There Can Be No Flight From Death

[Zanderaw 162]

Drums. Drums sounded everywhere. As the hordes upon hordes of orcs flooded through the broken defenses of Salvus, Zandros looked north, from where only tiny contingents of reinforcements had come, the payoff from the decision of the boy king Relenkai. From the south came the vengeance of the rest of the world, those who Salvus had previously held as allies. The keep of Kingston had been taken. The Cardinals, the Legion he had worked so hard to perfect, were now all that remained of the proud defenders of the kingdom. And now they fled, retreating further and further into the city.

 

Zandros stopped. What was it he had said several months ago, when war was declared? Salvus shall not run. And in the hopelessness that swept over the city when the news came that the orcs were still coming and their allies were not, he seemed to be the only one who still held that view.

 

He turned. The orcs had spotted them running along the wall, and were coming now. He breathed in, unsheathing the Salva that had been given to him ten years ago. He buckled his scutum to his arm, as the invaders broke down the first gate.

 

He sighed. Perhaps this was long overdue: Zandros had survived the inquisition twice, and every other catastrophe seemed to have barely missed him. The survivors of the Legion had reached the ladder down from the wall, escaping to the citadel, where they would be safe. The second gate upon the wall was broken, and now the orcs came, hundreds of them, pouring towards him with swords clanging. Zandros, steeling himself,  lifted his shield, and with a yell, charged.

 

Were a surviving legionnaire to look back, the last they would see would be the Lord Commander swinging his sword down at the first line, in fighting posture as he was engulfed by the invaders.

 

Salvus was done running.

 

((So, as you all know, real life must come first. It's been ridiculously fun the past few months, but I can't keep it up any more with everything that's going on. So, I'm permakilling Zandros, and will be taking a hiatus, I don't know for how long. Thank you to everyone who made the experience enjoyable.

 

If this post seems rushed, it's because it is.))
 

[5678 260]

Dvari is pretty sure Dwarven Mercs killed Zandros. Regardless, he bends down by the body after the battle, systematically looting the corpse.

[Redbaron™ 690]

Sand watches the city burn with his mercenary men at his back.  His eyes unwavered as he heard the dying screams of the men he once led.  He turned his horse around and made his way back towards the camp.  His red cape with the proud lion now worn from the colours completely.

[Zanderaw 162]

Dvari is pretty sure Dwarven Mercs killed Zandros. Regardless, he bends down by the body after the battle, systematically looting the corpse.

((Given that I wasn't actually at the battle in MC due to aforesaid RL commitments, it could have been anyone. I've chosen orcs because that's just who made the warclaim in the first place.))

[5678 260]

((Given that I wasn't actually at the battle in MC due to aforesaid RL commitments, it could have been anyone. I've chosen orcs because that's just who made the warclaim in the first place.))

((I know, just wanted to post something on here :P))

[Cat Evocation 3728]

Vaclav frowns slightly at the Idea his cheap stone mason is dead before he looks back to his book, sipping off his wine, forgetting the news before mealtime with his family.

[Acornlad 206]

[Hope to see you again soon]

[Lark 2227]

Hadrian pulls on Tahjeet's shirt, a look of puzzlement on his face, "Where is Mister Waveswept?"

[Acornlad 206]

Tahjeet stands at the Citadel, Hadrian at his side as he looks over the dead bodies that litter the battlefield, a light wind fluttering the flags around him.

 

"'E is in a better place now. And we will make sure 'e is remembered."

[Garukumus 81]

Nigel slouches over one of the many counters in one of the many taverns of Anthos, holding one of many mugs of ale (a sizable portion of which he had drunk himself that very night). He mulls over the endless list of the dead and missing, many of which he had considered his friends.

 

A loud slam could be heard throughout the tavern. Then silence enters the tavern like a flood as many of tavern-patrons stop what they are doing and turn to the source of the noise; Nigel Therving slumps, passed out at the counter as much the fault of the many pints of ale as his inability to come to terms will all the horrors.

 

The noise of life returns to the tavern as the patrons' curiosity is satisfied.

Life goes on in Zandros' memory, with an extra dent on the counter, and an extra bulge in the graveyard.

 

((Miss  ya Zandros. <3)) 

[Jimacat 34]

Alexander Bedevere watches the scene from the Citadel. Years ago he had come here, looking for a better life. He had gone through thick and thin in that city, but just like that, those memories burned with the rest of Kingston. Then, something caught his eye. Zandros. Alexander couldn't tell who the hell it was, but he just stopped and thought for a moment. Men, women, were all willing to die in the name of their home. Hopeless bastards, he had thought as he cowered away in the Citadel. He envied them though. He was always weak and timid, he could never do that ****. He pulled out the bottle of wine he had brought up there, taking a quick swig as he watched the city burn and the soldiers die. He didn't feel like fighting.

[Moot 1719]

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