Setsuko_

From the halls of the Templar keep, a familiar man sits slumped at the throne room table. Olive eyes scanning papers, he sighs in boredom. As a courier brings in another few Edward rises and cranes his neck, a series of cracks resounding. When the courier departs, offering only a polite dip of his head to the adunian, a crest upon the paper catches his eye. Moving a few papers from atop it he retrieves the missive gingerly, as if afraid to rip it. Retrieving his drink, a hollowed horn with the curve cut off to make a simple cup, he takes a slow sip as he reads. Memories flood him, just as they always did. It seemed the keep was haunted nowadays, faces of the past never leaving the man's side. Finally he sets the cup down, giving a hum of thought. He spoke no words aloud, nor gave ill thought. The man once banished by his people simply walked to the window, missive still in hand. In the clearing, two armored figures sparred. Their armors did not match, yet their cause did. They fought as men possessed, which in a way Edward supposed was not incorrect. Watching the two, one's armor noticeably more scratched and worn with experience, Edward couldn't help but give a small smile. Finally he set the missive down on the stand beside him where the skull of a giant snake sat, a trophy of one of the last major fight he had experienced with his comrades. He left the window, going back to the table to finish his reading. Out of the corner of his eye, his left never quite recovering its acuity, he swore he saw a flash of purple, and a familiar face.

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

Name: Edward Thuri-Elendil Race: Adunian Age: Yes Gender: Justice Does the Applicant waive any and all liability on behalf of the Eternal Lordship of Du Loc should they end up maimed, disfigured, disgraced, and/or murdered [Y/N]?: Y

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

From the valley of the Hinterlands, the roar of the cannons resound once more. Atop the firing line, Edward stands, looking down the line as another volley of blanks is prepared. He speaks no words of the dead, nor the conflict that took them. Though not present, they've the same blood. The same lineage. All firing leaders look to him, only to receive a weak nod. As the last volley of the night shakes the forest, one can only wonder how many more must be fired before the years end.

How have you retained your sanity in this dumpster fire?

Unbelievably, undeniably, Holy Bhased

Reading the missive from atop the waves, Edward Thuri-Elendil fiddles with some rigging atop a new ship to float Cartref's waters. After outlawing a foreign bounty, deeming it forbidden fruit from his ranks, the paper brought to him a small smile. "The world's gone crazy and left us behind" he says softly, folding the paper and stowing it into a pocket. "Good" he says finally, pulling the ropes tight with a frown of pain, the blessing of his Aengul still wearing upon his mortal body.

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.

Edward Thuri-Elendil blinks as he reads the missive before looking to his wardrobe. “Bloody good thing I own the old uniforms then.“ His gaze swivels to the Adunic Navy, floating proudly at harbor. “… and moved my ships“

The cannons resounded oncemore through the village, their boom echoing through the Hinterlands. Blanks fired in the air, the cannons adorned with a crest the man had not seen for such a long time, that of Halstaig. The teams reloaded, preparing for the final volley. Edward Thuri-Elendil stood, his eyes scanning the ocean before him. Had it always looked so... ominous? His head turned to look over the battery crews of Cartref Mor, who all seemed to look to him. "I'm sorry" the man says under his breath, hoping, somehow, that his last apology would meet it's recipient. He gave a melancholy nod, the call for fire coming forth. As the cannons at the hill top gave one last roar, a final call to the departed, the man was left standing, hands clasped together behind his back. His jaw clenched as he continued looking out. For once, the hardened sailor found no comfort at the sea.

OOC ((MC Name: Setsuko_ )) ((Discord: Setsuko#3733)) ((Timezone: EST)) IN-CHARACTER What is your name? Blain Yuno Thuri-Elendil Why seek membership to the Mages Guild? To further my understanding in the Arcane, and to serve my people with pride, respect and knowledge. What arts, if any, do you currently practice? None yet What position do you desire to attain upon acceptance? Practicus When should you be contacted for an interview? Whenever

Edward squints at the flier, as if believing he misread. "He honor dueled someone, and took his ear?" He folds the missive, giving a wince. "Not much honor to it."

Man actually just kicked a hive of stinger-less bees, huh?

LOTC is just a GTA freeroam lobby nowadays, and you can't tell me different