P
Psychedelic
Guest
Original poster
The world had changed alot in the last few years, but it seemed that the elves were slow on the uptake. They were a long lived species, and perhaps it was this that caused them to lazily sleep through much of the change that occurred, only deigning to consider taking up the new direction the world was taking when it happened to suit them. Of course, there were some that simply weren't involved in the wider arcs that history took, as many villages - of any race - were not even aware of the larger changes that did not touch them, for farmers rarely cared who sat on the throne or where far off wars were taking place.
One of these elves was a young wood elf known as Lyr. He had been born into the shifting world, and had been one of a few that actually cared about the word around him. His clan was a simple one, preferring to keep themselves to themselves as they lived off the land, ever grateful for the peace that pervaded their home, although there was always a sense of mourning in the village that lay at the base of a large mountain range.
It was by no means a usual habitat for a species of elf known for their love of woodland, but unfortunately the villagers had been forced to move from their forest home in a bid to escape the dragons that seemed to find great sport in lighting great fires in the forest, flushing out those that lived there and snapping them up as a wonderful snack. It was these attacks that had resulted in the elders choosing to move the entire village to a more protected area, where they would be able to shield themselves from further destruction.
Growing up in this close knit community, all the children had been under close scrutiny as they were trained from a young age to become the next generation of militia that would be tasked with keeping the settlement safe. Although none expected them all to be proficient with blade or spell or bow, Lyr had managed to be incredibly mediocre in all his endeavours, something that had certainly surprised his affluent father. It was only through sheer force of will that the dark haired elf had managed to complete even his basic training.
Years passed in this hazy dream of a town, the treaty with the dragons was signed, and a seed of curiosity was sown in the young lad that had always been a bit of a dreamer. He began to withdraw from the hateful stories that passed over the fires in the evening, preferring to work on his wood carvings and the vague news he often heard of the dragon riders and their academy that seemed almost too good to be true.
It took almost a decade for the barely adult elf to gather the courage to leave his home and venture to the fabled city where he would be able to train to become a rider...or so he hoped. He was by now at least reasonably proficient in wielding the natural healing magic of his people, along with fighting with two blades that had been passed to him by his father - albeit reluctantly.
Once at this strange and alien compound, Lyr had simply been awestruck by the number of people, not to mention the soaring beasts that roared overhead. He had fallen deeply in love with the alien lifestyle almost immediately, although it had taken alot of menial labour and general dedication for him to gain access to the training he had so desired.
But, he had succeeded in becoming a trainee, although he had yet to succeed in bonding with a dragon. From a tiny egg to a wizened ancient, he had never managed to gain the trust of a dragon. He had seen so many younger humans pass through the training as he floundered in place. It wasn't fair, and he was beginning to lose heart.
It was this dejection that had led to him taking a dangerous chance on a simple myth that had been doing the rounds seemingly since the beginning of this settlement. Apparently there was an immensely powerful, untameable dragon that had been sealed away many years ago. Lyr had come to the conclusion that it was do or die, and he would either find and tame this beast, or he would die during his search.
The trek had called upon every facet the elf possessed, and by the time he reached the cavern he was somewhat exhausted. The darkness was not easy to adjust to, but he had better eyesight than most humans, and so he did not take too long to begin moving cautiously along the stone walls. His green eyes focused on a chink of light a few feet ahead of him, which he hastened towards, only to find that it was a gold coin.
He picked this up, and as he did so, he noticed the vast pile of gold and jewels that was mountainous in proportion. Awed by it, he began climbing the hillock of gold, allowing the nuggets to pass through his fingers as he climbed on all fours, wanting to reach the top, just so he could see how far back this treasure trove went.
One of these elves was a young wood elf known as Lyr. He had been born into the shifting world, and had been one of a few that actually cared about the word around him. His clan was a simple one, preferring to keep themselves to themselves as they lived off the land, ever grateful for the peace that pervaded their home, although there was always a sense of mourning in the village that lay at the base of a large mountain range.
It was by no means a usual habitat for a species of elf known for their love of woodland, but unfortunately the villagers had been forced to move from their forest home in a bid to escape the dragons that seemed to find great sport in lighting great fires in the forest, flushing out those that lived there and snapping them up as a wonderful snack. It was these attacks that had resulted in the elders choosing to move the entire village to a more protected area, where they would be able to shield themselves from further destruction.
Growing up in this close knit community, all the children had been under close scrutiny as they were trained from a young age to become the next generation of militia that would be tasked with keeping the settlement safe. Although none expected them all to be proficient with blade or spell or bow, Lyr had managed to be incredibly mediocre in all his endeavours, something that had certainly surprised his affluent father. It was only through sheer force of will that the dark haired elf had managed to complete even his basic training.
Years passed in this hazy dream of a town, the treaty with the dragons was signed, and a seed of curiosity was sown in the young lad that had always been a bit of a dreamer. He began to withdraw from the hateful stories that passed over the fires in the evening, preferring to work on his wood carvings and the vague news he often heard of the dragon riders and their academy that seemed almost too good to be true.
It took almost a decade for the barely adult elf to gather the courage to leave his home and venture to the fabled city where he would be able to train to become a rider...or so he hoped. He was by now at least reasonably proficient in wielding the natural healing magic of his people, along with fighting with two blades that had been passed to him by his father - albeit reluctantly.
Once at this strange and alien compound, Lyr had simply been awestruck by the number of people, not to mention the soaring beasts that roared overhead. He had fallen deeply in love with the alien lifestyle almost immediately, although it had taken alot of menial labour and general dedication for him to gain access to the training he had so desired.
But, he had succeeded in becoming a trainee, although he had yet to succeed in bonding with a dragon. From a tiny egg to a wizened ancient, he had never managed to gain the trust of a dragon. He had seen so many younger humans pass through the training as he floundered in place. It wasn't fair, and he was beginning to lose heart.
It was this dejection that had led to him taking a dangerous chance on a simple myth that had been doing the rounds seemingly since the beginning of this settlement. Apparently there was an immensely powerful, untameable dragon that had been sealed away many years ago. Lyr had come to the conclusion that it was do or die, and he would either find and tame this beast, or he would die during his search.
The trek had called upon every facet the elf possessed, and by the time he reached the cavern he was somewhat exhausted. The darkness was not easy to adjust to, but he had better eyesight than most humans, and so he did not take too long to begin moving cautiously along the stone walls. His green eyes focused on a chink of light a few feet ahead of him, which he hastened towards, only to find that it was a gold coin.
He picked this up, and as he did so, he noticed the vast pile of gold and jewels that was mountainous in proportion. Awed by it, he began climbing the hillock of gold, allowing the nuggets to pass through his fingers as he climbed on all fours, wanting to reach the top, just so he could see how far back this treasure trove went.
