FateGuard

K

Kitti

Guest

The sounds of the group herding the male dragon down the street where Erilyn stood could have been heard from the other side of the city as the creature gave in to the taunting arrows and men distracting him from paying attention even to what his mate was doing. The options currently at hand for Erilyn seemed to fall somewhere along the lines of staying still and watching Corben and the rest urge a dragon toward her or she could follow after Aloysius and work at helping with the mate, or at least keeping her away from where the rest were leading the male. It was a little humiliating that no one expected her to do anything, no one had called upon her for her help in this but she pushed aside her feelings and followed behind to where Derek had managed to stumble upon the female dragon.

It had been incredible to see her shoot through the sky, like a fierce but elegant bird on a warpath. She had seen something to attract her attention, another puny human in need of being killed, and this human was not in a group as the others were. To her, Erilyn was certain, he had looked like an easy meal. Fortunately, the rest of his group were only a street away and could rapidly make their way to him through an underused alleyway.

She had just caught up when she saw Leonardo smack the dragoness on the snout. Her initial reaction was somewhere along the lines of laughter but she fought it, realizing that he had momentarily pushed the beast's head down to the level where Erilyn could reach. Surging forward as fast as her armor would allow, Erilyn raised her sword. The creature was merely dazed and Erilyn could tell that she only had a second to strike. It would both aid their cause and help Leonardo if she acted quickly.

With a well-aimed strike at the creature, Erilyn managed to strike at its beady right eye. The hit was not as she might have hoped, a merciless jab straight into the orb, but the scaly beast was already lifting its head when Erilyn took her hit on it. The result of this was that the eye was instead slashed across. Mercifully, the sword didn't lodge itself there due to the difference in method, which caused Erilyn to make a mental note not to jab next time. Especially since the slashing seemed to have proven just as effective, with her sword coated along the edge with dragon's blood. Erilyn was able to take a step back after her attack and raise her shield while the evidence of her work could be heard in an almost piteous cry from the female. It was nowhere near enough to kill the creature, but her attention was certainly divided and her sight much worse. Erilyn couldn't remember is dragons relied on their eyes, their hearing, or their sense of smell to find prey. She hoped that it was the first.

"Hurry now, Leonardo!" she urged, moving away from the dragoness herself while it was shaking its head in pain. All of them would need to move back, for her movements were uncoordinated, her momentary writhing in pain before she sought vengeance on them.
 

Spammy

Swagolor Approved
FOLKLORE MEMBER
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Male
Ferrick did his best to catch up with the others, chasing the male dragon down the street, holding his spear in a more ready stance, tightening his grip on it as he looked for an opportunity to strike with it. He knew that he could pierce that hide if he got a chance, but in order to do that he had to find a chance.

He felt a twinge of panic as he saw fire enveloping, replaced by relief as he saw him rising and opening his cape. Ferrick was behind the dragon now, and grinned as he saw that chance, with the dragon's distraction.

He put on a burst of speed, crossing the remaining distance, ducking beneath the beast's tail and letting out a yell as he thrust forward, letting his momentum carry the weight of his spear into the dragon. The long, piercing tip slid beneath the openings in the scale, and sunk deep into the dragon's leg. His reward was an enraged roar in a trail of blood. The dragon stomped and swept its tale back and forth, and Ferrick danced a chaotic dance as he tried to roll away from the strikes and continue to strike the dragon, marking its hind legs and tail with fresh wounds.

He had two options now, he run, find cover to try to survive the inevitable blast of flame... or he could try to attack one of the dragon's wings, low to the ground now as it tried to beat him aside. He chose the latter, running out from beside the dragon and jabbing his spear upwards, feeling a sudden burst and release of pressure as the tip punctured a wing membrane. As he ran he kept the spear held aloft, trying to hit again and again, but he got few hits in before the dragon's tail hit, knocking him into a crumbling building with a painful thud.
 

Woodrat

[Data Expunged]
Invitation Status
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Male
Genres
Fantasy, Scifi, Modern, all with a blend or grounded slightly in Realism
[DASH=orange] "Eric, are the archers around? I don't know how effective we're going to be at fighting these without some way of attacking their heads..."

"Archers? Only Alyss I uh… have yet to see Sayra since the beginning of the attack." Eric said pulling shards of tile from his hair and out from his armor. Aloysius came running up from the market square a smile adorning his smooth features. A mark across his cheek the only sign of battle.

"Hello, my friends. Quite a day, isn't it?"

"Yeah, quite a day…" Eric spoke, tugging at a rather large wooden splinter from his armor. "Why is it not a undead attack? Zombies, vampires, batmen, those are sim-"

"Erilyn! Eric! Make it open its mouth!"

"Wah?" Eric looked up at the newly arrived Atlas, confusion spreading across his face. Atlas was poised in a perfect stance to throw a glass vial in his right hand. A glance down the street toward the market square showed what Atlas was ready to throw at.

"Oh… oh… by the saints…" Eric muttered in shock as he watched Arkavenn lumbering toward them at top speed, the dragon not far behind. The splinter fell to the ground silently as his hand instinctively went to his sword.

