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The Eldunarí

Discussion in 'Sign Up' started by katiekitten, Jan 24, 2009.

  1. katiekitten

    katiekitten The Compromise

    The Eldunarí

    The Eldunarí

    -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-


    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:

    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.

    Dragon’s name:
    Dragon’s Age:

    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:

    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:

    Race: Dwarf, Elf or man, I'm afraid. We need to fit in with the universe, after all.
    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! :D

    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


    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

    Opening lyrics under title from System of a Down's 'Forest'. x3
    Last edited: Feb 17, 2009
  2. Feraligatr12

    Feraligatr12 Dr. Black Series

    Name: Krekka Børeßon
    Age: 238
    Gender: Male
    Race: Manticore
    Description: Well, basically a Manticore is a huge beast (around 8 feet tall) with a lion's head, body, arms, and legs, with a scorpions tail, and wings of an eagle. Krekka's fur is midnight black, with an orange mane. His tail is black at the base, and gradually turns blood red until the tip, where it turns back to black. His wings are orange at the base, and turn black near the tip. The bottom feathers are orange, and the top are black. Krekka is missing a few teeth, and has many cuts and scars on his body from previous battles with Dragon's and their riders. Heres a better picture.

    Personality: To put it in simpler words, he is very savage. Krekka has a very short fuse, and is angered very, very easily. He will stop at nothing to get food, even if it means leaving his own territory. Krekka is very protective of his territory, killing anything that comes near it. Krekka is very merciless, and will kill anything that gets in his way. Krekka is very hard to kill, although; he is not very agile. Since he is huge and bulky, the only way of moving quickly is by wings. He also has the ability to speak to dragons and humans.

    History: Krekka was born in a deep and dark cave, and grew up on his own. By birth, Krekka was a born killer. He gave himself the name, because he wanted a name that the humans and dragons would fear. Krekka grew up in the cave, slaughtering many dragons, humans and other things that fall under the animal kingdom. Krekka learned to breathe fire when he was about 30, which is very early for a manticore, as the others learn it at 50. He has kept track of all the things that he has killed, scratching the marks into his cave. Krekka has lived to hate the dragons, only because he learned of his mother's death, and it was by the hands of the dragons and the riders. Krekka conquered a village when he was 182, and he demanded that he get 3/4s of all their spoils at the end of the year, in return for their protection. He occasionally killed of some of the villagers, only because the disobeyed him. He lived his life by his own motto that he came up with "He1l hath no fury like an enraged Manticore."

    hope i did well, this is my first time playing as an all out evil character.
  3. katiekitten

    katiekitten The Compromise

    Ah, sorry, hun, I probably didn't specify - I'm afraid you have to have a rider, and your other characters are only additions, and can only be a Dwarf, Elf or a Man. >.< You might also want to watch your character's abilities - he's turning out a little Gary-Stu-y, for he seems to be a very good fighter, immeasurably good and incredibly hard to kill, and although you do have the fault of not being agile on his feet, it isn't enough when you also take into account his fire breathing abilities.

    For those reason, you are declined for now - but do try again! Take a look at the advice thread in this forum if you want to - it might help. :)
  4. storymasterb

    storymasterb Knight of RPGs

    Name: Vandiril Stormsong
    Gender: Male
    Age: Nineteen

    Personality: Vandiril is a loner who prefers to work alone from everyne except his dragon. He doesn't have a very good sense of courtesy and usually gets into trouble for insulting people. He isn't much of a negotiator, preferring to simply intimidate people into obedience with the reputation of the Riders, or when that fails, brute force. He doesn't particually like magic, believing it a weakness. He won't deny that it is useful, but he doesn't particually like using it himself. He is easily frustrated, hence his hatred of the pointless tasks he was forced to do to unlock his magic.

    Description: Like many elves, Vandiril is tall and thin. He is much more handsome than pretty much any human male amd his ears are pointed. He usually wears a simple grey tunic and pants under his armour, which is a simple leather jerkin under a coat of chain mail, and greaves to protect his legs. His sword, named Arget in the Ancient Language, is usually scabbarded at his side. His hair is dark brown, almost black, and his eyes are grey.

    Dragon's Name: Valreign
    Dragon's Age: Seven months (basically, matured.)
    Gender: Female
    Personality: Valreign tends to be just as brutal as her Rider on occassion, usully in battle, but she is normally gentle and calms Vandiril to some degree. She is quite wise and often gives people advice on how to improve situations, especially if Vandiril has caused them. She enjoys lecturing Vandiril when he does something stupid. Valreign is normally a lot more grown-up than her age, but when it comes to romance she is utterly in the dark.
    Description: Valreign is pure shining silver in colour, except for her eyes, which are ruby red. Her scales are usually pristine, due to the large amount of time Valreign spends keeping them clean. Several of her fangs are chipped from several unfortunate occassions when she had to bite through armour. She is quite large for a female dragon of her age, matching quite a few of the male dragons in sheer physical power. She has a row of ivory spines running down her back.

