The Dragon Wardens

CloudyBlueDay · Feb 5, 2017

HARMONIC DISSONANCE
A collab between @Mactomaton & @CloudyBlueDay

"I didn't know you cared. You didn't seem to like him very much."

Feria hissed under her breath. Apparently, she'd been found. Damn. She hadn't missed Olsten one bit. Her almost worrisome look fell apart in a matter of moments and her teeth were bared. She should have known better.

"Well, I know for certain I never liked you, you little brat." She growled. "Sorry for feeling any remorse."

Olsten flared his nostrils at the insult but remained still otherwise. What hurt far more than whatever Feria thought of him was how wrong he'd been. He had believed, actually believed, that she had changed, that perhaps Hale's death or the loss of her arm had thawed her icy heart. He should've known better.

Arms crossed over his chest, he closed the distance between and stepped right up to Feria until their noses were but a few inches apart. She was taller, but not by enough to intimidate him.

"The feeling is mutual, I assure you." he answered through gritted teeth. "And I'm sorry too," he added, "I'm sorry you lost your boyfriend...or whatever he was to you...but you're not the only one to have lost people, you know? Stop feeling so sorry for yourself."

He wanted to fight now, was that it? The insolent child thought stepping closer and staring her straight in the eyes would intimidate her. No, Feria was prepared to freeze the kid in a block of ice if it meant winning. She had had it up to here with his quips and his jabs and she wished he would have stayed wherever he flew off back then and never come back.

But at the mention of her 'boyfriend', her fierceness faltered. For a moment, there was true hurt in her eyes, a second where she was lost for an insult to retaliate with. She stepped back, stunned. "Don't.. I'm not.. I'm not feeling sorry for myself." Feria sputtered, searching for hurtful words, but nothing better came out. "Don't speak of him like that." She croaked.

Olsten remained unmoved as Feria backed away. He could tell she too was searching for words, insults, anything to hurt the other whilst keeping from a physical fight, but his mind drew a blank.

"Fine," he sighed eventually, easing up a little. "I won't speak of him, if that's what you want. In fact," a snarl played at his lips, "it's probably best if we don't talk at all. We have the same enemy. For now. That's all."

With that said, he promptly turned around and prepared to head back to Grybil. A hesitation caused his steps to pause and he shot a glance over his shoulder at Feria. "I thought you'd changed," he mumbled with a mixture of hurt and disappointment.

He laid off, eventually, but by then she was already prepared to walk away. She couldn't help but agree; perhaps it was best if they did not speak. Feria despised the fact that such a stupid child made her seethe with anger more than anything else. She watched him spin on his heels and turn away, before he stopped. His hesitation surprised her.

Changed? He thought she had changed? A look of confusion and sadness entered her face. She had. Feria knew she had. She knew she was growing soft and she knew she was growing distant from Ifer in some strange, hopeless way. Feria stared at Olsten for a long time before saying anything.

"What do you want from me, Olsten?" She finally murmured, shaking her head. "I tried to change. But I didn't think it was a very good look on me." It was easier to be distant, and easier to snap rather than have patience. She had given up long ago, and Feria thought it had only empowered her. Maybe she was wrong.

Olsten sighed as he gazed out over the thawing Thallas plains. Rosenfall was nothing more than a thumb-sized speck on the horizon. Strange, how such a small thing, a shadow he could crush between his fingers, could cause so much suffering. One way or another, it would soon be over, and after he'd had his revenge, they would turn to face the Shadow. A bitter taste entered his mouth.

His eyes momentarily flitted over to Feria before he resumed gazing gloomily into the distance. "I've been telling Thannel a lot about the Haven. About how we lived there. About our manners and the bond between Warden and Dragon." The chainmail hidden underneath his tabard tinkled as he turned towards Feria once more and cautiously stepped back towards her. "D'you know why I've been telling him that? Why I would spill our ways, our secrets to him? Trust me, it's not because I'm a brat, even if you like to think of me that way," Compared to just moments before, the contempt in his voice was mild. He stopped with just a few feet of miserable soil between them and lowered his voice so only she could hear him. "It's because there won't be anything of us left otherwise. We may win a battle here, if it comes to that...but against the shadow?" An unmistakable darkness settled over his features, dimming the lights in his eyes while he scuffed his feet over the half-frozen dirt.

"It's hopeless Feria. Sooner or later there won't be any of us left, and when that happens, I'd rather not leave this world with a fellow Warden as my enemy, no matter how difficult I find you to understand." A light tremble passed through his chin as he bit back a sting in his eyes. "You should understand...you should know the regret of not having had a chance to say goodbye. I want us to be at peace. Really, I do."

As Olsten spoke, her features dimmed and dropped. He was right. Unfortunately, he always was. Soon they all be gone, no matter how many battles they fought, win or lose. She clenched her fist and bit her tongue to stop any emotions from falling out. Feria did not want to die. And as much as it seemed like it, she did not want their race to die either. But here they were. The last dwindling numbers of their people, about to go to war. Even if just a few dragon wardens survived, they would spend their lives in hiding. In fear. There was no hope. They already lost.

She hadn't known it but tears had spilled from her eyes. She had wasted her time with the last Dragon Wardens being spiteful and distant. Zachary wouldn't have wanted it. He wouldn't have.

Feria shook her head and tried to wipe the tears away, but they kept coming and she felt like a helpless child. "I tried to push everything away." She mumbled. "After my friend died, I.. I only got worse. He was all I had, and it was only the start. It was so much easier to pretend not to care than to try. I knew we were lost from the beginning, but I didn't want it to be true."

"I want us to be at peace too." She finally said, her words sorrowful but firm. Feria meant term, with every fiber of her being.

Effervescent · Feb 14, 2017

The Plains of Thallas
31st Day of Winter

The air bit at Lisella far more than Winter should. Waethrin disappeared into the clouds, and for a time her gaze lingered upon the thick tufts that threatened to burst with snow. The orcs carried about their inspections of each cart, much to Gabad'zul's amusement. It wasn't just one cart comprised of human bodies, and they wondered who was sacrificed for the cause. There was only one other cart carrying butchered meat from pigs and cows and whatever was left in stock at the local butcheries. The rest were sacks of grain, beans, vegetables, and livestock. It was too much to give away to the orcs. Lisella had fought so hard on the side of the humans and Thallas and yet she seemed perfectly accepting of handing off the winter stocks to the enemy to bring about their own famine in return.

Raleia stormed up to the Thall party in a fury befitting her fiery attunement. The once-warden seemed unamused as the young girl berated her yet again, but she was intrigued by the Vuaturi who stood by her side. The neutrals had risen up to choose a side it seemed. Her hand slipped into the deep pocket of her coat as she adjusted herself on her saddle and looked down her nose to the two. She looked far more bored with her than Paulson, though he looked more annoyed that Gabad'zul had allowed this infraction upon their negotiations.

Idhrenan was shocked by what she was witnessing, her hand covering her open mouth as she tried to deny what she was seeing. Eosphelon did not like how she felt, and she could hear his agitated moan behind the lines. Her steps carried her next to Aurea by instinct, for she always had the nature to want to shield the harsh world from the young. But it was too late. The girl had already seen the evils, and the mark it left was unmistakable. Such haunting things left lasting impressions.

"We will soon be rid of this place," she assured as she turned her gaze away to fall on Raleia. Her words barely reached where they stood, yet she could tell by her echoing inflections the Dragon Warden was giving Lisella a piece of her mind.

There were shouts from the guards behind, their hands pointing upward to the sky. Idhrenan followed their line of sight to a speck descending from the clouds. Within seconds the speck grew to reveal Ancalagon flying at incredible speeds down to the Thall party. But they changed direction mid way, leveling out and swooping about ominously until a shimmer across the sky distorted the grey fluff of clouds. The Dragon Warden was lost in the veil of heat deftly crafted by the skilled Inferno where their forms were lost in a dancing blur. There was a crack of strange thunder, yet no lightening, and from that sound came an overwhelming but unmistakable sensation.

"SHADOW!"

