The Chronicles Of Llothlian

[Llothlian]

This is just some stuff I have been writing for a RP... Part one was written for a profile so is in different style. Tell me what you think please :) I really am quite proud of it, and other people have said its good, so if you read it, please give feedback! (not spelling and grammer errors). I will post up more as I write it, unless you lot think its spamming, and a waste of space...

[Llothlian]

PART ONE : Celestial Fury
Born to a noble house in Tear I soon began to feel as though I didn’t fit. By the age of 10 I was sneaking away from my family to practice sword with one of the High Lords. He seemed a bit strange, always looking over his shoulder, and I could often hear him muttering about his 'Master'. At the time I didn’t know who thins was. That didn’t come until later.

By fourteen I was well known in the underworld of Tear. If you needed somebody taking care off that was too well protected for a normal assassin, well, who suspects a scared fourteen year old?

At sixteen I heard a rumour of a sword made by a power older than the One Power. Now most, normal, Light loving people would avoid such things, but I am neither normal, nor Light loving, although at the time I was simply a criminal, nothing more. Or so I believed. Anyway. The sword. Celestial Fury, I had heard was located in a Guarded Complex in the Temple District of Tear. I wont give too many details, but suffice to say I dispatched the guards, if you can them that, playing dice as they were, and entered. Now apparently somebody had tipped the occupants off to my arrival. When I entered I was given an ultimatum by this guy in robes, and a woman. Get out or take have a lesson. Well, when somebody says something like that to me, its time I gave THEM a lesson. Lesson it is.

As I started for the guy, they both disappear! Anyway, I get bored of story telling, so I’ll be brief. After they disappeared several gates opened, and out stepped all sorts of nasties. Not your normal trollocs and other shadow spawn, but some sort of otherworldly demon, and several trolls. Well I don’t think I want to deal with this lot, so I carefully sneaks past them, being mindful to stick to the shadows. The funny thing is, while I was sneaking, they start fighting it out among themselves. Who am I to get in the way of a good scrap?

Anyway, I make for the stairs, and go up to the first floor where I find my two friends waiting for me. Did I say two? I think they must have found a few friends somewhere. I pulls out me knives, drawing upon all I had learned as an assassin, launched them at the two closest. The first knife lands with a sickening crunch in this guy’s neck, dropping him like a trolloc in a river. The second however, had some small amount of skill, and knocked it aside with a grimace. OK, 1 down, 5 to go. Not looking good. Luckily though, I am in a corridor, so if I can use that to my advantage, I may stand a chance.

So here I am, standing in a corridor, minus me knives, facing off against 3 heavily armoured and armed toughs, and those two from downstairs. Not good odds you might think. Ha. Have you ever seen me fight? I may not have been a blademaster back then, but I was still good.

Drawing my short blade and buckler, I advance towards the first two, with my most arrogant grin on me face. For some reason seeing a single lightly armed man strolling towards them made them hesitate. Cowards. They take a step back, and then at a command from the guy in robes, they gather themselves up, and try to take me. Try.

I figure I had to thin their numbers a bit if i am to live through this. What makes a guy dangerous in armed combat? His weapon! That’s right. I learned a little trick a few years before to quickly relieve a guy of his sword, I don’t think it has a name, but it certainly works. If you use short, quick blades as I do, and you can strike much faster than your enemy, cut off his fingers! How can he hold a sword with no fingers? Plus it makes his mates slow down, and try to keep their hands to themselves. So the guy on my left has no fingers, and no sword. The guy on my right has my sword sticking out of his chest. All I have left is my backup knife in my boot. Drawing it, and slicing a guy from groin to nose is something I learned so long ago that it is now second nature to me. Two more guards down in as many seconds.

The third turns to run, but falls halfway though his first step, my knife in his neck.

By this time I am covered in blood, not my own obviously, but all these dead guys do tend to be a bit messy, not to forget the intestines that fell on my new boot. He seems awfully eager to put them back in before he finally died for some reason.

Anyway, picking up a dead mans blade I made short work of the annoyingly loud woman, as she screamed for the guy to help her. Now its just me, and the man in robes. He tells me I can walk out of here with anything I like, if only I declare my allegiance to the Great Lord. Well, this I’m not having any of. I have just killed all his guards, his woman, and now he says I must declare allegiance to the Lord of Shadow before I can leave. Not happening. Thinking I could make a quick kill and take his stuff, then go on to find this sword I had heard of, I darted into the kill, only to be thrown against the back wall of the building by something I didn’t see.