    History: Vandiril was born in the elf city of Kirtan. He tended to run around the forest, perfecting his battle skills for becoming a Rider, which he was determined would be his destiny. He wanted that power and glory, perhaps a little too much. Every year he would touch the dragon eggs and he would return home sullen and depressed. When he was eighteen, he touched Valreign's egg and she hatched for him. The twow ere immediately taken away by the Riders for training. Vandiril proved himself an above average swordsman, but when it came to magic he showed less skill. Quite honestly, he had grown up on tales of great swordsmen and believed magic dishonourable and cowardly.

    RPG Sample:
    Vandiril looked at the small group of furious men in front of him. This was the result of managing to tell the current lord of Aroughs his wife was ugly. Simple truth, but the lord had seen it as an insult. And sent a bunch of men to make the Dragon Rider pay.

    "I really wouldn't do this," he warned, drawing Arget from its scabbard.

    "Too bad, elf!" one of the men spat, rushing at him with a club raised. Vandiril simply blocked his swing with Arget before effortlessly disarming him and throwing him to the ground. The rest all charged in.

    Valreign! Vandiril called with his mind. A second later, the men were attackign him with everything they had. Clubs, fists, daggers, a variety of weaponry. Vandiril blocked their attacks with Arget, but he couldn't retaliate. A dagger stabbed thorugh one of the rings in his chain mail armour and he cried out in pain.

    Vandiril! he heard Valreign cry as she felt the pain across their mental link.

    I'm... fine. Just get here fast. He blocked a few more attacks before realising he was going to have to resort to magic if he was going to survive much longer.

    "Thrysta Vindr!" he cried, thrusting out his hand. The air before him condensed into a ball and went flying into one of his opponents, throwing the unlucky man into a wall with a sickening crunch. Vandiril insitnly felt weaker as the energy for the spell left him. However, his feat had frightened the othe rmen and given him breathing space.

    There was a sudden roar and a shining silver dragon slammed into the ground between him and the men. Valreign roared with fury and the men all took a step back She raored again, sending a jet of flames at them. The men broke and ran.
  5. katiekitten

    katiekitten The Compromise

    I like it. x3 The only thing I'd say is that Valreign can't be too big at only seven months- for while she is matured, she'd have nothing on some of the older of her order. Her cluelessness in romance, as well - could that be linked to naivety?

    But. As I said, I like it. Accepted.
  6. lorddarigarn

    lorddarigarn Bane of Optomists.

    Name: Thaeo Edresse
    Age: 18
    Gender: Male
    Race: Elf
    Personality: Thaeo is generally a hard-working, focussing hard on his training. He has always felt strong emotions but generally tries to keep his composure, seeing it as necessary for a dragon rider. However, when his wrath builds up he has been known to violently explode. Likewise, he can sometimes shine as a beacon of enthusiasm under the right conditions, or otherwise be rather surly and downcast. He enjoys intellectual puzzles and, though he is but an illiterate child compared to the older and more experienced Riders, his reasoning and intellect is not inconsiderable. He enjoys a puzzle or a challenge and has the resolve to persist when difficulty arises. He believes that intellect and finesse is the most powerful weapon available to a rider, both metaphorically and literally, as the clever use of a spell or a carefully thought-out string of attacks can easily disable a physically superior foe.

    He is fairly open-minded to the thoughts and philosophies of others, though he may not personally agree with them. He is respectful of authority in all forms and tries to abide by the laws and customs of those he deals with, be it the word of a king or a common peasant, except for where this would conflict with his duty or moral code. Though he has no does not believe in gods, he will attempt to follow their mandates while dealing with followers in the same way that he would follow their customs of greeting. One thing he has no track with, however, is any who would purposefully mutilate or kill others, whether it be for some dark deity or their own gain.

    Description: Thaeo is tall, more so for a human than an elf, standing just over 6” tall, and is built lithely. He has a fairly light complexion, though not one that couldn’t be mistaken for human if not unaccompanied by his obviously elven traits. His ears are sharp, but slightly more rounded at the tip than the average elf. His face, while slightly bony, is fairly full. Overall, though he is of pure elven blood, he has a slightly more human appearance than some. Though this rarely causes comment, it can sometimes help when involved in diplomacy. He has long, lustrous golden-brown hair, which he normally wears in a ponytail. His eyes are blue-grey and slightly slanted, giving them a somewhat hawk-like appearance.

