Sword and Shield

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Postby Reislied » Fri Oct 11, 2002 6:48 pm

When the roar of rain reminds of one of waterfalls, when the wind sounds like a chorus of unearthly souls, when the lightning blinds, and the thunder splits your ears, one becomes very comfortable by a fire. It is not the warmth itself that calms the person's soul, but the fact that the person is not out in that freezing downpour. He may shiver in sympathy as he thinks of the plight of some more unfortunate person, but the thought soothes him nonetheless because that person is NOT him. <BR><BR>Or so Ser Damien believed. The alarmingly large knight was huddled with four commoners around a central fire. The rain pounded above the solid tiled roof and battered at the sturdy wooden walls. Thunder vibrated along the floor. He was in a large Inn on the outskirts of Mytarra called the Sword and Shield. Several fires roared all around and people were gathered about them anxious for any heat. Even the spits were occupied. The smell of roasting beef and mutton filled the air. Though the Inn was past capacity and people sat on the carpeted floor itself for lack of tables and chairs, there was only a low murmur of conversation. There were footsoldiers milling about, a few knights of different orders, plenty of commoners, strange foreigners from the East and North come to trade or sight see, some shady characters here and there, and no doubt more than a few rogues or deserters. There was a tension in the air and most had a high strung look about them. <BR><BR>Refugees had streamed into the Sword and Shield recently. The wild Norsemen had launched a surprise attack on the bordering guard towers, completely overwhelming them. Now the country of Mystarra itself was under siege. Villages and towns were burned to the ground. Those who could not reach a castle or fortress were brutally killed. Or worse, captured for sacrifice to the Norsemen's merciless god, Odin One-Eye. Shamans wielded powerful magic and it was rumored that they had Dwarven allies. But the Sword and Shield was overlooked. If not overlooked, then certainly dismissed as plunder for now. It was fortified and difficult to reach, one of the last bastions for homeless Mystarrians. Not to mention a housing for battered soldiers. <BR><BR>Ser Damien's order, the Knights of the Thorn, had been decimated by the wild Norsemen as they threw up a desperate shield around a village struggling to evacuate. The commoners escaped, but it was too late for Ser Damien and his fellow knights. After three days of relentless pursuit, the pitiful remnants of his troops managed to reach the Sword and Shield. <BR><BR>He let out a grateful sigh as he leaned back. Most of his fellow troops were sleeping. The Inkeeper was dealing with strangers outside. Eventually, he would have to move out again, but that might not be for a while. The leader of the Knights of the Crown, the Kingsmen they were called, was in heated discussion with an Eastern mercenary and a strange looking fellow in a red robe. A sorceror perhaps. Drawing up plans for an alliance no doubt. Damien shrugged. It was not his worry.<BR>
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Postby Arwen32315 » Fri Oct 11, 2002 9:58 pm

********<BR><BR>Meridia leaned against the wall. She was one of the few to actually have a chair to sit in. The Inn was packed, but she was here for one purpose. Ser Damien. <BR><BR>Her cloak, a dark forest green that brought out her emerald green eyes; hid her pointed, elvish ears; and covered her face up to her nose, so that she could see out, but noone could see in. That was the way she liked it. She was dressed as a man in breeches and a loose fitting white shirt that hid her shape, so noone noticed her. She blended in very well. <BR>"Well laddy," rasped a bar maid, that had come to fill her glass. "Would ya like anything else?" she asked with an insinuating smile. With a slow twist of her arms, Meridia, without changing position, let two small daggers at her wrists show at the blade some and the girl backed off as quick as she had come; leaving the wine pitcher behind. <BR><i>"What does a person have to do to have privacy around here? Disappear into the walls!?</i> She thought angrily to herself. <BR><BR>Her eyes followed Ser Damien as he made his round about the tavern inspecting what was left of his pitiful "Knight's of the Thorn" regiment. She snorted softly to herself. If they were true knights they wouldn't stop so close to the border to rest and heal their wounds some. No, they would ride on to the nearest port city, and from there take a ship home, but they were too soft for anymore travel at the moment.<BR><BR>Meridia thought back to a night two days ago while she waited. She had been hired to watch Ser Damien after the battle, and report upon returning to her "master", name unknown to her at the moment, what had gone on. As she thought about it, Meridia resolved to learn the name of her employer before leaving him upon their next meeting. After she had given the information desired, she would receive the sencond half of her payment and could disappear to wherever she liked. Until then, she was occupied. But, what she didn't know was that someone was watching her. <BR><BR>It was a close friend who perused her actions with amusement. He had seen the exchange with the bar maid, and was waiting for his chance to approach her. But, like all good friends, Armoth "The Destroyer" Krioni could tell by the expression on Meridia's face that she was working and didn't want to be bothered. All Armoth wanted to know is who she was working for, why, how much she was being paid, and what the assignment was.<BR><BR>********
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Postby Reislied » Sat Oct 12, 2002 5:08 pm

