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Erbein Urindar

"Choose your words carefully boy, I be neither kind nor playful."

0 · 182 views · located in Utareos

a character in “Blades and Flames: The Nethersteel Cog”, as played by Bradok187

Description

Name: Erbein Urindar
Title: Oathshield
Race: Dwarf
Age: 58
Class: Warrior

Appearance: He stands just over five feet tall bearing the broad and stocky build of his people. Most of his face lay concealed behind his long beard which he keeps in a thick long braid. His left eye is a near crystalline blue color while the other is creamy white, indicating blindness, and has a deep scar running down his face and across it. His right ear is adorned with a beautiful sapphire earring which he never removes.

Clothing: The first thing one would notice when looking at Erbein would be the sold black Cuirass covering his uper body. In it's center lay the Urindar family crest embroidered in gold. Other than that you would find no other armor upon his body, instead you would see a pair of sturdy cloth pants leading down to a pair or leather half-boots. Under the armor a nicely made white silk shirt is usually worn with the sleves rolled up. His hands bear the marks of many years of labor, but you will only find a ring on his right hand bearing the same symbol as his armor.

Personality: Though dwarves are normally construed as gruff, harsh natured individuals, Erbein is seen as quite the opposite. Though he is not to be considered kind, he is certainly nicer than many of his kin. He enjoys being on the surface to a great degree and often voices thia to his kin. He can often be found smoking from a pipe when his thoughts are confused. Only three things are certain when it comes to Erbein. His skill with a blade, his love for gold, and his hate for elves.

Equipment: His Black Steel Cuirass adorning his upper body. A finely crafted dwarven sword sheathed at his side. A small dagger concealed in his boot. Enchanted Sapphire earring in his right ear.

Skills: Master Swordsman, well versed in the art of war, has an intricate knowledge of rock and ore, has an enchanted earring which lets out a faint sound when dragons or their kin are near.

Background: Erbein is the oldest and last living heir to the Urindar family. Born into the vicious cycle of lesser nobility of the Dwarven kindom of Yai'mor within the Dragonclaw Mountains. He was raised with utter surety, and with the goal to bring his family honor. It was a long and unforgiving task, but one he eventually accomplished.

Thrust into military service at sixteen he carved out a name for himself with many distinguishing acts of valor against the enemies of the Kingdom. Slowly climbing the ranks for two decades of service he finally made his career at the battle of the gilded pass when the armies of Yai'mor fought a grueling battle against their worst enemy, a dragon. Erbein alone stood against the beast at the end. Underestimating the young dwarf the dragon persisted to attempt to devour Erbein. When he closed in Erbein summoned his remaining strength and drove his blade deep into the beasts eye, ending it once and for all. Upon returning to Yai'mor Erbein was honored by the king himself and upon him was bestowed the title of Oathshield, the most prestigious military title given to Dwarven warriors.

Though Erbein himself was an honored and revered member of the kingdom his family had fallen low and were close to losing their seat of state due to a lack of funds and influence. The Dragonclaw Mountains were not nearly as prosperous in terms of minerals and the large mining families had a monopoly on the rich deposits. Seeing little to no opportunities below ground, Erbein turned his attention to the world above. Taking the remainder of his wealth he invested in a series of farms close to the mountains. In return they would ship produce to him at Yai'mor. The venture turned very profitable for he was able to offer his kin things the were not so common within the kingdom.

Now Erbein rarely attends to his business these days, but instead takes his leisure in the above world allowing his cousins to run his affairs. Though he enjoys his current station he often yearns for the life he had when he was younger. Only time will tell if he is able to relive his long forgotten glory.

So begins...

Erbein Urindar's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Vyndran Singsword Character Portrait: Fran V Strahl Character Portrait: Violet Character Portrait: Erbein Urindar
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Marhorn Glen

Autumn, called the Harvesting Season by the inhabitants of the Lesser Southern Plains, and in particularly by the inhabitants of Marhorn Glen. The air is chilly now, the breeze carries with it the scent of fallen leaves and hot baked goods cooling on windowsills. By now the fields are nearly baron, most of the crops have been harvested and now comes the time when farmers set their wives and children to work, dividing everything up, putting an amount of all the crops away so that they will have plenty to eat throughout the cold season to come and packing all the rest of it in crates which will be loaded onto buggies and coaches and distributed throughout the eastern side of Elemnaira.

The sky is beginning to darken, and as the sun falls so does the temperature. The villagers start to head inside, lighting candles and fireplaces to stave off the cold and darkness of the night. As the lights blink into life across Marhorn Glen the sounds of music and laughter can be heard echoing from the only tavern in the village, The Lucky Horseshoe.

The half elf known as the Wandering Storyteller has arrived in this small farming village, and now he stands by the hearth within The Lucky Horseshoe, strumming his mandolin and singing the Legend of Hawklight, Tamer of the Flying Lions. The bard sings of how the first member of the Hawklight family climbed to the tops of the mountains to the west and come upon the creatures, who attacked him on sight. Rather that fight back, he dodged and ducked behind the stones and outcropping of the mountain, and when one of the griffins were tired out from his actions he caught him with a lasso and climbed onto his back. The griffins, seeing that this human was more intelligent than many others, they bowed to him and a pact was made. The griffins and the Lighthawk family would look after one another.

As the song ends with Hawklight returning to his home at the base of the mountains on the back of a griffin, the bard strums his mandolin once more, then bows.

"What kind of trash was that?!" One of the tavern patrons calls out from the back of the room. "May Rothlyn kiss the king and all members of the blasted family of his!" With this the rest of the patrons let our a cheer, most of them at least. The man who had requested the song, a fellow in a somewhat tattered and dirty looking cloak sitting nearest to the bard did not cheer, and instead lowered his head, as if trying to hide, or perhaps prey.

As the cheering dies down the crowd begins to murmur and talk amongst themselves, and so the bard decides to take a break and have a goblet of mead before he next applies his trade. Walking over to the bar he sets his instrument aside and takes a seat beside his companion, the lovely if slightly bewildering Fran and calls the bartender over to place his order. Upon receiving his drink he turns around to look at the crowd, sighing and shaking his head a little as the debate about whether King Hawklight and the rest of the humans were a plague on Elemnaira or something worse.

"Enjoying yourself?" Vyndran asks his companion, still looking out over the crowd. "If we were to venture north, to Shadewatch or maybe even Crossroads, we'd be met with the same sort of hostility, just from the opposite point of view. The world is an odd and confusing place outside of the woods, or so I would venture a guess. You'd know better about such things wouldn't you?" As he says this last bit he turns to Fran and gives her a wink before taking another sip of his mead.

The setting changes from Lesser Southern Plains to Utareos

Setting

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Character Portrait: Erbein Urindar
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As the haverest season had once again set upon the southern plains and the farmers and workers hurriedly prepared for the dawn of winter and the fast approaching planting season once the frost has gone, an unusual gathering of Dwarves have began their decent upon the solitary tavern of Marhorn Glen. Five in all, the motley band chuckled and spoke through thick beards in raspy voices. They were not strangers to the town, however many would prefer that, instead they had spent an increasingly large sum of time here since their leader and Patriarch had began his dealings with the above world.

