Fantasy CLOSED The Saga of the Ryujin

The Saga of the Ryujin

In the beginning there was nothing but the three.

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Tellus the Earth Dragon​

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Caelum the Sky Dragon​

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Pelagus the Sea Dragon​

From them came forth Regnum: A vast, fantastical plane of existence where elves, humans, goblins, orcs, halflings and a whole host of creatures were born.


Regnum

But perhaps their greatest creation was the Ryujin. Beings capable of transforming from their humanoid form into a dragon. Those blessed with this gift often rose to immense status and influence.

Indeed, one such being rose to unfathomable power. That to even rival the three. Their essence a duality; one forged in fire, the other carved from ice. His name: Sapientis. He led a group of Ryujin in rebellion against the three, an unholy civil war with cataclysmic effects. Only when united were Tellus, Caelum and Pelagus able to defeat Sapientis. His essence spilt in twine and sealed.

Eons have passed, the Dragon Gods no longer interact with the mortal realm. The ancient war faded to a distant memory. Regnum is filled with disparate kingdoms that fight for survival. Before the three deities departed, they spoke of the duality of Sapientis. Two halves that would arise to destroy the mortal plane, beings of Ice and Fire. That once joined would be unstoppable. Rumors of Sapientis’ halves having been reawakened are a buzz along the plane, but most ignore them. Most but not all.

You have received an invitation from a Ryujin named Zalzabar. He has formed a group to hunt down ancient relics of the Dragon Gods in order to defeat this supposed force. He gave little details but spoke of the possibility on great power, riches and knowledge.




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Zalzabar​

Who knows why you accepted?

Perhaps the glory, the fame?

Perhaps the riches?

Perhaps the power of these ancient Talismans?

Perhaps out of a sense of duty?

Let the adventure begin…

“It simply isn't an adventure worth telling if there aren't any dragons.” – J. R. R. Tolkein​

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Welcome to The Saga of the Ryujin! An epic of bravery, grand feats, and noble sacrifice! You play as an adventurer selected by the mighty Zalzabar to engage in a grand journey to defeat an ancient foe. While an original world, this is not a Sandbox style RPG. It has one story: a beginning, middle and end. Victory is not guaranteed, if our heroes were to make a foolish mistake, character death will occur. This is a world we will discover together, building it as the journey progresses.

A Note on Characters​

While there is plenty of room for powerful and versatile characters there are limits. Some should be obvious (You can’t be one of the three Dragon Gods, or equivalent in power for example). Keep in mind this is a medievalesque fantasy world, so create your characters accordingly. Your character does not need to be a Ryujin and any race can be one. There will be a maximum of eight characters.

A Note on Ryujin​

As mentioned above, any race can be a Ryujin. There are four loose classes of Ryujin which should give an idea of how powerful a particular Ryujin is. All Ryujin typically have a strong association with magic, (although not always), for those that do their magical abilities become much more powerful while in dragon form. Some are incapable of casting magic in their humanoid form and can only achieve once they are a dragon.

For a far more in depth look on Ryujin and the four classes go look at the OOC/Resource Thread. I strongly recommend you look at that if you wish to be a Ryujin.


Character Sheet

Name:
Age:
Race:
Appearance (if a Ryujin include dragon form as well):
Equipment:
Class: (Ignore if not a Ryujin)
Personality:
Bio:

Rules
1) Respect and Obey the TOS
2) The GM’s word is Law
3) No God modding
4) If you need to step away, please notify the GM
5) Have Fun!

 

@Shadowsun Approved

Name: Rebecca Dragon
Age: 27
Race: Human
Appearance (if a Ryujin include dragon form as well):

Equipment: Plate Armor (Called the Dragon's Scales) Bastard Sword (The Dragon's Talon) rope, torches, rations, waterskin, bedroll, flint and tinder

Personality: Quiet determined, brave, though with flashes of homicidal rage.

Bio: A mysterious warrior from South Osatia she is known by many names, The Laughing Butcher, the Crimson Blade, and the Bloodstained Killer. The red pigment across her face is said to be made from the blood of her enemies, and she is known to rub the still warm lifeforce of her foes across her face. A grim visage to face her many enemies. While her surname evokes the creators of this plane she is not of their kind, though she is not entirely normal. In battle, when cornered, or outnumbered she lashes out with unnatural ferocity, and displays incredible fortitude, though it seems to affect her mind, sending her into a blind rage and killing until those that oppose her lay beaten in pools of their own blood. As she stands over their bodies she smiles, tears of joy fall from her eyes, and a deep contented sigh leaves her chest, almost as if she enjoyed the pain and death she had caused.

These habits have made her a feared enemy on the battlefield, a madwoman that attacks with supreme strength and seems to love the sounds of combat. As a sell sword in the land she has many opportunities to sate her bloodlust in the constant wars of the nations.

Though there is a tale that she is not unique in her abilities, there was another Roger the Red, that stalked the fields covered in the blood of the freshly dead. They said his blood had been corrupted by dragons, that his bloodline was not meant for its power and it has driven him mad. Could she be the same? A madness in her blood that drives her to kill, to feel life die by her hands?

 

GM APPROVED!!!

Character Sheet

Name: Anaxagore

Age: Looks 20

Race: Ryujin ( appears as human male )

Appearance:







Equipment: *Dark Fire Fang : Great Sword, *Adamant Bulwark : Armor.

Adventurers clothing, lock picks, Dual Scimitars, Satchel, water skin, gold coins.

Class: Ryujin Adept

Spoiler: spell effects

Adamant Bulwark (Summon armor)

Dark Fire Fang (Summon great sword)

Dark Fire Blast ( Fire ball )

Dark Fire Claws ( Energy talons )

Dark Roar (Paralyzes enemies with fear)

Dark Fire Imbue ( Covers any weapon in Dark Fire )

Dark Triage (Heals another with an erg of his own energy )

Somatikos ( Temporarily Summon True Form Strength, Agility and Stamina )

Purple Heart ( Revives a fallen comrade with a significant portion of his energy)

Dragon Form ( Transform into Full Dragon )

Personality: Anaxagore is a Grey Paladin. He is brave and daring, one who often speaks his mind, yet listens to reason. He can be a bit reckless at times. Though generally a loner, he understands the importance of teamwork.

Bio: Anaxagore is a proud Ryujin. He sees himself as a protector of Regnum, a charge left to his kind by ‘The Three’. He is an adventurer who has traveled the Lands in his need to learn of the people, their culture and of course, excitement. He’s taken the rumors of Sapientis seriously and has answered Zalzabar’s call to avert the impending Cataclysm.

 

GM Approved!!!

Name: Ne’tar
Age: 22
Race: Half-orc / Ryujin
Appearance:http://paizo.com/image/content/PathfinderChronicles/PZO9208-HalfOrc.jpg
https://i.pinimg.com/originals/ee/f5/7f/eef57fb488f43d54c4f64806bc6cdbcc.jpg



Equipment:

Large collection of gold, Valorous Falchion - Sword, chain mail shirt, Healing Belt, Armor Crystal (Least Crystal of Adaptation) -- Endure Elements always on, grapple hook, 100ft silk rope, crowbar, 2 waterskins, whet stone, magnifying glass, flint, bedroll, backpack, scented oil, belt pouch, couple antitoxin, signal whistle,
Liquid Sunlight - bottle of sea water that glows when shaken,Tanglefoot Bags (2)

Class: Ryujin Newborn

Personality: He lives loosely by the rules of his parent, priest, and tribe, following this basic tenet above all others: You will do what you have to to survive, and so shall I. Thus is his actions begotten largely, although he does have a softer side that he keeps under wraps trying to not openly let it show. What largely shows though, serving as the wrapper of his softer core, is the fact that he has had a rough life. Being a child of the desert, a half breed, and growing up with all the disadvantages possible to a young warrior he has had to rely on himself and his own strength too often to let his guard down against even those that present as friends. The few magic imbued items he has he keeps concealed, a source of shame despite their need to survive in these strange lands.
Biography: In the middle desert of Xan were a parched and trying existence for Ne’tar. Although his mother did not want him to know, it was quickly made clear in his earliest memories that he was not like the rest of the tribe. He was different in almost every way, and his treatment by them he felt reflected it. Unlike some half-orcs that he later learned of, he was a Mother’s child as he stayed largely near her unless ordered by elder males or the sheik to other duties.

