Introduction
The Flameseeker Prophecies
Long ago, the races of man and dragon faced a threat they could had never imagined... A rogue dragon known as the Beast King rose from the basin of the sea, and scorched the earth of both dragon and man. The Beast King was a threat no one had ever seen before. While most dragon's wings spanned across 12-15 yards, according to legend, the Beast King's wings were so large and so black that when they stretched they could block out the sun for miles: Its body so massive no other dragon stood a foot against him. So great was his roar he could shatter mountains, and cause the tides to stop.
Unprepared for the attack, and with no way to possibly defeat it on their own, the races banded together to stand against him. Battles were lost, lives were destroyed by the power of the Beast. Cities were razed in flashes of flame, and nations fell in mere days, all in vain. In a mater of months, the races of dragons and man were put into the 1000s. Left with no option, the strongest mages of both races, the immortal human king Ergoth, and dragon sovereign Nor'Lok, magically channeled their life essences and knowledge into a single tome of wisdom. Between the two of them, thousands of lifetimes of knowledge and wisdom had been placed into a single tome so powerful it could see past the fragile barrier of time and peer into the distant future. And so, the Flameseeker Prophecies were created. The cost of creating the Prophecies was great, costing the lives of both great kings, but with it humanity was able to survive...
Taking the Prophecies deep underground, the dragons and humans that survived hid within the crust of the Realm, where the Beast's power could not reach. With nothing left to destroy, it did not take long for the Beast to fall back to sleep, far below the sea. Only 10 years after, the races of the Realm were able to rise from the earth and build their new homes ontop of the ones the Beast had destroyed. With the wisdom, and knowledge, of the Prophecies, both man and dragon have grown to become strong once more...
It has been almost three-thousand years since the Razing. Now both races have returned replenished and started to grow vast one more. The dragons have reclaimed their homes high in the mountains, as have the humans in the plains and valleys, and both races live in great peace. Because of the knowledge of the Prophecies, the races have been able to quickly rebuild the vast empire they lost across the land. For the most part, the two races live separate lives, but slowly- over the last two-hundred years -settlements of both humans and dragons dot the landscape, and a new race has been born. The race of Carion was born: Tall humanoids with thick colored scales. They are a near perfect mixture of the two races, with the best traits of the both. Smart and wise, strong and courageous. Warrior or mage, rogue fighter or mighty guardian. The Flameseeker Prophecies have foretold of their birth... and the return of the Beast King close behind them.
Races and Characters
Before the Razing, when the Beast King engulfed the Realm in flame, the world used to hold hundreds of sentient races: From Sylvari; a race of dryad wizards, and Orcs; powerful, fearsome, and honorable warriors, all the way to races such as Colk; beautiful and fearless sea-folk. While most of these races were very powerful in their own right, they had still never achieved the total peace that the humans experienced prior to the Razing. The majority were destroyed in the first few months of the Razing, and those who survived tried to retaliate, and destroy the Beast King, but failed in vain. Very few of those races still live today, and most of them live in the protection of the humans and dragons. (You may create your own race, but you must give me a valid reason for their existence, and how they survived the Razing.)
Humans: Claimed the strongest and most powerful race in the realm, by themselves, the human empires have been sacked and rebuild many times before the Razing. There appeared to be no end to human ingenuity, will, and courage. But with their strength, comes endless greed. Humans are born with a never ending appetite for power, wealth, and status within their society. Their bodied and minds are divided: Their bodied cry out for war, but their minds whisper for peace. It is up to humans themselves to decide which one they will follow... (Most characters will be full-blooded humans.)
Dragons: Strong, majestic, beautiful, and wise beyond calculation: Dragons are the most elder race in the Realm, or so it is thought. Their bodies and souls are immortal, meaning they will never die of age, allowing them to transcend their knowledge from body to body in life. Many dragons, before the Razing, lived hundreds of lives. But they have a special weakness towards the Beast King; if one is slain by or near the Beast King, their soul is unable to move to the next life, killing them eternally. Very few dragons lived through the Razing, only 10-12, but were luckily able to reproduce and replenish new dragons into the Realm. (Dragon characters will need express permission through me, and will not be main characters.
Carion: The children of dragon and man, they are a near perfect mixture of the physical traits of their father races. Most Caron live in nomadic tribes across the Realm, hidden from the eyes of those that would judge and discriminate against them. They are strong, wise, fearsome, and brave. They fear not death nor war, but relish peace and prosperity. They are without a doubt the finest warriors in the Realm... and may be the key to the Realms survival. (Most characters can be Carion.)
Raynor: In legend, they are referred to as the Mountain People; a race of peaceful hunters and gatherers that lived high in the snowy peaks of the Everfrost Mountains, and other mountains across the Realm. The once peaceful and majestic race of regal elf-like creatures were forced to harden themselves to the world after the Razing, and the dormancy of the Beast King. By digging deep into the crust of the earth, they founded the city of Geron and survived the maelstrom of destruction that raged above them. When they emerged from the earth when the Beast King slept, they were one of the first races to reclaim their land... but the fear of another attack had hardened them, and made them hesetant to expand past their savior city. Now their numbers are fewer than a thousand...
(Other player-created races will go here)
The Prophecies tells "... six heroes; born after the creation of the dragon-children, who will lead the races of the Realm against the reign of the Beast. Through their power, their courage, their wisdom, and their will; we will endure, and slay the beast from the heavens themselves... These heroes shall make themselves known in the world once the time has come... You will know these heroes by their traits: (Main roles)
1. [Saydra (Sayd) Tari - Anastasia's Arrow] | Human male/female | 18-22 | Naive, strong headed, and willed. | Raised in poverty and despair, but would become a soldier in the armies of the human king, and bring glory to his/her name by slaying a powerful necromancer while still in his youth.
2. [OPEN] | Carion female | 16-20 | Beautiful, and intelligent. | Born an orphan, she was taken in by a great and powerful house of mages. Before reaching her mating, she will become the strongest mage in the house by leaps and bounds.
3. [Dar'Athrax - Nekohina] | Carion male | 20-30 | Wise, quiet, calculating. | When young, he experienced a great tragedy that would turn a bright, fun-loving child into a stone-cold warrior. He will be known for his strength in arms, his power in combat, and the ability to turn his inward rage into pure power.
4. [Kaien Re'iq - PaperCoversRockB*tch] | Raynor | 15-25 | Any | Any.
5. [RESERVED - Lifecharacter] | Any | 10-16 | Scared, young, but very caring. | Any.
6. [Uxio Rocha - Kuroe] | Human male | 22 | Grand, brave, and heroic. | A descendant of the kingdom of mankind, and heir to the thrown. One day, he will be crowned King of Mankind, making him the youngest king of Man.
Character sheet:
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[center][size=300][font=choose][color=choose]NAME HERE[/color][/font][/size]
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[center][color=choose][size=200][font=choose]❝ More Than Just A Name ❞[/font][/size][/color][/center]
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[center][font=choose][color=choose][size=190][u]BASICS[/u][/size][/color][/font]
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[font=choose][size=120][color=choose][b]-Nickname[/b][/color]
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[center][color=choose][size=200][font=choose]❝ Under the Armor ❞[/font][/size][/color][/center]
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[center][font=choose][color=choose][size=190][u]APPEARANCE[/u][/size][/color][/font]
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[font=choose][size=120][color=choose][b]-Eye Color[/b][/color]
[color=choose][b]-Hair Color[/b][/color]
[color=choose][b]-Height[/b][/color]
[color=choose][b]-Weight[/b][/color]
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[color=choose][b]-Build[/b][/color]
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[center][color=choose][size=200][font=choose]❝ Under the Skin ❞[/font][/size][/color][/center]
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[center][font=choose][color=choose][size=190][u]MENTALITY[/u][/size][/color][/font]
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[font=choose][size=120][color=choose][b]-Fears[/b][/color]
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[center][color=choose][size=200][font=choose]❝ The Story of Heros ❞[/font][/size][/color][/center]
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[center][font=choose][color=choose][size=190][u]LIFE[/u][/size][/color][/font]
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[font=choose][size=120][color=choose][b]-Relationships[/b][/color]
[color=choose][b]-History[/b][/color]
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- 13 posts here • Page 1 of 1
The Story So Far... Write a Post » as written by 7 authors
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Rain tapped the windows of Castle Red, the palace of the human royalty. Long marks of water running down the stained glass were mixed with the lovely grey clouds that just outside of them. But that was the only sound inside the castle of Mankind... It seemed not even the mice that had scampered through the halls had become silent this day, and stayed in their homes. Or perhaps slept, to try to escape the news that had been bestowed upon the world. The only living souls in the kingdom, safe for slaves and maids, gathered in the central chamber, thrown room, in front of the two sovereign rulers of the Realm: Rocha Pirix, human king and descendant of Ergoth, and the dragon emperor Nal'Kel, current lord of the dragon lands, and grandson of the powerful dragon wizard Nol'Lok.
The news had hit the both of them just as hard. In front of the lords stood a single white-robed man with his hands crossed inside of the long sleeves that nearly touched the floor. His head was hung and masked by the hood over his head, but it was clear to those who hadn't even heard; the news he bore was nothing worth hearing. "...So we are to die." Stated Rocha under his breath as he stood from his earthen thrown and stood in front of the man. "... or hide once again."
"Will we be able to hide once again, Rocha?" Stated the towering red dragon as he arose from his seat beside the king, with his head lowered to the ground to commune with the king. "Will we be able to hide from our destruction again...? The Caverns Will only be able to hold a couple hundred unless they are expanded-"
Quickly, Rocha interrupted his draconic friend. "Which we have not the ability to do. The Caverns are natural; we know not how they were put there nor do we know how to make more like them... Tampering with their construction could hold unfortold consequences..."
