katiekitten
The Compromise
The EldunarÃ
Cold steel flashing.
The harsh light glints in his eyes – his pulse races; he can hear it thrumming in his ears, his fingers twitching to the rhythm. She roars beneath him, and he roars as well, the sounds swallowed by the screaming air as they dive together between the yawning canyons – he can feel it, feel her thrill at the speed and her soul twined with his-! The wind flips through his hair- he squints watering grey eyes against the onslaught, but he ignores it and together, always together, they strike. Claw and blade slice armour and flesh. The Urgals scream. His blade shivers with every blow.
He grins.
--
The golden age of Alagaësia, the time of the Shur’tugal. For centuries the Dragon riders have governed the world, and for centuries more they believe, in their pride, they will continue. Dragons and Riders and Elves and men. The dwarves mutter in their gilded halls.
As you may have guessed, this is set long before the setting of the books, and therefore before the time of the majority of the characters. Some, yes, will still be alive – but this is not their story. Consider this roleplay my guilty pleasure, my dears.
The setting is, invariably, during the time of the Dragon Riders, before their fall. Dragons still roost in the lofty peaks of Marna, and the elves are not restricted to the forests. You have to choose to be either a rider or a dragon, although you can have other characters - the forms are below. Your main character can be at any stage of development you wish – a hatchling or a child who is just beginning their training, to a wizened rider who is nearing their hundredth year. The reason for this will be realised as the roleplay continues – I don’t want to ruin the surprise, now, do I?
Alagaësia as we will see it:
At Vroengard, the Council of Elders preside in Doru Araeba, the city of black stone that holds beneath it in its great catacombs the Eldunarí of the Dragons of old. It is deep in those winding passages studiously kept by the order that, in the presence of the wisest dragons, the council convenes every year to discuss the inner workings of the land and to address any threats to the populace. The city is guarded by the wardens - Dragon Riders centuries old who guard the perimeter of the Island; although their caution has lapsed over time and their roles have become more honourary than needed. It is not uncommon for one to depart for weeks on end to visit the mountains of Marna, or to soar over the stretch of the Hadarac Desert - They are no more restricted to their posts than a bird to a particular tree. The city of Iliria, beside the pebbled shores of the Ramr River, is known as the Jewel of the South, with its marble street lined with gilded lamps created by the dwarves. It is renowned for them - the lights are said to be filled with captured starlight and fill nights when clouds cover the moon. It is there that each generation of riders is taught in the great citidel at its center, the building home to the largest libraries in the known world and surrounded by menoa trees sprung from the last seeds of the great Menoa tree of Du Weldenvarden itself. Under their branches, hatchlings find their wings and their riders are endebted with the Shur'tugal legacy.
Along the crags of the spine to the source of the Jiet river, the human kingdom of Broddring stretches, its capital of Belatona camped by the edge of Leona Lake and home of the human king, a descendent of the tattered Argenost line. Despite the monarchy's degredation, the city's still known for its skilled labourers, and merchants send their wares down the river to the port of Feinster in a prosperent trade deal with the city of Teirm, located farther up the coat on the other side of the spine. Trade thrived, and it's rare for the city to be silent - for when the sun sets, the lights go on, and entertainment's not hard to find in the city's broad courtyards. The port of Feinster itself was the main port for trading to the islands of shortly beyond its shores, the primary one, Beirland, the rumoured site of the city Eoam. It's reported that the city was founded when the elves first set foot on Alagaësia, although later destroyed in the Du Fyrn Skulblaka - in its ruins is said to be the floating crystal of the Silverwoods, lost in the ferocity of the fighting.
Along the Spine, the riders' maintain a series of watch towers: one the greatest of these, after Utgard, being the Felladurna - which, literally translated, means 'Mountain water', named after the waterfall that cascades from the springs at its feet. It's one of the riders greatest achievements, and is one of the signatures of their glory, a towering pinacle that looks out over the sea on the opposite side of the spinal ridge of mountains that branches from the core of the spine, near the cove of Kuasta.
...Feel free to add to this at any point. x3 There isn't much information on Alagaesia before the war, and the more we have the more we have to lose. x3
--
His sword seems to dance in his palm- it sings against a horn and he follows it through, knees firmly gripping the leather beneath him. She arches with him, wings that shimmer scarlet outstretcbed - there is blood there, black and glorious, and she shakes her claws free from the skull of a foe as she launches herself at the sky once more.
“Thrysta deloi!”