His mother died taken by At’ar, when he was just becoming a man, she died from a raiding party the tribe fought off. For several years he stayed with them despite his feelings of inadequacy and separation as he was not like them. Until one day, selling his mother’s camels, and taking a heavy load he left with the merchants, leaving Xan behind to see the world. It was by surprise and gleanings of their written words they left unthinking of his intelligence that he inferred they had not good intent, which lead him to slay them once the green lands were in sight during the night. He took what valuables he found useful and embarked on a new life in the Lands of Many, Many Men and Savage Beasts where he payed passage across the sea. Here he could find honor, wealth, and perhaps someday, answers to his own existence that his mother would not, or could not share in the quiet removed tent of his home before she was taken.

 

Character Sheet

Name: Delsanra Taenya Helestina
Age:250 (est)Looks early 20 in human years
Race: Elf/Ryujin
Appearance: 5'6" tall, slender with delicate elvish features. Pale skin, and the deepest dark of black hair, setting off her green eyes with purple flakes. Favors primal colors, and a black cloak whenever she leaves her land. She always wears a delicate silver chain bracelet on her left hand, that moves down to her fingers. And her lips are always of the deepest shade of red.

(Ryujin include dragon form as well): Large, white dragon, with purple eyes


Equipment:3 books, vials, mirror, candles, staff, 4 daggers, a vial of tar, a small box(magical), a slate with a writing tool, a piece of velvet, rope, silver, chalk, salt, extra food and clothing and a few other items associated with other mages.
Class: Mage - Adept
Personality: Delsanra has lived most of her life alone, but not lonely, for she always had her animals or books to keep her company. Magic was her companion, and when she used to have teachers, she always felt under their scrutiny. She preferred the times when she was with her books and magic.
Bio: Delsanra has lived most of her life alone, not in the pursuit of power to bend things to her will, but for knowledge. She hopes to find the lost past of Regumn. Of their lost heritage. It has all but forgotten, but Desanra has scoured the realm, looking for items, and piecing them together to gain knowledge. Magic has always come easy to her, but she uses it sparingly, for she knows the power within those words. It was the word from the Ryujin named Zalzabar that caught her attention. Great Knowledge. Let the others have the power and riches. With knowledge, much more was possible. When she travels, she usually calls herself a sage.
While she seems to be aloof and standoff-ish, she cares for the people around her, and is willing to protect them, should they prove their worth.

 

GM APPROVED!

Name: Esenma Ralinommu
Age: 553
Race: Ryujin
Appearance:

Wind Mage Attire, Elf Form


Equipment: A bag of old scrolls, food, and medicine. A dagger.
Class: Elder - Wind Dragon
Personality: Despite her youthful appearance, Esenma is an experienced woman. In her youth, she was wild and vicious. Now, she plays the role of adviser and teacher. Known to make and enjoy inappropriate jokes, she is an optimistic, caring woman. Wise beyond even her elder years, Esenma only wants to leave the world now a better place than it was when she arrived, so she spreads positivity, encouragement, and her knowledge because she knows her time has come and gone and it is time for the children to shape their own world.
Bio: Born to a half elf mother and human father on the small island of Frusland, the easternmost of the Taetus Islands, Esenma's origins were humble. Her mother was a mage and her father a great warrior who had retired from the battlefield. They were caring and understanding when her mother realized that Esenma was a ryujin. This was long before the current age. Back then, ryujins that were warriors were less common and were cherished more as advisors and protectors to kings of the Regnum. On her 15th birthday, she was selected to serve the young King of Taetus as his personal ryujin and protector. She accompanied him on decades of expeditions and battles and bore two of his children. They were a devastating northern power. Her ryujin powers grew exponentially and she began to notice that even among power ryujins, she was a rarity. After her boys matured and their father died, she left Taetus to further explore and increase her power.

She traveled the world to fight and study under noteworthy ryujins. Her master level wind magic combined and amplified by her dragon form to make her, at one time, the most powerful sky dragon of the realm for a short time. She was even called, and self anointed herself the Daughter of Caelum due to her dominance of the sky. At this peak, she ceased traveling and opened a school for ryujins across the realm, no matter their allegiance or who they called king or queen. Many of the powerful ryujin that walk the realm now studied under her at some point. She ran her school for more than a century before withdrawing from the public eye. Some believed that she was retiring to go back to Taetus or the Taetus Islands. Possibly she was returning to the battlefield and merely needed a break from teaching. The truth was much sadder. Esenma's power, as with most elder dragons, was waning. While this can occur in many ways with elder dragons, for Esenma it was due to an incurable illness. For years, she tried to discover a cure, employing her massive network of mages and healers, to no avail.

While her magic powers are still high level, the time has arrived that Esenma's illness keeps her from activating her dragon form in all but the most dire situations; fortunately, her mage ability and intimate knowledge of ryujins makes her more than a match for most newborns and adepts. The Wind Dragon of the North has not flown for many years now, but she has had an ear to the winds of chaos that seem to be brewing. She feels the shift of the plane and, even though she is no longer what she was, Zalzabar approached her personally to request her help. He told her that the realm needs to prepare to confront Sapientis and protect everyone, even the non believers before it is too late. If Zalzabar, one of the few Elders she respected in the world, was convinced, that was all the confirmation she needed to spring back into the action. Since this world is for the younger generation, as part of the disappearing old guard, she has a duty to make sure it still exists for the young that have come after her.

 

Approved by @Shadowsun

Name: Taella Sparrowswift
Age: Taella has seen the passing of sixty seasons in human terms. Time passes differently in the magical forests and she is but a juvenile in terms of Elven age.
Race: Wood Elf
Appearance:



Equipment: Longbow, Wychwythel arrows, Elven longdagger, pouch with some amulets, coins, a little food and herbs.
Personality: Taella is typically scornful of the dwarfish and orcish races. However, unlike the usual tranquil and serene nature of Elves, she can be fickle and fierce and hot-tempered.
Bio: Taella is a talented scout and pathfinder of the Wood Elf kindreds of the magical deepwood, Loreth. Her kindred keeps watch on the bordering lands, and her task is to run swiftly with warning of any attack – and to confound or repel enemies that dare enter the Elven forest kingdom, whether intentionally or not. It was Taella's actions that foiled the plot of The Lichemaster to enslave all the Elves with his undead hordes.

However, she became bored with life in the eternal autumn of the deepwood and was curious about the outside world. She eventually left the kindred to explore and find adventure, and with a reputation for trouble-making and mischief in her kindred, there was some relief at this choice.

When she discovered a threat that affected the entire world – not just the Elves – she offered her services to the only ones she felt could defeat it; the Ryujin.

Abilities; Taella is a skilled archer and swift and agile warrior – she wields her longdagger with surprising deftness. She is also an adept scout and pathfinder, most useful and attuned to forested terrain. She can even feel the ripples of magic beneath her feet that herald a change in the winds of magic, or the approach of evil.

The Elves are an intrinsically magical race, and Taella’s particular skills come in the ability to craft arrows. She has prepared a quiver of arrows from the enchanted Wychwythel tree. These include the Hail of Doom – arrows that can split into swarms of missiles to strike down multiple opponents, for when she is chased by entire regiments of soldiers. She also has crafted several Arcane Bodkins, which can pierce any non-magical armour (or thick troll skin).

