Lord Soth Read Online Free
Author: Edo van Belkom
Solamnic Knights.
But despite its many wonders, the most unique of all of the keep’s features was its color. At Knight Soth’s insistence, the keep had been built from a rose-colored granite popularly referred to as “bloodstone” which had been quarried from a very rich vein in the heart of the Dargaard Mountains. When he had first hinted that the keep should be made of the crimson stone, the cutters and masons rebelled knowing all too well that bloodstonewas the hardest of all building materials to work with. But now, mere months after its completion, all agreed that the additional effort and hard work had been more than worthwhile.
The keep was a thing of beauty and a source of pride to all the people of Knightlund. It was also a structure worthy of its most noble inhabitant, Knight Loren Soth, currently a Knight of the Sword and a great and noble soldier for the cause of Good.
The mood around the estate on this morning was a spirited one as a carnival-like atmosphere had pervaded all of the proceedings in and around Dargaard Keep for the past few weeks. What else could be expected as one of Solamnia’s greatest knights prepared to be wed?
And, with a higher concentration of knights and noblemen than could be found even on the greatest of battlefields, the merchants and tradesmen of Solamnia had all flocked to Dargaard Keep, setting up shop weeks in advance, trying to secure the best spots in which to sell their wares to the wedding guests they hoped would all be in a spending mood.
On the grounds just west of the keep, blacksmiths and other skilled tradesmen were selling newly forged armor and swords, all of which glinted with gold, silver and brass accents and shone blindingly bright beneath the hot morning sun. Many of them had already done great business, selling all that they had brought and taking orders for more custom-made articles. Around the back of the keep, tailors and seamstresses sold resplendent garments suitable for wearing to the wedding ceremony of a knight, while still others were busy making new clothes specifically ordered for the occasion.
The rest of the crowd was filled out by jugglers, conjurers, minstrels and bards, and an assortment of other fortune tellers, con artists and prestidigitators. Busiest of these were the herbalists who purported to be selling all varieties of love potions, the potency of which were verified nightly bysome of the more amorous of the wedding’s guests.
But while the mood outside was festive, within the walls of the keep’s courtyard there was an event underway, the tone of which was somewhat more subdued.
“Knight Soth, please come forward,” said Lord Olthar Uth Wistan, High Warrior, and one of the presiding knights on the assembled Rose Knights Council. Olthar sat at one end of a group of five knights seated at the high table which was elevated atop a wooden platform positioned against one of the courtyard’s inside walls. At Olthar’s immediate left were two elderly Knights of the Rose, both of whom had long since retired from their active knightly duties. Oren Brightblade and Dag Kurrold had both been asked to sit on the Rose Knights Council out of respect for their long years of distinguished service to the knighthood. Both had accepted the honorary appointment with pleasure.
Sadly, Solamnic Grand Master Leopold Gwyn Davis had fallen ill the previous week and was bedridden and unable to attend. A seat was left empty upon the platform in his honor.
Soth stepped forward dressed in a combination of gleaming plate armor and chain mail, a scarlet cloak trailing behind him. His breastplate bore the symbol of the Order of the Sword and in contrast to the rest of his armor, it was worn and dented, evidence of just some of the heroic battles he had fought and won against the forces of Evil. He knelt in front of the high table and kept his head bowed, waiting to be spoken to.
Lord Olthar nodded to the fourth council member, signaling to the member that
But despite its many wonders, the most unique of all of the keep’s features was its color. At Knight Soth’s insistence, the keep had been built from a rose-colored granite popularly referred to as “bloodstone” which had been quarried from a very rich vein in the heart of the Dargaard Mountains. When he had first hinted that the keep should be made of the crimson stone, the cutters and masons rebelled knowing all too well that bloodstonewas the hardest of all building materials to work with. But now, mere months after its completion, all agreed that the additional effort and hard work had been more than worthwhile.
The keep was a thing of beauty and a source of pride to all the people of Knightlund. It was also a structure worthy of its most noble inhabitant, Knight Loren Soth, currently a Knight of the Sword and a great and noble soldier for the cause of Good.
The mood around the estate on this morning was a spirited one as a carnival-like atmosphere had pervaded all of the proceedings in and around Dargaard Keep for the past few weeks. What else could be expected as one of Solamnia’s greatest knights prepared to be wed?
And, with a higher concentration of knights and noblemen than could be found even on the greatest of battlefields, the merchants and tradesmen of Solamnia had all flocked to Dargaard Keep, setting up shop weeks in advance, trying to secure the best spots in which to sell their wares to the wedding guests they hoped would all be in a spending mood.
On the grounds just west of the keep, blacksmiths and other skilled tradesmen were selling newly forged armor and swords, all of which glinted with gold, silver and brass accents and shone blindingly bright beneath the hot morning sun. Many of them had already done great business, selling all that they had brought and taking orders for more custom-made articles. Around the back of the keep, tailors and seamstresses sold resplendent garments suitable for wearing to the wedding ceremony of a knight, while still others were busy making new clothes specifically ordered for the occasion.
The rest of the crowd was filled out by jugglers, conjurers, minstrels and bards, and an assortment of other fortune tellers, con artists and prestidigitators. Busiest of these were the herbalists who purported to be selling all varieties of love potions, the potency of which were verified nightly bysome of the more amorous of the wedding’s guests.
But while the mood outside was festive, within the walls of the keep’s courtyard there was an event underway, the tone of which was somewhat more subdued.
“Knight Soth, please come forward,” said Lord Olthar Uth Wistan, High Warrior, and one of the presiding knights on the assembled Rose Knights Council. Olthar sat at one end of a group of five knights seated at the high table which was elevated atop a wooden platform positioned against one of the courtyard’s inside walls. At Olthar’s immediate left were two elderly Knights of the Rose, both of whom had long since retired from their active knightly duties. Oren Brightblade and Dag Kurrold had both been asked to sit on the Rose Knights Council out of respect for their long years of distinguished service to the knighthood. Both had accepted the honorary appointment with pleasure.
Sadly, Solamnic Grand Master Leopold Gwyn Davis had fallen ill the previous week and was bedridden and unable to attend. A seat was left empty upon the platform in his honor.
Soth stepped forward dressed in a combination of gleaming plate armor and chain mail, a scarlet cloak trailing behind him. His breastplate bore the symbol of the Order of the Sword and in contrast to the rest of his armor, it was worn and dented, evidence of just some of the heroic battles he had fought and won against the forces of Evil. He knelt in front of the high table and kept his head bowed, waiting to be spoken to.
Lord Olthar nodded to the fourth council member, signaling to the member that
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