The words singe his tongue as he utters them, and he watches gleefully as the ground below them ruptures and falls, dragging several of the Urgals – their prey - shrieking with it. There may be many, he hears her say, her voice a clarion call- a part of him – but we are more.
It is her voice that hums in his mind as he watches, as if in slow motion, the barbed cloud of arrows that swarm up her side. She laughs, rolls - he joins her jubilation, mocking the crowd below him, before-
pain.
Desperate fingers claw for his eyes, whole and yet shredded. Her screams echo on the mountains.
they plummet.
--
The plot, simply, is this: At the northern end of the spine, not far from the city of Ceunon, it is rumoured that a shade of considerable power is practising necromancy in the shelter of the caves that riddle the northern mountains. In their shadows, spirits are gathering, and odd lightning storms have been spotted in the early evenings for the last couple of months. After an Urgal raid on a nearby village, a group of young riders set out to discover if there was a link between the separate events. They haven’t returned.
That is all I would like you, as my fellow roleplayers, to know at the moment. x3 The italic intervals are highly relevant, and I will give you a hint: This roleplay will span the final years of the riders. This is the story of their fall, and what a fall it’ll be – I can hardly wait. x3 With that in mind… *cackles*
What I require of you, the roleplayers:
Now that you have read my lengthy introduction, I don’t really have much to ask of you. I would love to be joined by people who:
* Have healthy imaginations
* Are not inclined to godmodding – you will be given a hefty amount of power in this, admittedly, but you’ll need to use it sensibly.
I won’t require perfect spelling or grammar – god knows, I don’t have the best either – I’ve been known to spell avarice ‘Averish’ in hangman. But no text language, the usual deal.
Now! On to the sign ups!
Basic forms:
For Riders:
Name:
Age:
Race:
Gender:
Personality: You can do anything you wish – if you want to be a criminal, you can be, if you want to be good, you can be, yada yada.
Description:
Dragon’s name:
Dragon’s Age:
Gender:
Personality:
Description:
History: It doesn’t have to be anything long. Almost forgot to include it. :x
RPG sample: Really just a paragraph in character. Nothing too hard, just want to check up on your writing. It’ll also get you all enthused. x3
For Dragons:
Name:
Age:
Gender:
Personality:
Description:
Home: I can’t remember every single detail about the books, and had to have all three beside me to check up on some facts when making this. Just pick a mountain range and name a mountain, or just pick a mountain.
History: It doesn’t have to be anything long. Almost forgot to include it. :x
RPG Sample: Again, just a paragraph.
For other characters:
Name:
Age:
Gender:
Race: Dwarf, Elf or man, I'm afraid. We need to fit in with the universe, after all.
Description:
Personality:
History: It doesn’t have to be anything long. Almost forgot to include it. :x
What else? There isn’t much left to add. On how this roleplay will work – I will open up a discussion thread in the café which you might all want to keep an eye on, for once I post the opening post in the overall forum, I will reveal the entire plot, just so we don’t all get confused and start contradicting each other as we go along. Just want to keep it a bit of a surprise! :3 It will be there, as well, that we’ll discuss some of the core events of the roleplay and who is going to do what. This is going to be a heck of a lot of fun. x3
With that out of the way, my own sign up!
For Riders:
Name: Defn Yakswiper.
Gender: Female
Age: Sixteen.
Race: Human
Personality: Slightly close-minded and judgemental, although determined (in thought, at least) to the last. Proud. More than slightly arrogant, and a temper that matches that of her dragon, especially in regards to her height. Intelligent, but to a point.
Description: Medium build, but slightly shorter than the average woman, with chin-length, curly dusty-brown hair. Faded green eyes under slightly low brows, and a crooked smile that is commonly sarcastic. Prefers to wear men’s clothing- the casual brown tunic, faded green trousers- to ensure the least amount of embarrassment possible when riding. She dotes upon her dragon, and rarely will be separated.
Dragon’s name: Beroan
Gender: Male
Dragon’s Age: Hatchling
Personality: Stubborn to the last, unthinking, tactless, but intelligent. Courageous, in the foolhardy-doesn’t-think-before-acting way that, while honourable, is never the best option. Slightly hot-headed.
Description: Deep amber scales that reflect the sunlight freely, a whip-like tail and slightly stubby legs, although he’d never admit it. Slightly clumsy on all fours as a result, but a good flyer nevertheless- deft and swift. His snout is long, in contrast, and the ridge of spikes on his neck burst spectacularly to a climax on the back of his head, and it gives him a permanent ferocious expression, although that is farther from the truth than he would ever know.
