#baron morgarath

[scarymonsters-andsupercreeps]

Apologies to my followers, I’ve been in a silly goofy mood tonight. More of my usual content coming soon, I promise!

This is for my sister @peapodsinspace she convinced me to draw Morgie lol

Shout out to 11 year old me who had a huge crush on him for some reason (maybe because I imagined him looking like this)

RA artists feel free to use this design if you like it!

[anarchist-aquarius]

Morgie is that you with them stilettos

yes i realize that a stiletto is a type of knife but is funnier this way

[an1d10t]

My friend said that Morgarath gives off cruella energy. I agree with him

the first thing came to mind is that when a wargal is being disobedient, he takes the wargal away and murders it

Of course he doesn’t waste that much and makes a carpet or clothing out of the wargals skin

[peapodsinspace]

sleepover drama?

[Image ID in alt text]

Yes please!

This was just a very quick doodle so sorry for the low quality- I’m sorta tired right now but nonetheless wanted to get this finished :,]

A little bit sillier than my usual posts for these two but hey

@eccevenitvulpes (so you can come see)

Sorry again for the low quality- hopefully I’ll feel like drawing something better for them soon T.T

[theoakleafpancake]

So for that story study thing I'm doing for my fiction writing class has a current assignment where we write a part of the story we're studying in some other form (am doing The Hibernian). Did some letters to Pritchard from Crowley and wanted to share them on here

Pritchard—

You’d have a good laugh about the mess I’ve gotten myself into today. I know what you always say. That I need to slow down. Well, I didn’t, and now I’ve most likely made myself even more of a target. But if I’m not doing something against Morgarath, then I’m certainly not helping anyone.

I learned you trained another apprentice in Hibernia—a Halt with no last name. He’s a character. A bit gloomy and broody (and apparently not too fond of music), but not a bad chap. There is something strange, though, and I hope to find you again—not that it’s my place to pry into his private life, but he’s got a few secrets up his sleeve. Stumbled on his name, and his hometown. I don’t think he’s a threat—not to me, anyways. Unless he decides he’s had enough of me by tonight. It’s a bit hard to tell whether he likes me or not. He’s not a talkable man, though you would know that. What else do you know about him? Anyways, I should think myself to be likeable enough. (Also—he puts honey in his coffee. Strangest thing I’ve ever seen.)

We’ve arrested three of Morgarath’s men. They caused a disturbance with an innkeeper and his daughter. Also threatened to cut off my nose. Would have, had Halt not stepped in. Now we’re on our way to Morgarath himself and Halt’s come along with me. I feel bad—he came here to join the Corps and, well…the Corps isn’t worth much these days. He wants to see Morgarath for himself. I don’t think he’s the type of person to judge someone based on talk. I don’t blame him, but it’s no matter. Morgarath doesn’t hide his true colors.

Pritchard—

It’s a pity that such a beautiful castle goes to such a rotten man. And by God, Pritchard, you wouldn’t believe how much more arrogant he’s gotten. He treats his audience hall like the King’s throne room. He isn’t anything like a King—I wish I could do us all a favor and get rid of him. But with the Corps falling to pieces, I feel helpless.

The entire meeting went horribly. His oh-so-high-one prefers to be called “lord”—last I saw, I answered to the King, not to a Baron. He cares nothing for his own people and his only solution was to have the soldiers flogged. How cruel can he get? I tried to diffuse the situation as best I could. He seemed strangely interested in Halt, though. Asked him all sorts of questions. It was interesting to watch their interaction. Halt seemed to almost match his attitude in everything, like he’d known Morgarath for decades. Had no shame—I applaud him. Oh, and he said his last name. It’s Arratey? Arratay? Sounds odd. As a matter of fact, it sounds like the Gallic word for “halt.” I’m assuming he did that on purpose. That would make more sense, actually. So he does have a sense of humor after all. 

Pritchard—

I doubt any of these letters will ever make it to you, but writing these down is better than talking to myself. Halt seems to think that Morgarath encourages his soldiers to cause chaos. I should have known better myself. 

We did part ways. I was almost hoping he’d come with me, but he was bent on going to Gallica to find work. I can’t blame him. But he gave me an idea of my own, and I’m inclined to follow it. There’s twelve Rangers left. Real Rangers, not the bucket heads that the Commandant is paid to hire. If I can find them, we could do something about all of this. Not too sure what. But it’s better than waiting to be charged.

Oh—did I say we parted ways? Right, we did, at least until Morgarath sent more men after me. So I’m officially next on the list to be banished. Anyways, Halt came back at the right time and we took care of them. He says he came back for his fletching jig. I think he missed me.

I convinced him to join the rest of us. If there will be a rest of us. Funny, he came up with the idea, but it took a bit of pushing for him to agree. He doesn’t seem so keen on any form of authority. But if this is all over, I think he’d be a good Ranger. But at least now, I don’t have to make this journey by myself.

So we’re on the run now. Closest Ranger is Leander in Dacton Fief, if he hasn’t been taken care of already. I wish you were here. This would be a lot better with your guidance, but I remember everything you’ve taught me. I won’t let you down, Pritchard. 

[areiacannaid]

Declination

I have finally been able to finish this short story inspired by this prompt/story idea from nilswolf8 where Halt joins Morgarath. Here is the final chapter.

Previous chapters

Read on AO3

Chapter 4

Halt hadn’t wanted to send him on this mission, he’d said that Will wasn’t ready for it—that he was too young. It was something which, at the time, had rankled, stung. He was fifteen now; old enough and well-trained enough to handle himself. It had made Will more determined than ever to prove that he could complete what would be his first solo mission, and complete it well. But now, with the agonizing clarity that so often came with hindsight, he had started to wonder if Halt had been right. Things had gone far worse than he could have possibly imagined and now he had no idea what he would do.

