The Hall of the Blades.

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The Hall of the Blades. Empty The Hall of the Blades.

Post  Hrothor the Honored on Sat May 12, 2018 6:25 am

Hrothor entered the honored halls of this sacred place. Lines upon lines of alcoves adorned the walls of this place, each holding a mantle, and upon each mantle, a unique, master crafted sword of a knight of the order. Resting before each blade was a burning brazier, and a book that housed the names and deeds of every person who wielded the blade before it.

Many of the swords, and their books had laid at rest for centuries, gathering dust in the ancient halls. Still, the eternal flame still burned in the shrine at the center of the hall - the light of the Order. A flame nearing the nadir of it's life as Hrothor's approached it's end.

The last knight of the tower knelt before the shrine, and burnt his incense offerings in prayer to his predecessors before him. Once he completed the ceremony, and bowed his head three times in thanks, he stood, and walked to one of the alcoves.

"Kraer... My old friend... I could not complete your promise." Began the old man. "I watched you grow, and become a knight of this tower, I watched your deeds and seen you grow. I saw you raise your son to be a good man, and I watched as you gave your life to defend him and your village. I tried to raise your son in your stead, and kept an eye on him his whole life... But he was bitter, and blamed me for your death, saying I taught you wrong... He chose to exile himself, and became a ranger of the forest, much like the wood elves of old. I do not blame him for choosing a different path, as long as his heart remains good... I will try to complete your final wish however, and pass your sword unto him, before my time ends... It shall not be long now..."

With those words, he reached into the alcove, and took up the sword of his fallen friend Kraer Greyarrow, the runeblade Harbinger.

With a smooth motion, Hrothor unsheathed the blade and examined it.

The Hall of the Blades. M5ZWE4P16JZ81462228239739

Satisfied the blade was in top form, he resheathed it back into it's scabbard, and wrapped it in cloth. He laid the cloth wreathed sword before the alcove, before taking the book, and writing in the name of the one he must soon pass it unto.

"Tysnolf Greyarrow, Son of Kraer. Ranger, Druid, and true Knight of the White Tower."

Closing the book, Hrothor took the sword under arm, and stood up.

"Goodbye, my friend..."

And slowly the old knight walked away from the hall.
Hrothor the Honored
Hrothor the Honored

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