End of the Roads

[Jimmeh]

Ceras Novaelin was practically panting as he made the sharp turn and ran down the next street. He couldn't look back to see how far behind his pursuers were, but he knew they were close from the sound of armored boots hitting concrete. Quickly he dashed down an alley and out the other end then turned right, he had to lose them or he was going to die. An arrow flew past his head and he knew archers had joined the chase in the city streets. Overhead the moon gave the only light over the city..everything was dark and silent except for the sounds of city soldiers yelling and trying to organize themselves to catch their target.

Ceras was the leader of the opposition to the government of Troas, a rather large city-state. He had taken 10 men with him to burn down armories of the militia, and were caught in a trap. His companions were either captured or dead, and now he was trying to escape without leading these men to the hideout of his other companions. He would have stayed and fought to the death, but the rebellion counted on his leadership to continue. But if him living meant causing the unnecessary death of his friends..he would rather be run down and killed.

A sudden loud and rapid sound of twanging broke a moment of silence. Arrows flew around Ceras and past him, into the soldiers trailing behind. Screams of shock and pain erupted behind him and Ceras knew help had arrived. Even in the dark, Ceras could now make out the black figures ahead of him in the street. As soon as he had made it past them another volley of arrows launched across the street and then the group surrounded Ceras and took him to an abandoned house down the street.



So basically. Ceras is the leader of a group of rebels who are opposing the rule of the king of Troas, a large city-state. I will play Ceras of course and I'll play King Troas as well. First person who makes a decent character sheet and wants to be the general in charge of Troas's military. You can join as a rebel, a citizen, a soldier, pretty much whoever you want.


Forgot to post this:

Name: Ceras Novaelin
Age: 31
Race: Half Elf
Gender: Male
Weapons: A long curved saber and two short daggers. He also has a hand crossbow and several throwing knives.
Armor: None, wears nondescript black or brown street clothes with a cloak.
Appearance: Ranger image, picture by Oghma01 - Photobucket
Personality: Tries to always look to the future instead of the past but always regrets the death of a companion. He is friendly unless mad, and often reserved unless it is time to be bold.
Background: To be revealed.

[Desperado]

Name: Drake Flagerious

Age: 26

Gender: Male

Eye color: Deep blue

Hair color/style: Long blond hair, tied behind his head in a pony tail

Height/Weight: 6'4" 210

Distinctive Marks: Tribal Tattoo

Clothing: A bleach white cloak with red trimming, Plate Armor (on the right)

Personality: A very 'mentally strong' person, when everything seems to be going bad, you can count on him to step it up and try to win everything. He's a very kind and caring person, he will give the clothes off his back to a more needing person. His loyalty and dedication know no bounds, making him a person you would want to have as a friend.

What are you? : Rebel

Drake lowered his bow as he made sure the others along with Ceras made their way into their hide out which was underneath Drake's home. He made sure nothing was moving, rushing after them, his cloak billowing behind him. His recurve bow was about four foot long, made out of a special redwood tree that was blessed by a saint, making its arrows fly true and straight.

"Cera! What in the name of the gods took you so long!?" He had truthfully been worried sick about the person he considered a brother. He looked around, finally noticing they were ten men shorter than what they left with, "...It was a trap wasn't it...?" He rubbed his forehead, the sweat glinting off the metal on his gauntlets.

[Gelatinous Cube]

Blood stained the ground in messy splatters as the mighty blade cut through steel and flesh alike.
Muscles worked in unison with one and other as Praven, the rebel warrior, cut down the soldiers.
They never stood a chance.
Praven was a devastating two-handed swordsman, on-top of being a decent all-round fighter.
But the Bastard Sword was his weapon of choice, of course, the name fit the wielder as well.
His appearance would've made common onlookers think he himself was the bastard.
With his blue tartan kilt, sleeveless cream tunic, scabbard at the hip, mildly imposing figure and a hair style only a mean brigand would have.
The sides of his head, where hair would be, was bereft of all but skin, his long locks grew from his scalp and the back of his head.

As he swung and moved, his hair whipped around, revealing the hairless sides, made only more menacing by his snarling face, holding hatred and contempt for his enemies.

Soon, all were slaughtered, but with no time for a celebratory glance at the corpses.
Praven stole away into the night, sprinting as fast his could, sword in scabbard.

He knew where he was running to, he'd taken refuge their many times before.
An old abandoned homestead, he stopped inside, panting after his sprint.
He wouldn't have bothered to run so fast had he not heard dogs howling amongst the clatter of armour plates chinking off one and other as their wearers ran as fast as the weight of their steel would allow them.
But Praven took desperate measures in ensuring the safety and secrecy of the building.
If anything had followed him, it had lost his trail long before he caught sight of his destination.

[Blue-Eyed Vampyre]

ame: Kiyra Elenus

Age:23

Gender: Female
Appearance:

Height/Weight: 5' 7", 120 lbs

Weapons other than shown in picture: Black Legion Battle Axe http://www.kultofathena.com/images/KR22.jpg
Daggerhttp://netlinkenterprises.com/prodimages/4114NQ.jpg

Personality: Sarcastic, a bit cold towards some, ruthless towards her enemies, and loyal to her friends.

What are you? : Rebel

IC:

Kiyra pushed the cellar door open and came up into the main floor of the house, bearing a jug of cider.

"Well well look who made it back. Nice to see you alive Ceras!" Her voice cut off as she noticed the others were missing.

