From: moneyblade@aol.com (MoneyBlade)
Date: 01 Jun 1998 20:38:07 EDT
Roland stood in the empty arena, gazing down at his newly crafted banner. His thoughts drifted as he peered down at the honor shield, which was to be his mark onto the arena's wall. He'd nearly forgotton of his right to place his family name among the other greats abound to the arena's wall.
The shield was an odd, darkened steel-like color and could be held easily in the elf's grasp. Apon the front of the skillfully crafted shield was a single blade, a crimson colored serpant stretched and coiled along the blade's shaft. The blade itself appeared to be a rapier, simular to the one he now weilds, The Salsinger, and was tinted with a dark green hue.
The mercenary smiled as he ran a finger down the delicate shield, his thoughts returning to him as he glanced up for a spot on the wall. His bright green eyes rested on an open spot between two notable family names, his smile widened at such luck. "Perfect," he remarked with a satisfied grin.
Taking the shield in both hands he made his way over to the wall, careful not to smudge the surface of the spotless shield. Roland stepped up onto a table, spreading his legs shoulder length to keep his balance. He settled the shield onto the table bellow him as he grabbed for a nail. Rising again he placed the long, thick nail into a statigic position between the previously selected banners. With his free hand he quickly drew his
blade, hammering the nail into the wall with the decrative, but very durable hilt. Sheathing the Salsinger again he nodded, peering at the wall for a moment.
Quickly grabbing up the shield her raised it above his head and spoke to the empty room. "I, Roland Salsinger, by right of Baronhood place my family's crest among those honored here within the rings. May the sight bring honor and courage to those who gaze apon it." Taking a deep breath he settled the shield apon the sturdy nail, a crooked smile creeping up on his lips as he stepped back to admire his handywork once more. The heel of
his boot resting just over the edge of the table, yet he remained steady an unwavering, his balance holding as he dropped back off of the table. Landing on his feet he dusted off his hands, his crimson colored gloves batting together in a flourish of sand and dust.
Roland spun on his heel and whirled around to face the door, strolling out of the arena with a smile for the first time in a month. A proud look to his features as he peered at a few passer-bys. Nodding to a few as they seemed to recognize him, offering each a smile as he went off in search of the only happiness in his life, Riley.
Banner of Baronhood ( Roland )
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From: iliveinphx@aol.com (ILiveinPHX)
Date: 02 Jun 1998 03:18:24 EDT
:::walks up to banner:::
:::Looks at it and grows stronger and more confident. Sees Roland at the edge of the corner and walks to him:::
-Anon (not PHX)
Date: 02 Jun 1998 03:18:24 EDT
:::walks up to banner:::
:::Looks at it and grows stronger and more confident. Sees Roland at the edge of the corner and walks to him:::
-Anon (not PHX)
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From: dueier@aol.com (DueIer)
Date: 02 Jun 1998 12:48:31 EDT
The Baron had lived without name, without family for as long as he could remember. And it never bothered him seeing those enjoying their time together with their family. But when it came the mercenary displaying his family's crest, a man who he had thought without family, he began to become a little more worried.
Am I that strange to be without name, without family? Even the shadiest mercenary does not forget his heritage.........
The Baron looked again at the the other Baron's crest, emblazened on the shield.
Should I look for my own family? How would they know me? Or I them?
The Baron kicked at the arena sands beneath his feet. He had no options. A man without name, without heritage, without anyone. Was his life really worth anything? Was it right for a true no one to be holding on to a title that belonged to those that actually had a history, a heritage?
The Baron shook his head and walked away, noticing a note in his mailbox as he was about to stroll out. Upon opening it, he shook his head and right away wrote a short response. Upon finishing, he went back to the arena and slumped in a chair, wondering about himself, the other Barons, and the DoS as a whole.
He was waiting for nothing, and nothing was what he got.
Date: 02 Jun 1998 12:48:31 EDT
The Baron had lived without name, without family for as long as he could remember. And it never bothered him seeing those enjoying their time together with their family. But when it came the mercenary displaying his family's crest, a man who he had thought without family, he began to become a little more worried.
Am I that strange to be without name, without family? Even the shadiest mercenary does not forget his heritage.........
The Baron looked again at the the other Baron's crest, emblazened on the shield.
Should I look for my own family? How would they know me? Or I them?
The Baron kicked at the arena sands beneath his feet. He had no options. A man without name, without heritage, without anyone. Was his life really worth anything? Was it right for a true no one to be holding on to a title that belonged to those that actually had a history, a heritage?
The Baron shook his head and walked away, noticing a note in his mailbox as he was about to stroll out. Upon opening it, he shook his head and right away wrote a short response. Upon finishing, he went back to the arena and slumped in a chair, wondering about himself, the other Barons, and the DoS as a whole.
He was waiting for nothing, and nothing was what he got.
