Armageddon

[B]Your name:[/B] Jonathan Ardale Valentine [B]Your age:[/B] 34 [B]Your connection to the Achard family:[/B] Though many of his ties are informal, Jonathan’s major connection with the Achard family is through the Silverworks. [B]Your portrait:[/B] [IMG]http://i35.photobucket.com/albums/d176/UnAverageCharles/asellas_diel.jpg[/IMG] [B]Your occupation/location:[/B] Jonathan is the captain of the airship "Valkyrie" that subcontracts to the Cobalt Silverworks as a transport and is registered with Fort Blanc as a surveillance vessel. Despite this being his primary form of income (and one that has not done him wrong financially) he is also an adventurer at heart, and as such has a slight reputation of being some what of a rouge. [B]Your story[/B] For all of his life Jonathan has been fascinated with flight. From the first time he saw an airship he knew what he wanted to do with his life. His father, Ambros Valentine, was an officer in the Anovian army, which instilled him with a loyalty to the nation that drove him to take an interest in the nations history. He took several classes on the History of Anova while he studied Airship technology. A few years after he graduated he signed on with Adolf, the original captain of the “Valkyrie”. He worked for years, quickly proving his proficiency with the ship. Every job came naturally to him, and he loved every minute of it. Six years after he signed on he was given command of the ship, and after four years of being captain he bought the ship out right. It was in his years working under Adolf that he made his informal connections within the Achard family. Recently he has taken a renewed interest in the history of Anova, and has embarked on several commissions for the Bourgade National Museum.

Attello waited for some of the others to shoot, knocking an arrow he drew back his bow string. He quickly aimed and fired. The arrow found it's way into the board low in the bull's eye, not many points but every one was worth it. He pulled and fired again, this time the arrow slid right below the first one, in the red. Attello took a moment before he fired his last shot, his first show left him plenty of room in the bull's eye's top half. Attello pulled back on his bow, aimed, and let the arrow go. It found its mark just above the first arrow in the bull's eye. The judge was astonished when he checked the score, the arrows sat so close that they quite literally had made one elongated hole in the target. Attello stepped to the side and eyed the next target. He would have no more trouble hitting the bull's eye, but taking two would be more demanding on his skills than the first target. He knocked an arrow, pulled the string back and aimed just above the bull's eye. Perfect. The arrow jumped into the bull's eye. Attello let out a small smile, not big enough for any one to notice, and then returned to his task. He took another arrow and aimed. He shot for the bull's eye, got a firm hit in the red. Another shot found it's place close to the bull's eye, in the red. Attello stepped over, now he was in front of the furthest target. A distance he was less accustomed to shooting at. He found his first mark in the red. His second found a similar place in the red. The last arrow found a place on the line between red and blue. "No bull's eye." Attello sighed. For the first time he noticed the crowds around them. One of the event staff approached him, "Some of them are cheering for you. Don't stand there like a tree, smile, wave. If the crowed likes you the king likes you." Attello took the advice and smiled, but didn't wave, he didn't want to get on the bad side of his competition for any reason other than points.

sorry, double posted

"Damn ash lands...damn blight storm...damn deadra lord..." Linduin grumbled as he made his way across the ash lands. He had walked into a harsh blight storm shortly after leaving Balmora, but he had put his head down and marched threw it as opposed to waiting for it to blow over. The storms were less normal then they had been in past years but still little cause for excitement amongst the general population. But the storm put him off his course, and he was conserned that he wouldn't be able to find Soran. Linduin came over a rise and saw the distant form of Soran, suprised at his good fourtune. He sighed, releaved that he was still in good health. But he also noticed a creature of some sort floating above the dark elf, "What have we here?" The old man picked up speed and gained on Soran. He made the creature out to be a dragon, not a usual sight, especially in Morrowind, but the creature had not yet killed Soran so it was safe to assume that wasn't it's intention. "Soran!" Linduin called out. Soran jumped as if he was startled by the call and whirled around. Linduin pointed to the sky and watched as Soran followed his gaze and seemingly for the first time noticed the dragon floating there above him.

