“No more will the Altari nation stand down to those who wield fire!”
The moral boosting cry came from a young male, in his early twenties, stood atop a grey-stone stage. He was dressed in a deep emerald green tunic, decorated with a couple of brown leather belts and his sapphire encrusted sword hilt. It was obvious from the little details that this lad was no common peasant, that he was something much more. His call earned him a sea of cheers from the audience – his people.
You see, William Philpot Grace was a Prince. The Prince of Altari, land of the water benders. He was the only legitimate heir as his two younger siblings were female and his mother was now too old to bear another child; but William was ready. He was a great speaker, and he enthralled the people of his kingdom. He convinced the soldiers to fight despite the battle field looking so grim, and he healed those with wounded moral whenever he was free. William loved the people of Altari more than he loved any woman, or any food or money. Water bending was a gift given to them by God; they perceived it as a deadly art – beautiful, but unbelievably dangerous. Within the gift there were many different forms of water control, and how you were able to control water was often kept within families (or ‘clans’). From those who could freeze water into ice – crafting beautiful shapes or sharp weapons from the ice itself- to those who had the ability to lull their enemies into a false sense of security. Like a Siren.
This was water William could do. Being of royal blood meant that he had the ability to use every stretch of the water bending ability, but he chose to master only three aspects. And all of these combined made him the Prince of Sirens. He would often become a useful assassin (taking out high ranking generals or nobles of the fire nation) or be used to simply calm down his own troops. ”What makes this gloat so different from the last?”. The Prince turned as the poisonous response met his ears, but instead of retaliate with aggression William smiled graciously and bowed his head.
“I have said this many times before, but today it is true! Me and the Prince of the enemy have agreed to meet. It is obvious he wants to demand I surrender, or he could try and kill me. But! That Prince has not heard my voice!”
The cheers were louder than ever before, accompanied by a short chant of ‘sing!sing!sing!’ to which Will shook his head, returning to his speech. “I am to ride out to meet the Prince, and I will use my voice to bend his will – He will convince his father to surrender because of me!” His grin was extremely wide, and with that he turned and left the stage and walked to where his horse was stabled. Despite his apparent show of bravery, William himself was a little apprehensive of the plan. It was made by his father, who was sure that his sons abilities would win the war. But he was no fighter – Will knew only defensive bending, he would be accompanied by two bodyguards, but if the plan didn’t work the Prince feared for his life. He looked back at the stage, running a hand through his dark brown hair before pulling the hood of his dark blue cloak over his head to hide his features: it still bore the symbol of the royal Altari family, but with three knights wearing identical cloaks around him William was sure of his safety.
They all rode out to the meeting point, apprehensive of what the other Prince would act/look like.
“I, Prince William Grace of Altari, have come as agreed.” He called out, determined to show no fear in his voice nor in his expression.
The moral boosting cry came from a young male, in his early twenties, stood atop a grey-stone stage. He was dressed in a deep emerald green tunic, decorated with a couple of brown leather belts and his sapphire encrusted sword hilt. It was obvious from the little details that this lad was no common peasant, that he was something much more. His call earned him a sea of cheers from the audience – his people.
You see, William Philpot Grace was a Prince. The Prince of Altari, land of the water benders. He was the only legitimate heir as his two younger siblings were female and his mother was now too old to bear another child; but William was ready. He was a great speaker, and he enthralled the people of his kingdom. He convinced the soldiers to fight despite the battle field looking so grim, and he healed those with wounded moral whenever he was free. William loved the people of Altari more than he loved any woman, or any food or money. Water bending was a gift given to them by God; they perceived it as a deadly art – beautiful, but unbelievably dangerous. Within the gift there were many different forms of water control, and how you were able to control water was often kept within families (or ‘clans’). From those who could freeze water into ice – crafting beautiful shapes or sharp weapons from the ice itself- to those who had the ability to lull their enemies into a false sense of security. Like a Siren.
This was water William could do. Being of royal blood meant that he had the ability to use every stretch of the water bending ability, but he chose to master only three aspects. And all of these combined made him the Prince of Sirens. He would often become a useful assassin (taking out high ranking generals or nobles of the fire nation) or be used to simply calm down his own troops. ”What makes this gloat so different from the last?”. The Prince turned as the poisonous response met his ears, but instead of retaliate with aggression William smiled graciously and bowed his head.
“I have said this many times before, but today it is true! Me and the Prince of the enemy have agreed to meet. It is obvious he wants to demand I surrender, or he could try and kill me. But! That Prince has not heard my voice!”
The cheers were louder than ever before, accompanied by a short chant of ‘sing!sing!sing!’ to which Will shook his head, returning to his speech. “I am to ride out to meet the Prince, and I will use my voice to bend his will – He will convince his father to surrender because of me!” His grin was extremely wide, and with that he turned and left the stage and walked to where his horse was stabled. Despite his apparent show of bravery, William himself was a little apprehensive of the plan. It was made by his father, who was sure that his sons abilities would win the war. But he was no fighter – Will knew only defensive bending, he would be accompanied by two bodyguards, but if the plan didn’t work the Prince feared for his life. He looked back at the stage, running a hand through his dark brown hair before pulling the hood of his dark blue cloak over his head to hide his features: it still bore the symbol of the royal Altari family, but with three knights wearing identical cloaks around him William was sure of his safety.
They all rode out to the meeting point, apprehensive of what the other Prince would act/look like.
“I, Prince William Grace of Altari, have come as agreed.” He called out, determined to show no fear in his voice nor in his expression.