Sword of the Church
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Undead
Authored by Arlyn.
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Post by Vidar Ardelean on Nov 14, 2017 9:31:15 GMT
Vidar had finally made it.
Here he was in Mir, overlooking the grand mountains over the grassy plains, the trees and faint buildings in the distance, where the clouds met the horizon. He marched down the rocky slope, his armor clanking as his movements jolted stiffly. He was alone by the brown hills, all covered in dirt and dead grass over the rocks. The air was cold, crisp, but he could not even tell what season it was. Nor did it matter to him. All that mattered was that he was here now, away from the Graveyard. He had suffered many different weathers back there, making it hard to distinguish what seasons went by. But the knight in clad armor continued to walk down the hill, in search for anything besides the monsters that plagued the harsh land. He hoped that none had followed him here. If that were the case then he would be disappointed. Having to defeat them was a headache every time. Especially when they were so tough and hardy to defeat. Vidar made it down the hillside and found his way onto more suitable grass, alive which was rather rare even for him to see in fact. The grass eventually led to a small off beaten dirt path, upon which he followed. He knew where his destination was in mind, and he could vaguely recognize where he was. But this was the land of the living, he knew that very well.
But he was rather far from the Gates, which was good for him considering they may put him back there were he to be discovered just outside of them. But they were still only a distance away, seeing off in the hazy distance the closest tower. But here was out in the wilderness, the vast plains stretching as far as the eye could see. He still had a long ways to go, even to the Sakari Wildes. But he had just got here, he knew that it would take time. But he would now relinquish in his glory of his arrival. His helm looked to the clouded sky above, the sun barely seeping through the parted clouds. The God of Light had blessed him. He thanked him mentally, although he already knew that he had made it here some time ago. But it was only now that he stepped onto the living soil, upon which he hadn't touched in over a hundred years. It had been a long, dangerous journey. He had made his way through treachery to get here. But, how glad he was to have arrived.
Hearing a noise, his helm turned to the side, hearing something from behind the other rocks beside the hill that now lay behind him. Drawing his sword, he aimed it at the direction of the sound.
"Who goes there?" he asked, voice wary with caution. A creature would not hide, however he did not have to fear someone like a bandit or assassin. Though it may be a foe either way. Maybe there was some sort of monster that lived behind the rock. Although he prayed to God of Light that he would not have to fight another one today.
(Open to all!) |
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Noble | Adventurer | Smith
Bisexual.
Single.
Dwarf
Authored by Moro.
Offline.
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Post by Tharan II Dralínson on Nov 19, 2017 21:35:14 GMT
It had been a long day. The sound of boots and hooves were the only sound the dwarf had heard in a long while, he was walking beside his grey pony, giving it a break from carrying him and their baggage, but also giving himself a chance to stretch his legs and burn off some energy. He did enjoy riding, but after days of it he often grew restless and would fidget with just about everything he could get his hands on, which had resulted in a small pouch of trinkets he could sell in the next town he came upon. Lately, he had travelled with no destination in mind, simply taking in the sight of the land. As he moved closer to the lands around the Graveyard he could sometimes catch a glimpse of the towers and he wondered if he one day should try to go into the land of the undead. It was definitely on his bucket list, but not the place he was the most eager to travel see. he would much rather happen upon a dragons old treasure chamber, he had only heard of the wealth some dragons had collected over the years they were alive, but the locations of such treasures were never shared. Much to his disappointment.
As he was walking, mostly lost in his own thoughts, he didn't see the armour clad beign on the path. Only when the familiar sound of a sword beign drawn did he react. He drew his own, broad, short sword. By instinct, he aimed it at the stranger he now saw. The stranger was clad in an impressive armour, it would be a though opponent did the stranger decide to charge him. A cocky smile danced on the dwarf's lips, confident in his own ability as a swordsman and his kind had never been easily intimidated. The dwarves were though beings and the golden-haired dwarf was no exception. So when the stranger spoke he hesitated but eventually answered the armour-clad man. "Tharan. Who are you?" His voice was rough and sharp. He had given the stranger a name and now he hoped to get one in return. The dwarf meant no harm to the stranger.
Vidar Ardelean
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Sword of the Church
N/A.
