Guest

Raven

*
  • 403
  • 0
  • Remember the Imaginari
    • View Profile
    • The Lost Pathway
Re: The Land of Ayra [Roleplay] [Open]
« Reply #15 on: January 10, 2018, 12:00:33 AM »
In the dwarfin halls, Queryn lost track of time. It felt like a dream -- a nightmarish one, for Queryn had begun to dislike fire. Everywhere the flicker of candles, of flames and forges, the glint of metals that Queryn had never seen before, and the face -- the carven iron face of the leader of the dwarfs. His name, or so he introduced himself, was Flint-arm, but Queryn knew that was a trading name, because the dwarfs had their own language. As the forging continued, hour after hour -- maybe day after day, for Queryn ate and drank the heavy breads and ales some handful of times -- Flint-Arm stood over the forging, the fire flickering on his dark iron mask, his black eyes reflecting pools of burning coal. At last, when it was time to pour the dragon-blood, he unstoppered it himself and poured it into the stone pool of oil. Speaking something low in the dwarfin tongue, he shook the last drop out. A smoke and the smell of burnt flesh rose from the oil, and Queryn shuddered. It was a smell he knew well -- from himself, from the attack on the wagon. Hardly an hour went by when he did not think of the flames and the face of the trader who had given him a lift.
      Finally, the red hot iron was plunged into the basin of oil and blood. Steam and burning filled the forge and stung Queryn's eyes. The masked dwarfs, sweat dripping from their arms, used great tongs to lift the iron from the basin again. Now the metal looked black as night. Queryn never saw their faces without masks, not just due to the heat of the flames, but their custom of never revealing their faces to outsiders.  Flint-Arm turned to Queryn and Birdweaver where they sat in silence in the shadows at the edge of the forge, away from the brutal heat. The dwarf extended his arm and spoke.
    "Our trade is finished. Take it, and may it serve your purpose."
I thought I saw a unicorn on the way here, but it was just a horse with one of the horns broken off.
Re: The Land of Ayra [Roleplay] [Open]
« Reply #16 on: February 02, 2018, 01:54:28 PM »
After the praying Esta took the woodland elves to spare rooms where they would be able to sleep for the night. They each got their own room. Luin’s room was a beautiful medium sized room with pale lilac walls and a wooden bed with a wooden desk with a vase and a lily in it.
“The room is beautiful,” Luin told Esta.
“I am so glad you like it.” Esta said with a warm smile.
“Esta, thank you for the prayer session. I think it comforted us all a lot. I am looking forward to beginning the process of healing the dragons. It is something our land truly needs. Should we have more prayer sessions during this process?” Luin asked.
“Yes, surely we will. We will find time to do more prayer sessions and tonight before I sleep I will pray about how to lure the dragon here safely. I am thinking we will slaughter a lamb and lay it in the courtyard while we all wait in the monastery and when the dragon comes that we will go outside and touch it and pray on it, it will not harm us because our energy will subdue it.” Esta said.
“That sounds wonderful Esta,” Luin said with warmth and peace in her heart.
“We will begin preparations for the luring of the dragon tomorrow.” Esta said.
“Very well then,” Luin said.
Esta walked to the bedroom door, “Rest well Luin.” Esta said.
“Rest well Esta,” Luin said.

Raven

*
  • 403
  • 0
  • Remember the Imaginari
    • View Profile
    • The Lost Pathway
Re: The Land of Ayra [Roleplay] [Open]
« Reply #17 on: February 06, 2018, 10:56:08 PM »
Queryn and Birdweaver hurried beneath the eaves of the forest in the pre-dawn light. Once the branches of the trees guarded them from the skies, both breathed easier. It had been far easier to descend the ridge than to climb it, even with Birdweaver struggling under the added weight. A black leather strap hung from his shoulders, attached to a black bag that seemed to be woven from a kind of light metal that Queryn couldn't place. From within the bag, the occasional clink of metal could be heard.
Qeuryn had offered to carry the bag, but Birdweaver had refused.
"Your wounds might reopen, and you find yourself in a worst state than before. I will carry it." Still, Queryn felt a little frustrated. As lithe as the elf was, he was not strong, and he often faltered and stumbled under the weight. Queryn was used to heavy burdens and would have preferred to shoulder it, himself, regardless of the pain. Instead, he walked slowly behind the elf on a sparse forest game trail.
"Where to, now?" Queryn asked the elf.
"Aelfwine Monastery," Birdweaver said. "There is a great concentration of prayer there. . . I suspect that is where we will be needed."
"That's far," Queryn said flatly.
"We will need to travel quickly." As if Birdweaver could see the incredulous glance that Queryn directed at the back of the elf's head, he added: "Don't worry. There is a way."
I thought I saw a unicorn on the way here, but it was just a horse with one of the horns broken off.