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LeCrowe · 04-18-2008, 02:45 AM

EDIT: Since no one really knows this character, you might aswell head over here for a very indepth description, for the sake of understanding. Altough not required. >> http://www.onrpg.com/boards/83587.html (The Breaking Of Gelram.).

Let post a death for my character wich is entirely unkown to these forums ;D.
Neither has it been used. But hell, I feel like writing a bit, and you can but enjoy it anyways, can't you.

Here it goes.

Crowe kicked the door of the church open. It was seemingly empty, altough he knew it wasn't.

It couldnt be.

It must not be.

He shouted; 'I know you're in there, you filthy bastard. Come out, and let's get over with all this fucking bullshit.'

He walked slowly trough the church benches, still neatly lined up. Moving his cape to the side, he reached for the daggers strapped to the back of his belt.

'You're not running this time. I'll get you for what you did!'

Crowe was pissed off. He was so close this time, yet he couldn't get him yet. Patience... He tought.

'Father. I'm going to fucking tear you to pieces.'

This was not he first time Crowe encountered this man. After further investigations on him, Le Crowe learned that he was... His father. He murdered his mother when he was a child and abandonned him near the border of a forest. What a filthy man. Later on, when Crowe met this travelling circus and joined it, his father paid bandits to kill them, out of jealousy. It was his son. Not their's. [i]He belonged to him[/!], and HIM ONLY.

'You're paying this time. Full fucking price.'

What the hell! It semt as he was nowhere! Crowe reached the altar at the end of the church. There layed a book. He flipped it open and laughed.

'Mere lies. All of them. "Religion". What a joke.'

He threw off the book to the floor. Then, a priest stepped out of the shadows into the lights. It looked like a dream, the dust flying in the ray of light filtered by the church's huge stained glasses. Beautifull. But what he saw there, was not.

The priest was holding a mace into his left hand, and a spellbook to his right.
Immediately after him, his father followed, with his usual ragged clothes, messed hair and crazy look on his face. He was smiling. Slightly.

'Father. No, not you, filthy priest. You know what I descended upon here for.'

His father hesitated and stepped in front of the priest, and spoke;

'I... You... BASTARD. It's all your... They done it to me... I cant... Your mother... She was an elf! I killed her, of course, those filthy... I couldn't let her keep the child... And half-elf, dont you see! The world filthyest... Oh, I don't mean...'

Without any further explanation, Crowe jumped over the altar, his bastard sword in hand, about to strike his father from a single, lethal blow. The priest raised his book and muttered words, and in a flash, a huge magical barrier raised in front of him. Crowe merely bounced off it and landed on his feet, hopefully.

'Ha. Is this a joke? Don't you know better then this.' he taunted the priest.

He charged the barrier again, this time, ready. As his sword slashed trough the magical shield like a hot knife trough butter, he noticed the flash of light reflected on metal in one of the dark corners. In a single movement, a whole companyof fully armed knights stepped out of the shadows. What semt to be the leader stepped trough the church's broken doors and said, loudly; 'CHAAAARGE!'

Well, you see, this requires a bit of explanation. Crowe's several years of thievery and assassination brought the authorities to... Let's just say dislike him. He had been baited, and fell right into the trap.

'Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck- I'm running!' he murmured to himself, as he turned back and started...Running.

He knew that, even if he lasted for a few kilometers, they would catch up on him. There was no point to running, to probably be shot down by archers he assumed were placed outside the church, watching the doors and windows.

A wholesome fucking setup.

He jumped towards the huge stained glass as he felt an arrow pierce trough his chest; time was as it it had frozen. Beautifull. If only she had still been alive to see this. This church was magnifi- But before he could think further, he fell-- not to his feet this time-- on the cold church floor and collapsed. One of the knights handed his sword to Crowe's father, wich walked in front of him.

'I've won, Crowe. Son. I won.'

'Not so fast.', said Crowe. He turned back, and strained to get up. He walked back and looked at the scene.

There was in fact only 13 knights, god it semt much more earlier. He could see archers, ready to shoot on the church's balconies.

'Are all these people here just for me? Hell, I must be famous.' he said, to himself more then anyone else. 'You wont get me. Not alive!', this time louder, directed to the knights. They all watched as he sliped a niddle out of the cross pendant attached to his cape, and stabbed it in his wrist. He fell to his knees, smiled, and soon, to the floor.

The last thing he saw, right before he died, was the face of a young girl, hidden in the shadows of the church.

'Is it... You?' he muttered. And slowly, died, a painless death.

I dont like it too much, could be reworked. But it's still pretty nice. A grandiose death

. I'm not too sure about it. So yeah, I guess I might rewrite something else another time, this was sort of done in a hurry. Hope you guys like!

