Initiate
gender: Male
status: offline
Alias: John Raines, John Mercer
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 29
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Post by Jack Mercer on Jun 5, 2017 18:54:41 GMT -8
The quiet in the evening reminded him just how much this was unlike Arenia this place could be. Despite the grandiose reputation of Tyran's instability, unique population, and seemingly endless magic, Jack had come anyway in search of a place where no one knew him.
He set away the life and all it's trappings, and he buried it all- set a grave and everything. He even had a vigil, a wake. Tonight was another one of those nights of mourning- best done with a wistful smile and a good bottle of spirits. A bit of dark bread and a chunk of roasted pork slathered in some sauce he couldn't quite place.
With little more than some equipment for jobs, and his skills honed as a mercenary, thief, and general adventurer he had come with some ambition, he'd never be the finest fighter in the land, not like in Izmanth. He'd never be the greatest mercenary general, not like in Arenia. He'd not live the old story over again. Here he was no one. Jack Mercer- a man with inconsequential history.
Somewhere far away and across the sea, that inconsequential history was being told in long form in the village of Rathe. The bard had cleared his throat, stalled for effect and began the story as the protagonist continued to drink, far away and across the sea.
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Initiate
gender: Male
status: offline
Alias: John Raines, John Mercer
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 29
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Post by Jack Mercer on Jun 5, 2017 18:57:52 GMT -8
In our land of Izmanth, mountainous terrain breaks apart the fair Baronies of the nation which rules mercantile in the the lower north. Not quite arctic but alpine, our Izmanth boasts beautiful terrain, metals and iron, and a civilization that has been in decline since it’s progenitors came in long ships. The old Ironhands- barbarian lords of ship and sword birthed spoiled men who found gold was easily found and stolen in commerce instead of raided in vessels. That was three hundred years ago. In present day, those spoiled men rule five baronies under the King in Doinkirk, and our barony to the South is ignored for the most part.
In the south, fertile lands and rivers dot an otherwise unremarkable place of valleys trailing further and further from Doinkirk. This is the Barony of Rostenrohl- a place boasting a rich history until the rule of Simon Rohl. His tyrannical rule taxed the people into oblivion and enslaved those who couldn’t pay. It was a season of bandits and revolutionaries, of vicious soldiers and fat nobles, and it was the dirt that John Raines was born. His parents struggled and sacrificed for twelve years- his father Ian Raines an adventurer. Ian was one of the few adventurers who had stuck around through Rohl’s unreasonable taxes and general paranoia. His mother, Mary, was a hardworking seamstress who’s entrepreneurial gifts stretched Ian’s pay to create a small life somewhat insulated from Baron Rohl’s taxes, enough to bribe the guard when needed, and ensure her goods went to those who could afford it and on occasion those who could not.
Twelve years and tyranny can feel very natural to some. Unfortunately for the Raines family, it would never be natural enough for Ian.
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Initiate
gender: Male
status: offline
Alias: John Raines, John Mercer
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 29
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Post by Jack Mercer on Jun 5, 2017 18:59:18 GMT -8
If you haven’t noticed, this story is about John Raines otherwise known as Jack Mercer. It’s a story as much as it’s a tall tale, and it’s history as much as it’s half myth. He’s not the kind of fellow who is ten foot tall. No. And I don’t want to start getting entirely too informal with my account of the man who saved our village. I want you to respect this tale not because Jack is so great (as I’m not so sure he is), but to remind you that a man when pressed is certainly more powerful than his enemies can give him credit. Now every time I tell these stories I’ve been told to put them to paper. I prefer to spend a long time speaking about it. People pay attention and it’s easier to be given a hot meal and gold. So get nice and comfortable, and when you consider how great you’re entertained pass me a coin. John is no more unlikely a hero than any of the people who made his band of allies- or the hundred men who called themselves the Hounds of Iron. And I’ll not give you honey to wash down every bitter thing he did, nor every sin committed on his way to doing a scant amount of good. So hold your children tightly mothers, and fathers hold your wives. But just to be careful, I’ll tell you a little about carefree childhood- before the time for that story is done.
