from the woods > a medieval werewolf role play > closed

[zhelaniye]

as of late, i have had a major hankering for both a medieval role play and a werewolf role play, so here we are.
i used to be an avid role player and writer, but it has been some time since i last participated in either activity
with any kind of reliable frequency, so i am hoping that this role play will be my opportunity to change that. i do
not intend to impose any kind of literacy or post frequency requirement on this role play, because i know that i
may not be able to always adhere to either of them myself, but it is my intention to post 3 lines per character per
post once or twice a week, at minimum. the role play itself will fixate on a small medieval kingdom, fordaemdur,
which is plagued by the yet undiscovered presence of werewolves both within and outside of its walls. if you are
interested, please visit the discussion thread to post your forms and see where the story goes with me!

[zhelaniye]

FROM THE WOODS!! FROM THE WOODS!!
the royal family of fordaemdur, the fenns, have been seated quietly in the desirable fortress and lands of fordaemdur for centuries,
with very little to worry about but their own, insignificant wants and desires. that is, until the current king, ronan fenn, came to
power after the relatively unexpected death of his father, markin fenn, in the spring of ronan's thirty fifth year. unbeknownst to
ronan, his father was not the only thing to die that spring; by accident or design, an undisclosed truce followed markin fenn to his
untimely grave, thereby leaving his son and his people vulnerable to the beasts from the woods.

the beasts from the woods, the wolves, have been shackled by the truce to which their alpha agreed for decades, but have equally
benefitted therefrom by enjoying the privilege of a non-nomadic life in both of their skins. however, with the truce and its shackles
broken by the death of markin fenn, the pack, now lead by tarner eathe, the son of tobias eathe, the alpha who agreed to the truce,
and the few rogues that tobias left alive, who didn't agree with the truce to begin with, have an opportunity to regroup, and perhaps
even seize control of the lands on which they were once conditionally allowed to reside.

tldr; ronan fenn is the newest in a line of fenn kings to rule the kingdom fordaemdur followng the death of his father, markin fenn.
tarner eathe is the newest in a line of eathe alphas to rule the pack of werewolves that resides in fordaemdur. markin made a truce,
first with tobais eathe, tarner's father, and then with tarner, after tobias' death, to keep the wolves from killing or turning the people
or visitors of fordaemdur while still allowing them to live and hunt game in the kingdom and surrounding area. this truce was broken
when markin died and failed to advise his successor, ronan, of the wolves or his truce with them. the existence of the wolves is not
common knowledge, and only markin and the wolves themselves knew of the truce at the time of his death. with the truce broken,
the people of fordaemdur and their king are at risk, and the wolves of fordaemdur have a choice to make.
THEY'RE COMING FROM THE WOODS!!

[zhelaniye]

FROM THE WOODS!! FROM THE WOODS!!

````````````````````````````````all site rules apply
````````````````````````````````fade to black where appropriate
````````````````````````````````no god modeling or power playing
````````````````````````````````please don't be your own romantic interest or partner
````````````````````````````````post all forms and ooc talk on the discussion thread
````````````````````````````````realistic face claims only, please
````````````````````````````````lgbtq+ characters welcome, but will likely be forced to hide their identity due to the time period
````````````````````````````````for the sake of neatness, please disable your signature
````````````````````````````````be respectful
````````````````````````````````if you have any questions or concerns, please don't hesitate to reach out!

ONCE A VISION FROM THE WOODS!!

[zhelaniye]

BOUND BY TAPE!! AND BY WIRE!!
many, if not all of the wolves of fordaemdur will also have ranks within the kingdom of fordaemdur, as part of the truce that
they had with the former king was the ability to lead normal lives as humans within the walls of the kingdom. for this reason,
names that appear in grey in the left column indicate werewolf status and will also appear somewhere in the right column.

the kingdom of fordaemdur

king ronan fenn
queen tbd by ronan
heir apparent bennet fenn
princes closed
princesses charlotte fenn + closed
advisor to the king one (must be human)````````````````````
master-at-arms nikolias bentham
master of horse avalon smith
kennelmaster caine mallory
blacksmiths svala holt + one
captain of the guard damien drake
guardsmen eskil thorson + raina pace + unlimited
soldiers sersha eathe + ivor archibald + unlimited
domestic servants moriah o'malley + unlimited
citizens tarner eathe + ramses prescott + arlo eathe + freyja payne +
```````seraphina wilde + kain butcher + unlimited

the wolves of fordaemdur

alpha pair tarner eathe + tbd by tarner
heir apparent arlo eathe
lesser heirs sersha eathe + cordovia eathe + closed
beta pair ivor archibald + tbd by ivor
subordinates svala holt + damien drake + unlimited
recently turned closed
rogues freyja payne + jax mcintosh + reserved for
``````dragonheart48 + closed
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BRUISED AND BEATEN IN THE FIRE!!

