*Nightwhisper
"And guilty I may be, but don't give up on me... We will still be thick as thieves."
|
Post by *Nightwhisper on Feb 4, 2018 15:17:45 GMT -5
"So... I just realized... I've been shot..."
For too long the kingdom as been under the torturous rule of King Perrin. His greedy heart takes the coins of those who work hard for their wages, his arrogance is the spark for many wars. He mistreats those who have done nothing wrong be be born into a certain class, and he manipulates those around him to ensure his ideals are ever present in both the royal court and the law. So is it any wonder people have started to rebel? The people are tired of the cruelty, and have gained the numbers to fight back against the unjust ruler. They call themselves the Order Prime, and for the past year and a half, they've been growing in numbers. Now, war has broken out, bringing with it chaos and divide. Innocent citizens are being caught in the crossfire as well as those fighting for either side. Which army will be victorious?
(Just thought I'd put something here to make it look official. I can change it/erase it if you would like.)
~Characters~ Destrian son of T'Aaos of the White Woods Destrian is a tall man of 20 years, at 6'4", although he is rather thin. His hair is the color of black that seems to give off a bluish sheen in dim light, and its ragged length, just too short to be tied up effectively, frames a kind but somewhat rugged face. His eyes are deep pools of green, and usually hold a bright twinkle. Although thin, his muscles do show, muscles built from growing up on a farm doing hard work.He is a refugee, ever since his village was destroyed during a skirmish where soldiers were trying to root out rebels. During the destruction of his village, Destrian's lifelong friend, Maerwynn, whom he had recently become romantically involved with, perished. Left without what small bit of wealth he had accumulated over the years, without a place to call home, and with a broken heart, he made haste for the nearest refugee camp, hoping to find his way away from the war and back to his peaceful life.
Thayer Mac Giolla Bháin Thayer, the older of the two twins, has her father's looks and her mother's spirit. Long brown hair flows down her back, stopping at her hips and she usually kept two small braids in her hair. Unless she and her sister were ever trying to trade places. Sharp features and high cheek bones made up her heart-shaped face, giving her a more delicate look than how she really was. Hooded amber eyes shine with mischief from under long lashes. Standing around 5'6", most people would mistake her for a noble's daughter. In a way, they would be right. Her frame wasn't slender and graceful that radiated self-importance, but held a pleasant fullness that would come from having money for meals on a regular basis. Yet despite her body type, she is indeed an athlete. While average with sword play, the 20 year old woman is a deadly shot with a bow. Her specialties lie in skills that depend on tracking and stealth. The young woman got involved with the rebels after witnessing several of her neighbors be wrongly accused and mistreated for charges they were never proven they were guilty of. However, on the king's orders, she watched as life long friend of her family were taken away. Never one to like to stand by when people are wronged, she left her home to join the rebel army's cause. While she had always agreed with their point of view and their cause, it wasn't until the king's influence reached her home town before she was pushed to act.
~Lore~ (Will add Lore here.)
~Extras~ Túel (Elf, Healer) Varik (Dwarf, Battle Commander) Bumor (Dwarf, Destrian's Tentmate) Dagger (Dwart/Human, Destrian's Tentmate) Hammer (Dwarft, Destrian's Tentmate) Artur Clasen (Human, Marshal of the Rebel Army. Neil (Human, Cook)
|
|
|
Post by Demitraeus Dehlfvaen on Feb 4, 2018 21:51:21 GMT -5
///It looks great actually, just a few spelling mistakes. Unfortunately I ended up falling asleep again and so I'm just now going to work on my character X.x///
|
|
|
|
Post by Demitraeus Dehlfvaen on Feb 5, 2018 9:44:36 GMT -5
///omg. I think I just fell in love with this story. what if, in this world, there is no magic? No manifestation of supernatural powers? what if everyone in the story has to rely on physical and mental capability? No magic spells, nothing like that? I think it would really make the story fun to tell, forcing us to come up with creative ways of the characters achieving their goals, since they cant just bippity boppity boo solutions. What do you think?///
|
|
|
|
Post by Demitraeus Dehlfvaen on Feb 6, 2018 11:23:23 GMT -5
Destrian is a tall man of 20 years, at 6'4", although he is rather thin. His hair is the color of black that seems to give off a bluish sheen in dim light, and its ragged length, just too short to be tied up effectively, frames a kind but somewhat rugged face. His eyes are deep pools of green, and usually hold a bright twinkle. Although thin, his muscles do show, muscles built from growing up on a farm doing hard work. He is a refugee, ever since his village was destroyed during a skirmish where soldiers were trying to root out rebels. During the destruction of his village, Destrian's lifelong friend, Maerwynn, whom he had recently become romantically involved with, perished. Left without what small bit of wealth he had accumulated over the years, without a place to call home, and with a broken heart, he made haste for the nearest refugee camp, hoping to find his way away from the war and back to his peaceful life.