"Eric and Aloysius follow me! Corben and the rest can handle the male! Time to show this dragoness what the FateGauard does to those who attack Gothenheim!"

"What? Dragoness? But, what abo-" Eric waved a hand toward the dragon and began to speak but Leonardo and Aloysius had already left. Before he could react he watched Erilyn followed them in pursuit of the female dragon. Eric and Atlas were now alone on the cobblestone street as Arkavenn and the male dragon charged pell-mell toward them. Somewhere behind the dragon was Corben and Alexander, but that did little to help Atlas.

"Fantastic."

With a fluid motion Eric drew his sword and braced himself in a combat stance. He glanced at Atlas.

"… Winston please, whatever you do... Do. Not. Miss."
[/DASH]
 
  • Like
Reactions: 1 person

unanun

Child is born, with a heart of gold
FOLKLORE MEMBER
Writing Levels
  1. Adaptable
Genres
I'm wary of magic with lots of rules.
Kcht.

Kcht.

The rhythmic pacing belied no rush. The footsteps themselves were not heavy, as one would have expected from a knight's armor walking on stone. However, there was a certain firmness in the way each gauntletted foot crashed into the ground. Where embers lied, they were scattered in sparks and smoke. Small twigs were snapped in two. Large, dented footprints were left in the wooden beams as the suit climbed over them.

It was easy to miss its approach during the night. The armor itself was black, and did not give away much. It leaned forward, as if walking in the face of a strong gale. Kcht. Kcht. There was no sense of urgency in the way it moved; but there was purpose in the way it moved out of the shadows, towards the downed female dragon.

Its eyes turned to look at the girl who ran back, small motes of white flashing deep within the empty eye sockets. The jaws cracked open before clicking shut again. The pendant jangled noisily on the breastplate, the skull's grin silently laughing. Ponderously, it moved up the dragon, still caught in throes of pain, snorting out gouts of liquid fire into already blazing piles of wood and stone. One such burst, as hot and furious as the sun, leaped from the dragon's nostril towards it, but was mostly shrugged off by the shield it raised, crouching behind it silently with one knee bent to the ground, head bowed as if in prayer. The flame splashed around the tall and thin shield, as if it was merely water thrown onto an oiled poncho. Little balls of flame rolled along the ground, white hot and coming to rest in small piles of tinder, where they would unfold and start fires.

Clack. It drove the pointed end of the shield into the ground and approached the dragon from the blind side, long black cleaver held in the right gauntlet. As it got close enough, it raised the cleaver high into the air, pausing, hand shivering from the weight, before bringing it down into the dragon's neck.

The suit was flung backwards with great force, its back slamming into a pile of wood. As it sat there, the teeth of the helmet in a perpetual leer, both hands spread out over the flaming pile, it almost looked like a king, wreathed in fire, as it watched the dragon shake about, blood spurting from the wound in its neck, cleaver still lodged inside.
 
L

Lady of the Dragons

Guest
[DASH=gray]Aloysius opened his mouth to say something in response to his companions, but he quickly closed it and looked up. He could see the faint outline of the dragoness, her huge wings flapping to keep her above them. Something told him that she was going to attack again by landing on the ground, hoping to crush them. She had raw power, but they had speed and skill. Hopefully that would be enough to overcome her in some way.


"Eric and Aloysius follow me! Corben and the rest can handle the male! Time to show this dragoness what the FateGauard does to those who attack Gothenheim!"

Without speaking, Aloysius nodded to show that he understood the order. Just a split second before the dragoness landed, he saw the slightest twitch in her muscles. The slightest movement in her body. The very very slightest sign to show she was going to rain her fury down on them. He jumped aside, feeling the powerful impact of her body contacting with the Earth. Bits of gravel and stone pelted him, one hitting him hard across the brow. It was enough to cause the spot to become red and throb with pain. Aloysius didn't acknowledge the sharp sore, instead his eyes were trained on the dragon. Leonardo was floating up at eye-level to the beast, quickly striking her head. It hit the ground hard, even though it only dazed the female. At that time Aloysius spotted Erilyn running besides them to join the battle on the second dragon. Naturally he wanted to greet her, as he always did with his fellow FateGuards, but decided that now was not the time to do so.

Aloysius spotted Erilyn quickly bringing herself in front of the dragoness's eye and stabbing her in the eye. Deciding rapidly to follow her example, he jumped up to the dragon's left eye. As he raised his sword to strike, in those few seconds, he could see the fury in her eye. The hatred she showed at him with the blazing fire burning so brightly inside her. He saw her determination to kill her or die in the process. As far as Aloysius was concerned, the latter would be the outcome.

Not being as merciless as Erilyn, he drove his blade straight into the eye of the creature. Blood immediately sprayed out in a wide fan and splattered across his armor and face. The dragon let out a pained scream, lifting her head up with the sword in her eye and Aloysius dangling from it. He pushed his feet against her cheek and pulled at the sword with all his might. He felt his weapon slide out of her now blinded eye as she continued letting out deep, thunderous snarls at the now blank world in front of her. Aloysius plummeted towards the ground, landing with a loud thud. For a few moments, he lay motionless, dazed completely. Then he swiftly got up, ignoring the needles of pain shooting through him each time he moved. Nothing seemed to broken inside of him...though he was probably going to have some nasty bruises when they were gone.

