The Last Legion IC Thread 1

Post » Wed Nov 14, 2012 3:24 pm

THE LAST LEGION

No spots Remaining!

(AKA: The film “Centurion”… Skyrim Style)


4E 206 – 30th Frostfall

Skyrim has been plundered into chaos, fractured into those who support the Empire, and those who support Ulfric. The war between the Legion and the Rebellion grew steadily worse, exacerbated by the return of the dragons. However, out of this rebellion came a saviour, the Dragonborn, and within a year, the dragon crisis was ended and Alduin slain. With his task complete, the Dragonborn returned to High Hrothgar, yet to be seen since. But the civil war remained. In the wake of this victory the Empire redoubled their efforts, driving back the Stormcloaks hold by hold.

At first things were going well. But then, set back after set back, defeat after defeat, and soon the tide had turned. Facing the possibility of a losing the province, General Tullius commanded that the strongholds within Haafingar be strengthened and rebuilt in the event the Stormcloaks proved a significant threat to their headquarters, and reinforcements were called in from Cyrodiil and most notably from High Rock, including General Cassius Stonehold.

This decision proved to be wise. Hold after hold fell into Stormcloak hands, each one bringing the death knell of the Empire’s presence in Skyrim closer. By 4E 206, only Haafingar remained in Legion hands, the Stormcloaks brought to a halt upon the reinforced and rebuilt defenses and fortifications. Despite the high ranking members of the Legion and Empire – including the Emperor himself – talking of how they will rebuild their numbers and bring the fight to the Stormcloaks, the people know in their hearts that they are playing for time, delaying what seems to be the inevitable.

Facing the prospect of withdrawing from Skyrim, a last ditch plan was put into action to end the war – by killing Ulfric Stormcloak no matter the cost. Over ten thousand fighting men, half the strength of the Legion’s remaining presence in Skyrim, along with a host of supporting staff, such as smiths, cooks, healers and so on, were drawn up from the pre-existing men and the reinforcements into a single force in Solitude. This army quickly came to be known as Legio Extremum – the Last Legion, to be led by Cassius while Tullius commanded the defence of Haafingar. Using the resources available to them, Legio Extremum was transported via ships from the docks of Solitude to a tiny, secret camp, caught between the White River to the west, Morrowind to the East and the sea to the North. From there the Last Legion set forth, to besiege Windhelm without warning, taking Ulfric by surprise. It was believed by the Legion commanders that most of Ulfric’s armies were along the front, or in the Reach, suppressing a mass Forsworn uprising. It was believed that in the security of his home hold, Ulfric would leave minimal guard aside from his garrison in Windhelm. Legio Extremum marched forth to besiege Windhelm, still holding onto the hope that maybe this would be the moment of light in the darkness that would end the Rebellion. Morale was still at a low, thanks to horrible weather on the journey from Solitude and the dire situation they were in.

Unbeknownst to them, their fleet, despite their best efforts to conceal it on their journey, had been spotted by Stormcloak spies. Ulfric, so as not to arouse suspicion in Solitude, weakened his southern border – Falkreath, the Rift and parts of Whiterun, along with his forces in Eastmarch, and positioned them on the road to Windhelm, his men lying in wait for the approaching enemy.

What followed was a massacre. Caught by surprise by superior numbers, the Last Legion was practically annihilated. With no where to run or hide, it seemed that they’d been slaughtered to a man – no prisoners were taken, no quarter given. Aside from a few isolated Stormcloak stragglers, largely looters, the main army didn’t hang around, instead marching back to Windhelm.

It is here that you – by chance, fate or the will of the divines – have survived the massacre, one of around twenty survivors. Most of the commanding officers are dead bar a single centurion, who has one plan in mind; make the long journey back to Solitude, through Stormcloak territory, and get the men home.






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Characters of Interest: These are characters that I have created for the RP that will play a major part of the story at different points. They won’t be there all of the time, or at the same time, but I’ve included them here rather than make character sheets for them. Consider them to be really important NPC’s, like Tullius or Ulfric for example. Also, you are free to write your own conversations with these characters, so long as they keep within the character’s personality. For example, if you want to have a conversation with Cassius Stonehold (see below), you’re free to write his dialogue, keeping in mind his responses are within his character. Here they are (will change as some characters die or become irrelevant):

General Cassius Stonehold

Spoiler
6’6”, dark hair and beard, both cut short. Deep brown eyes. Solidly built.

A Nord with an Imperial name, raised in the Province of High Rock, Cassius holds no particular allegiance to anyone aside from the Legion. An orphan, he was given an Imperial name by the owners of the orphanage (both Imperials) so that he would fit in better with the Cyrodiilic children. He ran away when he was twelve and very soon found himself among the men of the Legion, joining as soon as he was able. He very quickly rose through the ranks, his epithet being a reference to his execution of a deserter, which he strangled with one hand with “a grip like stone”. He then became the military governor of High Rock, coordinating the legion forces within the province until he was recalled by the Emperor to assist General Tullius in response to the quickly deteriorating conditions in Skyrim. Bringing with him several men from High Rock and a few from Cyrodiil, he set sail for Skyrim.

Cassius’s ship however ran aground along Skyrim’s most westerly shore, and sent reports that he would be continuing the journey on horseback. His small group was ambushed by Stormcloaks but with the aid of Centurion Godwin they were repelled and he was able to continue on his way to Solitude. There, he and Tullius took joint command of Legion, though there was some friction between them, Tullius’s dour attitude conflicting with Cassius’s more fiery personality. Cassius recognized Tullius’s seniority however. When the Emperor Titus Mede II announced the plan to kill Ulfric at any cost, Cassius took command of Legio Extremum, believing that Tullius should remain in nominal command of the defences should the plan backfire, unaware of the fate that would befall the men under his command upon reaching their destination.

Cassius is a straight forward and upfront man, unafraid to speak his mind. Unlike most members of his station, Cassius retains the manly camaraderie with his men, making him very popular, and more or less acts like of the boys. Being distanced from the Civil War gives him an outsider’s perspective, believing that the Thalmor are the greater threat. He is incredibly loyal to the men under his command, and their well-being is his first priority. Though rough around the edges, and a fan of wenching, he is a man that many aspire to be.

Tartarus

Spoiler
A thin, looming figure with long hair and a beard to match, both light grey and dead straight. His skill with magic suggests he’s a Breton, though his height suggests he’s a Nord. No one is quite sure how old he is, as he speaks of events that should be beyond his life time to recall.

He is a powerful magic wielder who lives in isolation in a tall tower in the wilderness of Skyrim, far away from anyone. His possession of something he calls “the sight” provides him with the gift of foresight, making him aware of events happening all over Skyrim without actually being present. This ability also allows him to see into the past and, most disturbingly, into other peoples’ thoughts and memories, though only when they are in his presence. Aside from this gift, he is a master of all the schools of magic, being a very capable elemental-wielder and necromancer.

His power of foresight lies in his possession of a dragon priest mask, which has not only made him stronger, but prolonged his life to an unnatural length, though at the cost of warping his mind somewhat.

Tartarus is sadistic, calculated and cruel, willing to do anything to accomplish his goals, and as little respect for life. He lusts power and is arrogant in his ability. He does act, for those brave enough to risk it, as a source of information due to his ability to know things he shouldn’t through his use of “the sight”. The price for this information however is high, and often final.


Rules


Standard RP rules apply, but I thought I’d reiterate them here:

1) No god-moding or overpowered characters (this includes vamps and were-creatures). The last one is to add a little bit of fairness. Besides, it’s going to be very easy to survive, and very tempting to kill everyone else if you are one of these creatures, which sort of defeats the purpose of the RP.

2) No controlling/harming other peoples’ characters without their permission. In the case that you have obtained permission to briefly control another person’s character, put “Approved by such-and-such” at the top of the post. This particular rule doesn’t really apply to scenes involving “characters of interest”, but if you want to control their actions in a post, let me know first what you intend to do just in case.

3) Play nicely; no slandering/insulting people on purpose. Naturally our characters will argue at some point, but this does not reflect the person behind them.

4) Romance vs bonking (to put it bluntly). I enjoy a little bit of romance in an RP as much as the next guy, but should you choose to do so, try to make it realistic (and no bonking each other, for obvious reasons).

5) Above all else, have fun!



Current Characters:

Tom
Spoiler

Name: Godwin Barrowblade

Age: 34

Gender: Male

Race: Nord

Height, build, bodily features: 6’5, broad shouldered with a muscled physique; the epitome of a strong Nordic warrior. Scars cover his body from many wounds received in battle, notably on his arms and chest.

Facial features: Long dark brown hair worn loose bar two braids that start near his temples and meet at the back of his head. His beard is medium length, and he has eyes the colour of storm clouds. Godwin has a jaw like an anvil and heavy brows, with a battle scar spanning from his right brow, across the bridge of his nose to his left cheek. He is ruggedly handsome, with a deep, strong voice. (Think Chris Hemsworth)

Skills (Max of Seven): Before his time in the legion, Godwin was a formidable opponent in the joust, which spoke of a skill with horses and mounted combat (1). As with many Nords, he felt very much at home wearing heavy armour (2), and learned from a young age how to wield one and two handed weaponry, both how to strike and avoid being struck (3, 4, 5). Being of his status, he learned also social graces, even if he wasn’t particularly good at sticking to them, but nonetheless, he remains very persuasive, whether aggressively or subtly (6). While no master smith, he knows enough to keep his gear maintained and fit for use (7).

So, they are:
1 – Horsemanship
2 – Heavy Armour
3 – One handed (sword)
4 – Two handed (sword)
5 – Block
6 – Speech
7 – Smithing

Armour and clothing: Standard heavy legion armour, steel Nordic braces and steel cuffed boots, and a cloak with a detachable wolf fur hood. When not in battle dress he wears a simple tunic. He wears a locket around his neck with the image of a woman within it.

