Discord
Changelog
12-02-2015, 08:46 AM
Eleven years later.. Tyrael was now 21 years of age. His times of doing nothing but physical labors to make coin to live on his own had gotten him to a stocky, much more powerful frame. For the past 11 years he has been training with a longsword in his past time, as well as exercising as regularly as he could.
Tyrael loomed heavily over his pint of ale in the middle of the Drunken Naga. He stared down into the middle of the large drink in his hand, clenching his fingers around the handle for a few moments. The sounds of drunken idiots and shady dealings loomed behind him.
He had just finished moving in furniture for another house owner, one of the larger houses near the old mulhorandi tower. He had sighed, a fresh sack of coins was attached to his belt.
"Whataya say we get ourselves a round, ey?! The job got us some good pay." A nasal voice behind him was rather irritating. A small round of agreements was also heard behind him.
Tyrael piped up, sitting up straight as his fist clenched, and he slowly uncurled his fingers from the handle of his ale to stand up. He then turned around and looked at the group of men behind him. He had never saw the faces of the men, but he remembered their voices. It was embedded into his memory, voices that haunted him these past 11 years.
"That's ah.. hefty load of coin ya' got there." The nasal voiced man gestured at his belt. He was tall, slim with a scar under his chin, and long shaggy brown hair.
Tyrael then looked around the other three men present, and studied each of them. One elf, looking about five feet tall. A half-orc that seemed to be the stocky build of the company, and another elf.
The four men stared holes into Tyrael as he looked between them. Then the firelight shined as the elf flashed his dagger, the clearly enchanted metal shining as they all stared expectantly at Tyrael.
Tyrael had no armor on, but he had his sword crossed diagnolly along his back. Tyrael had only smirked then and he then gestured at the door.
"If you four want to talk business~, we can go outside." Tyrael had only confidently replied.
The four assassins looked between each other. The rough, rugged men quite obviously confused but they ended up chuckling and nodding up and down.
"Yeah.. Let's do that." They said.
Tyrael more than happily walked into the nasal man and bumped his large frame into the tall, slim frame, making him grunt out as he stumbled to the side a little bit. Tyrael smirked as he walked right out the door, hearing a growl behind him as he heard the armored boots tread behind him with much more of a purpose.
They walked out of the naga and past the cliffs, near that hot springs bar along the cliffs.
Tyrael halted and drew his sword, the other men walking confidently behind him, clearly not expecting Tyrael to stop his march forward as he immediately drew his sword and swung behind him. He had hit one of the elves right along the forehead, smirking as the scalp of the elf slowly slid off of his head and to the sand. He looked to the ground, Tyrael backing up five or so feet as the other men immediately drew their blades and got into a combat stance.
They stayed their distance at first, Tyrael looking to see a small sliver of the elf's brain had fallen into the sand with that scalp.
The other elf charged forwards, dual wielding short swords as Tyrael quickly dodged an overhead slash diagnolly from his right side, dodging to the left as he tossed his longsword over to his left hand and jabbed forwards, catching the elf in his side to gut him. The elf stopped, quivering as blood began to leak out onto the blade.
Tyrael gritted his teeth as he yanked back and withdrew his blade from the elf, the elf now falling into the sand slowly on his face, his body slumping forward as blood leaked from the body and onto the sand.
Surprisingly enough, the half-orc turned his ass around and started running away. He then look to that tall, slim figure. Tyrael gritted his teeth and stared at the man he so despised, the man thats caused him so much trauma and hardship.
Tyrael charged forward, that tall figure looking nervous as he gulped.
Tyrael made one quick, sideways slash. He merely stood there for a few long, slow moments as the figure to his right slowly slumped over, the lower half of his body falling backwards and the top half falling forwards.
Tyrael sighed now as he slid his sword back into it's scabbard.
He inspected his work with a smile, and he stared up at the sky for a few moments.
He then strolled through the sands and past that little hidden, side area near the cliffs. He walked back into the drunken naga, eyes and voices stopping their conversations and looked at him, the blood soaked man that was just there beforehand walking in and taking his same stool on the bar.
He slowly clenched his fingers around the handle of his ale that he had left in the same spot earlier.
He dipped his head down, and began staring right into his cup once again, continuing his thoughts as if it was a normal days work. Then, he piped up and headed next door to the citadel.
