Open Chronicles Stand and Be Free

A roleplay open for anyone to join
Elliot burst out of the building, Bow in hand and arrow nocked, held low and ready to raise, draw, and loose if need be. But there were no soldiers nearby. Just a stream of civilians flooding out of the Square one way and rebels pushing forward in the other way. The melee was still widespread, the firing of projectiles from both soldiers and ambushers still general.

And through this perilous clamor Elliot ran. He ran and returned the arrow to his quiver and his Bow to his back as he did, dropping a hand to one of his sheathed daggers. It stayed sheathed, for thus far he'd been able to slip and weave around the pockets of fighting as he neared them, and he passed by with little or no notice like the edge of a shadow crawling across the ground as a cloud blocks the sun.

Toward the gallows platform he ran.

In short time, he came upon Khari and Patricia running the opposite way. Elliot almost slammed without reservation into the latter, and only by digging the heels of his boots into the cobblestones was he able to halt himself and merely bump her. He reached out. Caught the surprised Patricia by the shoulders to erase any chance of her stumbling from the bump.

Fighting all around them. A quick once over of Patricia, seeing her frightened by belief but physically unharmed. Then quickly to the daemonette, "Khari! Where's Connor?"

* * * * *​

One Obanese soldier fleeing from the Square, he and several others trying to regroup into some kind of formation in one of the avenues leading away, happened to turn his eyes skyward during his retreat.

He slowed. Came to a stop.

And looked with both awe and fear toward Griffin's Peak. Those griffins which could always be seen as tiny dots in the distance...an everpresent sight flying about the snow-capped mountain.

Some of them were getting closer.

Khari
 
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"Dead!" Khari had never been one to mince words. She'd only known Connor for the span of a breath, and though she guessed the Drow might have known him better it didn't really matter in that moment.

Her free hand settled on the Drow's shoulder, pressing him forward and pushing some momentum back into him and Patricia. "Go!"

The Daemonette hissed.

If they got caught in the middle of this mess they'd quickly end up joining Connor in his grave. A thing she had absolutely no interest in. Her mouth was about to open to say something else, but before she could a loud cry echoed through the air.

Head turned almost immediately, lips thinning.

Shit. She swore. Shit shit shit.

Khari cried as she threw herself forward and rushed towards the edge of the crowd. Her dagger flickering up as a batch of soldiers shifted and fell into their path. Quick as lightening the Daemonette launched herself forward, moving like a shadow.

She darted at the soldiers, slipping past the swipe of a sword and grabbing a pauldron. Her fingers curled, and she used the man as a counterbalance to suddenly sweep low to the ground and around him. Her knife coming up to bury in the man's throat. A graceful dance that lasted less than half a breath.
 
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Dead. Elliot grimaced, flashing clenched teeth. Connor was the man in whom Elliot had trusted with the task of getting Patricia clear of the fighting and keeping her safe. Plans, as it always happened, never survived first contact, and thus it fell to improvisation to patch the gaps.

He had a firm and guiding hand dug into the back of Patricia's rags, moving her along through the melee. The girl—not wanting to press her luck in narrowly avoiding death twice in one day—kept low.

To Khari, Elliot shouted over the clamor, "We can—"

An engagement. Quick and sudden. A small group of soldiers barred their path, spotting them. Khari was on one, and Elliot, pushing Patricia back (hardly a time for gentleness), went to another. The soldier fended him off for a few precious seconds with skilled thrusts of his sword from around his shield. It must have worked well for him in the past, for this tactic seemed to have become routine. Elliot caught on. Baited a thrust slightly off to his right, then pivoted on his feet and whirled around to his left, slipping past the blade and the arm that held it and sinking his drawn dagger into the soldier's armpit. The soldier let out a sharp groan of pain, and Elliot grabbed him by the back of the neck and flung him over to a group of rebels in the melee, and there he was set upon.

Meanwhile, Patricia was being menaced by a third soldier. In a panic she came running Elliot's way, the slashing sword from the soldier chasing her poised to take her head clean off of her neck.

Elliot did the most expedient thing he could do. He dropped low and tripped her, and the soldier's steel claimed a few strands of her hair but fell short of her neck as she toppled forward and hit the Square's cobbles hard and ungracefully.

Khari
 
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Khari didn't even flinch.