Growling low in disagreement, Nal shook his scales and retorted: "What would you have us do, Rocha? Abandon our people, and die to the Beast Kings will??" He uttered while trying to control the maelstrom of emotions that flowed through him. "I refuse to sit idle, and allow my people to be slaughtered once more! Never again!"
Understanding the words of the dragon, Rocha shook his head and turned towards the window, where the rain continued to tap on the window. Lost in contemplation, he was unable to hear the mumbled and groans of the noblemen around him. All of them considering their own fate, and the fate of their race.
"The Raynor would have the ability to dig greater tunnels into the earth-" Rocha stated. But before he was done Nal interjected once more. "The Raynor have not been seen in five-hundred years... How do we know they are not already consumed by the Beasts wrath??"
"My lords, the Prophecies have not fortold the destruction of our peopl-"Turning to the monk, the dragon twisted his scales and rose his head high off the ground and into the air of the thrown room, growling down to the monk: "What else will follow the rise of the Beast!? Only destruction will be left if we sit by and choose not to act!" He angrily roared down, his voice causing the stone in the room to tremble.
Holding up his arm to silence the dragon, the monk raised his head and allowed his hood to fall onto his back. "The Prophecies fortell of a salvation..." The room fell silent as they listened to the words of the man, and all turned to face their lords, who stood in bewilderment in front of each other; trying to grasp the words that came from the monk. "Salvation...?" Asked Rocha, breaking the silence of the room...
Seven days had passed sense the yearly Moot, the meeting of both kingdoms of Dragons and Man. Shirah asked herself why she was where she was... inside the dungeons of Castle Red. Just two short days ago she had been out in the mountains south of the capital, hunting for a rouge dragon... but now she was here; locked in a dark and damp cage in the basement of the human symbol of greed and oppression. She had been stripped of her clothes, and left in only a set of tattered rags to barely cover between her legs. Her breast were exposed, not like she really cared, and from the moment she was dragged into the city she could feel the eyes of men burrowing holes into her...
With nothing left to do, while Shirah sat in the cell and waited for someone to arrive, she began to think about the possible reasons of why she was here...
Had the King outgrown his little assassin? Was she no longer in service of the king to kill rouge dragons? Had the Dragon Emperor wanted her dead for his fear of her? No... it was neither. She had done nothing wrong to her knowledge, yet the fools insisted on taking her from her camp in the dead of night, and throwing her into a cell inside.
Soon her thoughts were put to rest as, after two days of waiting, the royal guard marched into the dungeon, walking straight towards her cell. She smirked a little as she slowly stood up, to the best of her abilities, being chained to the wall, and streches herself a little. "Well. If it isn't the asswipers..."
Ignoring her words, and unlocking her sell, two of the four guards took hold of her arms and unlocked her from the wall and walked her out. Not speaking a word not uttering a phrase as they took her out of the dungeon...
The news had hit the both of them just as hard. In front of the lords stood a single white-robed man with his hands crossed inside of the long sleeves that nearly touched the floor. His head was hung and masked by the hood over his head, but it was clear to those who hadn't even heard; the news he bore was nothing worth hearing. "...So we are to die." Stated Rocha under his breath as he stood from his earthen thrown and stood in front of the man. "... or hide once again."
"Will we be able to hide once again, Rocha?" Stated the towering red dragon as he arose from his seat beside the king, with his head lowered to the ground to commune with the king. "Will we be able to hide from our destruction again...? The Caverns Will only be able to hold a couple hundred unless they are expanded-"
Quickly, Rocha interrupted his draconic friend. "Which we have not the ability to do. The Caverns are natural; we know not how they were put there nor do we know how to make more like them... Tampering with their construction could hold unfortold consequences..."
Growling low in disagreement, Nal shook his scales and retorted: "What would you have us do, Rocha? Abandon our people, and die to the Beast Kings will??" He uttered while trying to control the maelstrom of emotions that flowed through him. "I refuse to sit idle, and allow my people to be slaughtered once more! Never again!"
Understanding the words of the dragon, Rocha shook his head and turned towards the window, where the rain continued to tap on the window. Lost in contemplation, he was unable to hear the mumbled and groans of the noblemen around him. All of them considering their own fate, and the fate of their race.
"The Raynor would have the ability to dig greater tunnels into the earth-" Rocha stated. But before he was done Nal interjected once more. "The Raynor have not been seen in five-hundred years... How do we know they are not already consumed by the Beasts wrath??"
"My lords, the Prophecies have not fortold the destruction of our peopl-"Turning to the monk, the dragon twisted his scales and rose his head high off the ground and into the air of the thrown room, growling down to the monk: "What else will follow the rise of the Beast!? Only destruction will be left if we sit by and choose not to act!" He angrily roared down, his voice causing the stone in the room to tremble.
Holding up his arm to silence the dragon, the monk raised his head and allowed his hood to fall onto his back. "The Prophecies fortell of a salvation..." The room fell silent as they listened to the words of the man, and all turned to face their lords, who stood in bewilderment in front of each other; trying to grasp the words that came from the monk. "Salvation...?" Asked Rocha, breaking the silence of the room...
The Flameseeker Prophecies
Seven days had passed sense the yearly Moot, the meeting of both kingdoms of Dragons and Man. Shirah asked herself why she was where she was... inside the dungeons of Castle Red. Just two short days ago she had been out in the mountains south of the capital, hunting for a rouge dragon... but now she was here; locked in a dark and damp cage in the basement of the human symbol of greed and oppression. She had been stripped of her clothes, and left in only a set of tattered rags to barely cover between her legs. Her breast were exposed, not like she really cared, and from the moment she was dragged into the city she could feel the eyes of men burrowing holes into her...
With nothing left to do, while Shirah sat in the cell and waited for someone to arrive, she began to think about the possible reasons of why she was here...
Had the King outgrown his little assassin? Was she no longer in service of the king to kill rouge dragons? Had the Dragon Emperor wanted her dead for his fear of her? No... it was neither. She had done nothing wrong to her knowledge, yet the fools insisted on taking her from her camp in the dead of night, and throwing her into a cell inside.
Soon her thoughts were put to rest as, after two days of waiting, the royal guard marched into the dungeon, walking straight towards her cell. She smirked a little as she slowly stood up, to the best of her abilities, being chained to the wall, and streches herself a little. "Well. If it isn't the asswipers..."
Ignoring her words, and unlocking her sell, two of the four guards took hold of her arms and unlocked her from the wall and walked her out. Not speaking a word not uttering a phrase as they took her out of the dungeon...
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Deep within the mountains, far from the eyes of even the most prying, Geron, the last city of the Raynor sat within the caverns. Hidden from the outside world, The Raynor live with a sense of peace and separation from others, set in their ways of tradition and isolation. Often called Mountain Folk in ancient legends, the Raynor have chosen to let themselves remain just that to what else remained within the larger world. The Beast King had destroyed most of their cities, crumbling ancient strongholds and decimating important figures to the Raynor. Content with slowly dying out over the next millennium, The Raynor have invested heavily in the preservation of what little they have left, in hopes that one day the Goddess shall show them mercy, and allow their people to return to this world once again.
The streets of Geron bustled as they usually do, the cold air from the outside gently blowing through the halls of Geron. Due to decreases in population, much of the city was now walled off, little to no use for it anymore. Most of what remained was the Main Hall, where stores and residents were located, and the Temple, a large structure at the end of the Main Hall that connected its passage to the rest of Geron. However, only the path to the Quilin's Chapel remained, the King and the Chronicler both making their residence within the Temple. Kaien Re'iq, a Raynor Warrior, was on his way from the Quilin Chapel to the Temple in order to receive his new orders from the Chronicler. Despite being regarded as the strongest of the Quilin, thus earning the name Re'iq, the truth was the Quilin numbered less than eighty, another entity likely to be closed off with the passage of time in the mountains. Despite their isolation, the Chronicler was versed in Common Language outside of Geron, the lessons being past down from each Chronicler to the next. For reasons unknown to him, Kaien had been taught Common from an early age, now being forced to speak it whenever he conversed with the Chronicler. It was not something he truly wanted to know, as he felt it was a trait that separated him from thee others, but he put up with it as was his duty.
Taking aa deep breath of the crisp mountain air, Kaien opened the large stone doors of the Temple, entering its Hallowed Halls with his head down and his eyes closed, as was customary. Raynor were taught from an early age to enter the Temple this way, yet still be able to navigate its passages. The reason was to instill a sense of knowing into the children, to make sure they remembered every inch of what the Raynor deemed most valuable. Due to his time with the Chronicler, Kaien learned that this was a practice that was not of their ancestors, but instead one created when Geron's Temple became the last known Raynor Temple. Kaien counted his steps under his breath, turning at the exact moment to be in front of the central chamber. Kneeling down and resting his hands on the ground in front of him, Kaien said a brief prayer under his breath;
"And A Shepherd I Will Be
For Thee, My Goddess, For Thee.
Power Has Been Given From Thy Hand
So My Sword May Swiftly Follow Thy Command
Forever The River Shall Flow, A River Teeming With Souls
Thy Justice is Absolute, And So Shall My River Be"
"Ato Valen." Kaien stood up and opened his eyes, looking up to the massive statue before him. Though made of stone, the Goddess radiated a sense of warmth and comfort to even the hardened warrior standing before it. Visually the statue was quite impressive. Though the actual structure was stone, the robes that covered the goddesses body were a bright marble. The eyes were slanted gems that glistened as brightly as diamonds, even in the dark halls of the mountain city. Beyond that, the Goddess was much like a Raynor in physical appearance, suggesting that the so-called Deity was likely just a Raynor who lived long ago and held incredible power, strong enough to confuse the Raynor around her into believing something greater was at work.
