The World of Layonara

Character Development => Development Journals and Discussion => Topic started by: Ravemore on December 07, 2013, 12:24:32 AM

Title: Bartholomew Creyton II - Bringing Light to The Darkness
Post by: Ravemore on December 07, 2013, 12:24:32 AM

*Penned during a Toranite campaign into the Gloom Woods*Bartholomew sat and leaned against a rock. His shield and mace laid next to him within arm’s reach. He wiped the sweat, blood, and grime from his face and arms with a cloth wetted with cool water. The other members of his company were milling about the small camp. Sentries were being set, a charcoal fire lit, and cooking gear pulled out of containers. The body of a fallen companion was strapped across the back of a nearby horse. Prayers and holy water had been used to prevent the body from animating in this foul place. The few words spoken in the camp were in low tones… hushed voices from veteran soldiers.After cleaning up he pulled out a small sheaf of paper and began writing a letter to his parents, not knowing if he would make it back to Fort Vehl to mail it:Mother and Father,I hope all is well at home. The battles go well, and Toran is with me always. I love you both and hope to be home within a fortnight to visit.-BartFlipping to a new clean sheet he continued to write:Alaric,The battles are fierce. The dead that walk seem to have no end. The more we cleanse and remove from this world, the more we find. They do not discriminate... they kill anything they can touch. The Light of Toran sustains me and gives me strength. The innocent in the towns and cities hear stories of the bad things out in the world, but truth be told, they know nothing of the reality of the situation. We are a wall that stands between them and terrible death, and they do not even realize it. The campaign will continue for another week, and with the strength of Toran we will prevail. We must.-Bartholomew Creyton II

Title: Nine Toranite Paladins
Post by: Ravemore on December 07, 2013, 01:29:58 AM

Nine Toranite Paladins advanced in an inverted "V" formation, Bartholomew following in the void to support. They had been tracking the shambling ruts in the loamy forest floor for close to three hours. The point man was less than 15 feet ahead of him. A sound similar to a cracking branch echoed through the trees and brush... quickly and with the fluid motion that only years of martial practice can show they rotated the formation to the direction of the sound and reformed into a phalanx and moved forward. As the military unit pushed through the thick brush Bartholomew’s heart became heavy at the sight. Nearly two dozen zombies were milling about. The remains of a battered gypsy wagon lay on its side and the unfortunate family was strewn about the clearing. It was obvious they were dead. Bartholomew was sickened as he realized the sound of a “breaking branch” they heard was actually several of the walking corpses gnawing and chewing on their victims.

The battle was short and efficient. The hatred Bartholomew was developing for these creatures lent him strength and resolve. He crushed bone and limb, uttering prayers to Toran, infusing his brethren with strength and divine protections.