Xiahou Liao
06-29-2004, 18:06
The morning rays of the sun poured out over the grasslands of Akurschiß, over the trees and farmlands. Birds flew high in the sky above the Village of Akurshiß. It was a beautiful place, one of such beauty, the Order of the White Lance commander visited often. The grass was tall at three-four feet in height. But it was green, and waved with the morning breeze that swept by. The morning was cool for the night before it had rained, leaving dew upon the grass itself. Over the plains of the grasslands there were a few hills here and there.
Atop one of the many hills sat a horse. It's color was that of black, and the muscular build showed that it was meant for war. It wore it's own armor for protection in combat, however it also wore a white battle cloth. On the Battle cloth, adjacent to the front and rear legs, there was a Dark blue ensignia. The ensignia possessed a horse lance that reached towards the rider in the etchings. Around the lance were three Slivers. These dragonlike creatures were intertwined with the lance, wrapping around it until they had merged at the top as one, the head grasping onto, what seemed to be, an orb.
The battle cloth's stillness was disturbed when the rider of the horse turned to glance behind himself. His hair was shoulder-length, it was straight and of a raven color. Towards the face of the man though, his hair seemed to lighten slightly, and a few dark brown streaks could be seen. His beard was trimmed and neatly as if it was smooth. In the middle it connected to a goatee, which as well was neatly trimmed for appearance. His skin was pale, but his build in height was 5'11, Physical attributes would hint towards a Northern Italian/Southern Austrian. The rider wore a dark crimson colored Brigandine armor, and strapped to his left side was a black sheath. Inside of the sheath was his Platinum colored, crystanium metal, forged in the art of Damascus by the Elves. However, there were added runes to that of the Elves'. There was one that particularily stuck out, and if translated, it read Jomsborg.
The rider held his right hand over the War horse lance he was holding onto. The lance's end was touching the ground, and the upper was leaned against the horse. The lance was large, obviously meant for Cavalry, but the point was sharp to the tip and double edged. If needed he could find a way to slash with it, but the penetration would be more needed. Around the rider's neck, he wore a pendant that seemed to have been of historical and ancestrial importance...though he himself beheld no god, the pendant were runes of Jomsvikings.
Quietly approaching behind the man was another upon a brown horse. The battle cloth was the same, and the armor. But the rider wore a platemail armor instead of his commander's preferred Brigandine. The man smiled as he came to his commander's side. He then quietly spoke with a soft voice.
Commander Machivelli, what brings justice in fighting against The Knights of Hospitaller? They have the Christian god behind them...we have nothing.
Commander Machivelli had allowed his left hand's gentle fingertips slip into his horse's mane. He stroked the horse, and then brought his hand from the horse. He turned towards the Captain. His pale lips parted slightly, allowing a soft, quiet, and yet deep voice tinted with a Heavy Italian Accent roll out.
Captain Pavlov, you may have not seen it yourself. But The Knights of Hospitaller are dishonorable. They say they are saving the world by ridding of the demonic presence, that is not even on this plane mind you, by killing innocent youth? Defenseless Demons should at least be given a chance to live life. But I believe the true demons are they, The Knights of Hospitaller.
He smiled widely at what he had spoken to himself, knowing Captain Pavlov was holding onto every word he had just spoken. He knew Pavlov to be his most loyal man, only because they've been through a lot together in the short time they've known each other. Commander Machivelli had saved Pavlov from being decapitated in public.
Heh...'The Demons of Hospitaller'...has a nice ring to it, fits them well.
Captain Pavlov would just look up and towards Commander Machivelli temporarily. He then shifted his eyesight over the grasslands, that lead into the village of Akurschiß. Pavlov turned his horse back the way he had came, but paused when he heard the voice of Commander Machivelli once more.
Pavlov...I am not asking any of you to join me on my 'crusade' against such vile fiends. I'll go alone if I have to. I have to make something change...I can't stand by knowing defenseless creatures are being slain as I sit here and talk. With honesty, The Knights have made a dire mistake...
Pavlov rose his brow looking back towards Machivelli, he had wondered what he meant when he said 'Dire Mistake'.
What do you mean my lord?
Machivelli grinned sadistically, almost to a point it would make him seem as if he was evil...however, he raised his head a little, looking out towards the rising sun.
One must watch threats that are near. But if they ignore threats that are far, they will crumble and fall...It is dawn Pavlov...
Captain Pavlov looked back the way he was headed down the hill. His eyes fell upon the camp of warriors that had been called together. He began to trot casually towards the camp, as he said quietly to himself.
Dawn of what...? What was he talking about?
Machivelli still had not moved, his eyesight taking in the beauty of the landscape around him. He slowly closed his eyes as his left hand was raised. He moved fingertips, so that there infront of him, was his opened palm. He opened his eyes and tilted his head foreward, he was still grinning widely. He parted lips allowing his voice to roll off his tongue, he spoke almost a whisper.
