http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/ Detailed stories focusing on approved RP characters. Generally these are solo affairs. en Sat, 21 Nov 2009 10:53:11 GMT vBulletin 60 http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/images/zutemple/misc/rss.jpg http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/ http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/character-fiction/102589-the-dragon-chronicles-new-post.html Tue, 17 Nov 2009 21:53:04 GMT The Dragon Chronicles
By Professor Martin K. Norrington

Preface
The dragon is a creature of myth, an imaginative being from a forgotten era. We know it best as a creature from children's tales. Of them, 'The Princess' ring' is the best known fairy tale, telling the tale of a brave prince who search wide and far for a ring that's worthy the princess. The story doesn't tell the place or year, as is custom, but it goes to great widths describing the gruesome dragon guarding the gold ring. The story paint an image of a great winged beast with teeth sharper than obsidian, claws as strong as diamond and scales covering the body. But as with most fairy tales, the exact description changes with whoever tells it. Worth noting is the common name, the Dragon, and the description of a large lizard.

Most accept The Princess' ring as a fairy tale. It describes the courage a man must obtain to win his love, and as with most stories, the evil figures die and the good ones prosper. But one has to wonder, if this story were true, would the prince really have survived the encounter with the dragon? The story explains how the prince tricked the dragon revealing its only vulnerability, and how he proceeded to kill it by stabbing it with a spear between the scales on its chest, impaling the heart. This indicates that a dragon is not very smart but gullible and somewhat easy to fool, almost like a troll or ogre.

The exact dating of this story is not fixed, but most archeologists are certain that the origins are from before the great war. Dating anything before that is pretty much useless as the war destroyed pretty much everything of historical value. Only recently have we found what might be clues to how the world was before; the old fundaments of a major city, remnants of what might be a war machine and a large cavern filled with items which indicates that the tech level of Vaniya were very high, much higher than previously anticipated. Most of the items seemed to run on steam, although science is at a loss to explain how a selected few items worked. No power supply are present, not internally or externally and a few individuals claim they were powered by magic, a thought dismissed from science ever since the medieval times. That is, until the biggest discovery was made.

In the remnants of a dead volcano in the north, a group of cave explorers found what may be taken straight out of The Princess' ring'. A large cave system, large enough for a jet fighter to be transported through, was revealed to be a dragon lair. In a sealed part of the cave the group found four rooms filled with extremely well preserved scrolls, books, items and, as the group themselves described it; mountains of gold. The place was wisely enough kept secret from the public until every bit of it was documented. Now it is a international preserved location, with only a few hundred persons allowed to visit each year.

Among the discoveries in the lair were not only a huge collection of gold, diamonds, rubies and other valuables, a library was found, what might appear as a bedroom was in another room and a trophy room in the fourth. It was in the trophy room the skeleton was found. Measuring a whole 70 ft from tail to head, it was the skeleton of a dragon, the largest creature to ever walk on the surface of the earth.

Many things were reconsidered that day. Magic, which have been dismissed as a fairy tale, was now debated in many scientific magazines and forums. Does it exist, did it cease to be or is it all a very clever hoax? The wide range of items were also a clear opposition against our beliefs of the ancient technologic level. The belief that since we hadn't found many traces of the ancient civilization because it was on a primal level was shattered. Steam engines, electricity and more of our 'modern' technology was already developed. The great war suddenly got a lot greater, for what cataclysmic event could so thoroughly wipe away all traces of this civilization?

The last finding, the library, was the last to reveal to us its secrets. Most of the text were written in another language, draconic we assumed it to be after deciphering a few texts in our own alphabet. A large movement was put in motion to translate the writings, the first being 'the Dragon Chronicles'. For the first time, this text is made public, in an effort of enlighten the public of our world's past... ]]> Character Fiction Fluesopp http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/character-fiction/102589-the-dragon-chronicles.html http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/character-fiction/102425-ceyrnans-history-new-post.html Sat, 14 Nov 2009 14:36:10 GMT This is a more detailed version of Ceyrnan's history, from when he was found onwards. (Remember, Cey has no history whatsoever before the point of his arrival on his current world.)

Cey's link is in my sig.

