Ottan Ashyld, Human Warrior

The mountain air filled Ottan's lungs as he left his home and began his journey. With the town of Lakeshire currently in need of assistance, Ottan must travel farther in the hopes of finding the aide he seeks. Down one road is the path to Goldshire, so close to Stormwind there's not likely to be much help to be found there. The other road holds the way to Darkshire, once known as Grand Hamlet until the First War. Some promise could be found there since it was once the hometown of Queen Taria Wrynn and her brother Anduin Lothar.

Ottan had not been surprised by the tension he had found to be rife in Lakeshire and Redridge as a whole. The strife that the entire region was feeling was the same that had prompted the inter-house conflict that had placed the young noble man out on the road now.

He had found that being sent out without a horse to be rather disagreeable. But, alas, things were tight on Stormwind’s frontier and those horses maintained by House Ashyld would be better used by the men at arms that would use them for scouting and patrolling the edges of the Burning Steppes to the north.

And so the young man, in his well made, if lacking in adornment armor and gear on the crossroad south of Lakeshire, looking down the paths towards Goldshire or Darkshire.

Ottan frowned as he pondered the choice before him. "Into the known, down the road towards Elwyn, or into the unknown and whatever lays beneath the shadowed boughs of Darkshire..."

Ottan pondered a bit longer before he made up his mind. It was still early enough in the day that he could expect to make good time on the road. With a careful checking of his blade, his shield and his other weapons and gear, Ottan would make his way south into the shadowed woods of Darkshire.

The journey to Darkshire was not a quick one. As the mountainous landscape calmed into farmland, the trees grew denser. The canopy thickened noticeably after crossing a bridge, marking the change in territory. Duskwood, as it had become known, was aptly named. The sun's midday rays did not penetrate the trees, making the forest appear to be in a perpetual twilight. The feeling of being watched soon came over Ottan as the road curved with the land. Glancing left and right, Ottan could barely make out what appeared to be animals moving among the foliage. They were far enough away to not pose an immediate threat, but too close for comfort for regular animals.
The sight of torchlight up ahead gave Ottan a sense of relief. He soon saw the buildings of Darkshire, the gloom of the place seeming to suck up the little light of the area. You see only a few people walking - no patrolling around the center of town, and there appears to be one person standing guard outside one of the buildings. It appears the fashion trend for this area is to wear black everything. Catching sight of you, the woman standing raises her torch and whistles. Others nearby copy her and she approaches you. "Greetings, stranger. Might you be the help we sent for?" She looks hopeful but worried.

The trek through the shadowed boughs of Duskwood had the young man on the edge. He had seen the way the animals moved, and managed to convince himself as he neared the village of Darkshire that it was only his imagination making him think that they were somehow flanking and stalking his movements. But never once did his hand leave the sword on his hip nor did he lower his guard, not even once he reached the boundaries of civilization in this benighted place.

The torch light did have a momentary calming effect on the young noble, but it was almost immediately dashed with the ambiance of the place. Ottan noticed with a sharp eye of how the gloom of the forest penetrated even here, and how it seemed that the people themselves were a part of that oppressive atmosphere. What with their darkened garb and their seeming disregard for patrols and practiced form.

But it was when he was approached that Otto felt most ill at ease. Symmon and him had planned that the other holdings of Stormwind would be as hard pressed as Redridge was. But to be approached by the locals in this manner was not something he had planned on.

"I am afraid that I am not," Ottan would say to the woman directly as she approached. "I'm afraid I know nothing of whatever events caused you to send for help. My name is Ottan Ashlyd, of House Ashyld. I, myself, am out seeking those who might be convinced to lend aid to Redridge and my family's holdings near The Burning Steppes and the pressures that Blackrock Mountain is applying to the region there."

The woman noticeably deflates as Ottan introduces himself. "I see. Well, you won't find any aid here. We can even afford to send requests out." She shakes her head and gives a small but polite smile to Ottan. "The name's Althea Ebonlocke. I lead the local militia, the Night Watch. Our Skill is unquestionable but our numbers are small." Althea turns and points with her hand holding the torch indicating a building in town. "If you intend to pass through, I suggest traveling by day only. Otherwise, the inn over there will keep you safe and warm for the night. Buuut, if you so chose, we could always use a hand."

And this was the other part of what Ottan and his brother had discussed prior to his leaving of home. If Redridge teetered on the edge of an orcish invasion, then the rest of the lands beholden to Stormwind would certainly be having troubles of their own. And while aid would likely not be an immediate sort of thing, the young noble was more than willing to invest time and effort and if meant it might become an option down the line.

