The Kingdom of Cyran; a highly militaristic kingdom of Dokkalfar that went around ruthlessly destroying villages overnight, waging wars on those unprepared to defend themselves. Dwarves, Elves, humans, it didn't seem to matter to them. Power and Domination where their concerns, securing their own futures at the cost of many, many lives. Their ruler was infamous- King Kayghet Tirsa, a Dokkalfar and ice dragon hybrid, with a bloodlust that only the dragons he came from could beat.
It was at this Kingdom's border that the party found themselves, the embers of a fire having died to a faint glow. A young child had led them there, Dokkalfar but seemingly desperate for heroes to help- he claimed a dragon had been hatched, and Dokkalfar magic was unable to contain the beast. If it wasn't killed, the creature would destroy not only Cyran, but the other Kingdom's, and possibly the "whole world."
Having told his story, his eyes haunted by what he had seen as the dragon destroyed his village, the Dokkalfar boy who went by the name of Dunir managed to gather a small party at the border, and dozed off as the stars above glittered, shades of chilling blue. The night itself had felt oddly intoxicating, sleep coming easily and falling over the party like a thick blanket, making waking near impossible.
Dawn had broke over Cyran, the once burning fire now covered with dew as Dunir sat up. His ears twitched as he rubbed his eyes, pushing his long black hair from his face as he looked along the other sleeping members, who would begin to wake as the sun rose...and his eyes widened at the empty sleeping place, where the strange vampire man had once laid.
"...h-hey....hey guys, wake up..." the child said nervously, reaching over to the nearest person to shake their shoulder, "t-that guy...C-Carxanius....he's not there...." He got to his feet, looking around and down at the embers that had begun to ice over as the chill settled- it was cold in Cyran, and the deeper into the Kingdom they went, the colder it would get. Dunir reached for his pack anxiously, his eyes scraping along the horizon, for any signs of life.
----
Much, much further from the border, in the heart of the kingdom, Carxanius would begin to wake as well. The cell in which he was kept was dank, and cold-freezingly so. A sliver of light crept into the dungeon cell through a window on the farthest wall. And through this window, snow could be seen, glittering golden in the light of dawn.
His arms, legs and neck would remain chained to the wall, and save for the faint light from the window, no other light source could be found.
Instead, from the dark, a figure emerged- only enough that the scales on his cheeks and over his long ears glittered faintly, his slitted pupils glowing an unnatural shade of blue.
"Good morning, little bug. I'm so glad you're awake- I was beginning to fear that spell he cast was too strong...I'd hate for you to die so anticlimactically." He paused again, "Can you hear me? My, perhaps I shouldn't ask so many questions to a man still waking." Kayghet remained shrouded in the darkness, only the faintest outline visible of his body.
It was at this Kingdom's border that the party found themselves, the embers of a fire having died to a faint glow. A young child had led them there, Dokkalfar but seemingly desperate for heroes to help- he claimed a dragon had been hatched, and Dokkalfar magic was unable to contain the beast. If it wasn't killed, the creature would destroy not only Cyran, but the other Kingdom's, and possibly the "whole world."
Having told his story, his eyes haunted by what he had seen as the dragon destroyed his village, the Dokkalfar boy who went by the name of Dunir managed to gather a small party at the border, and dozed off as the stars above glittered, shades of chilling blue. The night itself had felt oddly intoxicating, sleep coming easily and falling over the party like a thick blanket, making waking near impossible.
Dawn had broke over Cyran, the once burning fire now covered with dew as Dunir sat up. His ears twitched as he rubbed his eyes, pushing his long black hair from his face as he looked along the other sleeping members, who would begin to wake as the sun rose...and his eyes widened at the empty sleeping place, where the strange vampire man had once laid.
"...h-hey....hey guys, wake up..." the child said nervously, reaching over to the nearest person to shake their shoulder, "t-that guy...C-Carxanius....he's not there...." He got to his feet, looking around and down at the embers that had begun to ice over as the chill settled- it was cold in Cyran, and the deeper into the Kingdom they went, the colder it would get. Dunir reached for his pack anxiously, his eyes scraping along the horizon, for any signs of life.
----
Much, much further from the border, in the heart of the kingdom, Carxanius would begin to wake as well. The cell in which he was kept was dank, and cold-freezingly so. A sliver of light crept into the dungeon cell through a window on the farthest wall. And through this window, snow could be seen, glittering golden in the light of dawn.
His arms, legs and neck would remain chained to the wall, and save for the faint light from the window, no other light source could be found.
Instead, from the dark, a figure emerged- only enough that the scales on his cheeks and over his long ears glittered faintly, his slitted pupils glowing an unnatural shade of blue.