Restless energy lent itself to his muscles as he found himself pacing the length of the safe house, trying to shove aside the sense of panic that built steadily within him as the minutes passed. Gilan was supposed to meet him here after he finished his own mission, but he was already hours late. Will worried at his lower lip as he found himself wishing for and dreading his brother’s arrival. After all, Gilan, like Halt, always seemed to know what to do. But, at the same time, explaining to him just how badly he had failed, wasn’t an appealing prospect. 

The coded knock sounded suddenly on the door, shattering the eerie quiet of the room. Will finally stopped pacing, letting out his breath as he unlocked and opened the door, moving aside so Gilan could enter.

“Where have you been?” The words tore from Will’s throat with much more force and anger than he’d intended.

Gilan tilted his head to consider him a moment, eyes narrowed, before a slow smile spread across his face.

“Out,” he said finally, stepping past Will, the sarcasm in the words contradicting the smile.

Will rolled his eyes in response, despite the pounding in his heart that constricted his chest. There had been no malice in Gilan’s reply, he knew. There never was. He watched as his brother headed to the back of the room to place down his supplies. The twisted feeling in his stomach couldn’t bear the silence anymore and so he drew breath to speak, an effort that was stymied by the realization he had no idea where to begin or what to even say. He was gathering himself to try again when Gilan beat him to it.

“Something’s happened, hasn’t it?” he asked Will quietly without turning around. It was as if he was somehow privy to Will’s thoughts or, perhaps, he had merely read Will’s expression when he came in.

“Yes,” Will admitted softly.

“Are you alright?”

“For now, but not for long.”

Gilan did turn then, calculating gaze seeking answers as much as asking for them.

“I killed Morgarath’s men. The ones sent to assassinate the Courier and her apprentice.”

One eyebrow rose at that announcement.

“Why?”

The question was curious, not accusing. Gilan didn’t seem to care much that Will had just admitted to the cold-blooded murder of their allies, but he did want to know why Will had made such a glaring tactical error.

“I couldn’t let them kill her, kill either of them!”

“The Courier and her apprentice?” Gilan asked blankly, eyebrow still raised.

Will could only nod.

“Again, why?”

“I had to get close to them both for my mission: to get into Baron Arlad’s court. And I… I love her, Gilan, the Courier’s apprentice—Alyss. I couldn’t let her die.”

Gilan searched his face as if looking for there to be some sort of punchline to this. But, when he realized there was none, that Will was serious, the other eyebrow went up to join the first. He grinned, closing the distance between them.

“I have to say, I’m happy for you Will, but you certainly picked the worst way possible to fall in love.”

“This is serious, Gil!” Will protested, put out, and more than a little frustrated by his brother’s casual attitude. “Did you not hear what I said about killing Morgarath’s men?”

Gilan merely shrugged. “If they’re all dead they can hardly go informing Morgarath of what you did. It was risky, but not irreparable. We can come up with a cover story.” He began, but stopped as he became aware of Will’s expression. He narrowed his eyes. “They are all dead, aren’t they?”

“One may have gotten away.”

Gilan blinked at him, disbelieving.

Will felt a flush of anger. “The fight got a little complicated and, at the end, I had to choose between saving Alyss or killing the last man!” He took a breath, hands trembling, before adding in a small voice. “I don’t know what to do, Gilan.”

For a brief moment, Will saw his own fear reflected in his brother’s eyes and now entirely serious face.

“Morgarath won’t tolerate treason. And if you run, you know he’ll do whatever it takes to hunt you down. Revenge seems to give him a certain… pleasure.” He made a crude gesture not bothering to hide the sneer that curled that last word.

“I know,” Will said, holding his head in his hands. “He’ll never stop trying to kill me.”

“Unless you're already dead. I’ll report to Morgarath that I saw what happened after the guard fled, report that I killed you for your treason, and then completed your assassination mission for you. It will give you and the Couriers the chance to run, disappear.”

~x~X~x~

Halt made no sound as wove through the shadowed wood to the small cabin that served as their safehouse in this area of the Kingdom. He moved with the shadows of the clouds overhead so that he seemed to weave fluidly around the patches of silver moonlight. He was, for all intents and purposes, invisible to any eyes that might be watching. 

Hearing the sound of urgent voices coming from inside the cabin, he didn’t head towards the door but instead to the windows. They had only shutters and a latch to close against the chill of the night. They weren’t very well made and sound carried clearly through them.

He froze to listen and was just in time to be made aware of everything about the results of Will’s mission. But in light of everything that had happened, that outcome seemed almost trivial. Or, rather, like another log to be added to an inexorable bonfire. 

His old adage of always expecting something to go wrong in order to avoid disappointment had clearly been far too conservative of a saying. If this situation taught him anything, it was that he should have expected absolutely everything possible to go wrong all at once. 

Biting back something that was half a sigh of exasperation, and half a breath to calm a racing heart, he reached up to silently undo the latch of the cabin’s unlit back room window and slip inside.

 “So we’re set on the plan then?” Gilan’s voice carried to him as he stood in the shadow of the back room's door jam. “We will fake your death and I will report it to Morgarath.” 

“There’s only one problem with that,” Halt interposed his voice into their conversation, causing both of them to wheel around, more with surprise than fear, he knew. He was pretty certain that, even distracted as his two apprentices had been, there were very few people who could sneak up on them, of which Halt was one. 

“Halt!” Will said as he and Gilan both turned to face their mentor.

One glance at his students showed that neither had expected Halt to be here. After all, he was supposed to have still been at Morgarath’s stronghold.

“I’m sorry, Halt,” Will said, realizing a little belatedly that his mentor had obviously heard everything.

Halt’s steely gaze flicked away from Will when Gilan found his voice, caught on the substance of what their mentor had said first.

“Why can’t I fake Will’s death? It’s too late to stop the man who escaped, and I won’t let Will be hunted down for Morgarath’s pride.”     

Halt let out his breath, his arms uncrossing to hang loosely at his sides.

