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Welcome to Elenlond, an original medieval fantasy roleplaying forum! We strive for creative, free-form roleplaying, in the hopes of allowing each and every single member the power to achieve their potential.
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| Viewing Single Post From: All for One and One for a Brawl | |
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| Andromalius | Jun 8 2009, 01:50 PM |
King of the Sexy Guys
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Ashoka, his last destination before everything fell into place. He had waited so long to come here for both it's inconvenience and the little fact that this place, with its internal conflicts, would be like a weak organ easy for a virus such as himself to swallow. Unity beneath one flag was easy for a third party to obtain, particularly a party with the aid of a Necromancer General and a fallen angel at the head. Still, one should not be so cocky that one wouldn't even scout out the lay of the land. Not that he hadn't been here before, but the borders had changed, as had the culture and its forces. His journey had begun on the complete opposite side of the continent. It had been a considerably long trek, and hopeful for its worth, the tall, lone foreigner walked the streets in a daze. The heat wasn't a bother, for his body always sought it. If anything, it was the light that touched everything, and the obnoxious monotony of the architecture. Ashokans were fond of their natural tones. At night he had arrived, seeking a place to rest. He had entered the first tavern he had seen and ordered a cup of tea to whet his pallet before commencing the patterns of a tourist. Down the market street, he had stopped at nearly every stall, half out of curiosity, half of intrigue as to what the country had to offer in resources. Seemed it was mostly just a whole lot of sand. On the contrary, he had also found an exceptional amount of magical items ...as well as an irritating amount of white magi apprentices. It seems the hiccup of a war had given a generation meaning. What a laugh. And they had thought they'd seen war... Mid-day once more, he had amused himself briefly by following the loyalists. If he sought recruits, he would seek it in their victims, for none were so promising as those with grudges against the way things were. After a few failed attempts, just on the brink of giving up on his perfect Ashokan soldier, the familiar wails of agony drifted into his ear. It was faint, but for one so accustomed to such sounds, it was particularly easy for him to pick it up. What lay at the end of this rainbow, at the very least, was someone who knew how to fight, as well as a body who didn't mind inflicting harm. It was the most promising event of the day so far. The foreigner left his perch and perused. Coming closer, he could hear the voices of many. Our potential soldier could be outmatched, but when the wraith finally stepped into view, when he could see the hue of his prey's mismatched eyes and the blaze burning within them, he could see his pessimism had no place here. He took no movement to disguise or hide himself. Andromalius watched in delight as the fighter beckoned his multiple opponents to charge, and watched as they hesitantly obeyed. |
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