Luna
Inactive
Shapeshifter Played by Nadia
Posts: 34
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Post by Luna on Oct 20, 2012 17:10:39 GMT -5
“Push!” cried the trader to his son.
”I am pushing” replied the boy, the frustration in his voice barely controlled. Rain hammered down on them from the night sky, their cart had gotten stuck in the thick mud that had become the beaten road into the busy trading town of Lys. Either side of the road, huge banks rose up, covered with trees and shrubs a plenty.
Lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating the traders face, the fear in his eyes was plain for all to see, even his son caught sight of it and his attempts to push the cart while the horse pulled became frantic. If his father was showing fear, then there was no way that he could not.
Luna watched it all, from the top of one of the banks. She watched how the fear in the father had caused fear in the so; She watched as the father climbed down from the cart to help push, yelling frantically that they needed to move now . They had reason to be afraid, not because of her, or the other creatures of this forest, but because of the bandits that were lining up on the opposite bank, licking their lips hungrily, as if they could almost taste the gold.
She tried to count them, but there smells lingered as one in this rain, so she counted when lightening forked across the sky. She had counted two when the first arrow sailed towards the trader and his son. A poor shot though, it thudded into the wood near the traders head, and with a cry he grabbed his son and pulled him out of site of the bandits behind the cart.
Luna lowered her body and began to creep down the bank, careful not to be seen by either party, not until the moment was right. The bandits descended from the hill, splashing into the mud, their leers and cackles ringing round the forest making her feel sick. Now they were all in the open she could see there were four. They pulled the trader from his son and dragged them both behind the cart and set them on their knees, Luna did not hear their words over the thunder, but when a fist cracked across the man’s face she howled as loud as she could and darted from the under growth and hid beneath the cart.
“What was that?!” cried one, his unloaded crossbow raised and frantically searching shadows.
“Just a wolf, get a grip of yourself.” said another, Luna could tell from his tone he was the leader of this pathetic band.
“You heard the stories of the black wolf in these parts? They say it has no fear of man.” said another, she could hear the laughter in his voice as he mocked his friend. She inched closer keeping out of view and identified him. He was an axe man, his face distorted with scars, too young to be a war veteran, but a victim of some tragedy she was sure. The blade of his axe was pressed against the boy’s neck.
“Shut up you stupid sonofabitch, that’s not funny.” the axe man was laughing madly at his panic stricken colleague.
“You should not joke about such things,” came the voice of the fourth man, a sword at his belt, a hand clutching the hair of the traders, keeping him fast. “The black wolf could be real, and for all you know, it could be right here.”
“She.” piped up a small voice. Luna darted from the cart into the undergrowth of the other bank and skirted along it till she was directly behind the crossbowman, who had stopped darting round and was looking at the boy in horror. “She,” repeated the boy “The wolf is a bitch, I’ve seen her.”
A strange silence descended over them all as they looked stunned at the boy, for even daring to speak, let alone correcting them. The leader recovered first, “Enough of this shit. Kill the old man.” Luna leapt from the undergrowth and slammed into the crossbowman, knocking him to the floor before sinking her teeth into his throat and cutting his scream short. Then she was away again, disappearing into the undergrowth once more before the lightning flashed across the sky again.
She could no longer hear their words, she could taste the blood in her mouth, and she could hear the battle screams of her ancestors in her ears. The axe man had let go of the boy and rushed to his colleague. The boy wasted no time and fled from the bandits, Luna made sure she was in his path as a shout went up and the axe man shot after him.
The boy tripped on a raised root, winding himself as he hit the floor hard. He saw Luna in the undergrowth and his eyes widened with fear. But Luna was not paying attention; the axe man had murder in his eyes as he reached the boy. She leapt over the boy and closed her jaws around the axe man’s face before he could raise his weapon. He screamed and she released him briefly before going for his throat and silencing him. She did not flee this time though as the two remaining men stared at her she snarled, beckoning them, moving off their dead colleague and placing a paw on his axe.
The leader smirked and drew his sword before charging towards the wolf, only when he reached it; it was no longer a wolf, but a woman, a woman who had embedded an axe in his groin. Luna rose, and wrenched the sword from his grasp, before pushing him aside.
The final man was sensible. He released the trader and held up his hands in surrender. She stalked towards him; blood ran down her chin and was splattered across her face and body. She rested the sword point on his chest. “This man needs help moving his cart.” she said calmly as the boy ran to his father and embraced him. “What are you going to do?”
**************
A week later, Luna found herself crossing the market square of Lys, the boy, whose name was Leon, practically dancing round her as he tried to teach her Sianehese. Her frustration was rising as she repeated words after him and found the pronunciation was hard to master. She wore a plain black dress, with a pair of well boots, gifts from Leon's father, Eddard for saving their lives. A dagger rested at her side, a gift from those she had saved them from.
“Why do you want to learn anyway?” Leon asked her as they paused at a bread stall so Luna could buy some bread for them.
“There is someone who needs my help, but for me to help him I must understand his tongue and his religion. The sooner I can do that, the sooner I can see what he is up against and then I can better guide him.”
“Who is he?” Luna smirked as they moved away from the bread stall and she tore the small loaf in half and handed one to Leon.
“He is what keeps the moon shining; the one who will plunge us all into darkness so we can better see the light.” Leon frowned at her, puzzled.
“That doesn’t make sense.” Luna laughed.
“Little ever does.” she said, this time in Sianehese and Leon grinned at her, pride shining in his bright blue eyes.