- - - - - - - -

Cey's story started years ago, with a young soothsayer and witch named Tesha. She was walking through the mountains, to a new town. Camping in the night, sitting by the fire, she was watching the skies and reading the stars, when there was a huge flash of light, and soon after a mighty boom, and the earth itself seemed to shake underneath her. Again and again, tremendous crashes and booms resounded through the air, and the earth shook and tremored, as if the gods themselves were pummeling the world.

And then, she heard it. A primal roar that turned her heart cold. It bellowed through the air, and Tesha heard in that scream pure rage and hatred. The scream sounded for what seemed to be an eternity, and as she sat frozen in place, Tesha listened as the scream changed. It lessened in volume and ferocity, until at last it was a bellow no more, but a cry devoid of rage yet full of agony and loss. Tesha's heart, though still cold with fear, was touched by the pain in that cry, and she swore to find the source, even if just to assuage her own curiousity.

In the half light of morning, she left her camp, her belongings, and walked towards where she had heard the sound. For almost an hour she walked over the mountain, until she reached the peak and stood looking down. Such a sight of destruction she had never seen. The ground was torn, trees smashed and broken, flung about. Fragments of rock lay scattered, some pieces so large that they must have come from the mountain itself, and sure enough, there were gaping wounds in the hard stone everywhere. Tesha stood on the brow of the mountain and surveyed the area for any sign of what caused such destruction.

Soon enough, her curiousity got the better of her and she stepped down into the valley. Making her way past the broken trees and rocks, she saw marks that confused her; marks that seemed to hint at neither axe nor hammer, but simply brute force. The way the roots of a tree rose up from the ground could not have been done by any tool or weapon. They had been torn out, but by giant or god, she knew not. For a further hour, she walked the site, witnessing the ravaged land, the pure wanton destruction.

And then she found him.

She didn't even see him until she stumbled over his prone form. He lay on the ground, covered in a deep green cloak which almost hid him in the torn mud and land. Approaching the still figure, she leant down and slowly pulled the hood of the cloak back. As the cloth slid back, she saw his childlike face, his elfin ears, the sweat on his brow and the dirt on his clothes and hands.

Could this be the being responsible for all the destruction? Tesha didn't know, but she sensed something about the child, something very odd. As she touched his brow, she noted how hot he was. Probably a fever, she thought to herself. Reaching for her pipe, she thought about what to do, and bit back a curse as she realized her pipe was in her bag at the camp. That did it. Picking up the child, she decided to take him back to her camp and think things through there. She was astonished at his weight; he was so light and small.

When she reached the camp, she placed him near the remains of the fire, and set about relighting the embers. Soon she had a kettle boiling on the flames, and she studied the boy carefully.

Some time later, while she was casting bones, he stirred, muttering in his sleep. She looked at him, but carried on casting the bones. Suddenly he shot up and cast his eyes about. Seeing her, he froze. She looked him calmly in the eyes, and cast her bones again. The quiet rattle seemed to catch his attention, and his eyes flickered down. Kneeling forward, she read the symbols, then slowly scooped them up.

"Hello," she said gently. His eyes snapped back to hers. Such eyes, she thought. "My name is Tesha." The boy said nothing, so she cast her bones again. Once more, his eyes were drawn to the movement. She smiled. "Do you know what I'm doing?" she asked. His eyes flew back to hers, and he said nothing. Tesha smiled kindly. "I'm casting bones. I'm a soothsayer. These bones," she said as she leant forward to collect them, "are the knuckles of ancient dragons." As she said this, his eyes slid to the bones again. Her hand hesitated. "...Would you like to try casting them?" The boy seemed to hesitate, his eyes flicking from the bones to her face, and back again. Finally, he gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod. Tesha smiled. Scooting back, she left the bones where they were.

Instead of standing and walking forwards, the boy stayed on the ground, shuffling forwards in a low crouch with his hands on the floor. He reached out and picked up the bones one by one. Tesha sat back and stayed perfectly still, knowing how timid he was. "Now, just throw the bones onto the ground in front of you." He did so. "Very good," she said with a smile, and was pleased to see the corner of his mouth twitch. "Now, I'll read them for you." Leaning forwards but not moving from her spot, she studied the symbols of the bones. "Hm..." What she saw there confused her. "Pain...a great shadow...but also the symbol of Ari, of piece and honour..." she muttered to herself. There was an overwhelming sense of light, of goodness and hope in the bones, but an equally overwhelming sense of pain mixed with strength and fear.

