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Story -
The town of Welhathine had gone without light for twenty days, and twenty nights now. Something had happened... Something terribly bad. King Thaon was not normally worried in situations such as this, but for some reason, he was this time. Thaon ordered his men search for the one responsible for this seemingly never-ending darkness.
Thaon's men searched the city up and down, but found nothing, or no-one out of the ordinary. The men returned after two days of searching empty handed, which infuriated Thaon. Thaon ordered one townsperson be hung every day until the culprit turned himself in, or was caught... Two more days passed... Two innocent men were killed... But Thaon's men refused to kill any more men. Thaon was infuriated again, but he knew that he couldn't kill any more innocent people without them rebelling... So he stopped. He stopped, and thought for three days... When suddenly, a Necromancer stepped forward, and claimed responsiblility for the darkness. He was taken to Thaon, and interrogated. The Necromancer, who's name was Decinfimus, told Thaon everything.
"The people of Welhathine are too greedy, and selfish. They deserve darkness, like the orcs... Because they are no better than them.", Decinfimus said.
Thaon was now mad as ever, and ordered his men to hang him, hoping his death would bring light back to the city.
Decinfimus walked in the middle of two Knights, walking towards a large 'stage', which had little more than a noose. The knight shoved him up, and the executioner tied the noose around his neck. A trick floor popped open, sending Decinfimus straight down, but just as he went down, the rope snapped, so that Decinfimus fell to the ground below. Between the people cheering, and the knights laughing, no-one had noticed the rope ripped. Decinfimus quickly fled to the Forest of Impith. - It was here that Decinfimus created an army. An army of the men, women, orc, and elves who had died during the Wars of Impith...
My character -
His name was Geratu. Little was known about him, as the people of Welhathine payed him not attention. He was a skilled warrior, both with a sword, and a bow. Geratu had a miserable past, including both his parents dying in the previous wars Welhathine had. He was almost always clad in nothing more than weak leather armor, and a long, beautiful sword. He was almost always in the Queen and Duke tavern, drinking his ale, and telling tall-tales to the children.
Beginning -
There Geratu sat... Inside the Queen and Duke tavern. He was telling the 'story' of himself defeating the Dark Lord. The children seemed greatly interested in the story.
"And it wasnt... Like the...", Geratu said, while nearly falling out of his chair. "War for darkness... Because light..", he rambled.
Why the kids were interested in his drunken tales, no-one will ever know.
Geratu stood up in the middle of his story, and walked outside the inn.
"I feel something in the air... Something lives in the air...", Geratu said softly to the bartender who stood in the doorway.
"Get back in the bar and keep drinkin', or get the hell outta here!", the bartender shouted.
Geratu turned, and looked into the bartenders face.
"Heh," Geratu replied, before pushing the bartender away from the doorway, and walking back into the inn.
Geratu walked back to his seat, and began finishing his story.
(OOC: Everyone is welcome. It will all develop soon. Have fun.
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