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Post by Maribell the Wanderer on Oct 20, 2012 20:45:56 GMT -5
The mention of a Wendigo was enough to lure a chemist with a minor in history to Lys. It was not everyday that a myth was held in such high regard as to use it as an excuse as to why a man’s bandit band was murdered effortlessly and the only survivor gave up his old life to become an acolyte in the Sianeh temple. The story was passed from trader to trader in Illiria, and eventually it fell upon the ears of Maribell from the mouths of gossiping bar flies. The story, as far as the wanderer caught, went like thus: the former bandit’s group had found a wagon stuck in the mud outside of Lys with a father and son trying to move it. They were moving in for the classic stab and grab, but the mythical beast roared and jumped from the cover of the trees. He grabbed one man after another, ripping them apart with one of its four arms and yelling with bloodlust. Killing everyone but the survivor, it sat and shoved bits into its mouth to eat. It continued to feast, forgetting about the remaining bandit and the family. They exchanged looks and silently moved to the wagon. Together, they gave one huge push, finally freeing the vehicle. The horses, which had been panicking over the presence of the monster, whinnied and charged now that their anchor had been released. In one swift motion, the bandit jumped in the wagon and pulled the family in before the wagon had gotten too far ahead, and the Wendigo roared in rage as its food got away from it. The bandit, lucky that he had survived the encounter, immediately left once they were clear of the Wendigo and headed for the nearest Sianeh temple to change his ways. He celebrated the continuation of his one life with a hearty feast of potatoes, carrots, onions, and a few other precious treats that he had denied himself under the ways of Draknen.
Maribell set off immediately upon hearing the story. He knew the story had to be heavily distorted, but the wanderer was frightened that it could hold some truth. In all his reading, he knew that Wendigos were no more real than Podmaw or drakes, but he couldn’t shake the fact that some analyses of texts from the distant past often noted the inclusion of these myths. The contemporary historians believed these were simply metaphors for social or political issues, but those texts that survived mentioned the myths as though they were real. Maybe these creatures had once existed? It was a dangerous thought, and Maribell was not a person to simply ignore his thinking. He traveled for one-and-a-half days in his wagon, taking very short breaks to sleep. Finally, he arrived at Lys and took a well deserved rest in the back of his wagon, snuggled between deadly poison, acid, and numerous spare suits and the chemicals needed to fully purify them. He went to the market and indulged in a glass of hearty ale that he enjoyed in the fresh air outside the tavern. Many conversations passed in front of him, but one caught his attention. It was full of cryptic remarks, a little bit of spoken Sianehese (a foolish language if he has ever heard one and he has heard two), and mention of Sianehese with respect to an individual that said cryptic remarks were about. It was all too strange, and Maribell began to stare at her over his drink. It was not a casual amount of staring at all: he was deliberately watching her every movement and eavesdropping. Maribell did not like this individual in the least for the comments she made or the language she adopted. Plus, she dressed like an uncouth Westerner, and he despised his homeland’s sense of fashion.
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Luna
Inactive
Shapeshifter Played by Nadia
Posts: 34
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Post by Luna on Oct 21, 2012 4:06:00 GMT -5
“You know what does make sense,” Leon continued, stopping in front of her “You riding with us to the next town. No one would touch us if you were with us. The minute you shift they would flee. Did you know that bandit hasn’t left the temple yet?”This was not the first time Leon had put this to her, Eddard had even begged her to go with them, but she couldn’t, she had her own path to follow and Eddard had respected that. Leon on the other hand did not.
“Leon,” she began with a roll of her eyes. “Your boasting will get you into trouble, you know I-” she stopped as the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and whispers echoed in the back of her mind. Caution. they hissed at her.
Leon tugged at her hand “Luna? What is it?” She was being watched, her spine tingled, she looked down at Leon seeing the worry in his eyes she smiled reassuringly and crouched down to his level. “Nothing. Why don’t you head home, there is something here I must do. I won’t be long.” the concern had gone from his eyes to be replaced with suspicion. “I promise.” she assured him and with a small smile he left her.
Rising slowly, Luna’s smile vanished and she cast a glance around her seeking out her watcher, her eyes settled on the tavern and then upon the man sitting alone outside; his gaze intense and uncomfortable. She stared back at him for a moment, an wave of dislike washing over her. Then she stalked away, slipping down an alley and moving away from the crowded market square. If this man was so interested he would follow.
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Post by Arethar of Dheynor on Oct 22, 2012 13:25:11 GMT -5
There was no mistake. He could see them from up there, as he rode on Lyanna's back. Bandits, taking up arms against the closest village to them. Arethar didn't know why, but he was quite certain that this wouldn't end well for the villagers, or for the village itself. The village that belonged to the Empire, his village.
He could remember his father telling him that a good king would have to be a good father. A father that always protected his children, took good care of them, and when the time came, bled for them. He shook his head and took his decision. He would have to fight.
"Lyanna! Fly to the village, now!"[/i]
The silver dragon made her way down, and Arethar prayed that his sister was at least quite far behind. He didn't want her to be engaged in this. He would protect her above everyone else, and he needed to have his mind clear at the moment.
Lyanna landed in front of the village, and Arethar jumped from her back, to the surprise of the villagers. "People! I come as a friend! Bandits have gathered in numbers and are making their way to the village!" he said, as quite a few men started to come into view in the distance, showing that he was right and he wasn't lying. "Go! Protect the women and children! Every man capable of wielding a weapon, form a line in front of the village!"
The captain of the village's guard approached him, along with three men. "What do you think you're doing!? What is wrong with your armor, Dheynorian, haven't you been told that the silver sun is no longer our symbol?!"
Arethar shook his head, furiously. "Listen to me, if you value your lives, help me save this village. Then, you can arrest me for wearing this armor. Now, these people need our help!"
The man nodded and started to move to the front line. The only line, actually. They had ten men, against at least thirty. And only three trained guards, not counting himself.
"Is that all the men you have?!"
"Yes."
"I see the Senate is very kind." he said, and drew the Oathkeeper from its scabbard. "Lyanna, go. Get lost in the clouds and attack when I tell you."[/i] Lyanna took flight, and soon, she was lost in the white clouds.
