~Post One~
Navigation, The Story
Navigation, The Story
~Navigation~
P.1-Navigation, The Story
P.2-Accepted Characters
P.3-Rules
P.4-Roleplay Open
P.1-Navigation, The Story
P.2-Accepted Characters
P.3-Rules
P.4-Roleplay Open
~The Story~
In the city of Onisiv, life begins to hush. The sun pulls itself under the western horizon as the moon opens its glowing eye in the east. It is not yet late enough for the citizens to see the moon over the wall. Its massive silhouette never sleeps as it wards off the Briimote, scaly blue lion-like creatures. Their cerulean armor makes a sound like crystal chimes when they move, a beautiful sound that often preceeds death.
The people of Onisiv are to preoccupied by getting to sleep to care that the Briimote have not screamed their fury at the wall. The watchmen notice and search for signs of the Briimote. They shiver as the summer wind brings an unusual breeze. There is a copper scent that made their skin crawl. Through the warm, they shivered.
Wind and scent died away as the Briimote finally screamed. It was not the most enthusiastic fury, but more of contentment. Another gust of copper roused the beasts spirits, their screaming interrupted by their cackles of dark joy. The wathmen looked at the emerging dark from the east, their eyes stinging with the copper smell.
The Briimote became silent, their noise being replaced by thunder. No clouds were in sight to match this thunder. But it was no thunder that approached the sleeping city. It was drums.
Without reason, the wall split with large cracks. Sections fell inward, crushing homes and families. The Briimote screamed as they bolted into the city. In a matter of seconds, the city was dead. The Briimote feasted at last upon the corpses they so patiently watched. The lingering fear made the meat so much sweeter.
A caravan on its way to Onisiv stopped short. The fallen city infested with Briimote would no longer be trading with them. Amidst the uneven sections of wall scattered about in tiers, one of the caravan noticed a small group of children. It seemed as if they had been within the wall the entire time. The caravan member quietly herded the children into the large group.
Later on the caravan's journey, the children were shown to the oligarchy of the town Iirsonily. The children were called the survivors of Onisiv, and thus were permanently marked in ink. These markings were obscure shapes, each child having two for symetry. They were taken in by various people, being raised differently.
~
Years later, Iirsonily has grown into a bustling city. The children have all grown, as well. Most people have forgotten what the markings mean, though the elder citizens still show respect to them.
Word has reached Iirsonily that warriors from across the sea have landed on the coast. They steadily work their way towards the remains of Onisiv. It is expected that the Briimote, which have taken over the ruins, will make short work of the warriors. The sound of their drums carry on for miles ahead of the heralds sent to the different towns and cities for news.
~
In the city of Onisiv, life begins to hush. The sun pulls itself under the western horizon as the moon opens its glowing eye in the east. It is not yet late enough for the citizens to see the moon over the wall. Its massive silhouette never sleeps as it wards off the Briimote, scaly blue lion-like creatures. Their cerulean armor makes a sound like crystal chimes when they move, a beautiful sound that often preceeds death.
The people of Onisiv are to preoccupied by getting to sleep to care that the Briimote have not screamed their fury at the wall. The watchmen notice and search for signs of the Briimote. They shiver as the summer wind brings an unusual breeze. There is a copper scent that made their skin crawl. Through the warm, they shivered.
Wind and scent died away as the Briimote finally screamed. It was not the most enthusiastic fury, but more of contentment. Another gust of copper roused the beasts spirits, their screaming interrupted by their cackles of dark joy. The wathmen looked at the emerging dark from the east, their eyes stinging with the copper smell.
The Briimote became silent, their noise being replaced by thunder. No clouds were in sight to match this thunder. But it was no thunder that approached the sleeping city. It was drums.
Without reason, the wall split with large cracks. Sections fell inward, crushing homes and families. The Briimote screamed as they bolted into the city. In a matter of seconds, the city was dead. The Briimote feasted at last upon the corpses they so patiently watched. The lingering fear made the meat so much sweeter.
A caravan on its way to Onisiv stopped short. The fallen city infested with Briimote would no longer be trading with them. Amidst the uneven sections of wall scattered about in tiers, one of the caravan noticed a small group of children. It seemed as if they had been within the wall the entire time. The caravan member quietly herded the children into the large group.
Later on the caravan's journey, the children were shown to the oligarchy of the town Iirsonily. The children were called the survivors of Onisiv, and thus were permanently marked in ink. These markings were obscure shapes, each child having two for symetry. They were taken in by various people, being raised differently.
~
Years later, Iirsonily has grown into a bustling city. The children have all grown, as well. Most people have forgotten what the markings mean, though the elder citizens still show respect to them.
Word has reached Iirsonily that warriors from across the sea have landed on the coast. They steadily work their way towards the remains of Onisiv. It is expected that the Briimote, which have taken over the ruins, will make short work of the warriors. The sound of their drums carry on for miles ahead of the heralds sent to the different towns and cities for news.
~
