Introduction
It's a simple rule, isn't it? You've been told not to since you were little.. but it's not your fault someone kidnapped you.. is it?
Dokkalfar means "Dark Elves" in our native tongue, every civilian knowing and fearing their very mention. No one has actually gazed upon a Dokkalfar, or at least those who are alive, but they still haunt our dreams . It is said that these Dark Elves rival gods and angels in the terms of beauty, shaming even Aphrodite or Adonis by leaps and bounds. It is rumored that they hold magic, any that you could dream up, and can even alter their appearance to one of a more "human-eqsue" form in order to walk among us. While they are still quite breath-taking in their alternate forms, a true appearance of a Dokkalfar is enough to send any young maiden into a faint of disbelief. But..like a rose, not only are they beautiful, they are also dangerous.
Once a year, a week before our yellow moon appears in the sky, the Dokkalfar supposedly change into their human forms in an attempt to lure out young women to take back to the woods (always succeeding mind you). Of course..no one really knows what happens to them afterwards. It's rumored that, once in the threshold of the trees, the selected targets stay with their kidnappers for the duration of a week, trapped within the forest. The question why has been imposed many, many times before.. but there is still a sound theory. It is all done in order to find a bride for their King. In their immortal existence, not a single female Dokkalfar was ever created.. the only person known to have the ability to change a human into a Dokkalfar is their King. As anyone would in their desperation, the underlings of the King were sent up from the their underground city every year to scout for a maiden that would, hopefully, be able to reign as their Queen. When the "Yellow Moon" appears in the sky, the King of Dokkalfar supposedly emerges from his Earthen kingdom to assess what his subjects have collected. If he chooses someone, then that maiden will be taken back to his realm to rule by his side.. if he decides not to choose from the group and disregards the kidnapped women, then it's rumored they have two options: to die or to become a servant in the Dokkalfar world, awaiting their Queen. Not so surprisingly, many choose death.
⌈Dokkalfar⌋
Dark elves who reside in the forest, they follow the absolute say of their King. Each Dokkalfar posses the following:
- Two forms, a human and original appearance. Please keep in mind that Dokkalfar don't necessarily need to look like elves.. they merely need to have some distinguishing feature about their true appearance(ei: red eyes, wings, horns/ears, tails, slitted pupils, etc).
- Has a trademark power (ei: telepathy, fire manipulation, etc) that is unique to their own being.
- All Dokkalfar can do the following: Read the auras of others, detect emotions and energy from others (be them human or elf), have increased speed/strength/agility that surpasses humans and are all amazingly intelligent.
⌈Dokkalfar King⌋
Ruler of the Dokkalfar:
- Two forms, a human and original appearance. Please refer to the Dokkalfar section on appearance above.
- Has three trademark powers (ei: telepathy, fire manipulation, etc) that is unique to their own being.
- Can do the following: Read the auras of others, detect emotions and energy from others (be them human or elf), have increased speed/strength/agility that surpasses humans and are all amazingly intelligent, have an 'Absolute Command ability to his voice that bends animals, elves, and humans to his will.
⌈Humans⌋
The common species:
- Typically plain-looking and comes in many different variations.
- Has trademark skills (ei: hunting, cooking, sewing) that is unique to their own being.
- Only females between 15-18 years of age are taken by the Dokkalfar
| Bride-to-be | 17 | Female | Dokkalfar 1 | Boldly reckless - Blunt - Fearless - Sharp-tongued | Reserved for: Ever
| Dokkalfar 1 | 18 | Male | Bride-to-be | ???? | --- | Reserved for: Gyrfledgeling
| Dokkalfar King | 19 | Male | N/A | ???? | Sarcastic - Intelligent - Flirtatiously teasing - Mischievous | Reserved for: ???
You can add as many pictures as you would like or rearrange this CS~ Make it look pretty!!