The bandits were closing in. People from the various houses and shops started to run. The protectors of the village started to raise their weapons.
"Do we have any kind of defences? Or is the village completely open?"
"We're dead, son. Face it. They outnumber us."
"I have no intention of dying, not just yet." Arethar said, as Lyanna roared in the sky, starting her dive to the bandits.
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Post by Maribell the Wanderer on Oct 22, 2012 20:51:15 GMT -5
Well, that was an interesting turn of events. As far as Maribeth knew there was not a single sign of bandits on his way to Lys, and he was quite an attractive target with his fully loaded wagon and tired horses. Of course, one could assume that the bandits were merely too worried with uncharacteristically forming an army to attack a single small town of negligible wealth to hunt a solitary wanderer with too much wealth to his name. With such a radical change in strategy, it was almost as if the bandits were suddenly led by a military leader instead of the typical ruffian with the biggest muscles and the loudest mouth. However, an evaluation of the evidence to back what the dragon rider had said was pointless, for he was not in the position to collect or refute anything the man had said. Thus, Maribell was in this town without any allies or contacts and a potential assault at the non-existent gates, and he really only had one move to execute, a truly desperate one: he had to make a new friend.
Though the sudden arrival of the dragon rider and the incompetence of the city guard to do anything except comment upon one man’s choice of dress, Maribell still had enough foresight to catch where the woman had retreated to so that she could lay a trap for him if he followed her. He wanted to catch the boy, Leon, before he vanished, but the wanderer could only split his attention so much at any given moment and Leon had retreated back to his father while Maribell focused on the disturbance. He knew very well that the path this woman walked looked like a dryad’s smile, yet he had a sneaking suspicion that she was as fierce as a shifter. He had no love for the village, but sometimes a charitable contribution to an impromptu defense often opened minds to business deals. As one man, Maribell would be another corpse by the roadside, but one man, one crazy woman, and an odd dragon rider? This was the beginning of a great army of misfits. However, he first had to speak to the woman without dying. He unsheathed his sword. Despite its ornate gold-plated handle and supple leather scabbard, the blade was a fairly unfashionable style popular about four hundred to three hundred years ago. Despite his typical views, this was the one exception that Maribell approved of history as a weapon, and he walked slowly and deliberately towards where he last saw the woman. He thought he may have heard her name, but he failed to catch it as easily as the boy’s.
”I know we started off on the wrong foot,” Maribell announced, his voice echoing off the walls and returning to his ears. He instantly knew she would be able to sneak up on him without even trying, so he dropped his blade on the ground and clasped his hand behind his back. He stood as the perfect gentleman, back straight and hands tucked away, to appear a far less acceptable target, ”But Lys is in danger and I pose no threat to it or you. Let us fight for it together.” He felt as if he no longer had time to speak, so he stomached the rest of his words and kept it as concise as he could. Despite his solitary lifestyle, he was not above working with others. After all, one assassin who had taken a decade off from his work to pursue academic interests could not fight a war by himself. However, he had one immutable rule: never let anyone ruin a good suit.
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Luna
Inactive
Shapeshifter Played by Nadia
Posts: 34
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Post by Luna on Oct 23, 2012 14:52:42 GMT -5
Once down the alley and out of site, Luna quickened her pace till she reached a small junction in the small complex of alleys. To her left, a stack of crates were piled against the wall, gingerly she pushed them testing their stability and when they did not move she carefully climbed them and the pulled herself up onto the roof. The town looked completely different form her, almost peaceful. She made a mental note to try coming up here more often. Keeping low so she wouldn’t be seen she moved back along the alley, waiting for the man to pass beneath her so she could ambush him.
“"People! I come as a friend!...
All thoughts of ambush vanished from Luna’s mind as her head snapped round to the source of the voice. She could not see him through the roof, but she knew his voice, it haunted her dreams often enough. Laying flat she inched to the top of the pointed roof and peered over to see Arethar in his family’s armour, beyond him she could see the bandits racing towards the town. A mix of emotions flashed through Luna at lightening break speed, anger at the bandits, anger at the Goddess for not warning her, fear for the people of the village and guilt that this may have been caused by her bold rescue of Leon and Eddard.
A voice beneath her reminded her of her prey and she paused listening to him. She did not trust him, nor did she like him but these people were vastly outnumbered. What choice did she have? With a strangled cry of fury she slid down the tiles and dropped down behind the man, landing like a sprawled cat before slowly rising. “We remain on the wrong foot.” she said curtly, “However, we have a common enemy, and for that and that alone, I agree with you.” Drawing her knife she cut the skirt of her dress short and removed her boots, at least this way when she switched from wolf to woman she would have some rags to cover her.
Pained cries and the crash of steel on steel told her the bandits had reached the pathetic line of men. With a snarl she shifted and bounded from the alley, pausing for a moment to make sure the stranger was with her before sprinting to the fight, her howl ricocheting off the stone walls of the houses as she ran. The sound put the fear of god in both the bandits and the villagers but as she leapt over the falling body of a villager and launched herself at his killer, she heard Eddard cry her name she could almost feel the relief washing from them. Not pausing to think about it, she shifted again to a woman and snatched up the sword of her first kill and with a true Bervenhall battle cry, she threw herself into the fray.
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Post by Arethar of Dheynor on Oct 23, 2012 15:24:08 GMT -5
There was nothing. Nothing else but him, his sword, his dragon and the people next to him. He could have sworn that he could hear his own heartbeat, even though everything was breaking loose around him at this point. People were running, others were forming a line, and yet somehow Arethar found himself at the right place. Somehow, he felt that he was born to do this.
