Fantasy Call to Arms: The Raven Knights

[Skaia]

Call To Arms


In the realm of Eradona, King Dedrick Rodhlann, a noble and just ruler, seeks to expand his kingdom and bring peace and prosperity throughout the land. However, beyond the walls of Castle Fallbrook and it's outlying towns, fearsome monsters thought to exist only in legends have returned after thousands of years, sowing havoc and discord across the realms. In an effort to combat these creatures and save his people, the King mounted a war effort against these terrifying foes, but unfortunately his royal army proved to be no match and the kingdom suffered a terrible loss. Dreading the impending doom of his people, King Rodhlann has issued a Call to Arms in a final attempt at saving his world. Dispatching messengers to other kingdoms across the world, each bearing a letter of summons, the King now calls upon the only ones who have a faint glimmer of hope at bringing down these monsters: The Raven Knights.


The Raven Knights


In each kingdom, there is one man or woman born of noble blood that is bestowed a gift, or to some, a curse. Magic, powerful and untamed, courses through their veins. A magic bestowed to combat the very things commoners cannot. This magic gives them supernatural abilities that set them apart from their peers and many tales have been told over the ages of their prowess. Stories like the Legend of Ragnar Firebrand, a lord of the ancient desert kingdoms that used powerful fire magics and a large battleaxe to slay a hundred foes alone. Or of others like the Song of The White Lady, a favorite among bards, in which they tell the story of Velara Lewyn, a noblewoman who could heal the sick and dying with but a touch of holy light. In all the tales and praise however, the common folk could never truly understand the depth of these unnatural abilities. Knowing this, a group of knights formed together many centuries ago in an effort to protect themselves and ensure their survival. This group called themselves The Raven Knights, dedicating their lives to protecting any and all who may need their aid in exchange for a life of their own, free from persecution, and so it has remained ever since.


The Gathering of The Ravens


The Raven Knights have been left to their own realms for nearly fifty years, but with King Rodhlann's summons, they now will be brought together once more. The Gathering of The Ravens is a meeting in which The Raven Knights go to their sacred grounds, hidden away from those without the gift, in order to decide upon the direction they will take in the event of a Call to Arms. As their can only be one born of magic from each kingdom at a time, grizzled veterans will meet with many fledgling knights during the Gathering, and from there a decision will be made that will shape the course of the entire world from now until the end of time...

 

[Skaia]

 

[Onikuma]

"The Gathering of the Ravens is now in session!"
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​

A cavalcade of voices began to fall into hushed whispers, then after several short moments, complete silence. All eyes fixated upon the center of the grove. Five immaculately carved chairs were now occupied by the most legendary of their order; The Raven Council.


From the far left chair, a Dwarven man stands tall. His straight red hair flowed down to his back. His beard, braided with ornate jewels, served as his most distinguishing feature behind his heavy steel armor. He folded his arms, bellowing out. "Aye! Rogvir Oakenbrand, present."


From the far right chair, a human female, dressed in a silk robe black as midnight that tightly wrapped around her slim frame and wearing a veil that covered her pale face and jet black hair remained seated in place, merely raising her hand halfheartedly. "Lady Gwynnevere Montaine, present."


From the inner left chair, a human male bearing many scars along his face that detracted from his otherwise handsome features stood up. He wore a gray suit of armor, chipped and worn from battles past. His hair was short, cut like a military man. And his stern expression held a sense of intimidation to those he gazed upon. "Sir Quinlan, present."


From the inner right chair, an Elven man gracefully raised himself up. He had fierce green eyes, and long, flowing blonde hair. He wore elegant robes, decorated lavishly with Elven markings and flowers, a natural sense of beauty surrounding him. "Alluin of Illyndryll, present."

And finally, from the center chair, an aged man whose face was mostly concealed by a hood save for his intense eyes, haggard face and long, greying beard. He stood with the help of a large, spectral looking staff that he held in his right hand. His robes were black with grey trim, and he wore a satchel slung around his shoulder. Small daggers lined his belt. Around his neck, a glowing amulet, captivating to the eye stood out brightly on his otherwise dark undertone. His voice was booming, commanding, drawing the eyes of everyone nearby. "And I, Lord Knight Valacath Coronis Eldred, stand present. Let the Gathering of the Ravens commence." With a heavy sigh, he slowly returns to his chair, the other standing council members following suit. "Now... we are gathered here today, in the year 1694, during the midsummer's moon to discuss the Call to Arms issued by our Lord, King Dedrick, in response to the growing threat of mythical beasts that have reemerged after over a thousand years. King Dedrick's request is that The Raven Knights reassemble and combat these creatures before they inevitably destroy the kingdom."


Valacath shifts in his seat, looking out over the crowd. "You have all come from great distances to be here this evening, and with that, I turn the floor to you. Rise up. Speak your thoughts. Tonight, we decide the fate of our world."


---

The Plight of the Unforeseen
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​

From his post atop a small, oak bench, Roderick Vale listened intently to Lord Knight Valacath's speech. He had never been to one of these gatherings before, considering the last one was nearly twenty years before his birth. That said, he knew The Raven's Grove well. He trained here. He lived here. For eighteen years of his life, this was home. Looking around, he could spot several familiar faces, as well as a multitude of new ones, young and old. While they were few in number, it sure came as a humbling sight to see his brothers and sisters in arms here today, strong, ready and willing. Roderick removed a small canteen from the satchel on his hip, opening it and taking a swig of water. With a hearty gulp, he closed the cap and resumed listening. He was not ready to speak, but rather, sought to listen. He was always that way, though. A listener. Picking up on the tone around him, thinking out his response well before uttering a word. Nobility coursed through him, and impatience was something Roderick lived without.