Undead
Authored by Arlyn.
Offline.
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Post by Vidar Ardelean on Nov 27, 2017 0:05:34 GMT
His posture slightly relaxed, however the sword was continued to be pointed in that direction as the helm gazed toward the newcomer. Fortunately it wasn't some sort of dangerous creature, a monster that would have not answered him and would have charged at him. In fact he did not expect to see a lone dwarf, although it wasn't all that unexpected considering he was bordering the Naihan Mountains. The dwarf seemed harmless enough, not some thief or bandit it would appear despite him drawing his own short sword as well. But, that was also somewhat expected considering Vidar's own sword was drawn toward him. He didn't seek another battle, but if the dwarf proceeded, so be it. Slowly, the knight's armored feet moved across the dirt ground, stepping forward cautiously as his sword was still drawn, still pointed at him as the eyes beneath the helm gazed at him suspiciously. He did not recognize the name Tharan of course, must be some sort of commoner of sorts. But as their swords were still drawn facing toward each other, when he had asked the question he did not even hesitate to answer.
"Vidar Ardelean. I was once the General of the Swordsmen of the Fae. Proud defender of the Pontiff, the Church, the God of Light and all He touches," he said as he continued to near, taking each cautious step one over the other as he continued to face the dwarf. He was still uncertain what had happened here in the land of the living, why they were banished off in that forsaken land. "Dwarf. State your rank." Lest they have an honor-less battle. The war was still present, they were on opposing sides. Though were this dwarf but a mere serf, it would not be honor upon which he would slay an innocent. Battle was meant for soldiers to fight for against each other, alone. Though that did not mean that they were still on the same side. Although he did not entirely hate the creature, he still was a dwarf after all. Though the more important thing to find out, was what had lied beyond the Gates, or so he had heard.
"Are you familiar with the Graveyard?" he then asked, halting in his steps as his sword still remained in the air. He paused slightly, still trying to gain ground on the situation. "Why is it that they have built those Gates?" Perhaps the tone in his voice was rather seething. Why had they locked them away? He could have very well gone straight back to the Cathedral had they not put them in that forlorn place. In that wasteland full of danger. Why? He still sought to serve his duty, even beyond death. Even though he had failed them once before, he wouldn't again. He would make sure that he wouldn't. Even if it took him many more deaths. Though, he gazed at the dwarf with a suspicious eye. As if he were to blame for all of what had happened. But Vidar wasn't angry at him, but confused as to why or who would build such a thing. To lock them away as if they were nothing more than vile corpses. Well some were, but not all like him. It was true that they would eventually become mindless, but not all were the case. Though even he had not encountered undead before during his time as a living. Though how would they have known? It was quite irking him. So this living, perhaps he could answer him. Perhaps he would know what had happened this whole time he had been away from the rest of Oedir. |
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Noble | Adventurer | Smith
Bisexual.
Single.
Dwarf
Authored by Moro.
Offline.
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Post by Tharan II Dralínson on Dec 5, 2017 5:44:11 GMT
[googlefont=Montserrat][googlefont=Dancing Script][nospaces] [attr="class","stockbg"] [attr="class","stocktext"] Finally
[attr="class","postsection"]The golden-haired dwarf looked at the man. Vidar. It barely rung a bell in his mind from all the history lessons, but no more than a name popped up in his head. He stood without talking for a moment, the stranger had demanded he state his rank, as in social rank or the ranking you found in an army? He lowered his blade. "Tharan Dralínson, the second. Blacksmith. " He answered with a calm and even voice. He nodded towards the graveyard and its gates. "The Gates were raised to keep the Undead at bay. The Graveyard is the home of the Undead, those who have fallen in battle and not yet found rest..." Perhaps the stranger was unfamiliar with the Undead and who they were, since he didn't know the function of the Gates.
