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Thread: [M] Draconian Prophecy (Ushima/Ashen)

  1. #1
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    Default [M] Draconian Prophecy (Ushima/Ashen)

    The skies of the Drakil Empire were dark. Storm clouds had rolled in hours ago and the vast space was occasionally brightened by flashes of lightning accompanied by the cracking drums of thunder. Biting rain pelted the city of Batan which forced it's citizens indoors. The downpour was so bad they Skyborn Patrols were called back to the Keep. It was midway through the rainy season for this part of the Empire so it was to be expected. This much rainfall would help produce bountiful crops, ensuring the necessary water for them. An Empire the size of Drakil needed a successful harvest to feed it's people.

    Staring out the window of his room the Prince watched the lightning dance across the sky. Prince Mikal enjoyed the stormy season, enjoyed the music of the clouds and rain as they hit the side of the castle and mountain side the great structure was built into. Batan castle was carved out of the mountain making it strong against attack. Batan Mountain's numerous caver systems provided housing for the Empire's dragons. Dragon Keep sat higher on the mountain, a launching point for dragon deployments. It had been Mikal's home for twenty years.

    A knock came to his obsidian doorway. "Enter."

    An armored figure entered his bed chambers. Outfitted in Drakilian's Royal Guard armor. Black plated chest piece with chain mail and a grey runic underneath and half-plate leggings covered grey pants and boots. Black leather greaves and gloves adorned his forearms. A white wolf head was emblazoned on the leather. Layered metal shoulder pauldrons were covered by a white cloak that mostly covered the right shoulder as it was secured on the left side by a silver wolf head clasp. They were called the wolves. Elite soldiers trained to protect the royal family. The man who entered Mikal's room was known as Gladios. He had tan skin and dark blond hair pulled back into a tail, scarlet eyes. The right side of his face down to his neck had tribal markings and the left side of his forehead had a minor faded scar where he had gotten injured in training. Tucked under his arm was his helmet, a pulled down visor helm designed in the shape of a wolf. When they had the visor down they struck fear into any who dare tried to harm royalty. But Gladios had another trick up his sleeve, he was a Draket. A Lucet who remained loyal to the Empire after the war and was Mikal's personal guard. "Your father has summoned you, your highness." Gladios bowed to the prince.

    Mikal pulled away from the window. At twenty years old he only stood at five foot nine and a half. He had short dark hair and rich honey colored hazel eyes. A unique feature of the prince was a strange mark on his right breast, close to the center of his chest. It seemed to be almost half an image, as if cut in half and the remnants who knows where. "Lets not keep him waiting to long then shall we?" Mikal finished dressing, he had gotten to caught up watching the storm to finish. Lavishly dressed in white clothing, pants and tunic with a deep silver chest piece that had his family crest expertly painted on it, finely stitched dragon hide greaves, gloves and boots. He forgoes pauldrons, preferring extra mobility. A rich red cloak adorned similarly like Gladios but a dragon head clasp instead of a wolf. Grabbing his broadsword, a black handled weapon with bright bronze guard and pommel with a decorative ring at the end. The blade was dark gray but brightened toward the tip with pale red lines on it. As he approached the door he looked over his shoulder and called, "Astroth, come along."

    A deep rumble echoed around the bedchamber as the sound of something heavy shifted. Emerging from the darkened corners of the room and red dragon materialized. Astroth had been with Mikal since about the time of the crown prince's birth and are practically inseparable. Loyally he followed behind the two as they made their way through the hallway. One advantage of having a castle constructed into the mountain side, plenty of room for wide halls and tall ceilings.

