Fantasy The Dragon Wardens: Exodus

[Effervescent]

Sign ups for this roleplay are closed. Anyone who has submitted a CS before this notice will be given a grace period to complete their form. Thank you for your interest!


Before you fill out the provided CS code, please read through the Setting/Locations, Lore, and Mechanics tab.


Once you submit a CS it will be reviewed unless you state that it is a WIP. I will ignore all marked as WIP until the player notifies me that it is complete.


If I approve of your character submission, I will like the post and put GM Approved at the top of your post.


If you have any questions regarding this roleplay, feel free to send a PM my way!


Feel free to jazz up the code how you like, but please include all the required fields as I have given.

[tabs]
[tab=characternamehere]
[imagefloat=right]imagehere[/imagefloat]
[b]Name:
Age:
Race:  state only if they are human or half-elf.  Their birth place does not matter.  I will ignore any CS that states anything other than human or half-elf.
Appearance:[/b]  Please write out your character's appearance here
[b]Personality:[/b]  1+ paragraphs
[b]Strengths:[/b]  list at least 3
[b]Weaknesses:[/b]  list at least 3
[b]Magical Attunement:[/b]  choose one form of magic
[b]Secondary weapon specialization:[/b]  daggers, swords, bows, axes, etc.  Choose one.
[/tab]
[tab=dragonnamehere]
[imagefloat=left]imagehere[/imagefloat]
[b]Name:
Type:
Height and length:
Personality:[/b]
[/tab]
[tab=Background]
Please provide a brief background into their life at the Haven, where they were when the Haven fell, and what they have been doing since.
[/tab]
[tab=Writing Sample]
Write what your characters were doing when the Haven fell.  Were they there?  Were they away on a mission?  Please make the length how you would feel a detailed post would be.
[/tab]
[/tabs]

 

[Red Thunder]

GM Approved

• Waethrin
• Ancalagon
• Background
• Other
• Writing Sample

• 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Name: Waethrin the Inferno
  
  
  Age: 78 years old
  
  
  Race: Human
  
  
  Appearance: An old man scarred and weathered by life's harshness, Waethrin nevertheless retains much of his physique that made him a legend on the battle field. Though he is only five and a half feet tall, the old man is built like a wall.
  
  
  Waethrin hides much of his form, however, and has for some time now. He generally goes about in a shabby brown hooded cloak, with little showing but his chest length ash-white beard and one gleaming eye of green. Yes, one: a scar crosses his left eye, leaving it closed forever in empty pain. Under his cloak Waethrin keeps himself protected with a simple black leather breastplate and two leather bracers to match. Not only that: across his back, displayed readily, is slung a bastard sword, his weapon of choice.
  
  
  Personality: As his life has left his body damaged, so too has it left his spirit scarred. Waethrin is a bitter old man, caring little for the lives of those about him or the consequences of his actions. He responds to anything beyond a question or statement of simple fact with anger or sarcasm, finding reason (albeit likely false reason) to be angry at them. Nor has he been provided any reason to abandon this mood; his suspicions and emotional distance has kept him and his dragon safe in the long years since his self-imposed exile.
  
  
  Strengths:
  
  
  +Experienced in living in solitude in the wilderness
  
  
  +A once renowned Spellsword, retains much of his skill
  
  
  +Forthright and always (often brutally and insensitively) honest
  
  
  Weaknesses:
  
  
  -Untrusting of anyone beyond his dragon
  
  
  -Incapable (to date) of empathy with others
  
  
  -Due to his dissociative mannerisms, stands out in a crowd like a Fire Drake in a hay field
  
  
  -Has no concept of subtlety
  
  
  Magical Attunement: Fire
  
  
  Secondary weapon specialization: Yaeger, his single edged bastard sword
  
  
  
  
  
  Spoiler

  

  
  
• 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Name: Ancalagon
  
  
  Type: Fire Drake
  
  
  Height, Length, and Appearance: At 14 ft tall and 28 ft long, Ancalagon is rather short in the way of his kind. He is, however, of impressive muscle and build that only long years of a hard life can bring. Much like his Warden, the Drake carries scars of his own, most notably a section across his left cheek where his gray scales have been irrevocably burned away, leaving naught but blazing angry yellow flesh.
  
  
  Personality: Ancalagon is, for a Fire Drake, quiet and subdued. Where life has made Waethrin angry, it's left Ancalagon weary. While he will still leap into battle as he used to, and especially in the defense of his friend, more and more he feels like neither have reason to live. Or to care.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  "Popular" was not an especially applicable term to the Dragon Warden pair, but Waethrin and Ancalagon certainly carried a very far-reaching reputation. Almost from graduation, they were a martial force to be reckoned with, and their battle prowess soon became almost legendary. Indeed, so effective were they are their duties that the Warden's temper and the Fire Drake's disinterest were mostly overlooked, and save for the occasional private chastisement, the Council largely allowed them to work as they would. In short, life for Waethrin and Ancalagon was fast, violent, free, and everything they could have wanted.
  
  
  But it was not to last. On the Fire Warden's 40th year, he and his dragon disappeared. No trace did they leave as to where they had fled, nor for what reason. And Haven's martial conflicts suffered for it. While they still held their own against their foes, it was not with the ease that they once had, many Wardens' spirits were lowered by their absence.
  
  
  For their part, the old man and his Drake fled southeast, to the Cliffs of Anova on the Glassy Sea. There they lived a hermit's life, as far from other creatures of intelligent thought as could reasonably be managed. At least, until one enlightening day while visiting a particular tavern on Thallas shores ...
  
  
  Since that day they've been making their way steadily back towards their first home, hoping to find signs of other Wardens on their way to Haven. Most lately, they have found themselves near Rosenfall, ducking companies of soldiers and pretty well every other form of dangerous life.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  In their youth, Waethrin the Inferno and his Ancalagon were the pair that often at the forefront of martial actions, leading many to victory wherever they were involved. But men age, and with age a forced lack of involvement. While there may be some few who remember the pair's decades-old accomplishments, the Inferno is more often spoken of in legends and myths, and the man, when he shows himself at all, is rarely if ever acknowledged.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  "Didja hear?"
  
  
  An old man in an old brown cloak turned his head at the voice. It was clearly not meant for him, but with the volume at which the speaker was talking, the old man could hardly be accused of eavesdropping. The question came from the all too eager mouth of a foppish Thall youth. He held a page of parchment in his soft hands and was recounting to the other dandies around him the notice he'd read earlier in the day.
  
  
  "The Queen finally made a move against those awful Riders!" Cheers matched his overly joyful tone. Had there been other guests within the tavern, the bar keep would likely have told them off. But, save for the strange septuagenarian in the corner, the inn common room was otherwise empty. So the keep let the boys have their fun. One of the gathered fops, a short brunette, slapped the table.
  
  
  "Hah!" His voice rose triumphantly. "Now those damnable men who dabble with, ugh, dragons will leave off interfering with our lives! Tell us, Smythe! How did it happen?"
  
  
  Smythe, the boy with the paper, shrugged noncommittally.
  
  
  "The notice doesn't say. But!" He glanced about conspiratorially before continuing. "I heard they killed everyone within their Haven: Wardens, their initiates, and their dragons!" As he spoke, Smythe waved the paper around for emphasis. "Even the hatchlings! None were spared to bully us ever again!"
  
  
  "'Bully'?"
  
  
  The new voice was strained with age. As it echoed through the room, Smythe's page burst into flame, almost immediately incinerated. The boy yelped and withdrew his hand, fingertips red from the fire's heat. The old man in the corner stood, a naked blade somehow in his hand where before there had been none. Both hand and weapon shook with the same anger that lent power to his voice.
  
  
  "You know naught of being bullied. But I fancy myself a teacher. Come: I shall instruct you."
  
  
  The blaze that subsequently engulfed the building burned long into the night, and in the morning no corpse within its ashes could be identified. Nor was the cause of the fire ever discovered, its maker having fled into the night hours before. Fleeing as he always did reminders of his past.
  
  
  

 

[Abyss]

(Major!WIP!)

• Mordacia
• Rasulka
• Other
• Writing Sample

• 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Name: Mordacia 'Kai' Mortensen
  
  
  Age: 27
  
  
  Race: Baladuri Half-elf
  
  
  Appearance:
  
  
  Mordacia is a somewhat tall individual standing at 6', he has a toned physique with lean muscles and an oddly graceful bearing. His straight hair is long and neatly keptften tied back and/or braided and is a bright orange-red in coloration, Mordacia has delicate facial features with a narrow jaw, straight nose, bright blue eyes and semi-pointed ears that have been pierced multiple times and are adorned with small gold and silver circle and square loops. He also has a few scars, the most prominent being two ten year old talon inflicted wounds: one curving downwards from the upper left quadrant of his abdomen to the top of his right hip and the other stretching from the center of his collarbone to the top of his right shoulder, both were received during an emergency rescue in an unsuccessful training exercise with his dragon.
  
  
  Personality: 1+ paragraphs
  
  
  Strengths: list at least 3
  
  
  Physical Condition:
  
  
  Knowledge and it's application:
  
  
  Observation: highly visually stimulated Kai is acutely aware of the smallest details in his surroundings: he is perceptive of small movements and often notices things amiss or of a suspicious nature.
  
  
  Weaknesses:
  
  
  Confidence/Shyness: Kai is a somewhat reserved person with an initially shy demeanor toward others which affects his ability to function in a group setting, in front of a crowd or under pressure; this is mainly attributed towards his lack of confidence in his own abilities and fear of failure.
  
  
  Prone to anxiety: Kais fear of failure and under confidence in his own abilities also often causes him to suffer from anxiety when put under pressure to make decisions that effect others or tasked to complete something of importance.
  
  
  Easily distracted/Forgetful of simple things: highly visualy stimulated Kai is the type of person that learns the most from observation but because he has a tendency to focuse so much attention on the tiniest details of his surroundings (i.e the two little ants by his boot fighting over the same breadcrumb or the cloud in the sky that kinda looks like the senior warden with the bushy moustache and permanent scowl tha—you get it) that he forgets about the task at hand or in some cases misses the things that matter completely.
  
  
  Magical Attunement: Fire
  
  
  Secondary weapon specialization: Bo Staff
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  <p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_10/image.jpg.d7023f3fed293ebfef4b4ccca84fd4c4.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="82225" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_10/image.jpg.d7023f3fed293ebfef4b4ccca84fd4c4.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>
  
  Name:Rasulka
  
  
  Type: Fire
  
  
  Height and length: 15 feet tall at the head, 40 feet long nose to tail tip.
  
  
  Physical Description: Rasulka is a regal creature with a lithe, serpent-like physique and a lean muscled body that is covered with small, thin black scales and larger overlapping red plates. The dragon's head is narrow and somewhat triangular with a defined structure, slitted golden eyes, viscously curved teeth; some of which poke out from her lips and a pair of crested horns and webbed spines along the back of her jaws and another extending from between her eyes, down her neck, gapping at the shoulders before ending at the tip of her tail. Rasulka is an excellent flyer that has long excelled in aerial maneuvering and has massive five fingered wings with a thumb like digit and a sixth bone extending from her elbow, the membrane of her wings stretches to the first third of her tail and turns red only when stretched in front of the light.
  
  
  Personality: (WIP)
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  Any other information that needs to be said is placed here.
  
  
  (WIP)
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  Please write or submit a writing sample of how you roleplay. Must be 2 to 3 paragraphs long.
  
  
  (WIP)
  
  
  

 

[HollyLeafForever]

Ethiriel

(Eh-theer-ee-ell)

​

• About Miss Ethiriel
• Unfound Dragon
• Background
• Writing Sample

• 
  
  Name: Ethiriel
  
  Age: 16
  
  Race: Ethiriel is half elf
  
  Appearance: Ethiriel stands at around 7'6, which is quite short for an elf. She has just below the shoulder red hair, which is always accompanied by a rose behind her right ear. Her face is covered in freckles and her huge doe eyes are an olive green. Her chest isn't very large, as she is only a B. She is kinda skinny and comes across as very weak.
  
  Personality: Ethirirel is a very sweet girl, she likes to giggle and read. Shes very bubbly and oblivious to a lot of things, unless its in battle. She has a very sweet personality, which everyone assumes is because she spent so much time with the creatures of her forest. She loves to dance and be silly, and is quite childish, she just loves hugging and communication. She is very easy to upset, much like that of a child, and she loves to just have fun and run around. She doesn't tire quickly though, she seems to be just filled with a bunch of un needed energy that seems to come out of nowhere.
  
  Strengths: Ethiriel is extremely skilled in bowman ship and the communication between anything living, whether it be plants or just people. She has beautiful communication skills that are very handy when travailing.
  
  Weaknesses: As she acts like an immature child most of the time, she is very sloppy in movements when not in battle. She is klutzy and seems to hit things in critical places by accident, she is also very loud but not obnoxious. She has a voice that seems to carry over citys, well not literally but you get my point. But her biggest weakness, is that of her extremely bruised legs, she is unable to move fast without extreme pain, and if her legs are hit, she instantly hits the ground as it was a birth defect and couldn't be helped.
  
  Magical Attunement; Ethiriel has dark magic running through her veins, but she has learned and been raised with earth magic. Earth magic is what she knows and breaths.
  
  Secondary weapon specialization: Ethiriel is exceptionally good with a bow, especially at long distances. She likes using her bow most times, as she has decided it is easier to fight when she is hidden and hitting enemies from a good vantage point.
  
  
• 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Name: "Ancient" Meulin
  
  
  Type: Arcane
  
  
  Height and length: 17ft by 26ft
  
  
  Personality: Meulin is an older dragon, and very smart and skilled in battle. She is quite and doesn't socialize much. She prefers to sit alone or with her soon to be rider and enjoy simple conversations about smart things. She is filled with knowledge of all worlds and magics. Making her very effective in fights, the only problem is, she usually only remembers these things, after they become unimportant. So after major battles, she will suddenly remeber enemy weak spots.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  At the Haven Ethiriel has just simply been studying, all the time. She wishes to be extremely knowledgeable, but it never seems to work as her brain never seems to hold the proper knowledge. She spent a lot of her childhood hidden, as her mother did not want to give her up. Ethiriel was the only good memory of a broken relationship, one where Ethiriel mothers was brutally rapped and almost killed by a dark magic human.
  
  
  For about two years she managed to hide Ethiriels bright red hair, but then suddenly she gave up, and gave Ethiriel up to the Haven. Shes lived there ever since, studying hard to make her mother proud, fighting as well as she can to prove she can become something even though she is of an oddly mixed blood line.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  Ethiriel sat next to the tree outside the front gates, "What to do, what to do. I dont think i've had a real misson, but then again i haven't really made it to my Dragon either. What if i don't have one, and im just a red head because my father dipped in black magic." These were questions Ethiriel frequently asked herself. But they were never answered by anyone but her imagination. Quiet as she could, she climbed the large tree, slipping a couple times and grunting in frustration as she put herself through an extreme amount of pain climbing the tree. As she reached one of the top branches in the tall tree, she let out a loud scream of pain, having his her right leg off the hard surface of the tree. She began to cry slightly, and then she looked to the tree and brought her finger out and began to whisper. "To make up for the fact that i just hurt myself Mr.Tree, can you make sure i dont fall out?!" She wiggled her finger slightly and a tree branch came up and wrapped around her legs, causing her to wince in more pain but feel safer.
  
