Dragons and riders and enemys... Oh my!

[Elli]

Plot:
Okay, so there is a group of travelers going on a journey, when they are attacked! The enemy is surprised when a roar comes from the distance and three dragons kill the attackers. The group keeps journying, their path taking them closer to the capital. Soon they arrive, killing the king and setting up their power, and allowing their dragons to do whatever they want when they want.

Soon, everyone has lost hope. The crops are failing, and the dragons come by to destroy what is surviving. Some families send out members to try and reason with the tyrants. Few come back, and those that do are near death's door.

It's up to the most unlikely heroes (Heh, that'll be some special people! lol XD) to travel to the capital and destroy the tyrants. They find dragons all of their own, connecting with the now rare beasts. Together they will fight to the capital and retake the land that was originally theirs, appointing someone worthy of the title as king.
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Setting: Across a beautiful United Kingdom kind of area... let's just pretend that we're sending the entire Island back in time.
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Okay, we'll need the bad guys, probably like two, maybe three. And then we will definitely need the heroes of course, lol.

[Elli]

((Mkay, I guess I'll start...))
Cayden stood up, fully stretching his figure from what he was doing. A bead of sweat trickeled down his brow, and his hand snaked up and brushed it away. He was hard at work in his father's fields... the father that should be there and not just himself. Ever since the trio had come into power, it was never the same. His father had been one of the most respected men in the community to confront the trio that plagued their nation.

Now he was stuck taking care of his family's farm. Glancing up at the sun, he noticed that it was almost time... time for the town to pick the new representative. As the new head of the family, it was his duty to go and possibly be picked.

In a way he wished that he didn't get picked, but in a way he wished he would so that he could give hell to the men that caused his father to disappear. With that thought, he walked towards the town to make it to the meeting... and to meet his fate.

[Elli]

((You are whatever you want to be... heck you can be whoever you want... one of the bad peeps and/or one of the select few... I don't care. You can be a dragon if you want to be.))

[Aly]

(( Heh... I made an entirely new character for this. I even put a hoe in her hands. And you know what? I completly forgot about Jirynd. Poor guy. I haven't used him in forever! ))

He watched as the villagers walked past him to gather in the town square; now they would pick more people to die. How stupid.

Taking a fresh bite out of his apple, Jirynd munched on the tiny, bitter thing and counted the men gathering into groups. He noted how tense their greetings were. How could he blame them? Those who were picked to go were essentially sentenced to death. What difference would it make to send more men to those scoundrels?

Jirynd went to take another bite, but paused. Thought he was hungry, the shriveled excuse of an apple did not appeal to him at all. It was withered; the land was withered; the people were withered. Everything was wasting away under the Trio’s hand. Jirynd made a face as he took another chunk out of the apple.

A few weeks ago, Jirynd stumbled upon this town during his travels. It was in good time, because his stocks were low and he needed to recuperate. How disappointed he was to find that the village had nothing to offer. He had gone from family to family and done all sorts of small services in order to sustain himself. It fed him… things like this sour apple. He shrugged off the thought; it was one of the best things this town could offer.

After he finished his lunch, Jirynd stood up and dusted off his traveling cloak. Since he had served the town and eaten of their sparse store, he felt compelled to include himself in their rituals… no matter how idiotic they might be. It would not be right to exclude himself. Scowling, he made his way to the town square with the rest of the village men.

[Kelila]

((Whee. X3 Here goes nuthin'.))

Galen strolled casually down the dusty main road of the village, humming snatches of a shepherd's ballad and trying to keep a generally positive outlook, despite receiving scornful glares from the pitiable serfs. It could be worse, couldn't it? They might all have the plague, or they could be attacked and killed at once, or taken captive and forced to slave away in some dungeon somewhere, or-- He shook his head. Best not to dwell on the improbable. Things were... not as good as they could be, with no food and people being sent off to die and all, but they weren't horrible. No, definitely not horrible. He smiled and added a confident swagger to his easy gait. Things could get better... eventually.

