agent212
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The sun blazed bright on lore, on a small village on the outskirts of discovered territory. It was a picturesque village, everything was perfect. The small stone cottages with vibrant green growing on their walls; the children laughing and running in the field and the adults sitting on their verandas discussing today’s crop and the elders just admiring the village and what they made it become, all under the brilliance on the sun. It was perfect. Bang, a huge flaming projectile struck the village center. But it was not ordinary, it was shrouded in green flames which burned and produced a green mist. Petrifying screams saturated the air. The flesh of the villagers decomposed and rotted away, whatever was left now sagged and was green. This was the first of a series of attacks, and certainly not the last. These attacks slowly destroyed King Alteon The Good’s kingdom village by village.
But the story truly begins here in another village nowhere near as important, or so was thought. A young boy, with jet black hair, burgundy eyes and pointed ears lived there. No one knew from where he came but they had began to accept him into their community as one of them not an outsider, or at least they did most of the time, he would do something which could be considered slightly odd not too regularly. He would set the lake adjacent to the village on fire, green fire. Or he would shroud the blazing Sun and make it as if it didn’t exist. But these feats of power were erratic and chaotic, completely unpredictable and he could not summon them by will; but he was trying and getting closer to his goal, from time to time he would actually manage and then he vowed he would leave his god-forsaken prison of a village.
The young boy, Karikor, now a teenager still failed at his goal, he questioned if he would ever succeed; until this faithful day. Karikor was surrounded by a small group of ruffians.
“Hey freak! Get up and fight” yelled one of them “freak I am talking to you!”
Karikor ignored him and summoned all his willpower. Die. The gang leader suddenly clutched his heart and screamed as if he had seen Death himself, which he quite in fact did. The ground around Karikor turned black, strange glowing runes appeared on it, and his burgundy eyes now shone an ominous green, all of them the white, the iris and the pupils. He was muttering in some unknown language and the ruffians were no longer there, just walking skeletons. The undead. Things were never quite the same after that day. Karikor left the village; but not after he had his revenge for all the days of misery they caused him, no he freed them from the burden of flesh. Now they are probably somewhere in Doomwood, if they are still alive, well not alive but existing. Karikor himself was headed somewhere else, he needed supplies and money, and he needed them fast. He was headed to Falconreach.
A black griffin stays perched at the top of a cliff; it is its watcher looking down on the landscape below it. A bustling city with stone and wood houses. The people are ants, running from place to place, performing some task or hurrying to get home, but it does not matter to the griffin; its master gave it clear orders, to spot and grab a cloaked individual with a height of 183cm, dark hair and wielding an elaborate staff. But the griffin could not see such a man or if he was there he was too elusive.
Karikor walked the streets of Falconreach, he was headed for the local smith, Yulgar. He needed supplies of all sorts, more importantly he needed metals and gems of all sorts. But to buy them he would need money. Karikor stopped walking. He would need to gain money fast and efficiently. A group seemed like the logical choice, so he headed to the inn instead of the smithy. The inn was a simple structure, light oak wooden floorboards and basic tables and chairs. But the inn’s treasure was below its surface, it was a humble environment, it was perfect for meetings between every kind and also for the weary traveler. Karikor surveyed the inn, he saw a farmer, a young girl sitting with her grandparent, the innkeeper and then finally his goal; a man clad in black armor with a sword on his waist. He was a warrior. And sitting next to him was a woman in robes, a mage, and another woman with two knives and a bow strapped to hey back, she was an archer and a rogue. He had been searching for them for some time, and he had finally found them. His goal was now just a step closer.
Karikor proceeded to the table where they sat, and he slowly rested next to them. “Are you the group everyone has been hearing about so much lately?’ he asked.
“What if we are, what is it to you?” the warrior replied.
“I need your assistance, I found this!” Karikor places a map on the table; it shows the flight path and current location of Sepulchure’s fortress. “I want to go there and find--” A group of heavily armed skeleton warriors entered the inn and started walking towards Karikor. “Ugh” sighed Karikor, “so are you going to help me?” His answer came in actions not words because the warrior, Tom, got up immediately and unsheathed his sword and stabbed the nearest skeleton, the rest of the group followed his command, slashing, burning and shooting their way through them, until they came to the woman in charge of the army. She was a necromancer, “Lord Sepulchure told me to kill you before you became a nuisance, before you found your destiny and your dragon.”
“MY DRAGON?!” Karikor yelled “what says I will have a dragon! ARGH you do NOT control my destiny!” With that Karikor put his hand forth and let instinct drive him, he took the life energy from around him, from the necromancer, the public, the warrior, the rogue and the mage. But mostly from the warrior mage and rogue. He let that power run through him, he let it tingle his fingers and he let it focus into the palm of his hand. It became a small orb of fire, green as usual, and then with a whooshing noise it flew and disintegrated the necromancer. The group were now dead as well, depleted of life energy they died. But Karikor had more important things to think about now, such as this dragon of his. He had to find it, and he had to understand why the person he wanted to train under had decided to kill him.
He still didn’t know what had determined he will have a dragon but yet he knew, no felt, he had to find the dragon, no matter what. It was as if some greater incomprehensive power wished and had set these plans into motion and he had to follow them. But if he was correct he would need a dragon amulet first, before he will be able to unlock the power of his dragon. Luckily he had an idea where to find one. Legend, and some blotchy facts, indicates a great flying stronghold of the Dragonlord Order, and Karikor was certain that they would have a dragon amulet there which he could use. The question was how he should get there. Should he request permission? Or should he try something a bit stealthier and try to sneak in? No, the most successful way would be if he were to steal, or somehow obtain a fully grown dragon from another dragonlord, maybe one that doesn’t have much use for it.
< Message edited by agent212 -- 4/27/2011 16:22:15 >
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