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| Life Anew; Escaping the Hate; Open | |
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| Topic Started: Sep 19 2008, 12:13 AM (179 Views) | |
| Thoril | Sep 19 2008, 12:13 AM Post #1 |
The Half-Blood
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The sound of running water was the first to reach his ears. Around rocks and through weeds, it rushed quickly by, splashing against his form. He felt the cool liquid wash over his legs, clinging to him, trying to drag him into the murky depths and down the river to certain death. That wouldn’t be allowed as his hands gripped at sand, nails digging into the grainy bits of rock and stone. For a time that kept him content, just to lie there and let the sun bake against his back, to feel the cold water washing over him…it let him know he was alive. Still, even though he was conscious, everything was a blur. He could not open his eyes without them aching terribly and so he kept them shut. A painful throbbing came from the base of his skull, pulsing with each heartbeat. It would start out as a dull pain then reach out with scratching fingers to his forehead, attempting to tear away at his mind. No recollection of the event came to mind immediately. Though was something he didn’t try to attempt for fear of causing his head more pain. As such, he let his body relax and try to recuperate. His heavy breathing began to calm as darkness overcame him once more and he was dragged into dream-world. A soft whining awoke him once more. He didn’t open his eyes but merely listened, trying to discern the noise. It had stopped and whatever the bearer was had seemingly gone. That was his conclusion till a wet noise rested against his cheek and several quick sniffs told him other wise. Cracking an eye open, he saw the outline of a creature first. As the image grew clearer he saw it for a wild dog. The mangy critter looked half-starved and in need of a bath. Instead of going after the wounded man for a quick meal, however, it had decided to investigate and find out exactly who and what he was. It was no question to the mutt that he was like the hundreds of others that settled in the mountainous region of The Yseulte. Orcs made frequent trips to the river and the surrounding land. They even gathered up several of the dogs to use as pets for hunting and battle. The creature knew this and was wary of him for some time. Groaning as he was finally aware, Thoril pushed himself up. He found his arms felt weak and flimsy, barely able to hold the weight of his body. That feebleness was pushed away as he stood, dragging soaked feet from the river Shaen. The black, clothe pants clung to his legs and with a chilling wind made him curse as he felt frozen through. He took a few steps and collapsed onto the beach, sitting down to rest and collect his thoughts. The dog sat a few feet away, still eyeing him curiously. Though he was like the orcs that lived around the area, he was also different. That rough, fearsome appearance that the race held was softened with him. He looked more human in the face, noticeable with slightly gentler features and the smaller tusks that protruded from his bottom jaw. That didn’t make him look entirely friendly, however. He still looked every bit as mean as any other orc could, but he didn’t aspire to be like his hateful brethren. Eyeing his surroundings, Thoril took note of what he saw. Ten yards up river he spotted a corpse. It was a horse, mangled and was clearly dead. That mount was his, an animal tamed and befriended to the half-orc. Now it had suffered because of him. Standing, Thoril made his way to the beast. The starved dog followed, keeping his distance but still interested in the odd man. It would still take some time for his thoughts to come together and piece the incident into something of consequence, but he was beginning to at least understand the basic gist of what occurred. Just the idea made his blood boil, a hand coming up to his chest in a tightly clinched fist. The calloused hand rubbed up against the breastplate he wore, alerting him to what he still had. Looking down he saw the dragon-scale armor of his father still clasped around his upper-body. It was unique and a symbol of what power he once had. Now, all he had was his life and some mangy looking critter following him around. After searching the dead horse for anything of use, the half-blood began his journey. Thoril decided to follow the river up stream for sometime, heading towards the capital of Gramarye. There were small villages that rested along the banks, he knew for sure. How they would judge him, which he didn’t know. Only time would tell as he walked. His search of the mount found nothing of use. A few scraps of jerky and a wet blanket. Already he had eaten the food but he kept the blanket, tossing it over one shoulder. Hopefully, the beating rays of the sun would dry it before night time and that bitter cold set it. As he walked, he tried to remember the event that led up to his painful awakening by Shaen. His head still throbbed, that aching pain eating at him, but it had dulled somewhat and now it was more of an annoyance. It did little to dissuade his mental quest. I remember waking up this mornin’ in my chamber…Nothing of consequence passed up until me, Draug, and several men went