A robe-clad figure by the road.

[Swgrclan 2682]

A man covered in a robe of familiar detail to those who are survivors of Aegis is standing beside the Human path of gravel outside them temple. Upon spotting you in the distance, the dark figure motions you to come closer, not uttering a word.

Though the dark figure seems off-put and unsettling, you step toward him regardless. Once you near him, specific aspects of his appearance become noticeable; a gold trim trailing along his robe. His face is obscured by the shadows of his hood, though, oddly, crimson eyes stare out at you despite the darkness beneath the covering. The man grasps a staff of gold that flickers and shines in the calm, mid-day sunshine that manages to break through the tree leaves above and scatter the area with dots of sunlight. Despite being alone with this dark stranger, the situation, in fact, seems calm; relaxing even.

The man stares at you for a brief moment as if studying you to garner a good memory of your identity. The figure then speaks with a calm, quiet but audible tone; evidence of the man's age to be of older, perhaps an aging human male because of the distinct sound of his tone,

"Greetings, Stranger. I have things to speak with you about. Will you take the time to listen to an old man's words?"

Says the man as he pierces you with his crimson eyes. Feeling slightly anxious from the stranger's abrupt and sudden question, you pause and decide: shall you take the time to speak with this man, or shall you not take the risk and walk away?

Choose wisely.

[['Tis forum role-play. Act as you would in-game. I will not tolerate any useless OOC, so spare that unless you have an important and relevant question.]]

[Megacomet 25]

Herith Eldecia raises an eyebrow with intrigue. He closes his book, and turns to face the man. He remains silent for a moment, scanning the old figure, and appearingly deep in thought. He looks through his satchel, putting by his side, near his left hand. After nearly a minute, he speaks,

"Speak with me? Hrmm, not the most common of occasions. Well, what'ye need?"

Herith stands, shifting from side to side, awaiting a responce.

[Fredfort (jens6851) 283]

Tyret, an old Human looks at the Undead or Ascended like creature, squinting his cold, maroon colored eyes in disbelief and disgust, his hands gripping tightly around the handle of his long boneaxe, taking a deep breath, nearly gasping as he confronts the creature.

"Aye... I certainly do.. And especially from a person which hides his face behind a mask like tha'...

Wha' do ye have on yer mind lat.....?"

[Swgrclan 2682]

Smiling beneath the darkness of his hood, the man looks from one man to the other; appealed atleast a pair has gathered. Speaking in the same quiet, soft tone as he did beforehand, he responds,

"The reason I stand here, identity concealed, is not important. What words I offer are. Have either of you gentlemen heard of the Aenguls?"

[Eledyr 85]

*Eledyr stands by and listens to the man, hearing the Aenguls mentioned he walks closer leaning on his staff*

What is it you wan't? Attention? you sure got it, now get away!

Your robes bring back memory's of death and destruction, things like this I do not take lightly!

[Swgrclan 2682]

The man looks toward Eledyr and sighs softly, seemingly discomforted by his spite. He responds to him, tone still unchanged,

"I do not need attention just for the want of attention, my friend. My robes signify my allegiance, not as something to stir the dire memory of centuries' past."

[Fredfort (jens6851) 283]

Tyret mumbles under his breath, his voice rasp as ever, his eyes seeming to awaken as the word "Aengul" sneaks into his ear.

Rotating his head a bit, looking at the man with a frown, he speaks once more.

"Aye I do... I do indeed. Wha' about them...?"

Tyret closes his fist hardly, the other gripping even tighter around the axe handle, inhaling deeply through his nose, his glance turning even colder than before hand..

[TheRealKiru 23]

Navarion Feradeth, a curious elf wanting to prove himself one day to his elven brethren, stands beside Tyret after walking towards the undead creature that wanted to discuss something with the group of people who had stayed to listen to his words. The green haired elf held his stone sword in his hand and looked at the robed creature, unsure of wether or not he should even be talking to....it.

"Certainly. What do you wish to discuss?"

[Eledyr 85]

If those clothes truly signify your alliance then I fear you are not in the right place!

People like you only create trouble, I fear the your 'master' no longer holds any kind of power in these lands.

Elder tightens his grip on his wand and stares into the eyes of the robed figure

[Swgrclan 2682]

The dark figure stares at Tyret for a short moment before he directs his eyes to the hand that lightly grips the hilt of his weapon. Curling his grip around his staff distinctively, he responds once more,

"I speak of a certain Aengul. I presume you gentlemen are all educated, and are aware of Aerial, yes?

His demeanor lightens up as he speaks the name, pursed lips 'neath hood curling into a smile as he continues speaking,

"I believe Aerial, my patron and guide to Light, has sent me a message through dreams; a dire one despite how kind and generous he is. I have come to believe he sent me news of a new threat."

[[Edit: Response to Eledyr.]]

He frowns and responds in a suddenly stern tone, inwardly bewildered by Eledyr's words,

"My intentions are to warn, not to stir trouble. Stay calm, my friends. I mean no harm."

[Eledyr 85]

*looks at the man quiet suprised when he hears the name of his own patron*

Surely if you where a true follower of Aeriel you would not be wearing the clothes that her enemy's follower wore? However as a fellow follower of Aeriel I wish to apologize to you, maybe I I judged to fast.

[Fredfort (jens6851) 283]

Tyret frowns even harder, moving his shoulders as he takes a small slide step to the right, coughing a few times, his voice seeming to hold agony as he starts speaking..

"I've heard about Aeriel... Aye.. And no-one should mention her 'ere... Or ever.... Yer robes ar' of mix of Undead kin and Ascended kind.. Ye should leave... IF yar dreams a followed by Aeriel.. Yar cursed..

Ye should search a witchdoctor...

There should be a few in Maple Port....

Lat...."

Tyret shakes his head, looking at the two in disgust.

[Swgrclan 2682]

The man nods curtly and responds to Eledyr,

"No need to apologize friend. The color of my robes may seem.. unsettling and mis-leading to most."

He then turns to Tyret, a frown forming upon his features,

"I assure you, I will take my leave when the message is delivered. Everyone stay calm, for to in-take such a message means silence is a necessity; to remember it with clarity and spread it to others is important, and that deems silence and understanding an importance."

[[Note: I need to go for a few hours [most likely 1 or 2], and will respond to any posts after I come back. Every continue to post and interact with each-other while I am away.]]

[Volutional 935]

Marcys watches from afar. Likely unseen in his ragged brown robes. A black mace at his side does lay, however.

He cannot hear the words of the curious adventurers. But close is his attention to the mannerisms of the many that pass.

[Swgrclan 2682]

The man leans on his golden staff and scans the crowd that has gathered, and gestures around them all as he begins to speak once more,

"If we do not act and prepare once more, and better than we did in Aegis, everything here will burn and turn to ash; it matters not if the origin of this threat is of Iblees or not. The message must be sent, people must prepare to fight once again. Drakes, black mages, necromancers and other-worldly forces threaten our very way of life."

He quiets down again and scans the crowd, listening for any responses.