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The roar of the orc filled the air with resounding rage as the beast charged the line that Centurio Twilight was holding. A massive, bloodcurdling beast, the orc brandished the axe that gleamed in the firelight of the skirmish that was taking place at the edge of the Mossdale. Muscles pumped in the furious orcs legs as it charged Peridan, its tusks bared in hatred and rage at not only a Sundren soldier, but an ancient enemy of all orc kind, a son of Corellon.
Covered in mud and blood, the Centurio's face turned from the line of soldiers he was supporting as the pounding of the orcs' charge became apparent. His face was lined and his tense expression could have been carved from stone. His eyepatch was torn away from the battle, and the lost eye was that much more apparent from the gnarled knot of scars. The tip of his left ear was missing, and his armor and cloak looked as though they haven't seen a good upkeep in a week. As the roar reached his ears, he tapped the Salararius under his command on the shoulder and turned to face the beast, a horrific snarl curling from his own lips.
Junsui-Na glowed with holy flame from his gauntleted fist, the katana reacting to the presence of savage evil that the orc represented. As the orc began his charge, Peridan gave a roar of his own, fierce and keening. He raised his blade in a traditional eastern stance, running low to the ground and keeping the blade poised by his head. The orc outweighed him by hundred and fifty pounds easily, if not more. The pounding of the orcs' feet filled Peridan's ears as he gave himself to the rage that his people have held for Gruumush and his spawn for thousands of years, raising his blade and bringing it down like a wave of white fire...
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After the battle, Peridan retired to his officer's tent. Arcane texts lay in a small book case in the corner of the room, and a modest elvish tapestry of the symbol of Corellon covered the wall. He placed the clean Junsui-Na beside his bedside, the black sheath keeping its luster despite the hard use it has seen these last weeks. He stripped off his armor, and spent the next hour or so doing a mild check up on its polish and repair. Only enough for tomorrow, where there will no doubt be another wave of Bloodmaim. He changed into a softer tunic and went over the reports on his desk, reading a few of the happenings within the valley for the last month.
"Colibrus is getting uppity." He muttered, rubbing his head and speaking with an irony that he did not truly feel. "Vampires this, vampires that...Corellon help us if the Luskans decide to invade."
He rifled through his own field reports before glancing at a notice at the bottom of the pile. "Hello..." He opened the letter and read it at a glance.
"Huh. Tour's over it seems, I leave in a few days." He looked at the letter with a mixture of apprehension and cautious optimism. He leaned back in his chair, looking at the tapestry of the crescent moon. Only rumours and non-frequent reports of the doings of the valley had reached his ears over the last month. He honestly did not know what the true state of affairs were in the valley that he had sworn to protect, but he supposed he would find out soon enough.
But there was still tomorrow to deal with. If he was lucky, maybe he wouldn't live to see the valley threatening problems that stalked the valley through the dead of night. Real lucky.
A cynical smirk crossed his lips, and he leaned forward to finish the reports before the new day dawned.
Covered in mud and blood, the Centurio's face turned from the line of soldiers he was supporting as the pounding of the orcs' charge became apparent. His face was lined and his tense expression could have been carved from stone. His eyepatch was torn away from the battle, and the lost eye was that much more apparent from the gnarled knot of scars. The tip of his left ear was missing, and his armor and cloak looked as though they haven't seen a good upkeep in a week. As the roar reached his ears, he tapped the Salararius under his command on the shoulder and turned to face the beast, a horrific snarl curling from his own lips.
Junsui-Na glowed with holy flame from his gauntleted fist, the katana reacting to the presence of savage evil that the orc represented. As the orc began his charge, Peridan gave a roar of his own, fierce and keening. He raised his blade in a traditional eastern stance, running low to the ground and keeping the blade poised by his head. The orc outweighed him by hundred and fifty pounds easily, if not more. The pounding of the orcs' feet filled Peridan's ears as he gave himself to the rage that his people have held for Gruumush and his spawn for thousands of years, raising his blade and bringing it down like a wave of white fire...
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After the battle, Peridan retired to his officer's tent. Arcane texts lay in a small book case in the corner of the room, and a modest elvish tapestry of the symbol of Corellon covered the wall. He placed the clean Junsui-Na beside his bedside, the black sheath keeping its luster despite the hard use it has seen these last weeks. He stripped off his armor, and spent the next hour or so doing a mild check up on its polish and repair. Only enough for tomorrow, where there will no doubt be another wave of Bloodmaim. He changed into a softer tunic and went over the reports on his desk, reading a few of the happenings within the valley for the last month.
"Colibrus is getting uppity." He muttered, rubbing his head and speaking with an irony that he did not truly feel. "Vampires this, vampires that...Corellon help us if the Luskans decide to invade."
He rifled through his own field reports before glancing at a notice at the bottom of the pile. "Hello..." He opened the letter and read it at a glance.
"Huh. Tour's over it seems, I leave in a few days." He looked at the letter with a mixture of apprehension and cautious optimism. He leaned back in his chair, looking at the tapestry of the crescent moon. Only rumours and non-frequent reports of the doings of the valley had reached his ears over the last month. He honestly did not know what the true state of affairs were in the valley that he had sworn to protect, but he supposed he would find out soon enough.
But there was still tomorrow to deal with. If he was lucky, maybe he wouldn't live to see the valley threatening problems that stalked the valley through the dead of night. Real lucky.
A cynical smirk crossed his lips, and he leaned forward to finish the reports before the new day dawned.