    It took them minutes to be standing before his father's council chambers. Two guards stood up straighter at his arrival and let them into the room. King Mikalar, sitting at his desk, was a greying dark haired man in his late forties, dressed regally with a gold armor and crown adorned with jewels. There was a large two handed sword leaning against his chair in easy reach. A large black dragon behind it eyed the royal crown playfully and on many occasion has managed to swipe it from the king. Accompanying the King as always was the council Sir Edmont the Valor, reknowned Skyknight and a grizzled veteran who trained many warriors. A tall man with gray hair. Dark knight armor with decorative veteran dressings of rank and distinction along with a lions on his chest and shoulders. Lions were part of his family crest and he chose to wear them on his armor. His black cloak clasp was that of a gold shield instead of the regular flat gray of the grunts. His dragon was a brown hulking beast with just as many scars as his rider, aslo blind in his left eye coincidentally and a cracked left horn. Next to him was High Mystic Delara, greatest sorceress in the Empire and her wisdom is highly valued. Deep royal blue clothing with large brown belt tied around her waist and a silk sash around beneath that. Her hood was pulled down exposing long dark midnight hair, even though she was about the same age as his father, mid forties. Her sleeves were long and at the end had gold cuffs fabric. On her forehead was a small circlet. A green serpent dragon was curled up in her lap. Serpents could change size which was a good thing for those who were paired with them often lacked space for large partners, spending most of their item around cluttered desks, cramped libraries or hovering over bubbling cauldrons. And rounding out the trio was Field Marshal Danes, stealth master and survival expert. Medium length hair pulled back in a small ponytail with a grizzled beard and goatee, a long scar graced his left cheek and he had field paint on his face. He was a wild man who's expertise kept many a soldier alive in the field. He has a tattered green cloak with a deep hood. His armor was a mix cloth with bits of plate on his arms and shoulders. Unlike the other members of the council Danes' dragon died during the war. He went into a bit of depression and disappeared into the wilderness for three years. When he finally did reappear it was atop the back of a Dire Bear he affectionately name Bosco.

    Mikal stopped before the council and lowered himself to one knee. "You summoned me father?"

    King Mikalar lowered his scroll and looked at his son. "Yes. Do you remember what this evening is?"

    "A ball, if I recall correctly." Mikal answered quickly, not wanting to upset his father.

    Mikalar pushed. "And the nature of this event?"

    "To seek out suitable marriage candidates." Mikal struggled to not sound bored out of his skull.

    "Correct. Need I remind you this will be the eight one your mother and I have hosted for you." The King sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Why can't you be like your sister?" Mikal's elder sister Gwen had married years ago and three months with child now after waiting awhile to enjoy married life and all it took was one ball. "But you'd rather run around with Gladios by your side and play soldier."

    "The troops wouldn't respect a leader who wouldn't fight and die alongside them." Mikal answered curtly.

    Mikalar scoffed, grabbing his goblet of ale and bringing it to his lips. "What old wardog told you that?"

    "You did father." The answer nearly made the king choke on his wine, causing the council to chuckle.

    "Of all the things I said to you that's what you remember." The king wiped his chin with the back of his hand, trying and failing to hide a proud smile. "Mikal, please do try to keep an opened mind tonight?"

    "I'll do my best father." The king dismissed his son and the trio left the council chambers. "Gladios?"

    "Yes your highness?" The Draket looked to his lord.

    Mikal was silent a moment before asking, "You're married yes? What's it like?"

    Gladios chuckled. "More often than night, a pain in the ass. But I wouldn't traded it for anything."

    "Hm." Mikal remained silent as he returned to his room to get ready for the ball.
    Last edited by Ushima; 04-09-2017 at 02:59 PM.

  2. #2
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    The rainy season was always a time for celebration. Once a wandering people, the Lucet were glad they could rest in their current location. The Drakils had been silent for some time, more concerned with the marriage of their prince than the irrigation of a people they had wronged, two decades ago. Now, the Lucet were able to sit in one place, hidden from the Drakil Empire, and they were able to farm like they did back in the olden days.

    It had been a terribly one-sided war. Long ago, the Drakil and Lucet had been bound together by various business deals. The Lucet had an ability unlike any seen by the Drakil: they could take the form of any beast as effortlessly as taking in a breath. A shape-shifting people, the Lucet held legends that stated that their powers stemmed from some god from millennia ago. Now, they used their powers for everyday life, for fun, for war. They had used it to help their neighboring empire, the Drakil, for many generations. One day, two decades ago, the then-elder of the Lucet, a bold man by the name of Pugnator, or Nate, had decided to accept a deal from an outlying empire. This empire was a small one, one that had been at war with Drakil in years past. Once the king had heard of the Lucet's "treason", he ordered the death of each one.

    Hundreds of Lucet were massacred in the unprecedented war that ensued. Their powers had never been owned by the Drakil, and they intended to show them that. But the Lucet were outnumbered, and in the end, they had had to flee their home. Thus started the twenty-year war between Drakil and Lucet.

