Fetzen

The Prince's Royal Guard

By the time the bell rang, Manald had found himself on the wall somewhere in the eastern part of the city. He couldn't tell exactly where himself for the lack of detailed knowledge of the whole place, but it didn't matter anyway. The bell's reverberating sound was loud enough to easily track it back to its origin. Running through the city itself would probably have been less of a long way, but only so at the risk of getting lost and needing even more time. Therefore Manald relocated himself to the west gate by running along the top of the wall in the south.

Upon his arrival he wished for having gone through the city and gotten lost there...

The lycan was unfamiliar with this dwarven invention of 'cannons'. The ongoing preparations to fire one of them were not as obvious to him as they were to many others, so he didn't care much when running past one of the crews manning them. He could hear the men beefing about him as he ran past them as one of his elbows accidentally touched one of them in the overall turmoil that was going on. Then, a moment later, there was a bang that felt next to unbelievable for him. The last bit of information he could get from his ears was that it came from behind his back. Then there was only disturbance and ringing, no further voices or other meaningful sounds to be heard.

Had his hypersensitive ears just died ?

Not even noticing himself anymore that he was hissing in the process, Manald turned around and looked back at the men with their cannon. A plume of smoke invaded his nostrils, too, but the slight itch it caused was nothing compared to what had happened to his hearing. He saw the soldiers returning the stare, a few of them grinning nonchalantly. The expression quickly faded from their faces once they saw Manald's threatening teeth. He was not amused!

One the plus side he would not have worry much about more cannon shots, but he could no longer receive any orders or hints anymore as well. That was unless someone would dare to wield a big shield with letters on it, of course. Luckily though a quick look down the wall still told him the story about the goblins doing something at the gate's threshold. It could only be a bad thing for the smell of explosive powder and the sight of fire reached him once more. But what should he do ? Jump down the wall ? The gate wouldn't hold for long anymore this way.

Manald quickly discarded the thought. Instead he retreated into the gatehouse, taking his second set of leather armor with him. At first there was nothing, but then a muffled scream could be heard by everyone closeby. It wasn't like the war shout Manald had delivered earlier, but sounded much more like the very mundane attempt to stifle intense agony with crying. It was followed by several others, albeit much smaller outbursts until there was silence again in the gatehouse. The bottom-level door on the city side of it was tossed open and clashed against the wall quite hard. Manald had no intention of damaging any of the lord's properties on purpose, but the sheer inadequacy of the exit's size almost left him no other choice. And of course he currently was flat-out unable to hear anything almost breaking.

Ducking greatly and walking halfway sideways just in order to get his shoulders through somehow, the lycanthrope emerged on the street behind the gate fully shifted and clad in his much bigger armor. Manald had borrowed a two-handed sword from a rack in the gatehouse, but his confidence in the weapon's durability was as low as was his confidence in his own ability to wield it like a real swordsman. Anyway, he'd try his best to give those goblins a warm welcome should they breach the gate in any case. If they wouldn't at all... well then he wouldn't be able to pull this off a second time this day or so, but maybe he could make himself useful in other ways then.

Post a random fact about yourself.

I do not have any random facts for you. All properties that my existence is comprised of are causally deterministic.

Wait... There is quantum mechanics.

The Prince's Royal Guard

So far all information Manald had got about what they were going to face were Orcs, so the appearance of goblins had come quite a bit as a surprise. However the lycanthrope had soon found himself less worried about the petty, ugly looking fighters and much more about what kind of creature they were riding on: wolves. It had hurt to see those wonderful beasts being abused by these dirty, pesky little things with all of their miserable intentions, but the prospect of having to kill them had done so even more.

Or did he ? For what had been a fraction of a second in reality, but what had felt like a cruel series of moments, Manald had considered not steering his horse into the direction of the harrased caravan. In the heat of battle there would have been plenty of ways to explain his way out into pretty much any direction he wanted, but in the end it would still have been disobedience even if only a harmless one due to the fact that there would have been more then enough cavalry men left to deal with the goblin threat. As he had pushed the best possible speed out of his horse in order to keep up with the others, Manald had considered alternative options.