"I had a feeling when I began my trek I would find situations much like the one you've just described to me, Miss Ebonlocke. I wish I could say it were otherwise. And news of your roads being dangerous gives me pause; just on the hike in, I encountered more than a few examples of the local wildlife I found concerning. To think they might be worse is down right frightening. How is it a noble borne man such as myself might prove useful to your militia?"

Althea's worried brow softens at Ottan's proposal, giving him a small smile. "How generous of you. Well, it looks like you have some training. And lucky for us, you're already armed. How about you giving the next patrol an extra hand? The roads are usually safe, but that's only because we keep them that way." Althea walks Ottan over to the western edge of the town square. A graveyard lies beyond the archway to the south of the road while dark forest seems to be growing closer to the road, reaching it's dark branches and foliage into the well worn and cobbled path. "The patrol will make their way down this road. It's a straight shot without much more than a few twists and turns. Stop at the campsite with other members of the Night Watch where the road forks, and then you turn back." The woman gives the warrior a serious nod. "That's it. Should all go as planned, you'll be back by supper time." She points toward the inn with windows of flickering orange and yellow light between dancing shadows. "I'll be there after I've met with the other patrols."
You then see two armored men walk out of the inn, one in leather and the other in chainmail. They each have a longsword on their belts and torches holstered. "Keller! Fraizer!" Althea calls out to the men who quickly approach, giving her a quick salute. "Men, this is Ottan. He'll be joining you on patrol tonight. Keller, you have the lead." The dark-haired man in chainmail nods to Althea as the younger blonde man in leather shifts uncomfortably and looks away. Keller taps a knuckle on Fraizer's chest, "You'll get your chance. Be patient." Althea salutes the three of you and wishes you safe travels.

Ottan would follow Althea over to where the town of Darkshire shift back towards the darkened wilds around them. His dark eyes looked down the shadowed road then back to the woman with a nod as she spoke.

"I'll do what I can to not embarass myself," Ottan would say in response to the quasi order. He knew his way around a blade and a pike and while he had clashed once or twice with some orc outrunners, Ottan was aware that when it came to being truly tested in battle he was lacking. The task seemed straight forward enough; go down this road, meet up with an outpost in the form of a camp, and come back once you were done.

"What is it your men are keeping the roads safe from?" the noble born would ask as Althea summoned her militia men. Ottan would give each of them an appraising look and a respectful nod as he was introduced. Once the militia leader made her exit, Ottan would properly introduce himself.

"My name's Ottan Ashyld, from up north in Red Ridge. I look forward to working with you gentlemen," he would say, offering a handshake to either Keller or Fraizer if either would accept one. "You two are the locals, please, lead the way," he'd say, eager to begin.

At Ottan's question about what was out there, Althea gave the two men a knowing look before she walked away. The men waited until after shaking hands to answer for their leader. Keller shook first with a slight smirk, "Let's call it the local wildlife. I'm Keller." The younger man gave a dry chuckle at that and shook Ottan's hand, "Call me Fraizer. And it's some pretty nasty wildlife. Damn monsters is what they are." At that, Keller looked away, not denying the young man's claim.
After Ottan introduces himself, the two men nod - obviously not knowing what else to say except, "Well, let's get on with it."
As you start your march down the road, the two men light their torches and hand you one of your own. "Beasts tend to stay away from where people travel regularly. That's the main reason we patrol the roads.

Ottan listened to the men and gave a stern frown at what the man Keller said. Part of the nobleborne warrior felt like the man was trying to get one over on him. That Keller was enjoying the momentary advantage that his knowledge granted him, but Ottan was careful to keep any of these thoughts from showing more than what the frown would indicate. But he would nod to the two of them, and Frazier in particular, when things were explained further.

"You two make it sound ominous. I imagine it must be that though, considering how things seem in town," Ottan would say as he shoulder his shield and made sure that his sword was at the ready. Taking a careful look at the road, trying to determine if there was room that his pike might be a better tool for the moment as they marched on.

He listened to the two talk as they walked on. "Staying away from the roads and from active patrols certainly makes these creatures seem more animal like. You'd expect the same sort of behavior our of a boar or a mountain bear," Ottan would comment as he moved with the pair of militia men.

