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| Final Furies and Scorched Skies | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jun 11 2007, 09:11 PM (453 Views) | |
| Baal | Jun 11 2007, 09:11 PM Post #1 |
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Tis fun being evil
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Will edit in later ^^ |
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| Galen Al' Hadesh | Jun 11 2007, 09:38 PM Post #2 |
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Galen felt the corners of his eyes sting as bitter tears threatened to flow. He looked upon the devastation and felt as if it was his soul that had been burn so terribly instead of the village that now was no more than an expanse of scorched earth. The smoldering sand reeked as the commander motioned to men. They trotted over slowly on horseback, most of the drakes having gone wild recently, and stood by with their heads held low. The sun gleamed in the sky deceptively, and the high elf wandered how the scene above could be so peaceful compared to the calamity below. An entire village had been erect earlier that day where now only ash lay. The Valencia commander shook his head sadly before addressing his troops in a hollow monotone. “Who did this?” He demanded in a shell of a whisper. His eyes bored into his men in silent dominance as he ordered the information. No one spoke for several moments and a think silence hovered over the singed wasteland. Galen examined the men with a piercingly observant stare that caused the troops to shiver slightly. He repeated his question in the same tone though the severity of his stance made it seem as if it were screamed louder. The widower held his gaze until one of the men, a town sentry, spoke up. “Sir, the culprit was one of our own, Sir.” He reported with an uncontrolled wince. Galen blinked in incomprehension as he processed the single sentence that tore through him like an arrow. Galen’s mind raced with suspicion as he struggled to identify the mages with the power to inflict this level of horror. His paranoid train of thought was derailed as he heard the word ‘gnome’ and realized the guard was still talking. The five letter word stuck in his head as if embedded at dagger point and the notion to have all known appended as traitors occurred to Al’ Hadesh, but he quickly dispelled the idea. He knew long before the two identifying names were muttered who committed the unfathomable crime. Their was only one gnome he knew with the kind of resources to cause so much damage in so little time. “Woad Tock, did he create this disaster with one of his inventions?” Galen asked incredulously. The rapid denials made his heart sank even further with the weight of their words. They were scared, all of them, of a creature less than half his height. Galen felt there fear for himself as the guards muttered an explanation as too how he managed to destroy the village they were assigned to before they could stop it. He came in riding on the massive crown of a towering dragon and burned the town back. The guards reported him taking notes calmly as the dragon obliterated the town before disappearing above the clouds. Suddenly he realized why some of the drakes were outside their control now, Woad had been in control of them as the Drake Marshal prior to his unauthorized absence for the past month. Now it seemed the small mages had a new look sans hair and was in the company of a dragon. “Get me Dorrin, our best drake riders, and every available mercenary, soldier, mage and citizen willing to help. We’re going to bring down the traitor.” The grim declaration was carried instantly as doves manifested from messages flew out in every direction. |
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| Dalhar d'lil Shinduago | Jun 11 2007, 09:58 PM Post #3 |
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Dalhar was riding Jenalia on her shift to transport people to and from the floating city. She was currently on her way down to the docks of the main land when a dove appeared in her face, bearing a message. She gently took hold of the dove and set it in her lap as they neared the docks, making a 'cut off' motion to the director of transport close by. This, of course, angered the next patron severely, and he began to yell, demanding she take him to the city now. Dalhar shook her head, pointing to the dove. She opened the message and frowned, violet eyes skimming the hastily written letter. Immediately report to the Broken Isles? Oh...Village Destroyed, possisble Traitor. She thought she had seen burning on her way down. Wait... Burning? She continued to read. Dragons. Dragons meant one thing. Woad Tock She crumpled the note in her hand and looked around for the dove. It had already flown off. She sighed and patted Jenalia's neck. "Alright my dear...we're off to the Isles. Can you make it?" Jenalia turned her head to look at Dalhar, wisdom in her eyes. She knew what happened. Dalhar