What he had ended up with was an attempt. The first thing that had come from him and which had hurt the goblins had neither been his mace nor his shield, but his voice. A scream that had made those riding next to him wince in their saddles, one even almost falling off his horse. An outburst of unintelligible gibberish that made no sense to an untrained human ear, but which told a message to any wolf listening: I am the alpha male, the leader of the pack. Obey me.

Unfortunately a battleground being littered with blood at an astonishing rate was anything but ideal terrain for even a wolf to pick up the distinct scent coming of Manald that would have given some proof to his claim. It had seemed to work on the nearest goblin, his mount stopping so abruptly that its rider was jettisoned into a forward direction, only to be crushed beneath the hooves of Manald's horse as he was charging in. He could have transformed, thereby greatly amplifying his strength before repeating the shout, but having done so while there had been fighting all around him would have posed too much of a danger. So the lycanthrope had fought on by conventional means, which in his case meant broken skulls and crushd ribcages with priority given towards the goblins and not the wolves.

By the time he rode into the city at a slow trot his horse was done. Not only looked it as if it was on the verge of collapsing, but one could also clearly see that Manald preferred using his right hand for holding his weapon... It simply was the side covered in the larger amount of spattered blood and other remains one wouldn't want to identify. Both it and its rider were in obvious need for a decent wash. Manald handed over his mount to the very next person he believed could do the job for him, then attended to himself for a proper cleanup before all of the blood would have dried and become one ugly mess of a crust.

While his leaders appeared to be discussing things on their own and several pounds of water were still clinging to his now tidy fur, Manald took an investigative stroll through the city. Now that the cannons were silent it was a good moment to take a curious look at them himself. They had to be fascinating pieces of craftsmanship, but the wolf also wondered about the toll the siege so far must have taken on their stock of ammunitions. He had enough experience to know that hauling big weaponry over long distance and on short notice like it had happened here was enough of a challenge by itself. Doing so with a large stock of projectiles was another. Hopefully they had thought about the latter as well...

Also, while the Orcs and Goblins didn't have cannons, they still could have fire. A spark finding its way into the stockpile of propellant for these things might blast a hole in the city wall faster than any catapult or ram could do.

The Prince's Royal Guard

Cannons ? Oh what brutal instruments of death those dwarves could develop! Death for his sensitive lycanthropic hearing that was... If he found the sound of those things deafing while still a fair bit way of them what would happen once they'd be next to them ? It was not a bright outlook Manald found, but hopefully those things would do more damage to their enemies than they did to their own troops. One could never know for sure with such inventions...

When Manald heard Leonidas giving the order that involved him in leading the cavalry units he knew what to do: Make preparations. He needed not only to retrieve his shield and weapon from his tent, but also his second armor that was more suited to his alter ego -- the one that only came out on rather rare occasions and for a rather short amount of time. Five minutes was not much time for grabbing all things, putting those needed immediately on, then walking back through an entire camp of people all doing the same thing at the same time to the stables and getting one's mount ready.

Still Manald was not in the mood for shoving aside those not making way for him, even in the hurry given. It was important to treat people with at least a certain degree of respect or bad things would come crashing down upon oneself one day. So what everybody caring to look would be able to see was Manald getting his fur dirty as he compensated for any necessary evasive maneuver by walking even faster, thereby transporting a fair degree of mud from his feet to other regions of his body.

He barely made it in time, making his appearance in the makeshift stables while breathing considerably heavier then before. "Leonidas ? I hope your majesty is aware of the fact that horses and I are not best friends." He knew what he was talking about. Horses were sensitive beings and felt that there was something very, very predatory in Manald even if it was not directed at them in any way. And then there was the fact that the wolf-man was just very bloody heavy.

The Blackwood

Arden sighed, not very intensively but sitll enough for anyone in his vicinity to notice. All that week long of meandering through the density of the woods and all they'd end up with would be a stay in the stable. If the Skayleigh was honest to himself he wasn't sure if he should be surprised about the local tavern already having so many guests or not: On one hand Berute, with its at best mediocre looking farmland and rocks that probably did not hide any precious minerals, did not seem like anyone's dream come true. On the other hand if one's stomach was just as empty as one's waterskin and belt pouch pretty much any settlement was welcome. Still... there had to be something about this calm village which kept it going well, but which at least he had not yet figured out.

