POOHEAD189

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 1 (Completed)

@LeidenschaftI shall on the morrow!

Tombs and Blades (Swords of the Cutlass Coast) (Lum & Poo)

Hope I described things well.

Tombs and Blades (Swords of the Cutlass Coast) (Lum & Poo)

He whirled, sword leading at the noise and the yelp of pain given off by Valerie. He was glad she was alright, but his heart still raced from the initial shock at the knowledge the two had been discovered. 'We need to move,' he heard. Markus nodded. "Into the ruins," he breathed. He shouldered his way out of the front door, the rickety and worn door breaking off at the strong young man's action. Dust flew as it fell, and both sprinted across the overgrown streets and further into the dead city.

It was strange, for the structures were so overgrown and archaic in design that it seemed as if they were running through both open streets, yet also apart of one huge ancient complex. Even some of the roads were covered by enough vines to warrant them being halls. Markus had little time to marvel at such things, for he heard pursuit ever behind them. He only saw glimpses of a few Orcs, but their warcries echoed off the walls of the archaic buildings.

Finally, Markus saw a causeway at the end of their street before forking left, that led upwards towards massive columns that stood vigil, keeping the towering structure they were entering standing tall for all to gaze upon. Little did the Swordmage and Valerie know that they had stumbled upon the Citadel of
Tombs and the resting place of Kings.

Markus was sure the Orcs had not seen their last turn, but he was taking no chances and continued to run forward. They passed the two central Columns that were wrought of marble and bronze, and within they seemed to be inside a central courtyard of what appeared to be a Palace. Markus slowed and looked about. At the center of the room was a lush and vibrant pool of water, with an extravagant fountain at the center that flowed as if it was still maintained. The water looked clear enough to drink, despite the vegetation that had grown about it. Above them, the ceiling looked to be made of a type of steel glass that Markus did not recognize.

"What is this place?" he asked, more to himself than Valarie. Beneath his feet, the cobblestone had tufts of grass sticking out, as if reaching for the sky and the sun for energy. The two adventurers made it past the courtyard and into what looked like a very mundane great Hall that lead to various different hallways. "Shit..."

Hoots and howls echoed off the walls, and Markus suddenly sensed something down the hallway to the right. "Quick" he said, and ran into the unknown, through halls of stone, marble, and gold. Luckily for them, much of the broken stonework led to sunlight creeping in often enough for them to see at least immediately before them.

Suddenly, Markus skidded to a stop without warning once they reached a certain doorway within one of the halls. Once he stopped, they realized it was no doorway, and they were within no large hall. They were in a much more grand structure. A mausoleum.

At the edge of the room, past statues of Noble Men and Women of high birth, was a great archway covered in stone, with flowing runes that drew the eye with their glow of magic, burning lightly into one's retina if they looked away. Markus approached cautiously, examining the runes and placing a hand upon the rock of the 'doorway.' It was warm to the touch...

Behind them, Orcish cries echoed. It was hard to tell if they were close or not. He believed he could read these runes. "This was the magic I sensed...or...a part of it." he said.
@Luminosity

Escaping the Blight: A Collaboration of POOHEAD189 & MiddleEarthRoze

Rannon Bryce

Name:Rannon Bryce

Age: 32

Race: Human

Mage?: No

Place of Origin: Fereldan, Ironbrook

Appearance: Rannon stands tall and solidly built, with earthy brown hair, long enough to be tied at the base of his neck. His eyes are reminiscent of shaped wrought iron. His face now only echoes his youthful appearance, battles and years having roughed him into the look of a mature, even veteran soldier. Two scars mar his face. One parallel to the bottom of his left eye, and another scraping across his right jawline. His legs are long and his his facial hair is only a coarse shadow thanks to his knife. He's clad in fine and tough leather over a chainmail hauberk, with sturdy traveling shoes and a worn belt.