[zhelaniye]

NEWER ROPES!! STRONGER NETS!!
legend
werewolf | deceased | → one sided interest | ⇄ two sided interest | ⭾ forbidden interest/relationship
♡ betrothed | ♥ married | ✰ mother of | ★ father of |✯ siblings | ✧ kin (other)

markin fenn

★ ronan fenn, bennet fenn, & charlotte eathe.

avalon smith

→ damien drake

charlotte fenn

→ caine mallory

raina pace

✧ (cousin) kain butcher

name

symbol name

tobias eathe

★ tarner eathe, arlo eathe, sersha eathe, & cordovia eathe.

cordovia eathe

→ ronan fenn, bennet fenn

name

symbol name

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HAVE US PLUMBING FURTHER DEPTHS!!

[zhelaniye]

OPEN!!
the discussion thread is now open for forms (21/01/01)
the role play thread is now open for posts (21/01/09)

[zhelaniye]

RONAN FENN!! "history repeats itself..."
[35 years] [human] [male] [king of fordaemdur] [no romantic involvement] ═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

it was the view of many that, at thirty five years old and the level of education and training that he had attained in that time, ronan's shoulders were formidable enough to withstand the emotional and functional burden that losing his father placed upon them. however, it was the belief of many others that no amount of education or training could compensate for a lack of practical experience. some expressed their beliefs, be it support or opposition, to his face, while others chose more clandestine outlets for doing so, which made support difficult to believe and opposition anything but.

ronan didn't know to which group's idea of him he was conforming, but in the time that had passed since his father's death, he got the impression that it was the latter's. His grief weighed on him like a yoke, fitted to a cart bearing the additional weight of the kingdom that now belonged to him, for whose fate he was now solely responsible. in his lifetime, fordaemdur had known few enemies, beyond those that were natural and lurked in the woods outside of the castle's walls, but that peace was not guaranteed; similarly, fordaemdur had come to know economic and social stability, but that prosperity was not guaranteed, and with his father dead, it was ronan's duty to maintain and grow it all. and what a duty it was.

the new king, young without actually being young, pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his bloodshot eyes where he sat, feeling like an imposter, at his father's large mahogany desk in his solar. as sleep continued to evade him, the nights only seemed to get longer and with them, so too grew his list of things to do. when ronan opened his eyes, the desk was striped with the pale first light of dawn, reaching persistently through the slender crack between the window coverings on the small, rounded aperture in the wall behind him. another night wasted. ronan rose to his feet, his late an unproductive night bringing his younger brother, bennet to mind. he knew that bennet was just as likely to be found in the street outside of a tavern or a much less savoury place as he was to be found in his bed, and with little else to do than think about his own failures, ronan did not want to wait around to hear about it from someone else when he could simply see and correct it for himself.

as he walked towards the door, still clothed from the day before, ronan ran both of his hands through his dark hair and rubbed his eyes. he didn't know what he was going to do, about the kingdom or about bennet, but he had to start somewhere, and finding bennet would be much easier than finding a way to do what his father seemed to do so effortlessly for the people of fordaemdur.

ronan moved quietly out of the solar, down the long spiraled stone staircase that lead up to it, and out into the morning light. the castle yard was cool and quiet, with only a few workers milling about and preparing to start the day, so ronan didn't have much difficulty leaving without drawing too much attention. he walked the short distance from the castle to the main, populated area of the kingdom, all the while keeping his eyes open for a prince disguised as drunk.