~~~
Caught between wolves and bandits on a dark, cloudy night, and barely escaping in one piece, Destrian stumbled towards the bit of light he could see in the distance. Not until he was within the light of the refugee camp, stumbling towards the first woman he saw, did the pain in his calf register. Grimace of pain mixed with a grin of relief, he fell to something just better than a crawl. "So... I just realized... I've been shot..."
|
|
*Nightwhisper
"And guilty I may be, but don't give up on me... We will still be thick as thieves."
|
Post by *Nightwhisper on Feb 6, 2018 15:55:10 GMT -5
Thayer, the older of the two twins, has her father's looks and her mother's spirit. Long brown hair flows down her back, stopping at her hips and she usually kept two small braids in her hair. Unless she and her sister were ever trying to trade places. Sharp features and high cheek bones made up her heart-shaped face, giving her a more delicate look than how she really was. Hooded amber eyes shine with mischief from under long lashes. Standing around 5'6", most people would mistake her for a noble's daughter. In a way, they would be right. Her frame wasn't slender and graceful that radiated self-importance, but held a pleasant fullness that would come from having money for meals on a regular basis. Yet despite her body type, she is indeed an athlete. While average with sword play, the 20 year old woman is a deadly shot with a bow. Her specialties lie in skills that depend on tracking and stealth. The young woman got involved with the rebels after witnessing several of her neighbors be wrongly accused and mistreated for charges they were never proven they were guilty of. However, on the king's orders, she watched as life long friend of her family were taken away. Never one to like to stand by when people are wronged, she left her home to join the rebel army's cause. While she had always agreed with their point of view and their cause, it wasn't until the king's influence reached her home town before she was pushed to act.
(Apologies if this is an awkward first post.)
Thayer was standing watch on the outskirts of camp. Due to being an archer, she was often recruited as part of the night watches. She would be patrolling her corner of the parameter for the next three hours before the shifts changed. Until then, her eyes never stopped scanning the horizon. With the light of the campfires behind her, the woman had no trouble making out the differences in the shadows. Of course, it was more difficult to spot possible attackers with the moon hidden behind the clouds, but the army had take precautions when setting up their camp. All away around the campsite, the round had been cleared of tall grass, shrubs, rocks, and anything large enough that might act as a hiding spot for 150 feet, easy shooting range for any decent archer. This meant that any attack would be spotted with enough time for the rebels to gather themselves together.
So far, there had been no big attacks on the camp itself, which left a lot of dull nights for the sentries. Thayer wasn't complaining, though. As much as she would love to see one of her arrows sticking out of the enemy's back, no action meant they were safe. The woman was just about to turn to pace along the camp's edge in search for signs of danger when a shadow caught her eye. Stopping, she focused her gaze at the figure walking, down the road. Instinctively, she notched an arrow and aimed for her target, but didn't fire. The figure drew closer. It wasn't walking, per say, but rather stumbling as if injured. Even so, she didn't lower her weapon until the man collapsed just outside the light of the fire.
Instantly, the woman rushed to the fallen man's side in time to hear his statement. Her eyes scanned his body and found the arrow impaling his leg. "Can you stand?" she asked him. "The physician's tent is just inside. I can help you there if you think you can stand."
|
|
|
Post by Demitraeus Dehlfvaen on Feb 6, 2018 19:16:38 GMT -5
Destrian nodded and forced himself to his feet, well, more, his foot. Somewhere in his rush of thoughts, he could remember a badly sprained ankle when he was young, but it slipped away before he could decide if the pain was on a similar level, a thought about the bow the woman carried pushing in. He had never been very good with a bow, although a farmer, the little hunting he did only involved traps and snares. He had managed once or twice against a wolf when armed with a quarterstaff, and idly wished he had one to lean on as he followed the woman, just short of hopping on one foot. "Thank you," he grunted, more instinct than anything, but a part of him was truly grateful. He would be safe, soon, and away from this war.
|
|
|
|
Post by Demitraeus Dehlfvaen on Feb 6, 2018 22:27:28 GMT -5
"Best to move quick, I think," Destrian said, trying to balance his weight between his good leg and her shoulder. "Besides, I made it this far." Just how far had he come? His memory seemed to be a bit blurred from all the adrenaline that had come during his fleeing. "I can walk." If one could call it walking.
