Rhowen-Prea
01-26-2006, 12:47 PM
(( Dunno if this is the right place to post this, but... Cross-posted off the WoW fora with Aelendil's permission. ~ Rho ))
((A little background on the guild's proposed formation and a chance to RP ^_^ ))
Aelendil Silversong sat drumming his fingers on the table with his back to a corner of the Pig and Whistle, a mostly untouched glass of wine close at hand. His gaze was intensely fixed upon the grain of the wood beneath his fingertips, lost somewhere deep in thought.
I have to find a way to beat this.
His chin was set, his features intense while doing nothing to detract from his fey beauty; Aelendil looked better than he had in a while, radiating a sort of charismatic confidence while simply remaining at ease. He was no longer the ragbound tragedy on the verge of being dangerous he'd been for some time, though he was no less of a threat now. Maybe he was worse.
Something had changed in the nature of his core and he was aware of it, simply and surely, reassured but not smug whatever his telltale smirk at the thought might say.
Pragmatism was the new name of the game, tired of convention and notions of politics. This was a matter of survival, of getting what desires he could out of this war-torn world. There was simply one thing that mattered most to him and that was staying with her, ultimately.
However, he was starved for options, for companionship and purpose, without her around. And there'd been a growing sense of impending uncertainty on the horizon; something was coming and there wouldn't be someone there to stop it. He no longer had his friends around him, the connections he'd forged in years and even decades past. He was almost alone, isolation imposed by what he had thought was necessity.
He had been wrong.
To cut oneself off was to invite disaster. No man could stand alone forever and hope to accomplish anything of great worth. And Aelendil hoped to accomplish much, of that he was sure. However, he wanted to accomplish it on his own terms, not bound by the laws of light and dark. Such things bored him now, dulled him with their hypocrisy, and made apparent to him the need to walk apart from such narrow minded ideologies.
But what would give him the means, a wandering guildless outsider, to do as he pleased and protect what he cared about?
Studying the dispersed flaws in the wood of the table before him, a thought dawned upon him.
I am surely not alone in my solitude, irony of ironies, he thought with his mind waking. There are others, those who walk between the lines as well, in need of comraderie and purpose and a means to accomplish their ends. Free from the shackles of political drivel, there would be profit to be made, He noted with some satisfaction; one more incentive for loyalty. What of a force, independent of needless conventions, ever ready to face whatever threat there may be? A place for wanderers and vagabonds alike to call home.
His thoughts continued and he raked a hand through his hair, smiling wider by the moment at the idea. A band of those who wander the grey between the black and the white, a shield for one another, those we care about, and those with the right coin. We could be the warders, mercenaries, guards, assasins for hire. The Greyward, he thought, seizing upon the idea.
Not hesitating any longer, Ael summoned one of the barmaids to his table, demanding a quill and paper. She laughed at his manner and he rewarded her with a haphazard grin, though with no real feeling. If she picked up on it, she didn't care to make it known, giggling as she hastened to fill his request. Ael gave her some silver for her troubles and shooed her away aloofly, setting to writing with a purpose. When completed, Aelendil examined his work at a distance, reading:
"For those who are lost upon the way, who walk in neither shadow nor light, join those among you. Seek comradery, fame and fortune. Protect what it is that you care about, live by your own code.
The Greyward Mercenary Company.
-Aelendil 'The Grey' "
Aelendil nodded in satisfaction and penned several copies before making his way out into the streets of Stormwind with a dertemined cadence to his stride. He had a charter to get signed, after all.
((
Name: The Greyward
Affiliation: Alliance (Though we intend to stress cross-faction events.)
RP-Type: Heavy.
PvP-Type: Heavy. (^We intend to tie the two together frequently.)
URL: None, as of yet.
Notes: A neutral band of mercenaries for the vagrants and pragmatics of the world, something of a family. IC Guild chat with an OOC Channel. Intend to stress PVP along with RP, intertwining these ideas with cross-faction events and inter-Alliance intrigue.