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From: ixdaelinxi@aol.com (IXDaelinXI)
Date: 03 Jun 1998 10:11:04 EDT
Upon reaching the inner city structure of RhyDin and the arena from his home, the
Castle Dragonsblade, outside the city, Daelin peered quizically at the banner of the Salsinger and gazed at it quietly for moments. A million thoughts flew through his head Roland has a family?
Strange; Great, but strange all the same.
He gazed at the banner once again and was about to trace his fingers lightly over the shield but gazing at it's spotless sheen decided not to. Stepping back and saluting the crest in honor he turned to the stairs and the door, proud to be a dueler, and proud to be have a family, the Dragonsblades
Date: 03 Jun 1998 10:11:04 EDT
Upon reaching the inner city structure of RhyDin and the arena from his home, the
Castle Dragonsblade, outside the city, Daelin peered quizically at the banner of the Salsinger and gazed at it quietly for moments. A million thoughts flew through his head Roland has a family?
Strange; Great, but strange all the same.
He gazed at the banner once again and was about to trace his fingers lightly over the shield but gazing at it's spotless sheen decided not to. Stepping back and saluting the crest in honor he turned to the stairs and the door, proud to be a dueler, and proud to be have a family, the Dragonsblades
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From: jonalyn@aol.com (Jonalyn)
Date: 03 Jun 1998 18:56:07 EDT
The commoner gazed upon the odd, darkened steel-like colored shield escutcheon to grace the wall. She gazed thoughtfully upon the shield, a slight smile quirking at her lips. The commoner recognized the etching upon the skillfully crafted shield, the blade, the Salsinger. They had oft spoken of the honor of the title he now bore, as well as the burden the ring carried.
His pledge given, she would remember, as would the spirit which the blade itself embodied. The commoner, alone in the arena, only the stones to her her soft whisper, murmured "May thee stand strong in 'onor, Roland Salsinger, Baron 'o th' twelfth ring, father 'o Riley, for thee shall surely face both triumph an' adversity. Tis in th' face 'o adversity th' spirit needs mus' guide thee."
Her quiet gaze swept across the ancient banners, tapestries and escutcheons, pausing as always upon that of Redwin then upon the empty place where once the banner of Abbemeer was displayed. She quietly vanished to wander in the calm of the evening.
Date: 03 Jun 1998 18:56:07 EDT
The commoner gazed upon the odd, darkened steel-like colored shield escutcheon to grace the wall. She gazed thoughtfully upon the shield, a slight smile quirking at her lips. The commoner recognized the etching upon the skillfully crafted shield, the blade, the Salsinger. They had oft spoken of the honor of the title he now bore, as well as the burden the ring carried.
His pledge given, she would remember, as would the spirit which the blade itself embodied. The commoner, alone in the arena, only the stones to her her soft whisper, murmured "May thee stand strong in 'onor, Roland Salsinger, Baron 'o th' twelfth ring, father 'o Riley, for thee shall surely face both triumph an' adversity. Tis in th' face 'o adversity th' spirit needs mus' guide thee."
Her quiet gaze swept across the ancient banners, tapestries and escutcheons, pausing as always upon that of Redwin then upon the empty place where once the banner of Abbemeer was displayed. She quietly vanished to wander in the calm of the evening.
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From: baphelocl@aol.com (Bapheloc L)
Date: 03 Jun 1998 19:39:41 EDT
He was strolling through the Arena checking out the latest missives posted and his dueler's mailbox, when he turned and something caught his eye. Along the wall where banners, crests, and shields of the titled warriors of DoS hang he thought he saw something very familiar. Turning he walked to the wall and peered at the new shield which hung in the spot that was once empty and had been the place where another
banner once hung.
"Slightly green blade..."
"...red dragon wrapped about the blade..."
"...thank Ixion there isn't a white rose as well."
For a moment he thought the Welsh Highlander had returned to DoS and claimed his old spot on the wall of honor. He heard that he was dead, but with that one you never knew where he would pop up again. He wondered though who as well had the crest similiar to that of Ecore. Shrugging he moved on absently wondering at the crest that now hung in the place of where another's once did.
Honor to thyself, Respect to others,
Baphelocutis est Lathadoscia
::sealed in wax by the signet ring stamp of the royal family Lathadoscia::
Date: 03 Jun 1998 19:39:41 EDT
He was strolling through the Arena checking out the latest missives posted and his dueler's mailbox, when he turned and something caught his eye. Along the wall where banners, crests, and shields of the titled warriors of DoS hang he thought he saw something very familiar. Turning he walked to the wall and peered at the new shield which hung in the spot that was once empty and had been the place where another
banner once hung.
"Slightly green blade..."
"...red dragon wrapped about the blade..."
"...thank Ixion there isn't a white rose as well."
For a moment he thought the Welsh Highlander had returned to DoS and claimed his old spot on the wall of honor. He heard that he was dead, but with that one you never knew where he would pop up again. He wondered though who as well had the crest similiar to that of Ecore. Shrugging he moved on absently wondering at the crest that now hung in the place of where another's once did.