He took advantage of the public gathering and stopped by the slipshod market stall of an herb-woman. His carefree smile fell into a disapproving frown as he cast his gaze over the scanty withered specimens laid out on the table. "What is this?" he asked the herbalist, dangling a shriveled stalk of feverfew from his forefinger and thumb. "Is this supposed to do any good in such a state? Don't you have anything fresh?" He dropped the pitiful herb and turned up his nose.

The herb-woman snatched his upturned nose with her bony fingers and yanked it down to her bent-over level. Galen gave a startled cry of pain. The old woman brought her weathered, wrinkled face close to his and spit out her words with contempt. "Lissen, Oi dunno who yew is, yew scarlet-caped choild, but yew've got a gran' pride ter go roun' critisoizin' a poor ol' wimmin's plants. If yew've got coins ter spen', by all means, spend'em 'ere, but doan't think yew kin spen' yer harsh waords on these people. Naow, do yer want some o' me herbs, o' no?"

Galen was stunned by such a vicious speech from a seemingly benign, elderly lady. He blinked his eyes, now watering from pain, and answered in a humbled manner, "Nobe. Nod really... Nowh, ib yoo blease, I need my nose bacg... blease. Ma'am. M'lady." He tried to look as repentant as possible, which wasn't too hard, considering that his watery eyes gave the appearance of crying.

After considering his plea for a moment, the herb-woman gave Galen's nose a final wrench, then let him go. "Impudent castle-dweller," she snorted. "Better git yer weell-bred hide on daown ter the meetin'. They might want ter git rid o' ye," she called after him as he hurriedly gathered his cloak and went on his way.

[ptsluvsnfl]

((Lol, Keli! Your post was fun to read))
((I have an idea for one of the trio, if anyone doesn't mind my helping with their backstory a little))

[Daeiel]

((Thank you kindly!!))

Dierdan was not one to complain, even when things dove farther down than horrible.

Dierdan was not one to speak his mind, either. Years of serfdom had stripped him of that.

Yet this had to be considered as the outside of enough.

"Dra' dem dragons," he whispered, "Dra' dis worl'. Oh, shades, dra' everyfing!"

Life as a serf-shepherd was, to put it bluntly, miserable, yet Dierdan had managed to survive, and keep his sister alive in the bargain. It was not enough to count as a living, but it was a far cry better than dying.

But not today. Today the tenuous grasp of his future he had once maintained was shredded, without a hope of repair.

They'd slaughtered his charges. The wooly wards he'd tended were now no more than fuel to the reptilian furnaces.

"Shades," he swore, "Wha' will 'ee do to me?"

It was not a question of 'what would the Master say?'; it had never been that simple.

"More like," added Dierdan with a small shiver, "Wha' won't 'ee do?"

Master Bargoth was not known for his compassion, or his understanding manner, or his soft way of dealing with people. He was more known for the screams ebbing from his dungeons, from the carpets so choked with blood they were no longer snow-white sheep's-wool. Dierdan's life may as well have been smeared upon those crimson-dyed fabrics, for, after this atrocity, who knew what would become of him?

Or his sister, Virë. Her subservient life as a maid in Bargoth's manor would surely end as abruptly and unpleasantly as Dierdan's own. Wouldn't it?

"Maybe he'll unnerstand," lied Dierdan, more to have something to do other than mourn the loss of the sheep; there was absolutely no truth in those words. "Maybe 'ee'll realise tha' i's impossible 'o bea' off one o' dem brutes wif naugh' bu' a stupid stick."

The aforementioned sticks were ideal for wolves or pesky neighbors, but what could they do against a dragon, more specifically, three of them?

They had proven themselves today to be perfectly capable of nothing what-so-ever.

"Gog's blood," cursed Dierdan, for lack of a better word.

