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Born of the Prophecy
Come to make another
Created on 2005-01-01 16:50:40 (#5615431), last updated 2005-06-25
52 comments received, 343 comments posted
Basic Account [Gift]
1 Journal Entry, 0 Tags, 16 Memories, 0 Virtual Gifts, 3 Userpics
Basic Info| Name: | Cynric |
|---|
BioHe dreamed. Not of a golden chain. Not of a living Lion. Of a man. A young, magnificent man, strong and full of life. His vibrancy was tangible; his power as yet untapped.
A tall, lithe young man, striding like a mountain cat through the webwork of Aidan's dreams. His eyes were cool and gray, with a gaze so compelling it could stop a hardened assassin from unsheathing sword or knife. The hair was thick and black, framing a youthful face of austere, yet flawless beauty, bearing the stamp of authority far surpassing any monarch's. It was not a womanish face, even in all its beauty; a trace of ruthlessness in the mouth maintaned its masculine line. Only rarely did it smile. When it did, power flickered; he could rule or seduce man and woman with equal facility.
The man was not Cheysuli. The man was not Ihlini. The man was of all blood, forged from the heart of war, tempered on the anvil of peace. And his gifts were such that they surpassed all others.
Firstborn.
Rebirth.
And death.
I am the sword.
I am the sword and the bow and the knife. I am darkness and light. I am good and evil. I am the child and the elder; the girl and the boy; the wolf and the lamb.
Born of one prophecy, I am come to make another. To bind four realms into one; to bind eight into four. I am the child of the prophecy; child of darkness and light; of like breeding with like.
I am Cynric. I am Cynric. I am the sword - and the bow - and the knife. I am the child of prophecy: the Firstborn come again.
Cynric is a few years removed from the end of the Chronicles of the Cheysuli by Jennifer Roberson. He is her property, not mine, though I have fun RPing him.
A tall, lithe young man, striding like a mountain cat through the webwork of Aidan's dreams. His eyes were cool and gray, with a gaze so compelling it could stop a hardened assassin from unsheathing sword or knife. The hair was thick and black, framing a youthful face of austere, yet flawless beauty, bearing the stamp of authority far surpassing any monarch's. It was not a womanish face, even in all its beauty; a trace of ruthlessness in the mouth maintaned its masculine line. Only rarely did it smile. When it did, power flickered; he could rule or seduce man and woman with equal facility.
The man was not Cheysuli. The man was not Ihlini. The man was of all blood, forged from the heart of war, tempered on the anvil of peace. And his gifts were such that they surpassed all others.
Firstborn.
Rebirth.
And death.
I am the sword.
I am the sword and the bow and the knife. I am darkness and light. I am good and evil. I am the child and the elder; the girl and the boy; the wolf and the lamb.
Born of one prophecy, I am come to make another. To bind four realms into one; to bind eight into four. I am the child of the prophecy; child of darkness and light; of like breeding with like.
I am Cynric. I am Cynric. I am the sword - and the bow - and the knife. I am the child of prophecy: the Firstborn come again.
Cynric is a few years removed from the end of the Chronicles of the Cheysuli by Jennifer Roberson. He is her property, not mine, though I have fun RPing him.
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