Spoopy Scary

Knights of Melarus

I'm slowly getting the characters together. Will write Wizzlebee tomorrow. He's doing something a lot less impressive than fighting or protecting citizens. : ^)

Knights of Melarus

Kane Bounevialle and Karkadin Gatoa

_{featuring Kane's Guard}
Written with @SepticGentleman

---

Kane felt himself grow furious following Sir Fallon's words. Would he truly sacrifice so many in the name of his own hubris? In case he was unable to tell, the people were already panicked - there were hordes of monsters invading their homes, standing at the ready for whatever catalyst that might trigger the wights' wrath. With his fists clenched, Kane marched forward after Sir Fallon - he was ready to finally speak his mind to that pompous ass, tell Fallon what he really thought, then tell him to lay away in some stable with that horse he loved to ride on so much. However, as he raised his finger, no words came out of his mouth. Nothing but dry silence. In fact, it was not just him, but the entire town had gone utterly mute. A looming darkness crawled from behind Kane, and the captain turned to look behind him, from where that darkness emanated. A sliver of light had penetrated from behind the veil, swirling around until the darkness that shrouded the city had fallen upon itself and sound had returned to Maceron. It formed the silhouette of a human figure.

Kane's hand instinctively went to the pommel of his sword. His spontoon was not currently with him.

When Lutis had appeared, in that ghastly form of robes and chains and the golden armaments of demons, his very presence made a chill crawl up Kane's spine. He spoke of his master Daraden and of his decree - and the unconditional surrender of Talbor. Kane and his own guard looked at one another uncomfortably. Never would they accept such a term. To think that any person would come in and expect such was unthinkable - and yet here they were, making that very demand. Kane would have joined the others in their flagrant mockery of Lutin...

...were it not for the dozens, perhaps hundreds, of wights surrounding them at this very moment. It was doubtless they were without connection, as was confirmed later in his negotiation with King Victor.

When Sir Fallon's knights moved to fall upon Lutin, they were restrained by magical chains that had appeared from nowhere! It seemed only moments later that the defiance of a wounded Sir Fallon was cut short by Lutin's power. An unceremonious end to a corrupt villain's story, as it were. Kane's eyes were like a deer's as all that he had known became irrelevant in the face of Talbor's newest enemy. As Lutin declared a final threat against King Draco, he vanished in a puff of smoke, and the dead began moving amidst a chorus of screams.

---

All fell to chaos in seemingly moments. The darkness enveloping the city and suddenly retreating, the ominous hooded figure making his address, the wights growing indomitably restless and breaking through their chains, all setting their attention on the nearest living thing and engaging them. As expected, Bruk was one of the largest targets around, so he had a veritable crowd acting upon him. Karkadin reared back and drew his spear as the wights came close, swinging the thick of the shell at two of them before clambering up the beetle's shell and taking seat atop the creature.

Oscar, still nearby, was nearly overwhelmed by the sudden first wave. However, he was stronger than he looked and was able to support the weight and the force of the clamoring dead from beneath a metal plated tower shield. With a great heave with his whole body, the guardsman threw a good half-dozen skeletal monsters off of him and drew a leaf-bladed gladius from his sheath with his back to Karkadin's beetle. Caught flat-footed, Oscar was wild-eyed as he quickly looked around the battlefield assessing the danger - a wight flung itself on top of Oscar, where he then threw it several feet away, and was continuously harassed by a stream of undead that Oscar had previously dealt with. With moves and footwork surprisingly nimble with the kind of armor Oscar donned, he decapitated the first, shield bashed the second, and with the bash, twirled his feet so that he spun and he could place an armored foot behind the feet of the third that came towards him, and met it with a backhand to the side of its skull. The third fell over, and Oscar took his other boot and crushed the wight's sternum.

These damages were nothing that could keep them down, but buy him enough time while they reassembled. Oscar's eyes fell upon his comrades - Kane, Sten, and Alexander forming a triangle with their backs to each other, moving with each other as naturally as flowing water. Even in defending themselves from overwhelming numbers and great strength, their skill was so that they overshadowed the rudimentary prowess of the city's standard guard. Oscar turned a second to watch Karkadin climb his beetle and defend himself with his spear and the beetle's own strength.

"My Doraki friend!" Oscar yelled over the chaos. "All of the wights we tried to contain have broken loose, there are too many! I suggest we rally with my team!"

Karkadin nodded in reply and yelled back to Oscar, "Get on!"

