Deadnight Warrior
09-20-06, 05:20 PM
((Open to members of the Church))
Ah, the revolutionaries. Artume could sympathize with them. Were his situation different, he might have been open to joining with them, if only to overthrow the Church that they were aspiring to overthrow.
As it were, he was working for said Church, and his job was to find the hidden rebels and oust them, using whatever means necessary to destroy their propoganda and the machines they'd used to make it. He'd joined the Church after leaving Corone to travel to Salvar. A man he'd met at an Inn had suggested he seek shelter at St. Denebriel's Cathedral, rather than spend ridiculous sums of money at the lodgings every night. The advice had been sound, and Artume had found himself not spending money, but actually making it.
Now came his first mission. It was time to earn his keep among the religious folk. It sounded simple enough, and the warrior thought it would be a good way to begin a life in Salvar. It was cold, but it was different; new.
Artume was bundled up in a heavy coat and two sweaters, with thick furry boots and gloves. His hood was pulled far over his forehead, so he could only see the ground ahead of him. It blocked the wind, so he didn't mind the sacrifice in vision.
He was to meet his cohorts, his underlings, he mused, at an outpost on the edge of Knife's Edge. Artume had a lead or two on the revolutionaries, that he wanted to go over with his allies.
The wind blew harder suddenly, so he dipped his head against it. The warrior missed Valhalla, his trusted Nightmare.
Ah, the revolutionaries. Artume could sympathize with them. Were his situation different, he might have been open to joining with them, if only to overthrow the Church that they were aspiring to overthrow.
As it were, he was working for said Church, and his job was to find the hidden rebels and oust them, using whatever means necessary to destroy their propoganda and the machines they'd used to make it. He'd joined the Church after leaving Corone to travel to Salvar. A man he'd met at an Inn had suggested he seek shelter at St. Denebriel's Cathedral, rather than spend ridiculous sums of money at the lodgings every night. The advice had been sound, and Artume had found himself not spending money, but actually making it.
Now came his first mission. It was time to earn his keep among the religious folk. It sounded simple enough, and the warrior thought it would be a good way to begin a life in Salvar. It was cold, but it was different; new.
Artume was bundled up in a heavy coat and two sweaters, with thick furry boots and gloves. His hood was pulled far over his forehead, so he could only see the ground ahead of him. It blocked the wind, so he didn't mind the sacrifice in vision.
He was to meet his cohorts, his underlings, he mused, at an outpost on the edge of Knife's Edge. Artume had a lead or two on the revolutionaries, that he wanted to go over with his allies.
The wind blew harder suddenly, so he dipped his head against it. The warrior missed Valhalla, his trusted Nightmare.