The Fallen (M) Anyone ADVANCED

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The Fallen (M) Anyone ADVANCED

Post by Guest on Tue Jul 16, 2013 6:22 pm

My name is Nyla. And this is my story...
Long ago, all over the land. There were Dragons. Huge, Graceful, Magnificent, beasts. Bigger than mountains were some. They were wild and free, and alone in the land. Then came humans, who tamed the wild beasts. They made a pact, and with the dragons help, protected the land, and it's new inhabitants. These dragons and humans formed a group, a group called the Riders. The Riders reigned over the land, and protected everything worth protecting. They ruled for hundreds of years, and all was peaceful. Then the plague came. It traveled over the seas, and infected the Dragons, and through them The Riders. The Dragons were wiped out, till only two eggs remained. A male and a female. All hopes were on these two eggs to hatch, and repopulate the world with the Dragons. The eggs wore with the new King. A mean, horrible, Tyrant. He wanted the Dragons for himself. But the eggs would only hatch for their riders, and so far no one could make them hatch. It was a sad faint for the eggs. Then one day, the female egg was stolen. The egg was purple, and three foot high. It was not something easily concealed, you might say... But it was still stolen. And the Green male, was left alone. For eight and twenty years the egg was missing. But what is missing is often found, and so it was in this case...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The brown haired, blue eyed girl had been born in December. She never knew her parents, and stayed with her Aunt and Cousin. She had grown up in the small farming town. And she never wished to leave. Now she was fourteen, old enough for a husband and kids. She had never settled down though. She just couldn't find the right man. Many had tried to court her, and many had failed. So she was stuck as a maid for her Aunt. Her cousin, John, was away with his job. He was a year older, but acted more mature.
So here she was, skipping down the old dirt road to her Aunts cottage. She tried to act happy, but it was cleaning day. She hated cleaning. Her old, faded dress swirled around her knees. Her waist length hair, bounced with each skip. And she hummed a tune from the ancient times. Her bare feet made almost no noise, except hollow thumps in the soft dirt. She slowed as she reached the small house. It was not unique, but rather bland. Just a wood shell, with a hay thatched roof. It had two glassless windows on either side of the door. Giving the cottage almost a face. She sighed, and quietly walked in. "Oh Nyla, my sweet! There you are! I was worried you had left me, and went to another family." She giggle at her Aunts exaggeration,"No Aunt, I would never leave you..." She was startled as her Aunt rushed to her, and gave her a small hug,"Well then, Nyla can you please go clean the shed?" It was more of a command, than a question. "Yes Aunt." Nyla replied, nodding. Her Aunt shooed her out the door, and Nyla hurried to the back shed. She grimaced as she peeled back the doors, and saw the mess. The shed had not been touched since her Aunt's father had died. She wondered why Aunt wanted it cleaned now? She slowly moved among the rubble to the back of the shed. She liked to start from the back, and work her way to the front. As she bent over to pick up some stale hay, she spotted something under a dust covered sheet. She tilted her head in curiosity, and straightened up. What was it, she wondered. She cautiously moved over to the sheet. She took two handfuls, and ripped the sheet away from the object. And after she had stopped coughing from all the dust, and was able to see clearly, she stepped back in amazement. Though she had no idea what it was, she was memorized by the large, Purple stone. If only Nyla had know she was looking at the missing Female Dragon egg.

(I'm looking for someone to play a boy from the King's court. The player also must play the male Dragon. They can make it whatever color they like, I just chose green so I could start it... This is a pretty advanced RP, so please no one or two sentences. I'm going kind of off the Inheritance Series. So i would like it, if you have read them. But it is not mandatory...)

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Re: The Fallen (M) Anyone ADVANCED

Post by Amalgamator on Fri Jul 19, 2013 11:50 am

(So I heard you like reading? Well I got really bored, so have fun!)

The fiery golden orb, set high in the sky, watched intently as the people of the world shot about, to each their own business. some had jobs, some hobbies, some games or tasks. The world bustled with activity, and the sun watched it all, staring intensely, shining bright and hiding itself from no-one, merry in its business. No one knew why it shone, no one knew where it came from, and no one even knew for sure how far away it was. Only the sun itself knew these things. Only the bright orb of light in the sky.
Men looked up at the sun occasionally, subconscious or hopeful, wishing to know what the sun knew. some looked with determination, a task set in their eyes, an iron heart locked under soul-bound key to accomplish its goal. Lovers looked at the sun for beauty, inspiring a romance between the two, and soldiers eye'd the sun for guidance, both of time and direction, trusting the training they had. All these people, every last one, looked up at the sun at some point, for one must look, must hope, must smile as the pleasant warmth flows over, peaceful, melancholy, equivocal. Some people, however, do not see the great blaze as most do. Some see it as a means by which to do things, to get one's way, to manipulate, to hurt. The sun is a powerful light that none can stare at forever, not without going blind.

The great kingdom, ruled by a tyrant of great prestige, stretched out far and wide, covering most of the world, if not all of it. Soldiers dressed in chainmail or leather, even plate if they were rich enough, their weapons barely sharp to retain an edge or point longer. The kingdom was built around steadfastness, of fortification and of pitiless justice, of non-relenting force and of a merciless grasp. None escaped the might of the kingdom, not for long at least. The kingdom provided shelter, protection and riches to any who knew how to work politics and business, or even a sword in just the right way. The Kingdom was a way out of the hell that was the chaos, the badlands, the exile's haunt, the wilderness. The Kingdom stretched out far and wide, but its population didn't. People knew the boundaries of where safety was, and few lacked the wit to cross them, and fewer had the willpower too.

Of course, the only reason such fear existed was because of the loss of the dragons, the great, mountainous beasts with a hunger for danger. Dragons and humans formed a pact when they discovered one another and their uses, and the two became nearly unstoppable, whether by beast, by nature or by time. When the contagion struck, a sudden shock to both dragons and humanity, few survived. Nearly all the dragons fell over within months, not a single magic nor herb capable of stopping the grip of death. Two eggs were found by a group, a famous yet unnamed group, who brought the two, the last, the innocent, over to the tyrant of the kingdom, his majesty. A green egg and a blue egg, one male, one female, or so he hoped. From these two eggs, the dragons could return, could live, could help and defend, and defeat. So much hope relied on the two eggs that only the king himself was trusted with them.

One fateful day, the blue egg disappeared, stolen without word, without trace, without sound. Not a soul knew where the egg was taken, or by whom, and thus the king's wrath shot out through the whole of the kingdom. Any who saw an object at all resembling the egg would be paid 100 pieces of golden currency for information, and any who did not give such information, or gave false information, would be killed immediately without trial. The rule was called The Azlire, and the result was hundreds of innocent casualties, of lies and murders, all because of one wicked man. Since the egg was stolen, however, life did not seem to change too much within the kingdom. Word spread, of course, but the men with jobs and hobbies and games and tasks still scurried about under the sun's bright rays, looking up occasionally, staring right back at the light of the world.

This is where the story of a question begins. What does the sun know? The green egg was still under the debatably protective wing of the emperor, but the other egg had vanished many years ago. Where had the second egg gone? Who took it? What does the sun know? A young man, a distant descendant of the king via his second cousin, a man who went by the name of Bralri, his name meaning 'brilliant blade' in a language of ancients, tried to convince his father to allow him to go on a search for the egg in the wilderness. The boy escaped from his parents at the age of eight, but was caught and restored to his nobleboy's position soon after, too weak to travel on his own. His actions caught the attention of the king, as well as many other nobles, however the bravery he exhibited was an act of foolishness moreso than heroism.

Since this age, the boy wiped the wax and cotton from his face and sought strength, both mental and physical. He hired mentors to train his body and philosophers to train his mind, then trained himself day in and day out. His parents never found him lazy or playing after that day, as if something had happened, as if his mind had been shot, changed, altered. Bralri's best friend was his short-sword, Rikt, quick blade in a language of ancients, large enough to be a longsword to children of age 10 and a shortsword to adults of 14. Each exercise he performed and each scroll he read, he let both his perception and imagination fly free, each action progress, each mistake a lesson learned, and every piece of gold currency used in the same way food was eaten.

The result of his steadfast, incredible determination to become stronger, the boy grew well. When he reached his adulthood, age fourteen, the king himself showed up to knight him into his court. The training Bralri went through as an adult became even more intense than as a kid, as his bones strengthened and his skin callused. Rumors grew around the castle about the boy, about his mind and his body. He ate a great deal of food when it was available, however he only ate when told. Training and learning took up most of his life during childhood, and still played a massive role as he grew as an adult. Of course, as an adult, in the king's court, he needed to collect the attention and achievements necessary to get the favor of the king.

The king, the tyrant of the kingdom, had an impossible criteria necessary to be fulfilled in order for anyone to gain his favor. The favored courtier needed to have the greatest of three virtues: Intelligence, Combat Prowess, and Strength. In order for one to be tested for these three virtues, one needed to complete the test given by the king, a secret ordeal which the king alone knew, and never spoke of. If, and only if, the tests and the virtues were held, a man would be allowed to touch the egg, the last male dragon egg.

Bralri knew all of this, for he had heard it from his parents. His mother was a cousin of the king, and his father was a famed strategist, a philosopher skilled in the art of war. He looked up at the sun when he was young and saw a dragon in the bright yellow flames, the contrasting green light showing like an egg on the back of his eyes. The youth grew up training and learning with a blaze in his heart, tindered by the fire of the sun itself, the sun's brilliant light shining through the boy's eyes even to the present day. Of course, the boy had no idea what the fate of the first full moon had in store for him.

--- Present Day : Spring - 1st full moon

A tanned, muscular young man sat on top of the roof of a turret, staring down at the capital city below. Guards usually tried to chase him off the turret, but that day was special. A tournament was being held in the town that day, a fighting tournament. I should be down there... The boy mused to himself, frowning as he watched people scurrying about, rushing towards the coliseum, the center of attention, and of gore-splattering fun. The tournament was a series of fighting where the best fighters in the kingdom would compete in order to see who was worthy of the king's favor. The young man knew that his friend was in the tournament, but he himself was too afraid to enter, knowing the strength of Rikt, said friend's shortsword. The trumpet of victory sounded in the distance as a match ended, the victor hailed and led off as the next match drew round, the trumpeter readying his brass for the next sound of goring.

The two contestants in the coliseum were seemingly evenly matched, one having a net and a spear, similar to most gladiators, and the other having a shortsword and a parrying dagger, a long piece of metal with a bent U prong made to snap, catch and deflect bladed weapons with ease. The man with the shortsword was none other than the fabled Bralri, a tall, compact, yet extremely muscular man with bright, intelligent eyes which shone with ten times the calm, taunting clamor of most exuberant fighters. The man's beard was short, him being himself young, and his hair was very short, cut specifically for the tournament so as to keep his head free from the grasp of others. His chest was covered in chainmail, his chest covered in a very thin alloy plate, a weak metal designed to cushion blunt attacks, the plate extending only over his chest and shoulders, bearing the mark of the king, a square with two roses and an open dragon's jaw within, all colored blood-red or black and shaded.

When the trumpet sounded, a wide grin shot across the mouth of the man with the spear, a burly man with a heavy suit of plate armor covering his chest, head and lower body, leaving his arms covered so as to allow him to more easily throw his net and/or spear. The beady eyes of the flesh-hungry man shot open as adrenaline coursed through his veins, his great hand grasping the metal-lined net in his hand. "You sure ye' ready fo' de brick, we' laddie?" The aggravatingly over-prepared man shouted, his voice shooting through his helmet, producing an odd echo effect. "Ye' look lie' ye need yer' milk agai' tadai!" he continued, a hearty laugh shooting out from his helmet after his taunt finished, the crowd laughing with the man as he started to walk diagonally toward the young man, cautious with each step.

Bralri, having already drawn his Rikt, chuckled softly at the man's feeble remark, planning his demise as he walked diagonally toward the gladiator in the opposite direction, resulting in the two men circling each other, neither close enough to hurt the other. Suspense built as the crowd started to shout, "Fight! Fight! F**king kill the snob! Eat the wretch! Fight! Fight!" all in different voices, at different and the same times, with a confusingly loud voice. After one circle, the Bralri spotted a latch under the gladiator's arm-pit, a weak-spot in his armor where his chain-mail and armor were linked together by a leather strap. His plan was already in motion by the time he stepped toward his enemy.

The gladiator took the first attack, even as Bralri advanced. He shouted another feeble insult which was left unheard by the young man, adrenaline shooting through his ears like a drum, beating to the life-bearing rhythm of his heart, then threw his net at the boy, the iron balls around the thick, metal rope shooting to all sides as it flew towards the boy. The young man saw the attack coming, of course, having planned it out, and was already side-stepping as the net flew towards him. The gladiator had a great amount of skill and strength, for the balls of the outside of the net still managed to hit the boy, but the net itself flew away harmlessly, useless as it lay on the ground.

Having lost his main strategy, the gladiator silenced himself and shot towards the boy with his spear facing straight. He had a longsword resting along his belt, as did all spearmen, but he was trained far better in use of a spear than he was in a sword. Bralri advanced quickly towards the spearman, holding Rikt strategically next to his neck, his elbow cocked and ready for a quick, fierce blow, or even possibly a fake. The gladiator watched the boy close the ten feet between them quickly, then thrust the spear right at the center of the boy's chest, grinning as he watched the tip fly towards his chestplate. Again, the boy had seen the move coming. As skillful and quick as the thrust was, the boy slanted his chest at the very last instant, causing the sharp tip of the spear to glance off his chestplate, rendered completely useless. Still on the ground, the boy quickly stabbed the U prong of his parrying dagger onto the tip of the spear, making it unbalanced and generally useless as an effective weapon, then rolled toward the gladiator using his forward motion.

The gladiator watched the skill of the youth and, reacting instantaniously, dropped the spear and reached for his longsword, stretching his left arm across his chest as he grasped the hilt. Too late. The youth shot up, straight toward the gladiator and swung the hilt of Rikt straight into the beefy soldier's helmet, right along the flat-plate temple area, resulting in a heavy, bell-like sound. The gladiator began pulling out his sword as his head rang like a bell, but before the tip even left the sheath, the youth had already spun around to his side and lifted his sword right up to the gladiator's weak point. The shocked man gasped for breath, as if to beg, but found only a lung full of iron as the youth plunged his sword straight through his fourth rib, piercing the lung and, mercifully, only piercing far enough to deflate the lung. The gladiator collapsed, quickly blacking out as blood filled one of his lungs, his heart working fine as the youth reclaimed Rikt from his foe.

The fighting lasted only five seconds, one of the most remarkably fast matches of the day. The crowd erupted into a shower of applause as the injuried gladiator fell face-down onto the sandy, brick floor, defeated and gasping for a good breath of air. Bralri looked back at the haughty soldier and remarked, "Looks like you'll need that milk more than me," as he grinned, flicking the blood off of Rikt, then sheathing it quickly in his sloppy, home-made leather sheath. He collected his parrying-dagger from the tip of the gladiator's spear, then sheathed it as well, against his belt, watching as men rushed over to collect the body of the still-breathing gladiator. The king looked down at the match intently, then stood and held out his hand, noticing the gladiator's torso moving up and down quickly.

All of the crowd looked up to see the king stand, and silence fell. All went still. Bralri froze, noticing everyone else, then looked up at the king, shocked at his interest. The king cleared his throat, then lowered his hand and shouted, "End his life," his voice echoing through the silent stadium creepily, like a haunt. Bralri nodded at the king, then, without a moment's hesitation, unsheathed and plunged his blade straight through the man's plate armor, using both hands and all his weight to conduct the attack. A loud thump and a screech of metal on metal erupted from the arena as the action took place, and another screetch took place as the youth pulled his sword back out, his enemy still. The king cleared his throat again, then exclaimed, "To all who taunt, and to all who play games in my royal tournament, no mercy shall be given." and then, with a quick motion of his hand to continue, the king sat down, and life resumed.

The crowd was quiet, but moving. The people who had ran up to save the gladiator ran up to haul away his still-bleeding corpse and weapons, two of them also escorting the unphased winner away from the arena. Bralri cleaned off the extra blood from his blade on his chainmail, then sheathed it again, shivering from the cold chill down his spine. He felt pleasure in the experience, but at the same time, he knew that something needed to be done that had not yet been done before. Something that no one could do, that he could not quite name. The tournament had two more rounds, semi-finals and finals. Bralri looked up at the sun, then left the arena, the trumpeter silent as the next two participants entered, the tournament continuing on. Just two more fights. the youth convinced himself, grinning slyly, then the real plan begins.


Last edited by Amalgamator on Fri Jul 19, 2013 8:16 pm; edited 1 time in total
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Re: The Fallen (M) Anyone ADVANCED

Post by Guest on Fri Jul 19, 2013 1:14 pm

(Wow, you made my paragraph look like a sentence... lol)

I walked toward the stone,or what I thought to be a stone, cautiously. I reached out a shivering hand, and placed a finger upon the smooth surface of the stone. I jumped back as a vibration ran through the stone, and then reverberated up my body. I screamed shortly, and looked down at my shaking hand. I looked back at the stone, and touched it again. Nothing happened this time. I tilted my head in confusion, and rubbed the stone. Veins of dark blue, ran through the light purple. The stone itself though, was flawless. I put both hands upon it, and lifted. The weight surprised me, and I dropped it quickly. I watched worriedly, as the stone plummeted to the floor. My hands flew up to my face, as I heard a crack, and I let out an anguished moan. I looked back at the stone. Nothing was wrong with it. There wasn't a scratch. I sighed in relief, but wondered where I had heard the crack come from. I looked down at the old cobble stone flooring, and my eyes widened. The stones were cracked beyond repair. And yet the stone was fine. I touched the stone again, and thought I felt a small warmth coming from it. I smiled gently, and hugged the stone. I didn't know what this meant, but I knew it was meant for me.

I pushed the stone onto it's side, and began rolling it toward the house. I didn't dare pick it up again. As I rolled the heavy stone, the sun beat down on my back. I glanced up at it, and frowned. It was such a horrible thing. Hot, and always looking down at you with no concern. I just wished it would go down soon. I went back to my task, and began rolling the stone again. When I finally got it into the house I called for my Aunt. She came quickly, and looked at the stone. "Oh... You found that thing. That was my Dad's. You can have it if you like... I have no idea what it is." I smiled,"Thank You, Aunt." I nodded, and watched her go. I then started rolling the stone again, with a heave, and a grunt. I strenuously continued on down the hallway, of our small house. My room was at the end. I kicked open the wood door, and it creaked on it's hinges. I rolled the stone into my room, and sat it in a corner. I then sat on my bed. My straw mattress crackling. I stared at the stone, trying to trace the blue veins. I couldn't follow them though.
I must have sat there for an hour, and finally pulled my eyes from the stone. I was surprised to see the light had faded, and a dusk had fallen over my room. I shook my head as I remembered the shed. I couldn't believe I had forgot about it. I sighed, and thought I had better get up early. If Aunt found out I hadn't finished it, I would be punished with more chores.  I lay back onto my bed, my head resting on the Goose feather pillow. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw the stone shiver. I looked at it more closely, but put the shiver off as just an illusion. I lay back again, but was surprised when I heard a crack. This time my head whipped to the side, to see the stone shaking back and forth. My mouth formed an O shape, as I watched. After a couple more shakes, the stone cracked. I moaned sadly, but it was stuck in my throat. No sound came from my mouth. I watched in awe as the stone shook more vigorously. Another crack sounded around my room, and I looked at my door. I was surprised when my Aunt didn't burst into the room. A piece of the stone popped outward. The piece landed beside my feet, and I cast a glance at it. The inside of the stone, was white I saw. The stone cracked again, and I saw a small snout appear from the crack. I then realized the stone, wasn't a stone at all. It was an EGG! An egg to what though, I didn't know. I slowly stood up from my bed, and walked forward. The egg shook again, falling to it's side. I gasped, as another piece popped outward. This time, a bigger piece. A small shriek filled the room. My eyes again shot to my door, but it beheld no movement. My eyes cast back to the egg, and it split in half. A silverish goo, ran from the two pieces. And standing in the middle, was a thing. The thing uttered a small shriek, and hopped onto my bed. I gasped, and backed away from it.

The moon was now shining through my small window, and the creature looked at it. I stepped hesitantly forward, making the floor boards creak. The creature's head shot to me, and it uttered a small growl. I shivered in fright, but kept moving forward. The creature had brilliant blue eyes, and it's skin was a light hue of purple. As I got closer, I realized that the skin was actually scales. I tilted my head to the side in confusion. I had never seen a creature like this. As I got closer, the thing turned toward me, and hissed. From it's sides, two wings came out, to batter at me. The velvety wings looked dainty, but strong. The creature had spikes the size of my finger, poking out along it's spine. The spikes began at it's head, and were no bigger than the tip of my thumb. As the went down it's long neck, they grew longer, and were the longest at it's back. They then grew smaller, as the went down to the tip of it's long tail.