Personality: Rannon seems to be the epitome of the Ferelden ideal. His fierce independence and rough nature can only be matched by his loyalty to those he deems worthy. He has a deep seated national pride and sees the world as Ferelden does, taking others and judging them by their deeds rather than their blood. Years in the army and surviving pivotal battles have tempered his recklessness, but never fully. Learning the sword and how to work within ranks of his fellows showed him how to pick his movements and his battles, though he always seems to be ready for another scrap. That is to say, he will never fight for the sake of fighting and appreciates the quiet when he can salvage some. Only that he feels the world is forever dangerous, and won't be made soft or be fooled by the 8 years of relative peace that have settled over the land. He's pragmatic and won't hesitate to use the landscape or offhanded strikes to defeat an opponent, though if he is openly challenged he will honor it and see it to the end. He often likes thinking of what ifs and battle scenarios as he travels the. The warrior tends to be very self critical of himself and his decisions, and he takes the actions he makes very seriously.
Rannon respects Dwarves, the tales of quarreling Nobles in Orzammar not registering to him from the above-ground fighters he has seen. Oddly enough, he does not blame mages for who they are or what they practice, though he is still very wary around them. Templars he's on the fence, for while they do a valuable service in protecting civilization from rampant magic, they're still oppressors. He has a special distrust for the Orlesians and the Tevinter Imperium. Quanari he sees has little better than Darkspawn unless shown otherwise, from the tales he's heard in Starkhaven, and his blade never tires of spilling Darkspawn blood. Elves are a mystery to him, never knowing if they are trustworthy and simply wish independence like his fellow Fereldans, or if they truly are the cause of the Brecilian Forest's cursed nature. He has an intense respect for Ash warriors and canines, thinking himself far from good enough for his hound's attention. He's always dreamed of joining the Grey Wardens, but never sought them out.

Backstory: Rannon was born under the Arl of Southreach, in the village of Ironbrook. He was born only 8 days before from the holiday Funalis. His father worked as a craftsman of leather, and his mother grew wild herbs for medicinal purposes just outside the village, though always in sight of the walls. He was the oldest of three, all boys. His brothers were Edmund (2 years younger) and Wilfrid (4 years younger), and he was often charged with keeping them safe and out of trouble, though he played the role of protector more often than his parents believed. He would get into fights and chases with other boys around his age over his brother's wild nature and sometimes even his own. He didn't mind though, and grew to see it as a competition he could always get better in. It was further driven home with his father, for he'd share tales of the Alamarri driving back to Tevinter Imperium to Rannon if he did a fine job helping with his father's shop that day. He was drawn in, and pride for his nation and his town bloomed within his heart. The fact that his village bordered the cursed wilds furthered that line of thinking.
When he came of age, he went off to serve as a Soldier for the Arl. His tendency to swing first and ask questions later was partially beaten out of him from his Knight trainer, Arlun. He even attempted to fight the Knight at one point, which led to a nasty welt on his forehead from his sword hilt. Among the soldiers, jests were sometimes made at Leonas Bryland for his half Orlesian ancestry, but it was just that, a jest. They never questioned their Arl or his loyalty, all knowing full well that he followed Prince Maric in the Fereldan Rebellion. Rannon aquired some companions of his own, a few of the fellow trainees, Aart, Gavin, Leopuld, and Rochen. Many times they would joke at each others expense and talk the night away until wearied limbs and bruised muscles dragged them into slumber. He was then allowed to go home when he reached 21, provided he would return for service if called. He traveled back to Ironbrook and worked for his father, making saddles and leather coats, even learning how to ride a horse a bit from a particular favor he gave for a free saddle.
He was called though, nearing his 24th birthday. The fifth blight had begun, and Rannon went straight into Arl Bryland's ranks, joining with his friends and then being initiated into King Cailan's ranks. The calm before the storm was almost too much for many soldiers among the torn buildings of Ostagar. Darkspawn being monsters from legend and their camp being at the cusp of the Korcari wilds was a new thing to many commoners. To Rannon it was no different than dealing with rumors of monsters from the Brecilian, and he marveled more at the Ash Warriors and their magnificent Mabaris. Still, he could feel the his mettle rising with each day, until that fateful night at the Battle of Ostagar. Cailan's strategy seemed almost flawless, the way the horde advanced in such a mindless charge. But even watching the monsters themselves was almost too much for him, and he didn't think he could find the strength to swing his sword.
That is, until the battle commenced. His fear left him, finding when the blood began to shed, one was too busy to think of fear. He hacked and stabbed, carving through a small number of darkspawn and hoping the blood in his mouth was his own. Sweat and grime was rampant, and the shrieks were almost defeaning. He did not know how long the battle lasted or how much he fought, but eventually he found himself one amid a mere few hundred scattered soldiers against the Darkspawn ranks. He heard the horns, and knew the battle would turn with the reinforcements set in motion. But as they fought on, it dawned on him as it did on every soldier. No one was coming. He wiped the blood from the cut across his chin, and as his vision unblurred he saw a open-eyed Gavin being stabbed repeatedly, his friend's body already cold as three Darkspawn made sport of his corpse. He steeled himself and ran forward, Leopuld and Rochen with him. He didn't know where Aart was, and he would never find out. Rochen fell with a split skull, trying to avenge Gavin. Leopuld and Rannon were the only one's left standing, until more monsters charged in. They backpeddled, their swords leading to fend off the cruel blades of their enemies and swiftly counter attack with fierce thrusts, working in practiced concert. They began to retreat in full, until Leopuld was struck in the hip with an arrow. He fell, and Rannon stopped, reaching down to help him up.
"You have to go!" Leopuld told him, and Rannon looked between him and the advancing terrors. His friend saw the look in Rannon's eye. Again Leopuld told him to run, but Rannon almost charged. He would have charged.
He should have charged...

