Julius Rothman allowed his mouth to curl into a dark smile as he entered the north gate of Trolls Bane. The Knighthood of Kallahorn had grown within a few days, starting to resemble something of its old self. Sure, some of the members had past offenses, but he understood this and would answer any criticism of the moves he was making. He also knew that the old Kallahorn wasn't much of a true knightly order itself. After all, he was a Rothman and he would do what was necessary to get an advantage over a rival organization.
As he made his way past the shop, he stopped abruptly hearing laughter from within.
"Hear about that Rothman, ey? Restarted Kallahorn I hear, this time more lawless and ruthless as before." A scrappy young man of average build chuckled out as he looked to the others assembled.
A shrill laugh followed from some assembled, while others simply shook their heads out of fear or disgust. The sight almost made even Julius burst forth with laughter as he walked through the empty door, nodding to those in assemblance. A rush of whispers were audible on the thin air as he kicked open his depot, perking his ears as he idly looked over some shields.
As he had said multiple times before, they would stifle the laughter. Was he sure how this would happen? Nay. But he knew several means by which he could quiet them. Stephen Rothman, a brilliant man and politician was, at one time, a good man. He served the Town of Trolls Bane and the isle of Gobaith with all he had. Men and women soon became jealous and worried about his new found popularity and tried to find multiple reasons to expel him from his position as Governor. Julius knew that, bearing not only the name of Rothman but wearing the colors of Kallahorn, he and his followers would be under constant surveillance and ridicule from jealous individuals and the cowards of the isle.
He closed his depot, tossing a glance the group's way with that same dark smile as he turned on his heel, walking out the door." In due time," he whispered to himself, "In due time.
((Tis open RP to anyone involved in Kallahorn.))
Blasphemy
Moderator: Gamemasters
Evan Ross grinned darkly as he stepped into the almost empty tavern. He felt happy again, Being needed by a Knighthood as great as Kallahorn. Of course, He knew it wasn't like any other Knighthood he'd heard of, But still, He thought, It was a knighthood non-the-less. He was reunited with his old friends once more, and he knew that together they could overcome anyone who threatened them, He was not afraid.
He looked around, Noticing the few people there had started whispering as soon as they noticed him. The whispers about him no longer bothered him, He had gotten used to them. These new ones would stop just like the old ones did.
Evan sat down at the bar and asked Borgate for his strongest beer, An act that he had grown somewhat accustomed to recently. All he got was an "Arr." and a mug filled with the best beer he could afford, But that was all he needed. The thought of Kallahorn's soon-to-be glory keep him going for another day, This time he would be on the winners side, This time everything would be alright, This time he would be victorious.
He looked around, Noticing the few people there had started whispering as soon as they noticed him. The whispers about him no longer bothered him, He had gotten used to them. These new ones would stop just like the old ones did.
Evan sat down at the bar and asked Borgate for his strongest beer, An act that he had grown somewhat accustomed to recently. All he got was an "Arr." and a mug filled with the best beer he could afford, But that was all he needed. The thought of Kallahorn's soon-to-be glory keep him going for another day, This time he would be on the winners side, This time everything would be alright, This time he would be victorious.
A dark haired elfess stirs in her sleep, then sits up and tosses another log onto the dying embers of the fire. Wrapping her naked form in a tunic emblazoned with the Kallahorn crest, the elfess steps to the opening in the wall of the ruins, looking out into the quiet night.
Barely noticing as a passing breeze lifts a few strands of her hair, the elfess is lost in her thoughts. Tightening the tunic as she looks back to the fire, watching it struggle to come back to life, she looks back also on her recent past. Now a member of a knighthood that holds her dearest enemy, the man that set in motion the death of her lover, she struggles against her own fear and restlessness, her strong desire for revenge. Drawing on her relatively short elven years of experience, she pulls herself to the straight and strong posture of a well-trained warrior and steels herself for the uncertain future that lies before her.
