Dranath

[WhiteHowlerGalliard]

This story idea more or less started as a S&G affair when I was on WoW... we were sitting around a campfire and I started to tell a story.

I got to thinking it was a good story, so I'm writing the "long" version here. And probably only here. I'm calling it Dranath for now, probably a better name later.


Enjoy.




Prologue

Long, iron nails from black rings tapped lightly against the Vakar's throne, echoing hollowly in the otherwise empty chamber. The whole of the throne room was a deep red, accented with swirls of gold and black. The braziers, intricately designed after dragon's heads, cast a violent glow about the walls and floor, causing a bloody illusion.

The man on the throne smiled, and stepped down, long cloak trailing. His cerulean eyes glared down his aquiline nose as he approached the quivering form beneath him.

"Are you sure, Lassil?" He questioned, one hand coming lightly to rest upon the trembling head of the messenger.

"Indeed, the lands of Chelash and Mzahrayn offer their allegiance to you. They were the last," the creature's tail flicked and swished, wings bowed in as closely as possible.

The man with an ebony crown smiled darkly. "Good. We are well on our way," he half crooned to the demon in front of him.

"Two more continents, and the world is mine. What a delightful prospect."

[UNODRAGONE]

I think you picked the right color choices to set the mood and the words to describe the surroundings and his face were very well place. I am DYING to read the rest, hurry the hell up :) I want more detials in the kind of ruler he is, the creature, dominions, etc.

[WhiteHowlerGalliard]

Chapter One, part one.



Lyrindell, with a heavy heart, packed the rest of his magical components away. The war was lost, the Mad King had dominion over all Dranath. His breath shuddered as he wearily finished the last of the incantations, save for the power word.

Walking outside, the air felt heavy, oppressive. It wouldn't be long before the Wrythdren were after him, sucking away his magic, and perverting it to the King's use. His faded blue eyes set in a determined scowl, bushy gray brows making him appear all the more fierce. They weren't taking THIS wizard's magic, not if he could help it. He'd return it to the Rolling Ether, if that's what it took.

Checking all his pouches, making sure for the umpteenth time he had everything necessary for a transcontinental journey, he walked to the edge of his property, the Seeping Grove. There, with his sorrow threatening to engulf him, he said, with quiet dignity, "Solpyral" Immediately, his tower was covered in mage fire, consuming the place rapidly. Explosions took place within the walls that had housed his family of wizards for generations untold.

Stifling a cry of grief, Lyrindell strode away, listening to the bangs and the crackling of the flames. He straightened himself, walking resolutely to a small circle. He entered it, and disappeared, more mage fire in his wake.

********

As the Tower of the wizard crumbled under the magical forces forever being forfeited, Kalaz, leader of the Wrythdren howled in hunger and anger. Once again, the wizard denied he and his what was rightfully theirs. Once again, he was denied the intoxicating flow of magic.

The creature snarled and unfurled its wings. It would not be denied the wizard's flesh.

[UNODRAGONE]

much better, I like the details so far on the wizards suffering but I would still like more details on the characters and places themselves, I want to picture it in my head :cry:

[WhiteHowlerGalliard]

Chapter one, part two


Lyrindell brushed his overly long hair into a straight pony tail. Nevermind that it was streaked with gray where once used to be a mane of tawny auburn, it was still his one vanity. That he'd never once melted, burned or otherwise mutilated those locks was a matter of pride to the old human. his beard, although neatly trimmed, displayed the same streaked colorings as his long ponytail. Conjuring up a silver mirror, he looked at his reflection. It wouldn't do to appear a mess before a flock of wizards, especially since he was well known amongst them.

He was an old man, true, but his back still held him straight, and his lean frame was still better muscled than half the men his age. His eyes were a faded blue, reminiscent of a winter's sky. His eyebrows were large, bushy, and seemed to wiggle whenever he was frustrated or angry. He wore a standard robe of midnight blue, with a corded belt tied around his waist. He nodded, apparently satisfied with his appearance. The cord held a multitude of pouches, and he replaced his mirror as he rummaged through one of these.

"Aha!" he exclaimed softly, pulling forth a small, flat pebble. It was unremarkable, save for a small engraved rune.

Lyrindell pushed the flat of his thumb against it, and the landscape became a topsy- turvy dervish of color and sound. Suddenly, the world righted itself, and the old wizard regained his footing, straightening out his cloak and robe.