In front of the others their dear leader Erbein walked with a stoic swagger attempting to drown out the yips and hollers of his kin. Thick seems of smoke pour from his mouth as he took long drags from his pipe. Today he had tended to contracts for next years harvest and was ready to relax with a tall pint of ale and a fiery woman to warm his bed. Marhorn Glen however did not offer the great variety of services to be found in the larger cities, so they would have to settle for the Lucky Horseshoe.

"Alright lads," Erbein pronounced to his brethren with a stern loudness to break their chatter. "Drink till yer close to blind and fornicate until dawn, but no fightin with the locals."

With that the merry band of Dwarves entered the tavern to begin their night of druken stupor. As they entered they noticed the locals giving a bard grief over his performance. Erbein quickly found a table close to the bar and his kin gathered around him. The owner of this establishment had accommodated these Dwarves before and knew the drill when it came to serving them. Drinks would continue to be brought to the table until they had all gone then Erbein would settle the debt come morning.

"Blighten Elf!" Erbein heard one of his men say making a reference to one of the other patrons. "Er'ry where ya go theres a pointed ear tree hugger."

Another quickly joined in saying. "Aye brother but their soft skin is good for a quick row!" The room echoed with laughter from the table. Erbein simply smiled and shook his head as he removed his pipe to take a drink of ale. This would truly be an exciting night.

The setting changes from Utareos to Lesser Southern Plains

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Vyndran Singsword Character Portrait: Fran V Strahl Character Portrait: Kriss Arroway Character Portrait: Violet Character Portrait: Erbein Urindar
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Violet was not were Violet was supposed to be, and it knew that. It knew that Miss Frana, the woman know had known Violet’s pack and gave Violet a place to live, would want Violet with her at home and prepare food for the grandchildren. However, Violet knew that making food was something only the old woman could do, so Violet left, and went to the tavern known as The Lucky Horseshoe.

This tavern happened to be owned by a child of Miss Frana, and he knew of Violet’s true nature, and he was alright with it. His only rule was no pulling any tricks inside the bar, outside was fair game. Violet never liked this, due to how much fun drunk humans were, but obeyed anyways. Currently, Violet was in its typical disguise when out and about with Miss Frana. Violet was shifted into a human child of rather undetermined gender, but as Violet had to pick a gender when in human form, was technically male. This boy was impossible to tell from a girl, from his long white hair, thick and braided in some places, and the overall roundness of the face gave an almost feminine appearance. His eyes were purple, and Violet did this on purpose, to be itself without actually revealing too much.

Violet, or as it went when in this form, Violet, was in the tavern watching everyone he could. Suddenly an elf came by and offered to show them magic. Violet loved magic, and was slightly disappointed by the lack of food or colors involved, such as his dark red tunic, and nearly white pants. He still clapped with the rest of the children, and once the mothers came by, he wondered some more. That is when he heard another elf, most likely a bard, start to sing about the griffon king. The song was special to Violet, a song its parents sung for it as a baby. He smiled largely when the elf finished, and got a little mad at the humans when they said it was bad. ‘NO taste in music’ it thought.

After he sat down with what was unmistakably a bunny woman, Violet got very excited. They started talking about something, but Violet couldn’t’ hear over the sounds of the dwarves in the room. After that, Violet took the berry pouch that Miss Frana gave it, and began to take out some of its favorite berries to give as gifts.

Violet stood right beside the elf, and tugged at his shirts. After a while, Violet started, “Hello, I’m Violet. I loved your song, here take these.” He said with a large smile, and put some assorted berries on the table, ranging from simple blueberries to somewhat odd pink berries with spikes that it had found. After placing these on the table, Violet ran a little ways over to the bunny woman, and pulled out a single berry. This berry was red with some purple on either side of it, and was around the size of an apple. This berry was called a Gwappion Berry, or more commonly a Fox Trail Berry, as Kitsune’s loved this fruit more than any other thing, and were often seen eating it, however it was highly toxic to most species, save more ‘animalistic’ ones. “Here, you can have my Gwappion Berry, I was planning on saving it for something special, but what’s more special than music?” He asked in a soft child voice, and held out the berry for the woman to take.

The setting changes from Lesser Southern Plains to Utareos

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tyrond Whisperwind Character Portrait: Vyndran Singsword Character Portrait: Fran V Strahl Character Portrait: Adion Character Portrait: Violet Character Portrait: Erbein Urindar
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The door to the Lucky Hourseshoe opened so slowly that it didn't make a noise. When it did, Adion always got pain from the sound. Not like the noisiness of the dwarves was much better for his ears, but he had learned to deal with the dwarves unique drunken sounds when he was over in their lands. Adion still could never figure out why the dwarven forge master gave him the custom sword for free.

After experiencing a strange mental feeling, Adion finally caught a glance at the bard who played what Adion thought to be beautiful music.

Upon reaching the center of the tavern, the only place with which Adion could see almost everything in the tavern, the beast looked around, as always. That is when he spotted a man that he hated. This man didn't get along with any of the men who Adion had worked with or for, and as loyalty states, this man was also his enemy.

The man then unleashed some 'smart' remarks about Adion's lack of clothing, and something about him being a mindless beast.

Before the person that the man was speaking to could respond, a table was sent in their direction effortlessly. "Watch your tongue, or I will take it and watch it for you." Spoke Adion, his voice both deep and gravelly. It was obvious that he was meant to speak in a way other than the common language, but it was common.

After his little out burst, Adion came to the seat in the corner of the room that seemed to deafen the noise to a volume that Adion wasn't bothered by. The owner of the tavern rushed Adion a pint of ale, what the veer had been having for the past two weeks. Always just two pints to last him the whole night.

"Bard! Do you know any songs of the Veeran Charge?" Adion asked, again with his gravelly voice. He always loved hearing what other species seemed to thing of the veer.

The setting changes from Utareos to Lesser Southern Plains

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tyrond Whisperwind Character Portrait: Vyndran Singsword Character Portrait: Fran V Strahl Character Portrait: Anthea Dawnwalker Character Portrait: Adion Character Portrait: Kriss Arroway Character Portrait: Violet Character Portrait: Erbein Urindar
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"The old man is harmless, it's whatever he's got under that cloak of his that has me curious. You couldn't see it from over here, but he's got a worn leather satchel with him and he clutches it feverishly to his chest, as if it were made of solid gold and blessed by the gods themselves." Vyndran says with a snort as he takes the coin purse and looks into it, taking out a few coins and setting them on the table as payment for the bartender. There was more to it than just what he could see though. The elven blood that flows through his veins allows him a small part of their emotional apathy, the elves natural ability to pick up and read the emotional state of people around them. This only happened when he was playing music. "His soul didn't sound right. Whatever that thing he carries is, it is very important, to him at least. He's probably risked his life for it..."

