proudly. He was wearing a fur pelt curass, and a tight leather shirt that hugged his figure and had no sleeves. His sword, dagmor, was strung across his back. He looked at the water, then at the royal crew who was moving up and down decks.

    "Gentlemen, set sail to the west imediatly."

  10. Elizabeth rung out the rag she'd been using to scrub the floor, letting the water fall into the bucket. She picked it up by the handle and walked out of the room she'd been assigned to clean and out into the hallway. When she arrived at the servants headquarters, Elizabeth placed the bucket and rags in the supply closet with a sigh, and pulled the ribbon that kept her hair up, letting the loose waves fall over her shoulders. She'd been working in Prince Salem Pollin's home with the other servants since she was seventeen, and had started her work in cleaning when she was twelve. So far, Elizabeth didn't mind it. It gave her an excuse to tell her family when they pressed her for information on if she'd found 'somebody'. All she'd have to do was say "I'm too busy with work, it will happen soon."

    Elizabeth's parents loved her dearly, but however much they were proud of her, they were even more proud of her older sister Hazel. Hazel, being the tall goddess like woman that she was, she'd landed a husband practically the same day she turned sixteen, when her parents had expected her to marry. Elizabeth however rejected every potential suitor her parents had introduced her to, so they sent her off to a home to work, and there she would stay.
  11. Tymriel, the Polin estate. Prince Salem pushed open the double doors to his great library, his sword at his side and cape flapping behind him. He ran a gloved hand over his bald head and let out a groaning sigh. "By the moon." He groaned as he looked at all the books on the shelves. He had a mission, but had no idea where to begin. It was always hard to find an autobiography of someone who was a famous figure in another country. It was even harder when the library just threw all the books to the side.

    Salem took a few steps inward and looked around for a librarian. "Hello? Is there somebody I may talk to?"

  12. Loque was sprung awake by the sound of sharp rapping on his door, he threw back the bed sheets and raised himself from the cot which he called his own. He quickly moved to his armor and set it upon himself, he fastened the straps of his chestpiece, pulled his boots on and strapped them, fastening his lasset on and then throwing his sash around him he tied it on his right hip. He fastened his sheathe to his belt and slid his sword into it. He walked over to a nearby bowl of water and dunked his head inside wiping his face with a rag and pushing his hair back he walked to his door to see two of the kings selected. Men like himself, yet neither of these two men had been graced by title nor a childhood raised by nobility. They were with a courier, the courier greeted Loque warmly and apologized for disturbing his sleep.

    "My apologies, 'Iaikae See gel'," The courier bowed, "I am here by request of our king, he calls you to the palace. It is a matter of urgency."

    "It is of no consequence, we shall make haste to the Kings chambers," Loque said leaving his home and closing the door speedily. He and the three others moved quickly.

    Loque moved with grace but speed as he walked through the city accompanied by the two warriors and the courier . Loque had trimmed his war braid so that it fell hardly to the edge of his shoulder blades, he had also cleaned his armor so that he may be presentable to the High Elven King. It would not be their first meeting, but it was still an honor. After some time the four made it to the Palace. The courier left the guards side and moved to finish doing as he was instructed, Loque smiled as he smelt the familiar air of the palace. Loque was guided through the chambers to the great hall, then to the chambers of the High King. The two guards placed outside knocked on the door and Loque stood his tallest, and slowed his breathing.
  13. The soft sound of the wind banging on the window of her's brought her to wake. Her steel-grey eyes stared at the ceiling. The small little cracks and little splinters sticking out of the ceiling caused a slight irritation. She felt her brow twitching with annoyance. She grumbled softly as she pushed the covers off her body. Once her warm covers was removed from her body she felt the cold air, causing her to grab a thinner blanket to cover her body. Her bare feet was pressed against the cold flooring as she made her way to the kitchen. Gwendolyn felt her entire body being chilled by the cold wind. Her body was easily affected by the weather -- if the sun came out she would easily die of the heat -- if the snow came down her body would turn to ice. She quickly closed the windows that were left open in the kitchen. Once the doors were shut her nose wiggled a bit at the scent of bacon. She turned her body towards the plate of food left for her. She walked up to it slowly getting a better look at it. Her steel-grey eyes focused on the contents of the plate and then at the cup of juice. She pulled out the wooden seat and sat in front of the meal. She grabbed the rusty fork tainted with brown rust. The rust between her fingers scratched her dainty fingers. She ignored the feeling of the rust against her skin and stabbed the bacon.