The bandits were closing in. The captain of the guard next to him was shaking visibly. "Muster your courage." Arethar said, as he lowered his legs, the Oathkeeper gleaming in the light of the sun. He had the blood of the Emperor in his veins. He wouldn't die today, not like this. He wouldn't let his own people die because no one cared for them anymore.
There was still someone who cared. His name was Arethar, and he would die before letting those bandits claim those people's lives.
"I, Arether, swear by the one true God to be faithful to the country of Dheynor, to protect the country from all kinds of danger, to put the lives of the people before my own and follow the commands of my superiors. I take this obligation with all my heart and mind. My sword is my family, my shield is the people who rely on me, my power lies in my faith. I will be the one that faces Dheynor¢s enemies with a ready sword, I will be the one to save the people from all harm, and let history remember my name. I am Arethar, born anew as a Dheynorian Elite."
He finally understood the meaning of those words, and as Lyanna roared in the sky and burned three men before they reached them, he could have sworn that he felt like the elites were behind him. That he wasn't alone.
"Hold your ground." he said, as the bandits ran towards them. "Hold..." he muttered, as he raised his sword again. "Now!" he yelled, as he jumped forward and slashed a bandit through his chest. Lyanna was coming down again, as many of his allies fell. He had no time to deal with that. Arethar took one step forward, as his sword slashed another man's head, and he looked back for a second.
The wolf. Not again.
He wanted to curse, as his sword found its way inside a man's head. He pushed the man with his foot and pulled the sword out, as the wolf transformed to the woman she had met.
"Arethar! Dragon!"
Arethar's blue eyes travelled to the sky as he saw a dragon, black as night, take off from the ground. He cursed inside his head, and called for Lyanna.
"He must be their leader!"
Come down here, now! he said to her, as he killed another man. Lyanna fell from the skies and hovered in front of him as she burned another couple of men. Arethar ran and climbed on her back with grace, as a small amount of flames made their way to his sword and started to dance around it.
"Let's show them what we can do!"[/i]
Lyanna roared and flew upwards, in order to meet the black dragon and the man that was on top of him.
The man laughed at the sight of him and yelled "So, pretty boy, you want to fight Bergen the Bold and his men?!"
"Fight you?" Arethar said, and a cocky smile appeared on his lips. "I am here to kill you."
Lyanna charged forward with another mighty roar.
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Post by Maribell the Wanderer on Oct 25, 2012 21:06:43 GMT -5
Although Maribell often portrayed himself as a man without fear and was successful in most cases, the sudden drop of the woman made him jump and jerk. He hopped forward and twisted around to face her, stifling a chuckle at her cat pose. Her elbows and knees were necessarily at awkward angles and the fear and tension within Maribell vanished abruptly. ”Ladies first,” he bowed and retrieved his blade. Despite the proven effectiveness of bladed weapons in combat, his was mostly for show to dissuade those from thinking he was a target of opportunity to steal from. He preferred the useless flair of poisons and acids, which he would need to return to his wagon to retrieve. Luckily, it was in the same direction as where the woman was heading. He happily plodded along after the woman once she had ripped off most of her clothing, shamelessly taking in the view as she ran ahead of him. He never rushed, it ruined suits.
He was with her until she shifted, at which point he broke away. He could not keep up with a shifter if he tried, and the bandits immediately lost their cocky edge. When they were only facing the meager defenses of a small town, they were smiling and showing off with fancy but useless twirls of their weapons. As soon as the black wolf joined them and the dragon rider had managed to cut down a fifth of them without even trying, they became quite more serious and the city guard became more confident that tonight they would not see their graves. Even with the aid, four of the ten men chosen to protect the village either lay upon the ground in their death throes or completely still. On the other side of the equation, the wolf claimed one, the rider claimed five, and the town guards claimed five, leaving more than half of the bandits remaining. At least the remaining survivors had a bit of breathing room as the bandits gave a wide berth to the wolf shifter. The battle did not interest Maribell at all. His wagon was parked slightly behind the frontlines, and he snuck to it without attracting too much attention from the besieged villagers or bloodthirsty bandits.
He reached the lip of the awning. Inside, a bandit, a straggler from the pack, was rummaging around his wagon, carelessly tipping over vases, pushing aside briefcases, sniffing suits, and generally making a mess of Maribell’s only sanctuary. Without hesitation, he jumped into his wagon with sword drawn. The awning was low and tightly nailed to the wooden carriage, so he was forced to crawl, his knee unfortunately striking a creaky board. Despite his maintenance of his transportation, he unfortunately did not consider noisy planks an issue that required fixing. As one would expect, the bandit, a girl with a dirty, pockmarked face and thick leather armor covering her entire body, did not hesitate to glance back. She looked like she could have fit right in with the villagers of Lys, but the budding nasty smile as she gripped her lumberjack’s axe dispelled the serenity he viewed in her. Immediately, she made to swing with her axe to end the battle before it began, but Maribell caught her elbow and halted her blow. Then, she punched Maribell in the jaw, knocking him flat on his back. She snickered, placing a knee firmly upon his sternum to better position herself for the killing blow. Maribell shot his arms out to stop her from attacking him, and she struggled to remove his grip. They wrestled each other for dominance, each still holding tight to their weapons in their dominant hands. Until a mistake was made, the momentum needed to effectively use their weapons could not be achieved without the defender obstructing the attack, forcing them to brawl like drunken teenagers.
Finally after flailing of limbs, the female bandit found uncontested purchase on Maribell’s suit and slammed into his chest with her shoulder, knocking him into the canvas. The fabric screamed and threatened to tear, but it caught the wanderer and held despite tiny rips forming behind him. He pitched forward into her waiting arms, and she held his collar once again. She maneuvered to swing her axe once again, but he wrapped his arms around her and slammed her to the ground. He gripped the hilt of his sword tightly as he placed it against her chest, the point sliding through the fraying leather. She kicked, striking his shins and knee without much contact, and tried to push the blade out of her skin with her free hand. She was pinned by the steel; if she attempted to shift her core it would only bring the weapon further into her vital organs. By the time she could get a firm grip, he had brought his full weight into it to stab her. He rolled her body out of his wagon before she bled too much on his things.