 

[StarBabyPixel]

Marilyn sat in her seat, her back ramrod straight as she absentmindedly played with the bright golden earring dangling heavily off her left ear. She looked around nervously to the others around her, slightly amazed at the number of people she could not name even with a number of years she had lived with them. She made a slight whining noise in the back of her throat, realising that she would have to speak at some point, the irony of being more afraid of speaking than having a weapon at her throat not lost on her.


She tugged on her earring, growing more apprehensive of speaking about her town and it's shining reputation. "Don't be scared, don't be worry, just talk...." Mari whispered to herself before standing up, with a slight 'eep' noise, her back still uncomfortably straight. "Ladies and Gentlemen of the Council," She squeaked but quickly regained composure. "My name is Marilyn Capocaccia of Shoreline and in regards to the...creatures...we've seen quite a few attacks on ships and 'travellers'," She stumbled on the word travellers, trying not to infer the word criminals. "And currently the best solution I can currently think of, without simply sending everyone away to protect their own hometowns and maybe some to designated areas is to possibly study as many of the creatures as possible and arm civilians with the knowledge of how to best protect themselves or kill these creatures." She stopped for a moment, to look around at those around her before continuing, trying not to blush too much. "I mean, there are those in my village that are....proficient at protecting themselves, so If we know how to do as much damage as possible letting them know might help....a little...umm thank you" She trailed off, standing for a few more seconds before sitting down so fast, that it made the bangs of her hair flip up for a second.

 

[idalie]

Asbjørn Agnarsson
​

Asbjørn, perched upon the oak bench nearest the council. Gaze flickering left to right, habitually cautious over his surroundings, even when crowded with old friends and familiar faces. It was almost comical, watching the broad, six foot five man, dressed in a cape of furs and bare chest beneath; settle beside the rest of nobles and those a head smaller. The slight groans of annoyance as no one could peek around him and see the speakers, let alone the council itself. 
​

Using his axe and leaning upon the upturned handle, Agnarsson listened intently. Although this place was nostalgic, bringing back fond and far memories that reminded him of a childhood dedicated to the art of magic. Yet it was the only childhood he'd known. Maturing quickly was a beneficial trait, was it not? Finding wisdom in youth, intelligence in imagination. Better for it? Who knew the alternate path fate might've taken, thus it remained a mystery he'd often speculate freely. All he knew, was that a son or daughter to follow in his footsteps would be filled with heartache. 
​

 
​

First witnessing the young woman stand, her voice nervous and withdrawn. Yet she did her best to create a facade of confidence, if not anything else. When she sat down, Asbjørn raised his palm. Getting to his feet, dwarfing those beside him. "Council, I am  Asbjørn , son of Agnar, Knight to Loenshire. These beasts have struck fear into the hearts of our people, not just mine but over borders. They're scared, grasping onto what faith they can. Our children, friends, and lovers, are all vulnerable. No matter how much we might train and study. I suggest that those who have the most influence and respect, be the ones to calm the masses. The creatures we've witnessed lack the nature of thought, I've lost close friends on hunting parties to defeat these things. Action, in whatever form must be taken - and it must be taken with sincerity and force. The longer we wait, Gods know what might happen." Called the burly man, voice a low mixture of baritone and husky taint, resonating within his chest. Each word, emanating it's own strain of emotion. Eventually, he set himself back down upon the bench with a creak of wood, and a stony expression.
​

 

[Lexi Whittaker]

​

Ylva listened closely as she stood toward the back of the room. She was still recovering from some of the jarring pain that seemed to linger, jolting every nerve and bone in her body. She knew when she was healing a severely wounded traveler on her way that the wounds weren't inflicted by a human. She knew things were getting out of control with the influx of folks at Crossroads who were fleeing from surrounding cities. She could only calm down the occupants of Croassroads for an hour or two at a time without a new person coming to town with tales of despair and monsters. Sylvia didn't know everyone in the room, but if given a name she could recall a story or two from a traveller. She heard lot's of things, taking them with a grain of salt, but she often wondered what may be true. The first women who spoke confirmed the tales of travelers, which in the slight shift of emphasis of traveler she knew that she looked down upon them. Offering no solution a large man stood up, she could almost immediately feel the pain radiate off of him. She looked up and down for wounds but she realized it was not physical pain. He expressed concern and an immediate call to action to calm and take care of the problem. She decided it was her time to speak her peace. 


Ylva pushed passed a couple people to stand within sight, almost demanding attention. Although she stood at a mere 5'5 , she stood tall, fearless. She veered attention to the man at the bench slightly because the amount of pain that radiated off of him was very distracting. She almost immediately corrected and stood to face the council. 


"I am Ylva, I have the privilege and honor to lead the great town of Crossroads. I wish I was here with all of you under better circumstances.  I haven't felt this much pain or fear in my community in quite some time. I have no definite solution, but I do know one thing to be true.. We are strongest together, if we even want to try to overcome this darkness we must all stand together united. Has anyone figured out where these creatures may be coming from? That would also be quite helpful, to cut the head off the metaphorical dragon." Sylvia said calmly, she rarely smiled, but she forced out a small smile. She winced briefly as her mind reminded her of the pain she felt. She turned and returned to her place in the back of the room to listen the rest of her peers.

 

[BlightGiver]

Fjord stood, leaning against the handle of his battle axe, which stood upside down. As a result, the sharp top did cause marks on the floor, not that Fjord noticed. In his right hand, he held a mug of ale; he chugged it while listening to each person consecutively make a speech. It's not like he didn't care about the situation everyone was bringing up, heck, even he how dangerous these creatures are; it's just that he felt worrying too much is unhealthy. "Better to just drink and forget for a while." he said and then took another sip of ale.