Arden darted a glance towards his companion, trying to read the small woman's thoughts just by looking at her face only to discover once again that he was no good at it. Then he made the decision he thought she'd agree with: "We'll take the barn. Are there any distinct times when food is served or are things handled one a basis of come and get it ?" the Skayleigh replied to the raven-haired local with a friendly, but dark voice. He tried to look at it from the plus side of things: The barn was for free -- and given that he had a horse that was in need of some kind of stay as well he could look at their sleeping place this night as some kind of permanent watch over one of his more valuable possessions in an unfamiliar environment. A fresh stack of hay couldn't be any more uncomfortable or dirtier than the bare forest floor, could it ?

In the meantime, the events to his rear did not entirely slip past Arden's attention. That harsh tone gave him a hint about the species of those behind him even before a quick turn of his head could provide any visual confirmation: Dwarves... definitely not his favorites, but even if they'd have demanded for the melody to stop by kneeling in front of the elf and kissing his feet: the demand itself just was utterly wrong! If the elf would pay brief attention to Arden's presence he'd be able to notice a brief occurrence of commiseration in the Skayleigh's facial expression before the latter directed his attention back towards the tavern's owner. Seeing the workers had given him an urgent reminder about another pouch being close to empty -- the one containing the little remainder of his money.

"Excuse me if this request might appear a little... direct, but do you know of any work for our kind ? Like some kind of seasonal work or such ? Pretty much anything that comes to your mind ?" Mercenary stuff was not what Arden would like to do most at the moment, but a realistic onlook on reality dictated that such was to be expected more often than not.

The Prince's Royal Guard

Manald was not amused. In his mindset, 'varying reports' was a quite shameless euphemism for one's system of intelligence having either broken down or been successfully deceived by the enemy. It shouldn't be that hard to keep track of a horde of Orcs marching straight for one of the more important settlements humanity had, should it ? Being outnumbered was one thing, but not even knowing whether it would be one to four or one to twenty if one only counted the soldiers around the prince himself was another.

Setting up camp here was a gamble. If it had been his own decision he had not stopped just 5 miles before the destination after days of marching, but pushed the troops harder so they would have arrived earlier, reducing the enemy's chances to do so before them. The big downside of this idea ? The possibility that the Orcs might already have reached the city even before that, resulting in 50 soldiers who had not been given any opportunity to rest running right into them. Manald could have made an argument out of that, but he held himself back. In his opinion they all had been thrown into a situation that had already been a dilemma, caused by others. He'd really liked to have a serious word with Leonidas' master of spies instead...

As the beastman meandered around the camp at a sluggish pace he could almost feel many of the soldiers turn their heads towards him behind his back. At least some of those had to be new people, not part of the gang that knew him already. Another item on today's negative list... just knowing that the men around oneself were good was much better than merely hoping for it. And then he heard the splashing sound of someone falling into the mud. Or, given the intensity of the noise, maybe one should even say 'having been dumped into it' ?

Out of sheer curiosity, Manald took the detour around the bunch of tents to investigate. What he saw made him cross his paws in front of his enormous chest: "Already starting the fighting before the fight, are we ? The lycan chuckled.

The Prince's Royal Guard

Manald

Manald Halung

Race: Beastman
Gender: Male
Age: 34

Normal appearance

Beastial appearance

At almost seven feet in his non-shifted form Manald stands on the more imposing side of things, something that is underlined by the fact that he's also superbly muscular, thick boned and well fed. Overall it's more than enough weight to give those concerned with logistics a headache when they have to think about him. Also: Imagine a wolf, mix it with the shape of a human, and you get Manald. He's got long, gray hairs on many his skin, his teeth look more like those of a carnivore than those of an omnivore and his ears are as pointy as are his fingernails. For the sake of interpersonal relationships however he tries to cover most of this in at least some form of clothing as long as he doesn't sweat too much in it.


Bio:
Manald is the offspring of his father Setsir and his mother Feyr, a loving beastmen couple living close to the kingdom's borders. This location allowed for early contact with human culture and civilization, but still it was hardly foreseeable that he'd end up as a member of the royal guard one day. His feral features rendered him a man less sociable than the average, but a company of mercenaries discovered him and offered him to join them. He proved good, very good indeed.

