Post by Aramil Sovelis on Aug 18, 2013 2:14:33 GMT
IGN: 541NT
Character name: Aramil Sovelis
Race: Elf
Age: 126
In-game relations: Brother of Frieth Sovelis, and brother-in-law to king Fyrn Job/title: (non wartime) cartographer/architect( wartime) High general of the Elven military
Battle class: battlemage and scout. Weapon of choice: Elvish broadsword Appearance: blond hair that never stays straight, pointed ears, highly athletic
Personality: humorous, calm, curious, intelligent
Background:
Part One: The Journey
RP bio of Aramil Sovelis , chapter one, The battle of Vestri.
Spring, 1679 SA, Aftermath of the battle of Vestri
"Sir, we have confirmation of the enemies numbers and are prepared to march on your orders." Word had just come of the scout's return to camp, and as soon as it reached him, Gen. Aramil Sovelis sent word for him to be brought to him to deliver his report. "Well done Siaru. With this we shall have this through by supper. My condolences on the death of your brother. We shall see to it that he has a proper burial." Siaru nodded solemnly and turned to leave so that he might take his position in the third formation. His brother was shot down delivering the demand of surrender to General Vandir of the accursed. Aramil walked out of the tent to look on the valley fortress in which what remained of the Accursed to shelter. It was a tall grey tower, covered in moss toward the base, and sharp looking spike carved into the windows and rooftop. The fortress cast a shadow of fear over the valley that held it. "You there," Aramil said to the guard closest to him. "Send word to King Fyrn that we march at dusk. And that victory rides with us." The guard hurried off to deliver the message as a crack of thunder shook the sky. The clouds started pouring their fury on the valley, as if the heavens too were saddened by the loss of blood this day alone. But it would be worth it. "By this time tomorrow," Aramil thought. "we shall have rid the land of the scourge known as the accursed."
A peal of thunder awoke Aramil with a start. "Sir, a messenger is here with word from King Fyrn." Aramil rose from his cot and strode to the tent flap. "And what is the message?" Aramil asked the guard. "He says that, They have their troops in position, and ready to march, You have only to sound the horn." Aramil breathed deeply and thanked the messenger for his efforts. Aramil retrieved the horn from his sack and looked up at the fury of sky and storm above them. "I do wish it hadn't come to this," Aramil thought. Most of the Accursed were people he knew, people his men knew. They were their countrymen, yet they had turned their backs on Lueh, and there must be retribution. Aramil inhaled deeply and let loose his breath into the horn.
Just hours later, the fortress had been taken, and the battle won. Most of the remaining Accursed fled, or were slain in the battle. Aramil's group had attacked first from the front, marching on the tower's gate, while King Fyrn's group had waited a few moments and let loose a volley of flaming arrows toward barrels of TNT they had placed at the rear wall of the fortress, and then flooded into the tower from the hole in the wall. The Accursed; trapped in the tower, had nowhere to go but up to the top of the tower; and in so doing, some of the Accursed chose to leap of the ramparts of the tower, some died, but most escaped. All in all, it had been a success; they had captured General Vandir and he would be interrogated the moment they returned to the capitol, and the Accursed were scattered throughout the world, hopefully to never be seen again. Aramil turned to board his ship and return to the Vithul, when he felt a chill run down his spine. "Hit the deck!" Aramil shouted to the crew of THE SILENT BANSHEE. As he turned, he realized his efforts were futile; for the crew was frozen. Not the traditional sense of frozen, as was commonly known in Ectoria, but rather, frozen in motion. No ice encased them, and as far as he could see, nothing hindered their movement, yet they, and everything else, birds, cattle, insects, fires, all was still. Aramil looked around for the source of what was obviously the result of some powerful magic, when a roaring inferno of light and sound assaulted his mind. And then all was black.
Character name: Aramil Sovelis
Race: Elf
Age: 126
In-game relations: Brother of Frieth Sovelis, and brother-in-law to king Fyrn Job/title: (non wartime) cartographer/architect( wartime) High general of the Elven military
Battle class: battlemage and scout. Weapon of choice: Elvish broadsword Appearance: blond hair that never stays straight, pointed ears, highly athletic
Personality: humorous, calm, curious, intelligent
Background:
Part One: The Journey
RP bio of Aramil Sovelis , chapter one, The battle of Vestri.
Spring, 1679 SA, Aftermath of the battle of Vestri
"Sir, we have confirmation of the enemies numbers and are prepared to march on your orders." Word had just come of the scout's return to camp, and as soon as it reached him, Gen. Aramil Sovelis sent word for him to be brought to him to deliver his report. "Well done Siaru. With this we shall have this through by supper. My condolences on the death of your brother. We shall see to it that he has a proper burial." Siaru nodded solemnly and turned to leave so that he might take his position in the third formation. His brother was shot down delivering the demand of surrender to General Vandir of the accursed. Aramil walked out of the tent to look on the valley fortress in which what remained of the Accursed to shelter. It was a tall grey tower, covered in moss toward the base, and sharp looking spike carved into the windows and rooftop. The fortress cast a shadow of fear over the valley that held it. "You there," Aramil said to the guard closest to him. "Send word to King Fyrn that we march at dusk. And that victory rides with us." The guard hurried off to deliver the message as a crack of thunder shook the sky. The clouds started pouring their fury on the valley, as if the heavens too were saddened by the loss of blood this day alone. But it would be worth it. "By this time tomorrow," Aramil thought. "we shall have rid the land of the scourge known as the accursed."
A peal of thunder awoke Aramil with a start. "Sir, a messenger is here with word from King Fyrn." Aramil rose from his cot and strode to the tent flap. "And what is the message?" Aramil asked the guard. "He says that, They have their troops in position, and ready to march, You have only to sound the horn." Aramil breathed deeply and thanked the messenger for his efforts. Aramil retrieved the horn from his sack and looked up at the fury of sky and storm above them. "I do wish it hadn't come to this," Aramil thought. Most of the Accursed were people he knew, people his men knew. They were their countrymen, yet they had turned their backs on Lueh, and there must be retribution. Aramil inhaled deeply and let loose his breath into the horn.
Just hours later, the fortress had been taken, and the battle won. Most of the remaining Accursed fled, or were slain in the battle. Aramil's group had attacked first from the front, marching on the tower's gate, while King Fyrn's group had waited a few moments and let loose a volley of flaming arrows toward barrels of TNT they had placed at the rear wall of the fortress, and then flooded into the tower from the hole in the wall. The Accursed; trapped in the tower, had nowhere to go but up to the top of the tower; and in so doing, some of the Accursed chose to leap of the ramparts of the tower, some died, but most escaped. All in all, it had been a success; they had captured General Vandir and he would be interrogated the moment they returned to the capitol, and the Accursed were scattered throughout the world, hopefully to never be seen again. Aramil turned to board his ship and return to the Vithul, when he felt a chill run down his spine. "Hit the deck!" Aramil shouted to the crew of THE SILENT BANSHEE. As he turned, he realized his efforts were futile; for the crew was frozen. Not the traditional sense of frozen, as was commonly known in Ectoria, but rather, frozen in motion. No ice encased them, and as far as he could see, nothing hindered their movement, yet they, and everything else, birds, cattle, insects, fires, all was still. Aramil looked around for the source of what was obviously the result of some powerful magic, when a roaring inferno of light and sound assaulted his mind. And then all was black.
