One Who Is Reborn, Will Never Rest.

[Seventh / Ryan 93]

 

*Silent and slow footsteps upon the root of a large tree, the cloaked Elf steps out from the shadows, embracing the rememberance of light upon his fragile face.*

 

*His hands remove the hood, revealing a Wood Elven face. His cold eyes being the most striking feature, along with his light brown hair gently resting on the palm of his head. He glances around the streets of the city, his gaze slightly blurred with the streaks of light breaking from the peak in the leaves of the mighty trees.*

 

"People of the seeds of Malin, hear me. Hear me now, for I hath returned to those whom brought me to life. I am that who is called 'Seventh' - but many of you care not, for I am an Elf of old religions. In the days of old, of the land that was once called Aegis, I too lived amongst my fellow Elf, for Laurelin was a kind home. She brought happiness into lives of many. But you do not know me, for I am one who has ran from my bloodline, escaping the very scent."

 

*His soft but cold eyes now furrow slightly, as they gaze at the incoming crowds of people approaching.*

 

"You wonder now what brings me back. After my unfaithful acts towards my kin - what brings me back? You see, my travels away from the Elves started when I was but a little 'un. I carried a sword, and a bow, and many arrows for which will pierce my foes - I called myself a Warden. A Warden of Malinor, protector fo the Realm of the Elves, and I was not alone. The Wardens were a force greater than most. However, their intentions were not pure - corruption plagued this company."

 

*Glancing down at the ground, as if in an attempt to avoid the judgement seered into the eyes of the people that now stand before him. He places on hand on the hilt of his sword, revealing multiple scars - multiple memories.*

 

"So I defected. I met a man, oh he was one o'er valor and honour above 'else. He brought me to the Sanctuary of the White Ravens, whom I would join - not for long, mind you. We were a coalition of different races set against these Wardens whom plagued the beautiful city of Laurelin. Together, we accomplished incredible feats, whom the Sun, nor the moon can argue against!

 

*Smiles widely as if remembering his long lost comrades, before the smile crumbles, transforming his face into an array of sorrow.*

 

"But the war was reaching our niche... the lives of the men we threw away to prove a point, it was as if we were just playing i'llst game. One whom the sidest of those with numbers wins indefinitely. So to save my comrades from suicide... I... surrendered information of our sanctuary... and I returned to it in ash and pale rocks..."

 

*Swallows, putting one hand on his chin, rubbing it slightly - deep in thought.*

 

"So to repent my sins, I joined the Children of Aeriel as their guardian. And these experiences... these travels, they taught me something. Following my 12 years with the Orcs, I realized that honour, chivalry and loyalty were qualities that I have been trying to attain, to achieve. A stroke of peace I was trying to buy back from Malin, as an excuse to be silenced with myself."

 

*Glances back up, staring courageously into the eyes of his fellow Elves.*

 

"I realized, I was using myself as an excuse to escape my past, run from my family. And now, the pain of the feeling of that when you watch your children, and their children's children pass before you, you begin to understand. You may run from your plague until the netherworlds, but it will follow you, and no matter where you hide hence, you cannot out-run it, for it is invincible. My cowardice is reaping me no longer however, no longer will I run..."

 

*Leans on one leg, resting both hands, now, on his belt, glaring past the crowds.*

 

"My Elves, you do not know me, for I am an Elf of old religions. Of times long gone, when your fathers once took arms against the evils of those who will not be named, but erectified as The Darkened One. Days when the sun beamed a happy heath upon the Elves of Malin.

 

I bring nothing to you. There is no army behind me, awaiting my command. There are no endless fortunes of which I present. And there are no certain fates from which I can pull a fine thread, and provide a life of happiness. What I bring is my sword, I bring my faith, and I bring my heart. I bring dedication of a thousand men, and a thousand more. For I am who is reborn into the new religion, and that who is reborn... may never rest."

 

--Seventh

[Imperial Legion Soldier 34]

*Kan approaches the crowd to see why they have gathered, taking a moment to look at the speaker before hearing the man's name and smiles slightly as he hears that he is 'Seventh' and speak of his time with the ravens.*

"Hm.... another one alive it seems, good to know another one of us is alive." He says quietly as he listens to him speak. "It seems I may need to speak with him about the events." He says in a whisper before straightening his coat and glancing around at the crowd to see how they respond.

[Bircalin 332]

Bircalin's thick brown locks gently tug against the air that brushes between the trees surrounding the area. Gently, he nods as Seventh begins to finish his words, a wry smile forming on his lips. His legs protest against the incessant flattering of his deep green cloak pressing against his shins, sweeping the light dust of the forest floor.

He decides to send his voice outwards, sensing a conclusion in Seventh's speech.

"Far too long have I stood alone as one of the few remaining that once stood upon Laurelin's soil. Little is known of the days come and gone, Seventh. It will be good to know there is another beside me in the times to come that I can hold relation to. It brings me honour to know you choose to stand alongside us, as descendants of Malin, united. Welcome home, Brother."

[Baconthief 682]

Khel stands in the back of the crowd, standing tall, adamant, and proud. He wears his normal attire, an exposed chest covered in tattoos. One of his tattoos is a small black 'W' on his lower back. As Seventh begins to talk about the wardens their corruption a the White Raven's, Khel frowns. Khel instinctively scratches at the tattoo of the 'W' on his lower back.

 

​"So I am eternally marked as corrupt then"

 

As the speech comes to a conclusion, khel leaves in mild agitation. The word "corrupt" has not been pinned on him in such a long time that it almost made him grin to hear the phrase "corrupt warden" once again. 

[John (Zevandir) 80]

Zevandir, returning to the city, a brief, but most likely final, errand to a city he had hoped to call his home, catches a free fragments of a Wood Elf's speech, and turns, with a snarl, muttering to himself softly

 

"One from Old Laurelin, and a Warden indeed."

 

As the elf continues to speak, Zevandir stops to listen, smiling at the mention of the corrupt wardens. Waiting for the elf to finish, he ponders, recalling the early days of the group who would become 'Wardens', grinning again at the name.

 

Sensing a lull in the conversation, he shouts,

 

"BOY! Tell me what you know the origins of these 'Wardens'. 

 

He makes the last word almost an insult, a wolf-like grin stretching further across his face, leather-like skin taught across his cheeks.

[Moot 1719]

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