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Initiate
gender: Male
status: offline
Alias: John Raines, John Mercer
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 29
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Post by Jack Mercer on Jun 5, 2017 19:00:16 GMT -8
Jack was called John by nearly everyone but his father. His father maintained that “Jack is a nickname at best, and a poor name. John had dignity.” Jack never felt too dignified and never spent too much time with his father. Ian travelled a lot- and while that was expected with a career involving the slaying of goblins and orc (and the plumbing of forgotten ruins, and generally wandering around until treasure or trouble found you) Ian travelled even more than most. I would wager he was gone nine months of every twelve.
When he was home, he drilled into Jack the same passion for combat that he had. Ian was a daring swordsman, one who used two blades, a long parrying knife and a saber, stout but easily wielded. He used a rapier when the circumstance allowed- but when hacking away at monsters one needed more heft than a weapon meant for precision against men. Jack held his first blade at five and continued to do so even during those nine months. He trained often with the captain of the militia in his township far from Gedika, the seat of Baron Rohl’s noble lackey for the area.
When he wasn’t training he was torturing his mother with antics with his friend Rafe. The two lads were fast friends who liked to play at games that foreshadowed their futures. Both boys were excellent at going sight unseen, excellent at scrapping when they were found and generally gifted with just enough wit to make a boy a danger to himself and others.
At eleven Rafe’s family tried to make it elsewhere and it didn’t work out. His mother brought him back while his father worked in Gedica. Jack didn’t know at the time, but Rafe’s father had been enslaved by the Baron. Rafe didn’t play much after that. Come to think of it, Jack didn’t either.
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Initiate
gender: Male
status: offline
Alias: John Raines, John Mercer
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 29
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Post by Jack Mercer on Jun 5, 2017 19:01:22 GMT -8
It was after a long period of Ian being gone that things shifted. It’s the opinion of Baron Avery that if this shift had not happened, Baron Rohl would still be the tyrant of Rostenrohl. Father Tobias says that such moments in our youth assuredly are gifts and curses both- destined to change us into what we are to become.
Ian returned changed somewhat. He seemed almost manic, desperately pleading with Mary about something Jack never got the privellige to hear. The two of them fought often. All of this made sense to Jack some years later, but when Ian left to do some new job *for* the Baron- he brought out Jack and presented him with his first real sword.
It was a fencer’s weapon. It was a saber of sorts but with the triangular piercing tip. The edges were sharp enough to cut, but it would be difficult to use against plate. The knuckle guard was a basket hilt- and while fitted for a smaller hand, a smaller reach it had enough heft to be easily lethal.
This presentation stilled Jack enough for him to forget that he was mad that his mother cried. It kept him quiet enough to listen to words that would haunt him. “They are times where a man must do something bigger than himself, than his wife, than his kids. When you are older, you’ll understand. Your mother will understand. I’ll send money soon.” Ian had always sent money.
It had long since lost its luster, and soon it would leave much to be desired.
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Initiate
gender: Male
status: offline
Alias: John Raines, John Mercer
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 29
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Post by Jack Mercer on Jun 5, 2017 19:02:23 GMT -8
Near the Autumn festivals, meager affairs under Baron Rohl- bandits had been edging closer to the town of Kryder’s Run. Supposedly the town militia could rout them if they got too close, that reinforcements from Gedica were enroute. We know now, through our history that Kryder’s was burned to the ground. We still aren’t sure how. Too few survivors. But we know that Jack and Rafe were among them. It’s been talked about more than a few times how the tyranny of Rohl made this possible. It created a constant influx of bandits, desperate men who turned to dark things. It created the Front, it created the Wretched, it even created the alliance which toppled Rohl. But for years it created disorder, chaos, violence.
Each decimated village was a testament to how much they needed the Baron’s troops. Ironically the more people fought Rohl, the more some bent the knee to him and his horrible impulses. Kryder’s Run is where Mary died in her resistance to men less desperate than evil. Called the Carrion Crows, this group of one hundred slaughtered the men, stole away the women, and what they couldn’t take they burned.
