Echo of the Past: A keep under seige.

It's happy hour, the alcohol is flowing. It's time to pull up a tankard of ale, bottle of wine for the ladies and regail tales of heroism and grandeur.

Topic/Postby Reathor » 05 Dec 2009, 20:18

Echo of the Past: A keep under seige.

Darkness shrouded the Arathi Highlands, the walls of Alexander Keep remaining lit by only a scattering of torches. The gate was closed and bolted, and across the walls could be seen the soldiers of House Alexander, each clad in their plate armour and tabard, weapons unsheathed as they walked the battlements, each keeping alert for any sign of the enemy in the night. Upon the battlements before the gatehouse, stood Lady Catherina, her blade unsheathed, and one hand clenched around the battle standard, thick platemail armour gave the young woman extra stature.
Knight Commander Rurik stood at her side, the tall, dark skinned man towered above the soldiers around him, his unsheathed Great sword glowing faintly in the darkness. Both looked out from the gatehouse, wary for intruders.
Within the courtyard, a few score men and women practiced their archery, overseen by a man of fairly small stature, equipped with banded leather armour. No tabard was visible over it, and a white mask hung over his mouth and nose, concealing much of his face from view.
Magnus Tyren of the Kirin Tor stood amongst his apprentices at one end of the keep, clearly practicing and preparing their defensive enchantments for the battle that was to come.
From the central tower, two men oversaw the preparations. One of the men as incredibly tall, approach seven feet in height. His armour appeared ornately crafted, and shone with an almost unnatural brightness, no doubt given to it by the powerful Enchantments woven into it. A Tabard of Stromgarde hung over his chest plate, and in one hand he held the Alexander family Warblade, a Heirloom passed down for generations of the Noble family. The mans hair was clearly greying, yet despite this he looked in his Prime. An Ornately woven cloak hung from his back, upon it the words “Baron Alester Alexander, Champion of Stromgarde”.
The other man appeared far younger, a little over twenty at most, and stood almost at around six feet tall. The mans armour resembled that worn by Paladins of the Silver hand, and a large, two handed hammer was slung over his back. His cloak had inscripted upon it “Reathor Alexander, Knight of Stromgarde”.

Alestar looked out over the preparations, nodding contently, before turning to Reathor.
“you think, this will be enough to stop them, my Son?”
Reathor peered down at the defenses, and frowned a little, before nodding his head lightly.
“I doubt in any way, this will be an easy battle, Father, but the Light is with us, victory is surely within our grasp”
These words seemed to give the ageing man some confidence, and he walked slowly towards Reathor, before placing a hand on his shoulder. Looking up and down his son proudly, he smiled and spoke.
“You’ve come a long way, Reathor, It feels not long ago I first taught you to wield a sword, and now you stand alongside me as a Knight of the Hand”
“I could not abandon you, or my family, in their time of need father, you know this”
“I know lad, and we are glad you returned, Your mother would be proud to see what you’ve become”
The young paladin seemed to smile at these words, before sighing faintly.
“I wont let you down, father, the keep will not fall”
“ Your at the head of the defence lad, of course it wont”

Both men saluted each other briefly, and Reathor turned, walking towards the gatehouse. The torches illuminating the keep cast dark shadows over every corner, and the Paladin could he sworn he saw movements in those shadows. Picking up his pace, he moved up the Steps to the Gatehouse, Standing Alongside Rurik and Catherina.
“Any signs yet”
“None, Sir, but they cant be far away now”
The Paladin nodded, removing the hammer from his back and leaning against it, and frowning.
Within little more than ten minutes, shouts erupted from the Western wall of the keep, and Reathor turned his head to see what the cause of the noise was. As he did so, he spied a young soldier, clearly little older than their eighteenth year, running towards him.
“Sir Alexander, The Syndicate are here!”
The paladin grunted. Picking up his battle hammer and moving towards the sound of the clashes.
“So it begins”
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