"Well, at least you said the Quilin Prayer in Common." Kaien turned around to see the Chronicler standing about thirty feet away from him, likely emerging from his own quarters in the Temple. "Master Hi'rn?" Kaien dropped to his knee once again, but quickly stood up as if it was just simply a formal greeting to his superior. "Sir Re'iq... its about time you began the conversation in Common. Nice to see fifteen plus years of practice are finally paying off." Kaien let out a small chuckle, walking over to the Chronicler. the Chronicler, or The Hi'rn, was the Spiritual Leader and Keeper of Raynor History. Often regarded as the most powerful member, not physically, of the Raynor Triumvirate, The Hi'rn was an old and wise Raynor, draped in white robes and caring a wood staff carved from the trees that grow near the tops of the Everfrost Mountains. Like many Raynor, he bore long white hair, but had an equally long beard to match. "Well, truthfully, you started the conversation, Master Hi'rn." The old Raynor let out a small laugh and sat down on one of the many pews, leaning his staff on the seat.
"Oh, did I now? Well, if you are so certain of yourself, you should have no problems then, hmm?" Kaien once again laughed a little, sitting down beside the old man.
"I've only ever ventured to the base of the mountains, and that was to catch my prey. I worry what it will be like when I leave. After we had my farewell party last night, I began to think about what could be out there that we don't know about? What if I leave and the humans are no longer there? What if the Lor're, sorry, Beast King has already returned and devastated the world? What if... Master Hi'rn? Mas-" Kaien stopped, hearing the soft sounds of snoring from the old man beside.
Kaien sat forward and let slip a small smile. "Well, I guess I'm off then." Standing up and throwing his hood over his head, he started making his way outside the Temple.
"Ato Valen." Kaien turned around to look back at the Hi'rn, who was still in much the same position. Kaien opened the door to the Temple. "May The Mountains Shield You, Master Hi'rn." Closing the Temple door behind him, Kaien made his way through the Main Hall, slipping by the others without causing a racket or drawing attention to himself. Before anyone realized he was even awake, Kaien Re'iq had left Geron, and his Enclave behind. He had a trek to make out of the mountains, that was for sure. but, he would soon venture further than any Raynor in a few hundred years, and the thought of that excited him to no end.
The streets of Geron bustled as they usually do, the cold air from the outside gently blowing through the halls of Geron. Due to decreases in population, much of the city was now walled off, little to no use for it anymore. Most of what remained was the Main Hall, where stores and residents were located, and the Temple, a large structure at the end of the Main Hall that connected its passage to the rest of Geron. However, only the path to the Quilin's Chapel remained, the King and the Chronicler both making their residence within the Temple. Kaien Re'iq, a Raynor Warrior, was on his way from the Quilin Chapel to the Temple in order to receive his new orders from the Chronicler. Despite being regarded as the strongest of the Quilin, thus earning the name Re'iq, the truth was the Quilin numbered less than eighty, another entity likely to be closed off with the passage of time in the mountains. Despite their isolation, the Chronicler was versed in Common Language outside of Geron, the lessons being past down from each Chronicler to the next. For reasons unknown to him, Kaien had been taught Common from an early age, now being forced to speak it whenever he conversed with the Chronicler. It was not something he truly wanted to know, as he felt it was a trait that separated him from thee others, but he put up with it as was his duty.
Taking aa deep breath of the crisp mountain air, Kaien opened the large stone doors of the Temple, entering its Hallowed Halls with his head down and his eyes closed, as was customary. Raynor were taught from an early age to enter the Temple this way, yet still be able to navigate its passages. The reason was to instill a sense of knowing into the children, to make sure they remembered every inch of what the Raynor deemed most valuable. Due to his time with the Chronicler, Kaien learned that this was a practice that was not of their ancestors, but instead one created when Geron's Temple became the last known Raynor Temple. Kaien counted his steps under his breath, turning at the exact moment to be in front of the central chamber. Kneeling down and resting his hands on the ground in front of him, Kaien said a brief prayer under his breath;
"And A Shepherd I Will Be
For Thee, My Goddess, For Thee.
Power Has Been Given From Thy Hand
So My Sword May Swiftly Follow Thy Command
Forever The River Shall Flow, A River Teeming With Souls
Thy Justice is Absolute, And So Shall My River Be"
"Ato Valen." Kaien stood up and opened his eyes, looking up to the massive statue before him. Though made of stone, the Goddess radiated a sense of warmth and comfort to even the hardened warrior standing before it. Visually the statue was quite impressive. Though the actual structure was stone, the robes that covered the goddesses body were a bright marble. The eyes were slanted gems that glistened as brightly as diamonds, even in the dark halls of the mountain city. Beyond that, the Goddess was much like a Raynor in physical appearance, suggesting that the so-called Deity was likely just a Raynor who lived long ago and held incredible power, strong enough to confuse the Raynor around her into believing something greater was at work.
"Well, at least you said the Quilin Prayer in Common." Kaien turned around to see the Chronicler standing about thirty feet away from him, likely emerging from his own quarters in the Temple. "Master Hi'rn?" Kaien dropped to his knee once again, but quickly stood up as if it was just simply a formal greeting to his superior. "Sir Re'iq... its about time you began the conversation in Common. Nice to see fifteen plus years of practice are finally paying off." Kaien let out a small chuckle, walking over to the Chronicler. the Chronicler, or The Hi'rn, was the Spiritual Leader and Keeper of Raynor History. Often regarded as the most powerful member, not physically, of the Raynor Triumvirate, The Hi'rn was an old and wise Raynor, draped in white robes and caring a wood staff carved from the trees that grow near the tops of the Everfrost Mountains. Like many Raynor, he bore long white hair, but had an equally long beard to match. "Well, truthfully, you started the conversation, Master Hi'rn." The old Raynor let out a small laugh and sat down on one of the many pews, leaning his staff on the seat.
"Oh, did I now? Well, if you are so certain of yourself, you should have no problems then, hmm?" Kaien once again laughed a little, sitting down beside the old man.
"I've only ever ventured to the base of the mountains, and that was to catch my prey. I worry what it will be like when I leave. After we had my farewell party last night, I began to think about what could be out there that we don't know about? What if I leave and the humans are no longer there? What if the Lor're, sorry, Beast King has already returned and devastated the world? What if... Master Hi'rn? Mas-" Kaien stopped, hearing the soft sounds of snoring from the old man beside.
Kaien sat forward and let slip a small smile. "Well, I guess I'm off then." Standing up and throwing his hood over his head, he started making his way outside the Temple.
"Ato Valen." Kaien turned around to look back at the Hi'rn, who was still in much the same position. Kaien opened the door to the Temple. "May The Mountains Shield You, Master Hi'rn." Closing the Temple door behind him, Kaien made his way through the Main Hall, slipping by the others without causing a racket or drawing attention to himself. Before anyone realized he was even awake, Kaien Re'iq had left Geron, and his Enclave behind. He had a trek to make out of the mountains, that was for sure. but, he would soon venture further than any Raynor in a few hundred years, and the thought of that excited him to no end.
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As Jorg walked through the ranks of his raiding party he wondered how the raid would go. They were hidden in the forest behind a small mountain town named Mill Pine. Rumors were that they had the best oak in the region. The plan was to simply kill those who opposed and take the rest as slaves to the Blood Keep. Then other parties would pick up the wood. The best part was that a wedding was being held in the temple. After an hour of preparation he chose to strike.
Fifty bandits swarmed the temple, killing the few amount of guards that were on duty outside of it. The raiding party gathered them up to decide their fates. The old, infirm, weak men, and the less attractive women were gathered around the town and impaled on sticks while the others received chains. Then twenty bandits went to gathering any valuable loot that could be stuffed onto the horses. Most of the silver was from the temple but they also brought sacks of grain to feed the slaves on the way. Jorg frowned at the number of fit slaves that they had. They had one hundred slaves and twenty pounds of silver to bring back which would slow them down quite a bit. "Well what are you waiting for!?" He yelled to his men. "We've got to get to the randevu point in three days! Any man who falls behind will be cut down!" Jorg couldn't risk falling behind, especially if he was being hunted.
Fifty bandits swarmed the temple, killing the few amount of guards that were on duty outside of it. The raiding party gathered them up to decide their fates. The old, infirm, weak men, and the less attractive women were gathered around the town and impaled on sticks while the others received chains. Then twenty bandits went to gathering any valuable loot that could be stuffed onto the horses. Most of the silver was from the temple but they also brought sacks of grain to feed the slaves on the way. Jorg frowned at the number of fit slaves that they had. They had one hundred slaves and twenty pounds of silver to bring back which would slow them down quite a bit. "Well what are you waiting for!?" He yelled to his men. "We've got to get to the randevu point in three days! Any man who falls behind will be cut down!" Jorg couldn't risk falling behind, especially if he was being hunted.
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Dar'Athrax's loping strides carried him swiftly through the lower foothills of the northern mountains. Years of combat had honed his senses, his nose could detect no smells save that of animals- his forked tongue agreed with his nose. His field of vision was slightly more impeded due to the heavy foliage and brush of the hills. The terrain itself wasn't overly spectacular either, uneven and rocky...only his size allowed him traverse the time with anything resembling ease. An echoing roar also dominated the vicinity, a large river was nearby...over the next ridge if his ears were at all accurate. A wind carrying the boreal chill of the high peaks rushed over his skin and he was forced to grip his cloak tighter to offer a slight amount of respite.
A dull thud resounded on his right shoulder, searing pain and a warm wetness issued soon after from the limb. Pure reflex caused his body to roll left, saving him from two others. Broad-tips?! The sight of the large,bladed arrow heads left upon the stones came with a large increase of his heart rate- he had to run. He'd set out this morning hoping to find a site for ambush, maybe even lay waste against even a small portion of the army responsible for his tribes massacre. However, it would appear he himself had been the one ambushed; a curious notion since broad-tipped arrows weren't exactly known for their long range. His breathing had become loud as he pumped his legs, ducked, wove, rolled- anything to keep less arrows from hitting him. Suddenly it hit him, the wind, the archers were using the wind...and no doubt one of the higher perches to shoot him down.