Lifting his goblet of mead he lets out a sigh before draining it in one long swallow, and as he does so he eyes the crowd again. The tavern was beginning to fill up, either from the dark or the cold outside he suspected, and the night was just getting started. Now that there was a decent crowd he would be able to make another performance, this one paid.

Once every year around this time Vyndran comes to Marhorn Glen and plays at this tavern. The first few times were for free, then he started to get paid if the crowd was large enough. Because he was somewhat famous the patrons would turn out in drove if it was known he would be in town, so the tavern owner had decided to share his wealth. He had been playing for an hour before this break, and as he played he had watched people enter the tavern, and a very few leave. Such as now, when a group of dwarves entered The Lucky Horseshoe.

"Dwarves never have been good at being able to see anything past their beards." Vyndran remarks with a smirk, quickly ordering another goblet of mead before the dwarves had the chance to drink it all. He had never seen this bunch before, but they seemed familiar to the villagers and so he had no reason to question why exactly a group of dwarves would venture so far out from under their rocky home. "No wonder they are always digging, it's much easier for them to look down than the rest of us which is why they are so good at their trade." The half-elf was joking around. He had no problem with any of the races that inhabited Elemnaira, only a few individuals. "I think I'll play a few more songs and then we can get something to eat and call it a night. In the morning we'll make our way to Giant's Pass, to that little village I was telling you about earlier." He says, talking to Fran once more while the rest of his words had been to the air itself, or anyone who could be bothered to listen.

The bard got his second goblet just before what looked like a wolf on his hind legs threw a table across the room. He was about to comment on this when what appeared to be a small...girl? He wasn't able to tell if it was a boy or a girl, but it didn't matter much. The child was sweet, giving him a few berries and one large one to Fran. Vyndran smiles at this and looks at the berries. Most of them were common, but one, the pink one with spikes he knew came from farther south and were rather odd as to the side effects. They tasted amazing, but they would also turn the whites of your eyes a bright pink for three days if you ate a handful of them. Before he could thank the child the wolf man, a Veer he thought they were called, made a song request.

"Thank you little one, these are most appreciated." Vyndran says, standing and grabbing his mandolin before making his way to the stage, leaving the berries for Fran to look after. Once at the hearth again he positions the mandolin and closes his eyes, moving his mouth so that it looked as if he were whispering to the instrument, and in a way he was. The magic of the bard, no matter the race, had to do with sound, and what he did now was cast a spell on the instrument so that it would sound not only like a mandolin but several other instruments as well. "As it so happens, my furry friend, I do indeed know one of your Veeran songs. Perhaps it is not the one you would like me to play, but let your ears decide if it does your people justice."

Strumming his mandolin, Vyndran begins to play The Wolf and the Winds. This is a tale rewritten again and again, with nearly every race having their own version, which tells of how they came to the shores of Elemnaira. This particular one was about the Veer, though it lacked more of the details that some other versions had. (found the song on youtube)

Vyndran was not half way through the song when there was a scream heard from somewhere outside the tavern. He stops playing and ends the spell, looking from the crowd to the door, then over to Fran. Slipping the mandolin onto his back he gives her a nod and takes off for the door, hoping from table to table with just enough elven grace that only two mug of ale were knocked over. As soon as he opens the door the smell of burning wood and flesh and the screams of the innocent begin to fill the room. The patrons go silent, a few of the braver ones standing up as if to fight, though no one makes a move.

"We've got demons..." Vyndran says in a hiss, however his magic causes everyone in the room to hear him as if he were standing beside them. "Fran, it looks like we'll be leaving Marhorn Glen early, but not without a little exercise first."

Demons were pouring out of the mountains to the north and surging towards the village like a flood of hell fire. They were terrible things, varying in size and shape. Some were tall and thin, with long black talons and wings, while others were tiny, the size of a gnome, with claws and tails like lizards. But standing in the center of the chaos, watching over it, was one who looked more human. He was tall, wearing blood red armor, with skin black as coal and glowing yellow eyes. His horns were like those of a goat, and on his back he carried a huge sword. It would only be a few moments now before the mass of demons were upon the tavern...

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

"Sir, we have reports that a horde of demons have been spotting moving through the mountains to the south." A man wearing chainmail armor and a steel breastplate with the royal symbol of a shield with a griffon on it on his chest says to his superior officer. "Scouts have been sent out, this doesn't look good. Should we do anything?"

"Do we have any idea where they might be headed?" Asks the superior officer, a man by the name of Samuel Ashworth, grandson of the famous general. "And how many scouts have you sent out?"

"They seem to be heading for Marhorn Glen, sir, and five scouts have been dispatched. We should hear back from them within the hour...but, sir, if I may point out..." The soldier hesitates for a moment, looking away, then back to Samuel, looking him in the eyes, "Sir, they may not last that long down there Perhaps if you were to go there in person you could save lives..."

The setting changes from Lesser Southern Plains to Utareos

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tyrond Whisperwind Character Portrait: Vyndran Singsword Character Portrait: Fran V Strahl Character Portrait: Kit Earthly Character Portrait: Anthea Dawnwalker Character Portrait: Adion Character Portrait: Kriss Arroway Character Portrait: Violet Character Portrait: Erbein Urindar
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♪♫♩♬♭♪



Fran would only look at the Veer for a moment and the dwarves, she didn't show her emotions, her kind were formal in behavior and movement after all. She'd then look to a small boy, with a berry at hand directed to her. She'd slowly take it and place it into her pouch around her waist in silence then look to the boy once more. ''Thank you for the Gwappion Berry, I understand it is important to you. You are not what you seem, but no matter, I do not mind, youngling.'' She'd then dart her head to the sounds of screams from the locals, her ears twitching to the sounds.

She'd look to Vyndran, getting out her bow that was holstered on her back and standing. She'd look back to the boy, no smile, just her way, she meant nothing by it really. ''Best stay inside youngling, me and my companion have something to take care of.'' She'd look to the door as Vyndran's voice was projected into the tavern and she'd point her clawed hand up into the air, a green/gold glow on the tip of her finger as she projected her voice to Vyndran directly. ''I am with you. I will just cast protection on this building. Please mind your back, I am not there for the moment to defend it.''

She'd then walk to the center of the bar, her black armored heels clicked like light metal and she'd bend to the ground and started to write on the floor with her Vierian words a protection ward with golden words on the ground at a constant glow now, a flash of green burst from her creating a dome around the building. She'd then stand to her feet and look to the others in the bar. ''You are safe now, unless nature takes me.''

She'd then run to the door of the bar with bow in hand, opening the door then running to Vyndran's shooting a arrow into one of the demon's forehead, the demon would turn to ice on the spot and another demon just crashed into it, shattering it. Fran's bow arrows would be glowing a spectrum of colour. ''I have used my life force to protect the building from elemental attacks. For now, it is strong.'' She'd explain putting her hand out in front of her, a wave of ice travelling up, freezing and slowing some of the demons but a frown of concern would come to her face, a sign the people should be worried. ''I sense the mist in them... they are unusually strong... It seems they are here for something...''

