Post by seraphimxix on Jan 4, 2009 22:52:35 GMT -5
Name: Gin Kurogetsu
Race: Human
Age: 34
Height: 6'2
Weight: 205 Pounds
Appearance:
img99.imageshack.us/my.php?image=ginty1.jpg
img99.imageshack.us/my.php?image=gin2wr8.jpg
img99.imageshack.us/my.php?image=gin3zu8.jpg
Birth place:Dantooine
Faction: Jedi
Rank: Jedi Knight, Sentinel
Bio:
Family History
The Kurogetsu family first originated on Onderon, but immigrated to Dantooine during the Mandalorian Wars in order to escape destruction. On Dantooine the Kurogetsu clan prospered, having a new found skill in farming. Over the decades, the Kurogetsu family attained a growing wealth through farming and trading until it owned one of the more prominent farming companies on Dantooine. In addition to the families likening to farming, it’s lineage dates back to the ancient times of Onderon, beyond even the Beast Wars, where nearly all of the males in the family served as soldiers and the protectors of the throne. In modern times, the Kurogetsu family honors that lineage by carrying a tradition through which all males in the family are trained swordsmen, though in this day and age the training is more for ornamental and traditional reasons than combative or practical.
Physically, men and women who have Kurogetsu blood in them often don’t grow to be very tall. Men rarely ever grow beyond 6 feet; to be any taller is abnormal, and seen as a sign that that person will do something important in life. Women tend to have short red hair and blue eyes, while men have long, curly brown hair and blue eyes. There is also a rare hereditary disease that members of the family might possess that results in a very early death. It is called Vambylu (Vam-bye-loo), named after the Scientist who discovered it. It is incurable.
Birth and Infancy -3636 BBY
A baby boy is born to Tray and Derry Kurogetsu. The boy has a unique set of eyes, they are steel grey, and so they decide to name him Gin, which means silver. From an early age, it is obvious that Gin is one of the few who would grow to be very tall, relatively speaking. As such, he receivea special treatment, actually spoiled and favored by most of the family. Even as a young child, Gin shows signs of hot headedness as a result. On his 5th birthday nearly the entire family shows up at his birthday party, even his Jedi Master Grandfather, Haydik Kurogetsu. It is at this time Gin’s force sensitivity is first witnessed.
The birthday party is going well; all of the children are happy,the adults are socializing, wine is flowing (at a child’s party @_@) , and the presents are being unwrapped. All is well. The pile of parcels is nearing its end, and with a frantic tug, the festive wrapping on a particularly elongated gift is torn off, revealing a large toy that resembles a pogo-stick in nature. How fun it is to ride back and forth on such a device! The ridiculous amount of money wasted on said toy is at the back of the deliverer’s mind when she sees the young silver haired boy’s face, a great smile splitting it from ear to ear.
Alas, the fun always comes to end, sometimes happily, sometimes abruptly. In this case, the latter takes precedence. There is a slip, there is a gasp, and young Gin sails through the air, inevitably toward a large wooden table. His mother always warned him to be careful around furniture! He will surely slam his face upon the bench, such calamity! He has strayed far too close for it to happen any other way. Amazingly, he falls and shies just short of the edge, hitting the soft earthy ground instead. A high pitched wail pierces the air and the surrounding family rushes to the poor boy’s aid, all except for the wise old grandfather. Haydik has had many children, and he knows that a few scrapes and bruises and perhaps a sprained wrist is hardly if ever fatal. No, what has garnered his attention is something that perhaps only one who is trained to notice such things would notice. The table moved, seemingly of its own volition, it slid, only a couple inches, but a couple inches can be the deciding factor between a bruised wrist and a bloodied face. Kaythingy has his suspicions now. The force runs through his own veins like alcohol through an Irishmen. Could it be that perhaps…?
Indeed it can! Indeed it is! After some tests and a few pokes from a needle, there is no doubt that young Gin has a special attunement to the force that many others’ lack. It is obvious, then, what must be done. There are tears, there are the initial protests from the mother, please don’t take my baby away! But in the end it is clear as day that Gin Kurogetsu is destined for greatness! Or at least… destined to not spend the rest of his days shoveling manure and planting sunflowers.