It's a sixth sense so to speak. Stare at a person long enough, and they will turn around and stare at you. Awareness. For some, it may take longer than others. Their primal instincts are buried deeper. A fighter, a survivalist, a spy, someone who must face dangers many times, often have quicker access to this sixth sense.<BR><BR>Ser Damien felt some vague sensation at the back of his neck. A subtle tightening of the skin rather. Sure enough, he looked over his shoulder instinctively to find...<BR><BR>...a lot of people. Unfortunately, in a crowded room, this sixth sense loses a little of its effectiveness. Among the figures which could have been staring at him: a green cloaked man with a low brim hat, another green cloaked man with a face hidden deep in a cowl, and a drunk Easterner who might have passed out with his eyes open. The big knight shrugged slightly and lit his pipe. Most likely it was just a scoundrel looking for something to steal. Damien had left most of his valuables with the Inn Keeper. His armor was still being dried by a squire. He wore a coarse gray wool shirt and similiar pants. Only the green silk tunic he wore over it all, with a large thorn bush design, betrayed his knightly status. Still, most thieves would not bother with knights especially one of Ser Damien's size.<BR><BR>Thunder rumbled again, making the whole Inn shake. The rain seemed to triple in sheer ferocity and pounded the roof. <BR>Suddenly the front doors swing open. Oaths were muttered and half the Inn rose with some weapon in their hands. Ser Damien grabbed for his sword only to find air. He cursed himself for leaving it with the squire. Rain sprayed inside and the wind blasted away much of the fires and thus the lights. A tall, tall man strode in. Though wet and haggard, his gait was straightbacked and infintely confident. He had a solidness about him, as if he were made of steel and no storm on earth could wear him down. Lean he was and white was his armor. Inlaid gold designs shone as bright as the sun in the remaining light of the Inn. His shield was silver and a golden cross was embedded within. A gleaming white cape spread out majestically behind him and despite the tears and jagged edges, lent only an air of royalty to him. Golden threads formed yet another cross upon the center of the cloth. His face was smooth shaven and thin. Crystalline blue eyes sweeped around the room. The corners of his lips twitched in the subtlest of smiles.<BR><BR>Vague mutterings rose across the room. Some patrons were on their knees giving thanks to various gods. It was rather ironic in a way.<BR><BR>"Peace!" the newcomer commanded. All voices grew silent. His voice was deep and musical. <BR><BR>"Peace!", he said again. He looked about as if making sure he had everyone's attention. The man nodded ever so slightly. <BR><BR>"The Church will not abandon her children!"<BR><BR>Cheers arose from several mouths. Many more held dark frowns. The man's face grew utterly serious.<BR><BR>"The Mother Church shall send the soldiers of the one god to smite the Northern heathens."<BR><BR>Cries of "How many?" and "When?" went up.<BR><BR>"Peace!" the white knight said again. "His Holiness has only started the mustering. Many days will pass before the troops march on Mystarra."<BR><BR>Groans and hopeless sighs emnated from the patrons, but the man now had a wide grin.<BR><BR>"When the mustering is complete, over 1 million Paladin Knights will be gathered!"<BR><BR>Roars of victory were uttered. The crowd was in a frenzy. But many of the native Mystarrians and all the soldiers including Ser Damien were silent and grim. The Church had never suceeded in converting Mystarra. Now with this "timely rescue", they would have a firm foothold in one of the richest nations of the world. The Church rarely risked their white knights in helping other nations unless it stood to profit from it. The Paladins were bold and mighty soldiers. Many of their commanders were rumored to heal wounds with the laying of hands. <BR><BR>Slowly, the Paladin raised his hand. There was silence once more. "Peace, I say to you good people. I am but a scout and my brothers are sorely in need of care."<BR><BR>As if on cue, three more Paladins, were helped into the Inn by the Keeper and his assistants. They had serious wounds and their faces were pale.<BR><BR>"I am the only one still able to ride." continued the Paladin. "And I have a mission that must be completed. Not five days ago, my men and I found the Sellte Pass blocked!"<BR><BR>The silence was profound. With the Sellte Pass blocked, the Paladins would have to take a much longer route into Mystarra proper. It would take months.<BR><BR>The Paladin nodded again. His next words came low and hard.<BR><BR>"None the Northern heathens stood guard there. Not one man."<BR><BR>Once again the Knight looked over the crowd, observing their reactions. Once satisfied he spoke in a loud voice.<BR><BR>"A Chimaera has taken the Pass!"<BR><BR>Ser Damien shuddered involuntarily. A giant demon with the body of a monstrous goat and a serpent's tail, it breathed a sickly green fire that lay waste for miles around and spread blight on the land. No doubt the work of the savage shamans of the North. <BR><BR>"I need warriors, bold and true, for I intend no less than the destruction of the foul beast before the Norsemen join up with it and ambush the entire Paladin army."<BR><BR>Now there was utter bedlam. Smooth speaking rogues, mercenaries with dreams of gold, Mystarrian troops thinking of glory, even farmers armed only with rakes came forward. But the Paladin shook his head. <BR><BR>"A small party, a small group of highly skilled and highly intelligent hunters, that is what I ask!" shouted the Paladin in near exasperation. "We must move fast and secretly!"<BR><BR>Ser Damien watched as a group of mages argued over whether they should join the Paladin. Magic of any sort was just barely tolerated by the Church. Now the Knight of the Thorn was arguing with himself, wondering whether or not to join up with this Church soldier. Most of his fellows had steadfastly refused, but was this really the time to refuse help of any sort? Ser Damien muttered softly and looked for his armor.<BR><BR>
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Postby Lady_Ivy » Mon Oct 14, 2002 4:30 pm