A young woman stood up and spoke, then a tall well built man, and then another woman of older age than the first. A burp escaped his mouth as the older woman finished speaking. "Hey!" He yelled, slightly inebriated. "I'm Fjord Fjordson of Stonewall. I'm aware of the situation you all bring up, but we mustn't fear these creatures. We've handled them so far, even yours truly has dealt with one." Fjord held up his finger and took another chug from his mug. A cough from somewhere in the crowd indicated that some people were getting impatient. 


"My point," Fjord continued. "is that we shouldn't do anything different. Our ways of dealing with threats has worked for a long time, I just don't see any reason to change our tactics now." There was a mixture of emotions emanating from the crowd. Some were relieved by Fjord's words, others were appalled at his confidence.


Finally finished, Fjord went back to silence and finished emptying his mug. He let out a content sigh and set the mug on the floor. The audience looked in his direction for a few seconds before having their attention drawn to the next person that stood up. "None of this is that big of a deal. We're all more than capable of anything that is thrown at us." Fjord reassured himself as the speaker made their speech.

 

[Moolock]

Hair tied back in a tight bun, hood down over most of her face, Kira sat in a lonelier tree at the edge of the Grove, having picked it for the fact no one else was sitting among its branches with her. Below, she saw the knights, people who'd known each other since childhood. In the moonlight, only glinting armor gave away positions. She grunted and tightened her gaze, turning the solid shapes into ghostly grey as red to orange shapes bloomed, some where she'd expected- like the table at the center and the mug-wielding dwarf-, but others were hidden at the edges of the grove, in trees or bushes like herself. Some had swathed themselves in black cloaks to remain in the background. The dwarf seemed hotter, effect of the alcohol, she supposed. At least enough bodies meant heat to draw from, should something happen.


Faintly, she wondered why not get up and say something. Not technically a Raven Knight, she reminded herself with a wince. Some of these warriors, she hadn't known for even four years. Abysmally short compared to the length of their comradeship. She liked the idea of stationing groups of Knights in prominent towns, able to ride to smaller ones should they fall under attack from these beasts. She'd seen a few before, was unlucky enough to fight one on her journey from Hearthstead. Her side still hurt from its claws. Nothing deep, but certainly an annoyance and not an experience she'd like to repeat. While waiting for a verdict on what to do, she unsheathed her sword and began cleaning it properly- she'd only been able to do a bang-up job at that on the road-, taking care to keep the metal from glinting ominously. She was sure the Ravens would not like a runt Knight like herself having blades out. 

 

[Darth Gangsta]

Åsmund Svaenson
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[Hatt730]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Gareath looked towards to those who spoke, and instinctively felt the need to introduce himself. He recognised those who he had been with his 18 years but he had never really been involved with them, mostly because he’d never managed to fit in with those who… weren’t like him. He was an outcast, not in the sense he was victimised - just because he was distinctively strange and his passions didn’t lie in his magic. He was like a kid sitting with the most amazing Raven Knights and he would never live up to that even if he was considered a Knight. Gareath did learn much through his 19 years and how he was not only disadvantaged socially, but physically and mentally. He wasn’t the smartest person or extremely fit. His arms stuck to his sides and his palms were laid flat on the seat of the chair, his big eyes darting across the room as if the introduction was going chronologically. His body seemed sickly thin but he definitely was managing [/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]even if his feet didn’t reach the floor but tiptoed the floor mindlessly. [/SIZE]


 

[SIZE=14.6667px]He seemed nostalgic of Fjord Fjordson of Stonewall, [/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]his home had resided of many Dwarven men… many drunk Dwarven men to be fair. He never could remember them sober but he knew that this one would have been kicked up the backside by his Ma and definitely thrown out. [/SIZE]


 

Gareath popping up would definitely burst the bubble of sophistication that the other Knights propositions. “I am Gareath Woodstock” He spoke in a deep voice, which surprised him utterly - he didn’t sound like that at all yesterday or in all his 19 years. He coughed, letting the flem in his throat clear. “Sorry.” A high pitched nasally voice escaping his bitten raw lips, “I am Gareath,” He looked around, a sheepish smile on his face as he weakly searched for something to break the awful embarrassment that laid in his reddening face. “And I come from Cascadia, I’m the son of Ceirios, the owner of Woodstock’s Logs.” He looked to his hands, that now rubbed each other shakily. “And.. I propose that maybe we should[SIZE=14.6667px] start a mass production within each community, and help them manufacture and trade [/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]weapons[/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px] against these m-m-monsters.” He coughed quietly, the silence and attention of others finally causing his outspokenness to shrink to a raisin. He had realised however he had just somehow repeated [/SIZE]Marilyn's idea but hoped [SIZE=14.6667px]his idea be replace with something better… something [/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]much[/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px] better than his. [/SIZE]He didn't want to speak anymore, especially since he had unwittingly disagreed with Asb[SIZE=14.6667px]jørn[/SIZE] and seemed to dismiss others even if that wasn't the case.


 

 

[Onikuma]

The spotlight was an intimidating place, but Roderick brandished a small grin as each of his comrades stood tall, speaking their peace and sharing a bit of their hearts and minds with not only the council, but each other. Perhaps he was growing too humbled, but he really could care less. The Gathering of the Ravens was a moment of monumental pride, and his attendance to such a sacred event resonated deep within his core, making him appreciate the smaller things in life. Though, his heart was still heavy for the plight back home and his desire to aid both man and Elf. When one man, Gareath Woodstock, stood and spoke, he was reminded of why he was here; to save the world so he could go back to saving the lives that mattered most to him. He did not know Gareath personally; there were so many people in Cascadia, and as a Lord, it's difficult to meet them all. But, he did certainly know the Woodstock name, and was acquainted with Ceirios. He let out a soft sigh, realizing now more than ever that his head had to be here, not there. His people were here, after all. What kind of Lord would he be if he couldn't contribute as much as those he had to lead. With a deep breath, and a collection of thoughts, he stood from his oak bench.


"Members of the Council.. fellow brothers and sisters.. I am Roderick Vale, heir to the seat of Cascadia. I look around me this night and see many faces I know, many I grew up with. I also see many I do not know. Young. Old. But at the end of the day, whether we know of each other, or we do not.. we are all in this together. This man who spoke before I, Gareath Woodstock, comes from a respectable family within the walls of Cascadia. They have been an integral part in the success of our fair town and they have my trust. That said, Gareath is right. While many of you who know me personally know that I am against the deforestation of my region and have been combating lumber production on such a massive scale for many years, unfortunately, this is a time in which a war effort might be necessary. These beasts are beyond what we've seen in our lifetimes. Without the lumber given to us by the Woodstock family and others of the like, the town of Cascadia would be destroyed already, and I, nor any of us from our banner, would be here before you today." His voice was smooth, calm, with an elegance one would expect of a noble-born. He brought his hand up, brushing aside his golden hair from his face and tucking it behind his ear.


"I've seen mountain trolls twenty feet tall hurl boulders at my city gates. I've seen a dragon, black as night, fly overhead and towards the snowy mountains of the north. Minotaurs roaming the woods, slaughtering innocents without mercy. Werewolves, preying upon the unsuspecting in the dead of night. These are creatures we've only heard about in stories. Whether we can handle their threat on our own or not, this is much greater than our own prowess, and we all must take the time to see that. I stand with fulfilling the Call to Arms. With the Council's approval, I will ride to Arranhall and speak with King Dedrick. If there are any who will stand with me, we may have a chance at stopping this before it gets worse." Looking around the room, he responded to all the eyes fixated on him with a nod, then sat back down. He'd said what he needed to, and that was enough.

 

[Skaia]

Nym had no intention in speaking his mind, he sat idly by his friend, Roderick. Propping his feet up upon the bench in front of him, leisurely slouching. His face soured as he heard each knight speak to all corners as freely as their gums would allow. He didn’t hate them. He just didn’t agree with their acceptance towards a plea from an arrogant King, who hadn’t had the nerve to call upon them first. Now, the Council, the loyal dogs of the Kingdom had called forth their pups to fight; him included.


Yet, going against his original thoughts of keeping to himself. He couldn’t in good conscious listen to the mindless rabble that was voiced so comfortably. All of them had no idea what this emergence of power meant; it was futile to speak of militarization or building defenses. He feared something far much worse than these creatures, something that caused him great distress; something he had to convey.


“You all speak of action, but action has already been taken. Word of the Dedrick’s failure has already reached many corners of the realm. A force of 200 men, wiped out in a single night by some unknown force. Now, he calls for immediate action from the council and us, in a desperate attempt to hide his shameful fiasco. Yet, many of you forget that the very banner that united us was the very thing that kept the mobs at bay from slaughtering magic born. What makes you people think that the people of Eradona haven’t started suspecting us as the cause of this?” Nym spoke with conviction, angered and annoyed. These knights, the very knights that trained for a large portion of their lives here. They should not concern themselves with the uprising of monsters, but an assault from the very people they swore an oath to defend.


"Although many of your voices have legitimate reasoning within them, I can not agree with the majority of them all." Nym pulled himself together into a seated position, pressing his hands together and resting his face against them. He composed himself with a long inhale and spoke through his exhale. "I do only agree with Sir Fjord. The way we've conducting ourselves have kept us from any war with these creatures and what godly force that controls them. But if we are to wage conflict against such unknowns then Lord Roderick is right in speaking to 'our' king. I would rather his explanation to our gathering, rather than the King's adviser. So, I will go with Roderick, but to see an alternate means to a conflict that would not only claim lives of Ravens, but the lives of the people from lands we each hail from. This is what war means."  

 

[Moolock]

Kira hummed quietly, seeing reason in his point about the suspicion that would no doubt come from their fellow Eradonians, though it would look bad for the Knights if their king summoned them and they did not come help. That, she thought, would cause quite a stir. They wouldn't attack the force that was meant to protect them, would they? What did the Knights gain from the death of the king's son? Re-sheathing her sword, the not-quite Raven sighed, blinking a few times to get the red out of her eyes. Without the dull glow, the ghostly warm figures faded into the darkness. She felt blind, then reminded herself everyone saw like this. Not quite Raven. She smirked. I guess that makes me a crow. Shifting slightly on the branch, she grimaced. Crows. Disgraceful, ugly, haggard birds. Rubbing her hands together, Kira drew a little warmth to them. She'd forgotten her gloves. No one would stop her from jumping out of this tree to go stand with them, with Roderick, with those who could've been her brothers and sisters if her mother had taken her to the Grove instead of her father's doorstep.


Feeling her lips- cold, she frowned and released the heat, letting it flow back toward her core. Her fingers were warm enough and she had to be mindful of keeping warm what really mattered most. Moving to sit on the branch rather than squat, she pulled her eyes back into hues of red and orange. Another use of this, if not to channel heat, was to get baselines for those around her. People always got hotter when they were angry or stressed. Good for pointing out liars. Picking out a liar like that had only failed her twice. Once it got her a punch in the face. With another sigh, she relaxed. The reds faded again. Listen to what went on in the Grove below. That was all she could do. Just listen and amuse herself with knowing where most everyone was, even those hidden in shadow. With enough practice, she hoped, she'd be able to move from fuzzy silhouettes to more accurate discernment of color and thus heat. How useful she could be if she could identify that a colder triangle at someone's side was a dagger. Maybe even useful enough that she could convince the Ravens to let her training continue, though she was well past 18. Another sigh, quietly, as she rubbed her face, still listening. It was far too much to hope they'd made an exception for a bastard daughter of a lesser house, especially a disowned bastard daughter. Muttering very softly, mostly to herself, "If they realize their shield has forsaken them, there will be more trouble for us than we could imagine," she reached into her travel pouch for her small canister of dried fruit. The berries were hard and almost tacky, but there was some sweetness in them still. Sour berries. Fit food for crows.