[mentions: bennet fenn] [tags: open] [location: his father's solar > the castle yard > the kingdom center]

[zhelaniye]

TARNER EATHE!! "i kept my mind on the moon..."
[36 years] [werewolf] [male] [alpha of the pack of fordaemdur] [no romantic involvement] ═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════

his hands, with dark earth caked up under the nails and embedded in the lines of his palms, looked wrong holding the burnished gold circlet of the crown between them. despite its simple design—plain tines, evenly spaced, with no jewels and only the most minimal of engraved details—it was heavy in his grip, but it was nothing that tarner couldn't lift to place upon his own head, or on those of his siblings. he envisioned similar crowns for arlo and sersha both, no longer just the heirs to the pack that he and his father before him had built, but to the kingdom as well. those that survived would want for nothing, his siblings, his packmates, and even the people of fordaemdur would all be provided for, tarner would make sure of it. he had the strength and the skill to lead, not just the pack, but the kingdom as well, and with the crown on his head, he would finally have the power to do so.

his gaze focused on his hands again, but this time, the dirt that he saw there was more than just dirt. blood beaded on the smooth surfaces of the crown, sliding along with the object's every movement, and settled in the shallow ravines of the engravings; it clung to his fingers and forearms, not yet dry, but getting there; and it drew his eyes downwards, towards the bodies at his feet. dark hair and the death of an entire family line; an unavoidable sacrifice for the greater good. was unavoidable the right word? tarner didn't know, but he had a funny feeling in his stomach about it. he wasn't unaccustomed to killing, but there was something about this, something...

tarner woke with a start. as he moved, the grey light of the morning glinted on the sheen of sweat that had formed on his brow in his sleep. he exhaled a breath that he hadn't realized he had been holding while unconscious. what a ridiculous dream. there was nothing funny or even questionable about his ambitions, and he knew what had to be done, he just had to stop overthinking it so much. in other words, he needed a distraction.

tarner sat up and ran a single hand through his hair, short as it was. he gave his head a subtle shake and looked towards the door of his modest living quarters. when not in his wolf form, tarner made his living by effectively doing as little work as possible; he arranged business between businesses, thereby having very little business to actually do himself, which worked out well for him and tended to pay well, but inconspicuousness demanded a a certain level of restraint when it came to spending, so modest was as good as he could allow.

he needed to get out of the castle walls and spend some time in his second skin, at least for a bit. maybe that would help him to get his mind off of all of this madness. tarner stood up and followed his line of sight to the door. he stepped out into the street and immediately set off towards one of the fortress' few entry and exit points, which were easy enough to get through, but not always the most assessible in terms of relative distance. later, when his head was clear, he would need to seek out his packmates, if he didn't run into them beforehand, to check in and see how they were faring, but for the time being he needed to do that for himself.

[mentions: arlo, sersha, indirectly ronan, indirectly bennet] [tags: open] [location: his bed > en route to an entry/exit point of the walls of fordaemdur]

[scarlet_benoit]

Arlo Eathe
[male; 27; werewolf; heir apparent of the pack of fordaemdur]

He had woken up well before dawn. He'd had another dream of his mother, and the happiness that his family used to know when both she and his father were alive, and it had made him feel restless and homesick for a time and place that no longer existed. He couldn't bring himself to go back to sleep after, worried that he would fall under the spell of another dream like that if he did. There was no use in longing for the past.

Pulling himself from his thoughts, he took a deep breath of the crisp morning air and noticed that his breath fogged the air when he exhaled. The forest smelled of damp earth and gently decaying undergrowth, familiar and comforting. He heard the sharp snap of a twig and turned his head quickly in the direction of whatever had caused the sound, bow drawn and ready to fire. A doe and her fawn stood frozen, looking at him in the first dim rays of morning. Sighing, he released the tension in the bowstring and lowered his weapon. Kneeling to the ground, he foolishly reached a hand out to the pair and cooed at them, unsure what he was expecting. It came as no surprise to him when the doe flinched away and ran off into the morning, herding her baby along in front of her. He was a predator, after all.

He stood and walked in the opposite direction to check the traps he had laid the day before.

[mentions:none; tags:open; location:forest outside of fordaemdur]

Avalon Smith
[female; 33; human; master of horse]

Ava woke up with the dawn and got dressed for the day, hurrying as she laced up her dress, brushed her hair, and braided it loosely behind her. She cut a thick slice of bread and ate it quickly, pulled her shoes on, and opened the door of her modest room. One of the perks of being Master of Horse was the fact that she had the option of living in the loft above the stables, an offer that she had readily accepted. It gave her the ability to constantly monitor the horses, and she did not have to get up earlier than necessary to travel to the castle.

The first task of the morning was feeding the horses. There were a few other stable hands who would be there later to help with other things, but she reserved this time solely for herself, preferring to enjoy the peace of morning in relative solitude. Low nickers came from several stalls as the animals heard her coming down the stairs, and she greeted them brightly with a "Good morning!" If anyone else heard her talking to them, they would probably think she was mad, but she didn't care. She walked to each stall with the cart full of hay and pitched hay into their feeders with the large metal fork before moving to the oats. One scoop was enough for most of them, but she had noticed a couple that were looking a bit thin, and made sure to give them two.