Ancalagon swooped down to snatch up Lisella, her pistol falling to the grass as talons grasped her upper body in a vice. Thannel tackled Raleia to the ground just before the dragon's wings could knock her down with considerable force. Addiver's horse reared at the chaos causing him to fall to the earth in a heavy thud. Streaks of black flew through the air and landed in inky smoke to reveal hundreds of Shadow Casters appearing in a peremeter around the orcish lines. They spared no hesitation before casting their dark magic upon the masses. Darkness burst in the unmistakable ominous violet glow as the orcs broke rank to fight against their surprise attack. Gabad'zul had fallen off his horse, blood oozing from his upper torso in a thick, dark crimson.

Before she could be taken too far, Lisella disappeared leaving behind a tuft of black smoke that quickly dissipated with the beating of Ancalagon's wings. She reappeared before the front line, haggard and in pain from Ancalagon's snatching. Eosphelon took to the skies to blast the Shadow Casters with Arcane. His magic breath was strong with Idhrenan close by again, and it withered away the black wreathes that shielded the Casters from initial magical attacks.

Bandaged hands rose in the air as Lisella quickly called forth the most powerful Shadow Magic spell Idhrenan had ever felt. With all she could muster, she began spinning one of her own: a ward to dampen her spell. Blue runes began to manifest in glittering strands above the Shadow Warden, but Lisella did not seem to care. Darkness pooled at their feet and rose steadily and thickly. It was so black it was difficult to fathom the utter lack of light. Lisella was struggling and in pain and crying out from the agony as tendrils of darkness snaked up from the void and grabbed hold of the nearest person. The Dragon Wardens, save Feria and Raleia, would find themselves suddenly removed from their dragons and tangled within the grasp of a thing intangible.

Idhrenan felt the pressure of the tendril around her form as she fought against the constriction threatening to squeeze the air from her lungs. Her ward was not holding up to the sheer power she was up against. Thannel was pulled by his leg away from Raleia. He dug into the earth, his fingers pulling up grass as he tried his best to scramble away. Lisella's screams distorted, her eyes blackening to voids akin to the very Darkness she manifested, and in a sudden burst she became nothing.

The tendrils rushed with their captives into the void as if being sucked into an implosion where the Darkness coalesced into an orb and ceased to exist. What was left of the army suddenly found themselves locked in battle with absolutely nothing. No Shadow Casters. No Lisella. No strange black veil about them like a dense fog. It was still the 31st Day of Winter with a chance of snow.

Where were the other Dragon Wardens? Feria and Raleia would suddenly find themselves the last of their kind; dragons left behind as their riders were nowhere to be seen. There were marks in the ground where Thannel had once clamored for his life, but he was gone. Ancalagon would fly through the air with his back devoid of his bonded human. Eosphelon yet again found himself without Idhrenan, and he called out for her in a guttural whine.

It seemed as though a quarter of the orcish army and most of the Dragon Wardens had been sucked into the imploded void. The remaining Thalls stared wide eyed at their enemies before them. Prince Asal rushed to Gabad'zul's side in his final moments in attempts to stop the bleeding. Paulson's mouth hung agape in shock as he searched for his words.

"We didn't know," he said meekly. After all Raleia had revealed before the event, Paulson had refused to believe until the devastation was before him. The worst was far from over.

Currently: So marks the end of Chapter 3! Due to the warded necklaces Feria and Raleia wear, they were shielded from the Shadow Attacks. Feel free to write your characters engaging in battle against the Shadow Casters. They can be killed when two or more spell attunements are combined.

Waethrin, Olsten, Aurea, Thannel, Idhrenan, Coleite, and Drau are among the established characters that mysteriously disappeared. If your character mysteriously disappeared, they will need to be grabbed in some way by a shadow tendril and pulled into the void. When they are pulled, it will feel like their bodies are being ripped apart until they are consumed in complete darkness, which is where you will need to end your post as the next chapter will set the scene where they end up.

Feria and Raleia will have a little over half the orcish army left and the Thalls. And a tied up Addiver. The orcs will have an easy target to blame for what has happened, but people are still in shock. Some of the Sur are missing as well.

Bear in mind your dragons! If your rider character has disappeared, their dragon will feel as though their bonded has died.

@CloudyBlueDay @Elle Joyner @Red Thunder @rissa @Mactomaton @Toogee

Owl · Feb 16, 2017

Olsten & Grybil.

The peace he'd made with Feria only offered brief respite. Before the day's end, his mind was as clouded as the Thallas plains, sighing under the leaden haze that lingered over it. He sulked back up the incline to where Grybil stood peering into the distance. A warm rumble escaped the fire Dragon's throat upon spotting his rider and he craned his neck down to prod the downcast boy gently with his muzzle. Olsten let out a deep sigh in response and traced Grybil's blood red scales with his fingers before tickling the growing Dragon right under its chin. "We could just go..." he murmured as he joined Grybil in looking down at the assembled forces below. It was a mighty host to be sure and victory against the Thalls seemed inevitable, but after that...He hadn't exactly emerged unscathed after his last encounter with a Shadow caster, and in that situation he'd been at a distinct advantage. This time, the Shadow would likely know they were coming. If the Shadow thought themselves weak, they would hide, but they hadn't hidden...the massacre of Edlenfeld came to mind as well as the signs of battle they'd spotted on their way to Rosenfall. There was only one possible conclusion: the Shadow forces were confident in their ability to annihilate the remaining Dragon Wardens and they would do so sooner rather than later.

As much as he tried to hide his line of thinking from Grybil, the growl that eminated from the Dragon's throat was unmistakable. "I know," Olsten pleaded, "but we just don't stand a chance...at least we'll live if we join them..."

Though Grybil could not understand the slur of sounds coming from Olsten's mouth, the general point came across just fine. The images Olsten saw with his mind's eye also played in Grybil's head, and he didn't like them one, tiny, bit. In one movement, the Dragon tore himself from Olsten's side and plodded away, he sensed the despair in his rider's mind just fine but chose to ignore it. He, for one, would never capitulate to the Shadow. Footsteps pattered after him, a familiar voice called. Grybil swiped his tail at his young pursuer, knocking the boy over with enough force to leave him breathless.

"Fine!" Olsten yelled at Grybil as he scrambled back onto his feet. "Be that way then, see if I care! I'm only trying to save us you stupid lizard!"

With a mighty gesture, Grybil unfolded his wings and leapt up, beating the air around him so hard that Olsten was nearly knocked over again. The images and sounds that Grybil besieged his mind with caused him to cover his ears with his hands in a futile attempt to drown out the noise. The Dragon's presence was frightfully near in his mind, towering over his own consciousness like a giant. Anger, pain, guilt, and an unmistakable sense of cowardice mixed into a maelstrom, crashing through his mind. Only once before had Grybil subjected him to such mental anguish, and then it hadn't been nearly as intense.

Just as soon as Grybil's presence had invaded his mind, it relinquished. Panting, Olsten opened his eyes and hesitantly lowered his hands from his ears. Grybil was nowhere to be seen and he found himself alone on the incline, dropped to his knees on the cold, moist soil. An angry buzz at the fringes of his consciousness told him that Grybil was still around, though he couldn't bring himself to care as he stood up and stomped his way back over to his tent.

The next day, Olsten awoke feeling hopelessly cold and alone. The friend he'd trusted for all those years had betrayed him. Was he the only one then? The only one that could see clearly that it was better to bend the knee? Even as he cast the blankets and furs aside to slip into his clothing, Grybil's presence was faint and distant, as though many miles separated them. Olsten didn't bother to try and reach out. He didn't believe he'd done anything wrong, and Grybil would eventually come around, surely! Part of him realized Grybil was probably thinking the same so it was really a matter of who was more stubborn.

No matter how much food he chowed down, he felt just as hollow at the end of it. Keeping his head down, to avoid being bothered by well-meaning Wardens or elves, he marched to his usual spot on the incline and plonked down on the half-frozen winter ground, resting his chin in the cup of his hands.

Eventually, something stirred on the horizon and many minutes later, a procession of carts came into view. He made his way down-hill and joined, at a distance, the usual assembly of Wardens, Sur, and Orcs. When the carts halted, Olsten half-expected soldiers to leap out, but that was before he caught sight of a cart laden with grains. He gritted his teeth. On the one hand he was glad that battle could be avoided, but on the other he still hungered for revenge. But his quiet simmering was soon replaced by abject horror as the contents of the carts was revealed. His jaw slackened as he witnessed the Orcs stabbing relentlessly into the pile of corpses, and all desire for revenge was erased in an instant.

