Introduction
Nineve - Land of Men, Giants, and Gods
Contents:
Section: I - History
Section: II - Places of Importance
Section: III - Races of Giants and Men
Section: IV - Character Sheets and Other Info
Section: V - Rules
Section: I - History
The land of Nineve, an ancient world, almost as old as the beings that created it. A world rich in history and culture. A world being torn apart by oppression, anger and war. Decades ago, the sons of the gods, races of Giants that are as diverse as the animals of the world they guard, have disappeared.
Their rivals, the Dragons, who sat idly for ages in the void beyond Nineve's shores, have finally seen an opportunity, conquering the land they envied the Giants for.
For eons, the Giants were able to resist the influence of the Dragons, their bribes of power and wealth, their threats of violence of death, their ability to force their wills on others, all these attempts failed in the face of the Giants. However, where the Giants' souls stood firm against their attacker's efforts, the humans were not so strong.
The Brother who Felled a King
Bribes, threats, and even the mere presence of a Dragon's thoughts corrupted the humans, turning the ones they could to their cause. These agents, the Quokim now enforce the laws of the Dragons. Whether by choice or not, they now would turn on their species, their race, even their family, all to serve rulers from afar.
Now, the humans have finally become the wiser. They realize now that they need the Giants, they need the help they can get. The races of men, Balt, Dravasha, and Mayyssus, who for ages, even before the disappearance of their world's sentinels, were at each others' throats, formed uneasy alliances solely to liberate themselves from a suffocating grip.
A Meeting of Men
And so the men of Nineve banded together, their armies and kingdoms as one. Though their hearts and minds were many, the rage that fueled some and the passion that drove others, these things ceased to matter. Their cause was the same and as such, their armies stood tall.
United in Their Cause
However, as accusations begin to fly. Corruption and lies, weapons and secrets and even the possibility of Quokim in the midst of leaders of men began to weave their way into the alliance. Dissent has cracked the bonds that were weak to begin with. Now they threaten to shatter if the Dragons aren't defeated in time. As days draw ever closer to the inevitable war, a small band of adventurers from all races of men sets out, traversing countries, continents and in the end, perhaps even worlds to stop the collapse of their own.
An Adventure Begins
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Section: II - Places of Importance
The Ruined Torun
The Ruined Torun, once a majestic castle, a hall where gods and Giants would walk with Men. However, that was millenia ago. Before the Gods forsook Mankind, before the Giants rebelled for their love and sense of responsibility toward these lesser beings. Now, The Ruined Torun is just that. Ruined. Desecrated. Its halls are over grown with plants, rubble lies in every path and point of access and the lower levels are utterly submerged in water. And yet, still the domed roofs stand tall, a beacon that shouts to the heavens that the Giants were not just warriors, but architects and artisans alike. The wealth in gold and treasure has long since abandoned this fortress, but its value in knowledge has only begun to be tapped.
The Forest of Warsom
Warsom, or as it's known to all but its residents, the Twilit Vale, is a deep forest, where trees will grow to be dozens of feet thick and hundreds tall. The trees are laden with thousands upon thousands of nearly translucent leaves colored gold and rose. When the sun shines through this canopy of leaves, it casts a golden-red light across the forest that mimics the light just before sundown. The canopy of leaves is strong enough for a grown man to walk on and almost covers the entirety of the forest except for over the city of Deepmere at its center.
Deepmere - The Forest City
A city in the midst of the vast Forest of Warsom, Deepmere is home to a race of people known as the Dravasha. Located at the base of the tree, Xonoel, Deepmere is the only city in Warsom. While the city itself is important, the Dravasha only settled there after being called through the forest to Xonoel, a site they now hold sacred and defend with their lives. The city is defended not only by the Dravasha, but the forest itself which will lead all but its children and the Forest Giants astray to rot and feed the trees.
The Plains of Nineve
Dotted with mountains and scarred by years of war, the Plains of Nineve are almost entirely inhospitable. Once a lush landscape with all that any would need, it became the battlefield of great powers during the first War of Nineve, when the Giants forced the Dragons from their land. Only recently have areas of the land begun to repair themselves and at a slow rate, with the only safe place for Men being their grand palace, The Acropolis.
Acrop Citadel - The Acropolis
Acrop Citadel, or The Acropolis, is the center of the world of Man. Placed equidistant from each of the three lands that are inhabited by men, this castle is the only haven for Men on the Plains of Nineve. Ringed by mountains and once protected by the grace of Sky Giants, The Acropolis is home to the greatest kings of Men and the site of the Meeting of Men, where the world first banded together.
Icemoor - The Polar Abode
Icemoor, a land known for snow, ice and raw earth, is home to one of the toughest race of Men, the Balt. Located high in the mountains, above the Plains and the Forest, Icemoor is called home by the Balt race and the Stone Giants. While the earth here is bare year round, the land is not without its advantages. The entirety of Icemoor is built into a single, massive pillar of ice that is said to have formed when one of the great Sky Giants landed in a sea in the mountains. His heart so frigid and without the love of Men, froze the splashing water into a pillar of ice and his mere touch granted the land a magical affinity to protect those who live on it.
Lorcliff - The Stone Walled Town
Lorcliff is home to the mages and arcane artists of the Mayyssus race of Men. Carved from a seaside cliff by old magic and the help of the Fire Giants, Lorcliff is a city of both knowledge and industry. The city itself has several mines, each worked by slaves and prisoners of war from the other races and as such, is a city of vast wealth, both monetarily and mentally. The Mayyssus spared no expense in finding their loft and creating it, as hundreds of tunnels run into the earth of a sheer cliff face. Branching off from each tunnel lie homes to the mages, their walls laden with mithral, gold and fine cut gems that they pull from their mines daily.
Gigantes Helum Torun - The Tor
Gigantes Helum Torun, (literally translated: Giant's Hold Fortress) or "The Tor" as it's more commonly know, was the last great fortress ever built by Giant hands. Its walls stood fast and its defenses were great during the first War of Nineve. However, with no more Giants to provide maintenance to this vast structure, its defenses soon crumbled, allowing the Quokim to infiltrate it and use it as a base of operations on Nineve. For our band of adventurers, retaking The Tor, could mean an end to the second War of Nineve.
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Section: III - Races of Giants and Men
Humans
Balt:
Balts are the race from the snow-capped, polar mountains to the North of the Plains. A hunting based society has made them strong, able to survive in almost any situation. While not as much a warrior or mage society like the Dravasha and Mayyssus respectively, they do have the ability to perform some basic magic and are fairly handy with their weapons of choice, spears and halberds. All Balts have a runic Tattoo on their bodies somewhere that helps protect them from many dangers.
Dravasha:
Dravasha are a race of men from deep in the Forest of Warsom and it's only residents, with a permanent settlement at Deepmere. An extremely conflict centered society, the Dravasha settle everything with combat, usually of the martial type. Their aggression makes them superb soldiers but while they fight for almost any reason, they are also extremely loyal to their friends and kinsmen. The Dravasha are the only race who can avoid becoming infinitely lost in the Forest of Warsom and almost never lead outlanders (other races) through it. The Dravasha also have a superhuman tolerance to injury.
Mayyssus:
(BOTH MEN ARE THE SAME MAYYSSUS)
The Mayyssus are Nineve's greatest mages. Gifted at birth with a natural arcane ability, the Mayyssus can cast spells that can fell even the greatest of beasts from a young age. Their knowledge and magical abilities are unmatched, but come with a hefty price. From birth, a Mayyssus harbors two souls within himself, one of angelic upbringing and another of demonic. These souls are always at war with each other and can manifest themselves in many different ways, from different eye colors, translucent masks or even entirely different beings that alternate places in Nineve's plane. While both good and evil are apparent in a Mayyssus, their love of knowledge and magic is present in both forms. Their selfishness of knowledge is also present at both times and will keep them from sharing what they know unless it is absolutely vital.
Giants
Stone Giant:
Stone Giants are the youngest race of Giant. Born only a century or so before the race's sudden absence, Stone Giants were an attempt by the Sky Giants to make a race more like the Men so that they would fear them less than they would admire them. More like golems, the Stone Giants do whatever is asked of them by their brothers and would appear mostly in the mountainous region near the Balts. However they had been seen venturing out into the plains and onto the shores closer to their disappearance.
Fire Giant:
Fire Giants are the most aggressive race of Giant on Nineve. While sworn to protect the humans, their ways were extremely barbaric in contrast to their human residents, the Mayyssus. The Fire Giants would often demand sacrifices of the rams with the thickest wool, bulls with the most meat and sometimes even the purest of Mayyssus to gain favor, each of which they would char to ash then absorb. Fire Giants can materialize from any flame, even a candle, and force it to grow or shrink to a certain degree.