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tyrond Whisperwind Character Portrait: Vyndran Singsword Character Portrait: Fran V Strahl Character Portrait: Adion Character Portrait: Erbein Urindar
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#, as written by chris33
Tyrond sipped his mead, it was rather good for such a small place. He shrugged and got comfy at the bar. As he sat he noticed a woman sat with the bard a little further down the bar. It was a Viera Elf, he was so shocked he almost slipped and fell. Their kind were rare enough within the Emerald Grove, but seeing one this far from it was simply mind boggling. He wanted to go and talk to her, he knew some of their old tongue from his limited interactions with them, and wondered if she could help him learn some more. Languages had always been a hobby of his. Before he could act on the impulse a huge wolf like creature or...person had entered the bar and made a spectacle of himself. He had heard of the Veer in passing but never seen one, and again his curiosity was peaked.

Tyrond looked around the tavern, it was getting rather busy now and he had never been a fan of crowds. As the bard stepped towards the stage once more Tyrond sighed and put his curiosity on hold. He returned to his spot at the bar and began to get settled once again, before the smell of smoke began to drift into the bar, slowly followed by sudden screams and shouting. Tyrond raised an eyebrow as the bard and the Viera ran towards the front door. Through the window he could glimpse a steady stream of torchlight pouring from the mountains, outside he could hear a sound he was all too familiar with. Demons.

Tyrond raised an eyebrow “Here?” he could understand a raid or an opportunistic group of demons, but in such numbers. And from the steady column of torch light these guys looked organised. Something didn’t add up, this place just wasn’t worth that level of attack. This looked like a full scale demon army, and they rarely showed their faces on the surface. Tyrond watched as the Viera Elf performed some old magic inside the tavern, before exiting with her bard. He watched closely as she left the tavern and wondered what his best course of action would be. He was always taught to fight on his terms, this looked like it was going to turn into a mess, fast. Simply running out waving a sword was going to do very little to tip the scales.

“They normally keep any army like that underground, to fight the Dwarves or raid the Grove.” Tyrond said aloud. “They’re after something, or someone.”

Tyrond noticed the fight getting ever closer to the tavern and put a hand on his sheath. He looked around, there was a Veer and a group of Dwarves. If there was an exotic item with in Marhorn Glen, it was probably them. But there were a lot of travelers around as well, it could be anything. Then he had a thought, every outsider in Marhorn was in that tavern, if they were after someone then they were probably in that very room!

Tyrond had to make a decision, fast. He watched the people in the tavern, looking for any sign, but everyone was panicking by this point. It was a hopeless task. He unsheathed his short sword and began to make his way outside. But before he could make leave the tavern a concerned villagers barged through the front door with an injured girl in his hands.

“Is there a healer in here?!” The man shouted

Tyrond heard no response and sighed heavily to himself, before sheathing his sword. Taking command of the situation he told the man to lay her on a nearby table, the one Dwarves had been sitting at before they had charged off to battle. She had an arrow wound in her back, which had obviously been removed carelessly as it bled furiously. The man turned to Tyrond

“You’re an Elf! You know Elf magic?!” He asked with concern.

Tyrond reached into his pouch and began to chew on some herbs he kept. “No, I don’t do magic” he said spitting out the herbs and covering the little girls wounds “But I do know medicine.”

Tyrond tested the depth of the wound with the mashed up plants but it was far too deep for his basic knowledge of traditional medicine. The girl became pale and had begun to shiver. The herbs would stop the bleeding and dull the pain, but that wound was deep. She needed a real healer. That’s when he heard banging on the windows, the demons were trying to get in. This was getting bad, fast. He looked around the tavern in desperation when he noticed something, the demons outside were shouting through the window, something in their native tongue. Tyrond partly understood the language and quickly translated it in his head.

“There’s the old guy!” The demons were shouting as they thumped on the magically enhanced glass

Tyrond turned to see an old man, at the back of the tavern, clutching a satchel to his chest. Tyronds eyes widened. “You!” he shouted, thrusting a finger towards the old man “What did you do?!”

The setting changes from Utareos to Lesser Southern Plains

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tyrond Whisperwind Character Portrait: Vyndran Singsword Character Portrait: Fran V Strahl Character Portrait: Adion Character Portrait: Violet Character Portrait: Erbein Urindar
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Violet smiled largely when the bunny lady took his berry into her hands. They were warm, her hands, most likely from the fur, but that seemed beside the point. When the bunny spoke in a rather cryptic way, Violet was able to decode that she knew that he wasn’t actually a human. This made Violet nervous for a second, as being exposed in front of a tavern of drunken humans was not high on its list. Violet instead tilted his head, and smiled before skipping off to find someone else.

Violet was about to see the wolf guy, many animals races tonight, he thought, when suddenly it heard the sounds of the demons. The elf bard seemed to pick up on this and ran out to see what was happening, and it was demons. Violet’s face didn’t drop at all, even though it was secretly worried about Miss Frana, as she was home alone with only her grandbabies tonight. It was to run home, but the bunny lady told it to stay while they fought. “Fat chance of that” Violet thought but smiled and nodded outwardly.

The patrons, well at least the armed ones, seemed to take this as a challenge and began to rush outside to protect the village. The bunny lady, whose name was apparently Fran, did something weird with magic and said they should all be safe for now. She left as well, and seeing the chance to get outside, it went behind the bar and shifted into a mouse. A black mouse that scurried across the floor and walls, until finding a hole in the roof. It went through this hole, and managed to get outside to see the horde coming. This was not good, there were a lot of them, and they were coming fast. Violet then saw men carrying a girl who looked to be dying. Violet recognized the girl as Adeline, one of Miss Frana’s grandchildren, and who of its best friends.

This made Violet mad, and suddenly, it shifted back into its normal form, a nine tailed fox, or Kitsune. Feeling rage building up, Violet let out a large howl, deepened by shifting and yelled, “YOU WILL PAY FOR WHAT YOU DID TO ADELINE!” catching the attention of several of the flying demons. They started towards the fox, and Violet began to lengthen its tails and wrapped around five of the demons. Using most of its strength, Violet managed to crush them inside their armor, and then threw them to the ground.

Getting to the top of the tavern, Violet could see the elf, bunny, and dwarves. Violet then used some of the magic embedded in the gems on its forehead, which began to glow a shining purple, and began to create fire. The nine tails got into groups of three, each focused onto a single point, and fire began to form. The balls were only around the size of basketballs, as charging them any longer would be dangerous, and then Violet whipped its tails to fling them at several of the demons in the skies. All three hit, and they came screaming down, and onto the groundlings.