    He wears thin leather body armour, gently padded and with light metal plates sown through the material to provide an unrestrictive and surprisingly effective protection, as well as being much more subtle and less intimidating than plate armour. He wears leather thigh-boots and worn leather gloves. At his waist is sheathed Orum, a magnificent blade around two and a half feet long and slightly curved. It is slightly lighter than a normal sword, allowing for a much more agile style of combat, but the enchantments bound around it ensures that it will not break. Across his back is a reflex bow of elven wood and a quiver that, under optimal conditions, contains two dozen arrows. Though he rarely makes use of it, he also keeps a small, plain knife holstered down his boot.

    Dragon’s name: Monwe
    Dragon’s Age: 4 years
    Gender: Female
    Personality: When the situation allows, Monwe is a carefree and light-hearted spirit, enjoying freedom as only one capable of escaping all earthly bounds can know. She hates to be cooped up and longs to stretch his wing, to feel the wind flowing past his scales and watch the land shift beneath him. She is constantly optimistic, sometimes consciously extending it to a hilarious level, and can make Thaeo laugh even between the clash of swords. Though experience has tempered his careless and irresponsible attitude, she nevertheless tends to be slightly overly playful and Thaeo has acted as her voice of reason more times than she can count. She knows how to behave when absolute necessity dictates, but loathes it nevertheless.

    While she preens herself for the sake of hygiene and to make a good impression, she tends to be as unconcerned of her appearance as she is for almost everything else. However, when aroused she displays a temper that stands out even among dragons, bellowing with ear-splitting strength and belching gouts of fire into any open space available before attempting to calm down by taking out her rage on the nearest boulder, tree or even the ground if nothing else suitable presents itself. She is a wild spirit, and let anyone try and tame her.

    Description: Monwe’s hide and eyes is coloured a brilliant ruby red, hide flickering in the light from a dark blood-like shade to the colour of flame. Though it is normally hard to notice from under a near-ever present layer of dust, her scales are possessed of lustre and shine unusual for dragons, though far from unheard of. She is unusual in that the spines running down her back continue to almost halfway down her tail, slowly shrinking to almost outcropping scales, and up to between her eyes, as well as having a small “mane” of spines running around her head just behind the jawbone. Her scales are slightly pearl-like in colour, as are her teeth, which are fiercely serrated.

    History: Thaeo hails from Vierlan, an elven coastal city near what would in later years be named Bellatona. As a child, he was always drawn towards books and learning, intensely interesting in the working of the world around him. He was intensely interested in magic, having a small gift himself, as did his mother. Though his power was only slight, and paled compared to that of his mother, he took delight in learning how to make small orbs of light or moving the pebbles lining the street. His father was a mariner and fisherman and so he spent a fair bit of time in a boat, wind whipping through the air and helping his father reel in the nets.

    When he was 13, he was one of many children presented with a dragon egg, and was delighted when Monwe hatched for him. He was astounded when he found that his previously meagre magic had blossomed upon his connection with Monwe and dedicated himself to the tutoring that the riders gave him in its use. As befitted his duty, he spent a great deal of time practicing with the blade, fuelled by an enthusiasm common amongst the younger riders, and swiftly developed his own graceful style, weaving his sword in a dance of feints and precision strikes.

    RPG sample: Thaeo whooped as he and Monwe swooped downwards in a graceful dive, wind sending their hair in a billowing dance as they plunged directly towards the land below. The two corkscrewed through the air, minds intertwined and both oblivious to all but the moment. Metres from the ground, they spread their wings, decelerating almost instantly, and they pulled up in a vertical climb. They almost made to fly between the tightly-packed trees off ahead, but the component of the gestalt conscience that was Thaeo discouraging such a dangerous course of action. He felt the expected disapproval from Monwe, who instantly set about performing an array of awe-inspiring dives and mid-air acrobatics that made Thaeo laugh.

    A thought flickered between their bond and Monwe sped several feet over the land below. A gout of brilliant red flames shot from their mouths and Thaeo felt his body yelling out a command in the language of power. The fire arced and sped around and behind them, surrounding them in a roaring, arrow-like corona of flame and leaving a blazing trail behind them. The pair of them overflowed by pure delight but, eventually, the two came to land and Thaeo could feel their single conciseness splitting into two, closely bound but separate. Monwe kneeled down and Thaeo unbuckled the straps on her harness, sliding off her back and lying on the floor.