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The stranger looked at him with a suspicious gaze, almost at the edge of anger of some sort. He seemed out of place for some reason the dwarf couldn't pinpoint. Had he been living under a rock the past two hundred years? The dwarven man made a slow move to lower his sword and shift out of his battle stance. Hoping the stranger wouldn't take offence, perhaps mirror his movement and sheath his sword. The dwarf would hate to fight the man, he was clad in armour. The dwarf himself was clad only in a chainmail shirt, boiled leather and the shirt and trousers he was walking around in. Sure he would be able to take a blow, but was it well placed he would be in trouble. The stranger could take many more blows and the dwarf would have to find the points of weakness in his armour, such as the places where the armour pieces were attached to each other... Something he would hate to have to do when all he wanted was to keep going and not have to stop due to a battlewound that needed tending to.
[attr="class","stockbg2"]OOC: Sorry for the super short answer! :s [newclass=".stockbg"]width:400px;height:550px;background-image:url('https://img.fotor.com/share/1483731187597WYP.jpg');[/newclass] [newclass=".stocktext"]text-align:justify;font-family:'Montserrat',sans-serif;height:455px;background-color:rgba(64, 64, 64, 0.3);padding:20px;color:#e1e1e1;[/newclass] [newclass=".stockbg2::-webkit-scrollbar"]width:4px;[/newclass] [newclass=".stockbg2::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb"]background-color:transparent;[/newclass] [newclass=".stockbg2"]padding:10px;background-color:rgba(64, 64, 64, 0.3);color:#e1e1e1;text-align:center;font-size:8pt;height:35px;font-family:'Montserrat',sans-serif;overflow:auto;[/newclass] [newclass=".postsection::-webkit-scrollbar"]width:4px;[/newclass] [newclass=".postsection::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb"]background-color:#b1b1b1;[/newclass] [newclass=".postsection"]margin-top:20px;height:395px;overflow:auto;padding-right:10px;background-color:rgba(64, 64, 64, 0.3);[/newclass] |
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Sword of the Church
N/A.
Undead
Authored by Arlyn.
Offline.
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Post by Vidar Ardelean on Dec 12, 2017 9:57:41 GMT
Tharan. A dwarven blacksmith apparently. He was no warrior it seemed, however the undead kept his guard up. After all those many years within that treacherous land, one could never be too wary. Anything or anyone could turn against you, at any moment, even if you knew them very well. He listened intently however, focused on learning about what was the meaning behind the Gates. As the dwarf spoke the answer, beneath the helm his rotten skin perhaps contorted a little. Feeling confused by the words he spoke. Betrayed. His body nearly shook as he heard this words. There were Gates made to keep the undead at bay?! But why? He could understand that many had become mindless, but not all were! Looking at himself he was not mindless at all. Why would they have those Gates, why wouldn't they grant him passage to the realm of the living, as the undead so called it. However it was not called that to them apparently, or so it seemed. Perhaps it was Oedir just as he remembered it. However what made them? Were the undead not living in the very land they fought in? What irony. He gazed at him suspiciously, as the dwarf then sheathed his sword to his surprise. If the living so feared the undead from coming from behind the Gates, weren't they enemies? Were they fae and dwarf, weren't they enemies as well? That movement confused him, however he tried not to show that it let it bother him. Instead of mimicking his actions, Vidar lowered his sword albeit hesitantly, however he did not let his guard down fully however. As if he were a sentinel eyeing a suspicious culprit, lest he make any sudden moves he would raise his sword again.
Though, he still had some questions that needed answering. "Do you know why, Tharan the Second?" He spoke his name with formality. "Why they have made these Gates to keep the warriors at bay?" He had some restraint in letting out his anger, the hurt and betrayal he felt for being banished as an undead by his own people. However, was it really his own people that have done this? He stepped only a slightly a bit closer to the dwarf, as if to hear him better. "What race had ordered those walls to be built?" he demanded, in a rather harsher tone than before. Perhaps his anger was sinking after all. Though he couldn't blame the individual n front of him, they were still enemies after all. On opposing sides in an endless war. Though to be fair Vidar had just reentered the war again. After his own battles within that forsaken place, it felt almost odd coming back here again to fight different battles. Though battles were battles all the same. They just had different purpose. A meaning. Though it was his own purpose, even before he was locked away in the Graveyard and Beyond as his sole purpose was to defend the fae and serve the God of Light.
Perhaps unbeknownst to the dwarf, he too was undead. However he said nothing more as the dark helm stared at him from the short distance. |
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