StoneGlory

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StoneGlory last won the day on January 9

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About StoneGlory

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  • Birthday 02/20/96

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  1. It burned like wildfire within his blood. Every step was another closer to eternal damnation. If only those hopeful for death and those already devoid of humanity wander this ruined wasteland, then Issac Stone was exactly where he belonged. The moon was all that lit the ashen landscape, gleaming off of the silver edge resting quietly beside the old Ranger. A rusted, dented iron hand reached across the ash-filled dirt he lay upon and grasped the blade, covering the moon’s glare from piercing his eyes; the chocolate brown eyes that once held a place in people’s hearts. The eyes that stood between them and certain destruction, defending them with deadly efficiency. The eyes that now appeared devoid of emotion. Slowly lifting himself, Issac sat up, the dirty poncho he called his bed rustling quietly as he looked up at the moon. It was the only thing around him that hadn’t changed in the past decade. No matter how much emerald flame burns away everything he had known, the moon would still be in the sky , watching over the ruins like a guardian angel. ‘Are you the one we failed?’ he wondered, closing his eyes again and laying back down, not daring to look over the horizon again. If he wouldn’t see a lumbering , disfigured beast, it would just be the same old burned buildings, rotten wheat fields, and hills of ashes that once were forests. Given how many there had been, Issac figured he was still in what used to be the Whispering Glades. ‘Her forests used to be so green.’ He opened an eye to see the faint apparition of Mariko Numatera sitting before him in the dirt. Her voice resonated through his mind like a lullaby calming him, even though he wouldn’t admit it. ‘Go to sleep, Issac. The world won’t change anymore. What you did with that woman…it was for the best.’ That woman. Issac suddenly had a vision of long, crimson locks digging into his bare skin, screams, and a sensation he’d not felt in years. It all seemed like a dream. Especially when the feeling of pleasure had morphed into what felt like magma seeping through his pores, and a flaming leash being wrapped around his soul. He took a deep breath, shaking as he closed his eyes, hearing the woman’s voice in his mind. ‘You belong to me now, Stone. Now, and forever.’
  2. Bright eyes of emerald shone from across the long table as Arthur Willet let the Orc's words sink in, taking a deep breath and nodding his head as the man's voice faded. "Call me interested. Now, tell me what it is you would like The Order to do for your cause? I...may be able to spare aid, if you require it. Be it military might or a powerful mind."
  3. Arthur listened to the orc, finding himself bored and struggling to pay attention. For the sake of his people, however, he did his best to listen. The true lord of the land. Balter. Interesting. he mused in his mind, The ancient civilization. So there *were* others before us. Any other man likely would have dismissed the mention of a prophecy as ancoent nonsense, but this was Arthur Willet he was speaking to, who helped build an entire religion around a prophecy spoken by old men. As much as Arthur found it skeptical how convenient this mention of another prophecy felt and why only just *now* this group had finally decided to contact his Order, he could not turn his cheek. Arthur Willet was many things, but not a hypocrite. "You bring me many questions that I need answered...sir. I also have another request." With intense eyes, Arthur leaned forward, "Do tell me the rest of this prophecy, if you don't mind. Surely, if it involves my Order I helped shape with my own hands from nothing, I can know of it. I am no stranger to prophets. Perhaps yours is linked...to ours. Perhaps our destinies are intertwined."
  4. Three plated Knights would surround the long table, silently watching the orc until, at last, Arthur Willet trudged down the steps behind him, his enormous boots echoing through the quiet halls, and around to the opposite end of the table. Sitting down in the chair that seemed a tad too small for him, Arthur's covered head seemed to tilt up slightly as he addressed the stranger. His voice was softer and somewhat less intimidating, now more of a concerned friend. "You may speak. I am listening."