Instinct told him the river was his best bet, and experience and taught Dar'Athrax to listen. He sprinted towards the raging current, now fresh in his vision...white foam and all. His lungs and heart had begun to burn from his exertions; after all his swords, shield and armor were far from light nor was he a feather weight. A line of white hot agony spurted down his back before he managed to dive into the current. The ambush was the least of his worries now, currents battered him with more strength than he'd ever match. His equipment dragged him down like a stone and he felt blood- his very life exit him as a red haze. He struggled his way to the surface and barely managed a breath before the water crashed down upon him again. His skull cracked against something with a crack, but it wasn't his flesh that gave...a log? In desperation, he dug his claws into the wood and began to climb- eventually breaching the surface once more.
The log of his salvation was revealed to in fact be an entire tree- uprooted during the previous weeks heavy rain in all likelihood. He took advantage of his perch to shed his cloak, his claws severed the cloth with ease. The waterlogged fur instantly sank back into the current and vanished from sight- it did not reappear. The free hand was then used to peruse his wounds- none of the arrows had sunk too deeply and the bleeding was light. The biggest issue was the cloak having broken several shafts in its descent. A sudden lurch forced him to dig the claws of his hands and feet deeper into the wood- his own weight and shift the tree from its own perch. In slow motion everything pitched forward and joined the river once more, it was not long until the waters slowed. It was rather expected, the river widened and the area had a less steep incline-naturally the waters would calm. It was only at this point Dar'Athrax noticed a significant change of the suns orientation. How long have I been adrift, the thought floated through his consciousness. For that matter, have I even remain conscious this entire time?
Events weren't adding up- either exhaustion or blood loss was making him groggy... and weaker. His grip began to loosen and he was unable to command his fingers- the world became black. A knife like pain from his side brought him conscious and he subconsciously roared as only those descended of dragons were capable. A familiar tree was at his side, washed ashore in a terrain he didn't recognize. The scents were different- even the plants didn't match, hunger pains also racked his insides...how long had he been out? The area was still heavy with foliage, and only the vaguest memory of descriptions from southern traders came to mind. This would mean he was in the kingdom proper-days if not weeks from his home in the north if he were to walk.Given his current condition, that didn't provide much assurance- just because the bears were no longer at least double his size and wolves smaller than horses didn't mean he was any safer. With what strength he had left, Dar'Athrax dragged himself away from the riverbank before once more losing consciousness.
A dull thud resounded on his right shoulder, searing pain and a warm wetness issued soon after from the limb. Pure reflex caused his body to roll left, saving him from two others. Broad-tips?! The sight of the large,bladed arrow heads left upon the stones came with a large increase of his heart rate- he had to run. He'd set out this morning hoping to find a site for ambush, maybe even lay waste against even a small portion of the army responsible for his tribes massacre. However, it would appear he himself had been the one ambushed; a curious notion since broad-tipped arrows weren't exactly known for their long range. His breathing had become loud as he pumped his legs, ducked, wove, rolled- anything to keep less arrows from hitting him. Suddenly it hit him, the wind, the archers were using the wind...and no doubt one of the higher perches to shoot him down.
Instinct told him the river was his best bet, and experience and taught Dar'Athrax to listen. He sprinted towards the raging current, now fresh in his vision...white foam and all. His lungs and heart had begun to burn from his exertions; after all his swords, shield and armor were far from light nor was he a feather weight. A line of white hot agony spurted down his back before he managed to dive into the current. The ambush was the least of his worries now, currents battered him with more strength than he'd ever match. His equipment dragged him down like a stone and he felt blood- his very life exit him as a red haze. He struggled his way to the surface and barely managed a breath before the water crashed down upon him again. His skull cracked against something with a crack, but it wasn't his flesh that gave...a log? In desperation, he dug his claws into the wood and began to climb- eventually breaching the surface once more.
The log of his salvation was revealed to in fact be an entire tree- uprooted during the previous weeks heavy rain in all likelihood. He took advantage of his perch to shed his cloak, his claws severed the cloth with ease. The waterlogged fur instantly sank back into the current and vanished from sight- it did not reappear. The free hand was then used to peruse his wounds- none of the arrows had sunk too deeply and the bleeding was light. The biggest issue was the cloak having broken several shafts in its descent. A sudden lurch forced him to dig the claws of his hands and feet deeper into the wood- his own weight and shift the tree from its own perch. In slow motion everything pitched forward and joined the river once more, it was not long until the waters slowed. It was rather expected, the river widened and the area had a less steep incline-naturally the waters would calm. It was only at this point Dar'Athrax noticed a significant change of the suns orientation. How long have I been adrift, the thought floated through his consciousness. For that matter, have I even remain conscious this entire time?
Events weren't adding up- either exhaustion or blood loss was making him groggy... and weaker. His grip began to loosen and he was unable to command his fingers- the world became black. A knife like pain from his side brought him conscious and he subconsciously roared as only those descended of dragons were capable. A familiar tree was at his side, washed ashore in a terrain he didn't recognize. The scents were different- even the plants didn't match, hunger pains also racked his insides...how long had he been out? The area was still heavy with foliage, and only the vaguest memory of descriptions from southern traders came to mind. This would mean he was in the kingdom proper-days if not weeks from his home in the north if he were to walk.Given his current condition, that didn't provide much assurance- just because the bears were no longer at least double his size and wolves smaller than horses didn't mean he was any safer. With what strength he had left, Dar'Athrax dragged himself away from the riverbank before once more losing consciousness.
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Her hair was gone.
The golden locks had once cascaded down to her lower back and were the envy of all of the older women in her village, but the strands were now cut short just above her shoulders. The feeling was odd; her head was lighter, and her posture now lacked the child-like innocence that she had been accustomed to through-out the years. She would continually reach her hand up to her shoulders, expecting to run her hands through the soft hair there, but her fingers only found the rough texture of her boyish tunic that prickled at her skin. She couldn't complain, though; she had cut the golden curls herself.
With her now-shortened hair and her constricted chest, (as she didn't want her breasts to be visible to give away her actual gender identity) along with the pauper clothing that once belonged to her older brother, she looked like a regular peasant boy. Which was exactly what she wanted. She found herself, currently, in a small mountain town not too terribly far from Castle Red; rumor had it that the Prince was coming through on this day to look for new recruits for his army, and she had every intention of joining him. But she would not join as Saydra, the peasant girl from the small farming village that had only faced one enemy; she would instead take the name of Sayd, the brave pauper boy who would become one of the Prince's knights. But it was time for her to get to the street where the Prince would come through to examine the troops, so she quickly tied what little hair was left on her head into a messy knot on the back of her head. She picked up the only belonging that she had to her name, a splintered, wooden, makeshift sword, and raced out the door of the shabby tavern that she had spent the night in.
The small mountain town was bustling with life, though it looked that this wasn't normal. Poorly constructed houses with faded signs and caving-in roofs had been quickly refurbished to make an impression on the Prince. Front doors had been cleaned, windows washed, and colorful displays of small artistry such as sculptures and fabrics were left outside all around. The atmosphere, however, seemed more rushed and nervous then anything; young men were scattered about the place, finishing their last-minute preparations. Boys were in their nicest attire (which wasn't saying too terribly much for the merchant town) and had washed up for the occasion. Saydra hoped that the Prince would accept someone that looked as rough-and-tumble as she did at the moment. Her face, though she had washed it in the morning, was still partially covered in dirt from her long journey to the village. Her clothes were not much better; the dusty tunic had tears in the fabric and the edges were frayed with age. The pants were, like her face, caked in the elements. Her feet were bare and tough, the skin there sorely lacking proper moisture and care. But in her eyes, the spirit of a vengeful warrior burned, and she hoped that her passion alone would be enough to show the Prince that she was, in fact, ready to join his army. A boy ran past her screaming "He's coming! He's coming!" And suddenly all of the men began to rush toward the main street of the town, as did she.
Bodies squirmed their ways through the byways and alleys of the town, and Saydra found herself being pushed around as if she were simply a speck of sand in the ocean; the waves of people that were much taller and larger than her pushed forward, tossing and turning her like the tide. Her lack of height was sorely aware to her in this moment. Eventually, though, the tide brought her to the main street where the two sides were lined with bodies, but she found that she could not see anything except for the towering figures in front of her. She squeezed her slight frame between men, trying to get closer to the front so she could see when the Prince came. However, one of the men in the crowd noticed her pushing past and became enraged that someone would dare to try and get a better view than him. "Think you can just get in front of us, runt? Fine!" Before she even had time to turn around and confront her accuser, he had shoved her forward and pushed her on the ground in front of the line of people. Those in front suppressed their snickers, as they were amused by this runt's embarrassment. The still-young face flushed red as she glared at her accuser, though she didn't attack back. She sat on the ground there as others chuckled at her misfortune; she wanted nothing more than to let her hair down and hide behind the curtain of gold like she had often done as a child, but
Her hair was gone.
The golden locks had once cascaded down to her lower back and were the envy of all of the older women in her village, but the strands were now cut short just above her shoulders. The feeling was odd; her head was lighter, and her posture now lacked the child-like innocence that she had been accustomed to through-out the years. She would continually reach her hand up to her shoulders, expecting to run her hands through the soft hair there, but her fingers only found the rough texture of her boyish tunic that prickled at her skin. She couldn't complain, though; she had cut the golden curls herself.