I tentatively reached out a hand, and the creature sniffed it. It seemed to hum, and brushed it rough snout against my hand. At the touch, my body broke into spasms, and I fell onto the bed. The pain was great, as my body spasmed, and bucked. I moaned as the pain finally subsided. I again looked at my door, but saw it had not moved. I looked back at the creature, to see it had crawled to my side, and was resting it's head on my chest. It's blue eyes staring into mine. I gasped as I looked at the hand that had touched the creature. A silverish mark sparkled on my palm. I moved my hand, but nothing substantial seemed to happened, I made my hand into a fist, and still nothing happened. The creature uttered a small squeak, and in it's mouth, I saw a long row of gleaming teeth. Almost like a dog's mouth. I gasped, and again placed my hand on the creature. Nothing happened this time. I flicked the creature, and it uttered a small squeak, and hissed. Two small trails of smoke floated up from it's nostrils. I then knew what the creature was, and was again filled with awe. "Your a dragon!"

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Re: The Fallen (M) Anyone ADVANCED

Post by Amalgamator on Fri Jul 19, 2013 2:38 pm

(I'm used to writing a ton, also, speaking of which, this'll be a long post too. This post will be the Semi-Final round, next post will be the final round, the post after that the Kings Trial, and then our characters can meet each other, however that may be possible. If you'd rather I just skip the history stuff and get to the awesome parts, I'll do so gladly, but I feel this is a good time to get some plot development in. Also, you would not mind if I added plot twists, would you? Like, gigantic plot twists?

Lastly, I believe you should be in charge of things like magic, sentient creatures and the likes, because I'm not the best at making that stuff up without five billion pages of encyclopedic information.)

The banded-iron gates rose before Bralri and the other men, and after they got past it, the gate shut with a great number of loud clanks and a terrifying thump. Bralri had heard the sounds four other times that day from the entrance match and the primary round, seeing as there were so many contestants in the battle, and so he did not flinch quite as much from the sudden shock of the heavy iron. Still, the ground shook a second after the gate fell. The gate needed to be so heavy, Bralri knew, because if it was not, a warrior could just get out on his own, for some warriors were so strong that they could lift two men with one arm.

As the young warrior separated from the other men, they heading to the mass grave and he heading to a resting area, the moldy cobbled walls vibrated a few times. The musky hallway whispered to him, his eyes darting around as he looked for someone, confused. The escorts were already far gone, having rushed away, and he was alone with the torch-lit, musky, mossy and murky tunnels of the coliseum. The pattering of his low-slung sandals against the ground left an echo through the long hallway, the eerie walk leaving him the ideal environment to contemplate his match.

Bralri turned a corner after some conscious meditation, then opened a door and walked into a resting area, his own personal room for the duration of the tournament. It was less musky than the hallway, and it was better lit, but it had the same moss and mold in the stones, and the food dish had not been refilled since the morning, reminding him of his hunger. I cannot imagine how I could possibly do it... the man thought, gulping down his heart as he lay down on his bed. Time passed as he rested, some of it spent sharpening and cleaning Rikt, some time spent inspecting the scratch in his chestplate. A swig of clean water and a face-full of less clean water and he was resting again, eyes closed, waiting, planning, readying himself.

When two escorts came bye, asking him to walk back to the arena, he obeyed and followed the two, his weapons sheathed. It was improper for a noble man to walk around with an unsheathed weapon when danger is lacking. He traveled down the long hallway to the other end of the arena, the escorts taking their time, almost annoying him at their pace, for he was used to going much faster. When at last he had reached the banded iron gate, he heard a trumpet and saw a man with five long throwing knives sticking out his neck, attached to the wall as other escorts tried to pry him off. His challenger was behind the other gate already, shouting like a madman in a different language. Different language, different taunts, Bralri mused mentally, showing his standard, sly thinking grin.

The arena was mostly made of a dark grey cobble stone, but sand lined the arena floor itself so that the warriors had more traction, and a possible strategy for blinding others temporarily, should dirty tactics be used. The king sat on a chair that was made of a golden exterior layer and an iron interior, an exquisitely fashioned seat which appeared to be a tree stump surrounded by vines, flowers, torches, fire, and gently flowing water, all painted with the most impressive fire-paint money could buy. The normal seats were all a type of milky-white marble, and the coliseum was large enough to hold more than 50,000 people, an incredible amount. The arena itself was ovular, about 400' by 300', the entrance on one side of the wider side, and the king's throne and the king's special entrance on the other. The participant gates were both on the two ends farther away from each other, and a large gate for the escorts and medics was on the wide end nearest the main participant's entrance. Overall, the coliseum was a mighty impressive feat for an incredibly impressive capital.

Another trumpet blew and the gate before him opened, and closed the second he entered the arena. The escorts left with the body on the other end of the arena, the gate closing behind them as the madman continued shouting, his giant warhammer forming craters in the rock below as he stampeded about, arousing a mighty cheer from the crowd. A berzerker, huh, the young man thought to himself, trying to make a plan. A few seconds passed with him standing there, waiting for the trumpet, his short sword sheathed, although his hand was on the hilt as he thought. When the trumpet blew, the madman charged at him, his red, leather-like and extremely burly skin crackling with energy as he flew towards the noble swordsman.

Bralri drew his sword, identifying the target's leather armor as a sign that he had a great deal of endurance, and decided to play cat and mouse. The young man's body was not capable of taking a single hit from the berzerker's hammer without breaking a bone, even at the amount of training he had gone through. The berzerker's warhammer was made of stone, and was mounted on a metal pole, but Bralri estimated that it would be more effective to let the man tire himself out with the weapon than it would be to try luring the man to a wall and break his warhammer. His plan was simple, but more skill based, for the simple strategies are the most effective against brainless enemies.

After the barbarian had closed the thirty or so feet between him and Bralri, the distance closed at an all-out sprint, the berzerker swung his hips to his left, brought his hammer around, and forcefully swung the weapon as hard as he could, straight toward the swordsman's chest. A side-swing was anticipated, and thus Bralri advanced a single step before the berzerker swung and dove to the ground, drawing his sword in the process. While on the ground, the madman attempting to stop the momentum of his weapon, Bralri quickly stabbed his weapon into the heel of the monster of a man and lept out behind him, leaving the barbarian with a woefully damaged tendon. The figure shouted at pain when the action took place, and tried to kick the youth, but nearly lost his balance in the process, and thus had to right his weapon and turn around to face his enemy, sweat pouring from his face as he charged yet again.

Bralri was surprised to see that the berzerker had only a slight limp as he ran, but it still slowed the madman down considerably. The crowd cheered like thunder as the wild man brought his hammer behind his back and forcefully swung it straight down at the swordsman, a loud shriek escaping from his maw as he conducted the action. A slight tremor shook the arena as the hammer hit the stone beneath the swordsman, the youth having decided to step back and out of the way. Immediately after impact, the swordsman jumped towards the berzerker, his arms still recovering from shock, and jabbed the tip of Rikt straight into the beast of a man's right eye. Before he could react again, the swordsman kicked the metal pole the head of the warhammer was on and shot away.

The berzerker did not just let the swordsman leap towards him after he swung, however. The berzerker let go of the weapon with his right hand and reached toward the swordsman as he jumped away, barely catching him by the heel. The action was surprising to Bralri, and he immediately fell to the floor, shocked. Adrenaline pumping, the berzerker gave a loud shriek and flung the swordsman into the air, the young man flying high into the arena as he grabbed his warhammer again, preparing to swat the enemy out of the sky. Bralri gained his wits a second after being flung and stretched out his limbs, using his body's shape to adjust the course of his fall. The berzerker swung at the swordsman as he fell back down towards the ground, but the swordsman was just out of reach, and he landed in a back-roll, the fat of his thigh absorbing the shock of the landing as he rolled away, trying to escape the beast's anticipated 'second swing.'

As expected, the berzerker continued in his swinging motion and brought the hammer back down where the young swordsman was seconds before, causing another slight tremor, but the youth had rolled out of the way and risen to his feet. Heavy breaths shot from the lungs of the berzerker as his muscles pulsed, the warrior needing a break from all the constant fighting. His bones were starting to fracture from the inhuman amounts of force he was delivering. Bralri used this to his advantage. The crowd was in a chant, shouting for blood as the young swordsman got up, and so Bralri lept up the warhammer the berzerker was holding yet again, and stabbed his other eye.

Now fully blind, the berzerker tried to reach for the swordsman again, holding his warhammer with one hand and searching for the weasel with his other, to no avail. The swordsman had learned from his mistake, and had pulled in his limbs to his chest as he jumped away from the berzerker, leaving the man without the ability to see as he screamed a blood-curdling, pain-ridden scream, shouting words that Bralri could only assume were curses. The madman clutched his warhammer again and began to swing in circles, hauling the heavy weapon at amazing speeds as he circled around, exhausting himself yet more. Bralri watched in amusement as he walked backwards, grinning at the sight. The berzerker was going in circles, accomplishing nothing as he screamed out his life and his energy, pitiful and hopeless.

After a minute, the berzerker collapsed from dizziness, his hammer flying towards a wall far away. The swordsman quickly walked towards the beast, but kept his distance, and stepped silently. He approached the berzerker after a few moments, then quickly lunged at the madman and rubbed Rikt's deadly edge against the burly man's neck, slicing his throat wide open for the audience to see. The berzerker grabbed the swordsman and flung him away, less forcefully than before, but the bleeding soon killed the madman as he breathed in his own blood, a nasty sight. Trumpets blew again, the escorts came and the exit scene repeated itself as the semi-finals continued, the next two men entering the arena after Bralri exited, snarling at each other with taunts and growls.

The tournament held many knights and other strategy-minded individuals like Bralri, however they did not have nearly the strength that he did, and some of them were easily phased by taunts, or spent too much time talking. Bralri was the only 'strategy' minded individual left in the tournament, from what he heard in the arena while walking away, thus he assumed the final round would be the very pit of despair. Once again, Bralri meditated as he walked back to his room, many more escorts carrying the extremely heavy oaf behind him, then found a bit of bread and a fruit in his food basket. Eagerly consuming the food, washing his face, stretching and caring for Rikt once again, Bralri readied himself, for the final round was soon, and the whole crowd would be watching, even the king himself, admiring him. Death was not an option.


Last edited by Amalgamator on Fri Jul 19, 2013 8:18 pm; edited 1 time in total
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Re: The Fallen (M) Anyone ADVANCED

Post by Guest on Fri Jul 19, 2013 3:56 pm

(I was thinking the King could send him on a quest or something, and they meet. Somehow Bralri finds out about the Dragon, and Nyla and Iantha travel away with Brali. Basically he should train them or something, but you can decide what happens. And yeah, twists would be wonderful!!)

Nyla stared at the dragon with round eyes filled with wonder. "Your a Dragon..." She repeated more to herself this time. She swore she saw the young dragon nod, but when she looked again she saw no movement. She reached out and rubbed the spot where she had flicked the Dragon. "I'm sorry if I hurt you." The Dragon hummed, and rubbed it's scaly head on my her arm. Nyla smiled,"You are very pretty." She said, rubbing the Dragon's wing, The young dragon let out a squeak, and a mournful cry. Nyla looked at her, confused. And after a few minutes, Nyla felt a instinct that the baby dragon was hungry. The instinct went away as soon as she had got it. "Did you do that?" She asked. The dragon just blinked. Nyla didn't know anything about dragons, and had assumed they were only legends. Only myths, only stories. One thing she did know though, was that they were carnivores. "I'll get you food." She said nodding. The Dragon hummed again, and sat with a small grunt. Nyla got off her bed, casting a glance at the Dragon,"Don't go anywhere, and be quiet." She said, looking at the dragon. The dragon hummed. "Is that all you can do?", the Dragon stopped humming, and blinked.

Nyla snuck into the main room of the house, and out the door. She was careful not to make any noise, but the door hinges still squeaked. Nyla stepped into the chilled night air, and looked into her bedroom window. She smiled as she saw the dragon watching her. Nyla turned back to her task at hand. She walked quietly over to the vault where they kept their meat. It was underground so the meat would not rot. She opened the door, and went down the stairs into the vault. It stunk of salted meat, and raw meat. Nyla had never liked the smell. She grabbed two strips of of dried beef. She didn't know how much dragons ate, but a baby couldn't eat much. She also grabbed some pickled fish.She walked out of the vault, and made her way back into the house, and to her room.

When she got the door to her room shut, she found the dragon waiting for her. The dragon's eyes brightened as she saw the meat. Nyla gently laid the first strip in front of the dragon The dragon growled, and ripped at the meat, eating it surprisingly fast. Then after it was done, the dragon looked back at the meat Nyla held. Nyla gave it the last strip, and the jar with the fish in it.

The dragon finished the meat and fish within five minutes. Nyla smiled, and showed the dragon her empty hands. The Dragon seemed disappointed, and climbed onto the bed, and made her way over to Nyla's pillow. She curled up in a little ball, and looked at Nyla. Nyla sat on the edge of her bed, and looked at her hand. "What did you do to me?" She asked. The Dragon hummed. "I don't know what that means." Nyla retorted annoyed. That only made the Dragon hum louder, as if in amusement. Nyla rolled her eyes, and petted the dragon. "What shall I call you? Are you a boy or a girl?" The dragon just stared at her. "You look like a girl, I can't imagine a boy being purple. Now for a name..." Nyla said thinking. The dragon got up and crawled over to her, and rested her head in Nyla's lap.

Nyla inspected the Dragon. She was a beautiful purple. The color of the sky at early night, or at dawn. Her wings were a dark purple, or cobalt blue. She couldn't tell in the dim light. The Dragon's mesmerizing blue eyes stared at her, as she thought. Nyla ran over the name's in her head,"Lucy?" The Dragon snorted in disgust,"I didn't think so." Nyla said quietly. "How about...No, No. You wouldn't like that." The Dragon looked at her smartly. And Nyla kept thinking. Then an old word came to her, that she remembered meant purple,"Iantha..." She whispered. Then louder,"Iantha" The Dragon hummed, and Nyla smiled. "Your name is Iantha." She said again. The name seemed to fit the dragon.

Iantha yawned, and stretched, as did Nyla. "We should sleep." She laid down, and curled into the blankets, Iantha curled close to her chest. And began to sleep, quickly. Nyla stared at her. She didn't know why she trusted the Dragon, but it seemed as if they were meant to be together, and the Dragon would not harm her. There and then, Nyla vowed to protect Iantha, even if it meant her life.

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Re: The Fallen (M) Anyone ADVANCED

Post by Amalgamator on Fri Jul 19, 2013 6:38 pm

(I had a billion plot twists in mind, two of them will play out in this post. One of the plot twists I was thinking of was of Bralri being mind-controlled by one of his other cousins into killing the king, leaving him in exile and the mind-controller king. I was also thinking of Bralri having a plan to kill the king and steal the dragon, then go out to find the captor of the other dragon egg himself. I also thought of the King's ordeal being of finding the egg, but that'd be cliche, so I'll just go with your idea, unless I think of something more plausible we both agree on.

Also, as much as I just said that I'd let you control magic and stuff, yeah, heh, well, I kind of, well, you'll see. I just hope you do not disapprove.)

Loud, running footsteps sounded from the tunnel as Bralri relaxed in his bed, his attention aroused by the pattering and panting of whoever was there. A few seconds after the first traces of these sounds, the footsteps rushed around the corner of the tunnel, and Bralri got up to open the door for the people who were running. Too slow, the door slammed open, followed closely by the voices of two desperate escort men, shocked and desperate. "S-Sir! Y-You have to help us! C-Curoila is possessed! H-He is killing the crowd, and the g-guards too!" one of the escorts huffed out, his companion trying to speak the same words between exasperated breaths.

Bralri heared enough at 'sir' and had already left the room, casually running upright at a speed most nobles would collapse from exhaustion at. He could hear the screams hollowly echoing through the tunnels, the torches flickering as if by wind as he got closer to the gate. After reaching the gate, he found that the contestant was indeed killing the crowd, for he had jumped up to the banisters and begun mass murdering the people, using a blade enveloped in some sort of black smoke. The arena seemed to be in a hurricane, and the king was nowhere to be found, dark, menacing thunder clouds lined the sky and blotted out the sun as blood rained down on the sand, the corpse of the previous unlucky competator already dead.

Bralri had no time to lose, in his most powerful voice, he roared out a command which erupted with the force of a bomb, a mere three words. "GET DOWN HERE." he shouted, ripping Rikt from its sheath as he stared at the frozen possessed knight, half in the process of ripping a man to shreds. No more words needed to be said, Bralri's voice had pierced even the screams of the terrified crowd. The possessed competitor shot off the stands, heading straight towards Bralri with unhuman speed and power, holding out his sword, a trail of smoke following in its wake. "aS yOU WiSH!" the man cackled out, his voice warped and discordant as his figure slammed into the ground where Bralri was previously standing. The swordsman was not as slow as some of the other competitors, and had learned that a side-dash was a good way to dodge any attack, thus he lept to the side, rolled, and stood up in a ready position, not bothering to rid the sand from his armor.

Thunder struck in the place of the trumpeter, for the trumpeter was already dead along with a few hundred other people. Blood dripped from the possessed figure's sword as he stood up, grinning with a satanic masochistic expression, quickly advancing towards Bralri. The young swordsman wasted no time in drawing out his parrying dagger, eyeing the odd figure of the demon before him. Bralri had seen magic users over-devote themselves to dark magic, especially by use of ancient words and runes, but to see a person using a possessed sword was a sight he had never seen before.

The dark figure struck quick, almost impossibly, stabbing his straight-edged sword straight towards the soft chestplate of Bralri. The young swordsman had expected a slash at his neck, but had raised his parrying dagger just in time to catch the blade. Before he could counter the attack with a cut to the wrist, the possessed figure had already pulled out his sword and swung again. Bralri barely managed to parry a second time, but was already moving Rikt straight for the figure's chest, a quick, deadly jab. Neither of the two landed a blow, because the smoky figure drew back instantly after his attack was parried.

Bralri then took the retreat as an opportunity to switch the tides of battle and attacked again, clenching his jaw as he aimed his blade towards the figure's right shoulder, hoping to off-set his balance at the very least. The possessed man wore a cheap chainmail and some thin leather, but his arms and shoulders had only leather to protect them, a foolish choice. The dark figure dodged almost effortlessly out of the way as Bralri's sword passed him, but his dodge led his feet out of a good position, and so as the possessed man's sword swept up to catch Bralri's waist, the young swordsman flawlessly caught the possessed blade and swept one of the figure's legs out from under him.

The smoke of the figure's sword swept around Bralri's face, almost blinding him, but the young swordsman knew better than to give up an advantage. In the hopes of not getting poisoned from the stuff, Bralri held his breath and stabbed into the spot where the figure's body was. A thunk sound was heard, and a ear-piercingly loud screech, but the wound Bralri inflicted was to the knee of the possessed man, who had tried to wiggle out of the way. The young swordsman shot away from the smoke, breathing heavily after clearing his face of the devil's powder, then frowned at the figure, his vision slightly impaired.

As an observation, I would assume that the smoke coming out from his blade has a blinding effect, or possibly a poison targeting my ears, I do feel a bit of pain there... the young strategist thought, eyeing his enemy as he stood up, Bralri himself trying to analyze the possessed man's movement. The possessed man did not limp, but black blood leaked out from his wound, the blood seemingly black only due to an impossible excess of iron. The possessed man grinned and licked some of the blood from his wound, "dELiSHioUs!" he growled, his voice even more discordant than before as his overuse of the possessed sword wore on.

"Drop your weapon and I will spare you." Bralri shouted, his voice greatly assertive as he gave his command, each word flowing like honey from a warm jar as he planned out a strategy to finish the poor soul. The figure laughed with intense psychotic alacrity, his emotion and laughter fading to nothing seconds later as he solemnly, seriously growled out, "No." The figure then almost instantaneously shot towards Bralri, providing the young swordsman with almost no time to react. Still, the swordsman was ready in his stance, and the possessed man's sword glanced off his parrying dagger, scratching the young swordsman's left shoulder's chainmail. The possessed sword was surprisingly sharp, but Bralri's chainmail was tough, the chains having been well made, thus only three of the links were cut, and of those, none fully broke, leaving Bralri unharmed, but shocked.

The figure continued in his motion, shooting thirty feet onward in a very uncontrolled manner. Bralri quickly turned around just in time to see the possessed figure erupt in a pillar of smoke and shoot towards him again. This time, Bralri ducked down and held out his sword, tip towards the target, and Rikt slammed right into the possessed man's chest, stabbing him right in the second rib, piercing straight through due to the figure's speed and destroying many vital veins and arteries, deflating the lung instantly. The possessed man's sword did not miss too greatly, however, for that time, Bralri had not ducked far enough, and the blade had shot across his scalp, lightly cutting his skin.