As strange as it was for the guardsman, Oscar knew there was no time for hesitation. A quick sheathing of his sword and shield, Oscar gripped the chitinous shell of the beetle. As he did so, a wight grabbed onto his leg - a quick kick to its head had rid him of the monster and he finally pulled himself onto Bruk's back. Beside Karkadin, Oscar brandished his javelin.

"Venka!" Karkadin called out, pointing his spear in the direction of Kane and his men. Bruk reeled back and kicked his legs out, pushing back the wights at his side, and then charged forth as he did before. Dozens of the abominations were trampled underneath him as he headed in the direction his master indicated, though they reformed shortly after. Some attempted to grapple onto his side, but Karkadin and Oscar were both doing a fair job of keeping them off. Bruk bashed his way forth, his horn causing wights' bodies to practically explode as they came into contact. Within moments, Bruk was near the trio, and put down half of the surrounding forces to buy them a bit of breathing room. "Nasi!" Karkadin called out, and Bruk took a stand where he was.

"What in blazes?" Sten swore as sweat dripped down from his nose. He looked down at the sound of a wight reassembling itself at his feet, before crushing the hissing skull once more with an aggravated stomp of his boot.

"Aha!" Alexander cheered at the sight of his comrade riding atop Karkadin's mount next to a mole man. "Oscar, is that you?! Atop an ankro bertis, no less! I fought me one o' these things before!"

The half-orc, even amidst the chaos of the battle, managed to spare a moment for blissful reminiscence. Then there was Kane, his bastard sword in hand, looking up to see a sightly scene - one he could not be more glad to see at such a time like this. True to form, however, Kane cut straight to business.

"Oscar! If you and your friend can stay with Sten and try to keep a clear around the gates for the people to flee through, Alexander can go around and cut paths and evacuate some of the citizens. I need to find John and help those along the way!"

There was a slight of hesitation in Oscar, but he knew that Kane was the sort that thought everything through, wrack his brain with everything he's got. Perhaps they had finally found a hopeless situation.

"Yes sir."

"Oscar," Kane continued, "there's an old gnome in a carriage in the corner of the square. I believe he can help you."

"An... old gnome?"

"Have faith!" Kane called as he turned and began his run through an alleyway. He disappeared in its crevices, followed by the sounds of shrieking wights, which were soon cut short. Sten looked to Oscar, throwing his hand up for help getting on top of the beetle, inviting himself on. Karkadin proceeded to turn his head and point his spear towards the gates Kane made mention of, and once again called out, "Venka!" Bruk's mandibles clicked loudly as he picked up speed and battered down more and more wights along the path. Once they reached the gates, Karkadin shouted back to Oscar and Sten, "Get off!" And he did so himself, before they could follow his action.

"Gnome, gnome..." Oscar muttered to himself as he slid down Bruk's shell. He found the carriage off in the corner, but whoever was there must have fled some time ago - because it was empty. With no other lead, Oscar gave up that order and situated himself beside Karkadin. Though short next to the Dorak's towering height, he no less stalwart with the heavy armor and great shield at his disposal. He poised himself in a defensive stance, with the edge of his sword gliding against a curved-in corner of his shield.

Sten, however, remained where he was on top of Bruk. His sword was sheathed, but in its place was a heavy looking crossbow and a bolt being notched on its string. Several other bolts were being latched onto a revolving conveyor - a contraption inspired by long time enemy Ignia and their weaponry. With each shot, a gear turned shortly after and moved the conveyor so that a bolt would be set in the crossbow's rail. A lever action crank was at the crossbow's side that helped to pull the string most of the way back.

"Just keep an eye on Alex in case he forgets he's not supposed to die out there." Sten commented as he took aim into the horde of wights. In the distance, one was chasing a man. In the man's panic, he tripped on the road's brickwork. Before the wight had a chance to fall upon him, it's skull exploded as a bolt shot out from the powerful crossbow. Sten cranked the lever and pulled the string the rest of the way himself. Oscar looked into the distance, and was barely able to make out the face of the man Sten had just saved.

Karkadin, however, failed to notice Sten's remaining on top of the beetle before he turned and called out, "Divae!" It was only then he saw Sten taking aim, but it was too late. Bruk immediately began to act on his own accord, making short charges at the surrounding wights, spinning and sweeping his horn to toss them aside. This, of course, made for very poor footing for the man riding atop of him. Bruk was no horse, not like Sten was used to. Straddling the smooth chitinous surface was something of a chore, but Sten was nothing if not an accomplished marksman and equestrian.

