Clan Volknir
Established
Roleplay posts: 33 
Registered: Jul 24, 2017 9:51:26 GMT -8
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Post by Clan Volknir on Sept 17, 2017 13:21:53 GMT -8
On the west bank of the Ulvrive River stands a fortification attached to the West Sentinel Tower. The purpose of this fortification is to offer troop support to the Sentinel Towers, act as an inspection point for suspicious vessels and provide docking for vessels that don't wish to travel all the way to the Ulvjord Docks.
A circular wall of earth and stone covered by wood provide the fort's primary defense. Four Gatehouses of stone and steel are they only entrances save for a bridge connecting the northern most wall to the West Sentinel Tower. Within are barracks and warehouses. While there were four entrances only two of the gates were ever used. The east gate, which was closest to the small docks on the bank of the river and the west gate which allows land traffic in and out from the Ostvest Road.
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Father Silas
New
Roleplay posts: 4
Age: 28
Physical Description: *********************
When last seen, Captain Silas was a wolf of a man, with his thick hair, strong arms and hale physique. His skin was weathere from years at sea, sailing for the clan, repeling raiders, manning oars, climbing the rigging. He was never a tall man like most, but he was quick on his feet, fast with his hands and swifter with his sharp tongue and wit.
But the man who recovered after washing up on shore was altogether different. His strong arms were leaner now, his face marred with a wicked scar, eyes deeper set and sunken after having seen something that seems to haunt him still. The two leftmost fingers on his left hand are gone, as is his left leg below the knee.
But his hair is streaked with thick veins of iron grey and white, even his beard gone ashen in some places. A man once vital and vibrant was siphoned of his youth, having been privy to horrors that left him wounded in body and soul.
Clothes and Equipment: *********************
He still sports his usual clothes of a heavy tunic and a vest atop it, heavy trousers and now one good boot. An old sword still hangs at his hip and he hobbles about with surprising alacrity with a scrimshawed crutch of whalebone he keeps tucked under his left arm.
All around his body are charms; pockets full of shells, small jars of sand or ocean water, a necklace of driftwood and bone. An old cloak of tattered sailcloth hangs about his shoulders.
Registered: Sept 11, 2017 15:08:15 GMT -8
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Post by Father Silas on Sept 17, 2017 13:36:28 GMT -8
This was was far as the ship was sailing which served Silas well enough. He rested a hand upon the mainmast as he spoke a prayer, wishing the for a strong wind to guide them out and welcome waves to greet them upon the sea. With a little mead spilt upon the mast, Silas took the other sip himself and praised the tide before departing the crew with a few welcomed pats upon the shoulders.
Still, they kept their distance when he was done his business. They did not wish to be closer than this walking contradiction of a cursed priest casting blessings of good fortunes than necessary.
His pace was an awkward, rolling shuffle. The thunking of his crutch a constant sound as he hopped his way forward with his one good leg. One crewman was kind enough to help him off the boat, to which the priest reached into his longcoat to extract a small bottle of earth. "Good fortune from ill spirits, should they see to cast ye adrift," he told the crewman before hobbling off once more.
So. This was the Sentinel's Hold, the first step in the last leg of the journey to his new home. A good thing too; he only had the one last leg to stand on, now.
So it was he made his way towards the hold, seeking any caravan's making their way cityward, his light back bouncing on his back, looking more like an old hermit than the young man he really was.
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Clan Volknir
Established
Roleplay posts: 33
Registered: Jul 24, 2017 9:51:26 GMT -8
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Post by Clan Volknir on Sept 18, 2017 0:31:03 GMT -8
As luck would have it a long wagon was loading with wine. A cheapskate trader having decided to deliver to the fort rather than traverse the river had left the importer the cost of ferrying the goods by land to the city, else pay dock taxes twice. A grey and weathered old man grunted with effort as he tried to load the last cask of the rich purple liquid onto his cart.
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Father Silas
New
Roleplay posts: 4
Age: 28
Physical Description: *********************
When last seen, Captain Silas was a wolf of a man, with his thick hair, strong arms and hale physique. His skin was weathere from years at sea, sailing for the clan, repeling raiders, manning oars, climbing the rigging. He was never a tall man like most, but he was quick on his feet, fast with his hands and swifter with his sharp tongue and wit.