The dragoness now shook her head, trying to make out her surroundings. Her stabbed eye leaked blood as if she was crying crimson tears. Now she was completely blind. While she could still stomp around aimlessly and hope she would crush one, at least she couldn't see.

Aloysius grinned softly, wiping away the blood that was pouring from his temples.[/DASH]

Aloysius follows Leonardo's orders and follows him to the beast. After Leonardo's attack, Aloysius sees Erilyn attack the dragoness's eye. Deciding to do the same to the other eye, Aloysius pretty much gouges its eye, blinding it. He falls from the dragoness's face and feels accomplished at his attack.
 

Zen

The Bartender
LURKER MEMBER
Invitation Status
Writing Levels
  1. Intermediate
  2. Adept
  3. Advanced
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Male
  2. Female
Genres
Fantasy, Modern, Magical, Romance, Action, Urban Fantasy
It took the utmost concentration for Atlas to not look about and panic as everyone around him vanished. Yes the man had a reputation but that did not mean the man didn't feel fear. There was a dragon charging at him for god's sake. Every ounce of willpower went into keeping him in place and keeping his trousers dry.

"I shall do my best to make the pitch count. But, "and he paused, swallowing. "If this one misses, do run away."

He inhaled deeply, his blue eyes intent on the dragon. Atlas zeroed in on the dragon's mouth and when the creature decided to roar he quickly pulled up his knee and threw. The glass grenade soared out of his arm in a perfect arch, the dragon turned its head - and the explosive landed on its tongue. Atlas could have sworn a puzzled expression crossed the dragon's face before he uttered a small incantation and the grenade shattered.

Glass and other shrapnel tore into its flesh as a small plume of smoke rose from its nostrils. The monstrosity tried to roar in agony, but it came out strangled and gurgled. This was because blood was gushing out from what was left of its jaws. Atlas' glass grenade destroyed the dragon's entire lower jaw and its upper esophagus. The grenade also split apart one of its major arteries, leaving it gushing out blood onto itself and the streets. And the end result? A large gaping hole in the dragon's throat and a perfect target for the archers.

Once the mage realized he hit his mark and angered one of the biggest animals on the planet, he gathered his bag and sprinted away screaming,

"Archers! If you're there, your assistance would be much appreciated!" He glanced behind him briefly. "And if you miss, you will not hear the end of it from me!"
 

Woodrat

[Data Expunged]
Invitation Status
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Male
Genres
Fantasy, Scifi, Modern, all with a blend or grounded slightly in Realism
[DASH=orange]"Yeah, nice aim Winston!" Eric let out a cheer that quickly died down with realizing horror. The dragon was not in death throes yet, it was still very much alive and very enraged. The wings flapped open uselessly, mangled by the damage Ferrick’s spear had done earlier. Atlas very much had the right idea to run.

The dragon rushed forward on all four legs with a speed that surprised Eric, the open maw of what was left of its face looming toward him. The blood coated eyes focused on the one that had caused it so much pain. It did not even notice Eric, he just happened to be in the way.

Eric did not have much time to react to avoid being trampled by the behemoth in the narrow street. He leapt upwards in the hopes to get onto the back of the dragon, only to catch a bloodied wing to the legs. His sword struck the back of the dragon and deflected off of the scaly hide, wedging itself into the membrane of the wing next to the body. Eric landed less than gracefully next to the sword and held on to the hilt with both hands for dear life. The mortally wounded dragon ignored the impromptu rider and continued its charge down the street. Eric’s blade sunk through the membrane of the wing, each violent movement of the dragon twisting the blade of the rider further.

He could only hope it would collapse due to blood loss before it caught up with Atlas, or that Alyss would kill it first. [/DASH]
 

XC

Edgesquire
LURKER MEMBER
FOLKLORE MEMBER
Invitation Status
Posting Speed
  1. One post per day
  2. 1-3 posts per week
Writing Levels
  1. Adept
  2. Advanced
Genres
Urban fantasy, cyberpunk.
"Yes!" Arkavenn clenched a fist and raised in with a loud cry of victory when he saw the dragon's jaw get blown off, literally and blood gushed from the stump. He had stopped running and turned around to look at the dragon until he realized that he had made the same mistake that Eric had.

So now he was in collision course with a very angry dragon.

And the loud cries of pain from the dragon were definitely a "HELP!!!" directed towards his mate.

Arkavenn barely had the time to dive to one side, one arm clipped by the wing of the dragon as it ran past, charging towards Atlas for sweet, sweet revenge. Even though Atlas got all the girls in the bar and Arkavenn very much wanted to let him become dragon food so he could finally get some, they were still in need of his skills; he was rather indispensable with all the chemicals, be it burning acid or a grenade like the one that had just injured the dragon. Before he could recover, he was hit by the backlash of the dragon's tail and sent flying against the dragon's back. Arkavenn's hands roamed wildly about - Other than being winded, he was relatively unhurt though he knew he was going to be a sore bag of bones the very next day. He finally found a handhold, the joint of the dragon's wing and he held on for dear life, noting that Eric was also doing the same, except in a much more precarious position.