All day she hadn't had a single breath of air. The Sword and Shield had become so crowded she could scarcely move let alone serve meals to those who could afford it. Zarine let out a yelp as she felt some one grab her ankle as she went to give the man with the velvet cap his ale. A grimy looking man who was sitting on the floor gave her a toothless grin and a wink for which he got himself a foot in his eye. <BR><BR>She wanted to scream out loud. Then maybe some of these people who quiet down. The Inn was running short of food so what they had was now much more expensive than before. There were now people begging her for food which she couldn't give to them if she wanted to eat herself.<BR><BR><i>To think I gave up a sorcerer's hand for this.</i> Zarine thought as she offered a crying woman a cup of brandy. Her dress was dirty, hair tangled and skin not as smooth as it once had been. Once she had all she could ever ask for, wealth, power, a gentleman suitor who also she had discovered could teach her things beyond her wildest dream. Now she was stuck in a over crowded in working as a waitress and bar maid.<BR><BR>When the white knight had interrupted her thoughts her head had finally stopped pounding the sides of her skull. She listened to him in rapture, with some hope though not without suspiscion. As the word Chimaera passed the man's lips a shiver crawled down Zarine's spine. Fear, excitement as well as anxiety passed through her and finally disapointement in knowing she could never go. What was she but a waitress? <i>Perhaps it is for the better.</i> Zarine had no idea what she could possibly do to help despite her... talents.<BR><BR>She pushed open the door behind the bar to set down her tray of empty glasses. Zarine felt a dampness in the room and could see the floor was soaked. Above her head was a broken window, which was letting in the wind and rain. Making sure there was none around who would notice and she consentrated on the vine growing up the side of the Inn. At her command it grew it's length to cover the window, to keeping out the damp.<BR><BR>Hurrying to get the injured soldier food and water, she tripped over a person here or there until she was kneeling beside one of the wounded men. With some soothing words she helped him drink down some of there strongest ale, hoping it would numb some of his pain.
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Postby Arwen32315 » Mon Oct 14, 2002 8:10 pm