Life as a Padawan- 3631 BBY
It’s a bit difficult to make the jump from living in the capitalistic life style of the son of two of the wealthiest people on the planet, to joining the very embodiment of Communism, the Jedi Order. Young greedy Gin has much trouble adjusting, and his old master, his grandfather, is hard pressed to prune him in the ways of the Jedi. But alas they are family, and so the old Jedi Master makes an exception for his grandson. It takes many years, but as the boy grows older he ascertains much experience, and through experience one gains wisdom. Despite the negative influence that the short life time of leisure had upon him, Gin grows up to be a very talented and intelligent individual. His master is a calm, peaceful person who oozes humility and grace, and these traits rub off on to his young apprentice. A mentor cannot ask for better spiritual growth.
Gin’s stellar training is not isolated to the metaphysical realm, however. He is a quick learner of many things, most specifically the skills required to wield a lightsaber. If anything, one could state that he is talented in the art of dueling than anything else. This strength is counter-balanced by a significant weakness in the realm of force abilities. Indeed, while he does have an above average connection to the force, his ability to actually harness it is rather weak. If not for his grandfather taking it upon himself to train him, it’s entirely possible that he would have ended up in the Agricultural corps!
Fortunately, this is not the case. Gin is daunted, and at times discouraged, but he is not beaten. Realizing his weaknesses, Gin trains his physical body to the limit so that he may make up for his spiritual weakness. In fact, it is not a weakness but a strength. The force is his ally, but it is not his crutch!
Knighthood- 3615 BBY
The Jedi Trials are difficult, they are tedious, and they are intimidating. But they are not undefeatable. This is proved to be true as Gin fights the good fight and emerges victorious! After over two decades of training, meditation, missions, and emotion, the padawan is a student of the force, but no longer the student of a man! He is now a Jedi Knight, a dam between order and chaos, a guardian of the Republic and it’s people and everything it stands for! Hurrah!
Sadly, for the all good times there are bad times. Not long after his ascendency to Knight status, his old mentor is diagnosed with Vambylu, the bane of the Kurogetsu family. Shortly thereafter, his physical body succumbs to the disease. He dies. Gin is momentarily distraught, saddened by his master’s death. Who wouldn’t be? Who doesn’t mourn for the loss of their parental figure, their guide? But Gin is not down for long. No, he realizes that death is just one more phase of life. He knows that his Master is now one with the force, and can take comfort in the fact that he was not killed, did not die violently, but instead passed away peacefully in his sleep, at the ripe old age of 83 years old. He has left a good impression of the Kurogetsu family on the Galaxy, and it is now up to Gin to prolong that reputation. In his heart, he knows he will not fail.
Lightsaber:Single-Phase, mono-bladed.
Color: Silver
Practiced Lightsaber forms:
Shii-Cho-4
Makashi-0
Soresu-4
Ataru-0
Shien / Djem So-0
>>Sub-form Backhanded-0
Niman-0
>>Sub-form Jar-kai, or Dual Wield-0
Juyo-0
Double Bladed Combat-0
Force-Sensitive Abilities or practices:
Telekinetic: 5
Telepathic: 4
Body: 5
Sense: 5
Protection: 5
Healing: 5
Destruction: 0
Specialized Skills:
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 7
Intelligence: 8
Speed: 7
Leadership: 4
Unarmed:
Melee Weapons: 8
Ranged Weapons: 4
Force Attunement: 5
RP Sample:
For the Lord Pink
The sun rises. We form a line that is thousands of feet long. We grip our weapons-knives, guns, swords, axes- and wait. As sure as the sun’s rise and fall, they peek the crest of the hill across the bombed out crater that was once a bountiful field. They form a line that is thousands of feet long. They grip their weapons- knives, guns, swords, axes- and wait. We stare at them, the enemy, the threat to the security and dominance of the Blaxican Empire, the Canadians. They stare back at us. There is a deadly silence, the only sound that of the chilly wind whipping our exposed faces, seeping through the cracks of our tattered armor.
For the Lord Pink
I can feel it inside of me, growing, festering. The bloodlust is upon me. The edge of my vision is filled with red, I feel anger and excitement. Soon I will kill. Hopefully, I will die. Regardless of my fate, blood will be spilled in the name of the Lord Pink, and for that we are glad. There is a shout, praise for the Lord Pink, and then we charge. They yell, curse us, charge. As I run I can feel the blood lust beginning to seize my being. The dim blood red obscuring my peripheral vision deepens and expands slightly. I see my prey: a tall, muscular man. He is wielding a mighty axe. I am excited; such a large man will surely spill much blood.
