fellowknight
The Devil In The Details
It had been two years since the servants spread across Tamriel. There was no word from the other provinces, nothing but rumors that they were barley holding out, same as them. Skyrim was in pretty horrible condition, as a simple walk from Riverwood to Whiterun was a gruesome death sentence. The war has changed the village from a once peaceful community to a bustling camp of brutal war and hard work.
They set up a new type of stone wall layout, at the northern entrance. Most of the guards were stationed there, as it was the main point of heavy assault. And while the middle part of the village remains the same, not the same can be said for it's people. The daily attacks left the people not only physically, but emotionally damaged. They are constantly having to clean up the village and recovering themselves, the guard doing the same. The once peaceful and prosperous townsfolk were now forced into monster hunters, blacksmiths, healers, scavengers and guards.
Guards are always in the face of danger, always taking risks, always dying. The people believe there is a golden line between good and evil, the one thing that separates the two.The guards walk this line, making sure the evil and darkness of the Princes stays at bay. But it is no simple task. The losses do become heavy to bear but they always must carry on, to ensure the safety of the village and it's people. They can't risk letting themselves get emotionally injured, lest the village's safety become at risk. But they do have a talented knight on their side, Baroth. He stumbled upon them from the southern entrance, promising to stay and protect them with all his might.
And so he has. But even might has it's limits.
As for the southern entrance, There was a small island, just behind the mill that had two watch to guard bridges, (Like the one you see when you first enter Riverwood), Connecting and facing the south. Not much activity was happening in the south, besides the occasional Spider or Scamp. There was this one awful experience, when the people had first seen one of Peryite's subjects.
The townsfolk were all going about their business. The Blacksmith was sharpening blades and mending armor. The healers were mending the wounds of the inflicted and hurt. The townsfolk were working hard for the days rations. The guards were patrolling and making sure all was well, within the town of course. All was fairly normal, as any other day, until they heard it. A piercing shriek, one that filled the air and froze the people in place. It couldn't have been a Dragon, it wasn't deep enough. Not a Mammoth either.No, this sounded more...deformed. Less human. There, on the Eastern hill.
They wore ragged robes and tattered clothes, their skin was a sickly green, and they hardly any muscles at all. Some were, surprisingly for undead corpses, well-built and moving at a surprisingly fast rate, show no signs of fatigue. They clashed with the guards and Baroth, taking out a good score of them out but wounding the knight. He was bitten on shoulder, but somehow, didn't turn. They lost a lot of guards that day, and were always on the lookout for the tough creatures ever since. But a fear still resides within them. A fear of the undead.
Two months later.....
The warm sunlight shone upon a nearby tree, it's leaves a dark orange. It was Autumn, and the air was cool, swift breeze that on some occasions, brought hope to the people. A leaf disconnected itself from a tree branch and slowly drifted down to the stone road. It was crushed under the boot of a Riverwood guardsman, whom was followed by several others and Baroth. They all stopped and took positions, some stringing arrows, others bringing up their shields and unsheathing their swords. On the other side of the bridge came a long howl followed by demonic yells and shrieks of the undead.
"They have found us.." The knight muttered to himself, as the guards and himself formed a line on the bridge.
Baroth and the men readied themselves, gripping their swords tightly and gritting their teeth. They watched intently as the black masses charged at them in a blur of fury. Baroth was standing in front of the Guardsmen, shield raised and sword drawn, as the first werewolf clashed into his sword. He pushed it deeper into it's chest before roughly ripping it out the right side of his chest. Then he sounded the charge and it began, as the men stood and charged towards the creatures. After killing the creatures, and sustaining heavy injuries and casulties, The Guardsmen gathered the wounded and prepared the few dead for burial. They tossed the creatures into the river, watching them float away. It was a sign to Whiterun that they had won their current battle and that they should stay alert.
Baroth was healing on of the men when he was approached by another guard. He was tapped on the shoulder, promptly taking his attention off the patient.
"Yes?" He said, with out looking away from the man he was working on.
"With all due respect, sir, we won't make it through the next week if we keep getting attacked like this. For the past two months we've been on the alert, been fighting, dying. And we're dangerously low on fighting men sir, barely thirteen of us remain. We can't keep this up forever."
The knight spoke once again, still working on the injured man. "Yes, i know we can't. No one can. But we can at least hold our ground for the time being, buy Whiterun and Winterhold some time." He said, finishing the stitches for the present guard, when the other interjected.
"But sir, the men are weak. They grow tired of this constant struggle. Why not seek refuge in White run, were it is more safe?"
This was when Baroth himself stood and turned, grabbing the soldier by his collar and pulling him in close to whisper to him.
"What would you have me do? Flee? Run in terror to die in a hole? No. I would gladly die a fool than a coward any day. You can flee if you wish, but i will remain here. These people need my help, and they will receive it. And f there is a day that we should all die in a rush, i will gladly die among these people. Now then soldier, get back to your post." He said, pointing towards the gate that lead across the bridge.
The guard nodded and headed to his post without another word, looking across the way for any reinforcments. Meanwhile, the guard who was injured spoke to the Knight.
"Is it.....true? Has Skyrim fallen to these....things? Is our struggle in vain?" He said, groaning in pain from the multiple laceration and puncture wounds that covered his body
Baroth shook his head, choosing his words carefully. "No... Not yet. The way i see it.." He said, helping the man to his feet. "It's not over until we're de-" He was cut off by the lookout whom he had spoke with earlier.
"Here they come again!" He yelled, before drawing his sword and grabbing his shield, then rushing out across the bridge, followed by the rest of the guardsmen. Baroth stood and drew his sword as his yelled over his shoulder.
