Setsuko_

Edward Thuri-Elendil watches the meeting from outside, pacing calmly, left hand resting on the pommel of his sword at hip. As the document is signed, he cracks a small smile

From the docks of Ironguard, Edward Thuri-Elendil stood against the winds of Lake Hakon. His head remained bowed, sword drawn and emitting it's soft light as it lay bound to him by his Grace. It's point was to the boards of the dock, its round pommel in his hands. Silently in prayer, he finally raises his eyes to look over the waters. Taking a long breath, he sighs out. "May the Aengul guide you, Brother" he says simply, sparing no more words for the dwarf of whom no mere words could describle. "Clarity through Courage. You've done our Patron proud."

Cursed be ye bloodline, with the misfortune of hangnails and stubbed toes

Edward tucks away the mirror, looking out to the waters of Lake Hakon. "Once more into the fray"

From the deck, Edward Thuri-Elendil directed people as cargo was loaded aboard his schooner. Crewmen readied the cannons and rigging, sails replaced and pristine. The Templar gives a small smile as he watches the other ships loaded, the land wagons already overflowing. Flying high, the flag of Cartref Mor flies

The replacement for the holy flashbang means that you can't stand at the front of a teamfight without blinding your friends...

To the docks of Cartref Mor, Edward Thuri-Elendil sits. The cannons had long since ceased their volleys, one last outcry for the departed. Alone he sits, a small flask in his good hand. Those olive eyes scan the waves, waves he learned to tame at a young age. Just like him. The push and pull of the water lulled his mind, which raced with fever. His gaze slowly pans down to the flask as he raises it up. A crest adorns it's surface, though not of his own family. House Delmar's purple crest stares to the templar as he brings it to his lips, the taste of his favorite whiskey overtaking his mouth. He swallows slow, savoring the taste and each memory it brought with it. "Here's a health to the company" the man whispers out, raising the flask to salute the waves. His head then bows slightly, a deep sigh coming out. He brings his good hand to his hair, running the digits through. "I hate you for leaving me..." comes the adunian's voice again, quiet and low. "... I ache for your loss." Slowly the man rises, taking a moment's pause to suck in a breath. "nes i ni gyfarfod eto, frawd". With this, the last of the two successors turns on heel, stepping along with muted footfalls and a bowed head.

Personally, it doesn't really make sense/I personally don't see why it's a smoggers addition instead of its own thing, but I like the piece itself. Very good job

+1 With the Bowie lifestyle adopted by a lot of adunians, even during this weird transitional phase we’ve adopted, I love this. It showcases very well the practicality of the race and culture while also providing a small well adaptable addition.

If you're gonna fight the good fight, do it a lil louder

How have you retained your sanity in this dumpster fire?

Unbelievably, undeniably, Holy Bhased

If you plan an Adunian, we do be vibin…

Edward Thuri-Elendil reads the letter as he rises from his morning prayer. The adunian offers no words of wisdom, no comments of respite. His olive eyes, ever retaining that surgical gaze, only studies the words given. With lips pursed into a frown of concentration he sets the paper down, raising the heavy wooden training sword. The future upon his thoughts he begins his training for the day, mind alight with possibilities.