The Orcs, brutes that they were, didn't seem remotely deterred by the offering Thallas had brought them. Overcome with anger at their apparent indifference, Olsten leapt up and approached the nearest gathering of Orcs with his sword drawn. But before he could even reach them, his senses were assaulted with a loud boom and the smell of burnt soil. By the time he had turned to look, black ribbons were shooting across the landscape, revealing swathes of shadow casters. His heart dropped down to his stomach, plummeted further into his feet, and then buried itself deep underground. They were doomed...

The orcs charged while Olsten stood still, the grip on his blade loosening as he tried to take in the sheer power of the army before them. Without meaning to, he found himself wishing for Grybil to return. Eaves upon waves of big and broad orcs rushed past and bumped into him, but Olsten was too stunned at the sight before him to take notice. It wasn't until the shadow snaked around his ankles that he jumped into action. For a few seconds he managed to swat the dark tendrils away, but he the darkness grew rapidly. Resorting to magic instead, he lashed at the tendrils with whips of orange fire, but it didn't help. The darkness grew, pooling around his feet and seizing his ankles. It felt as though every tendril was piercing right through skin and bone, only to twist around in the tender flesh, hell-bent on causing as much anguish as possible. Crying out in desperation, Olsten dropped his blade at his side. Grybil's presence stirred in his mind. Then, everything turned black.

--

Grybil hadn't gone far, nor had he completely blocked out his young, foolish rider. And so he came rushing to Olsten's call for help. The boy was in terrible, terrible pain and Grybil cursed himself for ever leaving the stubborn little fool to himself. Trouble flocked to the boy twice as badly when he wasn't around.

The trees below Grybil bent and creaked under the winds caused by the strong beating of his wings. He already saw the horse of accursed shadow casters in the distance, though he couldn't tell where Olsten was amid the chaos. Like lightning, the sensation struck him. Olsten was gone. Not distant, not faint, but completely and utterly gone. It was as though a part of him, so deeply intertwined into his persona, had been cut away from him. For a moment, Grybil dipped and nearly crashed down on a cushion of treetops before catching himself.

Gone...

His golden eyes narrowed to mere slits and the batting of his wings became like rolling thunder.

Gone!

The red Dragon set its hawkish gaze on Rosenfall as fire bubbled in its belly. It was their fault! The Kingdom of men had started all of this, and now it would end. Nothing would dare stand against him as he would tear the cursed city apart, piece by piece.

Red Thunder · Feb 19, 2017

Waethrin and Ancalagon

He had her. She was in his hand! But the bitch had gotten loose. Ancalagon felt a rage uncharacteristic of the normally apathetic Drake fill his brain. Roaring angrily, he wheeled about, gouts of flame spewing from between spears of yellowed ivory in reflection of the red fury within him.

On his friend's shoulders, Waethrin felt the dragonish anger at the moment they began to turn. He'd been unable to see Lisella's capture, but the satisfaction Ancalagon had been emitting had told him that their gamble had been successful. That success had only lasted a brief moment infuriated him, and their mutual hatred for the woman fed each other. Once he had understood what was happening, the septuagenarian held out his hand, a small but intensely bright flame shining on his palm.

But it disappeared as he took in the scene before and below them, taking much of the edge off his rage with almost the same speed that it had come. Shadow Casters, seemingly hundreds of them, began materializing all over the field. And like a thunder strike he realized what the attack on Lisella had meant. Of course she wasn't alone; of course she was prepared for this eventuality. It was possible that she'd have been content to leave things as they were, having given the orcs their due; no one could be sure now. Only one thing was certain: Shadow Casters had arrived in a force likely unseen since Edlenfeld, and Waethrin had been the catalyst.

Ancalagon didn't care. It didn't matter who the enemy was, didn't matter what had brought them to this circumstance. The woman needed to die, needed to be destroyed, needed to be unmade. And he would see to it. His eye scanned the field furiously, seeking out his prey. At last he found her. Tensing against the effort, the Drake spread his wings and pushed against the air with all the force he could muster, propelling himself at her with far and away more force and speed than he'd achieved on his previous descent.

Shadow, palpable nothingness, burst from Lisella in an explosion of movement, whipping out against the Wardens in tendrils of utter black. One rushed the Inferno and the Flame of War, and Ancalagon shifted left, trying to escape it. But either he wasn't fast enough or the tendril anticipated the dodge. The result was the same either way. Ancalagon felt a surge of panic from his Warden, followed by the heat of a sudden hasty wall of fire. Then the panic wasn't there. And neither was Waethrin.

Ancalagon panicked. In a life of war, retreat, exile, and conflict, with individuals coming and going at odd intervals, the two had always had each other. Even when they were separated, the Drake could feel the barest flicker of familiarity. No longer. There had been a complete severing.

And it was her fault. His roar now becoming a scream as his rage reasserted itself, further strengthened by his loss, Ancalagon catapulted toward his target, abandoning any instinct of preservation in his singleminded focus. But he was denied even his revenge. As suddenly as Lisella had disappeared from his viselike grip, she disappeared from the field. Rage mixed with regret and sorrow as he plummeted to the earth, unable to divert his course more than a bit. He flared his wings, and he head rose, and with a grinding crash the old dragon smashed into the earth, his chest bearing the brunt of the impact. Loud pops and snaps filled the air, multiple ribs cracking and breaking from the force. He skidded forward some yards until he came to rest, dark red blood staining the plowed soil beneath him. He lay there unmoving, save for painfully gasping lungs, as halting sobs escaped his throat.

Utterly alone.

Toogee · Feb 19, 2017

Aurea turned around in time to see Waethrin dive towards the Thall leadership. Her face dropped: what little peace they had achieved this day was about to be shattered. There would be war, and the wardens would have brought it. They were a shadow of themselves ever since the Haven fell. If not even their eldest member could control himself, then they had no right to continue to call themselves wardens. After this, Aurea would go back to the east, stay with Alfwin for a while, and pray that the rest of her friends found peace.

Or that's what she would have done had the shadow casters not appeared.

It was an ambush, the enemy attacking the orc army from all sides. The Thalls weren't as defenseless as she was led to believe. Whether this was their plan all along, the young warden didn't know. All she could think about was getting away. Aurea was in the middle of the orc army, desperately trying to get to her dragon. All of the orcs were rushing in random directions to fight off the shadow casters. In a panic, Aurea had left Idhrenan's side to get to Plainswalker. She dodged a number of orcs who nearly trampled her trying to fight the enemy. The young warden disappeared into a crowd of orcs, but she found she couldn't get through. She was trapped within the bloodthirsty mob. Between their shoulders and the violet glow that clouded the area, she could make out the giant shape of her dragon, swatting away at casters as he made his way to her. Her hand peeked out of the orcish mob, reaching out for her dragon.

Plainswalker went towards the hand, eager to pull his warden out of the crowd and take to the sky. That hand however disappeared into the crowd, surrounded by a black tendril. In fact, many of the orcs surrounding Aurea were taken by these tendrils. All were sucked in, leaving only their pained screams behind. The dragon could make out Aurea's cries for help amongst the orcs as they all disappeared into silence.

Just like that, the battle was over. The shadow disappeared, but so did the wardens. Plainswalker could feel what the other dragons were feeling. Aurea was gone. He would go mourn, but not here. Yes, a few wardens remained, but he had no attachment to them. His allegiance to their cause was through Aurea. With that gone, he sought to do the last thing that Aurea had wanted: fly away from this desolation and find peace.

A mournful cry filled the sky as PW flew from the battlefield, giving no heed to the raging dragons or the surviving wardens. His mind was on fulfilling Aurea's final wishes.

Elle Joyner · Feb 19, 2017

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The woman didn't answer, but Raleia didn't expect her to. To respond would me an admission of who she was and Raleia was all too aware that Lisella had no desire to give herself up. Why would she, when it appeared she was winning? Tears stung at Raleia's eyes again, but before they could fall there were shouts and following the eye line of the guards, Raleia swung her gaze upwards. Weathrin... The old fool. He could do nothing subtly, it seemed. He swooped down upon his dragon and for a moment, Raleia felt time suspend, then all at once a firm weight plowed into her and she was carried to the ground.