The poor boy's shoulders slumped, his freckled face analyzing the ground as the black shadows of death and destruction danced around his mind. "I wis 'ee'll kill me. Kill me dead."

The last sentence was not necessary, as 'killing someone dead' is extremely redundant, but how was a shepherd-boy to know of such things?

[Kelila]

Galen knew a shepherd boy when he saw one. After all, he had been one himself ever since he was old enough to grip a staff, until the time when he was whisked away to become a chemyst not too long ago. He instantly felt a sense of camaraderie with the poor boy, who obviously had a serious case of the downs. Galen decided to speak with him, and slipped eagerly through the crowd. It had been a while since he had spoken with someone his own age, and in his previous profession, no less. He longed to talk of the old things, of wool, new lambs, and other things like that, instead of elements and physics all the time.

As he got closer, however, Galen could sense more of the lad's downcast mood. Something was seriously wrong. There was also some kind of scent lingering in the air around the boy that was definitely not a sheep-y aroma. What was it... some kind of element he was familiar with. Sulfur. That was it. Galen's heart sank as he realized what must have happened. "Ah, poor lad. Dragons took your sheep, eh? Anything you want to talk about? I used to be a shepherd myself, you know." Galen glanced down at himself. "Though I may not look the part..."

[Daeiel]

"Anything you want to talk about?"

The young man was a stranger, a kind-faced stranger, but a stranger no less.

"I used to be a shepherd myself, you know....though I may not look it."

Dierdan hastily shook his head, backing away from this openly-talkative man. "N-no, dere ain't," he blubbered, stumbling over his words, "Ain't nufing an' no-how."

What would be the good of talking to such a person? It wasn't as if the young man in question had the power to bring things back from the cesspool of a Dragon's stomach, and, if he did, he certainly must be an evil spirit, and evil spirits weren't among the kind of company Dierdan kept.

Still, he was kind, and his face looked honest enough, though that might be a trick. Evil spirits were wont to trick one, so Dierdan had been informed.

"No' unless you ken bring dem sheep back," muttered the youth.

[Daeiel]

((Hmmm...may I make a villain for this as well?))

[Elli]

((Sure!))
Cayden looked around the square, the meeting had begun in the usual boring way... each family name called out and the head of the house shouting a brisk 'here!'. After already been called Cayden could only wait while the others were called out.

When all the curt pleasantries were made the faces looked grim. The newly appointed mayor, for the last one had been lost on the first mission, looked among the gathered men. "I wish I did not have to ask you this. To make another sacrifice to hopefully throw off our shackles and be free. So, once more I am going to ask. Would anyone like to come forward to face the terror of the three?"

Cayden looked around, he wanted to.... but should he? He waited a few moments... normally they were relatively small groups... but he did not want to leave his family alone with no one to protect what was left. He slowly went to the ground, his hand covering his face as he contemplated what the 'right' choice would be...
((Sorry it's so crappy... I just did this during seminar at school. Ah!!! I'll try to do better next time.))

[Aly]

"What do you wish to accomplish by forcing more men to be fodder for the dragons?"

Jirynd stood and addressed the mayor. With his eyes riveted on the man, he spoke loudly enough for all to hear:

"How many have you already sent to die? How many?"

Now, all around him the crown hushed. Heads turned to stare or gape at him, and little children clung closer to their mother's skirts. It was time that he spoke out against this nonsense.

Jirynd turned his back to the mayor and addressed the people. Spreading his arms to them, he said,

"Men of this city! I have lived among you but for some small while, but I have worked along side of you and eaten your food. I know you as well as a man can, and even better because of these evil times. I have become your friend. Now I pray that you listen to me now.
“It is futile; what do you expect to happen? You can not expect different results if you repeat the same process. You sent men to the Trio before, and what happened? They died like dogs!”

Horrified expressions gawped all around at him. Pausing for just a moment to allow his comment to sink in, he took a deep, slow breath and spoke more quietly,

“You can not allow this to happen again. Do not sentence more men to die. As your friend, I plead with you, seek some other way to call out the tyrants.”

