Beyond
IC blog dedicated to the written adventures of Myles Beyond. Once elite Ishgardian adopted paladin. Now nomadic adventure seeking out ancient runes. Primal Data Center. Roegadyn. 21+.
"Together we can go further than we can alone. Together, we can go Myles Beyond.--->>>"
The Dusk of Light
Please understand that what’s divulged here are the accounts of a man long-lived. Some details may have been forgotten but the scars are a tapestry all onto its own.
It was a war fought on three fronts. A nation divided internally between the powers that be. The four High Houses arguing about how the dragons should be dealt with. Understand, each house was powerful but power isn’t created equally. Some had military force and experience. Others used their resources to gain political power. The candle burned through the moonlit nights with the leaders arguing and plotting their attack.
Resources were never grand for the mass of Ishgard and in the war they became more limited. The people, the heart of the foundation was weakening. Dragons managed to infiltrate and destroy structures, wreck homes and instill fear in the hearts of many. Stomachs and the impatience of the people both grew louder.
Archbishop Thordan and his Knights Twelve felt the rumblings of their people. Heard the roars of their enemy and felt the pressure that was rising. Choices were made, hearts grew frozen, and lives were changed forever.
“I cannot say with great certainty if the powers that be were corrupted for the desire of power or tainted because of the desire to protect the nation. Either way, great men lost their way…”
Myles Beyond’s shield felt the flames of hatred. The fangs of detest and his sword swam in the blood of all that opposed that he swore to protect. Between traveling to and from the front lines, sharing his rations with war orphaned child and pleading his case to join the rescue party, the knight remained quite busy. After learning that his mentor, a brilliant scholar had turned heel along with the other twelve, he felt betrayed.
Ser Noudenet De Jaimberd, a kindred spirit of poor beginnings, common interest, and a fellow warrior in arms. A man with no intent on gaining power, only knowledge. Was this the reason he allowed for his integrity to be stripped away? Was it worth it?
Seared into his aether Myles could recall the blood splatter of his comrade jumping in front of him to protect him. To. Protect. Him. They had managed to make their way through the Vault without casualties until now. Defeated the best Ishgard had to offer. Great men turned eikons. Great men turn foe.
Thordan’s threat was removed. Only a select few know the truth. The nation remembers Thordan as their Archbishop and not as the primal king he believed himself to have become. As a great man who was assassinated by a traitor. An outsider allowed in only to betray them or so the story goes. Ser Aymeric de Borel, Estinien Varlineau, and a few others along with Myles came to the decision that the Ishgard need not know the truth. The nation needed a strong front to finish the war on its hands. And so, Myles was offered up as a sacrifice to become a martyr and sole bearer of Thordan’s crimes. After gratitude, they gave the roegadyn a chance to escape before sending their men after him.
Now marked a war criminal, nye, worse. Branded with regicide. Though the truth, he was not alone nor was his actions against the nation he had come to love and admire. For years to come Myles had to fend for his life for charges he didn’t commit. Treated like an animal whenever tracked down by men wishing to collect a bounty. Simply to be sent home with fresh wounds and a message for any others who seek him out.
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The Song of Megalotragus
WORK IN PROGRESS
The Inquistive Stranger
Depending on the region you hailed from and or your occupation one may say that the Roegadyn stuck out like a sore thumb. “You look familiar.” Or “Where have I seen you from?” The most courageous and foolish would even bark, “so this is where you’ve been hiding?” A younger version of the roe-man was once plastered on the hunt logs across the northern region of Aldenard. The wealth of the time may recall his escort services. And in recent years the weak and sicky may rejoice in his presence for a caring hand in their trying times. What brings you stranger?
A Forgotten Memory
