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The Seeker Of The Ferry Men


LordCrowe
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It was early morning, the birds were singing, the morning dew glittered like gems in the light of dawn, and under a tree an old man was packing up his campsite. He was clad in full plate, with a sword on his hip he struck at first glance the image of a gallant knight on an adventure, but look closer and you’ll see a different story, what was once a symbol displayed proudly on the chestplate has been crudely ground off, with no sign of what once was there, and a tabard once present is now torn to shreds, whatever symbolism it held long lost, only ragged red cloth.

 

The man held up a piece of parchment to the light, on it a familiar symbol to the people of Oren, a golden schooner, and the words “Justice X Fairness”, the symbol of the Ferry Men, who seek to depose the old noble order. The man’s left fist clenched, adding more crumples to the already worn sheet, before his first words of the day were forced out of chapped lips “Fools… the same, ideals, the same mistakes, its just like so long ago…”

 

The old man looked to the horizon, a breeze catching at the tattered remnants of his tabard. He raised his cold right hand to the horizon and shook it with the fury of one who has seen the same mistakes repeated again, and again. “These Ferry Men, they are the same, and if they remain that way, they must be stopped”

 

The breeze picks up, flinging a medallion out from underneath the man’s breastplate, on it, emblazoned a symbol that once held the same meaning as that in his left hand, but now means nothing, not anymore. “But perhaps… perhaps they can be taught, perhaps I can fix those old mistakes, once and for all”

 

The man glanced at his right hand, his missing right hand, rather he glanced to the symbol etched into the unfeeling iron prosthetic, lovingly engraved by a dwarven smith, that of a chain, symbolizing penance. He then glanced to the symbol on his medallion, a red gear, the symbol.... of the cheloveks

 

“I swear on the name Joseph Hartjensteyer, I will find you Ferry Men, and I will make you better"

 

"For you.... dearest Maria, I shall ensure my penance is done"

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Sinding Labdacus, one of the grunts of the “Ferrymen” wandered his way home to his small little shack in the woods afgernjust a day in the mines “Maybe we’re more than just roadmen” The man said, putting on a pot of tea over the fire and laying in his small dirty cot closing his eyes for some well deserved rest.

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A soul cloaked in red recalled the tale of a lost sheep... no, a rabbit. That poor rabbit. Had his fate caught up to him? It did not matter, for the figure had heard this story before. The very name "Chelovek" incited hate into what was left of his accursed soul.

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