"Good morning, little bug. I'm so glad you're awake- I was beginning to fear that spell he cast was too strong...I'd hate for you to die so anticlimactically." He paused again, "Can you hear me? My, perhaps I shouldn't ask so many questions to a man still waking." Kayghet remained shrouded in the darkness, only the faintest outline visible of his body.
Carxanius awoke to the distorted sound of someone's voice. He was confused, the chains binding him, the cold damp cell. Every fiber of his being could tell that something was wrong. He took a moment to steady his breathing before he spoke.
"W-where am I?" He said shakily.
Carxanius kept his eyes closed and instead used his other senses to discern his surroundings. He could tell that whatever was holding him captive wasn't an ordinary creature. The smell of it, the unmistakable magic radiating from him. He was terrified.
But despite his terror, he remained as calm as he could. He knew to preserve this demeanor would mean to convince himself that he was calm and would be alright. Memories of his grandfather were what calmed him down and allowed him to center himself in the here and now.
"W-where am I?" He said shakily.
Carxanius kept his eyes closed and instead used his other senses to discern his surroundings. He could tell that whatever was holding him captive wasn't an ordinary creature. The smell of it, the unmistakable magic radiating from him. He was terrified.
But despite his terror, he remained as calm as he could. He knew to preserve this demeanor would mean to convince himself that he was calm and would be alright. Memories of his grandfather were what calmed him down and allowed him to center himself in the here and now.
Wrong. This night's sleep swirled with that feeling. Nightmares tumbled over one another, vying for space like hounds on the heels of their quarry.
In each, the party was chased over treacherous terrain, guided by another more fleet of foot. Some were picked off by their pursuers, some fell to their deaths or were crushed by landslide (depending on location it was sometimes a cave-in, or errant fireball), some were lead astray by their guide... It wasn't long before the phoenix found himself the last - stranded and alone. A point to despair each time it was presented.
Out in the waking world, his body remained still. He probably seemed dead, with how deeply he slept and it took a few shakes to rouse him. When he woke, his breath hitched and he shuddered.
"Who--" he hissed, tensing as though to fight. Then he processed what was said and paled. "Any indication of foul play, Dunir?"
Perhaps Carxanius had merely gone off to pee or take a walk, and just wandered out of range. Which meant Kekoa was overreacting. But the phoenix couldn't shake the sense that some enchantment was afoot.
Kekoa registered that the embers had frozen and rose slowly, frown tugging the corners of his mouth. Surely that hadn't occurred within the last few hours - something of that nature took time. So they had slept through numbing cold without waking to tend the dying warmth. Further supporting his theory of enchantment being used against them, at least in his mind.
But if they had been made to remain asleep by magic.... Why, then, would only one be gone? Why leave the rest alive?
In each, the party was chased over treacherous terrain, guided by another more fleet of foot. Some were picked off by their pursuers, some fell to their deaths or were crushed by landslide (depending on location it was sometimes a cave-in, or errant fireball), some were lead astray by their guide... It wasn't long before the phoenix found himself the last - stranded and alone. A point to despair each time it was presented.
Out in the waking world, his body remained still. He probably seemed dead, with how deeply he slept and it took a few shakes to rouse him. When he woke, his breath hitched and he shuddered.
"Who--" he hissed, tensing as though to fight. Then he processed what was said and paled. "Any indication of foul play, Dunir?"
Perhaps Carxanius had merely gone off to pee or take a walk, and just wandered out of range. Which meant Kekoa was overreacting. But the phoenix couldn't shake the sense that some enchantment was afoot.
Kekoa registered that the embers had frozen and rose slowly, frown tugging the corners of his mouth. Surely that hadn't occurred within the last few hours - something of that nature took time. So they had slept through numbing cold without waking to tend the dying warmth. Further supporting his theory of enchantment being used against them, at least in his mind.
But if they had been made to remain asleep by magic.... Why, then, would only one be gone? Why leave the rest alive?
Quinn woke up slowly, someone was speaking but Quinn was hardly awake. They would have gone back to sleep if it weren't for the urgency of Dunir's tone. Quinn sat up, still not fully paying attention, "What is it, kid?" When Dunir repeated himself Quinn snapped awake. They got up quickly, rousing the others as they began to look over the campsite for anything that might have been disturbed; any sign of struggle. Twice Quinn had to remind themselves to calm down, to stop the small plants that were starting to grow where ever they stepped. Finding nothing Quinn started to walk away from the camp, looking for any clues nearby.
You are on: Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » Den of The Dragon (Closed)
Moderators: Mina, Keke, Cass, Claine, Sanne, Dragonfire, Ilmarinen, Darth_Angelus