Seventh / Ryan

#Rekt

*Gently tugs down his hood, scanning the document. Nodding as he reads, a soft smile touches his lips.* "Let me be your sword and shield once more, dear Alras..." *As he begins to turn, he notices a flicker out of the corner of his eye. Recognizing a familiar face, he eases. He nods to his sellsword companion.* "Aye, Seventh, we're requested back bay te Caravan master, 'est we b'headen back, yeah?" *He says with a heavy Dwarven accent.* *Seventh scans the document once more, before putting it away, turning on his heels.* "Aye, we should." --Seventh

"He tastes the sweet blood of my brothers... And now the rain grows thicker..." Maximus Meridius Horen takes a seat in the large church. The house of God boasts large golden double-crossed signs, and the crowds huddle around their seats with the common murmur amidst the air. Maximus takes notice of the gate guards, letting flows of people into the church. He specifically takes note of a dozen individuals - hooded and cloaked. He watches them ascend into the stands above, he misses however what they carry in their hands - Crossbows. Shrugging the sudden urge of sickening thought in his gut off, he turns his attention back to the Altar, taking a quick glance at his bannermen, standing near him. He admires the suit of Podrick Denims, nodding in approval, he shifts uncomfortably. The atmosphere within the church is sickening. As the crowds quiet down, the holy father begins to pray and seal the bond of the young couple. Maximus smiles widely and claps. His wide smile fades, slowly, as he begins to atune the sound of song in his ears... a song he only heard in stories. He glances up at the stands above, witnessing multiple cloaked figures, 22 in total. Next to them stand musicians, playing the song of damnation... he can feel his heart pick up in his throat. Turning away, he opens his mouth, attempting to shout at the people at the altar, for it was in vain. The holy father sealed the marriage, as the couple kissed, and at this moment a rain begun to fly. A rain of beautiful death. Arrows flung from the stands above, hitting multiple nobles and guards. He watches as the common folk begin to scream, and the nobles and bannermen move amidst the confusion. In mere moments they would be mowed down by hailing arrows. The 2 gate guards shut the gates, drew their swords and approached the remaining nobles. The wicked sharp blade pierced a noble next to Maximus, the gaurd, a traitor, glares at the noble - "Codrick Green sends his regards." Maximus brings out his blade, piercing it through the body of the betrayer. Arrows wizzing past his head, he notices his bannermen at the entrance-gate of the church, attempting to open it. He rushes towards them, however a bolt flung into his left hand, as he is almost shot to the side. He releases a scream of agony, before regaining his balance, and rushing to the aid of his bannermen. The entrance is opened, and floods of commoners, nobles, and bannermen pour out, before a large force of fortified troops move into the church to kill the traitors. Maximus plucks the arrow out of his hand, before turning around shouting at his bannermen to form up, and advances back into the hostile church. Arrows still being flung and mow down the first line of forces sent in, before the cloaked men ambush the rest, however, being outnumbered they were taken down with ease. Multiple cloaked figures were seen to escape the church. Maximus glares atthe countless bodies on the ground, cursing. He glares at his remaining bannermen. "Remove Green." --Seventh

Seventh strikes the edge of his sax-knife against the white wood. Light only flickers on his face before a small fire, as he presents his long-experiencd fletching skills. Many years of warfare, and battle has begun to eat at his mind - "How can we ever be sure we're safe?" The same ringing occurs thousands of times a day for him. It plagues him, the thought. Reassurance only begins to satisfy him as he realizes the traits of his own race. Elves - nimble, extreme eyesight, and sensitive ears make for an almost impossible sneak attack on any Elf, let alone a city, or town. The Elves are marked for their uncanny abilities at marksmenship and scouting - especially in forests. He nods, clearly satisfied from his deductions. "How can we be safe?" He thinks to himself. "Our scouts are known for being the best in the Realm. No movement occurs in or around our forests without us knowing." --Seventh

His eyes scan the Dwarven threat-letter before releasing it from his grasp as it violently flickers between the banners of his Sigil behind him. His face turns slightly over his should to observe his small army of damned man behind him. These men, hardy, crude, and strong from the years of fight against Bohra-savages in the North. The bannermen of his father march proudly, raising the sigil of the Wicked Wolf high above. Turning front, he adjusts he newly forged Steel and wolf-pelt armor. It was his fathers old battle armor, reforged to a full respect. He nods to himself, satisfied, gripping the reigns of his, jet black, horse tightly. He raises a hand for the march to cease, and as sudden as the action, the echo of the march dies. He rides towards the front gates of Abresi, noting the sudden halt in Guard duty and the buzz of the city to a dim, he smirks. As he reaches the front gates, he holds up a hand to object any speaking of the Guards before his own voice was heard. "Send word to his Imperial Majesty... the Legion of the Wolf, of his cousin, has arrived." --Seventh

Seventh glares at multiple scrolls posted on the front board of Malinor, before ripping one of in a show of aggression and quickly pacing to the Council Chambers. As he arrives, multiple members are already seated and discussing current problems convening the Council. Seventh storms inside, and slams the scroll on the table of the Council. All heads turn in shock and surprise. "Another group have forfieted their lives... We are too late." --Seventh

*Raises both brows in anger.* "The Mali'Aheral have defiled 3 Trees... they have disowned themselves from the trust of Malin... This will be brought to the attention of the council... now you heed MY warning. These actions of treason will not go unnoticed." --Seventh

((Exactly as I thought man, now these are some bad-ass orcs.))

*Reads the decree with haste, his eyebrows furrowing with every extra word he reaches.* "This will turn into the war that ends all wars, mark my word. The one true war. The victor writes history." --Seventh

((Indeed. Lago and a company of players have been working together to make it a campaign. And, from what I saw, it was freaking amazing. The system was great. You definitely need to speak to Lagomorphia. However, until that is done, the warclaim doesn't hold any meat, sorry mates. :<)) --Seventh