With her now-shortened hair and her constricted chest, (as she didn't want her breasts to be visible to give away her actual gender identity) along with the pauper clothing that once belonged to her older brother, she looked like a regular peasant boy. Which was exactly what she wanted. She found herself, currently, in a small mountain town not too terribly far from Castle Red; rumor had it that the Prince was coming through on this day to look for new recruits for his army, and she had every intention of joining him. But she would not join as Saydra, the peasant girl from the small farming village that had only faced one enemy; she would instead take the name of Sayd, the brave pauper boy who would become one of the Prince's knights. But it was time for her to get to the street where the Prince would come through to examine the troops, so she quickly tied what little hair was left on her head into a messy knot on the back of her head. She picked up the only belonging that she had to her name, a splintered, wooden, makeshift sword, and raced out the door of the shabby tavern that she had spent the night in.
The small mountain town was bustling with life, though it looked that this wasn't normal. Poorly constructed houses with faded signs and caving-in roofs had been quickly refurbished to make an impression on the Prince. Front doors had been cleaned, windows washed, and colorful displays of small artistry such as sculptures and fabrics were left outside all around. The atmosphere, however, seemed more rushed and nervous then anything; young men were scattered about the place, finishing their last-minute preparations. Boys were in their nicest attire (which wasn't saying too terribly much for the merchant town) and had washed up for the occasion. Saydra hoped that the Prince would accept someone that looked as rough-and-tumble as she did at the moment. Her face, though she had washed it in the morning, was still partially covered in dirt from her long journey to the village. Her clothes were not much better; the dusty tunic had tears in the fabric and the edges were frayed with age. The pants were, like her face, caked in the elements. Her feet were bare and tough, the skin there sorely lacking proper moisture and care. But in her eyes, the spirit of a vengeful warrior burned, and she hoped that her passion alone would be enough to show the Prince that she was, in fact, ready to join his army. A boy ran past her screaming "He's coming! He's coming!" And suddenly all of the men began to rush toward the main street of the town, as did she.
Bodies squirmed their ways through the byways and alleys of the town, and Saydra found herself being pushed around as if she were simply a speck of sand in the ocean; the waves of people that were much taller and larger than her pushed forward, tossing and turning her like the tide. Her lack of height was sorely aware to her in this moment. Eventually, though, the tide brought her to the main street where the two sides were lined with bodies, but she found that she could not see anything except for the towering figures in front of her. She squeezed her slight frame between men, trying to get closer to the front so she could see when the Prince came. However, one of the men in the crowd noticed her pushing past and became enraged that someone would dare to try and get a better view than him. "Think you can just get in front of us, runt? Fine!" Before she even had time to turn around and confront her accuser, he had shoved her forward and pushed her on the ground in front of the line of people. Those in front suppressed their snickers, as they were amused by this runt's embarrassment. The still-young face flushed red as she glared at her accuser, though she didn't attack back. She sat on the ground there as others chuckled at her misfortune; she wanted nothing more than to let her hair down and hide behind the curtain of gold like she had often done as a child, but
Her hair was gone.
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Uxio Rocha looked down at the boy on the ground at his feet. In all honesty, he was at a loss as to what to say. To him, it seemed like a boy had just thrown himself from the crowd. Not that something like that hadn't happened before, but for a split-second his training had taken over and be had been about to take the ragged little creature's head clean off.
So now he stood over a reddening boy, one that couldn't be over the age fifteen or sixteen, maybe less judging by the lack of even a hint of hair on his lip, a hand on the hilt of his blade. As Uxio took another second to take look at the boy, his gaze fell on the sword. It was splintered hunk of wood, barely fit to be called a stick. A smile spread across Uxio's face. Not the Prince's smile. A smile of nostalgia. One from hot summer days spent swinging a wooden sword, dreaming of becoming a knight worthy of the adoration of the kingdom. A hero.
But soon the moment passed and the Prince was back. A porcelain puppet pulled by elegant silk strings. The Prince of the kingdom was not the Paladin Uxio, the champion. He was the gentle, caring man beloved by the people of the kingdom, and the man they hoped to follow. He had not the power of the Paladin, nor the human qualities that Uxio himself had buried beneath the surface. He was royal and elegant. But to Uxio, this was no act nor puppetry. This was him to his people and the way he must be. And that was simply it.
And so the Prince took his hand and put the boy on his feet, giving the boy a wide smile... Until he saw the boy's eyes. When he saw the boy's eyes, he felt the Prince slip away, replaced by the sense of duty, of honor. Of the power he wielded in the name of his kingdom. The eyes of the Paladin stared into this peasant boy's own like they would reveal some great secret. And the Paladin grinned. Had he ten warriors with eyes like that, full of fire, wise of things far beyond the years they had seen, an army of thousands would stand not a chance.
"What's your name?" Said the Paladin, already confident of one of his choices. "Never too early to start recruiting."
And deep inside, the Man in Uxio wished sullenly that he should have eyes such as those.
So now he stood over a reddening boy, one that couldn't be over the age fifteen or sixteen, maybe less judging by the lack of even a hint of hair on his lip, a hand on the hilt of his blade. As Uxio took another second to take look at the boy, his gaze fell on the sword. It was splintered hunk of wood, barely fit to be called a stick. A smile spread across Uxio's face. Not the Prince's smile. A smile of nostalgia. One from hot summer days spent swinging a wooden sword, dreaming of becoming a knight worthy of the adoration of the kingdom. A hero.
But soon the moment passed and the Prince was back. A porcelain puppet pulled by elegant silk strings. The Prince of the kingdom was not the Paladin Uxio, the champion. He was the gentle, caring man beloved by the people of the kingdom, and the man they hoped to follow. He had not the power of the Paladin, nor the human qualities that Uxio himself had buried beneath the surface. He was royal and elegant. But to Uxio, this was no act nor puppetry. This was him to his people and the way he must be. And that was simply it.
And so the Prince took his hand and put the boy on his feet, giving the boy a wide smile... Until he saw the boy's eyes. When he saw the boy's eyes, he felt the Prince slip away, replaced by the sense of duty, of honor. Of the power he wielded in the name of his kingdom. The eyes of the Paladin stared into this peasant boy's own like they would reveal some great secret. And the Paladin grinned. Had he ten warriors with eyes like that, full of fire, wise of things far beyond the years they had seen, an army of thousands would stand not a chance.
"What's your name?" Said the Paladin, already confident of one of his choices. "Never too early to start recruiting."
And deep inside, the Man in Uxio wished sullenly that he should have eyes such as those.
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Shirah took hold of her acing wrists and she stood outside the gates of Castle Red, between the two magical vanguard statues that stood watch outside the castle twenty-for hours a day. How powerful was the reach of the human kingdom they could afford to have magical suits of stone armor watch their gates for them? Just as powerful as they were, they were just as greedy. Every time Shirah came to the capital, she would find herself disgusted by her surroundings; greedy nobles living in mansions, their size to match Castle Red, guards thinking themselves gods in their steel suits, and the poor treated like a disease, better to be stomped than looked at.
But, for now, she had to put aside her personal opinions about the humans, and had to think of the task she was charged with. They had given her back her gear, which she wore comfortably as she stood outside in the broad daylight. Though she could be seen a mile away in a crowd, she didn't think herself any stranger than those who pranced around the streets in front of her. She stood proudly, looking over all the commoners, knowing that any of them could be her target.
Looking down at the parchment list she held in her hand, she decided it was best to read it rather than look at it. Though reading wasn't her greatest skill, she would still pass to read the paper in her hand.
"Prince, first..." She mumbled to herself as she walked forward, pushing herself through the mob of commoners that gawked at her as she walked through them. After what felt like an hour of wading through wave after wave of people through the crowded streets of the city outside the castle, she found herself at the main Southern gate to the city, where three horses stood.
Two of the horses were mounted by riders, two paladin knights with their swords in their sheaths, and tower shields on their backs. There horses were packed with previsions, rations, cooking wear, and sleeping rolls... all things Shirah wouldn't be needing. The third horse sat with nothing to weigh it down. This was her horse. A nice red color for fur, with strong legs and muscles; a stud in the very definition of the word.
Sighing and hanging her head in acknowledgment of the journey in front of her, she walked to the knights. The knight to the right of her horse carried her sword on his side. A grave mistake, if it hadn't been for the fact that she had been placed "Under arrest" until her mission was complete. Any other day she would have killed the knight with her bare hands, but today she felt like being a little more "civilized", being she was a prisoner to these two.
"My sword." She stated as she held out her hand to the knight. "By order of the Kings, you are only aloud to-" Quickly, she interrupted him. "I don't think you understand. Give me my sword." Obviously not budging, the knight put his hand on his own sword, and repeated himself. "Under the King's orders, this weapon is to remain with me at all times, unless the need arises."
The knight to the left of her, seeing the anger in Shirahs face, held his hand up to silence the other. "Let her have her sword. If we were to run into any trouble, she would be able to kill it long before either of us can find our blades."
Unwillingly, the knight pulled Shirah's sword from his side, and handed her the ancient ceremonial blade. It was longer than any sword you would find a knight carrying, and weighed twice as much as it looked. While to anyone else it would seem awful to wield, let alone kill with it, to her it was just like holding any normal sword.
"Finally." She stated walking towards her horse. "Someone who understands." Smiling, she threw her weight onto the horse and got conformable in its leather saddle.
Patting the horse on the neck, she took the reigns around him, and pointed him towards the opened gate. With the knights close behind her, Shirah rode forward and out of the capital, into the vast open air of the Realm... a feeling she missed while locked up inside the dungeons of Castle Red.
Mountains, here we come...
But, for now, she had to put aside her personal opinions about the humans, and had to think of the task she was charged with. They had given her back her gear, which she wore comfortably as she stood outside in the broad daylight. Though she could be seen a mile away in a crowd, she didn't think herself any stranger than those who pranced around the streets in front of her. She stood proudly, looking over all the commoners, knowing that any of them could be her target.