Rafe, Jack, and a young girl Sarah hid in the nearly dried up well in the old part of town. After nearly a day down there, they climbed back up amidst the ashes. The three of them dusted themselves off, tried to scavenge, and suddenly no longer children took off on the road. This was another one of those moments that would guide Jack to the man he would one day be. When it was all said and done, Jack, Rafe and Sarah cried themselves to sleep in a meager campground hearts heavy and bellies empty for the next few days, until Rafe had an idea.
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Initiate
gender: Male
status: offline
Alias: John Raines, John Mercer
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 29
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Post by Jack Mercer on Jun 5, 2017 19:03:10 GMT -8
The fake versions of these stories always involve copious amounts of orphans, but to be fair none of these kids were. Both Jack and Rafe’s fathers were still alive. Sarah’s mother was a maidservant in Traynham. Sarah had to get there, a long ways away- and Jack and Rafe promised to see her there. Jack and Rafe could not reliably consider Traynham a destination for them both, but Rafe knew where they could go. His cousin had joined up with a group of ‘revolutionaries’, the Wretched or rather a young group that belonged to the Wretched.
They took in young men all the time, put steel in hand and food in belly. While Jack had the steel already, neither of them had many prospects. Rafe and Jack were rare in that they could read, write, do numbers. All of it due to the chapel in Kryder’s Run being tended to by a scholar who happened to be a priest. Being smart didn’t accomplish much in Rostenrohl however, and it was as good a job as any to join the resistance.
They got Sarah to Traynham, and while she was received as much a burden than anything, she was safe. That very night the two boys left Traynham to go south to find the Wretched. It is safe to say joining wasn’t too hard- sticking with them? That was different.
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Initiate
gender: Male
status: offline
Alias: John Raines, John Mercer
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 29
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Post by Jack Mercer on Jun 5, 2017 19:20:37 GMT -8
The Wretched were the kind of “revolutionaries” that used freedom fighting as an excuse to way lay merchants, steal from grain stores, and generally make everyones life a little more difficult under the auspices of making Baron Rohl miserable.
Like most things, the consequence was implied but the reality was often ignored. Oddly enough despite his age, Jack didn’t remain ignorant of their role for long. He and Rafe didn’t go on raids or even scout too often. They kept watch at night, they sharpened swords and cared for the limited horses they kept. They cleaned, the cooked, and when they didn’t do that- some of the more considerate ruffians made the usual borderline abuse into instruction.
Rafe was a surprisingly adept fighter, while Jack had a certain skill that came from blood- Rafe was mean. Prone to bouts of passion that shook his small frame in such a fury he gave larger boy’s twice the welts he earned. Both boys were cunning enough to not showboat, a lesson most young lads don’t learn. I advise you all to consider this and remember it well. It does not do- to show your strength without purpose.
Ian Raines passed that to his son. It stuck.
The distance they had from the real violence was gratefully taken by both boys so they never had to consider what they were doing, save when the wash day came. More than enough blood on occasion to give them doubt- and not enough of the Baron’s men shedding it. Jack once told Baron Avery that he knew it was wrong by the kind of steel the men were using. Old stuff. Not the kind of weaponry the Baron equipped his soldiers in. The sword he had secreted away in his bedroll, often hiding it away from the others- it was superior to most of the weapons they cared for.
Just when Jack’s conscience couldn’t take any more- Takron gave the command. They were abandoning the camp to move south, near an Arenian holding called Gossberry Bridge for the winter. They’d be safer their, a bit warmer, out of the mountain passes and valleys and with real shelter in palisades used against the old Arcadians.
Warmth was well received among the troops, and young Jack nearing his thirteenth birthday was simply hoping a reprieve from all the bloody tunics.
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Initiate
gender: Male
status: offline
Alias: John Raines, John Mercer
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 29
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Post by Jack Mercer on Jun 5, 2017 21:38:55 GMT -8
The south was a blessing for the Wretched Sons (the name they settled on). The Wild Lands rested between Izmanth and Arenia, an expanse of buffer territory that no one wanted. It was too dangerous to clear it of the beasts, goblins, orcs and duregar, so it was well left alone. The Kritar- the Orc warlord in the Wildlands had established a dominion that grew steadily but slowly every five or so years. This danger meant it was a fine place for bandits to hide. Thirty miles north of Gossberry they set up the first camp before finding ruins only fifteen, dangerously close to patrols but advantageously close to those who dared the Wild Lands to trade with Rostenrohl.