Thanks to Thannel's swift thinking, Raleia avoided one painful collision, but that was to take nothing away from the strength of the Vuaturi. The impact stole the breath from her lungs and pain splintered through her shoulder where, undoubtedly, his stitching work was undone. For a moment, vision and hearing rolled in and out, the world darkening as she stared upwards, dazed, into the pale grey sky overhead. There was a crack and chaotic shouts... and a very different darkness than the one that swelled around her vision. Her gaze swept downward, to Thannel, who hadn't yet released her and fixed on those eyes so very much like the cool winter skies, she opened her mouth to say something when a sudden, unearthly shriek pierced her ears.

She could feel the terrifying tug, as Thannel was yanked away and ignorant to the blossoming pain in her head and shoulder, Raleia bolted upright to reach for him. Fingers grazed air where he had been and Raleia could do nothing but watch as he was swallowed by the void, and then that too disappeared into oblivion.

Too much too fast.

Feria had been ready for war. Perhaps her conversation with Gabad'zul had left her even craving it. But the cart full of limbs sent a shiver down her spine and a bad taste in her mouth. She did not look at it long. It was not only the thought of many innocent being slaughtered that perturbed her, but the fact that somehow, in some strange way, she could perhaps relate. She could almost imagine her own arm buried among the others.

And that was not even the end of it. The sudden shout, the warning came too late. Shadow. Shadow. The disastrous, monstrous.. No.. the words did not begin to describe how Feria felt about their dark enemy. She thought about Olsten's words again. He was right. No matter what they did, the Dragon Wardens were a dying breed. A dead breed.

Feria had been far away enough from the last not to feel a great amount of impact; she fell to her knees to shield herself from the oncoming storm, arm crossed in front of her face, but was majorly unharmed. When she looked up, the remaining wardens that were scattered all around were being swallowed by shadowy tendrils; all except she. Once the chaos seemed to have dissipated, Feria was surprised to see that there was indeed one warden left. Raleia. That was right. The necklaces.

She stood and hustled over to the woman, who seemed to be reaching for air. A nasty looking wound on her shoulder seemed reopened, and Feria was quick to tug off a piece of fabric from her robe and press it into the wound to stop it from bleeding. "Listen," she hissed. "You must calm. We have no time for panic."

There was a visible snap, as Raleia pulled swiftly back from the sudden pressure, eyes widening, taking in the one-handed Warden as one might a ghost. For a moment, there was only silence, but as those words sunk in, Raleia nodded. High above, she could feel Winnock, feel his confusion, his fear and looking up, saw the great beast circling, a trait she recognized all too well. It was Haven all over again… and the only way that she had survived, the only way any of them had was putting aside their grief, their pain until it was over. Whatever had happened, whatever Lisella had done, they needed to figure out the here and now before there could be mourning.

Gritting her teeth she rose to her feet, holding the scrap of fabric against her shoulder with a grimace. Paulson spoke and there was a second or two where Raleia could feel the anger burn against the man, but looking at him, seeing the expression of shock she knew what he said was true…

They hadn't known. They had really not known.

"That doesn't matter now…" She offered, with surprising softness, "We.. we need to see who's missing." Her eyes traveled across the field, at the devastation, her fists balling tightly at her side. Thannel, Coley, Olsten… Aurea and Idhrenan. Even the damnable Inferno. They were gone. They were all gone…

Her gaze shifted to the fallen Guide and with swiftness, she moved from Feria's side, dropping down to where Addiver had been thrown. Her finger moved to grasp the short sword and pulling it free she cut through his binding, before removing the gag from his mouth. With Addiver freed, she continued to scour the grounds, finding Asal crouched beside the Orc commander.

"Feria!" She called out, trying to keep her voice steady, despite the knot in her throat, "Gabad'zul…"

Raleia's sudden jolt made Feria flinch in surprise; she knew the woman was scared, but she had not expected to startle the fellow warden so much. Eyes narrowed at Paulson, and then Raleia for her soft forgiving words, Feria scoffed. "No need to count. They're all gone." She spat, knowing it were true. The only thing that had protected them was the necklaces and no one else held such an item. She didn't need anyone to tell her twice.

At Raleia's cry, only then did an expression of shock arose from Feria's features. She could feel Ifer's bond tugging at her, he was close and worried but she warned him to stay at bay. Hurrying over to Prince Asal's side, her features twisted; it was clear the orc had not much time left. The bastard owed her an arm, and therefore he was not allowed to die. She glanced over at Prince Asal, unsure and unhappy, waiting to see if he had any type of idea for how they could help the orc, for as much as she would not have liked to admit it, Feria had none.

Only then did Ifer descend to land near his Warden, letting out a snort as to alert Feria to his presence, as if she hadn't known. She could feel his uncertainty, but Feria said nothing, only keeping her eyes trained on the dying Orc.

As Raleia turned back to Addiver, she rose to her feet and held out a hand, opening her mouth to speak, but before she could, a rush of wind from above stole her attention and looking up, Raleia watched wide-eyed as Briseis descended from above several yards from their position.

"The others." It escaped in a whisper, and her eyes traveled up to the skies. The Wardens were gone. But their dragons…

With a solid thump, Winnock landed beside her, a low growl rumbling through his slender throat as he curled the length of his tail around Raleia, and by extension, Addiver. His eyes were cast skyward and Raleia followed the line of vision once more, to see dark shadows streaking across the muted heavens. From below it was impossible to make out which dragons they were, the first roaring with all haste towards Rosenfall, the other…

The other falling. No. Not falling. Plummeting. With all speed, an agonizing sound rising above the tumult. The dragon crashed, forcefully, into the hardened earth and Raleia sucked in a gasp. Winnock watched, his dark eyes unmoving. Slowly, his tail unfurled, and without hesitating, Raleia took off, sprinting across the field, towards the fallen creature.

Closer to him, she could see it was Ancalagon and grimacing at the state of him, she slowed, approaching cautiously. Wordlessly, Raleia stepped closer and stretching out her hand, stroked it along the dragon's mighty neck, "...Oh… you poor thing."

[bg=#F5E538]Collab with @CloudyBlueDay || @Effervescent, @rissa, @Red Thunder[/bg][/bg][/bg]

rissa · Feb 22, 2017

Coleite

Coleite didn't know what was going on. Fearing the angst within Briseis earlier that morning, the pair took the skies and flew off lingering nerves. He wanted to leave, and leave he did for a spell, until Coley realized they were no longer scouting the campsite, but traveling north. It had taken him a lot to turn around and she appreciated it more than he knew.

Yet all hell seemed to break loose the closer they got. The Inferno and his old drake had made a dive for a woman on horseback, likely the one from before, and then - well, she wasn't exactly sure. Briseis landed with a thud, just seconds after Raleia's own dragon landed and territorially wrapped his tail around her and a fallen comrade, the one who had helped them rescue Lo.

Before she could descend from Briseis' saddle, Raleia had taken off after the fallen fire drake. Coley glanced around slowly, confusion subsiding into fear. So what she had seen was right… With a chill she rubbed the thin chain around her neck and took in the remainder of what the Shadow-blast left behind. Fallen Orcs surrounded her, some Sur elves as well. Yet the only others she saw were the Thalls and the two redheaded Wardens in her line of sight. Raleia, obviously, and Feria, the Ice Caster like herself.

Coleite walked slowly towards her; Feria knelt in the cold ground, helping an elf aid Gabad'zul through his final breaths. Coleite hovered over them, eyes glancing away every so often, then back at Briseis, fear and shock and an uneasiness washing through her. Her throat tightened and she knelt down as well, glancing at the Sur elf who attempted to stop the Orc's bleeding.

"What happened here?" Coleite asked softly, voice threatening to break. "I-It's like the Haven all over again… only… worse."

@CloudyBlueDay @Effervescent

Effervescent · Mar 2, 2017

Chapter 4

There was a nothingness as dark and as empty as a dreamless night. No sound could be uttered. No light could be seen. The consciousness both aware and transfixed in the void as time no longer existed. This was the fate of the Dragon Wardens pulled by Lisella's spell, but only for what the mind would perceive a moment until they were painfully ripped from the nothing, stretched and twisted in mental agony before surrounded by loose dirt.