The possessed man continued moving, taking Rikt with him as he continued in his motion, but collapsed as soon as he stopped moving. With another great shriek of pain, the possessed man ripped out Rikt and threw it to the other side of the arena, his blood flowing out more quickly now. Bralri held his hand against his head, frowning as he saw blood already dripping from his head. The scalp is one of the more bloody places to get a cut, because it is right next to the brain, and thus many veins and arteries lay in the skin, providing oxygen for both hair and the skull. The shallow cut delivered to Bralri's scalp wouldn't lead to his death if treated, but his vision would again be impaired by the open wound and the blood.

The possessed man did not find reason to die yet, and thus, with another incredibly loud shriek, his form shot toward the unarmed man, sword in hand, and stabbed right at the swordsman's heart. "Night." The swordsman said, catching the sword in the U-prong and twisting with all of the strength in his body, one quick snapping motion combined with the momentum of both of them. A second later, a long piece of iron fell to the floor and a solid, white-knuckled fist landed straight on the cheek-bone of the possessed man. The smoke-enveloped man collapsed, his hands went limp, and the hilt of his destroyed, possessed blade exploded in a vast pillar of black smoke. The possessed man melted silently into a puddle of black blood, which covered the young swordsman's sandals, and a minute later, Bralri realized that the battle was over and sheathed his parrying dagger, walking over to collect Rikt as he clenched his head, blood still flowing from his wound. His vision had not diminished much through the duration of the fight, thus the smoke likely just got in his eyes, but his hearing was affected greatly, despite his lack of a need for hearing near the end of the quick skirmish.

He bowed down and collected his sword, almost blacking out from the action due to his blood loss. A huge stream of guards shot in through the front gate two minutes later to find the swordsman meditating, holding his head as blood leaked from his skull. About time, he thought to himself, grinning slyly, then cringing at the pain of the action, not like anyone's life was at stake, fellows. Two of the soldiers helped up the man and escorted him out of the place while the other multitudes quickly fanned out to search for survivors or other rogues. As the soldiers escorted the contestant, the lone survivor of the King's tournament, their armor clanked along the cobbled streets, their voices echoing under their helmet visors. "You'll recover fine." one of the guards said, his voice cheery, but the other guard said, "We are going to have to ask what went on back there."

Unfortunately, as good of a fighter as he was, the amount of blood the swordsman lost from his fight caused him to fall partially unconscious as the guards were escorting him. After awhile, the figure woke back up in a tent, a nurse placing a moist towel on his forehead, then turning around to leave. "Pardon," Bralri started, startling the nurse as she quickly turned around again, "Have you heard news of the tournament?" he said, his voice trailing off at the end as he coughed a few times, the feeling of a cut in his head unfamiliar to him.

The nurse quietly said, "Shhhhh, rest. The harolds are all arguing over that event anyway." as she cautiously sat down beside the man and massaged his shoulders for a second to calm his lungs, "Alvicia healed your scalp, but the feeling of your cut will persist until you regain all of your lost blood. Rest one more day and you'll be good to go for sure." After saying this, the nurse got up and left, smiling gently back at the wounded man as she opened the tent flap and stepped out. Tired and exhausted still, Bralri closed his eyes and fell back to sleep, time flying by as dreams of strategies, chess, magic and prestige all fought for a place in his mind.
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Re: The Fallen (M) Anyone ADVANCED

Post by Guest on Fri Jul 19, 2013 10:17 pm

( you can do all of the Plot twists as you like, it is actually better if you do... And as for Magic and that kind of stuff, It can be added as we go along... I like the idea of Balri killing the king, and stealing the Dragon, but I think it would be somewhat better if he got the dragon before, killing the king. And also before killing the King, he could find Nyla, or something along those lines. You can go with something else if you like though...)

Nyla awoke to Iantha growling. She was somewhat scared of the creature before her, and confused. Then she remembered last night. She sighed in amusement, and petted Iantha. The small dragon continued to growl. Nyla looked around, but saw nothing suspicious. "What is it?" She whispered. Iantha blinked, but didn't remove her eyes from where she was staring. Nyla finally caught sight of the problem. Her cat,Floppy, had wandered into the room. Nyla giggled,"It's just Floppy. You need not be afraid." Iantha stopped growling, and snorted, as if she understood.

Nyla was aware of a faint sagging in her bed, and she finally noticed how big Iantha had grown during the night. She was almost a foot taller. "Oh my... You can't stay in my room." Iantha looked at her, and Nyla thought she saw a spark of sadness. "There's no reason to be upset, I'll put you in the barn." Nyla said, thinking of the old abandoned barn. It was a couple miles from the house, and no one,but Nyla, ever ventured into it. The small Dragon blinked with satisfaction. "Okay, but we have to hurry."

Nyla grabbed the Dragon in her arms, and heaved herself into a sitting position. The Dragon was heavier than she looked. Nyla pushed herself onto her feet, and quietly exited the house. The sun hadn't even appeared over the nearby mountains, but the sky was starting to lighten. Nyla remembered the shed, and altered her course till she came to it. "Can you help me?" She asked Iantha, motioning to the dirty shed.

Iantha blinked,and got out of Nyla's hold. She then trotted to a corner where a piece of rotten wood was lying. Iantha took it up in her jaws, and trotted outside, dumping the wood, in a little crevice. Nyla smiled, and picked up the old straw. She carried it, and dumped it in the same crevice. She then went back, and saw Iantha dragging an old stump out of the shed. The stump had to weight seventy pounds, and Nyla was amazed at the small Dragon's strength. Iantha drug the stump to the crevice, and pulled it in. Nyla clapped,"Wonderful!" Nyla grabbed an old wine barrel, and tipped it on it's side. She rolled it out of the shed, and pushed it onto the other rubbish. Ianth did like wise, with a old, rotten chair.

Finally, after almost an hour, the two were finished. The pile of rubbish, had grown to the size of Nyla's shoulders. Nyla again picked up Iantha, but the little dragon shreiked, and pulled away. Nyla let  her drop out of her arms, and the Dragon landed with a small thud. Iantha then unfolded her dark purple wings, and jumped about. Nyla watched in awe as the Dragon, flew for about twenty feet, then dropped back to the ground. Iantha then went up again, and landed another twenty feet off. Nyla started into a jog, having to run to keep up. The Dragon gradually grew better at flying, and when she reached the height of ten feet, she glided upon the small breeze. She then drifted almost seventy feet.

After an hour of jogging, and gliding, the pair reached the ramshackle barn. Part of the roof had caved in, but the other half was sturdy. There were two old stalls in the good part, and Nyla grabbed some stale hay from the ground. She was surprised as she heard a shriek, and a mouse dropped out of the hay she was holding. The mouse landed on the ground, and ran quickly toward some other hay. It was stopped by Iantha though. The small Dragon pounced upon the mouse, in the manner of a cat. Iantha then ate the squeaking mouse whole, and hummed in pleasure."Well... At least I know you can hunt." Nyla replied happily. Iantha straightened up proudly.

Nyla walked over to one of the old stalls, and dropped the hay in a corner. "There will be your bed", She said, looking at Iantha. The Dragon sniffed the moldy hay, and blinked up at Nyla. As if to say,"You expect me to sleep upon this?" Nyla rolled her eyes,"It's the best I can do. " Nyla said with a snort. Iantha gave a small growl, and reluctantly climbed upon the hay. She curled into a ball, and looked up at Nyla. Nyla spotted some rope upon the wall, and she ran over and grabbed it. Holding Iantha still, she tied a little harness about the Dragon. Iantha snorted in disgust. Nyla then tied the other part of the rope to a stout pole.

"You just stay there, and I'll bring you some meat tonight." Nyla said, staring woefully at the Dragon. Iantha uttered a small squeak, and whimpered. "I promise that I will return." Nyla said, patting the little dragon's back. Iantha hummed, and Nyla felt something push at her mind. She recoiled, not knowing what to do. Then as if someone were speaking to her, she heard a voice. Except in her mind,"Return Soon" Nyla gasped, and looked at the Dragon. "Did you... Of course you did... I will, don't worry." Iantha blinked, and curled up again. The Dragon's blue eyes closed, and her breathing grew regular. Nyla backed out of the open end of the stall. "Good bye, Iantha." She said, quietly. The Dragon gave a soft snort in recognition. Nyla then turned and left, replaying the sound of the Dragon's voice in her mind.

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Re: The Fallen (M) Anyone ADVANCED

Post by Amalgamator on Sat Jul 20, 2013 3:59 pm

(I have not found a better plot yet, so I'll stick to yours until logic takes over, if it does. Oh, and this will be exceptionally long, mostly because I try to get through a ton of ground. If you don't want to read it, basically Bralri goes to court and batters through the test of Intelligence and Strength which the King set in place. I left the ending a cliff-hanger, because I had an idea.

My idea is that maybe your aunt notices the various parts of the dragon shell in Nyla's room and decides to tell the town guard about it. Maybe someone else sees the dragon as Nyla walks around with it, or maybe a guard walks by and sees it, then sends a letter to the capital. The idea, summed up, is that a courier slams through the door right when the king is about to declare his ordeal, and tells the king that the location of the dragon was found, misinterpreting the message and thinking that the dragon had not hatched yet. If this does not seem logical or applicable, continue by ignoring me. I'm having too much fun with this story. Very Happy

Oh, and I am very sorry for taking so long. I woke up at 12:00PM today because I stupidly decided to take Melatonin.)

A figure approached Bralri as he stood, alone in the darkness, in a place unknown, with no memory of how he got there, nor any indication as to what was ten feet beyond him. The fog was so great that the figure was barely visible, but highly audible, for silence was the only company the young swordsman and the figure had. Blackish, dark, menacing fog enveloped the young swordsman and whispers came from the figure's mouth. "Do not follow the sun, nor the moon, nor the sky, nor the ground, nor fire, nor water, nor thunder, nor stars. Follow the words, your words, and you'll be led right."

Bralri stood motionless as the figure continued approaching, its figure equivocal. Closer and closer the figure came, his voice echoing in the fog, slowly growing louder as he got closer, "You'll be led right, you'll be led right, you'll be led right..." mimicking the young swordsman's own thoughts. When the figure was right in front off the youth, it took off a smoky mask, the same kind of smoke which the possessed man wore that very day, and menacingly groaned, "or I'll find you," his face warping, changing, pale wight and bony, almost skeletonlike as the spots where his eyes were moved to his chin, then to his forhead, all the while his mouth floating around his cheek, "for none escape me, my friend," with that, the man put his arm against his back, then straightened his arm back out to the side, now holding a great sword with many markings, a glowing sword. The figure then quickly flicked the sword behind him and slashed right through Bralri.

The young swordsman awoke with a start, barely constraining himself from screaming. He looked around in his tent to see if anyone was there, any nurses or doctors, but no one had the pleasure of meeting him. As Bralri got out of the cot which held him the last two days, he heard the unmistakable sound of wind on armor just outside the doors. Quickly, silently collecting his weaponry and changing his clothes for his fighting gear, the swordsman prepared himself to meet with the king, all in about five minutes of speedy, stealthy action. The young swordsman then broke through the tent flaps and greeted the two guards, "Fine acquaintance!" before being immediately arrested and dragged along against his will.

The two soldiers took the poor oaf through a short part of the city, everyone in sight either afraid, ignorant, or amused by the young swordsman's circumstances, but the shame did not last long, for after the guards led the arrested man through the great steel doors of the castle's entrance, they slowed down, allowing the man to walk. The castle was the most magnificent structure in all of the capitol, having endless spires and feats of architecture, upside-down staircases and arches, near-floating turrets and a ten-foot-thick wall surrounding it with ancient symbols lining each brick, creating a magnificent work of art. The paint used to decorate the structures was burnt in, providing a darkened rainbow when the sun shone down, as it did at sunrise at that moment, and the brilliance of the thousands of colors around him was not affected by overuse of the colors, but by the artful use of the reds to show similarity to the King's emblem, the same emblem imprinted on Bralri's chestplate, on every door and gate in the castle.

Many men skurried about the castle, and many more guards. None could escape the castle without being seen, or by being questioned. Only the king himself was not questioned by the guards, for he had a great collection of body guards to prevent such acts. The sea of scholars and philosophers, guards and advisers, judges, juries, and council members surprised Bralri, for many more had migrated into the castle since he had last visited. As the guards opened a door and entered a vast hallway, Bralri could deduct that he was being brought to the grand court, more than likely to tell the story of what had happened over the final fight of the tournament. Satisfying his belief, the guard to his right growled, "speak ONLY if spoken too, tell the truth or die, meet no one's eyes, and do not move unless told to by me or the king. Aye?"

Bralri nodded, confirming, "aye, sir." The guard seemed satisfied with this response, thus when they turned into a room along the now-curving hallway, they entered a vast court-room with many seats near the entrance in rows, all of which were marble, and an elevated, decorated seat array for a judge, a jury, a witness, and a few guards. Bralri was forcefully seated at the defendant's seat, in front of and to the right of the judge from the point of view of the entrance, then the two guards took seats around him. Soon afterwards, men and women filed into the court, filling the jury seats, the visitor seats, and even a few of the guard seats, although plenty of the guard seats were still unfilled when people stopped entering the room. Another minute later, an announcer shouted, "All stand for judge McGraw!" immediately followed by the guard to the young swordsman's right whispering, "stand."

Everyone in the room stood up as the judge walked through the isle, his footsteps padded by fancy shoes, and after he walked up the steps to his podium seat, he shouted, "Be seated" and all the people of the court sat, followed by the closing of the door. Following this command was two hours of questions and responses between the judge and Bralri, all of which were answered with honesty. The king, of course, was not present for the session, but many advisors and a few body guards who were off duty were present, watching the session. The judge paused, impressed by the intelligence of the tournament winner a few times, having not expected the youth to answer his questions so completely or with such a tranquil, mellow expression. After the questions ended, the jury ruled that Bralri was not guilty for the crimes of Curiloa, and the guards beside the man immediately pardoned him.

The court ended with everyone standing again as the judge walked out of the room, respected, then everyone filed out, guards controlling the rate at which said leaving happened. One of the body guards of the king walked over to speak to Bralri, wishing to congratulate him on his victory in the King's tournament, and as he stopped in front of the youth, he cleared his throat and enunciated, "My name is Sir Ichibald, a personal guard of the king, I have come to congratulate you on your victory." Bralri stared the soldier in the eye and responded, "I appreciate your congratulations, it was a hard-fought game," then began walking to the exit, the guard walking alongside the swordsman as he made his way to the exit, continuing, "I hoped the town guard would have found the coliseum sooner, for I felt lonely in the final round without them."

This comment inspired a hearty chuckle from the guard, followed by a mellow response of, "If the town guard were any slower, they'd be called the town watch!" Both men laughed at this, then the guard dismissed himself and went his separate way, Bralri walking along the fancy hallway towards the throne room, assuming his audience was requested by the king at that point. Two long stairwells and a beautiful view of the city later, Bralri reached a large doorway at the end of another, fairly short hallway and knocked hard on the door, announcing, "Sir Bralri requests audience with the king."

On the inside of the door, three guards un-latched the bar restraining the thick entrance and opened the doors quickly, allowing the man entrance. Within the king's throne room was many different chandeliers, brilliant statues of descendants, banners of the king's emblem, weapons, artifacts, guards, suits of armor, fires, banquet tables, a brilliant, red carpet, and the king's elevated, magnificent throne, one even more elaborate than the beauty at the coliseum, a throne that was worked into the perfect, marble wall itself, surrounded by hundreds of creatures and vines, waterfalls, golden fires, lightning strikes, swords, shields, spears, and fanciful wind-like strokes, all worked into a pure-gold tree, the likes of which had a recess built in the bottom, surrounded by vines on all sides but the front, with two arm-rests and a cushioned seat, all of which allowed the king to peacefully sit all day, looking down upon his subjects as he ruled.

Bralri kneeled after the doors closed behind him, remaining thus until the king lifted his hand, smiling at his descendant. "Sir Bralri, your brilliance in battle has preceded you." the king claimed, a wicked smile on his face as he watched the young man rise. Bralri cleared his throat and stood still, respectfully responding, "It appears so, for the king himself now knows of my prestige." The king nodded and announced, "Come, swordsman, I have words for you." With this said, Bralri quickly walked through the room, over to the throne, and kneeled again before rising to hear the king's words.

"Magnificent cousin," the king started, his face solemn, "your abilities in combat are unparalleled in all of the kingdom, for you have won my tournament. Your intelligence and strength have been spoken of in legends and rumors alike, many of which have aroused my interests. Having heard of all of this, I have assigned my chief adviser to pose two tests for you." With this said, the king silenced himself and motioned for the door to open. Three guards quickly unbarred and opened the doors again, and in stepped a red-and-black robed individual, holding a thick book and a scroll. "Your first test is to decipher a riddle none have found answer too before. Your second is to survive the Nine Horrors."

The robed individual stopped after the doors closed behind him, then kneeled, then stood and walked towards Bralri, the scroll outstretched in his hand. "The riddle, sir." The young swordsman accepted the scroll and read it to himself, each part posing its own puzzle:


What has hundreds of legs, hundreds of arms,
breaths, drinks, almost never moves,
hurts not, falls not, talks to none,
transforms, revives, sheds hair often,
and matures whether something is around it or not?


The robed individual saw that the young swordsman had finished reading and said, "You may answer only once, speak carefully," as he relaxed the arm holding the book, looking at the young swordsman. Bralri re-read the riddle, then looked up at the robed individual and said, "A Tree, for it has hundreds of roots and hundreds of limbs, inhales what we exhale, drinks water, and does not move, thus it does not hurt, fall, or talk. A tree transforms with the seasons, revives every winter, and sheds leaves in fall, and a tree will grow whether tended too or not." The scholar grinned at this answer, then looked up at the king and responded, "His answer is correct."

Bralri turned around to look at the king, who then grinned slyly and responded, "Even I did not understand that riddle," motioning for the robed man to start the next test as he said, "you have one test yet to pass, however." The robed individual opened the book he was holding, a book titled, "The Nine Horrors," the most feared of all ordeal-magic books in the Kingdom. "You know of the Nine Horrors, correct?" The robed man asked, looking up at Bralri while paging through the book, trying to find the starting incantation. Bralri shuttered and replied, "I have heard of it," as he gulped down his heart, trying to suppress what fearful thoughts he had.

The robed man stopped paging through the book and said, "The Nine Horrors is the most powerful ordeal we magicians know of. What will happen is that you will be stabbed in the heart by this dagger," the robed individual then pulled out a dagger, a fanciful piece of polished, sharpened obsidian with many different symbols in it, glowing a faint red, then explained, "the dagger is enchanted to flood your body with an impossible amount of energy, causing your body to destroy itself and heal itself in a constant cycle for a few minutes. In these minutes, the ordeal itself will occur. I will recite an incantation which will allow you to withdraw into your mind, like a dream, and you will face Nine Horrors, the likes of which I cannot easily explain. If you survive all Nine Horrors, your body will repel the dagger and heal, if not, your body will stop healing and will burst apart, leaving you dead."

The robed man stopped, placing the book on one of the banquet tables, said table already cleared off, then waved for the young swordsman to go over to the table. "This is a test of strength because you must remain steadfast to your goal, to live, and you may not give in to any fear, any temptation, any injury or horror or illusion or mistake. I wish you luck, Sir Bralri." With this said, Bralri walked over to the table and lay himself down on it, removing his chestplate and chainmail as the king watched. The robed man murmured an incantation, the likes of which Bralri did not care for as he readied his mind. After a few seconds, the robed man raised his dagger, said another word in the incantation, and rested the dagger in Bralri's chest, dead center, straight through his heart.

Red light exploded from the hilt of the dagger, the tiny bit of obsidian still showing, and Bralri fell immediately unconscious as various parts of his body exploded and healed constantly, the robed man quickly flipping through the pages as a weaker red aura surrounded him, keeping various pieces of Bralri off of him as he recited another incantation. The king watched in amusement from his throne, the spectacle quite interesting. The bright red light was blinding, but the king could still see some of the process from his peripheral vision.

Bralri woke up in a coliseum, a smaller, circular coliseum with nine heavy gates, one of which immediately opened with a loud shriek as he started to get up off the ground. His chestplate and chainmail rested beside him, his chest bare, and on his chest was an odd scar, slightly star-like with many jagged lines. The young swordsman could feel pain pulsing through his chest, even in the dream, as he dawned his armor and rushed towards the gate, Rikt in hand. The gate shut behind him, leaving him in darkness, the first horror. The young swordsman looked around, searching for whatever this 'horror' was, noticing that the gate behind him was gone and that the floor was as well. A feeling of falling enveloped Bralri, and he started to feel air rush around him as he fell through utter darkness, various sounds of sharp objects rushing by as he fell. This first horror seems like I just cannot see, he imagined, various sharp objects speeding by closer and closer to him as he continued falling, Maybe I will start hitting these objects at some point and acquire injuries.