When he slid forward, he found himself at the base of the head with his back against the shell, snuggled between Bruk's two elytra panels. The movements were erratic and wild - maybe something like a wild horse, but more skittish, uncontrollable, and alien - but the beetle could move all he wanted. All Sten needed was to keep himself braced and compensate for his aim.

Oscar stood his ground beside Karkadin, stealing glances at his new ally when he could spare the time between cutting down savage wights. The Dorak was capable, keeping wights at a distance, some of them even turning themselves into kebabs, but weighing down his spear. Which Karkadin would promptly slide them off with his foot and get straight back into action. Karkadin's skill warranted further questions of where he came from - but Oscar was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth in his time of need! All that mattered was allowing survivors to escape Maceron. As Alexander cut swathes through the horde, going from house to house, more and more survivors began to making a run for the gates. Sten covered their escape from atop Bruk, shooting down any chasers.

"How are you holding up, my friend!" Oscar yelled out, keeping several wights at bay with his shield - his own weight was too much for them to push back while he kept himself rooted. From behind his shield, it was easy pickings to sink his blade into their heads. As long as their attention was on them, that was one less wight chasing the survivors - but as they attracted more wights, the objective of defending the gates grew harder. Karkadin was somewhat preoccupied, and his delayed answer of "Fine!" came after he kicked back a wight running at him with a club.

---

_@Maxx

---

Kane had to find John.

A young man like him with only his own hands to defend himself wasn’t going to last long alone. His training was far from done and was only up to par to the guardsmen of the city, and well... they were dropping like flies. Every time he had to step over one of their helmets, Kane’s heart sunk. The wights may be higher populated in the square, but even back in the alleys, the density was nearly unbearable. With each wight charging themselves at him, Kane felt more and more run down – and they would keep getting back up, only to follow a short while later. Along with this, each step of the way, he’d barge into whatever home or building and evacuate whoever resided in there – or slew, whichever of the two came first. He had to get as many people out of this town as he could.

He came back to the one side street where they had rounded up one selection of wights before. None of them remained; they had dispersed since then, hunting down whatever living being they could find... the nightmarish fiends. But more immediately pressing was the massive scorch mark on the ground, as if an explosion or a fire had taken place here. Now that he thought about, a number of loud noises rang up around the city but was too busy trying to fight off the swarm of wights to do or think anything about it. Blackened bones were littered about.

Blackened bones... were littered about.

Kane’s plan was to burn up what he rounded together, simply out of hope – but was it really the secret for keeping these guys down? He eyes traveled up and down this alley curiously, before a glint of light flickered from the ground. There it laid, his spontoon, on the ground and against the wall. With these things wearing him down, keeping distance was becoming more and more important. As he approached it, a wight jumped out from another alley from the side. With a side swipe of its rusted hatchet, Kane’s sword was ripped from his hand by the wight’s superior strength, and the wight moved in for the kill. Kane moved to grab the creature’s wrists, fighting it in a grapple as its skull moved inches closer. He felt its unnatural strength pressing upon him, slowly and barely moving Kane back toward the wall. He was being overpowered.

Kane roared as he swung around, holding the wight by the wrists, and using the creature’s own strength against it, slamming it against the stone wall that was once behind him. The wight’s bones were rattled, and it was immediately thrown onto the ground – Kane used their inertia to go down with him, using his armored forearm to crush the wight’s neck, and his knee shattered various ribs. The wight’s head began rolling off, before the invisible threads connecting them started to slowly reassemble itself. Kane, with great haste, grabbed his sword and sheathed it, then lunging for his spontoon. The half-pike, now in his possession, felt like the most natural form of the entire Knights’ arsenal.

Kane hurried back to the storage house in front of the great scorch mark to check for survivors. Inside, he found a South Nepharian man with a rapier, and a young fairfolk woman behind him – and a number of recognizable citizens behind those two. A few hopeful, though silent whispers chattered through them.

“It’s Kane...!”

“Sir Bounevialle?”

“You must hurry!” Kane urgently said to them, taking deep breaths between words. His eyes looked as though he were still in the middle of a battle and stray locks of hair fell into his face. “My men have taken point at the main gates; there you can evacuate the city! I had fell the wights on the way, but they won’t be down for long! Come, go!”

The wight that he had taken down earlier and risen faster than expected, and leaped onto Kane’s back; Kane was quick to react though, and slammed his back into the corner of the doorway, causing the wight’s bones to shatter in several places. It let go, and Kane took the shaft end of his spontoon to violently bludgeon it to the ground, and its bones scattered across the alleyway. This time it won’t be back up for a while. As quickly as Kane had come, he had left, pressing his charge down the way in search of John.

