Okay... So this is my plan... This story is quite different from most role playing stories... The point of the story is to figure out the past and present... To know where these people come from, and where they are going... What happened at the castle, is the only thing I will tell you. The Sacrificer, right hand of the king of shadows, has destroyed everything. he is the one who appears within the fog to meet Draconis and Risquer. There point is to destroy him. He can only be destroyed by an immortal sword, 6 ancient swords created by the elves. only two are found to be left, Draquadarb, (Blade of dragons, element of fire) who is in the hands of Draconis and Scilliacass (blade of life, element of spirit) who is in the hands of Risquer. I am leaving the slot for the role of Draconis open, a man with fangs, and claws, dark features and a stillness that makes you wish you were dead... you can take of from there.
Rules: No sudden killing of the main caracters (Draconis, Risquer, Sacrificer) and no killing other members unless you ask their permission. The main place where the prince is found is Elkilar. Do not change it. It is the old city of the elves, although they are all now extinct.
History (breif please):
(please state if they are on the sacrificers side, or willing to help Drack and Risquer, or if they are just a neutral caracter.)
The point of this story is to start of from the middle or a problem point, and to figure out it's past and future. Make it interesting...
Here you are.
Draconis hauled himself from the rubble, glancing around for traces of survivors. None of the guards or servants moved. He glanced around, trying to remember what had happened. Draconis and Risquer walked leisurely through the palace halls, sometimes stopping to look at a bright tapestry. Suddenly men were screaming and yelling, guards clattering through the halls in disarray. Draconis and Risquer, dressed in banquet garb and unarmed, rushed for their rooms and in turn their weaponry. Then the roof started to collapse. There was a deafening roar and a blinding light, then everything went black. Draconis shook his head, slowly rising to his knees. His hair was matted with blood, his good black velvet coat ripped and dirty. A small figure with light hair groaned and tried to roll over. Draconis crawled over the rocks and broken objects to reach Risquer. Just from looking at her Draconis knew a rib was fractured and that bump on her head would be there for weeks. Her green eyes fluttered and opened.
“Drack? What happened?”
“Drack? What happened?”
He sighed heavily and looked around. “I don’t know.”
“What are we to do?”
“Try to recover our equipment and get the hell out of here.”
The two of them struggled to their feet and, leaning on each other limped towards where their rooms had been in the barracks. After almost an hour and a half of digging they had found everything they needed. They’re two Immortal Blades, Draquadarb the blade of Dragons and Scilliacass the blade of Life. Draconis also found his rearing dragon stamped shield and his two scies, Angel and Demon. Risquer managed to dig up over half of her slim bladed throwing knives and her dark green hunting cloak, which she hastily pinned over her blue silk riding dress. Draconis brushed his long hair out of face and cleared his throat.
“We should try and head south, head to the capitol and tell the Prince what happened here.”
Risquer glanced at him uncertainly. “But we don’t know what happened here.”
Draconis sighed and flexed his clawed hands irritably. “We can still tell him the after effects.”
The two of them turned to leave when they saw a wall of thick white fog rolling in from the north. Risquer’s face went pale, and Draconis poised himself for a leap, hand over his shoulder clasping the hilt of the sword on his back. The fog rolled ever nearer, as if some hurricane force wind pushed the white wall forward. Or like it crawled forward on its own free will. Eventually it began crawling past their ankles. It grew higher and thicker, now at their knees. Now their waists, now the elbows, shoulder, chins, and then white enveloped them completely. They could vaguely make each other out in the watery whiteness, already dampening their clothes. Then a patch opened up before them, where the mist simply ceased to exist. A tall man in a dark cloak flowing down past his feet, splayed all over the ground before him stood there, grasping a equally tall black staff, a bronze moon on the end not resting on the ground. The cowl of the cloak was pulled up so far all they could see of the man was two tiny point of white light where his eyes were. The hand holding the staff was gnarled and warty, with jagged yellow claw-like nails. They both knew full well who it was.
“You have no claim on her, Sacrificer, leave or meet my wrath again!” Draconis growled his sword and shield slowly coming into hand and he took his favorite ready stance, the Coiled Viper. Risquer found herself holding Scilliacass in both hands, in her own position, one she made herself she called the Daring Tomcat. The Sacrificer looked uneasy for a moment, then laughed.
“So the kitten and the wolf think they are tigers, tigers facing a dragon. Alright then, come, I will humor you.”
And they say children make the best Soldiers: They Do exactly as they're told and take up less place on the fields.