Friday, August 5, 2011

Raise Your Weapons

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[128] Drondon: Raise Your Weapons
Thu Aug  4 22:38:43 2011
To: Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Thaxanos Wargar All Kyri IMM RP Zandreya
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They stood around in a large circle, shoulder to shoulder, their eyes
locked on the white haired, half elf.  They all wore various fashions of
armors made of chainmail, their sheathes housed different makes of swords,
men and women in the group, but they all had one thing in common: a sash
trimmed in crimson and ivory.  The sash of the Kyorl. 


Drondon saw the faces of each as he turned in a slow circle, his soft,
sapphire blue eyes met each of theirs.  They're here, and they want to kill
us.  They don't care who we are, what we believe, or what we do.  Death is
what they want to bring.


You know your prime objective, I don't have to tell you.   He walked the
inner rim of the circle of Kyorl, passing elves of high blood, wilders, sea
elves, and a couple half elves.  You also know that I don't care too much
about your aura, a gold, red, or none, the dwarves don't care either.  You
all know what I've said.  Anything necessary to do the job.  We aren't bound
by honor, there'll be no mercy, there'll be no forgiveness. 


I expect blood on your blades, and on your armors.  Some of you won't make
it, but you'll not be forgotten, and you won't have died in vain.  You'll
fall for the price of your choice to defend the Family, the Vallens, with
your life.  Respect, Kyorl. 


The Field of Song was filled with the haunting sounds of every Kyorl's song.
One voice, but all different.  He kept his pace about the circle.  Fight
like Josiuh did.  Fight til you can't raise your sword anymore.  Fight for
those who have no home now.  Fight for your loved ones, and children.  You
will give them no quarter! 


Dron stopped in the middle of the circle, glancing upwards.  'There's a
place for you all, whatever your beliefs are, you'll be in your God's
embrace when this is over. 


Prepare yourselves.  Killin' time is near. 


The eerie sounds of humming grew louder as each Kyorl drew their blades,
raising them to the sky.  The Song grew in intensity, filling the city, and
flowing out into the Vallens.  The Songmaster had to speak above it.  Sing
your Song!  Let the dwarves hear it!  Let the elves of the Vallens hear it!
Let them all know we are here! 


The Song of the Blade, the song that always was, and always present washed
over the kingdom.  The Kyorl were ready. 

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