- Joined
- Jan 13, 2018
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- 48
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Not long after the Hunt had been declared, the recently controversial Caius worshipper would be spotted in the same inn that the Silven was in, clearly distinguishable by the clothes the shirt he wore: red with specks of orange, reminiscent of a burning fire. They seemed to be looking for something, someone, though at spotting a nearby pamphlet, their search would cease. For a long minute, the worshiper sat down in deliberation, reading it as the locals began gathering about him, none subtle about their curiosity. It was only at striking the table that the locals would all take one cautious step back, and the man in question rose to speak.
It is not often that the rabbit jumps into the fireplace, especially one that just yesterday, had to rely on the interference of two others to drive me away.
The worshiper looks with his one eye through the locals present, a grimace of genuine pain and anger over his face. Despite his apparent youth, scars that could only have been collected through decades betrayed a life of service.
But tell me, locals of the Holy City. For how long have you had to endure the ceaseless squabble of the Void and the Exist? And in their feud, what has become of Aloria? Nothing but a battlefield for Alien Gods to fight their petty battles, with no regards to the people they see as merely pawns and soldiers. But no more!"
It happened so naturally. As if in the span of one second, the Qaarnite had gone from mumbling to whoever would listen in a bar, to standing on top of a table, delivering oratory to the increasingly larger crowd.
"No more will the people of this world be caught in the crossfire between dimensions. We will no longer accept the standards from Silven of 'Justice' who are themselves Demonologists! From now on, the people of Aloria will be the ones to decide their own justice!"
The Qaarnite then drew his sword, which was… Nothing special. It was made of mundane steel: no runes adorned it, and certainly no god or anyone special wielded it before him.
I, Auradus Itor, confess to having assaulted this Silven yesterday, but I also confess the far worse crime of having let it flee! And now, with nothing but mundane steel, I vow to bring this Demonologist to heel, and rid them of the vile demon-weapon that has enthralled their mind. Down with the tyranny of the dimensions, praise the world we ourselves live in! Aloria Rises! ALORIA RISES!
Soon after, Itor would leave the bar to resume his hunt, but his presence hadn't gone unfelt. Quickly, word of his monologue began to spread around the city, growing like wildfire as transcripts of the speech would start to appear on the common boards. The worshiper had not only accepted the Silven's challenge, but welcomed anyone else to come challenge him and his old, rusty, mundane sword.
It is not often that the rabbit jumps into the fireplace, especially one that just yesterday, had to rely on the interference of two others to drive me away.
The worshiper looks with his one eye through the locals present, a grimace of genuine pain and anger over his face. Despite his apparent youth, scars that could only have been collected through decades betrayed a life of service.
But tell me, locals of the Holy City. For how long have you had to endure the ceaseless squabble of the Void and the Exist? And in their feud, what has become of Aloria? Nothing but a battlefield for Alien Gods to fight their petty battles, with no regards to the people they see as merely pawns and soldiers. But no more!"
It happened so naturally. As if in the span of one second, the Qaarnite had gone from mumbling to whoever would listen in a bar, to standing on top of a table, delivering oratory to the increasingly larger crowd.
"No more will the people of this world be caught in the crossfire between dimensions. We will no longer accept the standards from Silven of 'Justice' who are themselves Demonologists! From now on, the people of Aloria will be the ones to decide their own justice!"
The Qaarnite then drew his sword, which was… Nothing special. It was made of mundane steel: no runes adorned it, and certainly no god or anyone special wielded it before him.
I, Auradus Itor, confess to having assaulted this Silven yesterday, but I also confess the far worse crime of having let it flee! And now, with nothing but mundane steel, I vow to bring this Demonologist to heel, and rid them of the vile demon-weapon that has enthralled their mind. Down with the tyranny of the dimensions, praise the world we ourselves live in! Aloria Rises! ALORIA RISES!
Soon after, Itor would leave the bar to resume his hunt, but his presence hadn't gone unfelt. Quickly, word of his monologue began to spread around the city, growing like wildfire as transcripts of the speech would start to appear on the common boards. The worshiper had not only accepted the Silven's challenge, but welcomed anyone else to come challenge him and his old, rusty, mundane sword.