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CS Outline:
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PLEASE DO NOT FORGET THIS!![/font]
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Unneeded seeing as we both know the rules~
- 4 posts here • Page 1 of 1
The Story So Far... Write a Post » as written by 2 authors
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Anya
Three sets of quick blinks and a frown of confusion was the huntress's response as the lethal weapon was lowered, a misty sheen replacing that frozen glint as the voice cracked out. "To....torin...?" Instantaneously, a register of the name clicked within the forefront of her mind, a look of relief washing over her tensed physique. "Ah.... thats right...you came along.. A-any news to report then..?" ventured her voice, a sense of hopefulness giving life to her question. Immediately, any traces of assurance was cut clean to the root as the burly man gave a shake of his head, his scrunched brown curls catching motion, muddled brown eyes holding the disappointment Anya felt. "I told ya...the forest is vacant. It's always been that way..... I say this whole trip was a bloody waste of time..! I mean why- never mind. Ignore what I just said.. the colds gettin' to my head. Thats all. A-nyways, we've gathered back at camp... you should probably come too." A flash of hurt resonated within the scarlet-haired woman's features as the senior member's words hit home. After all, she was their scout, their leader...they had a whole mass of other persons to think about. Yet, she still insisted on coming to this hell hole of space….all because of a silly dream she had as a child. Sheathing the glinting dagger, Anya gave an affirmative nod of approval, focus flickering back to the trees for a brief second before returning to the mountain of a man. "Hmp. Alright.." Instinctively, her body begun to move on it's own accord, eager to remove it's existence from the accursed location "Oh..and before I forget..", pulling back a clenched fist, Anya let the fleshy weapon fly and sink into the muscled upper arm of the man, a small chuckle his response, "You should have learned by now to sneak up on me..! Especially on these trips. You know how I get." Sending him a wide smirk, a playful luster banishing any traces of worry from her eyes, Anya allowed a trickle of weak laughter to filter through, intertwining with Torin's booming.
"OI! Why the hell are you slacking off!?" bit out Anya's annoyed tone, malicious chiding streaking that soft nature. Her targets, a pair of fiery-haired male twins, were occupied with the passing of a horn filled, undoubtedly, with liquor between themselves. At her bark, both gave a slight jump in startlement, one falling off his drunken arse and onto the carpet of grass. A moment of silence stretched between the four individuals before the offenders let out a bout of high-pitched giggles, faces and necks red from the alcohol. The eldest of the twins, Faron, regained his wobbly balance on the stump as his focus drifted to the young woman, an unreadable glimmer washing over his navy nadirs. "Aw....c'mon, Aya..we were just having some fun!" rang out his excuse, the purposeful use of their leader's nickname resulting in an unbridled ruckus of giggles from the ground-bounded match. "Yeah... it was just fun! I mean.... w..we were out here...alllllll day! And what did we catch? Nothing..nadda zilch..ssssoooo......wanna join?" slurred out Noran's voice, adding to his twin's defense. Eyes narrowing in disgust, Anya released yet another "tsk" of agitation at the excuses she was given, arms crossing over and under her chest. With an under-the-breath hiss, the huntress's demand was more or less directed towards her trustworthy Beta, "Get a fire going, will you? The sun is setting.....won't be long until the wolves are out and before we are shivering out of our skins." Apparently drowning her out, Faron raised the cattlehorn to his lips once more to divulge in liquor, Anya's annoyance flaring. Arms still tightly clutched together, lips pursed in a thin line of disapproval, she took pause at the shoulder of the drunkard for a mere second. In a blur, her hands snatched the object from his grasp, effectively cutting off his access to the devil's brew. Tilting the container to gravity's needy tow, she allowed the golden fluid to drain out, eyes mercilessly glued to the shocked faces of the twins, the pairs of navys holding nothing shy of disbelief. Raising her voice over their complaints and whines, Anya continued with her bitter barking, "And you two-! Sober up and put yourselves to use for once in your life! Help Torin with a bloody fire.. I expect it to be roaring and food lain out when I come back. Understood?!" Giving a curt nod at the soft grumbles of "Understood, Captain", Anya tossed Torin an exasperated glance at the amusement twinkling in his eyes before brushing past their circle and heading to the one of three pitched tents.
Slipping through the slit, she allowed the groan she had been holding in to expand, tapered fingers massaging her temples in concern. Idiots... the only thing they have going for them is the fact that they aren't scared of this bloody forest.. Unlike the rest of them.. The booming voice of Torin barking out orders faintly registered in the recess of her conscious, a small smirk the response to the commotion. "Well…at least I have another sane person with me.." floated out her murmur as her doubled stature treaded over the jaded carpet of plush grass, taking pause by her cot's side. With another moan, Anya's will diminished, body succumbing to gravity's pulling urge, causing her to collide with the downy material face down.