Armoth saw the chance to approach Meridia. She had become distracted by the entrance of the Paldin Knights.<BR><BR>"Working again?" he asked sitting down across from her.<BR><BR>"What do you want Armoth?" she asked giving him a dark look that only served to make her emerald eyes even grener.<BR><BR>"Just want to find out what my very good friend is up to these days." he replied with an innocent expression.<BR><BR>"Why don't you just tell me you want to know who I'm working for, what I'm doing, and how much I'm being paid so you can take out a loan?" She remarked putting her had to the hilt of one of the many daggers and knives hidden inside her cloak.<BR><BR>"Take your hand off the dagger and tell me what I want to know." he said, his expression darkening with familiarity. <BR><BR>"Fine! I don't know the man's name, but I'm supposed to follow that kngiht and over there, as well as his men. His name is Ser Damien. Why I don't know, but I'm not going to tell you how much the agent's paying me because it's none of your business." She stood and walked out the door. <BR><BR>Ser Damien had exited just moments before. She had seen him consulting with the Paladin leader out of the corner of her eye. "Armoth," she thought to herself, "was a pest!"<BR><BR>"Ready to be rid of me?" asked a sardonic voice in her ear.<BR><BR>"Leave, Armoth. Leave me in peace to conduct my business." She replied walking toward her midnight black stallion, Tal. <BR><BR>Placing her foot in the stirrup, she prepared to mount. Armoth stopped her by putting a hand on her shoulder and whispering in her ear, "The legends of Tincalenmir are true." After this he finally left her to her thoughts and her assingment. <BR><BR>"What on earth did that mean?" she muttered under her breath. It shouldn't surprise her though. Armoth was always popping in and out, and he always left after saying something like that. <BR><BR>"Oh, well!" she said outloud. Turning Tal's head in the direction that Ser Damien had ridden in, Meridia spurred him on, but was stopped by a signal from one of the Paladin Knights that had remained behind.<BR><BR>"Return to your master," he said, "and stop following the brave knights. It will avail you little to follow further because where they go now, you cannot follow." <BR><BR>She road on after a brief pause. This had been a day for weird incidents and people. What she needed was a good drink and a long nap, but it was too late for that now.<BR><BR>********
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Postby Raniel » Thu Oct 24, 2002 12:47 pm

Wind and rain tearing her face apart, riding to a local inn as fast as she can, her horse restless, Raniel tries to reach Ser Damien before anyone else. Important information is ingraved in her mind and tortures her every waking moment. She is beaten and worn from long days of riding and has had to carry her only companion, a medium-sized red dog, infront of her on her horse.<BR><BR>She fears that he may be in the land of the dead and so this pushes her harder, but the main speed comes from spies and snipers in range too close for comfort. They know she has information that could make or break this war, and don't want her to tell someone with power, Ser Damien for example. An arrow scarsley misses her head and her stead. She comes to relize how important that Ser Damien know this nightmare that persure her very soul.<BR><BR>Another arrow flies by, but a wisp of wind catches it to fling it to the ground. The wind picked up and whipped the hood of her cloak off to reveal long curly hair the color of fire and mysterious green eyes too dark to tell that they are there in the moonlight. <BR><BR>A sharp pain fills her right shoulder, and Raniel nearly let her companion fall to a brutle death under the feet of her horse. She let her knotted reins drop and catches the poor thing before it gets too far. <BR><BR>The lights of the village she wants shows warmly in the rain filled sky, the inn is just ahead. She reins into the stable yard just as a fleet of arrows fly at the gate. Nearby stablehands take the reins of Raniel's horse and carry the dog to a small stall within the shabby barn. Raniel walks straight to the door of the inn and opens it to the sight a white knight and a crowd too large to count. The knight turns along with the packed inn to stare at the arrow sticking out of her shoulder...
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Postby Reislied » Wed Nov 06, 2002 7:28 pm