Eventually as Winter settled pickings grew slim enough for raiding parties to flirt with the border. One such party was entirely too clever. They observed the Lord of Gossberry Bridge hunting with his son. A repeat winter’s hunt they took with minimal guard.
Dark men planned darker deeds, and before the dead of winter at one of the last hunts, the bandits got their prize. Lord Byron Garer, his son Erick and daughter Charlotte. Ransom demands were sent, and soon enough things would come to ahead for the Wretched Sons. It was here that Jack made the choice that would change his life, all while bringing water and hard tack to the prisoners.
Like so many things, change started with words. Words uttered by a desparate lord. "Boy...listen and listen well, I'll take you into my very own home...if you but just listen well."
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Initiate
gender: Male
status: offline
Alias: John Raines, John Mercer
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 29
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Post by Jack Mercer on Jun 6, 2017 17:25:15 GMT -8
Lord Garer's captain of the guard, the lord's brother and his nephew committed to leading a rescue attempt under the guise of paying the ransom. It worked well enough against the ragged bandits, and set into motion Takron’s downfall. Takron full of rage (as he was prone to be) had every intention of making sure the Garer’s he had in his custody would perish before he was apprehended and no doubt killed.
The camp workers were readying to flee, the bandits were rallying to retreat to the North quickly being overtaken by the horses employed by Marsellis, the Captain of the Guard. Even in the crowded wood paths this use of calvary caused more fear than casualties. It only took a scant few hours for Takron’s desperation to lead him to bring out the prisoners, while Rafe had tried to assist a few of his friends and Jack stayed close at hand considering the desperate promises of the soon to be short lived Lord.
When Takron brought the prisoners out Jared attempted to struggle only to be silenced with a clubbing blow to his head. Takron in all his anger spun round and drew his blade shouting curses against the nobility against the world. Jack learned something in that moment. Anger at the world was exhausting. Takron breathed heavily during his ranting and raving, his usual sharp senses focused all the while on Lord Garer.
Jack clutched his bedroll, his meager belongings and hearing the sound of the last of their forces being routed conscience and self-preservation created a kind of alchemy of both. Jack could easily justify his following actions.
Now, you may be wondering how much time has passed in this tale- a tale that hasn’t even really began in truth. And it’s the last thing I’ll tell you tonight, we’ll pick up the rest tomorrow with a good meal, and maybe a larger crowd. I told you I would avoid no detail no matter how sinful, how dark- but Jack at only twelve, not yet thirteen drew his blade from it’s hidden place in his pitiful rucksack.
Lord Garer’s expression changed from fear to a kind of grim satisfaction. To Takron’s great surprise he felt something cold and sharp slip between layers of boiled leather into the back of his left lung. He was less surprised when the blade was drug out to the side splitting the lung beyond repair. He had taught Rafe and Jack just how to pull off such a brutal twist.
Lord Garer watched his captor die with a smug satisfaction before finally turning to the twelve year old who quite ruthlessly stabbed a man in the back. “Come. Don’t fret about him. Untie us and we’ll get ourselves out of all this mess.”
Jack did as he was told. Lord Garer had no doubt he would be a fine investment. He had an eye for talent…
Now, go- all of you. It’s time for this place to close and for me to rest my bones. No pleading for more, it’s a good place to end.
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Initiate
gender: Male
status: offline
Alias: John Raines, John Mercer
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 29
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Post by Jack Mercer on Jun 6, 2017 17:34:16 GMT -8
The Garer estate was more wealth than Jack had ever seen, but admittedly it was rather small considering the holdings of the other Arenian lords. It didn’t take long for Lord Garer to keep his promise. He fed the boy, housed him (in servants quarters) and even made sure he was educated. He was trained by Marsellis to be a man at arms one day, he was tutored by Charlotte and Jared’s governess and the scholar retained by the Lord Garer.