Here I am, 6 foot off the floor. Held by something I can’t see. Apparently this man is doing this to me. Now this isn’t the One Power, because ever since I was a small child I have been able to sense when anybody I using the power within 20 foot of me. I don’t know how, or why, but it has been useful. I manage to shake myself out of falling unconscious because of the force of the blow, and realise I cant move. Not a muscle. What can I do? Nothing. I can only see one option open to me. If I declare my allegiance for his Lord of Shadow, I don’t have to honour this vow do I? I have made lots of vows in my few years on this earth. I declared my obedience and loyalty to this Shadow Lord, and for some reason, unlike all the others I had made, it felt somehow binding. Little did I know that is was.

He actually let me down, and asked what I would like as my prize for seeing the light. I demands the sword. Although he said anything, he did seem a little taken aback that I asked for this. After a time while he seemed to be talking to somebody, but he wasn’t talking, he said I could have the sword, but it would change me. Change me it did.

It was soon after that, that I began to hear my new Master as I had begun to think of him. He told me I must join the Black Tower, which I did, and rise through the ranks. I have been here for several years, rising through the ranks, not only of the Asha’man, but also The Friends of the Dark, as I had also joined on the day I received Celestial Fury, my Katana. Does it belong to me, or do I belong to it? I no longer care.

[Llothlian]

PART TWO : A Thank You
Llothlian reported to the head of Punishment in the Black Tower as he had been ordered to do everyday for the past month. Entering the hall he assumes Cat Crosses the Court Yard, as he knew it infuriated his superiors. Another simple task to perform today he thought.

“You again. I would have thought you would have done us all a favour and ran away by now. At least then we could have the pleasure of hunting you down.”

Llothlian hated this man with a vengeance. The way he always seemed to be looking down his too big nose at you. And now he has the nerve to talk to him like this?! Slowly, he takes a mental note of his daggers, just in case he will need them. One strapped to the right of his rib cage, two in his belt, one in each boot, one on his left thigh, one up each sleeve. The dagger at the nape of his neck still dug into his Power suppression collar these fools made him wear. Fools indeed, because the thing didn’t do anything to stop him channelling the True Power. Eight Daggers, and his katana Celestial Fury, more than enough to deal with this Light blind idiot.

“I wouldn’t give you the pleasure. Besides, if I left, how could I kill you? You DO know I marked you when I first came here.” Llothlian goaded.

“What are you saying? I don’t like the sound of this.”

“Recognise this? Of course you do. Here take it.”

Handing the object to the older man, Llothlian inwardly smiles as he sees perception dawn on his face.

“This is my wife’s. How do you have this? What have you done?” at nothing more than a whisper. “Blood. There is blood on this.”

“That, my friend, is my son’s blood. He was named Minsc, just like your son. Come to think of it, I owe you a debt of thanks. You have raised my son all these years, and you even thought he was your own!”

“Minsc. No. You Lie. Minsc… YOU LIE” finishing in a roar the older man draws his blade and rushes Llothlian. Swiftly, and with a low thud, a dagger appears in the older mans throat.

“My son… he…he is… my… son” he mutters as he falls dead.

“Don’t worry old man, I know he is. But he is just as dead as you.”

Llothlian retrieves the object, and pulls out his dagger. Wiping the now red blade on the corpse, he draws in the True Power and creates a gateway.

“Really need to get this d**n collar off…” He mutters as he steps towards the gateway. Vaguely he heard voices follow him into the nothingness.

******

“He is dead! Call for help! It was Aes Sedia! I saw a gateway, but I didn’t feel anything! The Aes Sedia have attacked us! Get help, we march on the White Tower!” The guard who found the body bellowed.

[Llothlian]

PART THREE : Fanning the flames
Stepping out of a gateway was always a little disorientating. Your body did not like being in one place one moment, and another the next. Quickly taking in his surroundings Llothlian put the object back into his pocket, and sheathed his dagger. His Asha’man’s clothing would mark him as out of the ordinary in this place, but then, they did almost everywhere.

There were very few people in the corridor, just a servant, and two young girls, hurrying about their business. Even if there had been more dangerous people he would not have minded. The True Power still coursed through him, enhancing him, empowering him.