Voices started to quietly emerge from the darkness, similar whispers to that of the tunnel from the tournament, except these whispers inspired fearful, cowardly thoughts, even though Bralri could not understand them. It was as if the whispers themselves were his own thoughts telling him to fail the ordeal, to back down and to die. Being conscious of his ability to think still, Bralri refused these emotions and busied himself by thinking of air while falling. The air smelled of blood, decaying flesh, feces and something else unpleasant, something Bralri could not describe. The smell, the whispers and the sharp objects played with his senses, all of which he could not see, but could indeed sense. The air tasted as bad, if not worse than it smelled, possibly containing vapors of blood and other horrible things.

Unsuspectedly, Bralri slammed into a rough, round object, a few spikes digging into his chest as he bounced off, slamming into a few other spiky objects. Pain shot through his body suddenly, air shot out of his lungs as he felt metal, glass, wood and rock dig into his flesh, leaving splinters and other such marks. His wounds did not heal as he continued falling down, his control of his limbs gone as pain interrupted his thoughts, the whispers gaining more meaning as he continued falling. Having no ability to see, the young swordsman closed his eyes, various spikes, walls, needles, hammers, shards, rough surfaces and blunt objects slamming into him as he fell. His rib-cage cracked a few times as his body slammed through a wood-like pole, continuing on down the invisible tunnel. He felt hundreds of cuts open his skin as he continued falling, his Chainmail useless, skin exposed and cut, every impact multiplying what pain he felt.

Bralri could not hear himself think amidst the rising loudness of the whispers, his throat was cut, and he could not speak, his face had been smashed in by a multitude of walls and spikes, but he continued falling, every bone in his body screaming for release from pain. He could not feel his heart beating, but he felt himself alive, thus he continued trying to move, trying to think, convincing himself that it was not real. All of a sudden, he slammed to a stop, his body slamming into a mound of sand, the pain all over his body still constant, but his wounds repaired. Bralri clenched his teeth hard, focusing amidst the ridiculous array of messages his body was sending, trying to stand up. First Horror: Unseen pain. he thought to himself, trying to focus on what his surroundings were. He appeared to be back in the arena while looking down, the floor covered in sand, but when he looked up, he saw eight golden doorways, one of which was opening on its own.

Bralri could see the sky in the room, but the sun was not there, instead the moon shone, night time present, but bright. Gold sparkles from brilliantly shined statues and seats surrounded him as he made his way towards the open doorway, not allowing his mind to wander to the statues as pain continued coursing through his body. Whispers asked him to stay, but he violently pushed away the thoughts by screaming "NO!" his pace unfaltering as he went towards the door. Already, this ordeal had put Bralri through more pain than he thought imaginable, but still, Bralri knew that he was within his own mind and that he would be unaffected by pain. The swordsman rushed through the door and was given a very unnerving sight. Around him was a forest-like area with many fountains and books, piles of food, and riches, armor made by masterful smiths, and a gigantic array of weapons all throughout.

The room held riches, wealth and comfort beyond Bralri's imagination, some of the objects Bralri had never even seen before. His curiosity was whetted, but Bralri saw a path leading through the room, a fairly short path. Whispers around him asked him to go and touch the objects as his mind filled with excuses and reasons to go and steal them, but Bralri heard a single voice, his own voice, telling him that he must stay on the path and leave the room. Bralri looked behind himself and saw that the door he had passed through was gone, replaced by a wall of stone. The swordsman continued on, a sudden, overwhelming thirst shooting through his mind as one of the fountains right next to the path began to overflow, the sparkling, bright blue water whispering for him to drink.

Bralri heard his mind yet again, quietly saying that his thirst was fake, even though the urge was still there, and Bralri listened, closing his eyes as he stepped onward, his throat and lips bleeding from dryness as he did so. Pain from the last horror still present, Bralri continued on, his legs unwilling to walk faster as he continued through the room, hunger quickly building in his stomach. Again, voices posed fascinating, enticing reasons and excuses to eat the food around him, visions of the food emerging from behind his eyes, but Bralri heard his voice tell him that he was being lied to, and that he needed to go on, to reach the end of the room. Bralri uncovered his eyes and continued moving, his determination to reach the end of the horror larger than any other urge. The pain, the hunger, the thirst and the greed did not matter to him as he went through the room, and at last, he saw the exit, a golden gate, one which looked like golden vines all woven into a beautiful look as Bralri continued on.

Before he reached the gate, however, a whisper enticed him to look to his right, saying it was his fate. Bralri looked over and gasped, his eyes shooting wide as his heart sped up. Bralri saw a green dragon egg on a pedestal, unprotected, still. Loud whispers assaulted him with pleads and reasons to go over and touch the egg, to claim the dragon for his own, to please the king, to become the greatest in all the world. Bralri dimly heard his own voice, the one voice of reason, telling him that nothing in the room was real, that it was a trap. The young man stared at the egg, each second enticing him more and more to touch it, but right before he thought to take a step, he stumbled across a memory of the previous day, remembering the possessed man and his sword.

The desire to get the dragon egg was overwhelming, but Bralri knew what was happening. Releasing his clenched jaw, Bralri turned away from the egg and walked towards the gate, hearing the loud screech and the clanking of chains as the heavy, golden gate opened, himself smiling as he conquered his desire, thinking, Second Horror: Desire of lies as he walked into the arena yet again. The golden gate shut behind him, and a gate at the other end opened, but as Bralri walked forward, a berzerker charged out of the gate, the gate closing behind the hulk. This berzerker was far more burly and powerful-looking than the berzerker Bralri faced in the tournament, and the whispers began to quietly say that he could not possibly win against this foe, that he was too slow, too weak and too dumb.

As the berzerker continued sprinting towards Bralri, he listened closely to himself, urging his mind to give him direction. Oddly, the only thing he heard was himself, no words of wisdom, as he had heard in the last two horrors. The berzerker finally made it to hitting range of Bralri, and with one gigantic swing, slammed a fully-metal warhammer three feet into the ground, causing a violent quake across the arena, the young swordsman having dove to the side barely in time. Without pause, the berzerker ripped his warhammer out of the ground and readied another swing, Bralri having pulled out Rikt, only to see that his weapon's blade had rusted. Bralri looked down at himself, having seen brown in his peripheral vision, and saw that his armor had rusted as well, his chainmail falling off as he watched, holes forming in his chestplate.

Pain shot through his body once again, even before the berzerker swung, and Bralri collapsed onto the floor as the berzerker slammed his weapon into the wall behind Bralri, rocks flying to the side as the berzerker stumbled and tripped, having not expected his warhammer to have hit such a hard surface. Bralri got up after the pain subsided, but the berzerker had grabbed his leg and got up with him, dragging him to the ground. Fearful whispers and the cheer of the crowd sounded around him, no sun, no whisper of wisdom, just the pain of being dragged and the pain of a thousand cuts as he was dragged along the floor, not a hope of victory in sight.

Even still, as the berzerker dragged him, Bralri had a plan. Bralri picked up a handful of sand and, despite the pain throughout his entire body, flexed his muscles and brought his chest up, seeing the hulk's giant hand as it grasped his foot. Bralri took his fist and slammed his middle knuckle into the beast of a man's wrist, near his radial vein, then rubbed his fist down and up once. The pressure point was a great surprise to the burly man, and he released the young swordsman out of surprise, checking his wrist for injury before looking back down to see his enemy. The young man got up immediately after being released and threw his handful of sand right into the giant's eyes the second the tower turned to face him, resulting in a cloud of dust and two irritated and pain-stricken eyes.

Bralri did not allow his opportunity to become useless however. As the berzerker shouted in pain, cursing the youth as he grasped his warhammer, Bralri clenched his fist again and, with all his weight, landed his fist on the red-skinned beefcake's instep, breaking three of his bones instantly and causing even more severe pain than before. The whispers continued telling him that the fight was hopeless and that one swing from the berzerker's hammer would kill him, but no amount of fear stopped the swordless swordsman. As the berzerker wound up a swing, his balance off-set by the gigantic weapon, Bralri landed another, weaker punch on his other instep, breaking two bones and cracking a third. The beastly man screamed in pain and swung his warhammer, but only the pole hit Bralri, and thus the swordsman was knocked back only a few feet. The berzerker, having two broken feet, collapsed from inability to balance himself and fell to the ground, his warhammer carrying him a few feet in the sand as he did so.

Bralri got up after a second of recovery to see that the berzerker had vanished. Three sets of footsteps sounded behind him, and as Bralri turned around, he saw three possessed men running towards him with axes and swords, menacing, psychotic grins lining their faces. Bralri took a step back, then began to turn as if to run, and immediately after, a sword glided through his shoulder, and an axe landed on his knee. As he was brutally damaged, Bralri kicked and punched the three figures with what limbs still worked, various injuries lining his body as what could be barely called a fight continued on, Bralri holding no hope for victory as he lay on the ground, blood soaking sand as he convulsed, occasionally damaging the figures around him as he fought on, convincing himself not to give up despite the whispers around him.

Friends and family joined in the other three possessed men as the brutality continued, Bralri unable to move as he was hacked to shreds. Once an axe landed on his neck, Bralri suddenly awoke in a large, four-sided room with two doors on three of the walls and one door and the fourth, that door being open. Bralri saw various scars on his half-naked body, his sword, his parrying dagger and all of his armor gone except for the rags he called clothing. The amount of pain shooting through his body as he got up had increased even more, giving him difficulty with moving. After getting up, Bralri walked towards the door, almost unconsicous as he did so. Third Horror: Hopelessness of Loss he thought, memories of the battle scarring his eyes every time he blinked.

After passing through the open door, Bralri noticed that the floor lit on fire, burning him severely. Bralri quickly started to run, the voices which were whispers now figures walking around him, talking to him. "Stop and rest, nothing here can hurt you!" one of the figures said, disappearing as other figures appeared, all saying different, yet similar comforting words as Bralri ran, trying to find an escape from the fire. Explosions erupted around him as he ran, some hurting him, some deafening him. Bralri could hear his own voice, but all it said was to find the exit and to keep running.

Walls rose from the ground around Bralri as he continued running, causing him to turn in different directions quickly as explosions erupted around him, sometimes opening up walls or 'encouraging' him to go faster as he sped through the constantly evolving maze of coals and flames. As Bralri quickly turned a corner, running down a different path, he thought, Horror Four: Confusion in Emergencies, various screams erupting around him, interrupting what train of thought he had after his identification. Bralri jumped over piles of rubble, climbing up and over various obstacles, evading whatever hopes the horror had of slowing him down as he burnt alive, his legs almost bones from the fire he walked on. Bralri knew that he was at the point where there was so much pain coursing through his body that he could not feel any more, thus he continued on running as his muscles slowly started to fail him, losing speed as he made his way through the maze.

The voices, the figures and the visions of escape, the excuses, the fears and the pain all worked against Bralri as he made his way through the inhuman ordeal, each turn more difficult than the last as he wandered through. Every now and then he would have to turn back and find another way as explosions riddled the maze with light. After a few minutes of silence within his own mind, deafened by the explosions, Bralri saw what looked to be a doorway and collapsed, his legs falling apart from the fire. With a groan of agony, Bralri crawled towards the door, his hands gripping the hot coals as he pushed himself onward, tears wetting his face and evaporating soon after as his body roasted just in front of the door. As soon as he got close enough, Bralri grabbed the cold ground beyond the doorway and pulled himself through, his body healing itself before him after he did so.

In the cold room, his own skin feeling as if it was still burning along with the pain from explosions and injuries, Bralri managed to look around and see that he was deep within a cavern, the door behind him having disappeared. In the cavern were six open tunnels, five of which were blocked off, one of which was not, the sixth tunnel seemingly lit by torches. Bralri got up, shivering from cold, and wandered towards the tunnel, curious as to what horrors it beheld him as his mind tried to make him aware of how many injuries and damages it had sustained. The swordsman walked through the tunnel's entrance and assumed that the entrance behind him would be gone, thus he continued walking, assuming something would happen, that the figures would reappear to tell him that he'd fail at something, or to try to convince him to do something.

Nothing of the sort happened. As Bralri walked through the cold tunnel, not a sound was emitted, not a drop of water, not a scurrying step of an animal, not even the far off clanking of a fallen icicle or a rock. Silence embraced Bralri as he walked on, an eerie silence which seemed endless and strange. Bralri realized that he didn't hear his footsteps after a minute, and that he also could not hear his own breath, then looked around and noticed that the pain he felt was gone too. His cold limbs looked frost-bitten, black and dead, and his mind was empty of thought, as if frozen in time. Unconsciously, Bralri continued moving through the tunnel, the heat-less torches lighting his way through the ice-covered walls and floor, sparkles of light shooting through the ice onto the dull wall of stone beyond. Bralri could see steam from his warm breath, but could feel nothing and see nothing as he continued on.

Forcing himself to do something, to keep his mind working and to try to stay conscious, Bralri mouthed, "Horror Five," before speeding up slightly, his ability to think slowly returning as his body continued slowly freezing, his lips continuing to mouth, "Isolation and Silence." The horror lasted what seemed to be years as Bralri continued on through the silent tunnel, feeling colder every few minutes as his body continued through the tunnel. After awhile, Bralri saw the exit and continued to wander towards it, hearing something beyond it. The exit was blocked by a circular stone which rolled itself out of the way as the near-frozen warrior made his way through. The exit disappeared behind him as he made it into the next room, a marble-covered room with what seemed like sunlight leaking in from the one open doorway of five, the other doorways having no doors, only outlines of cobbled stone, wheras the open doorway was half open and half crumpled pieces of stone.

Bralri paused as he walked towards the door, taking a moment to meditate in the room. He had thought a great deal while in the icy tunnel of the fifth horror, and had realized that the room that he was in had five doors. If there are only Nine horrors, and I have already faced five, why are there five more doors? the young swordsman thought to himself. He decided that the last door could be an exit, or that the last horror could be a decision, but Bralri decided to face it when he got to it, grinning as he suppressed his pain, walking towards the open doorway. After passing through the doorway, he was greeted by an odd array of people hurrying about, the sun shining down upon a busy marketplace as various men rushed about.

Bralri was confused as to this sixth horror, so he walked around and searched for an explanation from the crowd of people. As a man bumped into him, Bralri quickly turned and asked him, "What is going on here?" The man looked up at Bralri, his features blurred, as if he was not real, and the man responded, "You, you're Bralri, correct?" as a few people around him slowed down and gathered around him, watching as Bralri and the man conversed, the group of people who stopped growing larger as Bralri responded, "Yes, good sir, I am Bralri, cousin of our almighty King. Why are these streets so filled with people?"

After saying this, the man burst out with hysteric, mocking laughter, and other people began laughing too, more and more people gathering around Bralri at an alarming rate as he looked around, nervous. The man he spoke too before called out an insult at Bralri, saying, "You're the idiot who was killed by a child!" With this said, Bralri blinked and saw the face of a child as he looked up, being killed in the arena of the third horror, the child holding an axe up high above his head. Bralri then opened his eyes, the flashback taking only a second as another few people called out insults, their voices getting louder as they crowded around him, pushing him every now and then as they threw insults at him. Bralri heard the voice in his head saying, "They live to scar your mind, ignore them and find the exit," as he was tripped by a dog rushing by, falling to the ground quickly, encouraging more mocking laughter. Bralri drew his blade, then wove it at a few men, causing them to back away, and also causing others to shout, "He's gone mad!" "Now he'll murder us for his failures!"

The swordsman rushed through the crowd, pushing people out of his way, a tear falling down his face as he tried to make his way towards somewhere. Pain continued shooting through his body, cold and fire, slashes, stabs, broken bones and the feeling of blood pouring out despite his health. Bralri's body was unphased, but his mind forced the pain to exhaust him as he continued trying to swim through the sea of men, trying to find a gate. None of the buildings or tents around him had doors, all were just walls and decorations for the fake world he was wandering through. The rejection and accusation, the ridicule and rejection of others all inspired a horrible pain in Bralri's heart, but the young swordsman continued on, his mind set on his goal of living, of winning the ordeal, of proving his strength. Horror Six: Ridicule and Resentment

Ten long minutes of shouts, ridicules and insults, pushing, shoving and threatening later, Bralri found a leather-flap doorway and ran through it into a four-sided cabin-like room with four windows, the fourth being where the door he entered the room from previously was. Looking through each window and trying to open each, Bralri found that only one window could be opened, a window which seemed to be located right above a vast body of water with many islands within. After taking a deep breath, the young strategist opened the window and dove through it, into the water. The water was almost painfully salty, Bralri knew just from feeling it on his skin, and when he took his head back out of the water, salt burned his eyes, the voices telling him to look back, to escape from the water.

As predicted, Bralri heard his own mind call out, "Find a tree and climb to the top," as he continued swimming, trying to keep his head out of the water as he pushed water behind him, making his way towards the tree-less islands. Hours passed with the voices constantly telling him to look back behind him, telling him about what he would find, trying to entice him with words, with thoughts and visions, sometimes even saying that there would be consequences for not looking back. Bralri understood very quickly what the horror was, and thought, Horror Seven: Faith

The strategist swam through the ocean, not looking back, not obeying the voices and resting on treeless islands, ignoring various people shouting for him to obey the voices as he swam on. The strategist obeyed only himself amidst the evil and lies, and in the distance, the tired Strategist saw a tree growing on a small island. The young man patiently continued over to the island, the loud shouts of the voices getting more frantic as he got closer, but he knew them too well, and did not bother to obey their commands to look where he came from. The young man climed up the odd-looking, scaly tree and, after reaching the top, found himself in a three-sided wooden tree-house, a hole on each side, with only one of the holes being large enough for him to go through.

Bralri crawled through the hole and looked down to see that there was no ground, and that he was in a forest of odd-looking, strong trees. The voices were gone now, instead, birds flew around him, their tweets and caws normal sounding. Bralri was a bit confused as to the horror, for it did not seem to be challenging despite his extreme pain, starvarion and tiredness. Bralri assumed that all he would need to do was move from branch to branch. As Bralri moved, a few birds flew at him, none of them hitting him directly, just close enough to catch his attention momentarily. The birds, Bralri realized, were trying to make him fall.

Even though the voices and the whispers were gone, the threat of the birds left a feeling of distrust in his heart,  almost as if the birds were trying to make him fall off. As a result of this feeling, Bralri assumed that falling off the trees would be very bad, and as he grasped the trunk of a different tree, he looked down and saw no branches below him, beside the one he stood on. The forest was very strange, but the young swordsman had expected thus, and so he continued moving from branch to branch, his exposed feet getting hurt by the rough bark of the trees as he moved along the canopy.

After reaching another tree, a bird flew into Bralri's back, making him flinch as he clenched the trunk of the tree he was on. A brief image of himself falling came to mind after the bird hit him, followed by him looking down again, watching as the bird fell through the air, knocked out by the collision. Bralri took a deep breath, looking around at the mob of birds as he made his way around the tree, then got hit by another bird, this one hitting his arm. Bralri frowned and thought to himself, Horror Eight: Fear of falling, or maybe fear of failure? After thinking this, Bralri quickly ran off on one of the branches, birds flying towards him as he did so. Being swift and well balanced, Bralri managed to make it all the way to the other tree's trunk before getting hit by another bird.

Bralri got hit more frequently by the birds, their awful cacophony annoying the young man as he continued circling around the tree. Deciding to go to one tree instead of another, Bralri smacked away an annoying bird which had hit him and stuck around, scratching at his back as he climbed around the tree. The swordsman only just let go of the tree trunk when he was hit by another two birds in close succession, throwing off his balance. The young man lept back to the tree and growled, angry at the annoyance as more birds flew towards him, some of them hitting him. Having formed a new plan, Bralri grasped the tree-limb he was standing on and inched his way towards the other tree, ignoring the contact of the birds as he was bombarded by beaks.

His strategy worked until he got to the tree, at which point a giant bird plucked him from his perch and led out a brilliant screech as it flung him high in the sky. Bralri looked around below him, hoping for something for him to catch himself with, but the trees were gone, as were the birds. Bralri grinned as he fell, looking below him as if happy to be falling. The rush of air around him reminded him of the first horror he had been through, memories of the event rushing through his mind as he fell, each individual pain multiplying as his mind lost focus of physical tasks. After a minute, Bralri fell unconscious again, and when he woke up, he found himself sitting in a rather small, four-sided room with two doors on the same wall.

A figure stood before him, the same figure Bralri had seen in his dream the previous night, standing right between the two doors, between Bralri and the doors. Bralri got up, noticing a scroll in his hand, and opened the scroll, momentarily ignoring the figure of death standing before him. Written in the scroll was a short, powerful message:


Through one door, you will awaken in life. Through the other, you will be followed by death. Your decision is your own. Choose wisely.



