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Nov. 14th, 2006 @ 07:46 pm (no subject)


You are The Chariot


Triumph, Victory, Overcoming Obstacles.


The chariot is one of the most complex cards to define. On its most basic level, it implies war, a struggle, and an eventual, hard-won victory. Either over enemies, obstacles, nature, the beasts inside you, or to just get what you want. But there is a great deal more to it. The charioteer wears emblems of the sun, yet the sign behind this card is the moon. The chariot is all about motion, and yet it is often shown as stationary. It is a union of opposites, like the black and white steeds. They pull in different directions, but must be (and can be!) made to go together in one direction. Control is required over opposing emotions, wants, needs, people, circumstances; bring them together and give them a single direction, your direction. Confidence is also needed and, most especially, motivation. The card can, in fact, indicate new motivation or inspiration, which gets a stagnant situation moving again.


What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

About this Entry
Sorcerer
Jan. 12th, 2006 @ 10:19 am Imagine...
I forgot the wolf's name but I think that would be cool!!

You scored as The White Witch.

</td>

The White Witch

77%

Aslan

67%

Mrs. Beaver

67%

Peter Pevensie

57%

Ginarrbrik

57%

Mr. Beaver

53%

Susan Pevensie

50%

Edmund Pevensie

47%

Oreius

37%

Mr. Tumnus

37%

Lucy Pevensie

10%

Which Chronicles of Narnia character are you most like?
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Agony
Nov. 4th, 2005 @ 04:58 pm I was scared I was going to be a Sluggan, or Worse...Poocap
You are a Sidhe!

Sidhe used to be the
kings and queens of a paradisiacal world, loved
and feared by all. As time goes on, people get
more and more jaded. Their time has ended.
There is a sense of tragedy permeating their
lives.

Despite having lost their former
glory, they are not defeated. They are regal,
formal and elegant. If their reign must end,
it will end with grace and in a blaze of glory.
Others may see them as aloof, but can't help
but be moved by their profound
dignity.

The problem is not passion and
fighting, it is routine. Particularly effected
by banality, and finding it difficult to muster
constant excitement and passion themselves,
they detach further and further to escape every
day life, or lose themselves to hedonism.


What Changeling Kith Are You?
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Agony
Aug. 26th, 2005 @ 09:44 am I'm bored, and the OoC one seemed dangerous
(refering to ling characters not players ;) )

The Random Question Meme! )
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Agony
Aug. 25th, 2005 @ 11:15 am Ducal Decree of the Eternal Myst
Riders wearing highwayman cloaks and a silver sash disperse from the Ducal Freehold of the Eternal Mysts, Fail de Luan Ail, riding with message to each Noble, Freehold, Mew and gathering place of fae in the Duchy of the Eternal Mysts. They similarly ride to Caer Shasta and Summer’s End, word being dispersed as usual.

-----------------------------

Good Fae of the Duchy of the Eternal Myst’s,

Let word be sent through the land,
To the County of the Violet Tide and the Barony of the Fertile Desert
To the County of the Harvest Moon and the Baronies of Fire and Mist, and Verdant Crux
To the County of the Falcons Aerie and the Baronies of the Starry Eye, the Shining Scales, the Sluagh’s Silence, the Moon’s Crescent and the Enlightened Gaze
To the County of the Liquid Silver
To the Barony of the Smokey Valley
To our Northern Borders and South
From the Rising Sun to the Setting Sky

Be these things known,

Upon our Ducal court, exchanged in Oath was the name Andswaru shared with another. Our Daughter, Daoine Andswaru ni Fiona has been unto us a beacon of hope and a bright shining star in these blizzard days. Her warm Heart and Vigilance have been the cornerstones of what we have sought amongst our nobility. She serves our fealty proud, she honor’s our name even more. As she honors Andswaru and the Eternal Mysts with her love and compassion, her nobility and wisdom, so do I honor her. Be it known, Daoine Andswaru ni Fiona is granted privilege and titles there in as a Count of our realm. Unto her the lands of the County of the Harvest Moon are bestowed, and as our namesake the duties of Regency of the Eternal Myst.