    All members of the Lucet knew the tale. Many of them had been alive when it all unfolded, though most had been too young to recall much. Many of the elders of the tribe had died, if not from the war, than from the illnesses that came with migration. The large numbers of the Lucet had been reduced to some two hundred and fifty people, an outrageous fraction of what they once had been. Every one of those people loathed the Drakil. If given the opportunity, they would crush them, crush the entire kingdom, and take back the land that was rightfully theirs.

    But today was not a day for plotting. A little bird had told the tribe the Drakil were celebrating tonight, which meant they could, too. Celebrations meant no surprise attacks, a constant threat to the exiled people. But celebrations were always mood-lifters. As well as shape-shifting, the Lucet knew how to party better than any other people.

    Several penguins were sliding in the mud, making happy noises as they did. A couple people looked their way, then shook their head smiling. While the baby penguins laughed and got themselves dirty, a predator was on the prowl. A midnight black puma was stalking behind the birds, waiting for the right time to strike. Long tail wavering behind her, the beast crouched a little distance away, counting down. Once she got to zero, she pounced towards the birds, causing them all to scream in terrified calls.

    Soon, the facades fell away. The little penguins transformed back into their natural forms. They were children of the Lucet tribe, and they were giggling at the puma still sprawled over them. The children all looked very different: the eldest was a boy with pale white skin, his brown hair now caked with mud, and his form lanky. The middle child, a dark-skinned boy, had mud and joyous tears falling down his chubby cheeks. The little girl, a bulky thing with blonde pigtails, was shoving at the puma playfully. All three had the scarlet eyes of their people and the smiles of innocence they would only have for so long.

    "Clover!" squealed the girl, just as the puma placed a gentle paw on her head. "You're heavy! Get off of me!"

    The pale boy wriggled from under the beast and pushed the paw off the girl's head. "We were just playing!" he insisted. "You didn't have'ta go all big kitty on us!"

    They looked to the puma, who seemed to have her own smile. Soon, a light enveloped the cat, and its form effortlessly twisted and turned into the silhouette of a human. The girl who emerged was laughing a hearty laugh at the kids. "But I love going big kitty on you!"

    The girl had a certain beauty about her. At nineteen, she had grown well into her once awkward features. Her body held all the right curves of womanhood, and she displayed them openly, oblivious. Her thin body was strong, with muscles larger than most of those of the men of her tribe. Her skin, a usually pale tan, was now darkened from the mud. Her golden hair had fallen out of its tail and now sat, soaked, over her face. She had a smile to light up the world, and a laugh like a song. Even her eyes, a deep scarlet shared by most of her tribe, were shining in their own uniqueness.

    She stood and tried, unsuccessfully, to wipe the mud from her bandeau and short shorts. She wiggled her toes, loving the feel of mud between them. "What are you guys doing out here?" she asked the children. "Shouldn't you be helping out with the meal? We're going to have a feast today, you know. A feast, imagine! I can't wait to try the fish, or, oh, Ciccy will be making his stew, won't he? Ugh, I'm just so... excited!" She giggled again, and the three around her giggled with her.

    "Perhaps you ought to be excited elsewhere."

    The girl looked up at the familiar voice. Before her was the tribal elder, Sophia. She was the oldest in the tribe, and definitely the wisest. Her skin was dark and tattooed, with interesting symbols covering her skin. Her hair had turned white long ago, and the wrinkles on her face seemed as if they had been there for centuries. Many of the Lucet children joked that Sophia was older than dirt itself. Despite her looks, Sophia was the kindest soul in all the tribe, and all treated her as their very cherished grandmother. In fact, the woman's name, Sapientia Fideque Fortitudaque Lucis, screamed of her good qualities.

    The girl bowed at her elder. "Hello, Magna Lucem," she said, using the formal greeting for a Lucet elder. "Shouldn't you be inside? The lightning is unforgiving, you know, and we wouldn't want you to get hurt."

    Sophia shook her head. "I'll be fine, child. It's you I'm concerned about." The three children by now had scampered off, as afraid of their elder as they revered her. Sophia had noticed and had chuckled softly. "You, my dear, are an adult now. You ought to be helping out with the preparations. We have a long night ahead of us, and I'd hate to hear you didn't participate setting up."

    The girl bowed again, this time apologetically. "I'm sorry. I was just playing with the kids, you know, they looked like they needed some riling up. I'll get started right away, don't worry." She offered a lopsided smile. Just as she finished speaking, a clump of mud fell from her hair right onto her nose. She wiped at it awkwardly.