Bralri then looked up, curious as to the ninth horror. He knew, at that point, why there were two doors, and thus his meditation on the issue earlier proved to be somewhat correct. The ninth horror was, indeed, death, one of the most powerful horrors imaginable. Bralri looked at the two doors, debating which one was witch. Both doors were precisely the same, and the figure of death was positioned between both perfectly. Bralri thought for a moment, but understood why this horror was so powerful. The strength required to finish this horror was not to simply choose a door, but to do so without fear.

Bralri walked towards the door on the left, his expression blank, and grasped the knob. He noticed that the figure of death turned around and advanced towards him as he began opening the door, but Bralri grinned slyly and gallantly threw the door wide open, then ran inside, a blinding light forcing him to close his eyes as he did so. Seconds later, Bralri opened his eyes and found himself free of pain, his body still, staring at the eyes of a robed man, covered in a red aura, holding the obsidian dagger. "Congratulations," the robed man started, "you managed to survive all of the Nine Horrors."

The king laughed and held up a goblet full of rich, white wine, then himself shouted, "To the strongest man alive!" as he did thus, taking a large gulp immediately after. The robed man's aura disappeared as the king made his toast, then he too picked up a goblet and said, "Here here!" as he drank in recognition of Bralri's victory. The victor of the Nine Horrors looked around at the chunks of flesh and blood being cleaned up by slaves in the room in confusion, then looked over at the robed man and asked, "What has happened to me? I feel no different than before I began!"

The robed man laughed and offered the goblet to Bralri, whom of which eagerly accepted the vessel and took a great sip. The king then rose from his throne and placed his goblet on the left golden arm-rest of the throne as he made his way down to Bralri, his grin gone. The king began to speak in the robed man's stead, mumbling, "As Charvigor said, your body was overloaded with so much power that it destroyed and healed itself. Even surrounded by a protective aura, bits of you sill managed to fly all over the place." The king then stopped next to Carvigor and continued, "You survived an ordeal no others have lived through, and correctly answered a riddle even I could not solve. Although answering the riddle does not prove you to be the most intelligent man in the world, you have most certainly gained my favor."

Bralri, having heard the king say this, immediately fell from the banquet table, spilling some of the wine in his goblet accidentally as he bowed to the king, humbly responding, "I am unworthy of your favor, your highness." In response, the king squinted his eyes and grinned smugly, grabbing the young man's shoulder and 'encouraging' him to stand as he replied, "And yet my favor is yours. There is no need for you to bow to me further because of this." With this said, the king motioned for Bralri to follow him. Faking a perfectly awestruck appearance, Bralri followed the king to his throne, where the king sat and spoke, motioning for a scribe near the entrance to write his words as he said them.

"Sir Bralri, son of Malchior the Strategist, I bestow unto you my favor as a king because you have proven your combat ability against all odds in my tournament, The Bastamilt, you have proven your intelligence by solving The Efsoru, and you have proven your strength and willpower through surviving the Nine Horrors. All that remains for you to inherit both my dragon egg and my throne is to complete my Kingly ordeal." With this said, the king paused, looking over at the scribe as quill met paper, the man effortlessly collecting words on the paper without a second thought. After a few seconds, the scribe looked up at the king, and the king continued, "My ordeal, the kingly ordeal, is..."
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Re: The Fallen (M) Anyone ADVANCED

Post by Guest on Sun Jul 21, 2013 9:40 am

(I Love IT!!!!!! I'm so glad that you having fun... So AM I!!!! I love how you left off, and sorry for posting so late.I had a birthday party to go to last night...)

Nyla hurried back to her house, the sun now completely over the mountains. Her Aunt would be awake, and worried. Nyla grimaced as she thought of a excuse. All she could think of, was that she had went to town. She knew her Aunt would ask why though. And Nyla just couldn't think of a reason. She sighed, missing Iantha already. In their short time together they had forged a bond, almost near unbreakable. It seemed like  the small Dragon was connected to her. She looked back down at her glittering palm. It sparkled in the new sun. She heard someone shout her name from a distance, and the young girl quickened her pace. As she ran down a hill that made her house tilt forward, she caught sight of her Aunt.

"There you are, Darling! Guess who's back? No reason to actually, It's John!" My Aunt exclaimed happily. A small smile tugged at my lips. "Wonderful!" Even if my cousin was older, and acted more mature, he was still a wonderful friend. "Where is he?", I asked looking at my Aunt. She pointed to my room,  and I ran into the house. I forgot completely about my ordeal, and called out,"John!!!!" I ran into my room looking around. I didn't see anyone. My door slammed shut behind me, but I didn't have time to turn. I was shoved up against the wall, John holding me in place. He looked at me squarely in the eyes. "Where is it?" He demanded. I shook in fright. "Wha- What? Where is what?" John pulled back a hand as if to slap me, instead he pointed to the egg shells, that were scattered on my floor. "Where is the DRAGON???"

I looked at him in disbelief,"How do you know about Iantha?" John held me in place still, his breath warm against my face and neck. "She hatched for you.." He mumbled. He seemed to say it just to himself, then his eyes focused on me again. He repeated,"She hatched for you! I can't believe it!" He hugged me. ,"May I see her?"  He said looking at me with hopeful eyes. I nodded, because I thought I had no other choice. He smiled,"First things first though... I have something for you." He took me by the hand, and pulled me to his room. I followed reluctantly. And when we got to his room, he closed the door and locked it. I gulped in anticipation...

John got to his hands and knees, and reached under his bed. From under it, he drew a long box, but it wasn't very wide. Only 4 inches. He slowly slid open the box, and within it's depths there was a sword. A beautiful, purple sword. The blade was a light purple, the color of Iantha's body, and of her egg. Within the sword wove veins of dark blue. My jaw dropped in amazement. John delicately picked up the sword, and held it out toward me. I gingerly took it's pommel, and gasped. It was heavy, but not to heavy. It was a short sword, compared to some I had seen, and the blade was just right. I grinned, and went to give it back to John, he shook his head,"No... It was meant for you..."

"I'll explain on our way to see her." He said after I had begun shooting him with questions. He told me to place the sword in my room, which I did, and then we made the excuse to go check on the cows. Aunt seemed a little upset, but let us go. As we walked toward the old barn, John explained how a long time ago, his grandpa had been part of the King's court. His Grandpa had stolen the egg, and hidden it at our place. The Grandpa had then made a sword, that by his guessing would be the color of the Dragon. He guessed right. It would be theirs, who made the dragon hatch. It would be their sword. When our grandpa was on his death bed, he assigned the task to John.  All this he explained while we walked.

When we finally got to the barn, Iantha was sitting upright, waiting for me. I smiled, and stroked her head. "Iantha, this is John my cousin. He is our friend, and he gave me a sword. Iantha turned her intelligent eyes to John,"Thank You young one. You have gave my partner a very good gift, one she should be proud of..." Nyla again gaped as the Dragon's sweet voice sounded in her mind. John looked even more surprised. "You are very welcome, Iantha..." Then John touched Iantha, and the Dragon hummed.

(Sorry it's short...)

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Re: The Fallen (M) Anyone ADVANCED

Post by Amalgamator on Sun Jul 21, 2013 8:44 pm

The king paused for a few moments, his face blank as he thought. The scribe looked up at the king, an expectant expression glazing his face as he watched the old man, the guards by the door shuffling slightly in their stance. Bralri did not dare pose a questioning or curious gaze, and thus he watched the king with as close to a smile as he could muster. The room was silent as the king paused, seconds flying by with only the flickering of torches to pass the time.

When the king finally caught himself, he cleared his throat and restarted his speech, declaring, "My kingly ordeal is for you to complete a single task." The scribe started writing again immediately after the king continued and Bralri nodded after the king finished his sentence, urging him on. "This task is for you to find for me the ledgendary spear of the first rider, The Vaiy. It is said that the spear resides somewhere in the wilderness far to the North, sealed by a powerful magic within a temple no one knows by name. You have a decade to accomplish this task."

After the first task was spoken, Bralri's heart skipped a beat. The task he was given was absolutely impossible, irrefutably so. Not only was the wilderness teeming with unimaginably dangerous creatures, but the Northern wilderness was said to be so cold that a mutant bear would freeze in an hour next to a campfire, or so rumor has it. Even still, Bralri knew that the king had method to his madness, and thus he kept his mouth shut, expression blank, and continued listening intently to the king. The scribe paused momentarily after having heard the sheer magnitude of the task, then continued writing with as close to a blank expression as he could himself muster, a bit of shock forcing an awkward gaze from his eyes as he watched what he wrote.

The king paused only for a moment before continuing, "Should you complete this task, you will have honor, prestige, riches, and power above all men in the world, as well as my prized dragon egg." After saying these words, the king waited for the scribe to look up, then waved for him to stop writing and watched as the scribe carried off the still-drying paper out of the room, the guards having opened the door as the man rose from his seat. After the scribe had left, the king looked back down at Bralri and sighed, posing, "It is a shame that the other egg has not yet been found."

Bralri cleared his throat, staring up at the king from his position below the throne and responded, "Sir, I vow not only to retrieve for you The Vaiy, on my life, I vow to return to you with the lost dragon egg as well." Bralri faked a look of determination on his face after having said this, his eyes sparkling from the reflection of the torches. The king looked down at his subject and chuckled heartily before responding, "Should you return to me at all, you will have my most sincere extolations. Now be off, Sir Bralri, for your decade begins today."

With this said, Bralri knelt before the king and humbly responded, "As you wish, your highness," and rose, turning around to quickly leave the throne room. The aura of the room itself left chills down the young warrior's spine, the torchlight on the red and gold objects hosting a feeling of tyrannical dread and a plethora of iniquities of the past. The guards unbarred and opened the door quickly to allow the young swordsman escape, but right as the doors were closing, the young swordsman could faintly hear the king whisper, "Good luck," a sly grin and a foreboding wave adding to his maniacal complexion.

Bralri left the long hallway in the king's temple soon after, making his way over to one of the many buildings housing members of the king's court, the building he called home, the Alexandrite Gate, a building built mostly out of stone with a Romanesque architecture style, multiple pillars holding up the entryway of the large building with multiple windows at every floor within the building. The wooden double-doors of the building had various alexandrite shards implanted in various parts, forming the shape of a rose when the doors were closed, and many different windows and furniture items lined the outside patio of the building, sporting a highly livable environment.

The building functioned both as a social area for the different members of the king's court, having both a tavern-like alcohol service in the basement, and a lounge with multiple fountains and a magnificent gemstone centerpiece made entirely out of a skull-sized Alexandrite shard, one of the most expensive objects in the entire building, masterfully chipped and carved into the shape of a sword which rested securely in a white marble pillar, various torches and windows positioned around the lobby to light up the display at night. Various plants and tables also lined the lounge and the basement barn, providing fresh air for all who managed to make their way into the building, and also providing space to place food and drink while socializing within.

The Alexandrite Gate was also known for the luxurious living areas on the upper floors, ranging from the second to the fifth floor, each floor progressively housing fewer rooms as the size of the individual rooms grew. A beautifully crafted marble staircase, carved with a grid on each step for added traction and a beautiful, wave-like curve at the lip of each step, led a fantastic way up the architectural feat with plenty of lighting from torches and windows along the way. The second floor housed four rooms, each belonging to whatever rich visitor decided to pay the prodigious rent for however long they stayed. There were two rooms on the third floor, one belonging to the family of Bralri, his family name being the Mechovans. There were also two rooms on the fourth floor, one housing another royal family and one being the treasury of the building, and the fifth floor was entirely reserved for one of the wealthier families in the king's court, a family which held high prestige in both business and the king's army, and a descendant of the King's own cousin.

As Bralri walked up to the building, the various curves and sharp edges of the outside walls struck a note in his heart, reminding him of home, of his childhood. A flashback shot through his eyes, he saw himself running towards his mother, a woman staring sternly at him and shaking her head as rain poured down from the sky, people motioning for him to quicken his pace from behind the open door. The flashback ended as Bralri took the first step up towards the front door, the Alexandrite rose symbol sparkling bright yellow in the strong light of high noon.

Bralri firmly grabbed the arching bronze pull handle on the door and the door swung open with a woosh of air, the fine smell of incense and plant-breath shooting out from the building like light from the sun. As the young swordsman walked into the room, he was assaulted by greetings and young nobles bombarding him with questions about his experiences. A man in leather armor, the young man who watched the tournament from the turret earlier that day, walked up to his startled friend and escorted him away from the army of curious faces as he led his friend towards a seat.

"Everyone wants to know what happened. Lots happened since you left for the tournament here, but more happened to you." the young man said, grinning at his armored companion, seating him in a metal chair next to a glass table, waving at a waiter for two goblets of water as he sat. Bralri sighed after sitting down, the large group of kids and friends circling around the table as he opened his mouth to talk, "I won the king's favor, but I have yet to complete his ordeal. The tournament was won, as was the riddle and the Nine Horrors, but the King's ordeal is..."

Bralri paused as the waiter returned with two goblets of water, condensated water dripping down the handle as some of the crisp, fresh water spilled over the side. Bralri and his friend both graciously accepted the goblets and had a quick toast, then drank to the bottom of the thick containers as the group around them grew impatient from suspense. "What is the ordeal?" "Aye! What hath the king tasked you with?" some of the boys shouted, edging closer to the warrior as they waited, watching the man rest his goblet on the table. Even the waiter and a few of the elders around the lobby tuned in to Bralri as he wiped his mouth clean and spoke once again.

"I have to venture to the Northern Wilderness in search of The Vaiy, and I have promised to bring the king back the lost dragon egg as well. The king gave me a decade, more than enough time." The young master boasted, grinning with determination as he stared at the crowd around him. The youth shouted in excitement after hearing the valiant task assigned to him, for many legends told of the power of the Vaiy, some of them common bed-time stories. The elders looked at one another in concern before continuing their interrupted conversations and the waiter paused for a moment before noticing someone else's cue for a drink.

The young friend of Bralri looked over in astonishment, his jaw dropped as he punched his friend's shoulder, half playfully and half in shock. "How in the nine horrors are you going to do all that and live?" the young man asked, his moderately long blond hair dropping into his eye as he spoke, forcing him to pull the strands out of his face. Bralri turned his gaze over to the astonished young man, his grin the same as he responded, "By being me's how."

With that said, Bralri got up, ignoring the noble boys around him as he started to walk towards the stairs. Most of the boys shot off questions towards the legend, but he discarded all at once by saying, "Your champion wishes to see his family once again. I shall see you all again and settle your inquiries when the time comes! Off with you for now." The boys all wandered off quickly after this was said, some reluctant, some eager and some chasing others gleefully as their attention shifted in their immature, gay and childish manner. Bralri left a bronze piece of currency where the waiter stood as he passed the counter where he acquired his drinks, then began climbing the stairs to make it to the third floor, his floor, his home and his family.

"Wait, Bralri," the young swordsman's friend shouted out, running up the stairs after his friend after himself jumping out of his seat, "do you expect to travel alone? The prospect is foolish, impossible!" Bralri chuckled after hearing this and patted his friend on the back, continuing up the stairs as he retorted, "No my good friend, I will hire company, a squadron of soldiers and a caravan for transport, when the day comes. I'll prepare for a year or two in search of the dragon egg, then make way on my search for the spear of lore." As the legend reached his destination, the third floor, he looked over at his friend and stated, "You're welcome to join me, if you muster the strength and the will to do so."

The young man shook his head quickly and said, "As good a friend as I am, I am not strong enough to venture that far from home. I wish you good fortune, friend!" as he walked back down the stairs, scared off by the suggestion. Bralri chuckled some more, a condescending tone in his laughter as he walked towards the door to his family's housing, a large room with five different sections meant for the urban living of a family of four. "I have returned alive and well," Bralri shouted, entering the room with a air of friendly pride. Bralri's younger sister immediately shot up from the couch she lay on and nearly tackled her brother, her soft Springtime dress elegantly folding after the quick rush of air from her sudden movement.

"You're home!" the young lady pointed out, her youth shining through her voice and height as she almost climbed up the towering warrior before her. "You're correct, my friend." The shining knight retorted, tightly hugging his adorably sibling as he closed the well-etched wooden door behind himself, "How fared you during my absence, little sister?" The girl's shining complexion offered all the answer Bralri needed, but she confirmed her feelings by declaring, "I missed you! I knew you'd make it all along!" her voice squealing near the end as tears welled up in her eyes, overwhelmed with emotion.

Bralri sat his little sister back on the couch and himself rested next to her, casually stroking her shoulder as they conversed for a fer minutes. "Patrick and Orgath will be home soon, they went out on a wolf-hunt with a few others." the innocent girl pointed out, leaning her shoulder against the armored shoulder of her brother as she spoke. The young swordsman nodded and looked around the room, more memories flying through his mind as he soaked in his surroundings, the man murmuring, "I hope they brought home a good skin," as he gathered his thoughts once more, beginning to meditate with his sister on the couch, the midday's sun shining down from the window behind them, warming the room pleasantly. The young man felt as if he was able to relax and worry no more, at least for a little while.
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Re: The Fallen (M) Anyone ADVANCED

Post by Guest on Mon Jul 22, 2013 1:43 pm

Nyla sat next to Iantha. The Dragon's purple scales reflecting off the sun, and casting glittering shapes all around. She looked up at John,"So have you heard any news while you were away?" The young man nodded his head eagerly... "Yes! It seems as if someone might have actually won the King's favor. It just reached me this morning, but it has a good chance of not being a rumor." Nyla sighed happily. "Hopefully if he does gain the favor, he will be a good successor to that old, mean, tyrant."

John hushed the girl, casting his gaze around, "You know better than to speak like that out loud! What if someone were spying on us? They would return to the King with a Dragon, and a misbehaved little girl." Iantha huffed at his comment, I would allow them to do no such thing... I may just be a whelping to you, but I spent many good years in that egg. Nyla suppressed a laugh as John's face grew red. "Of course..." He said tartly.

Iantha rose from her bed of straw, and looked at both of the kids, Have you brought me any food? Those rats are not even fit for an animal, like that pathetic Floppy creature. Nyla couldn't suppress her amusement this time, and started laughing. John also chuckled a little, and Iantha whipped her head back and forth between the two. What is so amusing? She growled. Nyla caught her breath, and stilled her laughter. "Floppy is a cat, and she loves rats..."

John looked back at Iantha,"I'll go get you some food. Would you perfer anything?" Iantha growled, and a loose trail of smoke rose from her nostrils. No! Just get me food! And one of you loosen this blasted rope. I can barley move! That set about another fit of laughter from the two kids. Mean while, Iantha growled, and snapped at John's feet, GO! John laughed again, hopping about. The he left the barn, jogging back toward the cottage.

Nyla grabbed the ropes that bound Iantha, and loosened them. I don't see why I need them... I won't be going anywhere... Nyla shook her head,"Sorry, but their staying." Iantha snorted, and crawled onto Nyla's lap, again humming. Nyla smiled, and ran her hand along the creatures glittering side. Together they sat, waiting for John to return.

John soon did, running and yelling. Nyla got up, and ran to the entrance of the barn, alarmed. John yelled for her to get inside, and he soon entered himself. He was carrying a wool sack of supplies, and another full of food. Nyla looked at him, confused. "What's all that for? What's going on?" Iantha to looked at him questioningly. John shook his head, trying to regain his breath.

"You must leave! Mother found the egg shells in your room, and soon figured that something was up. She is going to town now, to get soldiers, and alert the Capitol... I tried to stop her, but she wouldn't listen to reason." He then gave the bags to Nyla, and she instantly dropped them, surprised by their weight. "What are in them? Books?" John nodded," Yes. Three books. One to tell you how to survive, the other to teach you swordsmanship, and the other is about Dragons. Iantha cautiously got up, and sniffed the bags. You brought the sword. She said looking up at John.

John nodded, and from one of the sacks, he drew the sword, and a crude leather sheath, and belt. He grabbed Nyla by the waist and pulled her forward. "Stay still..." Nyla nodded,"Okay" Sh was to dazed to speak, or make sense of what was going on. John strapped the belt around her hips, and then again pulled it off. "Take off your dress!" Nyla regained her wits,"What? NO!" She said shaking her head. John growled and from the other bag, pulled forth a pair of breeches, and a cotton shirt, He threw them at Nyla, and turned around. "Put them on!"

Nyla inspected the clothes, and scowled in disgust. She wasn't used to fine dresses, or silk, but this was worse then normal. She quickly pulled off her dress, and put on the breeches and the shirt. The breeches were a bit long, but other than that, the fitted fine. The shirt though, was scratchy, and showed part of her stomach. She scowled, feeling unlady like. John turned, and threw her another heavier shirt, and some wool socks. She put both of the articles on, and looked at her self. She looked like a MAN! Most would mistake her for one to.at least from a distance. Up close they would be able to tell because of her chest, her wide hips, her long hair, and her face. Not to mention all of the other reasons...