Glancing back at the flames now enveloping the log and picking up the highlights in the red hair of the man sleeping nearby, she covers his bare form with another tunic, eyeing a tangled pile of armor and weapons laying in a haphazardly discarded pile. Pulling a sword free from its scabbard and not bothering with any of the armor, with a soft whisper she sets out into the night, wearing only that Kallahorn tunic over her bare skin. "I'll get some more sibanac."
Barely noticing as a passing breeze lifts a few strands of her hair, the elfess is lost in her thoughts. Tightening the tunic as she looks back to the fire, watching it struggle to come back to life, she looks back also on her recent past. Now a member of a knighthood that holds her dearest enemy, the man that set in motion the death of her lover, she struggles against her own fear and restlessness, her strong desire for revenge. Drawing on her relatively short elven years of experience, she pulls herself to the straight and strong posture of a well-trained warrior and steels herself for the uncertain future that lies before her.
Glancing back at the flames now enveloping the log and picking up the highlights in the red hair of the man sleeping nearby, she covers his bare form with another tunic, eyeing a tangled pile of armor and weapons laying in a haphazardly discarded pile. Pulling a sword free from its scabbard and not bothering with any of the armor, with a soft whisper she sets out into the night, wearing only that Kallahorn tunic over her bare skin. "I'll get some more sibanac."
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Julius
- Posts: 1961
- Joined: Sat May 12, 2007 2:41 am
- Location: My religion is better then the one Alex taunts you to join! Update: Alex secretly worships me.
- Contact:
It had been months since they had reestablished Kallahorn, at one point boasting the numbers of a small village and housing some of the greatest warriors that called Gobaith home. It had only been weeks since the Knighthood had almost plunged back into the depths of inactivity and defeat. The Knighthood began to reek of death before Julius reached his gloved hand over the threshold and pulled the Knighthood back up with him.
Now Julius was an outlaw. He had spent so many months, so much air telling and warning of how he did not want war. But yet, the smell of power hung in the air like that of cooling pie. He was allowed a slight taste of this power and it had seduced him to the point where his thirst quenched for more. He would do anything to have this power within his grasp, but yet, through his narrowed view and blind search, he turned his back on Kallahorn and was defeated. He had slung the entire Knighthood into a brick wall for his own senseless needs and goals.
Upon the realization of the Knighthood faltering in battle, Dain Laiden, Dominic Fisher, Starling, and some of the other members of the Knighthood leaving him and Kallahorn in the midst of battle, Julius realized one thing. If he had only walked away from the luscious smell and had allowed for his enemies to take over Trolls Bane without a word of distaste, his eyes would be more open and he would see just how powerful Kallahorn was. To be a Knight and even co - leader of such a faction was something that even as Governor you couldn't obtain.
Now, he lay licking his open wounds with a burnt tongue betrayed by its thirst for power. But of course, Julius was not like the men and women that were on the other side of the gulf. Would he continue to fight? Aye. But upon lifting the Knighthood from the shambles that it was once in, his heart wept with anger, sadness, and the cold feeling of the dagger that was stuck in his back. It would be hard for him to continue on.
There were many plans, many things that tied into the war, the attack on the Governor, and his other crimes that seemed to have gone wrong. However now, Kallahorn was starting to resemble something of what it did when he first reformed the Knighthood.
He did not know how he would rebuild it, or even rebuild himself. However there was one thing he knew for certain, he thought to himself as he drove a pickaxe into a gray rock, Kallahorn would be rebuilt..
Now Julius was an outlaw. He had spent so many months, so much air telling and warning of how he did not want war. But yet, the smell of power hung in the air like that of cooling pie. He was allowed a slight taste of this power and it had seduced him to the point where his thirst quenched for more. He would do anything to have this power within his grasp, but yet, through his narrowed view and blind search, he turned his back on Kallahorn and was defeated. He had slung the entire Knighthood into a brick wall for his own senseless needs and goals.