For the Lord Pink
The shouts and rustle and clinking of moving armor collaborate into a dull roar in my ears. I raise my Desert Eagle and fire indiscriminately into the quickly approaching mass of enemies. They do the same. A warcry is abruptly cut short, and I feel a twinge of jealousy. One of my brothers has fulfilled his duty to the Lord Pink. How I long to be in his place. I scream and increase my tempo from a steady jog to a full blown sprint, anxious to close the gap and engage in the real fight. The Canadian whom I have chosen to kill is still standing. He looks at me and I look back, and he nods understandingly. Like me and my brothers he is a soldier. He knows that like I eventually, he will die.
For the Lord Pink
The distance has closed and both sides have already left a long trail of dead. Now, we are right on top of each other. The Canadian shouts something and I draw my sword. We raise our weapons high. I do not have to look to know that my brothers are doing the same. There is a collective gasp and scream as my brothers who have outrun me come into contact with the enemy. Now in range, my Canadian enemy fiercely brings his great axe down, attempting to cleave me in two. Unfortunately for him, I have been in far too many battles to be felled by such a primitive technique, and with an ease and finesse ascertained from the experience of countless wars, I side-step and bury the nuzzle of my Desert Eagle into his ear and pull the trigger, blowing his brains and the devastating round out through the opposite end of his skull. Before his corpse can touch the ground I have already moved on, swinging my sword in a wide arch, delivering death to any enemy of the Blaxican Empire. The edge of my sword catches the tip of a neck and easily slices through the armor, cutting deeply into flesh. Another soldier falls to the ground, gasping for the much needed oxygen and blood that has no way of reaching their destinations now that his jugular and wind pipe have been severed. All around me, chaos ensues. As I engage in combat with a challenger I am faintly aware of the fact that the Canadian forces are not the only ones sustaining losses. It has been only a matter of minutes, yet many of my brothers have fulfilled their oaths.
For the Lord Pink
This one is a rookie. He wields his sword like it was a club, and he is not familiar with its heavy weight and point of balance. With a howl he brings his sword down in an attempt to cleave me, and again I side-step. Intending to execute this fool like the last I again raise my desert eagle to the side of his head and pull the trigger. But alas! In my lust-crazed excitement I have forgotten to change the magazine, as evidenced by the telltale click-click of a weapon attempting to discharge air. I jump back, but not quickly enough. The rookie swings his sword with such force that the momentum causes him to spin on his axis. I scream as his sword cuts through my armor and three inches into the side of my waist. I can feel my life force ebbing away, and yet, I am excited. I feel a new strength rising within me. With a growl, I drop my pistol and grab his blade, preventing him from pulling it out of my side, then raise my sword and bury it in the top of his skull. With a grunt I yank my sword out of his head and allow him to fall to the ground, taking his bloodied weapon with him. It is getting hard to see, my vision has been completely obscured, and now I see everything with a blood red tint. I ignore my wound and continue to fight.
For the Lord Pink
I continue to fight, slaying another, when suddenly a sharp pain racks through my body. I glance down at the bloody stump that was once my arm, and turn to face my enemy. He is tall, far taller than the rest. He is the leader. As I dive for my sword he raises his quadruple-bladed scythe and bears it down upon me just as I grab hold of my weapon and fling it in front of my face, barely in time to prevent him from embedding one of the cruel blades in my eyes. I have saved myself, but now I am at a disadvantage. He stands above me, smirking, using his weight to drive both the scythe and my own sword down into me. With but one hand I cannot hope to hold him off for long, though I try. Abruptly, he pulls back slightly. Not too spare me, but for a reason that I cannot ascertain. Regardless, he pulls back, and then violently twists his scythe. Ah, I see now. Upon twisting, my sword, which was caught in between the scythe’s blade, is yanked out of my hands. Without my weapon there truly is no hope. With a sigh I lay my lone hand on my chest and stare at the charcoal gray sky, waiting for my end. I have fought long, and hard. I have given my blood, taken others, all in the name of the Lord Pink. I have represented his power well on countless battlefields. There is no dishonor to be had, for I have fulfilled my oath and my duties. As I stare and wait for death's stroke I can faintly see a trace of a quickly dissipitating light behind the ashy gray sky. The sun sets.
