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

*Boiendl is seen in the distant sunset, alongside a familiar figure.* *The figure extends his hand, and Boiendl takes it gladly. They begin to walk towards the sun - in unity, and finally together.* *The figure puts his arm around Boiendl revealing the face of Richard Horen.* "We are together forever, now. You and I..." --Seventh

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

*Silent and slow footsteps upon the root of a large tree, the cloaked Elf steps out from the shadows, embracing the rememberance of light upon his fragile face.* *His hands remove the hood, revealing a Wood Elven face. His cold eyes being the most striking feature, along with his light brown hair gently resting on the palm of his head. He glances around the streets of the city, his gaze slightly blurred with the streaks of light breaking from the peak in the leaves of the mighty trees.* "People of the seeds of Malin, hear me. Hear me now, for I hath returned to those whom brought me to life. I am that who is called 'Seventh' - but many of you care not, for I am an Elf of old religions. In the days of old, of the land that was once called Aegis, I too lived amongst my fellow Elf, for Laurelin was a kind home. She brought happiness into lives of many. But you do not know me, for I am one who has ran from my bloodline, escaping the very scent." *His soft but cold eyes now furrow slightly, as they gaze at the incoming crowds of people approaching.* "You wonder now what brings me back. After my unfaithful acts towards my kin - what brings me back? You see, my travels away from the Elves started when I was but a little 'un. I carried a sword, and a bow, and many arrows for which will pierce my foes - I called myself a Warden. A Warden of Malinor, protector fo the Realm of the Elves, and I was not alone. The Wardens were a force greater than most. However, their intentions were not pure - corruption plagued this company." *Glancing down at the ground, as if in an attempt to avoid the judgement seered into the eyes of the people that now stand before him. He places on hand on the hilt of his sword, revealing multiple scars - multiple memories.* "So I defected. I met a man, oh he was one o'er valor and honour above 'else. He brought me to the Sanctuary of the White Ravens, whom I would join - not for long, mind you. We were a coalition of different races set against these Wardens whom plagued the beautiful city of Laurelin. Together, we accomplished incredible feats, whom the Sun, nor the moon can argue against! *Smiles widely as if remembering his long lost comrades, before the smile crumbles, transforming his face into an array of sorrow.* "But the war was reaching our niche... the lives of the men we threw away to prove a point, it was as if we were just playing i'llst game. One whom the sidest of those with numbers wins indefinitely. So to save my comrades from suicide... I... surrendered information of our sanctuary... and I returned to it in ash and pale rocks..." *Swallows, putting one hand on his chin, rubbing it slightly - deep in thought.* "So to repent my sins, I joined the Children of Aeriel as their guardian. And these experiences... these travels, they taught me something. Following my 12 years with the Orcs, I realized that honour, chivalry and loyalty were qualities that I have been trying to attain, to achieve. A stroke of peace I was trying to buy back from Malin, as an excuse to be silenced with myself." *Glances back up, staring courageously into the eyes of his fellow Elves.* "I realized, I was using myself as an excuse to escape my past, run from my family. And now, the pain of the feeling of that when you watch your children, and their children's children pass before you, you begin to understand. You may run from your plague until the netherworlds, but it will follow you, and no matter where you hide hence, you cannot out-run it, for it is invincible. My cowardice is reaping me no longer however, no longer will I run..." *Leans on one leg, resting both hands, now, on his belt, glaring past the crowds.* "My Elves, you do not know me, for I am an Elf of old religions. Of times long gone, when your fathers once took arms against the evils of those who will not be named, but erectified as The Darkened One. Days when the sun beamed a happy heath upon the Elves of Malin. I bring nothing to you. There is no army behind me, awaiting my command. There are no endless fortunes of which I present. And there are no certain fates from which I can pull a fine thread, and provide a life of happiness. What I bring is my sword, I bring my faith, and I bring my heart. I bring dedication of a thousand men, and a thousand more. For I am who is reborn into the new religion, and that who is reborn... may never rest." --Seventh

Banned because I actually can! Muahahaha --Seventh