kostika wrote:You assume much about us. We may be for hire for certain duties, but there is much we do for free for each other and our friends.
And it seems ye missed that i was joking. IC i have some reservations to non- believers, but not OOC
karmelit wrote:Therefore I ask you, have faith in Lwiz, he will be a great homin as he always has been. Trust his heart as we do; reason with him if you must, and try to understand the wisdom in what he has chosen to be
I have all faith on Lwiz and accept all he wants to do. 20yrs rl friendship kinda helps on that *lol*
My name is Silverwolfe. I am to write down some of what is behind me as a trial, else I would not. Though we cannot know orselves unless we know who we have been, some things are perhaps best forgotten. Born of the deserts I am and to them I shall return It cares not who you are or who you were, the desert winds and sands erase all, we are but dust.
I do not know my age, I do not track the passing years, such things only confirm mens mortality. I can say that my memory is a long one, the kids call me "Old Man" or "Ancient One" though I do not look it. I was born in a desert canyon city simply called "The Den" or in our language "Tre Dern" we were keepers of something long forgotten now, even I do not remember it, but it set us apart from our fello Fyros, made us shunned, yet looked upon with Awe, The Wolven, as we were called were train to be fierce warrior, slow to anger, wise of mind, but unhessitating death if finally provoked. All gone now, I am the last of my pack the tale of my people ends with the comeing of the Kitins, and it is the begining of my tale.
I woke half buried beneth a dead Kincher, the scent of its blood must have been what saved my from being torn asunder by the bloodthirst Kitins. I freed myself i was behind our last bastion of defense and a scene of morbid destruction arose before me. the blood of my people painted the canyon walls red, the floor was ankle deep in viscus rotting innards of my people, but I was proud for ever man woman and child faught bravely and with honor and though my people were only 200 hundred strong, the greater toll rested with the kitins, the canyon mouth was choked with their corpses, stacked near 50 meters high and a hundred meters deep, the kitins swarmed over their fallen to fall themselves, their victory cost them dearly, i went and scavanged what megar supplies i could find that was not destroyed in the battle and that had not already spoiled and i started to climb the mountain of dead Kitin that sealed the canyon entrance, so be it, let their bodies forever hide the home of the lost, let their bones be a warning and a permanant wall to any that would desicrate the gaveyard my city had become. And without looking back I strode into the swirling sands to seek a destiny and a reason for my living.
The seasons past and I learned many things on my travels, some of necessity such as how to craft armor that i might protect myself and make enough dappars to provide me with what i could not supply myself. I watched with the changeing of seasons the changeing of mens hearts, treaties made, treaties broken, and a cautios peace among the "supreme" races about to crumble. Kami, Karavan their concerns were not my own, though one day the greater movement of things might make it so, for now all that mattered was me, my survival. I was a lone sentinal set to see the changeing of the ways, silent, strong, determined. It was recently that I met "Her" She was a proud mercenary with a fierce streak in her and though her actions were motivated by money she never forgot duty to those that had befriended her, and swift was her wrath to those who betrayed her. her name was Kostika, she offered me a place to rest from my wanderings and thus I write this, the first of my trials.....
My mother told me the night I was born there has been a fiersome storm. Lightnings stroke the ground and thunders roared as my twinsister and me gave our first cries. I was told our father loved us much and was very proud of his daughters. I can't remember him clearly, for he didn't come back from a hunt as I was still a child. Mother never really got over it, she drank alot with strange men coming to our home.
I lived just a normal live, doing what my mother told me. When she was sober and no shouting she was still a kind person. I started to learn sewing, and became quite adept at it. Then came the crucial night.
I think I woke up past midnight. Something was wrong. I felt something dwelling inside me, screaming to get free. My blood felt like acid in my veins, my bones felt chilly and hot at the same time, it was unbearable, and so, not knowing what I was doing, I freed it... next thing I remember is fire and screming homins, and a hand on my shoulder, leading me out of the inferno. It was some brave homin who saved me from this fire, I was lucky for many homins died there. I couldn't think clearly; the only thing I realized was that I lost what was left of my family, and that I'm all alone. Not thinking much I left the city of Pyr and went in to the desert. Some kind people found me there wandering around half dead from thirst and offered shelter. I can't remeber clearly those months, it's as if some mist is still clouding it. I think my mind was trying to protect me from realizing the truth - I was the cause of the fire, me and the wild magic dwelling inside we were responsible for my mother's and sister's death! When I finally understood that, I wanted to kill myself, left again without a word to die in the sands. Three days later I was laying beside a dune, powerless, ready to leave forever. When I saw a gingo coming for me I was grateful to have a quick death. But before the gingo could sink its teeth in my throat my hand moved and a ball of acid flew in it's direction. The gingo died and I thought heard a voice inside my head: *DO YOY REALLY WANT THIS PITIFUL PLACE TO BE YOUR GRAVE?*. I lay there and thought about it. It is easy to die, and I could die anytime. But maybe mastering the power which killed so many was a better way of atoning for it?
