Earning these gifts.

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I Remember the Rejection
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Joined: Wed Mar 14, 2007 5:59 pm
Location: Dover

Earning these gifts.

Post by Ginge » Wed Aug 22, 2018 6:33 pm

Post by Ginge » Wed Aug 22, 2018 5:37 pm

Issac sits silently, resting his chin on his hand, elbow propped against the arm of his throne. The Free People’s reports were interesting, to an extent. Another massive ritual circle that wasn’t Afacia City, another threat to the world. When inevitably some mad mage gets ideas of grandeur.

As the first scout is mid ramble, there is a sudden bang, as a side door to the throne room swings open and meets the stone wall. An elderly man shuffles into the room excitedly. His movements are hard to see as as his black and white vestments drown his frail body. There is a wicked gleam in his eye, as he bows.

“My apologise my King, we have done what you have asked and I think I know what is there!” “ He quickly bites his lip, to prevent his secret falling into the ears of all that stood in the hall.

“We will continue the reports later. Everyone leave” The excitement of the old man has clearly spread to the King, from the haste in his words.

Guards, scouts and serving girls all immediately leave through a number of doors. The footsteps clattering away until only silence is between the Old Priest and the Young King. The Old priest draws closer to the throne, voice still low as if the eaves themselves had ears.

“We found a scroll! One, one that has been long overlooked, and it speaks of the artifact! My King you were right, it can truly turn the tide of the War! But…..”

The young king frowns at the old mans hesitation


“I am afraid it cannot end up in the hands of that greedy other race! You trust them so much and yet…”

The King sternly interrupts, removing his hand from his chin and placing it onto the arm of the chair.

“ I, I was the one that travelled with them. I trust them, I have my Hand with them, Ser Wufra, House Fortuna and the young Holt lad. They will see it done.”

The Priest’s frown fades away, only a slight crease in his brow remains, his hand moves to the silver Cross of Arkane around his neck. He nods and loudly recites.

“Arkane, with the tools you have given to us, in heart body and mind, let us follow in your path, for by serving those who need service, do we earn these gifts that you have bestowed.

I will make preparations to receive the artifact in due course. The Church must be ready for their return.”

The Old Priest leaves the way he came, this time with a dull thud of the door closing, muttering under his breath.
Resident Plot writer.

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