 

Chapter I
The Trials of Zalzabar


Zalzabar's Castle​

The directions to Zalzabar’s castle had been vague to put it mildly - his fortress well hidden from prying eyes. It was tucked away along a lonely mountain path, seemingly chiseled out of the mountain it was standing next to. Two large watch towers oversaw the long rocky bridge that connected the two mountain sides together. The air was bitter, the wind cold and harsh. It was a wonder that anyone lived here.

On the front side, standing at the entrance of bridge, a long figure could be seen in yellow. A knight, wearing a large yellow coat. A broadsword in front of him pointed downward, snuzzled slightly into the snow. In his left hand dangled a sphere, glowing lightly against the wind, its purpose unknown but those attuned to magic would certainly sense its strange magical properties. His face was covered with a skull mask, hiding any facial features that he may have shown. He waited patiently seeing who would arrive first.

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On the castle side of the bridge two more yellow knights stood, one on either side of the entrance gate. Although perhaps they were statues.They were so still it was impossible to tell.

Zalzabar’s invitation had spoken of this first knight, one who would greet the travelers and answer any questions they may have. Although it also stated he would not let anyone pass unless they 'proved themselves worthy'. These invitations had been littered throughout Regnum, it only made sense that the great lightning ryujin would not let anyone just waltz in. Slowly one by one they would arrive, gathering in front of the yellow knight. As each one arrived he would simply utter one pharse:

"Wait"

His tone cold and icy, almost as if he was dead.

The ryujin who arrived would feel themselves get weaker as they approached, although why was not clear. The others would feel themselves unaffected. The adventurers would expect some kind of test in order to gain access to Zalzabar's castle, but what exactly? Perhaps this yellow knight would have the answer.

TAG: @galactic-vagabond422 @greyjedi125 @Mitth_Fisto @Ktala @The Jedi in the Pumas @Kurisan

 

Rebecca Dragon
Zalzabar's Castle

It was cold, bittingly so. Frost and ice had formed on the armor of the sell sword called Rebecca. Despite these frigid conditions the Crimson Blade marched on undaunted. There was a fire in her chest, a burning desire, though it was not for some noble goal, some glorious ideal, it was for blood. Her heart yearned to spill the blood of others, to stain the ground around her feet with the lifeforce of her enemies. Though her veins burned with this desire, she was far from a madwoman. As she marched with the group she seemed almost friendly, if a little quiet. She carried herself as a stoic warrior, a knight of any land though her armor lacked any markings that would tell of her liege lord.

Across her face was red pigment, of unknown origin, her red hair put up into a bun to keep it out of her eyes. A distinctive look, one that would be known, at least in rumor, by those who come from the east, as she does. The stories of a woman that painted her face red in the blood of those that opposed her. What was a monster, a mercenary like her doing on this mission to save the world?

The promise of riches, though that was only secondary, surely if there was so much power and money at stake, there would be conflict, and combat. Gold paid for her armor, hired the blacksmith to repair her sword, but it also funded her travel to the battlefields. The places where she sated her need, where she wasn't a murderer, but merely an eccentric mercenary.

Money, the exchange of little pieces of shiny metal, turned her from a homicidal maniac into a feared mercenary. Contracts, pieces of paper, gave her the right to take the lives of others, and them the right to try and take hers. Metal and paper were strong enough to make civilized beings forget their learned natures and fight with everything they had.

It wasn't just the death she caused, it was the fight, the dance on the sword's edge that made her feel alive. The struggle that finally brought some ease to the burning rage that flowed through her. Hunting animals and slaughtering them kept it at bay, but it did not soothe like victory over another warrior.

She had forgotten what it was like to not have this fiery need, this constant desire for battle. She cannot remember a time before her curse took hold.

Approaching the yellow knight she was made to wait, and she did. She was not some mindless killer. She had learned quickly that killing indiscriminately was a good way to die yourself, and to not receive contracts.

The warrior stood there looking to the castle, waiting for the guard in yellow to let her pass or give more instructions.

TAG: @Shadowsun @greyjedi125 @Mitth_Fisto @Ktala @The Jedi in the Pumas @Kurisan

 

IC: Anaxagore
Zalzabar’s Castle

He had travelled from Mezar, to West Mezar, then on to Zafir, and then to another place he couldn’t quite think of at the moment because of the biting cold. Anaxagore drew the bear pelt around him more tightly due to the cold gusts of wind and the ever present snow. He could not quite remember the name of the mountains he now traversed as he followed the lead of Zalzabar’s invitation.

The adventurer’s grey eyes narrowed as he finally spied the elusive castle in the distance, frozen stoically across a bridge, carved on the side of another mountain.
Anaxagore shook his head from the weariness he felt after traveling such a long distance in the cold, but he also felt a tinge of excitement as a new adventure was poised to begin. After all, he had never met the Great Zalzabar in person, but was familiar with the Elder Ryujin’s exploits.

After crossing the stone bridge, he felt a strange sensation slowly overtake him as he neared Zalzabar’s castle.

“What’s this?” He wondered aloud.

Was he really feeling weaker? How was that even possible?

For a moment Anaxagore slowed his pace, trying to gauge what he felt. He was not able to confirm if it was some kind of magical effect he was coming under or if something was wrong with him. Was this a trap then? One half of Sapientis did control the Elemental Sphere of Ice, yet he did not sense any evil intent.

Not even from the large and eery Knight in yellow.

Or the woman standing nearby, waiting. In the cold.

Interesting, did she get an invitation as well? A general glance informed him that she was likely quite capable of holding her own in a confrontation. A sell sword she was, he would reason from his initial appraisal.

As he moved, Anaxagore would offer a curt nod should she glance his way.

Well, he certainly could not turn back now, not after having travelled for so long, besides, it was really, really cold outside.

“I’m here by invitation of the Great Zalzabar!” Anaxagore would announce, only to hear a single word uttered in response by the Yellow Knight.

“Wait.”

“Wait?” He echoed incredulously, then shivered from another cold gust of wind.

“For how long?” came his delayed retort. This was a most unusual reception, but then again, Ryujin were peculiar in their ways. Anaxagore certainly hoped he didn't have to wait long, or…that this indeed was not a Sapientis trap. That would not be a good start to his new adventure.



Tag: @Shadowsun, @galactic-vagabond422

 

Delsanra Taenya Helestina
The Journey - Zalzabar's Castle

Delsanra made her way to the castle of Zalzabar. The curious note had been quite cryptic, giving clues to those who would follow them. They eventually led to a lonely mountain path, high in the mountains. Delsanra pulled her cloak tightly around her, it's hood up to keep the wind from blowing her hair around. But it felt glorious to her. The air's crisp bite and the frost of her breath made her smile. She enjoyed the travel.

As she grew closer to her goal, she remembered the words of the note. Zalzabar was a great ryujin, and well known, if only by few. To receive such a note was one thing. To respond to it, was something altogether different. She was sure that whoever else responded, would be of interest and talents. That was enough to stroke her interests in wanting to learn more of this endeavor. She also remembered that Zalzabar’s invitation had spoken of some first knight, one who would greet the travelers and answer any questions they may have. Although it also stated he would not let anyone pass unless they 'proved themselves worthy'. It would be curious to see what Zalzabar considered 'worthy'.

Soon, Delsanra would indeed spy the tall towers and castle mentioned in the notice. She also noted that there indeed was a figure standing still within the strong winds. She did not need to check to see that there was magic at work. But what did surprise her, was the sensation she felt when she grew closer. As she noticed now, that she was not alone, but others whom most likely also responded to Zalzabar's note, stood outside as well. But what was most curious was the fact that she felt different. Weaker perhaps. Perhaps this was a way that Zalzabar wanted to keep any other ryujin in order? Perhaps that was the first test. Delsanra leaned against her staff. Others, who did not feel comfortable enough, it would most definitely weed out those. Again, the word worthy echoed once more into her mind.

As she pressed forward, moving to join the others standing in front of the yellow knight, she heard a word.

"Wait."