She glanced up and saw the boy watching her. She smiled. "Would you like to do it again?" And so, for the next couple of hours, the boy played with the bones. Again and again, Tesha got the same kind of reading, until she finally gave up and simply let the boy throw the bones. He seemed to like the noise. At one point, Tesha reached into her pocket and pulled out her timepiece. The mechanical device was small and cheap, with a brass casing. Someone had given it to her as a gift for her help once. As she looked at the time, she noticed the boy staring again; not at her or the bones, but the timepiece. The shiny brass seemed to fascinate him. Slowly, she reached her hand out and offered it to him. For a moment, he didn't move. Then he slowly eased forward and took it gently from her fingers.

With that tiny sign of trust, Tesha spent much of the morning showing him things, talking to him quietly and gently, telling him little things to interest him, but mostly his attention was on the brass timepiece. He seemed completely fascinated by it, opening and shutting it again and again.

Since Tesha had found him, he had not said one word; watching him play with the timepiece, she formed an idea. "You like the timepiece, don't you?" He nodded. "You may keep it." He looked at her, his mouth dropping open. "However," she said, "You must tell me your name in exchange." She smiled at him. He looked down at his feet, as if he were ashamed. Tesha waited, and eventually he opened his mouth and spoke. "...I...don't have one..." He spoke in a mumble. "You don't have one?" Tesha asked, and he shook his head. "Hm...then we should pick one for you." His head rose, and she saw something in his eyes that warmed her heart; hope.

And so, Tesha began reeling off names; names of great people, of people she knew, the names from legends and myths. Name after name, yet none seemed to interest him. Until finally, she told him one of the stories she had learnt as a child herself. The legend was that of a sprite of a forest, a mischievous, playful little being, named Ceyrnan, who got into all sorts of adventurous troubles. As she told him the gay little story, she watched his eyes light up and a smile pull at his mouth.

By the end of the story, she knew that she had found a name he liked. From then on, she would know him as Ceyrnan. From then, she slowly and carefully formed a bond with him. She gave him food and showed him various items and tools which to her, were mundane and ordinary, but to him were amazing and wonderful. Gradually he began to talk more, opening up and trusting her. When she asked about his family, he told her he had none. When she asked about his past, he said he didn't remember any of it, and that the first thing he remembered was falling through darkness and landing in the dirt, then waking up to her casting her bones.

He seemed to know nothing about the devestation of the valley, and she did not press him for it. As they talked and bonded throughout the day and into the night, Tesha feared slightly that if Ceyrnan was responsible for the destruction of the valley, he might be capable of doing such acts again. Suppose he acted that way at nights arrival? Suppose she fell asleep and he transformed into some kind of monster? Yet despite these worries, Tesha didn't send him away. She didn't think Ceyrnan was capable of doing such a thing.

And so night came, and night went by. In the morning, she awoke to find the area around her as it was, Ceyrnon asleep in his blanket, and everything at peace. She smiled, her worries put to rest, and went about her business.

That day she asked Ceyrnon to stay with her in the new town. Though it scared him, she was able to convince him to trust her. From that day, Tesha became like a mother to Cey. From that day, he would always trust her.

When they arrived in the town, all was well for years to come. Tesha became popular as a witch, fortune-teller, and healer, and Cey was happy to live in the town. Though a lot of the things and noises scared him, there were so many colours and sounds and places for him to explore. Here, he could be happy.

Until, one fateful day, as he wandered about the docks of the town, going where he pleased, he did not notice the man following him. As Cey followed the path of a bird, high in the sky, he trailed into an alleyway and the strange man stepped in behind him.

What exactly the man wanted, Tesha never found out. While it was Cey who walked into that alleyway, he didn't walk out. Stories Tesha heard later told of the man's scream, and a roar of such ferocity that the men of the docks, rough, hard men, fled like startled birds. Some claimed they saw the body of a man fly from the alleyway, broken and shattered, smashing through the carts and stalls of the docks, landing in the ocean, though the body was never found. Then the buildings on either side of the alley collapsed, smashed down as if by a great force. Soon a path of fallen buildings carved through the city. Great chunks of walls were torn out and flung aside. The streets themselves were found torn asunder and smashed apart. All the while, a great bellow of rage echoed through the town.

No-one really knew what happened. Though no-one had seen Cey walk into that alleyway, Tesha feared she knew the cause of the destruction.

Later that night, after the screams had died away, the fires put out, and the city slept in a restless, fitful doze, Tesha waited. She waited until she heard the noise she thought would come. Rising, she moved from her rooms to Cey's. When she entered, she saw Cey on the floor, dragging himself to the bed. She rushed forwards and helped him onto the bed. He was sweating and shaking, and he was so very pale.

When she asked what happened, the only thing he could murmur before he drifted away, was something about "the bad."

The next day, Tesha knew what had to be done. She had prepared a herbal potion in the night while Cey slept. The potion would become Cey's greatest hope, and his greatest vice, though they would not discover that for a long time. When he awoke, Tesha told Cey that the drink would help him if he ever felt "the bad" coming, if he ever thought he would lose control. She told him that she loved him, but that he had to leave the town. He had to go to the mountains and live there. She told him that she would always be his family, and that she would always be there for him.

It was difficult, but necessary, and though he did not fully understand what was happening, he trusted her. Cey left that night. Tesha took him to the mountain range she had found him in, and together they found a cave in which he could spend the night. Later, they would build a hut for him. From that time, Cey would live alone in the mountains. He would become dependant on the drug used in Tesha's potion, and he would eventually need to travel to the town to restock on supplies, and it would be on one such trip that his destiny would unfold... ]]> Character Fiction Stryder Aedernis http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/character-fiction/102425-ceyrnans-history.html http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/character-fiction/102355-apple-blossom-new-post.html Thu, 12 Nov 2009 10:42:11 GMT Adrien rested under the shade of a large tree of Mr. Millard’s vast garden. He was a wealthy man, and his wealth had been gathered and built upon by the previous generations of his family. The manor he lived in had been in his family for just as long, and so had been the garden. Thus it was finely developed by each of the previous owners. It had grown into the Millard’s own little Garden of Eden. Large and deep enough for Adrien to feel that he could leave the rest of the world behind. Not too controlled to feel the plant life was contained, but not too wild to feel he was in a forest.

Just an oasis from the busy life that waited outside for him to return.

He lay on his back in the grass, a book open and laying face down on his stomach. One hand still rested on the hard cover. The other pillowed his head for him as he laid there, eyes closed, but not sleeping. He could never sleep again. Not until death finally took him, and only a violent death would. However, he was not thinking about that at the moment. He was very relaxed and perhaps the closest he could be to sleep. His muscles were all completely limp, and he listened to the sound of the breeze in the leaves of the tree above him. His attention lightly drifting with the breeze, whirling around with the paradise inside his soul that mirrored the quiet garden. A meditation of a kind. Turning in so that when he returned to the world, it would all be a little easier to bear.

It had gotten difficult again. One of those rare times for him. However, it seemed not even this garden wanted him to rest with complete peace. He heard light foot steps. Ones that were trying their best to be stealthy. By the sound of the weight of each step, it was Cossette. Soon the breeze wafted her smell over to him, confirming the suspicion.

Apples and apple blossoms.

He decided to pretend to sleep. Perhaps she would grow bored and leave him be. She was not the person he wanted to see at the moment. Cossette, one of the key factors in his troubles. He had chosen this time to sort out the mess of feelings he was in. She only made that more difficult.

Her feet approached him cautiously; aware of the light sleeper he had always pretended to be. He heard her kneel in the grass right next to him. He felt the heat and energy of her body as she leaned over his, her apple breath breezing against his lips.

“Cossette, are you sure that is wise?” Well, he couldn’t carry on pretending to sleep with that kind of behavior. He pondered for a moment what other naughty deeds she might have committed on him if he had continued to feign sleep. He was fairly certain she would have continued anyway.

The startled lips froze still centimeters from his, holding in a breath by surprise. And then the warmth leaned away from him and he could almost hear the scowl on her disappointed face.

She made a noise of frustration. “Damn it, Adrien …” she growled, but lacked a deep or rough enough voice to really do so. “That’s rude, pretending to be asleep … It’s almost like you don’t want me around.”

Her tone was fairly light and playful, but it held the edge of her intention. Sometimes he wished Cossette wasn’t quite as bright as she was. Damn that perceptive girl. But that was no longer true. Time had passed and she was no longer a girl, but a woman.

“Perceptive as always, my dear. Though if you had been a little more perceptive, you might’ve considered that I had a purpose in seeking solitude. And is it not more rude to steal the kiss of a unsuspecting and not yet consenting person?”

He could see her smirk in his mind’s eye. How many times had he seen that heavy-lid gaze and lopsided quirk of her lips? It was that sensuous expression she always had when she knew she had the upper hand.

“Oh? And what great purpose is that, love?” She completely ignored his question.

Adrien tried to never lie if it wasn’t really necessary. Despite how tempting it was, he refused the idea. “You are so aggressive and cunning for someone so small.”

Cossette was a tall but narrow woman.

He already knew he would hear her flat and annoyed tone before he did, and he saw her expression without opening his eyes. He knew it all so well … and yet, why did none of it bore him?

“Ugh, please don’t echo my father, Adrien … of all people. You’re the one who made me so cunning and aggressive.”

“I did no such thing. I only helped you grow into the wonderful potential inside you. Who you are was all your doing,” he replied, and hoped he could deflect the conversation, but he knew she was far too intelligent for that. An old soul in a young form.

The previously mentioned young form, moved again. Cossette placed a knee over to press against the other side of his waist, and effectively straddling him. He could hear her satin skirt slid around her legs. Her hands rested on his stomach after knocking his book aside, and she sat on his pelvis. Adrien let out a long and soft sigh, and still refused to open his eyes.

“… This is rather inappropriate, Cossette.”

“This isn’t like you. Since when is Adrien Krest depressed?” Of course, she paid no attention to what he just said. Though, he had dodged her last question, so it was only fair … if she didn’t do this all the time. She always came on strongly, though he had to admit, today she was being more intense than usual. She had never completely straddled him so boldly before, but he wasn’t really surprised by it. He had never put it beneath her to do. There wasn’t much he could put there, when she had her mind set on something.

He sighed again and didn’t answer.

“I know something is bothering you.”

Again he didn’t answer.

“Ugh!” she exclaimed in frustration. “Why the hell do you have to be so passive?!”

She pulled his shirt up and slid her hands underneath it and stroked them urgently up his chest. At this, he finally opened his eyes, but other than that did not react. His eyes gazed up at the long but slim form of Cossette Millard. She was tall but with very slender and petite features, developed from all her 26 years of life. She had long dark hair, a natural black that was perfectly straight and reached all the way down to the small of her back in a nearly even cut all round. Her light chocolate brown eyes glaring down at him from a face that could have almost been that of a pixy’s, if it weren’t for that heavy, deep, and forceful gaze of hers.

She was wearing a black satin skirt that hung to the curves of her body, slits up the sides where her bare knees poked out of them as she straddled his waist. Her top was made out of the same black material that clung heavily to her body, almost as if it were wet. It was sleeveless, and the front was designed to gather in a few waves before hanging to the curves of her small breasts.

He knew why she had chosen this outfit. In fact, she may very well have put it on before going to seek him out in the gardens.

“Cossette, you need to understand that this is very difficult for me. I have known you since you were a vulnerable and very hurt young girl.”

She glowered at him in a soft way, eyebrows not yet tensed together strongly.

“Do you see a vulnerable and hurt young girl on top of you?” her voice was calm, soft like her glare.

“Does wearing those clothes and fondling me make you any less vulnerable?” he countered. He knew what she was trying to make him see in her, and really … she didn’t know that she needn’t try so hard. He could already see it. “I doubt your father would appreciate behavior like this.”

She scowled at him, but she was not swayed yet. Her eyes stayed narrowed in that cool glower.

“My father would not mind. He’s already offered me to you in marriage.”

Adrien stared up at her, and the stubborn anger in her face lessened as the time passed between them. For a while neither of them spoke. He could feel the heavy solemn weight on his face and the mirror of his pain in her beautiful brown eyes. The more she stared, the more it seemed she stared into him, and the more was revealed to her. Cossette always seemed to understand more just from looking into his eyes, which might have been why he had avoided opening them for so long. Soon sadness was in her own features and she spoke.

“That’s why … why you’ve been acting like this.” Her voice was strong but just a whisper.

He nodded.

“You want to marry me,” she whispered, but her voice trembled now. “But you won’t.”

She stared at him, never looking away from his eyes as tears were staring to form in hers.

He nodded just once, his throat ached and words seemed more difficult right now. Adrien had thought he had gotten over the reality of it. That he could not have children and that he could not grow old with a woman. That he could not have a family. That he could not die.

However, his arrival at the Millard’s estate was greeted very warmly. It was almost as if he had never left. He and Anthony picked right up where they left off in their friendship. They chatted all day, and Anthony told him about how his business was fairing and all the gossip. He spoke mostly of Cossette though. How she had courted a few men, but never very long with any of them, never really seeming all that interested. Anthony was sure she only did it to please him and act like a normal upper class young woman should at her age. It wasn’t until that evening when Adrien bid Anthony a good and restful night, that his friend called up to him as he climbed the stairs to his room.

Asking him to marry his daughter, saying he could think of no other man he trusted with her, and he was certain she had been waiting for him all this time since he left on her 18th birthday. The one that cut most deeply was when Anthony said he wanted him to be a part of his family.

It was all he had ever wanted and all that he could never have.

Not just the family, but the woman as well. Cossette. How confusing his time with her has been now that he returned and found instead of a girl, a woman. Not just in body, but in mind as well. And what a mind. What a soul she possessed. He loved her bold and impolite ways, so different from his own. He loved her perceptive qualities. So intuitive she had potential for mysticism. She could challenge, force him to be true to himself, as she was right at that moment, doing and forcing out all that he had tried to push away in attempt to make the correct choice about this.

She gripped his chest and gasped, “Why? Why won’t you marry me, Adrien? Why do you always leave? Why do you always have secrets?”

He smiled sadly at her. “Why do you need to possess me? Do you remember nothing I have taught you? People meet, they love, and they often part ways when they have separate paths. We cannot possess each other or force each other to follow the same paths. The best we can do is love and part and remember it always, for leaving does not mean we stop loving.”

She looked down, sad and defeated. “I just don’t understand why … When this is clearly a path you want and yet you still …”

“I cannot lie and say it is not … but it’s a path I can’t follow. There is one already laid out before me, and I cannot merge them more than I can force oil and water together … Cossette, I can’t give you what you want—what you need, and I will not say why, so don’t ask me for answers I cannot give you.”

She stared at him for a long time with that teary solemn gaze. Her tears soon trickled down her soft olive toned skin, her nose turning pink and the edges of her eyes became red. She eventually spoke again.

“If … you can’t marry me … then love me, in a different way … love me.”

And she leaned over him, forcing needy lips onto his. Her hands were still tucked under his shirt, grasping and caressing his chest. He didn’t resist her, but he didn’t engage with her either. He still wasn’t sure about this. Her hands went up to his head, fingers soon combing through his hair and gripping it, pulling his mouth harder against hers. She kissed him desperately, tears still running down her face and mingling now with their kiss. She tasted like apples. Kissing her was like taking a bite of a crisp, sweet, and juicy apple. There was a tang of salt from her tears.

Her apple cider breath was forced into his mouth, into his head, and she forced the thoughts away, with leaving only one behind that had made the rest vanish. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her body against his and rolling her over, so that he was on top this time. His other hand gripped her exposed thigh as her skirt slid up her leg.

He thought too much.

And the moment was now and Cossette was beautiful and wonderfully temporary like all the little soap bubbles he knew. But to him, she was an apple blossom. He couldn’t make it last forever with her, but he was going to enjoy the moment while it lasted and cherish her in his memory always. ]]> Character Fiction Shrub http://www.zeldauniverse.net/forums/character-fiction/102355-apple-blossom.html