Keller and Fraizer were on high alert. Their torches held high and their eyes sharp, they did not look at Ottan when he spoke. "If we didn't patrol, we would be cut off from the world. Though, recently it feels like the world has already forgotten us," Fraizer remarked. Keller's brow furrowed at that, worried but not denying the statement.
As the trio ventured away from town, the gloom of the encroaching forest took over. The road gently curved with the land. The local militia men made a steady, medium pace. There was no rustling of the foliage like when Ottan came into town.
"Boars and mountain lions are one thing. We have wolves and spiders and ... worgen." Keller's tone at the last word was grim and ominous. "I suppose we should be forthcoming. These are no ordinary beasts. After the Guardian Medivh fell, this land was cursed. The creatures that reside here became increasingly hostile and larger." Keller snapped his head to the side, eyeing a sound from the trees. "And then the worgen came. Beasts that stand like men but with claws sharp enough to rip a man to ribbons and a head like a wolf with large fangs to devour any poor soul it catches."

Ottan felt the hair rise up on the back of his neck at the mention of the word Worgen.

He didn't know what those were, but the ominous way that Keller said the word had an effect on the outsider. Ottan knew of wolves, and he knew of the large spiders. These were things he had seen in his own home, Redridge. But the word and the explanation confused the noble born.

((I would like to roll a History check to see if Ottan knows much, if anything, about the story of Medivh. I'll include the roll here to maintain the flow. If you decide that he can't know anything, please disregard.

"I thought we had it rough up north. From the sounds of it, orc raiders and wolf riders might not be the worst thing bothering the kingdom," Ottan would admit, perhaps just a touch grudgingly, as the three of them made their way down the road. "Well, gentlemen, allows me to assure you, that not everyone has forgotten Darkshire or Duskwood. It's true Redridge needs help as well, but I'd gladly lend my sword to any cause that helps our neighbors as well."

He said, trying, and perhaps succeeding in sound calm, but the young man kept a tight grip on his blade, and a careful eye on the road side.

The two men smiled at Ottan. Keller placed a hand on the outsider's shoulder, "That means a lot. Thank you."The quiet of the dark forest was broken when a shadowy form burst from the trees. Stopping in the road barely 10 feet behind you, baring teeth and issuing a loud, deep growl, the charcoal fur of the large wolf bristled. The beast gingerly took a step forward as two other wolves slinked behind the first, growling menacingly with a dangerous look in their eyes all trained on you three.

The noble born was aware of the broad strokes of the story of Medivh and the Guardians of Tirisfal, but beyond what the local militia men had told him, he knew little if anymore. As such, he didn't respond, merely nodded as he listened to the men speak.

Ottan made sure to give each of the two men an assuring nod and serious look to underscore how sincere he had been in his statement. It was true; he had come here in hopes of finding people willing to aid the northern edges of Stormwind's territory against orcish invaders. But both he and his brother, Symmon, knew that other regions in the kingdom were being taxed by Stormwind's chaotic state, and that aid would likely be needed elsewhere as well. And House Ashyld would do whatever it could to assist those loyal to The King.

And when the wolf made its appearance, Ottan would confidently step forward, unsheathing his blade and readying his sword. "Looks like we won't have the most quiet of patrols. You good gentlemen ready for a fight?" the noble born would ask as he prepared to attack the wolves once he knew the locals thought it a wise move.

Edit; Added bold to the dialogue.

The two men joined Ottan in an attack posture flanking the noble-born with weapons at the ready. The lead wolf leaped at Ottan, closely followed by its companions pouncing on the two Night Watchmen. As the others wrestle with their own foes, the wolf on Ottan narrowly misses a direct hit, being knocked to the side and spinning Ottan around from the force.

Ottan had been thoroughly trained by some of the best bladesmen in the kingdom. From a young age, House Ashyld had guided his schooling in all martial expressions; from a sword and a shield, to the long spear some of the men favored, to the bow and arrow. He had even used one of those exotic Dwarven Rifles a time or too. And when the wolf made its charge at him, the noble born would raise his shield as he had been trained, attempting to drive the beast to the side in its head long charge.

The man was successful, but the force of the turned blow caused him to spin with the animal. Ottan would find his footing in quick order, though. Locating the wolf that had attacked him in the sudden confusion of battle, Ottan would strike out with his long sword, hoping to put the crazed animal down in quick order.

((OOC; Thank you for the explanation and being patient with me.))