John nodded,"Perfect!" He then pulled out a pair of lace up boots, and Nyla shook her head. "Those are your winter boots... It's summer, and I can't take them anyway. They're yours..." John shook his head and threw them at the girl,"I'll be fine, but you won't be if you don't hurry. Just put them on! Nyla reluctantly agreed and pulled on the boots, lacing then loosly. John then dug through the bags again, muttering to himself.

Finally he found what he was looking for,"Here!" He threw Nyla a leather shirt. The leather was scared and scraped, and had chain mail on it's sides, and on the front. Nyla looked down surprised. She put it on to though, muttering the whole time. By the time she was finished dressing, sweat was pouring from her, and she was panting. "Your gonna cook me." She complained. John rolled his eyes, and again pulled her closer. He strapped on the sword belt, and Nyla felt the sword's weight instantly on her hips. She shrugged, trying to get used to the weight, and the leather chaffed at the back of her neck.

Iantha had been quiet the whole while, but finally looked up at Nyla in approval,You look like a fine hunter! She hummed in her chest, and sat, looking at John. John circled Nyla, inspecting his work. "She is right, you look like a fine warrior. Now you must go, I shall not becoming. Follow the river North, and try not to attract any attention. Stay in the forest of Alyer. Their the tree's are thicker than horses, and taller than mountains. Speaking of horses. About a mile down river, their will be one tied for you. Take it and use it. Now go!"

Nyla nodded the whole time he talked, and stooped over to pick up the bags, the mail clinking. John stopped her again, and reached into the sack. He withdrew a silver hilted dagger, and pushed it into her boot. The tip not cutting Nyla because of the thick socks. The pommel of the dagger barely stuck out of the boot. Nyla grimaced, uncomfortable, but John didn't notice. "There.." Then he took Nyla in a rough embrace, and she embraced him. "Good bye, Cous- Sister..." John said sadly. Nyla smiled to herself as he called her his sister. "Goodbye Brother." Then they released each other. Nyla untied Iantha, and the two walked away from John, and he away from them.

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Re: The Fallen (M) Anyone ADVANCED

Post by Amalgamator on Mon Jul 22, 2013 8:43 pm

(Alright, one more post and the real adventure begins. When you respond to this, you have three days at your disposal, because it took the courier a day to get to the capitol and it'll take Bralri two days to catch up to Nyla. Knowing this, feel free to end your post however you want us to meet, whether Lantha growls at a bush unexpectedly, or whether you hear the hoofbeats of Nightfire, or even if you see the knight in shining armor himself, bowed down at a spring to drink. You decide, and I'll go with it, but I feel that the build-up and the suspense has gone on long enough. Read on!)

-Spring: Second Full Moon

Weeks had passed since Bralri had gained the favor of the king, but the time to leave had not yet arrived. The young swordsman enjoyed settling disputes between his neighbors and fellow courters, telling stories, teaching skills and forging with the help of his father. The possessed sword Bralri had broken in the final round of the tournament left a heavy notch in his parrying dagger, thus he forged an entirely new one with a thicker U-prong and a heavier steel alloy. The young swordsman spent a great deal of time with his family and the library as the days passed bye, for he researched a great deal about surviving in both Wilderness and extremely cold environments, hoping to gain an edge for when he decided to leave.

As for Rikt, Bralri took special care of the blade, sharpening and polishing the fine weapon to an unreal sheen. Finding his sheath burdensome, Bralri also decided to make a new, lighter sheath made mostly out of bronze and Bear Hide. After Bralri's father, Patrick, saw the various scrapes and damages he acquired on his armor, he shook his head in disapproval and got to work repairing the spattered holes, patching some and re-working others. After his arsenal was upgraded, Bralri happily set to work helping his father hammer and forge new tools and plates for the various customers of the noble blacksmith.

The young swordsman told many stories about his five bouts in The Bastamilt and what he could remember of the Nine Horrors, holding the curious gazes of the inquisitive eyes around as he wove his stories with the breath of a master. Rumor spread quickly of Bralri's endeavors, some true and some false, messengers and criers throughout the kingdom shouting out the news of the newly favored man and his impossible task. Before the young swordsman knew what to do, his name was known throughout the capitol city, from the lips of rogues to the vagabond travelers in the musky pubs. Mercenaries and guards across town offered their respects with a brief bow or a greeting, and few men stood in his way. Bralri was already a well-known noble in the king's court, but his fame had soared in the days following.

Of course, Bralri's break from action did not last long. One day, while the favored one was teaching a large group of young squires how to hold a bow, a courier shot into the room, frantically shouting, "The Egg has been found! The Lost Egg is found!" The young swordsman accidentally loosed an arrow at a target, hitting dead center as he dropped the bow in shock, immediately turning toward the courier as the squires around him cheered. "What say thou? Where was it seen?" the young swordsman shouted, his voice booming above the cheers of the squires around him. The courier walked over to Bralri, waving his hands to silence the squires as he did so, then held out a scroll to Bralri as he declared, "A message was sent with highest urgency from Fristusyn, a small town near Alyer forest out West a ways. You best be going, the message is but a day old and the captor is on the run!"

Bralri read the scroll quickly, then gritted his teeth and waved for a knight who was sitting at a table to take his place, "I must make haste! My apologies for such a short lesson, young ones, but Sir Renolds will take my place! Adieu!" As he spoke, Bralri followed the frantic courier out the door, handing the letter back to the courier. The report mentioned pieces of egg shell, thus it must've hatched! the fellow thought, running towards the Court tower to request audience with the king once more. The guards at the doorway immediately opened the gate as they saw the unarmored warrior charging toward them, "What's the rush?" they asked, their curious voices echoing through their helmets as the man zoomed bye. "No time! Seek the courier!" the young man hastily responded, a steady gust following him as he ran through the royal halls.

The young swordsman calmed himself as he reached the top of the staircase, then took five deep breaths and knocked on the doors to the king's throne room. The doors opened quickly as Bralri addressed himself, and after a quick kneel, the king invited Bralri to approach him. Bralri rose, then cleared his throat and spoke clearly as he approached the king's throne, his face solemn. "Your royal highness, the egg has been found, but it has hatched. I read thus from a report of a town guard within Fristusynm a town near Alyer," the legend stated, pausing before the king as he lowered his head in respect.

The king frowned and squinted his eyes at the news, his jaw clenching immediately after hearing the word 'hatched.' The tyrant sighed, calming himself slightly as he tried to think of how to approach the situation. A few seconds passed as the king thought, then he begged, "sit at my banquet table, it is almost time for a meal. We shall discuss how to approach this situation over a roast and a wine." With this said, Bralri stepped back and wandered towards one of the long banquet tables, sitting on the right-hand side of the end of the table nearest the king. The king wove a hand towards a guard near the entrance, who then preceded to exit from a side door, possibly towards a kitchen.

The king and Bralri sat at the table for an hour, discussing and eating, after the food came, and planning out what could be done about the hatched dragon. "We cannot kill the rider, for that would have disastrous repercussions." Bralri explained, noting the legendary bond between dragon and human.(OOC: you're going to have to explain that more, because I have no ideas about it.) The king and Bralri then discussed different tactical options, "What if magicians are hired to induce a coma for the both of them?" the king asked, a look of certainty in his expression as he spoke, "How certain can we be that any magic will even affect a dragon?" Bralri responded, a solemn expression on his face as he pondered.

The debate went on for another half hour after the meal ended, and was then brought to a close by a sudden thought by the king. "You vowed on your life to bring back the egg," the king started, his complexion deep in thought as he paused, Bralri quickly interrupting as a revelation hit him, "Your highness!" Bralri exclaimed, shooting up in his seat, "what if I managed to convince the rider to pledge allegiance to you? I am the strongest willed, best combatant, wiliest strategist and silver-tongued scholar in the land!" The king grinned wide at this suggestion, stabbing the table with a knife as his mellow tone rang out a chuckle and a few quick words, "How did the thought slip my mind!"

The king then told the scribe the news and told him to breath word to nobody, not even the guards at the entrance, whom of which chuckled slightly at their mention. Bralri left soon after the meal, his stomach full for possibly the last time in awhile as he ran back out the Court tower, the guards at the doorway opening the way for him again. "Bye, o favored one!" one of the guards said, chuckling afterwards. The young swordsman made his way back to the Alexandrite Gate, shot up the stairs without a second thought and ran into his family's room. "Forgive me for the sudden news, but I must leave!" Bralri shouted, closing the door behind him as he walked over to her sister, giving her a hug. "Don't go so soon, Bralri!" she choked out, faking tears as she pulled him towards the couch.

Patrick and Orgath soon shot over to the entrance room and looked inquisitively at Bralri as the young swordsman tried to pull himself away from his young, monkey-like sister. "I would love to stay, but I have obligations to the king I must fulfill!" he meekly stated, unhitching the maiden's arms from around his neck as he set her back down on the couch, melancholy on his face. Patrick walked over and hugged his son, followed closely by Orgath, who left quickly to help his older brother with his armor and weapons. "You have great feats behind and ahead of you, son," Patrick started, grinning at the pride of his life as he spoke, his hearty voice booming like the hammer of his forge as he spoke, "don't leave your body where I can't find it, hear me?"

Bralri grinned at his father, his height slightly greater than the burly man as he quickly responded, "All people die, father. Some sooner than others. When I die," the young swordsman sighed and pointed towards a painting of his mother, a cheerful painting made to depict the woman as she laughed, a brilliant setting sun in the background of the art, as he continued, "I want you to remember my face just like hers." Patrick grabbed his son's shoulder and firmly said, "You better not die for a long while, son." Bralri grinned as his father said this, then grabbed the burly man's shoulder and embraced him once more, responding, "No one can say I'll live tomorrow. You'll have to wait for my return."

With this said, Orgath rushed back into the room with Bralri's weapons and armor in hand, offering the masterpieces to the brilliant strategist. "Father," Bralri started, frowning at the man, "to have lived a strategist's and a blacksmith's life, which one helped you more?" as he dawned his armor and equipped his weapons, Orgath running towards the storage chamber to get Bralri's travelling satchel as the conversation continued. Patrick laughed whole-heartedly at his inquisitive son's question for a few seconds before humbly responding, "Bralri, it is living that helped me most. No job compares to the experiences in life, not the money, not the people, the tasks or the skills."

After this was said, Orgath returned with Bralri's light traveling satchel, filled with a multitude of items to aid and feed the young man in his travels. After placing the rough sinew strap around his chest and over his shoulder, Bralri gave his goodbyes to his family and left the Alexandrite Gate, headed to the stables to claim his horse, a Dales Pony named Nightfire, and set off on his lonesome journey in hopes of pleasing the king. Alright, Rikt, parrying dagger, armor, satchel, hackney, and my lonesome self. Looks like I am prepared for a journey. Bralri thought to himself, making his way to the town stable. Upon arrival, two slaves immediately hopped from shock and quickly ran up to the noble man, smiling at him expectantly.

"We cared for yer' horse well, sir!" said one, his clothes appallingly poorly kept, "Aye! That Dales Pony didn't give us a bit of trouble, no sir!" said the other, his clothes more a collection of patches than actual clothes. Bralri grinned at the two and walked over to the stall with his horse inside, the large Dales Pony raising its head at the sight of its master. "You boys did well," Bralri stated, pulling out two gold pieces of currency as he spoke. The young swordsman placed the two pieces on a nearby table as he opened the stall's gate, eagerly approaching his horse once again. "It's been awhile, eh Night?" the swordsman cooed, petting the horse's head gently as the two slaves quickly grabbed their pay and raced to get the equipment for the legend's horse.

After a few minutes, Bralri had equipped all of the basic riding equipment he needed onto the horse, a saddle, an extra halter, a lead rope, saddle bags with more supplies, a bridle and a hoof pick, plus a bunch of other necessities for survival. After all was said and done, Bralri led his steed out from the stable and effortlessly mounted the flowing mass of muscle and gently encouraged the steed to start moving with a tap to the gut. Within minutes, the young swordsman had made his way to the front gate, inspiring curious gazes from the heavily armored guards in charge of defending said gate. "Bralri, do you wish to leave the capitol?" one of the guards shouted, waving for the man to stop before he got too close to the huge mass of iron-banded wood.

Bralri quickly pulled on the bridle of Nightfire, hushing the beast as it whined and petting its mane gently as he responded, "I have a task from the king, which requires my leave. Please draw the gate." The guards nodded immediately at each other, finding the request adequate, and the glimmer of the legend's well-repaired chestplate shone bright under the gaze of the sun at high noon. Heavy grunts sounded as a bunch of slaves began turning wheels to open the extremely heavy gate, each inch taking what seemed like minutes to rise. After the gate was high enough to ride under, Bralri saluted the guards by placing his fist against his temple and rushed out of the capitol, out into the world beyond.

Hey had only lived for 17 years, but he possessed blessings no other man could imagine. Bralri was the favored man of the king, none other, and he had set out into the vast kingdom in search of a rider, a rider of a dragon no less, the location of which he knew not. His life on the line, Bralri roughly kicked his steed once more, "Heya!" he shouted, rushing his steed. The sooner he got to Fristusyn, the better.
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Re: The Fallen (M) Anyone ADVANCED

Post by Guest on Tue Jul 23, 2013 9:57 pm

(ERRRRRR Second time writing this reply!!! Sorry, I'll have to do it in the morning... Till then, Farewell....)

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Re: The Fallen (M) Anyone ADVANCED

Post by Guest on Fri Jul 26, 2013 2:46 pm

(Sorry for the wait... And a rider and Dragon's bond is telepathic. The two can speak to each other through their minds. The two can also sense each others emotions, and what they are thinking. But they can shield their thoughts from the other,,, The two can also lend each other energy, and fill each others pain. But only to an extent. The dragon can also talk to others through it's mind, and while speaking, it can sense the person's emotions, and sometimes thoughts... Though the bond between the Dragon and that person, is not as strong as the bond between the Rider and the Dragon...)
Nyla pulled the bags onto her shoulders, into a more comfortable position. Her feet already ached from wearing the boots. Nyla squinted her eyes, trying to find Iantha in the distance. She could still feel the bond between their minds, but she could not see the purple dragon. "Iantha!" She called out with her mind,"Please wait up! I can't fly like you... And I can't move that fast." From their bond, Nyla could feel a spark of annoyance, but it was covered by a blanket of amusement. Nyla grunted, and heaved the bags again, quickening her pace.

After about five minutes, Nyla felt a strong curiosity from Iantha. "What is it?" The young girl asked, her mind telepathically sending the words to Iantha. Nyla watched the horizon, and saw the purple speck, that was Iantha, move, and grow larger. The Dragon stopped in front of her. In the distance there is a creature. It is big, and I think I might be able to eat it... Just then, a whinny echoed off the surrounding hills, and Nyla smiled. "It must be our horse!" Then she looked at Iantha sternly,"NO! You may not eat it!!!" Nyla felt annoyance from Iantha, but the dragon just nodded.

The two again set out, and Nyla soon saw a animal in the distance. As they grew closer, Nyla recognized it as a horse. When the horse appeared to see Nyla, it gave a wicker, and pricked it ears in her direction. Nyla smiled, and finally got close enough, to examine the animal. The horse was a mare, and was a beautiful dark bay. Faint dapples could be seen around her withers, and her barrel. The mare was fully tacked, and had full saddlebags. While examining the mare, Nyla found a note, braided into her ebony mane.

Dear Young Rider,
This mare is for you. She was handpicked, and is a fine Morgan.Allow her to guide you, when you feel lost. She has good feet, and a brave heart. Treat her well, and she will not fail you. Her name is Honey Comb. Everything with her is yours. In the saddle bags, you will find food, and helpful things for your journey. Please don't come looking for me, for you shall not find me. I wish to remain anonymous, until the Tyrant that rules over us is dead in the ground. Please be safe Rider, and also you Dragon. You two are the only faith we have. May the Moon and stars watch over you. Be safe, and ride quick!
Nyla smiled as the person ended the letter. She reread the last two sentences, mainly not the last, but the one before it. A warmth filled her chest, and tears gathered in her eyes.

'May the Moon and Stars watch over you' was a custom saying in her village. It meant that the person saying it, held the person they were saying it to, in the highest honor. It meant they had a faith in you, that went to their soul. Nyla herself had never had the honor of it being said to her. Well... Besides now. She also couldn't remember saying it, but her Aunt and John said she had. It was a long time ago though. And she had never been told whom she had said it to, or the reason why.

Nyla was awakened from her thoughts by nudging Nyla's leg. I am still, very hungry... She said with a growl. Nyla nodded, and smiled,"Of course..." Nyla dumped the contents of her bags onto the ground. She would look through the saddlebags later. In the heaviest bag, Nyla found food. She found a pot, two bowls, a canteen of water, a flint stone, and dried beef. She threw a strip of the beef to Iantha, and then put all of the cooking stuff, and the food back into the bag. Then she looked back at the other utensils on the ground...There she found two blankets, a extra shirt, some rope, a stone for sharpening knives, the books, and five strips of leather. She also found a flask of whiskey.

Nyla repacked the items, but stopped when her hand found the whiskey. It was obvious John didn't have time to think about what he was packing, but whiskey? Why would he pack whiskey? Nyla doubted she would be hurt enough to use it for aid, and she didn't drink the stuff. Still, she pulled the cork from the flask, and sniffed the liquid. A bitter smell hit her nose, and she confirmed it was whiskey. From her place beside Nyla, Iantha raised her head, and her nostrils twitched. That smells weird...

Nyla giggled and replaced the whiskey in the bag, and then looked at Iantha,"Ready?" The Dragon gave a curt nod, and rose into the air. The mare spooked, and reared up, whinnying frantically. Considering herself an excellent horsewoman, Nyla easily calmed the frightened beast. Then she tied her two bags together, and slung them over the mare's rump. Nyla placed her foot in the stirrup, and swung into the saddle, cooing to the nervous mare. "Easy Honey..." She then dug her heels into the mare's sides, and they were off at an easy lope.

The trio traveled through out the day, only stopping for small snacks, and water breaks. The mare was smooth beneath Nyla, and the air warm against Iantha's wings. But still they seemed to be going slowly, as the hills flattened out around them, and flat dry land took their place. The trio also found themselves stopping for more and more water breaks. It was alright though, for the river was only fifty yards off.

They traveled until the sun sank below the horizon, and then they stopped an made camp. It was a silent evening, as Honey Comb moved from clump to clump, eating the sparse grass. Even with a river near by, their seemed to be little foliage. Iantha flew toward the river, eating small insects like a bat, while Nyla started a small fire with the dry wood she found laying about. She boiled some water, and made a stew out of the dried beef, and some edible clover she had found. It was disgusting, and Nyla found herself gagging throughout the meal.

After throwing the rest of the stew on the ground, and watching Iantha pick though it, Nyla dug a blanket out from the bags lying beside her. She snuggled up, resting her head on the saddle bags. She couldn't sleep though. So by the fading light of the burning embers, Nyla read a book called, The Beginning of Swordsmanship. After reading lesson one, she drew her sword, which she had named Ibolya. Another word meaning purple. She then shadow fought herself, the whole while feeling ridiculous. From the amusement coming in waves from Iantha, she looked ridiculous to.

Nyla finally sheathed the sword, and slept. In the morning the day went on like yesterday, except in her dinner, she did not add clover. Nyla had been hoping for a change in scenery, but everything was the same. The night grew colder this time, and Nyla had to use both blankets. And still she shivered. Iantha though had found the day more exciting. While flying, she had learned a trick. While flying over the near by river, she could catch a fish, and eat it, while still flying. She also had the satisfaction, of hunting down a long legged hare. She did not particularly like the fluffy fur though.

The next morning, Nyla got up, and caught Honey Comb. While saddling the mare though, she noticed Iantha had nearly doubled in size, from the beginning of their trip. The purple dragon was now almost as big as a small horse. She was very intimidating also. Her beautiful scales shone in the morning light, with a radiance Nyla had never seen before. It made the girl feel proud.

The three traveled on again, but by mid day, they had noticed that the air was cooler. And in the distance, they could see that the horizon was darker than it had been on previous days. Nyla assumed a storm was brewing. Iantha also noticed the change, but for an odd reason, she did not voice her opinion. After two hours, Nyla felt a strong satisfaction coming from the dragon, and the girl looked closer at the horizon.

She then realized it wasn't a storm at all. It was a forest! The Alyer forest, to be exact. The huge trees rose over 500 feet in the air. As they got closer, Nyla felt a sudden surge from Honey. The mare quickened her pace, and let out a whinny of delight. The three couldn't wait to be under the shade of the tree's. Especially Nyla, whose face was burnt to a crisp red. It took the three almost the rest of the day to get to the forest, and it was dusk by the time they arrived.