smiled and they took off into the air, hurrying to the Isles. She did enjoy flying with Jenalia, and almost had the urge to go for a joy ride first, but controlled herself. Her Drake wouldn't have let her anyway. They sped along, skimming the water and flying low, taking the most direct rout. They arrived at the decimated village and Dalhar jumped off Jenalia before she landed, letting the Drake settle and hunker down in the sand on her own. She trusted her Drake- besides, Tock never gained an influence on this one. She jogged up to Galen and his troops, giving the commander the proper salute once she came to a stop. "Dalhar d'lil Shinduago, reporting for duty with Jenalia, Sir!" she said curtly, easily assuming the role of a soldier. |
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| Cyric Mueller | Jun 11 2007, 09:59 PM Post #4 |
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Cyric had been making good time. Had been. The steed he had acquried just after coming down from Valencia was a strong one, and because Cyric carried little in the way of supplies or luggage, the beast was not tiring quickly. Then, he had seen it. It was nearly twice the size of the drake he rode to and from the floating city. Coincidentally, the road he was traveling happened to take Cyric near a small farmhouse. There was a man working in the field within hearing distance, so Cyric decided to inquire about the beast. After all, he knew next to nothing about such creatures. A native Valencian surely would be more knowledgable on the subject. "A mighty large Drake, is it not?" Cyric called out, somewhat startling the man, but getting his attention nonethelss. The Paladin extended his arm into the air, pointing upward toward the giant creature. The farmer did not respond. Instead, he immediately turned and ran into his house, screaming at the top of his lungs. "DRAGON!!" For a moment, Cyric believed himself to be the victim of a joke, but the desperate tone in the man's voice was unmistakable. Cyric had heard it countless times before. It was fear. Cyric had not even been sure he believed in the existence of dragons. However, it seemed to Cyric that someone who lived in Valencia would not be so fearful of a flying creature unless he was sure it was, in fact, a Dragon. After all, the Drakeriders were Valencia's most elite soldiers and honored servants. This was a Dragon. Whoever was controlling this beast (if anyone was), probably did not have Valencia's best interests in mind. Wherever it was headed, something bad was about to happen there. The Paladin knew that he had no choice but to follow the beast, and do whatever he could to help those unfortunate souls who were about to encounter it. Try as he might, Cyric's mount simply couldn't keep pace with the great Dragon. Though it didn't matter, in the end. Cyric followed the winged beast as far as he could, before the monster went out over the sea, towards the Broken Isles. But Cyric had not traveled so far out of his way to simply turn around and leave it alone. He found a boat and got himself out to the Isles as quickly as he could, but he was too late. Not only had Cyric seen the Dragon soaring back in the direction whence it came, but he had also seen the sky in the distance fill with smoke. When the captain of the boat on which he was traveling informed Cyric that there was a village there, one of the crew corrected him. "There used to be a village there," he said solemnly, "But if it's been visited by a Dragon, it's not there anymore." Cyric knew then that he had no choice but to go to the village and provide whatever help he possibly could. It was his duty, not as a Rythginian Paladin, but as a man. To his surprise, Cyric arrived to see a familiar face at the site of the attack. He had met the Drake Rider Dalhar in Valencia. That had been a dark day for the Rythginian, as he had learned that the rumors about the King's death were in fact true. Dalhar had been a kind, sympathetic presence in Cyric's time of trouble. It seemed likely that this would be an equally bad day for the Drow, and Cyric knew he would have a chance now to return the favor. "Dalhar!" Cyric called as he approached, "Greetings, lady. I had not expected that we would meet again so soon." He knew that this wasn't the time for pleasantries, so Cyric decided to get right down to busienss. "I need to speak to the person in charge." |
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| Galen Al' Hadesh | Jun 11 2007, 10:01 PM Post #5 |