For the lord Pink
Race: Human
Age: 34
Height: 6'2
Weight: 205 Pounds
Appearance:
img99.imageshack.us/my.php?image=ginty1.jpg
img99.imageshack.us/my.php?image=gin2wr8.jpg
img99.imageshack.us/my.php?image=gin3zu8.jpg
Birth place:Dantooine
Faction: Jedi
Rank: Jedi Knight, Sentinel
Bio:
Family History
The Kurogetsu family first originated on Onderon, but immigrated to Dantooine during the Mandalorian Wars in order to escape destruction. On Dantooine the Kurogetsu clan prospered, having a new found skill in farming. Over the decades, the Kurogetsu family attained a growing wealth through farming and trading until it owned one of the more prominent farming companies on Dantooine. In addition to the families likening to farming, it’s lineage dates back to the ancient times of Onderon, beyond even the Beast Wars, where nearly all of the males in the family served as soldiers and the protectors of the throne. In modern times, the Kurogetsu family honors that lineage by carrying a tradition through which all males in the family are trained swordsmen, though in this day and age the training is more for ornamental and traditional reasons than combative or practical.
Physically, men and women who have Kurogetsu blood in them often don’t grow to be very tall. Men rarely ever grow beyond 6 feet; to be any taller is abnormal, and seen as a sign that that person will do something important in life. Women tend to have short red hair and blue eyes, while men have long, curly brown hair and blue eyes. There is also a rare hereditary disease that members of the family might possess that results in a very early death. It is called Vambylu (Vam-bye-loo), named after the Scientist who discovered it. It is incurable.
Birth and Infancy -3636 BBY
A baby boy is born to Tray and Derry Kurogetsu. The boy has a unique set of eyes, they are steel grey, and so they decide to name him Gin, which means silver. From an early age, it is obvious that Gin is one of the few who would grow to be very tall, relatively speaking. As such, he receivea special treatment, actually spoiled and favored by most of the family. Even as a young child, Gin shows signs of hot headedness as a result. On his 5th birthday nearly the entire family shows up at his birthday party, even his Jedi Master Grandfather, Haydik Kurogetsu. It is at this time Gin’s force sensitivity is first witnessed.
The birthday party is going well; all of the children are happy,the adults are socializing, wine is flowing (at a child’s party @_@) , and the presents are being unwrapped. All is well. The pile of parcels is nearing its end, and with a frantic tug, the festive wrapping on a particularly elongated gift is torn off, revealing a large toy that resembles a pogo-stick in nature. How fun it is to ride back and forth on such a device! The ridiculous amount of money wasted on said toy is at the back of the deliverer’s mind when she sees the young silver haired boy’s face, a great smile splitting it from ear to ear.
Alas, the fun always comes to end, sometimes happily, sometimes abruptly. In this case, the latter takes precedence. There is a slip, there is a gasp, and young Gin sails through the air, inevitably toward a large wooden table. His mother always warned him to be careful around furniture! He will surely slam his face upon the bench, such calamity! He has strayed far too close for it to happen any other way. Amazingly, he falls and shies just short of the edge, hitting the soft earthy ground instead. A high pitched wail pierces the air and the surrounding family rushes to the poor boy’s aid, all except for the wise old grandfather. Haydik has had many children, and he knows that a few scrapes and bruises and perhaps a sprained wrist is hardly if ever fatal. No, what has garnered his attention is something that perhaps only one who is trained to notice such things would notice. The table moved, seemingly of its own volition, it slid, only a couple inches, but a couple inches can be the deciding factor between a bruised wrist and a bloodied face. Kaythingy has his suspicions now. The force runs through his own veins like alcohol through an Irishmen. Could it be that perhaps…?
Indeed it can! Indeed it is! After some tests and a few pokes from a needle, there is no doubt that young Gin has a special attunement to the force that many others’ lack. It is obvious, then, what must be done. There are tears, there are the initial protests from the mother, please don’t take my baby away! But in the end it is clear as day that Gin Kurogetsu is destined for greatness! Or at least… destined to not spend the rest of his days shoveling manure and planting sunflowers.
