Author Topic: wayward propuse, a cronicle of Tarth De'Mealthra.  (Read 813 times)


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wayward propuse, a cronicle of Tarth De'Mealthra.
« on: January 22, 2009, 11:56:55 PM »

The night thundered into barovia like a the surf of some forsaken straight.

never was the night silent, roars of beasts and shreks of the outlanders assaulted the ears to all within the out laying lands.
the spray of blood dancing across doors, the slashing of claws lacerating man and beast alike.
Steel cleaving flesh before tumbling to the dirt in a cold grasp.

 This is what the outlanders made Barovia, This is Barovia.

This chaos, this blood dance a nightly event of man, beast, and creature.
a ballay of the hunt,creatures seeking revenge, beast seeking food, men trying to prove something,
others simply there for the fray the laughing gurgle of blood spray.

 A few...a select few relished this life for something more, a select few walked without fear, without arrigance.
They were the ones who could sway a battle, but faught for none, they were the wounded.
They were seperate, no longer outlanders if ever they were, no longer native if ever they were.
They were the survivors of hardships untold..

By Howling winds, and torrents of the wild they lived, the powerful without course.
but atlas, if the powerful had a course..would they be any better off?


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Re: wayward propuse, a cronicle of Tarth De'Mealthra.
« Reply #1 on: January 22, 2009, 11:57:27 PM »
age eight

 "We're born in sin, thats one thing our gods give us, one thing we don't have to fight for, the one thing"

the streets of waterdeep are a busy bussling place, merchants from every place one could think of, and more then a few most people haven't.
the temple district is vast nearly unending, some of the most magnificent temples to ever grave torilian soil.
this day the sky was warm the smell of the ocean thick from a slight breeze whisking threw the streets. and two priests stood with welcoming smiles
infront of the Temple of the Redknight, a smaller temple compared to most in waterdeep, the priests were welcoming young boys and girls today.
some with parents others with older siblings guiding them to the church to begin thier first year of study after the harvest.

One of these boys excorted by his older brother was a young Tarth, barely eight years of age.
His older brother was already past his training,jack his name was eight years senor to his younger brother.

Tarth was pushed up infront of the nearest priest, who greeting both him and his brother. His brother exchanged a few words with th priest before telling him
that his 'kid' brother was to swear himself in to become a paladin of the Redknight.
the preist seems honestly surprised, and kneeled down to the young Tarth

"Jack, I know you bother come from a long line of paladins, but  is Tarth really for this path? I'll have to pry him off you leg just
get him to swear in"

at that the older brother kicked the younger one off his leg, seeming to send a small panic threw the young and rather nervious boy.
 "he's just a kid, and abit shy, but he's a Trueblade alright"
the priest simply nodded and gave a small smile at jack, but it was obivious he didn't see any true potential in the nervious boy.


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Re: wayward propuse, a cronicle of Tarth De'Mealthra.
« Reply #2 on: January 22, 2009, 11:57:50 PM »
age sixteen

  "This is your first mission now, boy do me proud!" Tarth felt the clap on his shoulder the resounding words, he simply nodded up at his father, thumbling with his chin strap to stop
his over sized helmet from falling off his head.

 There they stood at the end of a dock, each father bading thier son good luck, five in all five squires of the redknight, lead by a single paladin.
They were headed for the island of Anphillia, to reinforce MacCleaven's milita.
Tarth was the smallest and youngest of the crew, just turning sixteen he stood as high as his father's shoulders, his limb and body not even begining to bulk out, his heavy fullplate armor and tower shield
seeming impossibly heavy to the young man.

"Son,-son, now listen" that was the voice of Tarth's father pulling him out of his day dreaming.
"Son now, your leaving here a boy, but when I see you again, you'll be a man." even now Tarth can remeber then faint smile, on his father face obiviously proud that his young son was on the 'good path' of knighthood,
but something behind that smile hinted at disapointment, as if he regretted letting his son take on a career so risky, HIs father ofcourse knew the risks he was a paladin of the redknight, just like every other male
of the Truebaldes.

"Now, jack, and me had this forged for you, it's basic but it'll do intill you return" he remeber taking the bastard sword from his father nearly dropping it on his toe surprised at the sheer weight of it, after training
his life with a longsword. They had a few more parting words before finally saying goodbye, a reluctant goodbye. Something in the boy told him not to leave, just to run back to his father go back home. find
something, something else to do, but even the youngest Trueblade felt too much pride too much honor to do any such thing, instead to hiked up the walk way and spent the next two week in a tiny cot dreaming of home.
Yet strangely exhilarated at the thought of this new placed "Cleaven, anphillia" were even he could become some one, some on his father would be proud