"Damien Tanalis, Mystarrian Knight of the Thorn."<BR><BR>Ser Damien was decked in the full regalia of his order. Full steel armor, chain mail, greaves, half-helm, burnished to a near silver hue. He wore a silken tabard, green in color with a yellow thorn bush design in the middle. Girt to his side was the broad sword recieved on the day of his knighthood. Strapped to his broad back was a kite shield with gold rimmed edge and the same design of a yellow thorn bush painted overa field of emerald green. His back straight, shoulders spread out, chin held high and proud, the big knight focused his flinty gray eyes upon the crystalline blue of the man directly across him.<BR>A chain mail covered hand was extended towards the other man. The Paladin's hand sheathed in a white and gold gauntlet clasped Damien's forearm, even as the Mystarrian knight clasped his. <BR><BR>"Jon Arron, Paladin of the Holy Order."<BR><BR>The two men were still locked in the warrior's clasp as their eyes locked on each other. So it was a stare-off. Since time untold it was thought you could find the measure of a person through their eyes. Damien looked and found ice. Ice so cold, it burned with a fury. Burned with a determination so raw as to be unholy. Damien saw the eyes of a man who was prepared to die, at any day, at any moment. All for honor, and loyalty, and faith. A zealot? The Paladin, a soldier held to higher ideals, to standards more lofty than ordinary men could hope to achieve. A true white knight. Not by strength of arms, but by moral fortitude. And behind it all, ice. <BR><BR>Ser Damien blinked. He withdrew both the clasp and the eye contact first.<BR><BR>The Paladin, Jon Arron, tilted his head in a short bow. Despite his bedraggled and wet condition, the white knight managed to look amazingly graceful. "I am honored to be in the presence of a knight of the realm, Ser Damien."<BR><BR>Damien tilted his own head somewhat less gracefully and replied in a stiffer tone, "The honor is mine, Ser Jon."<BR><BR>Introductions aside, they got down to business.<BR><BR>"So, it is not a head on attack?"<BR><BR>"I am a Paladin, not a berserker." the white knight smiled. "As much as I wish to confront the demonling face to face, I know it is a battle that cannot be won in such a fashion."<BR>And much of that brief conversation consisted of various tactics, ruses, plans, feints, tricks, strategies, and historical as well as mythical lore concerning the mystical creature at hand. Aside from agreeing on a frontal attack was not the wisest of choices, nothing else was confirmed. <BR><BR>Grudgingly, Jon Arron accepted a red robed sorceror to accompany them. Mezzen of Soldane archipelago was a brown skinned, lean man in his 40's with close cropped black hair and bushy black eyebrows. Strange bands of tattoos ringed his hands. His left ear was pierced with a black pearl stud. He had a staff of black yew that occasionally glowed a faint blue. The Paladin shook his head at every glow and told the man he would have to find some way to stop that. <BR><BR>An archer with elvish ancestery apparent in her features came with them, though with much stronger argument. Melis Bourn was tall, half a hand shorter than Damien, and had a wiry build as of warped wood. She had that ageless look all half-bloods possessed. A chain mail shirt was over her brown and gray tunic and she had bracers of a curious red metal on her wrists. Leaves were bound into her brown hair, and at first the Paladin could do no more than look at them in dismay. He had tried valiantly to not appear rude by staring. At least until sharply pointed ears poked out from the strands. Then he was content to merely look in another direction.<BR><BR>An extremely dirty tracker who had a nose like a bloodhound, Thistle he called himself, also came along. Despite all the enthusiasm when the Paladin first showed up, a third of the people it seemed had remembered they had other errands. They were forced to send only their sincere regret. Most of the remembering happened around the same time Damien had mentioned the ballad of Ser Dumas who was dismembered most heroically by a chimaera and eaten afterwards. Another third had genuine duties to attend to, in the Inn and elsewhere. The last third either could have cared less or simply didn't like the Paladin and what he represented. <BR>Two foot soldiers of Mystarra also came along and that ended up as all they were getting. Most of the fighters had to defend the Inn anyway or seek out other forms of help. Jon Arron put on his most winning smile and shrugged. "We do what we must with what god gives us."<BR><BR>Damien thought the Paladin's god was a bit on the stingy side, but made no mention of it outloud. They gathered their gear and about two day's worth of food. Not much more could be spared from the depleted larder of the Sword and Shield. Jon Arron, despite his condition, was admant in his decision to depart the very next day. Once everything was agreed upon Damien, along with Jon Arron and the rest, prepared to go to the stables. <BR><BR>Near one of the larger fires, Derek Coll, another Paladin of the Holy Order lay delirious of fever. He was <i>drained</i> so thoroughly. It had taken everything he had to heal Jon Arron of the poison in his blood or the younger Paladin would not have made it to the Inn. The power to mend was innate in some of the Church knights and it was honed in further training. But using it wearied the body and soul, took from it a vitality that took time to return. The stronger and more frequent the use, the longer it takes and the weaker the healer becomes. The last few days had not been easy for Derek Coll to say the least and now his very thoughts were muddled. <BR><BR>He then felt a curious tingling sensation at the back of his head. His eyes suddenly grew alert. His senses focused and sharpened. The Paladin's mind had returned to him seemingly. A woman was giving him something to drink, but it was not the ale that sent a reviving force surging through him. He realized that his head was being supported by her hand. The woman was a healer! he thought. But no, the surge was giving away and his felt the delirium returning along with the dimming of his senses. What was healing but the growth of the body? To re-grow new humours, blood, and the defenses of the body? The woman had a power, not of healing but of something distantly related. Or was all such power related? Whatever it was, his own latent power had sought it out reflexively. With his last effort, he spoke. <BR>"Don't...don't waste it here..." he managed to gasp out before he fell into unconsciousness.<BR> <BR>At that moment, a young woman burst in through the main door of the Inn, an arrow sticking grotesquely out her shoulder. Ser Damien grabbed ahold of her while shouting for a healer. The Paladin sprang outside as stablehands came running up, warning of a Norse attack. <BR><BR>"Ser Damien! Call the rest!" shouted Jon Arron. "If the Norsemen try a siege then we'll never get out. We ride, NOW!"<BR><BR>The big Mystarrian knight was about to let the woman go, but something in her eyes told him that she had ridden through rain and death for a very important reason. The Inn would be of no use to her in its present conditions. People were getting trampled in the panic. He helped her walk to the stables and resolved to drop her off someplace safe once they got far enough. A stablehand absently pushed a small dog into the woman's hand as Damien helped her up his own horse. <BR><BR>"Who is she?", the Paladin asked.<BR><BR>But Damien only shook his head. The seven, now eight, were mounted and set off on a side trail to bypass the Norsemen before they surrounded the Inn. <BR><BR>"Someone is following us!" the red robed sorceror called out. Indeed there was another figure on horse a little off in the distance. But right now they had to worry about getting into the nearby woods. The devil-drums of the wild Norsemen rumbled along with the thunder and became indistinguishable as the night wore on.
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Postby Lady_Ivy » Thu Nov 07, 2002 4:42 pm

