Feeding the Fire [Wraeththu Tests]

[Aryr de Morte]

Closed to Osato. Going to keep this post short and open you for. Best of luck.

There was a sweet, warm wind over Aryr's face as he stepped out of the manor's entryway. The smell of the prairie grasses wasn't quite as good, but it was a nice change from the city of Radasanth. Looking at the outside of the manor, Aryr noticed how much he really didn't like the color of the stone, the only thing that was good about it was that it blended well with the prairie grasses and made the house more or less difficult to spot. When the manor had been repaired, Aryr oversaw the construction of it and wanted the new stone in place. The color had worn over the past week though and it was now an uglier hue of beige than the deep, rich beige is was when the stone came in the first place. It fit the place well though, and there was nothing the soldier could change about it. All he hoped was that he could easily expand it for cheap. Also, he needed funds to expand and they would arrive soon, hopefully.

Now though, he just hoped to scrape by and find more members to become part of the new and revived unit, The Wraeththu. He had been ordered by the High Priest, his own father, to reinstate The Wraith. Renaming was Aryr's choice, The Wraith could not be replaced, but something could be made in its stead. This new fighting force would hopefully be as elite as the previous and they would ideally make progress in their eventual goal.

Aryr for now focused on the searing pain on his chest. He had just created the brand of The Wraeththu. The symbol of everlasting loyalty to the cause. The stifling hot brand had scarred his left peck, he almost screamed the pain was so intense. Regardless, the effect was well worth it. Instead of the all black tattoo that was the alternative, Aryr had done what most would not. Yes, it was brutal and savage but there was few better ways to prove one's loyalty. The only thing that topped branding yourself was fighting alongside your comrades honorably. One had to be ready to accept the fact that they might die and they had to be ready to accept that fate.

It's too hot out here. Damn...

The sun had been beating down on Aryr while he sat and thought about various occurances and such. Aryr would sit on the steps and soak in the heat for now.

[Osato]

The sky was clear, beautiful. Light flooded from the low sun as it rose, dancing across the emerald sea of fresh and untamed grass. In the distance, and quite a distance it was, the wilds of Concordia's edge was standing constantly as a stalwart reminder of the unexplored. The trees were but dots in the distance to any who roamed the cool countryside of Corone.

Osato, like many who were in the countryside, simply squinted and looked at the forests in the distance. Someday it would be conquered, like everything was in turn. Someday the sell-sword would find himself in its depths, exploring sites unknown, revealing secrets long since forgotten.

Till then the man would continue living in the proverbial loop that everyone seemed to be stuck in. Fate allowed little in the way of advancement, little in the way of moving on. Like most mercenaries, the young soulless man always seemed to find himself stuck in a constant series of events that turned and twisted themselves back into a picture of his past. It was not uncommon for him to find himself doing and performing tasks that he had already performed. Not uncommon for him to be joining one group, fighting for them, and then leaving once again.

This time, he hoped, things would be different.

A new group had emerged as a powerful tool for personal advancement. It was a powerful new ally that had only just started accepting others into it's employment, a group known as the Wraeththu. Osato had come upon knowing about it from quiet rumors of its strength whispered about in the dark corners of Radasanthian taverns. What he had heard had interested him quite a bit, so he had gone to seek out the leader and their 'head quarters' in the countryside.

"Almost there firefly," the soulless man said as he patted the horse. Instead of riding it, as he had been for the better part of the day, he was walking next to it. The large brown stallion neighed almost contentedly as he tugged at its reigns and pulled it along with him. The horse was almost as content as the man who he now belonged to. "From what I heard it has got to be about an hour from here."

By the time the man came to the grounds controlled and ruled by the new Wraeththu he was once again atop his horse. It was more for looks them comfort, for he had not yet taken to riding. Being a man of the sea, a former soldier who fought from ship to ship and on foot, riding was something altogether foreign to him.

"Hail!" The mercenary yelled from atop his steed as he approached the small abode. "I have come to meet someone named 'Aryr', is there someone here named that? And I am interested in becoming part of the Wraeththu!"

((My apologies for the delay, too much work.))

[Aryr de Morte]

Over the course of doing nothing, Aryr had fallen asleep on his front steps. He was awoken by Soa for a brunch. Aryr walked into the considerably cooler house and wiped the sweat off his forehead and from beneath his eyes that he had accumulated from simply sitting out the morning sun. The meal consisted of ground pork, mashed potatoes and an almost yellow looking rice. Despite the boring look, the meal satisfied the soldier sufficiently. Had it been any hotter out, Aryr would have stayed indoors but it was time to get to work on the smithy that was to be built.

They had already received the logs and tough fabric that would shelter the anvil, forge, and grinding stone. All that was left to do was put it all up and get everything organized.

None of that mattered as a voice interrupted the soldier's thoughts, "I am Aryr, may I ask your name? If you are interested in the Wraeththu, I am more than willing to speak with you."

((Going to keep it short so we can get to the point of the thread.))

[Osato]

Osato smiled as the man appeared. He was an impressive sight painted across a pallid scene. Though he looked young, the sell-sword felt that he was obviously an impressive person. The mercenary dabbed at his brow with the back of his thick gloves. The sun was abusive, beating down on the emerald grass and those that roamed it. He was pleased though, for the sun in Fallien was much worse than Corone, and he loved being uncomfortable at home rather than across the ocean.

“Greetings,” he said as he pulled at the reigns of Firefly and swung a wobbly leg over the saddle. Osato’s smile was bright. “My name is Osato Lysser. I have, indeed, come to learn about your group and possibly join in.”

The man gave little more as he walked towards the house and the man. His twin crossbows rattled against his leather pants and his sword swung slightly at his side. He placed a hand on the handle for comfort, trying to pull his composure back together to at least appear professional. Osato tossed the reigns over the head of his new horse and let the beast roam, not worried in the least should it scamper off.

“I have lived for war, for fighting,” he started, “I was birthed into a society of war, on a little known island called Yerria off the coast of Corone. I left them and moved to Scara Brae, where the Knights of Scara Brae became my new home. I did not fail them, as they might say, but left them. I have traveled to and fought in Fallien, fighting against the Cult. I have roamed the streets of Radasanth, fighting in the Citadel, and picking up odd jobs here and there.”

He took a deep breath, his resume was long for as young as he was… but far from totally impressive. “As a mercenary I have seen a lot, been to a lot of places, and yet never found a true home. I hope that this group, this Wraeththu, will be that home.”