Setting off down the unfamiliar corridor Llothlian made sure he asked for directions, even though he had been told the way, and had it burned to memory by repeating it to himself. Some of the people he asked thought themselves dangerous, but when he addressed them, they backed away unconsciously.

The door that held his quarry lay unguarded in front of him. Opening it and stepping though he eased Celestial Fury in its leather scabbard.

“How many times have I told you Aliana, knock before entering my study!” The blue shawled women cursed as she turned. “Who? Who are you? An Asha’man, here? What do you want?” The woman had embraced the Source, Llothlian could feel the tingling sensation in his skin.

“I want nothing; and I want everything. Which do you possess to give?” He said slamming a block formed of the True Power between the woman and the Source. An expression of pure terror dawned on the woman’s face.

“I will tell you nothing! I shall not betray the Amyrlin! I am the Keeper of Chronicles for the White Tower! You shall not get away with this!”

“We have already gotten away with it fool.” Llothlian said as he channelled fire and air into an electrical storm concentrated on the Aes Sedia.

The Keeper screamed as she collapsed on the floor. The Asha’man discontinued his storm, instead placing an inverted weave of fire and spirit on the woman. “Good bye by dear, please die quietly.” Forming another gateway Llothlian stepped through away from the white room.

******

The two warders who had heard the scream raced along the corridor and into the study of the Keeper. She lay in a smouldering head on the floor. The first went over to the women, whilst the second searched the rooms for any sign of the intruder.

“It was… was an Asha’man.” The women said quietly as the warder approached. Kneeling beside the Aes Sedia the warder put his hands on her to move her into a comfortable position. Within his hands he felt a scorching heat erupt, as his hands, and the shoulders of the Aes Sedia began to burn. Slowly, painfully the flames spread under the skin of them both.

“Run, get help! You must tell them of the Asha’man! ARGH!” The burning man screamed at the other warder.

When help arrived all that was left were two small mounts of ash, a heat scorched sword, and an Asha’man’s dragon pin.

[Llothlian]

PART FOUR : The Plot Thickens

Llothlian exited the gateway into a small white tent with little decoration beyond a camp chair, a blanket role, and a painting with a golden sunburst over a red sickle.

“You’re early.” The white-cloaked man said.

“Do not presume to tell me when I should do anything, Questioner.” Llothlian spat. “You will do well to remember what I did last time you angered me. I believe your family still bares the scares.”

Anger flared up in the old man, but it was quickly suppressed. “How faired you in the Towers?”

“Everything goes to plan. Do not fail our Master again, Jaichim, He will not be so forgiving this time. Do not fail me either. You would not like being named the Darkfriend that you are in front of your comrades. What would they do to the High Inquisitor if he was found out?” Llothlian taunted.

“So they are ready for war? Then it is war we shall give them. Our sleeper agents will let us into Tar Valon tonight. The witches shall be dead before dusk. On this do I place my life.”

“More than your life rides on your success. They don’t call him the Lord of the Grave for nothing.” Llothlian chuckled as he open the gate that carried him away.

[Llothlian]

PART FIVE : A Path Chosen

Standing on the Skimming platform, his preferred means on transport when he was not in a rush, Llothlian suddenly became alert to tugging sensation in his mind. The feeling was trying to drag him to his right. Changing the direction Llothlian began to follow the direction of the feeling.

******

Demandred stepped out of the gateway in front of a large manor. Flanking him on either side were a pair of powerful Dreadlords, and trailing behind a small retinue of Myddraal.

“Surround the house, kill everybody except the target. Harm that one and you will wish that I had given you to the Master.” Demandred explained.

“As ordered, so shall we perform, Chosen.” The deathly voices of the Dreadlords came together.

“Move out, you heard him! Move!” The Fades began to fan out around the building. “My Lord, why are we here? Surely you did not bring 20 Myddraal out here for nothing. Pardon my asking, my Lord.”

“You will do as I tell you. You do not need to know why, just how. But, today I am feeling generous. We are here to capture The Renegade, Llothlian.” Demandred granted.

“But surely, my Lord, The Renegade would not be hiding here”

“Silence fool! Llothlian is not hiding anywhere. The moment you believe that, you are dead. That man is powerful enough to force the True Power from the Master against His will. That man bested me in the past. He is most likely are powerful as Moridin.”

Distantly screams could be heard emanating from the manor house.

“Then why…” The Dreadlord was cut off by an ear piecing screech. “No! What could possible kill a fade in a place like this?”