    Now the exhilaration had passed, he could feel the exhaustion and hunger washing over him, totally alien when compared to Monwe’s almost limitless bounds of energy. He tried to push himself up, but his muscles protested painfully. He murmured a few short words and the buckles on the small pack tied to Monwe’s harness undid themselves. A large watermelon-like fruit and a gourd of water floated through the air towards him, which he quickly feasted on. He looked up at Monwe, traces of adrenaline still running through his system. “You must feel sorry for us elves and humans, bound to earth.” He could feel Monwe brimming with mirth. “I do. But, on the other hand, I can’t pick up my meal without walking across a room and holding it in my teeth.” Thaeo laughed.
    Last edited: Jan 25, 2009
  7. lifesharker

    lifesharker Spring-Loaded Fish

    I'm going to reserve a rider as well, if that's alright. I've got two different ideas running through my head right now, got to choose one.
  8. katiekitten

    katiekitten The Compromise

    Lord: x3! Nice - The beginning of your post seems to be swallowed, as the name section is gone - Is your character's name Thaeo Mora, or some variation, or did you decide to change the name? It doesn't matter either way - I like your characters, you're a decent writer- Congratulations, you're accepted! x3

    Life: x3 O' course. *gives cookie*
  9. lorddarigarn

    lorddarigarn Bane of Optomists.

    Last edited: Jan 24, 2009
  10. Zearen the Raichu

    Zearen the Raichu For Exya!

    For Dragon:
    Name: Knurljurgen
    Age: 10
    Gender: Female

    Personality: Knurljurgen is free spirited to the last. She has a hard time obeying rules; she is a dragon and requires such respect from those not of her race. She is not evil or destructive, simply chaotic. Actually, her intentions are normally quite good, but her value system is slightly skewed.

    Due to her upbringing, she shares many dwarvish views and beliefs. She enjoys the earth, and only flies when necessary. This tends to alienate her among her fellow kind, but it is not a new feeling for her. She has always felt an outcast, and will probably remain so most of her life. She shares Hartlik's drinking habits, though consumes notably larger amounts.

    Description: Her scales are a muddy green, from which her name, “Rock Dragon,” comes. They have a dull look, and she tends to blend in amongst the mountains. Despite her considerable size, she has a shorter stubby build more suited for fighting on the ground. She has a powerful, thick tail, known to be able destroy rows of houses in one swing. Her neck duplicates her tail and leads to a large flat head.

    She has an odd bony, shield like structure crowning her head. This causes it to be rather heavy, so she generally droops it. Her spikes are short and rounded, complimenting the rest of her bulky appearance. Unfortunately, her wings are disproportionately small, making aerial acrobatics difficult for her.

    Home: She is a nomad, though she originally came from the Boers

    History: She was abandoned as a hatchling by her parents. She was found by Hartlik who raised her in secret for over a year. She now roams Algaësia with her lifelong friend, doing odd jobs in search for money for mead. (There's more detail in Hartlik's history.)

    For Other Character:
    Name: Hartlik the Dwarf
    Age: 25
    Gender: Female
    Race: Dwarf

    Descrption: Hartlik is an average height and build for a dwarf, and possesses the typical rounded features. Her curly, strawberry red hair is kept controlled in a braid ending at her shoulders. She has a flat face with large brown eyes and is adorned with her large sapphire necklace. The collar of her undershirt appears from beneath her ever present mail. Her mail extends to her knees, revealing only then the grieves she wears beneath it.

    Over top her mail, she wears a leather vest with which she carries her various tools. Across her back she has her ax. Its blade is narrow and long, almost pike like, and is contrasted by the thick spike protruding in the opposite direction. She has six throwing knives organized into two rows on the front of her vest. The rest is covered in pouches containing her various herbs.

    Personality: Fundamentally, Hartlik is a rebel, as a dwarf would have to be to leave the comfort of of the mountains. She often misses her home, but knows she can't return there. She has an undying love of mead, and would be a borderline alcoholic if not for her dwarf nature. She has no real long term goals in life, and instead sets short ones to achieve in the immediate future.

    As such, she has a myriad of semi-developed skills she uses to earn her mead. Her main skill is that of a healer, hence she carries the herbs. However, she is also an amateur magician, having picked up the craft when she was running errands for some elves. She has found that her dwarvish stories are new and entertaining to most, and has also become somewhat of a bard.

    Her relationship with Knurljurgen is odd. The two are completely indebted, but they operate as two separate units. She can only speak to the dragon through words, and the dragon through thoughts, but they do not share thoughts as a dragon and rider would. In fact, Knurljurgen won't let anyone ride her, and instead carries Hartlik in her claws. Kartlik has never liked flying, but has learned to bear it.

