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-crawls out under rock tentatively- Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaah sorry about that guys. I was gonna post a bit back but well i kept putting it off and forget about it cus of work/holiday stuff. Back if you still want me Gheshko. Again, sorry about dissipating into the void. 
aaah.
A howling tundra blows in. The howls of noble wolfs can be heard the the distance. Faethor makes no move to avoid them as his morpher activates with a cold white fury. "Morphing time, EN GARDE!" Emerging from the storm comes the Winter Wolf ranger, glistening like newly laid snow on a perilous mountain. His parade armour has melted away, though the slim, skin tight armour he now wears is no less eye catching. Clawed greaves hold his Raiper now, as he peers out of his wolf shaped helmet. He returns his brothers nod. "WHITE WINTER WOLF RANGER, DAUNTLESS WARRIOR OF THE COLD STEEL!" He charges on the hyena men as well as positioning himself near Kintozoar should his brother need backup "AND YOUR DOOM!" He punctuates with a empowered strike of his blade. 'So... this is you spirit of the wolf? Don't disappoint me.'
((Moving to S,6 and charge attack Hyena T,7))
Luchion activates his morpher. Time for some payback.
"Time for round two Luchion. This time I will fell more than you."
"Lets just get this over with."
Faethor raises an eyebrow at the scene. He takes in the woman's words and... well, he can only agree that the beast they seemed to face was incredibly powerful looking. But to be struck down by his cohorts that easily? To let Almas and his friends and family burn? Not a chance. "Enough prattle. Enough stupid questions" He mutters to himself with pointed look at the guardsmen. Looking down and picking up the white crystal at his feet. "Fair woman! I accept you're proposal and your gift. I couldn't care less for words of spirits, but to save Almas, i pledge myself to you undying." He holds his crystal aloft. He feels a bitter, cold fury build up inside him as he proclaims "I need no explanation, 'spirit' lend me your power and let us slay this Kinzoar from our home soil!"
Eyes flickering open, Faethor wakes with a little bit of a headache. "I'm alive... I'm fine Lu. Good to see you're okay." He says rather plainly, pushing himself away and up from Luchion. Faethor looks between the strangers among them. "...Are... Are you talking to that statue, elf?... Forget the fair guardsmen, you should be putting that mental case blood away."
Faethor retracts his earlier statement as he succumbs to the rage inducing song (still finding it a little crass) and strikes at the creature with another powerful thrust of his raiper.
Welp, faethor's already in the middle of being mildly annoyed about getting hit. Might as well have him rage for good measure!
"Arrrgh... You'll pay for that wretch. EN-GARDE!" Affronted (and more than a little embarassed), without more thought Faethor draws his raiper and attacks his assailant!
As the thunder crashes, sending a ringing through Faethor's ears, he stops for a moment hear the ensuing commotion. "LU! WITH ME!" He barks out the order as he turns to sprint the direction of the commotion.
"Moron! Wait for me!" Faethor huffs and gives chase.
Letting out a sigh, Faethor's expression grows dead pan. "You're my twin Lu, we're both the same damn age." Faethor considers the proposal for a moment. "Well... oh what the hell, I could use the exercise after the ride here. You're on, little brother."
Faethor shakes his head, but allows a small grin. "I'm in too good a mood to ask of your mischief. As for myself, the Order of the Flame has officially recognised me as brother in arms." He points to a coat of arms on the rather extravagant parade armour he's wearing, beaming with quiet pride. "You're brother is a bonified Cavalier. Not bad, eh? You still sword training? I'd hate to hear you wasting all your energy on shenanigans and got all soft while I was away."
"Prat..." Faethor mutters obscenities to himself and follows Luchion with a brisk pace. "It's good to see you're well Lu. Keeping out of trouble, I hope?" He maintains a monotone, but with a undercurrent of warmth. Faethor tries to ignore a distant noise grind. Something about a hammer and a face? He scowls. "Iomedae, the music scene has really gone to the dogs."
Grimacing, Faethor finally spots his sibling. "So stuffing your face is more important then greeting me when i come home?" he mutters to himself, stepping purposefully over. He arrives, now looming over the shoulder of Luchion. "Well that is awfully nice of you Luichon, going to get your dear brother a welcome home snack... at least I hope that's what your doing. Otherwise, I might be inclined to feel mildly offended."
Faethor is searching for his brother. Having only returned this morning, he had been hoping meet both Mother and Luichon at home. What a shock that this noisy, boorish affair should have dashed that hope. Not even a day back and his twin was already grating on him. Some locals have stared at the slightly (read VERY) over dressed half elf striding through the crowds, looking any sign of a white haired simpleton with a death wish.
As long as we don't have this operation go into overdrive, i'm good.
We're kinda gonna be trying to stop and evil witch and her ridiculous monster crew. I think we can safely assume no political figurehead will be looking to us to negotiate trade with Cheliaxian emissaries dude.
White Ranger ready to strike... damn helmet ruining my hair do. |