"Ceras? What happened to the others? Were they..." She dared not finish her sentence...knowing that they'd in fact lost another group of brave men and dear friends...

"I brought drinks." She said stiffly, setting the jug down on an overturned basket.

[Desperado]

Drake was silent, walking over to where his wall of wines stood, he randomly grabbed one, snapping off the neck to the bottle without even cracking the rest of it.

"Might need a few drinks tonight Kiyrah..." He mumbled, taking a few long drinks from the bottle of merlot that he held in his hand, looking at the ground.

His good friend Marconis was in the group that went with Ceras, he had a feeling something bad was going to happen... but never bothered to try and stop them both from carrying out with this plan. He stared at the bottle in his hand, 'you could have stopped them...' 'Marconis could still be alive...' 'Those guards probably had kids...' Drake rared back, throwing the bottle with everything he had right at the wall, the wine stained the stone wall and the glass shattered, going everywhere.

He brushed past Kiyra, going up to his room without another word.

[Gelatinous Cube]

Praven sighed at the news of more men lost.
"Well," He began, his Highland accent thick, "if it's any consolation, I left about 10 plate-mail clad carcasses in the middle of a street just about a half-hour before."
Praven held no pride in his words, pride was on hold in the solemn atmosphere in the aftermath of a loss.
He picked up the jug and brought it to his lips, taking a long swig of the cider.
He placed it down to reveal he'd downed a considerable amount, but he had left plenty for everyone else.

[Blue-Eyed Vampyre]

Kiyra cast a dubious glance after Drake..but didnt make any attempt to stop him. He'd lost a friend..whereas she'd lost a lover...though none present knew that. She poured herself a half glass of cider and filled the other half of the glass from a jug of ale sitting in a cupboard.

Turning back to Ceras, she asked softly,
"What happened out there?" And then downed her drink ,steeling herself for his response...whatever happened..wasn't going to be a good story.

[Comandersnow]

Name: Aryan Fortira

Age: 19

Gender: Male

Eye color: Pitch black

Hair color/style: Short and Black, small pony tail in the back

Height/Weight: 5'7 / 150

Distinctive Marks: Tattoo of a Tower with Ravens on it takes his entire left arm.

Clothing: Light BLack Armor, with about 4 diffrent Weapons. (with slight modifications on eyes and darker skin)

Personality: A very Quick person, he has always been ready to leap to action at a momments notice. He likes to sneak around but he is still a good fighter, just always better off in the shadows. His manner of speaking is that which just somehow gets you to trust him enough to tell him where you will be at what time, and to make you leave your armor and guards behind.

What are you? : Rebel

---------------------------------------------

"Ceras! my leader and friend!" he seemingly materialized from a alcove, out of the Darkness around him as he always did. He looked around at the other people not paying them much head at the momment, "Its a true shame it is to have lost so many allies."

He gave a smile to Kiyra before going to Ceras, "I do know.. that the mission was a failure.. due to the trap, but i'm glad to say my own was quite the Success.. though I regret that a number of extra lives had to be... lost." He was the Resident Assassin of the Whole outfit, and typically was out on a mission or another, though he regreted not always haveing to do assassinations alot of the time they just made him do some scouting here or gathering there.

[Ark]

Name:Ark Barankar

What Am I?:Leaning toward the rebel side,but at the moment he is kinda freelance.


Description:At five-foot eleven inches tall,he is not the tallest person out there.But his skill,smarts and agility make up for his shortness...He has black hair that hangs about chin length.His face is handsome yet intimidating with emerald eyes that are gentle but mask what happens behind them...He usually wears a long ragged brown cloak with light leather armor beneath,not adorning himself with heavy armor because it hindered him.

Weapon:

Personality:A mysterious man,yet talkative.Fear is not something he possesses but something he utilizes...Ark is Witty and speaks whenever he wishes,he is a hard man to read and an easy man to underestimate.


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Death was something that Ark could have done without this night,but yet he stared at the corpses of what looked to be military men who had moments ago been slain by a bastard sword wielding bastard...Ark smiled at that."Bastard sword wielding bastard."He said again this time out loud and chuckled...

He had payed close attention to which direction the large man had gone and soon made his way in the same direction.Having to go past the bodies,He stepped over the corpses of the dead men making sure not to set foot in any blood...
In no time at all Ark stood in front of a building...He looked back to where he had came from and reckoned it seemed to be in a straight line from where he had started...Cracking the door slightly he peaked his head in,a scream pierced his ears as a lady wielding a broom rushed toward the door."Sorry bout that Miss."Ark called back as he was running away from the berserk woman...

[Blue-Eyed Vampyre]

Kiyra glanced towards Aryan and would've smiled back were it not for the present circumstances of having lost so many comrades..

She was still awaiting a response when she heard a piercing high pitched scream fill the air...and if she wasn't mistaken..it was the woman across the street who screamed. Kiyra slipped out the side door and went around front, expecting to find some brigand or other breaking into the house across the street.

Instead.....all she found was a man apologizing adamantly and running straight towards her...though he no doubt didn't see her in the shadows.

She reached out and clamped a hand over his mouth, her black dagger at his throat in a second; pulling him back into the shadow of the house.
"What do you want?!" She hissed, removing her hand from his lips but keeping her dagger leveled at his throat, a warning that if he called for help he'd be dead in a moment.