Honor to thyself, Respect to others,
Baphelocutis est Lathadoscia
::sealed in wax by the signet ring stamp of the royal family Lathadoscia::
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From: andursal@aol.com (Andur Sal)
Date: 13 Jun 1998 17:35:12 EDT
Andur entered the Arena for the first time ever, the eastern sun shone bright over head. Noontime, the elven noble thought as he glanced upward. A slight smile passed over his thin lips as he peered into the large duelists arena. The small serving children were busy preparing the rings for that nights festivities.
His boots barely making a sound against the stone steps as he stepped into the large dueling house. The few people he had located within the fringe had told him of his father's whereabouts, or atleast his whereabouts a few nights ago. Andur sighed as he swept his perceptive gaze across the arena.
A young serving lad stepped up to him, his eyes widened as he gazed up at the tall figure. The young noble furrowed his brow in slight confusion as he peered down at the lad. "Something wrong, child?" he asked, his voice low yet carrying a sense of relief to the young lad.
"Yessir, ye cut yer hair, Baron!" Marcus announced as he pointed up to the elven's close cut white hair. A slight grin on the childs face as he pointed then to the elven's attire. "You gots new clothes too!"
The noble quirked a brow as he glanced down to his loose fitting white shirt and comfortable navy blue slacks with a single military stripe of gold running along his left leg. Andur brought his gaze back to the lad with a quizical look. "Excuse me, child?"
Marcus frowned and quietly spoke up, afraid he had done something wrong, "You'r nae Baron Sal Roa?"
Sal Roa? Jackpot. The noble grinned, peering down at the boy. "No, I'm not... but I am looking for him. You know of Roland Sal Roa then?"
The boy nodded and grinned, happy to have gotten something right. "Yessir, he's gotsa gal named Riley... she's a pirate." At that, Andur chuckled. "Roland is her pop."
The elven noble blinked, then blinked again. "Indeed...?"
The child nodded and confessed, "I dunno where he sleeps or anything, but they do"
An almost confused look, his tone questioning, "they...?"
"Yup, the duelers, most of'em no him... 'specially the ladies." the child giggled at that.
"Ah, I see... and they will be about later then?"
"Yessir," the child reached out to tap the hilt of the noble's blade, "gonna duel wit' tha'?"
"Perhaps..." the noble batted the childs hand away almost gently. "when do the rings open, child?"
Marcus pouted at his failure to see the blade, but replied anyway. "When the sun go down sirrah."
Andur nodded with a slight smile, digging into his large pants pocket for a few coins. "Thank you for the information, child," he flipped the serving lad a few coins as he turned to the door. Striding out much like he came...
Date: 13 Jun 1998 17:35:12 EDT
Andur entered the Arena for the first time ever, the eastern sun shone bright over head. Noontime, the elven noble thought as he glanced upward. A slight smile passed over his thin lips as he peered into the large duelists arena. The small serving children were busy preparing the rings for that nights festivities.
His boots barely making a sound against the stone steps as he stepped into the large dueling house. The few people he had located within the fringe had told him of his father's whereabouts, or atleast his whereabouts a few nights ago. Andur sighed as he swept his perceptive gaze across the arena.
A young serving lad stepped up to him, his eyes widened as he gazed up at the tall figure. The young noble furrowed his brow in slight confusion as he peered down at the lad. "Something wrong, child?" he asked, his voice low yet carrying a sense of relief to the young lad.
"Yessir, ye cut yer hair, Baron!" Marcus announced as he pointed up to the elven's close cut white hair. A slight grin on the childs face as he pointed then to the elven's attire. "You gots new clothes too!"
The noble quirked a brow as he glanced down to his loose fitting white shirt and comfortable navy blue slacks with a single military stripe of gold running along his left leg. Andur brought his gaze back to the lad with a quizical look. "Excuse me, child?"
Marcus frowned and quietly spoke up, afraid he had done something wrong, "You'r nae Baron Sal Roa?"
Sal Roa? Jackpot. The noble grinned, peering down at the boy. "No, I'm not... but I am looking for him. You know of Roland Sal Roa then?"
The boy nodded and grinned, happy to have gotten something right. "Yessir, he's gotsa gal named Riley... she's a pirate." At that, Andur chuckled. "Roland is her pop."
The elven noble blinked, then blinked again. "Indeed...?"
The child nodded and confessed, "I dunno where he sleeps or anything, but they do"
An almost confused look, his tone questioning, "they...?"
"Yup, the duelers, most of'em no him... 'specially the ladies." the child giggled at that.
"Ah, I see... and they will be about later then?"
"Yessir," the child reached out to tap the hilt of the noble's blade, "gonna duel wit' tha'?"
"Perhaps..." the noble batted the childs hand away almost gently. "when do the rings open, child?"
Marcus pouted at his failure to see the blade, but replied anyway. "When the sun go down sirrah."
Andur nodded with a slight smile, digging into his large pants pocket for a few coins. "Thank you for the information, child," he flipped the serving lad a few coins as he turned to the door. Striding out much like he came...