Forest Giant:
Forest Giants are the most peaceful race of giants, who live in the Forest of Warsom alongside the Dravasha. While they protect the humans, they will avoid any unnecessary interaction with the Dravasha if they can. The only race of Giant to be quadrupedal, the Forest Giants chose to resemble the beasts of the forest rather than the Men, for fear of association with a more war-oriented race. Forest Giants can camouflage themselves into any living plant or animal in their realm and often will to avoid Men.
Sky Giant:
Sky Giants are the kings of their species. While not only the rarest Giant, with only four known members of their race, they are also the largest. Standing well above any other Giant, Man or structure, these beings were said to be able to cross the entirety of Nineve in just under a week just by walking. As well as being the largest and rarest Giant race, they are also the wisest, able to foretell almost any event. They tend to stay away from most contact with Men unless they are royalty or very high clergy so as to pass on the messages of their fathers, the Gods.
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Section: IV: - Character Sheets and Other Info
Character Sheets
HUMAN:
- Code: Select all
[b][u]Name:[/u][/b] (First and last please)
[b][u]Age:[/u][/b]
[b][u]Race:[/u][/b] (List Below)
[b][u]Weapon:[/u][/b]
[b][u]Abilities:[/u][/b] (Some races can do things others can't)
[b][u]History:[/u][/b]
[b][u]Oddities:[/u][/b] (Scars, quirks, Tattoos(Balts will all have Runic Tattoos))
[b][u]Relationships:[/u][/b] (Family, friends, enemies, significant people, just looking for a list)
[b][u]Alliance:[/u][/b] (Nineve or Quokim)
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The Story So Far... Write a Post » as written by 5 authors
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Two weeks, four days, thirteen hours and twenty three minutes. The ticking clock on the wall reminded Alusan of each moment he spent in this living hell, a world at it's own throat. But for him, it didn't matter. For him, all that mattered was out. Twenty four minutes. His axe, quite possibly the only weapon of his race that bore no name, hung just past his cell's bars, in the low torchlight. The air was dank, never fresh unless someone stepped into the room. The heavy, wooden door locked out the fresh air, the sounds of the beaches seated just beyond the wall, even the light of day with a harsh oppression. Twenty five minutes.
It didn't matter though. None of it mattered. All that mattered was that solid oak stave, the crescent of steel that sat upon it, humming, beating in time with Alusan's own heart as is pulsated with energy from before even the thought of the Balt was in the minds of the Gods. It reverberated with the power of Karas, the first Sky Giant to fall in the war. His blood had blessed the weapon, even thousands of years beyond his death. And these Mayyssus jailer pigs had not but an inkling of what power it held. Twenty six minutes.
So Alusan waited. Waited for his moment. Waited for one of them to come and stand from their chair, come to take him away for another day of what they thought was torture. He waited for one of them to get - "Giant-Son. Feh. You look like a sorry bastard to me Giant-Son." The jailer picked the axe up off the hook on the wall and smacked the blade of it against the iron bars. Once. "Get up Balt." Twice. "I don't have all day." Thrice and the sound was muted as Alusan sprang to his feet, quicker than the dumbfounded guard could comprehend. Twenty eight minutes.
His hands clasped the handle that seemed so far away for so long, and twisted rapidly. The poor Mayyssus slave had no time to react as the axe twisted and with it, his arm until it snapped like a twig underfoot. Writhing in pain as he stepped away from the cage, the jailer screamed in a mixture of surprise and agony. However, Alusan could only smile. His weapon was his once again, and with it, he needn't worry about getting out of this Gods-forsaken city. Twenty nine minutes.
A quick thrust of the oak rod through the bars of his cell was all Alusan needed for this man. The blood of Karas surged through the Blueshine steel of the axe as it connected with the jailer's chest sending him reeling backwards and into the wall. The force was powerful enough, that when the man hit, he left a crater in the wall. No doubt the impact had killed him, and this was only confirmed as he slumped forward, landing face first on the floor.Thirty minutes.
Alusan turned, his eyes on the blank wall at the back of his cell , the wall that separated him from the outside world. The sound of the clock striking the hour on the wall behind him was drowned as he swung his axe, the steel striking stone and the following crack and explosion as the wall crumbled away. The chimes of the clock , twelve noon, was the last of this hell that Alusan would ever see or hear of if he could help it. The salty sea air billowed through the opening in the wall, and sunlight poured like nectar into the chamber. "A hundred feet to the water, easily." Alusan muttered to himself. As the clock reached the final bell, he dove, out of an adventure and into a war.
It didn't matter though. None of it mattered. All that mattered was that solid oak stave, the crescent of steel that sat upon it, humming, beating in time with Alusan's own heart as is pulsated with energy from before even the thought of the Balt was in the minds of the Gods. It reverberated with the power of Karas, the first Sky Giant to fall in the war. His blood had blessed the weapon, even thousands of years beyond his death. And these Mayyssus jailer pigs had not but an inkling of what power it held. Twenty six minutes.
So Alusan waited. Waited for his moment. Waited for one of them to come and stand from their chair, come to take him away for another day of what they thought was torture. He waited for one of them to get - "Giant-Son. Feh. You look like a sorry bastard to me Giant-Son." The jailer picked the axe up off the hook on the wall and smacked the blade of it against the iron bars. Once. "Get up Balt." Twice. "I don't have all day." Thrice and the sound was muted as Alusan sprang to his feet, quicker than the dumbfounded guard could comprehend. Twenty eight minutes.
His hands clasped the handle that seemed so far away for so long, and twisted rapidly. The poor Mayyssus slave had no time to react as the axe twisted and with it, his arm until it snapped like a twig underfoot. Writhing in pain as he stepped away from the cage, the jailer screamed in a mixture of surprise and agony. However, Alusan could only smile. His weapon was his once again, and with it, he needn't worry about getting out of this Gods-forsaken city. Twenty nine minutes.
A quick thrust of the oak rod through the bars of his cell was all Alusan needed for this man. The blood of Karas surged through the Blueshine steel of the axe as it connected with the jailer's chest sending him reeling backwards and into the wall. The force was powerful enough, that when the man hit, he left a crater in the wall. No doubt the impact had killed him, and this was only confirmed as he slumped forward, landing face first on the floor.Thirty minutes.
Alusan turned, his eyes on the blank wall at the back of his cell , the wall that separated him from the outside world. The sound of the clock striking the hour on the wall behind him was drowned as he swung his axe, the steel striking stone and the following crack and explosion as the wall crumbled away. The chimes of the clock , twelve noon, was the last of this hell that Alusan would ever see or hear of if he could help it. The salty sea air billowed through the opening in the wall, and sunlight poured like nectar into the chamber. "A hundred feet to the water, easily." Alusan muttered to himself. As the clock reached the final bell, he dove, out of an adventure and into a war.
The setting changes from Lorcliff - The Stone Walled Town to Nineve
Osmond was sitting in his chair going over the orders they had sent him. It wasn't pretty, his shop was to take over most of outfitting of the armies. He sighed and got up. He needed to go out and kill something. He had heard yesterday that a great tournament was going to be taking place today. He decided to enter. He checked the time and found he still had a bit before registration was over. Osmond grabbed the papers and headed out to the main shop area. His brother was clanging away on his current project. He knew better than to go check on his brother, it would end in a battle between them both. That and Desmond was the better smith, he knew what he was doing. In fact he's almost as good as their father. Osmond walked over the to counter, "I have orders from the royal family, they want 3,000 swords by the end of next month. We might have to hire somebody to help Desmond. There's no way he can fill that order himself." His mother was a incredible judge of character and a damn good haggler.
"I'll take care of it. Now, what's this I hear of a tournament?" His mother said as she grabbed a sword and started polishing it.
"It's apparently a contest to see who deserves to go on a great task. I was thinking of competing but. if I win I won't be able to oversee the shop." Osmond said. He was curious about what the task was.
"Now, you know that I ran this shop when your father was alive. All he did was make the swords, I handled everything else. Besides I sometimes think that Desmond is your father." She said it casually, as if his father died a great death, instead of being cut down by her own son in front of her.
"Me too, Mother. He's very much like Father. He doesn't have his patience though." Osmond said as he tighten the strap of his sheathe. "Well, I'm off. I'll see you soon."
His mother nodded as he went out the door. He got to the arena with no problems. He noticed that the other heads of families were here too. He signed up and took a seat. He was figuring out how to make quick work of each of his opponents. It was a simple elimination tourney, you fight until the other man quits, unconscious, or dead. His first opponent was young man trying to get famous. He made his way to the center. He cracked his knuckles and nodded his head to the man. He decided that he wasn't going to draw his sword. This kid had a life in front of him. The boy swung the sword, Osmond grabbed the arm and twisted it so the boy dropped his sword. He then threw him over his shoulder and the man's back hit the ground hard. "Quit kid, if you stay. I will kill you." The man nodded and "I give, you are the better man." Osmond smiled and left to wait for his next fight.