  
  She slowly began to fall into a deep sleep, and thats when her dream started. She had been having this dream for many a year, of a galaxy like scales with purple feathers at the end, and a soothing voice much like her mothers would call out to her. Sometimes in frustration and other times in worry, but each time this purple things would say her name. Just her name, and then a flash of some place she could never remember would show up, and the dream would repeat itself over and over again until she would finally wake up and only remember the slight purple color from her dream.
  
  
  (( Deatailed posts should include more then this, but i didn't have enough idea to continue this. So leaving it as a complete idea, i give you a sample of my writing!))
  
  
  

​

 

[Space Cowboy Ein]

GM Approved

• Cinder
• Voarex
• Background
• Writing Sample

• 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Name: Cinder
  
  
  Age: 33
  
  
  Race: Human
  
  
  Appearance: Cinder stands at an average 5'10" and has an athletic build. Her red hair is cut very short and styled to stand up at most times. Blue eyes and freckles define were face along with a crisscross of healing scars situated on her lips, left cheek and over her left eye.
  
  
  Personality: Cinder is usually considered the life of the party, due mostly to her rather inviting personality and general friendliness. She's often found chatting up people of all classes and dispositions, causing even the coldest of individuals to break down into an engaged conversation on whatever topic seems to tickle their fancy. Her ability to get along well with people is bother trained and inherent to her nature and is a result of her tendency to keep observant. It's hard to get on her bad side, but if you do, she'll become much more serious as she does during battle. The recent attack on Haven has driven her to be more serious and it make take some time for her to rebuild her trust for individuals as the Warden's recover.
  
  
  Strengths: Cinder is a highly analytical individual and can usually read a person or situation as it develops in real time. As a result of this she's become a skilled tactician and is a fearsome opponent to best on the battlefield on on the chessboard. Of course, Cinder has the brawn to back up the brain and is particularly skilled in the art of the spear.
  
  
  Weaknesses: Cinder can get too focused at times on one object or task and at times leaves her open or causes her to miss things entirely. She also tends to be rather pragmatic in her decision making when in the heat of the moment and is often considered to be self-righteous at times when defending that pragmatism.
  
  
  Magical Attunement: Arcane
  
  
  Secondary weapon specialization: Spear
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Name: Voarex, Voa for short.
  
  
  Type: Arcane
  
  
  Height and length: 15 ft tall and 30 ft long
  
  
  Personality: Voarex is a younger dragon and it shows in her personality. Smart as her kind are, Voa is equally mischievous and has more than once gotten Cinder into trouble. Despite this, dragon and rider have a very close relationship and Voa can usually help level Cinder's analytical mind and is usually about as friendly as she can be at times. She's very intelligent and skilled in battle and usually follows Cinder's directions without question unless she spots an opportunity that her rider did not. Not much else brings her more joy in the world as deep snowfalls do and she'll often be found rolling around in the fluff when on mission to the colder regions of the world.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  As an Emasari, Cinder spent most of her time away from Haven on missions that usually required skills with the pen rather than the sword. She was an average fighter at best and would avoid conflict when possible but could more than hold her own if situations ever came to blows. She used to lead a group of relatively new graduates from the academy when on larger missions that were befitting of her status as a new leader herself. When on break at the Haven she usually spent her time tending to her duties and catching up with her ever growing reading list. At times she would also fill the role of trainer, teaching the finer aspects of rider/dragon combined combat when bother were within the discipline of arcane combat. She was out training with a number of students when Haven and fought hard to defend the city and the students she was with. Since the battle Cinder has been on the run north through the Twisted Woods and into the Northern Mountains.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  Voarex had sensed the danger before anyone else within the small group that Cinder was instructing that evening. Her head perked up and glanced in the direction of strange sounds of machinations and footsteps from the tree line. Unexpected visitors were uncommon, at least when being accompanied by such sounds. Cinder had picked up on Voa's concerns and stopped mid-sentence in her instruction of the younger riders to look off in the same direction as the arcane dragon. She blinked unable to hear what she could but it seemed like the other dragons could feel it as well. Coming from other directions. Likely not friendly. Voa's insight had set the red head's features into something more serious as her students were recieving similar information from their dragons.
  
  
  "That's it for training today. Return to your Emasari and await further instruction." No sooner had she given out her orders did she find large balls of flame come hurling towards them from the treeline. The projectiles sailed well over their heads and collided with or passed over Haven's Eastern walls. Not friendly indeed. "Go! Now!" She yelled before turning and making a dash before hefting herself up onto Voa's back. In the distance she could hear the chorus of thousands of voices yelling in unison coming from the direction of the fireballs. As Voa lifted them further into the air Cinder soon found out that they were indeed surrounded by a vast army. And as they flew back towards the city on the tails of the younger wardens, she couldn't help but share in Voa's disdain. This will not end well.....
  
  
  ---------------------------------------------
  
  
  Three hours was all it took for things to fall apart. Their gates were breached on all sides and losses were heavy. It was bad enough that the initial projectiles sent out by the enemy trebuchets had killed a number of Haven's inhabitants before the Wardens had time to react. But now, entire swathes of Haven were in flames. Black smoke polluted the air and made coordinating with the handful of dragon riders that remained and the remaining troops on the ground nearly impossible. She'd lost the entirety of her squad in the chaos, her face stung from deep cuts that she had received when a fireball had collided with a nearby building for the short amount of time that she was on the ground.
  
  
  She had likely sent a number of people to certain death in an attempt to organize a defense at the Eastern side of the city and now she had to make another of a string of tough calls that the night demanded. The city was overrun, and she wouldn't risk losing more of the dragon riders to the ballistas and other siege equipment that was turned their way. And so she circled the city to find what riders she could before giving the signal for a retreat. It hurt to leave those who remained in the city, but if they remained in the skies, there'd be noone left to escape and give their account of what happened on this damned night. And so, Cinder gave Haven one more longing look before turning Voa away and towards the Norther, where the artillery was least concentrated. With any luck, she'd make it out alive, she owed that much to those she'd be leaving behind.
  
  
  

 

[Sullivanity]

WORK IN PROGRESS

• Gillian
• Sunderhiem
• Background
• Writing Sample

• 
  
  
  Name: Gillian Turkson
  
  
  Age: 32
  
  
  Race: Human
  
  
  Appearance: Gillian is a large, muscular man with tough skin about 6 ft tall. His hands are rough and callused from years of practice with weapons. After the fall of Haven, Gillian started shaving his head in order to protect his identity. His eyes are a dull blue, and his face is rough as though it was carved from stone.
  
  
  Personality: Gillian is an extremely stoic, patient man. He believes that good things come to those who wait, and has been known to hold grudges for a very long time as a result. Extremely dutiful, he cannot stand shirking obligations. Although he will try to seek victory, personal pride and honor is not something he considers worth rocking ones life.
  
  
  Strengths: Patience, a strong control of his emotions, Physically tough and hardy
  
  
  Weaknesses: Has trouble opening up, dutiful to a fault, racked with guilt. Although he is not without intelligence, he is rather uneducated.
  
  
  Magical Attunement: Earth, specifically dealing with stone rather than flora.
  
  
  Secondary weapon specialization: Halberd
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Name: Sunderhiem aka "Sund"
  
  
  Type: Earth
  
  
  Height and length: 19 ft tall and 37 ft long
  
  
  Personality: Sunderhiem is a dragon committed to the idea of only using energy when necessary. When outside of exercise or training, he is often trying to find a nice mossy bed of rocks in a cave and sleep. Much to the annoyance of Gillian, Sund often shirks training and tries to convince him to play him a lullaby on his lyre. During battle however, he uses his rock-hard natural armor to his advantage, charging enemies head on. Sund often attacks with an ambush, where he hides himself beneath the ground, bursting through when the enemy marches over him and Gillian.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  Sund and Gillian where not inside Haven when the Thalls attacked, instead meditating and training their Attunment in the mountains nearby. When they saw the black smoke rising in the distance, they flew as fast as the could to the castle, but the wall had already been breached. Watching his comrades fall one by one and hearing the screams of dying wardens and dragons alike gave Gillian a sense of dread he had never felt before. So he ran. Gillian has regretted this choice ever since. Though he knew the battle was already lost, he feels that owes his fellow wardens a debt by refusing to fight.
  
  
  Cutting his hair to keep himself from identification, he created a small outpost for traders in the Northern Mountains of Baladur. Not only was he able to hide Sunderhiem in the mountains' numerous caves, he was also able to hear of his fellow Warden's exploits throughout the land, and placed the mark of the Guides on his inn. While he has found some inner peace through these actions, the guilt weighs down on him, and he seeks to take a more active role in his redemption.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  Smoke. Fire. Rubble. Gillian looked down at the ruin that his home had become. Black smoke billowed out of the raging inferno below him. The fire that was now consuming Haven was not like the purifying and majestic fire that some dragons created, no, this was a force of pure destruction, burning and consuming friend and foe alike, seeking only to add to its feral mass.More and more soldiers poured in through the breached walls like water bursting through a dam. Gillian looked at the markings on the flags of the intruders.
  
  
  "Are those-are those Thallian soldiers?! Why are they attacking us?!"
  
  
  He watched as a young Dragon Wardon, who was so unprepared for the attack he couldn't even get on his armor was run through with a sword as he looked up at Gillian. The dying, red-haired boy reached up in the air as he coughed out a bloody final breath in a pitiful attempt to be saved.
  
  
  Gillian looked over to the entrance to the dragon caves below Haven. He watched as young dragonlings, barely large enough to be ridden, were impaled on cruel iron spears as they tried to escape.
  
  
  Gillian put his hand on Sunderhiem. He could feel his companion's anger and sadness, but most of all, fear. A dreadful, all-consuming fear that enveloped both the dragon and his rider. A fear of of the death that waited for them below.
  
  
  A ballista's bolt whizzed past them. The Thalls had spotted him, hovering in the air.
  
  
  "C'mon Sund, we can't help them anymore! The Haven is lost! C'mon Sund!" He kicked into the dragon's thick hide, goading to retreat. He brought Sunderhiem out of his trance, and the pair flew of.
  
  
  Over time, though the fear faded away, and was replaced by guilt, the rage and pain never left. They remained, and their unquenchable fire smoldered in Gillian and Sunderhiem's soul. Though the rider and his dragon may be patient, patience was nonetheless a temporary respite. Now, finally, as the flames burn from their desire to be fed hotter than they can bear, the Warden and his Dragon will seek both vengeance and redemption.
  
  
  

 

[Macaberz]

GM Approved

• Olsten
• Grybil
• Other
• Background
• Writing Sample

• 
  
  
  
  
  
  Name: Olsten
  
  
  Age: 14.
  
  
  Race: Human
  
  
  Note:
  
  
  This character was active during the previous iteration of Dragon Wardens. I've updated his CS to reflect changes in his character so far. These can be found under new!.
  
  
  New! History:
  
  
  Olsten and Grybil were among the lucky few Wardens who managed to escape Haven during the siege. After having survived for a little while in the wild, they found themselves to be hunted by the bounty hunters Kurfast and Jensen. Jensen was slain by Hale and Kraeg who had taken note of the assault. Olsten, in the meantime, brought down Kurfast and interrogated the old hunter to find out who had put the bounty up. Kurfast eventually told Olsten to find the Silver Lance Inn and ask for the innkeeper Jern. Little did Olsten know that he (and those in his company) weren't the only Wardens headed towards the Silver Lance.
  
  
  Jern easily saw through Olsten's makeshift disguise and made his neutrality with regards to Dragon Wardens quite clear. Before their conversation could continue however, a large Baladuri bounty hunter by the name of Vorstag entered the inn with a prisoner (Thannel) in tow. Feria, a surviving ice warden, noted that Vorstag carried a necklace that once belonged to her dear friend. Enraged, she charged the large hunter. Soon enough, the situation escalated and a fight ensued. It was only thanks to a clever plan devised by Jern that Olsten, by putting himself at great risk, managed to kill Vorstag. But not before he learned that Vorstag was a henchman of Wallace Savere.
  
  
  After the havoc at the Silver Lance inn, Olsten decided to abandon the group of Dragon Wardens and fly southwards, back towards the ruins of Haven. The surviving Wardens might be his brothers and sisters in arms, but he could see clear as day that they were nothing but a defunct, crippled family. As a result he decided to leave and seek refuge with his real family. But before he could, he would have to return to Haven to try and find out who his real parents were and where he might find them.
  
  
  He never made it there. An ambush awaited them and Grybil was shot down. Dragon and Warden crash landed several dozens of feet apart and have only been able to sense each other. The Thalls escorting him to Rosenfall claim to be Guides and allies of Dragon Wardens, but Olsten doesn't trust them. They informed him of the Butchering of Edlenfeld which came as a great shock and surprise to him. For now, he maintains hope that he'll be able to convince Queen Malan of his innocence.
  
  
  Appearance: Standing 5"4 tall, Olsten gazes into the world with fresh, mint-green eyes. His amber hair is almost always a tangled, spiky mess. While he is slender, as if he works too long and eats too little, he isn't scrawny like the scarecrows in the fields. Although he's not the strongest, his passion for archery has rewarded him with beginning muscles in his arms and chest. His jawline is strong, but his cheeks are still soft. Olsten is caught in the uneasy transition from boy to man: narrow shoulders are beginning to broaden, thin lips are growing fuller every day. Much to his dismay, his voice hasn't broken yet, causing many to assume him to be younger. He has the careless strut and indifferent nonchalance of a boy, but also carries dull, sullen eyes, weighted down by the responsibilities bestowed upon him.
  
  
  Personality: Olsten is a volatile, ambiguous boy, prone to flares of extreme kindness and destructive hate alike. Energetic and cheerful at his best, gloomy and downcast at his worst, Olsten's late bonding (just after turning 12) has left him emotionally unstable and at the core, he feels more like a burden than a help. This dualism is a pattern that is reflected on every level of Olsten's personality. He can be kind and caring one week, before turning hateful and apathetic the next. When he feels wronged, he will lash out with words first, and fists second. Impulsiveness guides him more than reason, sometimes to his benefit, but more often to his own detriment. Get on his good side however, and you will not soon be brushed aside.
  
  
  New! Recently Olsten has started to regret having abandoned the other Dragon Wardens. He now realizes it was a reckless decision and intents to be more careful in the future. While still prone to rashness, previous events have rendered him more cautios and thoughtful.
  
  
  Strengths: Agile, Brave, Intelligent, Resourceful. Olsten, still very much in training, had to rely on quick thinking and his magical attunement instead of physical strength and combat skill. This is also why he prefers a bow. Why try to stick and enemy up close when you can hit him from afar? Olsten is far more useful at a distance and has no desire to throw himself into close-quarter combat unless he really has to.
  
  
  New! Olsten suffered an injury to his upper arm and shoulder during his fight with Vorstag. It has been treated and is healing, but currently still hinders his ability to use his bow.
  
  
  Weaknesses: Hot-headed, Opinionated, Ambiguous, Stubborn. Olsten won't hesitate to speak up if he disagrees, and he can be quite hard to persuade. Worse, with only minor combat skills Olsten is prone to getting himself into serious danger. When angered, he will stupidly stand his ground, just to make a point. Naturally, he thinks he knows best too and has a knack for finding things out the hard way. Speaking is very much in his dictionary, but listening less so.
  
  
  Magical Attunement: Fire
  
  
  Secondary weapon specialization: Bow.
  
  
  New! Inventory: Olsten was given a potion by Hale just after the skirmish at the Silver Lance inn. Hale claimed it would "help prevent infection", but it actually sends the drinker to sleep. (Read more here)
  
  
  Spoiler

  Character by Treijim, Dragon by jjpeabody. Source.
• 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Name: Grybil
  
  
  Type: Fire
  
  
  Height and length: 13.5ft tall, 29ft long (4,1 meters by 9 meters).
  