“It won’t work because Morgarath will sooner kill you than listen, Gilan. He found out about Malcolm’s little rebellion and it won’t be long until he finds out that you both were helping him.”

Though it hadn’t seemed possible, Will’s expression shuddered even further at that announcement.  

“Helping?” Gilan asked innocently.

Halt glared, not falling for it. “Yes, helping. Malcolm told me about your little project.”

“He did?”

“Apparently, he was under the misapprehension that I already knew about it. What he’s been doing: taking up the guise of Malkallam, stirring up the populace against Morgarath. That was never going to end well.  It turns out he was betrayed by someone he trusted, someone who was completely loyal to Morgarath. It won’t be long until it comes out that you two helped him: gave false reports to Morgarath about his movements to protect him. What were you both thinking?” He demanded.

“I was thinking that Malcolm is family,” Will admitted stubbornly.  

And Halt couldn’t argue the point. Will was right. As the years had passed, the bird-like healer had grown very close to them. 

“He needed help. I couldn’t just not help him.” 

For as long as they had known him, Malcolm had been the equivalent of a slave, captured and forced to serve at Morgarth’s whims. Halt knew that had never sat well with his two apprentices. All told, it really should not have come as a surprise that Will and Gilan had risked themselves to help him when Malcolm had managed to set himself up as Malkallam, rebellion leader among the suffering peasantry in Morgarath’s lands. Halt felt the anger slowly drain from him as he thought it. Though it just as quickly sparked again as he swung his gaze towards Gilan.  

“And I suppose that’s the same reason you decided to move past simply currying favor with the soldiers and the army?” He demanded, words scathing.

Halt saw Will shoot a confused glance between himself and Gilan. Halt knew Will was well aware that Gilan was often sent by Morgarath to lead his troops. Gilan was skilled at it, and the soldiers respected him—likely far more than they respected most of the other commanders like Foldar who cared nothing for their men’s safety and would stay behind, protected, during battle while they threw away the lives of their own men. Will, however, clearly didn’t see what Halt was upset about until he spoke again.

“I know it was you who got word to the 8th infantry and helped them escape.”

Will’s eyes widened, then widened further still when Gilan didn’t deny it. 

“I served with them for years. Their reward for those years of service and being among the most elite of Morgarath’s troops was a false accusation of treason followed by the guarantee of a painful death. And it was all for no other reason than Morgarath’s pride and paranoia at their strength.” Gilan was silent a moment before he looked Halt in the eyes. “The truth is, Morgarath was right to be paranoid—and now the 8th are indebted to me. And they aren’t the only ones. I’ve made connections and curried favor with several of the top divisions.”

“Did you ever stop to consider doing that was treason?” Halt demanded angrily.

Gilan looked genuinely confused by Halt’s fury, confused and frustrated. 

“I thought that was what you wanted me to do?”

Halt’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You thought I wanted you to stage a military coup?”

“You can’t have expected that I would ever actually be loyal to Morgarath.” Gilan looked almost offended by the mere notion. “Especially not when you told me yourself that you weren’t loyal to him either—that you were just using him to get what you wanted.” The shadow of a vicious smile twisted his lips as he leaned forward. “Well, I wanted something too.” 

Halt felt his blood run cold, a horrible twisting sensation racing across his scars to settle in his chest. He couldn’t believe his ears. “You would betray our position here, everything we have worked for, for the sake of the Kingdom?”

Gilan’s eyebrows rose in surprised incredulity before drawing downward in anger. He shook his head adamantly.  

“I don’t care about the Kingdom and its politics; I care about us! Growing up with King Oswald, I saw nothing much better than Morgarath and we have suffered because of it. Training under you, I realized that the only way that we can truly stay safe and free from the wars, whims, and powerplay of others is to be the ones in power. And what about the people like us, those caught up in this and left to suffer and try to stay alive while other people play games with their lives?” 

Gilan hadn’t raised his voice but Halt felt himself flinch as if he had. Truth had a bite sharper even than hatred. It was something that had been whispering in the corners of his own mind, a whisper that had grown steadily louder as the years passed by. But now that it had been given voice, it was chilling. 

How many of those innocents ruled by Morgarath and King Duncan had loved ones they cared about as much as Halt cared about his apprentices? How many of those people had been like his little sister Caitlyn, who just wanted to live in peace and carve out some small measure of happiness from the world? 

Caitlyn had cared about people… so had Crowley. Halt closed his eyes as another truth rang in his mind…. He had started to care again too. As the years passed, he had slowly started to realize that not every person was a potential threat… and that there were things worth protecting—things far more precious than his own survival and safety. 

Gilan shook his head softly. “I wanted it all to stop, Halt. I’ve been moving pieces to that end ever since I was given my first command. But if the game is up for me as well before I could finish it, then so be it. Will and I will run together.”

“No.” Halt said firmly, stepping forward and placing a hand on each of his students’ shoulders and squeezing gently. “We will do what we can to help Malcolm and then we will all run together. Morgarath no longer has anything to offer me that I would value more than I value the two of you.”

They couldn’t defect to the Kingdom, that much was certain. People like them, ones who had served the enemy for so long would never truly be trusted. Once a traitor, always a traitor after all. Besides that, Halt had no desire to put himself at the service of a King—none of them would ever be worth trusting. 

But if they left the country entirely it would do nothing to solve the problems of the people here. They would have to try something different, and Halt thought then that they might just have the connections they might need to do so. They had the network for gathering information he and Will had set up in King Duncan’s land. They also had the networks that Gilan and Malcolm had set up in Morgarath’s lands. 

~x~X~x~

Crowley urged Cropper down the wooded path, coaxing as much speed from the little horse as he dared, considering the low light of the late hour. His mission was of some urgency after all. He needed to get to Baron Douglass of Highcliff Fief before first light if at all possible. The plea the Baron had sent to the King was nothing short of an emergency. If it was wholly accurate, it could spell disaster for the Kingdom as a whole. 