History: Defn lived in Cithrí for the majority of her childhood, in the time before Surda was formed and the country was whole- the daughter of seamstresses, and was educated for only three years in the public school the riders had set up there before returning home and to work. She rarely left the city. On her sixteenth birthday, she joined the annual queue outside the city hall for the chance to pass by the donated eggs, and waits there now, heart pumping a juddering rhythm in her chest with hope she can barely suppress, eyes brightening as they fix on the white tails of the clothed tables where the eggs, finally, are placed.
RPG sample:
Her heart was about to burst, she swore it.
She could feel it twisting, beating at her rib cage with every glint of anticipation, even though she knew, as that irritating voice reminded her every few seconds, that only one in a thousand are chosen to be a rider, and the odds that a poorly educated, scrap of a thing like her – not short, though – would be that one were incredibly low. Her father wouldn’t even bet on it.
Yet still her pulse thrummed, roaring through her ears. Only thirty people left to go.
She could see the tables, surrounded as they were by the wealth and glory of the riders – the simple, white-washed stone of the city square transformed by the engraved stools placed in its center, cushions protecting their priceless burdens. As large as her head, each –future, her heart whispered- arranged in an accidental, spectacular array of colour – gold, scarlet, crimson, emerald, sapphire, and amber. Music played belatedly from either side as the city band sawed through another jaunty number, the crowds that had gathered to watch the event muttering as they ate and drank from the opportunist market-stalls, but she had eyes and ears only for the gems.
The line shifted, as one, two, and then three people trailed their fingers across the stones.
Twenty-five people left…
Alright! Get posting! I will close this in three weeks to stop you lot and myself procrastinating. No limit to roleplayers. x3
Roleplayers:
1. katiekitten - Defn and Beroan.
2. Storymasterb - Vandril and Valreign
3. Lorddarigarn - Thaeo and Monwe
4. Zearen the Raichu - Knurljurgen and Hartlik
5. Lifesharker - Uriel and Nehima
6...
Opening lyrics under title from System of a Down's 'Forest'. x3
The Eldunarí
-walk with me until the end-
[be warned: this is an Eragon roleplay, and will feature violence]
-walk with me until the end-
[be warned: this is an Eragon roleplay, and will feature violence]
Cold steel flashing.
The harsh light glints in his eyes – his pulse races; he can hear it thrumming in his ears, his fingers twitching to the rhythm. She roars beneath him, and he roars as well, the sounds swallowed by the screaming air as they dive together between the yawning canyons – he can feel it, feel her thrill at the speed and her soul twined with his-! The wind flips through his hair- he squints watering grey eyes against the onslaught, but he ignores it and together, always together, they strike. Claw and blade slice armour and flesh. The Urgals scream. His blade shivers with every blow.
He grins.
--
The golden age of Alagaësia, the time of the Shur’tugal. For centuries the Dragon riders have governed the world, and for centuries more they believe, in their pride, they will continue. Dragons and Riders and Elves and men. The dwarves mutter in their gilded halls.
As you may have guessed, this is set long before the setting of the books, and therefore before the time of the majority of the characters. Some, yes, will still be alive – but this is not their story. Consider this roleplay my guilty pleasure, my dears.
The setting is, invariably, during the time of the Dragon Riders, before their fall. Dragons still roost in the lofty peaks of Marna, and the elves are not restricted to the forests. You have to choose to be either a rider or a dragon, although you can have other characters - the forms are below. Your main character can be at any stage of development you wish – a hatchling or a child who is just beginning their training, to a wizened rider who is nearing their hundredth year. The reason for this will be realised as the roleplay continues – I don’t want to ruin the surprise, now, do I?
Alagaësia as we will see it:
At Vroengard, the Council of Elders preside in Doru Araeba, the city of black stone that holds beneath it in its great catacombs the Eldunarí of the Dragons of old. It is deep in those winding passages studiously kept by the order that, in the presence of the wisest dragons, the council convenes every year to discuss the inner workings of the land and to address any threats to the populace. The city is guarded by the wardens - Dragon Riders centuries old who guard the perimeter of the Island; although their caution has lapsed over time and their roles have become more honourary than needed. It is not uncommon for one to depart for weeks on end to visit the mountains of Marna, or to soar over the stretch of the Hadarac Desert - They are no more restricted to their posts than a bird to a particular tree. The city of Iliria, beside the pebbled shores of the Ramr River, is known as the Jewel of the South, with its marble street lined with gilded lamps created by the dwarves. It is renowned for them - the lights are said to be filled with captured starlight and fill nights when clouds cover the moon. It is there that each generation of riders is taught in the great citidel at its center, the building home to the largest libraries in the known world and surrounded by menoa trees sprung from the last seeds of the great Menoa tree of Du Weldenvarden itself. Under their branches, hatchlings find their wings and their riders are endebted with the Shur'tugal legacy.