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Galen was pleasantly surprised with the swiftness in which his summons where obeyed. Mere moments after ordering the magical messages, the requested personnel began appear via a variety of mean. For those who arrived on the backs of drakes their mounts were sequestered for everyone’s safety, with the exception of the dark elf Dalhar d'lil Shinduago, a woman known for her prowess in handling drakes. She followed the protocol exactly as she wasted no time in reporting to the commander. Before Galen could brief the attractive drake rider someone else addressed here. Galen interpreted the last part of the greeting as directed toward him, albeit unknowingly. “I’m in charge here.” The high elf stated with slight confusion. He did not recognize this soldier nor did any of his troops seemed to. He seemed to know the resident drake expert, Dalhar, so Galen was content to acknowledge his presence with a nod before launching into an explanation of the situation. “ This was the work of a dragon, which was reported to have been under the control of our very own Drake Marshal, a gnome by the name of Woad Tock. Some of you surely know of him and how he was both an asset and a liability to our kingdom. Now he is a traitor and a threat.” Galen allowed himself a pause to allow the silence to establish the severity of the situation. “ We have dispatched aerial trackers after the dragon, our immediate goal is the capture or death of Woad. He must be stopped at all costs. We do not know the extent of his resources but consider him a very dangerous foe. While physically decrepit, the target is very powerful in the mind and mana.” The commander warned gravely. A slight breeze tainted his golden blonde hair slightly with smoke and ash but he ignored the debris. He gazed around the gathered men and women and nodded in approval. He knew some of them, others he did not. He wasn’t sure they were all citizens of Valencia but the enemy was more than a local threat. He smiled grimly as a few drake riders flew off to help in locating their foe. Galen tried to redirect his mind but the burning question about how many more lives would be lost to the small sociopath refused to be quelled. Inhaling soot in a deep sigh, Al’ Hadesh signaled to Dalhar and the new arrival. He coughed for a moment as his lunges worked to expel the unwelcome addition before shuffling over to the tent erected as his base of operations. He held the now filthy cloth open and gestured for them to enter. He had a special assignment for Dalhar, and perhaps her acquaintance as well. |
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| Dalhar d'lil Shinduago | Jun 11 2007, 10:02 PM Post #6 |
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Dalhar saw Cyric running toward them and her jaw dropped in shock. Had she not, earlier this morning, seen him off back toward Rythgynia? She assumed he must have either seen the Dragon, or heard of the destruction. When he demanded to know who was in charge, Dalhar took it upon herself to introduce the man. "Sir! Cyric Mueller, Paladin of Rythgynia, Sir!" she intoned, but did not salute again. She had never met Galen, but knew of him, and knew that he also recognised her. She wasn't really all that hard to miss here... "I knew it!" she whispered to herself, though she knew the other elfin beings around would hear her. She quieted and continued to listen to the Commander, her fury growing with each passing moment. She knew he would get himself into something like this; she still did not understand why he was still the Drake Marshal. She made her decision. Woad Tock will die in this battle, even if it takes her own life. Dalhar coughed as the wind blew, ash filling her nose and mouth, and staining her features. She shook her head, brushing her fingers against her cheek, and only managing to leave a black smudge against her pale violet skin. Dalhar focused immediately as Al' Hadesh signaled her and Cyric, quickly following him to the tent that seemed to have been built in one moment. She nodded her thanks as he held the flap open to her and her Rythgynian friend, walking around the tent for just a moment to cool herself off a little. She slammed her right fist into her left palm and grunted in frustration. What can they do now? He's gained control of the Dragons... |
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| Woad Tock | Jun 11 2007, 10:03 PM Post #7 |
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Woad glanced at the parchment before him as it rustled in the wind. They scale beneath him offered no traction so he was now lying prone on the massive skull of the dragon as it drifted determinedly above the clouds. The test run went very well, in a matter of seconds a village was reduced to cinders. The gnome released a wheezing sigh as something similar to regret crept into his aged mind. He wished it hadn’t be his own kingdom to fall in the noble quest of perfecting his art of destruction but the lives were given for a cause they could never comprehend. Valencia would be the dominate kingdom, encompassing all with Woad as its ruler. Sarath would be incorporated into it on behalf of keeping his alliance with Mirak and Moric but Rythginia would be no more. The only evidence to the existence of paladins would be their charred bones lying in dry lake beds. The dragon master wondered briefly what would result from his abduction of the one