It would have been more accurate to call what she was doing a dance, rather than any martial art. The blade in the soldiers neck ripped free with a scatter of crimson, the Daemonette's slight form shifting and using her own momentum to round the man.

Her wrist flickered back, and then forward.

The third soldier opened his eyes wide, hands dropping his weapon as he reached towards the blade which had now settled in the midst of his throat. He collapsed to the ground with a clatter of armor. "Come on!"

Khari urged as she reached down and grabbed Patricia, pulling underneath her arm and shoving her forward in the crowd.

"They're trying to surround us!" She hissed, noting as the Soldiers closed in on them. Shoving civilians to the side and desperately attempting to surround the trio before they could get away.
 
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A consideration, brief but powerful. Seeing her in action, Khari was skilled. Exceptionally skilled. Was it self-taught, honed over a long life full of occasions for improvement? Or was she trained somewhere? No one involved in the conspiracy of this rebellion asked many questions of the others.

No time left for wonderings. The Obanese soldiers had the upper-hand in this portion of the gigantic Square battle, and they were definitely closing in. Khari had the right of it.

Elliot glanced back. Back to the house from which he'd taken the shot which saved Patricia from being hanged.

"There!" he shouted over commotion. Pointing to the still open door as he ran toward it. "We can hold up in there!"

It was all they needed. Just to hold on until James Farson's reinforcements secured the victory.

And a brief glance over his shoulder, toward the distant mountains which bore the town's namesake peak and the not-so-distant approaching figures in the sky, told him that those reinforcements would be here very soon. Just hold out. Hold out.

Khari
 
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Khari didn't need to be told twice.

She raced forward as quickly as she could, barreling through the crowd and shoving aside anyone that got in their way. It was an almost comical sight, the small diminutive girl pushing and pressing her way through the chaos.

One might have thought it impossible, but either through sheer force of will or an indomitable personality the Daemonette cut a path through the chaos of the crowd. She shouted, shoved, and harangued until they reached the doorway of the building Elliot had pointed out.

Her boots thundered on the wooden floor as she practically kicked the door open.

"Get inside!" She hissed towards those lagging.

Then in the same breath, as her party went tumbling into the the house she swung around. The door slammed down, and mere seconds later the Daemonette began to shove all the furniture she could find within it's path. "Help me!"

She called, grabbing the end of a table and doing her best to flip it against the heavy door. A thunderous knock calling against it as one of the soldiers banged against it from outside.
 
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Elliot had a hand to Patricia's back, pushing her along if need be, ensuring that she didn't fall behind. The soldiers recognized her, of this Elliot had no doubt, and whether the battle in the Square was won or lost by the military, if they were able to seize her and deliver "Oban's justice" then, in their obsequious minds, they will have done their country a great service. Hence the vigor of their pursuit.

Khari was at the door, beckoning them in.

Elliot and Patricia plunged through the entrance with such rapidity that both went tumbling down to the floor upon crossing the threshold. Right on their heels was the squad of soldiers. Khari slammed the door in their faces and there came a loud crash against its wood as they battered into it from the outside.

Elliot pushed himself back up to his feet. He threw his back against the door, digging his boots into the floor, bracing himself as hard as he could to keep it shut.

Help me!

"Help her!" Elliot commanded of Patricia, who was looking scared and dazed and needed, more than anything, a sound command or two to give her direction and get her moving.

Patricia's gaze flicked hastily between Elliot and Khari. "Where, where, what, how?"

The door bounced and Elliot's stance gave a little. "With the furniture! Drag it!"

Catching on and overcoming her shock, Patricia leapt off of the ground and went to help Khari with whatever piece of furniture she had come to place her hands on—tables, chairs, shelving. Elliot helped barricade the door as the pieces were brought close to him and the door, and eventually he needn't brace himself against it any longer.

Regaining his breath, Elliot stepped away from the door.

And, just at that moment, came a ferocious sound from outside, accompanied by shouts of panic, alarm, distress: the deep screech of griffins along with the thunderous flapping of their wings.

A small smile spread across Elliot's expression. He glanced over toward Khari. "And there's our cavalry."

Khari
 
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Khari let out a ragged breath, half pulling back and slamming her head back against the wooden wall. "Well, thank fuck for tha-"

A loud cry broke through the howl of the crowd behind her.

It was like nothing she had ever heard before. The sound something akin to the call of an eagle but ten times louder. Her lips thinned, and she couldn't help the flicker of fear that pierced through her heart. She knew what that meant.