Delsanra stopped and looked up curious. She then looked at the two that stood there. A warrior female, most definitely. Her armor was quite evident. The man, another warrior as well. Well, it seemed as if Zalzabar planned to test their mettle from the very beginning. So be it.

"If it tells us to wait, then I would assume others come," she stated to no one in particular, as she leaned against her staff. She smiled. Let the games begin.



TAG: @Shadowsun, @galactic-vagabond422, @greyjedi125

 

Esenma Ralinommu
-The Journey, Zalzabar's Castle

It's amazing to see the youth responding to Zalzabar's call.

The Daughter of Caelum...well not so much anymore...She raised a hand to the ice cold wind. She needed no heavy coat or armor or the skin of an animal to keep her warm. She had the wind itself. It wrapped around her and did not bring the cold. It only protected her natural warmth. Zalzabar's castle across the bridge seemed so far away. The old mad lightning king, perched above the drama and misfortune in the world. Esenma chuckled, which would make the others aware of her presence as she quietly stopped behind them.

"I agree, madam!" Esenma yelled louder than she meant. She nodded vigorously with a smirk on her face. "Or...we could ask the knight some questions? Maybe our questions will show Ole Zalzabar whether we're worthy or not."

Esenma made her way to the knight. The orb the knight was holding pulled her gaze and her face shifted to a surprised and amused look. "Oh!" She mused aloud and reached a hand out, patting the knight on his chestplate. "How are you doing, dear? Are you warm in there?"

Tag: @Shadowsun @galactic-vagabond422 @Ktala @greyjedi125

 

Taella
Zalzabar’s Castle




Taella Sparrowswift perched high on the shoulder of the mountain, watching the steep valley below, and studying the fortress that had been carved from the stone itself. Wintry winds curled around her bare legs and whipped her raven dark hair about her delicate features, but Taella was Elvenkind and not troubled by the cold.

Instead, anticipation warmed her heart. The directions in the scroll had been vague, but to a pathfinder such as her, it had been a pleasant test to find the castle in such unfamiliar terrain. Here among the bones of the world was the lair of Zalzabar – The Great Lightning Dragon. She waited impatiently.

The wind brought a hint of a scent of alpine, and her nostrils quivered. She felt keenly the distance from her native forests.

The great knight in yellow maintained a vigil, statuesque and indomitable. There would be a challenge, so the scroll said. Taella pondered on its nature. Her purpose here was to serve the Dragonkin, thence to save the entire world. It was a duty, and she must prove her worth.

But she was here for the thrill, too. Her kindred preached suppression of emotions, for the Elves keenly felt love, joy, despair all in extremes compared to other races. Taella had thrown off that restrictive lifestyle, eager to taste the nectar of myriad sensations. She cared not for the warnings of her elders, that she might become addicted to such thrills, or become so entranced by one deep emotion that she might spend entire seasons lost in contemplation within her own mind.

A flurry of snowflakes brushed her cheek. She licked her lips in anticipation.

Others assembled. A knightess with painted face; a barbarian human.

Then, were they…? Yes, Dragonkin! Two of them. The invisible ripples of potent magic as well as their auras of ancient might gave away their nature. Taella felt something stir deep within her as she viewed the handsome male. His arcane power was alluring – almost sexually stimulating. She watched his anger rise, directed at the sentinel at the bridge, and her heartbeat raced a little.

The other Dragonkin was a female. A beautiful half-elf in black cloak. Taella’s breast rose and fell as the next feeling washed over her and pulsed through her veins. Jealousy.

She closed her eyes and let the rush fade away. There was a sound beside her and she turned and looked. A hawk had alighted on a nearby crag. She nodded with respect to the magnificent bird of prey. In turn, the avian recognised a being of nature in the Wood Elf. He squawked.

“Yes, this is a rare gathering. I am sorry for the disturbance,” she replied.

The hawk clicked his beak.

“Oh?” said Taella. She pursed her lips. “Well maybe I am just a little sparrow to them. You are not so old and wise yourself. Have you attracted a mate yet?”

The hawk turned away indignantly. Taella giggled. She returned her attention to the bridge and quieted. Another approached. Taella exhaled.

It was a third Dragonkin, and this one had Elven heritage, too. She was an elder, that was for sure. She carried the bearing of a master, a teacher. Taella marvelled at the honour in witnessing three of the mighty beings at once.

“Now it is my time,” Taella said to the hawk. She bowed again. “It was pleasant to meet you. You may have your mountain back, if you are truly ready for nest-building,”

She gathered her bow and stood, looking down the steep mountainside to the assembly below. She saluted the hawk then jumped into a swift descent. She leapt and hopped from crag to jutting lip, occasionally using her free hand to catch a spur and swing deftly downwards.

The last part of the descent was sheer, where the pathway had been carved into the precipice. Without a pause, Taella leapt and twirled like a sycamore seed. She landed light as a cat on the snow-covered mountain path.

Then she skipped along, so light-footed that her passing left no tracks in the snow.

She approached the others at the mouth of the bridge, then paused. Though Taella was no mage, she felt a ripple under feet, beneath the snow. The magic currents were dimmed here, befuddled, like a beaver’s dam slowing a river. She peered at the yellow knight and wondered at the sphere dangling from his left hand.

Her silent passage had hidden her approach to the others. She did not want to cause them alarm – the red-haired warrioress looked like she might kill anything that tried to sneak up on her – so Taella cleared her throat. Her heart skipped a beat as the Dragonkin turned their attention upon her.

She bowed to the yellow-clad sentinel, and to the others gathered in the group, even the human with the red face.

“I am Taella Sparrowswift, of the Realm of Loreth. I come to serve you, and Zalzabar...”

TAG: @Shadowsun

 

IC: Ne’tar
Zalzabar's Castle - Bridge Crossing

He was lost. Ne'tar was not too proud to admit that to himself as he adjust his 'clothing', he presently was wearing everything he owned and had brought with him as well as satchel hugged to his chest. True Ne'tar did have special gem, it kept the too hot and too cold at bay, still his desert skin was uncomfortable and pained as though besieged by needles and rough brushes. They would not deter him, his heart was warm and he had feeling all over. . .something which made him keenly wish he stopped at an inn and bought some winter gear, only the way was empty and desolate, much like Ne'tar's cold breath on the wind.

Eventually he found tracks, two joined one. They were fading but the snow was like the sand. Ne'tar could read the sand, and so had found he could read the snow. Between the two he would choose sand, sand was nice and cool if you dug. Ne'tar did not mind sand under his nails for that treat! Only here, did under snow and it was colder, not warmer. Snow was not nice! Not nice as sand. Not one grain!

More tracks he could see! This was a good way. He knew following the signs would work! Ne'tar grinned as he hurried trudging around corner and toward gathering! "Ne'tar made it!" he yelled as he came up to them all. He was wondering what everyone was smoking, was Zalzabar giving out good smoke-smokes? "Save some for Ne'tar!" he bellowed despite being nearer them, but then he saw there was nothing to save. They were just breathing and Yellow armor drape only said -

"Wait."

"Ne'tar cold. Ne'tar tired." he simply stated as he felt a yawn coming on as he walked up to the guard of the path. "Ne'tar wait inside. Yes?" he said as he began slowly going around the Yellow Knight who had silly elf woman draped over him. Some really went for uniform. Perhaps once he was more powerful he would get shiny uniform, but better. Skull and bulk seemed silly in the cold.

TAG: @Shadowsun , @Kurisan , @Ktala , @greyjedi125 , @The Jedi in the Pumas, @galactic-vagabond422

 

GM Approved!! ...What? You really thought I'd sit this one out? SHAME ON ALL OF YOU!