with the strange saffron hair but he had more pressing matters to attend to. He needed to get more of the horrific beasts under his control to ensure that all the kingdoms would bow to him. That was why he was returning to Flamewind Valley so he could acquire more firepower. A pained smile crossed his now scarred face as he thought of the irony of the term. The dragon snorted audibly, sending streaks of orange, red, and blue through the cloud formations. The result of the flame on cloud bank was a fine steam that hissed around them. Woad sat up slowly with great effort to see the cause of the agitation. Five smaller but still sizable figures could be seen in the distance. Woad merged his mentality with that of the dragon and extracted the information that the scent was of drakes. The gnome reached out with his mind, touching the subconscious of the tailing reptiles and order them to through their riders. A gentle affection rebuked him, causing a searing migraine to form as if his veins had suddenly become clogged with solid debris. Woad again tried to overcome their mind and again felt a wall of compassion rise up to block his dominance. Woad growled softly, the guttural sound burning his throat and making it itch. His gnarled fingers tightened around the vacant air as it he were clumsily throttling something. The soft glare of the setting sun suddenly seemed unbearable as his now sensitive eye felt the onslaught of the pink, with reinforcements from yellow and orange. The dragon felt his distraction and slowed its pass, an act that allowed the pursuing mounts to gain several yards. He knew the cause, this had happened before. This cursed beasts were trained by the damn lizard hugging drow. The violet skinned fiend warm connection with the scaly weapons gave them some kind of barrier against Woad mana mind control. He would hurt her, her status with Valencia would not spare her any pain. She was threat to him how, admittedly a minor one. Woad was going to kill Dalhar. |
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| Dorrin | Jun 11 2007, 10:07 PM Post #8 |
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Dorrin rubbed his eyes wearily as he stood up from the desk that he was previously hunched over. He had been working for hours attempting to come up with a number of strategic proposals to present to Galen that Valencia could use in a war with Sarath or Rythginia. Perhaps Rythginia was not a threat for now, but it paid to be prepared for any eventuality, especially where war was concerned. Suddenly a messenger tore into his room and thrust a letter into his hand, not having enough air in his lungs to even salute. Dorrin quickly read the letter with a sense of dread building as he continued. The second Dorrin was done he ran out of the room, mounted his horse and rode off for the village shouting orders for his unit to follow him as he did so, luckily this unit was composed of horse-archers so they were able to do so. He had arrived to the smoking remains of the village in time to hear a woman announce a man as “Cyric Mueller, Paladin of Rythgynia”. He stiffened, he had not yet forgiven the paladins, nor did he think that he ever would, but all it took was another look at the village to show him that he had to put the animosity he felt for the man aside due to the much greater threat they faced. He hurried over to Galen, “What happened? Was it Sarath raiders?” Raiders from Sarath was the only explanation that came to his mind, and the note only mentioned that the village was destroyed but not by what. |
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| Cyric Mueller | Jun 11 2007, 10:07 PM Post #9 |
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The Paladin curtly returned the High Elf's nod and listened intently as he explained the details of the situation. Woad Tock. He recognized the name, but was sure he didn't really know anything about the gnome. As they moved towards the refuge of a tent, Cyric glanced one last time over the remains of the village. It was big enough to be home to dozens, even hundreds of people, and the extent of the fires implied that many, many people had died. This Drake Marshal was a truly villainous man. If he was willing to treat his own people, his fellow Valencians, this way then there was no doubt he was a serious threat to the safety of the Rythginian people, as well. As they entered the tent, Cyric could almost literally feel Dalhar's enveloping fury. Needless to say, he was glad to be on her side at the moment. As for the matter at hand (stopping Tock), it took no deliberation whatsoever on Cyric's part for him to realize that he was altogether unqualified to fight either dragons or powerful mages. Still, it was his responsibility to offer whatever assistance he could. "Sir," he addressed the elf who, understandably, had been too involved to introduce himself, "I realize that I may not have much talent in the way of dragon slaying, and even less experience, but