Enkerzed
Dusty Wanderer
ARMSMEN
RULES
RULES
- Do not post in this thread unless your character has been approved by me.
- Do not control, kill or cause harm to anyone else's character without their EXPRESS permission.
- Do not write anything OOC in this thread.
- Do not post more than once per day.
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Nessi
Dovinique
Shibbie
Nils walked with nervous steps as he followed the palace guards, sword in hand and surrounded by others like him who were similarly armed. Standing side by side along the length of the corridor were men in full plate armour, all armed with swords and halberds. No doubt there to keep the candidates in check.
Since their arrival at the palace, all they had been told so far was to equip themselves from the armoury with their weapon of choice and then to follow the guard to the throne room. There was barely anytime to so much as change clothes, all they had now was what they were wearing before their arrival and the weapons in their hands. Everything else had been confiscated at the entrance.
Despite being resigned to whatever fate had in store for him, Nils could feel his heart steadily beating faster as he looked around with his light green eyes surreptitiously moving from side to side. There were many unsavory looking characters among the candidates such as a black haired woman with tattoos, wielding a spear, and a bearded man with the rough and tumble bearing of a mercenary, carrying his own weapon with casual ease. Nils was shocked to see even a little girl among them with white hair, skinny as a beggar and a dagger in each hand.
"You are now entering the throne room," said the lead guard as he stopped by the oaken double doors at the end of the corridor. "Assemble before the throne and approach no further than twenty paces. You will kneel before the king once you have assembled. Make no menaces or else you will be cut down where you stand. Now follow my lead."
At that signal, the men on each side of the door opened them wide and Nils followed the guard into a wide open space larger than most houses he had ever seen. All around were dark red banners upon tall stone pillars, supporting a vaulted ceiling with lit chandeliers dangling from iron chains.
Each banner bore the royal sigil, a black dragon with a sword through its heart, and stretching all the way from the doors to the dais at the other end of the room was a long red carpet. It climbed up the steps of the dais and stopped only at the foot of a gilded throne, whereupon sat the ruler of the kingdom. Blood of the Hero, wielder of flame, kin and king slayer both. The usurper Prince Athis, now King of all Yorta.
"Kneel!" the guard commanded as he knelt himself.
Nils followed suit and once again looked around at all the other candidates around him, wondering what the king had in store for them all. Would they be made to fight each other? Worried by the thought, Nils tightened his grip on his sword as his heart beat like a drum in his chest.
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