Lord Gaylcogar ap Balor of the Frost Freehold, Lord Worthington il Eiluned of Fire and Mist, and Sir Baker of the Fertile Desert, we call upon your Oaths and service to this Duchy, serve now the Count of the Harvest Moon. In such does the Barony of the Fertile Desert leave the graces of the County of the Violet Tide and join again in the image we crafted.


Through great acts of wisdom and guidance, one among our line has shined to us, defining to us loyalty and always pleasing us in service, even in absentia. He is a man who has not forgotten what it is to dream, and a man who has offered unto us much over the many moons we have been honored with his service. Malikai nu Diktu ap Eiluned, has served our-self and this Duchy as our Ambassador. Though we will call on such service still, be it known we grant unto him the privilege and titles there in as a Count of our Realm.

The Duchy of the Eternal Myst is a wide land, with many who call it home. Many have stepped forth unto us to serve as Baron of the lands in the far reaching corners of the Myst, and as they stepped forth in worth, so did we take them as vassal, and honor them with Escheat. Lord Tor ap Fiona of the Barony of the Smokey Valley, Lord Firewynter ap Eiluned of the County of the Liquid Silver, Lady Westfall ni Gwydion, The County of the Falcons Aerie, So do we call upon your Oaths to serve this Duchy through a new Lord, His Excellency Malikai nu Diktu. Though he has no land, he is Count of the Winds that pass through our valley’s, across our plains and nestle in the coves of our beaches.


In his past he has made mistakes grievous to us to the point where the dreaming struck him blind; grievous to us where he was demoted to but a squire, stripped of his armor, and weapon. One man has been by our side since the beginning. He was our First Knight, he will be our last Knight. Strong has he been in the face of Winter and though a long road traveled, he has redeemed his name in our eyes. He has shown me the definitions of strength. He has shown me the very meaning of loyalty. He has shown me why so many days past we knighted him. He is our First Knight, and though he will be our last, he will be granted the title and privilege of Baron of our lands, Lord Theodore il Eiluned.

As in days past did we grant him safe passage through our realm, so do we do so again. Let all know Lord Theodore may travel unhindered through all our land, and find welcome gates and warmth by all Balefires with in. We have tasked Lord Theodore as Captain of the Wolves of Winter, Our personal Guard. He will be recruiting vassals for such, if you wish to stand steadfast before the storms and wars to come, to serve ourselves and this Duchy, and believe yourself worthy, then step forth to he who is our First Knight.


We call upon Lord Alain Doreth ap Liam of the Liquid Silver to answer to Lord Kaden Firewynter ap Eiluned, who we hence forth entrust as Viscount of the Liquid Silver. In such privilege do we bequeath the Blade of Liquid Silver, forged from the iron atrocities wielded against the lands last true Count and stained by the silver which is of the County’s name. By our word and action this blade which was cold and became stronger so shall it be the symbol of the seat of the Liquid Silver, so shall it always be held by its true lord.


We call upon Lady Victoria Nox of the Twista-cap to answer to Viscontessa Lienne Westfall ni Gwydion of the Falcons Aerie. Long has the Falcons Aeire stood, long shall it continue. Be it curse or banter, be it plague or blessing, it remains, as always it shall remain.


Long have We bared the burden of many oaths through our lands, now do We call on those we have found true and noble to hold this burden, if but a piece of what we have held. Though many who once called us Lord and Liege will be finding Escheat with another, We remain as we were. Be those of our fealty in direct oath, or vassal of our vassal, know we are your Lords Lord. Know that our might is yours, and our wisdom your council. Know that we remain as the very wheel of time.