At last she reached her own mare's stall and was done with feeding for the morning. She entered and patted Rose on the wither as she ate, and listened to the sounds of dozens of mouths chewing, rustling hay, and soft huffs as the morning broke.

[mentions:none; tags:open; location:castle stables]

[vulture,]

Caine Mallory
| Male | Human | Kennelmaster |

There's little that one can do when a 140lbs wolfhound decides that it is time to wake up. Caine had been peacefully resting, curled up under the most wonderful hide blanket when Tyrus leapt onto the bed and promptly settled himself directly on top of the former knight to shower his stubbled face in licks. Caine groaned and tried to hide his face from his companion's onslaught-- it was useless. As much as he tried to act upset, he couldn't help but crack a smile at his daily wakeup call. "Alright, alright, calm down." He said to the dog, his voice still gruff with sleep. The moment he went to sit up, Tyrus flew off of the bed and bounded around the room excitedly before settling to shift his weight from foot to foot in front of the small abode's door. With a good number of complaints, Caine eventually heaved his body out of bed and got ready for the day.

At long last, freedom had come! Tyrus bolted out of the door as though he had been a prisoner for years. The pair lived comfortably in a small house that faced a large courtyard. On the opposite side of the field were the kennels, set away from the keep a ways to keep the nobles from ever having to hear a dog bark. The courtyard served as a wonderful place for training and allow the dogs to run without much effort on Caine's behalf. He attempted to rub the sleep from his eyes as he slowly strolled across the lawn then allowed his hand to massage his cursed shoulder. One day he would have use of it again-- that's the hope he held onto. It had been a few years since the incident and little progress had been made. In truth, he was lucky to have his arm at all. Medicine was not exactly advanced and he could have easily lost the limb to infection. That knowledge didn't make the toll of the injury any less.

"Good morning, pups." He greeted through a yawn as he entered into the boisterous kennels. The dogs had awoken as soon as they heard the jingling of keys in the door. Their schedule would begin with a quick run in the fields then some food, a rest, then training for the younger canines. One by one, Caine swung open the doors of each kennel-- which closely resembled horse stalls, though a bit smaller-- and the dog who called it home sat at the open door, waiting for the command. Once all doors were open and each dog was checked for health, Caine nodded his head towards the door to the field and gave a short whistle. All at once, a stampede of excited dogs bolted for the field to take care of their business, reunite with their packmates, and burn off some energy.

| Tags: none | Mentions: none | Location: kennels|

Svala Holt
| Female | Werewolf | Blacksmith | Pack Subordinate |

The alleyway was silent when Svala emerged to light her forge for the day. Even the sun still fought to crest over the horizon. The warm glow of the fires illuminated the shadows of her outdoor workspace and already the covered area began to warm as the coals ignited. Each day presented minimal time to waste with a large demand for weaponry since the death of the king. It always happened, her father had told her whilst training, everyone becomes wary of a new ruler and the possible outcry that could come from such a change. More people take to arming themselves for protection should anything go awry. Her family had long been a big name in smithing and she generally found herself selling through stock as soon as she put it on display. Who was she to complain? Her coin purse was full, she ate well, and her business grew.

Svala flipped her head upside down and swept her curly hair into a high ponytail, secured with a strip of fabric she had laying around from some old armor project. She was outfitted in cured leather garments to give her protection from the stray embers and sparks that were so frequently shooting through the air. As the sun began to light the streets, her forge had roared to life. She didn't need to reference any ledger or records to know what orders needed to be filled that day: A sword for some knight, a dagger for a noblewoman, a few simple sharpenings and repairs that would be saved for the end of the day when her arms began to tire. Donning her worn work gloves, the blacksmith gripped her lucky hammer with a smile and set to work.

The once silent streets now chimed with the clanging of metal on metal as she shaped a lump of steel into the very beginnings of a blade. Before long, other craftsmen and shop keeps would emerge from their dwellings and take their places among their stalls and shops for the day. Svala was everyone's personal alarm clock. So far, very few had dared to approach her about the ruckus so early. Though her wolf blood was not public knowledge, she carried herself in such a way that portrayed enough strength and rebellion that few questioned anything she did. Surely a woman who crafted weapons for a living also knew how to wield them.

| Tags: none | Mentions: none | Location: her forge |