But the man who recovered after washing up on shore was altogether different. His strong arms were leaner now, his face marred with a wicked scar, eyes deeper set and sunken after having seen something that seems to haunt him still. The two leftmost fingers on his left hand are gone, as is his left leg below the knee.
But his hair is streaked with thick veins of iron grey and white, even his beard gone ashen in some places. A man once vital and vibrant was siphoned of his youth, having been privy to horrors that left him wounded in body and soul.
Clothes and Equipment: *********************
He still sports his usual clothes of a heavy tunic and a vest atop it, heavy trousers and now one good boot. An old sword still hangs at his hip and he hobbles about with surprising alacrity with a scrimshawed crutch of whalebone he keeps tucked under his left arm.
All around his body are charms; pockets full of shells, small jars of sand or ocean water, a necklace of driftwood and bone. An old cloak of tattered sailcloth hangs about his shoulders.
Registered: Sept 11, 2017 15:08:15 GMT -8
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Post by Father Silas on Sept 19, 2017 5:45:54 GMT -8
Luck, as the tides, came and went. And on this day, Silas found himself blessed by the winds of good fortune as he hobbled his way towards the beleaguered elderly man. His own crutch was propped against the wagon as he hopped to the man's aid, leaning a hip against the side for support as he bent down to lend his hands in helping the cask onto the wagon.
"Might be lighter...if we drank it all first, aye?" he joked, chuckling a little under his breath. "Headin' towards the city, sir?"
He reached around to snatch the crutch back up to tuck under his left arm.
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Clan Volknir
Established
Roleplay posts: 33
Registered: Jul 24, 2017 9:51:26 GMT -8
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Post by Clan Volknir on Sept 21, 2017 18:36:34 GMT -8
The man, with the other's help, finished loading the final cask with ease and gratefully responded, "Aye. Heading that way yourself then?" His question was rhetorical, "You helped me it would be an offense to the old ones if I did not return the favor." The grizzled man smiled, "It would be nice to have to some company on the road, its long one."
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Father Silas
New
Roleplay posts: 4
Age: 28
Physical Description: *********************
When last seen, Captain Silas was a wolf of a man, with his thick hair, strong arms and hale physique. His skin was weathere from years at sea, sailing for the clan, repeling raiders, manning oars, climbing the rigging. He was never a tall man like most, but he was quick on his feet, fast with his hands and swifter with his sharp tongue and wit.
But the man who recovered after washing up on shore was altogether different. His strong arms were leaner now, his face marred with a wicked scar, eyes deeper set and sunken after having seen something that seems to haunt him still. The two leftmost fingers on his left hand are gone, as is his left leg below the knee.
But his hair is streaked with thick veins of iron grey and white, even his beard gone ashen in some places. A man once vital and vibrant was siphoned of his youth, having been privy to horrors that left him wounded in body and soul.
Clothes and Equipment: *********************
He still sports his usual clothes of a heavy tunic and a vest atop it, heavy trousers and now one good boot. An old sword still hangs at his hip and he hobbles about with surprising alacrity with a scrimshawed crutch of whalebone he keeps tucked under his left arm.
All around his body are charms; pockets full of shells, small jars of sand or ocean water, a necklace of driftwood and bone. An old cloak of tattered sailcloth hangs about his shoulders.
Registered: Sept 11, 2017 15:08:15 GMT -8
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Post by Father Silas on Sept 25, 2017 6:28:52 GMT -8
( Clan Volknir) "Then on behalf of the old ones, and Mother Sea, we thank thee for your hospitality and shall abide," Silas replied, alighting a hand over his heart as he offered a slight bow, bottles and seashells clinking lightly as he did so. With the crutch secured beneath his left arm once more, he moved his way around to find a seat. "Long journeys, like a good meal, are best when shared. Would give this one plenty of time to hear all about this isle and her mysteries. How fares Ulvjord in its fledgeling days?" he inquired. |
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Clan Volknir
Established
Roleplay posts: 33
Registered: Jul 24, 2017 9:51:26 GMT -8
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Post by Clan Volknir on Sept 25, 2017 15:53:32 GMT -8
As the man whipped his horses to work with the reins he answered, "Quite well. There was nothing here three months ago. In but one season they have built a massive wall to protect their homes, the Sentinels to protect their river and all manner of buildings in which to live and trade." As he spoke the carriage made it's way out of the fortress and on to the road destined to Ulvjord. <Exit to the Ostvest Roads> |
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