The Elder Scrolls: Rage of the Waves

I might post later - later, y'all - to have Finch join our elf friend so you're not alone, what with dirty street rats not generally welcomed or comfortable in the company of others. Would make for interesting interaction considering his racism.

Knights of Melarus

_{featuring Kane's Guard}

---

Kane and his troop were discussing matters and plans of action following the round-up of the wights, beside the statue of King Victor of House Draco, which was bent over, out of its original position. He, and the G-2 guardsmen Sten Vellen, Alexander Xerxes, and Oscar Gene – Kane’s once squire, John March, was already off establishing safe zones throughout the city prior to their arrival here in the square. The situation looked bleak, despite the hope Kane sought to instill in the city’s people.

“First and foremost,” Oscar offered, “we have to make sure that the citizens here are out of immediate danger. Victor has got plenty of his own personal guardsmen to keep his precious castle safe, we needn’t waste our time with that.”

“I agree,” said Sten, “I think we should just keep doing what we’ve been doing. We can’t kill them or force them out of the city, chaining them together in place seems like it’s the best precautionary measure.”

Kane heard his men, but he still looked solemn, pinching the skin at the bottom of his chin in thought. “It seems so,” he said, “but I still worry. The king and the knights are so full of pride that they cannot see this situation has fallen out of our hands. The people need a full-scale evacuation. It should have happened before things ever got this bad.”

“If we hurry, we might still have a chance.” Alexander proposed.

“Perhaps, Alex,” Kane muttered as he looked back up, “perhaps... but it never should have been left up to chance.”

That familiar chiming tone, that wretched, stomach-churning bawling of the head knight himself – Sir Fallon came riding up, making a fool of the knights with all of his honeyed words of his love for the Child King, his cries for victory was a presumptive, childish assay at pleasing the crowds. As practiced as he may be, he was but a hollow man. It was a wonder that Kane was unable to see through him until only three months ago.

Fallon had ordered his men, the Knights of the Ram, to put their shields up and renew the charge to push the wights out of Maceron’s gates. Kane’s eyes lit up, and shot his hand forward – “Wait, don’t!”

But alas, it was too late for him to object to Sir Fallon’s commands. The Ram listened not to a disgraced knight, only to their great leader, for clearly, Sir Fallon was an infallible tactician. For look how gracefully he would ignore assessment and order the very actions that had failed prior times before! So full of pride was he, he would attempt the most hopeful remedy where so many had failed before him... right from where he sat before, upon his horse, wishing not to get his hands dirty.

Like the many times before, the knights with their shields up, with all their attempts at pushing out some of the loose wights outside of the city, they were soon being overpowered by the skeletal abominations. Some men were trampled beneath their feet, others scrambled for safety. Kane watched as that naïve hope from Sir Fallon’s eyes flicker away as his precious plan had crumbled before him. But his pride was as such, that he wouldn’t let his own visage of nobility be tarnished, nay, he wouldn’t deliver the truth to the deserving citizens. He would have it so that they lived ignorantly beneath incapable rule at the face of inescapable odds. If there was ever a parallel to Maceron’s corruption, there was none closer than the metaphor taking place now. Kane felt his temper flare as Fallon ordered his knights to round up the citizens and escort them to their homes – as if that was the safest place they could be. He turned to his own men, who noticed his angered expression immediately.

“Men, be on standby for now, help the people if you can. I’ll see if I can’t have a talk with Sir Fallon.”

They nodded and watched Kane march towards the Ram’s headmaster as he dropped from his horse.

“Sir Headmaster Fallon!” Kane called, a fist pressed to his chest in salute, and a bow of his head – disgraceful that he should have to honor a man such as he – he continued forward, lifting his head back up and dug his eyes into Fallon’s.

“With all due respect,” Kane said with a sharp tone, “their homes are not the safest place to be. We should be issuing a full-scale evacuation! We cannot contain this many wights!”

Meanwhile, Kane’s men were either watching what was developing or keeping an eye on the surrounding area, or taking care of the people – assuaging their fears, advice, whatever they could do. After Oscar, the curly red-haired knight decked in particularly heavy armor, looked to be in his mid thirties, took to bringing an old woman’s belongings to her home, bore witness to an exchange before a foreign Dorak and one of the Ram’s knights. The knight, while not laying a hand on them, did not handle the situation Oscar felt was accordingly. The Ram knights were a proud lot – Oscar was no exception to that rule, neither was the rest of Kane’s Guard, they worked very hard to get to their positions – but they didn’t let it blind them like many of the Ram did. Oscar stepped forward, addressing the knight that had bickered with the Dorak.