The earth came just as suddenly, and while they were covered in it, they would find themselves able to pull free into pockets of spaces like tunnels. It was a dim underground labyrinth with a light source unknown yet ever-present in its dim, cold hue. On occasion there would come a rumble, dirt falling from the small enclosure as if to threaten collapse. The wood of tangled roots snaking and twisting in all shapes and sizes set the framework for the strange system to which seemed never ending.

Idhrenan clamored through the dirt in a panic, digging her way up and up until the dirt broke free into a tunnel only slightly taller than her. Her hair brushed against the ceiling that loosened the dirt to fall over her. Through the quiet her breath hitched in her throat. One moment she was in the field with an orc army at her back, and the next she was here. The absence of Eosphelon's connection returned only strengthening the feeling of isolation. And she was so very afraid to the point where she couldn't find the courage to call out down the tunnels.

Thoughts prickled her mind that manifested into whispers of doubts and insecurities. They spoke of death and eternal loneliness and accusations. A rumble sent a tremor through the earth at her feet and dissipated like an echo. A grumble surged like the groan of a tree trunk in the wind. But the air was still and musty with the scent of earth.

There was a light far down a tunnel where darkness swallowed it whole. The light only ever seemed to manifest dimly to show a small radius around her, but it was enough to gauge the path at a slow pace. And so, step by step, she headed for the speck of light that never seemed to grow, and yet she could feel it nearer. The whispers grew more quiet the closer she walked, encouraging the trek and causing her heart to take over in its beating. But before she could reach it a hand shot out to grab her by the arm, and a sharp gasp escaped her as she turned to look at the stranger that stopped her.

"Don't go to the light," the stranger said in a low tone. She was a young woman, possibly younger than Feria by the looks. Her dress was tattered about her thin frame, and dark brown locks fell in a mess about her head filled with soil and debris. Her eyes, though, looked strangely Vuaturi in their silver hue, yet she carried no pointed ear or striking hair. The most notable and strange feature about her despite all this was an amber stone that jutted angrily from the flesh of her chest.

"Where are we?" Idhrenan asked.

"From what I've been told," the stranger said, "you call it the UnderElm."

"I'm dead?"

"I don't think so," she replied. "Come with me."

@Red Thunder @Mactomaton @Toogee

Currently: Your character is trapped in the UnderElm. All of the experiences listed will be the same for your character, though the whispers will be more in line with insecurities your character holds. Have your character break out and eventually run into Idhrenan and the Stranger. If they are drawn to the light, they may need some coaxing to break from the fixation. The more afraid your character is, the stronger the hallucinations. Whispers would gradually become clear voices and then visual manifestations that are a bit warped/distorted. After that, the mind would be lost.

31st Day of Winter

They were gone. The three remaining Dragon Wardens were untouched by the Shadow attack. There were so many of them, and so many orcs to fight them off, and yet now the orcs found their numbers a bit less. The Thalls were still in shock from the ordeal that had unfolded before their very eyes. A crack of thunder from Lisella's hand was all it took. As Raleia loosened the rope that bound him, he stared over at the contraption the witch had held out towards Gabad'zul. And once freed he pushed himself up and reached out for it to study the object closer.

Whatever it was, it was a powerful weapon, for just across the grassy plain lay the sputtering Gabad'zul, mighty leader of the Orcish Army. His liver had been punctured by whatever the strange weapon sent, and from the opening gushed dark blood that could not be held back by Drau's hands as she took over the task. He stared up at Drau almost as if realizing this was his end. She grimaced in her focus as she attempted to save him to no avail.

There was a boom in the fields behind them that shook the earth. Ancalagon had fallen, Eosphelon circling in debate as to whether to check on his fallen comrade , check on Plainswalker, or to chase after Grybil headed for Rosenfall. Alarms rang in the Arcane Dragon, and he steered his course for the angered drake, calling out to him in a defined roar to garner his attention. The mix of emotions were founded, yet Eosphelon felt the Thalls back in their spire city were not to blame.

Prince Asal was at a loss, hands covered in orc blood. He had seen death before, but for some reason seeing it in such an imposing figure made it horrific. He couldn't find the words to answer Coleite. What did happen? What thing could take down a powerful being so quickly? Gabad'zul shook from the pain, mouth opening to speak to Drau.

"I name you," he said. He spoke the language of the elves, and it was likely so that those present could bear witness. Drau spat something in their native tongue, but he continued. "I name you Drau'zul. And so… I go as my roots."

It served as his final breath. Gabad fell still and breathless in the cold Winter's air. Addiver stood, pistol still hanging from his hand at his side as he moved past Winnock's curled tail to approach the solemn scene. It brought too many questions for him to process at once, but the main question that returned to him over and over was why did it all have to come to this?

Drau shot a glance to the Thall, a bitter expression set on her angular features as she rose. "Lisella spoke for Thallas," she pointed out. "And so Thallas has declared war on my people. We will wipe their lineage from existence and feed on their marrow in victory."

@Elle Joyner @rissa @CloudyBlueDay

Currently: Ancalagon has fallen from the sky. Plainswalker leaves the scene by a promise made. Grybil flies to Rosenfall for blood with Eosphelon in tow. Drau'zul has been named as the orcish leader and seems the death of Gabad as a call to war. If not stopped, she will likely attack Addiver on her way to Paulson and the others that comprise the Thall party.

Elle Joyner · Mar 3, 2017

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Raleia knew little about the biological make up of dragonkind... but looking as Ancalagon, it was easy enough to see he had been gravely injured in his crushing fall to the earth. In truth, she very much doubted there was anything she could do for him, but despite everything - or perhaps in spite of it all - she wasn't ready to give up. Not yet. She was making her way her way back across the field to the tent that contained the medical supplies when she'd heard it... the tail end of Drau's speech.

It happened all at once, the strange sensation building within her, first in her stomach, then rising like a heatwave through her. More bloodshed. More violence. Had they not had enough? Would it never end? Were they doomed to repeat mistake after mistake until there was no one left but Shadow? Had it always been building to this? Was her kind truly without worth in the world, anymore? That even when their only survival depended upon them working hand in hand, they would rather be at each others throats.

They had all lost so much. Too much. And she was angry...

Winnock could feel it, too. It was an anger that burned with an intensity he had never felt in his Warden, before. There would be no coming back from it, should she act on that anger. The Raleia he knew would be forfeit... first to rage, then to grief. She moved with authority across the small distance towards the Orc woman and Winnock watched, carefully, waiting to act until it was absolutely necessary.

Pausing a few feet from Drau, Raleia glared at the woman, "...You cannot possibly be so incredibly stupid. Were you in some other field when all of this happened?? The only loyalty that Lisella has ever shown was towards the Shadow Casters! They are responsible for this... for all of it, and they have been from the start! No doubt to drive us all apart and make it easier for them to finish us off! You want someone to fight?? Start there! But I swear to the Maker, you make one step towards a man of Thall and it will be -you- who declares war. I have had enough of your blood-mongering nonsense!"

As she concluded, there was a sudden swishing sound and movement from the corner of her eye. Winnock had moved so swiftly, so silently, that she had not seen it until it was too late. Though whether or not she would have stopped it, if she could have, Raleia couldn't say. His tail came down, fast and hard - though not with crushing weight- to take the orc woman to the ground and there, across her chest, like a fallen horse, he kept it, pinning her in place.

Blinking, Raleia looked to Winnock, who had cast his eyes skyward as if to avoid her gaze and for a moment she could think of nothing to say, then slowly, she looked down again at the orc woman, shaking her head, "You got what you came for... I will tell him to release you, but only if you swear to take your bounty and your remaining men and go home. There is no battle to be had here that you can hope to win. Or if you are so desperate for vengeance, make use of yourselves and help us fight the Shadow..."

[bg=#F5E538]@CloudyBlueDay,@Effervescent, @rissa, @Red Thunder[/bg][/bg][/bg]

Red Thunder · Mar 4, 2017

Waethrin

Traitor by passion.

Murderer inept.

Butcher long due for the noose.

Funny. He didn't remember being in a noose. How then was he dead? Surely he was, surrounded by the smell of earth and pressed on all sides inexplicably. How else could he have gotten there? He furrowed his brow, focusing inwardly to accept his fate.