    It only took a few minutes for her to be filled with food and juice. She left bits of bacon on the plate and eggs, the juice however was done. She slipped out of the chair grabbing the plates and placing them gently down in the sink. She turned her heels around back into her bedroom. Being cooped up at home began to become uneventful. She opened up her closet revealing very few clothing. She pulled out a plain dress that came along with a corset. Gwendolyn pulled out her thin white night gown and slipped on the dress. She grabbed both strings of the corset and began to tie it up. As the corset tightened her waist became smaller, creating outrageous curves to her physique. She then pulled out a cloak. In one swift motion the cloak wrapped around her small petite body, the hood hanged behind her back. She brought all her blonde hair together and tied it up in a loose bun with her ribbon. She smoothed her dress, diminishing the wrinkles on her dress. Gwendolyn then proceeded to leave the house, leaving her woman's work for later.

    She pulled over the hood covering her entire head and her forehead. She walked away from the small house of her's and walked towards the town. The sun's light hasn't reached its warmth to Gwendolyn body. She still felt the cold lingering around her body. Reaching to town it soon became loud noises of townsfolk speaking of buying their produce or animals meat that was hung on the small tents. Besides the merchants booming voices small talk about a war worried her. She crossed her arms defensively as her pace quickened. The war was something she worried about. She was poor as it was, the war would only add more troubles to her and her husbands plate. She walked around glancing in every direction; Gwendolyn was never a woman who could remember her place around the town. She took a few turns around. The town felt like a large maze to her. Merchants settled up their tents like a maze making it difficult for her to find the blacksmiths keep.

    After a few minutes she heard the distinctive sounds of metal clashing against metal. She turned her body to find Salem King working on another weapon. She walked slowly to the man with her hand intertwined with each other. She stopped where she found herself a bit further away from Salem than she expected. The man she married wasn't a well-known blacksmith, the weapons he made hung from the walls. Her eyes watched as the tip of the steel was thrown in the water. A bit of steam radiated off from the surface of the water. "Have you heard about the war?" Her voice was soft but loud enough for him to hear. "The town speaks of it too much I think... It bothers me." She said keeping her straight posture. The war was all they talked about, it made her feel anxious. She worried of how it will affect her and her husband. She rubbed her arm nervously. It was always about war.
  14. In Tymriel, the Polin estate. Florina was in the great library doing well reading books what else? she loves reading books it was one of the reasons why she's such a skilled fighter, she doesn't understand why some people don't like books honestly maybe their just too stupid to read at all.

    She had heard the double doors open and her father walking in. "Yes father what do you need to talk about?", she placed her book back on the shelves she pulled down her hood revealing her face and her shoulder length loosely curled almost orange colored hair usually she ties it in a pony tail but since she was not going anywhere she decided to keep it in its natural state.

    (Hopefully this is a good enough intro :P ).
  15. The blacksmith kept the sword in the water as he turned to the workbench he kept beside the pale. It had a bunch of books on spells, and weapon craft. He opened a book on engraving steel. He read a quick few paragraphs and nodded to himself. He picked up the quill he uses to draw his designs and dipped it into the fire pit, then into the ink. As he drew incredible lines and runes on the blade, the ink slowly seeped into it with smoke, making engravements.

    Salem King's head perked up as he heard the timid voice of his wife break through the sounds of his workplace, and the street. "War?" He shuddered, thinking about it. "I would hope not. If the southren forces or the westren forces attacked up, we'd have no where to go but North. Once North, where would we go? I'm happy with you here in Tymriel."

    The Prince smiled as he saw his daughter was reading. He enjoyed seeing her education at work. "I am looking for the book 'Murder, she cried, murder'. 'Tis a sad moment when my own daughter can double as my librarian." He let out a comfrting chuckle. "The book is an autobiography of a woman who survived a human purging by another race. A barbaric, army like race that call themselfs the Montaq."

  16. "I have seen a book named like that but never read it but now i wished i did as that sounds quite fascinating, though why the sudden interest in such a book Father? " she asked looking at him curiously "Is it something of importance if so i can always assist in search of it not like i have anything important to do for the day much to my dissapointment".
  17. The soon to be king nodded as he listened to his daughter's knowledgable words. "I am just worried." He said as he walked over to a shelf and picked up a book on swords, axes and spears. "I've heard they have almost coiompletely taken over our neighbouring country of Adelta. I fear them crossing the boarders.

  18. Florina listened closely to her fathers words "Hmm that is worrying indeed ", though the tone of her voice sounded like she didn't care that much because she didn't actually care that much but it did worry her just little bit "Why not send spies there? and perhaps later even a peace treaty to avoid another pointless stupid war".
  19. "That's exactly while I'm researching." He said, making eye contact with only the ink on the pages of the book on weaponry he held in his hands. "I was hoping this book will help me find out there habits with peace, war and so on."
  20. "Judging by what you said earlier, a barbaric army purging humans sounds like a good indicator they don't like us i'd say they sound like orc tribe that decided to call themselves something other than Orc or basically just any race that decided to call themselves Montaq" she said boredly almost.
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