Post by The Mammoth on Mar 18, 2008 23:55:50 GMT -5
((Yeah, i noticed that ))
Horacius laughed.
"Ah! I have forgotten my manners. I am Horacius Mecrast. Your kind helped me many years ago against a problematic Death Knight. Should you not know of me, it is no matter." Horacius, having already interrupted, so no reason to stand so far away, so he began walking toward them.
But, then their irratation was showing, in their actions and in their eyes. Spirits were never very good at shielding their emotions. It had been so long that Horacius had forgotten how to act around them, and had angered them already. He sighed, the last thing he wanted was to piss them off, if they didn't want to be seen, to be contacted, they wouldn't be. If they left, he would probably not see them again, unless he could come to an agreement.
He thought back, far before he had become the wandering ex-paladin, far before he had slain his own corrupt order, far before any of his travels. The last time he spoke with spirits, they came to him, the darkness of the Death Knight was too much for them. He sapped the strength, the energy, from the land, from the air, from everything. The spirits, despite their arrogance, couldn't get near him for fear of being destroyed in the darkness. Horacius, sent by men too cowardly to face him themselves, however, was young and stupid. Too dumb to be afraid, too cocky to be worried. Then the spirits came, they warned him of everything that this man could do, this demigod. More than that, they helped him in the battle, giving him a means to harm the Death Knight. He would have died, just like all the others, but spirits helped him, and he helped them. Together, they were able to slay the monster.
Since then he had done that, he had done much. The murder of his wife and son by his own order had caused him to hunt down his order. The memory still pained him, and he figured he would never escape it. Why had he been wandering for so long, helping those in need. He told himself he was escaping his past, but maybe he was just trying to escape the pain of his loss, fill that void with acts of kindness towards others. After all, as a Paladin, that was all he knew.
But, he digressed, like an old man lost in his thoughts. He was old for a warrior, and he was wise, despite sometimes getting lost in his thoughts. Very little more than a few seconds had passed in reality, and he quickly spoke as to not lose the attention of the spirits.
"I fought against something your kind could not. The Death Knight, Zacharim. It was I who was your kind's tool to defeat him. I have many exploits in the land of men, those of which would matter little to you, as your concerns are higher. However, Zacharim's death should be plenty for your kind to remember me." He said, his strong voice echoing in the forest, "And from the concern in your voice, it sounds like your kind may be in trouble again..."
Horacius laughed.
"Ah! I have forgotten my manners. I am Horacius Mecrast. Your kind helped me many years ago against a problematic Death Knight. Should you not know of me, it is no matter." Horacius, having already interrupted, so no reason to stand so far away, so he began walking toward them.
But, then their irratation was showing, in their actions and in their eyes. Spirits were never very good at shielding their emotions. It had been so long that Horacius had forgotten how to act around them, and had angered them already. He sighed, the last thing he wanted was to piss them off, if they didn't want to be seen, to be contacted, they wouldn't be. If they left, he would probably not see them again, unless he could come to an agreement.
He thought back, far before he had become the wandering ex-paladin, far before he had slain his own corrupt order, far before any of his travels. The last time he spoke with spirits, they came to him, the darkness of the Death Knight was too much for them. He sapped the strength, the energy, from the land, from the air, from everything. The spirits, despite their arrogance, couldn't get near him for fear of being destroyed in the darkness. Horacius, sent by men too cowardly to face him themselves, however, was young and stupid. Too dumb to be afraid, too cocky to be worried. Then the spirits came, they warned him of everything that this man could do, this demigod. More than that, they helped him in the battle, giving him a means to harm the Death Knight. He would have died, just like all the others, but spirits helped him, and he helped them. Together, they were able to slay the monster.
Since then he had done that, he had done much. The murder of his wife and son by his own order had caused him to hunt down his order. The memory still pained him, and he figured he would never escape it. Why had he been wandering for so long, helping those in need. He told himself he was escaping his past, but maybe he was just trying to escape the pain of his loss, fill that void with acts of kindness towards others. After all, as a Paladin, that was all he knew.
But, he digressed, like an old man lost in his thoughts. He was old for a warrior, and he was wise, despite sometimes getting lost in his thoughts. Very little more than a few seconds had passed in reality, and he quickly spoke as to not lose the attention of the spirits.
"I fought against something your kind could not. The Death Knight, Zacharim. It was I who was your kind's tool to defeat him. I have many exploits in the land of men, those of which would matter little to you, as your concerns are higher. However, Zacharim's death should be plenty for your kind to remember me." He said, his strong voice echoing in the forest, "And from the concern in your voice, it sounds like your kind may be in trouble again..."