Attello had arrived slightly on the early side with his bow. He didn't have his armor on since he didn't need it for the day?s events. He had sat out of the way and was meditating as the others arrived. Now he stood and strung his bow, it took relatively little effort but that was a deception to the bow's strength, he had been stinging the bow for many years and had grown accustom to the amount of pull on it. He plucked the sting, pulled it slightly, and released it. Laying the bow carefully on the ground he stretched his arms and prepared for the event to begin. As he stretched he eyed the targets, at 50 feet the first target would present no trouble for him. The second target was at the distance he was used to firing at, 100 feet being the distance his own target was set up. The last one was the challenge, accuracy was lessened at such a range simply because an arrow never flies strait at its target, so no matter an archer?s skill and aim the further the target, the more luck you need to hit the bull?s eye. Attello smiled, if some one out shot him today, it would be luck on their side.

Attello let out a sigh, the event was finally over. Now he could get his sword back. He made his way to the spectator area and found a few guards, they found some rope and tied it around Attello in a make shift harness and lowered him down the side of the wall. Attello placed both feet firmly against the wall and gripped the blade with both hands, he breathed once, sucking in as much air as he could, and then pulled, breathing out with the effort. The sword slid free after a moment of resistance. When the guards pulled him back up he thanked them and examined the blade, he had been lucky, the elf had jammed the blade into a place where two blocks met, and the mortar wasn't nearly as strong as the brick and gave the sword little serious damage. "A little polish and it'll be fine." one guard stated before he left. Attello sheathed the sword and turned to survey the arena, the masked man, the elf were still standing, just as he had expected, along with a few others. Attello took in his competition, the first event was the archery competition, and one he expected to place very well in, after all he hadn't missed a target in four years, most of which had been moving at the time. He didn't worry about the obstacle course either, as it was common for the knights to run such courses preparing them for the chaos of battle. Nether was the wrestling match, as wrestling was a favorite past time event among his garrison. He left the arena, he would go back to his room and prepare himself, meditating until the time came to test his skill. Tomorrow he would be much more finely tuned then he had been today, tomorrow they would see a man with years of experience and control, tomorrow they would see why his fellow knights chose him to represent them in the Cup.

Attello cursed, less at the fact that he could not use his blade, and more at the fact that he had allowed an enemy to take it from him, but the fighter had been quick, far to quick to be human, '[i]An elf no doubt, at least he finds me worthy enough to fight later.[/i]' Attello sighed as he rushed in at a man swinging in wide arcs with a broad sword, '[i]This would be much easier if that elf hadn't taken my blade.[/i]' Attello thought, but none the less found his way swiftly under the swinging blade and placed his shoulder squarely in the mans chest. He could felt the lungs give to the pressure as the man's rib cage was forced in, leaving him with little oxygen. Attello slid his foot threw the man's wide stance and swept his legs out from under him. Once the man fell Attello found him self face to face with the business end of an armored fist. Reflex took over and he dropped quickly down, grabbed the fighters arm and placed a quick punch in the man's side. The effect was less than he had wished; the man was wearing padded chain mail which protected the man's ribs easily against the attack. A sudden jolt picked Attello's entire body off the ground. His stomach hurt slightly where an armored knee had smashed into his armor, and his concentration was thrown off by the sudden movement. Attello hit the ground on his feet but stumbled as he regained his stance, returning his gaze to the fighter just in time to see the same fist as before, only this time it was too close to avoid. Attello turned his head slightly, and the punch caught his helmet at an angle, deflecting the blow to the side. Despite the deflection Attello's head jerked back from the force of the punch. Attello stumbled back a few steps, putting some distance between himself and the other man. Quickly he organized his thoughts, focused, and returned his attention to the battle at hand. Another punch came at him quickly, but this time Attello was fully prepared, and slid to the side just enough for the man's fist to miss his head by an inch or less. Attello slid quickly around and grabbed the man's arm, pulling it up and around his back. He pulled up and the man let out a cry of pain as his shoulder pulled free of its socket. Attello let the man fall to the ground, nursing his shoulder, "Set that quickly or it will hurt for days." He said and moved on. He had neared the wall, just above him was his sword, stuck firm enough into the wall that he would have to wait until after the fight was over the get it out. He looked around him, noticed that all of the surrounding contestants were well occupied with each other, and so he placed his back against the wall and watched keeping his guard up. "No need fighting if they're going to do it themselves." he said to himself.