"I wonder if the legion will take me.." He thought as he casually strode through the sands towards the large, striking structure of the Moszabbar citadel.
Tyrael loomed heavily over his pint of ale in the middle of the Drunken Naga. He stared down into the middle of the large drink in his hand, clenching his fingers around the handle for a few moments. The sounds of drunken idiots and shady dealings loomed behind him.
He had just finished moving in furniture for another house owner, one of the larger houses near the old mulhorandi tower. He had sighed, a fresh sack of coins was attached to his belt.
"Whataya say we get ourselves a round, ey?! The job got us some good pay." A nasal voice behind him was rather irritating. A small round of agreements was also heard behind him.
Tyrael piped up, sitting up straight as his fist clenched, and he slowly uncurled his fingers from the handle of his ale to stand up. He then turned around and looked at the group of men behind him. He had never saw the faces of the men, but he remembered their voices. It was embedded into his memory, voices that haunted him these past 11 years.
"That's ah.. hefty load of coin ya' got there." The nasal voiced man gestured at his belt. He was tall, slim with a scar under his chin, and long shaggy brown hair.
Tyrael then looked around the other three men present, and studied each of them. One elf, looking about five feet tall. A half-orc that seemed to be the stocky build of the company, and another elf.
The four men stared holes into Tyrael as he looked between them. Then the firelight shined as the elf flashed his dagger, the clearly enchanted metal shining as they all stared expectantly at Tyrael.
Tyrael had no armor on, but he had his sword crossed diagnolly along his back. Tyrael had only smirked then and he then gestured at the door.
"If you four want to talk business~, we can go outside." Tyrael had only confidently replied.
The four assassins looked between each other. The rough, rugged men quite obviously confused but they ended up chuckling and nodding up and down.
"Yeah.. Let's do that." They said.
Tyrael more than happily walked into the nasal man and bumped his large frame into the tall, slim frame, making him grunt out as he stumbled to the side a little bit. Tyrael smirked as he walked right out the door, hearing a growl behind him as he heard the armored boots tread behind him with much more of a purpose.
They walked out of the naga and past the cliffs, near that hot springs bar along the cliffs.
Tyrael halted and drew his sword, the other men walking confidently behind him, clearly not expecting Tyrael to stop his march forward as he immediately drew his sword and swung behind him. He had hit one of the elves right along the forehead, smirking as the scalp of the elf slowly slid off of his head and to the sand. He looked to the ground, Tyrael backing up five or so feet as the other men immediately drew their blades and got into a combat stance.
They stayed their distance at first, Tyrael looking to see a small sliver of the elf's brain had fallen into the sand with that scalp.
The other elf charged forwards, dual wielding short swords as Tyrael quickly dodged an overhead slash diagnolly from his right side, dodging to the left as he tossed his longsword over to his left hand and jabbed forwards, catching the elf in his side to gut him. The elf stopped, quivering as blood began to leak out onto the blade.
Tyrael gritted his teeth as he yanked back and withdrew his blade from the elf, the elf now falling into the sand slowly on his face, his body slumping forward as blood leaked from the body and onto the sand.
Surprisingly enough, the half-orc turned his ass around and started running away. He then look to that tall, slim figure. Tyrael gritted his teeth and stared at the man he so despised, the man thats caused him so much trauma and hardship.
Tyrael charged forward, that tall figure looking nervous as he gulped.
Tyrael made one quick, sideways slash. He merely stood there for a few long, slow moments as the figure to his right slowly slumped over, the lower half of his body falling backwards and the top half falling forwards.
Tyrael sighed now as he slid his sword back into it's scabbard.
He inspected his work with a smile, and he stared up at the sky for a few moments.
He then strolled through the sands and past that little hidden, side area near the cliffs. He walked back into the drunken naga, eyes and voices stopping their conversations and looked at him, the blood soaked man that was just there beforehand walking in and taking his same stool on the bar.
He slowly clenched his fingers around the handle of his ale that he had left in the same spot earlier.
He dipped his head down, and began staring right into his cup once again, continuing his thoughts as if it was a normal days work. Then, he piped up and headed next door to the citadel.
"I wonder if the legion will take me.." He thought as he casually strode through the sands towards the large, striking structure of the Moszabbar citadel.