Post by Madcat on Feb 6, 2008 17:10:58 GMT -5
*A large humanoid walks in a small deer-skin tent, probably the tent would be able to fit three humans easily, but for the large Orc it seemed only enough to allow him to breathe.
The New Pherin forces spared a large full plated armor that barely fitted his large body, not because he was very tall, but mainly because there aren't many people with his strength carrying full plates.
Lothar removed the heavy gear, as well as his three Great swords plus his Maul, and he unbuckled his belt with the kukri he had learned to keep concealed, that served as a last resort weapon.
In all of Lothars arsenal, he had payed special attention to one Great sword, Seolfor, a sword with a certain sentimental value to him.
He pulled out a chair and set by a desk, pulling out a small book and a quill, he then slowly started to write.*
I am Lothar Torakson, Grand Warrior and chief of the Wildfire Tribe from former Roscas Ring, slayer of Trolls, Bane of Giants, victor of the duel with the Tyrant Grull Bloodspear, and the one who lead the Roscans to the civilized cities in safety, and in freedom.
*Lothat stoped a while, checking his long title, quite customary in the old ways of the valley for a chief to present himself and his list of deeds*
We strike tomorrow, all the armies are set and in motion, we are ready to rid the land of its evil or die before it falls upon us, we made the choice to die free over living in fear and divided, only to be cut down like motherless dogs, I have lead what little warriors remain of true Roscan and alongside so many other armies, we will strike the tower and buy enough time for the Red Dawn, the Grey Dusk, and any other to take down the Godlike Mage.
I live optimistic of our success, I live and breathe battle, as do my fellow warriors who share the blood of Rosca, our only fear is to die with no honor and by standing here, about to complete the revenge of the destruction on our home, there can be nothing that would honor us more then the death of Wesker, and his head on a pike for all to see.
*Lothar makes a pause, reads over what he had written so far and was pleased with his introduction.*
"It is not costumary for a Roscan to leave behind a will, or his last wishes before a battle, but I am no ordinary orc, and I have made too many promises that I fear are not possible to keep.
*He looks over to his blade, Seolfor, and then to his own hands that were blueish, grayish for constantly grasping at its hilt.*
If I am to die tomorrow on our march, then let my sword, Seolfor, Bane of Undead, slayer of Werewolves, rest next to me in my grave, back in the home where once was called "The Valley", I believe that on its green crops and peaceful environment will prove to be my place of rest after a life of battle, I desire this fate more then to have my skull on the great wall, and I forgive to all of my kin who think of my last wish disrespectful.
Also I wish it to be tagged on my Grave not that Lothar Torakson died and rests there, but that Seolfor awaits there a little longer.
*Lothar looks over what he wrote so far, again pleased, and continues on a long list of wishes and promises he never managed to fulfill
He then stands and looks around on his tent, removing the pages he wrote and placing them in a letter, he would leave it on a small box where he was sure someone would check if he would ever fall in the day of battle.
Lothar walks outside, to speak to his men, too impatient to sleap, too eager to fight, assuming that the letter will never be needed*
~~~~~~~~~~
*Years Later, a shrine can be seen in the middle of the once green Valley of Rosca, with a stone marked with the symbol of Wildfire and with the words "Seolfor awaits here a little longer, next to Lothar Torakson, Grand Warrior and chief of the Wildfire Tribe from former Roscas Ring, slayer of Trolls, Bane of Giants, victor of the duel with the Tyrant Grull Bloodspear, and the one who lead the Roscans to the civilized cities in safety, and in freedom".*
The New Pherin forces spared a large full plated armor that barely fitted his large body, not because he was very tall, but mainly because there aren't many people with his strength carrying full plates.
Lothar removed the heavy gear, as well as his three Great swords plus his Maul, and he unbuckled his belt with the kukri he had learned to keep concealed, that served as a last resort weapon.
In all of Lothars arsenal, he had payed special attention to one Great sword, Seolfor, a sword with a certain sentimental value to him.
He pulled out a chair and set by a desk, pulling out a small book and a quill, he then slowly started to write.*
I am Lothar Torakson, Grand Warrior and chief of the Wildfire Tribe from former Roscas Ring, slayer of Trolls, Bane of Giants, victor of the duel with the Tyrant Grull Bloodspear, and the one who lead the Roscans to the civilized cities in safety, and in freedom.
*Lothat stoped a while, checking his long title, quite customary in the old ways of the valley for a chief to present himself and his list of deeds*
We strike tomorrow, all the armies are set and in motion, we are ready to rid the land of its evil or die before it falls upon us, we made the choice to die free over living in fear and divided, only to be cut down like motherless dogs, I have lead what little warriors remain of true Roscan and alongside so many other armies, we will strike the tower and buy enough time for the Red Dawn, the Grey Dusk, and any other to take down the Godlike Mage.
I live optimistic of our success, I live and breathe battle, as do my fellow warriors who share the blood of Rosca, our only fear is to die with no honor and by standing here, about to complete the revenge of the destruction on our home, there can be nothing that would honor us more then the death of Wesker, and his head on a pike for all to see.
*Lothar makes a pause, reads over what he had written so far and was pleased with his introduction.*
"It is not costumary for a Roscan to leave behind a will, or his last wishes before a battle, but I am no ordinary orc, and I have made too many promises that I fear are not possible to keep.
*He looks over to his blade, Seolfor, and then to his own hands that were blueish, grayish for constantly grasping at its hilt.*
If I am to die tomorrow on our march, then let my sword, Seolfor, Bane of Undead, slayer of Werewolves, rest next to me in my grave, back in the home where once was called "The Valley", I believe that on its green crops and peaceful environment will prove to be my place of rest after a life of battle, I desire this fate more then to have my skull on the great wall, and I forgive to all of my kin who think of my last wish disrespectful.
Also I wish it to be tagged on my Grave not that Lothar Torakson died and rests there, but that Seolfor awaits there a little longer.
*Lothar looks over what he wrote so far, again pleased, and continues on a long list of wishes and promises he never managed to fulfill
He then stands and looks around on his tent, removing the pages he wrote and placing them in a letter, he would leave it on a small box where he was sure someone would check if he would ever fall in the day of battle.
Lothar walks outside, to speak to his men, too impatient to sleap, too eager to fight, assuming that the letter will never be needed*
~~~~~~~~~~
*Years Later, a shrine can be seen in the middle of the once green Valley of Rosca, with a stone marked with the symbol of Wildfire and with the words "Seolfor awaits here a little longer, next to Lothar Torakson, Grand Warrior and chief of the Wildfire Tribe from former Roscas Ring, slayer of Trolls, Bane of Giants, victor of the duel with the Tyrant Grull Bloodspear, and the one who lead the Roscans to the civilized cities in safety, and in freedom".*