-Crowe

04-18-2008, 02:45 AM	#16 (permalink)
LeCrowe Marios's Mustache Wax Join Date: Apr 2008 Posts: 3 MMOFaces Profile: None Yet	EDIT: Since no one really knows this character, you might aswell head over here for a very indepth description, for the sake of understanding. Altough not required. >> http://www.onrpg.com/boards/83587.html (The Breaking Of Gelram.). Let post a death for my character wich is entirely unkown to these forums ;D. Neither has it been used. But hell, I feel like writing a bit, and you can but enjoy it anyways, can't you. Here it goes. Crowe kicked the door of the church open. It was seemingly empty, altough he knew it wasn't. It couldnt be. It must not be. He shouted; 'I know you're in there, you filthy bastard. Come out, and let's get over with all this fucking bullshit.' He walked slowly trough the church benches, still neatly lined up. Moving his cape to the side, he reached for the daggers strapped to the back of his belt. 'You're not running this time. I'll get you for what you did!' Crowe was pissed off. He was so close this time, yet he couldn't get him yet. Patience... He tought. 'Father. I'm going to fucking tear you to pieces.' This was not he first time Crowe encountered this man. After further investigations on him, Le Crowe learned that he was... His father. He murdered his mother when he was a child and abandonned him near the border of a forest. What a filthy man. Later on, when Crowe met this travelling circus and joined it, his father paid bandits to kill them, out of jealousy. It was his son. Not their's. [i]He belonged to him[/!], and HIM ONLY. 'You're paying this time. Full fucking price.' What the hell! It semt as he was nowhere! Crowe reached the altar at the end of the church. There layed a book. He flipped it open and laughed. 'Mere lies. All of them. "Religion". What a joke.' He threw off the book to the floor. Then, a priest stepped out of the shadows into the lights. It looked like a dream, the dust flying in the ray of light filtered by the church's huge stained glasses. Beautifull. But what he saw there, was not. The priest was holding a mace into his left hand, and a spellbook to his right. Immediately after him, his father followed, with his usual ragged clothes, messed hair and crazy look on his face. He was smiling. Slightly. 'Father. No, not you, filthy priest. You know what I descended upon here for.' His father hesitated and stepped in front of the priest, and spoke; 'I... You... BASTARD. It's all your... They done it to me... I cant... Your mother... She was an elf! I killed her, of course, those filthy... I couldn't let her keep the child... And half-elf, dont you see! The world filthyest... Oh, I don't mean...' Without any further explanation, Crowe jumped over the altar, his bastard sword in hand, about to strike his father from a single, lethal blow. The priest raised his book and muttered words, and in a flash, a huge magical barrier raised in front of him. Crowe merely bounced off it and landed on his feet, hopefully. 'Ha. Is this a joke? Don't you know better then this.' he taunted the priest. He charged the barrier again, this time, ready. As his sword slashed trough the magical shield like a hot knife trough butter, he noticed the flash of light reflected on metal in one of the dark corners. In a single movement, a whole companyof fully armed knights stepped out of the shadows. What semt to be the leader stepped trough the church's broken doors and said, loudly; 'CHAAAARGE!' Well, you see, this requires a bit of explanation. Crowe's several years of thievery and assassination brought the authorities to... Let's just say dislike him. He had been baited, and fell right into the trap. 'Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck- I'm running!' he murmured to himself, as he turned back and started...Running. He knew that, even if he lasted for a few kilometers, they would catch up on him. There was no point to running, to probably be shot down by archers he assumed were placed outside the church, watching the doors and windows. A wholesome fucking setup. He jumped towards the huge stained glass as he felt an arrow pierce trough his chest; time was as it it had frozen. Beautifull. If only she had still been alive to see this. This church was magnifi- But before he could think further, he fell-- not to his feet this time-- on the cold church floor and collapsed. One of the knights handed his sword to Crowe's father, wich walked in front of him. 'I've won, Crowe. Son. I won.' 'Not so fast.', said Crowe. He turned back, and strained to get up. He walked back and looked at the scene. There was in fact only 13 knights, god it semt much more earlier. He could see archers, ready to shoot on the church's balconies. 'Are all these people here just for me? Hell, I must be famous.' he said, to himself more then anyone else. 'You wont get me. Not alive!', this time louder, directed to the knights. They all watched as he sliped a niddle out of the cross pendant attached to his cape, and stabbed it in his wrist. He fell to his knees, smiled, and soon, to the floor. The last thing he saw, right before he died, was the face of a young girl, hidden in the shadows of the church. 'Is it... You?' he muttered. And slowly, died, a painless death. I dont like it too much, could be reworked. But it's still pretty nice. A grandiose death . I'm not too sure about it. So yeah, I guess I might rewrite something else another time, this was sort of done in a hurry. Hope you guys like! -Crowe Last edited by LeCrowe : 04-18-2008 at 02:51 AM.