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The chilled evening breeze swept over the forest edge, swaying the branches of the heightened and abruptly ending treeline in perfectly slight unison. For Cairon, the slow hem-and-haw of the highest branches acted as a calming nest in which only a tree bound creature would find true comfort. He sat facing three deerskin cloaked tents surrounded sparsely with moving figures, his back pressed cozily to the trunk of an ancient pine, one leg hanging limply, the other laying flat across the length of his chosen branch. His slender oak pipe held itself between his pearl teeth and small glinting fangs. A thin stream of white smoke blew from the end and disappeared into the trees on the wind. His lengthened silver hair and billowed fox-like tail acted similarly, riding the subtle currents of breeze. His focus, the hunting camp originating from a small growing village not far from their current location, was dormant for now. They set camp in the grassy fields about 300 feet away from the forest edge and the Doffeling had to strain his sensitive furred ears to hear faint conversation. The boys-almost-men were terribly loud even for their distance. By the fumbling sloppiness of their words he concluded they where sufficiently intoxicated. Poor foolish drunkards, I'm sure you're female accomplice is simply elated to share space with such charming individuals. He smirked at his own sarcasm. Oddly enough she endeavors on these trips though. If only she behaved generically and stayed home like a good little lamb, we would be far better acquainted by now.His smirk grew to a devilish smile. He slid back to a regular expression after a long inhale of alabaster smoke, it billowed from his mouth and nose and warmed his lungs with a cinnamon-earth scent. This particular concoction of spiced tobacco and wild dried herbs was one of his better blends, of which he took pride. At that moment the dahlia-crowned girl reappeared from shadowed treeline, obviously angered. Veg details were graspable from the Doffeling's perch. She rose her voice sharply, the boys protested, and she upset them somehow. Then the girl stormed back to her tent while the figures scrabbled into position. Before long, a distant amber flicker blazed in the campsite. Cairon could at least admire the authority she carried over the males her age. But if she thought her attitude would hold up with him there was a lesson in need of teaching.
The sun slowly dipped into the horizon, staining the mottled gray sky various stretched hues of pumpkin orange and slight peach pink. It wasn't often he witnessed a sunset, in fact, Cairon couldn't remember the last time he viewed one. But nonetheless he thought of it to be entirely to bright. As if every day the sun was deliberately trying to be obnoxious upon entry and egress. Minutes passed before it dipped and dissipated into nowhere until the sky was dominated with star-salted darkness, and all that illuminated the earth was the watery glow of moonlight. Buried in a smuggled poetry book, Carion barely noticed the maiden's reentry to the campfire. The group gathered in a pack around the flame and smoke, apparently with food. The dim night allowed for limited vision, but the girl's milk-white face stood out, illuminated poppy-orange from the blaze.
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Anya
"Hmp. Alright...let's see... oh- how about this one? It was the beginning of our time, our village barely anything more than bones. A group of hunters were just about to depart from their families, the winter months approaching, when it happened; a wolf appeared. Right there. On the very outskirts, the border between man and beasts, that fleabag stood. Naturally, they took after 'im, each one wanting a pelt more than the next. However, that bastard kept running... nothing could stop him. And nothing could make the men stop the chase...aside from the forest, that is. When their prey stopped at the tree line, just about where we are actually, the party stopped. All of them looked up in wondering terror, a silence stretching over them..for you see, the wolf turned into a devil.. a Doffeling!" spun his tale, the complex notes within the articulation drawing Faron and Noran to perch on the edges of their seating, eyes wide as saucers and tongues silenced. Feeling that vague hollow desolation settle into her forefront conscious, Anya intently gazed on at the dancing poppy-hued light. Images of her past experiences, the ones that were suppressed, forcefully kept dormant, flickered within her thoughts; namely the one involving the miraculous rescue of her toddler being from the ablazed dwelling. What was so interesting about this particular memory was one that Anya never dared to voice aloud; a person of some sorts was in the house, was the one that emerged at the most opportune moment. It was hallucination.. stop being suspicious Anya! hissed her inner voice, chiding disapproval practically dripping from each infliction. With a scowl, the young woman angled her gravity towards Faron's abandoned stump, lithe fingers snatching the almost empty horn from it's forgotten placement, before returning to her bent over position. Perching her left elbow on the corresponding knee, the fist tucked protectively underneath her crafted chin, her right hand unlatched the stopper before taking a hearty swig. Giving an inward grimace at the fiery pricks trailing down her throat, Anya broke her contact with the devil's spit before choosing to shatter the settled hush.
