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Post by Zaron on Apr 9, 2005 1:55:45 GMT -5
Zaron stairs bewidlered in thi snew landscape, what has happened, where is he? The last he remembers is walking into the mist in caravan duty, and now the caravan can no longer be seen, and the landscape has changed abruptly. Somberly he shakes his head, well then he says to himself, this is just another one of those abrupt changes life throws at us I suppose, as his memories drift back to his past.
He thinks of his childhood, when he was happy, the son of an Elven warrior and his visigoth bride. He remembers his father telling him stories of his time as captain of the guards for the elven royal family, and of his mother telling him of the warrior traditions of her people. Then as suddenly as the mists that have transported him now it struck... The plague took his mother; soon after his father died of grieving. Alone, with nothing in the world but a cabin that was made from love and his fathers sword Zaron started his journey... Someday he would make both is people proud, by truely mastering the sword he carried, but until then, he would wonder, and learn...So I suppose one place, through the mist or not, will work just as well as another.
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Post by Zaron on Feb 24, 2006 19:29:57 GMT -5
Zaron wiped the sweat from his brow as he continues his morning practice. Sliently he remembers his fathers words to him when he was very young, a warrior does not look he sees, every cut has a purpose, never waste energy. He remembers these lessons well as he continues his practice long after he would normally have stopped. With all the troubles coming to Mittelmarch he is going to need all his skill. Alric left charging him with the protection of the town of Mittelmarch, and in this he can not disappoint.
Finishing practice he siliently goes back in his functional house, going to the small desk, looking over the maps. Studying them for a while he starts to mark the latest locations of the known where abouts of the orcish forces...too close he thinks..much too close.
Leting his thoughts drift he remembers the seige of Arok, in the world he is from. At the time he was but a simple soldier on the front lines working for the mercenary captian Trevack. They had thought their city safe, they thought their walls would protect them, they had not counted on that battering ram though. Fighting back tears he remembers the orders, leave no one alive...yes, he has done things in his life he is not proud of, but at the time, orders were orders...
Fighting back grim thoughts he again studies the map.
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