Post by Ben on Jul 22, 2006 17:46:05 GMT -5
((The excelent plot from Dragon Knight from neopets. Used with permision.))
In the vast lands of Hurayion, ruled under the tyrant Emperor Nersiag, flames of insurrection burned brightly. A revolt had erupted in the capital of Hurayion, the homeland of the Emperor-- Aeon'Etor. The Emperor and his minions had been plotting to create a sort of "weapon" out of people, used for enforcing rule and destroying opposition. In the distant corners of Hurayion, freedom still reigned, enraging the malevolent Emperor. These "weapons," created with the use of a long forgotten magic, were feared greatly by the masses-- unstable beings capable of who knows what. The Emperor's sorcerers had obtained the magic by committing oaths to the Lord of the Underworld; promising their souls to burn for eternity in death. In Aeon'Etor, where the weapons were created, the injustice angered the people. Having their children, husbands, wives taken away ignited a strong passion in the people, who later overthrew the creators of the weapons. They had a great amount of losses; the sorcerers had powerful magic. However, the raging masses defeated most of them, but a few barely escaped back to their master, taking the few creatures they could with them. Now, in an unseemly academy for those creations, they were tested and trained. The hateful beings, constantly attempting to escape their corrupt keepers, burned with rage from the wrongs done to them. A few people tried to help them, but never succeeded. The oppression threatened to overwhelm them all.
The two burly, muscular guards, sheathed in thick leather and a number of animal pelts, dragged the scantily clad, dirty man before the great Emperor. The man seemed to have a distant nobility to him, a strong bearing, stripped away by starvation and horrendous, slavery conditions. He looked drained and defeated, now. His passionate raptor glare settled on the Emperor. The Emperor, a massive man who was just as physically strong as his army, was shaved, only adding to his brutal look. Most foolish people viewed him as a simple brute, but he was infinitely patient and not at all stupid. A number of gold chains and medallions lay on his bare chest, under an open fur vest. His large biceps seemed as big as the man's waist. The Emperor crossed his arms, two dark, steel arm bracers running from his wrists to halfway up his forearms. A sinister silver trim lined the ends of the bracers. He stood, his ebony leather trousers, lined with jewelry and vile seeming items, coming into view. The man held by the two guards looked up at him, face set hard defiantly. "A public execution, then," the Emperor's voice rang out, wicked as death itself. His deep, booming laugh echoed throughout the corrupt chambers.
---
Thunk. The arrow, encircled in a shining, radiant blue hue, took down the muscled soldier and split the wood behind, the light sparking out. The soldier's huge spiked mace clattered to the floor noisily. Irvine didn't hesitate, rushing in a shaded blur through the doorway out of the antechamber, only to be met by a dozen more guards. He flashed into the dark corner of the open room, pulling his pure black cape over him and concentrating. The sinister item, shrouded in a cloak of magic, seemed to drain the very light from the room with its color. His form shimmered for a brief instant before disappearing, a mere distortion of air in the dim lighting. The troops peered about apprehensively, yet clueless. He snuck past them and turned into a new room, only to be met by a huge gout of blindingly bright, illuminated blue flame. The shriek of the deadly wizard's fire was deafening as he jumped out of the way. The roar of the fire loosened his concentration, his cape's power dying out. His vision swam, dizzied by the inferno spell. Before he realized it, he lost his focus and became visible, oblivious to the action going on around him. His eyes snapped open as he gasped, a lance of pain shooting through him as a sword tore his flesh. His vision remained for a fleeting instant, taking in a dark form above him, before all was lost and he slipped into unconsciousness.
---
He awoke panting, sitting up and glancing around quickly. He lay in a hard bed with a simple, dirty white blanket covering him from the waist down. He couldn't take in his surroundings well, but he seemed to be in an unassuming infirmary room. His regenerative powers had effectively healed his wound, needing no surgeons or wizard's to help heal him. A sheen of sweat covered his face. He looked to be about 16 or 17, and was deceptively slim. His features held a distinct quality that spoke of too many overwhelming experiences in his short lifetime. He lightly brushed away a strand of his thick, white hair. His glowing blue eyes had a timeless look to them-- a sign of magic in a person. His simple clothes and agile leather armor lay on a table to the right of him. On the table to his left lay a finely carved bow, a crystalline long sword, five daggers and a quiver. His black clothes were at the foot of his bed along with his light leather armor. Instead of wearing heavy chain mail, he preferred light armor that provided good mobility. He knew that, in battle, speed was victory. He sighed, another breakout attempt failed. He flopped down back onto the bed and rolled onto his side, defeated.