Baron Douglass was many things, but he’d never been one for undue panic or exaggeration. This was why he, and King Duncan, had decided it would be safest to respond immediately. Duncan had already mobilized a small force and they were only a day behind Crowley. His task had been to ride ahead and provide any necessary immediate assistance and gather all the necessary intel to send back to the army so they would be fully ready when they arrived. 

His mouth set itself in a grim line at the thought. Things had been relatively stable for the past year and he had no desire to return to the chaos and near constant warfare of the many years before. And this news was akin to an ill omen, boding its inevitable return. 

It had seemed for a while that they were on the back foot against Morgarath. Defeat had been all but guaranteed. All they had been doing was staving off the inevitable—something Crowley had been more than willing to do… up to his last breath. But then, things began to change. Morgarath’s kingdom had begun to destabilize, piece by piece. It had started with the peasants' Rebellion in Morgarath’s lands, and then with the disbanding and would-be execution of the 8th infantry. 

The 8th were of Morgaraths most elite troops. They, along with their commander, were the only unit in Morgarath’s army that had earned his grudging respect for their skill, discipline, intelligent tactics, and shocking lack of brutal, cruel, or dishonorable conduct when compared to any other of Morgarath’s divisions or commanders. He supposed that might well be the reason Morgarath had wanted to get rid of them. However, the 8th infantry escaped Morgarath’s judgment and had, along with some more disgruntled troops, joined the peasant uprising. This left Morgarath to fight a war on two fronts, from within and without.

But the change wasn’t just in Morgarath’s lands, it was in the King’s lands too. For them, however, it wasn’t destabilization but its opposite. Key generals of Morgarath’s had been taken out before or during battles. There had been destructive raids on enemy encampments and supply trains undertaken that they had not been a party to. There had been advanced warnings of attacks and plans given, along with the foiling of several assassination attempts. The few reports given back to him of those who had done it were vague, nothing more than rumors of a ‘hooded man’.  

And not everything had been on a large scale either. He’d heard more vague reports of people being helped or saved by a ‘hooded man’ all over the King's land and even Morgarath’s. After looking at the reports of these incidents, their locations, and timing, Crowley had come to the conclusion that this… vigilante… for lack of a better word, could not be one man alone, but rather two or three men working under the guise of the ‘hooded man’ to the same end. 

It could be that the ‘hooded man’ had started as one individual and the others were copycats. However, their actions and movements were too professional, consistent, and organized for that to be the case. To what ends the ‘hooded man’, or rather 'men', were operating, he was not yet certain. And that unsettled him almost as deeply as the means behind them. To have access to the amount of intelligence needed to pull all that off suggested an information and informant network that would rival that of the Rangers and Couriers combined. And that was a terrifying prospect. His only solace was that they did not seem to be currently acting against the interest of the Kingdom. 

He was pulled from his thoughts by a warning rumble from Cropper, some scent or sound causing the little horse to warn of potential danger. Alert now, his eyes were able to pick out the obstacle of several fallen trees and branches spanning the length of the highway ahead. A trap. He pulled Cropper to an immediate stop, turning his head to his left even as he began to wheel the little horse in that direction. 

Even amateur roadside bandits would know that most warriors were right-handed, and so they would give themselves an advantage to approach from the left, where a defender would have to wheel or reach awkwardly across to defend. They likely would try to block his retreat as well. 

Sure enough, he caught sight of movement from the left and behind. Crowley had an arrow knocked and aimed at the closest shadowed figure on his left, letting his arrow fly even as Cropper pivoted gracefully around. This gave him a larger view of the area. That was when he saw it. They weren’t just coming from the left and from behind, they were coming from all sides and there were far more of them than he had anticipated. Even in the moonlight, he could see that they were also far better armed and armored than any average highwayman group had any right to be. 

These men were soldiers. Crowley’s next arrow felled another man and he had only just enough time to roll from his horse’s saddle in order to avoid the quarrel flung towards him from one of the three crossbowmen he could make out. He fell and heard the bolt hum past his ear. He hit the ground in a recovery roll and rose smoothly into a crouch, another arrow drawn aimed, and fired at his enemies, first to one side of the road and then the other. The crossbowman fell along with a swordsman. 

That was when reflective defense gave way to grim understanding. Even with a Ranger’s speed and accuracy, he knew there were too many, and he had no cover. Another bolt whizzed past his face, opening a gash across his cheek in its flight. Cropper reared and kicked in a desperate attempt to protect his master from the approaching men, but it wasn’t enough. Crowley set his teeth then, determined that if this was going to be his end, his attackers would pay dearly for it. 

Then suddenly, several of the men nearest him fell in quick succession. He could see the glisten of a broadhead arrow protruding from one of the bodies, along with the clothyard shaft from a longbow—vastly distinct from the short quarrels of his adversaries. 

It gave Crowley the space and breath he needed to rally, and move to some cover. He once more aimed and shot at blinding speed. The unseen archer that had come to his aid was dropping as many enemies as quickly as he did, if not quicker. Ranger-level shooting, his mind supplied. And it was exemplary Ranger-level shooting at that.

From behind their respective cover, he and his ally were able to take on the last of the soldiers until the clearing was once again silent. Hearing and seeing nothing of the strange ally that had come to his aid, he was about to open his mouth to address the night at large when a voice spoke first. 

“Baron Douglass of Highcliff Fief is working for Morgarath—has been for some years now, in secret.”

Crowley easily pinpointed the voice’s location in the dark, turning swiftly in that direction, bow still partially drawn for the sake of caution. Having honestly expected one of the voices of his Rangers, he was taken a little aback. The voice did strike a chord in his memory, but not enough to belong to one of the men he’d been working closely with and leading for the past 10 years. 

