B
Belomar
Guest
I first met him on the vile reaches of eastern Lyonesse, clad in shining yellow and surrounded by his friends and brothers in battle. At the front he stood, wielding a mighty longbow with deceptive ease, cloak rippling in the humid Lyonesse wind as he sought out the enemy wandering the plains before us. Your chronicler was part of another guild then, and a novice at the ways of the world, yet I was nevertheless invited to join these yellow-clad warriors in fighting the nefarious Danaoin Farmers plaguing the area. It was an honor for this then-young minstrel to be part of that proud band.
That was long ago. I am now a Virtuoso of my profession, and a proud member of Shadowlords Society, that mighty yellow-clad order sworn to protect our fair realm of Albion. The scout that invited me to his group so long ago was Zerathol Silverblade, and guild master of the Society he used to be. No longer. The harsh reality of our dark times can wear down the bravest and most ardent of our fighters. That is what happened to Zerathol.
Brave and valiant, our guildmaster devoted his life to his guild. He was plagued daily with the responsibilities of leadership and a continuous stream of difficult decisions. He may not always have been able to go along with the wishes of everyone, and as any guildmaster he put his guild before others, but his deeds were with the best intentions. He may also have been lacking in diplomatic proficiency, but this humble chronicler hopes that everyone holds him in respect and joins me in saluting him one last time as he leaves the World of Excalibur for good.
Goodbye, Zerathol Silverblade, and godspeed. May the rhythm lighten your steps, always, and may you always know that your shadowlord companions will follow you wherever you go.
[Edit: The guildmaster of Shadowlords Society has left the guild for personal reasons. The guild, however, remains strong, and shall continue in the spirit it was created.]
That was long ago. I am now a Virtuoso of my profession, and a proud member of Shadowlords Society, that mighty yellow-clad order sworn to protect our fair realm of Albion. The scout that invited me to his group so long ago was Zerathol Silverblade, and guild master of the Society he used to be. No longer. The harsh reality of our dark times can wear down the bravest and most ardent of our fighters. That is what happened to Zerathol.
Brave and valiant, our guildmaster devoted his life to his guild. He was plagued daily with the responsibilities of leadership and a continuous stream of difficult decisions. He may not always have been able to go along with the wishes of everyone, and as any guildmaster he put his guild before others, but his deeds were with the best intentions. He may also have been lacking in diplomatic proficiency, but this humble chronicler hopes that everyone holds him in respect and joins me in saluting him one last time as he leaves the World of Excalibur for good.
Goodbye, Zerathol Silverblade, and godspeed. May the rhythm lighten your steps, always, and may you always know that your shadowlord companions will follow you wherever you go.
[Edit: The guildmaster of Shadowlords Society has left the guild for personal reasons. The guild, however, remains strong, and shall continue in the spirit it was created.]
