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(DF) Blackguard

 
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4/12/2019 23:00:28   
Mareth
Member

Introduction/Authors Notes

Hello everyone! I just wanted to preface this story by stating that this has nothing to do with any of my previous works whatsoever! Haha

But yeah, I've been away from AE for a long while now, and have been wanting to get back in for so long, I love the lore of all the worlds with DragonFable, as always, being my favourite!
And now that I've made my return I just want to thank everyone in advance for taking the time out of their day to give my story a read! I currently dont have any plans to include any other forumites into the story, but if you would like to be written in, please shoot me a message and we can try and work something out! ^^

As for the setting, most of the prologue, intros and introductory chapters take place in Book 1, but the majority of the actual story will take place in Book 3! The Rose will be a presence throughout the story but not necessarily a main driving force! I will also try and keep cannon NPCs to a minimum but there are plans to involve a few!

If anyone has any questions or anything, feel free to either message me or post in the discussion post, and I will try and get back to you ASAP!

I also pretty much only write on mobile/at work so sometimes chapters and stuff will be cut short, I will ALWAYS mark those chapters with a '-c-'! And I will try and update the story once a week, but I cant make promises!
Prologue

The world of Lore is kept in balance by the elementals, but unlike the other elements Light and Dark are not as easily held accountable. All things in Lore feel the pull of these two elements, constantly influencing them and each action that person takes influences the elements in turn.

As such a person who performs any action out of the pure goodness of their heart leads to strengthening The Light, whereas would someone perform that same action, but out of Malice instead of Kindness, this would lead to strengthening The Darkness. Because of this, both The Light and The Dark are typically associated with Good and Evil, respectfully, but this is not always necessarily the case. Light represents the calm, caring, compassion, love, trust and other positive things that influence a persons life. However Dark is represented by fear, anger, sadness and the deeper more emotional sides of a person. And with this it goes without saying that a person primarily governed by the Darkness in their heart is not necessarily evil, but usually hurting or just very emotional. And it is because of this that those who are influenced by The Dark are more likely to succumb to it, rather than those primarily governed by The Light.

The elemental balance must be always upheld. As seen during The Great Fire War, when the balance is tipped in the favour of any element, that element floods the world, and if not stopped will completely engulf it. Luckily the heroes of Lore were able to combat the Flood of Flame in this case, but should the flood become to much to be held back, the world would be rendered completely barren and made uninhabitable for anything other than the most powerful of elementals.

With heroes constantly running amok through Lore, the scales of Light are constantly being tipped. Further and further Lore is pulled into The Light. Taking note of this a man by the name of Cyr has taken up arms in the name of The Dark, his sole mission to maintain equilibrium on Lore. But Cyr is not an evil man, his kindness and compassion have won him the hearts and minds of many who also understand the danger the constant pull of The Light entails. This following thus entitled themselves 'The Army of Night' in namesake of their battle against The Light, but they are more commonly known as 'The Black Legion of Cyr' by outsiders on account of their blackened outfits and often frightening appearance, when seen in mass.

Commonly branded as villains by common folk and those who are blind to the effects of the lights pull, Cyr and his Army of Night find themselves often becoming the target for protests and are given little thanks from villagers and Townsmen that they protect. As such they've had much difficulty in setting up a permanent encampment to serve as a base of their operations. Recently, however they have set up camp far in the northern half of Lore, a snow-field set in the plateau between two great mountains, a region known as Ilsbeth.

< Message edited by Mareth -- 4/13/2019 22:07:32 >
DF AQW  Post #: 1
4/13/2019 19:56:18   
Mareth
Member

Character Introductions


Cyr, The Lord of Nightmares

Cyr was a normal boy like most any others, he had a happy childhood, great parents who cared for him and taught him how to properly respect Lore and all of its inhabitants. Both of Cyrs parents were Magi by nature and taught at the Swordhaven academy itself, a school in which Cyr himself was more than excited to attend when he came of age.

But unlike his parents, Cyr was not naturally as gifted of a Mage and had to work extra hard to become proficient in the arcane arts. It is because of this struggle that Cyr became so versed in The Elemental Scales, after coming upon them in a search for different ways to help him increase his own power. Cyr saw the pull of Light, and experienced first-hand the trouble of an elemental flood when his parents were both lost in The Great Fire War after being deployed into battle. It was on the day he received this grim news that he vowed to walk The Path of Dark. He vowed never to let the elemental scales tip in such a way ever again, that no one would be forced to feel the same way he did.

Present day, Cyr is a gruff older man. His hair long and dark as the night's sky, with rugged stubble masking his chin. He wears the uniform black armor of his Army of Night, with slight modifications fo suit his personal style. He sports a fitted dark grey coat over his attire, with the Insignia of The Army of Night prevalent on each shoulder. In terms of Combat he is unmatched with his greatsword, a long black blade with a dark prismarine crystal set in the middle, that begins to emit a gentle red glow as the daylight approaches its end, thus earninf it the nickname 'Night Bringer'. Though Cyr is notbonly proficient with his blade, he is still a gifted mage, practicing mostly dark-elemental spells, he is particularly known for his unique and peculiar ability to manifest and control the worst nightmares of his foes and allies alike. This art is what earned him his title 'The Lord of Nightmares'.


Mareth, The Blackguard

Staring at death, the young rabbit-eared girl lie barely-breathing as the falling snow began to cover her body. With nowhere left to go she offered to death her hand, willing to fall into his cold embrace. But despite her prayers Death would not have her yet. She heard the humans shouting closer and closer now, it seems her journey into the long dark would not be as gentle as she had hoped.