For a few moment the soldier seemed to be reviving myself and Zarine smiled thinking he would pull through just fine. But his new strength seemed to flatter.<BR>"Don't...don't waste it here..." he gasped<BR>"What do you mean?" she asked but too late, he had fallen unconscious.<BR><BR><i>Waste what?</i> she pondered. It was only then that she noticed a tingling feeling on the tips on her fingers which were holding his head up. Sudden realisation made her almost drop his head to her hard wood. Zarine shivered wondering how he knew, but then she had sensed something from him as well. Where else was there to use her talents? She held back the urge to try to shake him awake. <BR><BR>Gently she lay the soldier down and turned demined to find out who he was. Perhaps a famous sorcerer, some one who might guild her. That is if he pulled through the fever. Before Zarine could open her mouth to ask another soldier the woman with the arrow in her shoulder brust through the door and paniced cries of Norsemen sprend through the Inn. Zarine lay a damp cloth on the unconscious soldier's forehead and marched through a broad-shoulder soldier.<BR><BR>"Sir..." she began but the broad-shoulder man didn't hear and she was flung aside against a table.<BR><BR>A streak of anger faced around Zarine face, she didn't like being pushed aside. She grabbed the soldier's cloak and spun him to face her. Zarine was going to take the unconscious soldier's advice.<BR><BR>"Please, I might be able to help," he looked impatient so she rushed on before he could get a word in "I have abilities, you could use. I am able to control things, like plants and earth. If I press myself I may even be capable to tearing the ground apart, create cliffs a matter of seconds."<BR><BR>
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Postby Raniel » Thu Nov 07, 2002 8:22 pm

