Guardians of Iskra

[spyro1201]

This is the RP thread for Guardians of Iskra. The discussion / sign up thread is here.

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A gentle breeze blew across the small meadow and onto the cobble road cutting though it. The golden light from the sunset made the scenery look like something from an artist's painting. One might even say that the small little village in the distance, resting neatly between the hills and in their shadow, was put there purely to enhance the view from this part of the road. Amidst all of this, a figure covered with a dark green cloak was going down the road towards the hamlet. Each of his steps came with a slight clanging metal sound. As he walked, his armored hand reached out from beneath his cloak, holding a piece of parchment. His gauntlet had a polished silver gleam to it, with a slight green trim. The sun's light reflected off of it like it were a mirror.

 

"Why do I have the feeling he might be some lowlife drunkard with nothing better to but advancing on barwenches... - an old man's voice came from under the hood. - ...Bah, probably not. I'm worrying over nothing. The Elders wouldn't choose just any random person off the street..."

 

<---<---<<>>--->--->

 

Twas a lively night at the tavern. The bards were singing, the bar patrons were either eating, drinking, gambling or some combination of those. As seedy as it was, this was still the best place to get a good drink, or go looking for someone.

 

"Pass me another mug 'o black ale, lad!" At the counter, there was a man, looked like in his mid forties, clad in chainmail with a blank tabard on top of it, tied to his armor via leather belt with a leather scabard attached to it. On his back he carried dark wooden bow with ornate steel covering the grip and edges, and a matching quiver full of arrows.

 

"How many have ya had so far? I lost track a while ago. - replied the bartender as he handed the bowmn yet another mug. - Most people would be on the floor wondering what world they're on by now!"

 

"I'm not most people, lad." - the bowman returned, after taking several big gulps.

 

Moments later, the tavern door was opened and in came the cloaked man. He immediately made his way towards the counter and sat down.

 

"Excuse me, I'm looking someone. I think his name was...uh...Monksley...something. Any idea where i might find him?" - the man asked, without hesitation.

 

Without missing a beat or saying a word, the bartended dully pointed at the neighbouring seat. Feeling dumbfounded, the hooded man's head slowly rotated to the right, only for his see a drunken archer, barely able to see his own feet in his current condition.

 

"Aye, I'm the man yer lookin' fer, geezer. Whaddya want?" - said the archer with a grogily tone.

 

Not bothering to even answer, the old man simply facepalmed with his armored hand, thinking: "I can't believe what I'm seeing right now.Why did I have to be the only survivor..."

[AurianaValoria1]

Muireann's long, slender fingers turned the dew to frost as she strode through the golden, waist-high grass of the Midlands, brushing the blades with her fingertips as she went. It was warm here, a warmer temperature than she had ever experienced before. The sun shone clearly and brightly in the sky, and she found it slightly uncomfortable. Despite this discomfort, she found it vital that she understand and imprint this knowledge on her memory - the lands south of her homeland became increasingly warmer the farther she traveled. She briefly wondered if the southernmost tip of the world was blistering hot to counter her kingdom's freezing cold, but she then resolved that she would find out when she got there.

 

Glancing behind her, she watched, slightly amused as the trail of frost she left in her wake melted almost as quickly as she created it.

 

She blinked once, and then continued on her lonely journey, walking as she had walked many miles before now. Thankfully, her appearance alone was enough to deter those close enough to spot her; she had made a point of not using roads. Muireann had not the time nor the patience to put up with curious gawkers.

[GrueMaster]

The deer moved to the bushes, the berries on them enticing it to come closer. When it got nearly within reach, however, it suddenly froze as the wind changed direction... and with it, it brought the scent of a predator...

 

...and it was hiding right behind the bushes...

 

Before the deer could react, a monstrous, dark figure pounced on it from the foliage and within a heartbeat had the animal dead, nearly sliced in half by powerful claws. The nighthaunt dragged the fresh kill back into the bushes and began to thoroughly devour it quickly to avoid detection. It had been several days since it had a filling meal such as this; this area had been over-hunted by nearby villages, so prey had been scarce.

 

It will only get worse... the awakened nighthaunt Scath thought regrettably. It had been thus since he left his precious haunt in Scáthaitheand, and the further he ventured into the "civilized" lands, the harder it became to hunt for proper prey whilst avoiding unwanted attention.

 

Arrogant... ignorant... creatures... he cursed silently. Fear and pride has made them weak, but they are still dangerous. Regardless of what is to come, though, the Call must be answered! For many, many days now, something... or someone... has been calling to him, urging him, no, pleading with him, to go, to beckon to a summoning, and with what happened shortly after it started....

 

Hunted answers will be found... Scath thought with determination as he shook away memories of past events and finished his meal. For this hunter is patient. He took a deep breath, then continued on his hunt; there were answers to be found...

[spyro1201]

"What was yer name again?" - asked Monksley.

 

"Markus Zemya."

 

"Right, so yer tellin' me that I've been chosen by some flyin' geckos to "Defend the realm from an ancient evil"?" - said the archer, as he and Markus walked across the cobblestone road leading out of the village they were just in. The sky was now dim and engulfed in twilight.

 

"Ignoring your remaks about the Dragons; yes, that is one way to summarise it I suppose. You're not the only one chosen to be a dragon knight, though. There will be others. Some have already been chosen, some have yet to be. I sent out couriers to find the others, though I don't expect those letters to be delivered anytime soon, if at all. We're headed to another town and close to it is the old temple. That's where I set up the initial meeting rezendevous with the others. We should be there by morning. Afterwards we wi-"

 

"Hold on there! Don't I get a choice in the matter or something?!"

 

"No."

 

"Ugh....I'm guessing this dragon knight thing ought to involve some adventurin', loot and booze, so there's that I guess. Not like I had anything important going on anyway..."

 

Markus simply replied with a sigh. "By the Dragons, I pray the others aren't as....moronic...as this one...What were they thinking!?" - he thought to himself.

[AurianaValoria1]

Muireann stood on the ice she had created across the surface of the swift-moving stream, waiting patiently with her silvery spear poised in the afternoon sunlight. She watched with intense blank eyes at one single spot below her, waiting for that perfect moment to strike...

 

Crunch-splash!

 

Her spear plunged through the ice and into the water, stabbing a fat trout clean through. As she lifted her glittering weapon into the air to inspect her catch, the Ice Nereid smiled to herself. At least she wouldn't go hungry in these lands...