Violet then jumped to the ground, and ran to the bunny lady. It was beside the magic woman, and then smirked at her, and said, “Sorry, Bunny-lady. They hurt Adeline, so I’m fighting no matter what you say!” And then turned its attention to the crowd coming up and began to charge more fire, all the while wondering why they came here. “Most likely for something one of these humans have in the bar.” Violet thought, its distrust of humans starting to resurface.

The setting changes from Lesser Southern Plains to Utareos

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tyrond Whisperwind Character Portrait: Vyndran Singsword Character Portrait: Fran V Strahl Character Portrait: Adion Character Portrait: Violet Character Portrait: Erbein Urindar
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Slowly walked the now angered veer out of the bar. The mass of muscle and fur was not something that was easy to anger, but one thing made this task among the easiest, the noise. Being so acute to small and gentle noises, like that of a forest, the veer were not ones for loud times. When it got to a certain level, it could cause a blinding rage, similar to that of someone who is going through the fight adrenaline instinct, but worse.

Upon reaching the outside of the tavern, stepping over the demons in his way, Adion found himself only able to use his eyes. This did not bother him, however, as the groups of demons flowing around him were within his visible range.

Then one of the demons tried to attack the veer, it being lifted by Adion with little struggle, as the demon was no greater than 50 pounds. Soon a blood curdling howl ripped through the air, originating from the veer as it ripped its little hostage in two with no signs of effort. His sword then tapped the ground.

The eyes who had turned to the veer would have seen his fur change from its natural color and texture to a clay brown with the texture of rock. Adion then charged at an archer who he could barely see, after the first 5 feet due to the arrow giving away the demon's position to the blind beast. Said arrow proved to be little more than a small stick to the rock-like fur.

Only seconds after the charge had begun, the archer demon lay dead of the blade. The dwarves may have noticed that it was obviously made by their people. From that point on, the blade swung as if it was a natural extension of the veer.

The setting changes from Utareos to Lesser Southern Plains

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Samuel Ashworth Character Portrait: Tyrond Whisperwind Character Portrait: Vyndran Singsword Character Portrait: Fran V Strahl Character Portrait: Kit Earthly Character Portrait: Anthea Dawnwalker Character Portrait: Adion Character Portrait: Kriss Arroway Character Portrait: Violet Character Portrait: Erbein Urindar
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By the time Fran reached him Vyndran had unsheathed his short sword and was making quick work of a few lesser demons, the ones who were weak but numerous, often used as cannon fodder for the more powerful ones. They would lead the way, and most often die, but whoever the demons were fighting would grow tired from fighting them and so fall more easily when the others arrived. Vyndran knew this well enough, but he also knew that if he didn't kill as many of them as possible there would be a greater chance that innocent lives would be lost.

When he sees an arrow turn one demon to ice he smiles and turns, spinning around a charging demon while slicing his throat with his sword, and comes to a stop facing his companion, giving her a nod. "You are right. Perhaps they are after whatever the cloaked man has in his possession. Is he still inside the tavern and within your protection?" Before he could get an answer the bard was forced to lay another demon low, stabbing him in the heart then kicking the corpse off with one booted foot. He hated the smell of demons. It was like what he imagined the Underdark to smell of, death and decay, brimstone and blood. Before he could get and answer to his question the dwarves were there, recommending they retreat into the mountains. "True enough my short friend. I've no doubt that this village will be razed by these demons, regardless of our actions, so saving as many lives as we can would be our best option. Can you lead the others from the tavern?"

While Vyndran had no doubt that the dwarf could handle the task he felt it needed to be asked anyway. They needed a bit or organization at times like this. And besides, whoever this dwarf was he had the respect of his kin, meaning he had to be either powerful, brave, smart, or some combination there of.

The fighting was on in full force now, and though the nearest burning building was several hundred yards away he could feel heat all around him, as if he himself were on fire. It wasn't until this point that he realized why. Someone from their side of the battlefield was casting fireballs, and demons were falling to the ground around him. "Fighting is all well and good, my young friend....fox...but know your enemies. These are demons, and as such are immune to even magical fire. All you've done is make a few of them mad I am afraid." Vyndran says, glancing down at Violet as he watches the demons who had been knocked to the ground stand and shrug off the flames.

Before he could begin to dispatch these demons, their leader made himself known. The darker figure who had been slowly making his way to the tower now raises a hand, and darkness forms below the fallen demons, who begin to cry and whimper. Their cries are cut short, however, then the darkness forms a sphere around each of them and crushes them into nothing as the sphere suddenly shrinks.

"By the stars in the skies...that's one of the Demon Lords...Zanarok, keeper of the shadows..." Vyndran says under his breath, fear finally showing itself in his halfbreed eyes.

-=-=-=-=-

"I knew there would be danger for the villagers to come to this place," The old man in the cloak says as he approached Tyrond and the injured girl. "I hated to much to do so, but Brigar told me to come to this place and so I have. And what hell I have brought upon it and it's people." Standing beside the little girl the man reaches up and lowers his hood, revealing that he is actually rather young, maybe thirty years of age at the most, but with a shock of snow white hair and pale eyes. The eyes of a much older man. Letting his satchel fall to his side he reaches out and places a hand on the girl's wound and closes his eyes. he begins to mumble a chant of favor, asking the god of light to bestow his blessing upon this child and heal her wounds. As he chants a pale yellow light begins to shine beneath his hand, between his hand and the wound, and a short time later the light dims and blinks out.

Color returns to the girls face and the herbs fall away, revealing only a nasty scar, the wound now fully healed. Without a word the man then reaches down and touches his satchel as he looks outside. Seeing the demons he takes a few steps back, so that the satchel is blocked from their view, and he opens it, revealing dull black object with streaks of crimson in it. Neathersteel. A kind of metal made from ore which can only be mined in the Underdark. It is said to be indestructible and unalterable once it has been crafted.

"The demons seek this, but no matter the cost they must not get it!" The man says, letting Tyrond see the artifact for a moment before slipping it out and placing it under the bar counter. "You have to take it from this place, keep it from their grasp. My time is done, Brigar tells me so. I was never meant to leave this place alive, but so long as this artifact does not fall into demonic hands I shall earn my place in the Higher Plains..."