As he watched, he saw a figure slowly melt into view, once again unsettlingly Ranger-like in his movements. His right hand was raised in a gesture of peace, his left hand still clutching his strung longbow. His shape was reminiscent of a Ranger as well. His ally was a cloaked and hooded man… perhaps one of the ‘hooded men’. 

“Morgarath’s been getting pretty desperate lately. And all this was his idea of a trap… an assassination attempt.”

“Damn near successful too,” Crowley said with some feeling before adding, the thanks apparent in his words, “if not for you.”  

The hooded man offered a nod of acknowledgment. Despite Crowley’s genuine gratitude at the man's intervention, there was something about him that whispered in warning in the back of his mind. It was something that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Something wasn’t right. But he had precious little time to dwell on it as the man turned to make his leave. 

“How did you find out about this? Do you have any proof of what you said about Douglass and Morgarath?” he asked then, his words stopping the man’s planned retreat. 

The hooded man stopped, offering only a shrug as he turned back around to face him.

“Who else knew that you’d be on the road this late?” he asked eventually instead of answering. “These were clearly no simple highwaymen. If it's physical evidence you need, you might find it if you search the bodies for correspondence, or got a confession from one who is still alive.”

The man’s voice was quiet, the barest edge of a Hibernian burr lilting the words in a way that was… so familiar. That was when it hit him; the recognition caused a pit to open up in his stomach even as an old pain flared up near his heart.

The hooded man, the one who had been destabilizing Morgarath’s holdings, aided the kingdom, and assisted the peasantry on both sides of the war. Crowley knew him. His fingers flexed on his bow, undecided whether or not to draw it further back. This man was his enemy… but he had not always been. This man had wreaked havoc on the King's land… but he had also just saved Crowley’s life. 

“Halt,” he said, the name coming out tight with a painful mix of emotions he could not hold back.

“Crowley,” came the quiet reply, his words thick with an emotion of his own.

A soft breeze rustled the forest branches overhead as they faced each other, a question unanswered riding with the breath of the wind.

[biggestqiblifan]

Welp

The world's doomed.

what if Halt took the job Morgarath offered him, what if he never joined the ranger corps, what if Crowley became his nemesis instead of his friend, what if he became Morgarths assassin, what if he hunted the rangers and Duncan and Arald and their supporters, but what if Gilan and Will were still his apprentices and he trained them as assassins instead of rangers, what if... what if Halt was the bad guy?

[the-thursday]

Ranger's apprentice OC Rowan Marlowe

Name: Rowan Marlowe

Fief: Deywis fief

Ranger number: 19

First appearance: The Early Years - as one of the rangers that come back in book 2. (Age 22)

(lore and map under the read more)

Rowan is ranger of Deywis fief (on the map) ever since first war with lord Morgarath.

Rowan was apprentice to ranger Edward Thorpe, whom he first met when he had to untangle the ranger from a fishing net. Half of Rowan's family is in the fishing business on the east coast of Araluen.

He is a casual friend with Crowley Meratyn whom he knew ever since being apprentice.

A few years after the first war with Morgarath (Age 26), Rowan is sent to investigate the situation in Seaham fief, as Seaham doesn't have a ranger yet due to the lack of rangers after the war. The Seaham fief is a small fief east of Caraway, neighboured by Carnforth fief to the north and Deywis fief to the south. The Seaham fief struggles due to sudden surge of skandian raids and economic damage of the war. It is run by young baron Eiric Bowburn and his sister Aisling Bowburn. The baron of Carnforth fief, lord Cuthbert Galloway, is greedy and ambitious man who sees the struggling fief as opportunity to gain more power. He bribes bandits to plague the fief and tries discredit Eiric and prove him as incapable baron to the king Duncan. Rowan is sent there by Crowley to investigate the situation and together with Eiric and Aisling, the young ranger helps to uncover and thwart Cuthbert's plots.

Rowan and Aisling start to fall for eachother but they struggle with relationship across fiefs and Rowan himself still struggles with unresolved feelings from his breakup with the knight of Caraway castle, Cynric Blaiddwell, with whom he had relationship before being forced to leave Araluen when Morgarath was gaining power.

After the second war with Morgarath (Age 38), Rowan is tasked by Crowley to track and bring to justice one of Mortgaraths important lieutenants, Ransford Crayke.

Rowan tracks Ransford deep into Scottia territory, however, along the way Ransford murdered a little child of southern Scotti clan because he wanted to steal a horse. Upon tracking down Ransford, Rowan kills him in fight but not before being injured by Ransford. One of northern Scotti clans members with deep resentment of Araluen and rangers, happen upon dead Ransford and injured Rowan, and take the ranger captive, planning to execute him in their village.

Rowan escapes but due to being in harsh northern unknown, without equipment and weapons and still suffering due to his injuries, he eventually collapses and blacks out. He is found by southern Scotti clan warriors who went north to hunt down Ransford, who murdered the child of their clan. They know Rowan is innocent and that he actually killed Ransford and they take him to their village and nurse back to health out of honor and obligation but they do not feel very warm towards the ranger himself. However, as Rowan is gaining strength and heals, he makes friends amongst the clan. By this time, Cynric who went looking for him, arrives and together they leave for Araluen.

After MacHaddish's raid on castle Macindaw (Age 44), the tensions between Scotti and Araluen rise and Rowan is sent as negotiator due to his knowledge of land, language and people from his time in Scottia.

---

About the ranger Rowan Marlowe:

Rowan is of calm and analytical nature, he tends to be more quiet than loud but isn't gloomy or too withdrawn and doesn't hesitate to smile or laugh.

He is rather competent with standard ranger weapons and equipment but isn't much of a fighter. However he is an excellent tracker and thinker and often he is assigned missions by Crowley that fit these strengths.

He rides a smoky black mare called Spring, whose name doesn't have anything to do with season but rather the dance like spring she sometimes does when about to start walking. Spring has a bold manner of sticking her head in your cabin window if you fail to remember to close it.

