Cleon
07-19-2008, 01:18 AM
The night air is cold, and darkness creeps about the moonless, cloudy sky. I feel a chill down my spine as noises vaguely squander in a distant brush; and a strange, sudden silence causes wonder in a wood which never rests—an uncertain tranquility that is all too familiar for a seasoned veteran of dark times.
I grit my teeth and slowly lower my hand to my side—anticipating the inevitable approach of something unknown. Sweat begins to bead down my curled nostrils, and my brows naturally take their eagled stances. While drawing from the shadows every particle of light I could obtain, I am careful to enhance my senses and stand prepared.
Deep within the pulsing heart of every weathered warrior lies a powerful urgency—and not that of fear, but for that precise moment of truth when you can judge your character for value and worth. Glory resides; not in obsession or inspiration, but in opportunity!
I catch a hint of nothing more than a sparkle from the crest of shrubs to my left, and I know immediately what follows as I grasp a hold of a small pouch on my belt. I drop down to my ankles without hesitation and pull a slender skinning knife from the exterior of my old boot.
Hissing in the wind and a prevailing breeze in the air—I reach into my pouch and gather some small fragments. Rubbing them together, I can feel the blood form in my palm as I activate my soul’s reach into the night. I scream out into the darkness above, and toss my fragments toward the incoming waft—closing my eyes momentarily to conceal the bright glare.
Forces of uncontrolled power seep from my fingertips, and a strong surge of wind agitates the debris on the ground and scatters it into the air. My predator is held captive and helpless in the lower heavens from an unsuspecting force.
A brief moment passes when all things begin to settle, and I take a deep breath before gazing into the fearsome eyes of my stalker. As I pull my knife casually into a curved resting place across the side of my wrist, a brief glimpse of light sparkles through the darkness. I capture but a fleeting foretaste of the structure about me.
First, I make out a wing span that covers two lengths of a man, and metallic feathers which appear to reflect all things tangible to the eye. The talons are reaching as if to clutch my skull, and teeth that could peel the armor off a man are gritting with all sense of ferocity toward my flesh.
This rage was once unknown amongst the creatures of our land, but the days have come where threat lurks in every corner—we must be strong and survive! Rumor has it that races which once knew peace have also turned feral and now rave wildly across the lands we call home.
“We must put an end to this madness!” I exclaim, as I follow with a vicious roar and jump into the air with mighty force. In my descent, I shatter my skinning knife within the skull of the giant, winged beast, and watch solemnly as the effects of my incantations wear away. The creature falls lifelessly to the ground without any knowledge of what interrupted its fate.
I mourn the loss of my precious skinning knife, and proceed to draw out an unsettled sigh, sternly mumbling, “Sure, night travel is the safest way of passage, they say—kaput, I say!” I gather a few of the largest silvery feathers I can find—I remember hearing of a man in the east who collects exotic feathers and might offer me a fair trade.
I ponder thoughts of the circumstances which led to my certain victory. First, I remember how the force of its wings caused upward winds to shuffle the leaves and caution me. I also thought about how its presence in the sky was uncovered by a mere water droplet resting upon a leaf, as the quick absence of reflective light from a shadow’s cast unveiled its approaching attack. I take mental heed that one day my weakness may be exposed by my opponent’s ability to anticipate my next move before I unearth his.
Recalling my urgencies, I break away through the thick of the woods and behold the flickering of a friendly fortification ahead in the distance. Knowing my decree draws near, I withdraw my seal of allegiance for presentation.
I stop momentarily in the vale and give my final thoughts on every matter at hand. I look behind and breathe deeply at the mere knowledge of what challenges lie ahead for my kinship. Knowing we cannot face this alone, I turn once again toward the strengthening lights before me, and proceed toward my original endeavor.
The gates open as I approach, as if to welcome a guest, and I enter slowly—always keeping watch of my surroundings. A guide stops me in the middle of the entrance—forcing my instinctive eyes to peer cautiously across the façade for potential threats.
“Worry not, weary Commander. Your presence is much anticipated,” he responds.
“Aye,” I respond hesitantly—returning my fragment pouch back to its belt socket. I firmly pierce the observation of a few guards who dare look upon me, rather than hold their guard. Their stances return quickly without fail when my gaze falls upon them, as they know I will not hesitate upon their meaningless lives if I sense even the hint of treachery in their hearts.
As the center doors swing open from the force of an airtight chamber, and the familiar smell of celebration escapes from within, I take a deep breath as I prepare to break the unsettling news.
Approaching the one sitting upon his master chair, I make little effort in the way of introductions. I present my seal of allegiance and look dead-set into his bold, war-driven eyes—causing a deafening silence to fill the vicinity.
“Overking Peroden von Umfufu, it is I, Ealdor Cleon von Stibnite of the Kindred. An uprising is upon us within the dark lands as men of Order have deceived us. They made former peace only to entertain infiltration of our ranks, and to bring assassination upon us all. We cannot allow such treachery—
“We seek out the bravest inhabitants of our lands to aid in laying judgment upon the false pretenses of a corrupt Order that has made mockery of the truth. They have labeled us as the land of ‘Destruction,’ since that is their intent of our fates. We must take this opportunity to strike first and gather our remaining sources to ultimately serve justice to each and every haughty, venerable-labeled imbecile we find in the alleged land of Order—
“If we are to face these villains alone, we will surely fall. I propose an allegiance between your people and my people, and together we shall stand unmovable against the fiery trials to come. Please review this scroll and swear to it with your blood. The time draws near.”