    Full History (Both characters):
    She was born into Dûrgrimst Ebardac, and was raised as someone to be curious about the nature of things. Therefore, when she discovered the hatchling Knurljurgen, she reacted with interest, not fear. She began to start to feed the dragon, and care for it. She soon came to believe that dragons were not the evil creatures as she was told, and began to believe the dragon her best friend

    Hartlik managed to keep Knurljurgen a secret for an entire year, before the dragon made the mistake of feeding upon a feldûnost. This enraged the dwarves who began to attack the dragon, believing that hostilities had been reopened. Hartlik managed to clarify the sitaution, but was unceremoniously banned.

    The pair lived in the Boers for four years, a simple subsistence existence. However, Hartlik soon grew restless and desired to see see the world. She convened with Knurljurgen who believed as well it was time that they should remove their illusion of exile. Since then they have traveled Algaësia, doing as they pleased to earn money. They take their tasks from all races, as long as they have a high enough pay. It is, after all, hard to sate a dragon. Currently, they are headed to Doru Araebe to seek work more befitting of a dragon, and perhaps of greater pay.

    RP Sample:
    The dwarf hoisted herself up unto the stool in front of the bar. It was a nice little inn, the music was good; perhaps if the mead was good she might stay. She called over the barkeep, waving her hand in the air to be sure to be noticed. The man collected his pay before wandering over to the dwarf's place.

    “Oy, what are you wanting,” he asked.

    “I'll be taking a meads of a local flavor,” she said.

    The man turned around for a second, but soon returned with a tankard overflowing with foam. He set it down before her and inquired, “So what is a dwarf doing out of its hole?”

    “Maybe I got cramped,” joked Hartlik, she took a long guzzle from the mead, “Nay, I'm venturing to Doru Araebe.”

    “What do you expect to do there,” the Barkeep wondered out loud, “you're an odd little dwarf.”

    “Nay, I just keep odd friends,” she said. At that very moment, a large head punched through the wall of the inn. Knurljurgen shook off the loose timber and observed the startled patrons. The silence was only broken by Hartlik's booming laughter. She downed the rest of her mead and slammed it down saying, “She'll take a barrel of this.”
  11. katiekitten

    katiekitten The Compromise

    Zearen: x3! I really like the idea of a dragon that has difficulty flying, and I like the sound of both characters, especially Hartlik. I'm a little uncertain about her having a little control of magic - from what I've gathered, it doesn't come easily to dwarves, and I'm not so certain she'd be able to pick it up - but. Still good. x3 I look forward to roleplaying with you! - and approaching Doru Araeba will be fun to see. I don't think they'll expect her at all. Accepted!

    And yes, you'll have your shade-dragon. x3 Although more of a shadow of one? :x

    lord: x3 Thank you again for the links! I'll edit them into the first post.

    I have edited in a rough setting in my first post, as well, if you all'd like to read it at some point. It is, as I've said, rough - it only covers some of the key areas that we will encounter during the course of the roleplay, and, as our resource of Alagaesia is limited, it's left to our imaginations. <3
  12. Zearen the Raichu

    Zearen the Raichu For Exya!

    Really? I must have forgotten that of dwarves... If it bothers you too much I can edit it out. Also, shadow dragons for the win <3. As long as it isn't like that retarded one in the movie >_>
  13. katiekitten

    katiekitten The Compromise

    Through her connection with Knurl, she'd perhaps begin to get a bit of an affinity for it? For she is a rider, in an unconventional sense that neither really understand? *shot*

    xD I couldn't even finish watching it. CERTAINLY not like that. *shudders*
    Last edited: Jan 25, 2009
  14. Ejunknown

    Ejunknown be creative

    D: I don't think I can do this I'm afraid. It has just been too long since I have read these books, and I have not roleplayed on here in a long time and just don't think I can write to these standards. You know what I mean. Sorry. ;;
    Last edited: Jan 29, 2009
  15. Hexagram

    Hexagram Sic Transit Mundus

    Great Idea...

    Hello. I'd like to reserve a spot. I shall edit this later, madam.
  16. katiekitten

    katiekitten The Compromise

    Ejunknown: That's alright. :3

    Hexagram: O' course! I look forward to reading it. x3
  17. lifesharker

    lifesharker Spring-Loaded Fish

    With all the teenage elves running around, I figured we needed an older, mature human in this group.

    For Riders:

    Name: Lord Uriel Du Sophenheim

    Age: 247

    Gender: Male

    Race: Human

    Personality: Uriel is a charismatic man, able to sway crowds and individuals alike in his favour. He finds this now easier than ever, as he is reasonably well known amongst riders. He is an outspoken advocate of direct rule by dragon riders, and this is one of the reasons that he has been passed over by the council several times; despite his popularity amongst riders, they’re somewhat suspicious of him. In some ways, they’re right to be; he firmly believes that with the added help of their dragons willpower on top of their own, dragon riders can control wild magic and summon spirits without the usual risks associated with it. The most important thing in his life is his dragon, Nehima.