  5. As the crude weapons of the group hit the gravel road, Arthur heaved a soft sigh of relief. It would be visible in his form as well, the plate surrounding his body seeming to shrink very subtly and his cape dropping with his shoulders. Citizens who had been watching around them would also appear to be relieved, many even going back to their mundane tasks. Arthur lifted his chin, making a motion with his hand directed down to the square. Five Order Knights sheathed their own weapons and stepped forward, confiscating the crude stone and oak weapons the men had placed before them. "Very well. I will invite thee into the Keep, Orc, but thee alone. Your escorts are permitted to stay out here. You three." Arthur commanded, motioning to the three plated Knights in the back of the group, "Take him to the meeting table. I will be there shortly." he said as he dissapeared into the Keep. The three men Arthur had commanded stepped forward, before the four escorts of the old Orc. They waited, hands still upon their weapons, for them to step aside, or for the Orc man who spoke for them to come forward. @The Iron Pichu
  6. "M'lord" , the words spoken by the single, weakly-armored guardsmen at last reached the pointed ears of Arthur Willet as he sat at his desk upon his second-story quarters within the Sarnath Keep. His helmet resting on the side of his desk with his back turned to the doorway, Arthur scratched his bald scalp with his left, unprotected hand, a sigh emerging from his lips. "What is it, guardsman?" "There are some people outside the Keep who appear to want to speak to someone of power." The giant elvish Administrator was silent for a moment before reaching over to his helmet and wiping off the top, looking into his reflection in the facemask. "Who is it?" "None of us recognize them, m'lord. However, they are armed and armored..." the guardsman's voice seemed to shake very subtly at the mention of 'armed and armored'. The Sarnath guard had not dealt with an armed conflict in months, never one so big as the infiltration of the outlaws into the Keep itself months prior to this date. Most whom had neglected to keep up with their daily practice of basic swordplay and drills had gotten rusty and, frankly, lazy. Many of the new guardsmen had never seen an armed conflict at all. Arthur slid his horned helmet upon his head, the bright green horsehair flowing in the gentle breeze that slipping its way into his room through the window. He stood up, his head nearly touching the ceiling. Turning around, his green cape, tucked beneath his large pauldrons, flowed behind him as he gestured for the guardsman to move out of the doorway. "Tell the Knights downstairs to file out into the square by the well in five. Go." ~~~ A mere five or six minutes pass. The heavily-armored warriors in red outside may have begun to feel the harsh sun beating through their armor and possibly begin to fatigue them prematurely, for whatever the cause of their presence may be. Finally, at least a dozen men in full-plate armor armed with weapons from morningstars to longswords and kite shields to towers pour out of the Keep's entrance and beside the well, opposing the strange red warriors who barged into Sarnath uninvited and armed against Sarnath law. The door upon the balcony opens as well, the fully-armored Arthur Willet of Sunset Isles stepping out onto it and looking down to the strangers. The horsehair and horns upon his helmet seemed to glare down upon them all with just as much intimidation as his own eyes could. Crossing his armed, Arthur speaks loud enough for all in the square to hear, even slightly muffled in his helmet, "Strangers, I do not recall asking for more assistance with the protection of Sarnath, so I cannot help but wonder why five fully-armored men have entered the city. Why my guards have neglected to stop you themselves, I will deal with later...for now I ask you all to place any weapons you may have at your feet and take ten paces back, or my Knights will do so forcefully. Citizens are not permitted to carry such luxuries with them here. There has been...too much conflict in these streets in the past. If your intent is not ill, I am sure you will understand..." As Arthur's words echo through the ears of all who could hear, his Knights stare down the five in red and lift their shield to them, brandishing the gold-green logo of the Scout Corps., the golden stallion. The command of the Order's Administrator hangs in the air, all present easily hearing the man's words, but the choice is their own to make. @The Iron Pichu
  7. Is he related to the Pokemon Professor?
  8. Approved. Welcome back, Diss! Glad to have you
  9. Music In the late evening, as the sun began to rest upon the cold horizon, a single spy sneaks out from the clutches of Hjorvarth he crept into earlier in the evening. The determined dark eyes of Scout Gawain follows a trail of footsteps in the snow to the city’s southeast, hearing a rumor of one of Sarnath’s most wanted having gone outside of the wall for the night. Pulling his cloak of furs more tightly around his shoulders, Gawain hunts as a wolf tracks a hare. Near a mysterious, unmarked shrine in the woods south of the incomplete estate, Noah Stone and a shrouded, assassin-like figure debate the origin of the unknown, candle-lit shrine. It had been quiet for the past two months since Alphus had launched a reckless attack on the Church of The Prophets in Sarnath – an event that helped ignite the embers of rebellion in the hearts of hundreds. The wolf stalks its prey and, at last, steps forward. The shrouded man and the sorcerer exchange glances and words with the Scout, before Stone sends his strange comrade off. The two heroes, one of Sarnath and one of Hjorvarth, one of Order and one of Freedom, regretfully draw sword and scythe. Both heroes exclaim their lack of desire to fight, but duty demands that old friends draw blood at the moon’s rise. To prevent another Calamity, or to preserve man’s freedom to hold the magic supposedly intended for immortal minds only? Longsword and Scythe collide, the candle of the mysterious shrine and the waning gibbous moon the only light shining brightly in both heroes’ eyes. Sorrow, passion, and desperation fly like sparks as the steel blades collide and blue-hot lightning soars across the forest from the fingertips of the wanted sorcerer. The snow melts as hot blood spills from the wounds and scars of each hero, carved from steel and regret. Both men yell in desperation to end the battle, to lay down one’s arms or to run away and abandon his duty. To no avail, the battle continued as the sky darkened and tears rained down from the heavens. Knowing the end drew near, the sorcerer realized he could not convince his old friend and ally to walk away from this fate, and he was not skilled enough with a scythe to defeat him. He had to take the first chance he could get to flee. Accepting two new scars on his body from the Scout’s vengeful steel, Stone opens his window to flee after a bolt of unholy lightning strikes his friend’s shoulder. With a wounded leg and chest, Stone limped as fast as he could away as he felt the sharp sting of a knife soar slice the wind behind his good leg, fear searing up his spine as he fled. He knew he could not win this battle alone. “COWARD!” the Scout cries as he pulls himself to his feet, covered in electric burns, sweat, and snow. He glares as his old friend dissapears into the woods, sheathing his sword, but not triumphantly. For him, the war would not be over until the Gods’ will was fulfilled and another Calamity was prevented. The sorcerer returns to Hjorvarth with a trail of crimson in his wake. The guards haul him to a doctor, where his wounds are treated and his lover watches with a look of both fear and sorrow for him. New whispers begin to crawl around Hjorvarth as Stone explains what happened. Scout Gawain, they say, Be mindful of the man who stalks his prey so close to the walls… Is anywhere really safe anymore?