out in a search party….We came up to the cliffs over looking the river…Damned Draug… “Damn him to hell!!!” Thoril roared, his voice carrying across the wide expanse of brush-land. That was the inevitable conclusion to his memory. That had to be the answer and it made his rage burn like wild fire. Taking a deep breath, he calmed, and resumed his walk, dark eyes scanning. To his right, the mountain range stretched on for a short time. He walked on the opposite side of the river, a wide open plain greeting his glance to the left. There were farms in the distance that would provide adequate shelter, but he didn’t feel that he had the energy to make such a trip. No, he resided to attempt and keep walking until he found something else. Thoril didn’t want to lose sight of the river or find himself without both water and shelter out in the cold land. His hopes were to be answered quickly as the orb in the sky started to fall and night crept up. A small town rested snugly against the river, having a tiny harbor for trading up stream. Quietly he made his way towards the first house he saw. A small stable rested around at its back. Rummaging through, he found a discarded cloak, several holes worn through but it was something. He threw it around his shoulders and pulled the hood over his head. Next, he peeked out into the village. A small fountain rested in the center and candle light flickered from windows of homes and an inn. His stomach rumbled and Thoril knew he couldn’t keep on without some food. Stalking around the edge of town, he found himself at the back of the inn. Surprisingly he found the back door open and let himself in. The sound of talking and laughing came from the main room. People were drinking and having a merry time. Thoril figured the owner and maids should be distracted so he poked around several cabinets. Sitting outside a large oven were several hot loafs of bread. Just the smell made his mouth water as he gathered them up, along with several strips of jerky. Just as he was about to leave, a loud scream made him jerk around. A thin woman rested wide, blue eyes on the half-orc. Again she screamed and ran to alert everyone. “Tck!” Not deciding to stick around, Thoril busted out the back door and ran. Suddenly the town came alive, men storming through the back of the inn in search of the thief. Not only was he a thief but he was an orc and hatred ran deep with many of these locals. The only thing he could do was run, as to where he was going, he hadn’t a clue. Finding himself on a road, he focused on putting one foot in front of the other, not letting exhaustion take over. When he felt like he couldn’t go on anymore, he leaped off the road into thick brush. In his big arms he still held the stolen food. His chest heaved up and down with gasps of air. The mob was a little ways off and he was too tired to run anymore. Thoril needed to rest and contemplate what he was going to do next. |
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Decription Inventory "Face me and fall!" | |
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| Sidarthas Monotheril | Sep 20 2008, 12:19 PM Post #2 |
Bringer of Your Judgement
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It had been some few hours since he'd battled the dark being known as Sammael in the Yseutle Mountains, and Sid was still running through what Sammael's motives were when he'd allowed himself to be struck by Sid's Azure Bolt and appear as if he'd died. Though Sid had sensed Sammael was still alive and knew where he was going, Sidarthas knew that pursuit was suicide. No, Sammael would have to wait for another day. As his great collosal black dragon, Kenji the Jack of Blades, glided with the wind over the seas, Sid allowed his long hair down from its normal ponytail to flutter about his face as he enjoyed the nightime air and the freedom of the sky. When he'd come over the sea, Sid tied his hair back up and tightened his grip upon the reins of Kenji's saddle. Touching down in a respectably large settlement on the main Isle of Gramarye, Sid dismounted swiftly and knew that there was something big going on. The town was in an uproar and gathered around the local inn. Cocking an eyebrow, Sid made his way into the inn, butting aside the crowd which parted in the presence of a commanding Paladin. Coming to the burly owner of the inn, Sid tapped his shoulder and began his inquiry. "What happened", asked Sid quietly, examining the mess of flower and food scattered about the floor, boot prints clearly seen in the debris. "A vile orc broke in is what happened", roared the innkeeper, his fists balled as his face turned a ruddy red, "raided my kitchen and stole a crop of bread and some jerky meat! I've already got fifty gold to whomever brings me his head!!" A little rash to have someone killed over bread and some meat, grumbled Sid in his mind as he cracked his neck slightly, These layman-types. Never ones to let go of petty hatreds that should've died out long ago..... "Call off the mob you have chasing him", spoke Sid, intution telling him that there was a bloodthirsty mob chasing after this hapless orc, "I will take care of him myself." "I'll do no such thing", barked the innkeeper, facing Sid full in the face now, "If you want that reward, do it yourself. And if you get in my way, I'll make sure to gut you