It was the beginning of a new kind of youth for Jack. He put on weight from nightly meals near fires, he put on muscle from daily training. In short, after a rough year the next five or six went rather well. By the time he was sixteen he had turned into Charlotte Garer’s favorite ‘toy.’
You know the stories about her, how her turn to witchcraft ruined her name, her family. It was here that her fall began, but that is not the story people generally want to hear. She was older, unwilling to be so easily married off, and taken to using the young man as a bed warmer. Jack was too young and foolish to mind, but eventually he would come to resent Charlotte- blaming her for his own inability to trust, to simply be, clever enemies of the future adventurers would take advantage.
Charlotte was intent to leave, to have her freedom and her privilege. She was cunning enough to ensure it, and against Jack’s wishes- Jack was to come with her to protect her as a favor to the family.
Jack’s ambition was a small thing back then, to be a guardsman in Gossberry, to live a simple life, to have food on his table. Charlotte wanted to capture treasure, slay beasts, and master the witchery she’d embraced behind her family's back.
At least one of them got what they wanted.
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Initiate
gender: Male
status: offline
Alias: John Raines, John Mercer
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 29
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Post by Jack Mercer on Jun 6, 2017 17:36:32 GMT -8
Jack left with Charlotte in the spring of his 18th year. Clad in fighting leathers he looked every bit the image of a fighting man. Jack had managed to hone his instincts into a ruthless fighting style that wasn’t perfected but held enough promise to hold his own against an orc or hobgoblin.
Charlotte left with nonsensical choice of shoes, a heavy pack ( that Jack carried) and a lead on a group of adventurers. They joined the group on the promise that Charlotte’s pedigree would open doors. The group were a disparate lot, an anthro-dragon name Kreiv, a druid by the name of Clover, a paladin named Alessa.
They went on adventures, going through the deep roads in Valmoria, the Wyrdwood- all the stories you’ve heard. You heard of their jobs with Reinholt’s guild, the battle with the umberhulk, where Jack took his cloak and wrapped it around the head of the beast to keep his gaze from wiping away the minds of his party. Those are well told, and admittedly less important to this account. I want to get to the good stuff. To Graywall- that ruined fort deep in the Wild Lands--
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Initiate
gender: Male
status: offline
Alias: John Raines, John Mercer
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 29
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Post by Jack Mercer on Jun 6, 2017 17:57:13 GMT -8
I remember telling you that the Wild Lands were different than they are now. There was no city there, no villages, no towns. Only small camps of raiders, or groups of barbarians from the Jagged Coast to the east, only goblins and orcs, and in a few places the sprawling underground caverns of the duregar. Even with such dangers, and dangers continuing to mount- it was preferable to living in Rostenrohl. That’s why refugees came down to settle in Graywall, an abandoned fortress that could use some serious work but wasn’t overrun by any of the aforementioned dangers. Yet, I mean.
The investor in the project was a man named Lucan Burroughs and his partner Martin Lythe. Lovers and thus not welcome in the puritanical yet depraved Rostenrohl, they came with laborers and their families with no better plan than to take the ruined fortress and make it a home. A point of trade on the way through the Wild Lands- but more over a place where they could live with some measure of freedom to be who they were.
Luckily they had a friend with Lord Darren Acaro in Valmoria, one of the patrons of the newly minted group of adventurers. He sent the party to support them, paying their expenses, and promising them grand adventure.
Now, I should tell you the truth here. Jack was not noble at this time. He was not brave. Still learning his trade he had not one but many brushes with death at an age altogether young. He was certain his life as a guardsman would of been less risky. He complained. He argued. It’s the truth, the Archdruid Clover told me as much. He wanted to be there less and less as they went further and further north. This as we know is not without reason, but it was downright cowardly his motivations for avoiding the job.
Graywall had been cleared all around itself for visibility, creating a muddy approach on all sides devoid of trees all the way to the longest bowshot. Trudging into the fort to receive work was a slow process in which Jack muttered most of the time. That’s when the Lady Alessa, the Knight of the Eastern Rose- Paladin of Lythella spoke up to chastise the young fighter. Clover recalled and has told this humble bard just what Alessa said about young Mercer.