  10. Aside from the typos, I approve
  11. Oh shit, yeah, that's lighter than me irl and i'm taller than that... For a clockwork, i'd say at LEAST 250 lbs
  12. Please don't post your history in binary
  13. I accept this application ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
  14. Basic Information Name: Arthur Willet of Sunset Isles Race: Wood Elf Age: 44 Faction: Order of the Prophets / Sarnath Known Languages: Dwarvish / Elvish Physical Appearance Height: 6'8" Weight: 220 Build: Arthur is a very strong, muscular man with arms like tree trunks and legs like iron. His hands are large enough to hold an average person's head each, and his elvish ears are very long and pointed. His skin is dark, and his features very chiseled and strong. He looks much younger than his actual age, because staying in shape does that. Hair: Arthur's hair is a very light shade of golden blonde, but he likes to keep his head shaved since he wears a helmet nearly all hours of the day. Eyes: Arthur has bright, green eyes as bright as the bay of Sunset Isles. Distinguishing Features: Arthur is extremely tall and has a very large frame. Many followers of his claim he can lift an entire stone draug off the ground if he tried hard enough. He is almost always seen wearing his full suit of platemail armor, his helmet custom-built with Scout-Corps Green horsehair and bullhorns. A long, flowing green cape follows him wherever he goes. Personality Admires: Knightly behavior, Loyalty, Kindness, Humility Dislikes: Magic, a lack of Honor, Arrogance Traits: Brave, Proud, Strong, Intimidating, Respectful Notable skills: Leading, Enduring, Tactics, Inspiring Weaknesses: Has a secret fear of illnesses, Fears Rebels, sometimes very demanding of his respect and authority Background Character History: <To be added>
  15. Song A notice is sent around to all citizens of Sarnath, posted around the city, and placed upon the public bulletin board. "People of Sarnath, A few nights ago, the Keep was attacked by lawless criminals. This has not gone unnoticed by the administrators of the Order of the Prophets. It has become clear to us that our divine authority is not being taken seriously enough. The evidence, though clearly written in our dark history, has been denied by a small band of brigands who refuse to accept it. There is no cause for alarm. Some changes will, however, have to be made in order for us, your Holy Order of the Prophets, to ensure your safety in this dangerous world. From here until further stated, I, Arthur Willet, declare: -Curfew will be extended. Citizens are authorized to be in their homes by 20:00, approximately dusk. The business day will begin once again at sunrise the next morning. Our Knights will patrol the streets at all times of the day and keep a watchful eye out for danger. -Sarnath Guards will work extra hours to assist our loyal Knights in securing our city's peace. -There will be a limit placed upon weapons that are allowed to be carried through the city if you are not a Knight, Guard, or trusted member of the Scout Corps. All citizens are authorized to openly carry a small, six-inch dagger, and nothing more. Anything larger will result in confiscation and, if further pushed, time in the dungeoun. Furthermore, the bounties for any of the names and faces placed on the bounty board is to be increased by 5k each. ANY law broken in Sarnath is to be more severely punished from here. We urge any unemployed to seek out Arthur Willet if they wish to assist in the apprehension of these criminals. If anyone has information on any of them, please inform any authority figure in the city. Thank you. Together, we can ensure that security is kept within these walls. May the Prophets guide you all. ~A"