"Linduin." A voice echoed threw the mages guild's main room. Linduin didn't look up from his work. "A message sir." "Thank you." Linduin replied and motioned to a space on the desk, a hand placed the letter on the desk. He looked at it, the seal was from the guild head, and not the one in Morrowind. He attempted to return to work, but he couldn't let himself and he grabbed the letter. Opening it quickly he unrooled the scroll, [i]Dear Linduin, My friend, it has been to long since we met, but I will quickly get to the point as I know you would have it. I know that you would rather not read this now, and I also know that you will not allow my letter to go unread, so I am secure in the knowlage that this issue will be resolved as soon as possible. My friend I hate to ask this of you but there are few people in Morrowind who have the experiance you have in this field. I have a disturbing report that there is a deadric threat in the ash lands. We can not let a force of power find a foot hold in Morrowind. Unfortunantly I can not tell you more, the message was not what I would like it to be, the scout died befor we could recover all the information. You must destroy this threat Linduin, do it quickly, do it well. And Linduin, the king is worried, very worried.[/i] "Of course friend, it will be done." he put his papers into a folder and put them away. And then a thought reached him, [i]Soran is headed into the ash lands [/i] "Some one tell me that boy wouldn't die to a deadra." Other members looked up, startled by the sudden question. Linduin sighed as he grabbed his staff and rose quickly, if he could catch Soran and warn him of the threat there would be little to worry. If he couldn't and Soran stumbled on a Deadra lord there would be little chance for him. Linduin put his helmet on rushed out of the building.

Attello stood patiently as the rules were given, his helmet was tucked under his arm and his sword was in its sheath. "And finally..." Attello pulled his helmet on, fastened the strap under his chin and adjusted it a bit to make it fit properly, he placed his hand on his sword hilt in preparation, he didn't no what the fight would be like, but with so many people attempting to qualify, it would no doubt be harsh, and no rules were given against weapons, or killing for that matter. "NOW BEGIN!" the words floated on the air, one poor fellow next to Attello hesitated a bit as if he didn't understand the command, he fell to the ground quickly as some one bum rushed him. The rusher ran blindly toward Attello, who stepped to the side and placed his foot out, the man fell face first, smashing his nose in the dirt. Ducking as a body latched onto his back, arms around his neck. Attello let go of his sword and flung the unknown fighter over his shoulder. The man landed with a thud on the ground. Attello rose quickly watching the fight unfold before him. '[I]If this keeps up I just have to stay out of the way and they'll all fall down on their own.[/I]' Three more opponents fell in similar fashion by Attello's hand, and then he noticed a man fall to the ground of his own accord, revealing a man with a sword drawn. '[I]Ah yes, much more to my liking.[/I]' Attello thought as he pulled his sword from its sheath. He began walking toward the man and soon the two were upon each other, the other struck first, swinging high and hard. Attello ducked under the swing and brought his blade up, following his opponents swing, only he moved faster and was able to force the man's sword to continue on it's path to far. This threw the fighter off balance, which gave Attello the opportunity to put him to the ground. He pushed in with his shoulder, bringing it up into the man's chin, cracking his jaw and sending him to the ground. Attello stepped over the man and quickly gained a footing as he waited the next fighter who would fail attempting to put him to the ground.

Attello had drifted into his room some time during the night, leaving his new and well drunk friend to attend to whatever things a well drunk half orc attends to in the middle of the night. The conversation had been broad, covering topics from the Alabaster Cup random moments of each ones childhood experiances. The memories faded into each other as Attello thought, he was rather drunk himself, and would more than likely regret the nights activity in the morning. He fluffed up a pillow and rested his head, staring out the dark window, the fire smoldering a bit casting a soft red glow around the room, sending shadows at strange angles on the walls. Attello begain to think about the Cup, the different events that would be presented to him, wondering which he had the most chance in, while at the same time silently assuring himself that there were some he would not be able to rise to first in. His thoughts lost themselves quickly as darkness crept over him, at first he thought to stoke the fire so he could see, but then he relized that the fire had not gone out, and with that last thought he fell asleep.

Attello sighed as he setteled himself onto the bed, undoing the leather straps that held the plates of steel to his boots he slipped the armor off and let it fall to the floor. His feet hurt, and he was glad to have the restaining weight off of them. He didn't really need the guards in the tournament, but he liked to go prepared, besides they could come in handy when fighting on foot just as well as horse back. He shifted his body up and unstrapped his chest plate, setting it carefully to the side. "Oh the simplicity of war." he sighed as he breathed a deep breath, alowing his ribs to expand unrestained. "I don't see how the heavy calvary can do it, that armor is twice as heavy as this atleast, course they sit up there and swing away, not much speed needed." Attello smiled as he spoke to himself, "Poor horses." Finally he stood, wearing leather leggings and a cotton shirt. He made his way to the door, intent on buying the cleark his drink and finding himself a few mugs of his own. He found the cleark just giving his duties to a younger worker. "Ah, you, come to pay up ave you?" the half orc called. Attello nodded and motioned toward the bar, "Good, I like a man who pay's his due quick like." The two sat at the bar and ordered their first drinks.

