Birds of a Feather

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by DominoFlash, May 14, 2012.

  1. “We are all but birds of a feather.”

    Since the dawn of time Birds have been the freedom bringers, the ones that are our hope and the symbol we all hold dear. With the Birds came their guardians, the Freedom Keepers, to which God charged them a lonesome and isolated life in order to care for their charges. This is the one rule that comes with this gargantuan responsibility – one that many cannot rise up too. These Freedom Keepers live only to serve the nature of their birds; to love only their birds.
    However, a change is in the wind and the birds are not quite as they appear.

    Now let our story, unfold…
  2. Lonan scrubbed the blood from his armor, the cloth he held rubbed the crimson madness in a little deeper for an added shine. So much blood had come across this armor, that the metal that was once silver now turned a slight pink. Lonan's crystal blue eyes did not miss a single fleck, his hands stained with the same blood as his armor was. He made sure to pick out the blood from the intricate carvings on the surface of the metal. It told of his long-lost royal lineage, his loyalty to his great-great uncle, and his family's eternal glory for the wars they had won. Twisting animals, of wolves, eagles, and unnamed beasts danced in and out of each other to tell of these strengths.

    Lonan was now in his undergarments, or as the men called it, city garb. He would have to change again before he went out to get the blood stains out of his clothes in time. Despite his royal bloodline, Lonan had a simple tent and only one maidservant. He licked his lips at the thought of it. Being at war for so long did things to a man's restraint, or in Lonan's case, the lack thereof. Maiden was the last thing she could be called after Lonan had been at war for a few months. But she was no longer appetizing to him, he had tastes for different women tonight. And well deserved too, for he had led his men, as a lieutenant, into victory over the last of the rebel forces.

    Wild men, he remembered as he picked bits of fur off of his cloth before dipping it into the cleaning oil. They fought more like scattered sheep than men, but they were ferocious as the wolves they kept as dogs. Wolves that had no master to call their own now, as they fed upon the many dead. Lonan and his men would be able to scour the battlements tomorrow for precious things, if these beasts had any. To the victor goes the spoils.

    Finally, he was able to see his reflection in the armor. He beamed at his appearance. Bright blue eyes to contrast with his tanning skin and dark, almost black, hair cropped close to his skin. He kept himself well-shaven for appearances in this season, when the weather was hot and sticky. With his new mirror, he removed his shirt, eager to gloat to the women later about his roped muscles. He saw a quick flash of light as the maid entered.

    "Sir, please. Would you allow me to leave for the night? My grandmother is near this day, and I would like to visit her," the maid asked, shy and in terror.

    "No, I need you to wash my shirt and keep watch over my tent tonight. Did you not hear? We have finally won the battle against the barbarian hordes! Tonight, I celebrate!" he said, throwing his shirt at her as he picked up a clean one.

    He swept out of the tent, knowing full well that the girl hadn't seen her family in over a year. But the pride of the 20 year old royal soldier far outshone her need to see her family. By weight in coins if not anything else. That same weight of coin hit his thigh as he strolled through the camps this evening, ready for a long night of celebration ahead.
  3. “I can take this no longer!” Hissed the fiery maiden, though the room she occupied was vacant. This was the last she would seen of this isolated place, for she no longer would deal with the chosen title she had been given. She couldn’t handle such responsibility, despite the fact she had only done so for a mere few months. Luciana May was the youngest of the Keepers, but due to her present misfortune of losing her precious charge she had evicted herself and removed her title as such; she couldn’t tame the burning fire of agony and pain that dwelled within her passionate heart.
    The redhead currently sported a plain white dress and hooded cow-skin cloak – something to hide her fair features and shame from the others that she could encounter on her way back to the village that bore her. The night was cold for the pale creature, but her raging emotions were too fierce to allow the cold night air to penetrate her flawless flesh. She tore open her furniture in order to retrieve her things, packing her few belongings ungraciously into her small bags – simple clothes for a simple ex-Keeper. Once such a task had left Luciana in a flurry she stopped, taking in panting breaths in order to calm her sea of rage.
    She couldn't enter her home place in such a manner. She needed to be refined and settle - not battling back furious cries and stinging tears! However, it was easier said than done for the passionate young woman. Her slender frame stiffened as she hurried to finish in her packing, having already set up enough supplies to last her short yet perilous journey; she knew that barbarians still reigned here and the soldiers that supposedly protected them were no better than savage beasts themselves so she needed to be ready for anything. With this in mind, she made sure that the small knife that her mother had given her was easily within reach as she collected her few backs up, ready to leave.
    The chilling night air sent chills down her spine as she stepped out onto the hillside where her home dwelled, allowing the wisps of her breath flow into the darkened sky. The isolation brought on by these infernal hills were enough to drive one mad, but Luciana had grown accustomed to such solitary life. It would be difficult, her mind began to murmur, to fit into normal, sociable life once more after those few months of living alone up there with little to no contact from others. Her bird, Vale, had been her life so there was no need for any other company. However, with him now gone, the loneliness and silence were slowly starting to drive her insane. She began her treck out along the perilous pathway upon the darkened hills, only a small lamp shining her way in the darkness; if she didn't leave now then she never would and she would rather reach the town by day rather than night.