Character Sheet

Name: Cretaus
Age: 14
Race: Human
Appearance:
Equipment: The clothes on his back and Zalzabar’s letter
Class: N/A
Personality: Hopeful, yet cynical; Opportunistic, yet kind; Stubborn, yet downcast
Bio: There was once a boy of little note, who had not much of a life to be noted upon. Fourteen years old and an orphan and cast out street urchin for nine of them. He has done his best to remain hopeful for the future and world in general…

But that’s understandably difficult in general.

His position has made Cretaus well versed in the arts of empathy and sympathy for those in similar plights, or even differing ones. Yet if an opportunity comes, he will take it regardless of what needs to be done to achieve it. For they come so rarely. If he can make it up to any he hurts along the way after the fact, he’ll attempt to do so.

His past was nothing, his present less than nothing, his future bleaker than the rumors of Sapientis. Why worry about such things if he was never going to live long enough to see them resolved, one way or the other, anyway?

Fate told him why.

Another unmarked alley he was resting in within the city he had always known in Essatia. Another drunken fight between some unknown knight and a blood mage nearby. He watched silently from his secluded spot. The mage was scarred forever, but the victor all the same. The knight’s body unmoving, lifeless, and his blood flowing along the flagstones. This did not matter to Cretaus. The magic was amazing, of course, but in the end...just another fight. However, one thing did catch his eye.

A letter that had fallen from the knight’s satchel when he had collapsed to the ground dead. It was a letter from some Zalzabar guy. Spoke of the fabled ryujin and those Sapientis rumors and a lot of other bad omens. Still…it also mentioned riches, glory…

It mentioned a life worth living in his mind. Taking the knight’s satchel swiftly before other pickpockets or guards showed up, he went through it later and found a map so he could learn where he needed to go. He was astounded by how far away this castle was, but if he was to change his life…drastic measures were needed.

If he died on the way? So be it, he was dying every day in the city already.

And so he made his way south to South Osatia, east to the shore and managed to pay for passage across the Great Endrina Ocean with what money the Knight had possessed. He lost the rest gambling with the sailors along the way. Such was life.

Coming into harbor on Vastun, he waited for the right chance to steal aboard a ship headed to Haugun, then again to Athas. Problem was…He stole aboard the wrong ship and ended up in Ziapaoh. To make things worse, he was chased out of the port town not long after. He also lost the satchel. Thank the Dragon Gods he kept the map tucked in his shoe and the letter in his handmade breast pocket.

But a future still awaited him! It really didn’t matter what kind at this point, any future would do.

So he began his lonely trek on foot to Athas. Into the frozen mountains, forging (badly) for food, and naturally losing the map. The snow as well as the general wear and tear of the whole journey had destroyed his shoes. The map, being stored there, followed suit.

It is at this point that he finally arrives at Zalzabar’s Castle, shivering and hungry, not even sure if he has the right place. He’s starting not to care if it is. Didn’t the letter also speak of trials?

Oh well. It was all for his future. If he was ever meant to have one.

 

Character Sheet- GM Approved and ready to rumble

Name: Kaynus Allbright - The Dragon of Blinding Light
Age: 26
Race: Human
Appearance (if a Ryujin include dragon form as well):



Equipment: Seal of the Allbright Star, A fragment of the Burning Star, Blade of the Heavens, Several contraptions from home
Class: Noble - Uncontrolled Adept Ryujin of Light
Personality: Deceitful and cold, Kaynus has had the lifelong struggle of making friends. Anything close he considers a tool or pet. Many consider him delusional.
Bio:

I am Kaynus Allbright. I was chosen.

I am the son of Kybus Allbright. My father, an Elder Ryujin, gave me the strength I have now. My mother, an Adept Ryujin, gave me my divinity. With the Star from the Heavens I was gifted my enlightenment.

With the blood of these two combined, I was destined for greatness. I was chosen by the gods.

I now travel, with my goal in sight. I will unlock all my power. I will remove the weak. The unworthy Ryujin. They do not deserve their gift.

I will be the Judgement from the heavens!

---

Kybus Allbright, the son of two Ryujin's, was born in the most northern point of Haugun, in an isolated fortress which had been invaded by his parents many years before.



In this icy tomb, Kaynus was brought up with the firm belief that he was chosen by the creators of Regnum. The three.

While this is up for debate, there is no denying the power that Kaynus holds. In his form that he can transform to at will, he is the Dragon of Blinding Light.

Though, in the most dire of times and at his breaking point, he once turned into something greater. A three headed beast that was dubbed the Son of the Fallen Star. His first witnessing of this was when his draconic form was thrown to the ground by a falling meteor. He changed form and reduced the meteor to dust in his new powerful form.

His parents, of the firm belief that his power was a gift from the heavens, gave him his title of Blinding Light. However, annoyed that he could no longer transform into this powerful state, his father banished him and swore an oath never to let him return until he honoured them by being able to unlock his 'true' form.

Now he has traveled to meet Zalzabar, hoping to gain access to his new powers, and hopefully remove a few of the unworthy on his way.

 

IC: Anaxagore
Zalzabar’s Castle

The strong and stoic woman did not speak, but Anaxagore flashed her a momentary grin, as he briefly basked in her stoically silent intensity and unstated strength.
He knew that specific shade of red she had on her face, he’d caught the scent of it and it excited him.

Before he could utter a word to the stoic sword-woman or the yellow guard, a fragrant female voice reached his ears, he turned surprised, as he did not sense her arrival. This place did dampen his abilities to a far greater extent than he’d anticipated, but those concerns were quickly forgotten as he beheld the elven beauty that was now before him. Pale skin as white as a pearlescent moon and long raven hair, like an onyx river, verdant jewels for eyes and ruby red lips.

Anaxagore could only stare, captivated by her elven beauty as he vainly tried to remember the words she had spoken.

That enchanted moment was broken by the arrival of a second elven female. Her skin was like polished copper, dark hair framing a transcendental countenance, her form wrapped in flowing swaths of turquoise blue and emerald, her voice was like music.

Whatever Zalzabar’s invitation was for, Anaxagore was suddenly very glad he had decided to join.

An eyebrow did go up despite his sense of awe…both elves were clearly Ryujin, he could sense it, but how come the great lady in copper seemed to still possess her abilities - how very curious.

At the risk of seeming rude, the young adventurer was about to take a step forward and inquire about her seemingly undiminished power- but yet again another voice interjected.

“I am Taella Sparrowswift, of the Realm of Loreth. I come to serve you, and Zalzabar...”

Anaxagore’s grey eyes went wide at the sight of the third elven beauty to join the group. Loreth? Where was that? He suddenly could not remember, but he could scent that she spoke true, the green was part of her, and so much more. This one was bursting with so much nubile energy that it made him blush just by her proximity. Mmmmmmm.

“Taella….” He whispered to himself, burning her name and image into his mind. He no longer felt cold at all, but warm…very warm.

“Ne’tar cold. Ne’tar tired.” A gruff male voice said as it came near and consequently broke Anaxagore from his…reverie.

“Uh…what?”

He turned towards the sound and saw what looked like a half-orc. His hand almost moved to one of his two scimitars on instinct, but he stopped himself. This one did not wear warpaint or had the bearing of a ‘sand bandit’, what’s more…he felt like….no, he was also a Ryujin. But his aura did not seem as strong as most. How intriguing. That, and clearly, he had received Zalzabar’s invitation. Did wonders never cease?

Anaxagore gave a slight nod to the half-orc and a half-smile. Things were certainly going to be interesting.

"Ne'tar wait inside. Yes?"

And there it was. The half-orc was also smart. Anaxagore shook his head, silently chiding himself. Why hadn’t he thought to go inside?

Chuckling in mild amusement, Anaxagore once again was about to step forward, when yet a new sound was caught by his keen hearing. This time it was the crunching of footfalls on snow, but they sounded heavy and erratic, not at all like someone who marched with purpose, but quite the opposite.

The young adventurer once again turned and this time he saw a young human male, no more than a teenager, struggling to reach Zalzabar’s Castle. Anaxagore did not sense that this one was a Ryujin, no, he wasn’t an elf, or a half-orc or a creature wielding magic. This was simply a human who fought the elements through sheer determination. He had no coat or boots, or any manner of discernible protection.