Our words in the past hold no less weight. If those who seek to rally strong among others remain, then know too does the Coral Guard and Armed Might of Pacifica remain, so too does the Wyvern Ryders of our own banner, so too does each Barony and hold. The strong arm of Pacifica and the Eternal Myst have been blessed to stand with their sister fae in this cold season, finding a new warmth among each other and an everlasting hope. It is our endeavor that as the Eternal Myst stand through the storm of seasons passing, that the magics of our being, the very soul of Arcadia stand in triumph as the Myst. Only in joining with one another, standing unrelenting in the face of those who deem to bring fear and oppression upon our doors will we succeed in such. For succeed we shall.


Our doors and halls remain open to all of our land, it is our privilege to offer solace when it is called upon.


Eternal are the Mysts, Glorious is Pacifica,


Ryknar Andswaru ap Eiluned
Duke of the Eternal Mysts
Hand and Eye of the Kingdom of Pacifica
High Lord of House Eiluned
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Sorcerer
Aug. 11th, 2005 @ 08:42 am Nice... I approve





What Type of Villain are You?

mutedfaith.com.
About this Entry
Agony
Aug. 2nd, 2005 @ 01:38 pm So.. He's an extremist..
Dagda
Indeed, you are 91% erudite, 95% sensual, 100% martial, and 87% saturnine.
More properly known as The Dagda, he was the Earth Deity-Father of both Gods and men. In this respect he was the Celtic equivalent to Cronus or Zeus of the ancient Greeks.

Being the Earth God meant that he controlled the orderly passage of seasons. This cycle was maintained through the guiding melodies produced by a magical harp only The Dagda could play. Since an Earth God is sort of a personification of matter and "stuff," The Dagda owned something called the Undry which was a gigantic pot of abundance filled with an infinite supply of "stuff."

One of The Dagda's many names meant "Good God”, but "good" in the sense of being good at doing things. He was a jack-of-all-trades, skilled and accomplished in all his endeavours. Well, for the most part. Apparently his imagination wasn't all that "good" - when his wife bore him three daughters in succession he named each one of them Brigit.

The Fifteen Gods

These are the 15 categories of this test. If you score above average in …

…all or none of the four variables: Dagda. … Erudite: Thoth. … Sensual: Frey. … Martial: Mars. … Saturnine: Mictlantecuhtli. … Erudite & Sensual: Amun. … Erudite & Martial: Odin. … Erudite & Saturnine: Anubis. … Sensual & Martial: Zeus. … Sensual & Saturnine: Cernunnos. … Martial & Saturnine: Loki. … Erudite, Sensual & Martial: Lug. … Erudite, Sensual & Saturnine: Coyote. … Erudite, Martial & Saturnine: Hades. … Sensual, Martial & Saturnine: Pan.





My test tracked 4 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:


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You scored higher than 93% on erudite

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You scored higher than 94% on sensual

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You scored higher than 99% on martial

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You scored higher than 93% on saturnine
Link: The Mythological God Test written by Nitsuki on OkCupid Free Online Dating
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Agony
Jul. 14th, 2005 @ 08:31 am Wicked and check out the ass ;)
HASH(0x8f3fd50)
You are Melisande. Beautiful, compelling, devious
and utterly wicked, you entrance your prey
before you lead them to their deaths. You are
self serving, brilliant, diabolical and just
warm hearted enough to keep your foes off
balance.


Kushiel's Quiz
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About this Entry
Agony
Jun. 13th, 2005 @ 07:46 am OoC: Lemming... huh...
Your Expression Number is 8
Driven and ambitious, you have the potential to reach great things.
You're both good with money and good at getting things done quickly.
You are an excellent leader and a great judge of character.

Full of energy and confidence, you undertake projects that seem impossible.
Dependable and determined, you are able to understand the bigger picture.
Even if you are not in a position of power right now, it will fall to you.