myself!" Sid's face scrunched in a grimace of anger as his gauntleted hand flashed out and grasped the insolent man by his throat. "You forget who you're talking to", Sid hissed, tightening his grip, "and I suggest you remember that before you threaten me again!" Releasing the innkeeper, Sid strode out the back door and followed the trail of the orc out onto a dirt road in the wilderness. Telepathically commanding Kenji to follow behind him in the air, Sid set off down the path. In the distance, Sidarthas could make out the torches and pitchforks of the mob, as well as their angry voices. Cutting a shortcut through the foliage with his Paladin Blade Chrysamere, Sid soon was ahead of the mob and could follow the trail ahead of them. Soon, he found the trail leading off of the road and into a thick clump of bush. Judging by the wheezing he could hear coming from the bush, the orc had hidden himself here and was deathly exhausted. "Do you speak common tongue", asked Sid, sheathing Chrysamere and parting the bushes to kneel next to the orc's hunched form. While this would be suicide, Sid's Empathy spell felt no hostility or such from the poor creature, "If you do, the mob is only about half-an-hour behind me. You'll not do well against them and they'll tear you apart. I suggest that you come with me if you wish to see another day." Whistling shrilly, Sid felt Kenji's returning roar through his mind, as Kenji hadn't actually roared to avoid attracting the mob, as he tore into the canopy of the forest and landing with a rumble next to the two men, his iron-hard scales preventing injury from the trees. Sid offered a hand to the orc, gesturing to Kenji. "This is my riding companion and friend: Kenji", he stated softly, "He will help us in our endeavor." |
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| Thoril | Sep 23 2008, 06:57 AM Post #3 |
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The Half-Blood
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((OOC:Feelin' lazy so short post.)) Thoril was hurriedly putting the food into the old blanket and tying it closed and paid no mind to his surroundings until the man was already upon him. Out of place and unawares, his primal instincts took hold and he swung around, a large hand balled to hit with the back of his fist. The man wasn’t close enough, but it was enough a threat to make the stranger keep his distance. The whole day had put too much strain on the half-blood and he felt like he was going to crack. Anger would soon cloud judgment and he’d find himself in the midst of the mob, killing innocent people because of his rage. However, the human, though armed, didn’t appear to want and harm the half-orc. He appeared to want to offer assistance. Confused, he kept his jaw clamped shut. After examining the human he allowed a few words to slip from his lips, full of doubt and anger, “I speak but I do not trust you…” Suddenly a sharp whistle came from the stranger and close by a large shape appeared. Thoril’s eyes widened upon the sight, feeling rather hopeless without a weapon in hand. He could be killed without much of an effort…a wasted life. Gritting his teeth, the half-orc found his feet underneath him and stood, holding onto his provisions in a tight, vice grip in his left hand. “Why help?” He lowered his eyes from the large beast to the human, brow arching down in scrutiny. “No reason you should help…Maybe it’s a trap and I should break your little neck right here and now.” The threat was meant to let Thoril gather his bearings, hardly was it meant to threaten the stranger. He was in no condition to pick a fight and the sooner he could find refuge, the better. The mob wasn’t far behind and surely they’d find the pair with the dragon in plain sight. With a groan, he nodded, “I will accept your offer…Let us go, and quickly.” |
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Decription Inventory "Face me and fall!" | |
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| Sidarthas Monotheril | Sep 24 2008, 12:40 PM Post #4 |
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Bringer of Your Judgement
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OoC: FYI, there will be minor powerplay in this post. IC: “Why help?” The Orc had earlier threatened Sidarthas, but then he had digressed and allowed Sid to help him in his plight. "Because I know that you were simply trying to survive. More than once, I've had to resort to petty thievery to subsist", replied Sid, his azure eyes reflecting sympathy for the poor orc, "I am not one of those ignorant hate-mongers", Sid jerked his thumb back to the coming mob, "I've fought against and killed Orcs. I've fought alongside and bled with Orcs. I know that your kind are no more as brutal or disgusting as mine can be. I know that your kind are honorable, if warlike, people. I won't kill your or assist in your slaughter simply because of what you are." The snapping of a twig made Sid crane his neck around. From what he could hear, the mob was getting closer, now no more than perhaps fifty yard, the thick forest foliage and underbrush allowing them to remain unseen. "We must be quick", hissed Sid, seizing the orc by the collar and quickly pushing him toward Kenji, "if we do not get out of here soon, I fear that we won't be able to. Helping the orc mount onto the back