Contacts: Aerlyn or Rhowen
Still need signatures to get this truly started. The intent is a more neutral sort of RP alignment atmosphere, different from the standard "good guys" and "bad guys" of the Alliance. We're not another "evil guild" popping up. We do have a strict code of honor. This is for those who RP those without home or family and wish to build a healthy PVP-RP oriented family. ))
((A little background on the guild's proposed formation and a chance to RP ^_^ ))
Aelendil Silversong sat drumming his fingers on the table with his back to a corner of the Pig and Whistle, a mostly untouched glass of wine close at hand. His gaze was intensely fixed upon the grain of the wood beneath his fingertips, lost somewhere deep in thought.
I have to find a way to beat this.
His chin was set, his features intense while doing nothing to detract from his fey beauty; Aelendil looked better than he had in a while, radiating a sort of charismatic confidence while simply remaining at ease. He was no longer the ragbound tragedy on the verge of being dangerous he'd been for some time, though he was no less of a threat now. Maybe he was worse.
Something had changed in the nature of his core and he was aware of it, simply and surely, reassured but not smug whatever his telltale smirk at the thought might say.
Pragmatism was the new name of the game, tired of convention and notions of politics. This was a matter of survival, of getting what desires he could out of this war-torn world. There was simply one thing that mattered most to him and that was staying with her, ultimately.
However, he was starved for options, for companionship and purpose, without her around. And there'd been a growing sense of impending uncertainty on the horizon; something was coming and there wouldn't be someone there to stop it. He no longer had his friends around him, the connections he'd forged in years and even decades past. He was almost alone, isolation imposed by what he had thought was necessity.
He had been wrong.
To cut oneself off was to invite disaster. No man could stand alone forever and hope to accomplish anything of great worth. And Aelendil hoped to accomplish much, of that he was sure. However, he wanted to accomplish it on his own terms, not bound by the laws of light and dark. Such things bored him now, dulled him with their hypocrisy, and made apparent to him the need to walk apart from such narrow minded ideologies.
But what would give him the means, a wandering guildless outsider, to do as he pleased and protect what he cared about?
Studying the dispersed flaws in the wood of the table before him, a thought dawned upon him.
I am surely not alone in my solitude, irony of ironies, he thought with his mind waking. There are others, those who walk between the lines as well, in need of comraderie and purpose and a means to accomplish their ends. Free from the shackles of political drivel, there would be profit to be made, He noted with some satisfaction; one more incentive for loyalty. What of a force, independent of needless conventions, ever ready to face whatever threat there may be? A place for wanderers and vagabonds alike to call home.
His thoughts continued and he raked a hand through his hair, smiling wider by the moment at the idea. A band of those who wander the grey between the black and the white, a shield for one another, those we care about, and those with the right coin. We could be the warders, mercenaries, guards, assasins for hire. The Greyward, he thought, seizing upon the idea.
Not hesitating any longer, Ael summoned one of the barmaids to his table, demanding a quill and paper. She laughed at his manner and he rewarded her with a haphazard grin, though with no real feeling. If she picked up on it, she didn't care to make it known, giggling as she hastened to fill his request. Ael gave her some silver for her troubles and shooed her away aloofly, setting to writing with a purpose. When completed, Aelendil examined his work at a distance, reading:
"For those who are lost upon the way, who walk in neither shadow nor light, join those among you. Seek comradery, fame and fortune. Protect what it is that you care about, live by your own code.
The Greyward Mercenary Company.
-Aelendil 'The Grey' "
Aelendil nodded in satisfaction and penned several copies before making his way out into the streets of Stormwind with a dertemined cadence to his stride. He had a charter to get signed, after all.
((
Name: The Greyward
Affiliation: Alliance (Though we intend to stress cross-faction events.)
RP-Type: Heavy.
PvP-Type: Heavy. (^We intend to tie the two together frequently.)
URL: None, as of yet.
Notes: A neutral band of mercenaries for the vagrants and pragmatics of the world, something of a family. IC Guild chat with an OOC Channel. Intend to stress PVP along with RP, intertwining these ideas with cross-faction events and inter-Alliance intrigue.
Contacts: Aerlyn or Rhowen
Still need signatures to get this truly started. The intent is a more neutral sort of RP alignment atmosphere, different from the standard "good guys" and "bad guys" of the Alliance. We're not another "evil guild" popping up. We do have a strict code of honor. This is for those who RP those without home or family and wish to build a healthy PVP-RP oriented family. ))