|
|
|
|
Post by Demitraeus Dehlfvaen on Feb 8, 2018 0:57:19 GMT -5
"Of course I'm holding up," Destrian half-muttered. The night wasn't warm, but sweat stuck bits of his hair to sides of his face, and his breathing was heavy, not just from mostly running all the way to this camp. An image of Maerwynn flickered in his mind, and he gave a determined growl. Each step was an effort, but he kept the ground ahead in focus and began counting the steps.
|
|
|
|
Post by Demitraeus Dehlfvaen on Feb 8, 2018 17:58:06 GMT -5
As they helped him onto the stretcher, an odd thought about the situation floated across Destrian's mind. The arrow had taken him in the right calf, just below the main mass of muscle. It protruded from the front towards about 2 o'clock, on the outer side from the bones, just short of coming out the back side. As such, he could lie on his back with no trouble. What bit of luck, he thought idly, a quiet chuckle interrupting his grimly set face as he settled onto the stretcher.
|
|
*Nightwhisper
"And guilty I may be, but don't give up on me... We will still be thick as thieves."
|
Post by *Nightwhisper on Feb 8, 2018 18:18:03 GMT -5
As the two men lifted the stranger now lying safely in the stretcher, Thayer followed them to the physician's tent. The soldier she sent ahead as warning had done his job. When the group arrived, a female elf who looked to be in her late thirties by human standards, held open the folds of the tent for them. Fade blonde hair was pulled up into a messy bun on the top of her head. "Hurry up, and get him in here," she snapped at her helpers. They complied, quickly disappearing into the tent. "Not you," she said, holding out an arm to stop Thayer from entering. "You have a watch to get back to. I advise you return to your job and not lingering in my tent being a distraction."
Thayer felt a smart retort forming on her tongue, but she knew the older woman was right. She had been away from her position for too long. "I'll be by to check on him in the morning," she said instead before turning and walking back the way she had come.
|
|
|
Post by Demitraeus Dehlfvaen on Feb 9, 2018 11:18:51 GMT -5
Destrian closed his eyes and focused on breathing. He would be taken care of now. For the moment, he just needed to concentrate on... He could feel the arrow in his leg, pain disrupting normal thought. How had he made it all the way here? Maybe it was all just some crazy nightmare... NO. Concentrate. This Elf was a healer, she could get the arrow out and patch him up. He would get better, and with a bit of rest, and maybe some help from these people, he would be on his way soon, going away...
He fought to stay conscious, mostly out of stubbornness, but the pain kept stabbing at him, making him wonder if passing out would be a better option. No. He had been through as much pain or more in the past, and he could handle this. He set his jaw and regulated his breath, opening his eyes to look up at the Elf as calmly as he could manage. "Well, I'd appreciate it if you'd fix me up already," he murmured. "Isn't easy having an arrow in me."
|
|
*Nightwhisper
"And guilty I may be, but don't give up on me... We will still be thick as thieves."
|
Post by *Nightwhisper on Feb 9, 2018 17:10:59 GMT -5
"Snappy, aren't we," the Elf asked, taking her spot by the leg with the arrow sticking out from it. Thankfully, it hadn't punctured a main artery or vein, so the work of removing it and stitching it close would be no problem. "It isn't easy to be woken up from a well deserved nap to be ordered around by a simpleton who was foolish enough to get shot either." Despite her words and tone, she had no hard feelings towards the man. It was just her personality. Besides, if she didn't want to be woken up at odd hours to tend to the wounded, the Elf would have never learned healing.
"I'm going to have to break the arrow in half before pulling it out," the woman informed him. "I suggest preparing yourself. Scream if you must, but be aware that there are others sleeping nearby that need it more than I." And, without wasting another minute, she expertly and carefully broke the arrow as close to the leg as possible, the feathered end snapping cleanly in her hand. All that was left to do as pull out the other half and stitch the wound. A simple fix.
|
|
|
Post by Demitraeus Dehlfvaen on Feb 9, 2018 18:31:36 GMT -5
Destrian half-raised an eyebrow, the best attempt he could make at a casual expression. He gave a tight nod when she explained what she would do, but the suddenness gave him little time but to clamp his mouth shut and give a loud groan at the new bit of pain. "Halfway there," he grunted around his still-clenched teeth, staring fixedly at the top of the tent to avoid looking at what the Elf was doing. He really was a fool, getting himself shot. Maybe if he hadn't camped where he had, the wolves and bandits wouldn't have pinned him between them. Maybe if he hadn't come this way in his flight, his campsite wouldn't have been a problem. Maybe, if he hadn't fled... No. There had been nothing left for him at his village. He was here now, and would keep pushing on until he was safely out of the clutches of the war.
|
|
|
|
Post by Demitraeus Dehlfvaen on Feb 9, 2018 19:25:48 GMT -5
The second flare of pain marked the arrow being pulled out, and Destrian grasped a fistful of his shirt in a white-knuckled grip in order to keep his groan as low as the previous. As the healer applied the poultice, however, the pain dulled and faded. He allowed himself to look around a bit while she began work on the stitching.
"Thank you," He said abruptly, having realized he had yet to show appreciation for the help. These people were rebels, but at least they had shown good in them. Maybe they were in the right to be fighting for their beliefs... Whatever the case, Destrian wanted no part in the war. "Thank you..." He murmured once again.
|
|
|
|
Post by Demitraeus Dehlfvaen on Feb 9, 2018 19:55:36 GMT -5
Destrian nodded and bit back another thank you when he realized that was what she had told him to stop. Rest, yeah, he could probably use some rest. He brushed a strand of hair away from his eye and let himself relax. Letting his thoughts decompress, he gave a half-hearted attempt to sort everything into place after the rush of things had scrambled it so. He was just realizing that he hadn't asked any of their names, not even the woman he'd first met, when he slid into sleep.
|
|
*Nightwhisper
"And guilty I may be, but don't give up on me... We will still be thick as thieves."
|
Post by *Nightwhisper on Feb 9, 2018 20:10:40 GMT -5
(I'll just time skip to the next morning.)
It was three hours after sunrise before Thayer walked out of her tent. Dressed in a simple green tunic, brown leggings, and her favorite boots, she made her why to the physician's tent. Túel should be well awake by now, she figured. Since she had retired late after her night watch, she woke up later than everyone else. From the direction of the cook fires, the smell of roasting meat wafted on the breeze, making her stomach growl in want. She would get breakfast, or lunch, later. First, she wanted to check in on their new visitor.
Approaching the healer's tent, she let herself inside. "You awake, Túel?" the woman called softly, not wanting to wake up everyone, just the Elf.
"Who can sleep with your shouting?" came the reply from farther in the tent. The healer was currently tending to one of the other patients taken residence in the make-shift infirmary, sparing the archer the briefest of pointed looks. "You're last target is over there." She motioned to the cot the new man was lying on.
"I wasn't the one who shot him," Thayer defended, wandering over to the cot indicated.
|
|
|
Post by Demitraeus Dehlfvaen on Feb 10, 2018 6:11:58 GMT -5
Destiran was stirred from his half-sleep by the voices. He had awoken only once in the night, and fallen asleep soon after. The dull throb in his leg had awoken him again a while ago, but he had managed half-sleep for the past hour or two. His green eyes opened, calmly looking up as the woman appeared beside him. He was quiet for a long moment before he spoke.
"If you had shot me, I'd probably be long dead, wouldn't I?" He gave an amused smile. She had a hint of danger in her heart-shaped face, that said that despite her looks, if she had reason to hurt you, it would be done with swift and deadly grace.
|
|
*Nightwhisper
"And guilty I may be, but don't give up on me... We will still be thick as thieves."
|
Post by *Nightwhisper on Feb 10, 2018 12:12:09 GMT -5
Thayer, while a little surprised to find him awake, laughed at his comment. "See, he even understands the difference between my aim and someone with less skill," she called to the healer, who only gave huff in response. Turning back to look at the man, she offered a small smile. "Glad to see you survived the night in Túel's care. How are you feeling?" As she talked, she dragged a wooden stool over to sit down beside the cot. Even though the higher ups haven't asked about him yet, she thought it'd be a good idea to get as much information about the man before letting anyone know of a new refugee. The number of regular civilians they had taken under their wing was reaching more than they had resources for, so if they took in another one, it'd have to be for good reasons.
|
|
|
Post by Demitraeus Dehlfvaen on Feb 10, 2018 18:25:55 GMT -5
"Like I got shot," Destrian replied simply. "But Túel did a good job fixing me up." He cast an appreciative glance in the Elf's direction. "What's your name by the way?" He asked the woman. He needed to figure out more about this camp, and about what was going on in the war if he was going to make it to safety.
|
|
|
|
Post by Demitraeus Dehlfvaen on Feb 11, 2018 6:58:26 GMT -5
"Destrian," He replied simply, then feeling odd seeing as she had given her full name, he added, "Destrian son of T'Aaos of the White Woods." Formal names weren't used very often in his village; everyone knew everyone, and the small village hadn't seen anyone important from the outside world in many generations.
|
|
|
|
Post by Demitraeus Dehlfvaen on Feb 11, 2018 15:12:39 GMT -5
Destrian was silent for a moment, then pushed himself up to a sitting position. "The war... It's left this land in chaotic pieces. Where a man could once walk in peace, now brigands roam unchallenged, and wolves lurk the shadows, hungry." He gained a distant look. "I don't place blame for this war on anyone... But the war itself has led to things happening that would not have happened otherwise."
|
|