With this done the man turns quickly and makes a break for the back door. The demons, seeing his quick movement and thinking he is trying to escape, leave the window and take off after him. He makes it a mere twenty feet from the tavern before he is struck down, torn apart by the demons.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Samuel was in the skies now, on the back of Ergos, his loyal mount and best friend. The two of them had been together for a long time now, and as ever they were helping one another out. While Ergos carried his rider south, over the Dragon Claw mountains, Samuel was looking around, taking count of the demons and where they were headed. They were already at Marhorn Glen, and soon the commander would be there as well. Reaching into his armor he removes an amulet in the shape of an eagle head and speaks into it. "This is Commander Ashworth. The demons have reached Marhorn Glen. Send three squads of soldiers down there at once." The amulet allows his voice to be carried to a similar stone amulet in Shadewatch, where his orders are heard and give to the soldiers there.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Samuel Ashworth Character Portrait: Tyrond Whisperwind Character Portrait: Vyndran Singsword Character Portrait: Fran V Strahl Character Portrait: Kit Earthly Character Portrait: Anthea Dawnwalker Character Portrait: Adion Character Portrait: Kriss Arroway Character Portrait: Violet Character Portrait: Erbein Urindar
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Image
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♪♫♩♬♭♪



Fran would holster her bow into her back and she'd stomp her foot, her arms stretched up and wide, her hands would glow coldly in a pale blue, her claws changed to blue coloured and the glow would then wrap around her arms like braided metal circles. ''Shattering Rain.'' She'd say calmly and the dark sky above thundered and flashed then clouds shrouded the stars and moon from sight and it would start to rain ice spikes into the onto the horde then would explode as it hit something. She'd then twist her body and dance her hands up into the air, making demons fly up into the sky then she'd stomp and they'd plummet to the ground then she'd turn towards a house, her red eyes flashed as something took her attention. ''Mist... it is strong there.'' She'd then look to Violet. ''Fire will not help Kitsune...'' She'd then look to Vyndran, grabbing him from the shoulder to drop kick a demon in the face, her armored and sharpened toe slicing into the demon's throat then through his face, she'd use the other foot to push it aside. ''I fear the old man left my ward with the strong misted object you speak of. I sense it in the house... but... not him.''

She'd then unsheathe her dagger and ran at a couple, plunging her dagger into their hearts and heads in quick strokes and once she got overwhelmed she'd touch her chest and wipe out her arms, a pulse of air pushing enemies away.

She'd then yelp in pain, falling to the ground. She'd look at what Vyndran was looking at and she'd leap into the air, grabbing onto Vyndran's shoulder to keep herself up. Her sensitivity to Mist or as most know magic was so powerful she would be able to lead you to a source of power, like all Vierian Elves hence why such mystical ores could be harvested in the Emerald Grove. She'd gasp for air as she next spoke. ''No wonder the mist is so strong in these demons... he commands them... We must save as many as we can... He is too powerful for a few of us... Even with my life force ward, it will not last, not with my state declining on me...'' She'd then get her bow out and continue to fight, using Vyndran as support.

Then as the demon lord closed in on them more and more she'd start panting, getting angry, her eyes would glow red and she'd holster her bow and took out her dagger, holding it with two hands it would suddenly become a greatsword and she'd be in 'berserk' mode. This happened to Viera elves when they are exposed to high levels of mist/magic that only peak higher and if they don't get from the dangerous source they become enraged and she did. However with this a Viera elf would become stronger and faster. Though their defense would be lowered their resistances to elemental magics would be heightened.

Vyndran would of seen this happen about two times before and even though she was stronger the recklessness of charging into battle made her vulnerable and he would naturally up his game to support her as she would support him. He would continue to do so once the berserk mode dissipated and depending on the level of mist/magic it would last from minutes to hours but either way once she is done she'd be completely weakened and most likely pass out, her ward around the tavern would also suffer so this was just as good as it was bad. It was a delicate moment.

The setting changes from Lesser Southern Plains to Utareos

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tyrond Whisperwind Character Portrait: Fran V Strahl Character Portrait: Erbein Urindar
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#, as written by chris33
Tyrond watched as the white haired man dashed from the tavern, and then watched as the demons who had been gathered outside chased after him. Shaking his head he reached behind the bar and took up the strange artifact. He held it for a moment before he felt something surge though him, it was a strange feeling that almost overwhelmed Tyrond.

“Ceria’s breath!” He gasped as he clutched the artifact. His tattoos burned and his skin flooded with warmth. He felt as if he was connected to something, as if...he could feel magic. Tyrond had never been able to use magic, had never been able to feel it. But with this artifact in his hand...he couldn’t explain it.

Is this magic? He thought to himself Is this how all my kin feel?

Confused by the strange affects, he was drawn from his daze when a dwarf entered the tavern and immediately announced an improvised evacuation. Tyrond quickly pulled a nearby cloth from a table and covered the item, before placing it in his own satchel. He followed the dwarf as he made a hole in the back wall. The tavern patrons began to stream out, the man who had brought the little girl in stopped to thank Tyrond before fleeing with the rest of his kin. Tyrond simply nodded at the man. He remembered the cloaked travelers words

“They must not get it.”

Shaking his head he withdrew his own short sword and stood next to the hole, helping a few of the children who seemed to be without parents over the rubble. He felt their fear and their anxiety when he touched them, was this the emotional empathy usually present within all his kin? Never had he experienced it before, so he found it a little overwhelming, what had this artifact done to him? He noticed the tavern glow slightly before returning to normal.

“The Viera's magic has dissipated.” He said allowed to the Dwarf standing guard near hole “This place is going to be on fire, soon.”

Another Dwarf darted into the tavern ushering the warriors from outside in. Tyrond watched as the last of the civilians fled through the hole in the wall and began to follow them outside. As he did felt another strange sensation, a darkness, a creature standing outside. He was sensing a demon now, a powerful one. He had never sensed anything before, he began to worry and gripped at the satchel. Tyrond was now sure he wanted to be rid of this thing, but whatever it was, it was important enough for an army of demons to expose itself on the surface. He had to hide it, get it to someone who could explain it to him.

Tyrond clutched at his chest as he moved

“Ceria help me.” He said allowed to himself

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Samuel Ashworth Character Portrait: Tyrond Whisperwind Character Portrait: Vyndran Singsword Character Portrait: Fran V Strahl Character Portrait: Tymphalion "Tym" Venser Oureados Character Portrait: Kit Earthly Character Portrait: Anthea Dawnwalker Character Portrait: Adion Character Portrait: Kriss Arroway Character Portrait: Erbein Urindar
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Tym walked happily down a forest trail, humming a strange tune under his breath. His pack bounced on his shoulders and back as he walked, practically skipping down the deer trail that ran through the forest. He was sure by now that his father would be here any moment, hot on his trail, and ready to drag him back to that boring old house right next to Castle Lighthawk. Tym imagined himself clawing at the ground as his father pulled him by the feet all the way back to their house in the capitol. Tym giggled at the thought of it. "I'll be in so much trouble..." He mused to himself, giggling childishly. As he continued to walk, Tym bummed, whistled and sang a childish song. The melody was haunting slow and sad. It was a lullaby, though Tym didn't know it, a lullaby his mother sang for him every night before he went to sleep. She would always walk up to his door, lean against the frame, and sing to Tym until he fell asleep. Tym loved that song, it was his favorite memory of his mother. Tym sighed. "She'll be so worried about me..." Tym thought, stopping for a moment. He imagined his mother, with tears in her eyes, running up to him and holding him tightly. She would tell him that she was so worried and that she had feared the worst when Tym's father had not found him right away. Tym was pulled from his daydream because he felt something wet on his cheek. He was crying. Tym wiped his eyes and his running nose on his sleeve and pressed on. "I'll go home tomorrow..." Tym said to himself. He resolved to find the cart driver at the next town and go straight home the next morning, after all, it was getting late. Tym pressed on into the evening and arrived at a little town that a passing stranger had told him was called Marhorn Glen.