“Good knight,” he called, prepared to handle this as tactfully possible, “as capable as we may all be, this is not a problem that the Knights can handle alone. Talbor is strongest when we all work together!”

Oscar finished his plea upon the knight on the happiest of notes, throwing his arms out and a great grin on his face. The knight, howe’er, turned about and looked upon Oscar’s face with an insulted look, measuring the red haired man up and down.

“I need not the counsel of a traitor,” the Knight declared, “haven’t you kittens to be saving from trees? The real knights will take it from here.”

Oscar’s smile dimmed, but in Oscar’s classic style, he did not let the knight ruin his optimism. There was an unspoken acknowledgement among the troop that Oscar’s only expressions were varying degrees of smiles, but each with their own smile. A faint smile in the face of injury would be akin to something along the lines of an ill wish upon their well-being, but nothing so severe. Rather, “I hope you drink sour milk.” He turned to face one of the newcomers in town, the Dorak that had gotten into that mishap with the knight just before. He met him with a wider smile, and nodded his head with his fist pressed to his chest.

“I’m sorry for the lack of warm welcome, newcomer. As you can... clearly tell, we’re in something of a crisis.” Oscar said, shrugging. “Sir Gavin is also kind of a dick, but what can you do? I’m Sir Oscar... Ah, guh! Just Oscar now, I’m sorry! Old habits die hard, eh?”

Knights of Melarus

Hit me up if any of you have any ideas and want to write with one of my characters.

Knights of Melarus

Kane's thoughts

"I have heard of Pietro Machelli. The count's son who took up the sword, the only trainee to refuse the Ram's offer of knighthood in generations? He's very skilled in swordplay, even making it an art. If only he had taken up the sword for a purpose more noble than riches and bedding women. He's a vulgar man, and I do not like his predisposition for arrogance, but he's a harmless sort and I can withstand arrogance. There's plenty of it found in courts, at least this swordmaster has practicality.

The others do not seem to take kindly to the young fairfolk, but I believe that stems from misunderstands. I can appreciate a prodigal student, and Anna is certainly making her way. What people forget is that fae age slower than the rest of us. They forget that Anna is still a young girl and has already been elected into prestige and has inherited generations of knowledge. Dealing with Anna is a matter of patience.

Theresa is a good lass, and she means well. She has done well to travel Tithe and survive its wilds, and her field of work is a noble calling: protecting villages and hamlets from vicious and terrorizing beasts and monsters? That's no knight, but she takes a knight's heart and marries it with thrill-seeking and adventure. I hope she finds her way.

Ben, I... I have nothing. As long as he doesn't hurt anyone, I think we'll be okay. I sympathize with him.

I think I've only seen a Dorak once before, and that was a merchant. Not in the sense that I'm unworldly or isolated, but... the Dorak tend to keep to themselves. They hardly leave their homeland, and when they do, it's not usually Tablor they go to. This climate isn't befitting of them, and I'm really wondering what brought Karkadin here.

Now, the gnome is a peculiar sort, doesn't seem to fully grasp human customs and culture, but I can tell he means well enough. He even helped to contain some of the wights with a powerful enchantment on the square's statue. He's a humble sort, I don't think he intends on telling me everything, or what kind of power he might hold... but as long as he's harmless, abides by the law, and continues to help like he did, I won't treat it as a matter that concerns me. He smells peculiar. Like bad taste masked with flowers. It could just be an alchemist thing.

The other faefolk, this Arya, born right in the wealthiest of the bunch, tracked right into the path of the Order of Mordane, given divine blood, trained in it - she's a lucky one, I wonder if she's aware of this... but she's a knight like me, yes? Rather, I was - but we both have duties to fulfill. They may not be the same, but we both do what we can to make Tithe safer. I may hold to higher scrutiny than the others, having gone through similar disciplinary courses, or so I would imagine.

But what do I have to say about Silvertongue? Shux is a bard, a good bard, but he reminds me all too much of the sort of politicians and nobles in Maceron. He would fit right in with the court, and the last thing I need is any more presences of corruption here. There's one good thing about this March of the Dead: it keeps everyone's heads screwed on right. If only they could stay that way.

Kathleen, on the other hand, does much less talking. An interesting sort, a curious soul, and a pretty face - if she's any good with that crossbow, I wonder how she'd pair with Sten. But one thing that keeps bugging me is... what are those bulges on her back beneath her cloak?