Arkavenn dragged himself further up the dragon's back, hoping to gain a more solid hold.

"Any time now, Aly-" Arkavenn's shout was cut off as the dragon thrashed wildly about and he had to focus all of his will to continue holding onto the dragon. Even though his armour was that thick, a fall from that height and speed would definitely break a bone or two.

Something he didn't want to do.
 

unanun

Child is born, with a heart of gold
FOLKLORE MEMBER
Writing Levels
  1. Adaptable
Genres
I'm wary of magic with lots of rules.
The second eye being put out caused the suit to stir in the pyre in which it sat, the arms bracing against the burning timbers to hoist itself up from the flames. Obviously, it was not immune to fire, and it was already in the process of extracting itself from the crematory. The char and ash did little to add contrast to the blackness, and the toothy leer on its helmet gave off entirely the wrong emotions it was feeling.

Kcht. It took a few steps forward, past the shield which lay discarded on the ground, towards the female.

The dragoness was rather wounded, and perhaps in death throes. It thrashed around, wings beating in some desperate, yet futile attempt to fly away. As the armour approached the dragon, it paused, staring up into the eyes which cried crimson. The white motes of light shone impassively from their sockets. Did it say something? No, that was just the sound of blood splashing on the helmet's mouth.

As the head came down again, it reached up and smoothly extracted the cleaver - more a claymore than anything, a long, thin blade, dark as obsidian, cloth hastily wrapped over one end as a handguard. The dragoness mewled, a plaintive cry, akin to a child who suddenly is lost and utterly confused.

Chop. Mewling again, now punctuated with pitiful gurgles.

Another dull thud. Surely the cleaver was not very sharp; the impression given off was of one using a hammer and chisel to quarry a soft stone, like marble.

More gurgling.

It raised the cleaver again and again. When the right arm appeared to stop functioning, it switched to the right. The dragoness' neck was too thick to completely sever, so instead it methodically worked a deep trench down one side. Every now and then there was a harsh grinding sound as the blade rebounded off the neck bones.

The inside of the cut looked more like ground meat than anything. Flames reflected off the skull's visage, orange glow on bottomless black, as it stood there, right arm limp, left still clutching the cleaver, embedded in the neck of the dragon.
 

Delnoir

A Relic of a Bygone Era
LURKER MEMBER
FOLKLORE MEMBER
Derek heaved a sigh of relief as his allies arrived on screen and began attacking. The following flurry of attacks came so quickly that Derek barely had time to recover from the dragon's flame breath before Tahan had appeared and began hacking at the dragons neck, "How in blazes did the scales...? Not important." Derek walked over to Tahan who was, as usual, swinging his cleaver around. Even though they had been weakened somehow it seemed the scales were a bit hard to cut through. Derek put a hand on Tahan's shoulder, "We'll be here all night," he joked, "Let me."

Derek gripped Alondite, drew the blade around to the side, and swung. Light followed the arc of the sword as it severed what remained of the dragons neck like a knife through butter. While the body twitched slightly, there were no signs of reflexes suddenly clobbering them. Derek looked around at his allies and nodded. It never ceased to amaze him. Individually they were strong but together...Derek couldn't really think of the right word to describe them, "Let's go rendezvous with Corben and the others! They may still be fighting!"

The footsteps made by Derek's armor thundered as he ran off towards Fargel Street to meet with the others.
 

Asmodeus

Certified Subdomain
Original poster
MYTHICAL MEMBER
Posting Speed
  1. Speed of Light
Writing Levels
  1. Douche
Preferred Character Gender
  1. No Preferences
Looking to the end of Fargel Street, Aloysius, Erilyn and Leonardo had fled, as if their nerve had broken in the face of the charging dragon. Corben cursed, doubly as Ferrick was flung into the alley wall and left behind. A moment later, as the beast drew wide its jaws to snap at Arkavenn, a noise of glass and tearing flesh was herald to alchemical fire. The dragon's lower jaw and throat were ripped apart. But it kept on running, a death frenzy pursuit of the fleeing alchemist.

Its wings were flailing. If it got airborne before it lost consciousness, there was no telling where and who it would fall on.

"The wings!"

Almost on cue, Eric and Arkavenn were swept up in the stampede and thrown like ragdolls along the creature's length. They snagged upon its right wing, while the other wing, mangled by Ferrick's attack, tried to deploy.

"Alex, the wing!"

Corben leapt in time with the martyr, the two knights getting their arms around the left pinion. With Alexander's gauntlets they bested the membrane's uplift and held on for dear life. Four watchmen and a haemhorraging dragon thus ploughed as one through the alley.

Up ahead, Atlas cleared the end of Fargel Street, just as Derek came running from Bidamen Square.

"Look out!"

Derek and Atlas dived to opposite sides as the dragon tore between them, demolished a wall, and smashed through into Bidamen Square, where its mate had perished. The other watchmen scattered from the tide of blood, rubble, dust and catapulting warriors. The male dragon crumpled and slid to a halt against the body of its mate, falling silent as Corben, Alexander, Arkavenn and Eric dropped in a heap around it.