“That, my pathetic worm, is the target.”

Before the entrance to the court yard could be seen a knot of fighting. Black swords whirled. Occasionally another deathly scream pieced the night, like a knife to the ear. The melee was drawing closer to the small group of channelers.

“My Lord! How many are there? There must be a dozen Blade Masters!” Fear lined the mans voice.

“Ha! You are a fool aren’t you. There is only one. Do you really think your pathetic Halfmen could defeat somebody I personally went after?”

A whirl of Naginata could now be seen within the milling mass of Fades. There numbers had halved by now.

“Enough!” Demandred cried, and the heavens erupted lightning. The Myrddraal were thrown away, and the lone figure in the centre froze, as if the air had turned to stone around her. “Now you will tell me…”

******

He could almost feel whatever it was pulling him in front of him now. Stopping the platform he stepped into the real world. Llothlian stepped into the remains of a corpse. Half a corpse. Turning round he sees the other half of the man the other side of his gateway.

“NO!” Llothlian exclaimed “I did not leave you bound on the slopes of Shayul Ghal for you to come back now!”

“Just on time. Thank you for killing that fellow, he was starting to irritate me.” Demandred thanked. “No, put away your sword. You will want to see something before you start anything stupid. Behold!” Pointing at White Fox.

“She can take care of herself! There are only 6 Fades against her.” Llothlian roared as he sliced the weaves holding White Fox. Instantly she regained her poise and leaped at the remaining Halfmen. Swinging Celestial Fury at the Chosen Llothlian was thrown backwards by a huge blast of Air. Whilst in the air Llothlian charged and fired Balefire at the other man. Demandred created something which Llothlian had never seen before. A bubble appeared around him, and the Balefire seems to slide around its surface, hitting the man to the other side. There was a moment when the Dreadlord seemed to become translucent before he vanished completely.

White Fox was in mortal combat with the remaining fades. Her strength was draining quickly. Fifteen down, only five left. On the verge of collapse White Fox launched herself to the floor, slicing through the legs of one of the shadow spawn, up into the guts of a second, and beheading a third all in one swift movement.

Llothlian was now engaged in a fierce battle with the Forsaken to sever his opponent. To the casual onlooker it would look as if they were not doing anything.

White Fox had finally finished the Fades and rushed to help her friend. The two of them appeared glaring at each other. She knew enough about the power that this was not all they were doing. Sneaking up to Demandred she pulled out her belt dagger and held him from behind, knife piercing his flesh.

“Release the Source, and perhaps…” She was cut short but the sword from one of the incapacitated Fades being thrown deep into her side.

Taking advantage of the momentary lapse Llothlian threw the shield onto his enemy.

“No! Not again!” Terror crossed his face as he activated a ter’angreal to open a gateway and jump through.

Rushing to White Fox, Llothlian pulled out the sword, and performed Dark Healing on her. For what seemed like an eternity she thrashed about, screaming. Eventually she quietened.

“Take this damned collar of me, then lets go! Some of those Fades are still alive.” The Gateway he opened seemed to be much blacker than any White Fox had seen previously.

[Llothlian]

PART SIX : A Guide

The pair stood in the centre of a raging maelstrom of wind. The wind spoke in many hundreds of voices.

"Blood. Blood so fine. Blood so fine must feast. Feast with us, feast on us. Feast on all the lovely blood. Rending flesh from bones, eats the lovely marrow. Marrow so sweat..."

On and on the voices went.

“The Black Wind! Machin Shin will consume us! Llothlian! Listen to me! We have to flee!” White Fox cried! Llothlian was not listening. He stood, arms outstretched, glowing with the newly restored One Power within him.

“Blood! Man blood, Trolloc blood. Blood so tasty, so tasty must drink the blood.” Abruptly the voices all ceased, yet the wind remained. “Brother.” the word came from everywhere at once and from nowhere. “You have returned, brother.”

“Guide us to the camp, my Brother” Llothlian ordered.

[A Wind Rose]

Great story, just be careful of plagarizing names from Baldur's Gate II: Shadows of Amn. "Minsc and Boo stand ready." Try and make the names original. I had never heard of Llothlian before I visited the site, that was great, just take some common names and add or take out letters. For example Ishamael is Ishmael with an "a" added in, whose name was featured in Moby Dick, the Bible, etc.

