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Peral :: Archer/Diabi Mage
LVL: 7 with 6 exp
LUK: 11 (6 of his normal LUK, +5 for his Archer class) 1/3 exp

74: wins vs Ayrala
88, 100: win vs Kiandri Dragon (could use for Firani..but.. NO)

From post below:
91: Kiandri (win!)
39: Ayrala (win!)

Words: need 1500
Rewards: +2 Ayrala orb and 3 Kiandri orbs
+2 LUK EXP (he's in the Kiandri range currently so Ayrala give only EXP) +3 LUK
EXP: 25*3 +15*2 = 75+30=105

Takes to Level 16 with 12 exp

Peralian was on his monthly trip to the Wild tribe’s camp for lessons in magic. He’d been coming once a month to visit for two years now. He liked the time away from home, though the food wasn’t as good. Being away let him get into a lot of trouble.. and not get caught! The tribe was filled with adults who really weren’t observant enough to notice, or just didn’t care what he did. Except for Yrral, the Shaman and his teacher… Yrral was quite willing to scold him and keep him on a stricter path. As bad as Mom in many ways! But he had a lot of knowledge, so Peral was willing to put up with it… for now. Though he chaffed beneath some of the restrictions… like going off on his own. He had his weapons, had killed Ysali’s! He’d grown up and wasn’t a kid anymore! He was 12 after all…But no amount of complaining or persuading would sway his mother or teacher. Why should he be forced to stay in the camp? There were so many warriors around here that most animals were far away… Home he could understand, that was far wilder and animals and dragons always came into the valley to reach the stream. But out here with all these hunters making noise and killing things? Oh please!

After this last lesson, which had Peralian learning to manipulate other’s shadows. He’d moved beyond using just his own shadow, and was beginning to be able to use his magic more adeptly. Mostly he practiced by moveing small objects around, trying to do precision tasks to better his control. Peral, now on his own and wandering near the edge of the camp, was using a mixture of his tome and new spells to move rocks. Yrral he liked;nice guy, bit fussy but really bright! He had all sorts of ideas on magic! Can’t wait till I get to be stronger and he shares those secrets with me, Peralian thought as he attempted to hold two spells active at once. It was almost working, the rocks were trembling and not very high off the ground, but he was doing it! Setting them down he shut his Handy Tome and put it in his pack. He could feel the pressure drop, smell the storm as it moved in. Best to get his precious tome hidden from the rain! This storm felt different than the normal ones that swept through.

Autumn was coming, and that meant more storms, stronger winds, and colder temperatures. It also meant leaner hunting and less chance to escape the house. He knew the seasons now, knew how storms felt. And this was... different. It put the hair on his arms up, chills down his spine. It felt… powerful. Dangerous. Almost magical. He found himself filled with a sense of excitement, eager for something.
Rules be damned! He wrapped his shadow about him to help hide him from eyes and ran off into the mist, hopping Yrral wouldn’t come looking for him. He wanted to see this storm from outside a tent!

He looked around, his eyes scanning the writhing mists as the wind swept down, looking for a tall rock to go perch on and watch the incoming storm. Not the tallest rock though, he didn’t want to get hit with lightning. Flashes of light followed by far off thunder lite the darkening area as the clouds rolled in. The wind picked up, bringing with it the scent of rain and… blood. He paused in his climb up to a rock ledge along the tall rocky cliff side. Blood? He paused and looked off to the west from where the wind and storm was coming from. Maybe something had died nearby…. He thought though not with a lot of conviction. This smelled… felt different.
He reached the ledge and settled in just as the rain began. Gently at first, with a soft pattering that soon became a drenching torrent that drowned out all noise except the sounds of the storm. The closer it got, the more Peral was filled with a sense of.. power almost. Like it was all around him… The blood scent was mixed with the smell of rain, an intoxicating scent to him. He watched with eyes wide and mouth slightly open in awe as the rain drenched him to the bone. The lighting was a vivid red, lashing out with bone shaking cracks of thunder. He heard a scream and saw shapes in the sky above him thrashing about. Angry screams, bellows of pain and rage mixed in with the thunder and rain. His lesson still fresh in his mind, lessons on how to reach out to a shadow to take control of it, Peral acted on sheer instinct. The power around him, the power of blood came from the moon high above, the Blood Moon of Autumn. The moon that strengthened Oblivionites and weakened Orderites, that summoned up creatures of darkness and blood to walk the world.