The fights were easy, He soon climbed the ranks to the finals. His last opponent towered over Osmond and was twice as big. Osmond crossed his arms and said, "I've killed bigger." The man grew angry and swung his mighty club at Osmond's head was. He ducked out of the way and rolled to outside the man's strike zone. Osmond tried to figure out how to beat his new foe. He played the scene in his head. Option 1: Tire him out and then strike, Option 2: Get him angry and find huge openings, or Option 3: Combination of the both. Osmond nodded his head and rushed towards the man. He wasn't expecting that, most of his foes ran away from him. He lifted his club and started to swing it over his head. Osmond saw it coming, it's exactly what he wanted. As the man started to bring down the club, Osmond jumped to the left and slashed him right across his side. It was a flesh wound, but it would still slow someone down. The man screamed in pain. He got angrier. He swung his club sideways and it was a little too high to connect. While the man was recovering Osmond flourished his sword and left a huge gash mark on the man's arm. The man dropped the club and grabbed Osmond. "You disrespect me. You hurt me. Time for me to hurt you." The man's hands were around his neck. He was being chocked to death. He tried to pry the man's hand's loose but, it was ineffective. An idea sprung into his head. He grabbed the man's head and stuck his thumbs in the man's eyes. He dropped and picked up his sword. While the man was stunned he swung his sword three times: twice in the chest and once across his neck. The man dropped bleeding terribly. Osmond was panting. That was the second hardest fight in his life. Osmond sat on the ground waiting for his prize.
"I'll take care of it. Now, what's this I hear of a tournament?" His mother said as she grabbed a sword and started polishing it.
"It's apparently a contest to see who deserves to go on a great task. I was thinking of competing but. if I win I won't be able to oversee the shop." Osmond said. He was curious about what the task was.
"Now, you know that I ran this shop when your father was alive. All he did was make the swords, I handled everything else. Besides I sometimes think that Desmond is your father." She said it casually, as if his father died a great death, instead of being cut down by her own son in front of her.
"Me too, Mother. He's very much like Father. He doesn't have his patience though." Osmond said as he tighten the strap of his sheathe. "Well, I'm off. I'll see you soon."
His mother nodded as he went out the door. He got to the arena with no problems. He noticed that the other heads of families were here too. He signed up and took a seat. He was figuring out how to make quick work of each of his opponents. It was a simple elimination tourney, you fight until the other man quits, unconscious, or dead. His first opponent was young man trying to get famous. He made his way to the center. He cracked his knuckles and nodded his head to the man. He decided that he wasn't going to draw his sword. This kid had a life in front of him. The boy swung the sword, Osmond grabbed the arm and twisted it so the boy dropped his sword. He then threw him over his shoulder and the man's back hit the ground hard. "Quit kid, if you stay. I will kill you." The man nodded and "I give, you are the better man." Osmond smiled and left to wait for his next fight.
The fights were easy, He soon climbed the ranks to the finals. His last opponent towered over Osmond and was twice as big. Osmond crossed his arms and said, "I've killed bigger." The man grew angry and swung his mighty club at Osmond's head was. He ducked out of the way and rolled to outside the man's strike zone. Osmond tried to figure out how to beat his new foe. He played the scene in his head. Option 1: Tire him out and then strike, Option 2: Get him angry and find huge openings, or Option 3: Combination of the both. Osmond nodded his head and rushed towards the man. He wasn't expecting that, most of his foes ran away from him. He lifted his club and started to swing it over his head. Osmond saw it coming, it's exactly what he wanted. As the man started to bring down the club, Osmond jumped to the left and slashed him right across his side. It was a flesh wound, but it would still slow someone down. The man screamed in pain. He got angrier. He swung his club sideways and it was a little too high to connect. While the man was recovering Osmond flourished his sword and left a huge gash mark on the man's arm. The man dropped the club and grabbed Osmond. "You disrespect me. You hurt me. Time for me to hurt you." The man's hands were around his neck. He was being chocked to death. He tried to pry the man's hand's loose but, it was ineffective. An idea sprung into his head. He grabbed the man's head and stuck his thumbs in the man's eyes. He dropped and picked up his sword. While the man was stunned he swung his sword three times: twice in the chest and once across his neck. The man dropped bleeding terribly. Osmond was panting. That was the second hardest fight in his life. Osmond sat on the ground waiting for his prize.
The setting changes from Nineve to Lorcliff - The Stone Walled Town
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"Unacceptable!" Aysen exclaimed, smacking down his palm on the large wooden desk, which was marked with knife holes, and scratches.
"Take your hand of that blade, boy, before I run you through." The warden seethed, slamming down his own hand, and putting another knife hole in the wood. Aysen calmly did as he was asked, not realizing that he had unconsciously placed his hand on the hilt in the first place. He narrowed his eyes.
"My apologies, sir, but Alusan must be released, there can be no negotiation." He said, leaning back in the shabby chair.
"The only way he's gettin' outta that cell is if his time is up, or he's dead!" The warden said. "So why don't you take those rubbish papers, and go wipe your boss's ass with em'!" He yelled. Aysen unconsciously reached for his sword again.
"You listen to me you old son of a who-" Aysen's sentence was cut off by the warden's guards aiming their now glowing staves at his head. The warden got up.
"I told ya if you put your hand on that piece o' crap again, I'd have your bloody head! NOW GET OUT OF HERE!" He yelled throwing Aysen's papers on the ground. Aysen too stood up.
"The Acropolis, demands it! He will be critical to the war effo-" He sentence was once again cut off.
"GET OOUUT!" The old man yelled, waving for his guards to take him away. They each grabbed one of the young Balt's shoulders, escorting him out of the Warden's office.
Once he was in the main hallway, he shrugged the guards off.
"Alright, alright, I get it, now get off." He said. The guards stood tall, staring at him. "Bye-bye." He said, rudely shooing them off. He continued down the hall, ducking into a corner, and peering out to see when the guards had left. When he was sure they were gone, Aysen briskly walked down the hallway, entering the cell room he was sure was Alusan's. It was strangely quite, lined with single cells, and lit only by dim torchlight. He oddly enough saw nobody, so he attempted to make his way to Alusan's cell, only to be stopped by a gruesome sight.
"By the gods..." He muttered.
A guard had been viciously killed, a large blade wound in his chest. More strikingly, he had been smashed into the cold stone wall, leaving a large crater on his impact. It was hard to feel sorry for the man, given what he'd just went through, but he still felt a pang of grief. He looked at the cell adjacent to the mess and saw a large, gaping hole in the wall. He nodded his head, reaffirming his suspicions. This was Alusan's doing alright.
He quickly exited the building, taking his horse around the side, to the cliff overlooking the drop from the back of the prison. He looked closely, and sure enough, he spotted a figure in the water, directly congruent to the trajectory of the hole.
"You marvelous son of a bitch." He said quietly, not being able to help smirking at the sight. "Now, to find a way to get to him."
"Take your hand of that blade, boy, before I run you through." The warden seethed, slamming down his own hand, and putting another knife hole in the wood. Aysen calmly did as he was asked, not realizing that he had unconsciously placed his hand on the hilt in the first place. He narrowed his eyes.
"My apologies, sir, but Alusan must be released, there can be no negotiation." He said, leaning back in the shabby chair.
"The only way he's gettin' outta that cell is if his time is up, or he's dead!" The warden said. "So why don't you take those rubbish papers, and go wipe your boss's ass with em'!" He yelled. Aysen unconsciously reached for his sword again.
"You listen to me you old son of a who-" Aysen's sentence was cut off by the warden's guards aiming their now glowing staves at his head. The warden got up.
"I told ya if you put your hand on that piece o' crap again, I'd have your bloody head! NOW GET OUT OF HERE!" He yelled throwing Aysen's papers on the ground. Aysen too stood up.
"The Acropolis, demands it! He will be critical to the war effo-" He sentence was once again cut off.
"GET OOUUT!" The old man yelled, waving for his guards to take him away. They each grabbed one of the young Balt's shoulders, escorting him out of the Warden's office.
Once he was in the main hallway, he shrugged the guards off.
"Alright, alright, I get it, now get off." He said. The guards stood tall, staring at him. "Bye-bye." He said, rudely shooing them off. He continued down the hall, ducking into a corner, and peering out to see when the guards had left. When he was sure they were gone, Aysen briskly walked down the hallway, entering the cell room he was sure was Alusan's. It was strangely quite, lined with single cells, and lit only by dim torchlight. He oddly enough saw nobody, so he attempted to make his way to Alusan's cell, only to be stopped by a gruesome sight.
"By the gods..." He muttered.
A guard had been viciously killed, a large blade wound in his chest. More strikingly, he had been smashed into the cold stone wall, leaving a large crater on his impact. It was hard to feel sorry for the man, given what he'd just went through, but he still felt a pang of grief. He looked at the cell adjacent to the mess and saw a large, gaping hole in the wall. He nodded his head, reaffirming his suspicions. This was Alusan's doing alright.
He quickly exited the building, taking his horse around the side, to the cliff overlooking the drop from the back of the prison. He looked closely, and sure enough, he spotted a figure in the water, directly congruent to the trajectory of the hole.
