*Patrick wipes the pork grease off his hands as he prepares to write a note, he selects the most pristine ivory dove feather from his collection, dips the tip in a vial of blue dye and furiously scribbles the message as follows*
Alas, I have barely served my third fortnight under the sword of Winchester and in this time that has elapsed I have participated in more useless squabbling on the battlefield than comes to pass in my clerical wake. I see now that you aren't the people you dress up as. That big brute club must be tiring, lay it down to rest, Winchester will forgive you! Your people seek to give goods to those we protect? Fine and dandy! Do it from the safety and approval of Lord British! Seek pardon and walk the streets free to adorn whomever in whatever! Your acts of brigandry certainly don't reflect a fair image of what is inside your hearts do they? Under all that war torn armor you're just another lovable citizen like Balu or Bruton aren't you? Have you ever spent your existence in the swamps? Among the decay and mosses, death churning in murky pools containing the hidden gift of life. Have you ever had to return home short of the head quota desperately trying to figure out how to offer your own whilst continuing to serve your dark duties? Heed my cry members of the outlandish Exorsus Nox,deaths will not bring you any closer to the peace you seek, ye need not fight the battles of many a pirate past. Come under the looking glass of Winchester, he will see you fit!
~Patrick Lance~ Deacon OoL
Pointless Bloodshed
Moderator: RP Moderators
- Darian Darkmind
- Posts: 2568
- Joined: Thu Nov 27, 2008 3:58 pm
Re: Pointless Bloodshed
A small tattered letter is left in Patrick Lance's house.
Your words bring a tear to my eye. A tear of laughter. It is not peace we seek... no, it is the heat of battle, the sound of sword and spears clashing against each other, the taste of blood squirting from your veins and the smell of your rotten corpses left decay in the swamp. It is the thrill of challenging death itself that drive us forward to glory.
You, Patrick Lance, once a priest of darkness should know this...
... and it is you who should stop fighting against your own nature.
Your words bring a tear to my eye. A tear of laughter. It is not peace we seek... no, it is the heat of battle, the sound of sword and spears clashing against each other, the taste of blood squirting from your veins and the smell of your rotten corpses left decay in the swamp. It is the thrill of challenging death itself that drive us forward to glory.
You, Patrick Lance, once a priest of darkness should know this...
... and it is you who should stop fighting against your own nature.