Along the crags of the spine to the source of the Jiet river, the human kingdom of Broddring stretches, its capital of Belatona camped by the edge of Leona Lake and home of the human king, a descendent of the tattered Argenost line. Despite the monarchy's degredation, the city's still known for its skilled labourers, and merchants send their wares down the river to the port of Feinster in a prosperent trade deal with the city of Teirm, located farther up the coat on the other side of the spine. Trade thrived, and it's rare for the city to be silent - for when the sun sets, the lights go on, and entertainment's not hard to find in the city's broad courtyards. The port of Feinster itself was the main port for trading to the islands of shortly beyond its shores, the primary one, Beirland, the rumoured site of the city Eoam. It's reported that the city was founded when the elves first set foot on Alagaësia, although later destroyed in the Du Fyrn Skulblaka - in its ruins is said to be the floating crystal of the Silverwoods, lost in the ferocity of the fighting.
Along the Spine, the riders' maintain a series of watch towers: one the greatest of these, after Utgard, being the Felladurna - which, literally translated, means 'Mountain water', named after the waterfall that cascades from the springs at its feet. It's one of the riders greatest achievements, and is one of the signatures of their glory, a towering pinacle that looks out over the sea on the opposite side of the spinal ridge of mountains that branches from the core of the spine, near the cove of Kuasta.
...Feel free to add to this at any point. x3 There isn't much information on Alagaesia before the war, and the more we have the more we have to lose. x3
--
His sword seems to dance in his palm- it sings against a horn and he follows it through, knees firmly gripping the leather beneath him. She arches with him, wings that shimmer scarlet outstretcbed - there is blood there, black and glorious, and she shakes her claws free from the skull of a foe as she launches herself at the sky once more.
“Thrysta deloi!”
The words singe his tongue as he utters them, and he watches gleefully as the ground below them ruptures and falls, dragging several of the Urgals – their prey - shrieking with it. There may be many, he hears her say, her voice a clarion call- a part of him – but we are more.
It is her voice that hums in his mind as he watches, as if in slow motion, the barbed cloud of arrows that swarm up her side. She laughs, rolls - he joins her jubilation, mocking the crowd below him, before-
pain.
Desperate fingers claw for his eyes, whole and yet shredded. Her screams echo on the mountains.
they plummet.
--
The plot, simply, is this: At the northern end of the spine, not far from the city of Ceunon, it is rumoured that a shade of considerable power is practising necromancy in the shelter of the caves that riddle the northern mountains. In their shadows, spirits are gathering, and odd lightning storms have been spotted in the early evenings for the last couple of months. After an Urgal raid on a nearby village, a group of young riders set out to discover if there was a link between the separate events. They haven’t returned.
That is all I would like you, as my fellow roleplayers, to know at the moment. x3 The italic intervals are highly relevant, and I will give you a hint: This roleplay will span the final years of the riders. This is the story of their fall, and what a fall it’ll be – I can hardly wait. x3 With that in mind… *cackles*
What I require of you, the roleplayers:
Now that you have read my lengthy introduction, I don’t really have much to ask of you. I would love to be joined by people who:
* Have healthy imaginations
* Are not inclined to godmodding – you will be given a hefty amount of power in this, admittedly, but you’ll need to use it sensibly.
I won’t require perfect spelling or grammar – god knows, I don’t have the best either – I’ve been known to spell avarice ‘Averish’ in hangman. But no text language, the usual deal.
Now! On to the sign ups!
Basic forms:
For Riders:
Name:
Age:
Race:
Gender:
Personality: You can do anything you wish – if you want to be a criminal, you can be, if you want to be good, you can be, yada yada.
Description:
Dragon’s name:
Dragon’s Age:
Gender:
Personality:
Description:
History: It doesn’t have to be anything long. Almost forgot to include it. :x
RPG sample: Really just a paragraph in character. Nothing too hard, just want to check up on your writing. It’ll also get you all enthused. x3
For Dragons:
Name:
Age:
Gender:
Personality:
Description:
Home: I can’t remember every single detail about the books, and had to have all three beside me to check up on some facts when making this. Just pick a mountain range and name a mountain, or just pick a mountain.
