Post by stramn on Oct 30, 2009 0:56:13 GMT -5
(I am pulling a big no no, but ya know what. This is necessary for. As a player, I feel that this legacy must continue.)
Stramn marched across the barren plain. His weapon in hand he knew not what was coming. His time was at an end. He had seen this day coming for sometime now. Ivan had entrusted him of all people with the Gladius of Lycans and by the gods he wasn't going to walk into the angel's citadel with it in his possession. With his Lycan might he sent the blade's point into the cliff's face. There it would remain until one worthy of claiming it could pull it true.
"In this place there is only life and death." He spouted, turning before walking forth towards the desert. The long walk would be his new journey. The angels his newest of allies and he knew not the what they had planned. Magda came to him, ask him for advice. Though he did not comply he knew what it was they sought.
Stramn was a fool for not seeing his own end. He could of simply turned his back on them. Instead he fool hardly accepted his fate. He marched forth into the den of the great enemy and thus ended his life.
(days past)
The sun cast its light upon the horizon. Dawn had struck this world. A world this wolf had spent sometime away from. Further and further he traveled, deeper and deeper into the continent. The Fin had not passed a single soul in his path. Lonesome as it was, he knew no other journey. "By the gods." The words left his mouth in reverence. A shining beacon lit on the cliff side path. His eyes caught an interesting sight. A hilt. A hilt showed itself, that was how it was driven into stone. The image of a wolf and a werewolf decorated it as the plain jane pommel sat exposed from the rock. "can it be?" He questioned.
Hours passed as he gazed upon it. The fabled weapon of his race. It couldn't be. No one would leave such an object in this place, would they? "no." The rock face was almost vertical the climb almost impossible for anyone to make.
Fingers bled as they grip rock. His bare feet barely gripped the smooth surface while his claws feeble clutched to the cliff. Up he went the side of the rocky face. Then finally he had made it. As his hand reached outward, towards the pommel, somethin' struck him just then, "Is this my destiny?"
Aazru pulled as he could, finally releasing the perfect blade from its resting place. The edge remained sharp even if it shouldn't of been. This was the weapon of legacy. He had seen it only once in his past. Even then, only one wolf had held to his knowledge. This was the gladius of lycans. Nathan's sword. Nathan's heritage. And now, The Fin held it. "Where has he gone? Surely Mad Dog wouldn't of put this here. Certainly not his style." No sarcasm left his lips, just absolute dumbfoundment. "Why?"
(Hours pass)
The climb tot he top was complete. The wolf held in his right hand the symbol of his people. The Gladius of Lycans. The relic had been found once again. The tool of war, the bastion of hope was in his hands. Yet who could he deliver this tool of war to? Aazru was no alpha, he had no rights to wield it. No. This symbol of power belonged to only one person. Nathan. "I vow to keep this until your return, good friend."
From that moment on, Aazru knew Nathan would someday return. Until then, The Gladius would be in good hands. The Fin would keep it with him, he would hide it in secret. The legacy of his race would be protected at all costs. Even his own life.
Stramn marched across the barren plain. His weapon in hand he knew not what was coming. His time was at an end. He had seen this day coming for sometime now. Ivan had entrusted him of all people with the Gladius of Lycans and by the gods he wasn't going to walk into the angel's citadel with it in his possession. With his Lycan might he sent the blade's point into the cliff's face. There it would remain until one worthy of claiming it could pull it true.
"In this place there is only life and death." He spouted, turning before walking forth towards the desert. The long walk would be his new journey. The angels his newest of allies and he knew not the what they had planned. Magda came to him, ask him for advice. Though he did not comply he knew what it was they sought.
Stramn was a fool for not seeing his own end. He could of simply turned his back on them. Instead he fool hardly accepted his fate. He marched forth into the den of the great enemy and thus ended his life.
(days past)
The sun cast its light upon the horizon. Dawn had struck this world. A world this wolf had spent sometime away from. Further and further he traveled, deeper and deeper into the continent. The Fin had not passed a single soul in his path. Lonesome as it was, he knew no other journey. "By the gods." The words left his mouth in reverence. A shining beacon lit on the cliff side path. His eyes caught an interesting sight. A hilt. A hilt showed itself, that was how it was driven into stone. The image of a wolf and a werewolf decorated it as the plain jane pommel sat exposed from the rock. "can it be?" He questioned.
Hours passed as he gazed upon it. The fabled weapon of his race. It couldn't be. No one would leave such an object in this place, would they? "no." The rock face was almost vertical the climb almost impossible for anyone to make.
Fingers bled as they grip rock. His bare feet barely gripped the smooth surface while his claws feeble clutched to the cliff. Up he went the side of the rocky face. Then finally he had made it. As his hand reached outward, towards the pommel, somethin' struck him just then, "Is this my destiny?"
Aazru pulled as he could, finally releasing the perfect blade from its resting place. The edge remained sharp even if it shouldn't of been. This was the weapon of legacy. He had seen it only once in his past. Even then, only one wolf had held to his knowledge. This was the gladius of lycans. Nathan's sword. Nathan's heritage. And now, The Fin held it. "Where has he gone? Surely Mad Dog wouldn't of put this here. Certainly not his style." No sarcasm left his lips, just absolute dumbfoundment. "Why?"
(Hours pass)
The climb tot he top was complete. The wolf held in his right hand the symbol of his people. The Gladius of Lycans. The relic had been found once again. The tool of war, the bastion of hope was in his hands. Yet who could he deliver this tool of war to? Aazru was no alpha, he had no rights to wield it. No. This symbol of power belonged to only one person. Nathan. "I vow to keep this until your return, good friend."
From that moment on, Aazru knew Nathan would someday return. Until then, The Gladius would be in good hands. The Fin would keep it with him, he would hide it in secret. The legacy of his race would be protected at all costs. Even his own life.