[color=goldenrod][i][h2][center]Gerard Segremors[/center][/h2][/i][/color]
[@Conscripts][@Raineh Daze][@Krayzikk]

[color=goldenrod]"True. It would have been a lot of trouble if I didn't have him at my back. The same with Sir Nicomede at our side, to lock you into place and start all this. I'd have had my work cut out for me. Good, reliable brothers-in-arms are hard to come by."[/color]

Rime that venerated Mayon in this holy land of hers to bind him. A mighty charge from a mammoth of a man to knock him off his feet. His comrades were, however far they all might have been from the founding generation, incomparable in their own ways. To stand among their number was an honor he always, until the words grew dull on his tongue, was sure to reiterate.

The hammer, cast aside as the Boar seemed to accept spite in his final moments, was lifted again off the diamond-crusted earth, its weight floating an inch above as measured steps brought it over, and raised it high.

He met the gaze of the fallen man, both knowing he was to breathe his last. He spoke again, in a voice that quaked not with fury, tightened its throat not, grit no teeth.

[color=goldenrod]"But, hey, like I said— You were fighting the Roses. Not anyone else."

[i]Not me.

Not the ghost of the Faceless.

All of us.[/i]

"The only reason I'm here is because I strive for it every day— I belong because [i]they[/i] judge me to, not you. Mercenary record would never have been enough. I had to keep moving beyond that, and every one of us who made it out did the same. The Faceless are left in the past. You will be too."[/color]

Instead, he spoke as if saying a simple farewell.

The road ahead was clearing up.

[color=goldenrod]"May Reon's gold flame burn your spirit clean."[/color]

He swung.