Notable items:
Two Handed Sword: In many ways it mirrors its wielder. Sharp, powerful, but bloodstained and notched from use.
Long Knife: He wears in his right boot.
Necklace of beads: Green and woven meticulously by his mother.

Escaping the Blight: A Collaboration of POOHEAD189 & MiddleEarthRoze

He fled, using his long legs and making his way up a rocky outcropping and into the ruins of Ostagar, knowing the only way he could survive was if the Darkspawn played with the corpses of his friends. And the fact that he lived to tell the tale was testament to that. Still he heard their shrieks, and tumbled out of the worn out architecture towards the northern woodlands, making his way into the unknown.
Leopold...
Powerful legs pumping with the limits of their strength, Rannon stumbled through the Kokari Wilds with all of the will he could muster. His eyes bloodshot and his breathing ragged, muscles spent not only from exertion, but grief.
Aart was gone...
The wilds held terrors unknown to man, but he traversed them just the same. He needed to make it out. Needed to live and tell of Loghain's treachery.
Rochen...
He nearly fell when his foot hit a root, bowling over to catch himself. Why was he alive? Why did his friends not survive, but he did? By the Maker, what made him so Goddamn special?
Gavin...
He found a river. He fell into it more like, soaked and cold. The powerful young man pulled himself out of the tugging river's flow with the last of his strength. He would not give in! Dawn was fast approaching, and the Darkspawn would not stop.
Loghain...You will fail.

---

By morning he found himself in a small path through the shrubbery made by passing beasts, stopping his march by stamping his boot in the ground and hitting a tree with his shoulder, stubbornly. It took him a moment to realize he was being watched, and he turned to regard the young Mabari warhound staring at him not seven paces away. The one he had seen not days before at the camp. He held his huge sword before him in defense, until he realized just how stupid he was being at this moment. If this Mabari saw fit to kill him, why should he stop it? He planted his blade into the ground and slunk down. Instead the beast approached and sat, mirroring him. It panted and looked at him. "What are you doing here?" he croaked, his voice as tired as his body. It popped up and jumped from side to side, the dog spry and full of youth. It then dawned on the soldier, and he shook his head as his heart quivered. How could he lose all of his friends in one night, and receive the companionship of this noble canine the next? What world did he live in?
He didn't know whether to laugh or cry, and since all laughter had been ripped out of him the night before, he fell to the ground and wept. Why would this dog think him good enough? He had run. Dirt and tears stained his face, and when he lifted his head he half expected the canine to be gone. But it sat there, expectantly.
Minutes past as his tears flowed, and when they were gone, he grabbed ahold of the Mabari's powerful body and had his new friend carry him onward for a time...
Gideon...

---

Days later...

