Post by nostromides on Apr 5, 2009 0:33:06 GMT -5
“Aww, nuts!”
Nostromides growled as he slammed his weapon belt onto the table. The "nick" into the table was more than noticeable, and he knew those higher in the food chain would have his hide for tearing up the furniture. Sighing, he slumped into a nearby chair, caring little, other than getting a few hours of shut-eye. Gods, he was ready for some down time, a vacation, by some people’s vernacular. Chuckling to himself, he closed his eyes for the briefest of moments, enjoying the chair’s comfort, only to be greeted with scenes of carnage and bloodshed....
Being a Death Knight in service of the Cause, there was no such thing as a “vacation.” All one could hope for was the brief respite, painfully brief, to repair and refit equipment, reload stocks, and then get back onto the battle field. Friends, family… They were secondary. We are at war! Such was the life of a warrior. Or, that of a Death Knight. At least, the dark knights had no familiar binds… Or, at least not that were popularly recognized. Even through his closed eyes, the gleam of his runed sword, Mezzomorto, hungered for blood, prodding him from his reverie.
It was time to get back into the battle, regardless of his human frailties. With an exhausted shrug, he shouldered his gear, grabbed a loaf of bread off of the scarred table, rubbed a plated hand over the gouged table, tore a sizable chunk off the loaf in his teeth, and headed out of the Guild Hall, back into an uncertain future…
It was going to be a good day, gods willing. Unfortunately, not for those who crossed his path. That, was certain...
Nostromides growled as he slammed his weapon belt onto the table. The "nick" into the table was more than noticeable, and he knew those higher in the food chain would have his hide for tearing up the furniture. Sighing, he slumped into a nearby chair, caring little, other than getting a few hours of shut-eye. Gods, he was ready for some down time, a vacation, by some people’s vernacular. Chuckling to himself, he closed his eyes for the briefest of moments, enjoying the chair’s comfort, only to be greeted with scenes of carnage and bloodshed....
Being a Death Knight in service of the Cause, there was no such thing as a “vacation.” All one could hope for was the brief respite, painfully brief, to repair and refit equipment, reload stocks, and then get back onto the battle field. Friends, family… They were secondary. We are at war! Such was the life of a warrior. Or, that of a Death Knight. At least, the dark knights had no familiar binds… Or, at least not that were popularly recognized. Even through his closed eyes, the gleam of his runed sword, Mezzomorto, hungered for blood, prodding him from his reverie.
It was time to get back into the battle, regardless of his human frailties. With an exhausted shrug, he shouldered his gear, grabbed a loaf of bread off of the scarred table, rubbed a plated hand over the gouged table, tore a sizable chunk off the loaf in his teeth, and headed out of the Guild Hall, back into an uncertain future…
It was going to be a good day, gods willing. Unfortunately, not for those who crossed his path. That, was certain...