---

Aisling Bowburn:

Aisling is clever and inquisitive, but measured and not an outward rebel, however she doesn't hesitate to show her displeasure and disagreement. She is a great singer and indulges in simple dresses and hunter outfits both. Aisling is good horse rider and wears a dagger, but it mostly serves as a tool as she isn't a fighter and avoids violence at all costs.

Due to Seaham being a rather small fief and her kind nature, Aisling makes sure to know people of the fief who love her and her brother in return.

Eiric Bowburn:

Eiric is the official baron of the Seaham fief but he often lets himself be heard that the fief is run both by him and Aisling. He is dyslexic and due to this, Aisling often helps with paperwork too. Eiric loves music and if he has his money to spare he often invites musicians to play at village surrounding the castle so it can be enjoyed common folk as well. Eiric is kindhearted like his sister with mischievous spark and would do anything anything for Aisling. As well as his sister, he also tends to know and help people of his fief. He is a good swordsman but prefers spear for its longer reach.

Cynric Blaiddwell:

Cynric is a knight of Caraway fief and one of MacNeils former students. He was born and grew in Deywis fief where met with Rowan, but moved to Caraway for his apprenticeship with MacNeil.

As apprentices, Cynric and Rowan met and became friends and eventually started dating. Their relationship cut short badly upon Morgarath gaining power due to differences in opinions and Cynric's tournaments fame. Cynric wasn't supporter of Morgarath but he and Rowan didn't see eye to eye about staying in Araluen or doing something about the whole Morgarath situation.

When Rowan came back to Araluen in TEY2, they could be friendly with eachother but there was a lot of tension and unresolved emotions that didn't really help. And after the war, they both went to their respective fiefs and didn't have a chance to talk for a few years.

Cynric is of cheerful but also rather emotional nature and is known to be prone to occasional outbursts.

Cynric is a very good swordsman and rather excels at jousting which earns him a lot of fame, which was one of the reasons he and Rowan broke up, due to them not knowing how to handle it.

Edward Thorpe:

Edward was Rowan's mentor. He was of a wild and energetic nature. He was a very good bowman, being rivaled only by Pritchard with whom he often bantered and the two of them often had ridiculous and silly beefs.

He only had one apprentice, Rowan, whom he met by being rescued by him from a disastrous fishing net.

---

A map for locations reference. Map is based on work to John Flanagan however I worked a bit loosely with coastlines, expanded Scottia/Picta for my plot needs and added locations of mentioned fiefs.

[solarishashernoseinabook]

Hey folks, guess what? It's here! The sequel to my version of The Royal Ranger is officially up!

Title: The Renegade Ranger Fandom: Ranger's Apprentice Rating: T Pairings: Crowley Meratyn/Halt O'Carrick Characters: Halt O'Carrick, Crowley Meratyn, Duncan, Rosalind Serenne, Morgarath, Leander, Berrigan, Egon, Norris, Lewin, Jurgen, Berwick, Samdash, Farrel, Pritchard, Abelard, Cropper, Baron Arald, Original characters Tags: Autistic Halt, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Series: The Early Years, Demiromantic asexual Crowley, you won't believe how long it takes to get to the gay in this one, Slow Burn, not much of a slow burn. more of a gentle toasting Summary: After leaving Clonmel, Halt has three goals:

One, go to Araluen and become a Ranger. Two, take down Baron Morgarath, who wants to dismantle the Ranger Corps completely. And three, kiss Crowley Meratyn.

[dragoneyes613]

You know, I think Duncan and Rosalind were an arranged/political marriage.

She's not mentioned at all until the Battle of Hackham Heath where it says that she and Duncan got married. The previous book, mostly from Halt and Crowley's POV, had little reason to mention her, but still.

It would make sense for it to be necessary politically for Duncan to marry

Oswald was old and ill.

The people had turned against Duncan, thanks to Morgarath and Tiller, thinking that he was raiding and killing his own people.

Baron Morgarath was in the middle of a rebellion.

The scene at the tournament at Gorlan was not very conclusive for Duncan.

All this is making the monarchy look weak and unstable.

Also, Duncan was the only heir. He had no siblings or cousins who could take over if something happened to him. If he died - and as king, he would definitely be at risk in the war they all knew was coming - then the leadership of Araluen would spiral into chaos.

So Duncan needed to marry, so there is one more member of the very small royal family who could rule or at least rally the people and issue orders in his stead. And more importantly, he needed to marry, because he needed heirs.

So the scenario I'm picturing is any eligible young noblewomen, presumably daughters and sisters and so on of barons because that seems to be the only nobility in Araluen, being asked if any of them are interested in being courted by the king, and a bunch of them say yes, because who wouldn't want to be queen? And then Duncan meets whoever's interested, and luckily for him and Rosalind, they instantly hit it off.

[permettez-moi]

The burning bridge audiobook thinkies:

So you are telling me that in the burning bridge alone, we discover Halt has not only tossed a baron into the moat, but he also yeeted Gilan in the river before making him his apprentice, I fear that's where it started (or maybe he's dealing with his past trauma xD)

Also the fact that Halt basically yeeted the baron in the moat bc he missed Will so much

Halt admitting that his grim face is trained 'cultivated over the years'

The reader of the audiobook reads Alyss as al-iece/ al-is / al-ise (he kind of drawls out the 'yss' part of her name, instead of saying Alice, which is how I say it in my head, which is therefor the only correct way, so it hurts my ears

ALYSS BRINGING UP THE MOAT INCIDENT

HAHAHAH I'M DYING TO THE FACT THAT ALYSS BASICALLY SAID SHE'S SCARED WILL WILL TURN OUT LIKE HALT (grim and silent) (also the fact that, when Alyss died Will did turn so brb crying)