I am a strong and experienced soldier. I am sure there is some way I can help you." Another Valencian entered the tent at this point. Cyric continued talking, not in an attempt to cut the man off, but to continue his own train of thought. "If the man responsible for this was the Drake Marshal of Valencia, then it is unlikely the attack was purely malevolent in nature. It is more likely some sort of power play. A Valencia controlled by Woad Tock is clearly not in Rythginia's best interests. I urge you, sir, tell me how I can help." Cyric tried to sell the urge as much as possible. He would understand completely if there was some lack of trust on the part of the Valencians. He and his fellow Paladins would likely react the same way to an outsider attempting to stick his nose in this kind of situation. However, Cyric felt obligated, both as a good man (relatively, anyway), and as a Rythginian Paladin. |
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| Galen Al' Hadesh | Jun 11 2007, 10:08 PM Post #10 |
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Voices and faces blurred as Galen’s quickened blood rocketed throughout his veins. Dalhar had introduced her companion but the name had no grip in the rapids of the flood of thoughts and half formed plans cascading across the high elf’s cranium. The commander was dimly aware that Dorrin had arrived but had no spare brain power to form a greeting or explanation to his advisor, ally, and friend. Galen was surprised to hear himself cackle a dry hysterical chuckle as Dorrin assumed the plight was that of Sarath origin. He took a deep steadying breath to calm his high strung nerves and regain his bearings. He released the air in a deflating sigh before concentrating on his guests. He spoke to them in turn, not bothering with regard for the order they had addressed him. “Dorrin, this was not the work of outside forces. As you warned me, Woad has proven himself to be a danger to us all. He has someone managed to located and gain mastery of a dragon.” Al’ Hadesh explained in a breathless rush. Composing himself and remembering to breath, Galen gasped a rapid intake of air and turned to the new arrival. He had heard distractedly that he was unaffiliated with Valencia but still wished to help. Swallowing the wretched irritant filled air, Galen nodded to his in respect for his noble offer. The commander had no time for politics when the issue at hand was the size of a dragon, literally. “I will take all the help we can get. The use of dragons as weapons is matter that bypasses political territories. Especially when the culprit has no allegiances save his own.” Almost slumping under the weight of the situation, Galen paused to be sure of the reality of the environment. Sadly assured that the disaster actually was happening, he finally addressed Dalhar, the new head of the drake riders. “You’re in charge of aerial forces.” The commander stated bluntly. “Take your friend and the available drakes and riders unassociated with the traitorous fiend and find him. Dorrin will prepare the fleet and follow via sea and surface.” He ordered automatically, the words flowing freely from him without deliberation. The young elf glanced wearily at the setting sun, wondering how something so horrid could come from something so beautiful. |
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| Dalhar d'lil Shinduago | Jun 11 2007, 10:09 PM Post #11 |
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Dalhar was taken aback by the sudden rush of people seemingly running about like chickens with their heads cut of- which actually was a rather comical sight, but she controlled herself, schooling her features as she was trained to do. She almost felt as if she were wasting time here on the ground. Even at this distance she felt Jenalia's mounting anxiety from all the soldiers running around. They were both reacting to the instincts trained into them so many years ago. However, she kept herself still, even when another man entered the tent. She believed she recognised him as Dorrin, but was not positive. She listened intently as the Commander spouted out, well, commands, affirming her earlier thought; the man indeed was Dorrin- good, at least she's getting her nobles straight. Her mind focused back on Al' Hadesh, not wanting to miss anything lest he begin to speak to her as well. When he did, it seemed like the rest of the world did not exist. She absorbed all of the information, feeling slightly overwhelmed when he put her in charge, nearly reeling on her feet. She had worked hard all these years, but...she was still shocked. She nodded an affirmative and saluted, another "Yes, Sir!" bursting from her lips before she signaled Cyric and left the tent, giving Dorrin a nod as she passed by him. Once free from the tent she broke into a jog, yelling "Make way! Make way!" as she ran through the crowd of soldiers, the armed men making a pathway for her. They knew, from the set of her face