The Ghostly Sariant And The New Tune

[Samson Option 9652]

 

 

 

 

The spectral glow of a hundred boots marching softly with no squelching of mud or crunching of leaves heard held an eerie reminiscence. An elderly face, skin drawn taunt and lighting the dimness of the night, looked out as his face felt pained with memories. In his former life, his naivete and intelligence saw to the forging of one of the grandest empires. Many times did they march with a passion for their assertions, but this practice had changed. The tone of their grandiose hymnals, chanted from under winged helms in the dark of night to bring out the fear of enemies, had dulled.

 

Throughout the north, from Malinor to Herendul, the apparitions of the old Order would appear on occasion. The Sariants would contemplate upon the faltering of the third continent, anguish distinguishing their hymns as they appear like byzantine saints as they trek along their paths. The plague and devolution of the ways of Man inspired them to return from whence they had left. If any man had to suffer for the sin of empire, it was the first Hochmeister and he felt the morose from the orgy of war that afflicted man to the point of dwindling to lesser numbers than Horen spawned on his own in Aegis.

 

Looking out upon the fields of old Ildon, the Hochmeister swore he saw the spirits of his old enemies- the Undead, the Ascended, Galahar. As the mirage faded, his arrogance subsiding, he saw only graveyards and besieged castles and towns turned towards nature to falter. It was the grand battles of the past, the glory forlorn that taunted him to believe it would all continue as he dreamed. What he saw before him was a shattered continent, bent by steel and foolishly ongoing war with no aim. While he had a truer cause, he saw nothing but causes conjured to help the selfish.

 

 

 

 

Smiling momentarily as he confides in himself about the death of Horen, the failure of the Blackmont, the occasional successes against the North-shadowlings- it was not enough haughtiness to push himself from the feelings of sorrow upon the sin of empire. It was the curse of curiosity, to see how far a man could go and he forged what no other man could say they could match. All curses are called curses for a reason and he felt that reason now. The time has come for the curse's effects to be broken, the old Sariants would see to that.

 

Perhaps the curse could be turned, if man dreamed himself capable of forging an Empire of Liberty.

[Tethras 278]

((Beautifully written post +1 to you sir!))

[Cloakedsphere 1471]

Somewhere at this very moment Cole sheds 1 single tear before wiping his bum after he took a number 2. 

 

(Excellent reading material.)

[Samson Option 9652]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KIEunqeXF0s

 

 

Glowering upon the iced walls of ruins did the ghastly torch splash, the eerie light showing nothing but a fallen castle. Greywynn as it was once called, now the stone that fortified it's stoic structure fed itself back to the earth from whence it came. The Hochmeister, with his camaraderie of Sariants, perused the ruin for signs of which Sariants dwell the continent alive. Snow ribbons strafed through the ethereal forms that observed the rubble meticulously, a blizzard masked the Sariants of all but the black crosses coloured along their tabards. Sariants of the First Continent, such as Redujin, Viadar, Firtahl, Icarus, Samuel Bealcrest Otto Meister, were accounted for; they marched as spectres to aid their first Hochmeister. Gaius sought others, others that lived into infamy and those who pledged themselves to the Black Cross at a time after Marius's death.

 

Resting his elbow along a tall, hewned stone support jutting from the snow, Gaius began to remember an encounter he had in Malinor. He had approached what were the gates to a place named "the Luminaire" seeking the Wardens. In which he saw a man dressed in a similar tabard, he rushed forward with awkwardness as his glowing form marched hurriedly. Inquiring about the current Hochmeister, Gaius was informed that Mirtok DeNurem may have been the current one. His search focused more on the man he felt split about, whether it would be Samuel or Mirtok to take his place, the former raised upon the Winged Throne.

 

A gaping crevice laid a ways away from Greywynn. The walls dressed in moss and fungi produced an odor reminiscent to flesh left out to decay. The Sariants, oblivious of the smell, marched in and declared that it was a tomb...

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Bahv_WtY8k

[Samson Option 9652]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7kMq73pWyIo

 

((Suits the beginning of the first paragraph gracefully))

 

 

 

 

Rubbing his hands together and feeling his skin drawn taunt, the feeling felt like renewal for a man making his way through the Northern Rim in his search. The ethereal forms about him faded as a snowstorm worsened, their crunched steps the only confirmation as they drew around a valley wherein a cavern gaped it's mouth and smoke exhaled. Arching his neck forward, gritting his teeth as his head huddled inward to the mass of his body as the snow began to coat and feel about for naked skin to draw upwards in goosebumps. Calling out to the elder spectres, Gaius orders them forward to enter the cave and inspect it. Marching forward into the cavern, his gaze meets the disarray of wood roughly forming a triangle across the floor. The Sariants behind him begin to march with swifter pace, looking about as their bodies serve as their faint torch-light, but to no avail.

 

The cavern resembled one such that bears would occupy during hibernation, but no corpses or bones laid about. Mirtok DeNurem, the missing Hochmeister, evaded the search. Upon exiting the cavern, an owl soared through the valley through the dwindling snow and left a letter. Leaving the ethereals to dismiss into the mountainside to cover more area, Gaius began to make his way southward. The letter left him with a grimace, the lines drawn diagonal from the top of his nose to the creases of his lips deepened; the letter left him to expect a challenge.

 

 

 

 

Arriving at the gates of Malinor, he held up his left hand in greeting as he remarked the typical 'Hail' of Aegisian courtesy as he neared High Princess Titania. Walking over and turning on his heel to stand upright and beside Titania, he gives a curt nod as he arches a brow and inquires on further details of her mission. Taking a deep breathe upon hearing the mention of a 'Dark Scourge', he looks about and whistles for Erul and Crowley. With the spry Sariants springing forth to Gaius, he acquires if their current Hochmeister would mind his holding their command to assist the High Princess. Gaining the affirmative oorah, Gaius informs Titania that he and his men would trail their traversing northward to provide a vanguard capable of extracting them if their meeting with the Scourge went south.

 

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PejRlGJDl-o

 

 

The march northward took a different path, the Sariants taking the high ground and skirting the mountains whilst Titania, Khel, Kotania, and the messenger traveled along the Greywynn Sea. The journey would take both parties to Greywynn and past the stone arch that rimmed an entry into the Far North, near Aruzond's Mausoleum. A few entities, dressed in umbra, greeted the Elfish diplomats as they looked about absentmindedly and unaware of Gaius and his company as they sneak about in the cover of stalagmites and other rock formations. Holding Grant Kamura's shoulder, Gaius mutters a prayer and words of morale support as the sky laid unclouded and clear, their positions unchanging. Within minutes, a harsh wind drew cloaks and shadowy wisps closer upon their wearers as snow began to fall once more.

 

Grabbing Kamura's shoulder roughly and tossing him forward as he made his way, he beckoned the soldiers forward in a flanking maneuver as the snow camouflaged them. Sliding out the Zweihander gifted to him by Crowley, he mustered the strength to motion his men to perform a wide encirclement as the snow served to blind the diplomats and Scourge of their developments. Taking up their new positions, Gaius pieced together a manner of issuing orders whispered in chains to each of the men as the snow worsened.

[DragoonCrow 346]

Crowley feels depressed that Erul gets the credit for Crowleys Zweihander, his own blade he handed to Gaius being much longer and superior, 

[Samson Option 9652]

Crowley feels depressed that Erul gets the credit for Crowleys Zweihander, his own blade he handed to Gaius being much longer and superior, 

((Fixed, my apologies comrade!))

[lιoɴ 248]

Moved to the Great Library. It shall be sorted into appropriate category shortly.