Edit; Typo

Ottan drew well upon his training. The wolf was fast, but Ottan reacted faster. His sword struck true, opening a large gash across the wolf's side. It issued a loud yelp of pain and lowered its head with a growl that clearly lost some of its previous bravado. The wolf hesitated, locking its yellow eyes on Ottan.
Close by, Keller and Frazier were almost as successful as Ottan. They were both keeping the beasts at bay, but Frazier had a few red lines across his arm holding his torch.

Ottan yelled a triumphant call as he struck the wolf, giving a quick, split second look to the militia men whom he fought with. Seeing Frasier having been wounded, he made a quick judgement call, and pressed the attack on the wolf he had wounded. But once that attack was finished, regardless if the wolf went down or not, he'd charge to Frasier's aide, shouting along the way. "For House Ashlyd!" he would cry out as he moved to support the other man.

(Ottan will use his Mobility feat to move away from the wolf attacking him without taking an attack of oppurtunity.)

Ottan's swing went wide, and the wolf was ready for it so it seemed. Frazier's face lit up when Ottan joined him, his demeanor and confidence rising. "Thank you, friend." As he strikes the wolf, the one Ottan was facing slowly creeps up to flank the two men. Keller seemed to be holding his own well, but not quite making a strike. Ottan could tell due to his training that Keller focused well on his defenses, sacrificing the offensive.

"Hold strong, Keller!" Ottan would shout emphatically, not bothering in that moment to worry too much about Frasier's rising confidence. The noble born knew it was a risk rushing to the aid of anyone while the wolf that had picked him was still alive. He was opening himself open to being flanked. But he felt the risk was worth it considering that Frasier had been wounded. The warrior would focus his attention on the wolf that wounded the militia man and attack that animal.

Edit; Added bold to the dialogue, sorry I keep forgetting it.

As Ottan missed the wolf he and Frazier were focused on, the wolf Ottan turned his back on took the opportunity to strike.
Frazier's wolf moved to dodge Ottan's blade but Frazier finally scored a hit, slicing into the wolf's shoulder. While one wolf yelped in pain, another barked in defiance to the dangerous men.The wolf tried latching onto Ottan's neck, but instead landed on the nobleman's back, snapping only air and having to bounce off back to the ground.

Ottan would toss his shoulder as he felt the animal careen onto his back. The warrior was keenly aware that his decision to rush to the aid of Frazier had put him in a precarious position as he was eager to put one of these animals down so they could press their advantage and bring the combat to an end.

He'd lash out again at the wolf Frazier had been attacking.

Not giving up, the wolf at Ottan's back again launched itself toward Ottan's neck right after Ottan scored a viscious cut on the wolf he and Frazier were attacking. This time, the wolf yelp several times as it limped away.
Thankfully, the wolf at Ottan's back still fails to latch onto the nobleman. Ottan felt the teeth graze his skin, leaving behind ropes of thick saliva along his neck and shoulder. The lead wolf barked at its fleeing comrade.

"Press the advantage! Quickly, so we can support Keller!" Ottan would encourage Frazier as the wolf he had been attacking slinked off into the brush. The noble born fell into the mantle of authority with ease. In this moment, pressed on all sides, with the saliva of the wolf dripping down the back of his neck where it had sought to take him down like a deer in the forest, Ottan was focused.

He had no issue with letting Frazier's wolf limp off. Ottan had spent enough time hunting in his young life; he had no desire for a new wolf cloak. Still, he thought, as he turned to focus on the wolf that had now twice attacked his flank, he wouldn't mind a new cape, either.

Edit; Added bold to dialogue.

Ottan spun on the wolf, slicing deep into the beast's flank. After taking another hit from Ottan, the lead wolf made no secret that it was out of the fight as well. It bared its teeth at Ottan and flew off into the night.
Noticing it was alone, the wolf Keller had been holding off made one last push on Keller before running off into the forest after its comrades.

Ottan allowed himself the smallest moment to breath and calm himself when he saw the last two wolves go slinking off back into the shadowed boughs of Duskwood. Triumph... it was a fleeting sensation, but one he was grateful for all the same. He would give a respectful salute to Keller, the man who had braved the attack on his on whilst Ottan had assisted Frazier.

"Hell of a job!" he'd say to the elder of the two militia men before returning his attention to Frazier. "Same to you! How is that wound looking?" Ottan would ask, as he started to take stock of what little bit of damage the skirmish had left them.

Keller nodded appreciatively to Ottan as the rush of battle wore off. As the other two conversed, he kept watch.
The younger man examined his wounded arm. It wasn't serious, but it would need to be cleaned and dressed to prevent infection. Without proper supplies, a makeshift bandage was made with torn clothing before the men continued their patrol. Every sound of the dark forest sent Frazier snapping his attention to the direction of the source. Keller seemed hyper alert, but far more calm than his young partner. Their patrol took them down the well-worn path. Even paved in cobblestones, the forest threatened to overtake the road. Keller and Frazier cleared the way far less now, their attention more on being ready. Still, particularly overgrown spots were cleared.
The road curved ahead, and the two men's' faces lit up, just like the path. There was light ahead - a campfire perhaps. Rounding the curve, there was indeed a campfire, along with several torches surrounding a pair of tents. The road continued past the campsite as well as splitting off to the south. What stopped Keller and Frazier in their tracks was the blood. The tents were painted red, splatter from what looked to be the remnants of what was once two men - one inside a tent, the other all around the campsite. Keller stiffly stepped forward, taking in the scene with wide eyes and tight lips. Frazier was less calm. Readying his sword, the man turned around, watching the group's back - purposefully not looking at the campsite any longer than he already did. His breath was shallow and ragged.

"Let's wrap this up and get you back to town. That wound's not bad, but I've seen that sort of scrape get infected and that's a hard road to hold." He would say to Frazier. Ottan was no healer himself, and judging by how convenient such a thing would be now, maybe he'd have to take some tutoring from a priest and learn how to use one of those medic kits.

But when they found the camp, Ottan stared for a long moment at the bloody tent. He could tell by the reaction of the men that Frazier and Keller knew those who had died here. He knew that the militia men would be sensitive and the noble born didn't shirk the duty of taking lead on the investigation. He'd look to Keller as the more senior man remained while Frazier pulled himself away.

"I can tell you knew these men. If you need a moment, take it. Keep an eye on Frazier?" Ottan would say in a low voice, giving the man a way to gracefully step away if he needed it. Ottan would then turn his attention back to the camp, looking around for any evidence of what had happened, although deep down, he was certain they had just found evidence of the Worgen that the militiamen had spoken of earlier.

Ottan broke Keller from the trance he was in, staring at the grizzly scene. The man couldn't find words, just nodded as he turned toward Frazier. The fear was easy for Ottan to see in the man's eyes.
Looking around, you see nothing out of the ordinary for a murder scene by what most would presume to be wild animals.

It was Frazier who spoke up first. "This is life in Duskwood now." He was angry. "No one rounds up a posse anymore. It does no good." Then his voice falls in defeat. "We just lose more people."
Keller puts a comforting hand on Frazier's shoulder before turning to Ottan. He is calm but with a touch of melancholy. "The lad's right. These men knew the risk of being stationed out here. We all do. We can't go out trying to play hero. We have to survive. We have to protect the town. Sometimes that means just being safe." Keller squats down in the dirt, letting out a long sigh. "We thought things were changing - for the better. Things like this-" He motions to the dark scene around them. "-haven't happened in some time. But I guess we're no better off than we ever were."

Ottan stared at the men for a long moment, both confused and angered by their responses. Firstly, the noble born chaffed that these common born men would think to lecture him. Secondly, the strange melancholy that seemed to grip the two militia men caused this outsider to question just what the hell sort of effect these darkened woods had on those who made their homes in this place. But Ottan focused on what his brother, Simmon, had said. How everyone in the kingdom were under their own stresses, how they were all suffering and left alone in this trying times.

With the memory of his wiser brother in mind, Ottan drew a soft breath as Keller finished speaking, and nodded in understanding.

"I have not fought your fights. I know little of what caused this slaughter here. But I know that if I was staring down a pack of Blackrock Orcs that I would double back and seek to care for my wounded and get some fresh men into the field. You two tell me that's not what will happen here; fine. Tell me what we should do," the noble born would say, taking care not to let his bewilderment show through in his response as he waited a plan from the other two.

Shaken out of his gloom by Ottan's words, Keller stands. "You're right. This isn't the time to grieve. This has happened before and it may happen again, but that doesn't mean we don't do anything about it. These men will be avenged." Keller kneels before Frazier, hoping to spread the courage that flared in his heart. "We will come back, secure the site, and-" He couldn't get the last words out before the younger man interrupted him. "Yeah, I know. Maintain our vigil and keep the town safe." Frazier was not infected with the older man's courage. The young man's grief was not broken. He stood and readied himself with a distinct note of a young man begrudgingly following orders.