At times, you can be very materialistic - and obsessed with status and power.
While this isn't always a bad thing, you sometimes take it to the extreme.
In order to be truly happy, you must balance the material and spiritual in your life.

About this Entry
Agony
Apr. 18th, 2005 @ 09:16 am Oh yes!
Current Mood: creative
It's well we cannot hear the screams
We make in other people's dreams.

- from Verse Advice, ink and watercolor by Edward Gorey
About this Entry
Gorey
Mar. 29th, 2005 @ 05:53 am Shattered but not broken
Silence was what he surrounded himself in. His heart felt as though it was choking, his voice shaking while his eyes were like a glass lake. The chair was stone padded with a velvet cushion, carved with runes and intricate patterns of the dragon, the moon and a time forgotten. His head rolled to the side looking down on the redwood seat. It was delicate, soft, beautiful, everything the stone was not. His hand reached out to touch it, to touch her, she hadn't sat there for two months now, but as he reached, it crumbled. The wood rotted and the structure collapsed on itself, ashing like it was burnt. His arm fell with a heavy weight. Still leaning to the side he turned his eyes upward, the banner glimmered, the vision of Hibernia, and with a moment, the edges curled, the cloth blackened, the threads came undone and chewed upon itself.

There was no place to escape it.

He tried to rise from his chair, his eyes not closing, not blinking, it was like a dream, a nightmare, he fell again. He lifted himself up in confusion and ran pass the balefire, projecting the doors open, dragging himself in hysteria to the library. As he went to step up the spiral staircase his knee fell in on the step before his foot, he pulled himself up, dragged his robe around him. A black kilt covered his lower half, his feet bare, the black robe a light material easily seen through, a silver edging. Black eye shadow stained his cheek, his head bare and bald, goatee grey and longer than usual. His skin, lines of runes bordered, his shoulders winged, his arm, waist scarred by war. His weight pressed on the doors to his study, his presence cutting through the ward like a knife.

His eyes searched in desperation, where was his anchor? How could he offer one? Be one?

He pressed the doors closed behind him with his back, his hand making sure they were sealed, while looking still. What was he looking for? His eyes traveled, slowly he walked to his desk, his eyes lingered on the couch, the desk, her presence echoed there, soft, delicate, beautiful. He pushed the chair to the side and kneeled to the drawers pulling, a vile of blood, and a dagger of the liam tree and the crescent moon.

He fell back to the wall, glaring at it. He took the dagger to his hand, and slit it across. The pain was real, this was life still, it reminded him as it burned. He twisted the vial open and pressed his blood into it. He sealed it again, and placed it around his neck, letting it hang close to his heart.

He sat there still in an empty thought and let his hand bleed. He held his wrist unknowingly, the blood dripping slowly.

He couldn't forget, his world would never let him.
About this Entry
Agony
Mar. 28th, 2005 @ 12:47 pm Farewell... My Heart.
From the window...

He shed a tear...

The words never spoke and the pain that lasted forever and always.

He wanted her to pain, for her soul never to forget, and he knew that she loved him, till her last breath. When she laid there after returning from her trip, bleeding to near death, my love she spoke and his soul yearned to speak My Heart. He wouldn't speak it, not ever. It was to him the punishment, and spite she deserved.

From the hill...

His knee fell in...

The memories were not meant to be forgotten, they were to burn always, like a salted wound.

She was not meant to pass before him, she was not meant to forget. Forgetting was a punishment, he did not even wish upon her, what worse, Undone. She spoke to him, told him, he would outlive her, that he would be there for him, her time was to pass. His hand pressed on the wet ground as another tear fell to the earth. He made her seasons pass, hid the truth from her, he took it all away from her and left a husk.

From the earth...

He shivered...

All that he touched withered, all that he loved died.

You are free now, from this cage... My Heart. I will not forget, not now, not ever.

*********************************************
He left a red rose on her doorstep with a simple note.

When she stepped the world echoed
When she breathed the trees lived
When she smiled I trembled
When she loved I reveled.