    For a rider, Uriels’ ability with a sword is average at best, as it’s never something he’s really focused on. However, his magical ability more than makes up for it; his command of the ancient language and ability to phrase spells in such a way as to do exactly what he wants are quite well renowned. This is something he prides himself on. He tends to work well with others only when he’s the one in charge, as he has a certain arrogance and overconfidence in his abilities. As far as he’s concerned, dragon riders are superior to all others in Alagaesia. His flair for theatrics is also well known.

    Description: Uriel is about 5’8”. He has brown hair with streaks of grey at the temples, and dull green eyes. His limbs and fingers are rather stubby, and he’s missing his little and ring finger in his left hand after a failed experiment with wild magic. His usual attire consists of a pale silk shirt and breeches, with a large, heavy green cape covering the left half of his body. However, when prepared for fighting he switches to a set of leather breeches and a mail hauberk beneath his tunic, with his white-blue sword named Edoc’sil (literally “unconquerable”, as this is how he sees himself). Edoc’sil is shorter than most swords, being used primarily defensively.

    Dragon’s name: Nehima (kudos if you know where I nicked the name from)

    Dragon’s Age: 223

    Gender: Female

    Personality: Nehima is the quite, deadly type. Totally devoted to Uriel, she will fight alongside him to the death. That said, she’s slightly dubious about his experiments with wild magic. She believes, like he does, that dragons are the superior race in Alagaesia, and that in turn makes dragon riders superior (the concept being “You should respect those who are respected by those you respect”). She conducts herself with dignity and grace at all times. It’s rare for her to open up to anyone asides from Uriel.

    Description: Nehima is a bright white-blue colour. She looks very physically imposing; larger and longer than many dragons. However, this is because she is very long from head to tail, and has long legs; her actual body is quite small and as such she is weaker and has a thinner set of scales than most dragons her size. In exchange for this, she is more agile, both in the air and on the ground.

    History: Uriel was born the eldest child in a noble family, and had a luxurious childhood. His father expected him to take up his mantle; however, this responsibility fell to his brother when, at the age of 24, Nehima hatched for him. Since then, he has devoted himself to the dragon riders. Sometimes, this drive to make the dragon riders great goes to far, such as attempting to show that dragon riders can use wild magic and summon spirits without fear.

    RPG sample: Uriel and Nehima dived fast, pursuing the golden dragon as it sought to evade them. The thrill of the chase pounded through their veins.

    Below them, the golden dragon desperately tried to pull up at the last moment, slightly breaking it’s fall moments before Nehima crashed into it, narrowly avoiding crushing the rider. Uriel threw himself from Nehima in pursuit as the two dragons engaged in a vicious fight, grinning as he did.

    The attack came out of nowhere; the beautiful sword coming within a hairs breadth of killing him. Uriel was forced on the defensive, barely blocking the swift and powerful succession of blows with Edoc’sil, sweat erupting from his brow as he was pushed back towards where the two dragons grappled with one another for the upper hand.

    “Sverd risa!” The golden sword that had been moments from crashing down on his head was suddenly wrenched from its owner’s hand, rising into the air. His opponent froze for a moment, looking stunned, and Uriel took the opportunity to strike for a killing blow at his neck. The elf had to use all of his extraordinary reflexes to avoid the blow. Uriel pressed his advantage.

    “Brisingr!” the jet of white-blue flame struck the ground where the elf had been moments before. He sent a second flame at him, but it was stopped mid-flight by a shimmering golden shield the elf summoned in front of him.

    “Kveykva!” Pain shot through Uriel as a bolt of white light struck his chest hard, sending him flying. He desperately tried to hold onto conciousness as he saw the figure standing above him, golden sword in hand…
    Last edited: Feb 17, 2009
  18. katiekitten

    katiekitten The Compromise

    x3 Lovely - Accepted. Maturity is always a lovely thing, and I adore arrogant characters. :3 Although I have no idea where you got the name from. xD; *shot*

    And I have messaged you all about this, but I might as well put it here as well: Get to the RPG cafe when you can and check out our thread. You'll be needing it to discuss any possible joint plots or the like with the rest of us. x3

    Look out for the first roleplay post later today!
    Last edited: Feb 17, 2009
  19. Tearen the Absol

    Tearen the Absol Carpe Noctem

    For Other Characters

    Name: Desdrin "Green Flash" Eomer
    Age: 28
    Gender: Male

    Race: Human

    Description: Desdrin has a rather unremarkable stature for his renown, standing at a perfectly average 5'8". In all else, he is, in fact, remarkable. His face is clean shaven, revealing his strong, squared jawline, which terminates in his strong, brawny neck. He has a high, intelligent looking forehead complemented with piercing green eyes. He has full lips and small ears, making him rather handsome. However, the primary trait keeping him from beauty contests is the long, horrific scar that runs from the middle of his brow, across his nose, right cheek and neck.