Upon the realization of the Knighthood faltering in battle, Dain Laiden, Dominic Fisher, Starling, and some of the other members of the Knighthood leaving him and Kallahorn in the midst of battle, Julius realized one thing. If he had only walked away from the luscious smell and had allowed for his enemies to take over Trolls Bane without a word of distaste, his eyes would be more open and he would see just how powerful Kallahorn was. To be a Knight and even co - leader of such a faction was something that even as Governor you couldn't obtain.
Now, he lay licking his open wounds with a burnt tongue betrayed by its thirst for power. But of course, Julius was not like the men and women that were on the other side of the gulf. Would he continue to fight? Aye. But upon lifting the Knighthood from the shambles that it was once in, his heart wept with anger, sadness, and the cold feeling of the dagger that was stuck in his back. It would be hard for him to continue on.
There were many plans, many things that tied into the war, the attack on the Governor, and his other crimes that seemed to have gone wrong. However now, Kallahorn was starting to resemble something of what it did when he first reformed the Knighthood.
He did not know how he would rebuild it, or even rebuild himself. However there was one thing he knew for certain, he thought to himself as he drove a pickaxe into a gray rock, Kallahorn would be rebuilt..
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Dren Da' Ruhk
- Posts: 41
- Joined: Tue Jan 30, 2007 9:03 am
- Location: Somewhere around here..
A lonely figure sits atop the tower of East Trollsbane. He stares nostalgically out to the southeast, observing in silence as the torches are ignited, and the first sign of dusk becomes evident. A surfeit of formless and disorderly thoughts sieges his mind as he reflects upon the rumors and prior experience with the Rothman family, and some of the others titled to the newly reformed knighthood. "Criminals.. Murderers.. can they truly be trusted, are the rumors true or just ignorance and prejudice predefined by the terror presented by his relatives?" He battled with himself for a moment as he hangs faceless head over the wall. "At the end of the day, my slate might be just as dirty, perhaps it is a chance to start anew.." The dark figure lets out a deep sigh as he takes a last brief glance toward Kallahorn Keep.
Back at the tavern, the lighting from the candles bathed over the empty atmosphere, the light almost shifting as it does. In the corner, a curled up figure is reveled, a lizard of questionable age, and reasonable height sits on the floor, his knees brought up against his chest as he looks towards the nearby fireplace. Having watched and seen Julius, the one he seeked enter, only to exit without him moving a muscle to stop the elusive man, he sighs. His thoughts roamed from the town, his new home, to the knighthood of Kallahorn, perhaps his new family. He knew trust wasn't something you give out to anyone, but he felt weight in the words the masked man known as Dren spoke to him that fateful night, not but a week ago. He stoked his tail laying his lap gently, still watching the flames, wondering if he made the right decision, Kallahorn wasn't his most important need, no, it was knowledge, his writing...
Joining Kallahorn was just for work, experimenting with the land. He could leave when he please, he told himself. He thought of Misha for a brief moment, where has she been? He convinced himself it was nothing to worry about, what was important was finding more about Kallahorn, and finding audience with Julius. He turns his head, glancing at the familiar leather bound book, laying open on the tavern floor, the ink from his quill still wet. He gave it a smile, it was his future....his lifeline, his PURPOSE! Sssari takes a deep breath, folding over on his side to face the book, he picks up the quill, rolling it inbetween his scaly fingers before launching himself back into his element, the words, pictures, they all flow from his mind. He knew change would come from his actions. He would create it, someway or another. As so many said, its only a matter of time...
Joining Kallahorn was just for work, experimenting with the land. He could leave when he please, he told himself. He thought of Misha for a brief moment, where has she been? He convinced himself it was nothing to worry about, what was important was finding more about Kallahorn, and finding audience with Julius. He turns his head, glancing at the familiar leather bound book, laying open on the tavern floor, the ink from his quill still wet. He gave it a smile, it was his future....his lifeline, his PURPOSE! Sssari takes a deep breath, folding over on his side to face the book, he picks up the quill, rolling it inbetween his scaly fingers before launching himself back into his element, the words, pictures, they all flow from his mind. He knew change would come from his actions. He would create it, someway or another. As so many said, its only a matter of time...