I hold you still
By the fury of my heart
And the yearning of my soul
I hold you still
Like the moon light
And the stirring of clouds
I hold you still

Always your warmth
Always your youth
Always your truth

Always and Forever.
About this Entry
Agony
Feb. 17th, 2005 @ 08:23 am Wine and Tea
Have you ever drank wine and looked upon the glass between your fingers? It's long stem reaching high raising the curved flute in an intricate weave of silvers and glass. Such a piece of art, such a monument to the drink at hand and the passions it stirs.

Have you ever drank tea and gazed upon the intricate porcelain curved about your finger. Drawn and etched visions of a mind untold. Time and thought placed in these delicate objects to carry the burden of a heat which soothes your body.

Simplicity permits you to drink and appreciate the drink alone. I prefer very much to appreciate not only my drink, but how I drink it.
About this Entry
Agony
Feb. 14th, 2005 @ 06:24 pm A day of passions
Though no day was different it was one where we could dedicate ourselves to our hearts passion. It was a day when our passion could dedicate themselves to us.

For this I was blessed and for this I desired for her to know.

Soft words and mindful actions. Petals plucked by my own hand, oils poured over steam.

A union of wing and moon, my gift to her, sealed with a gentle pain.


A trail of roses

Step forth to take
It's long stem,
Thorns await.

Beyond the curtain
A bouquet lays
Bundled with no burden

Step upon step
Till you find its bud

Closer and closer
The plucked garden nears

Follow my trail of roses and know no fears
About this Entry
Agony
Feb. 13th, 2005 @ 05:25 pm (no subject)


Your Passion is Yellow







You're a total sexual shape shifter.
You possess a complex sex drive and are very adaptable.
Of all the colors, you are the most likely to be bisexual.
While you the most passionate, you are very open minded.








Your Seduction Style: Ideal Lover





You seduce people by tapping into their dreams and desires.
And because of this sensitivity, you can be the ideal lover for anyone you seek.
You are a shapeshifter - bringing romance, adventure, spirituality to relationships.
It all depends on who your with, and what their vision of a perfect relationship is.


About this Entry
Agony
Feb. 9th, 2005 @ 06:14 pm Once said, let it be read
The Forest Reverie


'Tis said that when
The hands of men
Tamed this primeval wood,
And hoary trees with groans of woe,
Like warriors by an unknown foe,
Were in their strength subdued,
The virgin Earth Gave instant birth
To springs that ne'er did flow
That in the sun Did rivulets run,
And all around rare flowers did blow
The wild rose pale Perfumed the gale
And the queenly lily adown the dale
(Whom the sun and the dew
And the winds did woo),
With the gourd and the grape luxuriant grew.

So when in tears
The love of years
Is wasted like the snow,
And the fine fibrils of its life
By the rude wrong of instant strife
Are broken at a blow
Within the heart
Do springs upstart
Of which it doth now know,
And strange, sweet dreams,
Like silent streams
That from new fountains overflow,
With the earlier tide
Of rivers glide
Deep in the heart whose hope has died--
Quenching the fires its ashes hide,--
Its ashes, whence will spring and grow
Sweet flowers, ere long,
The rare and radiant flowers of song!

Edgar Allan Poe
About this Entry
Agony
Feb. 8th, 2005 @ 03:17 pm (no subject)
Monday night, Ryknar returns to his study within the walls of Fail de Luan Ail, there he sits and picks up from where he left off on Friday. His first order of business, the samples given to him by Naesin. He looks over the shadowy substance as if it were blood, staring at it to find its soul. When he finds what he sought to see he raises from his chair, placing the sample down. He clears of the maps of Whitesands, the books piled to the side taking a few minutes to actually put them where they belong. When he returns he places candles along the edges of the table, lays a black cloth with the sigil of Eiluned in its center. He moves the cones of incense closer to the table, and retrieves a bowl of sea salt. His hand grabs the salt and he let it dribble through his fingers onto the cloth, forming a circle with the white grains. In the center he places the vial.