Weapons: A bastard (hand-and-a-half) longsword forged of high quality steel (think Damascus steel), a steel dirk, and an iron utility knife.

Misc: A waterskin, flint, a few days worth of rations, and hipflask.

Personality: Godwin is fierce and proud, both on and off the battlefield. He is noble and honourable, but also in possession of a legendary temper. He loves a good laugh, a good drink, and occasionally a good brawl. His fiery personality has put him at odds with some of his superiors, but made him well loved by his men. To his family and the men under his command he is fiercely loyal. He does possess a gentle side, but seldom do people see it. He is an astute military commander and tactician, though his fiery personality sometimes gets in the way of his better judgement. He has also been known to have a way with women, promising them the world in the evening, but forgetting them in the morning.

History: The Barrowblades have been a wealthy family in Solitude, serving the Jarls and High-King faithfully, as well as the legion on occasion. Members of the family have even risen to Thanehood on occasion. As the eldest son, Godwin had a lot more responsibility than his three younger siblings, but excelled in performing his duties to the family and the hold, serving as a high ranking member of the guard for a few years. His father fought in the Great War, and like many Nords, gained a burning hatred for the Thalmor. He joined the legion when he was twenty years of age, following in the tradition of his family, and while he was promoted for valour and tactical brilliance in the field, his rebellious streak ensured that he never got beyond the rank of Centurion.

His career in the Legion saw him posted in High Rock for a time, before being transferred back to Skyrim at the outbreak of the civil war. During this time he participated in the First Siege of Whiterun, where the Stormcloak army was broken. There too he met the Redguard Streverus Khain, who quickly became a close friend. He received high distinction during that battle and was transferred back to Solitude so that he could be closer to his family. As the tide of war turned and hold after hold fell into Stormcloak hands, Godwin became part of the line of fortifications that made up the defences of Haafingar; a long wall and series of fortresses that came to be known as “Tullius’s line”. The remainder of his time in the Legion was spent at one of the many border forts as commander of the garrison, with his friend Streverus as his second-in-command. During this time, he saved General Cassius Stonehold, transferred from High Rock, from a Stormcloak ambush on the road to Solitude and befriended him. At the request of Cassius, he had been selected to lead a fresh unit of legionnaires in the Last Legion, his unit being a combination of new recruits and members from his garrison (notably Streverus, again fulfilling the role as his second). After the massacre along the White River, Godwin finds himself the highest ranking survivor. His priorities now are simple; to find General Cassius, dead or alive, and bring the survivors back home.


disturbing
Spoiler


Name: Streverus Khain

Age:25

six:Male

Race: Redguard

Psychical Appearance: Streverus is slightly above average height standing at 6'2. It's safe to say that Streverus is just about average in every other way. He is neither thin nor bulky, not handsome but not ugly. He's the kind of man that wont stick out in a crowd. The only thing that would strike the Redguard as unusual would be his light brown(almost auburn) hair that is uncommon in Redguards. Streverus typically wears a mask of neutrality and cold determination on his face and is slow to smile.

Facial Features: The Redguard has light skin for his race and even lighter auburn hair. His brown eyes are blank and uninterested. He keeps himself clean shaven and his hair at the maximum length allowed for the Legion. He is exceptionally ordinary looking.

Skills: Streverus prefers fighting with spears and halberds(1) with a small shield (2) He is fast on his feet and very agile(3) He has a scimitar as a backup weapon but he is not as proficient with it as he is with pole style weapons(4) Streverus wears medium armor that leaves him mobile but also decently protected(5). Streverus also knows some useful alchemical skills but that;s as far as his magical prowess extends.(6) The Redguard is also an above average horseman and is proficient at mounted combat(7)

1- Spears
2- Block
3- athletics
4- One handed
5- Medium armor
6- Alchemy
7- Mounted combat

Armour and clothing: Streverus wears standard Legion issued medium armor. When unarmored, he wears Alikr garments. The Redguard also has a black bandanna that he wears on his forehead.

Weapons:A steel halberd and a scimitar. Small mithril shield.

Misc:Alchemical ingredients and a handful of potions. As well as a waterskin jug and a gold necklace.

Personality: Streverus is a slacker at heart and puts as little effort possible into his actions. That doesn't make him a bad soldier however. He is loyal and will try with all of his might to keep his comrades alive. The Redgaurd tends to hide between a veil of aloofness. He can be seen as a bit distant and often prefers solitude to company. Streverus is a great tactician and his last minute decision making was what kept him alive through the massacre.

History: Streverus was born in Sentinal and lived an unremarkable childhood. Like a lot of Redguards, Streverus had a liking towards the sea and enlisted in the Legion Navy as soon as he could. He survived three naval encounters with pirates and Stormcloaks and was moved to Skyrim when his talents as a foot soldier were realized. He fought several small skirmishes with the stormcloaks but that changed he fateful day the little insurrection escalated into a full blown war.

Steverus fought beside Godwin Barrowblade at the First Siege of Whiterun. The Redguard fought brave and hard, and him and Godwin became friends. He fought beside his ally in many battles for the the Legion and when Godwin was given command of a unit he made Steverus his second in commandThe battle went poorly and Severus was seperated from his unit and now lays in a pile of his dead comrades. Waiting for a chance to regroup with his surviving allies.


Captainrex
Spoiler


Name: Damon Bear
Gender: Male
Age: 28
Race: Half Breton-Half Nord
Rank: Milite (Regular Soldier)

Skills: Damon is skilled with the use of two-handed weaponry, light armour, archery, basic Restoration and smithing.

General Appearance: http://www.blogcdn.com/www.joystiq.com/media/2012/06/gearsbairdsmirk530px.jpg

Weapons: Damon wields a steel great sword, an Imperial bow and a dagger.

Armour/Clothing: Damon wears light Legion armour with a green cloak.

Personality: Damon is pretty much a smart ass, a trait that has seen him be demoted and promoted many a time.

History: Damon was born in the slums of Windhelm, his was the bastard to Torbjorn Shatter-Shield, and his mother was the household maid. After he was born he and his mother were thrown out by Lady Shatter-Shield.

As soon as he fifteen Damon ran away from Windhelm and found himself in Falkreath, there he made a home and at the onset of the civil war. While in Falkreath he got to know the Jarl’s steward a bit too well, he was thrown into the jail and was given a choice. Death or join the Legion. Damon joined the Legion.

He was given under the care of an old unit of veterans but he was taken cared from by an legionnaire called Brom, at first Damon despised him and gave him plenty of trouble. But the two got to know each other and became sword brothers.

Along with Brom and the rest of the unit Damon was sent off to be part of the Legio Extremum. It was a chance for him to show his superiors his worth and even given the chance of rising to the rank of Decurion. But after a surprise attack the Legio is all but gone, Brom dead, and Damon must now trust a lone Centurion if he hopes to survive.

Madhog
Spoiler


Name: Selvia Uuleius
Age: 20
Gender: Female
Race: Imperial
Height/build/body features: Selvia stands at 6 foot tall and is quite plump.

Facial features: Flowing jet black hair that reaches her shoulders. She has chestnut brown eyes.

Skills: One-handed, block, light armor.

Armour and clothing: She wears Imperial Light leather armour, but does not wear a helmet. Outside of battle she wears expensive clothing and jewelry.

Weapons: A steel shortsword and small iron dagger around her waist. She also carries an iron shield on her back.

Miscellaneous Items: A pouch around her waist, in which she keeps any items of value that she finds. She also has another pouch which contains some sweetrolls.

Personality: Selvia is very self-centered and aloof and expects others to do things for her most of the time. However she does care about people she trusts, and will often try to help them in any way she can.

History: Selvia was born into a lifestyle of luxury. Her father was a very successful merchant, and she got everything she desired. She grew up in a large mansion, surrounded by servants, who were at her beck and call. She received lessons in combat from a personal tutor and developed great skill with a sword and shield. Despite this, she grew up pampered and lazy, spending days lounging around, having her servants fetch her savory foods. However this lifestyle was not to last.

One night as Selvia lay in bed, dreaming of sweetrolls, her house was attacked. She awoke to screams and the smell of smoke. At first she was confused, and then angry. How dare someone interrupt her beauty sleep! She stormed furiously from her room, and began to yell for her servants. When none came she grew even angrier. Stamping her foot several times, she began to calm down. She would see to it they would all get beheaded.

She wandered aimlessly into the kitchen, hunting for something savoury to eat. She had just found some delicious honey, when the kitchen door burst into flames. Now Selvia began to worry. Why hadn't any of her servants put the fire out? Why was there screaming when she awoke? Realizing she was in trouble she squeezed out through the kitchen window, and into the cold night.

She tutted as she rolled onto the grass outside, covering her nightdress in mud. Why hadn't the servants made a larger window so I wouldn't fall? she wondered. She turned to face the house and screamed in fear. The entire house was ablaze, the flames towering above her. She stumbled backwards and fell to the ground, sobbing. She curled into a ball, and lay there till morn.

The next day was met with the clattering of horses hooves and men's voices. "Over here, sir!" a voice called, "There's a girl." The next few days flew past for Selvia. She was told her father and all occupants of the house had been killed, and the attackers had been some Stormcloak rebels. She swore vengeance on the rebels and joined the Imperial Army the very next day. With her fathers wealth now in her hands, Selvia was sure she could manipulate the war to go her way.

WD40
Spoiler

Name: Marcus Ivitus
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Race: Imperial
Height/build/body features: 5’11, slender but toned features

Facial features: He has a slim, and very youthful face. He has smooth features, he has a soft baby face, making him appear to be about 15 at most.

Skills: Light Armor, Archery, Acrobatics

Armour and clothing: Wears light cloth, with the lightest armor the Imperials offer

Weapons: A small iron dagger, and an Imperial bow, a quiver with 50 steel headed arrows

Miscellaneous Items: A small set of tools for bow maintenance, a canteen filled with water, and a couple days rations.