    As for dress, the most prominent article he wears is the flowing, dark green tunic with a long hood. Underneath that, he wears the finest, elven made leather armor, that is resplendent with small gold filigrees. On his forearms, more leather, and on his legs...leather, all from the same set of armor. Underneath this, he wears a simple, off white set of trousers and a longe sleeved shirt, that are baggy to allow for easy movement.

    Personality: Desdrin is the spiritual avatar of freedom, or at least that's what people tend to perceive by him. His boistrous, carousing spirit can be uplifting at times, but most of the time he elicits such behaviour, he tends to be annoying. His cleverness and wit also make him a shrewd debater. Also, while it would be hasty to call him outright lecherous, he is known for his directs and sometimes tasteless advances on most female organisms around him.

    This is all a facade though. While he enjoys being bright and cheery on the outside, he is pensive and moody when caught in unguarded moments. This is not owing to any specific horror he's experienced, it's just the way he's wired. His competitive spirit sometimes is his own undoing, and despite his valiant efforts, rarely lets a challenge against him go unanswered.

    History: Desdrin is both infamous and famous in Alagaesia. He has traveled the vast expanses of the region for years, honing his deadly skill. Desdrin, is no ordinary traveler. He is a fighter, a solo warrior, and he loves nothing more than conesting himself against other people in hand to hand combat or otherwise. He has deadly skill with most known weapons, including but not limited to bows, crossbows, shortswords, longswords, spears, javelins, pole arms, axes, hammers, shields, and even hand to hand combat.

    He grew up in Feinster, in among the more destitute population where those who were strongest ruled. This bred in him the insatiable desire to best anyone at melee combat, and even ranged. Obviously, travelling Alagaesia to learn all the ancient arts was not cheap, and so he often involved himself in bounty hunting, and more often, champion fighting. Recently, as the presence of dragon riders has begun to sink into the land, Dresdin felt overshadowed. He respects the riders as benevolent protectors as everyone else does, but cannot stand how they seem to defeat any opponent lesser than one of their own. The horrid scar on his face was gained from a particularly belicose rider, who swept Dresdin aside with maddening ease in a duel. And so, Dresdin now quests for a legendary rider's sword, convinced that equipped with such a weapon, he need never submit to another sentient being again.


    "Master Eomer...Master Eomer?" called the waitress patiently. Dresdin was to lost in thought to heed her words. He despondently gazed out the culled window of the tavern in Belatona, pondering his place in the world now that the riders were being asked to hunt all the criminals in the land instead of him. Have I grown so weak? Nay, only stronger and stronger...and still...

    "Bah!" said Dresdin, rocketing out of his chair with such force that it broke against the far wall. He slammed down some coin on the table, without bothering to count and stormed out the rickety door. "The gold is for the chair, not for that baby's milk you call ale." he called behind him.

    The soothing night breathed on his face like a guardian angel. He looked to the sky for answers, but the winking stars gave none. It was fall, and the night suddenly became bitter as a lonely wind blustered its was down the thin row of buildings in which Dresdin stood. He needed a fight. He needed a fight bad. And so, he set out in search of one.
    He made his way to the seedier parts of town, hoping that some ill advised thug would challenge him, but alas, the night seemed even too punishing for the slime of the city. The only noise the capital offered was the moaning wind and incoherent chatter of those indoors. Feeling very moody indeed, he decided enough was enough and stomped back to his hotel in a silent rage.

    As he entered his room, he drew his sword, Lashbane, and summarily smashed the lantern that hung on the roof above, steeping the room in darkness. He deftly removed the fine armor from his body, his cloak and shirt till his stood in his pants alone. He carefully traced the haggard line on his face and grimaced, rememering the ease with which he had been defeated. With a sudden rush of malice, he raised his sword and began moving the singing blade through the air with the speed of an elf. With deft strokes he sundered a small table to ruin. He somersaulted backwards and with three curving, lightning fast strike, he ended the usefulness of his bedside table. And with a final flourish, he tossed the sword up in the air with his right hand, spun, caught it in his left and hurled the blade like a javelin. It lodged itself in the door with a satisfying thunk. Dresdin sighed and a small smile worked its way onto his lips. Tommorow he'd go rider hunting, and no dragon, nor wizard would keep him from his glory.