“You’ve cut a path through enemies before, you’ve proven yourself capable. Why are you so intent to remain in fear? Where do you deny greatness wherever you see it? It’s small of you Mr. Mercer. Worse yet you apply that same cynicism to yourself. These people...they need hope. “ Alessa said with a tremble in her voice. “I’ll not have you rob it from them with your snide manner and your cowardice masquerading as pragmatism.”
Luckily for Graywall that was as wounded as Jack would be that day, and for a great many after. To everyone’s surprise the young thief turned warrior went in with a smile and locked his fear away that day- some argue that it wouldn’t come out again for years.
It is my humble opinion that Alessa’s outburst saved a lot of people that day.
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Initiate
gender: Male
status: offline
Alias: John Raines, John Mercer
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 29
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Post by Jack Mercer on Jun 6, 2017 19:27:35 GMT -8
Graywall was in trouble. Nearby Orc patrols had gotten closer and closer, Orcs who followed The Fallen, instead of the normal Orc god Ragnir. The Fallen was a demonic concept, followed by human cultists, hobgoblins in league with diabolic forces, and demonic shamans of Orc tribes. The Fallen tribe was violent, as much as at war with the Orcs devoted to Ragnir than everything else.
Jack was the one who thought that particularly useful. While scouting he found a raiding party of the Kritar’s orcs, devoted followers of Ragnir. Using one of the symbols from an orc shaman he had killed, he set up a trail leading Kritar’s scouts to evidence of the Fallen and their warband. It was the first instance of Jack taking this scheming kind of initiative. While Clover and Charlotte thought him foolish for even trying- this was an important step.
WIthin two days it became obvious that the Fallen warband lead by Dragos Thrask would be attacking Graywall. Robert Zardon, a battle raging human follower of Ragnir (a god of war) was in charge of the defense was gathering the meager militia and it was here that Jack realized just how horribly prepared they were for any kind of attack. Jack, only 18 years old but approaching his 19th year went to Zardon and introduced himself.
Zardon was a warrior. Not a tactician and he hadn’t thought on how to use the long clear approach as a method to thin out the orcs. Jack had. Using dry straw and drawing trenches- he soaked the straw in oil- created breakfires, put up sharpened stakes and barricades, obstacles that would break a feared Orcish charge. Jack took from Zardon what Zardon didn’t want.
Jack surprised Charlotte who had been so used to Jack’s insecurity, his talent mixed with doubt. Alessa wasn’t surprised, and in her prayers to the Light she smiled. Jack took command. A young man with fair hair, surrendering himself to a desire to not just survive but extend that right to everyone else. He organized the labor, he put the women and children in the secure larder, set guards- and put a weapon in the hand of every ablebodied person, regardless of gender, regardless who they loved- as long as they would fight.
Some of the residents of Graywall back then- returned here to Izmanth after the fall of Baron Rohl.
They say it was a remarkable day, but one without pretense. Without speeches. That the men and women followed him because it seemed like he would do anything, try anything just to buy them all a few more minutes.
The Orcs attacked at night after the sun had went down beneath the trees. Magic amplified the cheiftain’s voice. “If you surrender, we will allow your youngest to be slaves and only sacrifice half of you.”
No one replied. The orcs, snuffed out their torches and with the darkvision their kind is known for they dropped their shoulders and charged.
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Initiate
gender: Male
status: offline
Alias: John Raines, John Mercer
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 29
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Post by Jack Mercer on Jun 6, 2017 19:52:54 GMT -8
The first trap was quite literally a tinkered together bomb. It was set along the surest line of approach and when it exploded with a acrid smoke it neutralized the sight advantage the orcs had for a few precious seconds. They pushed forward splitting up as arrow shot began to fall in scattered volleys delivered by the less than trained militia. A few good archers however fired flaming arrows at places predetermined- places in which hollowed logs had blocked sight of a lit candle.
