Lease this WebApp and get rid of the ads.
A Letter from home (Anyone)
Thu Dec 7, 2006 8:33am

Crael yawned as he awoke, stretching in his cot, wincing at the clicks and pops of his complaining limbs. Tower life certainly wasn’t any easier than what he’d had before on the Blight Border. He trained from sunup to sundown and his body showed it. As he sat up in the small cot on his room the dawn light from his small slit window played over his torso, there was slight bruising over the ribs, a reminder that his sword play still required a large amount of practice and thin scars could be seen here and there. He lifted his hands above his head and stretched again yawning silently his jaws achingly wide as his knife scarred hands reached for the ceiling. These scars were old and were evidence of a different result of training to the bruises, Crael’s knife skills weren’t the problem, the problem was that in order to advance among the trainees he needed to improve with the sword an area which was causing him slight difficulty.

Crael finally managed to pull himself from his bed and stagger, still quite groggily over to his small chest of draws, beginning to pull items of clothing on in a rush to get to the halls to eat before the rush. Finally satisfied with his appearance apart from perhaps his rebellious hair that seemed to go in almost every direction apart from the way he wanted he pulled on his boots and headed for the heavy oak door to his room.

He had almost reached it when he noticed something sticking out from under the door, Crael squatted down and took the edge of the paper, as that is what he now saw it to be and pulled tugging a tightly rolled and sealed letter under the door and into his hands. Turning the letter round and round in his hands he frowned at the state of it. The parchment was weather-beaten, stained and torn slightly as if the carrier had travelled a great distance, through horrible conditions to reach its destination.

Crael moved his attention from the parchment itself to the wax seal holding the role closed and he gasped in shock and stood, mouth agape staring in abject disbelief at the sight before him. The seal was that of the Lord of Fal Dara, his home. No one knew where I was going, how could this reach me here, light blast it how?!

Hands shaking he gently pulled at the red wax seal, as the seal came away he saw a familiar neat script before him, a handwriting that he had thought never to see again. It was the writing of his father’s closest friend in the Lancer’s, his sword brother. Crael’s shaking hands went to each end of the scroll holding it open for him to read, the whole parchment shook visibly with his hands.

Dear Crael,

I truly hope this letter finds you, I can only assume that when you left us it was to the White Tower that you went and so it is there that I have sent this message. I hope that it finds you in good health for if anything has happened to you the grief that I feel already at the events I must describe in this letter will be added to once more.

I have known you all your life Crael and yet I can think of no way to tell you what has happened that will make the news any more bearable, I only hope that you find solace in that I and many others that you know share the grief that you shall feel.

In short Crael, you are the last of your family. I am sorry to be so blunt but I am a man of few words and I find the recounting of this tale hard enough already. You’re mother and father were riding together in the copse that I’m sure you recall they loved to visit together. It tears my heart again to tell you this but that beautiful place was not as quiet and deserted as it had been in the past. A Myrdraal and Trollocs were feasting there. You’re parents were surprised and both slain, I will not go into the details of their death’s; know only that they died fighting and together as they would have wished.

My sorrow joins yours, I have lost my closest friends and my dearest companion and you your mother and father. No words I can say can relieve your grief and for that I am truly sorry. May you live a life that would have made your parents proud Crael, may peace favour your sword.

Tai’shar Shienar

Tal


Crael had almost stopped breathing, he could not comprehend what he had read, could not believe it to be true, had he left his family only to never see them again? Had he been so selfish? He gathered his cloak and riding gloves and ran from his room to the stables, thinking only of getting home, to say goodbye if that was all he could do.

On reaching the stables he cannoned into one of the servants knocking him flying, he yelled an apology over his shoulder as he pelted towards the stall that held his stallion Brutus, only hoping that the man did not guess at his intent and report it, for he had no intention of being forced to stay in the tower when his parents remained unavenged.


OOC: Obviously he won't actually be leaving but I need someone to convince him not to go, either with words or forcefully I don't mind!

    • Black Pebbles on SnowKat Tenzin Sei'Tar, Thu Dec 7 9:43am
      She emitted a yell as the popping sound was followed immediately by a sharp and demanding pain in her shoulder before subsiding into a blithe, aching throb. "Burn me, did you have to be so rough on... more
      • A flight for home from homeCrael Kantar Aethan'Tar, Mon Dec 11 11:44am
        Crael finished strapping his belongings to Brutus’ saddle before leaping into it. His quarter staff at his side be began to guide Brutus with his knees through the stable door. He’d managed to get... more
  • Click here to receive daily updates