Linduin sat at a desk in the Mages guild in Balmora, he watched as Soran, a dark elf of particularly special ability prepared to leave on his latest mission, Linduin remembered his days of collecting guild dues, dreadfully boring unless the said member denyed pay, then it could get heated. "Soran." The dark elf looked at Linduin, who seemed out of place sitting at a desk with a suit of deadric armor on, "Could you tell Marvak that he failed to reply to my last letter for me, I would like to know why. If you don't mind, find out befor you kill him would you?" Linduin asked in a casual tone, he didn't really know if Soran would kill Marvak or not, Soran didn't seem like the kind who would want to kill a man, but he knew Marvak was a pain to deal with under normal circumstances, and there was little knowing what he might do. "Oh, and good luck with that Telvanni chap, don't let him give you any trouble."

Attello sighed as he entered the first inn he had seen with vacancies. The Half orc at the counter nodded at him, "Looken for a room?" He asked. "That I am sir, or more likely a roof of some sort, whats underneath makes little difference to me." Attello replied, he was aware that the prices in these inns would be higher than usuall, but he was also aware that he could find a fine place to sleep any ware in the city, for free, the street was not at all unwelcoming to him, though it was not as forgiving as the open country. "That'll be ten gold coins, and pump 'ur own water, burn 'ur own fire." The half orc said, obviously this was an establishment that did not look highly of humans. "Ten gold coins, I'd have guess less for one who protects the realms." Attello replied casually. The half orc srugged in a '[i]well thats the price[/i]' sort of way. Attello smiled, "I'm sure I could get similar accomidations with my horse, and the pay for my stable is not a tenth this price." The half orc was caught off gaurd by this. Most of the wealthier folks in town wouldn't even have nightmares about sleeping in the stables, but here was a man, a knight however simple, who proposed to do just that. "Well, um, I suppose, I may have a nicer room, water and fire provided, but the price'd be the same." The cleark stumbled threw the deal, and Attello knew he had hooked him in. "Make it six, and I'll buy you a round at the bar, your choice." Attello said putting on a friendly face. The cleark nodded in agreement and quickly checked off another room. He found the key and handed it to Attello. "I'll not be fergetting that drink any time soon mind ye." He said as his hand let the key drop into Attello's, "And my tasts is not of a low priced brew either." Attello nodded, "Right, what ever your bar man serves is up for offer." The cleark nodded, quite content with the deal he had made, the inn had lost a few gold coins, but he had gained a few drinks and he could see the good in that. As Attello made his way to his room he noticed a fully armored knight entering his another room, it struck him as odd but he pushed the thought away. '[I]To each his own, let him hide what he will[/I]' he thought and entered his room. finally a respite from travel, a bed to lay on, fire he didn't have to make, and water he didn't have to find. He could rest for now, atleast untill the games began.

Atello Hasting rode into the city nudging past the throngs of people, most of whom scuried out of the way of the large horse. One particularly well dressed chap desided to be stuck up and snobish and ignored the horse and rider, standing right in their path. Attello waited patiently, straitening up in the saddle. "Nice day." he said absently, the noble attempted to put off the ackwardness overcoming him. Attello looked strait at the side of the man's head, the horse snifed impatiently. "Now Roger, the man obviously has business at this shop, let him be." Attello smiled. The noble looked at him sidelong, then scuried off with his bruised pride. The knight led his horse to a stable near the center of the city, aproaching the young boy watching over the place he removed four gold peices from his pouch and offered them to the boy under handed, "Watch this horse boy, and I'll pay you one gold coin every day more that he is in your care." The boy's eyes widened as the offer sunk in, and he nodded quickly. Attello dismounted and handed the riegns to the boy, "Thank you sir, best of care for em sir! Or my name aint Robbin" "Well is your name Robbin?" The boy looked slightly confused, "Oh, aye sir, that's my name!" The boy smiled and led the horse away. "Now, to find an inn in the one city the whole world is visiting."

Thanks. I already figured I would have to resize it, so thats not a big deal. OK, thanks for the tip!