Everything ultimately comes to an end however. At some point the very regional affairs of his companionship no longer proved satisfying enough for the eager young man. The mercenaries did not like his decision, some of his former colleagues even call him a coward and a snob for his aspirations, but Manald left in the search for a more extensive adventure. He left his family behind with this decision as well, but it was in good mutual agreement. He could have left for the heartland of beastman territory, but out of curiosity he ventured deeper into the realm of human kingdoms instead.

It didn't take long for local recruiters to turn their eyes towards the wandering man. Armies are needed always and everywhere practically, so he was consumed by one not much later and started serving as a low ranking soldier. A bit less action then with the mercenaries, but a much wider reach in terms of travels and more potential friends -- and enemies -- gave him enough thrill to stay. Manald learned only very recently whose army he actually ended up in...


Personality quirks:
As fierce as he might be looking, his general demeanor outside of combat does not keep up with his outer appearance so to speak. He's a calm dude and if it would be easy to provoke him he'd probably be in a lot more trouble than he currently is, but once that certain threshold he also tends to show off a high degree of tenacity and stubbornness. He loves do eat and drink, so better don't get into his way when there's the smell of free, fresh raw meat around.


Bonds:

• Torsten is the apprentice of one of the blacksmith's that keep the guard's equipment in working order. He's still learning and a young boy, but he's also one of those without prejudices against beastmen and shows great interest in Manald instead. It would not be the first time for Torsten to have an open ear for Manald's special needs.
• Utgar was the head of the first band of mercenaries the young Manald joined and has never gotten over the fact that Manald left his men. Utgar current location or profession is unknown, but you always meet twice.

Fighting style: Manald's way of handling such things can be subdivided into two different branches: The first one is what he uses most of the time -- whenever he's not shifting -- and combines a morning star and a shield into something that clearly lacks finesse, but adds strength and ferocity. The second branch is when he's shifted: No weapons, just armor, claws and teeth that can bite through some more than just flesh. It's somewhat reckless, somewhat dangerous, but also capable of striking fear into the hearts of those having to oppose him.

Equipment:

• Two sets of thick leather armor partially reinforced with metal plates. One for his more ordinary shape, and one that allows both for a quick exchange and for a lot more body inside.
• A standard sized morning star
• A round shield
• A soldier's standard supply of water, dry meat, bread and basic utensils for everyday life.

Skills/Abilities:

• Raw strength and endurance: He's a beast after all, quite literally.
• Morale booster: He has learned several warcries typical for his people while still at home. They, combined with his sheer appearance, can deteriorate an enemy's will to fight and boost that of those fighting on his own side.
• Heightened senses: Even while not shifting his intrinsic lycanthropy improves his ability to see in the dark, to hear faint noises or to notice whisps of odour considerably.

Other:

Hider

-=Rules=-

1. Listen to the GM(s), If you have a complaint tell me. I am not an evil dictator and if I am wrong I will admit it.
2. Romance and Gore allowed, But keep it in good taste and in site rules
3. Now not all characters will play nice with each other I understand that, but keep the disputes in the RP not in OOC
4. Be civilized and polite please
5. All basic RP rules apply to this roleplay: Power playing, Meta gaming, and others are not allowed.
6. The story isn't exactly set, if you have an idea for a mission feel free to pm me the details and I'll try to work it in.
7. Copy the rules into a Hider in the "other" of your cs so I know you read them.
8. Get into your character's skin become him or her as you are playing have fun and give us insight into their thoughts.
9. Try to keep active, in both the IC and OOC pages please. And even if you don't have anything to say, at least read the OOC

Describe the person above you in three words or less.

Needs stress relief

The Prince's Royal Guard

First of all I have to apologize for the delay in my character's creation. I hope it's okay ?

Manald

Manald Halung

Race: Beastman
Gender: Male
Age: 34

Normal appearance

Beastial appearance

At almost seven feet in his non-shifted form Manald stands on the more imposing side of things, something that is underlined by the fact that he's also superbly muscular, thick boned and well fed. Overall it's more than enough weight to give those concerned with logistics a headache when they have to think about him. Also: Imagine a wolf, mix it with the shape of a human, and you get Manald. He's got long, gray hairs on many his skin, his teeth look more like those of a carnivore than those of an omnivore and his ears are as pointy as are his fingernails. For the sake of interpersonal relationships however he tries to cover most of this in at least some form of clothing as long as he doesn't sweat too much in it.