Targets for the humans who could not see- but concealed from the orcs who approached. The firebreaks were lit, great stretches of terrain lit up with fire which consumed dry straw, oil soaked wood and coal, and enough greenery to make thick smoke . This lead to many of the orcs falling into trenches, mudholes, spikes and caltrops upon some of the harder ground. A charge that should of taken little more than a minute stretched on for nearly five as Drogos tried futilly to refocus his bloodthirsty band soon becoming more frustrated than battle frenzied.
To Jack’s surprise the archers had slain fifteen orcs of seventy before they had closed towards the heavy wood and banded gate, a gate that’s age made it an easy target. The Orcs moved two siege ladders and Drogos predictably sent some to the other side of the keep to split the defender’s attention.
Jack did not need to compensate. He had already planned for it. By the time Drogos realized it, it was too late.
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Initiate
gender: Male
status: offline
Alias: John Raines, John Mercer
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 29
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Post by Jack Mercer on Jun 6, 2017 20:05:16 GMT -8
Zachary Ramosa has said of Commander Mercer that his early exploits succeeded because his strategies were almost ripped from a child’s story book or a mummer’s farce. It’s been said in Izmanthian military circles that the leadership exploited by John Raines as he is sometime called is reckless, irresponsible, but utterly hard to defend against.
One day before the siege, Jack watched children playing with blocks- thin wooden blocks. They had made a castle and every time they played knights and the castle, they knocked the gates down. One of the young children playing didn’t like this. “It’s the castle’s turn to win!” she had complained.
Jack knelt down with the children admiring their work and taking on the girl’s cause. The small wooden soldiers, clumsily but lovingly carved by their father marched on the castle again.
The outcome was the same. The small ball they used as a battering ram would always knock the ‘gate’ off. Nothing secured it, and if they built it any differently they wouldn’t be able to call it much of a gate. This got Jack to thinking of his own predicament. Then he realized something.
The gate was useless, but it was heavy. Heavy enough to crush those underneath it. Heavy enough to cause enough of a struggle…
Jack had them dig six inches into the earth where the gates could stand teetering with not hinges or supports. He had them lash the gate up with ropes tied to the top of the walls, hidden from the front view. And then--- he had a barricade built on all three sides of the interior. Crossbows, javelins, rocks, everything that could feasible kill an orc close at hand, and another line of smoke to slow their advance once the cheap shots were taken.
Jack overcame a weakness not by pretending it was a strength. He couldn’t make the fortress stand as it once was. He could only control how it fell. I’m sure some of you are wondering about the blocks. The little girl was very happy with the idea- and found it amusing when her brothers soldiers entered a fort designed to bury them alive.
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Initiate
gender: Male
status: offline
Alias: John Raines, John Mercer
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 29
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Post by Jack Mercer on Jun 6, 2017 20:51:04 GMT -8
The charge on the doors caused them to collapse on the strongest of his vanguard injuring some, assuring the death of one- apparently they hid sharpened spikes at the top of the gate near the frame. Drogos screamed out to the Fallen One for strength, before realizing his attack on the non-combatants would assuredly turn the tide. When they grouped enough to push through he was certain the defenders were at the old chapel. Scouts had indicated the chapel hearth was lit, smoke rising from it’s chimney. That candlelight could be seen in the windows.
The foolish humans lead them to their weakest members and with sentiment they’d be crushed. Drogos didn’t understand why most of the defenders were here, including a man swinging a great axe with gusto at those who broke past the firing line. A female knight shouting prayers to rebuke them and smiting with sword and spell, or a red haired witch hurling spells from a nearby roof. They’d overtake them eventually- but this was supposed to be easy!
Across the battlefield a scant group of Orcs had mantled the last part of the wall and were approaching the chapel. Most local churches were the most defensible parts of a community for reasons like this. The chapel was small, guarded by several men who stood under the portico wearing rounded helms.
