Old friends.

[Harri 4815]

Spoiler

 

 

 

Clad in white tabards, heathens horribly maimed.

Blades coated in blood, countless non believers were slain.

Upholding God’s will, they didn’t do it for the gain.

The Order of St Amyas, you best fear their name.

 

Sunlight and the sound of business flooded Leuuvaarden’s square as Knight-Sergeant Grim approached Foot-Man Dorian.

 

“You’ve been selected for the Northern patrols, Hunter.” Grim announced plainly.

“Isn’t this meant to be a fairly elite group?” Dorian asked quietly, raising a brow in question.

“Yes. It is. But you are more than suitable… Man-At-Arms.” Grim slowly stated.

“Man-At-Arms? But I’m only a-” he began, realisation hitting him rather hard.

“Not anymore… Brother.” Grim said - a hint of warmness to it - clasping a firm hand around Dorian’s shoulder before trudging off.

 

With a rare grin gracing his lips for once, Dorian set off quickly after his friend.

 

 

Blood and blackness littered the sands as the two soldiers dove beneath the waves.

 

Drauch silently dragged his badly battered friend by his monstrous tendon of an arm, its normally lively attitude all but gone, barely twitching from the previous fight's toll on it.

Each step through the thick, salty water tough and tedious, the figure weighed down from the various arrows, bolts and blades stuck through his torso - sadly a normality to him by now.

“Hang in there, brother.” He rasped out to his eternal companion, heaving him along.

“Brother… You are more than suitable after all... don’t you think?” Raziel quietly managed to drone.

 

Drauch paused for a long while. He gave a quiet, slow cackle. “Whatever…” he’d whisper, half to himself before continuing his long trek.

 

 

Clad in white tabards, heathonous beasts that maim.

Cursed swords stealing life, countless mortals are slain.

A life of pure anguish, they have nothing to gain.

The ‘Order’ of St Amyas. All fear their name.

 

 

And so it drew closer.

 

[CheekyNolan 5420]

A late orderman with broad shoulders frowns down from the tranquility of the Seven Skies. "What happened to my friends?" He'd murmur rhetorically.

[trol 272]

Nobody feels fear when you recite the name of a holy order.

[justDEWit 133]

Ravondir seemed to be in the clinic, watching over a friend that was tired from the fight. "Surely they won't come back again after what we did to one of them." He huffed, leaning back in his wooden chair.        

 

 

[Stump 709]

"In truth, I think there is no longer one Reaper, now. But many, and our woods they haunt."

Ceriwyn de Bar's figure drew to a balcony jutting from Castle Geldern's walls after dismissing a fisherman she'd spoken to about the fallen soldiers, the proud seat of Drusco seeming small with the forests and rivers lining the territory, looming under the sun's shadow.

[Elad™ 560]

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