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  1. #1
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    Karl Mayrdorff's Avatar

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    200

    Name
    Karl Wilhelm Mayrdorff
    Age
    31
    Race
    Human
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    Male
    Location
    Salvar

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    The Crown in the Forest [CLOSED]

    Karl Wilhelm Mayrdorff
    Location | Forest along the Tennaiglini, Salvar

    A lone rider travelled through one of the many forests that covered the southeast regions of Salvar, the helmetless individual gazing at the many trees that inhabited the area as he tried his best to remember what types they were. Karl was never the most intelligent, but he liked to think he had a mild knowledge of botany given that he was still a farmer.

    The towering, narrow tree in front of him had to be pine, right? He nodded quietly to himself and ran a hand through the mane of his loyal steed, Geoffrey, who sighed in content as he continued walking along the pathless terrain.

    A distant bellow ripped him from his cerebration, Karl scrambling to slide the bucket helmet back onto his chainmail coif, his heart beginning to pulsate louder. Now fully alert, he gave Geoffrey a gentle squeeze with his legs and spurred his mount into a canter towards the direction of the scream, his armoured hands grasping the reins tightly.

    Even though the narrow slits granted him a limited view of his surroundings, he could see that they were riding up to a decent-sized clearing, prompting him to pull back on the reins and cause his horse to slow down to a trot. Geoffrey stopped near the edge of the clearing when he pulled on the reigns again, the man-at-arms removing his feet from the stirrups and swinging his right leg up and over the haunches, so that gravity could do the rest and allow him to slide down to the ground.

    Walking forward, he saw the source of the earlier disturbance in the form of a gaggle of lightly-armoured orcs surrounding a small grove of oak trees, the miscreants waving their poorly-made weapons around to intimidate something hiding up among the branches. Roving groups of orcs were common in the northern reaches where the clans lived, but he had never heard of them appearing near the border with Raiaera. He angled his head upward to search the branches, almost doing a double-take when he laid his eyes upon an extraordinarily beautiful high elf.

    His code of chivalry made it so that he knew exactly what he had to do at that moment, the man turning to retrieve an object covered with cloth from his horse, unwrapping it to reveal an ornate iron warhammer which he gripped securely in both hands. He strode forth into the clearing, his chausses clanking with every movement. "Meine Freunde! That is not the proper way to treat a lady!" He shouted, his accented voice booming across the glade and causing the rabble to turn and snarl.

    They began to trudge towards him, their swords and cleavers rapping against tree-bark shields in an attempt to frighten him. But he was a Salvarian knight, and an innocent traveller required assistance; at any rate, he wasn't going anywhere. He tightened his grip on the warhammer and charged forth, sprinting at the group with terrifying swiftness, a baleful roar escaping from his bucket helmet as he raised his arms and prepared to strike.
    Last edited by Karl Mayrdorff; 11-09-2019 at 12:50 AM.

  2. #2
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    Ayvriel ia Saiph's Avatar

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    200

    Name
    Ayvriel Leviasi ia Saiph
    Age
    137
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    High Elf
    Gender
    Female
    Location
    Corone

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    Ayvriel Leviasi ia Saiph
    Location | Forest along the Tennaiglini, Salvar


    It has been a series of unfortunate events ever since Ayvriel left the gates of Tor Elythis behind her.

    Well…

    Perhaps there was the faintest touch of embellishment in her words, but it was not by much!

    Within the first few hours of leaving the only life she had known thus far, the elf with starlight hair found that while she now possessed the freedom to go where she wished… it was lonely. Without the hushed murmurs of fellow academicians discussing theories or the everpresent whisper of the waves permeating through the air, it was quiet in a way the fledgling spellsinger has never known until today.

    And in her first evening away from home, Ayvriel found herself lying in the middle of a flower field, longing for her papa’s wry humour and her mama’s gentle hands clasping her own as they both sang of their joy. Staring up at the stars and slowly naming them in her mind, the elven maiden cried that night, wondering through her tears if she was indeed as young and woefully unprepared as her family and magi teachers has deemed her to be.

    Even through her misery, she persisted, for her pride and resolve would never allow her to falter on the path she had chosen to walk upon.

    With only her beloved Hanya’ye as her companion, Ayvriel made her way towards the accursed city of Beinost. The last time she was set foot within its boundaries, it has been to provide aid and succour to its denizens. And while all traces of the devastation of the Corpse War has been erased, the echoes of suffering that she had witnessed when the city was still named Anebrilith continued to haunt her. Quiet and solemn, with a hand closed firmly around the clasp of her cloak, the elven maiden made her way towards the harbour.