Looking down at the parchment list she held in her hand, she decided it was best to read it rather than look at it. Though reading wasn't her greatest skill, she would still pass to read the paper in her hand.
"Prince, first..." She mumbled to herself as she walked forward, pushing herself through the mob of commoners that gawked at her as she walked through them. After what felt like an hour of wading through wave after wave of people through the crowded streets of the city outside the castle, she found herself at the main Southern gate to the city, where three horses stood.
Two of the horses were mounted by riders, two paladin knights with their swords in their sheaths, and tower shields on their backs. There horses were packed with previsions, rations, cooking wear, and sleeping rolls... all things Shirah wouldn't be needing. The third horse sat with nothing to weigh it down. This was her horse. A nice red color for fur, with strong legs and muscles; a stud in the very definition of the word.
Sighing and hanging her head in acknowledgment of the journey in front of her, she walked to the knights. The knight to the right of her horse carried her sword on his side. A grave mistake, if it hadn't been for the fact that she had been placed "Under arrest" until her mission was complete. Any other day she would have killed the knight with her bare hands, but today she felt like being a little more "civilized", being she was a prisoner to these two.
"My sword." She stated as she held out her hand to the knight. "By order of the Kings, you are only aloud to-" Quickly, she interrupted him. "I don't think you understand. Give me my sword." Obviously not budging, the knight put his hand on his own sword, and repeated himself. "Under the King's orders, this weapon is to remain with me at all times, unless the need arises."
The knight to the left of her, seeing the anger in Shirahs face, held his hand up to silence the other. "Let her have her sword. If we were to run into any trouble, she would be able to kill it long before either of us can find our blades."
Unwillingly, the knight pulled Shirah's sword from his side, and handed her the ancient ceremonial blade. It was longer than any sword you would find a knight carrying, and weighed twice as much as it looked. While to anyone else it would seem awful to wield, let alone kill with it, to her it was just like holding any normal sword.
"Finally." She stated walking towards her horse. "Someone who understands." Smiling, she threw her weight onto the horse and got conformable in its leather saddle.
Patting the horse on the neck, she took the reigns around him, and pointed him towards the opened gate. With the knights close behind her, Shirah rode forward and out of the capital, into the vast open air of the Realm... a feeling she missed while locked up inside the dungeons of Castle Red.
Mountains, here we come...
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Ketchka decided she hated mountains.
In her youth, the mountains had been a grand thing, full of freedom and adventure, of tall beauty, and muted promises of home. She’d dreamed of the rocks and the rills, the heady scent of hemlock and cedar, of crisp white snow and creeping morning mists, nameless red berries and the singing of nesting wrens. She’d dreamed aplenty, yet never stepped foot upon. The mountains had always been an untouchable dream, a symbol of everything that was out of her reach, no matter which mage house she’d been sequestered within.
Yesterday found her not only on her first mountain, but traveling it ass over teakettle. Between leaf litter and pine needles, mud and slush, wet rock and something she highly suspected was freshly heel-ground fungus, she hadn’t made it an hour solely on the merit of her own feet. The mountains were determined to take her down. There was intent. She was sure of it.
But she knew how to adapt when surrounded by the enemy. Ketchka had picked at mud drying on her fine clothes, taken a deep breath of mountain air (a lungful of earthy damp and aftertaste of lichen eating away at sandstone, not exactly the aromatic bouquet she’d anticipated) and learned how to step sideways to walk straight. If she didn’t adapt as quickly and smoothly as she remembered now, the truth was kept between her and the mountain. Today, her feet were as sure and nimble as any goat’s. Today, the chipmunks did not chitter their amusement and rush to get out of the way.
The ground gave way to soft shapes by noon. She’d left the mountain range behind, bearing no knowledge of when great peaks had lowered and the sky widened, and no clear view stretched behind. The sun released sweetness from the seed-headed grasses, cast shade beneath the oaks. She took the easier paths at the edge of riparian ditches, following trails used by cloven hooves daily until the earth hardened and polished like fine cobblestone. There were willows and black walnuts ahead, running perpendicular to her current deer trail, their greedy roots better than any dowsing rod, but by that time she already could hear the river.
Water. Freshwater. After walking fifty miles over rough terrain, it was enough to make her feel a little greedy herself. In Yideas, every bath had reeked of salt from the inland sea, every swim shared with toothed eels. This stream was languid in its movements, its bottom clean shale and polished river rock, positively begging her to throw off her boots and wade in.
She had one boot off already and was balancing on one leg when she spotted the dead body high on the bank.
“No. No-no no no no. You can’t be here,” she admonished, throwing the other boot down and rushing over. It looked Carion. Big, and Carion. And like a dragon had chewed on it and spat it back out. “If you’re alive, I’m going to kill you. You ruined a perfectly decadent swimming hole,” she said. Ketchka threw her pack down and knelt in the sedge, quickly aware blood saturated the ground as it rose up through the knees of her mage-black gown. He was wet, and smelled. She couldn’t tell if he was breathing, but nothing had eaten his eyes, so he probably wasn’t dead, despite all appearances otherwise. It was fair to say he was unconscious then.
Even mostly dead, he looked like a warrior. Ketchka bit her bottom lip. This could go bad. She didn’t know him, and the unpredictability set her teeth on edge. But he was Carion. He was hurt and weak. He wasn’t a mage. She didn’t see any other choices, right now. She’d do her best to save him.
She threaded human hands into his hair, checking his skull for contusions. She had needle and black thread in the pack, intended for mending her clothes. If he stayed unconscious, it would be easier for her to sew him back together, but he’d probably die before the last stitch. Ketchka closed her eyes, hovering a hand above his heart, and delivered the magical equivalent of adrenaline. It was a dose of pure energy: the backwash tasted like ozone to her own senses, but to a body incapable of manipulating magic, it no doubt hurt. She wanted him alert, talking. Ketchka couldn’t see inside him to pinpoint which injuries were killing him, but she wasn’t going to risk pumping him up with blood if he was going to leak like a sieve into his lung, for example. She moved both hands to his temple, setting the fleshy pads of her fingertips against the faint hollow where she could feel veins delivering blood to the brain. With a little pressure, she could return him to unconsciousness, if need be. With his amount of blood loss, it shouldn't be hard. She was ready for it, if the shock didn't rip him from her grasp.
In her youth, the mountains had been a grand thing, full of freedom and adventure, of tall beauty, and muted promises of home. She’d dreamed of the rocks and the rills, the heady scent of hemlock and cedar, of crisp white snow and creeping morning mists, nameless red berries and the singing of nesting wrens. She’d dreamed aplenty, yet never stepped foot upon. The mountains had always been an untouchable dream, a symbol of everything that was out of her reach, no matter which mage house she’d been sequestered within.
Yesterday found her not only on her first mountain, but traveling it ass over teakettle. Between leaf litter and pine needles, mud and slush, wet rock and something she highly suspected was freshly heel-ground fungus, she hadn’t made it an hour solely on the merit of her own feet. The mountains were determined to take her down. There was intent. She was sure of it.
But she knew how to adapt when surrounded by the enemy. Ketchka had picked at mud drying on her fine clothes, taken a deep breath of mountain air (a lungful of earthy damp and aftertaste of lichen eating away at sandstone, not exactly the aromatic bouquet she’d anticipated) and learned how to step sideways to walk straight. If she didn’t adapt as quickly and smoothly as she remembered now, the truth was kept between her and the mountain. Today, her feet were as sure and nimble as any goat’s. Today, the chipmunks did not chitter their amusement and rush to get out of the way.
The ground gave way to soft shapes by noon. She’d left the mountain range behind, bearing no knowledge of when great peaks had lowered and the sky widened, and no clear view stretched behind. The sun released sweetness from the seed-headed grasses, cast shade beneath the oaks. She took the easier paths at the edge of riparian ditches, following trails used by cloven hooves daily until the earth hardened and polished like fine cobblestone. There were willows and black walnuts ahead, running perpendicular to her current deer trail, their greedy roots better than any dowsing rod, but by that time she already could hear the river.
Water. Freshwater. After walking fifty miles over rough terrain, it was enough to make her feel a little greedy herself. In Yideas, every bath had reeked of salt from the inland sea, every swim shared with toothed eels. This stream was languid in its movements, its bottom clean shale and polished river rock, positively begging her to throw off her boots and wade in.
She had one boot off already and was balancing on one leg when she spotted the dead body high on the bank.
“No. No-no no no no. You can’t be here,” she admonished, throwing the other boot down and rushing over. It looked Carion. Big, and Carion. And like a dragon had chewed on it and spat it back out. “If you’re alive, I’m going to kill you. You ruined a perfectly decadent swimming hole,” she said. Ketchka threw her pack down and knelt in the sedge, quickly aware blood saturated the ground as it rose up through the knees of her mage-black gown. He was wet, and smelled. She couldn’t tell if he was breathing, but nothing had eaten his eyes, so he probably wasn’t dead, despite all appearances otherwise. It was fair to say he was unconscious then.
Even mostly dead, he looked like a warrior. Ketchka bit her bottom lip. This could go bad. She didn’t know him, and the unpredictability set her teeth on edge. But he was Carion. He was hurt and weak. He wasn’t a mage. She didn’t see any other choices, right now. She’d do her best to save him.
She threaded human hands into his hair, checking his skull for contusions. She had needle and black thread in the pack, intended for mending her clothes. If he stayed unconscious, it would be easier for her to sew him back together, but he’d probably die before the last stitch. Ketchka closed her eyes, hovering a hand above his heart, and delivered the magical equivalent of adrenaline. It was a dose of pure energy: the backwash tasted like ozone to her own senses, but to a body incapable of manipulating magic, it no doubt hurt. She wanted him alert, talking. Ketchka couldn’t see inside him to pinpoint which injuries were killing him, but she wasn’t going to risk pumping him up with blood if he was going to leak like a sieve into his lung, for example. She moved both hands to his temple, setting the fleshy pads of her fingertips against the faint hollow where she could feel veins delivering blood to the brain. With a little pressure, she could return him to unconsciousness, if need be. With his amount of blood loss, it shouldn't be hard. She was ready for it, if the shock didn't rip him from her grasp.