The Lord of the Rings

Thurin Stoutarm

Thurin looked about, chewing a bit on his beard. "Well, this certainly does accommodate me more than the open air. I've not been inside a proper dwelling in far too many nights." Thurin said. He gazed about as Ofnir illuminated the hall with his magical staff. Then again, he still felt a bit uneasy, and when he heard this was wrought by Elves he knew that was the cause of it. He plopped down, and muttered that Ofnir was being loud himself. "Why must I contemplate the riddles of Elves?" he said to himself aloud. He was well and truly stuck, however. "I suppose the only Elves I know of are the Noldor. I doubt the caverns travel toward what they represent, just the right path in general?" He looked to the others, wondering their thoughts, then gave a 'bah' and went back to his own grumblings and lamentations. He knew little of Elves and their ways, but Noldor would be his choice.

Escaping the Blight: A Collaboration of POOHEAD189 & MiddleEarthRoze

You know, one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together.

Into The Dark: Mercenaries (Heroes of Fame and Fortune)

Let's have a PM convo. Also, I'll probably do what I want to do regardless, but if you'd lean toward pirate or mountain riches, let me know. We might even just make it a sequel to this if you wanted to make the same character (though like I said, we're going to do a Starkvale mission now). @BCTheEntity

Into The Dark: Mercenaries (Heroes of Fame and Fortune)

ANNOUNCEMENTS

First off, let's welcome the lovely and sassy @MiddleEarthRoze to our ranks.


NOW! We are going to embark on a smaller mission with all four of you. I'll do a time skip after Roze posts and introduces herself. I'll explain the mission in full. However, pertaining to after that mission is my next announcement.

I am going to be doing one of two things.

---

1) I am going to turn this RP into a Dungeon Diving RP where a group of Mercenaries/Soldier's of fortune delve into a Mountain to find a fabled Dragon's horde. The Dragon has long since fled, but many monsters have taken residence where the great Wyrm once resided.
or
2) I am going to revamp this Campaign into a Pirate RP, sailing the open seas and plundering merchant vessels and exploring dense jungles, and raiding settlements if we're wicked enough.

I am allowing you to switch your characters from this RP over, no questions asked. If you are against this idea, or you have a preference for one of the two above, let me know.
@BCTheEntity@rush99999@Jollan

Also BC, how would you like to handle Secret's convo with you on this timeskip? Shall we PM it, or would you like me to decide? Or I can make another post, and you can reply, and then my next post will be our timeskip and we go from there?

Roze, here is a summary of what has transpired.

Summary

Kayden, the Merc Captain and Morek the Dwarf, freed Jex the Drabarian bounty hunter from slavery. In turn, he gave them information of a Hidden fortress in the mountains, where his previous employers resided (they betrayed him and sold him into slavery themselves). A fortress of 50 outlaws. With the help of a sly Elven Rogue named 'Secret' who fed Kayden information, they invited a ragtag group of sellswords and mercs to meet Kayden and Morek at an old ruined guard tower at the outskirts of the wilderness. There, Kayden invited them to join his Mercenary company, for there was a Mercenary competition and whatever group brought back the biggest haul into the city of Starkvale would not only be allowed into the crowded city, but given a Guildhall and become a legitimate organization of soldiers for hire. Once they promised to join, Kayden told them of what he found out via Secret that the next day, the Bandits in the Fortress would attack a caravan of a traveling Noble, splitting their forces. Kayden led a strike team into the Fortress, and the other Mercenaries attacked the bandits who were raiding the Noble caravan. In one fell swoop, the Mercs destroyed the bandits and took over the fortress, though not without their losses, and not without fighting a Dark mage and a Death Knight at the climax (as well as an Ogre and a few Gnolls along the way). Now, a week later they are within the city limits with their own Guild. Some of the Mercs are resting at the taken Bandit Fortress 'Hillcrest' while Kayden and a few are in the Guild hall accepting new members to their growing group of Mercs.

After the Asteroid-Closed

Ben the Fighter

Ben pursed his lips and nodded as he thought for a moment. "I have gone all out, actually. The second day out, but...I started to glow a bit." he said, unsure of what it meant. He flexes his hands and looked at his palms, then clenched his fists. He remembered that he had powered up to such heights that he felt invincible, but...he collapsed immediately afterwards. He almost couldn't take it, going to those heights. "I do need some practice." he admitted.

He gave his buddy a smile. "Whenever y'all are ready." he told him, grabbing a last bit of food and chewing on it a bit, cheek full.
@Kyrisse