I know Sir Agathon. A commander knight like I once was. He was one of the few in the order who gave a damn like I did, and I regret that he wasn't one of knights I chose to contact first before my demotion. Although I'm not sure how he would have reacted - he holds no love for nobility, but he isn't that outspoken about it, more passive. Now that I think about it, I get the impression he'd just let things run the way they are and wait for something good to happen. That'd be a shame. Good things don't happen when we wait for them to come to us.

I know plenty like Vyri, the sort of downtrodden abused by nobility, the very ones I've made a name for protecting. She seems haunted by something, I do not know what though. It saddens me that there aren't any other guardians outside of Talbor. All of Tithe needs to look out for our weakest."

Wizzlebee's thoughts

"Pietro Machelli? Who's that? Him, you're pointing at him? Oooooh, okay. Now I get what all the fuss is about. You see, I've been staring at him for the past ten minutes. If he's as good with a sword as they say he is, I would bet he's good with his hands, too.

Anna! Anna, Anna, Anna! A faefolk apothecary, no doubt has plenty of little bitty faefolk potion secrets to share, but oohh, I bet I could teach her a thing or two, yes sir-ee! I too have plenty-plenty little bitty potion secrets, and some plenty-plenty little bitty gnomish potion secrets! I'm full of secrets! Aha! And if she finds out, well, I guess that'd be a shame! Because fae wings are supposed to be valuable ingredients! I'm only joking of course, gnomish humor. Don't tell Kane I said that.

I like the monster hunter, her head is a refreshing shade of red, soothes the eyes. Oh, but she's also a monster hunter! I should ask her to bring back some monster parts after her hunts, I could get soooo many different kinds of potions, it'll be unreal! Maybe something to make that crossbow holding knight-man's head red, too, that platinum color is a - whoo - a real strain on the eyes.

On Karkadin: what in blazes is that? Is it sentient? Those face-worms looks like they might be useful for something... oh, I meant in a potion. I can't see any possible use for actually wearing it.

Kandy Kane sure triggers that sweet tooth, can talk up an old gnome plenty nice! I think he likes me you know? But as big and strong and handsome and blonde as he is - and, oh, noble - it's a shame I cannot take the sweet man up. You see, I'm saving myself for Pietro. Besides, what if that noble knight-man found out about my necromancy? I just don't think it would work out well at all. Pappy agrees.

The tall lizard boy was victim to who? Grendle? Grindle? Grundle? Whatever, some witch, she can't be so bad. But bad enough to turn him into a lizard boy! I think I'll help him out, yes? Maybe I can make that Anna girl my assistant and we can investigate cures for this magical ailment. I wonder if aether would be useful here too...

Anyways, Arya is a wizard knight-girl! That doesn't make any sense. What? Fire and stone. Or was it stone and fire? Oh, that's fine I guess, throwing rocks around, making things hots. But I bet she can't raise the dead or talk to spirits. Oh, oh my, is this my wizard pride? I didn't think I'd be so competitive! Oooh, competition. Now that'd be an interesting one. I still have, what? Maybe... forty years on her? Plenty, plenty. Okay, I'm confident again.

And the satyr, I love the satyr! I love music! What a fun little lad, likes money, I don't get that, but I like music and that's all that matters! He can have the useless "drune" stuff if he wants it, I don't need it, I... wait, I do need it. For everything. Why am I giving him this stuff for music?! That's not fair! Darnest outside customs!

The, the, the... girl? Woman? I guess she's a lady human, doesn't seem so spectacular. A little shy, I guess...? I just wonder what kind of stuff she's carrying under her cloak. Eh, bygones. Bygones!

The other knight-man, the bigger one, the heavier one - the hairier one. Walks like I do a wee bit, gives all a pouty face, but I hear he's alright, plenty so! If a wee sad, can't see why, he's working with strapping men a'plenty! Something goes wrong, I'll hide behind him... after Pietro.

Vyri is okay, I don't notice her much but she has a nice little ring with an incredible little secret inside. Paps tells me I shouldn't waste my time with that 'arrogant and evil ogre flank', whatever that means, something about spirits and conversations, but I stopped listening.. because ooooh, couldn't I learn a bit about that little guy in that little thing..."

Knights of Melarus

_and

_{featuring (G-2), Kane's Guard}

---

“Chains!”

“Good, John, we have them! Now let’s round them up – Sten, you get one end and I’ll get the other, Oscar and Alexander, cut around the sides, push in any stragglers.”

“Aye, Cap’n! Wrap that nice and tight!”