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Awareness was thrust upon Dar'Athrax and shot through his heart much like a spear should. There was a brief convulsion- as if his body had to check to ensure everything still worked. He couldn't tell if it was more appropriate to say whether his limbs were weak or numb, but he managed to heft himself onto his knees and one arm. The other arm hung limp, but he could still move his fingers- the shoulder itself wouldn't move or hold weight. He dug his tail into the ground to compensate and provide additional stability. At this point, he noticed a woman nearby- hand on his skull. If everything turned out well, she'd be his savior- experience kicked in, and he began to list what he knew.
"Right shoulder," the words came out of his mouth in a rushed fashion- his body was pumping adrenaline like crazy. "Broadhead arrow, two pronged and all the way in-preventing use.They're designed to caused massive bleeding and kill large game. Around seven more are in back with broken shafts,only three pierced- guessing about a thumbs length of penetration." Strength returned to his limbs during his report, and he grew warm. He had fallen for such a simple ambush and nearly been killed for it- all this time and he'd basically gotten no better! He sat up straight and untied his blades and shield with his left hand. Their weight caused them to sink into the wet dirt- self loathing and anger allowing him to push himself ever further.
His raised posture gave him a better look at the woman in front of him- she appeared human. She was definitely on the tall side for a human though. His instincts were telling him he was missing something, but instead he focused on clearing his back. He deliberately kept his gaze leveled at the girl and slowly moved his left hand around to his back. A bit of blind fumbling occurred before he located the first shaft. There was no pain when he gave it a test wiggle- his armor had caught it. Without any hesitation he yanked it out of his armor- the metals screeching in protest. The arrow was held forward, tip down at his front- the girl may have had a cautious attitude but he doubted she had actually understood his full statement. It was for this reason he held the arrow forward; the head itself was about the size of a human hand and weighed a pound and a half.
"In case you were wondering what a Broadheaded arrow looked like," he kept his voice steady before dropping the arrow. He reached back again- this time from the hip and found another, this one had gone into him. With a grunt, he pulled this one out too. The area burned, but he felt the wound closing...he always healed quickly when he was angry. This arrow was also cast aside but it was the last one he could reach with only one arm. "Pardon the belated pleasantries," he didn't exactly have much experience with the opposite sex. "The name's Dar'Athrax. Don't worry about inflection, it's impossible without a forked tongue- gratitude for the save." At this point he paused, unsure exactly what to say from there. After all he had a million questions and he couldn't be sure of this woman.
"Right shoulder," the words came out of his mouth in a rushed fashion- his body was pumping adrenaline like crazy. "Broadhead arrow, two pronged and all the way in-preventing use.They're designed to caused massive bleeding and kill large game. Around seven more are in back with broken shafts,only three pierced- guessing about a thumbs length of penetration." Strength returned to his limbs during his report, and he grew warm. He had fallen for such a simple ambush and nearly been killed for it- all this time and he'd basically gotten no better! He sat up straight and untied his blades and shield with his left hand. Their weight caused them to sink into the wet dirt- self loathing and anger allowing him to push himself ever further.
His raised posture gave him a better look at the woman in front of him- she appeared human. She was definitely on the tall side for a human though. His instincts were telling him he was missing something, but instead he focused on clearing his back. He deliberately kept his gaze leveled at the girl and slowly moved his left hand around to his back. A bit of blind fumbling occurred before he located the first shaft. There was no pain when he gave it a test wiggle- his armor had caught it. Without any hesitation he yanked it out of his armor- the metals screeching in protest. The arrow was held forward, tip down at his front- the girl may have had a cautious attitude but he doubted she had actually understood his full statement. It was for this reason he held the arrow forward; the head itself was about the size of a human hand and weighed a pound and a half.
"In case you were wondering what a Broadheaded arrow looked like," he kept his voice steady before dropping the arrow. He reached back again- this time from the hip and found another, this one had gone into him. With a grunt, he pulled this one out too. The area burned, but he felt the wound closing...he always healed quickly when he was angry. This arrow was also cast aside but it was the last one he could reach with only one arm. "Pardon the belated pleasantries," he didn't exactly have much experience with the opposite sex. "The name's Dar'Athrax. Don't worry about inflection, it's impossible without a forked tongue- gratitude for the save." At this point he paused, unsure exactly what to say from there. After all he had a million questions and he couldn't be sure of this woman.
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The sound of shouting rang through a small part of the mountains, as did the sound of running. Wearing a long, yet simple blue cloak to hide his "unique" features, Kaien hustled through the the wilderness, weaving between the trees to try and through off his pursuers. It had been a few hours since he left Geron, and already he was running into trouble he was specifically told to avoid. First off, he went the wrong direction out of the cave, even losing his map off the edge of a cliff as he navigated the narrow passes. Then, he tried to stop in a town for supplies, but kept his face hidden from view as he wasn't someone who was supposed to be still alive, and it would likely confuse the humans. In Geron, food and provisions aren't so much traded as much as they are given between each other for the betterment of the whole. Warriors hunt, others gather, and the rest provide the division of supplies in exchange for having to do neither. One of the last things Master Hi'rn told Kaien was that the human society does not operate this way, at least from what is said. In the human world, one must pay for such things, something that Kaien had forgotten. So, long story short, Kaien grabbed a few things from a small village, proceeded to try to leave with them without paying, and now here we are aimlessly running through greenery with no idea when the humans will give up the chase. Kaien dropped the stuff a ways back, but it seemed people out here weren't very forgiving when it came to thieves.
Kaien was quickly creating distance between himself and the humans, but his lack of knowledge about the world around him was keeping him from truly getting away. Picking up his pace, Kaien leaped at a tree and took several steps up it before grabbing a low hanging branch and pulling himself up. Continuing his climb, he made it to near the top of the tree and sat there, trying to be as quiet as possible. A few minutes later, the group from the town appeared, five in total, breathing heavily and looking in every direction. "I... I... too fast... never seen... anyone that fast," one person said, falling to the ground and taking deeper breaths. The leader, who was clearly just a farmer, leaned against the tree and fell straight down, looking at the others with worn eyes. "We've been chasing him for close to a half hour if my guess is right. Let's... let's just go pick up the stuff he dropped before we die from exhaustion." They all nodded in agreement and waited to catch their breath for a few. After close to ten minutes, the group started their walk back to the village, still a little tired from all the exercise.
Kaien dropped back down to the forest floor. He could hear a stream in the distance, knowing that if he followed it he would eventually make it out of the mountains... somewhere. "Well, at least I know there are still humans around." Kaien smirked before turning toward the river and continuing his journey. "Still though, they are awfully weird looking. Their hair was odd too. Mostly brown, black, and a weird looking yellow. I think that is what Master Hi'rn called blonde?" Kaien felt his own hair, running his hands down its length and smiling. "Do any humans have white, purple, or green hair like Raynor? What about the Co'va? I wonder." Kaien paused for a second, pondering his thoughts. If the Co'va were both human and dragon, then were they his enemy like the dragon? Despite the Beast King being rogue, it did not changed the fact it was a dragon, and in the eyes of the Raynor, they were all just as guilty. Raynor legend says a great dragon taught the Goddess magic. But when the Goddess wanted to teach the Raynor this magic, the dragon betrayed the Goddess. The Goddess used the magic to slay the dragon, forever sealing it in a glacier of ice. whether that was true or not, Kaien didn't care one way or the other. Singing an ancient tune to himself, Kaien continued down the river, planning on sticking to the bank until it came to an end.
Kaien was quickly creating distance between himself and the humans, but his lack of knowledge about the world around him was keeping him from truly getting away. Picking up his pace, Kaien leaped at a tree and took several steps up it before grabbing a low hanging branch and pulling himself up. Continuing his climb, he made it to near the top of the tree and sat there, trying to be as quiet as possible. A few minutes later, the group from the town appeared, five in total, breathing heavily and looking in every direction. "I... I... too fast... never seen... anyone that fast," one person said, falling to the ground and taking deeper breaths. The leader, who was clearly just a farmer, leaned against the tree and fell straight down, looking at the others with worn eyes. "We've been chasing him for close to a half hour if my guess is right. Let's... let's just go pick up the stuff he dropped before we die from exhaustion." They all nodded in agreement and waited to catch their breath for a few. After close to ten minutes, the group started their walk back to the village, still a little tired from all the exercise.
Kaien dropped back down to the forest floor. He could hear a stream in the distance, knowing that if he followed it he would eventually make it out of the mountains... somewhere. "Well, at least I know there are still humans around." Kaien smirked before turning toward the river and continuing his journey. "Still though, they are awfully weird looking. Their hair was odd too. Mostly brown, black, and a weird looking yellow. I think that is what Master Hi'rn called blonde?" Kaien felt his own hair, running his hands down its length and smiling. "Do any humans have white, purple, or green hair like Raynor? What about the Co'va? I wonder." Kaien paused for a second, pondering his thoughts. If the Co'va were both human and dragon, then were they his enemy like the dragon? Despite the Beast King being rogue, it did not changed the fact it was a dragon, and in the eyes of the Raynor, they were all just as guilty. Raynor legend says a great dragon taught the Goddess magic. But when the Goddess wanted to teach the Raynor this magic, the dragon betrayed the Goddess. The Goddess used the magic to slay the dragon, forever sealing it in a glacier of ice. whether that was true or not, Kaien didn't care one way or the other. Singing an ancient tune to himself, Kaien continued down the river, planning on sticking to the bank until it came to an end.
