BDark
Three Thousand Club
Lumarin :
Lumarin was never a busy place. Elves here and there, but the streets weren't crowded. It was built to the side of a mountain, a few streams and waterfalls passing through it. The Elves of Lumarin liked this time of the day, a little after the sun rose. It was early in a beautiful day, sand fell from the top half of each hourglass to the bottom. The sun shone upon the beautiful city, the silver streams glimmering, the white walls and roofs shimmering.
In the center of the city was a traveler, a young warrior of mankind. His face was hidden by a cowl, his cloak was of faded colors, wrapped around him covering his whole body but his boots and the front of his legs. His pants were and boots were of silver armor, and under his cloak a silver breastplate, and his arms, too, were hidden by silver metal. He was Calibor the Silver Knight. Under the cowl was the fair face and golden hair, and in the scabbard was a long and powerful blade. Beside the hidden knight followed close his horse, Sirius, his coat pure white, his mane and tail shimmering silver. The horse had a few packs upon his back, but not many. The wanderer looked around, making sure nobody saw his face yet, but he looked somewhat lost, or was looking for something, or someone.
Badushar :
Badushar, built inside a mountain, great and powerful, was a noisy place. The Dwarven city's streets were somewhat crowded with citizens. Dwarfs were always ready to trade weapons and armor; break down the old and forge the new. Hammers rang like bells throughout the city, forges here and there. Stalls, mostly of weapons, some of armor or food, were busy, merchants trading objects for other objects, or objects for gold or silver. It was, like in Lumarin, in the East a little bit to the south, and thus it was an early morning. Dwarfs, however, were most of the time inside the mountain so they payed little to no attention to the location of the sun or moon. However, when they traveled to other lands they preferred day, and the guards in watchtowers also preferred day for watching, night for hiding.
In a forge was a figure standing, watching. He was foreign, not a human, not a dwarf, and not an elf either. He was, in the tongues of dwarfs, a Draconic being, more widely known as the Dragon-blood. The Dragon-bloods were like wingless dragons that stood upon two legs like men, and talked like men, dressed like men, and even wielded weapons like men. Orogir, this specific Dragon-blood, was a friend of the dwarfs. He owned this forge, and was watching with sharp eyes the actions. Orogir's skin was golden, his claws black, and his eyes flaming red. He had powerful magic and great strength. He wore leather armor and upon his back was a long blade, made of dragon-bone. In Orogir's hand was a flame, a literal flame. He could forge weapons or armor with his bare hands--literally.
Beetstead :
The streets of Beetstead were swarmed with people. Merchants from foreign lands have arrived and the people were excited to see what they could fetch of foods, artifacts, gems, weapons, armors, clothes, arts, books, and other types of foreign items brought in by the men, elves, dwarfs, dragon-bloods, and half-bloods. Ships and caravans came, stalls were set up, money was exchanged in for exotic items. It wasn't a small village, as a matter of fact, but the merchants loved it anyways. A few rivers and streams passed through Beetstead, but not a sea nor ocean, and on one side of it was a lake. Beetstead's borders didn't stop there, they built the village around it partly.
There an old man was dressed in flaming red, a book to his side, a sword hilt with seemingly no blade was put in a sheath. Phomath of The Flames they called him. His magic was powerful, he had the ability to manipulate and bend fire to his own will. His blade was of solid fire. His beard and hair were dark brown, flowing to his chest. Phomath had no staff, only his book. On his shoulder landed a crow.
Lumarin was never a busy place. Elves here and there, but the streets weren't crowded. It was built to the side of a mountain, a few streams and waterfalls passing through it. The Elves of Lumarin liked this time of the day, a little after the sun rose. It was early in a beautiful day, sand fell from the top half of each hourglass to the bottom. The sun shone upon the beautiful city, the silver streams glimmering, the white walls and roofs shimmering.
In the center of the city was a traveler, a young warrior of mankind. His face was hidden by a cowl, his cloak was of faded colors, wrapped around him covering his whole body but his boots and the front of his legs. His pants were and boots were of silver armor, and under his cloak a silver breastplate, and his arms, too, were hidden by silver metal. He was Calibor the Silver Knight. Under the cowl was the fair face and golden hair, and in the scabbard was a long and powerful blade. Beside the hidden knight followed close his horse, Sirius, his coat pure white, his mane and tail shimmering silver. The horse had a few packs upon his back, but not many. The wanderer looked around, making sure nobody saw his face yet, but he looked somewhat lost, or was looking for something, or someone.
Badushar :
Badushar, built inside a mountain, great and powerful, was a noisy place. The Dwarven city's streets were somewhat crowded with citizens. Dwarfs were always ready to trade weapons and armor; break down the old and forge the new. Hammers rang like bells throughout the city, forges here and there. Stalls, mostly of weapons, some of armor or food, were busy, merchants trading objects for other objects, or objects for gold or silver. It was, like in Lumarin, in the East a little bit to the south, and thus it was an early morning. Dwarfs, however, were most of the time inside the mountain so they payed little to no attention to the location of the sun or moon. However, when they traveled to other lands they preferred day, and the guards in watchtowers also preferred day for watching, night for hiding.
In a forge was a figure standing, watching. He was foreign, not a human, not a dwarf, and not an elf either. He was, in the tongues of dwarfs, a Draconic being, more widely known as the Dragon-blood. The Dragon-bloods were like wingless dragons that stood upon two legs like men, and talked like men, dressed like men, and even wielded weapons like men. Orogir, this specific Dragon-blood, was a friend of the dwarfs. He owned this forge, and was watching with sharp eyes the actions. Orogir's skin was golden, his claws black, and his eyes flaming red. He had powerful magic and great strength. He wore leather armor and upon his back was a long blade, made of dragon-bone. In Orogir's hand was a flame, a literal flame. He could forge weapons or armor with his bare hands--literally.
Beetstead :
The streets of Beetstead were swarmed with people. Merchants from foreign lands have arrived and the people were excited to see what they could fetch of foods, artifacts, gems, weapons, armors, clothes, arts, books, and other types of foreign items brought in by the men, elves, dwarfs, dragon-bloods, and half-bloods. Ships and caravans came, stalls were set up, money was exchanged in for exotic items. It wasn't a small village, as a matter of fact, but the merchants loved it anyways. A few rivers and streams passed through Beetstead, but not a sea nor ocean, and on one side of it was a lake. Beetstead's borders didn't stop there, they built the village around it partly.
There an old man was dressed in flaming red, a book to his side, a sword hilt with seemingly no blade was put in a sheath. Phomath of The Flames they called him. His magic was powerful, he had the ability to manipulate and bend fire to his own will. His blade was of solid fire. His beard and hair were dark brown, flowing to his chest. Phomath had no staff, only his book. On his shoulder landed a crow.
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