Personality: Very eager, and quick to react. He values courage and honor, but has not found his heart for battle yet, and is prone to cowardice in the face of adversity. Marcus is very loyal and more than willing to follow anyone leader.

History: From his youth, Marcus always wanted to be an Imperial Legionnaire, to fight alongside his brother and father against whatever may stand against the Empire. Not being old enough was the only reason he had not joined sooner. At the age of 16, he applied to the Legion and was given the job of scout, a position he had never hoped for, but one he was great at. When the Stormcloaks had begun pressing against the Imperials and losses were abound, Marcus was moved to the Legio Extremum and trained to be an archer. His father and brother also present to the massacre at Windhelm, Marcus wishes nothing more than to find out what happened to them.

Arathorn
Spoiler

Name: Kai Xerosa
Gender: Male
Age: 23
Race: Imperial
Birthsign: Steed

General Appearance: Despite his rough and ready appearance Kai maintains a very masculine attractiveness about him. His scruffy face is often covered in a varying amount of wounds, dry blood and dirt. His nose is broken in several places and scars are scattered across his olive coloured skin. His eyes are light blue colour and his hair a jet black. Slicked back and kept clear of his face. Rarely clean shaven, the lower half of Kai’s face is often shrouded in a shadow of stubble, with sideburns connecting his thin beard to his thick hair. Kai isn’t exactly tall standing at only 5’10, though he is extremely well-built with an athletic and toned body achieved through years of combat training and experience. Kai has very few noticeable scars as his skin tends to heal very well, however it is rare to see Kai without some form of scar or wound at any given time. Kai has a tribal tattoo that encircles his muscular upper left arm.

Skills: Kai is a master of combat, in particular his speed, stamina, agility and sheer aggression give him the upper hand in most fights. It is not unknown for Kai to lose a fight although this is usually down to extreme fatigue or unconsciousness, as his incredible resilience and refusal to back down keep him fighting even when he is on his last limb. Kai tends to steer clear of using weapons and allows his body to do most of the work, after years of working in the field of martial arts; he is somewhat an expert and can even face those who are armed on equal ground. When it comes to magical ability Kai is powerless, he has no idea how to begin to use the arcane arts and instead turns a blind eye to its practise. Kai is very agile and his acrobatic ability allows him to manoeuvre himself extremely well, both in and out of combat. Years of martial arts training have made him extremely flexible and as a result Kai is an able gymnast. Despite his combat prowess, in warfare Kai is not as skilled as an average soldier. One-on-one combat is very different to tactical warfare, and Kai’s inability to take orders from anyone makes it harder for him to work in a team and perform as part of a unit.

Apparel: Kai takes little pride in his appearance and tends to wear whatever he can find that morning, never sticking to a favourite outfit or using different clothes for specific events. Usually this results in some sort of linen shirt and leather pants, although this can vary depending on what part of the world he resides in at the time. Due to his excessive travelling Kai tends to prefer comfort over protection and even when fighting will never wear any heavy armour, such as steel or iron. He finds these too restrictive and prefers lighter armours such as leather or in some colder parts of the world fur. Kai is often to be found engaging in combat in normal linen or cloth clothes, as this allows him to utilise his speed and agility more so than any other apparel.

Weapons:“Weapons are for the weak.”

Kai rarely uses weapons when it comes to combat. Though he has been known to use a bow and the occasional shortsword or dagger the only weapon he carries with him is a small knife, which even still is mainly used for hunting and skinning his dinners. Kai uses his body as his weapon, his fists are scarred and his knuckles bruised. Kai is capable, through years of training to throw a fierce punch and is also known to use a variety of kicks and blocks which allow him to combat with the most experienced of opponents. Since joining with the army, he has been adorning a steel shortsword for when the going gets tough. Although he hates to have to use it, situations such that war provides often mean it's necassary to avoid death.

Personality: “Scars themselves are the lessons of life, left permanently on your mind, body and soul; you have never truly won a fight if the enemy cannot do as much as to lay a finger on your flesh.”

Headstrong and extremely over-confident, Kai is not invincible, something he believes himself to be. Kai revels in his aggressive nature, actively seeking out trouble and violence to show off his skill and humiliate his enemies. Rude and arrogant, Kai has very few friends and many enemies, Kai knows that he is a loner but he doesn’t seem to mind and instead takes unusual pleasure from his own company. Behind his mindless and scruffy exterior hides a brutal, impulsive, and savage killer with an excessively-violent lust for blood. Kai knows exactly what he is doing by causing trouble and does it often simply for kicks. He makes no effort to hide his personality and it doesn’t take much to recognise that Kai is impulsive and ruthless. In battle Kai has an inhumane lust for blood; aggressive and determined many people would rather avoid any conflict with such a character. Kai is also extremely resilient and is barely ever seen to back down even in cases where he has been vastly overcome. Kai revels in the challenge of combat, enjoying being backed into a corner and having to fight his way out. Despite his violent and psychotic nature, Kai is not inherently evil. Deep down it is probable that Kai does have a conscience, shown partially through the fact that he will rarely attack or engage in combat with those who are weaker than him. Though he personally considers this to be down to the fact that they are unworthy of his effort – this could be a cover up for some sentient considerations.

Biography: Born and raised in the back-streets of Bravil, Kai has had it hard from the start. Abandoned by his mother, who favoured the comfort of alcohol and skooma over the companionship and love for her son, forced Kai into a life of crime and fighting in the pits of the Bravil sewers to earn his keep. It hardened him up, but left him cold-blooded and almost immune to the harsh realities that life seemed to continually thrust at him. As Kai grew and came of age he wondered from Bravil, looking for opportunities, for more money, no matter what he had to do. He considered the Arena but did not fancy the glory and celebration that came with it. Instead he pushed further north, keeping company with a small band of Imperial soldiers, into the land of Skyrim. Kai was by no means friends with the soldiers, but they looked out for each other, providing a group mentality that kept them safe from the unpleasantness that the wilds of Tamriel had to offer. After a short stay in the holds of Bruma and the southern counties of Skyrim, Kai arrived at Solitude where he split with the company of soldiers. Learning of the situation in the war torn province Kai decided to earn his money here, as a mercenary, signing up as a freelance soldier in the war against the uprising Stormcloaks. Kai had no interest in politics but simply in money, and fancied the Imperial Legion's chances against that of the civil enemies. He fought hard in the battle that was to follow and came out with his life. Unfortunately for him, many others did not. And though he was un-fazed by the loss of his comrades, he was unpleasantly surprised to find himself one in amongst a small group of survivors, yet to escape from the grasps of harm's way.

Magnus the Red
Spoiler

Name:Julius Scipion

Age:30

Gender:Male

Race:Imperial with some breton lineage

Height/build/body features: 6ft tall, his build is rather muscular but not that of some beserker nord, his body has a few scars from some past fights and some bar brawls.

Facial features:Pure black hair in a caesar cut, Julius has blue eyes, a vertical scar on the left-hand side of his forehead from an sword cut which thankfully missed its intended target of his brain only by quick reactions from Julius, his nose is slightly crooked from a bar brawl in which a stool was thrown at him by a drunk orc soldier, other than that nothing else of interest.

Skills (Max of 7):
One Handed- Julius Uses a Gladius
Block- In Conjunction with a tower shield
Heavy Armour- Julius is a heavy legionaire
Archery- Julius often hunts with his hunting bow when on remote patrols.
Sneak- Julius has to sneak while hunting.
Smithing- Can keep his armour and weapons in good condition
Alchemy- Julius has an avid interest in local fauna and is well versed in folk cures, as well as herbs to make his tomato soup more tasteful.

Armour and clothing:Imperial Heavy Armour and a wolfskin Cloak is what Julius usually wears, off duty he wears some fur lined boots, black trousers, a white shirt and a blue woolen jumper along with some leather gloves.

Weapons:other than his Gladius and hunting bow Julius has a shovel which he carries with his standard pack, which has one kill to its name whilst julius dug a trench near a forsworn encampment before the reach fell to the stormcloaks.

Miscellaneous Items: Julius Carries most of his belongings on his back on a http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sarcina his only truely miscellaneous object is a book on the histroy of the Imperial Legions of which he reads.

Personality:Julius has a warm personality often engaging in conversation with others and offering to help them if in need, however sometimes he will fall quiet usually on the eve of a battle.

History:Born on a farm near chorrol Julius worked the land until he was fifteen at which he set off for chorrol leaving his farm behind in the capable hands of his uncle, for five years julius worked as a stonemason in chorrol before joining the imperial legion at the age of twenty as a heavy legionaire, for ten years he has served as a soldier in the imperial legion for the first five years he worked as an imperial forester before requesting a front line role which was granted and so was sent to skyrim where he fought in the reach, falkreath and the pale, all falling to the stormcloaks, with morale at a low, julius was recruited into the legio Extremum and so set off on what was to be another defeat for the imperial legion, his philosphy for the battle that wiped out the legion was simple, keep your head down, don't try any heroics, just stay alive, fighting on the edge of Centurion Godwin Barrowblades century, julius during the battle was intergrated into this century after a cavalry charge broke his cowardly centurions morale, who ordered a retreat, all of his comrades fell to the stormcloak cavalry charge whilst julius was quick thinking and played dead, then jined up with Centurion Barrowblades unit where now he waits after the battle to return back to solitude, his life in the charge od the centurion.

What is that! your mom
Spoiler

Name: Maximus Scipio.
Age: 23
Gender: Male.
Race: Imperial.

Height/build/body features: 5'9, 209 pounds, well toned muscles.

Facial features: Brown eyes, short hair, and a small but fresh scar from the ambush.

Skills (Max of 7): Spear, One handed, Heavy armor, and shield

Armour and clothing: Standard Imperial Legionary armor. http://skyrim.nexusmods.com/mods/6085

Weapons: Imperial Gladius, and two short, throwing spears, attached to his shield.

Miscellaneous Items: A bag of gold, his journal, enough rations for a few days time, and his wedding ring.

Personality: Arrogant, values Imperial traditions, sarcastic, and is potential leader.

History: He was born in a farm near Anvil. He grew up working on the family farm working but wanted to join the Legion since he was young. He would see Imperial soldiers marching many times since he lived near the border to Valenwood. His family grew a bitter hatred to the Dominion since they suffered Elven occupation in the Great war. When he was 18, he left his farm to sign up for the Legion.
He was deployed to the 13th Legion, stationed in County Anvil to protect the border from an Aldmeri invasion. His days were spent patrolling the countryside, not doing an occasional fight with a group of bandits that his century could easily break. However, one day, his Cohort, as well 3 other Cohorts, were given orders from high up to relocate to Eastern High Rock, there, they would be given further orders from General Stronghole. After a few years in Anvil, Scipio now wondered what is going on in High Rock.

After Several weeks on boat, then by foot, Maximus and his Cohort made it to his destination. He later found out that his Cohort is now transfered to the Legions in High Rock and will head to Skyrim to assist General Tullius in his losing war in Skyrim. While on thier way to Solitude, Stonehold's army was ambushes by an army of Stormcloaks. The Legions from High Rock managed to defeat the rebels, but with cassulties. Scipio himself was promoted to Decanus, commander of ten, for bravey and killing a stormcloak officer.

However, on Maximus's second encounter with the Stormcloaks, he and his comrades weren't so lucky. He was apart of an army of 10,000 men into Windhelm. But when they landed on the beaches of North-Eastern Skyrim, and marched further South, they were ambushed again. This time, it was a dissaster. No prisoners were taken, and few survived, Maximus woke up, with the troops he commanded dead..

Fisheye98
Spoiler

Name: Geoff Servius

Age: 24

Gender: Male.

Race: Imperial.

Height/build/body features: Geoff stands at roughly 5'10 and has a lean, but still muscled, build. Most of the young man's height comes from his legs, which are much longer than average. Geoff's back, chest, and arms hold a few small scars from training and warfare, though none are too obvious. The soldier has a "warrior's build", meaning a slim waist and broad shoulders. Geoff's skin is naturally pale, even though he is usually outside in the sun nearly all day.

Facial features: The first thing that most people notice about Geoff's face is it's squareness. Geoff has a very square and angular face, all edges and planes. The next is the man's large eyes. These eyes are a very dark brown color and because of this his irises almost seem to blend with his pupils. The warrior, unlike most others, has quite long, untamable hair. This hair, which reaches the man's shoulders, is usually safely secured behind his ears or tied back during battle. For some odd reason Geoff seems to always hold a mocking smile on his face, which often gets him blamed for mishaps.

Skills (Max of 7): Geoff's main skill is his ability to wield his Dolabra (Pick-Axe, war-axe hybrid) in battle with ease. The young man knows every inch of blade and handle on the weapon (1). Besides this Geoff is also pretty skilled with most throwing weapons, namely the Pilum and Bolas (2). The foot-soldier also has a natural talent with running, especially long ranges (3). As a hobby Geoff is also pretty good with his Violin, though he rarely has time on the war front. Geoff is also a skilled cartographer.
1. One handed (especially with axe-based weapons.)
2. Throwing.
3. Agility.

Armor and clothing: When on duty Geoff usually wears his scouting gear, which consists of a thing leather jacket under a dark grey trench coat (or something similar) with steel pauldrens and bracers set over it, durable dark grey trousers, and dark brown leather boots. When off duty Geoff wears a light blue tunic, black trousers, dark black leather boots, his dark grey trench coat, and a black tricorn hat.

Weapons: His signature, six pound Delabra named Ordinem (A Delabra is a Pick-axe War-axe hybrid), Two hard tip Pilums strapped too his back, and three or four Bolas. He also carries a stiletto in a back-holster with the hilt pointing to his right.

Miscellaneous Items: A brass bracelet, a bag of coin, a journal, his violin and violin case, a bone whistle, a water canteen, an extra Pilum spear-head, a few feet of rope, a few days rations, cartography tools, and a jar of healing salve. All of his rations are stored in a back-worn knapsack (back pack :tongue:) and everything else in a brown messenger bag.

Personality: Geoff is a nice enough man who tries to give everyone a chance. The man likes to tease and crack jokes pretty often. Geoff isn't easily angered and usually tries to ease tensions with a joke or two. Sometimes, however, his jokes may be taken the wrong way, something that happens much to often in Geoff's opinion. The soldier hold a particular grudge towards racists of all sorts and fancies himself a "white knight", trying to help the innocent wherever he can.

History: Geoff was born in the outskirts of Skingrad too two field workers. His life was an average one. The child, like most others, enjoyed exploring the wilderness around Skingrad with his friends and enjoying nature. His studies were pretty average and the boy knew he really only had two realistic career options, labor in the fields or enlistment with the Legion. So when young Geoff came to age he made his choice, to join the Legion.

In training Geoff was a pretty average soldier, and he was quite okay with that. Soon, however, he realized the reason he want really shining, he was using the wrong weapons. Geoff, honestly, was pretty wretched with the sword, bow, and shield, but sadly those were standard issue. But one day when Geoff was being trained on how too build temporary dugouts and trenches he laid his hands on his first Delabra. The soldier loved the feel of the tool-weapon hybrid in his hand. He loved the balance and weight to it, loved it's reach, loved the multiple uses of it. It simply was his weapon.

So the soldier told his trainers about this and they soon put him in a different training category when they saw his excitement. Geoff was soon introduced through other weapons, such as the Pilum and bolas, both of them just as capable in the man's hands, he had found his niche. The weapons Geoff took a liking too, paired with his speed, agility, and knack for remembrance and cartography made him a great choice for a scout.

So that's just what his superiors made him a scout. Not too long after training Geoff was sent to the Skyrim-Morrowind border too help escort refugees, destroy the numerous bandits preying on the refugees, and scout out new passages. Geoff saw little action, instead he slowly honed his skills over time, before being sent west too the High Rock-Skyrim border to help deal with the new rebellion, dubbed the "Stormcloaks" after their murderous leader. This is where Geoff gained the real experience, experience that stuck. The man fell into the life of combat, helping scout out Stormcloak positions and sometimes even taking part in the assaulting of said camps

Before long, however, Geoff was pulled back to take part in the "Legio Extremum" and try too sever the head of the beast that was the Stormcloak rebellion.

Tundrafrog1124
Spoiler

Name: Emilio Buzzelli
Age: 23
Gender: male
Race: Imperial

Height/build/body features: 5’11” average body type, Emilio is fit and looks like an average soldier in good shape. He has black hair cut short in military fashion.

Facial features: Intense green grey eyes and small scar across the bridge of his nose. Handsome likable features.

Skills (Max of 7): One handed, Barter, smooth talking, and block, archery and sneaking.

Armor and clothing: Standard Imperial light armor with shield, and a change of common clothes.

Weapons: Short sword, spear, and iron dagger.

Miscellaneous Items: pouches of gold and other valuables, and a necklace.

Personality: Emilio is fairly kind and often looks out for people. He has a knack for smooth talking and often gets with woman because of his good looks.

History: Emilio was born in the Imperial city to a wealthy merchant and his wife. Emilio was one of seven children and often did the children cause a ruckus in the market district. Emilio was closest with his sister Julia who was a year younger, they spent a lot of time together and because of they shared the same color hair and eyes looked almost like twins. When he was sixteen Emilio was on a walk with Julia he was approached by several Imperial soldiers, they made remarks on Julia’s appearance and one man tried to force himself one her. Emilio had never really been much of a fighter but he kicked into action and fought the two men. He took a nasty beating but after putting one on the ground Emilio beat the man until he was unconscious. This landed Emilio in jail; he was bailed out by his father who later had the two men killed. From that day on Emilio did all he could to become better at fighting. When he was twenty Emilio joined the military and was shipped off to Skyrim to fight, he has only been back once on leave and misses his sister very much.

The Pompous Altmer
Spoiler

Name: Emond LaFette

Age: 23

Gender: Male

Race: Breton

Height/Build/Body Features: He stands at 5 feet and 8 inches tall. He has a medium build, but don't let that fool ya, he is really strong for his size. Some body features: he has a tattoo of Dibella on his left bicep, indicating hes more easy going than other soldiers, and he has a long scar on his back, that starts at his right shoulder and goes down to his left hip.

Facial Features: He has very prominent cheek bones, slightly wide jaw and narrow chin. has a narrow nose, and almond shaped eyes. His eye color is a olive green and he has suede colored haired, oiled back and put into a ponytail.

Skills:
Long Blade
Block
Archery
Light Armor
Athletics
Acrobatics
Sneak

Armor and Weapons: For armor he wears Imperial Studded Armor with a wolf's pelt around his armor. For weapons, his main weapon is a Imperial Longbow and for melee combat he uses an Imperial Spatha.

Miscellaneous Items: He wears a gold locket, with the portrait of his fiancee on it. He also has the first edition of the Lusty Argonian Maid, in his satchel were he keeps a bottle of Stros M'kia rum and a slice of bread and a hunk of goat cheese.

Personality: He is very laid back, with a good sense of humor. Is very easing going and can be somewhat of a pervert . He is very polite when it comes to dealing with the opposite six and is good natured and always willing to lend a hand when someone needs it.

History: Emond was born to the wealthy LaFette family who have lived in Chorrol for 7 generations. One of the unique things about the LaFettes was they looked down upon Magic, which was odd; for Bretons especially. Emond was raised as a Scout at a very early age. During his childhood, his father was employed in the Imperial Legion during the last 2 years of the Great War.

Fortunately his father survived the war and went to be with his family. Between the ages of 9-18, Emond was trained by his father and grandfather in the art of scouting. Skills such as: stealth, tracking, surveying, survival, hunting, archery, swordsmanship, and the proper use of light armors. During this time he grew in height and maturity. When all the kids of Chorrol were playing hide and seek, Emond was out training. Sometimes he was picked on, because all of the other kids thought he was no fun.

Starting between the ages of 14 and on he started to get the attention of a lot of the girls in Chorrol. Especially a girl by the name of Jade. Jade was a Bosmer handmaiden, who served the Count of Chorrol. When Emond and his family were invited to dinners and fellowship at the Count's castle, Emond would take every opportunity he could get, to be around her, even when she was working. At the age of 19 Emond had grown well under the tutelage of his father's training, and at the same time he proposed to Jade. Before he had a chance to finalize the agreement, unrest was stirring up in Skyrim and Imperial Legion recruiters came to Chorrol to start recruiting soldiers. To Emond this was the chance to put what he had learned over the course of 10 years of training into good use.

After he signed up fro the Legion, he was sent to the 13th Legion which was stationed in Skyrim. Over the course of three years, Emond took part in a couple battles and skirmishes, but mostly served as a Scout for troop movements. During his time as a Scout, he got a good lay of the land and grew to love the environment of Skyrim. A lot of times when he went on missions, he would hunt the exotic wildlife of Skyrim as trophies and gifts for his fiancee.

Now at the age of 23 and seasoned through a few years of service to the Empire, he wonders if the Empire can win the fight against the Stormcloaks. He'll just have to wait and see.

exile19
Spoiler

Name: Rex Afrikanus

Age: 100

Gender: Male

Race: Dunmer

Height/build/body features: 6 ft and 185 lbs He has a ponytail with a knot.

Facial features: He has a facial scare on his face in the shape of a claw mark. He has an unshaven face and red eyes. He also has a Dunmer tattoo on his face in light blue.

Skills (Max of 7): Alteration, Alechemy, Medium Armor, Marksmen, One-Handed, Hand-to-hand, Sneak

Armour and clothing: Medium Imperial armor though no helm and a cloak over it. He has a cloth over where his scar is.

Weapons: He has a Bow along with a spear and silver throwing knives.

Miscellaneous Items: He carries a copy of Immortal blood....and the Lusty Argonian Maiden. He also carries Alychemical ingredients and equipment. He also has a War-Dog named Arcturus.

Personality: Serious when the situations demands but joking in a casual occasion.

History: Born to Netch farmers in Morrowind, he lost his family to the Argonians during the Invasion. He was taken in by the Imperial Cult and learned the ways of the Empire. Despite still adhering to the Native Tribunal Temple, he adopted Imperial Custom as well. To honor this He changed his name and adopted an Imperial name, Rex Afrikanus. For much of his younger years he served as a Witch-Hunter to the Temple and Cult, hunting Vampires, Ghosts, necromancers, and all kinds of Dark Creatures throughout Morrowind; he even hunted remnants of the 6th house, earning his scar fighting an ascended sleeper. When the Red Year occurred, he evacuated to Cyrodiil and settled in Anvil as a wine maker and part time alchemist. When the Great War began, Rex repayed his debts to the Cult and joined the Legion. He served as a Cavalry Officer and fought at numerous battles including the Escape and recapture of the Imperial City. With Civil War in Skyrim he is now tasked with helping in putting down the rebellion.

The White River Massacre

7 A.M
The Last Legion marches from their camp at the mouth of the White River, following the road south to Windhelm along the riverside. General Stonehold leaves a few hundred men to hold the camp. A small band of scouts is sent far ahead of the main group.

9 A.M
Scouts are eliminated by Stormcloaks with no survivors. Legion remains unaware of their fate, but a few people notice they haven’t reported back yet.

10 A.M
The vanguard of Legio Extremum arrives at the ambush site, to find the road blocked. They are caught in a vice between the river, the blockade and the forest. Stormcloaks begin their attack. Arrows from the trees fell many men. After the barrage, the Stormcloak warriors charge in. There is chaos everywhere. Riders are sent to rest of the army to halt the advance, but they never make it. Caught between Stormcloaks and the river with no where to run, a great battle to the death ensues.

Simultaneously, another Stormcloak flanking force hits the middle of the Legion army, infantry with some cavalry support. Caught by surprise, Legio Extremum is split into two halves, the first half being commanded by the Preafect and the second half the General. General Stonehold leads the rest of the legion in an attempt to save the vanguard, but progress is slow.

11 AM
Most of the vanguard lies dead. A few units (Godwin’s included), have managed to link up with the rest of the army, but a third wave of Stormcloaks strikes from behind. Now completely surrounded, the battle turns into a valiant last stand, though Stormcloak cavalry route several units and cut them down. As more and more legionnaires are slaughtered by sheer numbers, General Cassius Stonehold leads a fighting retreat, breaking through Stormcloak lines and back towards the camp.

General was last seen leading a tactical retreat towards the camp with Stormcloaks in pursuit.
User avatar
Crystal Clarke
 
Posts: 3410
Joined: Mon Dec 11, 2006 5:55 am

Post » Wed Nov 14, 2012 6:45 pm

Godwin… Eastmarch…


Day of White River Massacre…



The air was a cacophony of sound; Stormcloaks shouting wild battle cries, steel ringing on steel, horses bellowing and bowstrings buzzing. All the while they fought, the near endless waves of Stormcloaks crashing against the serried ranks of Imperial Legionnaires. Godwin parried the blow of a Stormcloak warrior, returning with a high-handed strike of his longsword and slaying the man outright. Another warrior came towards him, but Godwin hunkered down behind his tall shield, fending off his foe before the Stormcloak was killed by a fellow legionnaire next to him. The remaining members of his century held formation in a tightly packed ring, limiting the number of enemies that could engage them. But even so, their numbers were dwindling. Godwin had held his unit together through the first wave, but now they were surrounded on all sides with no where to run. The centurion took a brief look over his shoulder. A hundreds of feet away he could make out the rear half of the Legio Extremum, steadily fighting its way towards the few units of the vanguard that remained, Godwin’s unit among them. He could see General Stonehold, his silver and gold armour gleaming, astride his mighty charger as he led his men to relieve the vanguard. But for all their valour they might as well have been on the other side of Skyrim.

Godwin assessed the situation; the other units of the vanguard were staying put, holding a valiant defence against the Stormcloaks, but they wouldn’t hold long without reinforcement. Godwin’s group was slightly away from the other units, and so Godwin made his choice. They were going to forge their way back to the bulk of the army. Godwin blocked and slaughtered another Stormcloak before falling back into the middle of the ring. Godwin raised his sword high.

“Legionnaires! Break off!” he shouted.

“HAI!” came the reply from his men, as the ring started to make its way towards the river towards the edge of the battlefield. A few Stormcloaks tried to impede their passage, but the discipline of Godwin’s unit held them at bay. They managed to break away from the battle long enough for Godwin to command “Wedge formation!” and his men did so, Godwin taking up point. He could feel Streverus, his second-in-command, by his side.

“Just like Whiterun, hey Strev?” Godwin grinned briefly, before returning to his grim visage. “Unit! Forward!”

Holding a more offensive formation, Godwin’s unit marched towards the rest of the army, slowly carving a path through the Stormcloaks to reach the General. Each time a Stormcloak charged him, Godwin cut him down, though his shield arm ached from the near constant battering his shield was receiving. Shoving the pain out of mind he pushed forward, his unit following after him, until finally they had reached the relative safety of the rest of the army. Godwin quickly made his way over to the General.

“Barrowblade!” General Stonehold shouted “Get word to the rear of the column, tell them to fall back to the camp. We’ll be able to hold them there!”

“Yes General!” Godwin replied, quickly rejoining his unit. An ethereal war cry echoed from the forest.

“HOOOOO-OOOOOOOO!” It was like a ghostly roar that rose and fell like a wave. Then came the sound of hooves as the Stormcloak cavalry burst from the trees, shouting all the while fierce, Nordic battle cries. The legionnaires quickly turned to face them, shields locking and spears lowered. But the sheer impetus of the charge was enough to send several legionnaires to their deaths. Though not as swift as the famed Imperial Cavalry, the warhorses of Skyrim were hardy and strong, and their Nordic riders equally so.

“Streverus!” Godwin shouted “You have command!”

Godwin made his way towards the men battling the Stormcloak cavalry. The units had all but abandoned formation, and most of the fighting was a series of brutal one on one conflicts. Godwin dropped his heavy squared shield and grasped a fallen spear. Charging towards a Stormcloak horseman, separated from his battle-brothers, he made an upward thrust, piercing the cavalryman under his armpit and wresting him from his horse.

The rider fell from his horse, but before the animal could panic Godwin was already astride it, and with a nudge of the steeds flanks galloped down the column towards the rear of the army, his cloak billowing out behind him. The occasional Stormcloak attempted to intercept him, but he was able to hold them back if not kill them, and continued on his way. He looked back over his shoulder, watching as men died in their droves. The battle had already gone bad for the Legion, but now it was threatening to become a massacre.

A tall Stormcloak, blue woad on his face and tall claymore in hand exploded from the flank, slashing his heavy blade. The horse bellowed as it was brought down, and Godwin lurched forward. He rolled with the horse, almost being crushed, before tumbling down into a ditch by the side of the road. He landed at the bottom with a dull thud. He heard the sound of another Stormcloak advance, coming from the rear of the Legio Extremum. Godwin tried to get to his feet, but his vision flickered violently in front of him. He was forced onto his stomach as something weighed him down, the body of another legionnaire. Godwin closed his eyes, finding he no longer had the strength to keep them open. Sound rose and fell in his blackened world. The last thing he heard was Imperial trumpets sounding a retreat before he lost consciousness.



**********



Godwin stood at the Solitude docks, his hair caught in the light breeze rolling off the sea. Around him men were loading up supplies onto the many massive ships while various officers organized their units and were moved aboard ships in groups. The crowded docks were a formidable sight: over ten thousand men of the legion, the “Legio Extremum” as it had come to be called, preparing themselves for a long voyage to Eastmarch. He looked back at his own unit, a good mix of veterans, seasoned men and new recruits. Some of them were from his garrison force while others had come from reinforcements from High Rock and Cyrodiil. They largely conversed among themselves. Morale was high, for the moment, and after many months (and for some, years) of holding border fortifications the change of pace was a blessing. Godwin however was less enthused about the prospect, though he put on a gregarious smile for the men. He scanned the docks once again and his eyes fell upon a familiar sight.

She had the same hair and eyes as he did, though there was more blue in them compared to the storm cloud grey of Godwin’s eyes. Her rich brown hair fell well past her shoulders. Her figure was tall and slender, and she looked to be in her mid-twenties. She wore a blue-grey dress with a white shawl, well made but modest in design; Hafwen didn’t need to be showy to be beautiful. She scanned the docks until their eyes met, and Godwin smiled as he made his way over to her. As soon as he was close enough she gripped him in a strong embrace, and he returned in kind.
“I have no choice.” Godwin said, pulling back to look her in the eyes.

“That’s what all honourable men say.” she replied.

“Do you think I want to go? It’s my duty. I have no choice.” he repeated. For a second she looked away, before meeting his eyes again.

“I know. I’m still allowed to worry for you aren’t I?” she asked “I’d be a very poor sister if I didn’t.”

“You’re my younger sister.” Godwin reminded “If anything I should be worried about you, young bride-to-be.” He chuckled to himself. “That would be about right. You’re going to get married and that’s when they decide to launch a counter offensive.”

“You’d better not miss it.” Hafwen warned “You’re friends with General Stonehold, pull some strings if you have to, but you are not missing my wedding day. Who else is going to walk me down the isle to my husband?”

“You have two other brothers.” Godwin countered.

“Jon and Edmund didn’t promise father that they would do it if he couldn’t.” Hafwen said, and Godwin sighed.

“Hafwen, I want nothing more than to walk you down the isle, honestly. But it really can’t be helped. Maybe if the mission goes extremely well then I could be back in time but it’s a slim chance.” Godwin watched as Hafwen broke eye contact. For a moment they were silent.

“Alright then. I’ll put the wedding back a few months. My husband won’t mind, once I explain to him why.” She placed a golden locket into Godwin’s palm and closed his fingers. Godwin opened the locket, and within was a portrait of Hafwen, a laurel of blue roses in her hair. “I was going to give it to my husband, but I thought it would serve as a reminder.”

“Subtle.” Godwin nodded.

Hafwen gave him a brief smile before saying “Just promise me you’ll come back safe.”

“Hafwen…” Godwin began.

“Promise me, Godwin.” Hafwen said forcefully. She met his gaze, and he could see the weight of unshed tears, tears she was holding back, in her eyes. He felt the lump in his throat, but he suppressed it. “Promise me…”

Godwin smiled. “I promise.”



*********


His head hurt, everywhere hurt. His cheek was cold, but he didn’t know why. Slowly waking from his dream, his eyes opened, but his vision was bleary. He saw random shapes lying in white. Where was he? Then Godwin remembered; the Legio Extremum, the ambush, falling from his horse. He pushed himself up onto his knees, grasping his longsword that lay next to him. As his vision came into focus, he could make out the shapes; bodies, several of them, a mix of legionnaires and Stormcloaks. The occasional horse carcass lay beside them. His mind was suddenly racing. His first thoughts were of his unit – Streverus and the rest - and the General. They were still fighting. He was about to bound to his feet when his hearing returned to him. He could hear the river a few yards away from him, but otherwise all was silent; no sounds of a battle. He found the sun and using his hand to measure the gap between the sun and the horizon, guessed that it was early afternoon.

Godwin steadily rose to his feet and clambered up the ditch onto the road. What met his eyes was a gruesome sight; corpses as far as the eye could see lay dead along the road in their thousands. Stormcloak and Imperial Legionnaire lay where they had fallen, the ground now a slush of snow, mud, blood and urine. Everywhere was the smell of iron, from both blood and weapon alike. The bodies hadn’t been lying around long enough for major rot to occur, but the whole battlefield reeked of death. Already a few carrion birds soared above, some of them commencing to feed on the dead.

Godwin trudged aimlessly, gazing at the corpse strew ground as the reality of what must have occurred set in, and he began to slowly regain rational thought. Most of the corpses where legionnaires and Godwin himself had awoken on the battlefield, all of which meant only one thing; they had lost the battle. The Last Legion had been practically annihilated to a man. He looked down at the ground and held back to urge to wretch, pulling himself together.

The wet noise of tearing flesh and bestial grunting off to his left caught his attention for the first time. He turned his head slowly to see a large white sabrecat feeding on the corpse of a large horse nearby. Godwin’s eyes widened as his eyes registered the sight. For a moment the beast continued to feed, but then it raised its head, as though sensing Godwin’s gaze. It growled low in it’s throat, clambering on top of the horse carcass and locking gazes with Godwin. The centurion’s face contorted into a scowl as he gripped his blade in both hands.

“Go on then.” he threatened “I haven’t got all day.”

The sabrecat roared, the call echoing in the near silence, before taking three great strides and leaping at Godwin. The Nord threw himself sidewards, narrowly avoiding the beast’s strike. The sabrecat screeched loudly, and as Godwin rose to his feet he saw that it had skewered itself on a dead legionnaire’s spear. Godwin strode over, brandished his blade high and with a roar of his own severed the predator’s head. He took heavy breaths, sheathing his blade and scanning the battlefield again to see if he’d drawn more unfriendly eyes. At the edge of his vision he could make out the shapes of people.

He took a Legion banner from a dead soldier’s grasp and held it aloft, waving it back and forth. The men started to move towards him, and he planted the banner in the ground. As the survivors approached, he saw a hand sticking out of a pile of corpses, waving frantically as someone struggled underneath them. The arm was garbed in Imperial Legion gear. Godwin moved over to the hand and grasped the unknown legionnaire by the arm. “Hold on soldier, I’ve got you.” he said as he pulled the struggling soldier out.

******************


(OOC: If anyone wants to be the soldier pulled out of the pile of bodies, feel free)
User avatar
Jerry Cox
 
Posts: 3409
Joined: Wed Oct 10, 2007 1:21 pm

Post » Wed Nov 14, 2012 11:38 am

Damon,

White River,

Eastmarch

The Imperial Legion, an army whose discipline is renowned, few enemies could stand before them and prevail, or at least that’s what Damon thought. They were ambushed and out flanked, the General along with his men were making their way to relieve the vanguard. Damon and Brom were the only members of their unit still alive. The rest of the army was slowly but surely crumbling away. They stood back to back slashing and hacking at the enemy. The Stormcloaks kept on coming, their numbers innumerable.

“This is the end isn’t it?” asked Damon.

“Maybe” said Brom.

Brom ducked a swipe and then drove his sword into a Stormcloak’s gut, while Damon swung his great sword in a semi-circle. The Stormcloaks started to pull back; Damon laughed until the very forest seemed to come alive.

“HOOOOO-OOOOOOOO!”

A mass of cavalry charged out of the forest and into the already weak battle-line, one of the horseman charged towards Damon and Brom. Brom pushed Damon to the ground and raised his shield. As Damon fell he heard the clash of steel and the screams of both men and horse.

A few hours later…

Damon flicked his eyes open; he was staring at the sky. He sat up and looked upon a field of carnage. Dead bodies littered the ground, legionnaire and Stormcloak alike, although the vast majority was legionaries. Crows and vultures circled above while some feasted on the bodies, Damon stood and suddenly remembered.

“Brom!”

It didn’t take long for him to find the old veteran; he was leaning against a dead horse, barely alive and a broken javelin in his chest. His steel armour was battered and bruised, his face was deathly white. Damon knelt beside him, Brom stirred and smiled.

“My boy, I’m glad to see you’re okay”

Damon didn’t answer; he felt tears at the edge of his eyes. Brom reached up and placed his hand on Damon’s shoulder.

“You did good, boy”

His hand fell and Brom closed his eyes and breathed no more. Damon stood his eyes red and tears freely flowing forth. He retrieved his great sword and looked upon Brom once more.

“We’ll meet again in Sovngarde old man”

Damon sensed movement in the distance; he wasn’t the only one who survived. He saw a lone figure waving a Legion flag back and forth, Damon followed it like a moth to a naked flame.
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emma sweeney
 
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Post » Wed Nov 14, 2012 6:00 pm

Maximus Scipio.


30th of Frostfall, 4E 206.

Today was a dissaster. It all started yesterday when the Legion landed of the fleet and into the shore of the White River. We set up camp, and prepared for the march to Windhelm. The regular soldiers were eager, exited, yet nervous. General Stonehold and his legates were in his tent, probably planning the strategy to siege Windhelm. We thought it was going to be easy. Intelligence claimed that most of the rebels were either at the frontlines or at the Reach fighting a Forsworn uprising. And what little forces they have at Eastmarch were not enough to fend of the might of the Last Legion. We were wrong. Fatally wrong.

The next day, we woke up around 6 in the morning. It took the Legion an hour to get in formation and marched south. One Cohort was left at the camp, the rest marched south. 7Am, we were marching. Nothing happened but we were nervous. Being behind enemy lines, and deep into their capital was certanly not the best feeling we had. Two hours later, at 9AM, the scouts did not returned, I had a bad feeling that this will not go well.

Ten in the morning, the Legion came to a sudden stop, I was told that there is a roadblock up ahead. But suddenly a volley of arrows came down to us, killing or injuring quite a few Legionaries.. The Stormcloaks knew we were coming. After the first wave, the Tribune ordered our Cohort into Tustuedo formation. The next wave of arrows did no good to them.

Eventually, a horde of Rebels came out the treelines, with swords, hammers, axes, and any weapon imaginable, and charged to us. Skirmishes with pilas went infront of us while our archers rushed behind us. We infantry were in the middle. As the rebels charched, the archers fired their arrows while the skirmishers threw the pilas a few times before retreating behind my unit. The Rebels took heavy cassulties but continued on to the point where they made contact with our Cohort.