    It certainly wasn't the first time Clover had made a fool of herself in front of her elder, but she was still embarrassed. Sophia was the most admired person in all of the Lucet. It had been her idea to flee in the first place, knowing there was no way to win over the Drakil, so many years ago. Clover was especially connected to Sophia; the elder was the only one who knew anything of her tattoo. It was what she called the mark on her chest, over her heart. It almost resembled a dragon of sorts, or at least half of one. Clover didn't like it much, it reminded her of all the Lucet dragons the Drakil had killed and stolen from them. Sophia had told her it was part of some legend, but no one had believed her. After all, Clover was no one special. There would be no legends about her anytime soon.

    After giving her elder another bow, Clover was heading off again. She had no intentions of disobeying her elder. In a way, Sophia had been the mother to Clover that she had never had. Her own parents had died in the war shortly after she was born, leaving her only with her name: Trifolia Collis Lunae Lucis. Everyone in the Lucet had a long, funny-sounding name, it was as much a part of their identity as their red eyes, but Clover had never understood hers. It translated to clover of the hill of the moon, which she had been told was her birthplace. Some land in the Drakil Empire, on a hill where clovers grew, in the dead of night. Most others of her tribe had names for their traits; her father had been named for his honesty, her mother for her beauty. But she was left only with the name of a clover. What was she to make of that?

    As she went to prepare for the party that evening, the Drakil were far from her mind. Clover had been in her mother's womb when the war broke out, and she thusly had only ever known hatred for their enemy. The often cheery girl could be turned into a furious thing when she thought of them, which was why she would make the effort not to, tonight. Tonight was for her people, for celebrating their survival. The Drakil would be a threat she would think of another time, when she promised to end them where they stood.

  3. #3
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    Mikal entered his bathroom to find the tub had already been filled for him. A large steaming pool of crystal clear water. Like the rest of his bedchambers the walls were a dark stone with gold accents. The tube was sunk into the floor, three steps and he was up to his waist in soothing warm water. Floating in the water were rose petals and he could detect other scented oils that had been poured into the water. Submerging his head he gave himself to the water and washed himself. The sooner he accepted his fate the sooner the night would end and he could be back to his regular routine in the morning. After all what were the odds he'd actually find someone he could connect with at the ball?

    Once he was sure he was properly cleaned he exited the tub and found a length of cloth to dry himself. Wrapping the towel around his waist Mikal entered his room. Astroth had taken up his spot next to Mikal's bed again. The prince doubted his friend would be willing to move for the rest of the night. As strong as the red dragon was he could be incredibly lazy at times. "Stupid lizard." Mikal chuckled. Astroth just snorted and drifted off to sleep. Moving over to his bed though there were clothes already laid out for him. Dropping the towel he dressed himself. Normally servants would help nobles dress but his parents didn't trust him with female staff after the first time he was caught and he refused male assistance so he handled most things himself now.

    Regally dressed in black pants tucked into boots, a red silk shirt and white cloak Mikal inspected himself in his mirror. A knock came on his door. "Enter." Gladios entered the room. "Right on time. As always."

    "You know I prefer to stay on schedule." Gladios moved next to Mikal. In his hands he held a small silver crown.

    "Better get this fiasco started then." Taking the crown from Gladios he put it on his head. "Shall we?"

    Gladios gestured toward the door. "After you my lord."

  4. #4
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    It had been dark all day thanks to the low-lying storm clouds, but the evening was unmistakable. A chorus of crickets sounded near the Lucet settlement, and distant owls made their presence known. A couple of the tribal people were turned into their own beasts. Wolves howled at the hidden moon, moths danced by the fireplace, foxes ran about, and songbirds sang their melodious tunes. Everyone was celebrating tonight, and why shouldn't they? For tonight, they were free from their enemy, and soon, the fruits of this rainstorm would be ready for harvest.

    Clover was dancing about the fire. She had spent some time chasing the children around with a ball, and even more time dodging the adults of the tribe. She was a child at heart, always had been, and she preferred the company of the children anyway. The adults often prodded her with questions she didn't want to hear: "Will you be settling down with anyone?" "When will you have kids of your own?" "Will you ever stop playing around and act like a woman?" But the young woman did her best to ignore the questions. She wanted to have fun tonight. It was a day of celebrations, not of planning for the future. Besides. The men her age, they all seemed so... standoffish. None of them ever wanted to play. They were men, after all; playing was for children, and wouldn't she learn that someday? But Clover wouldn't, and she dreamed of the day she would find a man who would be willing to be a child with her.