Having wasted the better part of twenty second cleaning out the trash, he avoided the bloody patch to reach into the back of his wagon. Normally well organized, the interloper had knocked over his beautiful suits upon the majority of his possessions. He swept them aside and recovered his crossbows, precious instruments of warfare. The first was a simple single bolt crossbow, strategically dismantled to lower weight and a leather sling to improve portability. The second was a heftier ranged weapon, a little bit over the length of an average military sword. Being designed by the Bervenhall to seriously injure a rajegh, it had a complex pulley system to maximize power at the expense of ease of reloading. For the first weapon, Maribell picked a steel shaft with a steel broadhead, explicitly sharp and heavy enough to penetrate most armor and hide. For a normal man, this would have been the standard choice for all their arrows without a second thought. Alas, Maribell was not normal, and the arrow type for his second weapon was a bit more complicated and custom designed. The shafts were still steel, but the arrowhead was a trident-shaped hollow piece of flint. The tips were filled to add extra durability for penetrating, but the rest was best described as a mug in the shape of a weapon. A small hole existed on the top, a side perpendicular to the shaft. The design was such that it could hold a small quantity of poison or acid, strong enough to penetrate skin thanks to the hardened tips but fragile enough that the rest of it would shatter and free the contents. He reached for a briefcase of bottles of acid, protected from damage by its stuffing, and removed one. He opened it and filled the hollow arrowhead with the caustic chemical, placing the empty bottle back into the briefcase and stuffed the hole with a plug of wax until it fit so securely that he could not remove it. He loaded his ammunition into a quiver and tossed it onto his shoulder, placed his sword in his scabbard after a quick wipe, placed a second bottle of acid in his coat just in case, strapped the small crossbow to his waist as a second belt, and hefted the big one in both his hands.
He jumped out of the wagon, immediately feeling worn down from the extra equipment and his lack of stamina ever since his kiss with chemistry. At least exhaustion pulled his mind from his aching jaw, even now already forming a bright purple bruise from the iron punch delivered by that woman. He had made sure to not land upon the dead woman, not that it mattered now that his suit was deteriorating as it was not tailored to act as armor. The bandits had broken into two groups; one composed of five individuals, led by a big burly man with a spear, converged upon the shifter woman, trying to surround her and kill her, and the other was of the remaining soldiers, hanging back and tossing rocks at the city guard to prevent them from getting close enough to assist the shifter. They all seemed quite frightened by her presence though, and Maribell assumed she could easily dispatch all five by taking to their throats with her teeth while they focused on not emptying their bladders in their armor. He decided his goal was to bring the bandit leader to the ground, allowing the dragon rider to rejoin the city guard and roast the aggressors in a tenth of the time it would take to kill them between the remaining defenders. To this end, he needed to load his crossbow. He braced it against the ground, placed his acid arrow into the track, and cranked the string as far back as fast as he could. Panting from half a minute of strenuous effort, he anchored his feet and aimed the tremendous weapon to the air at the leader.
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Bergen the Bold raised his sickle high in the air, gripping the reins of Tarcrack tightly as he pushed the dragon to the limit. He led this attack. These were his boys and girls, and they looked to him as though he were their father. He had heard word that a wagon was coming to Lys disguised as a simple traveler’s vehicle, but it was really owned by an imperial that was so afraid of his safety he hid his presence. His first attempt had failed to take the treasures of the Senate, so he was forced to gamble his future. If he got that wagon, his adopted children could live well for years. But first, he had to deal with an upstart kid in old-looking, probably rusted through-and-through armor that challenged him.
Up or down? Tarcrack asked, the wind cracking viciously as the black beast put all his power into accelerating.
”Down! I want to split open that lizard’s soft belly,” Bergen roared, impossible to hear over the rushing wind but Tarcrack heard regardless. As he raced into the snout of the other dragon, he dived at the last second. While underneath their opponent, the dragon twisted his neck to spit fire at the dragon and Bergen swung his axe in a high arc. ”Quick little bastard!” he swore as they both missed. ”Swing around for another bite,” he commanded.
Oww, Tarcrack muttered. Something bit my side. Bergen, holding the reins as best as he could with both hands, leaned over to examine what his steed complained about. An arrow was poking out of her scales, but his dragon had survived worse.
”New plan: we kill the archer boy!” Bergen pointed to a silly-looking teenager, keeled over from shooting a crossbow he was too weak to handle.
Too easy... suddenly, the dragon felt a severe fire in his body and the rider knew of his bond-mate’s distress. His arrow was poisoned! the dragon hissed, the wing closest to the wound becoming lazy and flopping out of sync. The landing is going to be rough, Tarcrack moaned, and tried to go into a controlled dive. With the faithful flaps of his one good wing, he managed to slow his descent enough to alight upon the ground without breaking any bones in his or his rider’s body. Tarcrack wheezed as he inhaled a mouthful of mostly dirt kicked up by his rough landing, and lowered his head to let Bergen off. Afterwards, he began to crawl towards the boy who had shot him.
”Boy, I would tear you limb from limb for scratching my dragon. You better be at peace with your god for poisoning him,” Bergen roared.