and the rearing of the Drake on the other side of said crowd, that she meant business. Dalhar jumped onto Jenalia's back, holding her hand out to Cyric as she called to the rest of the Drake Riders. "Riders! We head in pursuit of the traitor and his Dragon! Let peace be with you, and may your bond with your Drake be strong, do not let him influence them against you!" she felt this to be enough, giving the rest of the Riders time to mount as she waited for Cyric to do the same. She looked down at him. "You will ride with me. My main attention will be on keeping all the Drakes together and away from Tock's influence, so you will have to be my sword today, understood?" she had already assumed the roll of an officer herself, not allowing her fears to overtake her. That would be for the end of the battle. |
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| Cyric Mueller | Jun 11 2007, 10:10 PM Post #12 |
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Upon the entrance of the fourth member of their mini-counsel in the commander's tent, Cyric felt an odd 'vibe' coming from the man. He seemed uncomfortable with Cyric's presence at first, although it was possible he was just surprised to see a Paladin this far from Rythginian territory, especially now. The man seemed to shrug it off, so Cyric did the same. Meanwhile, the Valencian Commander began issuing orders to both the new visitor, whom Cyric assumed was called Dorrin, as well as to Dalhar. It was clear to everyone that the Commander was beyond stressed. He had to take a moment to compose himself before he could even begin speaking. Still, like any good leader, he did what needed to be done. Dalhar did the same. She left the tent quickly, and Cyric had to almost run to keep up with her. As if she was an enraged, stampeding Centaur, the crowd of armed soldiers parted before the fair drow. When she reached her Drake mount, Dalhar turned to the crowd, who was by now entranced by the her ardor and strength. Short and to the point, but nonetheless enthralling. The crowd gave a bit of a cheer when she finished, and so poignant was the spirit of the moment that Cyric nearly joined them. "I never knew you were such an inspiring leader," Cyric complimented as he took her hand and climbed onto Jenalia's back. "Not to worry, my lady. I make an excellent sword. Just tell Jenalia not to get too carried away with the acrobatics, and I will be fine. I'm willing to give my life in battle, but I would rather not fall to my death today." Cyric drew his sword, holding it in one hand while holding on to the Drake with his other. For over a decade Cyric had been battling Orcs, Goblins, even the occassional Human or Elven criminal, but this was going to be an entirely new experience. A soldier by profession and nature, Cyric had long since abandoned the vice of allowing fear to cloud his judgement during battle, but the fear was still there- buried deep down inside. As the Drake took off into the air, he found himself having trouble mastering his fear. The blonde-haired Paladin took in a deep breath, as if his last, and released it with a nearly audible sigh. Hopefully, when he found himself face to face with a Dragon under the control of a centuries-old Magicker, he would not be frozen with fear. Hopefully, he would act with honor and valor, and the side of good, truth, and justice would win the day. But, for the first time in a decade, Cyric wasn't sure. |
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| Woad Tock | Jun 11 2007, 10:11 PM Post #13 |
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The clouds dissolved into a pinkish steam as the roaring flames cut through them in an attempt to overtake the drakes and their riders. The near twilight was cast in surrealism by the multicolored hue that spread from the departing sun. The blurring colors increased Woad’s sense of purpose as he compared the scene to the ones found on canvas dictating heroes and their renowned deeds. The dragon increased the pace of the movement of its massive wings as the scent of fear from the targets offered incentive for haste. The enormous predator began to salivate in anticipation of the capture, molten beads dripping down to the earth so far below. A thick blanket of billowing steam engulfed the dragon and his master as it continued to launch horizontal columns of concentrated infernos at the retreating figures just out of range. Physics favored the gnome and his highly efficient living weapon as the force of the wind created by the flapping of the dragon’s powerful wings parted the steam as if an invisible saber was slicing through it to clear a trail for the mage and his lethal ‘pet’. His head alleviated of the pressure caused by his attempt at mastering the drake, Woad rose to a kneel and after a moment’s concentration he magically enhanced his eyesight to allow him to observe the five figures ahead. Around the boots of a slight rider he saw a clinging strand of amber seaweed. A quick