    A few days at sea with her telling stories and singing sea shanties to amuse children and adults alike found Ayvriel in Tirel with a more cheery disposition. Wandering timidly amongst the port city of Salvar, her eyes wide with wonderment and delight at how bright and lively its people were, the fledgling spellsinger gathered supplies and listened for news of further north. Though there was a part of her was hesitant due to the inherent dislike and wariness the northerners held for others, she knew the same was true of her country.

    So it was with some pondering that saw the elven maiden deep within the verdant forest that lined the Tennaiglini. While the trees were still verdant, the trace of frost was unfamiliar to the creature that hailed from the temperate city of Tor Elythis, and even with a thick blanket and a small spellfire for warmth, Ayvriel spent the evening huddled by her companion’s side. Her second day fared no better, for while the elf had some guidance when it came to living off the land and was able to forage and hunt, she never been alone and left to fend for herself.

    But it was her third day in the wilderness where the fledgling spellsinger encountered true trouble. And were it not for her keen hearing and instincts, Ayvriel would have been caught. The moment the ivory horse had raised his head from grazing on a patch of clovers, the elven maiden was prepared to bolt. But realising that their attempts at an ambush were discerned, the group of orcs bellowed, startling the already skittish Hanya’ye and sending him running from the clearing they were in.

    With a note of fear resounding through her form, the elven maiden took a glance at their intimidating forms and the weapons they held… and panicked. Before she could even contemplate how absolutely obtuse it was for her to clamber up a tree, Ayvriel flowed into motion, leaping up into the sturdy oak that she was resting beneath. And there she stayed, fearful and anxious until an armoured form charged into the fray.

    Her ears pricked with interest even as her gaze followed the knight, her figure weak with relief and gratitude. She was a poor warrior, and even so harassed, the argent-haired elf was still reluctant to harm her assailants. But the moment of frailty was fleeting, when Ayvriel realised that her saviour was alone, and that the orcs may use their numbers to overwhelm him. With her teeth biting down on her bottom lip, the aspiring spellsinger began to gather her focus.
    Last edited by Ayvriel ia Saiph; 11-08-2019 at 12:56 PM.

  3. #3
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    Karl Mayrdorff's Avatar

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    200

    Name
    Karl Wilhelm Mayrdorff
    Age
    31
    Race
    Human
    Gender
    Male
    Location
    Salvar

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    Karl Wilhelm Mayrdorff
    Location | Forest along the Tennaiglini, Salvar

    He was nearing the band of orcs now, his weapon raised and ready to deliver a puissant blow. The closest of the unruly bunch was smarter than he appeared and brought his shield to bear, sacrificing the slapdash tree-bark buckler to the armoured man's warhammer.

    The fiend did not hesitate to counter with its cleaver, striking downward in an attempt to sunder the Salvarian knight; however, the latter was ready to intercept the attack with his weapon's lengthy handle.

    Karl saw a chance and took it, kicking the orc in the shin and swinging his hammer to the side, smashing it against the beast's helmet and caving in its skull. He stepped back as the lifeless corpse collapsed onto the ground, blood trickling from the shattered head. 'One down, seven more to go' he thought quietly to himself, taking a deep breath and glaring at the remaining combatants through his helm.

    Understandably, most of them were a bit hesitant to go up against this interloper after he just crushed the skull of one of their number in a matter of seconds. This lull in the fight gave the armoured man a quick respite to regain any stamina expended, preparing a strike as a duo of orcs rushed him - one armed with a sickle, and the other with a zweihander.

    He was good at fighting but he knew to be cautious when the deck was still stacked against him, adopting a defensive stance when the weapons came soaring in his direction. The zweihander he dodged with ease, sidestepping out of the way; conversely, the sickle was a little too fast for him and ended up piercing the chainmail protecting his arms, leaving a gash that would have to be treated later.

    Karl lurched, hurtling his warhammer into the abdomen of the sickle-wielder and knocking it to the ground. He reeled back, bringing his weapon up and then down into the chestplate of the orc on the ground, triturating the poor being. He moved to make some space between him and the remaining orcs, cupping his bleeding arm and rushing to focus the air of magic into the wound to reduce the bleeding by a small amount.

    The zweihander tried to step forward and stab him while he was preoccupied, Karl managing to deflect the blow with his gauntlet and propel his warhammer into the creature's knee, twisting around to crash it into its back and execute it.

    The knight turned just as a bolt of magick impacted against his coat of plates, searing a hole in his surcoat and sending him flying back.

    Sometimes he really hated magic.

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