"You marvelous son of a bitch." He said quietly, not being able to help smirking at the sight. "Now, to find a way to get to him."
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The water was frigid, the sure sign of the Northern and Western Seas. Since he obviously wasn't in Icemoor, Alusan could only gues that he was swimming in the first barrier between the Void Beyond and Nineve, the Western Sea. Start swimming boy. Was all his gut had to say on this matter, so he did. He paddled, kicked, anything he could to put distance between him and that cliff until he could almost hear his muscles screaming in protest. And still he swam, until finally, the cliffs and rocks gave way to sand bars and seaweed. He was now in the no man's land on the plains. And here, he finally stopped, perching on a sand bar. His legs finally cooled when he sat in the ankle deep water, almost a half mile away from the shore, but luckily the sand left a path between the shore and his resting place, just barely beneath the lapping tide.
Alusan fell backwards, his head, back, arms and axe all connecting with the sand in a simultaneous sigh of relief. Rest was what he wanted now. And possibly a cold mug of mead, but rest first. And so it came. His eyes closed and suddenly, he was lost in a dream for the first time in weeks.
Alusan fell backwards, his head, back, arms and axe all connecting with the sand in a simultaneous sigh of relief. Rest was what he wanted now. And possibly a cold mug of mead, but rest first. And so it came. His eyes closed and suddenly, he was lost in a dream for the first time in weeks.
The setting changes from Lorcliff - The Stone Walled Town to Icemoor - The Polar Abode
The black wind howls...
Amargas closed her eyes, trying to listen to the whispers of the wind, putting her mind on deciphering its intent despite the roars of the blizzards she should be able to figure it out, then she felt it, she heard it. A graceful full turn to her right and she had dodged the wave, she stood there waiting for a second strike, eyes still closed.
Minutes felt like hours here, in this strain she could not keep up with so many things at once, she had to master her wind waker technique, being a capable warrior was not enough dragons killed them by the hundreds, she had to be faster, mightier, braver,better
She had to... she had to...
woosh
Again a graceful dodge from her part as she did a halfturn, then on to the offensive pulling her arms against her back and then unleashing the force to form a cone of ravaging wind to strike forward, but it would be folly to expect it to be all it took, a master was the rival to be faced today, another windstrike and another she planned to overwhelm the master with so much gusts that he would be incapacitated and give her a moment to figure the rest and it was working!
Gust after gust, the master just stood there and blocked the blows and then it was over... Amargas was kissing the snow, she found her feet and began to rise but already the gray haired hag stood next to her with a smug smirk "Your concentration is weak and your technique is betrayed by your nature girl, you only attacked on the front and never even contemplated that the wind does not blow just in one way" the crone extended a hand to help the champion up "Your time is up im afraid, I would see you depart the howling mountains as a perfect wind walker, yet time is not kind to us is it?" behind her closed helmet Amargas merely nodded in approval "Dammit girl would it kill you to talk to something besides that spear?" The tall lady stood at last and shook her head, the old woman let out a sigh and made her intents clear "Last time someone I held dear departed to go on a dragon slaying journey he did not came back, he left you on to carry his legacy... girl please... come back and let your mother see you with her own damned eyes before you leave"
Slowly Amargas took her helmet off, wheat colored braids of hair that was in severe need of care slowly fell on a face hardened by the hardships of ice and war, chestnut colored eyes peered shyly among the tangled mess of her hair and met the ones of her mother, and for a moment she was a little girl again "even if you drive the dragons to extinction you will always be my little baby, you know that?" silent as usual she merely nodded and hugged her mother in what well could be their last moment together "stop it now else someone sees you and realizes you actually got feelings darling" they then parted their embrace "Come on you cold, cold maiden tell your mother you love her before you go" this time the lips of the champion of the mountains curled into a smile and she said "Ill miss you mother, but I have to go now" Asigra Kroas laughed "doesn't kill you to speak to something that can talk back does it?, go and make us proud darling and don't forget to practice your wind walking its sloppy"
I will mother, father is watching over me
She walked then, to Icemoor it would be 5 days till she arrived there, then she could get more information regarding the united offensive
Amargas closed her eyes, trying to listen to the whispers of the wind, putting her mind on deciphering its intent despite the roars of the blizzards she should be able to figure it out, then she felt it, she heard it. A graceful full turn to her right and she had dodged the wave, she stood there waiting for a second strike, eyes still closed.
Minutes felt like hours here, in this strain she could not keep up with so many things at once, she had to master her wind waker technique, being a capable warrior was not enough dragons killed them by the hundreds, she had to be faster, mightier, braver,better
She had to... she had to...
woosh
Again a graceful dodge from her part as she did a halfturn, then on to the offensive pulling her arms against her back and then unleashing the force to form a cone of ravaging wind to strike forward, but it would be folly to expect it to be all it took, a master was the rival to be faced today, another windstrike and another she planned to overwhelm the master with so much gusts that he would be incapacitated and give her a moment to figure the rest and it was working!
Gust after gust, the master just stood there and blocked the blows and then it was over... Amargas was kissing the snow, she found her feet and began to rise but already the gray haired hag stood next to her with a smug smirk "Your concentration is weak and your technique is betrayed by your nature girl, you only attacked on the front and never even contemplated that the wind does not blow just in one way" the crone extended a hand to help the champion up "Your time is up im afraid, I would see you depart the howling mountains as a perfect wind walker, yet time is not kind to us is it?" behind her closed helmet Amargas merely nodded in approval "Dammit girl would it kill you to talk to something besides that spear?" The tall lady stood at last and shook her head, the old woman let out a sigh and made her intents clear "Last time someone I held dear departed to go on a dragon slaying journey he did not came back, he left you on to carry his legacy... girl please... come back and let your mother see you with her own damned eyes before you leave"
Slowly Amargas took her helmet off, wheat colored braids of hair that was in severe need of care slowly fell on a face hardened by the hardships of ice and war, chestnut colored eyes peered shyly among the tangled mess of her hair and met the ones of her mother, and for a moment she was a little girl again "even if you drive the dragons to extinction you will always be my little baby, you know that?" silent as usual she merely nodded and hugged her mother in what well could be their last moment together "stop it now else someone sees you and realizes you actually got feelings darling" they then parted their embrace "Come on you cold, cold maiden tell your mother you love her before you go" this time the lips of the champion of the mountains curled into a smile and she said "Ill miss you mother, but I have to go now" Asigra Kroas laughed "doesn't kill you to speak to something that can talk back does it?, go and make us proud darling and don't forget to practice your wind walking its sloppy"
I will mother, father is watching over me
She walked then, to Icemoor it would be 5 days till she arrived there, then she could get more information regarding the united offensive
The setting changes from Icemoor - The Polar Abode to Lorcliff - The Stone Walled Town
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"Father, half of Lorcliff fears you and the other half adores you. Any action you take, it will influence the rest of the nobility." Talina said calmly, looking to her father who sat across a expertly carved table laden with the finest food of the region. Her father's manor was one of the finest in Lorcliff, the walls inlaid with designs made of sparkling gems. The man across the table was equally bedecked in wealth, from the fine robes that he wore to the rings on his fingers that shimmered with enchantments.
Basir, her father, only smirked, one hand swirling about a goblet of wine while the other stroked his thin and carefully trimmed beard. "You flatter me, as always. But that, my dear errant daughter, is precisely why I have no intention of aiding your precious Acropolis. Why should I give aid to the barbarians that attack our own borders?"
"All I would ask of you is to offer the iron you dig out from your mines. It's hardly of value compared to the mithril, gold, and gems you desire."
"You are smarter then that, Talina. Those fools will not defeat any dragon with mere swords and spears, much less prattle of unity and brotherhood." He shifted in his seat, tapping his ringed fingers against the table.
"I know. They need Mayyssusian magic. But I do not presume to ask so much of you so quickly."
"You presume too much. I have been generous enough to let you leech off my wealth for your petty little adventures. And all for what? The thanks of a few wretched peasants? Have you forgotten what happened to your sister when she followed your example?" Basir sneered at her, his expression of jovial warmth abruptly vanishing.
Talina's brows furrowed and she let out a slow breath, but didn't rise to the bait. She absently traced a finger around one of the small rings on her finger, less elaborate then her father's, but containing more powerful reserves of magical power. "You should not dishonor her memory by using her in your argument."
"Then do not ask of me foolish things." He shook his head and sipped from his goblet. "Besides, even if I shared your bleeding heart sentiment for the barbarians, who else would I find to work my mines? Our grand city will collapse without the muscle that supports it. Detestable as they may be, they do have their uses. Muscle. Which I need."
Talina slowly shook her head, ignoring the scratching feeling she felt against the inside of her skull. She closed her eyes, rubbing at her forehead.
"Your empathy will be the death of you, dear daughter, and that is far from what I wish. If you would only learn to accept things are they are. Lorcliff's defenses are built around the most powerful magic in this world. Even the dragons will not breach it. Let the barbarians worry for their own fate."