mental inventory of the flora inventory of Valencia’s providences lead Tock to conclude that the group set off from the Broken Isles. It didn’t take much further thought for Woad to reach the assumption that the task force originated from the pitiful blackened remains of village he sacrificed to test the extent of the dragon’s might. Acting on silent command, the dragon leaned slightly in the thermals and rose a hundred yard, casting a shadow over the fleeing drake riders. Woad quickly calculated their angle compared to that of their foe and mentally ordered the dragon to bring them down. Obeying instantly, the scaly scorcher tilted it head to the appropriate degree and unleash a mighty blast of superheated air. Two of the targets were reduced to instant cinders and the others suffered instant proximity burns. Shaking his head at the tactics they forced him to employ, Woad turned in the direction of his new target. From this distance he could see the masses as people were gathered around what had been a village a few hours ago. The pummeling wind removed the evidence of his assault on the drake huggers as the survivors sped away on borrowed time. They were no longer Woad’s concern. He was heading back to the scene of his first test assault to end any potential for his kingdom uprising against him. The barely visible shadow of the gigantic reptile preceded it as it arrived on the boundary of the Broken Isles. Ahead, just beyond the range of typical eye sight and the length of the shadow, more drakes could be seen in the rapidly decreasing light rising to the heavens with their riders seated upon them. Below the foolishly optimistic riders men began to pour into the ships. Woad imagined the looks of shock and fear on their faces, he could practically see their pupils dilate in terror, as the shadow of his monstrous mount reached them without warning. The early night spoke lies in its deceptive calmness and tranquility as the newly risen moon as blocked out by the arrival of Woad and his ultimate weapon. |
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| Dorrin | Jun 11 2007, 10:13 PM Post #14 |
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When he heard that it was Woad who was responsible for this atrocity, Dorrin sat down stunned. He had, at most, foreseen the gnome to be a discipline problem, but this, this was something that Dorrin hadn’t believed would ever happen. But clearly it had and he listened attentively as Galen snapped out orders. It seemed that Galen was coping with this tragedy relatively well, though Dorrin suspected that he was allowing grief and anger to cloud some of his thoughts. This suspicion was deepened when Galen ordered that Dorrin would be in charge of the fleet, a strange move considering that Dorrin’s lack of experience with warfare on water, not to mention that Dorrin always gained certain…illness whenever he stepped onto a boat. But then he was a commander of ground troops, not a caption of a ship! ”Are you sure that you want me to lead the fleet?” he asked Galen. It was fortunate that Dorrin’s role in Valencia was that of a military advisor, if he was a captain he would be rightly obligated to simply follow orders. “Frankly I hardly have enough experience with ships to lead them in standard combat, I sure as hell don’t have enough to adapt them to fighting dragons. I’d be more use to you on the ground; I could probably cook something up there that could give us an edge.” |
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| Dalhar d'lil Shinduago | Jun 11 2007, 10:14 PM Post #15 |
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Jenalia had just jumped up into the air when Dalhar saw it. Her race gave her the advantage of being able to see farther, and she had the unfortunate opportunity to see two of her drakes incinerated, two more falling out of the sky, still on fire. She let out a disparing moan, briefly closing her eyes before a deep resolve settled in the pit of her stomach. She opened the violet orbs once more, a fire of hatred burning within them. "Damn you, Woad Tock!" she exclaimed, Jenalia taking in her body language and shot straight for the dragon, her arm waving for the other Drake Riders for follow suit, hopefully they will be able to defeat the dragon by sheer numbers, though the thought of losing both Drakes and their Riders saddened her. She led the beasts toward the Dragon, a single tear rolling down her cheek. Hopefully they would be able to kill Tock first and merely subdue the dragon, but she doubted it. Still, she clung to that thought to aid in her charge. "Keep your legs tight on Jenalia's body and you will not fall," Dalhar called back to Cyric, then had a thought. She slid her feet out of the stirrups of the Drake saddle, "put your feet in these," she continued, reaching back to guide one leg to the stirrup, "I'm more experienced anyway, I'll manage without them." |
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2:48 PM Jul 11