"I'll get back to you if i survive this battle!"
"Talos help us all." He murmured to himself. "Talos help us all...."
Official Fading Hope OOC Thread
They set up a new type of stone wall layout, at the northern entrance. Most of the guards were stationed there, as it was the main point of heavy assault. And while the middle part of the village remains the same, not the same can be said for it's people. The daily attacks left the people not only physically, but emotionally damaged. They are constantly having to clean up the village and recovering themselves, the guard doing the same. The once peaceful and prosperous townsfolk were now forced into monster hunters, blacksmiths, healers, scavengers and guards.
Guards are always in the face of danger, always taking risks, always dying. The people believe there is a golden line between good and evil, the one thing that separates the two.The guards walk this line, making sure the evil and darkness of the Princes stays at bay. But it is no simple task. The losses do become heavy to bear but they always must carry on, to ensure the safety of the village and it's people. They can't risk letting themselves get emotionally injured, lest the village's safety become at risk. But they do have a talented knight on their side, Baroth. He stumbled upon them from the southern entrance, promising to stay and protect them with all his might.
And so he has. But even might has it's limits.
As for the southern entrance, There was a small island, just behind the mill that had two watch to guard bridges, (Like the one you see when you first enter Riverwood), Connecting and facing the south. Not much activity was happening in the south, besides the occasional Spider or Scamp. There was this one awful experience, when the people had first seen one of Peryite's subjects.
The townsfolk were all going about their business. The Blacksmith was sharpening blades and mending armor. The healers were mending the wounds of the inflicted and hurt. The townsfolk were working hard for the days rations. The guards were patrolling and making sure all was well, within the town of course. All was fairly normal, as any other day, until they heard it. A piercing shriek, one that filled the air and froze the people in place. It couldn't have been a Dragon, it wasn't deep enough. Not a Mammoth either.No, this sounded more...deformed. Less human. There, on the Eastern hill.
They wore ragged robes and tattered clothes, their skin was a sickly green, and they hardly any muscles at all. Some were, surprisingly for undead corpses, well-built and moving at a surprisingly fast rate, show no signs of fatigue. They clashed with the guards and Baroth, taking out a good score of them out but wounding the knight. He was bitten on shoulder, but somehow, didn't turn. They lost a lot of guards that day, and were always on the lookout for the tough creatures ever since. But a fear still resides within them. A fear of the undead.
Two months later.....
The warm sunlight shone upon a nearby tree, it's leaves a dark orange. It was Autumn, and the air was cool, swift breeze that on some occasions, brought hope to the people. A leaf disconnected itself from a tree branch and slowly drifted down to the stone road. It was crushed under the boot of a Riverwood guardsman, whom was followed by several others and Baroth. They all stopped and took positions, some stringing arrows, others bringing up their shields and unsheathing their swords. On the other side of the bridge came a long howl followed by demonic yells and shrieks of the undead.
"They have found us.." The knight muttered to himself, as the guards and himself formed a line on the bridge.
Baroth and the men readied themselves, gripping their swords tightly and gritting their teeth. They watched intently as the black masses charged at them in a blur of fury. Baroth was standing in front of the Guardsmen, shield raised and sword drawn, as the first werewolf clashed into his sword. He pushed it deeper into it's chest before roughly ripping it out the right side of his chest. Then he sounded the charge and it began, as the men stood and charged towards the creatures. After killing the creatures, and sustaining heavy injuries and casulties, The Guardsmen gathered the wounded and prepared the few dead for burial. They tossed the creatures into the river, watching them float away. It was a sign to Whiterun that they had won their current battle and that they should stay alert.
Baroth was healing on of the men when he was approached by another guard. He was tapped on the shoulder, promptly taking his attention off the patient.
"Yes?" He said, with out looking away from the man he was working on.
"With all due respect, sir, we won't make it through the next week if we keep getting attacked like this. For the past two months we've been on the alert, been fighting, dying. And we're dangerously low on fighting men sir, barely thirteen of us remain. We can't keep this up forever."
The knight spoke once again, still working on the injured man. "Yes, i know we can't. No one can. But we can at least hold our ground for the time being, buy Whiterun and Winterhold some time." He said, finishing the stitches for the present guard, when the other interjected.
"But sir, the men are weak. They grow tired of this constant struggle. Why not seek refuge in White run, were it is more safe?"
This was when Baroth himself stood and turned, grabbing the soldier by his collar and pulling him in close to whisper to him.
"What would you have me do? Flee? Run in terror to die in a hole? No. I would gladly die a fool than a coward any day. You can flee if you wish, but i will remain here. These people need my help, and they will receive it. And f there is a day that we should all die in a rush, i will gladly die among these people. Now then soldier, get back to your post." He said, pointing towards the gate that lead across the bridge.
The guard nodded and headed to his post without another word, looking across the way for any reinforcments. Meanwhile, the guard who was injured spoke to the Knight.
"Is it.....true? Has Skyrim fallen to these....things? Is our struggle in vain?" He said, groaning in pain from the multiple laceration and puncture wounds that covered his body
Baroth shook his head, choosing his words carefully. "No... Not yet. The way i see it.." He said, helping the man to his feet. "It's not over until we're de-" He was cut off by the lookout whom he had spoke with earlier.
"Here they come again!" He yelled, before drawing his sword and grabbing his shield, then rushing out across the bridge, followed by the rest of the guardsmen. Baroth stood and drew his sword as his yelled over his shoulder.
"I'll get back to you if i survive this battle!"
"Talos help us all." He murmured to himself. "Talos help us all...."
Official Fading Hope OOC Thread