An Old Unoathed's Return

[Swgrclan 2682]

It has been nearly.. fifteen years now. Perhaps Twenty, maybe more. Years flew by like minutes, months like seconds to one man who had disconnected from his humane brothers and sisters to traverse the land of Asulon and to seek out's it's secrets; what it's ruins hold, what beasts inhabit it and of course, above all else, what riches await. Twas' a noble goal for a young man, especially of his caliber. But of course; all men of short-eared heritage wither after so much time. That is the curse the human race holds, after all. To pursue one goal and grow weak over the years until they are unable to reach out to another once the first is either abandoned or complete.

Grigori found much in his travels, but it was not riches and discoveries of exotic beasts. He obtained development: a sharp mind, keen senses and a close faith to the father of man, Horen. It was, however, at the prime age of thirty-five that he halted his efforts to focus on the things he rather abruptly dropped and abandoned before going off on this escapade of learning and discovery. 

When pondering upon what to connect and cling to now that his travels have ceased, a specific Order came to mind -- the White Rose, whom of which were strong in will and man-power; having so much of both, from his perspective, that even Malinor shook in it's boots whenever it was time for them to visit, and not for.. positive reasons.

But whispers in the wind tell that they no-longer operate as a simple militant's Order, but a Kingdom - a people under the Emporer, under the same goal and faith. It would be wise for a man like Grigori, as stern and gruff as he had become over the quick-passing years that he was to join, once again, but to stay this time.

~~

Thudding, orderly foot-falls fell upon the earth of Kaedrani land; led by a curious, graying individual, whom of which had grown much since last contact with those who ruled the land he walks on now. Grigori Alimaetor was gruff, travel-toned and adorned with grime-encrusted attire - rough, graying-yet-black facial hair clung to his weary, stale and bitter-neutral features, much unlike the neatness exhibited in his hygiene so many years beforehand. 



A note had already been prepared for whatever notice-board Kaedrin held. Safely folded up within the pocket of the man's old, tattered coat before he slipped it from place upon catching sight of a proper 
wall which seemed suitable enough to hold messages. Upon nailing it in place, Grigori treads off to seek out some kind of time-occupying activity within Salvus.

The message reads the following:


"Rulers of Kaedranian land;

My name is Grigori Alimaetor. After taking leave from the White-Rose (whom of which I have heard is the Order that rules this land - or, perhaps acts as it's military) I had traversed about the land of Asulon in search of riches and glory, like most young-minded gentlemen of younger generations hold the desire for. My efforts have failed in obtaining either, so, nearly twenty years later I now return to the peoples I assumed noble and iron-fisted in ruling and power.

I wish to re-join the White-Rose and stay there to act as a soldier amongst it's ranks and defend the land it had (from what I gather) recently claimed. I eagerly await any form of reply.

Signed, Grigori Alimaetor the II."


 

[calculusdesola 1658]

Zacarias and several men at arms laxing along the earthmounds beside the wall raise their heads scantily as if the wayfarer were a returned stranger, treatment typical of unoathed.  They didn't appear to recognize him; perhaps, at the very least, not thoroughly.

 

"Glory t' Kaedrin; 'ers a surplus o' trainin' leather in t' pit."

[Peter Chivay 2494]

Peter hears word of the new arrival and squints his eyes.

 

"Grigori Alimaetor...? I dun't recall..."

 

Lifting his hand from his throne arm, Peter motions toward a guard to the left of him. 

 

"Fetch the ol' tome ov' deh' Order, I wish tu' know if this man speaks deh' truth..."

 

The King speaks with a low gurgle in his voice, clearly exhausted from a long days plunders.

 

 

Finally receving the tome, the King begins the daunting task of reading through the countless names that have joined and left the Order. However... he comes upon something.

 

"I'll beh' damned... it's right 'ere."

 

Peters finger remains above a name- a 'Grigori Alimaetor' - he begins muttering off the traits listed next to the man's name.

 

" Average height for a citizen of Oren, dark brown eyes, short, black hair, and a light beard." Is murmured from the King's tired lips.

 

"Bring this man to me soon... we shall see if 'e is truly who 'e claims."

[Gunner 775]

Chet shrugs, "HUH"

[Stevie 1598]

Thomas returns from his duties in Kingston, now commonly referred to from the new forces there as "The Nether". Exhausted from the day's dealings, he passes by the throne room where Peter seemed to enjoy spending his time(even sleeping there, some say). He approaches his brother and clears his throat rather abruptly, waking the aging king from his dozing.

 

"That old Unoathed came to me today. 'e spoke of rejoinin', so I allowed 'im back as an Unoathed. I'll give 'im 'is uniform an' such, an' we'll frow 'im into The Nether fer a little trial by fire. Let 'im see wot we deal wiff right away, heh."

 

The prince spits out a short cackle, nodding to Peter as he turns about, heading off to inform the various scribes and keepers of the Order's records that a new addition must be added. One that he saw great promise in.

[Danny 2232]

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