Tirog, the Bonegrinder- The Son of Thrask charged into the portico swinging his falchion with devious intent- cleaving in twain the head of the guard until his arms jerked at the lack of resistance and his chest was covered in the warm viscera of a pumpkin. His mates came behind him soon seeing that the shapes in the dim light were not men but decoys. The cursed and slammed against the door, broke the nearby window and were met by an arrow shot out the burst window. It felled the orc where he stood, as a young woman named Martha did the job she was assigned. A skilled hunter she was there just to make sure they didn’t get in, given an exit from the chapel into the old keep.
Martha held her position firing arrow after arrow, until the orcs paused their attempt to come in. It distracted them from the second part.
Kriev, the anthrodragon. A dragonborn descended by an green wyrm, whose breath could spit poison and whose rage set him apart from the warriors in Jack’s group of allies. He spewed that poison as he fell upon them great sword swinging as hy swung the claymore back and forth. The four remaining Orcs tried to crowd him and by the time they had him at a real disadvantage they were only two of them.
The third part of the trap happened quickly with a blade delivered from behind as Jack ended the life of Tirog the Bonegrinder. The shock of the death giving more than enough time for Kriev to seperate the head from the shoulders of the last Orc.
Martha made her escape, and Jack and Kriev went to enact the last part of the plan. In the distance torches could be seen beyond the wall- and a warhorn made three sharp blasts.
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Initiate
gender: Male
status: offline
Alias: John Raines, John Mercer
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 29
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Post by Jack Mercer on Jun 6, 2017 21:23:36 GMT -8
Kritar Orkhat was the leader of the Orcs devoted to Ragnir, God of War. He had sent this warband to eliminate the followers of Thrask and consolidate power here before establishing his territory. It was bold move, one irresistibly tempting once the leader of the warband, the Cleric of Ragnir Grushnag heard of the battle.
They were unaware that the human’s had thinned out the warband- but such an advantage moved them to attack immediately. The traps sprung already, and the battlefield well lit they caught Thrask in such a position that he urged his men into the killing ground established by the humans. While some broke through they headed to the chapel to rejoin their inside force.
Discovering them dead, and that the Orcs loyal to Ragnir were not attacking the humans- Drogos realized what had happened. He cried out for the human’s commander, the mischevious layer of traps. He expected it was the cunning barbarian who had held a line against his troops. He was surprised that in the courtyard near the chapel he was approached by a young man unable to grow his first beard.
In Drogos rage he tried to kill Jack, but Jack didn’t fight alone. His party wiped up the few who made it into the town, and brought them out to Grushnag as tribute. Impressed by the boy’s tactics and strategy Grushnag accepted the blood tribute and left them be.
Many men would of won that day and rested on their laurels in the small town that would spring up around Greywall as it’s reconstruction and repair made it a worthy home. Jack left with his party, changed by Alessa’s advice and the sensation of glory. It was the first time Jack had beaten followers of the Fallen One. It would not be the last.
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welcome
Tyrannights is a free-form play by post RPG with a medieval fantasy setting. It was formed in 1997 by Shawn and Doreen with many different owners and versions over the years. Its current version is Tyran: Tales of Legends owned by Sinead and Laelia.
Tales of Legends is world and character building focused with and original setting. There are no forced character aps or registration, so come stay in Wendy's Tavern for a drink. Have you character serve one of two Tyran gods. Rule a city of your own, or serve Tyran's Queen. There are limitless possibilities for your character's story... so what are you waiting for?
Tyran is PG 13 and LGBT friendly.
site updates (dd/mm/yy)
13/11/18 - THERE ARE NEW GODS! please check out the temple folders for more details!
29/11/18 - Both temples have staff positions open for those interested in joining the temples
29/11/18 - We are currently editing our achievements and adding more! Please be patient as we fix this.
current events
TBA
Time: Ongoing
Where: TBA
Host: TBA
staff
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Amika
x_Tempest_D
SW_Hotaru_SD
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(Username may varry)
Joshua
Shelzi
Storyteller/Trent
Wulv
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credits
Tyrannights/VampPub was originally created by Shawn and Doreen. Tyran: Tales of Legends remake is currently owned by Sinead and Laelia Content is copyrighted to Tyran unless otherwise stated. The skin is created by Wolf of Gangnam Style. The board and thread remodel is by Kagney.
Banner Image was created by Karnage82.
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