He had appeared in an underwater alcove, drained of the sea by wizards' magic. This was the secret meeting place of all the wizards in Elohir, the place that the Mad King would have given anything to find. A sobering thought, the old mage walked resolutely toward an old coral bed.

Taking his forefingers and thumbs, he hummed the first note of Opening, bringing his hands together to form a rectangle. A doorway appeared, and as sharks hunted tropical fish overhead, he stepped through, and sealed the door after him, returning the sea floor to it's natural state.

[UNODRAGONE]

much better, I have him pictured clearly in my mind :D and the affects were hella cool especially the underwater hiding place :)

[WhiteHowlerGalliard]

chapter one part three:


Lyrindell walked into a vast hall, with a low ceiling. It was made of polished coral, all around. Magical pictures lined the halls, windows into the home realms of the wizards who resided here. Often, a wizard would set a cantrip over a picture, and it would relay a series of images, those which were most reminiscent of home.

The old mage stopped before a picture he had done when in his apprenticeship. Beautiful rolling foothills were adorned in autumn's finery. The brilliant reds and oranges of the stately trees contrasting to the deep blue of the sub alpine sky, and the tawny brown of the fallow earth. His breath caught in his throat. Waving his hand slowly, a look of pain crossed his face, and the picture went dark. Turning, he walked towards the main antechamber, farther down.

This chamber was quartz and granite, also polished to a high glow. Sitting around a round wooden table were four other mages, each with an expression of somber determination. All rose as one as Lyrindell approached.

"Be seated, Auldir of the Ways," he said, as he placed himself carefully in the old chair. The others did as was bade.

"As I am sure you are all aware, Dranath has fallen," Lyrindell's voice wavered only slightly. "The whole of it."

The mage almost directly across him, wearing a dark navy robe with a scarlet sash, blanched. "We were sure our last plan would work. What happened to the Life shields?" he asked, fairly quivering with rage. He ran his hands through his spiky blond hair as he spoke, and his sharp brown eyes flashed with a falcon's fire. His angular features tightened into a scowl. "I thought it was foolproof."

"The Mad King managed somehow, through the use of his
Wrythdren, to absorb even that bit of magic." The head of the Auldir shook his head. "To think that he managed to take on the magic of Spirit, and best it..." He trailed off, the implications dire.

"Does this mean the lands above are lost?" asked a diminutive female. She had the pale azure skin and fine features of the sea elves, otherwise known as Merfolk. Her deep green eyes widened as she clasped her hands together. Her bracken colored hair seemed to undulate slowly, of its own accord, as agitated as the rest of Her. The Auldir of Water's thin frame shuddered within the confines of the silken robe made of the blue of the deep ocean.

"Nothing is ever lost, Hylaniya, just changed," Lyrindell responded. His eyes flickered with the shadow of his worry, not unnoticed by the others.

[WhiteHowlerGalliard]

Chapter one, part four:


"There HAS to be something we can do!" fumed the Auldir of Fire. He rose from his seat and started pacing.

"Of course there is," supplied a willowy man. He was slight of build, wrapped in a yellow tunic. He brushed a strand of long, ebony hair behind his ear as he continued. "I'm sure that we will find it once we settle down and bring our efforts together to bear on the task."

The blond haired man slumped in his seat, looking expectantly at the man in the yellow tunic. "Well, do you have any bright ideas, Auldir Tennyran?"

"This is something that requires a firm hand, steady and solid planning." Tennyran turned to face the Auldir of Earth, who had been silent save for comforting Hylania. "You look like you've been formulating something. Don't be shy; speak up."

The elven woman in muted greens and browns looked to the others, her sharp, amethyst eyes peering into the others' faces. "I have a plan, but it is shaky at best." She stroked Hylania's face once more, and the Auldir of Water returned to her seat. She assumed an almost regal pose as she continued. "Our efforts divided have not afforded us victory, as has in the past. We must work together, devise a means together. Only then, do we have hope of defeating the Mad King."

"How would you go about creating such a device?" asked the Auldir of Water.

"Well, we'd need to imbue it with all of our elements. And," she added with a troubled sigh, "it would have to be alive."

"That easy? I could just summon a fire elemental..." the Auldir of the South exclaimed, but was silenced by a quelling look from Tennyran.

"And I suppose a Fire Elemental would do incredibly well being infused with Water," he said, rolling his eyes sarcastically.