    For Dragons:

    Name: Gixorn, "Tauther Inlamis", "The True Mirror"
    Age: 723
    Gender: Male
    Personality: Gixorn's advanced age is a curse upon him. Not in the way human's know it, but more they way other creatures perceive it. They, for some reason, fail to understand that dragons only grow stronger and stronger with strange eons that pass. Though he is through with most of his growth, and his overall development has slowed down with age, he nonetheless extremely intelligent and wrathfully powerful. Yet his passive, scholarly nature allows him precious little outright combat. While he hunts like any other dragon, his monk like tendencies give him a passive, understanding nature. He has left the energetic exploits of younger dragons to watch the world, while he thinks and learns in peace in Doru Araeba. He is most known as one of the wisest, most intelligent creatures in Alagaesia. Recently, he has begun work in potion making and alchemy.

    With all the time he's spent learning, his combat capabilities have atrophied. But his curious and investigative nature make him an eager flier. When in council meetings, Gixorn tends to keep his peace until he has spent time thinking out an inarguable and poignant argument. His quiet yet amusing sense of dry humor keeps him from being totally austere, but he is most happy when he is alone with his scrolls. This does not make him a recluse in any way, and he loves to share his immense knowledge with anyone who asks.

    Description: Gixorn, with his age, is immense. From snout to tip, he is three hundred feet long (yeah, seriously) . This not always to his advantage, as it makes it vey hard to navigate the much smaller homes of the other races. In color, he is a mirrored, shimmering silver all over. The edges of his scales have gained a pearlescence after he picked up his recent habit of eating precious gems. His wings, when unfurled are incomprehensibly mucular and immense, almost as wide as he is long. His eyes are perfect mirrors, so that when people look into them, they seem themselves. His neck spikes are small in proportion for most dragons, but his head is crested with rows of frills and tendrils that give him a powerful, yet intelligent look. When he breathes fire, the flame is a pure magnesium white.

    Home: Gixorn was born in the farest northern reaches of the spine, where his refective camoflauge kept him well hidden in amongst the snow.


    Gixorn was born a short time before the pact between elves and dragon riders was made. As such, he holds some animosity against elves, but his nature prevents him from being undiplomatic with them. In the first half of his life, he was known as "Tauther Inlamis" or "Follower of Knowledge". He would travel all across Alagaesia, despite the turmoil and far flung death then, to learn every scrap of knowledge. Not only that, he used this knowledge to win battles against the elves, where his vast knowledge of physics and nature could easily allow dragons to gain the upper hand. Not only that, but he was one of the most renowned flight specialists of the Draconan army, able to fly from the Great Forest to the Beor Mountains in just three days. After the war ended, and the Dragon Riders were formed, Gixorn did not desired to pair with an elf, or human, for he believe it a hindrance towards his ability to research. Any invention that has come into the world since the end of the war, Gixorn has most likely had a hand in...or claw, rather.

    RPG Sample: The Bright-Watch-Orb gleamed through the small window in the den of Gixorn. That is of course, small in comparison. Three humans could most likely stand one eachothers shoulders in the portal. The giant shining dragon lifted his inconceivable bulk off of the nest of straw that lay beneath him and stretched his wings and neck in revel of a new day. On a whim, he let loose a meager roar, and animals for miles around Doru Araebea ducked for cover. He laughed to himself in amusement, as he felt their innocent minds reel in fear.

    As it should be. Poor things.

    After a small session of grooming his lustrous hide, he padded out of the open roofed cave that was his home. It had rained a slight bit the previous night, and the land was alive with pungent growth. After nosing through a few scrolls to refresh his memory of weather patterns around this time of year, and checking a distilling potion in his workroon, Gixorn bounced down the main hall of his den with resounding thuds and bounded out the entrance. With one, deafening flap, he launched himself into the air and pumped his wings fast enough that he drove straight up in a direct defiance of gravity. When aloft at a haughty altitude, he just extended his immense wings and allowed updrafts from the mountain of Doru Araebea keep him aloft. From this height, his keen eyes could make out the far off town of Narda. No doubt, to them, he appeared to be a second sun in the sky.

    Silver is such a poor color for being inconspicuous, but ah, how can I dispute it's loveliness?

    With a long lazy down stroke, the True Mirror began a relaxed voyage for to the initiation of the new riders. There was only one elf built structure that could easily house him, and that was the halls for which he traveled.
    Last edited: Feb 21, 2009
  20. katiekitten

    katiekitten The Compromise

    Tearen: As much as I like your character, I'm afraid that as well as him you're going to need a dragon or a rider - it's for the roleplay in the long run. >.< Will be able to accept you after that. I do like your character, though. x3

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