He stood facing them, awaiting the response.

[Elli]

The mayor just stared at the strange man, flabergasted. Did it really amount to nothing these missions that the previous mayor had started? Was it really just a waste to send out men to try and rid them of the horrors they have pressing on them, giving their small, bleak existence a shot of hope?

Cayden shook his head, standing up proud and straight. "Aye, you may seem like our friend, but do you know what these missions do for us? They bring hope to an otherwise hopeless land. We have nothing to count on except for our family and our crops. Look what has happened. Our crops are destroyed, taxes go up, and the death toll rises for those unable to have enough food to eat or money to pay taxes."

He looked around, at the only small handful of scrawny children, at the babies who are constantly crying from hunger, and at all the adults who were close to starvation from giving up what little food they could get for their children.

"Yes, these missions have only killed our men. My father, uncle, and elder brother have all gone to face the trio, each with the hope that they could save their families. I am the last head of my house, and so, I cannot say this lightly. But I am willingly to try to go and vanquish the trio... even if it could be futile, I will be the bite in their arse that keeps them on their toes knowing that there are still a few of us who are willing to die for others."

To stopped for a moment, unsure what else to say. He was going on a limb to think that anyone would go with him. Even after his 'speech' the man that had spoken first seemed much more sane than he did himself.

"I know that some of you will not come... nay, I know you are not cowards, that you just simply want to stay with your family. But those of you who wish to come with me, please speak out now." He scanned the crowd again, "now, if anyone else would like to talk some sensibility into this crowd, please do so."

His eyes crinkled at the crowd he heard a cry from afar, and recognized the sound of his sister. He bit his lip to try and contain himself. What on earth was he getting himself into?

((Sorry about the extremely long post! I guess it makes up for my short one earlier... lol.))

[Daeiel]

A cynical, singular sound, somewhat muffled by thick falconer's gloves, shattered the silence of the town's gathering: applause. Slow, sardonic applause.

"I must congratulate you, my good man, on your public speaking abilities. Oh, yes! Go on and die! Charge the wall bereft of horse and spear!" His hands ceased clapping as he covered his sun-bronzed face in an attempt to smother his laughter. "Certainly you will die, but what you lack in skills and intelligence, you make up for with good intentions!"

The smile came quickly, easily, followed by a slow, insulting chorus of laughter.

The man's rank was masked, but it was excrutiatingly clear that he was a soldier, his clean-shaven face denoted his apparent wealth, as did the rich trappings of leather on his horse. The horse's expression mimicked its master's: proud, cynically sarcastic, and, in its own way, handsome.

"I suppose I needn't remind you of the penalty for seditious speech," commented the strange officer, "Though I rather think I shall....I gather it's all the entertainment your sorry existence will allow." He leaned against his horse's flank, nonchalantly tightening his gloves. "Though, really, I wouldn't want to grant you too much excitement in on one sitting. I fancy your pitiful hearts would stop with the sheer thrill of it!"

Here he could no longer contain his laughter; it bubbled out of him in a fountain of bitter mirth. The horse laughed with him, bobbing his head and snorting, flashing his carefully floated teeth and silken mane.

Tears actually came to the man's unforgiving steel eyes as he wiped them carefully on his never-absent gloves, choking out what little of his euphoria remained. "Oh, well done, I say, well done..." His hands returned to the former action of mocking applause, one of his eyebrows shooting higher than the other. "Now that you've given me my laugh for the night, allow me to give you yours.....you, Cayden of the Village, are hereby arrested for Treason and Sedition, of which the punishment is death. Congratulations."

[Elli]

A loud sob quickly followed and then more slightly muffled sobs followed en suite. Cayden knew that it was his sister that had begun crying... he bit his lip to keep from crying. He was long past going back now.