But instinct refused to abide by the man's decision. Instead of calming, Waethrin began panicking. Balled fists pounded outward against the walls of his earthen prison, and his mouth hung agape in a voiceless scream. Suddenly his knees shot up, powered by the thrash of wild fight, and the thin covering broke to open air. Struggling like a dog desperate to flip off its back, the old man sat up and pushed himself to standing.

"Open air" was perhaps too generous. Dirt still entombed him, if perhaps not so closely, and ribbons of roots of random radius rimmed the rounded run. Dead? Maybe. The voices still whispered to him, asserting quite insistently that he was no better than those he'd brought judgment on in life. So then: this was no quiet afterlife, no peaceful rest. Very well; he'd take what came.

But what was to come was, as far as such things go in such an unknown place as this, completely unexpected. A voice echoed up ahead, the familiar voice of a fellow Warden inquiring the very thing he felt so sure of. And Someone replied, stating the negative. How? How could this not be death? Brow furrowed, Waethrin held out his hand to spark a lighting flame. But no matter how much he willed it, no matter how much he strained, it was a futile gesture. His fire refused to shine for him. Exasperated, he called out instead.

"If this is not Death," he questioned as he strode toward them, "then what is it?"

CloudyBlueDay · Mar 5, 2017

FERIA & IFER

A mess. That's what this was, what her life was, what the entire race of the dragon wardens were. Could I not have been born as anything else? A simple, brown eyed brown haired maiden who did nothing miraculous -- who settled down in a quaint place with a quaint man and perhaps even a family. No dragon, no Haven, no standing over a dying orc leader while the rest of them had been pulled into god knows where. And to top it all off, the old coot's dragon had decided to fall from the damn sky! She clenched her teeth together, watching Raleia rush off. Good. Let her deal with that.

Feria spared one, angered glance towards Coliete as she lingered near. "If you wish to hover, at least be useful." The ice warden hissed. But it was too late, and nothing could be done. Gabad'zul's last words slipped from his breath as he renamed Drau, and he was gone.

A deep sigh escaped her, and she stood slowly. Ifer appeared to nudge his great head under her arm, a low purring noise originating from the ice dragon. There was no peace in this world. She was not quite sure what peace even meant. She rested her head against his snout, enveloping him momentarily.

Drau was so quick to bark orders from her new position, but what surprised Feria most was the fire warden's audacity, and her dragon. Her eyes widened as Winnock's tail came up, and then down with a thump on the new orcish leader. "Damn them all." Feria muttered under her breath.

She stepped up to Raleia and put her hand on the woman's (good) shoulder, without even sparing her a glance. Her eyes were trained on the pinned down Drau. "I believe it would be in our best interests to pick your dragon's tail off of her." Feria first whispered so only Raleia could hear, and then spoke aloud. "If you want blood, put your efforts in the correct place. The Shadow are the enemies you seek. Lisella speaks only for them, and none else. We do not need to make more war than we already have. And we have enough."

@Effervescent @Elle Joyner @rissa

Toogee · Mar 11, 2017

Aurea instinctively looked for the orcs around her, but there was nothing. Not even sound or light. Dirt pressed against her on all sides. This was her element, but the young warden could not summon the magic to break loose from this prison. Nor could she feel her dragon Plainswalker. Voices rang through her head in whispers, but no one was around. They were telling her goodbye. That she failed her friends and the world.

"And you will weep when you face the end alone."
"You are lost, you can never go home."

Aurea thought about the friends that never got the chance to leave the Haven. She thought about Idhrenan, who gave her hope when she thought all was lost. Waethrin, who gave her courage in the face of their foes. And she thought about her own cowardice: when the shadow rose and the wardens were in their most dire need, Aurea ran away. For failing her friends, she was buried with her regrets. Tears streamed down her face as her regrets pressed down on top of her. The weight of it all was finally coming to claim her. Aurea was struggling to breathe, but she wasn't ready to give up.

"No, I'm not ready," Aurea told herself. "I can still help them!"

Her arms struggled against the earth, but they were moving. Whatever grave she was in, it was a shallow one, for her arm broke through the ground. Her right hand wrapped around something. Her regrets weren't smothering her: something was physically on top of her. She must have grabbed some sort of tree root. It felt old. So very old.

It also felt like an ankle...

@Red Thunder

Red Thunder · Mar 12, 2017

Waethrin

It was an utterly unique sensation, to have one's leg grabbed mid-stride. To be one moment maintaining steady pace, sure if slow, bound for a destination unimpeded but aught but his aching joints, and to be a moment later lacking that freedom with no previous indication or inclination of what was to come was a real trip.

And so Waethrin did. Godsdamned rotting mother of the twenty thousandth hell he cursed as he fell forward in a decidedly undignified manner. Instincts, decades honed, took hold of his limbs, and he twisted about, catching his fall on the left side of his back. The point of his scabbard hit the ground, pushing the hilt too close to him to draw it effectively. Still, he grappled with it, struggling to yank the borrowed blade free as he stared wildeyed in the direction of the perceived threat.

Your time.

It's your time.

They're all here for you.

@Toogee

Effervescent · Mar 12, 2017

Within the Fog

There was the crackle of fire, yet the room still felt cold. Thannel slowly opened his eyes, bleary and heavy lidded as if fighting a deep slumber. The colors were at war between blues and oranges where a fire softly glowed in the hearth of what appeared to be a library. It was rather large, and built in a circular fashion where the shelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling. The window was blocked by a wooden shutter, and just at its end the spiral staircase downward began leading to a more well lit room. As he regained his bearings, he moved, and with it came the chiming of chains.

A wince hissed through his teeth as a pain coursed through his broken wrist where it was bound by an iron cuff. He was chained to the beam above causing his body weight to apply pressure to his injury if he did not stand on his feet. Thannel shifted his feet to lay flat upon the floor to relieve the tension, but the wrist still throbbed.

He did not remain alone for long. A man cloaked in a fine robe ascended the stairs to enter the library where Thannel was being held. Within his hands was a tray of food he set upon the carved wooden desk. In the dim light of the fire Thannel could make out the features of his visitor enough to note he was a half-elf with a Naveri background. It was quite a rare sight.

"My name is Wallace Savere," he said as he sat at the desk and broke off a piece of bread. He popped the bread in his mouth and chewed in thought as he eyed the chained and suspended Vuaturi across the circular room. Thannel frowned at the introduction knowing full well whose presence he had the misfortune of being with.

"Understandably quiet," Savere continued with a chuckle. "But you're a curious man, Vuaturi. My grandmother dropped you off at my doorstep after the incident. I had to get all the details from my cohorts, rest her soul, but the dead never seem to truly leave us."

"Do you want something?" Thannel asked. He was becoming a little annoyed by the monologue by a man who pushed misfortune upon his friends. Savere chuckled.

"I want a lot of things, Vuaturi," he responded, "so you'll need to be a bit more specific."

"Where are my friends? The orcs?" Thannel asked. "What happened at the plains?"

"Your first question doesn't even match these questions," Savere pointed out. "No wonder your people live in seclusion. It must be a nightmare to communicate with each other."

Despite it all, Thannel still felt exhausted and worn and beaten both physically and mentally. He lacked the patience to contend with Savere's attitude but was in no real position to request him to shut up. Looking up at his predicament he noted the wards etched upon his shackles to prevent the casting of his magic. It was something one of his great uncles had helped develop centuries ago.

"Ah, yes," Savere continued as he noticed Thannel's observation. "I wasn't sure which attunement you were so I just went with the irons that negate all natural attunements. Now, from what I understand of what happened this morning, and bear in mind it is all based on he said she said, but regardless it was all quite the scene. My grandmother, Lisella, opened up the Darkness so purely that we are just that much closer to our goal. But, according to her, she is…well…she no longer exists in this plane."

He paused for a moment before clapping his hands together. "Right!" he began as he rose from his seat and rounded the desk. "You don't care about all that, do you? No, you want to know about the feel good stuff. Friends and politics and the greenie meanies. Ah… well… They say they're dead. Something something something UnderElm. And Lesilla said she killed them. Or dealt with them how she could. Alright, technically they're not dead. The orcs are crying about their dead leader. Ah, how I wish this world had guns."

