Thyrian had a special relationship, he felt, with these Bladeborn. He once helped his master in securing them as little children back on Togoria during 'Operation: Hammer'. It was also the place of his undoing in honourable combat; it was a good death, too, for the alternative would've been so much more painful and weak. He did not have long to live, and so he chose to give his life for the one he loved. He'd watched these young boys turn into soldiers - some of them were brought here as infants - and he had many times instructed them himself. He shared a kinship with them, for they were all instruments of his Queen for as long as they remembered. Fifteen years, now... 15 years of servitude, and he would not have it any other way. Twice, now, had he visited Death's Halls by protecting the ones he loved, and twice had he been called back into service. While most would become jaded by this fact alone, the Ashborn only saw his love for his Queen grow every day of his existence. He only wished these brave children before him would all be given the opportunity to serve her as long as he had, but these were weapons of war and so they were expendable.
As she called him forth before the legions of Bladeborn standing in formation, Thyrian did not need to reply. They both knew what to do, and so he only shot her a glance rich in deep respect and gratitude. As they passed eachother, he happened to brush his hand against hers, purely on accident. It made him withdraw it almost immidiately on instinct; old habits die hard, and being able to touch that which he loved was still a concept very foreign to him. He couldn't deny relishing the softness of her hand brushing against his coarse, ashen skin, but this was no time to indulge himself in such matters. "Bladeborn!" he called out, and what followed was a united, almost deafening echo brought on by thousands of feet standing at attention. He casually stepped through the ranks, carefully examining the young boys like a father would his own children before sending them off to school. In a moment of what his master would call weakness, Thyrian looked over the children only to find they all wore the same face - golden blonde hair and sapphire eyes, all staring at him, whispering his name. It made him pause and shut his eyes briefly, and upon opening them everything was back to normal. He shook his head and brought a hand to press at his forehead as if having a headache, before resuming his duties. Positioning himself back at the front facing them all, the Ashborn brandished a vibrosword. "Bladeborn! Arm yourselves!" It was all he needed to say for the legions to draw their weapons and assume the opening stance they knew by heart already.
@[member="Kära Vi'dreya"] @[member="Jorus Merrill"]