What those things were, which side they would be on if things came down to it.

"Do we..." She glanced over towards Elliot. "Wait or go back out there?"

They had just barred the door, but unless those things and whoever brought them helped clear out the whole town...

Perhaps it would be better to get to the roof.
 
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Arnor's heavy sword, thick with blood, clad to the floor. Soldiers flooded the hallway, seeking refuge from the Griffins and to seek those inside. Arnor was on the other side of the barred door, having been separated from the group for some time.

He felt one of their lances go near him, hitting the door with a thud. A panicked strike. He was facing a good many of them, in a small enclosed space. He was outnumbered. But not outmatched.

"Stop right there, hunter! You foreigners, all alike! How many are inside?"

Arnor pounded on the doors thrice, to signal the group inside that he was still alright, just lost to them briefly in the chaos. He turned to the group of soldiers facing him, swords raised.

"Nordenfiir, is the word you're looking for."

And with that, he dropped his swords and his cuirass, turning his head. They thought him to be disarmed- he just wanted to make sure his articles were still there when he returned. Screaming, once as a man- and then- the terrifying roar of a bear. Arnor's Svalen form came to, encompassing most of the hallway. Dagger-like claws and heavy fur stood now where Arnor was. He raised himself on his hind legs, the mighty bear roaring again.

To say that Arnor made short work of the guards and soldiers was an understatement. Those that stayed were butchered by the large bear, and many of them ran outside to escape the bear, only to face the onslaught of Griffins. Arnor's Svalen form, loose and unhinged, tore through the hallway, toppling the guardsmen like ragdolls.


His roar echoed through the halls, almost shaking it.
 
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The battle in the Square was as varied as it was big. Certainly, the Obanese soldiers were not aided by the hasty retreat of Commander Goldsmith (a fair-weather commander if there ever was one), but in some areas of the battle their sergeants carried the day.

Or were carrying the day, rather, until the flight of griffins, led by the griffin-tamer turned rebel James Farson himself, came swooping down upon them. Gigantic hind claws clutched with their sharp talons, lances from their riders skewered. Some soldiers were flung high up into the air and allowed to simply fall to their deaths. One unfortunate was torn apart by two griffins, each with a claw-hold on his legs and his torso and flying in two different directions.

Without the proper weapons necessary to fight the strafing griffin riders, the soldiers quickly took to panic, even where they had the upper-hand among the rebels. A general rout was beginning, spreading like dry season fire. Those who stayed to fight, or who had little choice but to fight, started to flee with the early runners in a desperate bid to reach Fort Perseverance.

* * * * *​

Inside the house, the screeches of the griffins had given Patricia a definite fright. Worriedly, she glanced from Elliot to Khari.

"What was that?"

Then, hardly a moment after Khari's question, a ferocious ursine roar came from the other side of the barricaded door.

Patricia, looking even paler than before: "What was that??"

Elliot glanced at her. Smiled a little. "More cavalry."

From the sound of things, Arnor was performing his task of being a heavy-hitting bruiser very well out there. A timely enough arrival, stopping the soldiers outside from even having a chance of breaking down the door. It also confirmed something for Elliot that he had always wondered about but never had the occasional to experientially know: yes, the Nordenfiir people weren't kidding when they said they could shapeshift into bears. There was a smarmy merc out there that Elliot owed money to now.

"We'll go back out. Link up with Arnor and see the fight in the Square finished," Elliot said in answer of Khari's question. He stepped forward to the impromptu barricade of furniture. "Let's get this torn down."

Khari Arnor Skuldsson
 
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Khari let out a long breath, but didn't argue as she began to grab pieces of their barricade and pull it down.

The muddled mess of furniture came apart without much of an issue. They had been trying to add weight to the door, not create the worlds best barricade. Within a few minutes the sound of battle began to grow louder, and the Daemonette once again drew her daggers.

"Lets get this over with then." She said, taking half a step before stopping.

For a moment she stalled, then glanced over towards Elliot. "She should probably stay here."

There wouldn't really be much point if the woman got herself killed. A melee was a dangerous thing for anyone, even someone with skill. One wayward arrow or a sword swung a bit too wide and you'd end up bleeding out.

Not that Khari had been in many pitched battles. The closest had been in Nari with Ichika, but it had been enough of a lessons for her.
 
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