For more on names visit:
http://www.linuxmafia.com/jordan/3_sources/3.01_bible.html

or the other pages on Sources of Information.

I love the copying of Machin Shin, but in the books it keeps it leads itself into it's next cruelty usually: "...skin so fine, so fine to strip the skin, to plait the skin..." I might be nitpicking, but try to keep it together:

" 'Blood. Blood so fine. Blood so fine must feast. Feast with us, feast on us. Feast on all the lovely blood. Rending flesh from bones, eats the lovely marrow. Marrow so sweat...' "

The first part is good, blood to feast to feasting on blood, etc. but don't jump from feasting to rending flesh. Say something like "...blood from flesh so soft, flesh so soft to tear, bones so hard to break the bones, marrow so sweet, so sweet the marrow, to eat the marrow, feast on marrow, so sweet the blood..." etc.

You are great at keeping the story moving, but it doesn't have to be action all the time...take the time to develope characters, make them dynamic, full of love and hate, life and death. Suck the reader into the story. Make the reader FEEL the deaths of the characters. An example of this was Harry Potter when *spoiler* Sirius died. It doesn't have to cause the reader to weep, it just needs to cause him/her to feel the death. Be angered, have the reader say, "Man that sucks. I wish Sirius had lived. He was my favorite character."

Other than that it all looks good. Just try to make it flow, and don't chop sentences off.

[Llothlian]

Thanks for the feedback! It is part of an RP I made, and almost all the other characters in it are Aes Sedai and do nothing but "develop character"... So I thought I needed to make my posts most full of action so the RP didnt grow boring... :)

Anyway, thanks for the tips! here is the next installment!

PART SEVEN : A Weave Forms

It took Llothlian several hours to reach his camp hidden in the ways. Looking around the camp he saw that his work in the Blight had come to fruition. In his absence hundreds of his specially designed fists had arrived. A standard fist consists of around 100 trollocs, often led by a Myddraal. One of the fists Llothlian had designed consisted of exactly 100 trollocs, a Dreadlord to lead, two Myddraal to guard the Dreadlord, and 2 Draghkar to scout and provide aerial support. Many of his Dreadlords still bore the emblems of their previous lives, the Great Serpent rings, and the Asha’mans dragon pins.

“You must go to your tent now WhiteFox. It is not safe for you here.” He told WhiteFox

“If its safe for you, its safe for me!”

“Look, you will do as I say here. It is for your own protection. I have certain… advantages that you do not.” As if on command Llothlian erupted with flame. “See. Advantages.” Signalling to the nearest Fade “Show her to suitable accommodations. She is not a plaything, she is not to be harmed.”

After giving his orders Llothlian walking into the largest tent in the centre of the camp. Inside were thirteen Aes Sedai bound and shielded, and thirteen Children of the Light bound and gagged.

“Leave.” Llothlian commanded the Myddraal guards. He addressed the Aes Sedai “So, my pets had their fun then.” Several of the Aes Sedai were naked and had obviously been ravaged to within an inch of their lives.

“You bastard, you will…” One of the women began.

“Silence” Llothlian’s voice echoed within the confined space, seeming to die down, then returning as loud as ever. “Let us begin.”

Sitting down cross-legged in the centre of the room, Llothlian drew a circle in chalk around him. Embracing the One Power, Llothlian drew it in until he was sure he should have been burned to a crisp. Just on the border of becoming fatal, he stopped.

“ARGH!!” Llothlian was vaguely aware that he was screaming. Even with so much of the power surging through him, being him, he could still feel the agonising pain. Distantly he was sure that nobody had ever held as much of the Source. The thought slipped away with the torrent of pain and power.

Slowly the weaves began to take on a life of their own. They morphed and altered against Llothlian’s will. The weaves had become an organic being. Slowly, aganisingly, they forced themselves out of Llothlian’s grip. When they were completely free they began to alter at an incredible rate. What started out as a group of weaves the width of an arm was now the width of a large tree. They were still growing.

The pain had now grown into a sort of ecstasy. He no longer found himself screaming, but laughing at what this… being he had created could do. It was now so complex that he didn’t think that the whole of the White Tower could replicate it.

The air in the tent had begun to shimmer, with the ground around his circle glowing. The glow was spreading outwards. As that glow spread onto the ground underneath one of the prisoners the weave drove itself into that person. Drove itself into, and became a part of. Each person that was absorbed began to spasm, backs arching. They were forced onto the heels of their feet and the tops of their head, until their backs broke.