Peralian, in tune with his Oblivionite blood and wielding shadow magic, was affected by it just as the storm was. Feelings and thoughts of power, a desire to kill, a need to use the power around him filled Peralian and he reached out with his magic, still small and new to connect with the power that filled the storm. Reached out to feel pain rip through his body as he accessed magic far to strong for him. But he held on, and pulled that power towards him, pulled the essence of blood that was bound into the storm and wrapped it about the dragons that fought above him. Two Kiandri dragons driven mad by the blood magic were attacking the Ayrala that was trying to flee. Instinctively using the power that burned yet empowered him; Peralian wrapped shadows that dripped dark red thorns about the dragons, pulling them down towards him. The lighting flashed and hit near Peralian, but so drunk on the power he barely flinched. His eyes, glowing red, were fixed upon the dragons. His mind was not thinking, just reacting, answering the Blood Moons call.

The vines of bloody shadow tore through the scales, feeding off the blood even as they tightened about their prey. The kiandri’s struggled, reaching out to the storm to grab ahold of it’s electricity and rip free of the spell. The vines were shredded… right as the struggling dragons crashed into the cliff wall above Peral. The Ayrala, already wounded due to the Kiandris’s attacks, died upon impact One Kiandri was impaled upon a spire as it fell. The other landed near Peral, wounded and enraged. Peral’s eyes glowed red and blood was beginning to drip rom them like tears. The power was overwhelming; he couldn’t control it… so it controlled him.

Reaching a hand out, he called forth the blood from the wounded dragon. Tendrils of blood and shadow wrapped around the head, then twisted it violently. The crack of the snapping neck was buried beneath the thunder. A whip of lighting lashed out from above, striking Peral and tossing him into the wall. Draconic roars echoed as another Kiandri dropped from the sky, eyes glowing red like Peral’s as well as the Blood Moon’s magic seeped into it through the storm. Above the Kiandri, another bleeding Ayrala flew about. It’s mate had just died; attacked by both the Kiandri and Peralian and it wanted revenge. Peralian lifted his staff and built a shield of shadow as the wind began to spin and circle into a cyclone.
My kill, he thought fuzzily, it’s my kill. It's trying to steal my kill! Rage pushed back the pain that was overwhelming him and he shook off some of the Blood Moons’ effect. And the shield of shadow kept the seductive call of it’s blood magic at bay…. lessened the power flowing throughout him.

With his shield in place, Peral’s eyes dimmed and lost the bloody glow. Planting the staff in front of him, holding it up by shadows, Peral reached over his shoulder to grab his bow. The dragons danced above him, the cyclone encircling them and Peral, keeping the rain out. A calm spot of sorts, calm enough for Peral to feel confident in his aim. His hands were shaking slightly from the pain of having too much power channel through him, but he steadied himself and fired his arrow, one of the special ones since he wanted to ensure he hit. His father had given him gifts of arrows imbued with magic; these were explosive ones, which hit with a satisfying crash and small fireball. He knew the instant the Ayrala died… the cyclone vanished and he was left with rain and wind lashing against his shield again. The bodies disintegrated on the way down, leaving only the orbs to hit with an almost metallic clang.

Peralin staggered backwards, shield faltering then vanishing into wisps of shadow. His body was spent, he had enough magic flowing through him.. but he could no longer hold back the pain.
I hope I wake up before and animal finds me and eats me… or someone steals my orbs… Was his last thought before darkness claimed him.