Then there was silence.
 

unanun

Child is born, with a heart of gold
FOLKLORE MEMBER
Writing Levels
  1. Adaptable
Genres
I'm wary of magic with lots of rules.
It paused, flexing and pulling the cleaver out of the dragon's neck. As the other knight cleaved through the neck with ease, it turned its neck and stared the knight in adamantinium. The glaring sockets and wide leer seemed to issue a challenge, but clearly the emotions inside the skull had nothing to do with what was projected on the face. Silently, it turned around and walked towards the shield it had pushed into the ground, using the left hand to support the limp right arm, which gripped and dragged the cleaver across the ground. Clack clack clack clack.

"Hey!"

"Heeeey!!!"

The suit of armor paused, and seeming to regain function of the right, picked the shield up with its left hand.

"Wonderful!" A lanky man, fussed over the armor, ignoring the rest of the calamity. He patted down the armor, and pressed pieces of paper to various joints in the suit, peeling them off to reveal that they had changed into different colours. Some made him smile, some caused him to frown. He sprinted over to examine the dragon's neck.

"As suspected .. sharpening a dragon's tooth is proving to be quite challenging. Perhaps we will have to consider alternate material." He turned to the armour. "Carry on!"

The dots of whites in the sockets seemed to blink, and it rolled its shoulders - the first organic-like action since it had entered the battlefield, and with what seemed like a heave, picked up the shield and sword and retreated into the darkness, leaving the officer to examine the severed dragon's head. He had already produced a pair of pliers and was attempting to wrench a scale off, with little success.
 

XC

Edgesquire
LURKER MEMBER
FOLKLORE MEMBER
Invitation Status
Posting Speed
  1. One post per day
  2. 1-3 posts per week
Writing Levels
  1. Adept
  2. Advanced
Genres
Urban fantasy, cyberpunk.
As the dragon charged down the street, Arkavenn had somehow managed to climb his way up to the dragon's neck and he had his giant arms and legs around it. The giant wrenched back with all his might, as if he was trying to wrestle the dragon to the ground. Only when the dragon reach the spot where his mate fell did it finally go down and all four of the FateGuard members fell into a heap around it. Dazed, Arkavenn pushed himself up into the ground after a while and then he raised both arms up into the air, letting out a loud, guttural roar of triumph that echoed throughout the ruins of the city area.

"I wrestled a blinking dragon to the ground, bitches!"
 

Asmodeus

Certified Subdomain
Original poster
MYTHICAL MEMBER
Posting Speed
  1. Speed of Light
Writing Levels
  1. Douche
Preferred Character Gender
  1. No Preferences
[dash=brown][bg="#330000"]Finn was giggling uncontrollably, his cheeks flushed red like the hearth fire. "That was great!"

"Arkavenn didn't wrestle the dragon," Helga scowled. "He made that up!"

The grandmother chuckled and in her old eyes was the glimmer of tears. "Well, those
FateGuard never lost their humour, all through our struggles."

"And...and...and...!" shouted Finn as he waved his half-chewed sleeve in the air. "Who
was the man talking to Tahan?"

"I'll explain that later, dear." She laid the book on her lap and pulled a blanket tight
around her shoulders. Then her wrinkled hands came together again to form shadows
on the far wall. "Now, I need to tell you about the rest of the FateGuard..." The
shadows took the shape of a woman, slender and upright, moving elegantly through
twisted streets. "...like Elayna the Austere. She worshipped a lost goddess and gave
great sums to the orphans of Gothenheim."

Finn and Helga looked at one another. "There's more?!"
[/bg][/dash]
 
Last edited:
A

Abracadabra

Guest
{ ELAYNA ADRIACA AURORA }

WITH SUMMARY

– the morning after –

E
LAYNA WOKE EARLY as she did every day, in the timeless span of frost when the moon had paled and vanished but the sun had yet to grace the cusp of the horizon with its hungry flames. Laya rose, washed herself, and loosened the braid she wore in sleep to keep her hair from tangling, combing the long cascade of auburn hair until it fell smoothly to her waist and shimmered bronze and copper red and black when it caught the hearthfire. She could afford lots of lumber, and in cold climes as these it was folly to bathe in freezing water. She would only catch a cold and she had been absent from duty long enough already.

Once she had cleansed herself, she was ready for prayer. The isolated, quiet corner in her room that was separated from the rest of her abode by an iridescent veil, which Payne himself had generously bought her for her sixteenth birthday, smelled as fragrant as a hot spring day. She bought the exotic wildlflowers in bulk in warmer seasons and extracted the perfume from their heady blossoms on long autumn nights. Come winter she would still have jars and jars of the scents stored away, ready to be opened and released every few days for the whole winter. She removed her belt and laid it carefully just outside the veil, in fair reach of her hand should she require the weapons within. But no weapons were called for in worship. And Elayna did not wear Aurora in her sleep. She preferred a more comfortable suicide.

The sounds of the world and the tumult of her thoughts poured into the deepest recesses of her mind like a purifying rain. They rippled off into the shadows, leaving her empty of worries. She knelt upon the pale blue circle of plush carpet for quite some time, deep in meditation. She closed her eyes, embracing darkness, knowing that one must pass through night if one hopes to see the dawn.

