Post by minea on Apr 30, 2012 16:55:57 GMT -5
The man looked to be contemplating something internally, his brow furrowed in lines of deep thought, his hands busy with a small sharp throwing dagger, in scripted with a gliding CS . It was hard to determine his age but judging by mortal standards he looked to be in his mid thirty's. A small piece of parchment lay face up on the desk in front of him, its many creases relayed that it had indeed been opened many times. The man's eyes once more turned towards the parchment, picking it up one more time he read the scrawling words written in the thin hand writing of the Ari'Nai, it read.
Ko Rangatira,
Ki te taima o te roa. Ko miritau ahau ki te haere ahau eh koe. Ka haere ahau ki te whenua nui, e titiro ki te Ari'Nai, ko wai rua mamae kahore titiro o te Ari'Nai. Ka wai it te tenei ra or te kau papa?
Ko teina e koe,
Baelaza.Aeldae
The letter had been received by a mysterious breton spider jockey, delivered to the RMF in the early hours of the night. Once again the man slumped in his chair and continued to contemplate the message, his thoughts turned to recent events, the highly defined memories for ever imprinted in his mind.
His friend standing strong next to him... a second later his friend no longer standing, instead lying in the dust with a Crime Syndicate dagger protruding from his heart. The next memory pained him just as much.... Ryan holding a ripped piece of guardian chainmail, chuckling with glee as he relayed the details of killing the young guardian who was once alive and strong but who now lay face down in some hidden stream in the wilderness, all hope of helping his country... just gone.
The man maintained an outward look of neutrality as he thought of these grousome events, but inside his emotions were in turmoil both times no matter how hard he tried, no matter how many hours he dedicated to honing his leadership and fighting skills... he still couldnt save his friends and comrades. The man's spirit ached for peace, it truly ached for a rest from the sadness, shame, anger and failure he felt around him while the war raged on.
He remembered the feelings of rage he once felt at seeing his friends and comrades fall, glancing down at the dagger that was used to slay his friend he willed himself to feel anger, to feel anything that would give him a mental boost.... nothing, not even a twinge of rage.
Losing interest his mind drifted back to the letter, and the tempting offer it possessed, perhaps a small trip would give him rest. Two sides to himself battled eachother for possession of his thoughts, one side telling him to keep on fighting, to keep leading the last forces that stood against Lucavexx and other evil forces besides. The other half told him that a rest would do him good, if he left now he would be in a better state of mind to continue.
Coming to a conclusion the man snorted sharply through his nose attempting to clear his head. The past few days these thoughts had continued to fill his mind. The man kept on thinking.
Ko Rangatira,
Ki te taima o te roa. Ko miritau ahau ki te haere ahau eh koe. Ka haere ahau ki te whenua nui, e titiro ki te Ari'Nai, ko wai rua mamae kahore titiro o te Ari'Nai. Ka wai it te tenei ra or te kau papa?
Ko teina e koe,
Baelaza.Aeldae
The letter had been received by a mysterious breton spider jockey, delivered to the RMF in the early hours of the night. Once again the man slumped in his chair and continued to contemplate the message, his thoughts turned to recent events, the highly defined memories for ever imprinted in his mind.
His friend standing strong next to him... a second later his friend no longer standing, instead lying in the dust with a Crime Syndicate dagger protruding from his heart. The next memory pained him just as much.... Ryan holding a ripped piece of guardian chainmail, chuckling with glee as he relayed the details of killing the young guardian who was once alive and strong but who now lay face down in some hidden stream in the wilderness, all hope of helping his country... just gone.
The man maintained an outward look of neutrality as he thought of these grousome events, but inside his emotions were in turmoil both times no matter how hard he tried, no matter how many hours he dedicated to honing his leadership and fighting skills... he still couldnt save his friends and comrades. The man's spirit ached for peace, it truly ached for a rest from the sadness, shame, anger and failure he felt around him while the war raged on.
He remembered the feelings of rage he once felt at seeing his friends and comrades fall, glancing down at the dagger that was used to slay his friend he willed himself to feel anger, to feel anything that would give him a mental boost.... nothing, not even a twinge of rage.
Losing interest his mind drifted back to the letter, and the tempting offer it possessed, perhaps a small trip would give him rest. Two sides to himself battled eachother for possession of his thoughts, one side telling him to keep on fighting, to keep leading the last forces that stood against Lucavexx and other evil forces besides. The other half told him that a rest would do him good, if he left now he would be in a better state of mind to continue.
Coming to a conclusion the man snorted sharply through his nose attempting to clear his head. The past few days these thoughts had continued to fill his mind. The man kept on thinking.