    After double helpings of Cicero's famous stew, Clover had wandered away from the party. Being a shapeshifter, it was never incredibly hard to slip out of view. Away from the party, she was finally free to a little peace and quiet. Like all members of her tribe, Clover loved parties, but she also appreciated time alone once in a while. It let her reflect, and as she looked up at the starless sky, she did just that.

    She took the form of a deer as she continued on. It was Clover's favorite form, a defenseless doe. Some of the adults had told her it was the form her mother had been known for. She walked through the grass and overgrowth silently, no destination in mind. She was being adventurous as usual, but this time, her adventure found something. She saw distant lights, and for a minute she stood, like a deer in headlights, trying to locate the source. Curiously, she continued forward, only to find a grand castle before her. Was this Drakil's castle? Clover looked it over with wide red eyes. They really were partying tonight. She could hear music from inside, music that sounded familiar. It resembled her own tribe's music. A hatred soon filled her innocent eyes, but it gave way to curiosity. Slowly, the form of a doe fell away, and she crawled towards the castle even more quietly.

    As a black house cat, she looked nothing like the white-tailed deer she had just been. However, her eyes were never-changing. They remained red, and she hoped no one would notice as she climbed to a window to peer through. Everyone inside looked so... elegant. Their dress was probably worth more than all the belongings of the Lucet Tribe combined. The grand lizards that followed people around--were those dragons? But of course they were, the Drakil still had theirs. They treated them like such pets. And the foods, she could smell food... All this time, the Drakil had been living so comfortably, while her people had been celebrating rainfall? Clover fell from the window, her claws bared. This was unacceptable. She thought back to Sophia's words earlier. The enemy celebrates today, so they will not be looking for us. It is a perfect time for our own celebration. Celebrations were the perfect time to strike. No one would even see it coming.

    A bird navigated the outside of the castle, peering in through each lit window. She studied the people inside, wondering who each one was. The prince, it was a party for the prince, wasn't that right? The empire would definitely mourn the loss of their prince, and if she managed to kidnap him, they wouldn't bother looking for her people anymore. Then would be the perfect time to rile her people and strike with all their might. Maybe, finally, it was time to exact her people's revenge.

  5. #5
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    Mikal was bored out of his mind. His parents might think that hosting parties and inviting other nobility to mingle with might be entertaining but to him it was practically a slow death. He preferred to be out riding his dragon or firing bolts of magic at training dummies, hunting with his bow or sparring with new recruits. Even reading a book or scroll would be better than pretending to be interested in politics. Especially since the politics involved here was to meet a future bride. Mikal figured that, inevitably, he'd come to at least tolerate these sorts of functions. When he becomes King of Drakil he'd be expected at these events. His father was across the room from him, standing by the raised table where the royal family sat to eat. Next to him stood his mother, Galdora. She had long golden tress and bright blue eyes and wore a deep blue dress with golden accents. The Queen was beautiful and kind, lovingly hanging off her husband's arm.

    That was another problem Mikal had with this. His parents met young and actually managed to find love. Unlike him who had to meet random noble daughters and hoped he tolerated one enough to even think about making her his future queen. It wasn't his fault though that none of them were interesting enough. But here he stood, standing amongst other nobles his age chatting, 'friends' from when he was a child. He met them when their parents would bring them to court to play but their lives took different paths. Or more accurately they were chatting he was trying not to fall asleep. Two boys his age who looked like they could barely hold a sword. Three girls who were discussing the latest scandal about a nobleman from Talth being caught with an aid. How was he to relate to these people? Mikal was born and bred to lead battles and command a kingdom not gossip about unfaithful husbands and wives of nobility. "What do you think Mikal?" A short ginger haired with twinkling emerald eyes spoke to him. Abigail was her name.

