Was it really his fate?

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Was it really his fate?

Post by Guest on Wed Apr 07, 2010 7:14 am

"Chapter, every life contain many chapters. There was a few chapters of my life dedicated to another Chapter, of an Holy Anethion..."

Clay holds his hand still for a moment, thinking back.

"Then honour them, by leading the Chapter! They need you now, they need someone to guide them."

He shakes his head, mumbling.
"No, Renhali. They did not."
The hands starts scribbling again on the parchment.

"-of an Holy Anethion... I was reqruiter of Whitecloaks, I was the Captain of the Whitecloaks. I was the Protector of the Chapter.
What did I learn in life by this? I thought I joined an order with astonashing views. Goals few would dare to do. The teachings, faith and love of the Light purer than ever.

I was horribly wrong. Decieved and tricked, like so many others.
I joined you, to protect, to preserve, to defend those who can not defend themselves.

Quickly I learned the evil intentions, the dark arts that the Chapter is based upon.
Power hungry, abominations, feeding on the weak minds. They polute the teachings of great men, and deform these teachings to give themselves self-proclaimed rights to murder and torture.

I write you this letter, Archlectress. Because you shall know that the Protector of the Chapter is no more, and will never come to be. I have cleansed the Command Center of all the Protectorate documents. I have melted down the seal of the Protector.
I will travel to the Western Plaguelands, to die in peace and to be reunited with my ol' brothers and sisters in arms. To fullfill my fate.

For it have come to my understanding the Chapter does not need one. Nor are you men of the Holy Light. Nor are you true men of Anethion!

And trust me when I write this;
More will come after me realizing this, and the more that does. The harder will it get for you.

-Clay Farglade."

Clay folds the letter and places it inside a mail, he seals it carefully and gets to his feet.

The air was thick, it was blighted and rotten. Ontop of his hilltop he could see a tiny caravan
close in. They were slowly, and peacefully moving from Chillwind through Alterac. He turns his head to face the horizon. He knew what would happen, but he refused to allow it. He would prevent it with all of his might. Slowly he closes his eyes, the wind blowing against his face.

" 'Lo there do I see my father. 'Lo there do I see my mother and my sisters and my brothers.
'Lo there do I see the line of my people, back to the beginning. 'Lo they do call to me, they bid me take my place among them. In the After-Here, where the brave may live forever.."

Slowly his eyelids goes up, and as he feared, the caravan now was persuited by forsaken raiders. Swiftly Clay unsheathes his sword, The Deathbane. He yells a warcry to Terenas and charges at the Forsaken.
As he passes by the Caravan he yells. "Run! Get out of here!"

Shortly after he clashes with the first undead, slamming it to the ground with his shoulder.
He waves his sword in a wide arc and slices two incomming undead, setting them ablaze in Holy Fire.
He lifts his sword yet again, parrying a large axe from harming him. The two weapons fending each other off, Clay pushes himself forward making the axeman stumble backwards, quickly Clay decipitates it.
Suddenly his mind starts to scream, in pain and agony. The yells so horryifing and loud. Falling to his knees, he lets go of the sword and holds for his ears, he too now yelling.
A shadowy being from afar, chanting dark magic through Clay's mind stares hollowly at him.
Suddenly he feels a shortsword pierce his back, but not making it far due to his armour.
Gasping, he looks up to the sky, he mumbles;
"Reunited.. atlast." And then all goes black, the world disappears, the light leaves him.

Rasonal grabs the chained human's chin. Glaring at him.
"Vake him up."

And on order, a bucket of water is thrown over Clay. He wakes up with a shudder, peering around the room, which soon would appear to be a dark cell. Was he not dead afterall?
Was he cheated on his chance to follow his fate?

"Arre you not the Prrotectorr of the Chapterr?"
Rasonal is keeping his disgusted glare upon Clay as he speaks. But not getting any response the backhands the human across the face.

"Why would I, scum?" Clay spits in Rasonal's face.

"You arre not the one to thrreaten herre. Human."
Rasonal mutters and waves his hand in a circle. From the corner of the room two forsaken starts to pull a large object in circles, that folds the chains together. Quickly the chain's holding Clay is pulled into the air, straining his body in four different directions. Causing horrible pain into them.

"Ghhaaah! Stop it!"

Rasonal holds his hand up. He walks closer to Clay and speaks once more.
"Then tell uss. Arre you the Prrotectorr of the Chapterr..?"

Clay sighs and regains some breath before speaking.
"No.. not anymore.. I used to be, but no more."

Rasonal perks a brow, peering at Clay.
"Then tell uss, of them."

After telling them all he knew, the forsaken kept him locked inside, all alone in a dark cell.
Days passed, and swiftly turned into a week. With little to near no food and water, Clay started to loose his hope, and his faith in the Light.
One night they came and unchained him and took him from Undercity to Brill. They dragged him downstairs into the basement of the Tavern and gave him some food. Rasonal was holding a piece of paper, a parchment, reading from it absently of the world around him. Clay grabbed the knife he was given to eat with and jams it through Rasonal's both hands and into the wall.

"My turn." Clay said with a smirk as he ran upstairs and out of the Tavern. He quickly rushed out of Brill into the woods, all he heard was Rasonal yelling orders. As he was safely in the woods, he could see Rasonal and a few Deathguards come out of the Tavern.

Clay shakes his head, lifting his head to stare at the star filled sky.
He was quite bruised, weak and battered. But he moved on and eventually reached Southshore where he got himself a gryphon to Stormwind, a long ride. With plenty of pauses,
the gryphon stops by Menethil harbour were he rests and driks some booze.
Sitting down and picking up the latest issue of the Northern Bulwark from a table.

Clay drops his jaw, blinking a few times as he reads it over and over. He snorts and speaks out loud. "Women, pffah. Lies and deciet is all they bloody can do."
He glares at the waitress across the room, unfortunately the closest woman present. She lowers her head and walks into the kitchen.

Suddenly an interesting discussion sparks up from a group sitting not far from Clay.
"Aye, me' brother told me! That crazy Crimson Flame folks attacked the Stormwind Cathedral. Oh'boy, ya'should have seen! They were apparently brutually crushed. A tiny war party against forces of Stormwind. They must've hit their 'eads!"
The man seems to burst into laughter and returning to his drink.
Slowly, Clay turns to his own drink, lost in thoughts. "Alot of changes lately, eh.."
Eventually he left and mounted his gryphon again and ventured onwards to Stormwind, finally he reached it late in the evening.

He wrapped a cloak around his bruised body, pulling a hood over his untidy face. He passes through the streets and notices a posterboard to his right. As he approaches it he can see the Whitecloak poster he made. The drawing of himself in grand armour and the light.

"Sigh.. that was a long time ago.."

His eyes catches a wanted poster.
"Wanted for deception and the assassination-..."
He mutters to himself. "Assassin..." and suddenly it hits him, pulling his hood back up.
"I need to find Avery." And with that Clay runs off into the nightfall of Stormwind.


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Re: Was it really his fate?

Post by Guest on Wed Apr 07, 2010 7:14 am

Clay(the warrior)'s gone, but I'm still around on Alliance folks. Wink


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