And then it came. Flashes of gold, bubbles of silver blue frost, rising and enveloping her in a warm glow. The goddess. The Paragon of Dawn herself, with long flowing curls of burnished ruby, shimmering orange and gold and blue and rosy pink and snow white as a fire opal, eyes wide and gold, dark brown skin shining with a healthy copper glow. And just like that, she had gone once more, leaving Elayna to the darkness of her shut lids once more. There was no magic any longer, no divine presence, no energy.

Laya opened her eyes a bit regretfully. She was always imbued with strength after meeting the goddess, but this contact had been so desperately brief. Laya wished strongly she could have fascinating conversations with the Paragon every day, but the goddess was a busy deity, and spoke only when it pleased her. Elayna rose, thanked the goddess for her time, and backed out of the corner with the veil slipping over her back and mussing her hair a bit, without turning her back to the sacred ground, until she stood outside the sheer veil once more. Her belt lay ready. She strapped it on and began to put on warmer clothing, in preparation for her duty. Her left quadriceps still ached – that had been a nasty sprain – but as long as she did not exert herself with too much running, Laya was finally ready to get back to work!

With Aurora at her back she left her home feeling full of a new day's potential. Quickly, though, she realized some complications. From the moment she passed across the front step she knew something was amiss. An attack had happened in the night, no doubt about it. People were whispering and crowding and Laya heard mention of dragons. She ground her teeth in silent frustration. Dragons! She had missed dragons!

That was when she reached Bidamen Square.

She pressed her lips together and tensed as she witnessed the incredible destruction that had taken place. The morning sun illuminated the twisted rubble. It was a mess. And it was most definitely screaming dragon's doing. By the looks of it, not just one. Molten glass and burned wood and shattered stone and even several unfortunately broken and deformed statues that had once graced the Square littered the cobblestones.
How could I have missed this? she thought to herself plaintively. Curse Fruda Claiy and her potent sleeping potions. Even so, Elayna had always known herself to be a tight sleeper.

A man tapped her shoulder, and she groaned inside when she saw Voker Dane. A hundred curses upon that walking pest. "Sweet Miss Aurora," he said, his gallant words ever a mockery, "the town has been so sadly affected by this tragedy." He eyed the rubble broodingly. Elayna sensed dark intent but was pleased to hear solemnity in at least the latter part of his greeting. "That damn dragon crashed right through my dear family's public house. What a pity. What a waste." He shook his head with exaggerated sorrow.

Concern grew icy and sharp in her chest. She hated never knowing what Dane was getting at, but she hoped this wasn't one of his shameful schemes – he was not unknown to kill a man and blame his death on the frantic events of the previous night. The corpse, of course, would never be found – he must have been burned to ashes or unfortunately digested.

"
Thank goodness my compatriots scoured the area before luring the monster near," she said, lying through her teeth. It wasn't the first time she had attempted in this way, with favorable results, to make some of the doleful losses he reported slightly more mysterious. She had no idea what had happened and no intent to share any of it with this vile man. He ran two brothels and three pubs. Or at least, had run three pubs. That "public house" of his bordering the Square had been one of them. And no one, least of all Elayna Aurora, had ever seen his family. "A mixed blessing, I see now, that I have recently invested so copiously in Eron Jaid's plans for the city orphanage," she added before he could open his mouth again. What a rude imbecile, to seek money from her for his immoral bars. The mere thought of it disgusted Laya. Voker mocked her.

She departed quickly, moving through darker alleys toward the Seat of Council, where she hoped to find some of her compatriots.




SUMMARY

Elayna has recovered from the quadriceps sprain in her left leg that had incapacitated her from duty till now. She prays to her goddess before entering town and realizing through the destruction she sees what has occurred last night. She is confronted by an enemy among the townsfolk whom she spurns, certain he is asking for money. After the encounter she heads to the training grounds, hoping to meet other FateGuards.
 

Asmodeus

Certified Subdomain
Original poster
MYTHICAL MEMBER
Posting Speed
  1. Speed of Light
Writing Levels
  1. Douche
Preferred Character Gender
  1. No Preferences
medieval_city_by_Geistig.jpg

At the centre of Gothenheim, three structures encirled the hill top. The castle of King Ganthor, the Church of the Pilgrim, and the Eldritch Tower.

The three pillars of power on which rested the sanity and survival of this stranded city.

In the centre of the triangle, the hill top itself was untouched. Here, between the standing stones of the Founding Fathers, a circle of grassland formed the Seat of Council. It not only symbolised a neutral ground between the three arms of government, but stood open to the elements that each man and woman of Gothenheim was fated to endure.

* * *


As the dawn sun rose above the Barren Sea, fires blazed between the standing stones, doing what they could to keep the speakers warm. Here the Fateguard had gathered, with the King and his courtiers, the high priests and the elder wizards. They stood or sat, draped in furs, exchanging mead and roasted meat.

"This is the fourth attack from Mount Darraskun this month!" The voice belonged to Bishop Wallstein, a tall albino with hair like sheep's wool. His robe was patterned with gold and purple, and he leant upon a sceptre which now and then would stoke the nearest fire. "They come for our horses - our livestock. I tell you, the dragons are starving. This winter grows colder each day."