I am obsessed with Gil fangirling about Horace's swordmanship

OMG OMG OMG the scene where Halt and Alyss are out to convince that one absolute asshole of a baron(?) To hand over troops to Arald, because he has refused before, claiming independence from Redmond fief, and he is being a misogynistic shit, and Halt steps up, SAYING HE IS TO ADRESS ALYSS AS 'LADY ALYSS' AND NOT AS GIRL OR SWEETHEART OMMGGGG I AM FANGIRLING SO MUCH, MY HEARTBEAT GOT RAISED FROM THIS

I am dying please help

THE BOOK STATES THAT HALTS BOW IS 60 KG, AND BECAUSE HE HAS TO DRAW IT OFTEN AND EASILY, HIS ARM PROLLY HOLD A LOT MORE STRENGTH THAN THAT, AND I GENUINELY DON'T MEAN THIS IN A HOE WAY, BUT I WEIGH BETWEEN 60-70 KG MEANING HALT COULD PICK ME UP WITH EASE, AND IT IS DOING THINGS TO ME

3 people. Halt has, so far, tossed 3 people in moats. I always thought it was just the one guy. (And Gil isn't technically a moat, but I am counting it)

Let's not talk about Halt kind of crushing on Alyss after she kisses him on the cheek. Let's just pretend it doesn't excist

EVANLYN EVANLYN EVANLYN

Not Gil saying he'll hang the bandits

Okay okay, hear me out, Evanlyn/Gil (or Cas/Gil)

Poor Duncan thinking Cassie is dead makes me cry

Crying again at Duncan discovering Cassie is still alive

The small detail that Arald, too, was sad about Will being kidnapped

Halt crying about Will

Okay but Gil seeing Horace's move with the dagger before anyone else is a really fun detail

Morgarath is called insane here, and I think it really works

RODNEY SCREAMING TO LIL BABY HORACE BC HE'S AL WORRIED AND UPSEt

The scene at the boat between Halt and Will is being listened to in class, and my emotions are very hard to contain

Help I finished it already, but it's like €10 for each book, and they're only about 10h of listening time, which is approximately a full school day (I listend while I work) and when I tell you I don't have to money for this 😭😭 (any of you know where I can 'loan' the books read by William Zappa?)

[rangercorpstherapy]

What if.......

Morgarath came back but he was like 7. as in "the same evil baron who did all that but he's 7 years old"

x

[invisible-pink-toast]

i'm sorry i love ranger's apprentice and birds and this got out of hand ajsflksadhlf;h but

Will as a wallcreeper!

Halt as a tawny frogmouth

Horace as a golden eagle

Alyss as a swan

Cassandra as a queen carola’s parotia

Gilan as an eastern grass owl

Morgarath as a wood stork

Erak as an arctic skua (known for their skills at theivery ajsdf;lsakdhf)

Svengal as a northern gannet

Crowley as a crow

Jenny as a hummingbird

George as a lyrebird

Lady Pauline as a golden pheasant

Baron Arald as a scarlet macaw

Sir Rodney as a plover

King Duncan as a sulphur crested cockatoo

Gundar as a rough-legged hawk

Malcolm as a weebill bird

Trobar as a shoebill

Seley el'then as a grey crowned crane

what kind of birds would the RA characters be

[peapodsinspace]

An early training experience,

[ID in alt text]

And a very steep learning curve.

Here’s a comic I finally finished up for @eccevenitvulpes !!!!!! Hope ya like it :]

My idea with this one was just trying to capture how morgarath would be as a teacher. And Foldar seems like the kind of person who had (has) anger issues.

aaaand here are some bonus ponies :]

[ID in alt text]

The foldar one isn’t my best work but hey !

Anyways enjoy!

[rangerangel]

RA Characters as teams I've seen in the escape room I work at (inspired by @redrose-arrow 's restaurant post):

Will, Horace, Gilan

They struggle to understand that the room is a collaborative effort and want everything to be a competition. This is their first escape room, and they have booked our hardest one. They agree that they will not ask for any hints--they end up asking for 15 hints. Horace accidentally breaks a prop and is overly apologetic. We give them free drinks because they're so nice. They manage to get out with 5 minutes left and are incredibly excited about it. They huddle up in our lobby and do a chant before AND after the room. We're impressed they managed to turn an escape room into a sporting event.

Alyss, Cassandra, Jenny

They have a team name picked out and are ready to set the store record. They have dressed up in theme with the room, and have brought their own props to make the experience immersive. Halfway through the room, they get distracted and start dancing with each other to music from their phones . They cheer SO loudly every time they solve a puzzle. We know from the second they walk in the door that it's going to take them the full hour to solve the room. When they radio in, they trade bad jokes for hints. We're pretty sure they might be a little drunk, but they're a good time.

Halt and Pauline

They book our cowboy room, and are extremely quiet with the staff. We're all afraid that they are going to hate the room because they aren't interacting with our introduction at all. To our surprise, they put on cowboy hats as soon as they get in and pretend to shoot each other with the prop guns. They only ask for a few hints, but every time they get the answer to a puzzle we see Pauline throw her arms up on camera because she's been telling Halt how to solve it correctly for 15 minutes. They manage to translate the braille puzzle entirely without using the translation sheet, but get stuck on how to input three numbers into a cash register. Every time they radio in, Halt ends his sentence with "over." They tip $20 on the way out.

Duncan, David, Arald, Maddie

They come in for Maddie's birthday, and she's the only one who's done an escape room before. They choose one of our horror rooms, and we're pretty sure they have no idea what they're getting themselves into. Despite showing Duncan how to use a walkie talkie, we absolutely cannot get them to hold onto the button long enough to understand what they're saying. David and Arald are having the most fun in trying to scare Maddie, but they're really just scaring each other. Duncan ends up sitting on the couch for most of the game watching everyone else and shouting encouragement. When we drop the final jumpscare, David and Arald scream so loudly we can hear them in the lobby. Maddie solves 90% of the puzzles, but they all have a great time. They decide to book another room on the way out, and Duncan pays in full. We adore them and talk about how sweet they were all day.

