Post by Arethar of Dheynor on Oct 7, 2012 21:07:24 GMT -5
Every single morning up here stayed the same.[/i]
Equally beautiful yet equally dangerous as the rest.
It was a rare sight to see someone on the highest peak of the Baraf mountains, the temperature there had always been too cold and the land had been too dangerous. Only the elite soldiers of Dheynor would make the climb as training and continue their training in their facilities here. But there hadn't been any elites taking the climb for a good ten years. Not after their downfall at the hands of the Senate.
A lone man was sitting just outside of the ill kept training grounds, reading a book. He would occassionally scratch his dirty blonde beard, whenever something peculiar would trouble his mind.
Aranion of Dheynor, dragon rider, appointed General of the Elites by the Emperor _____ the first of his name at the age of eighteen. Joined the elites at the age of ten. Found his dragon at the age of thirteen, named her Chezaa. Son of Elegast of Dheynor. Took part in the battles of Joingerd, Maratron, Kifeleen and Vermingod and the battle of the Uncha Peaks. Led the defence against the first chreinan attack on Trihali. Named Protector of the Throne after the Emperor passed away. Named Savior of Trihali after successfully defending Trihali against the first chreinan assault. Led the battle for freeing Bree against the Avenging Strikers. Burnt the throne and started the first Imperial Senate. Participated in the riots and was the reason people died. Remained in prison perceived dead for two days. Trialed by the senate and stipped of his rank by the Supreme Commander. H0lder of the Oathkeeper...
The pages would go on and on. It had always been a tradition for the general of the elites to write his own achievements and then his death would be written by the next one. The man shut the book and made his way back inside. It was way too cold to stay outside. The northern wind was harsh, especially up here. But he had learned that the hard way, ten years ago. He threw the book on an illkept bed. He had memorized most of it anyway.
Ten years he had waited for another elite to show themselves up here. Ten years he had waited for his family. Ten long years of suffering and training. He made his way to the forge and pulled a sword out of the fire. He grabbed a hammer and after putting the sword in a barrell filled with ice, he started to hit it with a hammer.
"Good morning.
The man smiled as a female voice filled his head. "Good morning, Lyanna.
A majestic silver dragon made her appearance soon afterwards, as she made her way to her rider. She looked at him with bright silver eyes, filled with curiosity. "What are you doing?"
The man didn't look at her. He was focusing his attention on the sword. "Crafting a sword."
"Yes, I can see that. For whom?"
The man didn't speak.
"You're awfully quiet, today."
The man left the sword and sighed. "It's been ten years, Lyanna."[/i]
"Ten long years."
The man made his way to a corner and stayed there. "Wait for me outside."[/i]
The dragon obeyed, and the man took off his clothes. Ten minutes later, he ventured outside, wearing a black armor with a silver sun on its chest, a symbol long forgotten.
The dragon looked at him and remained silent.
"It's time, Lyanna. I don't know if my family's alive. I don't even know where to start, but I know I have to."[/i]
"Nobody does. But we'll figure it out together."
The man made his way to the dragon and climbed on her back. "Lyanna... Who am I?"[/i] the man said, his voice filled with doubt.
"You are Arethar of Dheynor, the heir to the throne. You are my rider." she said, filled with pride.
The man pulled the Oathkeeper from its scabbard as his dragon roared. They took flight and started to descend from what they had called home for ten years towards Dheynor.
He had always been of Dheynor, and not of Illirea.[/blockquote]