The restless itching in her head was rising, in tune with her frustration. No. Not yet. I have work to do.
"Besides, this border raiders provide me with all the labor I need for my mines. I even heard one of the prisoners in the next batch to be brought in is a Balt king. Does this not amuse you, daughter?" Basir let out a mirthful chuckle and swigged from his goblet.
Talina didn't respond at first, but her eyes perked up at the mention of a king. If the Mayyssus would not extend the thought of peace first, perhaps a Balt would, certainly from a weakened position as a prisoner...
Standing up abruptly, Talina pressed down the wrinkles in her robes and bowed her head to her father. "Thank you for your generosity , Father, as always. But if you will excuse me, I have some matters I should attend to promptly."
Basir waved his goblet, apparently missing the hint of irony in her tone. "Give some thought to changing your naive ways, daughter. For my sake, hmm?"
Talina did not respond, as she was already halfway out the door and making her way through the winding stairs up the city and to the prison.
She paused at the entrance to dust off her robes, briefly pat down her hair, and put on her most charming smile. Stepping inside, Talina approached the nearest guard. "Excuse me, my father, Lord Basir Saiida, sent me to speak with the Balt king you are keeping prisoner here."
The guard shook his head, chuckling hoarsely, and promptly led her to the gaping hole in the wall. With another shake of his head, he departed.
"Oh, dear..." Talina peered out the hole, watching the rapidly shrinking figure it the distance desperately swimming away.
Basir, her father, only smirked, one hand swirling about a goblet of wine while the other stroked his thin and carefully trimmed beard. "You flatter me, as always. But that, my dear errant daughter, is precisely why I have no intention of aiding your precious Acropolis. Why should I give aid to the barbarians that attack our own borders?"
"All I would ask of you is to offer the iron you dig out from your mines. It's hardly of value compared to the mithril, gold, and gems you desire."
"You are smarter then that, Talina. Those fools will not defeat any dragon with mere swords and spears, much less prattle of unity and brotherhood." He shifted in his seat, tapping his ringed fingers against the table.
"I know. They need Mayyssusian magic. But I do not presume to ask so much of you so quickly."
"You presume too much. I have been generous enough to let you leech off my wealth for your petty little adventures. And all for what? The thanks of a few wretched peasants? Have you forgotten what happened to your sister when she followed your example?" Basir sneered at her, his expression of jovial warmth abruptly vanishing.
Talina's brows furrowed and she let out a slow breath, but didn't rise to the bait. She absently traced a finger around one of the small rings on her finger, less elaborate then her father's, but containing more powerful reserves of magical power. "You should not dishonor her memory by using her in your argument."
"Then do not ask of me foolish things." He shook his head and sipped from his goblet. "Besides, even if I shared your bleeding heart sentiment for the barbarians, who else would I find to work my mines? Our grand city will collapse without the muscle that supports it. Detestable as they may be, they do have their uses. Muscle. Which I need."
Talina slowly shook her head, ignoring the scratching feeling she felt against the inside of her skull. She closed her eyes, rubbing at her forehead.
"Your empathy will be the death of you, dear daughter, and that is far from what I wish. If you would only learn to accept things are they are. Lorcliff's defenses are built around the most powerful magic in this world. Even the dragons will not breach it. Let the barbarians worry for their own fate."
The restless itching in her head was rising, in tune with her frustration. No. Not yet. I have work to do.
"Besides, this border raiders provide me with all the labor I need for my mines. I even heard one of the prisoners in the next batch to be brought in is a Balt king. Does this not amuse you, daughter?" Basir let out a mirthful chuckle and swigged from his goblet.
Talina didn't respond at first, but her eyes perked up at the mention of a king. If the Mayyssus would not extend the thought of peace first, perhaps a Balt would, certainly from a weakened position as a prisoner...
Standing up abruptly, Talina pressed down the wrinkles in her robes and bowed her head to her father. "Thank you for your generosity , Father, as always. But if you will excuse me, I have some matters I should attend to promptly."
Basir waved his goblet, apparently missing the hint of irony in her tone. "Give some thought to changing your naive ways, daughter. For my sake, hmm?"
Talina did not respond, as she was already halfway out the door and making her way through the winding stairs up the city and to the prison.
She paused at the entrance to dust off her robes, briefly pat down her hair, and put on her most charming smile. Stepping inside, Talina approached the nearest guard. "Excuse me, my father, Lord Basir Saiida, sent me to speak with the Balt king you are keeping prisoner here."
The guard shook his head, chuckling hoarsely, and promptly led her to the gaping hole in the wall. With another shake of his head, he departed.
"Oh, dear..." Talina peered out the hole, watching the rapidly shrinking figure it the distance desperately swimming away.
The setting changes from Lorcliff - The Stone Walled Town to Nineve
As he observed the former king swimming in the cold cerulean water, he looked back to the prison wall, now seeing a woman standing in the gaping hole Alusan had left. No doubt some sort of Mayyssus official. He grinned madly and gave her a mocking wave, and blew her a kiss as he reared his horse and tailed Alusan, following him from above on the cliff line.
As time went on, so did Alusan, along with Aysen and his horse, close enough that he could still see the older Balt, but far enough that he wouldn't be mistaken for some sort of Mayyssus Bounty hunter. Slowly the cliff's height shortened, and fell into a beach, connecting with the plains. It had seemed that Alusen had finally made shore, and Aysen intended to meet up with his former ruler. As he approached the waterlogged Balt, he used a bit of magic to disguise his sword, as to not appear hostile, and withdrew a flask from his horse's saddle bag, offering it to Alusen.
"I've got to say, I'm impressed. It seems those blokes at the Acropolis weren't talking out of their asses when they told me how strong you were."
When no response came, his immediate thought was that Alusan was dead, but upon further inspection, he was merely sleeping. Aysen took this opportunity to set up a makeshift camp, as nightfall was closely approaching, and Alusan would need to recover before they turned to the Acropolis.
As time went on, so did Alusan, along with Aysen and his horse, close enough that he could still see the older Balt, but far enough that he wouldn't be mistaken for some sort of Mayyssus Bounty hunter. Slowly the cliff's height shortened, and fell into a beach, connecting with the plains. It had seemed that Alusen had finally made shore, and Aysen intended to meet up with his former ruler. As he approached the waterlogged Balt, he used a bit of magic to disguise his sword, as to not appear hostile, and withdrew a flask from his horse's saddle bag, offering it to Alusen.
"I've got to say, I'm impressed. It seems those blokes at the Acropolis weren't talking out of their asses when they told me how strong you were."
When no response came, his immediate thought was that Alusan was dead, but upon further inspection, he was merely sleeping. Aysen took this opportunity to set up a makeshift camp, as nightfall was closely approaching, and Alusan would need to recover before they turned to the Acropolis.
Talina's gaze shifted to the Balt riding away and she pursed her lips together in thought. An accomplice, perhaps? She continued watching the Balt on the horse, while slowly tracing a pattern in the air with a finger. The tip of her finger sparked with a smattering of shadows and when she turned her a palm up, a small raven made up of shimmering shadows was perched on her hand. The familiar looked up at her and cawed an otherworldly, echoing call.
"The Balt rider, down below." She murmured to the shadowy familiar. "I will be along shortly."
The raven cawed again and fluttered off after the Balt. Meanwhile Talina quickly turned about with a flutter of her robes and departed from the prison, returning to her father's manor. She did not go inside, instead making her way to the stables where her horse was kept. Talina patted the horse and checked the saddlebags, already prepared with food for the road, a small tent, and a warmer set of robes. She climbed up onto the saddle and set off out of the city, pausing a few times along the road to peer up towards the sky. Far ahead in the sky was the flicker of shadow, which Talina followed.
Her ride was finished by nightfall, where she saw a campfire in the distance across the plains. Talina made a small camp of her own, deciding against the notion of approaching a runaway Balt at night. The raven landed on her shoulder as she settled down in from of her fire, cawing quietly before flapping over to a watchful perch on the tent. Talina laid herself down on the bedroll to sleep and wait for the morning.
"The Balt rider, down below." She murmured to the shadowy familiar. "I will be along shortly."
The raven cawed again and fluttered off after the Balt. Meanwhile Talina quickly turned about with a flutter of her robes and departed from the prison, returning to her father's manor. She did not go inside, instead making her way to the stables where her horse was kept. Talina patted the horse and checked the saddlebags, already prepared with food for the road, a small tent, and a warmer set of robes. She climbed up onto the saddle and set off out of the city, pausing a few times along the road to peer up towards the sky. Far ahead in the sky was the flicker of shadow, which Talina followed.
Her ride was finished by nightfall, where she saw a campfire in the distance across the plains. Talina made a small camp of her own, deciding against the notion of approaching a runaway Balt at night. The raven landed on her shoulder as she settled down in from of her fire, cawing quietly before flapping over to a watchful perch on the tent. Talina laid herself down on the bedroll to sleep and wait for the morning.