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Oh no. Oh no no no no no no. Had this really just happened to her? The Prince was standing above her, and she was absolutely sure that he was going to bring royal judgement upon her head. Afterall, she was in front of the crowd, albeit against her own will.
But instead, she found that he asked a question... Her name? "Never too early to start recruiting." The words made her heart skip a beat. Her fingers gripped into the muddy ground as she tried to keep ahold of herself. Her excitement from he question was visible, her entire body radiating a happiness that could not be explained. However, she kept her jaws clenched tight as to not expose the teeth of her triumphant smile.
"Sayd, sir. My name is Sayd." She averted her gaze, looking down. This was the proper attitude around royalty, was it not? She became endlessly fascinated in the ground below her again. Her hands were so muddy, but they didn't appear muddy to her anymore: The dirt and grime beneath her nails seemed entirely insignificant now that she was potentially a member of the Prince's army. However, she quickly realized that groveling in the dirt was not a proper way to make a first impression to her future leader. Pushing off of the ground with her hands, she gracefully came to a standing position... Even when standing up, she was only Five and a half feet tall, much shorter than all of the boys around her.
She lifted her gaze to meet Uxio's, daring to meet him eye to eye. The fire was still there, though more controlled now. "I would love to join you, sir." Her voice quivered a bit, less because of her nerves and more because she was simply trying to make her voice sound lower than it actually was.
But instead, she found that he asked a question... Her name? "Never too early to start recruiting." The words made her heart skip a beat. Her fingers gripped into the muddy ground as she tried to keep ahold of herself. Her excitement from he question was visible, her entire body radiating a happiness that could not be explained. However, she kept her jaws clenched tight as to not expose the teeth of her triumphant smile.
"Sayd, sir. My name is Sayd." She averted her gaze, looking down. This was the proper attitude around royalty, was it not? She became endlessly fascinated in the ground below her again. Her hands were so muddy, but they didn't appear muddy to her anymore: The dirt and grime beneath her nails seemed entirely insignificant now that she was potentially a member of the Prince's army. However, she quickly realized that groveling in the dirt was not a proper way to make a first impression to her future leader. Pushing off of the ground with her hands, she gracefully came to a standing position... Even when standing up, she was only Five and a half feet tall, much shorter than all of the boys around her.
She lifted her gaze to meet Uxio's, daring to meet him eye to eye. The fire was still there, though more controlled now. "I would love to join you, sir." Her voice quivered a bit, less because of her nerves and more because she was simply trying to make her voice sound lower than it actually was.
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A sour frown formed across the face of Lieutenant Abreu, in stark contrast to the smile that lit up the prince's. Though he had come to expect behavior of this sort from his prince and commander, the seasoned lieutenant nonetheless could not understand his motives. If the boy was fit to be in the army, which, in the eyes of the lieutenant, was not the case, then he would very easily be able to pass the tests that they would hold in the center of the town. But the prince still chose to recruit this small, rather girlish boy. Abreu wouldn't have been surprised if the child hadn't done a day's work in his life, as fragile as he looked.
With one last glance behind him at the small company of soldiers and back at the prince and their newest edition, he sighed. Hopefully this town would have better to offer.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Ten youths, not including Sayd, had been picked by Uxio's second in command, Abreu. It was a large town, but not by any means large enough for them to expect any more.
Uxio, at least, was satisfied. He would have been satisfied even if none of the boys who applied to recruit had been selected.
"Sir. May I ask you a question?" the voice of Abreu said to the side.
Uxio glanced at him and nodded. "Of course."
"That boy. Sayd. Why did you not have him go through the proper procedures?" Abreu said, straight and to the point.
Uxio glanced over at Sayd, who he had told to wait while the recruitment was going on. "He would have passed," he answered simply.
"How do you know?" replied the older man.
Uxio shook his head. Abreu was a logical and serious man. It made him a good commander of the troops and strategist when it came down to it, but all he saw in Sayd was a skinny, untrained boy.
"Trust me. He would have. If he's not cut out for the life of a soldier, I'll personally have him sent home."
Abreu nodded. "I will trust you on this, sir. But I won't go any easier on him than the others."
Uxio nodded and turned away as Abreu left. He hasn't expected anything less. Now, though, he made his way to Sayd.
"Sayd. We'll be leaving to make up camp for the night near the village in a few minutes," Uxio told him, all business now. "I thought I should warn you that if I or one of the others in command finds you lacking as a soldier in training, I may have to remove you from my company. This is a rule that applies to you more than any other recruits. Think of it as a price for any of the... Special treatment you may recieve."
Uxio smiled at him now. "And speaking of that, I expect to begin training immediately after the camp is set up and you receive your equipment." He paused. "Unless, of course, you would rather spend your time getting acclimated to your new lifestyle."
With one last glance behind him at the small company of soldiers and back at the prince and their newest edition, he sighed. Hopefully this town would have better to offer.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Ten youths, not including Sayd, had been picked by Uxio's second in command, Abreu. It was a large town, but not by any means large enough for them to expect any more.
Uxio, at least, was satisfied. He would have been satisfied even if none of the boys who applied to recruit had been selected.
"Sir. May I ask you a question?" the voice of Abreu said to the side.
Uxio glanced at him and nodded. "Of course."
"That boy. Sayd. Why did you not have him go through the proper procedures?" Abreu said, straight and to the point.
Uxio glanced over at Sayd, who he had told to wait while the recruitment was going on. "He would have passed," he answered simply.
"How do you know?" replied the older man.
Uxio shook his head. Abreu was a logical and serious man. It made him a good commander of the troops and strategist when it came down to it, but all he saw in Sayd was a skinny, untrained boy.
"Trust me. He would have. If he's not cut out for the life of a soldier, I'll personally have him sent home."
Abreu nodded. "I will trust you on this, sir. But I won't go any easier on him than the others."
Uxio nodded and turned away as Abreu left. He hasn't expected anything less. Now, though, he made his way to Sayd.
"Sayd. We'll be leaving to make up camp for the night near the village in a few minutes," Uxio told him, all business now. "I thought I should warn you that if I or one of the others in command finds you lacking as a soldier in training, I may have to remove you from my company. This is a rule that applies to you more than any other recruits. Think of it as a price for any of the... Special treatment you may recieve."
Uxio smiled at him now. "And speaking of that, I expect to begin training immediately after the camp is set up and you receive your equipment." He paused. "Unless, of course, you would rather spend your time getting acclimated to your new lifestyle."
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Jorg
Jorg had been traveling with the slaves for ten miles until they met a rendevou point where he left them to a larger force led by a loyal captain. He took ten bandits with him to move to another rendevou fifteen miles north of Mill Pines. There was a small military outpost that would send out a patrol to the now smoky town. The patrol would need to be destroyed so that the group holding the slaves wouldn't be hunted down. "Alright men!" Jorg shouted to his bandits. "We're going to get the the rendvou before sunset so no resting!"
Kork
Kork was a Lieutenant in Jorg's rabble of bandits and was ordered to kill the Prince. One of the neighboring kingdoms was willing to pay big gold for Uxio's head. The plan was that twenty bandits would set fire to the local tavern as well as killing civilians to draw the soldiers to them. On the way there the archers who had hidden on the rooftops would send volleys at the prince. If that wasn't enough he had ten bandits hidden in the crowds. He was stationed with the five archers on top of a roof top. He waited a few moments until a smoke gradually rose into the air, starting as a small puff to a river of smog. Then there were screams as his troops began to hack at any near the tavern. Kork's drawing finger was getting itchy.
Jorg had been traveling with the slaves for ten miles until they met a rendevou point where he left them to a larger force led by a loyal captain. He took ten bandits with him to move to another rendevou fifteen miles north of Mill Pines. There was a small military outpost that would send out a patrol to the now smoky town. The patrol would need to be destroyed so that the group holding the slaves wouldn't be hunted down. "Alright men!" Jorg shouted to his bandits. "We're going to get the the rendvou before sunset so no resting!"
Kork
Kork was a Lieutenant in Jorg's rabble of bandits and was ordered to kill the Prince. One of the neighboring kingdoms was willing to pay big gold for Uxio's head. The plan was that twenty bandits would set fire to the local tavern as well as killing civilians to draw the soldiers to them. On the way there the archers who had hidden on the rooftops would send volleys at the prince. If that wasn't enough he had ten bandits hidden in the crowds. He was stationed with the five archers on top of a roof top. He waited a few moments until a smoke gradually rose into the air, starting as a small puff to a river of smog. Then there were screams as his troops began to hack at any near the tavern. Kork's drawing finger was getting itchy.
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View All » Add Character » 10 Characters to follow in this universe
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Shirah
"This is bullshit..."
Jorg Vermithrax
"I'm a simple man. Food, drink, blood, coin, and slaves are the only things I want in life."
Saydra (Sayd) Tari
"I will not be a victim. To anyone."
Uxio Rocha
"I am Uxio Rocha, Prince, High Paladin, and champion of this kingdom."
Trending
Shirah
"This is bullshit..."
Saydra (Sayd) Tari
"I will not be a victim. To anyone."
Uxio Rocha
"I am Uxio Rocha, Prince, High Paladin, and champion of this kingdom."
Jorg Vermithrax
"I'm a simple man. Food, drink, blood, coin, and slaves are the only things I want in life."
Most Followed
Saydra (Sayd) Tari
"I will not be a victim. To anyone."
Shirah
"This is bullshit..."
Uxio Rocha
"I am Uxio Rocha, Prince, High Paladin, and champion of this kingdom."
Jorg Vermithrax
"I'm a simple man. Food, drink, blood, coin, and slaves are the only things I want in life."
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The Flameseeker Prophecies
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