Nyla unsaddled the Morgan, and the horse gingerly lay down. The bay then started rolling about, ridding her mahogany coat of any dust that had tried to dull it. Nyla felt happy enough to do the same. But she held her composure, and made camp. Iantha lay down, and rested her wings. Their happiness was short lived though. Iantha's head soon shot up, and a low growl emitted from her chest. Someone is coming!

Nyla's eyes widened, and she grabbed the hilt of her sword. She looked to the top pf a nearby ridge, and waited. Honey Comb soon noticed the intruder, and pricked her ears in their general direction. She nickered happily, and an answering nicker rang out. And then a head arose, then a body, and then a whole horse. Iantha growled, and Nyla drew Ibolya completely. She didn't know what to do, but the person had to be aware of their presence now. So she decided on what seemed a good choice,"Hello!!! State your name and business, or else you shall be killed on the spot!!!"

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Re: The Fallen (M) Anyone ADVANCED

Post by Admin on Fri Jul 26, 2013 2:46 pm

The member 'mckenzie9199' has done the following action : Dices roll

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Re: The Fallen (M) Anyone ADVANCED

Post by Amalgamator on Fri Jul 26, 2013 6:06 pm

(Surprise! Second plot twist here! Also, there are about 29 and a half moons in a year, just so you know.)

Bralri was off in no time, travelling quickly on his way to Fristusyn, the town near Alyer which sent out the message. On his steed, Nightfire, Bralri set out at a feasible pace and shot through the country along the commoner’s rode, a well-known path system used by many caravans and couriers across the kingdom. Unfortunately, the commoner’s rode was very unsafe for a single traveler, but fortunately, Bralri was the unrivaled most proficient fighter and strategist in all of the kingdom, whom of which had the king’s favor. For a rogue of even Regicist Assassin status to attack Bralri was a sentence to death, courtesy of the fastest system of court in the land, Rikt.

As Nightfire sped along, each hoof tapping the ground gracefully as the small steed continued, its mind somewhere as it continued in its menial task, Bralri contemplated how he would meet the strange rider. I must know two things, the rider’s gender, and the rider’s age. He thought, remembering his Study of the Mind book. Bralri was interested in the mind and social connections between people when he was a youth, more so than chores, less so than fighting, and thus he learned a great deal about how to manipulate people. Knowing that country folk did not take kindly to soldiers, nobles and overly intelligent men, Bralri knew that he would absolutely have to acquire a façade. The only possible problem with a façade was that the dragon would be able to read minds, but Bralri had a way around this. Nightly meditation had given Bralri an almost perfect control of his mind, so precise that he could induce amnesia with a simple thought.

Having his basic plan of forming a façade perfected, all Bralri needed to do was make one. Starting at the basics: name, occupation, residence and appearance, Bralri decided to take one the role of a strategist scholar from a town nearby Fristusyn, a place called Gondol, a mostly rural town located fairly close to a well-known merchant city, Astrubus. With occupation and residence out of the way, Bralri decided to rename himself Bradford, the name of one of the slaves who helped his father run his Smithy. Of course, Bralri could not change his body at all, his combat-chiseled body and his face were unchangeable. What could be easily changed was his clothing, his cleanliness, and his shaven face. Bralri knew that rural people were less capable of cleaning themselves properly, as were nobles and urban folks, and often didn’t as a result, thus dirt and grime was a must. Bralri also knew that chainmail was expensive and that rural people did not like the king as much as they were forced to say, thus his chestplate would need to be left in Fristusyn. His chainmail, however, was necessary, thus he decided that he’d leave it in one of Nightfire’s saddlebags for safe keeping.

After deciding on the basics, Bralri spent the rest of his two days getting into his character. Having been forced to hear stories of many different people of different backgrounds, Bralri knew the general skeleton of his façade’s history and lineage. Also having had visited Gondol once, Bralri knew of the exact process of how scholars were taught in the barely rural town, thus he planned and planned, adding bits of intriguing information to his new set of skin as he wandered the starry skies and the intense, windy days. Not a bit of information had escaped his sight, for Bralri knew so much about himself that he knew how to become others. Even after adapting his façade and thinking out possible situations and his first impression on the rider, he still knew that he had a weakness. His weakness would be sleep. Bralri could only barely sleep, and people of rural towns like Astrubus and Fristusyn were not known to sleep lightly, let alone not be able to sleep.

Never the less, Bralri mastered his façade, Bradford, and even managed to make a slightly altered, meeker voice in order to portray his character more effectively. A first impression was everything, thus Bralri centered his façade around social stability and trustworthiness, notably so. With the time spent conjuring up his façade, Bralri found himself almost at Fristusyn, his first destination before the rider. Two days on a horse, constantly encouraging it and occasionally stopping to feed the tired beast was rough, especially for Nightfire, but after the town appeared in the distance, Bralri cooed his companion and galloped into the town. His horse was surprisingly capable of the long, extremely quick journey. Even the horses of couriers broke down faster than Nightfire, but the couriers used their own system to travel, often using multiple horses prepared at various stops along the road.

After reaching the town’s gate, Bralri paid one of the stable slaves a gold coin to care for his horse and walked up to the town gate, noting how the stable was outside of the town’s main entrance. “What’s your busi-“ one of the guards started, interrupted after noting the figure’s chestplate. The guard then quickly caught himself in his incognizant attitude and shot straight upright, humbly apologizing and begging forgiveness of the legend as he strolled on by, opening the gate himself. “Mind your tongue and apologies will not be necessary,” Bralri responded, wit shooting from his hard voice as two other guards shifted in their post on the inside of the gate. Bralri walked through the town, making his way over to a building with a few guards standing outside, then saluted the guards with the same, quick action he had given the guards at the capitol and was lazily mirrored by the guards, one of them punching themselves by accident. Unamused by the incapabilities of the men, Bralri strolled into the building and was immediately joined by a more highly ranked soldier, who respectfully stated, “It would appear our message was received with great attention. We have had a few trackers search for trails, but the only information we have uncovered is that the rider, a girl, has made her way North. We know not whether she is traveling for Alyer or Astrubus, but she is on horseback, and we have had no luck with our fastest scouts.”

Bralri absorbed the information instantly, then quickly asked, “Do you have the girl’s name or age?” as he looked at the soldier, his face cold and void as he spoke. The soldier appeared slightly intimidated by the man’s gaze, and cleared his throat before responding, “The girl had an aunt who reported the hatched egg, she reported her name being Nyla, and that she was very young, around 430 moons.” In response to this, Bralri nodded and stated, “I must leave my chestplate under your protection. Should any damage come to it, I expect you will be fully responsible. You need not oil it, but I shine it once every ten or so moons, so do not let it tarnish. I also need to visit a clothing store, for my current garbs are decaying. Lastly, do not continue tracking the rider, but instead allow me to do so without help. I hereby take full control of the search for Nyla, as ordered by the king.” The soldier looked at Bralri’s brilliant, noble garbs and raised an eyebrow as he noted the gleaming condition of his armor and clothes, not a tear and not a scratch. Deciding not to question the higher authority and his odd demands, the soldier motioned for another guard to come and whispered into the guard’s ear his demands. Immediately after, the guard politely addressed Bralri, saying, “Sir, it is my honor to care for your chestplate and lead you anywhere in our humble town.” With this said, Bralri effortlessly took off his metal chestplate and gave the multi-pieced armor to the surprised guard. Most would assume such a brilliantly crafted piece to be detached, however Bralri’s chestplate was made to be removed in one piece.

After bestowing his primary armor to the guard, the guard momentarily left to store it, telling Bralri of such, and then returned and led the young swordsman out of the door, himself standing at equal height to the young man. As the two walked through the town, a few country-folk quickly retreated into their townhouses, afraid of the recent events and the guards alike. The action was very displeasing to Bralri, but he did not have to witness much of it, as a tailor was soon found. The guard remained outside, as Bralri ordered, and waited for Bralri as the legend searched for appropriate clothing for his journey. After a few quick minutes, Bralri decided upon a dark-green garb which had a pattern resembling leaves, a cheaply made, full-body cloak which separated and tied at the waist, providing a comfortable seam on horseback and for running, while still keeping the wearer warm and dry in weather. The material was plain cotton, and the cost was high due to the thickness of the cloak, but it was worth the money. Bralri also bought a set of worn-looking clothes which resembled that of the design of a Gondol scholar’s garb, and decided not to buy shoes or stockings, knowing that his cheap low-slung sandals would be more convincing than new stockings and shoes. After satisfying his plan, Bralri left the tailor with the new clothing and asked the guard to follow him to the stables.

At the stables, Bralri stored his chainmail armor, folding it neatly and storing it in a saddlebag on Nightfire, then changed into his new clothing, his robe and clothes all itchy as the green, blue, black and brown cotton and wool all itched his impeccable skin. Bralri donated his clothes to the guard afterwards, on the condition that, “You must wear them or burn them, do not store them,” then told the guard to show him to the location of the last seen location of the rider. The guard agreed, carrying the light clothes of the noble man as he walked out of town, making his way towards the cottage of Nyla’s aunt. Soon enough, the two managed to make it to the place, and the guard showed the tracks where Nyla mounted her horse, then disappeared in the harder soil. Bralri nodded, and for the next hour, he wandered the region, planning and thinking, absorbing bits and details of the place. After that hour, Bralri went back to the stable and readied his horse for further travel. “It’s time to shine, Nightfire.” Bralri cooed, mounting his horse as he saluted the town guards once more, making his way over to the cottage once more to begin his journey to find and befriend the rider. Nyla, is it? She has lived around 420 moons, a number I wouldn’t think the guards could count, and managed to evade trackers on a horse. An interesting girl. He thought, grinning as he rode, Nightfire effortlessly running again after his quick break, most of his strength back.

Making various calculations, Bralri assumed that his ‘Nyla’ would be about a day’s journey away at a mildly slow pace, considering she’d need to stop for food and sleep. Bralri did not wish to stop for sleep, and was so proficient at tracking that he could follow her horse’s three-day-old tracks without dismounting his horse. As a result, Bralri quickly zoomed through the countryside, stopping not for night nor tiredness in order to catch up to the young girl. At first, the trail was difficult to read, however, as the ground became less hard, Bralri could more easily follow it, resulting in effortless travel. Within the first day, at sundown, Bralri had already found the first remnants of a campfire, and as his journey continued, ignoring the sharp, cold wind as he tracked.

Every now and then, he would have to turn around, find the tracks again, then follow them correctly due to missing a track, but he was used to doing thus from a wolf-hunt he had in his youth. After he found a second campfire, he hastened his horse slightly, trying to close the rest of the gap between him and the rider girl quickly. By this point in time, he had already erased all remnants of his actual self, Bralri, and had adopted his façade, Bradford. The skies looked so austere and terrific, mysterious and magnificent, as if he had never taken the time to look up before. Bralri could remember the experiences of his childhood where he looked up at the stars in wonder, never comparing any to the power of the sun. Even the individual sparkles were powerful, when combined. Bralri’s new point of view made him smile, in fact, he felt as if he had been the same all along, his mind full of wonder about the world, about what he’d find next. He knew that his destination was the Alyer forest, having beaten his master’s final test, he was off to test his knowledge of strategy, swordsmanship, and surviving on his own, hoping to acquire wisdom and experience his master would never be able to teach of.

As the sun rose, Bradford smelled a change in the air, a more crisp, clean and refreshing smell. One could mistake it for a change in coming weather, but Bradford did not see a cloud in the sky. He could tell he was getting closer to the forest, thus he sped his horse up slightly, eager to see the tips of the trees as he approached a far-away hill, a mountainous hill separating him from the tremendously tall trees of the Alyer. The air was cold, but the young man’s heart was on fire with passion as he rode his horse onward, grinning at the prospect of adventure as he rode, remembering his past and flashing back to various images of his father’s disapproving expression as he rode on. Not any more, father. Bradford thought, stroking Nightfire as he rode along, Not any more.

As the young man finally witnessed the incredible Alyer forest trees, the gleaming greens and the flashing feathers of the brilliant birds, he couldn’t help but taking in a huge breath, a deep inhale. Even in Gondol, trees never smelled so divine! The murk and torch-smoke always overrode the nice pines or the maples, the firs and the flowers. Even the grass was greener, and softer. Bradford knew that he’d have plenty of opposition to face in the forest, rogues, animals, starvation, thirst, weather, and all sorts of poisons and injuries, but he was sure that he would live. The scholar’s master had given him a fine suit of armor as a gift for being the first and more innovative to pass his final test, and had even given him advice as to how to best introduce himself to hostile people. It was an amazing piece of advice too. “Don’t forget to smile with a hand on your sword!” His master was always full of jokes.

Soon after having witnessed the trees, the traveling scholar slowed his horse down significantly and began to tread downhill. It was not a very steep hill, but it was a downward slant, so he wished to be careful. As he was riding down, he heard a voice, a girl’s voice, not very deep or mature sounding, in fact, it resembled that of a young woman, one younger than he. The message was almost comical coming from such a mouth, the likes of which he did not yet see, it being so distant, but he could make it out just fine. “Hello! State your name and business, or else you shall be killed on the spot!”

Bradford was not familiar with such an odd greeting, ‘hello,’ and was most certainly opposed to the prospect of being killed on the spot by a young woman, as comical as the thought sounded, thus he took his time to think of a witty reply and stated, “Ho there! I am a humble traveler in search of company, on a journey through the Alyer forest!” Bradford stated, grinning as he made his way down the hill. I would hope that voice isn’t one of a rogue, then again, I’d benefit from the experience. The young man thought, his grin a friendly, meek expression spreading evenly across his entire face. The scholar finally met the gaze of the source of the voice soon after, but was then immediately shocked to see two animals near her, one a horse, and the other a… What in the name of Joal is that!?

Bradford thought, reigning in his horse, a brief whinny accompanying the action. Nightfire stopped immediately, as did the strategist’s heart, for a moment, his mouth agape. That’s a dragon, unmistakably! It has wings, and, those are teeth, I think. The young strategist thought, straining his eyes to see the figures at the base of the thin outer-perimeter of the forest. With a stopped horse, Bradford continued watching to see a glimmer of purple shine from the standing girl, a sword! A shortsword at that, a weapon he himself had learned to use proficiently as a strategist. The disconcerting factor of the situation was that both the sword and the dragon were purple, and the girl appeared to be wearing the clothes of a man. Having never seen a dragon outside of story books, Bradford decided that the figure must not be a rogue, knowing that riders fought to protect, and thus he urged his horse slowly on again, having stopped only for a few moments. Immediately after this, Bradford set a real smile on his face, fascinated and happy to have met another person, especially a rider, and, meeting the friendly face's weapon, he too lifted a flap of his coat and gripped the comfortable hilt of his parrying dagger, having no interest in drawing a sword against a rider, despite her own discourtesy.

Bradford's figure, although impossible to distinguish at such a distance, was that of a man on a pitch-black horse with a coat which was only just beginning to bleach from the sun. His coat appeared lightly worn and dirty, and his hood was down, revealing a moderately tanned, handsome face with bright green eyes and an expression of pleasant happiness to meet company. His horse's saddlebags were not filled very heavily, but his traveler's sack rested behind him, strapped to the saddle. The Dales Pony could handle the weight just fine, and showed no struggle as it calmly made its way down the hill.
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Re: The Fallen (M) Anyone ADVANCED

Post by Guest on Fri Jul 26, 2013 7:12 pm

(Cool! I like your twist, it should add more excitement to things!!! I also came up with a bit of a twist... Hope you like it!)

“Ho there! I am a humble traveler in search of company, on a journey through the Alyer forest!” Nyla heard the man, and scowled. He was obviously not from the Empire. She sheathed the sword, and looked over at Iantha. "It's fine, I don't think he means us harm... She looked back at the traveler, studying him. He had a nice pony, one that could only mean wealth. No such animals were found in 100 mile radius of her village. Nyla instantly grew suspicious.

"Aye! You may have company with us!" She yelled loudly. She knew what she was doing was dangerous, but she could always have Iantha kill him. Nyla took a better look, and saw the traveler's clothing. She could already tell it was made from her village's tailor. This made her suspicion grow. Something wasn't right about him. This, Nyla could tell, even from a distance. As the rider began coming forward again, Nyla decided to toy with. She looked over at Iantha,"Go fly around him, and roar a couple times..."

Iantha sensed Nyla's plan, and her eyes shone in amusement. She then let out a deafening roar, and leaped into the air. Her wings made a small gust of wind, and the gust made a couple plants quiver. Iantha flew up to around 300 feet, and then she again roared. She circled the horse and rider, swooping down at irregular intervals. Nyla suppressed a giggle, and rested her hand on the hilt of Ibolya. "Ay! You still have not stated your name, and my companion grows wary!" Nyla nodded toward Iantha. The glittering purple Dragon then dived down, and snapped at the horse's heels, swerving before harming the creature.

Iantha then returned to Nyla's side, her humming vibrating the air around them. Nyla hoped that if the man didn't already know her age. If he did, then she was in trouble. If he didn't, then Nyla was already planning another rouse. As she could tell, this man was only a bit older than her. And very handsome at that. The rouse was already forming in her mind. And she heard Iantha growl in agreement

The Alyer forest was a very big forest. Almost two hundred miles wide, and Nyla didn't know how long. It would take the group a while to reach the other end. If this man was who he said he was, then this wouldn't hurt him at all. But if he was one of the King's workers, then he was in for a huge surprise. She would pretend to like him, maybe even pretend to love him. He might even start to like her. She hoped he did. For by the time they reached the end of the forest, he should have told her everything...

If he was who he said he was, then Nyla might consider him. If she even did start to like him. But if he wasn't, then she would say that,"They Just couldn't be... That their relationship had been formed on lies. Nyla thought the plan was wonderful, even if it was a little childish. She just hoped it worked out. If it had been to stupid, Iantha would have warned her. Yet, the Dragon still hummed in amusement.

Nyla decided to be kind, or act that way. She bridled Honey, and swung onto the Horse's bare back. She clucked her tongue and rode to around twenty feet from the mysterious man. He looked different from the people she had grown up around. He looked like he had actual manners, and courtesy. She gave him a charming smile, and looked him over more closely. She had been right about the clothes, for she could see a triple stitch seam. One that only their tailor would do. A seam that she wore on her own clothing.

Nyla looked back at her camp quickly, wary of what might be in the forest, then back at the man. "I'm Nyla. Though I'm sure you already figured that out. The Dragon that wanted to eat you is Iantha. I'd keep away from her when she's hungry." Nyla said it seriously, though it was only a joke. The man appeared unclean, and it seemed as if he had been riding all of his life. Nyla felt a tinge of sympathy, as she looked at the man's handsome face. "You look hungry... I was just about to start some stew, if you would like to join me?"

Then, not waiting for an answer, Nyla turned her mare and rode back to camp. She pulled an assortment of dried vegetables from her saddle bags. She had finally looked through the bags, and cursed herself from not looking through them sooner. She had also found some bandages, and more whiskey. She had rolled her eyes when she had found it. She started boiling some water, and put the vegetables into the water, along with her last five strips of meat. She really hoped this guy could hunt.

She then laid back on her saddle, waiting for the man. She couldn't help but cast a glance over her shoulder at him. Iantha crawled over, and rested her big head in Nyla's lap. The young girl scratched the Dragon's head, and suddenly felt very worn. She was tired, and needed a good bath. Though that was really impossible now that there was a man among them. Nyla sighed, and listened to the water of her stew pop.

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Re: The Fallen (M) Anyone ADVANCED

Post by Admin on Fri Jul 26, 2013 7:12 pm

The member 'mckenzie9199' has done the following action : Dices roll

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Re: The Fallen (M) Anyone ADVANCED

Post by Amalgamator on Fri Jul 26, 2013 9:30 pm

(I loved your post, full of psychology and detail, but your character spoke a ton, and did many actions. If my character had decided to draw a sword and charge at you after you mounted your horse, would you still have blatantly told him your name and thought he had great manners? I think not, thus when you include dialogue in your post, it need not be quite so long.

Just so we don’t make this confusing or type tiny little posts, or type gigantic posts, I think we should have a loose system. Because you had dialogue in your post, I included your character saying it, thus whenever someone carries out an action or says something, it should be re-stated in the other person’s post, through their character’s point of view, if they are present, of course. It adds to the depth a little.

Also, to keep things from getting to hectic, let’s limit ourselves to three units of dialogue and three significant actions per post. By ‘units of dialogue,’ I mean anything from you greeting someone else to you talking for a minute straight about how I killed your father without regret. Also, questions are units of dialogue in and of themselves, because they require a response. If you say that Nyla asked me five questions without pausing, that’s one unit of dialogue, but if she asks a question, then thinks a bit, waiting for a response, then asks another, that’s two. By ‘significant actions’ I do not mean every flick of your hair, I mean any action that would take between two to ten minutes in total. Also, if you require more than this in order to make a good, descriptive post, be my guest, but please don’t deny Bradford(Or Bralri?) the chance to develop due to a barrage of words. Please do not assume that this is being written because of your post, I am only writing this to prevent it from happening because I felt that a lot of dialogue happened in your post.

