Honor

[Swgrclan 2682]

[ Move to Event Roleplay, please. ]

"When I was a boy... my father taught me the nature of men. He said it came in many forms, and that men try to excuse their sins - to justify them. Murder... betrayal... deception. All of these things and more, men have done. Men fuel the fires of life with the blood of other men; men start war to excuse their need for land, for power. War is the pinnacle of sin, but sometimes it cannot be avoided. Sometimes, men must make a choice whether to be good, or to commit sin in order to reach for an even greater good. Honor must be set aside, and blood of the enemy must be shed so the blood of your people is not."



~:;:~

Upon the dawn of a new day, the vessel of the Elves was subjected to the presence of an unusual visitor; a strange man, clad in furs and bones, whose words were sung with the lining of foreign tone. He offered no name nor title upon his boarding; only the knowledge of his alignment, and the warning he was assigned to bring to the descendants of Malin - and for them to assuredly spread it. The agitated warrior spoke briefly with the Elves upon a vessel; of who he served, the Nameless King, who the warrior said ruled over eighty tribes and had taken claim to the very waters that the collective ships sailed upon. After Tristin Tresery arrived, the man of bones and furs spoke his piece:

"Will you defy the Nameless King, or shall you bow to him upon settling upon distant shores?"

The Elven lords' reply was clear - no. He said no, suggesting that the Elven people could not and would not be subjected to the rule of a king he did not know of; his words, in the foreigners' mind, seething with a lack of forethought, insulting the authority of the so-called Nameless King. So the foreigner scout sought to leave after exchanging a sum of gutterally-relayed and belitting insults; his feet upon the very edge of the ships' deck when an arrow embedded into his chest, shoot by the ranger Artimec. The warrior plunged into the waters below after having uttered a gargled warning beforehand.

His warning- "I was sent knowingly" - rang true, for the distant singing began.

The scout was only a single man sent with a fleet of others. Distant vessels, numbering six, began to fire upon the Elven ship in volleys of arrows precisely aimed. The Elves scattered and took cover; some hit by the arrows, though none dying despite the constant rain upon them. The strange, throaty singing in the distance was a furious sound - a warlike call that only suggested further fury, and further indeed it developed. The arrows paused, only for greater destruction to follow.

The sound of explosions rang out through the air as the eastern hull of the ship was belted with combustious, explosive rounds fired from the six distant vessels. The Elves remained in cover; some fearing that these men had discovered gunpowder, others fearing for their lives as the boat become increasingly weak from the constant fire. Knowing a scorched ship would only sink, Artimec Camoryn assumed himself atop the highest point of the ship, and gathered his energy. At the peak of this magical influx, he released until the six gathering battleships a horrible power-



-in the form of a massive lightning bolt. Such force was behind this witchcraft that the vessel it struck suddenly exploded- the sight having apparently rattled the other foreign war ships, with knowledge that the enemy bears such an asset forcing them to flee into the unseen distance. Victory was had for the Elven people.

But at what cost? They know now of the Nameless King's warning; the scout they murdered was sent to put caution into the Elven people and all they could tell of the Nameless King.

For he was coming for them.

[WuHanXianShi14 0]

Artimec leans upon the railing of the crows nest on the Verdant Maiden, the moon full in the sky. His hands tracing along the curve of his longbow as he scanned the horizon for any more encroaching vessels with tired eyes, but a morbidly satisfied smile on his lips.

[Lirinya 4021]

Ash curses under her breath, something about Art and magic and being a contradicting mali.

 

Though, deep down, she had to admit, it was pretty cool.

[Googlesearch 141]

Artimec leans upon the railing of the crows nest on the Verdant Maiden, the moon full in the sky. His hands tracing along the curve of his longbow as he scanned the horizon for any more encroaching vessels with tired eyes, but a morbidly satisfied smile on his lips.

 

Telchar eye's the elf leaning upon the railing in the crows next, squinting at the bow he is using "Is t'at a long bow? T'at elf is ah feckin' idjit. W'at ah waste."  

[Dohvi 622]

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