Thannel struggled with the information and its validity. Would Savere even tell the truth? His mind replayed the last image he could remember before the void. He was reaching out for Raleia in desperation. And he felt almost sure she wore Val's pendant. She was hopefully safe.

"There were some anomalies reported," Savere continued as he meandered up to where Thannel was chained. "Such as a few Dragon Wardens who couldn't be touched by our magic. A rather substantial breakthrough by your people. All my applause. And all I want for Winterwyst is to know how it was done."

"Just because I am a Vuaturi," Thannel responded, "doesn't mean I know everything Vuaturi made."

"I think we will both have to come to terms that neither of us will believe the other," Savere said. "Well, I might believe you after I beat you half way to death."

The UnderElm

Both the stranger and Idhrenan turned at the sound of Waethrin's voice, both just as surprised to see him only Idhrenan displayed relief at the sight of the old Dragon Warden. She shrugged and eyed their dark surroundings with uncertainty. There was no explaining it if what the Stranger said was true.

"You two don't look like the dead here," the Stranger said. "The dead are… They're gone both in body and mind. They don't look as they should. Like a person."

"Those children died because of you."

"How could you let me die?"

"If you truly had cared you would have stopped this from happening."

The whispers became more pointed, and Idhrenan turned in place in search for the sources. They were so agitated with her. Were they the voices of the dead? Had she sent them to an unfortunate fate due to her negligence?

"Don't listen to them," the Stranger warned. "You're not the first I've come across in here that didn't belong."

A hand shot out from the dirt below Waethrin, and Idhrenan yelped. "No don't hurt them!" the Stranger called out. She dove down and began digging Aurea out from the soil until she could bring her to her feet. "You're alright. How are you feeling? Do you know these two?"

@Red Thunder @Toogee @Mactomaton

The Plains of Thallas

Drau'zul was close to smacking Raleia across her cheek with the insolence she portrayed. And just as her bubbling rage curled her upper lip she found herself face first in the softened earth. The wind was temporarily knocked from her lungs from the force. Raleia posed her proposition to get the new orcish leader to calm, and Prince Asal stepped in with concern.

"We had a deal," he interjected as Drau'zul spat words in her native tongue. "We helped them get here... They can't go home now! We need them to take on the Shadow that consumes our home! They shouldn't have the option to leave prematurely…"

"Get this thing off me, red bitch!" Drau'zul commanded. "I will keep Gabad's command."

Addiver took a step back and walked away. "Addiver!" Paulson called out. He ignored the man even after the second and third time his name was called. It wasn't until he positioned his horse in front of the wandering soldier that he halted in his tracks and looked up at the man.

"How can we help them?" he asked.

"Shove it up your ass, Paulson," Addiver muttered as he tried to walk around the horse. Paulson moved his steed forward to continue the block in his path.

"Now isn't the time to hold onto your resentment, Cald," he said. "I was ignorant. We were all ignorant. But now we see the real threat. We should fight it. Thallas has the means."

Addiver immediately stormed off towards the nearest wagon and began beating the structure down. His rage had hit its tipping point, the emotions now overflowing as he tore through the wood. "Now you see the threat?" he yelled. "Now?"

He threw a broken piece at Paulson in his anger, the wood flying just past his back. "Fuck you!"

@Elle Joyner @rissa @CloudyBlueDay

Elle Joyner · Mar 13, 2017

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The scene was akin to watching the younger Wardens at play. So much so that it might have been amusing, except that these were all adults, behaving like children... and thereby unjust in their ridiculous tantrums and whining. She couldn't condone his actions, not when they had caused so much damage, but a part of Raleia understood how Waethrin had come to be the way he was. What was there left in the world worth fighting for when the people they were meant to serve and protect and aid were all self serving infants?

For a moment, she stared at the chaotic scene in silent contemplation. How easy would it be to climb onto Winnock and depart? To leave behind the entire mess and wash her hands of it. But she couldn't... Not really. Not if there was any hope at all of finding out what happened. If there was even the smallest chance that the others were alive... Thannel, Olsten, Aurea and Id... If there was even the tiniest prayer for them...

Maybe the Orcs and Thalls would never see reason - but if they came to war then the Shadow would win, and that wasn't something Raleia could justify, no matter her own anger.

With a sigh, she stepped forward and looking up to Winnock, nodded. The dragon gave a small groan, but slowly, he began to lift his tail, relieving the Orc woman of its weight. Stepping forward, Raleia shook her head and held out a hand, "This "Red Bitch"... is trying to save your people. All of your people..." She noted, as she glanced to Asal, "What are you even fighting for? What purpose is there in it? The Shadow will consume this land... and whether or not you get justice for what you think happened here, it won't stop them. If you want to tear down Rosenfall stone by stone, all you'll be doing is making it that much easier for the Shadow to rise... to conquer your home, next. Is that what you want? To go down in history as the Orc Commander who willingly destroyed her people? Is that the legacy you truly desire?"

Turning away, Raleia moved to Addiver, and tentatively, reached out a hand to his arm, "...It doesn't matter who was right or wrong, anymore, Addiver. We can't undo the past, but maybe we can prevent an even bleaker future. Don't stand with them if you can't. I understand, and I will not try to convince you otherwise... but I could use your help." Looking to the space where Thannel had last been, she felt a welling behind her eyes and squeezed them shut for a moment, "And I could really use a friend."

[bg=#F5E538]@CloudyBlueDay,@Effervescent, @rissa, @Red Thunder[/bg][/bg][/bg]

Toogee · Mar 14, 2017

The struggle with Waethrin's ankle shook the dirt around Aurea loose, her other hand soon finding the air. It wasn't until the stranger intervened that Aurea could finally take a deep breath. Dirt was smeared across her face. It turned her brilliant red hair dull, her clothes a muddy mess. She wasn't quite ready to stand, even with the stranger's help. The young warden was still processing what had occurred.

When the stranger asked if she knew Id and Waethrin, Aurea's face swelled as if about to explode into tears. Of course she knew them! They were the most senior members of the wardens! They were the only friends she had left. And they were alive! It was an odd mix of feelings Aurea was feeling, after finding herself and others alive. Happy she was no longer alone, but scared and sad as to what became of them.

Wherever they were, Aurea had no intention of letting go of Waethrin's ankle. In fact, she held on with both hands. She would never ever let go of Waethrin, lest they disappear again. Aurea attempted to respond, but she could only mouth the words. It wasn't clear what words she was mouthing however: it was a struggle just to save her tears.

Red Thunder · Mar 16, 2017

Waethrin
the UnderElm

"Ye gods, girl! Get the bloody hell off!"

Waethrin still lay on his back, kicking and struggling to regain his footing and his dignity. But neither were forthcoming, not without coming free first of Aurea. So he stopped fighting with a deep grunt of frustration and scooted back toward her. Managing to stand to his feet while poor Aurea held his ankle in a death grip, he shoved the stranger aside.

"You're not helping," he chiding. Bending down, the old man grabbed the girl's lapels and got in her face. "And you are not helping yourself. Be calm! You are a Warden, and as such a champion of the free world. Come; regain your composure and show without the sterner stuff you are made of within."

Yanking his leg backward, he lifted Aurea from where she lay at the same moment, setting her on her feet but retaining his grip until he was certain she'd found her footing. As he held her, Waethrin glanced to the stranger.

"We are known to each other. But you are not known to us. Identify yourself! Who are you, that you tread these tunnels?"

@Effervescent, @Toogee, @Mactomaton

Toogee · Mar 19, 2017

Waethrin's words echoed through Aurea's mind, drowning out the ghostly calls for surrender. Quite frankly, they were the nicest words she had heard since entering the Underelm. She stood on her feet with Waethrin's help. That didn't mean she was calmed. She still wasn't sure this was real. As soon as Waethrin was done talking, Aurea proceeded to pull on his beard. Immediately, she burst into tears.

"You're real!" Aurea loudly proclaimed. "Your beard is real! Your voice is real!"

Tears were running down her face. Her nose was running. It was just disgusting how happy she was. She buried her dirty, tear-ridden, booger-crusted face into Waethrin's robes.

"You smell real too," Aurea added, though muffled through his robes.