 

[StarBabyPixel]

(Sorry, got Pokemon sun.... ' )



Mari calmed down as she listened to the others, nodding along to some ideas and her eyes widening in horror at others. She took another breath, steeling herself while listening to Nym, the of her mother's crew, the smugglers at the wharf and her friends at the local bars flashing through her mind. 'Would they really try to kill us? Blame us for this?' She mused over the possibilities, how easily even her own magic could be misconstrued and twisted into being sinister. Mari felt dejected already, they hadn't even gotten out the door yet and she was getting paranoid. She placed her hands in her lap, gripping them together as she spoke, "If you don't mind Sir Vale I'd also like to go with you, If petitioning the king can get at least some help to the smaller villages and preemptively counter any false conclusions then should leave as soon as possible."


But the doubt was still in her mind, she chewed on the side of her cheek and wrapped her arms around her stomach as a shield, looking over towards Nym "Do you honestly think they would so easily turn against us?" She questioned, her voice filled with more fear than accusation. "I, I mean so many of us are noble born, why would we want to harm our own people?" Shreds of her history studies flooded her mind "It's been fifty years of peace and did we not pledge to protect the kingdom? How could we possibly be a threat?"

 

[idalie]

Asbjørn Agnarsson


Holding himself back from a debate, Asbjørn interlocked his fingertips, resting his chin with a concentrated pensive stare. Listening intently to each speech that came after him. For a brutish appearance, many underestimated his actual intelligence; something he never blamed anyone for, yet in that moment his thoughts were put in motion. One man after another rising, till it reached the Elven one. Thus people fell quiet, as the words sunk in. Yet all he wanted was something to happen, anything. The people against them or not. Standing once more, sweeping his glacier gaze over the room, till it landed upon both Sir Vale and his elvish counterpart. "Whether or not, they turn against us, we have made our oaths - and we are bound by our own words. The King has taken his action, and now there is a chance to prove ourselves again. As more than allies to eachothers cause. But as of now, we must act. There is no doubt about that. Something needs to happen - something needs to be done. May it be completed by our tradition or not. I have been a dedicated member of this order, but my own blood and flesh is out there. We cannot sit idly by when those who need us most are being ruthlessly victimised by those creatures - Children are no longer able to go outside the town perimeters, our produce from the hunt is next to nothing and our crops are failing. If this is to carry on, our agricultural community will cease, and people will starve." Asbjørn's voice was bordering on anger, his brow heavy. "I implore, may it be extra defences, training, even waging war; this should be nipped in the bud before it goes beyond our control."


A heavy exhale left him, anything remaining of his speech, dissipating into the air. Agnarsson had always been a working man. A family man. If it wasn't clear from the stashed drawings in his pouch to the passionate turmoil within that protested for their safety. Inclining his head, Asbjørn cleared his throat heavily. "I vouch to also accompany Sir Vale. If anything, it's a beginning. A tree after all, does not fall with the first blow." Settling down, his head kept high, Asbjørn had the barest of smiles. By the gods above, he'd be glad to stop sitting on his hands and have action taken against the problem that was now too large to ignore. 

 

[Hatt730]

Gareath Woodstock



[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Gareath must have been blind not to see [/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Roderick Vale, the next ruler of Cascadia and the very person who came to personally tell his Ma to stop her logging. Ma was very compliant and didn’t complain, she had always thought the royals had the best intentions for their people, in fact she was mighty patriotic. However Gareath had momentarily realised that Ma was indeed very profited by her logs and that he was incredibly proud to have been apart of it even for a year, and even if he wasn’t as best as his uncles or Ma.[/SIZE]
 


[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Gareath had never personally trained with Roderick but his Ma was certainly proud that he had the chance to be that close to an extremely respected Cascadian heir. To be fair, Gareath barely recognised anyone seemingly older than their late 20s - which included Roderick, [/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Asbjørn[/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px] and Fjord. He recognised the mischievous fair Marilyn, a rumoured skiver that used her shapeshifting to get out of merciless training and in some ways envied her because his powers only produced excess heat at that point. He recognised Haldisa, a Dwarven metal forger that when he was 9 had found her magic… and it gave him strength to carry on training to develop his, in fact, Gareath was admirable of her, he had sympathised with her that she didn’t look like a normal Dwarf because Gareath definitely didn’t look like a Dwarf. He was like a goblin and if his hygiene wasn’t “top-notch”, he would definitely be mistaken for one.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]And then there his eyes laid on Kira, a human with a rather light complexion that allowed the red wavy locks to tinge it with a slight pinky-red hue. Gareath had seen her enter the Raven Grove nearing his 11th birthday, and in his shock had never expected to see someone enter so late in their lives. In fact, he’d never expected to see someone to stay until they were 22 either. Gareath was indeed more adept to his magic than Kira but still there was little competition to how powerful hers was, her magic ability was definitely something he would have wanted, a life force that would blossom into someone or cruelly snatch away it. Gareath remembered leaving with her, and having a chance to talk to her but it was definitely something that [/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px]didn’t[/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px] blossom into anything more than small talk… however it felt nice to see a familiar face. So, he hoped her eyes would meet his as Nym’s devastating ideas plagued the conversation.[/SIZE]


 