I hate rules, personally, but I also hate having to reason how my character would respond in the way you expect him too. No need to be too strict about these rules, I’m not going to get annoyed with you if you don’t follow any of them, but I thought they’d help the role play flow better. Also, if our characters need to have a long discussion, we could easily conduct the discussion over the thread, however I believe that it would be awfully slow, considering I am online quite sporadically each day. With that said, we’ll tackle trouble as it hits us.

Oh, but don't forget, if your character is curious about anything, don't let the fact that I typed out how something about Bradford(or, Bralri) influence how your character acts. I know it is common sense, but everyone needs a reminder every now and then, even me. Read on.)

Bradford continued at an average pace towards the young woman, watching as she talked briefly to her dragon. The lady shouted out, “Aye! You man have company with us!” and returned to talking to her companion. Bradford chuckled happily after hearing this, happy to have made friends so quickly after his rough journey, but was quickly dismayed. Immediately after their conversation, the dragon let out a horrific roar and shot into the air, much like a javelin thrown by a master athlete. The beast darted through the skies until it circled not to far away from the now-terrified Bradford, whom of which looked straight up at the dragon, following it as if flew around. After the beast let out a second ear-piercing roar, Bradford kicked his steed into a much faster pace and shot down the hill, scared that his response was not good enough. The dragon swooped briefly as Bradford sped down the hill, not getting too close but getting close enough to scare him as a bit of excited sweat shot down his back.

“Ay! You still have not stated your name, and my companion grows wary!” the girl shouted, her voice noticeably less patient. After this was said, to Bradford’s dismay, the dragon swooped down very close, snapping at Nightfire’s backside, turning away just before biting the poor steed. Bradford frowned at the menacing beast as he looked over at the young woman and shouted, “IT’S BRADFORD, TO THOSE WHO WISH TO KNOW,” as his horse jumped over a slight crevice. This response seemed to please the flying, purple suit of armor, which immediately returned to its companion with a barely audible hum. Bradford slowed his steed, chuckling to himself at the interrogation he just got, then pet Nightfire’s mane, apologizing for hurting his chest.

As the scholar neared closer to the young woman, she seemed to be deep in thought, analyzing him. He was close enough to examine the girl, noting that her clothing was made of the same stitch as his. Hey, she must be from Fristusyn! the scholar thought, reminded of the town. He had run into a few rogues on the way to the Alyer forest unfortunately, and he only barely managed to make it out alive, having had many regions of his robe of Gondol cut to tatters. Fristusyn happened to show up, and the tailor in town had a style of clothes which was similarly colored to his previous, beloved robe. It was greatly fortunate that he and his horse got healing at the town, for his horse was his most precious belonging beside his sword and his chainmail. All this flashed through Bradford’s mind, but his train of thought was interrupted by his own observation. It was quite likely that the dragon-name-interrogation was her idea of a funny joke, and Bradford laughed a little after realizing this again, being himself a lover of good jokes, but by mounting her horse, it was clear that she had meant her word as she trotted towards him with her sword sheathed.

Bradford could definitely tell that she had a few of the clothing types he had seen in the tailor on Fristusyn, and thus that she had either faced the same predicament that he had, or that she was from there. It was likely the latter, because she was a very young lady, and her dragon was tiny compared to the myths about the riders that Bradford had heard in Gondol. As the two people, and horses, and dragon, approached, the young lady turned around and looked behind her, as if expecting a giant bear to have been following her, and turned around soon after, opening her mouth and speaking. “I’m Nyla. Though I’m sure you already figured that out,” the girl started, her voice completely serious. How could I have already figured that? Bradford wondered to himself, a confused expression slowly gracing his face as she went on, both characters bouncing up and down on their steeds. “The Dragon that wanted to eat you is Lantha. I’d keep away from her when she’s hungry,” she continued, still completely serious. Bradford assumed that was a joke, thinking that dragons would likely be above eating humans, but he didn’t know for sure, thus he eyed the dragon suspiciously, almost in shock.

Bradford’s dust and grime-covered body was a result of him taking plenty of breaks while tracking the girl in his actual persona, Bralri, not caring to wear the uniform due to the excuse he formed. Bradford had known that he was dirty due to camping in an area which was very dry and dirty, a perfect spot to start a camp fire, and sleeping under the stars in the cold weather. Bradford’s horse, Nightfire, was a seasoned traveling horse capable of nearly anything he set her to do, all except heavy weight bearing. Nightfire was a steed well capable of traveling, but he could barely handle Bradford and his gear, let alone more perplexing weight. Bradford continued watching the girl as she approached him, and was interrupted by her expression morphing slightly with an almost sympathetic look at the same time that her voice softened slightly, still serious as she continued on to say, “You look hungry. I was just about to start some stew, if you would like to join me?”

Bradford was not a man to deny food, thus he let out a hearty chuckle and lifted his arms, shouting, “Who am I to deny a meal?” as he grinned wide, the hilt of his shortsword lonely again under his cloak. The two then joined next to each other, Nightfire speaking to the unfamiliar horse through grunts and other sounds as the two people neared Nyla’s camp. After the two dismounted, Bradford led his horse over to a sturdy tree and Haltered Nightfire to the tree loosely, the long rope providing plenty of room for the steed to graze and roll in the dewy, fresh grass. Bradford then walked, his method of walking having a rhythmic beat to each step, almost as if he walked to his heart’s own beat, straight toward Nyla, smiling all the way in an almost passive, ‘happy to live’ smile which could comfort a nervous rabbit.

The man stopped near the fire, watching Nyla search through her bags, pulling out whisky and bandages, dried vegetables and a whole random assortment of other necessities. He looked around to see that she had already had a metal container with water in it, which surprised him, considering he had not seen any water in a while. Silently watching the young lady cook, his pleasant smile plastered across his face as if it was natural, his breath slowly, silently flowing from his nose at a very low pace, testament to his athletic abilities, the young man thought to himself about what her story could possibly be. He wanted to wait for her to finish collecting her ingredients first, because he did not know whether or not his words would interrupt her thought process or make her forget where they were. After she found the vegetables, Nyla walked over and set the metal pot of water on the fire, causing it to begin heating to a boil. Impatient and calm, the girl threw the dried vegetables into the pot along with five strips of beef, dried and salted, and then she stepped back and sat on the removed saddle of her horse, relaxing.

After a minute, Bradford noticed that the girl glanced over at him occasionally, and looked over at her to find that she was no longer watching him. His attention was on the fire, mostly because the flickering flames were magical and brilliant, warming his face like the sun yet shooting out darkness to the skies above. It seemed as if the fire wished to burn out the sun, but was never strong enough, a pitiful fact which people often never thought. Lantha soon walked over to her companion and rested her head on Nyla’s lap, an action which Bradford just so happened to look over to see. The sight was adorable, the dragon, a beast-like creature, resting its head calmly in a little girl’s lap. The stew was just beginning to warm up, some of the vegetables popping in the pot as the water began a slow boil, a rather fast boiling time for a rather hot fire. It was a cold day, and despite the sun being out still, the fire felt like a necessity to the wary traveler. Bradford certainly was tired, for he felt as if he had not slept in weeks, but he was determined to stay awake, to keep his body from betraying him until the night. With company, he felt that he would be able to sleep much better that night.

Bradford soon looked over at the young girl and began to talk, his smile remaining on his face and glimmering in his bright green eyes as he spoke, his mellow, encouraging and uplifting voice loud over the popping of the stew as he began, “My new friend, Nyla, I am honored just to meet a rider, let alone accompany one. Even still, I have a question to ask about you, for I was curious.” Bradford then paused, smiling at the young rider innocently as she looked over at him, his innocent eyes shooting a gaze straight into her eyes as he continued, “How many moons have you lived? And also, how many moons has Lantha seen, for you both look younger even than I! Well, you at least. I dare not compare myself to a Dragon, of all things.” With this said, Bradford relaxed, focusing on the both of them to collect their response, readying his mind to remember. He often had trouble remembering things that people said, but having tried meditation once and having received good results, Bradford knew that by clearing his mind, he’d remember better. It was not a perfect technique, but it worked often enough for the youth as he sat in the grass, his dark green, leaf-textured cloak resting around his shoulders as his un-hooded head soaked up the sun, his hair a sun-bleached black and his eyebrows thin and delicate, despite the rest of his face relaying an almost calming, yet very distinct curved smoothness, with moderately sharp cheekbones and a moderately small, short nose.
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Re: The Fallen (M) Anyone ADVANCED

Post by Guest on Fri Jul 26, 2013 10:16 pm

(Ignore this post...)


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Re: The Fallen (M) Anyone ADVANCED

Post by Amalgamator on Fri Jul 26, 2013 11:46 pm

(First off, my system is made to prevent assumptions and paradoxes, meaning that if you advance far enough to the point where you need to assume that my character reacts in a certain way, you have gone too far. You only describe what my character does in the re-cap of what I wrote in my last post, what I already wrote. Beyond this, it should come naturally how much your character should do, whether asking a single question or running off to go hunting. If you need to assume my character does something, just PM me so I can at least confirm that Bradford would react or act in said way.

What you said was 'powerplaying,' however, was fairly minor. You could do the same action by just writing, "Immediately after asking the question, she started telepathically talking to Iantha" or something similar, assuming that no matter how Bradford responds, she will do that action. Just make sure that, no matter what, she's definitely going to do that, because I've been known to write some pretty fantastic randomness. I'll make sure to abide by the same rules, and I'll also try to keep my responses as descriptive as possible.

Oh, and there is no such thing as a 'good' and a 'bad' story, role play, play, movie, ect. The only difference separating those you enjoy from those you don't is effort, detail, passion and technique. This is why telling this story might seem 'good' as compared to others, because it causes you to think more. I don't think you can ever get used to writing well, because you can always get better, and you'll always look back at something you made five years ago with a smirk and corrections on mind. Never differentiate between the 'logical' and the 'natural' when writing, because you'll fall into a pit of critical analysis, as I often do. :\

In any case, read on.)

Bradford wiped a piece of dirt from his cheek as he watched Nyla rise from her seat, her clothes wrinkling from not fitting quite right. The girl seemed a bit off-balance at first, but she quickly corrected herself as she looked back over at him, a smart look on her face as she replied, "I'm sixteen," pausing briefly as if to think as she looked over at Iantha. Bradford was internally surprised at her being nearly his age at her...maturity...but his expression changed to intrigue as she continued, "I can't name an age for her. She is much older than I. The time in her egg was long, or so she says."

Bradford nodded after hearing this, feeling that a nod was necessary to pose understanding, then his mind started to cloud up with thoughts again, memories of his family, his little sister, friends in his studies, even his training partner in Combat Analysis, Stridna, a girl his age who looked older than he. She probably had accomplished a lot since he last met her, in fact, she barely managed to pass the final test, but did so two years before him! What an amazing girl. Bradford watched the dragon pose an expression of contentment after Nyla's comment, then saw the girl yawn adorably as she started to walk towards the pot above the flame. So I'm not the only tired soul around here... Bradford thought, grinning a bit wider for a brief moment at the thought.

Nyla looked back over at him while stirring the stew, the wooden ladle covered in a bit of smoke from the flames, the metal seemingly hot, despite it's black color. The girl spoke immediately after turning his way, probably not wanting to burn her hand by accident while stirring, and posed, "What about you, Bradford? How many moons are you?" This question reminded Bradford of the fact that she herself did not state how many moons she had, herself, lived, and had only used years as measurement. Many people did this in order to hide their actual age, especially scholars and nobles who did not wish to share the moon of their birth. It was also not common for country folk to even be able to count all the moons, for it took arithmetic skill which only dedicated scholars were proficient at.

Bradford took a deep breath before answering, his eyes locked on those of the girl as he counted, then responded, "I have lived for almost 500 moons, from accounts my family made, which makes us near-aged." After saying this, he chuckled gently and paused for a moment, watching the girl cook the stew. He knew a great deal about surviving in the country, and even in wilderness outside the kingdom, from various books he had read. None of the books advised cooking, or even heating water, directly over a fire. It added an extremely smoky taste, sometimes extremely unpleasant with some types of wood. Still, he wished to observe the girl a bit before getting to know her better, hoping to notice a character trait or two.

Even still, as the girl nodded and sat, Bralri couldn't help but think up another question to ask her, eyeing her clothing. "I just so happened to chance upon the town of Fristusyn, a rural town just south of here, and bought these clothes from the tailor because of an incident with highwaymen..." he started, biting his cheek a little after saying such, wondering if he'd regret giving out that information as he continued, watching Iantha crawl over to Nyla, "I remember seeing those very clothes in the tailor's shop within that town, perhaps you chanced through Fristusyn as well?" With this said, the strategist scholar's smile instantly returned, his head cocked slightly to the side as he continued watching the youth, his frosted breath floating before his face once or twice as a cold breeze shot by.


Last edited by Amalgamator on Sat Jul 27, 2013 1:06 pm; edited 2 times in total
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Re: The Fallen (M) Anyone ADVANCED

Post by Guest on Sat Jul 27, 2013 11:08 am

(Okay, thanks sooo much for explaining that. I already reread my post, and decided it had to be redone. I'm sorry if any thing was confusing that I typed last night... In this post, I'll try to do what you were talking about. It's been so long that I've actually done a GOOD RP, so I have to get used to it again. Oh and about the stew thing, your so right! I must have been writing like a zombie last night But back to your rules. I think they are very good, and will help a lot!! Though, there is one problem in what you came up with. It's probably going to end up with you or me doing a bit of powerplay... It won't be major though, I don't think. Just like, 'While Bradford was thinking, Nyla talked to Iantha...' I don't know for sure that Bradford will be thinking, so it is a kind of powerplay, but it's not to significant....Well, I'm going to post now! And what region do you live in? I'm in a different time zone right now....)

Nyla looked over at him, mildly surprised. He would have known that if he had been working for the king. The Girl got up casually, but kept glancing over at him cautiously. She didn't trust him, but she thought in time. In time she might be able to. "I'm Sixteen... "She said looking at him smartly. She wasn't sure how many moons that was, even though, she knew how many moons she was really. The girl felt a little guilty because she lied, but she thought it was for the best.

She looked back over at Iantha," I can't name an age for her. She is much older than I. The time in her egg was long, or so she says." Nyla looked at the Dragon, seeing if she had said the correct thing. Iantha's glittering head bobbed once. Her Cobalt blue eyes sparkling in the late sun. Nyla yawned, and walked over to stir the stew. She felt a little rude, not really interacting with their new acquaintance.

As Nyla stirred, she looked back to the man. "What about you, Bradford? How many moons are you?" Nyla motioned to the ground, with a curt nod. Then she herself sat. Iantha didn't see how their age's were important, but she crawled over to join them. Then upon sitting, she started grooming herself, listening to the two, and nodding at Nyla's description of her age.

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Re: The Fallen (M) Anyone ADVANCED

Post by Guest on Sat Jul 27, 2013 1:06 pm

(kk, here goes!)
Nyla looked at him as he began talking. She crossed her legs comfortably, and laid back against her saddle."I just so happened to chance upon the town of Fristusyn, a rural town just south of here, and bought these clothes from the tailor because of an incident with highwaymen..I remember seeing those very clothes in the tailor's shop within that town, perhaps you chanced through Fristusyn as well?" Nyla giggled in amusement, and Iantha hummed after his comment. "yeah we've been through their a couple of times. It's a nice little village." Nyla said, her voice thick with sarcasm. The girl looked back at him, curious. Her eyes didn't settle on him exactly, but held a hazy expression as she looked into the distance. Then, deciding to settle her curiosity, she asked,"So, why are you traveling?"

After asking she casually drew in the dirt beneath her. It was an old habit she had acquired when she was little. Her mind was filled with questions, but she didn't want to seem rude by asking them. She cast a glance down at her drawing, and saw a broad leaf, that looked some what similar to a maple leaf. It's three sections each pointing in a different directions, like three arrows. The arrows pointing to different paths she could take. Nyla gently rubbed at the ground, the leaf disappearing. The girl sighed, and stood. She walked over to the stew, kicking dirt onto the flames.

Iantha watched the man, but her attention was soon brought back to her partner. The purple dragon was confused. Human emotions seemed to change so quickly. Though the emotion the girl was giving off was a strange one. The emotion of uncertainty. What was the girl uncertain about though? Was it about Bradford? Or about the trip> Iantha couldn't hope to figure it out without talking to the girl. Though instead the Dragon did something more unpredictable. She sauntered over to the man, and sniffed him. From the slight contact, Iantha picked up on many things. Many things about the man. She could tell he could fight, and that he was proud. But that all seemed like a shadow. She raised her head and looked at him in the eyes. You seem like a good man.

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Re: The Fallen (M) Anyone ADVANCED

Post by Amalgamator on Sat Jul 27, 2013 1:27 pm

Nyla relaxed as Bradford asked his question, seemingly unaffected by the breeze, and she merely giggled in amusement after being asked, responding in a noticably sarcastic tone, "Yeah we've been through there a couple of times. It's a nice little village." Bradford noticed that her gaze was distant as she looked back over at him, almost as if her thoughts had already been carried away, but the gaze reverted soon, as she began talking once more, in a curious tone, "So why are you traveling?"

Bradford thought for a moment before responding, but immediately after opening his mouth to speak, he noticed that the young girl had begun to draw something into the ground below her. As she made a bit of progress in her drawing, Bradford begun, "As I said, I am on the search for..." he paused for a moment, trying to identify the drawing, but all he could think of was some sort of paw-print or, Ahh, it's a leaf! Of course! he thought, then immediately resuming his speech, "I was searching for a companion, but now that I have two, all I need is to learn about the world, and to get experience."

After he finished, waiting to see if she'd be further intrigued in what 'experience' he was talking about, Nyla got up and walked over to the stew in order to stir it once more. Bradford watched the girl stir the food once more, time passing slowly as steam and smoke rose from the concoction, promising a smoky, meaty taste and a warm break from hunger. As Bradford was still watching Nyla, Iantha wandered over to him and nudged him with her nose as she sniffed him, evoking a sharp reflex from Bradford, making him launch his arm up and turn suddenly, unaware of the dragon's sudden shift of presence. "Wha.." he began, very confused at the animal-like action as he slowly lowered his arm, still facing the creature as it interrupted his voice and his thoughts, staring him right in the eye. A female, hardly soft voice roughly interrupted his thoughts as he heard, You seem like a good man, echo in his head, almost as if the creature was talking to him.

The man immediately shot to his feet and backed away from the beast, his eyes filled with shock, his smile gone. "What in the name of Joan are you doing in my head?" he asked, his nervous voice posing a slight jesting tone as he stood, staring right back into the eyes of the dragon. The cobalt blue shone under the rays of the sun like the deep blue of the purest sapphire, although more dull and slightly lighter. The purple glitter from the scales sported a beauty that Bradford had not seen as the creature violently attempted to eat the rump of his steed, but in the moment, his eyes softened a little, although still nervous, looking at the spectacle of a beast. I'm the only one who should be in here. he thought, raising an eyebrow slightly after thinking the words.
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Re: The Fallen (M) Anyone ADVANCED

Post by Guest on Sat Jul 27, 2013 6:56 pm

"I was searching for a companion, but now that I have two, all I need is to learn about the world, and to get experience." Nyla nodded, only half interested. She grabbed the wooden laden and stirred again. Then she ran the words over in her head, and looked at him, more curious than before. "What kind of experience? Like a job, or what exactly?: Then watching Iantha in amusement, Nyla pulled the two bowls from the bag. She poured some of the stew in the bigger of the bowl. She filled the bowl almost to the rim, and offered it to Bradford. She then got herself some soup, and sat on the ground. She nestled the soup into the crook of her arm, enjoying the warmth.

Nyla could hear the words Iantha spoke to the man, and she smiled as she startled the man. Most people would think that Dragons were just another animal, capable of nothing out of the ordinary. But as Nyla had found out, they were really remarkable creatures. The fact that Iantha could do things that Nyla couldn't do, made the girl think that Dragons were smarted than humans. And she was sure they were... Nyla took a bite of the stew as Bradford calmed down, and she gagged. The stew was gross, and her cheeks got red. After the two seemed to have a break in their conversation, Nyla said laughing,"I hope you don't mind the flavor. I never was a very good cook..."

Iantha watched, amused at how startled the man was. A deep hum erupted in her chest. She surprised herself my emitting a rough sound, that she thought was supposed to be a laugh. She even surprised herself sometimes! I'm the only one who should be in here. That amused the Dragon even more. 'I'll be anywhere I like. The Dragon responded happily. Then she nudged Bradford toward Nyla lightly. She unfolded her wings, and leaped into the air. Her powerful strokes, making the branches of nearby tree's shake. I'm going hunting! She announced to the two.

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