Not caring who spoke to him, Cayden gave a deep bow. "I am glad that I actually gave you some joy in your oh so bleak existence." He stood up and looked for a moment, deep in thought. "So where next? Since you seem to have the resources to take me, I'd like to know where to... or is it immediate, right here right now? He knew he was being bold, but bold never really played him to be fun until now. "I was planning on getting a different kind of reward though."

[Daeiel]

His smile had never left, rather, it broadened, as the soldier addressed his soon-to-be captive. "Ah, well, you know the old saying. 'Never look a gift-horse in the mouth', and all..."

The man ran an ever-gloved hand through his fine hair, kept smoother than silk by imported soaps, before continuing. "As to your questions, one, you're being taken away. I think that serves as sufficient explanation."

His lips parted, revealing his strangely straight, whiter-than-white teeth. "And, as to your second question, it is, of course, immediate. When isn't an arrest from the Triumvert? I should think you'd seen enough to know the process, though I may have set my expectations a bit high concerning your powers of observation...."

Ah, word battles. Word play, in general. It was something he thrived in, enjoyed immensely, took particular delight in executing.

And why should he not, being a snake-tongued spectre?
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"Oh, Lor....summat's gone wrong...."

Dierdan cast a wary eye to the town square, somewhat hazy due to the distance. He, however, did not feel inclined to go and investigate. He was in enough trouble as it was.

[Elli]

Cayden shook his head, "aye I know what you mean. You know, you really should just give me a chance. You can't be completely happy with the life you have. How about let's cut a deal. Either way I will most likely die, it's just a different death by different people. If it makes you feel better, you can even follow me."

Slowly he looked the gathering over and then back at the strange man. "I can't ask an obvious dog to comprehend what I'm asking, but please, try and stress your brain to get what I'm saying. I know it may smart though." He gave the man a wicked grin, that normally have most folks looking away with chills.

[Daeiel]

"Oh, I understand completely," sneered the spectre, "An insolent child is asking for a quicker death, and for that, I commend you. At least you took it with your pants on..."

((Wooooooeeee...that's short.....please forgive me!))

[Elli]

((It's okay, it happens to the best of us.))
Cayden bantered back at the man, wondering what this little spat would grant him. "Aye, they are most definitely on, and dry as can be. I doubt you would handle it as well. More so that you would be the polite little lapdog and only do as your master says."

Stopping for a moment a thought came across his mind, what if the man didn't even grant him the last wish of being able to try and help his home? What's done is done and there was no way that he could change the past, but maybe he could change the future.
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A streak of red ran across the path towards town, and a constant thump thump of two running feet resounding through the still afternoon quiet. Slowly the constant beat began to slow down. A gasp for breath came out and there a girl, almost a woman, stood, trying to catch her breath. She spotted a man standing in a field. She walked closer to him and shouted out at the man ((FYI, this is Dierdan)). "Excuse me! Can you tell me what is going on at the meeting... I can't make it, but there seems to be a big hulabaloo going on." She had a slight accent, different than the natives of the country. She had a secret hidden from everyone else. One that she worried endangered everyone present.

[Daeiel]

"Ah, but my Master is not Death, and I am not answering his final summons..."

The spectre tapped a covered finger to his nose, giving a knowing smile. "I sincerely hope you are so brash when He comes to collect his debts. It might be worth this whole trouble..."
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"I can't tell you naught," breathed Dierdan. The sight of a woman, a girl, running, was enough to put him out-of-sorts. As if everything else hadn't been doing that this entire blasted day.

"I don't want to ken naught, I wis...."

This remark was more to himself than to anybody else (after all, ignorance was not quite bliss but a whole lot better than misery when one worked under such a Keeper as Bargoth); the shepherd-boy's head was bowed in cowed submission, not particularly wishing for someone, such as this female, to threaten his tenuous existence.

Well, it was of no consequence. The frayed thread of his life had been snipped by the shears of Malfortune.

Malfortune seemed quite determined to be an intimate friend of the poor boy and his sister.