Morgarath

He books our paint splatter/escape room hybrid. He comes alone, and argues about signing our waiver (he doesn't want to put his name down). When he is led to the room, he is shocked that there is paint everywhere. We explain the concept of the room again and show him the ponchos to protect his clothes. He solves the puzzles quickly and gets to the paint. He radios in and asks what he's supposed to do with it. We explain the idea of a splatter room for the 4th time. He leaves without touching the paint. A day later, he leaves a one-star Google review complaining that he didn't know there would be paint. In order to buy the tickets he had to navigate a page full of pictures of people covered in paint. We pray he doesn't come back.

[solarishashernoseinabook]

For the trick or treat, could I get a Arald/Duncan? As a trick, please.

Here ya go :D

~

When Arald inherited his father’s position as Baron of Redmont, King Oswald came to personally offer his condolences for his father’s death. Redmont being so important to the kingdom meant Oswald had worked closely with Arald’s father Wellaby, and he said he looked forward to working with Arald in the future. Arald didn’t remember what he had said – empty platitudes, probably. Oswald had brought his son Prince Duncan along with him, and all of a sudden Arald’s plans of settling down with a nice young woman were dashed to pieces. He only tried to bring up his feelings once, when he and Duncan found themselves sharing a tent on campaign. In a low, hesitant voice, he asked if Duncan had ever felt any attraction to men.

There had been a few agonising moments of silence; then Duncan had laughed. Arald had forced a laugh as well, and they spoke no more about it. A few months later Arald proposed to young Lady Sandra de Claire, who accepted instantly, and they managed to live comfortably enough, even if Sandra had to acknowledge that she was not the only object of Arald’s affections. Arald, too, made peace with his feelings, or thought he had, and regarded Duncan as a good friend.

Months later, that friendship was tested when whispered rumours said Duncan had tried to poison King Oswald. Arald refused to believe it. Duncan was a good person, not power-hungry enough to kill his father. But then Duncan seemingly disappeared after a trip to Gorlan, and a few weeks later news came that he was fighting and raiding near the Pictish border. Arald was sure it was a mistake, but the news kept coming, and Arald was too busy running Redmont to track him down and find out the truth for himself. Soon, it became impossible to deny that Duncan was up to something. Arald tried to harden his heart towards Duncan, tried to tell himself he had been wrong about the prince, but it wasn’t that easy. Sandra spent many long nights comforting him as he cried over the betrayal.

And then the most wonderful news came – Duncan hadn’t been raiding at all, but imprisoned, and an impostor had been raiding instead. Arald leapt at the chance to save the prince and expose Lord Morgarath for the duplicitous traitor that he was.

He saw Duncan at the tournament at Gorlan. The change in him was shocking. No longer was Duncan neatly groomed and well-dressed – now his hair and bear were overly long, his clothing old and dirty, and he had a wild, restless look in his eyes.

It was quite dashing, if Arald was being perfectly honest. When Duncan fought a pitched sword battle with Morgarath on the last day of the tournament, all of Arald’s carefully-buried feelings came rushing back to him.

But nothing could come of them – that Arald knew. A year after the tournament, Arald stood arm-in-arm with Sandra at Duncan’s wedding. Lady Rosalind Serenne was a lovely bride, and Duncan a stunning groom. Seeing the prince there, so close yet so far, brought a lump to Arald’s throat that had nothing to do with the festivities. He had to excuse himself early, taking a few moments alone to recover.

He saw Duncan between then and the wedding, of course, but the next time they spent any significant amount of time together was nearly a year later. Queen Rosalind had gone to Woldon Abbey in the hopes that the sisters could keep her healthy through the last months of her pregnancy, and with Morgarath preparing to attack at any time, Duncan’s army was camped out on the grounds in front of Castle Araluen, ready to move out as soon as it was clear Morgarath would attack in earnest. The fear for his wife and child weighed heavily on Duncan, visible in the lines on his face and the set of his shoulders, and Arald felt keenly for him. But Duncan didn’t talk about it, and Arald didn’t press.

Until one day, when Crowley came back from Woldon Abbey with a newborn baby girl – and no mother in sight.

That night, lying awake, Arald heard the canvas door of his tent draw back and looked up to see Duncan’s tall frame outlined by moonlight. Arald fumbled with his flint and steel and lit the candle beside his cot. In the dim light, Duncan was a changed man. His eyes were red-rimmed, his face tear-stained. ‘She’s gone,’ he choked.

‘I know,’ Arald whispered. ‘I know. I’m sorry.’

Arald wasn’t sure what happened next. All he knew was that Duncan was on the cot next to him, and they were in each other’s arms, and Duncan was sobbing, and Arald was comforting him as best he could. All the while Arald felt like he was drowning in a sea of emotion, but he couldn’t say anything, not with Duncan as he was.

‘You asked me something, years ago,’ Duncan said. ‘You asked if I’d ever been attracted to men.’

Arald swallowed hard past a lump in his throat. ‘I did.’

‘The truth is…’ Duncan sobbed. ‘The truth is…sometimes I have.’

Arald shook his head. Not now, any time but now. ‘Duncan, please—’

Duncan kissed him, grabbing at his clothes, and it took some effort for Arald to push him back. ‘Stop.’

‘I need to forget,’ Duncan said. ‘I need to stop feeling things tonight.’

‘It won’t help, not in the state you’re in,’ Arald said. ‘But if you must, find someone else.’

‘I don’t want to find someone else!’ Duncan said. ‘You asked me!’

‘And since then,’ Arald said, forcing his voice to remain level, ‘I’ve committed myself to Sandra. As you committed yourself to Queen Rosalind.’

Duncan sobbed, and lowered his head to Arald’s shoulder. Arald hugged him close, and together the two men wept: one for what he had lost, the other for what he could never have.