Life as a Padawan- 3631 BBY
It’s a bit difficult to make the jump from living in the capitalistic life style of the son of two of the wealthiest people on the planet, to joining the very embodiment of Communism, the Jedi Order. Young greedy Gin has much trouble adjusting, and his old master, his grandfather, is hard pressed to prune him in the ways of the Jedi. But alas they are family, and so the old Jedi Master makes an exception for his grandson. It takes many years, but as the boy grows older he ascertains much experience, and through experience one gains wisdom. Despite the negative influence that the short life time of leisure had upon him, Gin grows up to be a very talented and intelligent individual. His master is a calm, peaceful person who oozes humility and grace, and these traits rub off on to his young apprentice. A mentor cannot ask for better spiritual growth.
Gin’s stellar training is not isolated to the metaphysical realm, however. He is a quick learner of many things, most specifically the skills required to wield a lightsaber. If anything, one could state that he is talented in the art of dueling than anything else. This strength is counter-balanced by a significant weakness in the realm of force abilities. Indeed, while he does have an above average connection to the force, his ability to actually harness it is rather weak. If not for his grandfather taking it upon himself to train him, it’s entirely possible that he would have ended up in the Agricultural corps!
Fortunately, this is not the case. Gin is daunted, and at times discouraged, but he is not beaten. Realizing his weaknesses, Gin trains his physical body to the limit so that he may make up for his spiritual weakness. In fact, it is not a weakness but a strength. The force is his ally, but it is not his crutch!
Knighthood- 3615 BBY
The Jedi Trials are difficult, they are tedious, and they are intimidating. But they are not undefeatable. This is proved to be true as Gin fights the good fight and emerges victorious! After over two decades of training, meditation, missions, and emotion, the padawan is a student of the force, but no longer the student of a man! He is now a Jedi Knight, a dam between order and chaos, a guardian of the Republic and it’s people and everything it stands for! Hurrah!
Sadly, for the all good times there are bad times. Not long after his ascendency to Knight status, his old mentor is diagnosed with Vambylu, the bane of the Kurogetsu family. Shortly thereafter, his physical body succumbs to the disease. He dies. Gin is momentarily distraught, saddened by his master’s death. Who wouldn’t be? Who doesn’t mourn for the loss of their parental figure, their guide? But Gin is not down for long. No, he realizes that death is just one more phase of life. He knows that his Master is now one with the force, and can take comfort in the fact that he was not killed, did not die violently, but instead passed away peacefully in his sleep, at the ripe old age of 83 years old. He has left a good impression of the Kurogetsu family on the Galaxy, and it is now up to Gin to prolong that reputation. In his heart, he knows he will not fail.
Lightsaber:Single-Phase, mono-bladed.
Color: Silver
Practiced Lightsaber forms:
Shii-Cho-4
Makashi-0
Soresu-4
Ataru-0
Shien / Djem So-0
>>Sub-form Backhanded-0
Niman-0
>>Sub-form Jar-kai, or Dual Wield-0
Juyo-0
Double Bladed Combat-0
Force-Sensitive Abilities or practices:
Telekinetic: 5
Telepathic: 4
Body: 5
Sense: 5
Protection: 5
Healing: 5
Destruction: 0
Specialized Skills:
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 7
Intelligence: 8
Speed: 7
Leadership: 4
Unarmed:
Melee Weapons: 8
Ranged Weapons: 4
Force Attunement: 5
RP Sample:
For the Lord Pink
The sun rises. We form a line that is thousands of feet long. We grip our weapons-knives, guns, swords, axes- and wait. As sure as the sun’s rise and fall, they peek the crest of the hill across the bombed out crater that was once a bountiful field. They form a line that is thousands of feet long. They grip their weapons- knives, guns, swords, axes- and wait. We stare at them, the enemy, the threat to the security and dominance of the Blaxican Empire, the Canadians. They stare back at us. There is a deadly silence, the only sound that of the chilly wind whipping our exposed faces, seeping through the cracks of our tattered armor.
For the Lord Pink
I can feel it inside of me, growing, festering. The bloodlust is upon me. The edge of my vision is filled with red, I feel anger and excitement. Soon I will kill. Hopefully, I will die. Regardless of my fate, blood will be spilled in the name of the Lord Pink, and for that we are glad. There is a shout, praise for the Lord Pink, and then we charge. They yell, curse us, charge. As I run I can feel the blood lust beginning to seize my being. The dim blood red obscuring my peripheral vision deepens and expands slightly. I see my prey: a tall, muscular man. He is wielding a mighty axe. I am excited; such a large man will surely spill much blood.