“Lady of Secrets, Queen of Dreams, I beseech thee.”

He waits in a moment, and lifts the vial to through the flame before him, running it and his skin through the flame.

“Dreams be known, show me this one.

Pain for pain!

Terror for terror!

Show me his secrets, So he may have my desires.”

Ryknar brings his dagger to his palm slicing it open and letting the blood fall upon the vile and in the circle.

His eyes close as he sees what shes sees, feeling what she feels, his knees buckles with ecstacy, the pain sending chills into his carved skin causes his eyes to flutter. His hands grip to the edge of the table in an attempt to retain his will and posture. Time passed and in confusion whether foward or back, Ryknar could only think of what to do next.

"False King

Elation and Glee
But Only one man can be

Release her and set her free."

With his wound open in his hand he grabbed the salt from the circle, breaking it, but sending a sting that he could only hope to numb by gripping harder.

"A simple man, of a fertile lan. I am the walker of the orchard, the runner of the seed. You have picked of my crop, I am displeased. I bring an offering of my trees."

Apples rolled on to the floor.

"Some are sweet, some are bitter, what's the flavor you desire."

The Beast dealt with the King bardering one life for another, they were the same, though they did not appear such. When the deal was made they stood in darkness, shackles removed from her. He stood in his black robes with a silver mask of ivy.

"Can not the Squire of Ivy dance with you among the mist?"

Though his riddle was plain as day, she could not believe anything around her, thinking it all illusions. She bid he remove his mask. Such a paining thing for the riddler in him cried, but the squire couldn't hurt her more, not with secrets and not with mystery.

She asked "Is it really you?"

And though I am not flesh, it was, and she was free. That was all that mattered to him, not the price, nor the near betrayal. In that moment, there was no cost too high.
About this Entry
Agony
Feb. 8th, 2005 @ 10:18 am (no subject)
You scored as Violent. You are violent. To you there is nothing better than a good spank. You like scratching and biting 'cause that's what people are for.

</td>

Violent

88%

Exciting

81%

Hot

69%

Sweet

63%

Soft

38%

Wet

19%

Shy

13%

Awkward

6%

What is your sexual style?
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About this Entry
Agony
Feb. 7th, 2005 @ 01:20 pm A field of salt.
I was grateful for Cavan's compassion. We stood there while men fell to their knees, others turning to ready back to the freehold in Whitesands, some still not giving up on the fight, looking for more, others not giving up on each other, healing all those they could see, those they could find. But Cavan and I had eyes of Winter, we were worn by such things as this, and when we gazed, we gazed at the same thing.

Fallen soldiers, archers, some who were broken from their rank, or struck by the poison. Others felt a fervor all their own running into the battle. I know they didn't see it coming. If it were any other battle I would have gazed upon the field, if I were, who I once was. Perhaps I could have known, could've prevented it, could've prepared us.

Wounds, gashed open, blood soaking into the earth, some young, some old. When Cavan asked to come, he said this was the first time they would see battle under his command. But knowing the history of Pacifica, I knew it was the first time they had ever seen battle. They came for duty, they died with honor.

"On Monday we will honor our fallen. Return their souls to the great wheel."

He and I continued to gaze in silence. Our bloodied crest becoming small flags to our eyes as we looked from one to the other.

"We will leave tomorrow when we are ready. Lumina will be staying behind as planned."

My eyes fell on one, a young sidhe. Carefully I stepped across the field and looked down to his face, skin so young, and now his eyes were glass. I kneeled down to him, turned his face to me, and closed his eyes for the eternal sleep. He of the few would find no wheel, he like Cavan and I, like Lumina, Raven, Aaltruide, Kidd, Kaden, Isaac, we would find no wheel. As his flesh, still soft holding on to some life still, was cradled in my hand I could only question what he desired, what he passioned. I wondered if he was Fiona and cradled in his armor were letters from his heart. Or if he was Liam, and a leatherbound journal chronicled his many lessons. Perhaps even dougal, and this sword was his lifes masterpiece.