Red Thunder · Mar 19, 2017

Waethrin
The UnderElm

Waethrin was at a complete loss. With the lass' arms around his middle, all surety of purpose in demanding the stranger's identity fell from him. Someone, someone identifiable and relatable and not one of a throng of faceless citizens needed him, personally. Sought comfort. Sought solace. Sought safety.

It was a feeling that he'd not felt in so long, it registered as utterly foreign. What was Aurea doing, gripping him like that? And to such an extent as to invade his personal space? The girl was mad, clearly! Waethrin began to struggle, trying to slide her arms from around him and he free.

But he stopped. She...she was crying. Aurea had buried her head into his hard breastplate, ignoring it in favor of the surety his proximity was giving her. It felt...good, to be needed. To be wanted. And it overrode any panic her hug had brought him. So slowly, stiffly, the old man placed his arms around her, giving her a small, hesitant pat on the back, eye looking around awkwardly at everything and nothing.

@Toogee

Effervescent · Mar 21, 2017

The UnderElm

In the hollow spaces of what looked to be the earth, it was cold and unsettling as sounds could not be distinguishable or defined yet they were prevalent and akin to whispers or sobs. Idhrenan tried her best not to think of it despite her compassionate nature. Hearing distress was like a call for her to aid. And it was too difficult to see behind or ahead. A darkness of its own swallowed this afterlife, and it seemed its purpose was intended to incite fear. Everything in here set her nerves on edge and reached down into her soul for her innermost insecurities. Her disconnect with Eosphelon only magnified her anxiety.

She watched as Aurea clung to Waethrin in a vice like grip. "Remember when times were much simpler?" she thought she asked, but her lips never moved and her voice never heard. Idhrenan was lost in her past before Waethrin was just a legend she would tell a few of the young Wardens before tucking them into bed.

In the light of the everfire Idhrenan sat within the Nook where the Young were given quarters with their peers. Beds lined the walls at its length with windows between the resting hall to allow the flow of air on warmer nights. It was a new moon out that let the stars have its chance to light up the night sky, and crickets chirped with abandon. Little girls no older than ten crowded around the two beds Idhrenan sat between, her auburn hair wreathed in the everfire behind her.

A smile broke her lips as the children called out for a story before bed. It was the end of the week, after all, and it was her typical treat to let them stay up on these nights with a little storytelling. For the most part there wasn't a new tale to be told to these children. They'd almost heard them all, and plenty enough to contribute to it's telling. It made it all the more delightful for Idhrenan to share.

"Shall we go on an adventure with the Inferno tonight?" she asked the girls. They gleefully agreed, and a couple of them bounced on the beds with excitement as they called out various tales from the infamous legend.

"Tell the one about rewriting the stars!"

"No do the one where he rescued Ancalagon!"

"What about the Dancing Goblins!"

"I like the one where he played a game of wits with Kimblekree!"

"Hmm," thought Idhrenan out loud as she tapped her chin dramatically. "I think you all are old enough for the Tale of the Twisted Woods."

The girls gasped at the title they had never heard, their bodies leaning in towards the Dragon Warden as they awaited the new story. There was a fraction of a second where Idhrenan's smile faltered, and she felt disembodied within the scene. But the sensation was fleeting, and she returned to the memory with a bright smile.

"Does everyone know how the Twisted Woods came to be?"

"Oh!" interjected a girl. "It's because of Shadow Magic!"

"That is absolutely correct, Acora!" Idhrenan commended. "Before the Shadow corrupted the Twisted Woods, there once was an ancient elven castle known as Kal'katah. It was abandoned for centuries within an enchanted forest even after the humans occupied the Middle Lands of Northlyn. Little did the world know there was a wealth of knowledge locked up within its deep vaults."

"Did the Inferno find it?" another girl piped in curiously.

"Ah! No, he did not get that privilege," Idhrenan continued melodiously. "No one knows what comprises the full extent of the library, but one thing is certain: it carries tomes regarding the terrible unnatural magic known as Shadow. And that is how the enchanted forest twisted in corruption to what we know and see today. Humans came across this abandoned castle and discovered the library long before the Inferno was even born. And within it they found the forbidden art. It wasn't long until the Shadow took its hold, dimming the world even just a little with its use."

She cupped her hand over the everfire to shade the glow for visual reference. The resting hall grew darker giving the girls more insight into the nature of Shadow Magic, their eyes wide with understanding and engaged wonderment. The little ones had never encountered such evils and could barely comprehend the full extent of Shadow Magic and its dangers. To tell the true horrors would give them all nightmares to be sure, but the Dragon Wardens were not keen on ignorance. It was a balanced line to draw, and such a story as this required care in execution. It was likely why the true story was lost through the legend.

"A century later brings our hero to heed the call to aid," Idhrenan continued. "Thallas and Baladur were suffering from the plague set upon them in the ever growing Twisted Woods. With the use of concentrated Shadow Magic, the corrupted woods and all that festered within spread like wildfire. The creatures within were nearing settlements and villages and the kings and queens of that time were greatly concerned and called for the aid of the Dragon Wardens. The Council knew exactly who to assign to the task-"

"The Inferno!" the children exclaimed in a cacophony.

"Yes!" Idhrenan continued. "The Inferno was called to aid the Allied Kingdoms once again! All breathed a collective sigh as they knew their lands would be safer with his work. And so he took to the task with his dragon Ancalagon fighting off wyvern and Tainted both wolfish and blood burdened. But the Twisted Woods fought back, entangling and entrapping and hiding its beasts until they could strike to their advantage. And just as he thought he was pushing back the beasts, the Inferno found himself face to face with Mad Maiden Maveline."

"Is that the Cabal Witch of the North?"

"The very one!" Idhrenan confirmed, and the girls huddled closer together, sharing blankets for extra comfort as the story rolled on. "Remember what she said to the Inferno during his quest for the Relic of Namandeir?"

"A darkness is coming?"

"A darkness is coming," she repeated. "And once he saw her he knew she was the one responsible for the corruption. This was when Shadow Magic became more powerful and more evil. Whatever Maveline found in Kal'katah, it made her ten times more powerful than anything he had ever encountered."

A hand gripped her arm reeling her focus back to clarity and to the scene of the young Dragon Warden clinging to the old Inferno after being pulled into the UnderElm. The Stranger looked at Idhrenan with concern.

"Don't get lost," the woman warned. She looked over at Waethrin as he struggled with Aurea's sobs. "Who I am is of no import. We don't have a lot of time, but I think I can get you out of here. You're…. you're not like the dead here. Don't get lost in your fear or peace."

@Red Thunder @Toogee @Mactomaton

The Plains of Thallas

Raleia had a way of calming a storm just as quickly as she could launch her own. Drau'zul rose from the earth a calmer woman, her body leaving behind an imprint into the soft earth. Snow began to fall in tufts of white fluff that fluttered about the unsettled army and the disturbed Thalls. Addiver's cheeks streaked with his tears as he let go of his anger towards Paulson.

"I don't know what to do," he whispered to Raleia. "Everything feels…numb. My friends… Those under my wing and command… They died in vain. They…"

"What happened to your people is an atrocity," Prince Asal said, approaching with a renewed sense of confidence and diplomacy. He looked between the three remaining Dragon Wardens, and then to Drau'zul. "I propose their bodies are not given as part of their payment."

"My people are starving," Drau'zul reminded.

"Exercise a bit of compassion," Asal recommended. "And a bit of sympathy. Place yourself in their customs and consider their grief."

Drau'zul fell silent as she considered, and Addiver wiped the tears away from his cheeks. "I want to bury them," he said. "That's what I'm going to do. I'm going to bury them before I do anything else."

@Elle Joyner @rissa @CloudyBlueDay

The Dragon Wardens

consistently inconsistent

|| Perpetual GM ||

Edgebabby

A Warrior in a Garden

Little Toe of Justice

Moop.

the clairvoyant pterodactyl

|| Perpetual GM ||

Moop.

A Warrior in a Garden

consistently inconsistent

Little Toe of Justice

A Warrior in a Garden

|| Perpetual GM ||

Moop.

Little Toe of Justice

A Warrior in a Garden

Little Toe of Justice

A Warrior in a Garden

|| Perpetual GM ||