Gyrfalcon

Gyrfalcon ducked his head under the hood of his cloak to hide his furious blush. He found the attention flattering, but didn't believe he deserved the crowd. As he prepared to step off of the fishing boat, the master of it, a large, nearly round human, puffed up to him. "M'lord, my deepest apologies, if you had told me you were the great Gyrfalcon, I never would have put you to work on the trip here… I can extend only my sincerest apologies…" Gyrfalcon held his hand up and smiled at the man. "I am not adverse to hard labor, good sir. Our contract was fairly struck and I never regretted shipping with you. I wish you the greatest success on your fishing, good master." The man nearly burst as he swelled with pride at the compliments and the well wishing. "Thank you, my Lord! Please, if there is ever anything I can do for you, just ask!" Gyrfalcon nodded and walked down the gangplank, into the cheering crowd. After an interminably long reception from the mayor of the community, along with a request to stay in the town for a banquet to be held in his honor, Gyrfalcon finally had a chance to speak rather then stand and smile uncomfortably at the praise heaped on him. "Really, Mayor, I'm honored by your request, but I must decline. Unless you have some sort of problem I should deal with, I have… pressing business of my own to attend to." The Mayor seemed taken aback, then thought, and brightened. "Well, Mary-Ann and Alrond are having some marriage problems-" Gyrfalcon cut him off. "Maybe I didn't quite make myself clear, Mayor… I can deal with marauding orcs, or a gang of bandits. Marital troubles and the like are not my strong suit." The Mayor finally admitted that their quite town had none of these problems, and Gyrfalcon nodded and left. After purchasing a horse (and having a strange scene in which he and the trader exchanged positions and Gyrfalcon was trying to drive the price as high as possible), Gyrfalcon reached the open road with a sigh of relief. He understood why he was viewed as a hero, but he was never comfortable with the near-worship some towns heaped on him, or the attempts to draw him into their politics that the leaders of larger cities. Couldn't these people see that he did good deeds for the sakes of the people who benefited from them, not out of a lust for glory or accolades? With a resigned sigh, Gyrfalcon kicked his horse into a canter and headed towards Felleros, hoping that no word would precede his arrival.

*Gyrfalcon bows to Cheyenne* Welcome to the Pen, may your stay here be long and enjoyable. *Gyrfalcon suddenly grins* And keep writing, I enjoy your works. =) *Gyrfalcon heads back to his bar, making sure the free drink for new members sign is still up*

*Gyrfalcon wisely got out of the way of the massive demon, 'Meatgrinder' the Dreamer had called it, as they passed by towards the recruitment office. One on one, Gyrfalcon could likely have fought either demon to a standstill, but together? Gyrfalcon moved to the corpse of Blitzer Zadown and closed the eyes. He didn't even bother to attempt resurrection- one of the demons, probably the thin one, had cast Blood Curse- this Zadown was dead... forever. Crouching in a spreading pool of blood, Gyrfalcon gently picked up the body of the young Zadown. As he carried him away for burial, blood staining the bright gleam of his armor, Gyrfalcon's eyes glinted with unshed tears at the loss of one so young... and his heart filled with impotent rage against the two demons.*

Started from IRC, now moved here. Please, join in. =) Gyrfalcon sat at a table near the back of a Tavern. Unlike most Taverns, this one was bright, with a high ceiling and many torchs. Shadows were kept to a minimum, much to the unhappiness of the various undead patrons. But it was to be expected, for this was a Tavern controlled and owned by the Legion of the White Rose. Nearby, the planeswalker Z|Dead, sat and seemed to be muttering to himself. " .. the blue of between .." Standing nearby and chatting with a fellow patron was a Swordmage, a Legionaire. Most of the other patrons were engrossed in the bard's song or their ale, and said naught. Gyrfalcon himself was working with a small artifact he had picked up recently, and was cleaning and inspecting it to see what it was meant to do. Finally, he had the inscription on the side cleaned enough to read. "I am what can be... what will be, that will come. I am the past, the present, the future. I am everything, and nothing. I was here before the multiverse was spun out, and I shall exist until the end of time..." Gyrfalcon felt a chill go through him for some nameless reason. Off to the side, the Planeswalker continued to mutter. ".. can do it without stumbling .." Off to the side, Swordmage looked up. Those words.... so familiar... somewhere, he had heard it... Gyrfalcon brushed at the final word on the artifact, but after cleaning off the dirt found the word bent, buckled, distorted. Three of the letters could be made out, however. "Ch..s" Z|dead continued to mutter ".. the impossible way .." Gyrfalcon returned to his inspection of the artifact... it seemed to be one of many... He looked closer, and found that it was built to link to other artifacts, to form something larger, stronger... though what, Gyrfalcon did not know. " .. the deeper pits .." drifted Z|dead's voice... Gyrfalcon began to feel light headed as he continued to manipulate the artifact, now looking to see if there were any hidden triggers. Yet it was so chaotic! Chaotic... Chaos... Gyrfalcon considered the three letters... Ch..s .... Chaos... Gyrfalcon's mind whirled into the past, to the final battles in which five of the most powerful archmages of Terra, one of each color, including Gyrfalcon for the Phantasam, had restored Terra with an Ultimate Serenity... even as Chaos, a creature of increadible power, was banished from Terra and sealed away by the Serenity. Could this artifact be one of many, to help summon that fell being back to Terra? Off to the side, Swordmage considered the artifact held in Gyrfalcon's hand and wondered at a blue-red sheen he thought it had... the mark of an item made of Eternium. His hand came to his throat and clutched a pendent he wore, likewise made of that rare material. OOC: Feel free to join in now. =)

*Gyrfalcon strides into the room and looks around... except for a lack of the bar near the stage, almost a perfect replica...* Hello all. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a bar to set up... tomorrow, I think.