This story takes place in Tyria. Tyria is fully owned and well shepherded by artists. This will be the first story I see through. I will put minimal action to some characters well known to any Tyrian. I hope the brief appearance of them I describe does them justice. This story will describe less of violence and sexuality than already described by the aforementioned shepherds. This story will appear over several days, all hands willing.
He had wanted to be a philosopher only, but was named Buck Valor. The Valor family insisted that every member soldier. Soldier defending a philosophy. He would know philosophy as a quest for truth and truth would be the ancient lineage of the Valor line and the responsibility and complicity of human nobility. Being a Valor described a line that would be held and the eldest son and heir would hold that line. Buck would hold that line and use truth to convince those under his command to spend their lives holding it with him. Everyone at the line knowing his last line was drawn before the Valor stronghold.
This happened every time he held the Commander’s attention; his life, no, his soul and magical command reflected back to him. The Commander's soul and command of magic was born to attack, to push the line, Buck Valor's was built to defend. Buck had paused here to watch the commons of Lions Arch bubble and stood and stared when the Commander stopped and viewed the same vista. He wasn’t sure the Commander recognized him, perhaps in his town clothes he really wasn’t the Warrior the Commander had met in the jungle. Buck put his hand to his chest, fingertips seeking the true million knots of the Valor crest embroidered on his coat and the uncounted but perfectly summed knots his wife and daughter had embroidered on his undershirt. The Commander turned and walked away, seemingly intent on moving forward. Buck brought his magic tightly under command and watched the Commander's. Buck wasn't sure he saw the effects of party magic. Buck wanted to offer himself, to once again follow the orders of someone who drew a line of defense around all of Tyria, but his time serving the Pact had ended. Price spoke and Buck wanted to shiver.
"Valor business is with Evon Gnashblade. Come.”
all primes work and not tearing down has value
ready purrlayer @ any parsed feels enhance the value of something that is already worth everything
what other chordal approach but penultimate singing along with other quantum cuddle clocks