    "I'm sorry I wasn't paying attention to a word you were saying." Mikal answered. She seemed offended at his wording. "If you all will excuse me I think someone is trying to get my attention." He bid a hasty retreat, glad they bought his lie. But that didn't stop other men from trying to introduce their daughters. Mikal needed some space away from all the bustle. So slipping out of the room he found an empty hallway. Leaning up against the wall the prince sighed and crossed his arms. Lowering his head he closed his eyes as he listened to the music floating down the halls. He knew he'd have to make a choice soon and he was positive soon meant tonight for his parents. Abagail was pretty but her attitude bothered him. Ever since they turned thirteen she started criticizing everything he does, saying he needed to grow up, always thinking she was more mature than everyone else. Another friend, Bridgett, was shy and meek. No backbone. Bad quality to a Queen. His friend Selna was dense, her twin sister Selma was brutish and rude.

    Mikal didn't know what to do. Part of him thought he was being childish and that his problem wasn't a real problem. But to him it was. Having to spend the rest of his life with whomever he chose. Till death was a long time, if life went according to plan. Drakil was in a war right now. The Lucet who betrayed his kingdom were still out there. Plotting. Maybe one was close, close enough to steal him away. Mikal chuckled. "That's one solution. Get kidnapped. Then I won't have to make a decision." Pushing off the wall Mikal moved to the window and looked down at the city below at the bottom of the mountain. "If I was a commoner I could marry whomever I want. Maybe a baker's daughter or the blacksmith's niece. Hell even a Draket if I wanted to."
    Last edited by Ushima; 06-11-2017 at 04:16 AM.

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    The castle was huge. Clover flew from window to window, trying to understand the interior. There were so many rooms, all filled with such expensive things. All the people looked so jolly. A few looked worried, but one in particular was making his way away from the crowds. He struck Clover's interest. Definitely the odd one out, this man seemed agitated, aggravated. Maybe he would lead her to her goal. So, after performing another quick change, a moth of a woman slipped inside the castle without a sound.

    The exterior seemed like a dollhouse in comparison to the interior. It was so easy to get lost, and with the dimmed lights, Clover was having a hard time navigating. She flapped her wings around the castle for a few minutes, just trying to look for that man. When she finally found him, she stayed high in the halls so that he would not notice her. He was oblivious, and mumbling about something. He was looking through a window, at distant lights, and saying something about... being a commoner? Was this the prince of Drakil? Had it really been so easy?

    He was so... human. Clover knew she should have been enraged, but she was more curious. He was but a boy, perhaps her age, with the longing eyes she had seen in her own people all her life. He wanted something more. What could he want? He had everything he could possibly need. She watched him for a few more minutes, studying him. This was the head of the Drakil's son. This was how she was going to exact her revenge. So, after quietly resuming her original form, she looked around for something to use.

    She had left her weapons at home. She had had no reason to bring them, after all; she had only gone out for a stroll. All around her were weapons she could use to knock the man out. The vases along the hallways would work, but they would shatter, and she wanted to leave no evidence. She could not speak of the shields or armored plates on the walls. If they were not as sturdy as they looked, the prince would dent them, and evidence would be left. No, Clover want to do this without leaving any evidence. She needed to be silent, and leave nothing behind.

    In the next minute, a grand dragon was in the hall. Its scales shimmered in vibrant shades of green, and its tail was massive. Its eyes, the only clue, were that same red. The dragon stalked the prince for a moment before rushing towards him. It used its tail to smack him over the head, twice, to make sure the deed was done. When he fell to the ground, she transformed back into a person, and she slipped her hands under his arms. He was too heavy to carry, but she could drag him, at least until they left the castle. Then, she would not be restricted by space. So, making certain the prince really was out cold, she dragged him upstairs, away from the party, and away from anyone who might see her.

    She had gotten a few floors up, and now set the prince down by a window. She opened it, and peered down into the darkness. It was hard to see the ground, but if she could remember correctly, there were bushes there. So she drew a breath, and she tossed the prince over the windowsill to fall the several stories to the ground.

    Eagles were strong birds, perhaps, but none would be able to lift a man. Still, Clover dove down after the prince and wrapped her talons on the collar of his shirt. She was able to slow him down, if only a little bit, and he landed lightly on the flowers and bushes. Back as a human, Clover lifted the prince into a piggyback position, and she took off.

    He was very heavy, and she was very far from home. Clover hadn't realized how far from her settlement she had traveled. As a deer, it had seemed like such a short distance. But now, back on her own two feet, she realized she must have been miles away. So, once she was far enough from the castle, she set the prince down and sighed. It was too dark to travel without the sun's light. They'd need to camp out for the night. That meant she wouldn't be allowed to sleep. She didn't know when he would come to, and without her weapons, she was defenseless. So Clover prepared a fire, and she sat across from the prince's body. Such a young boy. It was a shame, how vile he had been bred to be. She hugged her legs to her chest and sighed. "You're lucky I'm weaponless. Otherwise I'd have prevented you from leaving the hard way." She watched him, took in his features once more. In another life, she might have even considered him handsome. Her eyes brushed over his waist, where a sheath was sitting. Arching a brow, Clover drew closer, and she wrapped her fingers around a sword. "What a lovely find," she murmured. "You won't miss this, will you?"

  7. #7
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    Darkness approached him rapidly. It was funny as he didn't remember being tired, at least not physically. All he remembered was standing at the window and looking out at the city that rested at the foot of the mountain. The evening lights of Batan had looked quite lovely. He didn't get to go to the city much as a child and even now as an adult it was under the company of Wolves. Mikal was given the chance to explore the city he would one day rule. To interact with it's people. That was Mikalar's overprotectiveness at work. It was understandable behavior. They were in a time of war after all and the king worried about assassins ending his lineage as much as any father. But it did have an impact on Mikal socially as he had no real friends, just noble children he was forced to interact with. They were friends but not in the truest sense of the word. Just people his age he knew who he would one day have to rule over as they took care of different Keeps and plots of land all over the Drakil's Empire's territories.

    Faintly he had a sense of weightlessness but still Mikal didn't break from his forcibly induced slumber. It almost felt like he was flying. Flying was one of is favorite activities. Mikal loved flying with Astroth. The red dragon had been with Mikal practically since the moment of his birth. Some of the older servants told others that as a baby Astroth's egg shared his crib and the young prince would sleep with it as if it were a stuffed animal. Astroth had actually hatched during the night. When Mikal was sound asleep in a small bed at the age of one the egg cracked and the tiny dragon popped out. Immediately he took his place beside the prince, curling around the human as if knowing instinctively who his partner was. They were fated partners and their bond was strong. Wherever one was the other was right there, inseparable, be it studies or training to even free time. The red dragon hardly spent any time in the keep and was a regular sight around the castle. Astroth was a strong dragon and was being heavily considered to sire the next several generations.

    Pain. Immense throbbing pain, in his head. Groaning Mikal moved, rolling onto his side and holding his head. "Ah fuck." The prince cursed. While Mikal was brought up with manners and taught to refrain from such words he had the mouth of a sailor when he knew no one would catch him. Or when he was in extreme pain, that was the other time. "By the gods I feel like I got ran over by a Dire Boar." Opening his eyes he saw the starry sky above him. "What the?" Now he was confused as he should be looking at the paint ceiling of Batan Castle. And he should hear the sounds of the party but instead he heard the cracking of a campfire. Rolling onto his back he tried to sit up but he was stopped. Stopped by a foot on his chest and the feeling of cold steel pressed against his throat. Mikal growled, eyeing his attacker and prepared his hands to cast a spell. He paused though to take in the sight of her as he'd never seen anything like her before. Truly a wild beauty stood before him. But when he caught her eye the situation came crashing back on to him and he growled more. "Lucet."

  8. #8
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    He was stirring. His choice of words may have made her giggle in a different situation. The very first words since waking, and they were swears. But he was a danger, and before he even had a chance to figure out what was happening she was upon him. Clover was not about to take any chances. She watched him as he realized what was happening. That word, the name for her people, he spat it out with such vulgarity. Clover narrowed her eyes. "Drakil," she spat back, matching him. "You're awake now. Wonderful."

    A bolt of lightning crashed a few meters away from them, followed quickly by a roar of thunder. Clover didn't even flinch. It was the storm her people had been celebrating, the downpour they had been waiting for. Now, it drenched her, causing her little clothing to stick to her skin. She might have appeared attractive, with her curves exposed and her clothes drenched, but she was none the wiser. With a Drakil, she wouldn't have guessed. As bad as the boys of her tribe were, this man was a million times worse.

    "Don't move." Her command was harsh, and she stared at him with icy eyes. "Listen to me. If all goes well, I won't have to harm you, but be reminded that I have no qualms in doing so. Remember what I'm capable of. It would be awfully hard, trying to flee from a dragon, or a cheetah, don't you think? It'd be a lot wiser if you kept quiet and obeyed my command." She watched him for a moment, then removed his sword from his neck. She took a step away from him, but she remained on her guard. Any swift movements and she'd have his hands behind his back and a sword in his throat.

    She was silent for a moment, judging him. When she did speak, she sounded strict, authoritative. "You're pretty far from home. Don't bother trying to find it. The night will only hinder you, and you'll end up dead by the predators of the land, or me. I don't care about your limbs; try to escape and I will amputate one. I imagine it's painful, having a leg hacked off by such a dull sword." She looked over the weapon and smirked. "Now. If you'll cooperate, I bet I could find something to soothe that headache of yours. Must be really uncomfortable, huh?" Her smile told him she was enjoying that. She didn't dare back away from him. She had the advantage, after all. If he tried anything, she'd be able to pin him to the ground. She was strong, stronger than most of her tribe, and she was fast. Even as a human, she was willing to bet she'd be able to take him on. She was silent as she waited to see what he would do.

  9. #9
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    He was drenched when they rain finally arrived. Most this part ever got without rain during this season was a couple hours. And now it was back. His clothes absorbed the water making them a bit heavier. Lightning flashed, illuminating the area. Mikal recognized the sword in the girl's hand. It was his. How dare she call it dull, he thought. Mikal kept his equipment in prime condition. That sword could cleave through flesh like a hot knife through butter. If he could get it back he'd show her. But he didn't bother casting any spells. She had to have come from somewhere and now he had a chance to discover their location.

    "Just don't cut yourself on it girl. It's very sharp." Mikal slid himself over to a tree and propped himself up against it, out of the rain a bit. Now it wasn't a harsh drenching as a light tapping every could seconds. The branches and trees doing a decent job shielding him. "So here you are, sitting with the Prince of the Drakilian Empire in your clutches. Are you a soldier? Thought a solo raid might get you promoted?" Mikal glanced around their make-shift campsite. "No, scratch that. This was too shoddy of a job. No other weapons and arms. Having my sword made sense at first, disarming your captive is standard procedure after all. But you don't have anything. Not even a tent."

    Lightning glinted off his sword in the dark. It had been a gift from his father when he was old enough to even hold a blade in his then tiny hands. Thus began his training. Nearly every day he'd spend hours in the courtyard with this instructors practicing. They didn't take it easy on him because he was the prince, the opposite in fact. He was beaten harshly and went to bed in considerable pain quite often in the beginning of his training. His teachers wanted him to be the best, to mold him into the great fighter he had become. So Mikal knew that even without his weapon he could handle himself. So was he scared? No, he was calm and patient. Calm enough that he crossed his arms behind his head and sighed. "So does my capturer have a name?"

  10. #10
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    He was too calm about this. That must have meant he was plotting something. Clover hawked him, waiting to see just what he had up his sleeves. Did he have other weapons on him? Would she be able to defend herself? She glanced back at the sword in her hands, his sword. It was longer and heavier than the blades she was used to, but it was a blade nonetheless. She'd be able to fight him off, surely, at least until she brought him back to her tribe. Then she'd have an entire community of people ensuring he did not dare move.

    A scowl crossed her face as he asked if she was a soldier. Clover didn't answer, just let him ramble on about how shabby her kidnapping job had been. When he finished, she inched closer, a smirk on her face. "I got the job done, didn't I?" she said. "Whether I'm a soldier or not, I still did what I came to do. I might have brought weapons, but I didn't think you worth them." In actuality, she hadn't planned on even seeing the prince that night, let alone capturing him to start a grand coup against the empire. But he didn't need to know that. She would let him believe whatever he wanted.

    Lightning lit up his face, if only for a moment. She could see his expression, one of apathy, and the way he was relaxing. Was he mocking her? Clover narrowed her eyes. And now, he wanted a name. She actually laughed at that. "Which one?" she returned. "My people all have two names. But you, you can call me Clover. Not that the name means anything to you, does it? Or are you asking so you will know who to beg to, later?" She smirked. Perhaps she was having a little too much fun this. "Common courtesy dictates I should ask of your calling now. I guess that's a concept your people wouldn't know anything about, huh?" She took another step away and sat down by the fire, trying to make herself comfortable. Absently, she wondered if he would now try to escape. It would be a foolish move; she would be on him in seconds. "So," she said. "Does the crown prince have a name?"

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