The Walls of Isyl-Belyrith [1 Jan] - In need of players. x_X

[Little Red Sparrow]

"The Bystander's History of Isyl-Belyrith"

Formalities
The great wall of Isyl greets you with strict rules. No people other than humans are allowed to visit, although a few officers ignore this rule. One of these few officers is a man, named Krev. He himself is not entirely human, although no one really knows that - Theodore has a theory of Krev, but everyone thinks he's mentally unstable.

Krev, the respected leader of the cleric side of things, has been smuggling in 'illegal' persons into the city. He was also the person that made it possible for people with elven blood to enter the city, although how one would really know for sure who had elven blood or not was beyond him - at least it meant people with pointy ears could enter. That was the guidline given to officers on what to allow; "persons with pointy ears, vaguely or prodominantly, are allowed entry", that had kept a smile on his face for a month or two.

Magic is another thing that is definately not liked inside the walls. Anyone that uses it past the great gate would often find themselves escorted out quite roughly. The clerics and druids of Krev's order are grudgingly accepted, and once again it is a matter of who you go to. Some officers and guards accept the fact that magic exists, whereas some are out there to crush it and destroy it forever.

Refuge
Many men come from great distances merely to look at the walls, but only a small amount sacrifice their lives and take up arms unless in a time of great need, and then only as militia. The men who work the farms live their lives outside the city, making their own living whilst feeding the city.

I came at a time of peace and was welcomed with open arms, that which I am very grateful for. Their code of conduct while at peace is quite welcoming, many inns calling you over to stay in their beds and listing off great reasons why they are better than the man across the road. Fountains stand spotless in the streets, clean water sparkling in the light and warm air. It was warm because it was summer, however the sun sparesly comes out in this winter day.

Soon the seasons changed and I found myself staring into the eyes of the king. My mind had drifted and he had that expectant look in his eye. I was young at the time and my mind floated carelessy about the placid waves on the ocean. I hadn't been paying much attention during the meeting and I had failed to note the other great warlords leaving. War was upon us.

A league of men had burnt five farmhouses and nine crops, calling for us to repent our sins. They marched in a mob toward the city. The gates closed against them and a bloody battle unsued. My eyes had never seen such blood. They charged the walls, unarmoured and unchecked. They were easy prey for our archers atop the great walls. My, am I thankful for those archers. That was my first battle, although I admitedly played no part in it. It seems there is a great deal more trading that battles here.

Firing-line
The great gate normally stands open, but at this time of the advance of the dragonriders against the city of Belyrith they are shut and will only be opened to let inconspicuous people through - even then the people are searched thoroughly before allowed entry. The streets, or what is left of them, are almost full of bloodied bodies, dead and alive alike. The great city of Isyl-Belyrith. The great city that stood tall against all kinds of horrors. The great city that stood as a place of refuge in times of hardship. The great city now falling to ruin at the devastating and almost cruel attacks of the invading dragons.

I now sit and wonder in my small room at the inn just up the road from the half-ruined hospital. I wonder about what the outcome of this era of fire will be whilst the screams of the injured and dieing infiltrate my ears. I can smell the death even though the window is shut tight. Perhaps a mistake had been made on my account of coming here. A mere writer I am, not a hero.

I cannot save lives nor fight.
What am I to do, but write?

A question for you traveller;
Would you fight for this city when it lays in ruin?
You have come too late... Too late.  

[Little Red Sparrow]

[ Message temporarily off-line ]  

[Little Red Sparrow]

The long worn out path that was the Northern Main Way stretched out infront of you, leading you away from your past life. The path that adventurers took. It appears to be deserted, no sign of life around you. Only white and the icy grey that was the road looming out through the snow.

It is a blizzard, the clouds having rolled in too quickly for you to find shelter. An abrupt storm of snow and ice that envelopes you into your own harsh sanctuary that is the road beneath your feet.

The stones are old, ancient. Ice and snow buffetting up against them in the cracks, all the other snow seemingly merely washing over it to get caught in the snow-saturated ground on either side. It was as if there was an enchantment on it, to lead travellers no matter what the conditions.

Thankful to say that it was doing a good job.

[Enter character/player]  

[Little Red Sparrow]

The road continued to stretch far ahead, seemingly with no hope of it coming to an end. The blizzard kept on howling and trying to peel layers of skin off anything that walked through it. As Rachael continued to trudge along the road a lump of snow loomed up at the side of the road, snow still building up at the side of it.

It was about the right size to be a large animal or a child. Upon closer inspection it was roughly in the shape of a human body. Only just visible was a small hand, frozen fingers only just reaching out from under the snow that had built up against the poor things body. Underneath this stiff hand was a half frozen parchment with writing on it, most of it hidden under the mound of snow that was the, most likely, dead human.

Up ahead the long road stretched on, disappearing into the white flurry of the harsh snow. The only sound was the howling of the wind across the landscape and the only colour was the white of the snow and the grey flagstones of the long road that was slowly freezing over.  

[Little Red Sparrow]

Slowly, as she dusted away the snow a tuft of nut brown hair appeared, the flakes of snow entangled within the messy locks. As the bare skin of the figure showed through on what should have been its face it was evident that it was a child, roughly about the age of nine or ten. It was also male, and at the time of being frozen was starving to death, the child being only skin and bones. Old and thin rags half covered the boy's chest, offering no protection from the blizzard and cold weather - it was a wonder how he had got this far.

The fingers that had been curled around the old and now stiff paper uncurled slightly, a slow action that let the paper loose. It was soon caught by a gust of wind and sent high up into the air, disappearing quickly into the snow and never to be seen again. They twitched together after a short while, but only slightly. Perhaps there was still a small spark of life left within the child. Perhaps he was stronger than he looked.  

[Little Red Sparrow]

Snow whipped the tall figure's cloak up and about, the heavy material billowing up and behind it's wearer. For a moment, after the quick movement of Rachael the wind and snow seemed to die, to pause time. But within a split second it was howling again, sending a short burst of white snow up and between the two, briefly obscuring both of their vision.

Meanwhile, down in the mound of snow, the small child with pointed ears gave a little shiver. His muscles had all but deteriorated with the lack of food, giving him little power to move his body. Even so, he managed a slight shiver as the warmth of the work from the girl had stopped. Numb fingers continued to feebly feel for the paper that should have been there.

Cold again... His eyes remained half open, his mind trying to take in the moving white blurs. Snow fell across the child's torso once more, a few getting trapped in his eyelashes and one in his left eyebrow. Most of the snow got entangled in his hair again, cooling his mind and slowing it's thought processes.