"I know what you will ask for, Wallstein," came another voice. Beyond the stone on which the King sat, the Arch Wizard Endleweiz retorted. "The guild has offered the logging parties all the protection we can. If you send them futher beyond the wall for firewood, their blood will be on your hands."

The Bishop turned and motioned to the FateGuard with his spear. "The logging and hunting parties have plenty of protection. Without fuel and food the whole city will perish."

The Arch Wizard leant on his own staff, his hair and beard metal grey, his eyes small and dark with compounded energy. "Every week we expend our magic, just to keep those expeditions hidden from the Outside. My mages are exhausted."

"You must do you part, Endleweiz!"

The King's hand lifted, silencing the exchange of Cleric and Wizard. Though past a half-century in age, Ganthor retained a warrior's build, with fair hair cut short above a face lined with scars and creases. He was the picture of the land he ruled in - a picture of ice and stone and tangled roots.

"Let us ask the ones who guard the logging parties." His gaze ran over the FateGuard. "What say you, warriors?" boomed the King's voice. There was a kindred smirk on his face. He was a king of figthing-men, not of priests and magic-wielders. "Do your joints grow stiff?" There was a defiant shout from some of the warriors. "Do you fear the growing dark?" Another cheer and the slamming of swords on sheilds, gauntlets on breastplates. "The dragons took our animals and wrecked our homes? We'll catch larger animals and build stronger homes!"

The cheer built to a roar, and as it settled Corben sat across from the king, pulling meat from a roasted haunch. his arm was sore from gripping the dragon, his face grazed by the bricks it had dragged him through. Greased fingers still shook from the adrenaline of the night's ordeal. "They came at us from behind the mists, Sire. If I may speak, I would beseech the High Mage direct his magic to turning the weather in our favour. Whatever enchantments we lose for the expeditions as a result, my men and I will account for."

"You will perish out there without our wards!" The Arch Mage cried, his words punctuated by the nods of his fellow high mages.

"They are protected by God," retorted the Bishop. "We need timber! Kindling! Healing herbs!"

"QUIET!" the King roared. His hands rested atop the haft of his stone hammer - his symbol of kingship and a weapon as old as the city itself. "Let each man and woman of the FateGuard speak. Their oath is to me and my city; their deaths are their own. They have that freedom if nothing else."
 
Last edited:
K

Kitti

Guest

The exchange between the mage and the bishop had mildly amused Erilyn, though she hid her smirk with the back of her hand. Her eyes flicked from one to the other as they argued, fully aware that this was how the two often got along. The loggers, she thought, must be quite brave to volunteer to go to the Outside, especially since they did not have the magic or combat prowess that their guardians would have. They put their lives entirely in the hands of other people, so if they were not brave, they at least had a lot of trust.

An end to the exchange between the bishop and arch mage came when the king stood and addressed the Fateguard. The loyal host of warriors responded to his questions with cheers and shouts, confident in their abilities. Erilyn had just raised a mug of ale to her lips when Corben spoke. His words caused her to raise her eyes above the level of the vessel to watch his face. He was proposing that they travel without the mages' enchantments, instead relying on them to alter the weather. She could not have honestly said, in response, that she was not afraid of this. However, she was a member of the Fateguard, however unsteady her hands were as she lowered the mug.

"As for myself, I will do what needs done to ensure the prosperity of Gothenheim. If the town needs my protection to obtain resources, then I will provide it. I have confidence in my own strength and the strength of my peers; so I will venture without your wards that you may focus instead on the mist." Her chin was tilted up to gaze the king in the face when she spoke, her trembling hand still wrapped tightly around the handle of her drink. She did not know how many of the other members would agree to accompany them, but she hoped that there would at least be more than herself and Corben, assuming that Corben suggesting the idea was him agreeing to the task.

With her other hand, Erilyn picked at some of the roast meat in front of her, swallowing the food and trying to keep her thoughts clear. She knew already that her brother was probably worried about her, since she'd gone to combat dragons who had destroyed homes and killed citizens. She did not want to imagine how much worry she'd caused him already and how much more he would experience if he knew her next mission.
 

unanun

Child is born, with a heart of gold
FOLKLORE MEMBER
Writing Levels
  1. Adaptable
Genres
I'm wary of magic with lots of rules.
Near the bishop sat the same man from last night, eyes a little ragged and tired. He had to pull rank that none of the soldiers would acknowledge, flashing his necklace - the same skull head motif that the suit of armour had worn - into eyes that did not recognize and did not acknowledge his authority. He had almost been exhausted, his harangues falling on deaf ears as they hauled the source of his experiments away. Only after nearly having to call in backup, only after he flashed the pendant, the cross and skull, at the soldiers, did they begrudgingly give him fifteen minutes with the dragon corpse. The fruits of his efforts were a few teeth and a handful of dragon scales. This would not be enough for study, and replication was out of the question. In the end the only thing he could do was send them to be grafted onto the prototype.

He leaned forward and whispered into the Bishop's ear.