- - - - -
Maribell, still out of breath from arming his crossbow, felt like fainting after the weapon kicked him squarely in his chest. It wasn’t that he was out of shape. Instead, it probably had significantly more to do with the severe acid burns all over his chest that never fully healed up. Sometimes, he wondered if he was only still holding together thanks to his heritage that did little else for him besides give him seemingly eternal youth. Of course, those times were not when a bandit brandished a wickedly sharp farming implement at him and a half-lame dragon looked to roast him like a grown pig. He stumbled backwards and removed his small crossbow from his waist. Despite his crumbling status, he was still somewhat of a sharpshooter, mostly due from muscle memory hard-fought for back in his Siourean assassin days. He struck off a bolt at the dragon’s bowed head, striking it through the mouth. He assumed the creature would have roared in anger, but his jaws were struck together by a rigid steel bolt. Instead, its rider cursed Maribell once again for his attack, insisting on demeaning him with lewd language and pointing out his apparent youth. The wanderer unsheathed his sword, still decorated with a little blood from his previous conquest. ”Come at me, brother,” he murmured.
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Luna
Inactive
Shapeshifter Played by Nadia
Posts: 34
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Post by Luna on Oct 26, 2012 15:50:51 GMT -5
Glancing up at Lyanna and Arethar taking to the air Luna paused for a moment as the bandits drew back leaving her five to deal with. Her sword lowered as she surveyed them around her, her lips twisted into a smirk. She could see the fear in their eyes, as a wolf, she knew she would be able to smell it. She remained still studying each of their faces waiting for them to make the first move. The man with the spear lunged for her. Quick as a flash she twisted out of way and brought her sword up, and slashed at the man’s throat, he dropped the spear and desperately tried to stem the flow of blood. Spurred on by the death of their comrade the others yelled in rage before they leapt foreword. Luna handed herself entirely over to her instinct, her moves became effortless as she blocked the strike of the first man to stand before her, before planting a powerful kick to his chest sending him backwards. Whirling round she raised her sword in time to stop another sweep from behind, twisting it aside and repelling the third bandit’s blade, before meeting with the fourth and kicking him hard on the knee. He cried out in pain, and fell clutching his knee. Movement behind her told her the first bandit had regained his footing, parrying away more blows she spun to meet him. Catching his blade on hers, she twisted it away from her before driving the point into his chest. Pulling it free, she spun again to face the others once more, raising her blade before her face.
A dragon crashed to the ground close by distracting the bandits from attacking her. Never let your guard down... she thought as she attacked them, taking a head off one and driving her blade so deep into the others stomach she could not pull it free, letting blade and body drop to the ground she looked at the dragon as a bolt slammed into its mouth preventing it from opening. Luna followed the eyes of the bellowing bandit leader to see the stranger unsheathe his sword. Encouraged by their leaders’ words the bandit’s surged forward heading for both the villagers and the stranger. Luna had barely any time to snatch up another sword of the fallen and retreat several paces to be closer with the villagers before the bandits hit them, taking down several more villagers and breaking through the line to get to the stranger and the village of innocents beyond.
“ARETHAR!” she bellowed, as the guards beside her were begging to fall. She could not protect them, keeping blades from her skin was hard enough and she was reminded of this fact as a blade slipped through her defences to slice a large wound across her thigh. She ignores the searing pain and kills the wielder. Screams behind her told her the women and children had been found. She needed to get from this fray to help them. “ARETHATR!” she screamed again. “BURN THEM!”
As much as she hated fire it would be enough for her to get to those who had broken through the line.
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Post by Arethar of Dheynor on Oct 26, 2012 16:19:56 GMT -5
The bandit's dragon was bigger than Lyanna. As they met in the air, Arethar tried to remember all those air fights he had seen the elites perfom when Lyanna was only a baby. He had studied them, he had learned them, and he had united most of them into their unique style of fighting that focused on Lyanna's speed. He knew that they would win this.
"Here we go!" Lyanna said in his head, as she took a dive down before the black dragon attacked them. "Faster!"[/i] Arethar yelled in her head, as the wind was hitting his head. He grabbed the reins with his left hand tight, as he held the Oathkeeper high enough with the right one, the flames still dancing around it. Time didn't seem to matter anymore, as Lyanna kept diving, the ground becoming even more visible with any passing second.
"NOW!"[/i] Arethar yelled, as Lyanna stopped her suicide dive for a brief second, and sped upwards. The bigger dragon and the rider both missed on their attacks, as they kept speeding down. He pulled the reins again, as Lyanna turned around and opened her mouth. She roared. They had the high ground, they would win.
That was when Arethar saw the arrow hit the dragon. He knew what was going to happen soon afterwards, without even looking. It had been a nice shot, and the dragon would probably fall to the ground. "Turn left! Back to the village!"[/i] he said, as the black dragon fell to the ground, another arrow piercing his mouth. The bandit leader jumped from his steed and was about to make his move on the young archer.
The flames around Oathkeeper began to gather around Arethar's left hand as he commanded them to land around the bandit, forming a circle of fire big enough to stop him in his tracks and trap him there. That would give enough time for the archer to reload. "He's all yours!" Arethar yelled, as Lyanna passed above them. That was when he heard the screams and Luna calling for him.
"Light me up!"[/i] The small amount of flame found its way again around the Oathkeeper, as Arethar jumped from Lyanna's back. "Stop them!"[/i] he said to her, as she sped forward from the last line of the village's defence.
Arethar jumped right behind the bandits' backs, and landed on one knee, his cloak flying in the air around him, his head looking down. The flames from the sword touched the ground, and made their way to each bandit that was fighting against Luna and the villagers, burning them whole one by one. He raised himself from the ground, and his eyes fell on Luna's, just for a second, as he saw Lyanna in the background landing in front of the defenceless villagers and burning the last of the bandits.