The setting changes from Nineve to Deepmere - The Forest City
The Crowd was cheering him on. He had fought the good fight and won. He cut off his opponents head and lifted it high. Blood was dripping off of the dead man's neck. He let out a battle cry and threw the head on the ground. For he won the tourney, he would set out on this task, and he would bring honor to his family and his city. The crowd went crazy over it. Osmond noticed somebody making their way through the crowd. When the person came into view, it was a short chubby man wearing robes. The man made his way to the center of the ring and started shaking his hand.
"Good show, it got pretty exciting there at the end with him picking you up and choking the life out of you. I was sure he was going to snap you like a twig. Now, here is a deed to a horse," Osmond took the paperwork and quickly glanced over it. It seemed that he was going to get a horse for travel, not combat. "You are to head to the Acropolis, you shall receive more information there when the time is right. Go now and keep your feet swift and your blade swifter." The politician offered his hand and Osmond shook it and one last time he raised his sword and let out a war cry. The crowd was cheering.
He decided he needed supplies if he was going to Acropolis. It was a way's away. First he would have to get through the Twilit Vale, then cross the plains. He smiled at the prospect of being in the forest again. He hurried home and picked up a few days worth of supplies. He could stretch a few days into a week if he really had too. He hugged his mother good bye and was on his way. He found the stables quickly. He wanted to leave as soon as possible. He had lost a lot of time at the tourney and saying good bye. He mounted his horse and was off.
He had made good distance. Night was starting to fall and he was about an hours canter from the edge of the forest. He knew a few shortcuts to get through the trees faster. He decided that the horse needed a break and set up camp for the night. He sat by the fire and looked up at the stars.
"Good show, it got pretty exciting there at the end with him picking you up and choking the life out of you. I was sure he was going to snap you like a twig. Now, here is a deed to a horse," Osmond took the paperwork and quickly glanced over it. It seemed that he was going to get a horse for travel, not combat. "You are to head to the Acropolis, you shall receive more information there when the time is right. Go now and keep your feet swift and your blade swifter." The politician offered his hand and Osmond shook it and one last time he raised his sword and let out a war cry. The crowd was cheering.
He decided he needed supplies if he was going to Acropolis. It was a way's away. First he would have to get through the Twilit Vale, then cross the plains. He smiled at the prospect of being in the forest again. He hurried home and picked up a few days worth of supplies. He could stretch a few days into a week if he really had too. He hugged his mother good bye and was on his way. He found the stables quickly. He wanted to leave as soon as possible. He had lost a lot of time at the tourney and saying good bye. He mounted his horse and was off.
He had made good distance. Night was starting to fall and he was about an hours canter from the edge of the forest. He knew a few shortcuts to get through the trees faster. He decided that the horse needed a break and set up camp for the night. He sat by the fire and looked up at the stars.
The setting changes from Deepmere - The Forest City to Nineve
Alusan's head was reeling, his instincts to keep moving clashing heavily with his desire to sleep more. In the end however, his instincts won. His eyes snapped open. In the first few fractions of a second his mind raced, the way it always had as both a gift and a curse. It was night. His hand was still locked tighter than an iron clasp around his ax. The crack and pop of a small fire meant he was not alone. Most likely a friend if he wasn't dead and they had sparked a flame. Either that or a jailer had caught up with him. Only one way to find out.
The stillness of the night was shattered as Alusan's muscles pumped to mimic his racing mind. First he curled his legs up, rolled backwards. The moment he was supported by his arms, all his weight shifted to the left, as his right hand swung the ax into the sand, the combined force of the swing and the magical properties of the blade creating a sand storm between him and the other person as he balanced on one hand. The acrobatic spectacle was brief, however, as he dropped into place where he'd hoped. A few yards back from where he began, he landed in a ready position, almost as if preparing for a sprint. A second swing of the bearded blade into the ground behind him, with a bit of direction from his own legs, launched Alusan forward and barreling into a somewhat familiar face, the ax's edge close enough to shave Aysen's beard, should he have had one.
"You." Alusan said, a bit of relief washing over his battle lust as he recognized the distinct features of one of the more prominent Balt families. "You're Valentus' boy, correct? Yes I'd know that face anywhere. You look just like your dad." Alusan's lip curled ever so slightly up the right side of his face into a relaxed smirk as he lifted the blade away from Aysen's chin. "Glad to finally see someone this month who I don't hate." Alusan flopped backward, into a sitting position, he back to the cackling flames and his hand still melded to his ax's hilt.
The stillness of the night was shattered as Alusan's muscles pumped to mimic his racing mind. First he curled his legs up, rolled backwards. The moment he was supported by his arms, all his weight shifted to the left, as his right hand swung the ax into the sand, the combined force of the swing and the magical properties of the blade creating a sand storm between him and the other person as he balanced on one hand. The acrobatic spectacle was brief, however, as he dropped into place where he'd hoped. A few yards back from where he began, he landed in a ready position, almost as if preparing for a sprint. A second swing of the bearded blade into the ground behind him, with a bit of direction from his own legs, launched Alusan forward and barreling into a somewhat familiar face, the ax's edge close enough to shave Aysen's beard, should he have had one.
"You." Alusan said, a bit of relief washing over his battle lust as he recognized the distinct features of one of the more prominent Balt families. "You're Valentus' boy, correct? Yes I'd know that face anywhere. You look just like your dad." Alusan's lip curled ever so slightly up the right side of his face into a relaxed smirk as he lifted the blade away from Aysen's chin. "Glad to finally see someone this month who I don't hate." Alusan flopped backward, into a sitting position, he back to the cackling flames and his hand still melded to his ax's hilt.
It had been lonely days on her way south from Icemoor, leaving behind home was something that her instructions had not fully prepared her for, she was severely puzzled by weird concepts money, thief, law, guard, criminal amongst many others, when she had taken food by trial by combat and defeated their respective champions whom they named guards, they still tried to best her even when she had earned the right to that food, the culture of these southrons puzzled her, also the reluctance they had shown to share any information about the dragons and the fight against them
She had asked, and most of them had not been eager to give an answer but she had heard some interesting tales regarding the movement to cull the dragons once and for all, she had learned that they had been secretive for a reason, like the wicked cultists that had made a bastion of power in her homeland there were some lesser men who were willing to trade in their freedom, their independence and bend their will to the tyrants of the skies...
Weak creatures... The lot of them
She could not conceive it, that her fellow humans would recognize a power greater than them and knee and worship it... for this reason she too abhorred the giants, she had some hope however that there too where other people like her, in the roof of the world she had heard about a group of balts that too had heard of the united offensive, people like her that too would not break before they bowed or bent, she had paid keen attention to the landmarks that she had heard, marked the spot in which a band would set out to the south
Yet the wind filled her lungs, and its whispers did not sound welcoming... she saw smoke rising like a pillar of darkness as she made her way, something was amiss "Feller... do you sense this?"
The air smelled of burnt flesh, a familiar stench to a hunter such as she, yet this was no seal burned on coal, this was something stronger, deeper and much more seated and scorching fire was no stranger scent to her, she had seen a dragon zealot or two purified on flames before, but that was but a ghost of a scent compared to this impregnating odor. But burnt flesh wasn’t the only smell in the air. The smell of burnt steel also filled her lungs.
"Feller do you smell that? What do you think could melt steel out here? A hidden forge mayhap?" yet even as she left out the words she knew the nonsense in them.
It wasn’t a few more steps forward before a cry filled the air from somewhere nearby. "Die, Dragon Beast!" Followed by a battle cry and the clash of steel against, what sounded like, stone. But it wasn’t long before the battle cry turned into a shrill of agony, soon followed by the deep hysterical laugh of a man enjoying himself. A single word followed the mad laughter; "BURN!" Yelled the voice with a sinister glee behind it. Gripping her spear in her hand, Amargas looked for the source of the sound "Be ready Feller, something is wrong".
They were close.
She was weary on her approach, one could deduce that there were 2 combatants still out there and she was not keen on announcing her arrival until she knew what she was against, then at last she saw a scene that would have taken the hearth out of lesser women
In front of her, about 30 feet out, lied 5 corpses. 5 charred, scorched, burned bodies trapped in a steel coffin that had been previously their armors and arms, their limbs twisted in unspeakable agony even their helmets had been grotesquely melted into their flesh, their bones. To say the least the scenery was grim and unlike anything her eyes had seen before. Around their bodies were small flicks of fire on the burnt grass testament to their ill fated deaths, whatever had been their doom had possessed a mastery of flame unrivaled.
A dragon mayhap?