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Gareath looked away from her towards [/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Asbjørn, maybe it should also be [/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px]his[/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px] mind to join Vale with his quest but it wouldn’t exactly be efficient for them all to do it. There wasn’t enough time for everyone to quest to King Dedrick and seemed like perhaps there should be multiple contacts elsewhere. Were there any antiquity that seemed relevant to these creatures appearing? Or what about the experts in the history of beasts and monsters - those who were [/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px]archaeologists or held books about remnants of mythology that would give clue to more depth? Or perhaps, it was discovered in an age that was never documented… in a society that didn’t venture outside? [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Gareath sighed and looked down, [/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px]perhaps[/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px] he was just as clueless as he was about his father.[/SIZE]


 

Skiver = a person who misses lessons/lazy

 

[BlightGiver]

Astonished at the various opinions each person held, Fjord scratched his beard as he tried to make sense of it all. All the encounters both knights and civilians alike have had with the horrendous beasts most likely would increase in quantity as time passed. But he stood by his feelings, knowing that any major increase in conflict would surely make the unearthly forces start making targeted attacks. "Everyone!" he bellowed, his raspy voice still in effect due to the rum he had drank. "I understand the need to follow the King's order. Perhaps his brigade has vital information that would certainly aid us in stopping these monsters. Or even if we just joined forces for the time being, we'd be an unstoppable wave of power." Fjord bore a huge grin on his face as he spoke the last part.


Although this grin quickly diminished as Fjord continued speaking his mind. "Lest we forget of one possibility. These attacks, they might not be anything more than any other encounter with a beast; random at best, and without intent. I would instantly jump at the chance to meet up with the King and his council to make these annoying attacks cease." His hubris made apparent through the use of the word annoying, many in the audience planted their palms on their faces. "But that's not what I mean to focus on. The possibility I mentioned is this; if there is an intelligence driving these forces, what would happen if our large numbers started to target them, or it? We ourselves would then find this unseen foe start to target us. Do we really want some new enemy take out strategic areas, or even innocent villages as bait for us?!" Fjord started to go red in the face, whether this be from intoxication or anger, it did not matter.


"But," he said with a sigh. "I know that the majority rules, and I would be lying if I said I didn't have a sliver of doubt deep down. So go to the King if you must, I will speak no more in opposition. Just promise me you'll all take what I said to heart and don't make poor decisions." Fjord picked up his mug off the floor and clipped it onto his belt for safekeeping; this seemed to make him remember something. "And one last thing, Roderick. Come by my quarters later, I want you to bring my best ale to the King. Trust me, the quickest way to get on a man's good side is by sharing a drink with him." Fjord said and displayed a goofy smile.


@Onikuma 

 

[Lexi Whittaker]

​

Ylva didn't hear much of what the others were saying, she was trying hard to concentrate, but it seemed like empty words. Her energy was depleted from the journey and she couldn't focus on much more than her need for basic nessecities. She was pulled out of her thinking for a moment when a familiar face spoke. She knew Nym somewhat, as they were the same age and had crossed paths many times in training. She always felt a small amount of pain radiate off of him, and although they hardly ever spoke she understood that internal battle we all had. She listened to his reasoning, he was always very smart, very deliberate. Every single one of his words and actions were purposeful. He made extremely valid points. It seemed reasonable and she decided she would join them ,but she feared the worst. She knew what was a definite possibility...What they all knew was a possibility. War. 


Really as cliché as it sounded she just wanted to help. She wanted to end what was killing innocent people, and the fewer people who would be killed in the process was a gift that she could never repay. Ylva knew she couldn't help everyone, but any person that died around her swarmed her in guilt. It felt like she went swimming in the middle of winter and couldn't quite get a breath. She decided it was worth feeling the pain of healing than to feel the pain of guilt. Getting sidetracked with her own thoughts again she looked up to see who was speaking. She tried to make a brief eye contact with Nym or Roderick.  She nodded, nonverbally communicating she would join them. She gave a small empathetic smile, as she had no idea what the future would hold. It was just a moment or two before she was back to her unbroken concentration and stone cold expression.

 

[Onikuma]

The Council's Decision
​

 
​

While the Knights each gave their opinions, the Raven Council looked out over them, frequently conferring amongst themselves in hushed whispers, covering their mouths so that no one could read their lips. It was shortly after Fjord's comment about bringing King Dedrick ale that Sir Quinlan Roach stood from his seat. "Alright, that's enough. We're not here to make light of the situation; things are worse than they've been in centuries. If this is the best you can muster, than I--"
​

 
​

"Enough, Quinlan..."
​

 
​

Lord Knight Valacath stood from his seat in the center, his voice booming out, once again hushing the masses. "We have heard your sides. And we have made a decision on what is to be done next. While some of you are against moving forward with the Call to Arms, the Council has seen that it is in our best interest to act. This is a declaration of fulfillment. Knight Roderick, you will choose three of your brethren and ride to Arranhall. There you will discuss matters with our honorable King Dedrick. Assure him that The Raven Knights are agreed in meeting his request. Report back once you've concluded your meeting. As for the rest of you... " His eyes scanned out over the crowd, an intense pressure beginning to fill the air. "As we are now considering ourselves effectively at war, we must begin enacting measures to ensure our villages and cities are safe. We've received word of a monster plaguing Montiven in recent nights. Given that one must pass through Montiven to leave our sanctuary, those who stay behind will elect a party among yourselves to go to Montiven and eliminate this threat. Return here once the task is complete. As for the remainder of you who will be staying behind, prepare yourselves... the world is about to change around us. Dark days are ahead."
​