of Kenji's saddle, Sid quickly placed a foot in the stirrups and swung himself over. Quickly slapping the reins, Sid, the orc, and Kenji took flight just as the mob broke into the clearing where the three were. Several outcries of rage followed, being compounded by the mob hurling anything they could use at Kenji and Sid. ARGH, exclaimed Kenji via the mental psychic bond he shared with Sid from their years together. The dragon also roared shakingly in physical pain, and Sid soon knew what. Portruding from Kenji's left foreleg was a great pitchfork, the teeth of the farmer's tool buried deep into the meat of the Jack of Blade's leg. "Hold on", roared Sid to his passenger, "Things are about toget bumpy!" Sid jerked the reins in the direction of the vast Yseutle Mountains, not-too-far-away, and Kenji made haste as best he could once he'd gained significant enough altitude. Even though they would make it, Kenji had sustained significant bloodloss from his wound, and the three were soon barreling toward a clearing of grass set upon a mountainside. By the time they had landed, though, Kenji had already lost control and crashing through several treetops before touching down hard in the clearing. Sid hastily dismounted and ran to the injured leg. Dark black blood was pouring down the favored leg, the pitchfork twitching whenever Kenji made a move. Sid gritting his teeth and drew Chrysamere. Focusing the Holy Blade's energy into his own, Sid used his mental energy to seize a mighty oaken tree by the trunk. After some tight concentration, and a lot of pulling, the great tree splintered and came loose. Directing the tree into Kenji's mouth, the Dragon bit down upon it obediently. "Don't bitch, you oversized crybaby", growled Sid to his dragon, and then he gripped the haft of the pitchfork and wrenched with all his might. This was answered in turn by a bemoaned roar from the in-pain dragon, and this went on for another good minute or two before Sidarthas could finally dislodge the crude weapon. Acting quick to prevent further bloodloss, Sid again focused his energy into Chrysamere, this time drawing upon his body rather than his mind. Touching the Holy Blade to Kenji's wounds, Sid breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that they were mending nicely. A good night of rest, and the dragon would be ready to fly tomorrow morning. "Phew", sighed Sid as he came back around from Kenji's rear and looked up at the Orc, "I tell you. Raising a dragon from an egg is bad enough. Taking care of them? Don't even get me started." Sid sat down against Kenji's breathing belly and reveled in the natural warmth. Hey, cracked the amused dragon, you should've read the fine print before you took me up. A dragonhawk isn't nearly as much of a chore! |
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| Thoril | Sep 26 2008, 07:59 AM Post #5 |
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The Half-Blood
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Thoril frowned, not wanting to trust the man fully, but he had no choice. The mob was quick on their heels and soon they'd burst upon the scene and all hell would break loose. The half-orc was torn...one part of him wished for death...the dishonor done to him; being left to die like a dog...it was enough to make him regret his entire life. The other part of him wished to fight on, survive another night, to make something of whatever he had left. There's no time for being crossed! Gagh, decisions! The man's words spoke true to him, however, and he allowed differences to be set aside for the time and allow the stranger to help him. Suddenly, more suddenly than he would of liked, he was upon the large, winged beast and they were in the air. A rush of vertigo came over the half-blood and he felt whatever food was in his stomach attempting to rush up to his throat. The feeling subdued and it seemed like they were in the clear. "Bumpy?!" It was the only word he managed to get out before things flew back into chaos once more. The man's mount roared and the flight grew hazardous. A moment later they were on the ground and Thoril found himself quickly in the dirt, thanking the spirits he was still alive. "Hell if I'm ever doin' that again!" Getting to his feet, he quickly rushed around to see what had happened. A rusty looking pitch-fork jutted out of the great beast's leg. "Oi, what are you gonna do?" The stranger drew a sword and for a moment looked dead to the world, obviously concentrating deeply. A tree's trunk broke and the injured creature seized it with its massive jaws. Then the ugly weapon was dislodged and he went about healing the wound. A look of awe had come across Thoril's face the whole time as he watched what occured. He didn't understand what the man was doing, how he was doing it...it was a surprise and a curiousity to the half-orc. Crouching before the stranger, he displayed his questioning with his face before words actually escaped his lips, "Who are you? How did you do that?...I know of magic, but this is beyond my understanding." Soon he wiped the stupid look from his face and held out a hand, "Sorry for how I was before," he said, voice rough and heavily accented, but at least he had a mastery of the language few orcs could of ever accomplished. "My name is Thoril Ravenblade." |