The orc and red-haired guard pushed in some of the stubborn wights outside their range, straight into a great mass of wights that was being held up by the guardsmen. All the while, Kane and Sten took the chain and tightly wrapped a long iron chain around the mob twice over. When the two men came to meet, Kane grabbed the other end of the chain and pulled it as tight as he could, and Sten hastily clasped a set of cuffs through some of the loops and secured it in place. Kane stepped back and took a deep breath. That made two mobs of wights secured. There were still dozens more, and at this rate, it felt as though Maceron would be totally overrun! Damn it, where was Captain Orthur Dorkin when you needed him to get off of his ass?

“Captain,” began Sten Vellen as he approached Kane, “John told me there’s another mob like this one forming around the city square again, and the guard is struggling to keep them contained.”

“Let’s hurry then.” Kane said, then looking to young John. “We need to have quarantined areas, places where there aren’t already wights and chain them off so that the people can have safe places to be in case these wights turn aggressive.”

“Yes sir!” John agreed, and then he ran off to the barrack to retrieve more chains, and to begin the mission given to him. The other men hurried the other way toward the town square, sweat dripping from their brows.

The square was something else – apparently the time between the report and actually getting there was enough to let their numbers multiply to absurdity. Overlooked by the king’s tower, all around the statue of his Majesty, the famed G-2 guardsmen of Maceron made awed glances at one another. The sheer amount of wights swallowing this place was unbelievable. The wights walking through the gates still coming, but now at lower pace, and the March looked as though it would soon be coming to a close. Kane dreaded to see what would happen when it finally did. Kane signaled his men, pointing toward the others guardsmen, and they nodded understandingly. It was he and Alexander now, the latter carrying a particularly long and girthy chain wrapped around his shoulder.

“Let’s get to work then!” The half-orc declared.

It was the same practice, stretching out the chain as far as it would go, with one man at one end of the mob and the other at the other end. The two started pulling the chain around it, but there was one problem...

This was a lot of wights. The sheer weight of all the bones, and the resistance they made, still insisting on walking as they wrapped them made it a struggle to contain the mob. With the other two ex-knights finally returning with a squad of other guardsmen the began helping by grabbing onto the chains and heaving as they fought to contain the stubborn horde of undead. With each tug, they yelled.

“HEAVE!”

“HO!”

“HEAVE!”

“HO!”

Drawing quite a crowd from the by standing citizens who didn’t feel so threatened by The March with all the guardsmen around them. All the men around the mob, as many as they were, still struggled to tighten them close together. As the chain started wrapping around the other side, one thing became apparent:

“Someone find another chain!”

This one was too short, and could not even clasp around with one round around the wights. One good citizen made a run for the forge, bringing in tow the forge’s own smith as he helped the other man carry an even longer chain. With one hook end secured in some chain links, they managed to get one wrap around the wight mob. But with one as big as this, they’re going to need to revolve around a few more times. The struggle ensued, and this time, the good citizen and the smithy joined in pulling the chain around the wights... this act of good will and solidarity was enough to inspire some of the other citizens to aid. Men and women once watching joined in helping G-2 and their neighbors in restraining the massive mob of wights. Eventually running short on chains again, some more people went out to fetch more.

The mob was growing restless, and fought against their confinements. Restraining the wights became even more difficult, links escaping from some of the citizen’s grasp. Kane made note of this – it was not a good sign. When the third round of chains was delivered, it felt as though they were at a last stand. The wights were pushing against the people, and the people were fighting with the guardsmen to keep them in check. It was a stalemate. The statue of King Victor of Draco flashed purple for just a moment, capturing the rapt attention of the people around them. Kane’s eyes were suddenly trained on it – had his eyes deceived him? Was this too much stress? Surely not, Kane had gone through harder than this before!

But it was no such illusion or tricks of the mind. Dust fell off of the statue as it rumbled, and its limbs began moving. Though its feet secured firmly to a pedestal on the ground, the statue could bend its knees and hunker over, grabbing the chains that the people were pulling on – causing the people standing there to flee from fear – but did nothing to hurt any of the people, only tightly pulling the chains, causing some of the men and women to slide across the ground, then let go of the chain before their fingers were caught between them. The statue kept a tight, firm grip, and a dense mob of skeletal wights was confined into a smaller circle. The knights hurried to lock the chains there. The giant statue took its hands back, and sat there, squatting, and looking down on the mob and on the people. There, it seemed to stay.