 
​

As Lord Knight Valacath finished speaking, the pressure subsided. He summoned his spectral staff from seemingly nowhere, using it as a crutch to walk away from the table and back to his quarters. As soon as he was gone, Rogvir Oakenbrand stood up, shouting out to all those in earshot. "Alright, Knights, I've got words that need sayin'! This monster ye be dealin' with is reported to be undead. Now, there ain't a soul here that knows more about the undead than Lady Gwynnevere. She's done you all the favor of illustratin' what you'll be battling, as well as what you'll need to win. Once you figure out who's leadin' your hunting party, send them up here to collect the information. The Gathering of the Ravens is adjourned!" As if on queue the Raven Council followed in Valacath's footsteps, removing themselves from their chairs and returning to their personal quarters. The next steps now fell upon the Raven Knights.
​

 
​

---
​

 
​

Leading The Ride
​

 
​

Roderick was relieved to hear Valacath grant him the permission he needed to ride to Arranhall and confer with King Dedrick. Still, that brought another issue to light; he needed to choose three Knights to accompany him. Standing up from his post, he yelled out over the crowd. "For those of you who have agreed to ride with me, you heard the Council. I need three, no more, no less. If you wish to venture to Arranhall with me and handle the political matters that we must tend to, I will be by the blacksmith's tent. Make haste, I leave within the hour." He leaned over, grabbing his swords from off the ground and strapping them to his waist, quickly trotting off towards the tent, but not before muttering to Nym. "Go hunt, brother. Your hate for the King will not help us here."
​

 
​

As he approached the tent, he set himself up by the entrance, closing his eyes and reflecting on the meeting. Things were tense, he could sense, not just among the Knights, but with the Council as well. He'd seen the damage these monsters could cause and it was certainly taking it's toll. Still, while others were fixated on what they could do to slay these beasts, Roderick's mind was on the question why? How? After all this time, no less. Some Eradonians will no doubt believe magic is to blame, but maybe it was.. and that idea scared Roderick more than anything else. The physical world was conquerable. Magic was different; unpredictable. Dark days were indeed ahead of them, and he wasn't keen on seeing things get worse before they got better. "Maybe Arranhall will have some answers.. " he softly mumbled under his breath.
​

 

[idalie]

Asbjørn Agnarsson
​

 
​

The council would act. 
​

That's all he needed to hear. Grasping the runic necklace that hung about his neck, Asbjørn closed his eyes for those moments that cemented the final choice. If anything, he hoped the Old Gods would offer him strength and wisdom to succeed, for both honour and family. All one really had, was the gifts of the ancestors. Their name, blood, and reputation. A result of a hundred loves, a hundred lives - and almost a thousand goodbyes. Agnarsson, regained his vision as he stood, swinging the axe to rest within its leather slip of well-worked hide. Each step away from the benches, as if venturing into the unknown that resided in front of every man, who knew what true sight was. An ever changing tide of fate, which now lapped expectantly at his ankles drawing out further into a series of events that could change the very writing of history as it was, and would be. Beasts and men, one of the same. A primality discarded long before they could recall, yet it still resided within the darkest depths. They were all just animals, trying to outlive the next. 
​

 
​

Heavy footsteps fell, parting those before him as he headed off towards the blacksmith’s tent, in search of Sir Vale. He wished to accompany him, if it was possible - although if he was rejected from the mission, Asbjørn could both join the hunt and search for evidence to the creature's origins. A win-win situation as they say. 
​

Approaching the structure, and spying Roderick, the burly Loenshire knight made his presence known, spectacularly easily. After all, it wasn’t too hard, when you had the build of a bear rather than man. Ducking marginally, the axe-wielder thumped a fist to his heart, inclining his head. “Sir Vale? It’s been a long time since I saw you last. Raven Grove is an odd place to begin life, but a good one to make something out of it. But, It’s not quite the time for reminiscing - I’d like to accompany you on this trip to the crown.” Agnarsson couldn’t quite remember the very day of Sir Vale’s arrival, for he, himself had been a mere one winter old. Sure enough, most knew him for getting into trouble with breaking various things - no matter how delicate he tried to be - that or busting someone up for picking on the smaller ones. And it was clear who exactly had punched them, for it seemed more like a brick had fallen into them rather than a fist.
​

In any case, Agnarsson offered a smile, causing the corners of his eyes to crinkle and a playful mischief to lurk in his glacier orbs. “What do you say, eh? Tinnmann?”
​

 
​

@Onikuma
​

(Tinnmann - Tin Man: Knight in armour)

 

[StarBabyPixel]

Spoiler

 

Mari tried not to look so relieved that everything had been decided without too many arguments or anyone being punched...or stabbed...or thrown overboard, 'i'm homesick already' she sighed to herself. She left everyone without a word and with only a small nod as an acknowledgement to the others, going straight for her little hut to pack, grabbing her never actually unpacked travelling bag and putting on a pair of thick elbow high riding gloves and a sleeveless hooded cloak that made her look like she was religiously modest and she had a mother who believed it was a little too cold outside and that an older sibling's cloak that she would 'eventually' grow into it would be perfectly fine.


She stuffed her normal jacket in the bag, slinging it over her shoulder, grabbing her twin daggers on the way and rushing over to the blacksmith tent, looking left and right until she finally laid eyes on Roderick  and Asbjørn, "I'm not interrupting anything am I?" She asked the two with a sheepish smile, "I'd also like to accompany you to Arranhall Sir Roderick, if that isn't a problem." She adjusted her shoulder bag and not so subtly tried to move her hair in front of her slightly spiked ears.


@Onikuma @HumansArentReal

 

[Andraus]

Yaro Azar
​

 
​

Grass that looked like the life had been sucked out of it....sickened or dying animals, in deep pain in the woodlands....The scent of rotten flesh still heavy in the air.....There was no mistaking it, the Undead was here, and Yaro was hot on his trail. Following the jagged outline of dead plant-life, he was making his way towards the creature. It was a Revenant, Entry to Intermediate level monster. A difficult creature to kill by himself, but that was why Yaro was here. The Wild-fire renegade had experience dealing with creatures like it, and had some of the training necessary to combat it. He had his arrows sharpened as well as his blade before he left, and he had new spikes placed on his gauntlets, so he didn't lack for equipment, however he knew this would still be a challenging battle, and there was a distinct possibility he would not walk away from it.