History: It doesn’t have to be anything long. Almost forgot to include it. :x
RPG Sample: Again, just a paragraph.
For other characters:
Name:
Age:
Gender:
Race: Dwarf, Elf or man, I'm afraid. We need to fit in with the universe, after all.
Description:
Personality:
History: It doesn’t have to be anything long. Almost forgot to include it. :x
What else? There isn’t much left to add. On how this roleplay will work – I will open up a discussion thread in the café which you might all want to keep an eye on, for once I post the opening post in the overall forum, I will reveal the entire plot, just so we don’t all get confused and start contradicting each other as we go along. Just want to keep it a bit of a surprise! :3 It will be there, as well, that we’ll discuss some of the core events of the roleplay and who is going to do what. This is going to be a heck of a lot of fun. x3
With that out of the way, my own sign up!
For Riders:
Name: Defn Yakswiper.
Gender: Female
Age: Sixteen.
Race: Human
Personality: Slightly close-minded and judgemental, although determined (in thought, at least) to the last. Proud. More than slightly arrogant, and a temper that matches that of her dragon, especially in regards to her height. Intelligent, but to a point.
Description: Medium build, but slightly shorter than the average woman, with chin-length, curly dusty-brown hair. Faded green eyes under slightly low brows, and a crooked smile that is commonly sarcastic. Prefers to wear men’s clothing- the casual brown tunic, faded green trousers- to ensure the least amount of embarrassment possible when riding. She dotes upon her dragon, and rarely will be separated.
Dragon’s name: Beroan
Gender: Male
Dragon’s Age: Hatchling
Personality: Stubborn to the last, unthinking, tactless, but intelligent. Courageous, in the foolhardy-doesn’t-think-before-acting way that, while honourable, is never the best option. Slightly hot-headed.
Description: Deep amber scales that reflect the sunlight freely, a whip-like tail and slightly stubby legs, although he’d never admit it. Slightly clumsy on all fours as a result, but a good flyer nevertheless- deft and swift. His snout is long, in contrast, and the ridge of spikes on his neck burst spectacularly to a climax on the back of his head, and it gives him a permanent ferocious expression, although that is farther from the truth than he would ever know.
History: Defn lived in Cithrí for the majority of her childhood, in the time before Surda was formed and the country was whole- the daughter of seamstresses, and was educated for only three years in the public school the riders had set up there before returning home and to work. She rarely left the city. On her sixteenth birthday, she joined the annual queue outside the city hall for the chance to pass by the donated eggs, and waits there now, heart pumping a juddering rhythm in her chest with hope she can barely suppress, eyes brightening as they fix on the white tails of the clothed tables where the eggs, finally, are placed.
RPG sample:
Her heart was about to burst, she swore it.
She could feel it twisting, beating at her rib cage with every glint of anticipation, even though she knew, as that irritating voice reminded her every few seconds, that only one in a thousand are chosen to be a rider, and the odds that a poorly educated, scrap of a thing like her – not short, though – would be that one were incredibly low. Her father wouldn’t even bet on it.
Yet still her pulse thrummed, roaring through her ears. Only thirty people left to go.
She could see the tables, surrounded as they were by the wealth and glory of the riders – the simple, white-washed stone of the city square transformed by the engraved stools placed in its center, cushions protecting their priceless burdens. As large as her head, each –future, her heart whispered- arranged in an accidental, spectacular array of colour – gold, scarlet, crimson, emerald, sapphire, and amber. Music played belatedly from either side as the city band sawed through another jaunty number, the crowds that had gathered to watch the event muttering as they ate and drank from the opportunist market-stalls, but she had eyes and ears only for the gems.
The line shifted, as one, two, and then three people trailed their fingers across the stones.
Twenty-five people left…
Alright! Get posting! I will close this in three weeks to stop you lot and myself procrastinating. No limit to roleplayers. x3
Roleplayers:
1. katiekitten - Defn and Beroan.
2. Storymasterb - Vandril and Valreign
3. Lorddarigarn - Thaeo and Monwe
4. Zearen the Raichu - Knurljurgen and Hartlik
5. Lifesharker - Uriel and Nehima
6...
Opening lyrics under title from System of a Down's 'Forest'. x3
Last edited: