From:
"Andrew" <lawman67@earthlink.net>
Date: Sat Aug 24, 2002 4:39
am
Subject: DLT: Skeleton in the closet
|
***Current Day, Mountains at outskirts of Telnor's area and the wasteland***
He stood motionless on the rocky promontory, staring out in the distance at
the lone dragonrider swooping down from the clouds. He knew the rider had
to have come from Telnor, they all did. He watched as the dragon swooped
down to attack the solitary wraith moving on the ground below, but the rider
couldn't know about the two other wraiths, for the man had been tracking
them for the better part of four hours and saw them enter the building
minutes ago, but the rider had just arrived.
The man just stood there, the cold breeze blowing between the plates of his
armor, though he felt nothing as he watched the events below. The dragon
swooped in breathing fire onto the wraith below, but as the man predicted,
the other two were drawn to the magic and in an instant the inexperienced
young rider and her dragon were enveloped.
A thousand thoughts went through the man's head in that instant. His
connection to Telnor and those 20-year-old skeletons in his closet.
***20-years-ago, Telnor Warren***
It had been a long month for Darius and Larin, the two of them having
patrolled far along the length of Telnor's area, occasionally drifting
briefly into the wastes when they saw something promising. Darius was
something rather unique in Telnor, a solitary hunter who went out actively
looking for wraiths, rather than reacting to wraith attacks on the
settlements protected by the warren.
Darius was unique also in that he was born in the wasteland, in a small
village that had once been a mighty empire, but had whittled down through
the ages until the once proud city-state was reduced to a few hundred
people. Still, they were proud people, living in the way of a by-gone age.
At 13 he had helped defend his home from the attacking nomadic horde, and at
the end of the day, was left for dead in the smoldering ruins. Alone, cold
and hungry, he put on his father's armor and sword, picked a direction at
random, and started walking. Three years later he was at Telnor.
The distinctive metal plate armor he wore always attracted attention when
Darius returned to the warren from one of his hunts. B'larin especially
seemed always to note his comings and goings with interest, and usually
within a day would buy him a drink and hear all about his latest exploits.
This time would be different however, for while B'larin was standing in the
entrance of the bar as Darius and Larin went past, unknown to both this
would be Darius' last night of warren life for a very long time.
Ever since Larin had mated for the first time 14-years-ago, Darius had
followed the emotions of his dragon. Still, he was uncomfortable with the
whole looseness of sexual relations in the warren, and he had fallen in love
during that first mating flight. They moved in together and within six
months were married, the woman being landborn as well. However Darius spent
more time away than he did at the warren, and his ignorance was his bliss.
That was all to end this night, as his wife was enjoying the mating of her
dragon, oblivious to his return, Darius walked up to his apartment, the
sounds of pleasure causing his blood to boil with each step he took. He
wasn't even aware of when he had drawn his father's old sword, nor of
kicking the massive oaken door off its hinges. The image of the young male
rider on top of his wife was simply more than normally calm and collected
Darius could handle, and in a rage, he took a mighty swing.
The whole thing only lasted a twenty seconds or so, in which time Darius did
to that poor man much what he saw the nomads do to his father so very long
ago. He looked into his wife's eyes and saw hatred there, behind the
splattered blood of her lover. Quickly, he turned and walked right back out
of the apartment, past B'larin who still stood in the door of the bar, and
mounted Larin, who through their bond knew what had happened, and that a
speedy departure was perhaps the only thing that keep the body count down to
one. They were never seen again, and to this day, nobody knows how such a
calm and devoted man could commit an act so horrendous, or if they ever
found all of that hapless rider's pieces.
***PresentDay***
For perhaps too many seconds the man watched as the young rider and her
dragon were enveloped by the wraith. He knew from experience what was
happening to her, yet his feet remained planted until something in his mind
snapped, and he telepathically called to his dragon. Seconds later the man,
riding his adult black dragon swooped down on the wraith, the massive dragon
breathing its fiery destruction with precision enough to scorch the wraith,
yet not penetrate too badly and harm the beings inside it.
As the wraith backed off, the other emerged from the building where no
doubt, more victims lay. The man reigned in the black dragon and before the
wraith could make contact, the dragon breathed again, his breath so powerful
as to nearly obliterate the wraith. The two wraiths retreated quickly, and
the man was ready to give chase and finish them off when he swathe unmoving
form of the young woman and the badly injured young dragon she was still
astride. He dismounted, picked up the girl and then mounted his dragon
again, the large black struggling to pick up the hatchling and take once
again to the air, and Telnor warren, the only place where they may possibly
be saved.
B'Larin watched in shock from the door of the bar as the large, mature black
dragon and his gray-haired rider entered the warren, an injured hatchling
and her young rider in their care. The man was extremely distinctive, not
only for his age, which was at least 50, but also for the unusual metal
plate armor he wore. The armor was obviously very old, the black paint
long-since faded, but its shape was unmistakable, it was the armor of the
dragonrider Darius, who had left Telnor warren twenty years ago after
brutally murdering another rider in a fit of jealous rage. B'larin's
expression changed to one of recognition as the memories returned, and while
older, gray-haired and lined, the muscular man was quite obviously the
enigmatic wraith-hunter he had known decades ago.
With familiarity that only one who had lived here could have, Darius carried
the young woman to the medical center, while Larin helped the injured young
dragon to her mother. With a nudge from his booted foot the door to the
medical center swung in and the man entered. In his very foreign accent,
never lost even during his warren years, he said plainly "This woman's been
badly burned, she needs immediate assistance."
As the doctors took the young rider, Darius turned on his heels and headed
back out, only when the door opened there were people waiting for him just
outside.
<Tag warrenlady, anyone else who wants to be there>
Darius and Larin
Rogue Dragonrider
"Well one day who should turn up but Siegmund, and he falls madly in love
with Sieglinde, regardless of the fact that she's married to Hunding, which
is immoral, and she's his own sister, which is illegal. But that's the
beauty of grand opera, you can do anything so long as you sing it."
Anna Russel, from "The Ring of the Nibellungs (An analysis)", 1953
NRPG: By Jason Carnahan <kazekyrstal@yahoo.com>
Just a couple of notes here, :) The hatchling would have to be what is known as
a Yearling, A hatchling can't fly, or usually breath fire in combat situations.
Just a small wording that I almost missed if it wasn't for Arle pointing it
out. I suppose that Darious and his dragon could have thought of the younger
dragon as a hatchling, but either way, a fairly sized dragon would have to be
supported in the air, not carried.
Also to send it to its mommy would be strange, as all that would do is cause
the queen to get upset. It would be more logical if they both were taken to the
med center, to have their wounds healed and checked.
Anyways just a couple changes, I believe Arle has been talking to Andrew about
it, and all is well.
Sincerely,
-J