He had no name to me, but I was grateful.

I looked up while kneeling beside him, again across the field. There was celebration to be had, those of this land readied to celebrate victory. I will celebrate their lives, our soldiers, our fallen.


Our troops gathered again, and we marched back with our men to their freehold. Healed some more among our ranks, and rested. We made camp for the night, and ate. Some gathered around the camp fires to share in tale. Some spoke of their friends who were not among them now, others spoke of their valiant efforts on the field. I walked through the different camps, eventually sitting among some of the Armed Might. They sought to stand and bow, I hushed them down. We sat there into the night, and I listened.

Later when things quited down, I made my way back to my tent, but kept walking. I walked to the fields and gazed upon a western star. Time doesn't pass when you look to the sky, I stood wondering what it will be like to go home. When the star fell, I wished. Then I laughed, thinking of the last time someone made a wish on a falling star.

The Night was done, tomorrow we'd go home.
About this Entry
Agony
Feb. 4th, 2005 @ 02:28 pm A War March
Saturday at dawn the Ducal freehold of Northern Pacifica seems to become alive with a hustle. Through out the early dawn before the sun has even risen many of the Knights and volunteers begin to assemble. Captain Kidd comes with his ship and a small motley of a crew on board. Some slowly make their way in to speak to the Duke others ready themselves outside. As the Sun rises the light clashing of steel can be heard and the steps of horses. The banner of Pacifica reaches from beyond the hills, rising, making its way closer. Cavalry in the uniform of the Armed Might of Pacifica is led through the main gates by Count Cavan Fionlassdan ap Fiona, General of the Armed Might. Foot soldiers march through the gates, followed by Archers, it is a full regiment of Pacifica’s armies. Their Kiths vary through out the ranks but their uniform and banner all the same.

After Cavan’s arrival, Count Aaltruide Sterkte ap Fiona and Countess Lumina ni Liam, join Ryknar inside the Freehold. The four of them review tactics the two Fiona seemingly skilled tacticianers while the Eiluned and Liam readied for their task at hand. After a good twenty minutes the four of them come out. Aaltruide breaks off to join the volunteers, and Cavan regroups with the Armed Might. Lumina is joined by Sir Raven Stormwysper and she gives a nod to a tower off in the distance. As she nods pairs of wyverns begin to fly down from the tower, their wings beat upon the sky, a march of their own. The pairs join in migration patterns and begin to circle the sky until the sky itself is covered in wyverns. The sun dims upont the troops and the shadow from above moves west

As the Wyverns fly west, so to do the Armed Might of Pacifica march. Ryknar is joined by his four Knights, Thedorum, his oldest, Johnny the Pooka, his youngest, Ilmaari, his strongest, and Vir, his wisest. They all wear the same armor, black plates joined by silver rings, their helmets look like wolves, the jaw open to reveal their faces, the eyes of the wolf moon crystal, and the hands and feet look like claws. Ryknar and his Knights join Aaltruide who Ryknar asked to command the volunteers. They proceed to follow the army to the west.

Slowly, all gathered making their way through rolling hills. The hills grow with a bright green as they march closer to the ocean. At the bottom of a few hills there seems to be a few trees that have formed an arch with their branches. About this time Ryknar can be seen standing above the hill, murmuring holding his hand down to everyone. Once he stops, the armies proceed through the arch, but never pass on the other side. Making their way down a silver path, and occasionally leaving the path to a few crossroads in the near dreaming, they make their way to White Sands…

Their fate remained in the balance, their intentions true and noble, they marched to an ancient dream.

They marched to War.
About this Entry
Agony