But that was just another reason he was here...It was in Montiven, too close to Raven's Grove, his old home.


While he could go to the Raven's Grove, and ask for help, Yaro knew he would likely not be welcomed. He was a Renegade who had left the order to pursue his own goals and ambitions, and he knew he wasn't the most....quiet about not liking taking orders from anyone. Still though, with word of a call to arms going out, they shouldn't have to risk their lives by hunting this creature....plus, this was what Yaro was getting paid for, five hundred silvers to be exact. Undead were typically weak to fire, and Yaro wasn't called the Wild-Fire Renegade for nothing. If all went as planned, this would a total joke....but since when has anything went as planned?


Once the path had lead him to the Ruins of Castle Blackmarsh, Yaro knelt by the entrance, seeing if he could find another way to sneak in. Sneaking wasn't his forte, but he knew trying to overwhelm the Revenant with sheer power wouldn't help much. Plus, Yaro wanted to explore the ruins afterwards, so he couldn't torch the place. He would just have to be careful.....


But since when has he ever been careful?


Yaro would push his luck, and move closer towards the main entrance, gazing inside to see if he could see the Revenant. While he wasn't in immediate view, the smell was horrendous. Yaro would quickly cover his mouth. "Yup, it's here alright....ugh, If didn't want to see these ruins, I swear I'd torch this place to kill the smell...."He said to himself, as he headed inside, short-sword in the right hand, flames in the other.


@Skaia @Onikuma (Hope this is okay)

 

[Moolock]

Kira gathered her cloak close, making sure it wouldn't get caught on anything, and slid off the branch. Thud. Toes to heels, crouching into a squat to absorb the impact without rolling. She landed slightly on a very thick patch of grass and sprang back up rather gracefully, her cloak billowing a little, moving after her. A bastard she may be, a klutz she was not. She would go with the Montiven party, hoping she could be of some use there, then return quickly to the Grove. The Ren Manor could fend for itself. Kira smirked at the thought of her half-brother and step-mother groveling, begging their disgrace to return and call their lands home again. Amanda could s-ck her father's- Composure, Kira. Composure. Moving quietly- she didn't wear anything in the way of metal armor- toward the center of the clearing, she glanced about, hoping to catch snippets of conversation to discern who was going to Montiven. She would travel with them, after all, apparently fire was some use against these things.


A breeze came through that blew her hood down and she hoped in the dull moonlight her bright red hair wouldn't be too prominent in its tight bun. Anyone who knew of the Rens knew none of them had anything other than very dark brown hair. Instantly- bastard. Kira drifted about the clearing, head angled downward, making an irregular circuit. She was good at being dull, unnoticed, even with the red hair. At a young age, she realized everyone tried their best to hide their disgrace. In response, Kira decided to practice hiding herself to make her father's life easier. He wouldn't have to work as hard, then. She moved her gaze into the reds and oranges, her pupils dilating until only a thin band of green shone- another mark how un-Ren she was. The individual black silhouettes melted into blobs of light. She bumped into someone- she recognized him as Gareath and muttered a faint apology as she moved on, relaxing her gaze. The reds faded and moonlit people emerged once more. Come on, someone's gotta be thinking of going to Montiven...


@Hatt730

 

[Hatt730]

Gareath Woodstock



[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]And the decision was made[/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px], Gareath knew now where his place was. He wasn’t cut out to travel along with someone so prestige and respectful like Vale, he thought admirably. The auburn headed man would have to go to [/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Montiven[/SIZE][SIZE=14.666666666666666px] but even then he would definitely not be the one to enter; he didn’t want to be the first one to cause trouble for his group and he’d never dealt with the undead before. And so, slipping away from his chair as the Knights seemed to depart, he lifted his chin up and lifted his feet onto his toes to somewhat elevate his sight from his 5’2 stature.[/SIZE]


 

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Gareath looked around, trying to know what to do next. Would he go back to his tent? Who knew more than him - who could tell him what to do now? It wasn’t as if he wasn’t listening, he just didn’t seem to fit. He wasn’t heroic at all - Something jolted his shoulder causing him to fall out of his trance, and looking back he saw Kira, maybe she would know where to go or give him a place. “Wait up!” He squeaked as she trod past him with a whisper. “Are you going to Mon..Mon..” The gears in his head grinded for the place. “Montevan? Montevin?” He questioned out loud and ironically his voice became quieter and quieter with each guess until he was just twiddling his thumbs and letting out forced laughter. [/SIZE]

@Moolock

 

[Moolock]

Kira stops and blinks, turning around to face Gareath. Same one she'd bumped into, no doubt... and he was asking her something? She nods, staying silent, trying to remember if he was one of the ones that had been more resentful of her place among the Ravens. "Montiven, and yes," the woman replied calmly. Yes... She flinched as if she'd just been slapped, having mentally slapped herself. In that answer, she'd just committed herself to this. "Do you know anyone else going?" She raises an eyebrow to his nervous laughter and, just to check, flicked her gaze into the reds. Nervous indeed, a little hotter. She softened her gaze, the colors dissolving into the greys and greens muted by moonlight. 


Something told her her home would not be intact by the time they arrived, but she pushed the thought away. On the bright side, Montiven didn't have a ton of people so casualties would be minimal, hopefully... Or the Revenant would target and slaughter every single one of them. She shuddered, not wanting to think of that. Time for a crow to fly with ravens. "It might be easier to sort out who's going where when people break off... Hopefully there'll be three groups.- those going to the King, those the Montiven, and those remaining here."


@Hatt730