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Ossy PortocarreroThe island is calm, all the plants and buildings sleeping in the twillight. A light breeze plays along the hanging leaves, the gentle peace of the 'too silent' surroundings suddenly broken by high female laughter in the distance. It sounds too high, too loud in this deserted island. Paper and fallen leaves litter the floor here, half loaded wares sit on docks beside half laden boats, stores sit with items not perfectly stocked. It is eerily desolate, except for that jovial sound deep within the palace, a sound which seems to stretch along the entire empty place.
Suddenly, there is a rustle of foliage. A highly forested area shifts and shudders as it is agitated by the unexpected appearance of a gloved hand. It pushes the branches aside, and the hand is followed by a well crafted bracer. And then a mythril chain mail covered arm. Another hand appears to push the brush aside, similarly followed by the rest of an arm. Soon, the visage of a muscular, armored elf steps through the gap created by those gloved appendages. He, for that is what he is, is tall, with pale skin, bedecked in the uniform of a Teleri royal guard in white, cobalt and mythril.
His face is set in a grim mask of determination, the scars along his features making his expression seem even more intense and frightening than it would be otherwise. His piercing green eyes seem to be made of the same stuff as the very leaves he seems to be escaping from. He is gaunt and entirely serious, not only in his expression but in countenance and the make up of his features. He affords himself few frivolities, the make of his sword, obviously now that he is standing on the grass, brushing leaves from his uniform, rather unique and fancier than the utilitarian one a guard's uniform would supply.
Atop his head is another sign of rare non-conformity as a somewhat messy head of murky red-brown hair grows from his scalp, tied aside so as not to be bothersome. With his amber eyes, he glances about the empty area he is not inhabiting. The discarded leaves lay in a rough circle about him, and he suddenly snaps towards the sound of that laughter. His jaw sets tightly, the muscles tensing with resolution, and the guard sets off towards the palace at a fast, long strided walk.
The barren island's now second inhabitant makes his way to the palace, for his bizarre appearance seeming clean and in good shape. The only wounds of his person are those well aged from combats long past. Once he arrives in the palace, he follows the sound of a woman's voice until he stands at the doorway of the room where a woman, obviously of Teleri descent, is making all the noise. He watches her silently for a few moments, studying her. With a twitch that could be interpreted as a start he suddenly realizes who she is. The lady Findentinda, descendant of his sword liege the Teleri High King Olwe. With a cough, he makes her aware of his presence and then bows to her as his rank as a body guard demands. Words are not necessary to convey his allegiance. A few moments pass and he stands once more, turning on the spot and walking back beyond the doorway into the hall. He stands guard, still and tall, hand on his pommel.
And just like that, he resumes his post without delay, and waits, ready at a moment's notice to take his place again at the back ans side of his main care, the safety of his majesty the King as soon as his liege-lord returns.
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Suddenly, there is a rustle of foliage. A highly forested area shifts and shudders as it is agitated by the unexpected appearance of a gloved hand. It pushes the branches aside, and the hand is followed by a well crafted bracer. And then a mythril chain mail covered arm. Another hand appears to push the brush aside, similarly followed by the rest of an arm. Soon, the visage of a muscular, armored elf steps through the gap created by those gloved appendages. He, for that is what he is, is tall, with pale skin, bedecked in the uniform of a Teleri royal guard in white, cobalt and mythril.
His face is set in a grim mask of determination, the scars along his features making his expression seem even more intense and frightening than it would be otherwise. His piercing green eyes seem to be made of the same stuff as the very leaves he seems to be escaping from. He is gaunt and entirely serious, not only in his expression but in countenance and the make up of his features. He affords himself few frivolities, the make of his sword, obviously now that he is standing on the grass, brushing leaves from his uniform, rather unique and fancier than the utilitarian one a guard's uniform would supply.
Atop his head is another sign of rare non-conformity as a somewhat messy head of murky red-brown hair grows from his scalp, tied aside so as not to be bothersome. With his amber eyes, he glances about the empty area he is not inhabiting. The discarded leaves lay in a rough circle about him, and he suddenly snaps towards the sound of that laughter. His jaw sets tightly, the muscles tensing with resolution, and the guard sets off towards the palace at a fast, long strided walk.
The barren island's now second inhabitant makes his way to the palace, for his bizarre appearance seeming clean and in good shape. The only wounds of his person are those well aged from combats long past. Once he arrives in the palace, he follows the sound of a woman's voice until he stands at the doorway of the room where a woman, obviously of Teleri descent, is making all the noise. He watches her silently for a few moments, studying her. With a twitch that could be interpreted as a start he suddenly realizes who she is. The lady Findentinda, descendant of his sword liege the Teleri High King Olwe. With a cough, he makes her aware of his presence and then bows to her as his rank as a body guard demands. Words are not necessary to convey his allegiance. A few moments pass and he stands once more, turning on the spot and walking back beyond the doorway into the hall. He stands guard, still and tall, hand on his pommel.
And just like that, he resumes his post without delay, and waits, ready at a moment's notice to take his place again at the back ans side of his main care, the safety of his majesty the King as soon as his liege-lord returns.
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