As I hand over the scroll—spotted in blood from my own wounded hand—I ask the most influential question of all . . .
“Will you join us?”
I grit my teeth and slowly lower my hand to my side—anticipating the inevitable approach of something unknown. Sweat begins to bead down my curled nostrils, and my brows naturally take their eagled stances. While drawing from the shadows every particle of light I could obtain, I am careful to enhance my senses and stand prepared.
Deep within the pulsing heart of every weathered warrior lies a powerful urgency—and not that of fear, but for that precise moment of truth when you can judge your character for value and worth. Glory resides; not in obsession or inspiration, but in opportunity!
I catch a hint of nothing more than a sparkle from the crest of shrubs to my left, and I know immediately what follows as I grasp a hold of a small pouch on my belt. I drop down to my ankles without hesitation and pull a slender skinning knife from the exterior of my old boot.
Hissing in the wind and a prevailing breeze in the air—I reach into my pouch and gather some small fragments. Rubbing them together, I can feel the blood form in my palm as I activate my soul’s reach into the night. I scream out into the darkness above, and toss my fragments toward the incoming waft—closing my eyes momentarily to conceal the bright glare.
Forces of uncontrolled power seep from my fingertips, and a strong surge of wind agitates the debris on the ground and scatters it into the air. My predator is held captive and helpless in the lower heavens from an unsuspecting force.
A brief moment passes when all things begin to settle, and I take a deep breath before gazing into the fearsome eyes of my stalker. As I pull my knife casually into a curved resting place across the side of my wrist, a brief glimpse of light sparkles through the darkness. I capture but a fleeting foretaste of the structure about me.
First, I make out a wing span that covers two lengths of a man, and metallic feathers which appear to reflect all things tangible to the eye. The talons are reaching as if to clutch my skull, and teeth that could peel the armor off a man are gritting with all sense of ferocity toward my flesh.
This rage was once unknown amongst the creatures of our land, but the days have come where threat lurks in every corner—we must be strong and survive! Rumor has it that races which once knew peace have also turned feral and now rave wildly across the lands we call home.
“We must put an end to this madness!” I exclaim, as I follow with a vicious roar and jump into the air with mighty force. In my descent, I shatter my skinning knife within the skull of the giant, winged beast, and watch solemnly as the effects of my incantations wear away. The creature falls lifelessly to the ground without any knowledge of what interrupted its fate.
I mourn the loss of my precious skinning knife, and proceed to draw out an unsettled sigh, sternly mumbling, “Sure, night travel is the safest way of passage, they say—kaput, I say!” I gather a few of the largest silvery feathers I can find—I remember hearing of a man in the east who collects exotic feathers and might offer me a fair trade.
I ponder thoughts of the circumstances which led to my certain victory. First, I remember how the force of its wings caused upward winds to shuffle the leaves and caution me. I also thought about how its presence in the sky was uncovered by a mere water droplet resting upon a leaf, as the quick absence of reflective light from a shadow’s cast unveiled its approaching attack. I take mental heed that one day my weakness may be exposed by my opponent’s ability to anticipate my next move before I unearth his.
Recalling my urgencies, I break away through the thick of the woods and behold the flickering of a friendly fortification ahead in the distance. Knowing my decree draws near, I withdraw my seal of allegiance for presentation.
I stop momentarily in the vale and give my final thoughts on every matter at hand. I look behind and breathe deeply at the mere knowledge of what challenges lie ahead for my kinship. Knowing we cannot face this alone, I turn once again toward the strengthening lights before me, and proceed toward my original endeavor.
The gates open as I approach, as if to welcome a guest, and I enter slowly—always keeping watch of my surroundings. A guide stops me in the middle of the entrance—forcing my instinctive eyes to peer cautiously across the façade for potential threats.
“Worry not, weary Commander. Your presence is much anticipated,” he responds.
“Aye,” I respond hesitantly—returning my fragment pouch back to its belt socket. I firmly pierce the observation of a few guards who dare look upon me, rather than hold their guard. Their stances return quickly without fail when my gaze falls upon them, as they know I will not hesitate upon their meaningless lives if I sense even the hint of treachery in their hearts.
As the center doors swing open from the force of an airtight chamber, and the familiar smell of celebration escapes from within, I take a deep breath as I prepare to break the unsettling news.
Approaching the one sitting upon his master chair, I make little effort in the way of introductions. I present my seal of allegiance and look dead-set into his bold, war-driven eyes—causing a deafening silence to fill the vicinity.
“Overking Peroden von Umfufu, it is I, Ealdor Cleon von Stibnite of the Kindred. An uprising is upon us within the dark lands as men of Order have deceived us. They made former peace only to entertain infiltration of our ranks, and to bring assassination upon us all. We cannot allow such treachery—
“We seek out the bravest inhabitants of our lands to aid in laying judgment upon the false pretenses of a corrupt Order that has made mockery of the truth. They have labeled us as the land of ‘Destruction,’ since that is their intent of our fates. We must take this opportunity to strike first and gather our remaining sources to ultimately serve justice to each and every haughty, venerable-labeled imbecile we find in the alleged land of Order—
“If we are to face these villains alone, we will surely fall. I propose an allegiance between your people and my people, and together we shall stand unmovable against the fiery trials to come. Please review this scroll and swear to it with your blood. The time draws near.”
As I hand over the scroll—spotted in blood from my own wounded hand—I ask the most influential question of all . . .
“Will you join us?”