Raniel was greatful for the hand to support her, but before she knew it her dog was back in her arms and she was on her horse riding for her life, yet again.<BR><BR>"I'm looking for Ser Damien. I have information on new weapons the Noresmen have." Raniel tried shouting over the sound of rain and horse hooves. She relized that her head was swimming but she needed to stay on the focus of finding Ser Damien.<BR><BR>She noticed someone following them almost as soon as the rest of the company did. The forest didn't seem to come fast enough and she needed to tell someone the information. No one seemed to be noticing her though, so she decided to ride to the front and try to talk to someone there.<BR><BR>"I need to find Ser Damien as soon as possible. I heard that he was going to be at the Sword and Sheild." she shouted once again. "Has anyone seen or heard of him in these parts!"<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR>(ooc-Is there going to be an ooc thread? Just out of curiousity.)
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Postby Reislied » Mon Nov 11, 2002 7:31 pm

OOC: If someone wants an OOC thread, I'll start one. Otherwise, there probably won't be one anytime soon.
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Postby Arwen32315 » Mon Nov 11, 2002 7:53 pm

Meridia, now a good ways behind the army, realized that she had been discovered. The wind was strong enough that she could hear anything shouted into it by the men she was following. <i>"Why did he join with a group of crazy knights? Why couldn't he just go to the next civilized town and stay there? It would make my job much easier."</i>she though as she road. <i>And why did he have to join up with a group that had a sorcerer with them?</i> That, if nothing else, would be her downfall.<BR><BR>Her unknown employer's agent had warned her about staying clear of the Paladin Knights, but he hadn't said anything about a sorcerer being with them. Now, she didn't have a choice. Oh, she could just go back and say that her "charge" had thrown in his lot with the Palading to put down a Norsemen attack in the mountains, but that wasn't her style. <BR><BR>No, she was the type of person who threw herself into her jobs as a way to block out her childhood memories, and that meant going on 'til the end and not returning until she had the desired information or object. More often than not it was an object, much to her dislike at being a profession theif, but not this time. It was different this time. She had to send in monthly reports about the whereabouts and movements of a strange knight who didn't really seam like that bad of a guy. <BR><BR>There was one other option. She could just vanish and never be heard from again. Change her name and go back to the city to live a normal life. But, that too was out of the question. Her honor and conscience wouldn't allow it. So, she road on dreaming of a nice warm bath, a bed, and a really hot bowl of soup. <BR><BR>Once again the words, "We are being followed!" came to her ears, faintly, on the wind. But, once again nothing was done about her ever present presence. The leader of the Paladin Knights didn't seem to care. Or so she thought.
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Arwen32315
Rider of the Mark

 
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Postby Reislied » Wed Nov 13, 2002 7:56 pm

