Post by Rane on May 22, 2011 16:01:33 GMT -5
Maron's Return
"I have seen many many things. The sand of time and the tales of battle have made me a hard man, not on others but myself. I fear that if I let myself go, if I dont hold faith and stay true, then I will be lost, and the beast will come back once again."
It was no small thing as he shed that piece of armour, undoing each clasp gingerly, the green and black chest piece fell to the floor with a large thump. He winced at that bending to pick the piece up as if it was his own child that he had just dropped to the floor. Many battles were won in this armour he thought, but so many foolish ideals were followed. Maron tossed the chest piece on the bed and removed the rest of the armour. Never will I wear it again. His eyes gazed over the suit for a long while. It had been like a horse to him. The kind of horse a knight raises from birth. The kind of horse that knight trains day in and day out, to not jump when a spell goes off, to charge head long into the fray. The kind of horse that had won many many battles. But then abruptly that horses life was torn from the knight, never to charge again.
He gave out a short laugh and rubbed the back of his head. He slowly slid on a pair of tattered breeches and a strap which sported a very large axe. Shirtless, a pair of tattered breeches and his weapon Maron strode out of the room, down to the little bar and out into the street. He would not look back he told himself, it was time for some unfinished buisness.
"I have seen many many things. The sand of time and the tales of battle have made me a hard man, not on others but myself. I fear that if I let myself go, if I dont hold faith and stay true, then I will be lost, and the beast will come back once again."
It was no small thing as he shed that piece of armour, undoing each clasp gingerly, the green and black chest piece fell to the floor with a large thump. He winced at that bending to pick the piece up as if it was his own child that he had just dropped to the floor. Many battles were won in this armour he thought, but so many foolish ideals were followed. Maron tossed the chest piece on the bed and removed the rest of the armour. Never will I wear it again. His eyes gazed over the suit for a long while. It had been like a horse to him. The kind of horse a knight raises from birth. The kind of horse that knight trains day in and day out, to not jump when a spell goes off, to charge head long into the fray. The kind of horse that had won many many battles. But then abruptly that horses life was torn from the knight, never to charge again.
He gave out a short laugh and rubbed the back of his head. He slowly slid on a pair of tattered breeches and a strap which sported a very large axe. Shirtless, a pair of tattered breeches and his weapon Maron strode out of the room, down to the little bar and out into the street. He would not look back he told himself, it was time for some unfinished buisness.