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Post by Maribell the Wanderer on Oct 27, 2012 17:40:50 GMT -5
The fires spun and danced around Bergen the Bold, cracking and spitting at him whenever he tried to make a move through them. They quickly rose and converged above him, trapping him in a dome of flame. He felt his dragon just beyond his prison, sluggishly hopping towards the archer boy. Tarcrack was in blinding agony from the poison inside him and the bolt that split and pinned his jaw. Both knew that continuing to fight was pointless, but the dragon knew that its own chances of survival were quickly diminishing. In its dying state, he chose to die only after doing everything within his power to murder the archer. Bergen wanted to talk his best friend out of throwing away his life, but the bandit needed every ounce of his will to convince himself that jumping through the flames was the only move he could make. He needed to get through and rally his kids to get them to retreat. He had lost today. There was no reason to lose his entire family. Crossing his arms over his face, he screamed and charged through the inferno.
If the fire had been naturally produced by a fuel, Bergen could have crossed it without any significant injury. He simply did not spend enough time exposed to the heat to have his skin char or his clothes alight. Unfortunately, he had crossed a sorcerer’s flame, and the magic jumped to him, setting him ablaze. His armor released a thick smoke as it combusted, and Bergen soon became blind from the pain, heat, and smoke screen. ”Kids... run!” he commanded, trying to run but merely dropping to the ground as he continued to cook. He screamed in agony for a few seconds before he fell silent, his last moments devoted to a weak attempt to roll in the dirt.
Little did he know his kids were sharing the same fate not too far behind him.
- - - - -
Tarcrack wanted to cry, to curse the gods, to do anything, but he had no willpower left to think or feel. All he knew was pain: pain from whatever was eating him inside out, pain from the bolt in his mouth, pain from his rider dying. He continued to stumble forth, his right front paw lame and causing him to trip with every step he took. The only thing that mattered was his pride. He would die in battle today, but he would do it while the kid sniper still drew breath. He would ram him, slap him, whatever it took to claim his life. He studied his assailant as he edged closer to him. He wore a suit, coated in dust with the occasional patch of blood. It was heavily wrinkled at this point, what with having participated in battle and all. He calmly and slowly removed something from his suit jacket, a glass bottle. Maybe the boy was taking his first drink before he was removed from this world? No, he hurled it forward towards Tarcrack, striking him in the face. The bottle shattered, spraying glass and its contents all over the dragon. It was not but a few seconds before Tarcrack’s eyes and head burned just like his chest, and it was not more than a minute before his vision faded. Shortly after, a bolt sunk into him, this time the archer making sure it was a fatal blow.
- - - - -
The village immediately burst into activity once the soldiers dropped their arms. Citizens ran out into the streets and hugged the surviving guards, others solemnly approached the fallen and immediately began mourning. Leon hopped through the battlefield and jumped into Eddard’s arms, and the two embraced near wolf lady. ”I can’t thank you enough,” the man said to the shifter. ”I have never seen such kindness from a stranger.” Others approached the man in old armor, trying to shake his hand or hug him. A few approached his dragon, trying to pat her on the flank. Maribell slowly made his way to the group, still panting from the fight. Years ago, he would have recovered without any issue, but men are always haler and heartier in their youth. He gave the black dragon’s corpse a wide berth to avoid any accidental contact with acid, and pushed his way to the dragon rider. He dropped to a knee and recited,
"I Maribell swear by the one true God to be faithful to the country of North Dheynor, to protect the country from all kinds of danger, to put the lives of the people before my own and follow the commands of my superiors. I take this obligation with all my heart and mind. My sword is my family, my shield is the people who rely on me, my power lies in my faith. I will be the one that faces Dheynor’s enemies with a ready sword, I will be the one to save the people from all harm, and let history remember my name.
I would know that armor anywhere.” In all his study, he had run across the myth of the equipment of the Emperor multiple times. He had read glorifying descriptions of it, and seen artists’ interpretations of what it looked like. He was slightly taken aback by the fact that this replica appeared to be somewhat dull and aged, but he knew the implications of wearing it. This man was deluded by the empire myth. Maribell would do anything to appear likewise.
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Luna
Inactive
Shapeshifter Played by Nadia
Posts: 34
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Post by Luna on Oct 29, 2012 10:34:53 GMT -5
Luna retreated several paces dropping her sword as Arethar’s fire moved like a snake engulfing the bandits one by one, the world seemed to dissolve around her as fear tightened its grip around her heart. The screams of the bandits lingered in her ears, echoing the screams of her parents as the rajegh’s fire engulfed them.
She closed her eyes, shutting out the image before clamping her hands over her ears to block out the noise, refusing to look or listen until she knew it was over. A small hand, clutched at her and tugged, slowly she opened her eyes to find Leon beaming up at her. She managed a small smile in return before looking at the bandits. Screams had given way for small moans, and the villagers were beginning to crowd round Arethar.
Arethar. Protect him, help him, fight for him.
The whispers came to her as she moved towards him, limping as she went suddenly very aware of the wound in her leg. The words of Maribell’s oath rang in her ears and with it an onslaught of images. A rajegh, a terrified child dressed like a westerner and a crossbow. The crossbow he had used to kill the dragon.
The crowd parted to allow her to limp to Arethar and Maribell. She reached out and clutched at Arethar’s arm to steady herself as the world blurred a little. Shaking her head to clear it she looked long and hard at Arether debating whether to hug him or hit him for being here. “You are nobody.” she reminded him quietly, trying to somehow tell him that he needed to go, that these people would turn him in regardless of what he had just done. Because these people were loyal to the senate not to a dead empire.
She released Arethar’s arm and turned to she was between him and Maribell acting a as shield. “Where did you get that crossbow?” She asked him, her voice filled with accusation. Trade in weapons like that did not occur with outsiders. Bervenhall liked to keep the weapons they had designed to kill rajegh to themselves to reduce the risk of the Ajurah clan getting them.
