- Durge Firehearted
On the Run, Towards the Western Heartlands
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CHUNK
Grinning, Durge stepped out of the shadows ominously, looming towards his kill. He let out a wolf whistle (no pun intended) to get the attention of the other guy, waving at him. "Oi. C'mere." Durge beckoned the shocked Lycan footsoldier to step forwards after recovering his ax from the body not too far away, who shook at the sight of his now-deceased comrade on the ground in a pool of his own blood. He had taken a powerful ax-throw to the back of his neck after they were tracking down the wanted Durge, only to get themselves caught up in an ambush from the same man they were trying to kill, which left most of their group dead. Now, he remained as the only survivor, and was now being beckoned forwards by the same man who killed his comrades... "Yeah, you. Come here."
Setting down his weapon, the young warrior slowly stepped towards the wanted marauder, who winked at him with his glowing violet eye. "I'll tell you what, youngster. I'll let you go," he gestured to himself, then to the Lycan, then away from the two for emphasis. "But you don't tell anyone I'm here. Okay?"
He flashed a stupidly fake smile. The Lycan turned tail and ran as fast as he could, but Durge extended his left arm out as if he were about to throw a javelin, using it to aim his ax throw. He leaned backwards and lobbed it towards the fleeing Lycan, watching it sail through the air for a couple of seconds. Finally, the ax came down and embedded itself in the Lycan warrior, making him let out a gak!—before he tumbled down onto the ground. Durge went into a disturbingly inappropriate fit of laughter as he jogged over to the Lycan, who had begun to crawl away. He grabbed him by his scalp with one hand, gripping his ax handle with the other. "Learn to hunt, before you take on the big game... ..gods, that was disturbing. Know any others I can use?"
Durge yanked the ax out of the Lycan, leaving his lifeless body in the dirt as he cleaned the blood off his ax. He dug through the fallen ranger's pocket to reveal a scroll, which depicted a recreation of his face that was drawn onto the paper—rather accurately, in fact—along with a hefty reward at the bottom of several thousand Ducats. Scoffing, Durge balled up the paper and threw it into the nearby pond, which, too, had been bloodied from the earlier fight and the bodies haphazardly lain about. "It seems they are getting rather restless in trying to find me, Erysivius. When'll they learn that sending guys like them is useless?"
PERHAPS YOU CAN TAKE ADVANTAGE OF WHAT IS NEAR YOU TO HIDE. An unknown force influenced Durge to look to the right, where he saw the lights of the city of Velathri in the background. Velathri was the home of the Paean Legion, a group of childish young mercenaries that he knew very little about, save for the fact that one of its members, Barnabus the Bard, was killed in Durge's fight for ownership of the eponymous gauntlet that he now wore, and that the Thane of Lycanmire was, apparently, a Legionnaire. However, Velathri was a big place, and despite the fact that Lycans were pretty much a rarity in these parts, he could still blend in and mask his smell from the Lycans tracking him down with all the people there.
Durge seemed to get Erysivius's point right. "I'll take I—oh." He immediately halted as a shadowy figure suddenly cast itself over the city, briefly blanketing Durge in darkness as it continued off towards the horizon. The last lights of the quickly darkening skies reflected off the onyx scales of the creature, giving it a brilliant opalescent sheen. The most notable parts were the horns and wings: a golden orange like the sun, and a bright violet, respectively. It continued on its flight off into the horizon, silent and quick as much as it was a beautiful sight to see.
Durge scoffed. "Huh. Never thought I would see a dragon here. Also, why is it traveling south? Why would anyone, in their right minds, travel south? Nothing's there but ugly orcs, and desert, and sand, and stupid mountains, and more sand."
Erysivius, however, had a different perspective on things, growling into Durge's ear lowly. IT APPEARS WE MAY NOT BE ALONE ON OUR QUEST TO MOUNT DORUHL, DURGE.
- Qivantanth, the Eclipse-Bringer
Denning in Castle Talon, the Western Heartlands
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Castle Talon, in essence, was built into the cliffs of the eponymous mountain itself, which was named so because of the claw-shaped rock structure that topped its highest, dominant peak. Legend said that the formation came to be when two gods fought over control of the mountain in their human form, thus giving the mountain its unique shape. The once huge towers that previously served as the domain to the king that made the castle his home that stretched into the sky, but were worn down with age and dust, and carried a stark smoky skeleton-like aesthetic. All the towers gave the city a spiky, uneven appearance. The city that was surrounded by the castle was also extremely vertical, with huge high rises stretching off into the sky and stairwells on nearly every street...
...but everything, still, was empty. Thousands of people once lived in the protected walls of Castle Talon. Now, it was a ghost town.
Ironically, it made for the perfect "rest and relaxation" spot for someone as regal as Qivantanth, the Eclipse-Bringer. The hollowed out interior of Castle Talon (and Mount Talon itself) was filled with mountainous piles of loot and other spoils of Qivantanth's adventures, which remained in such amounts that would make even the most veteran of dragons envious. At least, in her eyes, she saw it that way. All of her spoils could be safely kept here considering its remote, difficult-to-access location, while mountain was quiet and relaxing...almost too quiet and relaxing. She had been in here for quite some time, first idling around in what once was an impossibly massive royal hall for a king, now covered up by more ducats one could wish in their life, along with thousands of other riches.
She pondered on what she would do next in here—perhaps she would call it a day and sleep? Or, better yet, take a trip down to the cenote that was elsewhere in Mount Talon and take a refreshing dip in the water. As she moved up to finally decide, the dragoness accidentally stepped over a set of armor from one of her other plunders: it was a relatively recent one—a caped set of bronze human armor with a tattered purple cloak, perhaps looted from some adventurer or vagabond she'd slain earlier? Curious, Qivantanth leaned down to observe the armor, allowing a bundled-up map of Requiem to fall out of one of its pockets. Almost as if it was just for her, she observed the open map, noting the red markings and writing on the map indicating the importance of a strange city in the Southern Desert and Bog..
THE CITY OF FALLOWMIRE
I'll get filthy rich when I go to Mount Doruhl and solve the puzzle, I tell you! Nothing's a bad task for Barnabus the Bard!
I'll find whatever is hidden off in the vautls of Mount Doruhl and solve the mystery of Fallowmire. Maybe it's related to the Blight? Or some long lost empire? Who knows! I'm doing it!
"Fallowmire." Qivantanth said the name of the city to herself as she pushed away the map. If what this "Barnabus" said was true, Fallowmire had a vault that no one could be able to enter..until now. No wall, nor puzzle, nor man, would get in the way of her prize. "I think I shall pay this "Fallowmire" a visit."