A request, a demand.

[Temp 2006]

A young man, no more than twenty four stands before a crowd. His once proud leather clad six-foot four stature reduced to a groveling slouch. Deep scars line the man's face, horizontal line just short of bone across his right cheek and a series of digging claws across his bandaged left eye. The man lets out a pained whimper before reaching out, pinky and ring fingers long since parted from his left hand. He takes a deep breath and with an expression befitting the dying, speaks out, "Brothers, sisters and outlandish cousins not of blood, but of purpose. We are at war. Not with our fellow man, not with our own blood, no. With damnation, monstrosity and hellish torment incarnate. Even as you stand before me, creatures of darkness, some of them men touched by unrelenting taint, reek havoc upon these lands unchecked. Some of them stand amongst us and others watch from the shadows and yet, we do nothing. Are we but cattle to this threat? A meal for the hunger stricken ghoul? A soldier for a once turned warp-touched mind? Are we all but vermin to the wretched forces of the damned?" The man's eyes wide, he leans back and looks to the sky.

For a moment, he seems to forget himself and where he is before going silent for quite some time. He then takes a deep breath, collects himself and continues, "We should not, can not, accept this. We have done nothing about the undying one with his fortifications to the west. We do nothing about the tainted dark ones that have grown so damned confident in their position that they needn't hide themselves. Men stand by and let these creatures dwell amongst them, allow them refuge and yet, they are not punished. What has happened to the pride of man? What has happened to the purpose of our blood? Have we grown so damned passive, so damned weak that we are forced to accept the blight as it grows over us?" 

Weak and with frame battered by battle, the man rises and begins to make his way through the crowd to depart, "I will not stand idly by and do nothing. I will fight, as I must. As we all must. The men of the Manticore seek to rid this world of blight. Not just their city. Not just their keep. We are not so foolish that we stand by the notion of self-service, as the idle hand is just as guilty and the hand actively committed to partaking in crimes most cruel and twisted." He passively gestures to a handful of men as he passes, "Come then, let us make something of ourselves or die with blades in hand." As the group departs, a man turns, his arms heavy with scrolls. He'd make an attempt to hand them out whilst carrying on. Anyone interested would find the following:

[oncenoeda 116]

Vicelin watches his brother speak with crossed arms, his eyes scanning any onlookers to gauge their reactions.

[Sarcof 98]

Renuald also stands in the crowd, watching his colleague speak. He gauges the faces around him, but unlike Vicelin, he searches for the hardened scowls or determined set of faces that seek to either aid them or fight them.

[mitto 2312]

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

 

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