Just the single minded determination to reach his destination.

Anaxagore moved swiftly and without hesitation, his bear skin already removed from his own person and in hand. With a graceful movement, he wrapped the bear skin around the boy and guided him closer to the small gathering.

“You made it!” He said warmly in congratulations, doing so to lift the boys spirits. What a brave soul. Humans were often capable of awe-inspiring feats, this he knew, but he had witnessed so very few during his travels. “Welcome to Zalzabar’s!”

The dark haired adventurer fell on one knee and bid the boy to lean on his shoulder. “Hold on.” He said, looking up for a moment.

Without his powers, he couldn’t do what he had in mind, but that didn’t mean he was out of options. Immediately, he took one of the boy’s feet and began to rub it in his hands, then alternated, rubbing one and then the other. To make it this far and then lose one’s feet because of frostbite was too tragic a tale for anyone, be they great or small. He couldn't allow that to happen.

“First thing we’ll do when we get a chance is turn that bear skin into boots and a vest. Don’t worry about things now, you can repay me later. I’m Anaxagore, so don’t forget the name.”

The Ryujin adventurer chuckled as he continued to warm the boys feet, ignoring his own distaste for cold climes. It was strange, how he seemed pleased with the unusual proceedings; perhaps it was thoughts of all the great things to come that made him smile.



Tag: @Ktala, @Kurisan, @Darth_Elu, @The Jedi in the Pumas, @galactic-vagabond422, @Mitth_Fisto, @Shadowsun

 

Delsanra Taenya Helestina
The Journey - Zalzabar's Castle

As Delsanra commented, another voice boomed in response. "I agree, madam!" the woman yelled loudly. She nodded vigorously with a smirk on her face. "Or...we could ask the knight some questions? Maybe our questions will show Ole Zalzabar whether we're worthy or not." By the vale, this woman's energies felt very different.

The woman made her way to the knight. The orb the knight was holding pulled her gaze and her face shifted to a surprised and amused look. "Oh!" She mused aloud and reached a hand out, patting the knight on his chest plate. "How are you doing, dear? Are you warm in there?" The look changed from being wary to befuddlement. The oddities of this trip were growing by leaps and bounds.

Another person approached. While her magic might be diminished, some of it was still there. It seemed the things that were connected to her being Ryjuinwere was more diminished, but so far other things of magic seemed to work. She still could tell those who might or might not also be Rujuin. The woman who now approached looked to be a wood elf. A ranger perhaps? She gave a small cough.

The woman then bowed to the yellow-clad sentinel, and to the others gathered in the group, even the human with the red face.

“I am Taella Sparrowswift, of the Realm of Loreth. I come to serve you, and Zalzabar...”

From beneath her hood, Delsanra raised an eyebrow, but she simply stated," Welcome, Taella,". She then simply gave the girl a small nod, as she heard a yell in the distance.

M"Ne'tar made it!" he yelled as he came up to them all. "Save some for Ne'tar!" he bellowed despite being nearer them, and Delsanra understood his mistake. Another warrior type. But from lands of warmth and heat. How he had made his way here, must have been arduous. A half-orc? This notice was beginning to get more and more interesting.

"Wait." the yellow warrior intoned once more.

"Ne'tar cold. Ne'tar tired." he simply stated. "Ne'tar wait inside. Yes?" he said as he began slowly going around the Yellow Knight and the tanned elf female. This could turn badly. But before she could think more on the subject, when another sound made her turn, and her eyes widened a bit when she fell upon the sight of youth, poorly dressed and no shoes who seemed to barely be able to make it there. The male warrior moved quickly to the young boy.

“You made it!” He said warmly in congratulations. “Welcome to Zalzabar’s!” The dark-haired adventurer fell on one knee and bid the boy to lean on his shoulder. “Hold on.” He said, looking up for a moment. “First thing we’ll do when we get a chance is turn that bear skin into boots and a vest. Don’t worry about things now, you can repay me later. I’m Anaxagore, so don’t forget the name.”

Delsanra marveled at the youth. No magic. Not Ryujin. Just brave. Or desperate. Either way, the boy had made it, and the warrior called Anaxagore seemed impressed indeed. Delsanra made her way towards the night.

"Are we finished waiting now?" she asked him. She wondered how any ore they must wait for before they would be allowed entrance.





TAG: @greyjedi125, @Kurisan, @Darth_Elu, @The Jedi in the Pumas, @galactic-vagabond422, @Mitth_Fisto, @Shadowsun

 

Cretaus IC:
~These Mountains Blow~



Cold. It was everywhere. It was atop his head with a crown of frost. It was upon his face like an unwanted lover. Settled on his neck like the prick of a needle, nay, a hundred needles. They poked and prodded with every erratic step he took in this forsaken place.

Why did I come here again?

The cold was on his shoulders, pressing them down, trying mercilessly to make him give up. Not at his task, but his very existence. Just lay down. Curl up. It would be so much easier…

Why here? Why did this guy live here of all places? Who the hell would?

The cold was all around his body, encasing it like an armor, warding off any warmth. Indeed, Cretaus had lost all memory of the concept about seven hours ago. If you were to tell him to conjure up the feeling in his mind, he’d fail miserably. A blank within his mind and upon his face. What was warmth anyway?

That cold, that damnable damnable damnable cold. It was also all along his legs. His legs kept moving, the youth wasn’t entirely sure why. Forget that. He wasn’t even sure how. But somehow, they did. And now look, here he was!

Was it even the right castle? Who knew. Who cared. There was no way it was going to let in some complete stranger, an orphan brat no one cared for, in the first place. He was going to die here. Die frozen and alone. Maybe he’d just tip over and fall off the cliff side, save himself some time.

But he had to get there. Cretaus could scarce say why. But he had to. He just had to.

The cold. It was in his feet, his toes. Every footfall, heavy and crazed like a drunkard, was murder. It crunched in the snow and this stuff was supposed to be soft. They said it was soft in the stories he heard about from the storytellers that passed through the cities! And maybe it was at first, he couldn’t even remember that anymore.

All he knew now was that it stung. Or, well, it had stung. Huh. Now that he managed to break through the fuzziness of his thoughts, he realized it didn’t anymore. He didn’t…feel his feet at all actually.

I think that’s bad. That’s bad, right?

The cold. That eternal companion of this place. It was in his blood. He shivered the moment he entered Athas. He hadn’t stopped since. It had been days, weeks?, since his body knew how to stop shaking so violently. With his moment of lucidity, he realized exactly how close to death he likely was.

Remember, Cretaus, you were dead anyway. You are…dead.

The wind whipped his exposed skin, the little bit of scant clothing he had on him, it was like the world had forsaken him. It wanted him broken. It wanted him gone. And why not? Everyone else did.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

Whoooooohrooooooohooooo

Damnable cold.

His eyes, barely open now, his arms folded in as close to his chest as he could get them; came upon a group of people at the bridge to the castle. Oh yeah. The letter said it was inviting others. Granted, he was the only one here probably not invited. Just like on the streets, he had to invite himself.

Crunch. Crunch.

Could this wind stop? If the snow didn’t, couldn’t that at least? Seriously. This was just. Just too much. His body wavered, yet amazingly kept going. It was like Cretaus wasn’t even in control anymore. He had nothing else. This was it, so might as well use up all of his energy devoted to it he supposed.

As he moved, he noticed one of the people standing about (Why the hell do they hang out here? Are they dumb? Don’t they feel the cold?) turn around. Did they notice him? Hard to tell. The person, a man he now saw, was moving toward him.

Please don’t tell me to turn around. I don’t care if I’m not wanted. This is all I have. I can’t turn around.