I was in the fourth row, the archers stoped firing to preven friendly fire, and is now the infantry's turn. A centurion blew a whistle, and the first row headed to the back while the second took it's place, they fought the rebels in tight formation until the whistle blew again, and now me and my men are in secon row. My heart pounded, the screaming, the clashes of weapons, but I must not cower. The whistle blew, and it was my turn. I quickly took position, stabbing my sword into the rebels and blocking their blows. I must have killed around 9 of them, but they would not stop.

The whistle blew again, and I was sent to the back row. I overheard the Tribune saying that enenmy infantry with calvary support splited the Legion in half, and that we are to try to break through the enemy lines to regroup with the rest of the Legion. We tried to regroup time after time, but we could not break the enemy lines. Especially if our side of the Legion is surrounded by 3 sides. Our Cohort was one the few units in the Vanguard that managed to regroup with the main army, but with heavy losses. Even then, we were still surrounded. We tried to hold, but we slowly died of. The last thing I saw a horseman rushing at me and hitting my helmet with a club, forcing me into a ditch, knocking me out.

When I woke up, with what seemed like bodies all on top of me. I could breathe, but couldn't move. It wasn't shortly after desprately trying to get out before I heard a voice. I couldn't be clear on what he said but he pulled me up. This man looked like a Centurion judging by his uniform.

"What in Oblivion happend?" I said.
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WTW
 
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Post » Thu Nov 15, 2012 1:40 am

Edit: Accident, ignore.
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Floor Punch
 
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Post » Thu Nov 15, 2012 1:57 am

Massacre of White River

Emond

30th of Frostfall, 4E 206



Awaking from a bad dream, or at least he thought it was a dream, Emond looked around and was appalled. Dead Legionnaires were everywhere. He could smell the cold blood that was still flowing from the corpses. Trying to regain his vision and senses, he tried to figure out what went wrong.

He was sent with three other scouts to go ahead of the Legio Extremum to get the lay of the land and to track the troop movements. During that time they did not encounter any form of resistance at all; which was strange, considering that the Legion was well into the heart of Stromcloak territory.

Shaking his head of other thoughts especially that of his beloved Jade, and rum, Emond started walking towards what looked like Commander Godwin. His muscles ached with each step he took. When he looked down he realized that he had a arrow piercing his thigh. Blocking out the pain for the time being, he pushed on hoping to reach the commander without collapsing in pain and weariness.

It seemed like ages since he started walking. Night was coming and he could feel her cold chill up his back. Looking to his left, he spotted a fellow Imperial Legionnaire, Kai I think his name is. I wonder where that one Legionnaire chick is? Man I forgot her name..... Oh yeah I remember now, Selvia. Has a nice ring to it. Anyway, I need to keep walking and reach Commander Godwin.
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(G-yen)
 
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Post » Wed Nov 14, 2012 9:46 pm

A single drop of sweat rolled down Kai’s dirt covered face, its serene grace contrasting entirely with the blood-stained floor it soon met as it fell from his skin. The phrase ‘heat of battle’ was more than metaphorical in this setting and despite Skyrim being renowned for its crisp, cold air, the humidity of the current environment was overwhelming. Yet Kai had no time to wipe his brow, for his sword arm had no break in which to rest. The opponents kept coming, slashing and hacking at Kai, almost blindly, without logical pattern or opportunistic consideration. It was thanks to this that Kai seemed to keep his head, in more than one sense.

The sounds were deafening. Men’s cries of both aggression and pain, filled the air, mixing with the harsh sounds of clashing metal and the stomach wrenching echoes of tearing flesh. Men fell all around Kai, some to his own blade, but most to the enemies. It crossed his mind, as he parried another incoming blow, that the Legion’s numbers were dwindling. Pushing back against his opponent’s long-sword he found an opportunity and cut down the latest of his many foes. Finding space for a small breather, Kai gazed around, taking in the thousands of men that pushed hard against each other, fighting desperately to remain alive. It was a harsh setting, and although it was one Kai had grown used to, he had never seen it on such a large scale.

Cries of retreat echoed from above the heads of the many men, battling on only to see-through their next breath. Kai, in his small chance to take in his surroundings, noticed the turn of the general as he began to flee, heading back towards the camp from which they had set off. Kai’s first thought was to berate the man for his cowardliness, but as more ranks of Stormcloak warriors pushed on through the men he considered his allies, his hopes for survival dwindled and the consideration for his own safety crossed his mind, even if that meant retreating. Another opponent presented himself to Kai, catching his attention with a swift blow that aimed for Kai’s neck. Luckily Kai’s reflexes, heightened by the adrenaline were enough to propel him out of harm’s way. Yet his balance, something that usually he considered his strong point, gave way, and Kai found himself hurtling to share the same ground that so many fallen men already inhabited. Scrambling around amongst the steel clad feet of the men surrounding him Kai, crawling, made his way to the edge of the battlefield, unable and partially unwilling to clamber to his feet due to the sheer quantity of Stormcloak warriors that filled the area.

Kai’s thick strands of black hair fell forward in front of his eyes and obscuring his vision of the path between the boots around him. He lay still for a second, putting his weight on one arm and lifting the other to scraqe the hair from his vision. Before he could move on, the cold brush of steel collided with his unprotected head, sending him into a dark abyss, still buried beneath the feet of those that remained locked in conflict.

*********


Kai awoke to the sound of silence, and the smell of death; the battlefield around him seemingly devoid of all life other than his own. Blood poured from the gouge in his cheek where the boot had met it with some force and his ears still rung, his head screaming with pain. He was lucky to avoid a blow to the temple, and even more so to have not broken his cheek or jaw bone. As he slowly regained consciousness and struggled to lift his head, the reality of the scene that unfolded before him hit him almost as hard as the steel boot had.

‘How long have I been out’, he wondered, his brain aching from even the slightest of activity.

Birds circled the skies above, swooping down occasionally to pick at the rotting corpses. Kai was familiar with death, he’d killed many a man in his time, both at swords length and with his own hands. But nothing came close to this; the sheer scale of what he saw before him was astounding. Bodies lay strewn across the floor as far as the eye could see and save for the birds and the few other animals picking at the corpses, there was no life to been seen at all.

That was until; out of the corner of his eye Kai noticed the banner. Waving, like a beacon in the distance.

*********


OOC: I'll continue tomorrow, but right now I need to go to sleep.
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Thema
 
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Post » Wed Nov 14, 2012 5:12 pm

Emilio Buzzelli

Emilio was lost in his thoughts as they marched, a job he loathed despite the fact they did it alot. Emilio had never really got into being a soldier, it had it's good times but Emilio felt it was too much work. He would rather be with a woman.

Yeah....haven't been with anyone in awhile....hopefully I haven't lost me touch

Emilio chuckled to himself at the last part, he would never lose his touch. His eyes, hair, skin, muscles, voice, smile, hell even the way he smelled Emilio guessed he was the beautiful man in the empire most likely all of Tamrial. Women had always flocked to him like moths to flame, he had needed to forcefully push them out of the way several times. This had turned out to be a problem after being sent to the front, if he wasn't bedding fellow soldiers and commanding officers he was bedding the locals and even the enemy. Emilio cared little and made no distinction, the whole war was a waste of time in his eyes mostly his time but everyone else involved. Emilio opened one of his pouches and pulled out a letter, it was from his sister he began to open it but stopped as an arrow took the man next to Emilio in the neck. Emilio shoved the letter back in the pouch and readied his spear and shield, and faced outward as the Storm cloaks poured from the treeline.

.....[censored]....

Emilio thrusted with his spear taking one storm cloak in the chest, the spear tip slide off the steel plate and stabbed his shield Emilio cursed and pulled his spear back in time to parry a blow leveled for his head. Bringing his spear in a curve he took out the warrior's legs knocking him to the ground, Emilio rammed the butt of his spear into the man's head knocking him out. Turning his attention to another storm cloak one who wielded two swords, Emilio ducked the first slash and countered with an upward thrust catching the man in his jaw. Blood and brain matter spurted onto Emilio's face as the man's skull was split apart, he wretched his spear free in enough time to face against the oncoming cavalry charge. Emilio saw them moving full speed cutting down other legionnaires in front of him, Emilio crouched and placed his spear on top of his shield for added support. The first horse was stabbed in the neck as Emilio's spear was torn from his hand throwing him on his back, the air escaped his lungs and Emilio tried to raise another breath but began to see black as something hard hit his head.
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Sweets Sweets
 
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Post » Wed Nov 14, 2012 4:00 pm

At the center of a forest an Imperial Calvary wing waited. It was a dark, cold, winter morning in Skyrim, the land covered in a sea of mist. Dozens of men waited with their horses in the forest waiting for orders. They were waiting, reports have been coming in of movement spotted in the thick grove around them. These men weren't ordinary soldiers however, they were Soldiers of the Imperial Legion, world renown for their fighting prowess. At the center of the group sat three men, and Imperial, an Orc, and a Dunmer.

The Orc spoke up first."Should we send in some of our scouts up ahead to check for Stormcloaks?" he said, mist leaving his mouth.

"No Gro-zulub, if the things we have been seeing are Stormcloaks then they already know we're here" said the Dunmer.

Suddenly a figure came rushing in. He was a runner for General Stonehold.

"Decurion Afrikanus! A Stormcloak force has ambushed the line! Your orders are to move an engage the enemy." All three men looked at each other and finally the Decurion, the Dunmer Afrikanus, spoke up.

"Men! mount up and prepare for battle!" The men roared in a response and slowly began to mount their warhorses. Their unit was known as the Dragons of the East; their speed during the Great War earned them the fame in the Legion and scorn in the Dominion.

