{Dawn came but, yet none greeted the morning rays with a smile. For there was a sword dangling precariously over every hopefuls head. Such as it were when realm tournies came around. The air was thick with the scents of steel & sweat; this was going to be a bloody day. Accidents, rare as they are...happen...& some have lost their lives in the pursuit of this glory. This tournament however was different. This tournament was to determine who would wear the Champions Crown; who will be the bearer of the title, Pendragon. Amidst the contenders, there were some whose device I recognized & others that seemed familiar but, wasnt sure of. Gabrielle of Njordstraad, a husky woman with a golden mane & the temper like fire. Her chosen weapon, a blade named Heartfang, if the rumours were true; she had slain a dozen men in a fit of rage. Ariel Lionshield, a defrocked priest of some Eastern diety turned bandit & sword for hire. His club bore a hundred notches on its handle...a testament to the mans prowess; only a season past he almost became The Pendragon. The mysterious, Zerhk. This fellow is just plain bad for business...honestly, would you want a bloodthirsty, insane barbarian who worshipped a dark, forbidden power as your monarch? I thought not. Another neer do well & ruffian, Ian of Serpent Springs, he is a wild card...I know nothing of him, save his love of combat & want to kill. Curiously, both Lord Morekai & Brother Rufus, have chosen not to enter the lists at all. Mores the pity...both worthy adversaries. Will shall see how the day plays out as the field thins & we get ever closer to the prize. This one wonders...will, Blackwolf, show himself...if only to champion another? I would hope in earnest that he does.} [By Mine Hand, Nhymros the Black Lord of the Ghost Marshes Castellan of Lordsgrave High Necrophage of the Harrowblight]
Posted on: Sun, 13 Jul 2014 13:46:10 +0000
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