Dawn for the fall of the Knights of Hospitaller...Dawn for the Order of the White Lance
Atop one of the many hills sat a horse. It's color was that of black, and the muscular build showed that it was meant for war. It wore it's own armor for protection in combat, however it also wore a white battle cloth. On the Battle cloth, adjacent to the front and rear legs, there was a Dark blue ensignia. The ensignia possessed a horse lance that reached towards the rider in the etchings. Around the lance were three Slivers. These dragonlike creatures were intertwined with the lance, wrapping around it until they had merged at the top as one, the head grasping onto, what seemed to be, an orb.
The battle cloth's stillness was disturbed when the rider of the horse turned to glance behind himself. His hair was shoulder-length, it was straight and of a raven color. Towards the face of the man though, his hair seemed to lighten slightly, and a few dark brown streaks could be seen. His beard was trimmed and neatly as if it was smooth. In the middle it connected to a goatee, which as well was neatly trimmed for appearance. His skin was pale, but his build in height was 5'11, Physical attributes would hint towards a Northern Italian/Southern Austrian. The rider wore a dark crimson colored Brigandine armor, and strapped to his left side was a black sheath. Inside of the sheath was his Platinum colored, crystanium metal, forged in the art of Damascus by the Elves. However, there were added runes to that of the Elves'. There was one that particularily stuck out, and if translated, it read Jomsborg.
The rider held his right hand over the War horse lance he was holding onto. The lance's end was touching the ground, and the upper was leaned against the horse. The lance was large, obviously meant for Cavalry, but the point was sharp to the tip and double edged. If needed he could find a way to slash with it, but the penetration would be more needed. Around the rider's neck, he wore a pendant that seemed to have been of historical and ancestrial importance...though he himself beheld no god, the pendant were runes of Jomsvikings.
Quietly approaching behind the man was another upon a brown horse. The battle cloth was the same, and the armor. But the rider wore a platemail armor instead of his commander's preferred Brigandine. The man smiled as he came to his commander's side. He then quietly spoke with a soft voice.
Commander Machivelli, what brings justice in fighting against The Knights of Hospitaller? They have the Christian god behind them...we have nothing.
Commander Machivelli had allowed his left hand's gentle fingertips slip into his horse's mane. He stroked the horse, and then brought his hand from the horse. He turned towards the Captain. His pale lips parted slightly, allowing a soft, quiet, and yet deep voice tinted with a Heavy Italian Accent roll out.
Captain Pavlov, you may have not seen it yourself. But The Knights of Hospitaller are dishonorable. They say they are saving the world by ridding of the demonic presence, that is not even on this plane mind you, by killing innocent youth? Defenseless Demons should at least be given a chance to live life. But I believe the true demons are they, The Knights of Hospitaller.
He smiled widely at what he had spoken to himself, knowing Captain Pavlov was holding onto every word he had just spoken. He knew Pavlov to be his most loyal man, only because they've been through a lot together in the short time they've known each other. Commander Machivelli had saved Pavlov from being decapitated in public.
Heh...'The Demons of Hospitaller'...has a nice ring to it, fits them well.
Captain Pavlov would just look up and towards Commander Machivelli temporarily. He then shifted his eyesight over the grasslands, that lead into the village of Akurschiß. Pavlov turned his horse back the way he had came, but paused when he heard the voice of Commander Machivelli once more.
Pavlov...I am not asking any of you to join me on my 'crusade' against such vile fiends. I'll go alone if I have to. I have to make something change...I can't stand by knowing defenseless creatures are being slain as I sit here and talk. With honesty, The Knights have made a dire mistake...
Pavlov rose his brow looking back towards Machivelli, he had wondered what he meant when he said 'Dire Mistake'.
What do you mean my lord?
Machivelli grinned sadistically, almost to a point it would make him seem as if he was evil...however, he raised his head a little, looking out towards the rising sun.
One must watch threats that are near. But if they ignore threats that are far, they will crumble and fall...It is dawn Pavlov...
Captain Pavlov looked back the way he was headed down the hill. His eyes fell upon the camp of warriors that had been called together. He began to trot casually towards the camp, as he said quietly to himself.
Dawn of what...? What was he talking about?
Machivelli still had not moved, his eyesight taking in the beauty of the landscape around him. He slowly closed his eyes as his left hand was raised. He moved fingertips, so that there infront of him, was his opened palm. He opened his eyes and tilted his head foreward, he was still grinning widely. He parted lips allowing his voice to roll off his tongue, he spoke almost a whisper.
Dawn for the fall of the Knights of Hospitaller...Dawn for the Order of the White Lance