Before mounting the Orc grabbed the Decurions solder. "Rex! I don't like this...the air, it doesn't feel right." "Don't worry Zulub, we've been in worse." With that the General mounted his steed. A Wardog came running up to his side. "Ready Arcturus?" The dog responded with a happy bark and began to run forward. With a warcry the cavalry unit charged, their very movement caused tremors within the ground. As they appoached the battlefield they heard the crys of battle. Rex was a skilled archer, If he wasn't he would've been killed long ago by the many dark creatures he hunted back in Morrowind. That and his culture prided itself on their marksmanship abilities. As soon as they entered the battlefield Rex let an arrow loose, hitting a Stormcloak in the chest; it didn't kill him but the wound was fatal. The battle itself was turning into a massacre, hundreds of Legion bodies lay scattered. A stormcloak tried to charge a Legionaire next to Rex but was quickly speared in the groin by Gro-Zulub. At the edge of the forest a Stormcloak cavalry wing cam from the forest.

"Charge the enemy cavalry! Keep in a triangle formation!" With that order, the cavalry charged, Trumpeters blew and arrows wized through the air. A Stormcloak tried to stab at Rex but he shot hit dead before he got his sword from his hilt. His cavalry rammed into the enemies with a massive collision. "Stay in tight formation!" All around his he saw his men fall. Suddenly he heard an enemy trumpet, and a hard crash. The Stormcloaks surronded his cavalry. As he looked at the battlefield he realized the Legion was collapsing. As another Stormcloak tried to swing at him his dog pounced ripping the soldiers throat out. Suddenly a big thump hit Rex off his horse. The world slowly started to get fuzzy, the sound deafened. He saw General Stonehold give a retreat order as he slowly fell back, he saw Gro-Zulub take a javelin to the chest and not get up, he saw Arcturus run off as the center and left flank collapsed, then, he saw nothing.

Rex Afrikanus awoke to thinking it was all a bad dream but only had to look around to see it wasn't. His entire wing was dead including his two officers. Suddenly he saw a figure moving and quickly hid next to his dead mount. It was an Imperial archer, to his relief he got up but quickly canceled that. Behind the archer were two Stormcloaks. With ease they stabbed the archer before he could shoot his arrow. One was a short man with a scar and long ,dark hair and the other was a young, pretty girl with soft, blonde hair. He tried to get up but he was spotted almost immediately.

"Hah! Another survivor!" yelled the girl. "Think we can make him beg like the other one? Oh! Looks like we have ourselves a Darkie." said the short man. He spit on the ground and said "You trash elves infest our great city with your filth, I'll make sure to throw your head into the Gray Quarter " Without thinking he darted at the short man. With incredible luck he was a good distanced away from the girl and didn't even noticed what was happening. With a quick jab to the ears his senses were knocked out temporarily. A few more jabs to the upper chest and a kick to the stomach caused him to do a double take. The Girl ran towards the fight but it was too late. With a decisive blow to the neck he was fatally out. The girl tried to take out he sword but Rex immediately knew she was untrained, an amateur. Her form and swings were sloppy and her stance more so. By her fighting style it was safe to assume she was a young farmers daughter, naive and idealistic, joined up with the rebels believing in the Stormcloak rebellion.She tried to stab him but Rex grabbed the swords hilt and disarmed her. With a quick kick to her shin she fell to her knees in pain. In one swift stab the sword went deep into her skull from the forehead, blood getting all over her young, innocent face. The battle was over, the short man was long dead to a broken windpipe and the dead girl layed their starring with hollow blue eyes.

With great regret Rex removed the sword and began to pray. To himself he whispered "You didn't deserve this, may Akatosh and Talos take your souls into Sovengarde. He began to whisper an old Dunmer prayer for the departed. With remorse he got up and took whatever supplies he could, Gro-Zulub's cavalry Sabre, a long bow, some throwing knives and a cloak for travel. To his surprise he saw his dog running towards him.

"Arcturus!" The dog leaped onto Rex and began licking the blood off. Once that was done the dog began to point north. "What is it?" Before he could get up Arcturus got off. The dog began to walk at a brisk pace, Rex not far behind. "Hold up boy!" Soon ,he saw what the Dog was leading him too. He saw his Centurion, Godwin, holding a banner, survivors flocking around him. Slowly he stepped up in his tired state to Godwin. He just pulled up a soldier from a pile of dead. He heard the soldier ask what happened as he continued walking. After Godwin responded Rex slowly walked up and saluted.

"Decurion Rex Afrikanus, leader of the 1st Ala reporting for duty!"
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Lakyn Ellery
 
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Post » Wed Nov 14, 2012 6:07 pm

Streverus Khain
Day of White River Massacre

The cry of a Nordic Stormcloak changed into a yowl of shock and pain as he was impaled by a spear. The Nord's killer jumped back behind the line of Imperial shields and thrust his spear forward once more. His trusty halberd had been lost to him in the madness of the battle so Streverus substituted his usual death dealer with a spear he had scavenged on the battlefield. The command barked by Godwin caught Strev's attention and the Redguard found himself shoulder-to-shoulder with his commanding officer and friend.

Streverus shared a rare smile with his friend and continued to fight off the Stormcloaks. I wish it was like Whiterun, Streverus thought, then we might actually have a chance. From the get go, Streverus had known that this battle was ill-fated. Everything that could have gone wrong did and now the remaining Legionnaires were faced with impossible odds. The Redguard was no stranger to being face-to-face with death. He had survived numerous occasions and his fear of death left him as the sun leaves as the last remnants of fall fades away into winter.

The Legionnaires had held the line as well as the best group of warriors in all of Tamriel could, but no army could hold the line forever and a new complication soon rose. A line of Stormcloak Calvary sprang from the forest. There was little chance the tired Legionaries could fend off the calvary. Streverus tightened his grip on the spear and prepared for what would most likely be his last battle. All of a sudden, Godwin broke rank and rushed the calvary. Just like that, Strev was in charge. Damnit you fool! Are you trying to get yourself killed?!

A wave of sadness swept through the Redguard when he saw his longtime friend and commander fall. He had to use all of his willpower to not charge in after him. He didn't have time to mourn or avenge his friend, though. He had men that were depending on him to make it through the battle. The strategic function of Streverus's brain kicked in and the Redguard scrambled to think up a strategy. Godwin had bought them precious seconds, but the calvary was reforming for a second charge.

There's no way we can hold them off on open ground...those trees though. Maybe they can split the charge. Streverus yelled to get the attention of his men and then shouted, "Fall back! Into the forest! Form up at the first line of trees! Long live the Legion! Charge!" Streverus and his remaining soldier's roared a battle cry as they charged towards the line of the forest. Streverus almost made it to the first tree when his whole world went black.

.....................


The Redguard woke up with a throbbing sensation throughout his whole body. It felt like he had been pelted with rocks for the past couple of hours. Memory cascaded like a flood and Streverus got to his feet as fast as he could muster. As far as he could tell, he was alone. The world was unnaturally silent to the Redguard in comparison to the last couple of hours he had lived through. The sound of soldiers soon returned though and the Redguard snatched up his fallen spear and hurried off to the sound of the whoever was still alive.

Streverus found himself limping. Whatever had knocked him out, did a lot more damage then a clout to the head. He ignored the pain and shoved it in the back of his mind like a merchant might shove ugly merchandise into the back of his store. He'd deal with the pain later. He pulled a small vial out of his pocket and downed the green fluid in one short chug. Relief coursed through the Redguard and he felt slightly rejuvenated. The potion would keep him going at full capacity for an hour or two. Plenty of time.

Streverus turned the corner and the sight that met him filled him with relief. Godwin had somehow managed to survive the battle as well. Strev thanked whatever gods might exist and hurried to join ranks with the surviving Legionaries. Relief turned to shame as the Redguard began to ponder what had befallen the rest of the unit. Men under his command. Whatever happened to them was his responsibility. He only hoped his last minute decision making had saved some of their lives. The Redguard noticed a man speaking to Godwin. he managed to overhear something about him being a Decurion. Strev snapped a sharp salute and said with a smile,

"Streverus Khain reporting in sir. With all due respect sir you may just be the luckiest bastard east of Whiterun."
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Princess Johnson
 
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Post » Wed Nov 14, 2012 4:25 pm

Selvia Uuliues-Day Of The Massacre

Selvia leaned back in her plush mound of cushions. Sighing she opened her eyes. Damn soldiers, I can't sleep with their marching she thought angrily. She leaned over the side of her carriage and called to one of the troops near her. "Keep your marching down you oaf! I am trying to sleep!" she shouted at him, trying to be heard over the thump of footsteps. She recoiled back inside her carriage, and smiled at what she saw.

The hamper she had had her servants pack for her could feed 10 men for a week, yet after only a few hours Selvia had half emptied it. She leaned forward as little as she could in order to grab a sweetroll, her favorite treat of all. She strained in he armour to reach the sugary treat, and at last when she grabbed her prize she fell back into her cushions. Selvia frowned, and stared at her attire. This armour is so bothersome. It's so tight I can barely reach my delicious sweetrolls! She made a mental note to have her tailor enlarge the gear, and then, after licking her lips, began to devour the sweetroll.

As the last succulent crumbs fell down her throat, she let out a belch that shook the carriage. She propped her feet up, and was about to call for one of the soldiers to come and fan her while she rested, when there was a commotion outside. Peeping her head outside the carriage she saw the brutal carnage that followed man everywhere; war. Stormcloaks were swarming over the troops devouring them like some horde of wild animals. She screamed for the nearby soldiers to defend her, and then everything went dark.

Selvia was awakened by the sounds of footsteps, and the smell of death. She opened her eyes cautiously, scanning the area in front of her. Darkness surrounded her, save for a small pinprick of light nearby. As she moved towards it she grumbled to herself. I will have them beheaded for this! How dare they leave me unprotected! As she emerged from the darkness, she came face to face with a dead soldier. She frowned. Hmph seems someone's already beaten me to it. She turned and realized that she had been inside her upturned carriage. She sighed, for it had cost a great deal of septims. She noticed the fluttering of a flag in the distance, and remembering the mound of food she had in the carriage, headed towards it, hoping to get one of the men to carry it for her.
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Killah Bee
 
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