Don’t tell me, don’t tell me, don’t tell me, don’t tell me, don’t tell me, don’t tell me, don’t tell me, don’t tell me, don’t tell me, don’t tell me, don’t tell me, don’t tell me, don’t tell me, don’t tell me, don’t tell me, don’t tell me, don’t tell me, don’t tell me, don’t tell me, don’t tell me, don’t tell me, don’t tell me, don’t tell me, don’t tell me, don’t tell me, don’t tell me, don’t tell me, don’t tell me, don’t tell me, don’t tell me, don’t tell me, don’t tell me, don’t tell me, don’t tell me, don’t tell me, don’t tell me, don’t tell me, don't tell me, don't tell--

A bear skin cloak wrapped around him all of a sudden. It was…soft. Like the snow was supposed to be. But the cold persisted. It always did. It would take ages for him to feel…what was that word again? Oh yeah, warm again.

He almost wanted to tell him to not bother. Cretaus was likely dead anyway.

“You made it!”

Huh? His frozen lids barely remained open as he regarded him, that fuzziness taking over his mind once more. He did? Wow…he did. At this point in time, the young teen had trouble even registering the fact that this was perhaps the first sign of kindness he had received since he was five years old.

The idea was alien to him now and his mind was not processing well. That cold….that damnable cold…

“Welcome to Zalzabar’s!”

Zalzabar…right. Right. That was the guy on the letter’s name.

The man now went to a knee and bid him to lean on his shoulder. The boy stopped, almost shudderingly so. Stopping was a very deadly idea right now. He couldn’t lean, no, he more like tipped over despite himself and happened to lean on his shoulder.

“Hold on.”

To what? Why?

It took almost a full minute for him to realize his feet were being rubbed, alternatively from one to the other. He couldn’t feel it. Why was he doing that? Was something wrong in his head? He wanted to move away, tell him to stop, but lacked the strength to do so.

“First thing we'll do when we get a chance is turn that bear skin into boots and a vest. Don’t worry about things now, you can repay me later. I’m Anaxagore, so don’t forget the name.”

The way his mind was ‘working’ right now, he was so going to forget the name. Still, Cretaus had trouble figuring this guy out until the comment about repayment. Ah, so that was it. Of course. Why he thought him even worth the act of wringing out something of slight value later, who knew. But that was a concept he understood. Yes, to be in debt.

He knew it well.

Cretaus noticed at least one of the women nearby glancing at him as well. Oh the sight he made. Apologies and apologies and apologies, miss lady. Do not bother with this poor soul.

They were saying something to the Knight in Yellow guarding the bridge, he was just noticing them now, but he couldn’t make out the words over the wind. He wasn’t close enough. But at least they weren’t here socially, it seemed more like waiting. That made more sense at least.

He’d just…follow their lead…and rest here…for a moment.

Cretaus needed…

Just a little moment…

Tag: Everyone @Shadowsun @greyjedi125 @Ktala @Master Vo'Un'Var @Kurisan @The Jedi in the Pumas @galactic-vagabond422 @Mitth_Fisto

 

Rebecca Dragon

The warrior stood staring into the death mask of the guardian of the bridge. The wind howled whipping across her face and she did not move. The elements meant little to her, her body hardened by near to a decade of fighting in freezing cold and scorching sun. It was not as if she was impervious, she could feel her muscles shivering under her armor as she waited for the knight to step aside or offer her a challenge. She merely didn't allow it to show on the outside. In her world one didn't show weakness, didn't show even one flicker of discomfort.

The others started to appear, a dark haired man that carried himself like a warrior armed with light curved blades. He gave a small smile and a curt nod, one she did return though with much less warmth than he gave.

Next was a dark haired and even darker robed woman with crimson lips, she had a staff with her the barest means of protection on the roads. Not a warrior like herself and the dark haired man that seemed rather taken with her upon sighting her. While Rebecca was not to herself an object of desire, she'd seen enough young men be gobsmacked by pretty maidens, to put the pieces together. With long blink of her eyes she gave a nod to the elven woman remaining in cold silence.

Another elf woman approached this one with darker skin and more outgoing attitude walking right up to the knight and laying hands upon him. She was certainly brave and forthright. The way she moved and spoke told of her confidence, though not from inexperience.

A throat cleared behind her, in a practiced motion she turned her head, her hand reaching for her sword. Behind her she found yet a third elf this one seemingly younger than the others, if her bubbly personality was any judge. Though Rebecca was never the best at reading people, at least out of combat. As Taella bowed her head and pledged her service to them, the warrior furrowed her brow. She had no need for a servant, or an attendant. Her father had taught her long ago how to put on her armor on her own, how to survive on her own. Or maybe that message wasn't meant for her, maybe it was meant for the others around her.

A booming voice cut through her musings guiding her to the Half-Orc marching towards them. No weapon was drawn, and there didn't seem to be any violent intent so she made no move to draw her blade. In her life she'd fought alongside and against many, elves, dwarves, orcs, and every type of mix in between. If there was enough money involved a Dwarf would stand with an Elf. They didn't have to like each other to work together. Not that she had any hatred for anyone because of their heritage, if she did she would have to start with herself. The bastard daughter of a cursed man.

Finally, at least for now, a young boy, just barely old enough to be a squire came marching out of the snow, in a thin shirt, and no shoes. It took some determination to get this far with just that. She could appreciate the determination. Though she was not so moved as to aid the poor boy. He'd made it this far, surely he could last a little bit longer.

Good for the boy then that she wasn't the only one here. The dark haired warrior swooped to his side, lending what assistance he could. Rebecca just nodded her head looking to the group gathered.

"Rebecca." she said in a cold monotone placing her hand over her heart, making introductions, the warrior was not completely without manners.

TAG: @Shadowsun @greyjedi125 @Ktala @Master Vo'Un'Var @Kurisan @The Jedi in the Pumas @Darth_Elu @Mitth_Fisto

 

Esenma Ralinommu
-The Journey, Zalzabar's Castle

The Elder clasped her hands together in excitement as more joined them, specifically the boy with nothing that had come from nothing. Oh, the power of youth!

She walked back towards Anaxagore and the boy. She knelt beside them and watched as Anaxagore tended to Cretaus' frostbitten feet. It made her smile. He was a younger Ryujin, but his dedication to service of others, specifically those that were weaker, showed that either he was raised correctly or saw it as his natural duty. Or both. A protector. Yes, they would need one in the dark times they faced ahead. Cretaus was a human, but he was not weak. One who was weak could not have made it so far. She placed both hands on his face, caressing his cold cheeks in a nurturing way. Esenma performed many roles...

(and a few more once the wine poured heavy).

She chuckled again at herself. She blew softly in the boy's face. He would feel the warmth spreading from his lips to his face. To his neck. His shoulders. Chest, Stomach, and from there...her personal wind cloak extending to him and would keep him protected against the harsh wind and cold as long as she was near him.

"Be brave, young human. You've made it so very far. Only a little longer before we see Ole Zalzabar himself."

Esenma let go of Cretaus' face and turned to Anaxagore.

"Now, get a load of you. Strapping young and strong ryujin...have you made time to mate yet?"

She gestured towards the other elf ryujin, Delsanra, and nodded deeply, brows furrowed in serious contemplation.

"If you have not found time to mate, you must not forget to." Wagging a finger at Anaxagore. "Mating is incredibly important, especially for the handsome ones like you."

"I am Esenma." She said to the group; her voice carrying in peculiar easy fashion over the wind blowing through the pass. "It is a pleasure to see you all here. Please be patient, Ne'tar dear. Our brave and resilient knight is merely doing his duty and we should heed his word and wait. In the meantime, between time..."

Her eyebrows moved rapidly up and down as her sapphire eyes darted back and forth between the females and Anaxagore. "We should get to know each other better."