Suddenly a man's voice called out from ahead of her.
"Fire!" she heard him cry.
And just as the words passed her ears, a volley of arrows passed overhead towards the humans that had just been on her tail. She heard their screams of anguish, and their shouting orders to run away. Slowly upon the edge of her vision she could make out a large troop of men wearing black armor approaching her, but before she could call out to them for aid, she fell unconscious, closing her eyes for what she feared to be the last time.

Suddenly she awoke in a sweat, nearly leaping out of the bed before succumbing to her now-stitched wounds.
"Easy now" The man smiled at her, pouring a glass of herbal elixir and setting it beside her. "Youve only just been patched up, don't work yourself up too much. My name is Cyr, you're in safe hands now".

Descending from a race of animal-human hybrids known as the Feolkin, Mareth boasts heightened senses and a higher sensitivity to the elementals. Tall and slender she boasts skin pale as the mountains snow and a head of messy pure white hair. Two long tribal markings adorn the lower halves of her cheeks, which she tends to keep covered by a black silken scarf held just over her nose. Typically she keeps her ears tucked beneath the hood of her cloak as to make her less easily identifiable by humans or any opposition to Cyr and his band. Mareth s fiercely loyal to Cyr and The Army of Night, being her saviours, but tends to pose an unbridled disdain for humans. This coupled with her fierce attitude tend to bring about many an unnecessary conflict.

As a Blackguard, Mareth bound her soul with that of a profane weapon in order to control her dark powers, a grim spear with black chains dangling from its head. 'Loveless' she has dubbed it. Though her profane spear is her main arm she also boasts a beautiful sabre with a deep blue blade containing many etched runes called 'Surrexit, and two smaller shortswords made of Damascus steel known as 'Fang' and 'Claw', respectively. Mareth's fighting style is quick and vicious, she is never one fo be without a weapon in each hand, no matter how unwieldly it may seem.

Benvern, The Magus of Dusk


Flames engulfed the fields around the high-tower, Light Elementals, Rise Soldiers, Guardians all engaged together in brutal combat. The flowers the children of the valley had all planted slowly burned away as the burning rocks flew their way across the sky, their embers engulfing all they passed by.
"It seems our time has come at last, Master Benvern" the young apprentice calmly spoke as he approached the Hooded man. "Looks as though it's finally time we intervene. Lest' you intend to run, old man?"
"Run?" The old master laughed "You should know me better by now, Cyr". With this Benvern raised the old oaken staff high above his head brining forth a bright orange light, and in that flash each and every Guardian below him was engulfed by a bright light before being whisked far away, safe from the oncoming storm. "If they would have my home my burn, then with it these fools too shall fall."
"I would expect not less from you, Grand Master" Cyr chimed bowing before the old man. "Ill gather the troops and make sure not a Guardian was left behind, I ensure you can handle it by yourself?"
"Worry not for me, boy, I may be old but Im still twice as powerful as any other Magus who walks Lore, save the old Blue Mage himself" Benvern retorted, still holding his staff above his head as it spewed the twilight glow.

Benvern is an old Magi of great, but often heavily over-exaggerated, power. A former professor at the academy in Swordhaven, Benvern spent many an hour of his little free-time into the study of the elementals and The Avatars, leading him to come into the possession of The Elemental Compass, which he purchased off of a scholar who was visiting from overseas.

Elderly in appearance, Master Benvern is somehow just as spry as he was in his youth. He boasts a salt-and-pepper coloured bears that extends up the side of his face, leaving a large bald-spot upon the top of his head. Not one to care for neither armour nor uniformity, instead of the signature dark armour of The Army of Night, Benvern instead dons an old cloak, White with grey and brown patterned trims. Not one for martial combat, Benvern only wields his large staff, which he claims was carved from The World Tree itself, and a small Dagger that he keeps beneath the sleeve on his right arm.

Rodello, The Forlorn Blade


Orphaned as a child, the path of darkness is the only thing Rodello has ever known. The pain of losing both his parents and his only surviving sibling has ever weighed heavy on blackened heart. Rodello spent the majority of his boyhood living on the streets and learning to survive off the land.

Once a travelling smithy came passing through the old streets of Rodellos home town. Upon seeing the starving boy grovelling on the streets for scraps, he decided to take him as his apprentice and teach him the art of smithing. In his weakened state, Rodello struggled with the daunting tasks at first, but slowly as he built up his strength once more it quickly became clear that Rodello had a natural talent for the art.

Rodello spent many years as the smith's apprentice, but after a long rainy season the smith grew deathly ill, before passing away in his sleep. Devastated once more by the loss his only family, Rodello's heart was completely consumed by his pain. In the only way he knew how, he vowed to keep the smiths memory alive with him always. Rodello cremated the man's body, and infused his ashes into a vat of molten onyx. For six straight days Rodello worked the blade, never stopping to eat or sleep. He worked each and every detail into perfection until the blade was complete.

A large Katana with a glorious black blade, just holding in his hands Rodello could feel the blade humming, as though the sword itself were truly alive. Sharpened beyond even the limits of a master smithy simply holding the blade aloft would slice apart even the air around it. Rodello vowed his revenge against the world itself, honing his skills as a warrior every single day. The sword, which he simply named 'Father', was designed with the sole purpose of destroying, and so that is what it does.

Rodello is a tall, very handsome man. His body, shaped by his years of smithing and battle, his hair long and dark, kept tied back to avoid obstructing his vision. Many scars and wounds adorn his body, permanent reminders of every mistake he's ever made in battle. Before joining with Cyr and his band Rodello had worn the smith's beige shawl wherever he went, and continues to do so even now over his armour. His unmatched skill with the blade has made him one of only a handful of humans to ever have earned Mareth's respect.

< Message edited by Mareth -- 4/17/2019 20:09:11 >
DF AQW  Post #: 2
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