For the Lord Pink
The shouts and rustle and clinking of moving armor collaborate into a dull roar in my ears. I raise my Desert Eagle and fire indiscriminately into the quickly approaching mass of enemies. They do the same. A warcry is abruptly cut short, and I feel a twinge of jealousy. One of my brothers has fulfilled his duty to the Lord Pink. How I long to be in his place. I scream and increase my tempo from a steady jog to a full blown sprint, anxious to close the gap and engage in the real fight. The Canadian whom I have chosen to kill is still standing. He looks at me and I look back, and he nods understandingly. Like me and my brothers he is a soldier. He knows that like I eventually, he will die.
For the Lord Pink
The distance has closed and both sides have already left a long trail of dead. Now, we are right on top of each other. The Canadian shouts something and I draw my sword. We raise our weapons high. I do not have to look to know that my brothers are doing the same. There is a collective gasp and scream as my brothers who have outrun me come into contact with the enemy. Now in range, my Canadian enemy fiercely brings his great axe down, attempting to cleave me in two. Unfortunately for him, I have been in far too many battles to be felled by such a primitive technique, and with an ease and finesse ascertained from the experience of countless wars, I side-step and bury the nuzzle of my Desert Eagle into his ear and pull the trigger, blowing his brains and the devastating round out through the opposite end of his skull. Before his corpse can touch the ground I have already moved on, swinging my sword in a wide arch, delivering death to any enemy of the Blaxican Empire. The edge of my sword catches the tip of a neck and easily slices through the armor, cutting deeply into flesh. Another soldier falls to the ground, gasping for the much needed oxygen and blood that has no way of reaching their destinations now that his jugular and wind pipe have been severed. All around me, chaos ensues. As I engage in combat with a challenger I am faintly aware of the fact that the Canadian forces are not the only ones sustaining losses. It has been only a matter of minutes, yet many of my brothers have fulfilled their oaths.
For the Lord Pink
This one is a rookie. He wields his sword like it was a club, and he is not familiar with its heavy weight and point of balance. With a howl he brings his sword down in an attempt to cleave me, and again I side-step. Intending to execute this fool like the last I again raise my desert eagle to the side of his head and pull the trigger. But alas! In my lust-crazed excitement I have forgotten to change the magazine, as evidenced by the telltale click-click of a weapon attempting to discharge air. I jump back, but not quickly enough. The rookie swings his sword with such force that the momentum causes him to spin on his axis. I scream as his sword cuts through my armor and three inches into the side of my waist. I can feel my life force ebbing away, and yet, I am excited. I feel a new strength rising within me. With a growl, I drop my pistol and grab his blade, preventing him from pulling it out of my side, then raise my sword and bury it in the top of his skull. With a grunt I yank my sword out of his head and allow him to fall to the ground, taking his bloodied weapon with him. It is getting hard to see, my vision has been completely obscured, and now I see everything with a blood red tint. I ignore my wound and continue to fight.
For the Lord Pink
I continue to fight, slaying another, when suddenly a sharp pain racks through my body. I glance down at the bloody stump that was once my arm, and turn to face my enemy. He is tall, far taller than the rest. He is the leader. As I dive for my sword he raises his quadruple-bladed scythe and bears it down upon me just as I grab hold of my weapon and fling it in front of my face, barely in time to prevent him from embedding one of the cruel blades in my eyes. I have saved myself, but now I am at a disadvantage. He stands above me, smirking, using his weight to drive both the scythe and my own sword down into me. With but one hand I cannot hope to hold him off for long, though I try. Abruptly, he pulls back slightly. Not too spare me, but for a reason that I cannot ascertain. Regardless, he pulls back, and then violently twists his scythe. Ah, I see now. Upon twisting, my sword, which was caught in between the scythe’s blade, is yanked out of my hands. Without my weapon there truly is no hope. With a sigh I lay my lone hand on my chest and stare at the charcoal gray sky, waiting for my end. I have fought long, and hard. I have given my blood, taken others, all in the name of the Lord Pink. I have represented his power well on countless battlefields. There is no dishonor to be had, for I have fulfilled my oath and my duties. As I stare and wait for death's stroke I can faintly see a trace of a quickly dissipitating light behind the ashy gray sky. The sun sets.
For the lord Pink