The weave had now picked Llothlian up and he slowly rotated, his arms and legs spread, his head held back. Light emanated from his eyes, his finger tips and his feet. Soon he was hidden inside a light brighter than all the stars.

The entire tent was now aflame. The very air burned. As the last of the prisoners died the weave exploded. Emptyness. The last thought that Llothlian had before he fell unconscious was “No! It cant have failed!” Emptyness.

******

For a moment the entire world seemed to stop. Time itself lurched. Eamon Valda felt something pass over him. Or pass through him. He was not sure which.

The next instant time dragged itself back on track.

Eamon Valda felt himself drap to the floor before he realized what had happened. The Aes Sedai who was holding him with the Power had turned and left. In the distance he heard the sounds of a riot starting.

******

As the weave swept across the earth riots sprang up in its wake. Brother turned against brother, and alliances as strong as time itself crumbled to dust. None of the major cities of the world escaped. The entire earth sprang into war in the space of one heart beat.

[Llothlian]

PART EIGHT : Flickers of Truth

“What have I done?!” Llothlian shouted as he stood in a green meadow of rolling hills. He had just destroyed the world. Or set the events in motion to destroy the world. Hearing a scream behind him, Llothlian quickly turned, sword drawn. A hundred yards up the meadow the ground is scorched, the trees dead, and the last remnants of a battle are just being fought. Bodies’ lay everywhere.

“We have performed the New Lords work. They MUST be freed from the oppression of the domain of the Light.” He answered his own question.

“But this is not the way!” Shouting again “This is never the way!” Kneeling in the grass he began to laugh. Half of him laughed. Half of him wept for the Light to save him.

Flicker

Standing with the last of his men he faced the Dark Horde. He must hold them until the reinforcements arrived. One hundred and fifty men again fifty thousand trollocs. Impossible that they would survive the charge, but they must.

“Forward! Forward the Red Eagle!” He screamed. “Today we prove what a thorn we are!” Digging his heels into his mount, he led the final charge against the Dark Ones minions.

Flicker

The blackness came again. Always when he needed it the most the blackness took him. The Aes Sedai would catch him soon. They had been hunting him and his band for weeks. The Myddraal had wanted to leave without him, but he would not allow that. He had bound them to him. They could not move more than a few spans from him now. While he lived anyway.

They encountered another small group of men. With his One Power, and the Fades blades, they did not prove much of a threat. In the blackness and the battle frenzy he had lost all control. He had destroyed his last remaining Halfmen.

A group of Aes Sedai topped the next rise. Two circles of thirteen of the pathetic women. Weaving… something… he could not think when the blackness took him, he incinerated the first group, just as the second shielded him from the True Source.

Llothlian would not be taken like this! Drawing his belt knife he thrust the blade between his own ribs and into his heart.

Flicker

He lived.

Flicker

He died.

Flicker Flicker Flicker Flicker

He served, he ruled, he submitted, he conquered, he destroyed, he died in his bed, he died in battle, he was taken by Aes Sedai, he destroyed the Tower, He destroyed the Dark, he embraced its power. He WAS the Dark.

Millions of lives flashed before him. Somehow he knew he was each of those people. HE had done those things before.

Flicker Flicker Flicker Flicker Flicker Flicker Flicker Flicker Flicker Flicker Flicker Flicker Flicker Flicker Flicker Flicker Flicker Flicker Flicker Flicker Flicker Flicker Flicker Flicker

“NOOOOOOO”

Flicker Flicker Flicker Flicker Flicker Flicker Flicker Flicker Flicker Flicker Flicker Flicker Flicker Flicker Flicker Flicker Flicker Flicker Flicker Flicker Flicker Flicker Flicker Flicker

******

Standing up in the tent Llothlian remembered each of the lives he had lived in the past. Infinite knowledge had been gifted to him in these memories. All around him the dead and broken bodies of Aes Sedai and Whitecloaks lay. Throwing back the doorway of the tent he stepped out to set the next stage of his plan in motion…

[Tamuril]

Very nice. I like! :) I think you should start adding me in there somewhere, since techinally we're bonded....and converse with me, I'll let you know more about me! :whip:

[Llothlian]

:omg: Wow, its been a long time since I wrote this! Maybe I'll write some more to it sometime!

[Llothlian]

Ewww, yeah, that first chapter really does need rewriting, it sucks... :D