Amidst the whispering of the wights, all was silent. Everyone was wondering what had happened until a strained wheezing and deep panting broke out from one end of the square. Kane turned to see an old gnome trying to catch his breath in the comfort of his own carriage seat. Gnomish enchantment – he should have known! The silence broke and turned into thunderous cheering, the people slapping each other on the backs on a job well done. Even the guardsmen breaking smiles and grabbing each other’s shoulders. Kane was no exception to this, but he knew that the job wasn’t over yet.

“Great job, everyone!” Kane announced proudly. “This is why everybody knows that you don’t mess with Maceron! If its soldiers and guard don’t get you, its people will!”

Another thunderous round of celebration.

“But our job is not over yet,” Kane continued, “and it won’t be done until we round up every single one of these blasted things and build a pyre so big that even the Icemen will feel its heat!”

The spirits and motivation of the people around the square were bolstered, and most of everyone around went back to work, inspired to do more to contain the wight situation. Kane took the opportunity to shake the hands with all those who had helped and hadn’t immediately gone off to do more work. A couple moments and words of praise went to the first man to step up and the nearby forge’s smith. Giving them his thanks, he walked toward the carriage that was cradled in the corner. The elderly gnome, seeing Kane coming, hit his wooden bench a with the bottom of his fist a couple times and met Kane with a great grin.

“That was very impressive what you did,” Kane complimented, then bowing his head with his fist pressed to his chest, “I am grateful for your help.”

“Oh, that was nothing!” The gnome insisted. The gnome took another deep breath. “That was just... probably one of the biggest enchantments I’ve ever... had to make... phew! That king fellow sure likes his statues big!”

Kane gave him a light-hearted chuckle, “There is more where that came from. I am Captain Kane Bounevialle, of the G-2 guard. What’s your name, my friend? You’ve picked quite a time to travel abroad.”

“Wizzlebee de LaShtüp, good sir!” The gnome introduced.

“Of the noble gnome house?” Kane inquired. “I thought that house had died off with no heirs to its name.”

A kicking sounded came from inside the carriage, but Wizzlebee pretended he didn’t notice it. “Oh yes, yes,” he said, “I’m the last. Also, estranged and extricated, but technicalities! They didn’t like me going on my own, I was never, ah, interested in that noble poppycock!”

“I understand,” Kane agreed, “more interested in wizardry, yes?”

“Oh, I’m only two-bit,” Wizzlebee claimed humbly, “in truth, I am an alchemist.”

“That was still quite some enchantment you’ve pulled from your hat.”

“I am wearing no hat!” Wizzlebee declared in defense.

“It’s, ah... a human figure of speech.” Kane reassured.

“Harumph! I would hope so!” The gnome responded. His tone then took a lighter turn. “But yes, yes, yes! Dire times of need brings people together, do they not? Guess I was... inspired. Yes, yes! Inspired to do the right thing! Hmph!”

“I’m glad to have you here.” Kane said with a smile, then parted ways with the gnome. The gnome waved back jovially and waited a couple moments for him to walk far away enough. He watched Kane discuss whatever matters he had on his mind with his men, then Wizzlebee turned back around and peered his head over the back of his seat.

“Sorry about that, paps, now what were you saying?”

Skeletal fingertips pulled over wool coverings, revealing a skull peering back up curiously at the old gnome.

“I asked how you were expecting to get wight marrow from those bones if wights naturally reassemble themselves. You’d get a whole beasty right on your lap!”

“I did say I would figure it out, paps! Aether has proven itself plenty useful plenty times in the past, I’m sure it can manage one other thing...”

“You and that damn ancient magic,” Bartleby sighed, “it’ll be the death of you, you know!”

“I’m close enough on its edge already, paps.” The gnome admitted. “Who’s to say that aether will be the final nail in the coffin?”

“Just remember that there’s no one around to raise you like you did me. I’m gonna get all bored, walk around, and then get dismembered by evangelical zealots praising whatever dumb god they worship.”

“But death is not the end.” Wizzlebee finished, slumping down with just a bliss smile on his face. He thought he knew that better than anyone.

Knights of Melarus

While the opening post is being made, here's a little game for everyone to enjoy in the meantime - a GM in another roleplay did this, and it was a lot of fun:

Let's assume that everyone's characters have already met once before. Through the perspective of your character, what do they think of the others?

Knights of Melarus

The character herself seems fine, but you were right about the mount being absurd. I'd call for a vote, I'm not sure if I could accept Thel with a clear conscience. Were the dire wolves not good enough? That's something I think I could accept.

The Elder Scrolls: Rage of the Waves

If @Hankcan delete posts then he can go ahead and do that.