"Oh? Resorting to fairy tales, Torin? God..stop filling these idiot's head with legends; the Dokkalfar aren't real. Just a maid's tale." with a harsh scoff, Anya took another deep swallow from the horn, a ramming sense of lightheaded wooziness briefly making itself known. "Besides....even if they were, they probably died out already. Doesn't surprise me.. after all, they were all fools, cocky idiots, who were too sure of their superiority and wandered into places they shouldn't be. Nosey bastards... they should stay dead for as much as I'm concern, rot in the Earth. That is... if they were ever real." bit out her harsh tone, eyes narrowed with disgust at the thought of their existence. Another bout of suffocating stillness stretched on before Anya decidedly took another swig, gaze skimming over to the crowd of three. Each and everyone of them had wide eyes, startled surprise and unfathomable shock reflecting back to those emeralds. Was it because Anya's words were so harsh..? Or that she was drinking for once in her life..? With eyes still narrowed, eyebrow hoisting to an imploring expression, Anya merely gave a shrug of her shoulders before turning back to getting drunk.
Apparently sobered and now sick of the stifling pops of the embers, Faron finally contributed to the conversation and never-ending list of requests. "Hey..Anya.. You should sing that song.. you know, the one that you used to when we were kids?" Glueing her guarded stare to the crimson-haired man, a few seconds ticked by before she released a resigned sigh. Tossing the now-empty horn to Noran, the maiden shifted on her stump to face the suddenly eager men. After all, anytime Anya agreed to sing, agreed to use her godly bestowed talent, was a day that called for rejoicing. Knowing exactly what the twin was hinting towards, she allowed for crisp night air, all of it's smokey sweetness, to fill her lungs. " You must go where I cannot,
Pangur Ban Pangur Ban,
Nil sa saol seo ach ceo,
Is ni bheimid beo,
ach seal beag gearr.
Pangur Ban Pangur Ban,
Nil sa saol seo ach ceo,
Is ni bheimid beo,
ach seal beag gearr." Weaving into the air were notes of such intricate sweetness and ethereal beauty, not even the most revered of birdsong could compare..not even the voice of an angel. As the foreign words flowed forth, their formation almost a second nature to this particular maiden, each of her party members slowly had their eyes drift, their rigid stances melting into utter relaxation. Finishing her song, a bittersweet comfort washing over her conscious at it's revival, Anya felt that mesmerizing lull fray away, each of the brave souls accompanying her experiencing a similar reaction. Allowing a heartbeat of silence to trickle in, the after sense of tranquillity melding with their everyday energy, Noran finally spoke. "You know…you never did tell us where you learned it from, Anya…. nor what it means.." drifted out his imploring question, the tone holding a sluggish appeal, as if he just had woken up from a dream. With lips setting into an even line, the huntress pondered the question, the very same inquiry that she had always asked of her person. Sending him a curt shake of her head, the crimson locks briefly stilling in air from the motion, Annaliese gave her reply. "I don't know…it just has always been something that I knew…" whispered the words, words colored with a twinge of sadness and gaze flashing with vulnerability. After all, knowing something that you don't even remember is terrifying…especially so when that information further alienates you. Rising from her stump, her forefront thoughts barking out an order to stop being emotional, that sense of innocent fright was exiled from her gaze, that guarded glint from before filling the peridots. "Make sure to put out the fire." mused out her orders, the final acknowledgement of the night, before Anya crossed from the social gathering to her tent.
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"Oh? Resorting to fairy tales, Torin? God..stop filling these idiot's head with legends; the Dokkalfar aren't real. Just a maid's tale.". Her voice spilled venom as she raised the horn of firewater to her lips. "Besides....even if they were, they probably died out already. Doesn't surprise me.. after all, they were all fools, cocky idiots, who were too sure of their superiority and wandered into places they shouldn't be. Nosey bastards... they should stay dead for as much as I'm concern, rot in the Earth. That is... if they were ever real." Her words, while teetering on the edge of sober and inebriated, bitterly pierced the night air. Cairon was, at first, baffled at the malice behind her voice. She had displayed new aspect of her character that apparently was catalyzed by alcohol. A side that cared not and even hated the thought of something being, by nature, nearly impossibly to lay her malachite eyes on. Unless it wants to be seen The Doffeling's mind spectated. He grew mildly offended at the fiery girl's ignorance. Where does she get the audacity to judge what she doesn't believe? He leaned back, unimpressed at the maiden's false knowledge, and listened further. After all, anything that slipped from her lips now, could very well be used against her later.