Bio:
Manald is the offspring of his father Setsir and his mother Feyr, a loving beastmen couple living close to the kingdom's borders. This location allowed for early contact with human culture and civilization, but still it was hardly foreseeable that he'd end up as a member of the royal guard one day. His feral features rendered him a man less sociable than the average, but a company of mercenaries discovered him and offered him to join them. He proved good, very good indeed.

Everything ultimately comes to an end however. At some point the very regional affairs of his companionship no longer proved satisfying enough for the eager young man. The mercenaries did not like his decision, some of his former colleagues even call him a coward and a snob for his aspirations, but Manald left in the search for a more extensive adventure. He left his family behind with this decision as well, but it was in good mutual agreement. He could have left for the heartland of beastman territory, but out of curiosity he ventured deeper into the realm of human kingdoms instead.

It didn't take long for local recruiters to turn their eyes towards the wandering man. Armies are needed always and everywhere practically, so he was consumed by one not much later and started serving as a low ranking soldier. A bit less action then with the mercenaries, but a much wider reach in terms of travels and more potential friends -- and enemies -- gave him enough thrill to stay. Manald learned only very recently whose army he actually ended up in...


Personality quirks:
As fierce as he might be looking, his general demeanor outside of combat does not keep up with his outer appearance so to speak. He's a calm dude and if it would be easy to provoke him he'd probably be in a lot more trouble than he currently is, but once that certain threshold he also tends to show off a high degree of tenacity and stubbornness. He loves do eat and drink, so better don't get into his way when there's the smell of free, fresh raw meat around.


Bonds:

• Torsten is the apprentice of one of the blacksmith's that keep the guard's equipment in working order. He's still learning and a young boy, but he's also one of those without prejudices against beastmen and shows great interest in Manald instead. It would not be the first time for Torsten to have an open ear for Manald's special needs.
• Utgar was the head of the first band of mercenaries the young Manald joined and has never gotten over the fact that Manald left his men. Utgar current location or profession is unknown, but you always meet twice.

Fighting style: Manald's way of handling such things can be subdivided into two different branches: The first one is what he uses most of the time -- whenever he's not shifting -- and combines a morning star and a shield into something that clearly lacks finesse, but adds strength and ferocity. The second branch is when he's shifted: No weapons, just armor, claws and teeth that can bite through some more than just flesh. It's somewhat reckless, somewhat dangerous, but also capable of striking fear into the hearts of those having to oppose him.

Equipment:

• Two sets of thick leather armor partially reinforced with metal plates. One for his more ordinary shape, and one that allows both for a quick exchange and for a lot more body inside.
• A standard sized morning star
• A round shield
• A soldier's standard supply of water, dry meat, bread and basic utensils for everyday life.

Skills/Abilities:

• Raw strength and endurance: He's a beast after all, quite literally.
• Morale booster: He has learned several warcries typical for his people while still at home. They, combined with his sheer appearance, can deteriorate an enemy's will to fight and boost that of those fighting on his own side.
• Heightened senses: Even while not shifting his intrinsic lycanthropy improves his ability to see in the dark, to hear faint noises or to notice whisps of odour considerably.

Other:

Hider

-=Rules=-

1. Listen to the GM(s), If you have a complaint tell me. I am not an evil dictator and if I am wrong I will admit it.
2. Romance and Gore allowed, But keep it in good taste and in site rules
3. Now not all characters will play nice with each other I understand that, but keep the disputes in the RP not in OOC
4. Be civilized and polite please
5. All basic RP rules apply to this roleplay: Power playing, Meta gaming, and others are not allowed.
6. The story isn't exactly set, if you have an idea for a mission feel free to pm me the details and I'll try to work it in.
7. Copy the rules into a Hider in the "other" of your cs so I know you read them.
8. Get into your character's skin become him or her as you are playing have fun and give us insight into their thoughts.
9. Try to keep active, in both the IC and OOC pages please. And even if you don't have anything to say, at least read the OOC

Post a random fact about yourself.

I have height vertigo (not to be confused with fear of heights).

As a child I had allergies against a large nummber of plants and other substances that made me suffocate without medication. Today I hardly have any allergies left, never did anything against it and just waited.