  
  Personality: Gybril is a rather large, living, fire-breathing amplification of Olsten's emotional turmoil. Like Olsten, Gybril tends to act on instinct rather than careful planning and has little patience for beings that aren't Wardens or Dragon Wardens.
  
  
  What Olsten lacks in close-quarter skills, Grybil more than makes up for, quite capable to use claws, teeth, tail and horns to slaughter those who dare come in his path. Grybil tends to mirror Olsten's mood. As a result, an angry Olsten can become a rather terrifying sight with no lack of theatrics as Gybril likes to set things on fire.
  
  
  Gybril's bond with Olsten is strong and marrow-deep as they recognize themselves in each other. At his worst, Grybil will be quiet and reclusive, retreating deep into himself to seek his own counsel, the only counsel he takes seriously. Unfortunately, he tends to get anxious and impatient soon after and will do anything to gain attention and have someone pity him.
  
  
  The most straightforward way to anger Grybil would be to insult his ego. Though small by Fire Dragon standards, Grybil is very proud and will not tolerate anyone questioning his awesome power. In fact, he doesn't hate all non-Wardens right away, he just thinks very low of them and wishes that bi-pedals show proper respect. If they don't, it will take some serious pandering before Grybil will stop being butthurt about it.
  
  
  When around Olsten, Grybil is surprisingly calm and tame for a fire dragon. His smaller size gives him less strength than most of his kind, including his smaller-than-usual blasts of fire. He more than makes up for these deficits however with increased maneuverability and a speed close to that of an average Arcane Dragon.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  Length: 5"4 ft / 162.56cm
  
  
  Weight: 108 pounds / 48KG
  
  
  Eye-color: Mint green.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  Olsten and Grybil weren't your typical Fire Warden and Dragon. For one, Olsten much preferred books to physical training, and Grybil was rather small for a Fire Dragon. Aside from getting into trouble for skipping close-combat training, Olsten was a pretty well-behaved student.
  
  
  When time allowed it, Olsten often ventured out on Grybil's back to seek some peace and quiet elsewhere. There was something to gain for Grybil in these expeditions as well because pine tree bark up high was the best remedy against itchy scales.
  
  
  While Grybil lost to every other Fire Dragon in terms of strength and size, he had an edge when it came to speed. It was an advantage he was rather proud of and sought to maintain by trying dangerous maneuvers whenever he and Olsten ventured out.
  
  
  When together, the two were quite happy. But as soon as they were seperated, both felt a sense of dread coming over them. Olsten nor Grybil had managed to make any friends, and so they often sought each other's company during the dark of night.
  
  
  It was this habit of Olsten to visit Grybil and bring his only friend some snacks, that ended up saving both their lives.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  Not even fourteem years of being a Dragon Warden could stop Olsten from feeling quesy as he tip-toed past the many Dragons sleeping peacefully in their nests. He knew they wouldn't harm him, but it was hard not to be scared by the monstrously large animals that could snuff out his life in an instant. A sigh of relief escaped him when he reached Grybil's nest. The small fire Dragon raised its head from its paws, a flash of recognition shining in the glowing golden orbs that were his eyes.
  
  
  "Hey Grybs," Olsten whispered. "I brought you something."
  
  
  The basket he'd been dragging with him landed with a heavy thud. Grybil sniffed cautiously at it.
  
  
  "I am not sure what's in there, but it's meat so-"
  
  
  Before he could say another word, Grybil had torn the basket apart and was burying his nose in the bloody mess that came spilling out.
  
  
  "-So have at it..." Olsten finished quietly. A little flame burst into life in the palm of his hand. He was glad he was a fire mage; never a shortage of warmth or light. Dropping to his knees, Olsten checked the knapsack he had packed. He would be leaving early the next day to map out a region on the northeast mountain. Of course the area had been mapped already, and in much greater detail than he could ever hope to achieve, but that didn't refrain the elders from tormenting their pupils with useless tasks. Besides, he didn't mind an excuse not to practice sword fighting. Or rather, 'desperately fling your arms around and hope you hits someone'. Going out and drawing maps was decidely better than adding to his bruise collection.
  
  
  Just when he was about to check on Grybil, a shout ripped the air. His heart jolted. Grybil even stopped eating to glance at the direction of the noise. Olsten wouldn't have paid it much heed if he hadn't heared desperation in the voice. Holding his breath he perked his ears. The crescendo of clammering rolled over him like an avalanche. The quiet air had been torn asunder. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
  
  
  "Grybs..."
  
  
  His Dragon gulped down half a liver and didn't pay him much heed.
  
  
  "Grybs...I think we should go and see what's going on."
  
  
  ---
  
  
  The exit of the undergroud caves was drawing near. But no blue sky was greeting them. Instead, an infernal glow dawned at the horizon. The shouts and screams were unmistakable now. People were dying. Wardens were dying.
  
  
  Dragons were dying.
  
  
  Grybil plowed ahead without pause. It wasn't until they had broken out of the underground caves that their enemies took note of them. An arrow whizzed right over Olsten's head and the young rider spotted a handful of heavily armed soldiers approaching from various angles. Instinct took over. Grybil sent a wall of fire towards the charging soldiers, but it did little to deter them.
  
  
  It's no use. Go!
  
  
  There was a flicker of hesitation in Grybil's eyes. Fleeing was for cowards. They couldn't abandon their fellow Wardens without a fight!
  
  
  Go! Olsten pressed.
  
  
  With a mighty pump of his wings, Grybil took off and flew in the opposite direction of far nobler Dragons.
  
  
  

 

[CrazyDiamond]

GM Approved

• Eadric
• Dromar
• Background
• Writing Sample

• 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Name: Eadric
  
  
  Age: 31
  
  
  Race: Human
  
  
  Appearance: (I know the pictue doesn't have red hair, but just imagine it as though it did) Eadric stands at about 6'2" in imperial units and weighs about 175 pounds. His frame is reasonably athletic, though he is not exceptionally strong. He has light skin, blue eyes, and auburn-colored hair cut short with sideburns. His shoulders are broad and his body has no irregularities to speak of. He's normally wearing his suit of steel and leather armor.
  
  
  Personality: Eadric talks a good game, and those who first meet him would perceive him as the valiant and heroic type of person. That is very much the person he strives to be, but inside, Eadric is extremely worrisome and quick to run away from a fight. Most of this is hidden behind a strategic way of thinking. Thus, Eadric is the master of excuses. He not only makes them to his companions and opponent, but to himself. He isn't backing away from a fight, he's making a "tactical retreat." He hasn't failed his task, the "circumstances changed in a way outside of my control." Still, he is ultimately a good person at heart and he constantly strives to overcome the less-desirable parts of his personality. All that being said, he is a relatively intelligent and resourceful man, and very good at coming up with a backup plan in a pinch, provided he has been able to overcome his fear.
  
  
  Strengths: Eadric is very resourceful, and when this skill is put to use well, he can be very useful in a tough situation, able to come up with a backup plan. He is also a surprisingly adept leader, being able to manage a group very well, though he tends to try and keep himself out of harm's way more often than not. Lastly, he is very adaptable, being able to handle it well when things don't go as planned and continue moving forward.
  
  
  Weaknesses: Eadric has a few primary crippling weaknesses that have limited him his entire life. His first is his fear of physical harm. He prefers to keep out of the front lines as much as possible and sling spells from the back. His second weakness is his tendency to become lazy when nobody is watching. He requires a strong-willed companion in order to keep on task and carry out his duties properly. Last are the lies he is able to tell himself. He is constantly making excuses for his unreliability to the point where even he himself believes them. He can get himself to believe that he is doing the write thing, even when his actual actions would suggest the opposite.
  
  
  Magical Attunement: Arcane
  
  
  Secondary weapon specialization: He primarily uses his arcane magic for defense, but also carries a heavy cavalry sabre around for hand-to-hand combat
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Name: Dromar
  
  
  Type: Arcane
  
  
  Height and length: 11 ft tall, 28 ft long
  
  
  Personality: Dromar is a highly intelligent dragon who, like his master, does not always properly demonstrate his mental aptitude. Like Eadric, Dromar is very good at finding a way out of a fight, utilizing his smaller size and speed well to maneuver his way to safety. Though he does appear to be lazy, it would be more accurate to say that he is waiting for Eadric to realize both of their full potential. Of the pair, Dromar is usually the one providing the defense in fights, gliding and swooping through the battlefield with elegance, allowing Eadric to utilize his magic for attack.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  Eadric was always fairly social during times of peace, and in Haven, he ran a restaurant and bar with a friend. Though he was a student of military tactics, he preferred more hands-on experiences through playing various games, many of which he became very good at. He would also gamble frequently, making reasonable sums of money off of his drunk companions. He was quite popular with the Wardens in general, though those he worked under had mixed feelings about him, due to his tendency to attempt to take control of a group and his unreliability in general. During the invasion, he and a group of his friends managed to break through the line of enemies at a point far to the edge of the fight. While his friends attempted to exploit this advantage and allow more to escape, he chose to fly away to safety, knowing that it would be impossible to save others and escape himself. He pleaded with his friends to join him in fleeing, but they refused and went off to their deaths attempting to rescue others. Though he openly cursed their stupidity, internally he was envious of their ability to face death with fear and put the needs of others over their own personal safety.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  "Alright guys, form a wedge, we need to break through the line at its weakest point!" Eadric called out to his companions.
  
  
  "This is it, just one more push until we're free from this Hell," he thought to himself.
  
  
  The attack had begun whilst they were dropping off a cargo of supplies for the tavern when the attack began. All of a sudden, a giant rock had flown onto the roof of the place, crushing all the men drinking and gambling around the round table. Immediately they heard the call to arms, its horn bluntly ringing out through the air. He jumped into action, rounding up his surviving friends and heading out to join the fight. The town was surrounded by men and siege engines, and the gates of the town had already been broken down, enemies streaming through. Escape was neigh-impossible for all but the fastest of dragons, as the siege engines provided a hail of stones upon any dragon that would attempt to pass over them. Thus, they joined the fight.
  
  
  Initially they had success. Under Eadric's leadership, his band was able to push back the invaders at the south end of the city. After many hours of strenuous and grueling fighting they were given an opportunity to charge out the city gates and attack a nest of siege equipment.
  
  
  He was currently preparing his companions for the final push. His long time friend and companion Colton was riding next to him in this final charge. As they prepared to take the nest head on, he turned his head toward the man and said to him,
  
  
  "When we make it out, let's open a new tavern in some faraway location."
  
  
  "Yes, that would be nice..." Colton muttered in reply. His eyes seemed desolate and empty as they prepared for the push.
  
  
  "Everybody charge on my count!" Eadric shouted to the other wardens formed around him.
  
  
  "3"
  
  
  "2"
  
  
  "1"
  
  
  "CHARGE!" He raised his sword high in the air as he shouted this final command.
  
  
  As the dragons and their riders raced down to the fortified defenders, they swooped and swerved around a hail of projectiles and arrows. Eadric witnessed many of his good friends plummet to the ground dead after being hit, but the band continued to charge. As they neared the position each dragon prepared to unleash a hail of ice, fire, and arcane onto the humans below. Dromar began to glow blue in preparation.
  
  
  When they were within striking distance, all of the dragons emptied their throats onto the defenders, destroying the siege equipment and killing many of the people around it. The human soldiers were well, disciplined though, and quickly worked to fill any gaps in the line. They did not have much time.
  
  
  "This is our chance!" Eadric shouted when he saw Colton flying next to him.
  
  
  "We have to go now!"
  
  
  "There are still others trying to get out of Haven, we must assist them!" Colton shouted back.
  
  
  "You've already done enough for all of us, leave now and we'll join you when we get more wardens out!" Colton and Eadric both knew full well that anyone who went back into the fight would not likely come back.
  
  
  "Please come with me, There's no point in throwing your life away!" Eadric pleaded with Colton.
  
  
  "My conscience won't allow it I"m afraid," Colton replied. "Men, there are still people attempting to flee the city. I'm not going to force any of you but those that want to help others escape should come with me!" he shouted out to the other survivors.
  
  
  As Eadric flew away he caught a glimpse of all his former friends and allies headed back out to their deaths.
  
  
  

 

[Spinoceratopsrex]

• Rynar
• Singrax
• Background
• Writing Sample

• 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Name: Rynar Torchbow
  
  
  Age: 15
  
  
  Race:Human
  
  
  Appearance: Please write out your character's appearance here: Standing at about 5 foot five and a half, Rynar has green eyes, pale skin, a slim build and messy hair which gets very dark at the tips.
  
  
  Personality: 1+ paragraphs: Rynar is quite spontaneous in personality, he usually acts before he thinks about something, which can be his weaknesses. He usually gets on well with others unless they try to hurt him or his dragon, he is very versatile in a team, and can follow and lead with equal capability. He is loyal to others, especially his dragon, whom he will protect with his life. He values companionship with others, and makes friends relatively easily. He is also highly skilled with his weapon.
  
  
  Strengths: list at least 3: Works well in a team, Very good with his weapon, Strong Bond with Dragon.
  
  
  Weaknesses: list at least 3: He acts before he thinks, which can get him hurt if he isn't careful. Despite his family name, Rynar is completely hopeless with a bow, or any ranged weapon for that matter. He cannot fully control his magic, as The Haven was destroyed before he could graduate.
  
  
  Magical Attunement: choose one form of magic: Fire
  
  
  Secondary weapon specialization: daggers, swords, bows, axes, etc. Choose one: Short sword
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Name: Singrax
  
  
  Type: Fire
  
  
  Height and length: 20 feet Tall by 38 feet long
  
  
  Personality: Singrax is slightly larger than other fire dragons, which he takes pride in and uses to command respect among other dragons, although he seems like a powerful, dominating creature, he is actually surprisingly docile and friendly for a fire dragon, although he still prefers the company of other dragons and Wardens to normal humans and elves. He will protect Rynar just as Rynar protects him, and will always save him before anyone else. He is,like many fire dragons, prone to action before thought, and while friendly with other dragons, if Rynar so much as looks at a another dragon for too long, he starts to get jealous. The spikes on his back are usually flattened against him to make riding easy, however he may raise them if he feels threatened, angry, or jealous.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  Rynar was given up to the Wardens almost as soon as he was born, not having any objections from his parents, as they knew how important their son could become. Rynar was always very skilled with hand to hand combat and weapons, finding an affinity with short swords. His magic however, was less than excellent, and he found it difficult to control. He found Singrax at the age of 7, when he first began sensing him, he found the dragon lying at the bottom of a mountain, sleeping deeply. Rynar woke him up. Singrax was a little annoyed at first, but the pair quickly grew to like each other. They would often sneak out at certain times to go flying , with Singrax learning to perform a few air tricks, such as loops and dives. They would often get into trouble for this. Rynar had many friends, but also a few enemies, who would call him and his dragon names, calling Singrax a wimp because he didn't behave as aggressively as other fire dragons, and mocking Rynar's family name since he was hopeless with a bow. However these people really didn't bother him much, and he went about training without a care.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  It seemed like this would be a good day, Rynar and Singrax were doing some fancy flying, dives, loops and all manner of tricks.
  
  
  "Alright Singrax, can you give my another loop?"
  
  
  Singrax rose higher into the air and looped around before spewing out some fire for extra effect.
  
  
  "Well, not perfect but you're definitely getting the hang of it, big guy."
  
  
  Singrax grunted and shook his head from side to side. Then they heard something, shouts of war, an army, but what where they doing here?
  
  
  Suddenly, a huge rock same from a siege weapon and started heading straight for the pair. Singrax dived down to avoid it, instead it crashed and flattened a house.
  
  
  Rynar watched as soldiers started streaming in, attacking en masse, he heard the dying screams of dragons and their Wardens, it was painful to watch. Rynar knew they had to get away, there was no way they could fight them off. Singrax gave a mourning bellow, trying to get the other dragons to run, if they could hear him, they didn't stop to check if anyone else was leaving.
  
  
  Rynar felt terrible for deserting, he was sure his friends would die. He shed a single tear, which fell down to the ground and splashed on some fire before finally getting clear of the city he had grown up with, snuffed out by the army like a candle flame.
  
  
  Once they were sure they were clear of the Haven, Singrax touched down in a forest. There was a herd of dear close by. Singrax caught one in his jaws and flame grilled it, tenderising the meat. He picked it up and flew Rynar to a nearby cave, only just big enough for the pair of them, they lit a fire and roasted the meat. Rynar knew that this was all the future likely held for him, a life on the run, scratching out a living. If they even managed to survive for more than a week.
  
  
  

 

[The Velveteen Rabbit]

• Adelaisa
• Varen
• Background
• Writing Sample

• 
  
  
  Name
  
  
  Adelaisa
  
  
  Age
  
  
  23 years old
  
  
  Race
  
  
  Half-elf
  
  
  Appearance
  
  
  Often described as striking and beautiful, Adelaisa has a head of fiery red hair that contrasts brightly against her ghostly pale skin tone. Her eyes are a stunning golden hazel with flecks of yellow along the outside of the iris. She stands at a height of 5'7", and has a slender, yet toned physique. Her heart-shaped lips are naturally tinted a light red color, and she has quite a petite facial structure. Like other half-elves, Adelaisa's ears are slightly pointed and poke out through her hair.
  
  
  As for clothing, Adelaisa is often seen wearing a white silk gown that hovers just above the ground. Her wrists and ankles have golden bracelets snapped around them, along with a unique necklace hanging from her neck that she is rarely seen without. Adelaisa carries a brown leather satchel with her at all times, containing many useful items such as books, maps, rare collectibles, and other things she has found along her travels.
  
  
  Personality
  
  
  An adventurous and carefree spirited woman, Adelaisa is rarely ever unwelcoming in nature unless provoked or threatened. Her kindness is described as infectious. She is usually able to see past the negative side of things and focus on the positive. On occasion, there are times when the positive side of things are not so clear to her, and in response, Adelaisa becomes unsettled. Irritated even. But because of her outgoing and kindhearted nature, she can forgive things more easily than others can.
  
  
  Not only is Adelaisa compassionate, she is also strong willed and full of pride. Any fear she might have is dealt with in a mature, calm manner. She is scarcely blinded by panic or the will to run away from things that frighten her. Instead, Adelaisa will challenge things head on. A challenge is what excites her most, especially when it is particularly difficult.
  
  
  Strengths
  
  
  Due to her unquenchable hunger for knowledge, Adelaisa spent many years learning and studying about the vast amounts of animals living throughout the lands. She can recognize any animal by a simple clue, such as a paw print in the mud or a feather that had recently fallen from a bird overhead. Her level of knowledge on alchemy is also extremely impressive, since she worked under the wing of an alchemist by the name of Alchemist Savos, who was a Dragon Warden as well. He had an Earth dragon alongside him named Deimos. Unfortunately during the siege, Alchemist Savos and Deimos were proclaimed dead.
  
  
  Adelaisa is also quite skillful with the bow, and was self-taught at a very young age.
  
  Weaknesses
  
  
  Adelaisa has a rather hard time focusing on one thing at a time. She is the type of person who must finish a task completely in order to move on to the next one. It can get in the way of things easily, and become a huge issue at times. She can also be quite stubborn, but very rarely.
  
  
  Over the years, Adelaisa has not spent a single day without traveling about or being outside in the wilderness. Being coped up in a room or a confined place for too long can make her uneasy, and considerably harsh when gifted with another's presence. In order to prevent this behavior, she must constantly busy herself with a task or spend the day outside in the fresh air. For those who tire easily, Adelaisa may be too much for them to handle.
  
  
  Magical Attunement
  
  
  Earth
  
  
  Secondary weapon specialization
  
  
  Bow and arrow
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Name
  
  
  Varen
  
  
  Type
  
  
  Earth
  
  
  Height and length
  
  
  15.45 ft long, 33 ft tall
  
  
  Personality
  
  
  Varen has a strong desire for adventure and fulfillment. If he is ever unsatisfied with something, he will not be hesitant to show it. His temper is somewhat short and aggressive, but he will only ever express anger if someone or something threatens Adelaisa, or himself. Varen is quite impulsive, and although he is extremely intelligent, he acts without thinking most of the time.
  
  
  It takes a very long time for Varen to trust someone fully, so he is usually stubborn and cold when first meeting someone. In reality, he is actually very playful, despite his intimidating demeanor and appearance. He is mature in certain circumstances, but can be mischievous as well.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  Since the beginning of Adelaisa's life in the Haven, she has somehow managed to balance studying and adventuring perfectly. During her free time, she could either be found wandering the neighboring forests in search of new alchemy ingredients, or simply exploring with Varen who was always by her side. When the siege of the Haven began, Adelaisa and Varen were nowhere near it.
  
  
  After catching sight of the pillars of black smoke rising from the city in the distance, the two rushed back as fast as they could. By the time they got there, the city had already been overrun. Going against Varen's cries of protest, Adelaisa forced him to flee the city with her, despite his strong desire to protect the city and dive straight into the heart of danger. They disappeared into the Northern mountains, and have been on the run ever since.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  With slow steps, Adelaisa and Varen walked through an umber-brown, ancient forest. The composting, organic smell of dirt and rotting leaves rose up in waves like a miasma. Every sprawling tree they passed under was like a watchful guardian; a silent sentinel of the groves. They walked further on, until the foliage became thick and lush, forming an arch of green above their heads. Briars, brambles, and berry trees flanked the trail, making it impenetrable on either side. Shuffling noises came from deep in the interior, deadened by the cunningly woven web of leaves.
  
  
  Adelaisa came to a sudden halt in her place, crouching low to the ground and studying a particular plant growing off the side of a tree root. The veins within the leaves were a dark purple and pulsated slightly. She plucked a leaf quickly and smirked, rising to her feet.
  
  
  "Finally! I knew Kingsfoil leaves grew around here somewhere." She exclaimed proudly, talking half to herself and half to Varen.
  
  
  However, the dragon was paying no attention to his companion and her findings. Instead, his glowing gaze stared off into the distance. His eyes were alert, and his body motionless. Adelisa frowned, tearing her attention away from the newly plucked leaf and focusing on Varen, who was unusually unresponsive. She followed his gaze upwards, until a pillar of black smoke came into view, rising up over the city of Haven like a shadow.
  
  
  The leaf squeezed between her fingertips fluttered to the ground and was forgotten moments later. Varen swooped up into the air with Adelaisa on his back, pumping his wings furiously in a desperate attempt to gain speed. The sounds of battle cries and the scent of ashes hit Adelaisa in a wave, making her cough and squint through the smog. Dead bodies littered the ground, both human and dragon. Adelaisa gripped the dragon tightly, clenching her eyes shut as she questioned her next actions. Varen circled overhead, and just before he was about to land, a voice cried out.
  
  
  "NO!"
  
  
  The dragon's eyes widened in surprise at the sound of his companion's voice. He craned his neck to the side to lock gazes with Adelaisa, who stared back with a look of utter desperation and fear on her ash caked face.
  
  
  "No..." She repeated again, this time her voice cracking with emotion.
  
  
  Varen hovered there in silence above the chaos below him. He growled loudly in protest, but Adelaisa shook her head in response, unable to say the word 'no' once more. With a huff, he did as his companion wished, and with a mighty push of his wings against the clouded air, Varen flew away from the city and disappeared into the flaming horizon.
  
  
  

 

[Elle Joyner]

GM Approved

• Raleia
• Winnock
• Background
• Writing Sample

• 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Name: Raleia
  
  
  Age: 24
  
  
  Race: Human
  
  
  Appearance: Raleia is unquestionably beautiful, with pale ivory skin, scattered with freckles. Her hair is a bright coppery red in tight curls, running in length to the center of her back, her eyes blue pools, speckled with bits of green and grey. Her features are delicate, with finely arched brows, rosy cheeks and full lips. Her form is small and lithe, with subtle but feminine curves, long arms and legs, ending in smaller hands and feet.
  
  
  Personality: Regal and focused, Raleia can, on the occasion, come across as cold or stoic. Her manner is often dictated by her environment, and she tends to show less comfort in circumstances outside of her direct control. Given the history of her people, she can be slow to trust and often times suspicious of the motives of others, particularly those who might appear willing to assist her. Her heart was greatly broken, and because of this, she can be quite closed off and emotionally distant. Beyond even herself, Winnock is Raleia's main concern, and there is nothing she won't do to protect her dragon, even at a risk to her own life.
  
  
  
  Strengths:

  
  
  
  + Driven: What she sets her mind, she throws everything into.
  
  
  + Mindful: Focused and attuned to the world around her, she rarely allows herself to lose control. Her temperament reflects this, as she so rarely exhibits anger.
  
  
  + Devoted: Those she commits herself to, to any degree, she holds unmitigated loyalty towards.
  
  
  

  Weaknesses:

  
  
  
  - Suspicious: A hard life has made it difficult for Raleia to trust easily.
  
  
  - Haunted: Having lost so much, Raleia is haunted by the memories of the departed.
  
  
  - Idealistic: What Raleia believes, she does not doubt... not ever. Her single-mindedness can be helpful, but it has also been the catalyst to many disagreements.
  
  
  
  
  
  Magical Attunement: Fire
  
  
  Secondary weapon specialization: A simple short sword, twelve inches in length - thick and blunt, with a heavy wooden hilt, wrapped in a scrap of red cloth.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Name: Winnock
  
  
  Type: Fire
  
  
  Height and length: 18'5 tall, 32' long
  
  
  Personality: Temperamental, impatience and stubborn, Winnie can be a handful on any given day. He can be blatantly defiant and and has a bad history of making impulsive decisions, but he is wholly and affectionately bonded to Raleia, loyal to a fault. He enjoys nothing more than pushing limits, and has been known to behave recklessly, particularly if there's anyone around he's less than taken by, which happens to be most everyone he meets. Still, he's not without his charms - he's particularly cuddly, for a giant brute, and always does his best to save some of the meaty bits of his meals for Raleia. All in all, he's a great show off, and seems attuned to Raleia's moods well enough that he's even been known to try and make the Dragon Warden laugh.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  Little much about her younger years bears mentioning. Raleia was born the forth child to a young farmer and his wife. Due to the manner of her coloring, they prepared early to have her taken by the Wardens and in infancy, Raleia came to live at Haven. Her childhood was spent in focused on her studies, to which Raleia adapted exceptionally, until the age of seven, when she began her period of bonding.
  
  
  Her dragon, Winnock was a temperamental bull, but their bond was forged with incredible depth and fortitude. Winnock was not just her dragon, he was her best friend and such was the emotional connection that Winnie adopted the notion of trying to cheer Raleia up, if ever she needed the encouragement.
  
  
  As she grew and eventually, after she'd graduated, Raleia formed a bond of an entirely different nature with a Dragon Warden named Valnir and over time, the two arranged to marry. Before they could, however, the Haven was attacked and during the siege, Valnir was killed, helping Raleia to escape.
  
  
  Devastated by loss of her betrothed and her home, Raleia set off with her dragon, wandering nomadically, in search of answers, in search of sanctuary. She keeps to herself, unless absolutely necessary, and since escaping has come across little in terms of adversity. It's only a matter of time, however, and she's only too aware hiding is only an option for so long.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Light can radiate, even in places unseen.... But not all darkness is corrupt and sometimes fire can burn.
  
  ​
  
  
  
  
  "It was them. They're certain now. The attack was unprovoked..." Raleia sat on the edge of the hearth, with her feet curled beneath her, the warmth of the flames licking at her bare legs. Shades of gold cast upon pale skin, reflecting in her empyrean eyes, coiled through sanguine ringlets. The once-stark hem of her nightdress had begun to singe, but she either had not noticed, or bore it no mind. Her voice, normally so resolute, shook with emotion, matching the quake in her hands, which gripped the sword balanced across her lap with a white-knuckled ferocity, "They killed them all. Every single one of them. Even the children... slaughtered, like lambs. I don't understand... It's our job to keep peace. Why? Why would they do something like this?"
  
  
  Concern etched across Valnir's face and she was aware then of how she must have looked. She did not blame him for his wariness. Three nights in a row now, she had been wrested from sleep by the thoughts which plagued them all.
  
  
  "I've told you, Leia. We'll get to the bottom of it. Those responsible, they'll be punished... " Sinking down beside her, Valnir reached out, his wide palm cupped around her cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing tenderly against her temple. His free hand moved to grasp the sword and slowly, carefully, he eased it from her hands, set it on the mantle above his head, "No one blames us..."
  
  
  "You say that now, but it's only a matter of time, Val, before they decide we're all a threat." Her fingers brushed against his hand, wove around it and pulled it gently to her chest, her head coming to rest against his shoulder, her other hand curved around the amulet he wore beneath his shirt. "I'm so afraid."
  
  
  "I swore an oath to you, my love, I would never let anything happen to you. Do you think me so ill fit a protector that I cannot keep my wife from harm?"
  
  
  "I'm not your wife yet, Val..." She said, pulling away, and a smile softened the anxious lines, creased through the gentle curves of her face, "It's you I'm worried for. These hostilities... they're why you've been called away, aren't they?"
  
  
  "It's only negotiations, Leia. There is nothing to fear."
  
  
  "Then why am I so afraid?"
  
  
  His arms came around her and he pulled her to him, his lips pressed to her crown, fingers wound in locks of red, "Shh. No more, my love. No more..."
  
  
  
  
  
  Stones fell around her like hail, pebbles raining, pattering against the earth, great chunks of the outer wall slamming down with a thud which shook the ground and stirred up enormous clouds of dust. There had been no time to grab anything, no time to plan. Her bare feet cut against rocks and bits of metal, slipping in the mud. Valnir's heavy footsteps came from behind and above, high enough, she hoped to avoid detection she could sense Winnock's presence.
  
  
  For a city under siege, there seemed to be an eerie sort of silence. It took Raleia some time before she realized that was because her hearing had been drowned out by the slamming tattoo of her heart, pounding in her chest. Looking up, she saw another wall crumbling and jumped out of the way of the rocks, smashing down around her. Valnir had caught up, his strong, sturdy hand closed around her arm and with a gentle tug he leg her down a set of stairs, which she knew would eventually lead to the catacombs, beneath the city, and through that, they would come out in the valley, with some grace, far enough away from the carnage and destruction of their beautiful city.
  
  
  A cracking sound splintered above and rocks rained down. Valnir released her, pushed her forward and she heard it, rather than saw it... the massive slab, slamming down where'd she'd stood a moment before. For a second or two, they stood still, silent. There was a crunch, and the steps beneath her feet began to quake, to quiver. Looking up, she could see Valnir's face, could see him mouthing for her to run, but she couldn't hear, couldn't make out the sound of his voice amidst the chaos. Spinning, she set her foot down, and as she did so, the step gave way, then the next one after it. The foundation had shattered and the staircase would not hold. Her eyes shot to Val, still trapped behind the massive pile of boulders and debris and her heart gave a stab as she watched him, screaming now, to run... to leave him and run. Her feet moved when he heart would not and she leapt over the broken steps, ran, fast as her legs would carry her down, down, down...
  
  
  She could hear the steps now, crumbling behind her, like a race she had no desire to be a part of. But at least she could see the end in sight, could see the stone gateway, the arch leading into the catacombs. She hit the last stair, twisted her foot and fell, slapping hard against the ground. Behind her, she could see the staircase as it came down, great plumes of dusty smoke rising from the debris. Heart hammering against her ribs, pain in her side, in her hands and feet, she looked, searched, desperately, hoping to see a glimpse of Val, coming after her...
  
  
  Above her head she heard the subtle swooping sound of leathery wings and looked up to see Winnock descending, landing with a heavy thud beside her. His great, beastly head lolling towards her, lolling her towards the archway.
  
  
  "I can't." She whispered, "I have to find Val."
  
  
  Winnie chuffed, smoke curling from his nostrils and with the tip of his snout he nudged her, "Winnock, no! I have to find--"
  
  
  The dust had settled and she could see him, surrounded by great heaps of rubble. The red of his hair stood out, a shock amongst so much grey. Stepping tentatively, then swiftly, she clambered over stones, ignoring every stitch of pain, until she came to a skidding halt beside him, landing on her knees by his side. His upper half had twisted at a strange angle, his left arm curved behind him, the rest laying flat on his chest, his lower half was gone, buried beneath the rubble. He gave a choking gasp, and his blue eyes opened, met her gaze. She felt her stomach churn, her throat tighten, her eyes stinging with dust and with tears, as she reached out, her hand clutching his.
  
  
  "Val. You have to move. We have to go." She murmured.
  
  
  He laughed, lightly, and it turned into a brackish cough, pink, foaming blood bubbling between his lips, "You never were very good at listening, were you, my love."
  
  
  "Val! Stop it. We have to go... You have to get up!" She tugged, yanked on his arm and he grimaced, but he didn't budge. Tears streamed down her cheeks, leaving streaks smudged in the dirt coating her pale skin. He reached up, brushed them away with the pad of his thumb.
  
  
  "You have to leave me, Leia."
  
  
  "No." She hissed.
  
  
  "Leia."
  
  
  "No!" A shout this time, and she pounded her fist into his chest in anger, "No, Val! Get up! Get up, now!"
  
  
  "Raleia!" Cupping her cheek, he shook his head, "I can't. My legs. I can't feel them."
  
  
  The words hit hard, punched into her gut like a fist. She stared at him, silent, tears pouring out, now, and she was irrationally angry at the emotions, how they clouded her mind, "Dear Heart, you promised... You promised..."
  
  
  "That we would be together, forever. And we will, my love. I will be with you, always ..." His voice crackled, dimmed. He pulled his hand free, tugged the amulet from around his neck and pressed it into her palm, "This is not the end, Raleia. Not for you... not for us. For now in memory, in song... and some day... in eternity."
  
  
  "...Val..."
  
  
  "I love you, Leia."
  
  
  "Stop it."
  
  
  "Always..."
  
  
  "Val, stop it!"
  
  
  "...Always."
  
  
  "...And I love you." But as the words slipped from her lips, so too did Valnir slip... his eyes falling closed, his hand limp in her own. "...No." The word, an utterance of disbelief poured from her, again and again, her voice rising until the only sound within her was a sob, a cry of absolute agony.
  
  
  
  
  
  A curl slipped to the edge of the hood and with a sigh of frustration, Raleia tucked in back beneath her woolen shroud. She loathed wearing the thing, but it's weight was a necessity in these parts. For three days now, she'd traveled on the outskirts of Thallas, stopping only to eat and to rest. Winnock flew over head, high enough that he could not be seen by passerbys, but not high enough that she could not sense him, the comfort of his presence.
  
  
  It had been several weeks since the fall of Haven, and while she had no tail and come across very little in terms of trouble, she knew it would not be long before the hand of fate once more cast her aside. Comfort, it seemed, was a relative term. There was no comfort, no peace. How many were left? How many had they lost...?
  
  
  Her fingers curled around the amulet she wore around her neck, and with a sigh she looked up into the clouds overhead. He was safe. He was free. That was all that mattered. That was all that would ever matter, now.
  
  
  
  
  
  

 

[JDParadox]

GM Approved

• Quyntalis
• Kovinth
• Background
• Writing Sample

• 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Name: Quyntalis "Quynn"
  
  
  Age: 23
  
  
  Race: Half-Elf
  
  
  Appearance: Quyntalis stands at an average 5'11 and sports a lean build, no doubt inherited from the Elven side of the family. His dark red hair is kept short and is usually swept to the side, yet somehow still sticks out at odd ends and angles, his eyes, deep-set and bold, are the pale green of rough emeralds; a straight, if not handsome nose rests between them. He is marked with a prominent scar running from his forehead down to his left chin, a little souvenir from a time when he arrogantly misjudged his opponent. He has a patchwork beard of light red stubble and unblemished skin, due to his conflicting bloodlines. As he can conjure his own armor, he is usually seen in a simple leather jerkin and cloth trousers, held up by a belt adorned with trinkets and and a scabbard for his blade.
  
  
  Personality: Quynn was, and is still a man with something to prove, even though he was supposed to have grown out of the newly-graduated-Dragon-Warden phase some time ago. His demeanor is usually cool and pleasant, open-minded and easy-going, yet pragmatic and almost apathetic sometimes; not entirely unlike the chilling ice that he is attuned to. Quynn likes to think of himself as calm, civilized, humble, and he tries to act like it; that is until someone makes a rude comment about his intelligence, his martial prowess or his patchy mess of a stubble. While it's not something he would duel to the death over, it's not an act easily forgiven. Unshakably loyal to his friends, ferocious and ruthless against his enemies yet prideful to an almost insecure degree, not that he'd ever admit to that last one.
  
  
  Strengths: Back when Haven was still a thing and he was just a wee lad, Quynn spent half of his days in the courtyards either bullying a training dummy with a wooden sword or getting beaten up by a much older, much stronger Dragon Warden. That has never discouraged him though, and now he carries his longsword with pride and skill honed by both training and experience. The other half of his days were exploring the ways he could freeze anything he could think of, a habit that developed into a greater understanding of magic in his later life. That does not mean he is a brute however. While lacking in academic knowledge, due to his experience in the field, he is quick-witted and streetwise, and not easily fooled.
  
  
  Weaknesses: His arrogance will be his downfall, his mentor used to say. Quynn has a tendency of underestimating his foes or overestimating his own abilities, usually with highly undesirable outcomes. His lack of knowledge may also prove to a be a problem as the Haven library was the only place he never desired to explore both because of how hot it was inside, and how boring the books were. A bit of a wildcard when it comes to plans: he is not known for making them, or sticking to them.
  
  
  Magical Attunement: Ice
  
  
  Secondary weapon specialization: Longsword
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Name: Kovinth
  
  
  Type: Ice Dragon
  
  
  Height and length: 9 ft tall and 19 feet in length
  
  
  Personality: For something the size of several over-fed cows with claws and fangs sharper than any blade, Kovinth is surprisingly tranquil. Rarely making a fuss over anything, he is the envy of many a Dragon Wardens simply over how easy it is to take care of him. Quiet, observant and cunning, Kovinth is by no means lazy, just a bit aloof when it comes to life as a whole. He doesn't care much even when insulted, putting it off as beneath him.
  
  
  In battle however, he is a brutal fighter, preferring claws and teeth and shards of ice over his ranged attacks. Kovinth very much mirrors Quynn's own behavior, often charging the enemies then backing off, before once again jumping back into the fray, spreading confusion and fear among their lines while avoiding getting injured himself.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  Back in Haven as a trainee, Quynn excelled in martial training as well as his studies in magic, mostly through practice as he was never much interested in book learning. Kovinth and Quynn bonded early, his magic manifesting at the same time, yet due to failing his academics, they did not graduate until he was 18 which Quynn thought was most unfair. He sought out to prove himself, perhaps as vengeance upon the mentors for failing him twice before, but most likely it was to reassure himself. Things were more difficult that he thought, as both he and Kovinth could never get past their mutual laziness.
  
  
  When Haven was attacked, The Warden and his Dragon were rested atop a hill overlooking the city, and quickly spotted the approaching army. They hurried back to defend their city, but everyone knows how that story ends. With their home in ruins, their friends either scattered or dead, the pair had no choice but to keep running. He found himself become a sellsword, wandering from small villages to small villages looking for work. Even with Kovinth's hunting and his own pay, keeping a Warden and his Dragon fed is still no simple endeavor
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  Some might call Kovi a lazy dragon that did nothing but sleep and lie around all day. While it was partly true, he never really slept. With his back leaned against the ice dragon and his legs stretched out across the grass, Quynn could feel Kovinth's chest slowly expanding and contracting with each steady breaths that were almost meditative in nature. His eyes were open, like always, watching nothing and everything. Atop this hill that had been 'Quynn and Kovi's hill' for as long as he could remember, they could see it all: from the city, the other dragons, the young trainees, to the massive army marching upon their safe haven.
  
  
  Kovinth saw it first. The dragon lifted his head up and craned his neck, and the subtle movement was enough to bring Quynn out of his own trance. "What? Some lady dragon caught your eye?" Quynn spoke groggily, his voice drifting as he caught the banners in the corners of his eyes. Unmistakably Thall. More men than he could count and what looked like orcish siege engines - an army, all ready for war and thirsting for blood. "We should go" Quynn lifted himself up, gripping the blade by his side tightly. Kovi followed suit, slow breaths progressing into heavy growls. He looked alert. Kovi was never alert unless something bad was about to happen.
  
  
  Quynn climbed onto Kovinth's back and strapped on. With a kick off the hindlegs and the thunderclap sound of air being subdued under his mighty wingspan, they were off to war.
  
  
  -------
  
  
  Quynn couldn't breath, and he wasn't sure if it was because of the smoke and fire, or the massive mace that just slammed into his chest.
  
  
  The armor had taken the brunt of the impact and he could see the remnants, shattered shards of broken ice now lying on the ground. That would have been his ribs if he hadn't been encased in solid ice, and it would still be his ribs soon enough, if he doesn't end this now.
  
  
  They were surrounded, in the very courtyard that he spent the entirety of his childhood in. Kovi was beside him, parts of his scales were missing, several arrows were stuck in his backside and a spear was impaled into his legs, they were the parts that the ice armor couldn't protect. Quynn wasn't much better off. Sometime during the fight he had taken an arrow in his shoulder, a mace that shattered his frozen chestpiece along with his lungs and a dagger through the back of his knee. They were hurt, near death, but still fighting. All around them were the sights and sounds of the death of the Dragon Wardens.
  
  
  "Guess this is the end, huh, you big bastard?" He found himself backed up against Kovi, his hands gripping the leather bound hilt of his sword until his knuckles were white. The Ice Dragon bellowed with desperate anger. One of their assailants flinched and nearly took a step back, until he realized there were a dozen of them, against a lone Warden and his Dragon. For some reason, Quynn found it funny how he hadn't thought of the same idea before.They can run. Of course they can run. But then he'd be leaving behind all his friends to die.
  
  
  But what was the alternative? Stay and fight and die with them?
  
  
  Quynn bit his lips and fought against the tears forming around his eyes. "Can you still fly?". Kovinth hesitated for a moment, eyeing up the rest of their enemies, then gave the draconic equivalent of a quick nod. "I hate it as much as you do. But it's over" Quynn sheathed his sword. There was no reply, the dragon remained still. The soldiers started closing in, their spears ready to shed the blood of another Dragon.
  
  
  "Don't ignore me. You know it as well as I do" Kovinth only growled as the circle became smaller and smaller. The sharp points of Thalls spears now only inches away from their flesh.
  
  
  "Damn it, you bastard. It's over!" Quynn screamed, his voice cracking. He felt cold talons around him, and with a beat of dragonwings, they took off. The young Warden heard the sounds of whizzing spears beside them, but none could reach their height so quickly. They were safe, at least for now.
  
  
  It was only from the air that he could really see the carnage. Metal against metal, flesh being torn apart, hundred year old buildings crumbling into dust within seconds. Somewhere in the distance, a dragon and her Warden spirals head first for the ground. The fiery beast, massive in size, looked as if she had been hit by a stray boulder. The Warden still held tightly onto her neck as both fell to their doom.
  
  
  Quynn turned away. Kovinth never looked back. The pair was determined to get as far away from this place as possible, their destination uncertain. Neither of them knew where to go, but that was just something to get used to now
  
  
  (I'll be honest, this is more like two posts rolled up and mashed together into one. I'm hoping you don't mind)
  
  
  

 

[animegirl20]

• Suzuran
• Blackfire
• Background

• 
  
  
  <p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_10/anime_girl_render_9_by_animerenderss-d6dilz6.png.e41a23716e626bd094d081943440285a.png" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="82345" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_10/anime_girl_render_9_by_animerenderss-d6dilz6.png.e41a23716e626bd094d081943440285a.png" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>
  
  Name:
  
  
  Age: 16
  
  
  Race: Human
  
  
  Appearance: She use to have red hair but she died it so no one would know what she really was. Her eyes are blue, she is 5'6" and weighs about 120 pounds.
  
  
  Personality: She is very athletic. Her energy is a never-ending flow, and this energy is extremely shown in her personality. She is usually cheerful, if not always and knows exactly how to turn a mistake into a thing to be happy about or laughed at. At the same time, she holds many part time jobs, she does not want to hinder anyone she wants to save lots of money. She is a glutton when it comes to food, but is also constantly combating with dieting, calling herself a 'diet warrior'. She gets a thrill out of being scared, unlike most people. She also seems to have a very high amount of skill in that regard. Whether it's acting scared or scaring others. Despite her air-headed tendencies, she is very perceptive. Her intuition is very noteworthy, and she can question a single act down to the point it can be answered with simple responses. Her air-headed tendencies are sometimes a facade, to hide her deepest sadness in her heart she doesn't want to show.
  
  
  Strengths: Athletic, tons of energy, hard worker.
  
  
  Weaknesses: glutton, has air headed tendencies, tends to hide her true feelings
  
  
  Magical Attunement: Arcane
  
  
  Secondary weapon specialization: staff/spear
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  <p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_10/Red_Dragon.jpg.6c97ce1b2a0c652e4815e69ee201fd06.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="82354" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_10/Red_Dragon.jpg.6c97ce1b2a0c652e4815e69ee201fd06.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>
  
  Name: Blackfire
  
  
  Type: Fire
  
  
  Height and length: 27.8 tall and 33 long
  
  
  Personality: Most people would say he is cold and rude but he is a humble and has a good side which he doesn't show directly. He is also clever and a trickster. He is very smart and only fights to defend himself or others.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  Before the fall of Heaven everything was great she had finished her training and was now doing missions. When Haven fell Suzuran wasn't even around. She was off on a mission and had heard about it form another dragon warden. She her and Blackfire flew back it was to late to help or do anything and the dragon wardens were being hunted down. So she and her dragon left and went into hiding to start a new life. She went back home to where he was originally from. Once she got there she changed the color of her hair so no one would no what she was. Thing was she used magic to do it so she doesn't know if it's permeant or not. She came to find out that her family was actually poor so she got three jobs and lived out a normal life taking care of her family.
  
  
  

<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_10/anime_girl_render_9_by_animerenderss-d6dilz6.png.d104ca031fcd662996e6718b065139f8.png" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="82319" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_10/anime_girl_render_9_by_animerenderss-d6dilz6.png.d104ca031fcd662996e6718b065139f8.png" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>

 

[Writer]

This character is still a work in progress!

• Enya
• Neva
• Background
• Writing Sample

• 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Name: Enya
  
  
  Age: 25
  
  
  Race: Human
  
  
  Appearance: Enya stands to a slightly above average height of 5'10", with a more athletic frame. Her red hair tends to run a bit wild, coming to down to around her shoulders. With soft light blue eyes, a clear complexion, and a good smile, strangers are hard pressed not to find Neva attractive. The only detraction from her looks is some scarring along the left side of her face, which are what she proudly calls her battle wounds. For attire, Enya wears consistently her battle armor, even when action is not expected. It may appear odd, but Enya she and her armor have to be one. She has to feel natural in her armor, so that end she wears it constantly.
  
  
  Personality: A go-doer would be the best way to describe Enya. She's not one to sit around the house all day sulking when there is work of any kind to be done. There's always something that Enya is up to. Part of the reason Enya is like is because of her type A personality, but at the same time, she also uses her frequent business to cover and disguise her lack of patience.
  
  
  A bit of a firecracker, Enya's known for at times having a bit of a temper on her. However, since she became a Dragon Warden, Neva has done wonders to chill Enya's fiery temper. While Enya still becomes mad in the moment, the anger is but a passing thing which is quickly swept to the side and forgotten.
  
  
  Socially, Enya isn't inept. She had some good friends among the other Dragon Wardens, in the truest sense of the word. It was only thanks to these friends, friends whose life you could place in their hands, that Enya made it through training by her 16th year. Enya can get along cordially with most, save for those who rub her the wrong way, which she tends to develop grudges towards.
  
  
  Strengths:
  
  
  • Grit: Enya has the resolve to go that extra round in the ring just to prove she can do it. She's not afraid to take hits, and she's willing to dish it right back to them.
    
  • Focus: When Enya sets her mind on something, she's going to follow through and do it to the best of her ability. The common joke among her friends is once Enya's decided, you best get out of the way before you get run over.
    
  • Intelligence: A bright person, Enya's very intuitive at figuring out the best way to go about do something. She's able to make a capable plan.
    
  
  
  Weaknesses:
  
  
  • Temper: Enya can be a bit of a hot head at times, and isn't afraid to throw that temper at others.
    
  • Impatience: Waiting around doing nothing is not something Enya ever likes to do. There is always, in her mind, something to do.
    
  • Hard on Self: While not so much to others, Enya can be extremely critical of her performance or ability to perform certain acts, tearing herself up inwardly on why she did certain things instead of other things. These little mistakes or inaction can eat at her for days or weeks.
    
  
  
  Magical Attunement: Ice
  
  
  Secondary weapon specialization: Swords
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Name: Neva
  
  
  Type: Ice
  
  
  Height and length: 10ft and 7 inches by 22 feet and 3 inches.
  
  
  Personality: As an ice dragon, Neva's personality isn't that much of a surprise. She's in many ways like a mother to Enya, the one who keeps Enya in check and prevents her from getting into trouble. Wise beyond her years, Neva knows the right things to say to make a situation better than before.
  
  
  Much to Enya's dismay, it's all but impossible for her to keep anything from her dragon, try as she would like to otherwise. Neva uncannily can tell whenever Enya is bothered by something. Sometimes Neva can go so far as to correctly calculate what is bothering Enya in that moment.
  
  
  Neva is a quiet dragon. While she communicates and converses with Enya, she rarely displays her personality to others. When working with other Dragon Wardens and conversing is needed, Enya is often the spokesperson for both herself and Neva.
  
  
  Behind Neva's soft and quiet exterior lies an incredibly bright and ruthless dragon. Whereas other dragons show themselves as cunning, Neva uses her calm and reserved exterior to portray innocence. The best way to out-maneuver an opponent is when they don't even know they have an opponent. Enya is the tool by which Neva enacts her plans, although she is not afraid to get claws dirty herself every now and then. Neva has high ambitions for herself and for her Dragon Warden.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  Please provide a brief background into their life at the Haven, where they were when the Haven fell, and what they have been doing since.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  Write what your characters were doing when the Haven fell. Were they there? Were they away on a mission? Please make the length how you would feel a detailed post would be.
  
  
  

 

[BookWyrm]

GM Approved

• Rasrik
• Valos
• Background
• Writing Sample

• 
  
  
  <p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_10/upload_2015-10-28_15-31-36.jpeg.cee4f39bd1a1228f8a5c389d27cff37c.jpeg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="82590" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_10/upload_2015-10-28_15-31-36.jpeg.cee4f39bd1a1228f8a5c389d27cff37c.jpeg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>
  
  Name: Rasrik
  
  
  Age: 42
  
  
  Race: Human
  
  
  Appearance: Rasrik stands at 6'2, and despite his age weighs in at 200 pounds, corded with muscle, and has the stamina to still run his students into the ground. A broad, muscular chest tappers down into a V shaped waist line, still giving him an attractive physique for his age. His hair is fading from a deep auburn to ashen grey, causing a contrast with his green eyes. A multitude of scars cover his face and body giving him an intimidating appearance to strangers and young Wardens alike. When not in combat Rasrik wears well worn leather armour with a coat-of-plates, but if called for he has a full suit of plate steel designed to mimic his dragon's appearance.
  
  
  Personality: Rasrik's intimidating image is well deserved. He is renowned for his dedication as one of the best sword instructors, levelheaded personality, and harsh criticism. Deep down though, Rasrik has the heart of a teacher. He sees the potential in his students and is willing to push them to their breaking point only to be the first hand offered to help them build their way back up. His sense of humor can be best described as sarcastic, and he is occasionally harsh in his criticisms. He is a realist and bit of a pragmatic, but can occasionally lose his temper. If he is not teaching or off on Emasari duties he can usually be found in some quiet corner with a book or training with sword or magic. Rasrik does have a mischievous streak to him and prone to the occasional good natured prank or a night spent drinking at the tavern.
  
  
  Strengths: His countless years of study and training have honed Rasrik into a talented spellsword. His knowledge of various sword fighting arts is combined with his unique approach to applying his arcane magic into combat through minor wards to reflect or turn an opponents blade or using illusion wards to "disappear", only to strike from a different angle or position. His years of teaching and instructing have earned him the ability to spot openings or vulnerabilities, giving him an edge. He will use energy blasts to disable or wound his enemy, but only in last resort, preferring to use his magic to augment instead of predominantly relying on it for offense.
  
  
  Weaknesses: Despite his skill and physical abilities, Rasrik's stamina will falter faster than someone half his age. When pushed to his limit he is prone to tunnel vision and a hot temper, leaving him open to things he would normally be aware of. Though his skill and focus allow him access to what would be considered advanced Arcane talents, he is only capable of using them on one, maybe two opponents if he must, though this puts considerable strain on him. At the worst of times his sarcasm funnels into pure pessimism.
  
  
  Magical Attunement: Arcane
  
  
  Secondary weapon specialization: Longsword
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  
  
  (Instead of sticking straight up the nasal horns stick out slightly)
  
  
  Name: Valos
  
  
  Type: Arcane
  
  
  Height and length: 18 ft at the shoulder and 36 feet long.
  
  
  Personality: Valos' intelligence rivals that of the best of his species, though he is prone to boredom and tends to sleep if he has nothing pulling for his attention. As skilled a fighter as Rasrik is a swordsman, Valos has a cruel streak to him. He is prone to toying with his enemies at first. He takes a slow, sadistic approach as he slowly injures them over a period of time to try and provoke them to fight without remorse, only to turn around and use their rage to find an opening to end the fight quickly. When he isn't sleeping or mulling over whatever suits his fancy at the moment Valos can be quite entertaining to be around. His often comical antics can make him appear younger than he truly is, and he gets along well with some of the younger dragons, sometimes mentoring them in a similar fashion to Rasrik and his students.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  Rasrik and Valos were both very active in training new recruits before Haven's destruction. Rasrik was, at least in his eyes, a fencing instructor first and an Emasari second, though he often found himself traveling off on the Emasari duties when required. Surprisingly he is quite tactful and very persuasive during important discussions, though he would never admit it. After a string of successful diplomacy missions Ras was even considered for a position on the Council. His considerable knowledge on training the next generation, not to mention his down-to-earth attitude and view point made him very popular among the Wardens and other nation leaders, were taken into account when he was offered the position, to which he politely declined. When asked why he simply stated that he found more of a challenge training children in the art of sword play than he did in politics.
  
  
  Despite his at times harsh criticisms and strenuous training regime, Rasrik was well respected among his peers and his students. He tended to his students like a father would his own children, and viewed them in similar fashion. Many of the new Emasaris or newly mented Dragon Wardens have been through Ras's strict training regime. During the fall of Haven Rasrik and Valos fought to protect the younger recruits and hatchlings, helping many to escape before eventually being forced to flee the burning city. During their exile Rasrik kept an ear out for rumors that could lead them to any surviving Dragon Wardens.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  "Watch your footing."
  
  
  Shhhcrrraaack!
  
  
  "No don't block! Parry, angle your blade so that it slides off. Don't just stand there, repost!"
  
  
  THUUUMM!
  
  
  
  
  
  Rasrik looked up in curiosity. The deep rumbling almost sounded like distant thunder. He looked into the sky. Not a cloud in sight, he made a note and resumed watching. He was currently teaching a mixed age class of young Wardens in sword play. Some of the older ones were pretty competent. They were practicing with blunted steel. Their dragons, no more than fledglings themselves, watched from the sidelines as they squared off with some skill and understanding of the art. The younger ones though, they would need some serious work before Ras felt comfortable giving them steel. Even blunted steel. Rasrik shook his head as the two currently squaring off, their ages were eight-ish, mostly looked like they were swatting away flies. Finally one of them got the idea, stepped forward with a feint before side stepping a blind strike and-
  
  
  Ssssnap!
  
  
  The victim fell onto his butt, his wooden practice sword falling to the ground as he clutched his face. "HOLD!", one of the younger trainers called out. Blood had started to seep from the kid's fingers by the time Rasrik was kneeling beside the him. "Let me see." He pulled the kid's hands away from his face to study the damage. One beautifully broken nose and a busted lip. "Well, it looks like-"
  
  
  "Wut hmnpnd?" Though the kid's voice was muffled the horror was genuine.
  
  
  "Don't worry kid," Ras laughed, "It's just a busted mouth and a broken nose. Come on, get up and go to the infirmary." Ras grabbed the kid's hand and pulled him to his feet before sending him off with one of the younger instructors. "Alright, form up."
  
  
  THUUMM!
  
  
  The sound of thunder again, this time followed by what sounded strangely like distant shouting from further into the Haven. Ras paused, wondering what was going on. His fencing school was a few blocks out from the heart of the Haven and a good distance from any of the gates leading into the city. Anything that had wanted to reach them had a short walk ahead of them.
  
  
  The students lined up in a single row. From oldest to youngest they ranged sixteen to six, their competency with a sword was not so mathematical though. Ras stood in front of the line as his younger instructors, just barely old enough to be graduates by his book, walked by and took up the practice swords. "Alright, what did we learn from this sparring session?"
  
  
  The kids looked nervously around at each other. Many of the younger ones had heard from their older peers of the trials that awaited those who studied under Master Rasrik. It was nothing unusual for Ras to make his older students run three miles before practice, followed by strict form push-ups, sit-ups, squats, and one lap on the Gauntlet, a strenuous obstacle course designed to keep them light on their feet and their heads on a swivel.
  
  
  "All day long I see you talking to each other when you think I'm not looking, yet when I want you to talk you suddenly keep silent. Come on now, I know at least one of you paid attention." The lesson was targeted at the younger students, the older ones having learned this time and time again. Before long a young girl ,probably around six, raised her hand. "Well, Master Ras," her voice was wavering in that typical child-like fashion, "we must always be moving in a fight."
  
  
  "Yes, good. Movement is key. Why is that? Anyone?"
  
  
  The next kid, a square faced boy with a black eye from an earlier bought, was next to speak up.
  
  
  "A moving target is harder to hit?"
  
  
  "Close. Only walls can stand up after being hit by a sword. Yes, our plate armor does give us an advantage, if we are wearing it, but you won't find an enemy patient enough to let you kit up before you fight. In the real world we don't follow a set of rules except one; at the end of the day, be the one who comes home again."
  
  
  THUUUMMMM!
  
  
  THUUUMMMM
  
  
  THUUMMM!
  
  
  Rasrik stopped his lecture and turned towards the direction of the cities center. He could just see what looked like smoke looming over the city, just barely make out the smell of fire on the wind. By this point the students were hearing the noise as well, some of the younger ones looking scared. "Class is dismissed. Get everyone to safety now!" The instructors and older students ushered the now panicked students and fledgling dragons towards safety. Those who lingered, members of Ras' wing, joined him as they headed towards the armory. Concern filled his mind as he sought out Valos, whom had been lazing about the cliffs above the city earlier. The exchange of emotion was instant and almost knocked Ras off his feet.
  
  
  Haven was burning.
  
  
  ---------------------------
  
  
  "WATCH OUT!"
  
  
  A collapsing tower began it's decent in the direction of Rasrik, and the Wardens he was trying to evacuate. Quickly Ras called upon his Arcane talents, throwing up a ward over the group. Pieces of the tower bounced off of the magical barrier, but the majority of it thankfully missed. Rasrik released the ward and ushered the group onward. Haven was under attack by Thallas. What madness drove them to this genocide? The Dragon Wardens has always dealt fairly with the human nations, but for some reason they now attacked on all sides.
  
  
  Suddenly he heard the sounds of someone falling behind him. Ras turned to see one of this students laying on the ground, their foot having caught on a fallen beam. He rushed back and looked at their foot quickly. "Don't worry, I've got you." Carefully Ras hefted the child into his arms and turned to rejoin the group, only to watch as a flaming chunk of rock caved in the roof of the building they were hiding in. "Don't look." Ras held the child close to his chest, keeping them from watching their comrades die amidst the inferno.
  
  
  Tears came unbidden, but unhindered, to his eyes. Many of his wing, most of them older Dragon Wardens that had been with him for many years, had put their lives on the line to help him escort as many as they could to the various exits throughout the city. Several had died from exposure to smoke or being consumed in the fire, four of them had just died in front of his eyes as they had been escorting new Dragon Wardens and their dragons through the corridor the rock just destroyed. The child began to cry as Rasrik pushed onward.
  
  
  "No matter what happens don't open your eyes, and don't let go of me. Okay?"
  
  
  "Okay."
  
  
  Rasrik spun the kid around the his back, letting him wrap his arms around his neck and legs hook around his waist before taking off at a sprint. as he ran Ras watched for anyone else. Above him the skies were filled with smoke and the screams of dragons and wardens alike as bolts fired from ballistae struck dragons from the air with terrible accuracy. Fear struck deeply at his heart. The smoke tinged sky denied any ability to identify the dragons that fell, and Ras feared the worst. He was comforted to find Valos was alive and well, heading on course to meet them at the western tower.
  
  
  As Ras rounded the corner, leaping over pieces of a fallen home or workshop, he could see the tower and Valos circling low as he awaited their arrival. Ras dashed in and started up the stairs as quickly as he could. His heart pounded in his head, his lungs burned as if the fires that ravaged Haven had lit within him, but he had another life on the line besides his own. Where all of his wing or students had disappeared to he didn't know. He hoped that one day they might be reunited but pushed the thoughts from his mind as he continued to race up the stair case. The tingles down his spine could only be explained as warning. Valos must have seen something-
  
  
  THUUssssSRAAAAASSHH!
  
  
  The tower was struck towards it's base, causing it to shake and begin to collapse. Ras pushed out of the door at the top and looked around, finally spotting Valos clinging to the side of the tower to counterbalance it long enough for them to get on. As Ras grabbed hold of Valos' saddle and started to swing onto it he felt the arms around his neck loosen, only to let go with a scream. Ras caught the kid's hand as Valos began his ascent. "Hold on! Hold on! I've got you!"
  
  
  "I can't!, I'm slipping!"
  
  
  Ras gripped as hard as he could and pulled with all his might, but he slowly felt the boy's hands slipping through his gloves. Ras could only watch as the boy slipped from his grasp and plummet, screaming into the hell that had once been Haven. Ras screamed in agony and remorse as he slowly pulled himself into his saddle to keep from falling himself. He laid forward as his body racked with sobs. His wing, his students, his friends, his family, his home, all of it taken from him. Everything Ras cared for and loved lay in smoldering ruin under a bloody sky. Ras could feel Valos mewling as they flew away from the city. The deep rumbling sound almost felt like a cat's purr.
  
  
  "We are hunted now, the best we can do is find someplace secluded and pray that they don't pick up our trail."
  
  
  

 

[CloudyBlueDay]

GM Approved

• Feria
• Ifer
• Background
• Writing Sample

• 
  
  
  
  
  Name: Feria
  
  
  Age: 28
  
  
  Race: Human
  
  
  Appearance: If you were to ignore the fact that such a hair color is already intensely eye-catching, Feria's appearance would grab you even without it. Tall and graceful, standing at a height of 5'9" with sparkling blue-green eyes, Feria is all around, rather beautiful. Despite her cold stare and demeanor of "I'd rather be left alone", her appearance attracts even if she would rather it not.
  
  
  Recently, however, one more eye-catching trait has been added to Feria's appearance; her left arm up to the elbow has been gruesomely ripped off. It is swathed in bloody bandaging and makes most cringe at the sight.
  
  
  She also constantly wears a necklace with a glowing blue pendant, one that once belonged to a dear friend of hers, which she recently learned has the power to negate shadow magic.
  
  
  Personality: Cold (how fitting), bitter, and distrusting, Feria isn't exactly someone you'd want to be friends with, or even get the chance to befriend. Brutally honest, if Feria has a problem with you, you're more than likely to know, and more often than not she is working towards a personal goal. The only person Feria seems to show any heart towards is her dragon, but even then, they have a seemingly quiet relationship. The only reason why anyone might keep Feria around willingly is because of her skill set. She is stealthy, nimble, and calculative, offering much to the table, as well as her fighting capabilities.
  
  
  There may, perhaps, be a softer side to Feria, shown in rare moments under dire circumstances. After the events that followed the attack on the Haven, her cold exterior is slowly beginning to thaw. The loss of her friend, her arm, and other tragedies have lead her to soften up slightly in the presence of those she is beginning to trust, but only become angrier in those who deserve her wrath.
  
  
  Strengths: Clever, Feria has a bright mind about her which she uses both on and off the battle-field. Her cleverness, however, doesn't seem to stop her from lashing out at people when she probably shouldn't. Nimble, Feria is fast and quiet, moving around with grace and elegance constantly. Determined, once Feria sets her mind towards achieving a goal, she does not stop until the job is done. Cunning, Feria is skilled in the art of acting and lying to achieve her goals, but this skill is usually put towards sarcasm.
  
  
  Weaknesses: Cold, Feria isn't quick to show compassion or kindness. Judgmental, she is always casting glances at others as if they are below her or idiotic without quite getting to know them, as well as always offering a very critical point of view. Feria can also hold grudges longer then most dragons live.
  
  
  Magical Attunement: Ice
  
  
  Secondary weapon specialization: Daggers
  
  
  Note: This character was active during the previous iteration of The Dragon Wardens, and has been updated to fit the recent advancements in plot.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Name: Ifer
  
  
  Type: Ice
  
  
  Height and length: 10 feet tall at full standing height, 17 ft long.
  
  
  Personality: Matching his warden quite well, Ifer is a dragon of bitterness and spite, picking fights quite quickly among other dragons and throwing hissy-fits when he realizes he can't quite win. Ifer may not be very strong in terms of brute force, but he is stealthy, agile, and nimble, just like his warden. The only person he shows kindness too is Feria, otherwise, Ifer isn't very friendly. He is extremely protective of her and can get rather violent when her safety is threatened. However, once his trust is gained, Ifer is known to be quite playful, like an energetic puppy, bouncing around, eager for walks (or perhaps flights), and quite the snuggler if you can handle the spikes of ice that cover his body.
  
  
  Recently, Feria and Ifer have become a little more distant. Feria has begun to show a little more empathy in regards to certain situations, and Ifer has become more reckless. They find each other growing apart and changing, something hard for them to handle as things had been the same between them for quite some time and that was how they liked it. After Feria lost her arm, however, he refuses to leave her side with Feria being in such a weak state, and has also become rather jumpy and skittish if anyone unfamiliar approaches.
  
  
  
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  Like most Dragon Wardens, Feria was snatched from her real family at birth and brought to the Haven. Unlike most, Feria felt rather bitter about this throughout her childhood, and at an early age, was cold and distant, spitting in the face of all those who attempted to show kindness to the girl. When she bonded with Ifer, Feria became even more of a recluse, finding comfort in her dragon and seeking it out in no other.
  
  
  However, she did make one (human) friend in the days when the Haven still stood. An ice warden like herself, Zachary held a flamboyant, sarcastic exterior but deep down he cared for those he loved like no other. He always wore a necklace with a glimmering blue pendant, one that he made up a new story for every time. He and his dragon Liola (who was equally close to Ifer) spent a lot of time with the pair, and though Feria would never admit it, she cared for him like no other, too.
  
  
  When the attack on the Haven began, Zachary urged Feria to flee. He attempted to cause a distraction allowing her to escape, in which he promised he would follow promptly, but Zachary never made it out. Her mistake was believing he could handle it alone. While Feria and Ifer hid in the Twisted Woods, the battle on the Haven raged on. When the pair returned to the Haven, they found it in ashes, Zachary and Liola nowhere to be found.
  
  
  After the fall of the Haven, Feria returned to the Twisted Woods. There, they were attacked by Wyverns and Feria was inflicted with their poison. A man who called himself Edmund appeared and promised safe passage through Thallas to a healer who would save Feria, but Feria was of course rather wary of someone who wanted to lead her to the place that meant her demise. Luckily for her, a fellow Dragon Warden by the name of Hale found her in time to save her the choice of following Edmund into Thallas, offered his assistance instead. With his knowledge of healing, Feria recovered swiftly.
  
  
  With their new companion, Hale and Feria traveled to the Silver Lance Inn, hiding their dragons as well as their bright red hair. Upon their arrival, Feria was surprised to meet some of her fellow Wardens, one of them being Olsten, a boy who Feria knew back at the Haven who had destroyed a piece of cloth Feria held very dear as it had been the only thing Feria had from her "true" family. Thus, Feria held a distaste for the boy.
  
  
  At the Silver Lance, Feria noticed a man by the name of Vorstag enter, not only with a cloak made of red hairs, but wearing the very necklace that Zachary never took off. In a fit of rage, Feria tackled the man, and came oh so close to killing him, but faltered before she got the chance. In the mess of a battle that exploded after Feria lunged, Vorstag cast shadow magic upon Feria's throat, leaving her unable to speak for some time. After the mess at the tavern, Feria learned that Vorstag had been holding Liola hostage, the dragon weak and injured, but still alive, if barely.
  
  
  They retreated into the mountains, where the Mouth of the Mountain had been made into safe location for Dragon Wardens to meet. There, the group met former councilmen Wuld, one of the remaining wardens among a few others, including twins who had been sent out on a hunt. When the twins came back, alongside three other sickly looking wardens, something was clearly wrong.
  
  
  The three wardens suggested they join Wallace Savere, a leading threat in the world of Shadow Magic. This of course, sparked an upset among the other dragon wardens, including Ava, a friend of Hale's, crying out in rage, and before Feria could comprehend, another fight began.
  
  
  Coupled with the fact that Vant had apparently been vying for Ava before Hale came around, as well as the new allegiance, Hale was sought after by Vant, one of the wardens who were now turning to shadow. He thrust a taint into Hale's chest, and though they managed to defeat Vant and his comrades, it was at the cost of Hale's life. This was also when Feria discovered the necklace's powers, after a shadow burn had been cast on all the wardens, yet Feria had been protected from it.
  
  
  After Hale's death, his dragon Kraeg flew away from the scene. Feria had begun to feel guilty of the way she had treated Hale throughout all his attempts to help her, and now that he was gone, the least she could do was comfort his dragon. She found Kraeg sleeping, and putting a gentle hand on the dragon's muzzle, Kraeg woke sharply, snapping around out of fear, teeth bared, and then.. half of an arm was missing. Luckily Ifer was there with her to help Feria to the other wardens and she received treatment in time, while Kraeg fled the scene due to his guilt. She does not blame the dragon but all in all mourns the loss of her arm and has been quite weak up until this point, as would anyone after such an injury. The taint placed upon her throat has healed significantly, and she can talk, but not without some feeling of discomfort. Unfortunately, she has other ailments to worry about.
  
  
  
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  Feria and Ifer waited in the silence of the Twisted Woods, neither saying, or perhaps thinking a word. Ifer's breathing was angry, it came in short huffs, while Feria stayed absolutely silent.
  
  
  "He wasn't going to let us stay." She finally breathed, and Ifer only whined.
  
  
  "Feria! You need to go! Take Ifer and go! We'll hold them off." "I'm not leaving you--" "I said go. We'll be right behind you. I promise." "..You promise." "I promise. Now go!"
  
  
  Ifer halted, letting out a snort, gesturing towards the way they'd come from. "We can't." She breathed. He snarled. "No!" She exclaimed, and he snorted louder again. "We can't!" Ifer roared, a roar that broke and turned into a sharp cry. "You have to be quiet!" She exclaimed, whipping around and putting a hand on his muzzle.
  
  
  Their eyes met and their gaze locked -- Feria and Ifer were scared. For their own safety, for their friend's safety. They both knew it. Neither wanted to admit it. Feria and Ifer didn't get scared, but here they were. Scared out of their damn minds. Not only that, but they were running like cowards. From their friends and their home.
  
  
  "You have to be quiet because we can't go back." She mumbled. "They're strong. They'll be okay. We'll meet them again soon, Ifer. We will." He'd promised; Zachary didn't break promises. But this.. this wasn't his choice. He wasn't allowed to make promises. Yet, Feria still held on to every word, how strong he'd sounded when he'd told her to go. It was wrong of her to believe him. But it was not wrong of her to have faith in him.
  
  
  Ifer hissed, before pushing his big head into her arms, his breath leaving little crystals of ice on her cloak.
  
  
  Feria closed her eyes and sighed deeply, wrapping her arms around him tightly, leaning her cheek against the top of his head. Feria couldn't tell if she was comforting him, or if he was comforting her, but either way, she didn't care. Oh, Zachary, please. Please be alright. She begged in her mind as she held Ifer.
  
  
  Why didn't she believe that he was?
  
  
  

 

[Nivi]

GM Approved

• Llamarryl
• Negloth
• Background
• Writing Sample

• 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Name: Llamarryl
  
  
  Age: 22
  
  
  Race: Half-Elf
  
  
  Appearance: Bearing her father's height and her mother's looks, this particular half elf stands at 5'10, her weight consistent at 120lbs(55 Kilos). Although she looks a lot like her mother, her facial features have drawn from both of her parent's qualities, proving to be quite a pleasant sight to the eyes. Llamaryl has only trimmed her hair about twice in her life, and likes to leave its length untouched and untied, her tips just barely reaching her high waist. She prefers dark blue clothing to adorn her curvaceous figure, sporting slightly wide hips and narrow shoulders. More often than not, acquaintances will find her wearing her usual corset, crafted from leather and shaded dark blue, as well as trimmed with silver linings. In addition, it sports a metal ring just below her bust which is meant more for adorning and appeal rather than actually holding the corset together. To protect her bare shoulders and chest, she sometimes wears a hide small-cape fashioned from the pelt of a black bear, keeping it buttoned at her neck with a decent amount of space to show off her bust. (Reference. This, but more black/dark blue To accompany her attire, Llamaryl mostly only wears either a pair of dark blue traveling tights, or a flamboyant skirt of similar color.
  
  
  She will often be seen wearing a jeweled circlet over her forehead, and a matching necklace.
  
  
  Personality: Llamaryl can be considered to be your typical cheery half-elf despite their social status in populated cities. She is a flamboyant woman, and enjoys spending her time among peers and acquaintances. Many know her to be, or, at least knew her to be, one of the more sassy wardens. She thoroughly enjoys wordplay and manipulation, often hustling new acquaintances with her harmless impressions that transition into fruity attitudes. Apart from being a slightly confusing warden, she takes herself to be considerably flirtatious, more-so with other women than men.
  
  
  Despite her usually pleasant attitude, Llamaryl bolsters a fairly quick temper, and dislikes being refused. Naturally, she despises when things do not go her way, this part of her often seen when arguing with her incredibly stubborn dragon. However, part of not taking no for answer does have its advantages. From those features, cleverness is born, Llamaryl often attempting to find ways around obstacles and walls of doubt. It is why she was regarded as one of the more revered tacticians of the Wardens.
  
  
  Strengths:
  
  
  • Manipulative - "No" is simply not an answer. Llamaryl more often that not gets what she wants, expertly manipulating others with her words to fall to her bidding.
    
  • Adept Thinker- As a woman who always seeks to get what she wants, her ambitions must be supported by picky planning and careful plotting. Llamaryl can be considered to be someone who always thinks one step ahead. Someone who can think quickly on their feet, and are able to devise crafty, ingenious ideas for the sake of masterminding operations.
    
  • Amicable - It's no secret that Llamaryl is an extremely approachable person. Of course, her motives may confuse people who intend to make friends with her, but she is truly a friendly person. In fact, she will often be the one who approaches people, which partly has to do with her flirtatious nature.
    
  
  
  Weaknesses:
  
  
  • Noncombatant - When away from her dragon, Llamaryl is fairly weak in combat. Like any Warden, she can handle herself averagely with her blade and magic, but she is considerably weaker than her more expert Warden companions.
    
  • Dust - Llamaryl is awkwardly sensitive to her allergies, and will get considerably sickly and irate when she suffers from them. Dust is one of the more common causes of her stuffiness and allergies, and as such she chooses to live a clean lifestyle.
    
  • Injured Hamstring- A few years ago, while running, she accidentally pulled her hamstring! It was a horrific injury, and it has never quite healed correctly. While the pain does subside, her hamstring will usually act up again when she is running or when she makes a grotesque movement with her leg.
    
  • Strict Mindset - Once she has set her mind on a certain opinion or ideal, she rarely ever changes her mind. This leads her to hold many grudges on people, or have certain ideologies that never change.
    
  
  
  Magical Attunement: Earth
  
  
  Secondary weapon specialization: A short, one handed, single blade axe forged from mountain steel and Folhathian wood. She doesn't use it very often, considering she is not a very fighter-esque person, but she is capable with it. She always keeps it clipped to her waist.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Name: Negloth
  
  
  Type: Earth Dragon
  
  
  Height and length: 30ft tall, 56 ft long
  
  
  Personality: Negloth is an incredibly fat, sluggish, stubborn, and lazy earth dragon. He despises flying for extended periods of times, and prefers to be a lug and be fed until satisfied rather than actually be productive. On the weeks when he is not hungry, he only sits around or sleeps. He enjoys being irritatingly stubborn, and takes great comedic relief in making his Dragon Warden friend (Llamaryl) mad, usually by refusing to move or constantly pestering for food when hungry. Aside from all his shenanigans, he is a very able bodied dragon, and knows the boundary between when it is that he can be a vegetable and when he needs to actually step up during dangerous times or a call to arms. Negloth also shares a very deep bond with Llamaryl, and they both do love each other despite their constant bickering. He will usually be indifferent to other wardens or people in general, but only because he loves the attention and being coddled.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  Born in the buzzing streets of Windfeld to a human whore and a Sur merchant, Llamaryl was gladly given away to the Wardens almost immediately after birth. Half elf folk were not exactly very smiled upon, and her mother wasn't intent on keeping this accidental infant, so it seemed like a good way to kill two birds with one stone.
  
  
  In Haven, Llamaryl was raised to be quite the sass queen. She often gave her Warden instructors a hard time, and it took quite some time for her to grow into proper discipline. Regardless, she was revered as an adept thinker and problem solver. It was only by the time she came of age to bonding that Llamaryl finally dropped her childish habits and progressed into her real duties as a Dragon Warden.
  
  
  Bonding herself with the fat and stubborn boulder they called Negloth, Llamaryl grew to be a superb tactician and diplomat for Haven. Her expertise at manipulating people were put into use as an ambassador, and she usually brought pleasing results from peace negotations during missions, among other things. Like any other Dragon Warden, however, all things eventually went downhill when the continent turned on Haven and began to hunt down all Wardens and dragons alike.
  
  
  Now, Llamaryl and Negloth reside in the woodlands, secluded from much of human and Elvish life. They live among the Shae tribes, and take care to stay out of sight from traveling merchants and anything of the like. Rumor has it, however, that the two soon plan to take flight and roam the continent once more.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  The rhythmic clanking of a bucket, and the mellow snoring of many beasts echoed gently in the vast caves.
  
  
  Llamaryl grunted, plopping the heavy wooden bucket onto the stony ground. "You fat oaf." She ranted, wiping faint traces of sweat from her cheeks as she straightened her back and faced the giant Negloth, resting high and proud on his green nest of moss and stone, as if he was the greates being in existance. Plucking a dead rabbit from the bucket, she held it with two fingers, hesitantly tossing it at Negloth whom promptly caught it in a mouthful and virtually swallowed it whole. "Do you ever stop eating?" The half-elf continued, while her beast proudly groaned and adjusted his weight over his nest. With an exhausted sigh, she took another rabbit by the leg, before the ground abruptly rumbled all across the cave system and tripped Llamaryl over the bucket.
  
  
  First it was the sharp screech of an ice dragon that filled the caves, as siege machine ruthlessly bolted into the Haven dragon caves followed by a dragon slaying army and hastily pierced the poor dragon through the torso with a ballista spear. Llamaryl and Negloth could react, chaos had already ensued. Dragons woken from their slumber angrily retaliated against the forthmarching army contingent that sought to eliminate them all, shards, ice, and magic flying just about everywhere as the skirmish began. It took her quite a while to react and realize what was happening, but she soon mounted her dragon and took off towards the cave breach. Already dozens of the Warden's dragons had been slain, and the same could not be said for siege engine group. There was little Negloth could do at this point, except escape through an alternate exit, much against Llamaryl's will whom desperately wanted to stay and fight.
  
  
  "Are you trying to get us killed?!" Llamaryl screeched as the flaming boulder of a war catapult quite literally flew right over her head, Negloth making no attempt at evading all projectiles sent at him and other escaping dragons. He wasn't particularly agile while flying, after all. Flapping his enormous, stony wingspan, Negloth only flew forward, apishly groaning every time Llamaryl chose to issue a command or complaint.
  
  
  Out of the blue, Negloth took a nose dive downwards, followed by Llamaryl's fearful squeal, and a very large thud as Negloth set his colossal body right over a catapult, effectively crushing it to bits and pieces. The dragon roared violently at the now scrambling soldiers who all chose to run from the beast. On top of him, Llamaryl furiously swang her fists at his neck, only serving to injure her own fists. For some reason, Negloth was not listening to a single word she was saying, and was seemingly acting on his own will. "Baaah! You enormous baffoon! What are you doing?!" The woman went on and on as Negloth took flight once more, apparently heading for the mountain tops. "Where are we going! The battle is back there! Negloth! NEGLOTH!! I swear I won't feed you for a fortnight if you don't listen to me--Aaaaaah!" Negloth grew tired of her bickering and gave her a rump, almost shaking her off his back.
  
  
  By daybreak the pair had traveled past the mountains, Llamaryl promptly asleep and snoring over Negloth's back while the dragon sailed the winds, deciding to land over a small Shae village in the woodlands. It took alot of explaining from Llamaryl, but the goatfolk eventually agreed to grant Llamaryl and her fat buffoon refuge.
  
  
  

 

[Toogee]

GM Approved


Thanks to Effervescent for all the help.

• Aurea
• Plainswalker
• Background
• Writing Sample

• 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Name: Aurea
  
  
  Age: 16
  
  
  Race: Half-Elf
  
  
  Appearance: Aurea stands at 5’ 6” and weighs around 125 lbs. Like the other wardens, her hair is a brilliant red, which contrasts greatly with the pale skin she inherited from her elfen mother. Her hair is kept short, about shoulder length to keep it out of her face during training. It is often tucked behind her slightly pointed ears (much less pointy than the picture suggests). If one manages to look at her face long enough, one can see her blue eyes, not cold, but warm.
  
  
  Aurea wears garb typical of trainees of the Haven; it was the outfit on her back during her escape. She wears a blue tunic, with the bottom pleated for a more feminine touch. The black leggings give her the flexibility to dodge quickly. She was lucky to be wearing boots for long treks across the world.
  
  
  Personality: The role of the earth mages is to protect and support others in their party. Such a role describes Aurea perfectly. Rather than take the spotlight, she is more than happy to surrender the attention to others looking for glory. Indeed, she gets her happiness from others’. Aurea is also a big fan of order. She’s not one to lose small items: they are always exactly where they need to be. This often manifests in her grooming of Plainswalker: she makes sure the garden on his back is nice and compartmentalized for small, medium and large flora. Finally, Aurea is generally shy, waiting for others to start a conversation. She much prefers to listen anyways.
  
  
  Strengths: Aurea is loyal to her friends and will always come to their aid when called. She’s not one to talk back to those of higher rank; she thinks very highly of those who worked hard to get such rank and skill. Aurea will work even harder for those that earn her respect. In addition, Aurea likes to take care of others, lifting spirits when she can. Her caring personality is a boon on the battlefield: she prefers to stay in the back, minding the barriers while the others get the kills. When it’s needed, Aurea has skill with the bow and earth magic, working to combine both for new strategies.
  
  
  Weaknesses: As Aurea lets others take glory, her role may go unrecognized. In fact, she’ll downplay her efforts herself, particularly if she doesn’t meet her own high standards. While happy to take on other tasks, Aurea is often at risk of biting off more than she can chew. She has a hard time saying “no” to people. Finally, Aurea hates unpredictability. Performing the daily morning chores around Haven? Great! Spending one morning in the rain and the next running from an angry mob? Bad!
  
  
  Magical Attunement: Earth
  
  
  Secondary weapon specialization: Bows
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Name: Plainswalker (Nickname: PW)
  
  
  Type: Earth
  
  
  Height and length: 16ft tall, 38ft long
  
  
  Personality: Of all the dragons in Haven, PW is likely the least ferocious-looking. He usually spends his days walking about the landscape, getting sunlight all across his body in order to maintain his grassy feathers. He tends to linger around human activity, particularly when music and celebration are involved. PW is just as friendly as he looks: children have fun playing in the garden upon his back.
  
  
  PW’s back is typically filled in with soil, allowing for a garden to be grown, whether for food or medicinal plants. Those plants may change periodically, but the one constant is a large bonsai tree of pink petals. The tree is about 5 feet tall, which is just tall enough to hide someone small (or someone sitting down) beneath its branches. His thick grassy pelt hides a massive wingspan. This can take some by surprise if they aren’t familiar with the dragon.
  
  
  Size comparison:
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  (first 3 seconds)
  
• 
  
  
  Aurea was born amongst the Sur tribe in Folhath. The red head of hair was a rare sight among the elves. It meant that they would be getting a visit from the dragon wardens. The wardens who visited weren’t strangers to the area, and did a good job assuring the parents that they wouldn’t ruin their child. It was a fitting beginning for someone who would grow to love the usual.
  
  
  Growing up in Haven was perfect for Aurea. Meals were at these times. Classes began and ended at the same time on each day. Chores peppered in some available time slots. She appreciated the structure, even before she knew what that was. Many of the children dreamed of adventure, but Aurea dreaded it. The extent of her adventures outside consisted of her sitting underneath a tree in the garden area. It was a quiet area to practice her
  
  
  
  . She wasn’t sure what attracted her to the area in the first place. For some reason, she felt the plants around her enjoyed the sound, encouraging her to keep playing. She mentioned this in passing to a teacher and was immediately placed in earth mage classes.
  The pivotal moment came when Aurea was 10. She had been spending more and more time in her garden spot, practicing her magic and playing her music. She started going there twice a day. Then she ate meals there, away from the other children. She couldn’t explain why she had to be there; sometimes she forgot she was there at all. It was when she couldn’t go that a teacher began suspecting a bonding event. Aurea had broken her leg during a training exercise, confined to the student quarters. There was at least one flight of stairs between her and the garden; she was unable to get there by herself. It wasn’t for lack of trying; after spending two days bedridden, Aurea crawled out of her bed and made her way to the stairs. Fortunately, the teacher caught her before she tumbled down. “I have to go! I have to go to the garden,” she cried out. Her sickly appearance was unlike her, and taken together with the other signs, he took action. The teacher carried her out of the castle and placed her under the tree. Almost immediately, Aurea began feeling better, more calm. Suddenly, the garden began to shake. Next thing she knew, she was 16 feet in the air as her garden sprouted legs and walked off. Aurea was upon a mighty earth dragon! The dragon took one look at her injured form, a look of concern upon his reptilian face. Rather than bellow a mighty roar, he whistled like a songbird. It was his turn to sing her a song, the same one Aurea practiced. Anyone else would have screamed bloody murder with the sudden change of scenery, but to Aurea, it was like a piece of her returned to her body. She dubbed the dragon Plainswalker, the first step in the bonding process.
  
  
  Training with PW was…bumpy at first. Aurea was glad to have an assistant to help her with her chores. She was quickly informed that that’s not how this worked. They were assigned small errands to villages not far from Haven, accompanied by a mentor to supervise their relationship building. Her attempts to guide Plainswalker during these trips often led to long detours and lost supplies. The air was filled with “Go right!” and “No, your other right!” followed by annoyed squawks from PW. It took some time to get used to their quirks, but like most wardens, they learned to live with each other. Eventually, PW was the first to get Aurea out of her shyness.
  
  
  If one were to describe what developed over time, one could say Aurea and PW were an old married couple. One particular day after four years of training, Aurea was grooming PW, cleaning the garden on his back of weeds and trimming overgrowth. His mewls of protest were followed up by his warden assurances: “You’re going to look pretty! Now hold still, we’re bonding!” Afterwards, the dragon would see his reflection, he’d stay quiet. This was followed by “I told ya so!” by Aurea. He stuck his tongue out and she did the same, each mimicking the noises “nay nay nay nay”. They still acted like kids sometimes.
  
  
  By the time she was 16, Aurea was showing proficiency in earth magic and archery. Both complimented her preference to avoid too much attention. Her ability to summon a pillar of dirt at just the right time saved some classmates some trips to the infirmary. When it came time for war games, students would bribe her to get her on their team. When needed, she could summon a pillar beneath her feet for a temporary height advantage. It made picking off targets with her bow a bit easier. Such skill eventually led to talks about tests and advanced classes, specifically those that would lead to graduation. Aurea wasn’t in so much of a rush to join the dragon wardens in missions outside Haven. She had grown far too comfortable with her current lifestyle.
  
  
  Fate would of course change her plans.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  Piles of papers were stacked two feet high upon a large mahogany desk. They surrounded the office worker like hungry wolves determined to gobble up her remaining time. She was outnumbered, but not outgunned. These unsorted mission files had no idea who they were dealing with!
  
  
  Aurea was found seated in the historian’s office, going though files that need sorting. The historian had recently acquired a new series of shelves to store more of their records. Mission logs, historical records, important speeches, it all had to be placed in its particular cubby hole. There were specific instructions on how to organize them: each row was dedicated to a period of time. Within one row, files were to be alphabetized by the lead emasari, author, or speaker depending on the contents.
  
  
  Aurea wouldn’t have it any other way.
  
  
  To anyone else, this would have been a mind-numbing task. In fact, it was to be someone’s mind-numbing task before that someone passed it on to Aurea. She used this time to reflect on her day, and what she would do the next. Perhaps she would have a picnic with Plainswalker?
  
  
  That was the last thing she remembered before blacking out.
  
  
  Aurea woke up to the cries of the dying, both man and dragon alike. Her head throbbed from the stone debris that fell upon her. The smell of smoke filled her lungs. Instinctively, her hands grasped dust and ash, a precursor to the horror she would see. She finally gathered the courage to open her eyes. Aurea’s vision blurred in and out, making it more difficult to believe what she was seeing. The room she was in half gone. In place of a wall and shelves was a view of Haven in flames. Dragons were falling out of the sky, crashing into the flaming ruins of what was once her home. It was all coming to her all at once. What had she done to descend into this Hell?
  
  
  All she could think about was getting away. Aurea looked behind: the doorway was collapsed. Suffering from a concussion, she couldn’t gather the magic to even attempt to move the stone. In front of her was a 100 foot drop into the hall that she ate breakfast in that morning. She wouldn’t survive the fall. Aurea looked to the sky to find her Plainswalker. Every other horror was pummeling her senses, drowning out her bond with the dragon. Every time she thought she saw him, the dragon fell lifeless. Every time, her stomach dropped thinking that she had lost him forever.
  
  
  “It wasn’t him, it wasn’t him…”
  
  
  Finally, she pulled out her pan flute and played a note. There was nothing. She did it again. Plainswalker didn’t show. What if her bond wasn’t being drowned out? What if it just wasn’t there anymore?
  
  
  “No…it was him…”
  
  
  Just as she given up, a massive head of an earth dragon emerged, a view of hope to block the one of despair. Aurea’s face filled with tears and fury.
  
  
  “You were supposed to call back!” she cried out as she ran to PW, hugging his neck tight. It was like she had bonded with him all over again. Immediately, he began nudging her to get behind his neck; they needed to get out now! Aurea didn’t bother to get into the saddle. She simply wrapped her arms and legs tight around his neck, her hands grasping his grassy pelt. PW pushed himself off the ruined castle and into flight. The dragon did not look to see others of his kind. If he saw them in need of aid, he would have to help them. He couldn’t risk Aurea like that. His only concern was to get her out. He would fly until he couldn’t smell death, until the flames were but a memory.