Tym went to the Inn, paid the nice lady at the desk the fee for the night, and went straight up to his room. He put his bag on his bed and went down to dinner at the local tavern, locking the door the door to his room behind him with the key that the Inn's owner had given him. Tym ate, talked a while with the bar matron, who appeared to be with a child of her own, and then went back to his room at the Inn to sleep, once more locking the door begin him. Tym din't sleep well that night. Without his mother's song to guide him to the realm of dreams, Tym had a hard time getting there on his own. What little sleep he did have was fitfull and disturbed by horrific nightmare. He dreamed of his house in flames, the screams of his mother and father echoing from within. Tym woke with a start the next morning and headed down to breakfast at the Tavern, taking all his things and his key with him. He returned the key to the Inn's owner and then walked to the tavern, smiling at the matron as he walked in, who smiled when she saw him. "Good morning." She said sweetly, looking at Tym with a mother's eyes. A pang of guilt surged trough Tym. "Would you like some breakfast?" She asked. Tym put two shiny good coins on the counter. "Yes please." He responded sweetly, earning a smile from the matron. She slid a plate full of sausage and eggs in front of him, as well as a glass of milk. "Eat up!" She said, smiling at Tym, who smiled back, licking his lips with anticipation. "Thank you ma'am." Tym said, saying a small prayer before placing his napkin in his lap and diggng into his breakfast. He smiled with contented joy at the first bite. "It's delicious." He managed to say through a mouthful of food. On anyone else, the gesture would have been disgusting and rude, but coming from a little boy, it was adorable, and only made the matron smile wider. Tym finished eating in relative silence, all around him people slowly filled the Tavern. The air was full of conversation, but the effect was pleasant. Tym stayed a while, chatting with the matron until it reached the afternoon. It was time for him to go. He bowed politely to the matron and her husband, "Thank you you everything." He said politely. "I shall not forget this kindness, rest assured, my father at the Castle Lighthawk will hear of your goodness." Tym said, smiling. However, right as he turned to leave, all hell literally broke loose. Demons stormed the small town, coming out of nowhere but the horizon itself. They appeared to be looking for something. Tym was scared. He didn't know what to do. People were dying, soldiers were fighting, and demons were everywhere. After a long time hiding, Tym brushed off his fear and stood tall. A dark glint shone in his eyes. Tym knew, instinctively, that he was needed.

Tym cracked his knuckles and steeled himself for what he was about to do. It was time to get started. Someone had already placed a strong barrier around the Tavern, but it was fading fast, and Tym knew it wouldn't be able to hold much longer. Tym began to chant, his eyes shone blue, and the white streaks on his robe and face began to shine. He reached out with his right hand, as if grasping for something. Wordlessly, and soundlessly, a book floated out from Tym's pack. It was his father's old spell book. Anyone who knew anything of Venser the Soujourner would recognize his seal and Emblem emblazoned on the book's leather cover. Tym began to chant once more. Soundlessly, as if water were being poured from a faucet, blue energy began to form around Tym's feet. The air around him began to thrum as more energy poured, seemingly endlessly around Tym, swirling around him, ever upward. The energy collected over the Tavern, creating a dome of blue energy over the Inn, shielding it from further assault. However, Tym wasn't finished. He spoke to the group of people within the Tavern, his body now floating several inches of the ground. His eyes and robe still a gleam. "Worry not." He said simply, his voice sounding as if his own childish voice, his mother's voice, and his father's voice were all speaking at once. "The sheild I have erected is one of alignment. As long as you wish to do harm to those inside, you will not be permitted entry. However, it won't last forever. We will need reinforcements or a better plan." He gestured with the book in his hands, showing all those inside the seal on the front. "Within my father's book is a spell to create multiple seeking projectiles, with which I could target a great number of the demons, but it will take some time. I shall begin casting it now, but I cannot defeat them all by myself." At that, Tym stopped and began to chant once more. He close his eyes, and began to chant. As he spoke, small blue balls of the same energy began to form around him. Just as he was really getting started, Tym's whole body shuddered. He felt a horrific presence, a huge sense of darkness loomed over him. He stopped chanting and instead sent the nineteen balls of energy upwards to reinforce his shield. Tym fell to the ground and looked around for someone, anyone. He directed his thoughts at the room in general and spoke. "I don't know if the rest of you can feel that, but there is a huge darkness above this place. Fighting isn't an option. We need to leave, but we must do so stealthily, we can't risk whatever that thing out there is finding us." At that, Tym sat on the ground with two legs crossed and raced through his book. His eyes were searching for anything that might be a spell to turn invisible, or to move somewhere else.

The setting changes from Utareos to Lesser Southern Plains

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tyrond Whisperwind Character Portrait: Vyndran Singsword Character Portrait: Fran V Strahl Character Portrait: Tymphalion "Tym" Venser Oureados Character Portrait: Kriss Arroway Character Portrait: Violet Character Portrait: Erbein Urindar
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Violet was getting ready to unleash another round of fireballs, but then the bunny woman spoke, as well as the bard, saying that fire was useless against demons. This seemed semi natural, as demons came from hell, so the fires should do little impact, but this was lost of the Kitsune. “What?! That is cheating!” It yelled, and launched the ready fire into the night sky, mad that one of its only magic attacks was now useless.

“Fine, guess my tails will have to pull double work,” Violet said and further lengthened its tails, so that they were around thirty feet long a piece. Each of the white tails swung around, until Violet made them each aim for an enemy. They moved quickly and grabbed them into a binding grip. Eight of these went down without a problem, but the one on the fifth tail managed to slash the tail, bringing blood. Violet yelped and threw the demons onto the ground hard, crashing them into their fellow hellspawns.

Suddenly, Violet felt something evil. She couldn’t place it until the bard spoke of Zanarok. Violet’s eyes widen as its tails moved into a defensive position, stained with red. After considering how the day turned out, Violet saw the bunny woman pull a great sword out of thin air. She had an air that screamed power, but something else caught Violet’s attention. A small pulse from behind its gems, indicating something of very old magic. Violet turned its head, and the pulse got stronger as it realized it was coming from the tavern.

Knowing that this life was probably over, Violet knew it had to get people away from here, and quickly. It turned to the bard, “Song man, we can’t possibly try to fight one of the demon lords, we need to escape now. I can shift into a Great Eagle and get maybe 8 of us to safety, but only if you say so. Think quickly of the plan, because we only have a couple of minutes before it gets here.” Violet said earnestly, not knowing what to do. For all of its life, Violet had parents to say what was best, or Miss Frana to say what is best. Now this elfish bard got to say what is best.

Violets tails stretched as a new magic seemed to engulf the tavern, thankfully for them. This was only temporary, and they needed a route of escape. The villagers escaping out of the tavern only had so far to run, and who ever had that source of old magic would be hunted to the ends of the planet, so indeed, options were limited.