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Decription Inventory "Face me and fall!" | |
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| Sidarthas Monotheril | Sep 27 2008, 02:47 PM Post #6 |
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Bringer of Your Judgement
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"Ravenblade", quipped Sid, his eyebrow raised in curiosity, "That's a peculiar name for an orc. Thoril is a common Mountain Orc name, that much I know, but I've never heard one call themselves by a name more Rodirrean-Avalonian than anything. I must ask, who raised you?" Sidarthas smiled slightly at the orc's exclaimation toward his prowess with healing magic. Obviously the orc was very superstitious, for that use of magic was pretty standard for a Paladin train as Sid had been. However, he had no reason to belittle the orc for it. Even though Sid was becoming powerful, he still had a ways to go before he could compare to Rika Seransi, his half-sister and a mighty sorceress. "My magical abilities", sighed Sid, the fatigue from having to perform such a powerful healing, for the wound had been grievous and deep, "I honed through years of study and training with the Order of the Neutral Paladins. I will admit, however, that that wasn't exactly a walk in the park." "I am Sidarthas Monotheril", he introduced himself, extending a hand, "I am Idian-Avalonian by birth, but I was raised and trained in an Elven Kingdom known as Elune, far north of Avalon's Mists. It's been over four years since I've returned to the place of my birth. It is a pleasure to make your aquaintance, Thoril Ravenblade." Sid relaxed himself, taking care not to waste his depleted energy. Though he had lied when he said he was trained in Elune, for his magical powers had actually arisen after a very tense encounter with Rika some few months ago, Sid knew not to tell this to this orc. Gaining a vast amount of magical skill in so short a time was usually not a good sign here in Avalon, particularly on the superstitious Gramarye. Sid did know, however, that his control over his power was increasing each time he used it, and each time he utilized his newfound expertise, he was getting less and less fatigued. Sitting up a little more before unbuckling Chrysamere from his side, Sidarthas leaned back a little more upon Kenji's mid-riff in order to accentuate his attention toward Thoril's answer. |
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| Thoril | Oct 2 2008, 11:34 PM Post #7 |
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The Half-Blood
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((OOC: Sorry, crappy post. I've been busy this week, arranging wedding plans and what not, so my time has been constricted.)) Thoril cocked his head at the man. He questioned the half-orc's name, but for what reason, he really didn't understand. Never did he put much thought into names and their importance. "I was born of Grall Ravenblade...but I was truly raised by a half-orc named One-Eye." He crossed his arms, old memories seeping into his head. Those were much happier times back then. At least he knew his father cared some what about the boy's future. It was surely a dark one, from the day he was born, destined to battle the annoyance of hatred. "Sidarthas, hm? It's good to meet you, my friend." For once, he believed he wasn't in danger, for at least the time. This man had helped him, protected him, and as such, Thoril owed him his life. "Excuse my ignorance...but I believe I've never encountered a...paladin...before. I've heard the name, somewhere...maybe in a book, but what you are is a mystery to me." The truth, as he understood little of what the role of this Sid was. Him being this paladin obviously meant they were somewhat powerful; that impression given by the magical ability he showed. The half-blood let his eyes wander to the large beast then back to Sid. Thoril found himself a seat not far away, resting underneath a large oak. "You have done me a great service and I must repay that kindness," he began, serious yet a look of thought dawning over his face, "Perhaps I can travel with you, learn your ways, so that I may be of help to others as you were to me. I don't know how difficult it is to become a paladin, but I would try, if you'd allow it." Thoril sighed, "I am a half-orc and out of place. I have no where to go, no home among orcs, no home among humans." With a soft chuckle he seemed to turn away from his melodramatic mood, "I live a truly unwanted existance, I think. I didn't die, however...this night has proven fortunate for me...luck has been on my side for a long time, hopefully it won't fail me any time soon." |
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Decription Inventory "Face me and fall!" | |
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| Sidarthas Monotheril | Oct 3 2008, 12:25 PM Post #8 |
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Bringer of Your Judgement