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Post by Arethar of Dheynor on Oct 29, 2012 11:12:53 GMT -5
The crowd was starting to gather around him to thank him. Arethar started to smile awkwardly, not even knowing how to respond. He wasn't used to this kind of attention, or affection even. He simply raised his hands, sheathed the Oathkeeper, and nodded. He stumbled as he tried to remain conscious. The magic he had performed had cost him way too much energy, and his vision was blurrying fast.
As if that wasn't enough, Luna seemed to spring out of nowhere and clutched his arm to steady herself. He stumbled for a second, before Lyanna made her way to him. Resting one arm on her neck, Arethar managed to steady himself, as drops of sweat found their way down his head.
Then, the man with the crossbow made his way to him, bowed, and started to speak. His eyes widened, his jaw dropped, and he remained dumbfounded as he heard the words he had been expecting to hear from someone after all those years. The Oath of the Elites. If he had any more strength, he would have bowed and recited the oath as well.
Luna whispered to him, reminding him of what she had told him before, and Arethar tried to hold back a nasty retort. He had never been a nobody, he had told her that before. Yet, somehow, this wasn't didn't feel right. The man before him looked about his age, if not younger, and Arethar would have remembered the recruits of the same year he had been recruited.
Raising an eyebrow, he lowered his head, and even though he felt so ashamed that he wanted to hide under a rock, said "I do not know what you are talking about. I found this armor from a blacksmith. He was selling it for two silver coins, I thought it was quite a bargain."
As Luna passed him, Arethar whispered to her in Dheynorian "Meet me by the Lone Lake in two days." Time to see if she could be trusted or not. He could feel Lyanna's disdain in his head, though he decided not to ponder with that.
Turning to the Captain of the Guard who was tending to his wounds, Arethar said "Captain, I'm afraid you have to capture me some other time. I have things to do first." He climbed on top of Lyanna.
"Take the reigns, I need a good sleep."[/i]
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Post by Maribell the Wanderer on Oct 31, 2012 20:21:22 GMT -5
The Wolf was rude and the Rider thought that Maribell was an idiot, but there was absolutely nothing he could do about either of these facts. He was in quite the foul mood after the festivities had led to a significant degradation of his suit, a suit, mind you, that could not be easily replaced at his current location. He had many more suits like it, but it always hurt him immensely when one of his beloved garments had to be permanently retired. He rose, taking care to dust off his knee as best as he could. He wore a scowl, and his face was reddened from battle and exertion. He had just now regained his breath, a testament to the damage a bottle of acid accidentally spilled on your chest could do. He straightened his clothes and began to walk away, but he remembered that the wolf lady had asked him a question. Abruptly, he flipped to face her, ”Listen bitch, if you wish to speak with me about my possessions or myself, please be more courteous with your tone of voice.” He returned to making his way back to his weapon, which he had left on the ground after he fired his single acid-filled arrow. Again, he flipped around and addressed Luna, ”I apologize for my rudeness. I was merely referring to your wolf form, and there might be some unfortunate implications of my word choice. Let me reiterate: I can tell you what you wish to know, but I ask that you consider reattempting your inquiry with a less critical tone.” With that, he resumed his collection of his weapon and returned to his wagon.
- - - - -
Eddard led Leon away to their home. Eddard held a respectable amount of influence in Trihali as the imperial surveyor of Lys and other cities in the region, meaning he kept vital statistics about the area and reported it to the Senate. He was chosen for the job based on his education, his upbringing (he was a native of Lys and was fortunate enough to inherit enough money to improve his station in life), his connections, and his skills. Having grown up here, he had found and married a sweet girl in his youth, but she, unlike he, did not have the heart to leave her home, nor did she have the heart to survive a severe flu. Given leave to tend to his family’s affairs, he and his son returned from Trihali to visit her. The chance to rob a wealthy imperial should have been enough to draw the allure of the bandits to attack Eddard and his son and it was. However, he had a bigger secret that meant he could never guarantee his or his son’s safety ever again.
On one of his surveys of the region years ago, he became lost on his return trip to Trihali. Night fell upon the exhausted man, and he was forced to seek refuge in an ancient abandoned Sianeh temple instead of a town where he could get directions or a map. He spent the night bundled in whatever cloth he could find, sleeping nestled between pews. When he woke, a figure stood over him, a hood obscuring his features and any and all sources of natural light obscured significantly. He placed a seven-pointed star upon his chest and immediately made to leave. Eddard kicked off his blankets and ran outside to stop the man, but he was nowhere in sight.
Eddard kept the star. He examined it and had a trusted friend do the same, but neither could figure out what it was made out of except it appeared to be as beautiful as a coinage metal but stronger than steel. All they knew were that it was encrusted with sapphires, and was engraved with eight words of Sianehese that were indecipherable. They decided to take it to a priest, and he announced that the star held none other than the most sacred name of the One God in the center and the true name of each of the saints on each point. The priest wished for Eddard to donate the item to the temple, but he refused. The hooded man had given it to him for a reason, and he would cherish it until he was no longer able to.
In his home, he handed Leon the star, ”Son, I didn’t want you to learn this lesson: the world is a dangerous place. There are a lot of men like those bandits out there that -”
”Dad, you’re scaring me,” Leon said, whimpering.
”I’m sorry. I... I don’t think I can stay with you. Bad people may be after me. Bad people that I don’t want you to ever have to be afraid of. Please, take this. It will keep you safe. It has kept me safe for years. Go with Luna. She can protect you.”
”I don’t want to! I love you Dad!” Leon hugged his father, crying.
”I love you to, Leon. I love you so much that I have to say goodbye.”
”That doesn’t make sense!”
”Little ever does.”
Eddard took his boy’s hand and led him outside. He called to Luna, waving for her to approach with his free hand, ”Come, I can fix that wound for you. It is the least I can do.” He looked to his son and looked back to Luna. If she could not keep him safe, no one could.
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