Of Black Skies and Scorched EarthReplies: 2 / 7 years 201 days 6 hours 21 minutes 50 seconds Gather 'round. I've a story to tell.As you may or may not know, the city of Sylvian is a rich port city filled with wealthy merchant families. Many people pass through the city, so nearly every major temple and guild has set up within it's confines. It is here that our story is set. I'm sure you know of the dragons. Well now, it seems I have your attention. The dragons were a wise and old race, their memories lasting back to the times when the Ancients were common. The dragons and their kin, the Drakonair, traded with the city of Sylvian, filling the land of Eldiena with rich and exotic metals and other resources. That was, until one day just after the end of the Great War, the resources stopped.All of the Drakonair that moved about the city simply vanished one day and with them, all of the dragon's resources. No trade ships came from the island of Rylyan over the next few days, but this was only the beginning. A bordering town never stood a chance. The skies blackened and fire rained down from the heavens. After only a single day, the town was left a smoldering crater. The dragons had made themselves known. From that day forward, a new war had gripped the people of Eldiena, all of the cities along the southern coast that bordered Rylyan were racked with fear and began bolstering their defenses. It is within this time that we place this tale.Now, like so many good stories, ours begins with a king, a message, and of course, a messenger. Notes
To clarify a few things, in this world, Dragons are capable of thought processes beyond most humans. They also have their "kin" species, the Drakonair. These beings are covered in scales, have slitted eyes and long tails, but stand upright like humans. They look very similar to their dragon ancestors, more so than they do humans. Those that have staked a home in more "civilized" cities have taken to wearing clothing, though many Drakonair still forgo it.
This is a time of swords and magic. Just keep that in mind.
Any race is allowed, even ones you've created, though I will say this, if you plan on being something like a vampire, you better be damn creative about it and talk to me first. I will admit to having prejudices against them. If you're creating your own race, just run it by me first.
Any sort of class is allowed, though I will ask that if you're doing something really outlandish that you just check with me first.
I really want to promote creativity, so there is almost always an exception to my rules. I follow a simple philosophy, If you can justify it within the confines of the rp, I'll allow it. I enjoy people pushing and testing the boundaries of my world. I give you all full permission to do so. If at any point I don't approve of what you're doing, I'll let you know. Up until then, more power to you.
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During the Great War, all of Eldiena was plunged into chaos and turmoil. The Varsyl empire threatened the safety of all those outside of it. It was without question that measures needed to be taken. Garia, the southernmost kingdom, had taken drastic ones.
Early on, they devised to create a sort of super soldier and founded the Order of the Gryphon. These boys were no ordinary soldiers. They never knew peace; never knew a normal life. They were born and raised in war. Orphaned whether through death or abandonment, the boys of the Gryphon had no family to speak of and their only 'friends' were each other. They were taut the barest of educations, supplemented with full lessons on combat. When they were old enough to hold a sword, one was put into their hands. When they were old enough to fight in real combat, they were crafted armor.
The Gryphons' armor was something special. Handcrafted by the kings own blacksmiths and enchanted by his mages, their armor was unparallelled. To give them an edge in combat, the armor itself had a living soul tethered to it. While the helmet was worn, the knight would have another voice in his head, giving him strategy advice and keeping an eye on his back. They were a terror for the Varsyl Empire. They were Garia's greatest weapon. And after the war, they were a forgotten relic.
Simashi was at one of the slums very own brothels when the letter came for him. He was one of the last Gryphons left alive after the war and so his letter was addressed just to him. How the little elf messenger found him was of no concern. All he cared about was what the king wanted. He was never loyal to any man, but instead, to the banner of the nation and after the war, there was no need for him. He was a reminder of the pain still fresh in everyone's minds, so he didn't have work.
Until that day.
Roun hurried through the busy streets of Sylvian, the leather letter bag at that flew behind him considerably lighter after doing the beginnings of his rounds. He was a messenger for the city and the ruler of the kingdom had sent special letters for him to deliver to every temple and guild within the city, as well as postings for all of the local bounty boards. He hadn't stopped to read one, as that was something that would slow his run down and a slow job was not something you did when tasked by a king. Instead, he weaved through the crowds, skidding to a halt in front of a large message board filled with all sorts of postings. Deftly, he drew one of the letters from his bag, tore it open, and put it up on the board with a series of tacks. Amongst all of the dirty pieces of paper, the clean white parchment with the large kings seal stood out. In beautiful gold letters, it read;
"People of Sylvian, I, your king, am calling upon you to defend this, our kingdom. The dragons of Rylyan seek to destroy us and our land. They wish to take from us all of which we have built. It is in light of these dire events that I call upon the best of all of the guilds and temples, as well as hired swords, to take up arms in the name of the kingdom and bring an end to these dark times of fear. Those that are willing, convene at the Noblemen's Outdoor Theater. Your King, Sir Banagher."
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