Tag: All

 

Rebecca Dragon

"Now, get a load of you. Strapping young and strong ryujin...have you made time to mate yet?" The woman's words were carried on the wind reaching Rebecca's ears. Her brow furrowed and her eyes narrowed. Ryujin, legends that were whispered with equal parts fear and reverence. The beings that could turn to dragons, terrors of the battlefield if they chose to fight. So the dark haired warrior was one at least by the way the tanned woman was talking. Were there others that carried the true blood of dragons in her mists?

Her skin started to itch, her blood began to burn a little hotter. Was it fear or excitement at the thought of seeing a dragon, or fighting against one.

"Mating is incredibly important, especially for the handsome ones like you." That got an eyebrow raise out of the up until now sotic sell sword. Was she seriously suggesting what Rebecca thought she was? Did Ryujin only mate with other Ryujin, how could they tell, was it a special sense? Could they sense her corrupted blood, her cursed lifeforce that burned for death.

"We should get to know each other better." This statement drew her once again out of her internal spiral.

Looking among the group she thought of at least one question to ask.

"How many here are Ryujin?...if you feel like saying so." It wasn't aggressive, or accuistory, it almost came off as curious, if a little direct.

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Taella
The bridge to Zalzabar's Castle


Taella turned in surprise as another being approached the group. Her hand strayed to her dagger and she hissed like a cat. Orc.

Taella had suffered at the cruel, hard hands of creatures such as this, during skirmishes and captures in the endless secret war within the woods. Hatred rose like bile in her throat.

Yet... he did not move to attack, and the other Dragonkin acknowledged him, as if one of their own. He had been invited to meet Zalzabar too? This ugly brute, a Dragonkin? Taella shook her head in confusion. She did not sense him to be... Wait. She did not feel anything beneath the souls of her feet. The magic is dimmed, she realised. She was saved from further contemplating the awful notion of a half-orc-half-dragonkin when another stranger appeared.

He was human, and but a boy, staggering through the snow with hardly anything to protect him. Taella knew the species was tough and adaptable, but this one looked like he might succumb to the cold. The gorgeous male Dragonkin rushed to the boy and welcomed him. Then he, too, saw the boy's plight and... Taella rocked. The Dragonkin began massaging his feet. Taella felt her loins stir and wished she were in the boy's place at that moment. He introduced himself as Anaxagore, and Taella let that title burn itself in her memory.

She had an idea, and reached for her belt. She had reviving herbs that would help the boy. She took some from her pouch, they were well-wrapped to ensure freshness and it took her several moments. She was about to rush across and push the pungent swab under his nose when... the elder copper-skinned Ryujin stepped in her place and cast her own spell upon the human. Her magical breath brought life back into the boy. She gave her name as Esenma.

Then, and Taella could have murdered her - Dragonkin Ancient or not, Esenma started making crude and obvious hints for Anaxagore and the dark-cloaked female Dragonkin to become mates! Taella crossed her arms and stamped her foot in annoyance.

Just then, the hawk from the mountain swooped down and landed on a boulder beside her. He squawked.

She scowled at him and hissed, "Now you tell me? If you want to bring me warnings of approaching Orcs, you need to do it before they get here!"

The hawk clicked his beak. "Nothing's wrong," Taella snapped back. "I'm fine."

The human warrioress stepped to make herself visible again to the group. Taella gave her a little more scrutiny. Her armour and weapons were finely made, for a human. She had called herself Rebecca.

She found her voice and said, "How many here are Ryujin?...if you feel like saying so."

Taella blinked at Rebecca and found rising within, surprisingly, a feeling of empathy towards her. As different as they were, they were both outsiders to the gathered Dragonkin, come to serve the arcane beings - be it for gold, or duty.

While the others answered, Taella cast her eyes sideways to the sentinel in yellow. The dark-cloaked Dragonkin was berating him to let them in. Taella reviewed the awesome group of individuals again. Perhaps it was now time for them - and she - to face their challenges...

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Delsanra Taenya Helestina
The Journey - Zalzabar's Castle

After Delsanra asked her question, she stepped back...at least our of weapons reach and turning sideways so she could watch both Knight and the rest of the group, she watched. The female warrior with the red swarth across her face spoke simply one word, as she nodded her head.

"Rebecca." she stated, placing her hand over her heart. There was no mirth or humor within her voice.

The Ryujin Esenma clasped her hands together. Delsanra watched with curiosity as the woman walked towards Anaxagore and the boy. From her earlier actions, she seemed a bit... oft. But whether that was simply an act, or something more, Delsanra could not be sure of. As Esenma knelt beside them and watched as Anaxagore tended to Cretaus' frostbitten feet, she smiled. She did something else then, and from the magic that Delsanra felt, she assumed that the woman was helping the boy somehow. When the Orc showed up, Delsanra noticed the ranger elf Taella hiss like a cat at his arrival. Obviously bad blood there. But she managed to control herself.

Esenma continued to speak to the young boy. "Be brave, young human. You've made it so very far. Only a little longer before we see Ole Zalzabar himself." Esenma let go of Cretaus' face and turned to Anaxagore.

"Now, get a load of you. Strapping young and strong ryujin...have you made time to mate yet?" Delsanra held her face still, but she bit her lip. Yes, he was handsome, but really! This was hardly the time. But then the woman turned to look at her, gesturing as she nodded deeply, brows furrowed in serious contemplation. The mirth at Anaxagore's predicament died instantly. No! She was not going to... Esenma looked between the two of them.

"If you have not found time to mate, you must not forget to." Wagging a finger at Anaxagore. "Mating is incredibly important, especially for the handsome ones like you." A foot stomp from Taella was barely noticed, as the elf crossed her arms in annoyance. Delsanra simply chuckled softly.

"I am Esenma." the woman said to the group; her voice carrying in peculiar easy fashion over the wind blowing through the pass. "It is a pleasure to see you all here. Please be patient, Ne'tar dear. Our brave and resilient knight is merely doing his duty and we should heed his word and wait. In the meantime, between time..."

Her eyebrows moved rapidly up and down as her sapphire eyes darted back and forth between the females and Anaxagore. "We should get to know each other better."

Oh for the love of...! Thank the Gods for small favors, for before Delsanra could retort with a response, the one called Rebecca asked, "How many here are Ryujin?...if you feel like saying so." Inquisitive. Not a bad trait to have. As long as it was for the correct things.

Delsanra walked forward, dropping the hood from her cloak, to let the snow fall upon her face and dark air. She offered the warrior woman a nod.

"Greetings Rebecca. Since you have decided to answer upon the call, I have no qualms of stating that I am Ryujim, though of course, you could have surmised such a thing by Esenma's rather interesting ...retorts." Delsanra leaned against her staff, gently shaking her head.


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Kaynus Allbright, Master of the Shining Stars
Approaching the castle

The wind rushed past the beast, howling and whistling as the gleaming white dragon soared through the crisp cold sky. Already what must have been Zalzabar's fortress came into view. It reminded him of his own abode he once called home.

Your inheritance, Kaynus. Your home. You will return, be sure of that. Then it shall become the palace of the gods!

The beast let out a load roar, alerting all around him of his presence, a replacement for laughter.

As he drew closer and closer, he felt his form weaken. Similar to a time before he has mastered his suffering form.

Soon you will be able to capture you heavenly and divine form, Kaynus. After you complete the test from the gods, they will grant you their power combined!

He dropped down, plummeting through the sky like a dart as he sped his descent to the ground. In the moments before impact, he spread his wings, gliding down and landing gracefully, slowly morphing into a human form and striding along the natural bridge towards the entrance.

Damn! Some common fools stand by the gates too. The lowest scum of the earth, presumably.

With a sneer on his face, he called out to the gathering crowd, flinging his arms outwards as his voice boomed out.

"Fear not, peasants! I, Lord of the Burning Light and Son of the Falling Stars, have arrived! Step aside so the rightful heir to the gods can enter this castle!" He roared out at the top of his lungs, striding towards the entrance with the full expectant that these miserable lifeforms would step aside and fall to their knees at his magnificent presence.

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