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"I'm surprised", responded Sidarthas simply, "I thought most people would know what a Paladin is. Paladin, for one, is an ambiguous term. We're Holy Knights in service to a God to fight against the Evils of this world. I'm what you'd call a Neutral Paladin, trained by a monastic order in a faraway country. We were taught to think with our minds and logic rather than Faith. We were taught to be free spirits and live life, but still adhere to Good and crusade against the Darkness." "Most of your standard Paladins", continued Sid, gesturing to the ground before him as if he was indicating several types, "are proficient in Healing and Holy magic. I'm skilled at both, and it's served me well over the years." He sat at he listened to Thoril's tale, and request to be trained as a Paladin. Sid frowned, for there might have been a few Orcish Paladins over the years, but Sid was simply too caught up in many things to actually be able to take on a student. If Thoril had a mount to fly upon, it could work. Sid was used to being a free spirit and his own man, adventuring across Avalon to perform acts for the people. He found Thoril an interesting character and a good man, no doubt due to his Human/Orc blood and upbringing. It would be truly interesting to train a half-orc to be a Paladin. It just wasn't all that simple, though. Sidarthas was raised from a young age since his exile to Elune. Being trained, all sorts of experimental magical procedures were performed upon Sid to turn him into a weapon of Good. His athletic ability, already considerable, was augmented to make his stamina in a fight almost unparralleled. His strength was improved upon to make wielding heavy weapons almost a game. He was turned into a killing machine. It was because of this that Sid left the Order after the First Crisis. However, it seemed these sorts of augments could be provided by Thoril's orcish blood without any experimentation. This would be an interesting prospect, indeed. "Are you sure", inquired Sid, losing his jovialant manner and becoming serious, looking Thoril straight in the eyes, "it is a long and arduous path to become a Holy Knight, Ravenblade. You would need to be steadfast in the cause of Good. You would need to take up your weapon only for the sake of the Light. Would you be able to do these things? Being a Paladin is more of a state-of-being as opposed to a title. You would be trained in the courses meant for Knights, physically and mentally testing and painful. I think you could make it, but do YOU think you could make it?" |
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| Thoril | Nov 5 2008, 09:50 AM Post #9 |
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The Half-Blood
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Thoril thought deeply on what Sid said. It did seem like it would indeed be a difficult road to transverse. He'd be pushed to become more than man or orc. Devotion would be needed...such great devotion to battle all the darkness in the world. The challenge alone would be tremendous. That was all he needed to decide on his course of action. The grin that spread across his face would say it all. The half-blood found his new lot in life. Perhaps he'd be able to find himself without the same sort of trouble that haunted him before. The need to prove himself to others would be dead and all that would be left was the will to help others. "Yes...I can do it." Thoril brimmed with delight as he reflected on his decision. What would be instore for him exactly? He hadn't the faintest clue. Already he was geared to get started, to begind his path of enlightenment. However, his thoughts were interupted with the alarming noise approaching. "The mob...it has followed," he mumbled, eyes dropping back down to Sid. "We must make haste from here...Can your mount fly or does it need rest first?" Thoril left his anxiety and doubtfulness behind. The trained warrior underneath showed itself finally. Now he could make choices with resolve and clariety. "I'd like to avoid harming these people if at all costs...Their hate is understandable...So let us try and escape before they find us once more." ((Short...<.< Meh...This should be fun.)) |
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Decription Inventory "Face me and fall!" | |
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| Sidarthas Monotheril | Nov 7 2008, 04:42 AM Post #10 |
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Bringer of Your Judgement
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"Kenji's an energetic young dragon", replied Sid, hopping atop the saddle and helping Thoril up onto the mount as well, "we have nothing to worry about from the mob. Come, we must make haste for the mainland." Sid slapped the reins and the dragon's wings snapped open and the beast took flight, well ahead of the mob. Wheeling the dragon in the direction of Avalon, eastward, Sidarthas and Thoril and Kenji took off through the air for the mainland. After a few sparse hours of flight, for what would take days of sailing was easily surmounted by the speedy flight of Kenji the Jack of Blades, Sid set down upon a rocky cliff overlooking the ocean stretching toward Gramarye and Fincayra. "I must leave you here, for two travelling atop the back of a dragon would be an exhausting task, and I have other things to attend to, good Thoril", said Sid, "I will train you in the ways of the Paladin. Just remember that it won't be the easiest path of life. The training will be long and grueling. When you wish, meet me in the Enchanted Forest of Avalon in one week. There, we shall begin your training." |
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1:55 PM Mar 12