"Can't you erase our tracks with some enchantment?" asked Ser Damien. <BR><BR>Mezzen shook his head, "It does not work in such a fashion. Besides that, I believe it would alert those dwarven shamans the Norsemen have with them."<BR><BR>"You don't need sorcery to cover tracks.", Melis interjected. Without waiting a moment more, she headed back towards their trail in order to hide it from their mysterious pursuer. She had her ash bow out and an arrow hung loosely in one hand.<BR><BR>The storm seemed to be moving on. Only a small drizzle was left and a persistent dampness. But the night skies were still overcast and thunder still shook the earth. The wind was ominous in its wailing, rustling the branches and bushes, tossing leaves and small twigs about. Mezzen of Soldane firmly believed that the storm was gathering itself for a final, furious discharge. As the red robed sorceror had claimed to be a weather worker in his youth, the others in his company took his prediction seriously. They had ridden for scarcely five minutes and were forced to dismount at the outskirts of a large forest. Small shrubs and tree stumps surrounded them. A sizable boulder proveded some cover from the wind.<BR><BR>Without the stars and moon, the party was forced to continue using their lanterns, dimmed so as not to alert anyone watching. <BR><BR>"We'll need to make some sort of shelter, else we'll not survive the night." the Paladin said. He went off with the two Mystarrian soldiers to gather wood. Jon Arron looked calm, he spoke calm, every little movement virtually exuded calm. But Ser Damien was not buying it. The white knight's plan had gone awry even before it started. That had to have some effect on him one way or the other. But he was putting up a good front. <BR><BR>Ser Damien envied him. To say that the situation looked bad would have been an understatement. Norsemen were out in force, their wild war cries resounding in the air and seemingly all around them. The worst of the storm would come upon them quite likely before they could build a shelter. Someone was close behind them and with the luck they were having, would likely be a foe. To top it all off, they had an extra person, and a wounded one at that who wanted nothing more than to deliver some message to Damien.<BR><BR>"I am Ser Damien.", the Mystarrian knight replied to her question wearily. He did not know what could be so important as to risk the Norsemen and certain death. Though he was a knight, Damien didn't particularly rank high within the heirarchy. Mezzen the sorceror claimed he also had some experience in healing and was inspecting the young woman's shoulder by the faint blue light of his staff. A skilled man, thought Damien.<BR><BR>"It will have to be pulled out or infection will set in shortly." Mezzen proclaimed in a very serious and sonorous tone of voice. He sounded every bit a medical professional. "It's already been embedded for too long. I was expecting gangrene, or the black rot." <BR>He gestured to Damien. "Start a fire and heat this knife until it glows red. Lady, I'll have to ask you to hand your animal over for a little while. I am going to remove this arrow and cauterize the wound."<BR><BR><BR>Back at the Inn, a soldier was staring at a woman as if she had gone completely mad. It was utter bedlam as a few desperate defenders fought off a wave of Norse berserkers that were trying to break in. Without doubt, these berserkers were truly mad, charging madly with no heed for their own lives. The rest of the patrons were either trying to flee or stealing everything that wasn't nailed down. It was only a matter of time before the Sword and Shield was overrun. <BR><BR><BR><BR>
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Reislied
Citizen of Imladris

 
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Postby Lady_Ivy » Sun Nov 17, 2002 7:57 pm

Zarine clenched her fists and narrowed her eyes at the soldier giving her that ashtonished look.<BR>"Look you think-headed mule..." she was cut off by the sound of breaking glass and several people screaming.<BR>Until now Zarine had barely noticed the berserkers trying to knock over the Inn. Her heart raced wildly, and in one implusive movement she took two long steps to the Inn door which had been secured shut. The broad shouldered man caught her arm in a tight grip but Zarine hardly noticed that or when a vine reached through the broken window and pulled the man away.<BR>She was so intent on what she was doing, maybe saving lives but she couldn't think of that, she didn't feel the scratches all over her hands of the splitered wood she pried from the door.<BR>Zarine flug the door wide and even before she could look at the scene outside she closed her eyes. Wind shreaked across her cheeks and the ground began the shake under her feet. She threw her arms wide and could feel the earth moan as she renched it apart. Tree roots climb up the small gorge Zarine had created and wrapped themselves around the legs of the attacking berserkers. Their cries filled her eyes and Zarine's eyes snapped open.<BR>An unseen weight pressed down on her shoulders and she stumbled backward into the Inn. Those who still remained inside looked at her in terror, no one daring to move except to hide their faces from her. Outside berserkers ran, some of them, and others had fallen to their death but still danger remained and two soldiers rushed to baracade the door again. Both were ready to, as they were about to baracade her outside with the berserkers. The faces of the room began to blur and Zarine fell in a heap to the floor, right next to the Healer Derek Coll.
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Lady_Ivy
Ranger of the North

 
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