Despite this horrific scene, it was not the worst of it all... In the middle of the 5 bodies, which were scattered around in a circle, an imposing figure, a thing held a 6th man in his outstretched hand. The creatures back was turned to her, but what she could see was a sight enough. It was wearing no shirt; in fact it wore no armor to cover its naked, unholy flesh. Its skin was burned, charcoal black so dark and terrible that it seemed to absorb light around it, as if it was made of the roots of the very earth. Along its body stretched a series of red tattoo-like red lines akin to her own blessed balt stripes yet these signs were foul and wicked, for her life she could not decipher their meaning but there was no mistaking that they where heathen signs of a dark age, an age before men had known the tentative peace of this day. The beast's arms were even more like they were crafted from the heart of the earth, like 2 massive slabs of obsidian stone slabs, covered in peaks and jagged spikes, bathed in liquid fire. The man in its hands was still alive, but barely. His whole body was burned, and covered in the same melted metal as his fellow warriors, which must have been his armor at one point. In the hands of the beast, the man uttered out a laugh as his life started to leave his body.
"What are you laughing at...? Puny human!?" The creature laughed out, tightening his grip around the man’s throat.
Not saying a word the man silently grabbed the Dragonsteel dagger from its sheath, and quickly jabbed the dagger into the creature’s ribs. With a roar of pain, it dropped the man, with the dagger lodged in its chest... The beast was injured, vulnerable even.
Smarter, civilized creatures might have stopped and wonder what was happening, they might have ushered questions, tried to make sense out of the scenery, tried to figure who was who and identify the root of the conflict, but the champion of the howling mountains was not smart, civilized or logical... She was only filled with a vicious bestial cunning and right now it shouted only one action
Dragon Feller clutched tightly between her 2 hands she lunged forward aiming for its neck, then in a blur of speed the monster dodged as he fell back noticing the new foe. With a whicked grin the beast turned to the small girl before muttering out: "Ahhh... Finally! A combatant worthy of the Dragon's Flame..."
The black wind howls...
In a blink she unleashed a man knocking gust of wind at the direction of her foe he answered spitting flames from its mouth Great glacier! realizing the impending danger she strafed to her left dodging the proyectile that had been partially nulified by her own magic but then he was on her running with his arms smeared in foul flames and murder in his eyes, the fool has never fought against a spear before she realized she had the advantage with the Dragon Feller, she did not want to be on the end of those fists, the haunting memory of those poor souls with melted iron on their flesh was not how she wished to pass, managing her steps she kept him away where his arms would not cook her alive, every effort to get close was met with a thrust of her spear which left the options of retreating or finding oneself at the end of a weapon that had killed a dragon.
Yet she was now on the offensive trying to stab her enemy and pin it against the ground where she would have it at her mercy, yet the enemy was too quick most of her opponents had been either beasts like bears larger than herself or people concerned in keeping a weapon in their hands, a weapon that if parried at the right moment would leave an advantageous opening in which she had just to go for the kill, yet this thing was entirely different it possesed the speed of a naked man and the vitality that he featured made it seem as if the effort of dodging all the rain of blows was not taxing him at all, she had to think of another thing at this rate, she would tire herself out.
She gave then a combination of strikes to force him back, one at the knee which he dodged by stepping back, then she slashed at his head which he again avoided by ducking and then she gave him a hard kick on the head, this one landed and hard she then jumped back propeled by the wind and left a good 20 meters of distance amongst the two of them, so far so good better than these other ones at least so far the monster had proven to be highly resilent and quick, yet the attacks on her spear could not match his movements and her dagger would require to many risks out of her, risking getting so close and risking it failing to pierce that black obsidian skin that the creature had, the weapon was made for slashing not for chopping.
He was back on the attack running at her direction, again she simply jumped out of reach, she could go at this for a while wilst she figured how to deal with him and then the gears at her head began to spin and in a moment of briliance she realized it... she heard the voice of her mother the famed witch of winter whispering to her
Always mind your surroundings
Feigning the retreat she gave him her back and ran away from him, she heard a shout behind her and then something hit her, knocking her off. Then she felt the heat and looked as her fur cloak was now set ablaze she broke the chain around her neck and discarded it quickly, her enemy had still some cards in its hands after all, he was sending some sort of fireballs that came at great speed her way, she managed to parry those with her spear still jumping backwards now not allowing it to be free from her gaze, who knew what else it would pull if left unchecked, then the sound of running water finally became much more potent, and the river where the camp had been gathering its fresh water finally was displayed.
This better work
She then waited for him at the edge and the drake thrall did not dissapoint, here he was at her wake yet he stopped when he saw the water "How much of a fool do you take me for you insect!" he shouted with rage murking his message then she took her spear by the neck supporting the main wooden body on her right shoulder and with her left hand she drew out her fang dagger
Only one shot at this
The man that had wounded him previously had marked the spot, a weak and still bleeding wound where her dagger would easily go through, the opportunity that she needed.
Then she jumped forward, backed up by the winds her spear seeking his right shoulder and her dagger hunting for his chest, again he dodged the spear trusth by leaning to the left but that allowed her to sink her dagger deep into his ribs, it was followed by a screech of agony and in a blinding fury he countered her assault with a clean hellish punch that sent her flying on her back and finally falling on the river that had been intended as the grave of her enemy
She felt the water against her body but all other feelings had been numbed by the severity of the pain that now dominated her chest, that burning sensation consuming all of her senses she tried to rise up to the surface, the current was strong and was dragging her like a limp corpse.
I am not dying drowned, I am not dying like this, I am not...
The air leaving her lungs she fought to reach the surface, she would not forsake her spear to save herself it was either rising above with her sacred legacy or having a watery grave, either way she would be at Feller´s side be it in life or death
She had asked, and most of them had not been eager to give an answer but she had heard some interesting tales regarding the movement to cull the dragons once and for all, she had learned that they had been secretive for a reason, like the wicked cultists that had made a bastion of power in her homeland there were some lesser men who were willing to trade in their freedom, their independence and bend their will to the tyrants of the skies...
Weak creatures... The lot of them
She could not conceive it, that her fellow humans would recognize a power greater than them and knee and worship it... for this reason she too abhorred the giants, she had some hope however that there too where other people like her, in the roof of the world she had heard about a group of balts that too had heard of the united offensive, people like her that too would not break before they bowed or bent, she had paid keen attention to the landmarks that she had heard, marked the spot in which a band would set out to the south
Yet the wind filled her lungs, and its whispers did not sound welcoming... she saw smoke rising like a pillar of darkness as she made her way, something was amiss "Feller... do you sense this?"
The air smelled of burnt flesh, a familiar stench to a hunter such as she, yet this was no seal burned on coal, this was something stronger, deeper and much more seated and scorching fire was no stranger scent to her, she had seen a dragon zealot or two purified on flames before, but that was but a ghost of a scent compared to this impregnating odor. But burnt flesh wasn’t the only smell in the air. The smell of burnt steel also filled her lungs.
"Feller do you smell that? What do you think could melt steel out here? A hidden forge mayhap?" yet even as she left out the words she knew the nonsense in them.
It wasn’t a few more steps forward before a cry filled the air from somewhere nearby. "Die, Dragon Beast!" Followed by a battle cry and the clash of steel against, what sounded like, stone. But it wasn’t long before the battle cry turned into a shrill of agony, soon followed by the deep hysterical laugh of a man enjoying himself. A single word followed the mad laughter; "BURN!" Yelled the voice with a sinister glee behind it. Gripping her spear in her hand, Amargas looked for the source of the sound "Be ready Feller, something is wrong".
They were close.
She was weary on her approach, one could deduce that there were 2 combatants still out there and she was not keen on announcing her arrival until she knew what she was against, then at last she saw a scene that would have taken the hearth out of lesser women
In front of her, about 30 feet out, lied 5 corpses. 5 charred, scorched, burned bodies trapped in a steel coffin that had been previously their armors and arms, their limbs twisted in unspeakable agony even their helmets had been grotesquely melted into their flesh, their bones. To say the least the scenery was grim and unlike anything her eyes had seen before. Around their bodies were small flicks of fire on the burnt grass testament to their ill fated deaths, whatever had been their doom had possessed a mastery of flame unrivaled.
A dragon mayhap?
Despite this horrific scene, it was not the worst of it all... In the middle of the 5 bodies, which were scattered around in a circle, an imposing figure, a thing held a 6th man in his outstretched hand. The creatures back was turned to her, but what she could see was a sight enough. It was wearing no shirt; in fact it wore no armor to cover its naked, unholy flesh. Its skin was burned, charcoal black so dark and terrible that it seemed to absorb light around it, as if it was made of the roots of the very earth. Along its body stretched a series of red tattoo-like red lines akin to her own blessed balt stripes yet these signs were foul and wicked, for her life she could not decipher their meaning but there was no mistaking that they where heathen signs of a dark age, an age before men had known the tentative peace of this day. The beast's arms were even more like they were crafted from the heart of the earth, like 2 massive slabs of obsidian stone slabs, covered in peaks and jagged spikes, bathed in liquid fire. The man in its hands was still alive, but barely. His whole body was burned, and covered in the same melted metal as his fellow warriors, which must have been his armor at one point. In the hands of the beast, the man uttered out a laugh as his life started to leave his body.
