- Messages
- 338
- Character Biography
- Link
It was like a scar on his soul, the events of Faragen and the mocking of Lord Naleze. He had failed so many times before to slay him, but no longer. This was Arnor's triumph, or his end. He loaded up his horse, Rhi just outside of the town. The town was alive- somewhat, again. Naleze's power had grown, and his next trick was to awake the dead that once served him. Phantoms, ghouls and the undead rose from Faragen's ashes. The actions of the Templars long ago were now in vain, as Naleze's army grew in strength and power.
He infected the land like a foul plague, every which way the eye could see drained of life. It was how Naleze drew his power- from all living things. His power was immense, and all-consuming and all corrupting.
Arnor rode hard, Rhi's hooves digging deep into the ground, sending mud flying. At the outskirts of Fargen, lay a sentry, an undead soldier of some kind. It barely had time to turn and sound the alarm before Arnor's sword cleaved through it's head. He stopped just short of the town, looking down at Rhi. He dismounted his trusty horse, running his hand through it's impressive mane. Rhi was one of the largest horses on the continent- and one of the most tolerable of Nordenfiir. It was a rarity.
And he would not see the noble steed go any further on this quest.
"Farewell my friend- I hope to return to you." He removed the saddle and everything from Rhi, the King of Horses, and let it fall to the ground with a heavy thud. Rhi looked down at Arnor, pushing his face against his chest. "You cannot come, my dearest friend." He stroked his head, before patting him on the side.
"We'll meet again, my friend."
He said sadly, watching Rhi, equally sadly trot away.
Arnor picked up his sword, and unfurled the Axe of Knottington. He curled his fists around both, turning to face the town. A horde of undead and an evil creature lay between him and finally, perhaps peace in his mind.
Perhaps.
He infected the land like a foul plague, every which way the eye could see drained of life. It was how Naleze drew his power- from all living things. His power was immense, and all-consuming and all corrupting.
Arnor rode hard, Rhi's hooves digging deep into the ground, sending mud flying. At the outskirts of Fargen, lay a sentry, an undead soldier of some kind. It barely had time to turn and sound the alarm before Arnor's sword cleaved through it's head. He stopped just short of the town, looking down at Rhi. He dismounted his trusty horse, running his hand through it's impressive mane. Rhi was one of the largest horses on the continent- and one of the most tolerable of Nordenfiir. It was a rarity.
And he would not see the noble steed go any further on this quest.
"Farewell my friend- I hope to return to you." He removed the saddle and everything from Rhi, the King of Horses, and let it fall to the ground with a heavy thud. Rhi looked down at Arnor, pushing his face against his chest. "You cannot come, my dearest friend." He stroked his head, before patting him on the side.
"We'll meet again, my friend."
He said sadly, watching Rhi, equally sadly trot away.
Arnor picked up his sword, and unfurled the Axe of Knottington. He curled his fists around both, turning to face the town. A horde of undead and an evil creature lay between him and finally, perhaps peace in his mind.
Perhaps.