The setting changes from Lesser Southern Plains to Utareos

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tyrond Whisperwind Character Portrait: Adion Character Portrait: Erbein Urindar
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As a demon fell off of the blade that was held by Adion, something great overcame him. Then came the words 'demon lord,' which was something foreign, but frightening to the veer. He could also hear the running of the civilians, being guided by the dwarves. He would be more useful with them, ready to strike if they came under attack again.

"Svic ron xty!" Adion whispered to himself. It was rare for a veer to leave a fight, but they went where they needed when world destroying powers entered the battle field.

Moving in behind the dwarves, Adion turned around, using his ears to navigate him backwards with the group. The once dwarven marvel that was in the wolf-like beast's hand no long shined. Instead, it had a film of blood and a thousand nicks in it, which could be fixed by sharpening, a thing that veer are not the best at.

As they exited the demons playground, Adion approached the leader of the dwarves, as far as he could tell. "Could you have my blade sharpened? It is of dwarven craft, but I doubt I could get it sharp again. By the way, I am Adion." Adion said to Erbein.

The signs of tiring showed plainly on the veer, a tilt forward as he walked, even more cloudy eyes, and a slower movement of his ears and tail. He was ready for them to reach the place where they would camp, if they would ever. His fur had also returned to its natural red color. Adion wondered what could have caused this cataclysm. The town was nothing that would aid the demons.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Samuel Ashworth Character Portrait: Tyrond Whisperwind Character Portrait: Dragonmiir Dragonstone Character Portrait: Vyndran Singsword Character Portrait: Fran V Strahl Character Portrait: Tymphalion "Tym" Venser Oureados Character Portrait: Kit Earthly Character Portrait: Anthea Dawnwalker Character Portrait: Adion Character Portrait: Kriss Arroway Character Portrait: Violet Character Portrait: Lem Diahi Character Portrait: Erbein Urindar
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Near Castle Hawklight

Near the center of Elemnaira lies Castle Hawklight which, despite the name, is actually a huge city, the capital of the human empire in fact, with the castle itself situated in the very center of the city. The city is surrounded by high walls made of white stone forming a perfect circle around the city with four entrances, one for each cardinal direction. Beyond the walls of the castle city lie several small villages and farms which, despite the best efforts of the royal military, are often plagued by bandits and thieves out to steal whatever they can. Some of them do so because they enjoy it, others do it to spite the king.

Today such an event is occurring.

Seeing the strangers, dressed in their fine armor and riding noble looking steeds this group of bandits believed them to be knights, perhaps messengers from another land here to speak with the king. While some of the highwaymen in this are were quite clever it was obvious the leader of this particular group had more muscle than mind. His name was Thud, son of a giant and orc pairing. Standing nine feet tall and weighting somewhere in the neighborhood of six hundred pounds, all muscle, he wore bits of steel armor that were obviously too small for him, held together with strips of leather and chains. On his shoulder rested a club, which was really just a tree he had knocked over and whittled one end down to make a handle out of.

"You there, in your finemail!" Thud calls out as his men spread out behind him like a fan, numbering about twenty all together. "This is a toll road, and if you know what's good for you, you'll be handing over anything of value you have." The half-giant says, his voice a rumble of thunder, but slurred slightly, showing he might not be all there mentally.

Before Thud or any of his men could actually begin forcing Dragonmiir and his companions to hand anything over, there was a series of twangs and several of the bandits fell, almost as one. The rest turned around, looking for whoever had done this. "Archers!" One man calls out, pulling a bolt out of another man only to take on to the chest. Another round of bolts cuts down yet more men, leaving only a handful who abandon their leader and take off into the woods. A bolt hits Thud in the leg and he bellows in pain, but then a flash of understanding hits him and he too takes off, shaking his club at the lot of them.

"Our apologies for this interruption of your journey," A man says, wearing steel armor baring the Hawklight crest on his chest, as he steps out of a thicket with six other men following. "We've been after that brute and his men for weeks now, and while we have cut his numbers down I am sorry you had to be involved as a distraction." The man pauses for a moment, both to put away his crossbow and to look the group over. "I'm not sure who you are but...I have seen enough royalty in my day. Please, follow us into the city. I think the king should like to see you...if this will not detour you too far from your goal, of course."

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Vyndran was barely aware of what was going on around him now. It seemed the dwarves had taken care of his request to begin escorting the villagers away, that was what mattered second most to him. Foremost on his mind at the moment was Fran, who had succumbed to what he called the Mist Blindness. If he couldn't calm her down and get her away she would likely parish this night.

"Do not worry about us. People like Fran and I walk this earth knowing that each step may be our last. If you must help, help the villagers because none of them are ready to take their last step just yet!" Vyndran calls out to Violet as she asks him what to do. Sheathing his sword he quickly swings his mandolin around with practiced ease and begins to strum a few cords, casting a simple spellsong of sleep, targeting Fran. As the melody catches up to the elven woman she would see a soft blue mist rising up all around her as the songspell soothed her soul, putting her at ease. Slinging the instrument onto his back once more once the spell had taken hold, Vyndran dashes over and grabs Fran in one arm and her sword in his free hand. Slipping it into her sheath he lifts her into his arms and begins to retreat.

While the spellsong of sleep was targeting Fran, many of the lesser demons within earshot of the melody fall asleep as well right where they are. While it was just a simple spell itself, the bond between Vyndran and Fran made his magic stronger, and vice versa. This would be enough to bring her out of her berserker mode so they could get away.

Zanarok only blinks a few times as the spellsong hits him, looking from one elf to the other before smirking and watching as they run from him. He had no reason to fight cowards. Anyone who ran, so long as they had no connection to the artifact he was looking for, would be allowed to live a little longer. However, there was a whiff of neathersteel on these two, and so as he watches the bard carry off the rare female elf, he raises one clawed hand and shadows begin to swirl around his fingers like snakes. Curling his fingers into a fist he creates a black ball about two inches across and, opening his hand once more, it shoots out, aimed right for Vyndran's spine.

Before the black magic can hit a bright light shines down on the village from high above them, and the sounds of beating wings as well as the cry of a creature can be heard. Anyone who looked up would see Samuel riding towards Zanarok, sword drawn and glowing brightly, dispelling his dark magic.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Adion Character Portrait: Erbein Urindar
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"Okay. Thank you." The veer said politely to Erbein. Adion was hoping that these dwarves would be able to fix the blade BEFORE they got to the city. Maybe it was just him being used to the tribal life, but Adion always expected to be attacked while traveling. It was something of a mentality.

Adion stayed alert as best he could. From what he could tell, very little was going on, which made the beast even more nervous. Or maybe it was the smell of a strange metal. This was odd to Adion, as only a select few metals truly had a scent to them. This one, however, was extreme to the point that he couldn't tell where it came from. Not something that veer are used to.

So, Adion walked on, following the group. He would hope that they get to the city soon. The less time moving, the more comfortable the veer would get.