"What are you laughing at...? Puny human!?" The creature laughed out, tightening his grip around the man’s throat.
Not saying a word the man silently grabbed the Dragonsteel dagger from its sheath, and quickly jabbed the dagger into the creature’s ribs. With a roar of pain, it dropped the man, with the dagger lodged in its chest... The beast was injured, vulnerable even.
Smarter, civilized creatures might have stopped and wonder what was happening, they might have ushered questions, tried to make sense out of the scenery, tried to figure who was who and identify the root of the conflict, but the champion of the howling mountains was not smart, civilized or logical... She was only filled with a vicious bestial cunning and right now it shouted only one action
Dragon Feller clutched tightly between her 2 hands she lunged forward aiming for its neck, then in a blur of speed the monster dodged as he fell back noticing the new foe. With a whicked grin the beast turned to the small girl before muttering out: "Ahhh... Finally! A combatant worthy of the Dragon's Flame..."
The black wind howls...
In a blink she unleashed a man knocking gust of wind at the direction of her foe he answered spitting flames from its mouth Great glacier! realizing the impending danger she strafed to her left dodging the proyectile that had been partially nulified by her own magic but then he was on her running with his arms smeared in foul flames and murder in his eyes, the fool has never fought against a spear before she realized she had the advantage with the Dragon Feller, she did not want to be on the end of those fists, the haunting memory of those poor souls with melted iron on their flesh was not how she wished to pass, managing her steps she kept him away where his arms would not cook her alive, every effort to get close was met with a thrust of her spear which left the options of retreating or finding oneself at the end of a weapon that had killed a dragon.
Yet she was now on the offensive trying to stab her enemy and pin it against the ground where she would have it at her mercy, yet the enemy was too quick most of her opponents had been either beasts like bears larger than herself or people concerned in keeping a weapon in their hands, a weapon that if parried at the right moment would leave an advantageous opening in which she had just to go for the kill, yet this thing was entirely different it possesed the speed of a naked man and the vitality that he featured made it seem as if the effort of dodging all the rain of blows was not taxing him at all, she had to think of another thing at this rate, she would tire herself out.
She gave then a combination of strikes to force him back, one at the knee which he dodged by stepping back, then she slashed at his head which he again avoided by ducking and then she gave him a hard kick on the head, this one landed and hard she then jumped back propeled by the wind and left a good 20 meters of distance amongst the two of them, so far so good better than these other ones at least so far the monster had proven to be highly resilent and quick, yet the attacks on her spear could not match his movements and her dagger would require to many risks out of her, risking getting so close and risking it failing to pierce that black obsidian skin that the creature had, the weapon was made for slashing not for chopping.
He was back on the attack running at her direction, again she simply jumped out of reach, she could go at this for a while wilst she figured how to deal with him and then the gears at her head began to spin and in a moment of briliance she realized it... she heard the voice of her mother the famed witch of winter whispering to her
Always mind your surroundings
Feigning the retreat she gave him her back and ran away from him, she heard a shout behind her and then something hit her, knocking her off. Then she felt the heat and looked as her fur cloak was now set ablaze she broke the chain around her neck and discarded it quickly, her enemy had still some cards in its hands after all, he was sending some sort of fireballs that came at great speed her way, she managed to parry those with her spear still jumping backwards now not allowing it to be free from her gaze, who knew what else it would pull if left unchecked, then the sound of running water finally became much more potent, and the river where the camp had been gathering its fresh water finally was displayed.
This better work
She then waited for him at the edge and the drake thrall did not dissapoint, here he was at her wake yet he stopped when he saw the water "How much of a fool do you take me for you insect!" he shouted with rage murking his message then she took her spear by the neck supporting the main wooden body on her right shoulder and with her left hand she drew out her fang dagger
Only one shot at this
The man that had wounded him previously had marked the spot, a weak and still bleeding wound where her dagger would easily go through, the opportunity that she needed.
Then she jumped forward, backed up by the winds her spear seeking his right shoulder and her dagger hunting for his chest, again he dodged the spear trusth by leaning to the left but that allowed her to sink her dagger deep into his ribs, it was followed by a screech of agony and in a blinding fury he countered her assault with a clean hellish punch that sent her flying on her back and finally falling on the river that had been intended as the grave of her enemy
She felt the water against her body but all other feelings had been numbed by the severity of the pain that now dominated her chest, that burning sensation consuming all of her senses she tried to rise up to the surface, the current was strong and was dragging her like a limp corpse.
I am not dying drowned, I am not dying like this, I am not...
The air leaving her lungs she fought to reach the surface, she would not forsake her spear to save herself it was either rising above with her sacred legacy or having a watery grave, either way she would be at Feller´s side be it in life or death
- 11 posts here • Page 1 of 1
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Alusan Ilossa
"Giant-son. That's what they used to call me. But that was before the desecration of The Tor."
Osmond Flagg
"I know these woods like I know how to to kill a man with my bare hands. I can get to the same place in 45 different ways" Clicks tongue twice
Aysen Caelholdt
"We are the masters of our fate."
Kalvari
"Come... Feed my fire!""
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Aysen Caelholdt
"We are the masters of our fate."
Alusan Ilossa
"Giant-son. That's what they used to call me. But that was before the desecration of The Tor."
Osmond Flagg
"I know these woods like I know how to to kill a man with my bare hands. I can get to the same place in 45 different ways" Clicks tongue twice
Kalvari
"Come... Feed my fire!""
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Osmond Flagg
"I know these woods like I know how to to kill a man with my bare hands. I can get to the same place in 45 different ways" Clicks tongue twice
Kalvari
"Come... Feed my fire!""
Alusan Ilossa
"Giant-son. That's what they used to call me. But that was before the desecration of The Tor."
Aysen Caelholdt
"We are the masters of our fate."
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5 posts · 5 characters present · last post 2013-03-16 03:31:30 »
Nineve Owner: Beach-Born-Boy
Nineve, a land of Men, Giants and Gods
1 posts · 1 characters present · last post 2013-03-09 19:50:56 »
The origin of the Dravasha race of Men
4 posts · 0 characters present · last post 2013-03-06 04:28:40 »
A town built by the minds of some and the labor of more
1 posts · 0 characters present · last post 2013-03-06 04:28:18 »
The village of the Sky Giant's landing
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The Siege of the Tor
1, 2, 3by Beach-Born-Boy on Tue Feb 26, 2013 12:09 am
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on Wed May 01, 2013 10:17 pm
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The Siege of the Tor
Most recent OOC posts in The Siege of the Tor
Re: The Siege of the Tor
Hey all, I did a remake of this one. If anyone would like to join, here's the new one but PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE be active
Re: The Siege of the Tor
Cheers! Feel free to check it out, I'll have a CS topic in the OOC tomorrow as well as current characters.
Hubris: A Tale of Mortal Gods
Hubris: A Tale of Mortal Gods
Re: The Siege of the Tor
Okay safe to say that this one has fallen apart fairly quickly. If Vex comes back soon, I'm more than willing to pick it back up. A side note, I'm making a new RP and everyone here is welcome to join. The premise being gods that have become manifested as humans with no knowledge of who they are. It'll be a future setting in a dystopian world, some time after a nuclear war, when humanity's been rebuilding for about forty years. Most of the world is taken over by one person that is only rebuilding to maintain control and extorting the other groups/citizens, but the god characters are there to reestablish balance along with a team-mate who's 100% human each. Along the journey the god characters rediscover their powers until they're fully realized. I'm thinking of naming it Hubris: A Tale of Mortal Gods and, as I said, you're all welcome as long as you're willing to put in the time for it as it will be an exclusive RP (By invite or very well done application ONLY).
Re: The Siege of the Tor
Yeah no worrie rom you're doing fine, but everyone else is gone. And hell Alusan nearly killed Aysen in the last post with nothing from vex.
Re: The Siege of the Tor
Well the last post was mine so I dont know how I could carry it beyond that
Re: The Siege of the Tor
I guess ill post the colab between me and Mathew then, havent heard of him in a while
Re: The Siege of the Tor
Talina will be waiting for morning rather then try and approach a pair of jumpy Balts at night. =P
Re: The Siege of the Tor
Hey guys sorry about the absence. Internet went out, then we laid off a few guys at work so i've been stuck with extra hours and all. I'll have a post up tonight now that i'm free again. <3
Re: The Siege of the Tor
The worst part of colab posts is how much communication needs to be carried out
Sheez, still working on that post hang in there
Sheez, still working on that post hang in there
Re: The Siege of the Tor
Sorry Beach about not posting. I'm alive, I just have been busy with work.I'll work on a post today though.
Re: The Siege of the Tor
Doing a very exciting collab post and establishing a rivalry, should be up before the week ends
Re: The Siege of the Tor
Lol, and Talina will try not to offend her by saying her dagger is just a plain old dagger and doesn't really need a name.