"Your holiness .. with all due respect, our units are not ready. You are not giving us enough time. The deadline's are too strict. The first unit did not meeting expectations; he (and this was the first time anyone referred to the suit with a term other than "it") was outperformed yesterday by a fate guard elite soldier! Automation of the remaining puppets is at this point impossible .. the master suit is not even close to recovering normal mobility. It would be unwise to tax the mages until we are read ---"

He cut himself off as a few eyes drifted in his direction, suspicious of his proximity to the bishop. Coughing, he straightened robes and stayed silent. The necklace was hidden from view, only the gleam of a smooth metal chain around his neck hinting at the jewelry. Contrary to his implied position, he took a gulp of alcoholic drink.

The armour was missing from the meeting.
 

Delnoir

A Relic of a Bygone Era
LURKER MEMBER
FOLKLORE MEMBER
Next to Corben stood Derek, still wearing the Regalia of Ancient Kings, the face of his helmet surveying the conversation. Politics were never Derek's strong suit. The talking and deliberation always seemed to drag on and thus, he typically avoided getting heavily involved in them. However this was a topic he could not avoid. Luckily, it was one he saw little issue in. Standing next to Corben, the gazes of everyone fell upon him next. Echoing inside his helmet his voice boomed with metallic tones, giving his voice a somewhat more commanding presence.

"I agree with Corben's assessment of the situation. The archmages should divert some of their abilities to improve the weather conditions and improve the hunting conditions for the beasts. Against something like dragons, no amount of wood could make a sturdy enough home to stop the flames and raw strength creatures of that caliber possess. The time spent making sturdier homes is more time the people made homeless spend out in the cold themselves. Improve the weather conditions and rebuild the homes. If I must I will personally lead a team to protect a loggers. Once everyone is in shelter again we can discuss ways we can go about making the homes stronger, but as I said more wood will not protect against something like dragons."

Derek's voice fell silent as he looked around at the faces of the Arch Mage, Bishop, the King, and his fellow members of the FateGuard. He had spoken more in that time than he had over the previous two meetings. He hoped that that fact would give his words more weight. When he looked to the Bishop he noticed the man that had his ear. He had been with that...thing earlier. Derek's eyes narrowed in the shadows of his helmet. He didn't trust the suit of armor at all. Its very presence made him uneasy. In his eyes it was a disaster waiting to happen...
 
C

Cosmic Orion

Guest
Leonardo's presence at the meeting came as no surprise to the rest of the FateGuard. Only when one of them was absent did any concern truly arise. While Erilyn had to hide her amusement at the bickering between the arch-mage and the bishop Leoardo needed to do no such thing. No one could truly read the expressions beneath his bandages. Only the round things in his eye sockets truly gave anyone a sense of what he felt beyond the tone in his voice. But he did go out of his way to give a silent nod of gratitude to Erilyn in return for her heroic efforts last night which had allowed him to survive. If given the chance he might even grab a gift for her later in the day.

Despite all the destruction of last night, he sat among the lot of them appearing as though the fight last night had not even occurred. Even now he appeared as an ever vigilant guardian with how he sat beside the bishop. Opposite to the side of the man who whispered about Every inch of his white robes were unscathed, his bandages looked fresh, and the Combat Crucifix even shone as though polished less than an hour ago.

Saint sometimes wondered if Bishop Wallstein ever took offense with his weapon of choice. The Combat Crucifix often found itself covered in the blood of the damned, which some might take as an affront to the Christian god. Yet others believed in a vengeful, wrathful God of Christianity who would have probably wanted nothing more than for the cross itself to find use as a weapon. It had never been brought to Leonardo's attention either way. Besides if the church had any problem with it, why would it have been commissioned to be forged by none other than the king himself? Just how oh-so-nice the weapon looked after having taken on a dragon the night before proved how much devotion went into maintaining his family heirloom.

For some time he did not speak, even after standing up.

Rarely did he ever speak at meetings, getting away with a nod or some other gesture when possible around others. Even last night he had only spoken so that others would follow him to fight the dragoness. To silence the dragoness herself as his weapon sent her into a daze. Or to read a frightened young boy some soothing words. Leonardo did not enjoy getting involved in the debates which often occurred at these meetings. Even if the King did have a knack for silencing those who grew too rowdy.

"Send the Fateguard beyond the wall if that is what you wish, O King. I only ask to remain here so that I may aid those wounded in the attack last night."

Describing the decision he had just made as difficult would have put it mildly. Turmoil churned within him at the thought of having to choose which of his comrades to follow. Corben was their leader and the man whose decisions Leonardo had the most faith in overall. If any of them perished while out on this expedition he would never forgive himself for not accompanying them. Saint always felt more confident in his compatriots when he could watch over them. Keeping away their foes with vigilant eyes and powerful blows. Yet in truth the thought of leaving other members of the FateGuard behind after what had happened last night left him uneasy. Not to mention all those poor souls left homeless from last night. After the battle he had been up almost all night helping people at the hospital before locking himself away in his private quarters to sleep. What good would it do to risk their lives beyond the wall if they returned to Gothenheim only to find it destroyed? Living with the knowledge he had left their beloved city with insufficient protection would haunt him for the rest of his days.