Serpentis Family/Erik Eyolf/The Stormwalkers
Feared. The harbingers of the great storm and the certain death were preparing to leave Tabost and face the scimitars after a week doing some easy job in Avamar. They loved the endless night and the cloak of darkness around a bonfire. They loved the Moon and Elune projecting Her silver light into the heavy black clouds. Young and veteran soldiers of the second generation. Victorious. Scary under their black robes, wielding killer swords and shields with the lightning bolt crest. A tribute began. Debts of blood would be wrought. Death Oaths would be imposed. Nights to remember Captain Karl, the first generation and those who fell in battle. They would sing for the soul of the best Captain of Sirion alive in his time. A time of great battles against many enemies. They would remember and ascend to the heaven just to fall as a stormy divine justice.
Erik was the first. The only one who fought since the first battle. Leading armies. Defending Sirion like an impenetrable fortress and attacking as a mighty thunder. The enemies heard. The enemies feared. They fell. Under the warm night of Tabost he was under a black cape. A small badland spider crawled gently between his fingers. He listened to the drums as a prelude of his own storm. They killed his half-brother. They will suffer. Like a land after the hurricane. A night to remember. He whispered for Elune:
The piercing radiant moon,
The storming of poor June,
All the life running through Her hair.
Approaching guiding light,
Our shallow years in fright,
Dreams are made winding through my head.
The spiders all in tune,
The evening of the Moon,
Dreams are made winding through my head.
Before you know.
Awake...
There was a moment of silence. They heard the wind whispering and the igneous flames crackling in the great bonfire. Silently they made their own prayers and oaths. Promises of vengeance and justice. Death and blood. Ashes and sand. Promises to honor the warriors and heroes who had fallen in the glorious past. To glorify those who had followed the misty path. Erik drew his silver dagger and cut his own hand, offering his blood to the hungry fire. His voice raised like a thunder:
Now, what do you own the world?
How do you own disorder, disorder
Now, somewhere between the sacred silence
Sacred silence and sleep
Somewhere between the sacred silence and sleep
Disorder, disorder, disorder!
The Stormwalkers hit the blade of their swords against the shields. They filled the night with their war cry. The bard danced around the fire like a wild beast drunk with the night in his eyes. A receptacle of the gods. Of old war heroes. Naked with his body covered with ashes, dust and blood. The drums returned to resonate with the stormcrows. Possessed by an ancient power, the bard sang:
Life is a waterfall
With one in the river and one again after the fall
Swimming through the void we hear the word
We lose ourselves but we find it all
Cuz we are the ones that wanna play
Always want to go but you never want to stay
And we are the ones that wanna choose
Always want to play but you never want to lose
Life is a waterfall
We drink from the river then we turn around and put up our walls
In the sky
When you lose small mind you free your life
So alive
When you free your lives (the) eternal prize
Ancient magic was running along the sands of Tabost. Filling the night with a furious storm of the best warriors of Sirion. Led by The Silver Dragon who had injured and killed more enemies in battle than anyone. Who has fought since the first battle. The almighty thunder. The fire in the sky. Erik walked among them as a champion who defies an entire enemy army. He awakened the Sacred Sword. He didn't need a shield, he had his dagger.
Erik Eyolf: "Beyond Ashforth you can see the Sultanate with its tired, poor, avenging disgrace. What is your mission? What do you love to do?"
Stormwalkers, in chorus: "We like to push the weak around!!!"
The bard whispered seeing the smile of the powerful Duke of Avamar.
War staring you in the face, dressed in black.
With a helm, fierce,
Trained and appropriate for the malcontents,
For the disproportioned malcontents,
The little boy smiled, it'll all be well,
The little boy smiled, it'll all be well...
Erik looked at the moon and smiled. He whispered his last oath before the next battle:
When I became the moon
I shone life into the man's hearts
Scary and ready they marched.