"Hey..Anya.. You should sing that song.. you know, the one that you used to when we were kids?" The more obnoxious of the roseate twins voice broke the quiet once more. After the rufescent maiden's initial descant, Cairon wasn't particularly keen on hearing more. She stood, acknowledging his request. Her eyes closed and her silken blush hair quavered in the indigo night.
" You must go where I cannot," Her words fell upon the wind like cherry blossoms.
"Pangur Ban Pangur Ban," The doffeling took a sharp inward breath. For what the girl spoke, was his own language. White..cat? His mind translated each gold-fluid word as she sang.
"Nil sa saol seo ach ceo,"
Not in this world, but fog
"Is ni bheimid beo,"
We do not live
"ach seal beag gearr."
for any short while
"Pangur Ban Pangur Ban,"
White cat, white cat
"Nil sa saol seo ach ceo,"
Not in this world, but fog
"ach seal gearr,"
But a short spell
"Beidh deirea nach le fada."
Will last for a while
The last halcyon gold notes dissipated into the obsidian sky. Leaving only a stunned Doffeling behind. A tranquil silence followed. H-how did she.. His mind became and oblivious blur, broken by her returning voice. "I don't know…it just has always been something that I knew…" she was plagued with wistfulness. The written language is forbidden outside the... He glanced guiltily at his own volumes of smuggled herbology guide books and human care manuals. His own inward curiosity tugged at his ears. I believe a visit is in order.
After the girl resided, Cairon waited only minutes for the other three to douse the vermilion flame, leaving nothing more than a cloudless ebony sky. He could hardly imagine them having anything in common without her as a buffer anyway. All he could do now was be grateful that she had her own tent. If not, his night would become considerably more challenging. He waited intently before no tent showed any sign of movement, and the entirety of his body became no more than a wisp of shadow. He swiveled down the trunk leaving his leather satchel containing books, his pipe, and other tools that may come in handy when dealing with a mortal. The jet black shadow loomed silently over the landscape, nearing the deer-skin tents and smoldering fire-pit. The inklike entity slipped through a thin split in the girl's tent. It arose to full stature, looming above her bedside. Cairon flushed himself from onyx veil to behold a lightly breathing form shrouded in a thin blanket. This was the closest he had been too her yet. Her elongated cinnamon hair fell from her head to the floor and her face was a pale ivory. He stood before her on impossibly light feet. A single snowy claw outstretched and held itself before her sleeping face, hovering above her third eye. Cairon focused, taking a deep breath inward. He projected white energy into the tip of his finger, where it materialized and formed a thin luminescent silvery strand. It drew close and planted itself between her eyes, rooting deep withing her sub-conscious. Then he saw her, a smaller her. The sequence could be executed by exploiting her innermost desires and loves in this world, a sweet dream, or her deepest fears and insecurities, a nightmare. His own inward commentary would drive her mind, but her thoughts would write the details.
You are tired, but proud of yourself. For you have taken the life of a noble buck, with brilliant ivory antlers Each thought projected itself into her mind, and a dream would soon materialize. Bring it to your father. The girl rustled uncomfortably in her sheets Meet the others, they are outside, waiting. She rolled over and teetered near the side of her cot, mumbling and clenching her teeth. He deepened in to memories she had never shared. Her mother patching a blood-ruby cut on her arm with thin leather. A mouse that crept into her room one night and took corn kernels from her hands. The first hunt with her father. She took sharp breath and Cairon could tell the dream needed no more coaxing, meaning his return would soon be underway. Before detaching, a deeply repressed memory began to surface. Cairon saw smoke and heard a sharp scream, flame rose around the girl and she fell to the floor. Just as her fate was sealed, a black shroud surrounded her. He stood back, a temporary bond with the girl broken. He took seconds to regain his own mind, and inhaled. He glanced his blurred vision to the wriggling figure. She shivered in the meager wool blanket she allowed for herself. Feeling something he couldn't remember feeling before, Cairon scooped a wool blanket piled in the corner and gently placed it over the unconscious figure. He returned to black intangibility. Whatever happened that night left her alive,What exactly? The shadowed Doffeling blew across the grassed field back to the forest, leaving nothing behind him but an earsplitting scream.
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The Devil's Kidnapped Bride
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The Devil's Kidnapped Bride
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The Devil's Kidnapped Bride
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