I steeled myself and with great effort stood up. At last I had something to live for! I learned hunting and killed for food. And I trained! Oh how I trained! Desiring only one thing: to get stronger, to control the powerful fire magic which still burned inside me! I wanted to be strong to help others by killing their enemies!
It took me some time to realize that I needed help. You can't really live only by yourself. I began hunting in more inhabitet areas, and that's where I met Jyudas. He helped me when I was certain to die, and told about himself and about his friends. He told me about the philosophy of helping others. And I told myself - maybe this could be also my path? Maybe I could atone for my errors, and gain strength. Someone having to protected something is immeasurably stronger than someone who has nothing to protect... I decided to give it a try, and thats how I appeared before Rashan, wanting to join the group known as the Samsara Mercenaries. He welcomed me saying: "Welcome Alaira. I've been expecting you"
Last edited by hari80 on Fri Mar 17, 2006 8:48 am, edited 1 time in total.
I don`t remember many things from my childhood. Some detalis faded with time, some are still covered an orange glow of fire. I was born in a poor family in dangerous suburban district of Pyr. On the street I`ve learned all the rules and skills needed to survive and when I was 12 I knew all shortcuts and rows of the city. I could fight succesfully hand to hand with other children - be it boy or girl.
It was hard to find peace and love those days. My father - the only person who loved and took care of me - was killed by some kittins in the wilderness. My mother only drunk day by day with strange man and never had anything for me but sharpy words and kicks. I could only speak with my twinsister. We loved each other so much, the words can`t tell. We spent all evenings talking about distant lands, unknown places and strange creatures. We wanted to travel together and change our lives.
I don`t know how the fire started. I just woke up and saw the walls of fire around me. I ran for my life stumbling over bodies of dying or hurt people. I watched their faces full of pain and agony, I heard their screams and cries. Finally found the entrance to the sewers and there with odour and dirt I cought my breath. Nobody could survive such pandemonium! My sister must have died too... I was alone. Totaly alone...
This fire change everything in my life - took away my home, family - but it made me strong. I desired to be good at something and left my past behind me. I chose the way of sword. I trained my skills hunting yubos, caprinis and even gingo. I sold their skins and teeth, to get money nor so much for food as for new armor and sword.
I explored new terytories, hunted different creatures. In one of such journey I met Jyudas - a master of sword. I begged him to be my trainer and he introduced me to the guild of Samsara Mercenaries. Thats where the story truly begins...
Wealthy parents, self made traders of Dyron; warm home to sleep in; strong of mind and strong of will.. what more does a young Fyros need?
Spending his teenage years sheltered by overprotective family members, Cadiathiel develops a dangerous sense of isolation. The Fyros made Atys and Atys owes the Fyros nation. This is the mantra he is forced to learn. This is how it is and shall always be. Never shall it be forgotten!
But this cannot be the way.
Cadiathiel was never alone, uncles, aunts, cousins, neighbours all haunted his dreams. Present in his life, no - being his life since his first footsteps.
He is deserted now. Alone for the first time.
Time has passed since last he set eyes on his old life. Travelling now is his home - Pyr his campsite. To settle is to remember how things used to be.
Is this the way it must be?
Sent away, to deliver a package to Pyr, young Cadiathiel returns to find his life destroyed. He confronts the most painful sight he will ever see. Sitting on the most luxurious chair in the largest room of the house sits a figure that will be the end of Cadiathiel's so comfortable life.
Recognition floods his face a dark shade of fiery red. Had it been that long already? Surely there must be more time!
The figure was to be his wife.
Some time ago, Cadiathiel had been taken on mount to Thesos to meet a cousins family. Once he arrived, along with his parents and a select few of his uncles and aunts, Cadiathiel discovered the real reason for his trip - to marry him off into more wealth.
Disgusted with his parents, Cadiathiel left immediately. Taking his mount and a guard, he set off for home, his mothers voice echoing over his shoulder You will be married!.
Now, he stood in front of his wife to be and knew there was no escape this time.
Or wasnt there?
Adventure is what a young Fyros needs. Cadiathiel ran to his room, grabbed a small bag of precious items and leapt out of the window. Travelling quickly over ground he narrowly escaped a pack of gingos who chased him for one and half kilometers and finally fell, exhausted into Pyrs Southgate.
For many weeks Cadiathiel built up his strength around the outskirts of Pyr until being found, training his sword by Nillian of The Samsara.
Intimidated but excited by Nillians obvious mastery of skills far beyond his imagination, Cadiathiel listened obediently to everything his new found tutor had to say.
Proving to himself that non Fyros homins could be trusted, Cadiathiel trained with a Zorai, Zahan. Zahan has introduced many of the other homin races to Cadiathiel and has cemented himself as a large part of the young Fyross future training.
Embracing the adventure that The Samsara could offer him, Cadiathiel applied for entry and is now under the instruction of Slythe.
Cadiathiel has found a new home in The Samsara and is slowly beginning to relax his guard. The pain of his familys betrayal will take longer to heal.