((You do not HAVE to be a Weapon, but you MUST have a connection to the academy or emperor in some way or another.))
In the vast lands of Hurayion, ruled under the tyrant Emperor Nersiag, flames of insurrection burned brightly. A revolt had erupted in the capital of Hurayion, the homeland of the Emperor-- Aeon'Etor. The Emperor and his minions had been plotting to create a sort of "weapon" out of people, used for enforcing rule and destroying opposition. In the distant corners of Hurayion, freedom still reigned, enraging the malevolent Emperor. These "weapons," created with the use of a long forgotten magic, were feared greatly by the masses-- unstable beings capable of who knows what. The Emperor's sorcerers had obtained the magic by committing oaths to the Lord of the Underworld; promising their souls to burn for eternity in death. In Aeon'Etor, where the weapons were created, the injustice angered the people. Having their children, husbands, wives taken away ignited a strong passion in the people, who later overthrew the creators of the weapons. They had a great amount of losses; the sorcerers had powerful magic. However, the raging masses defeated most of them, but a few barely escaped back to their master, taking the few creatures they could with them. Now, in an unseemly academy for those creations, they were tested and trained. The hateful beings, constantly attempting to escape their corrupt keepers, burned with rage from the wrongs done to them. A few people tried to help them, but never succeeded. The oppression threatened to overwhelm them all.
The two burly, muscular guards, sheathed in thick leather and a number of animal pelts, dragged the scantily clad, dirty man before the great Emperor. The man seemed to have a distant nobility to him, a strong bearing, stripped away by starvation and horrendous, slavery conditions. He looked drained and defeated, now. His passionate raptor glare settled on the Emperor. The Emperor, a massive man who was just as physically strong as his army, was shaved, only adding to his brutal look. Most foolish people viewed him as a simple brute, but he was infinitely patient and not at all stupid. A number of gold chains and medallions lay on his bare chest, under an open fur vest. His large biceps seemed as big as the man's waist. The Emperor crossed his arms, two dark, steel arm bracers running from his wrists to halfway up his forearms. A sinister silver trim lined the ends of the bracers. He stood, his ebony leather trousers, lined with jewelry and vile seeming items, coming into view. The man held by the two guards looked up at him, face set hard defiantly. "A public execution, then," the Emperor's voice rang out, wicked as death itself. His deep, booming laugh echoed throughout the corrupt chambers.
---
Thunk. The arrow, encircled in a shining, radiant blue hue, took down the muscled soldier and split the wood behind, the light sparking out. The soldier's huge spiked mace clattered to the floor noisily. Irvine didn't hesitate, rushing in a shaded blur through the doorway out of the antechamber, only to be met by a dozen more guards. He flashed into the dark corner of the open room, pulling his pure black cape over him and concentrating. The sinister item, shrouded in a cloak of magic, seemed to drain the very light from the room with its color. His form shimmered for a brief instant before disappearing, a mere distortion of air in the dim lighting. The troops peered about apprehensively, yet clueless. He snuck past them and turned into a new room, only to be met by a huge gout of blindingly bright, illuminated blue flame. The shriek of the deadly wizard's fire was deafening as he jumped out of the way. The roar of the fire loosened his concentration, his cape's power dying out. His vision swam, dizzied by the inferno spell. Before he realized it, he lost his focus and became visible, oblivious to the action going on around him. His eyes snapped open as he gasped, a lance of pain shooting through him as a sword tore his flesh. His vision remained for a fleeting instant, taking in a dark form above him, before all was lost and he slipped into unconsciousness.
---
He awoke panting, sitting up and glancing around quickly. He lay in a hard bed with a simple, dirty white blanket covering him from the waist down. He couldn't take in his surroundings well, but he seemed to be in an unassuming infirmary room. His regenerative powers had effectively healed his wound, needing no surgeons or wizard's to help heal him. A sheen of sweat covered his face. He looked to be about 16 or 17, and was deceptively slim. His features held a distinct quality that spoke of too many overwhelming experiences in his short lifetime. He lightly brushed away a strand of his thick, white hair. His glowing blue eyes had a timeless look to them-- a sign of magic in a person. His simple clothes and agile leather armor lay on a table to the right of him. On the table to his left lay a finely carved bow, a crystalline long sword, five daggers and a quiver. His black clothes were at the foot of his bed along with his light leather armor. Instead of wearing heavy chain mail, he preferred light armor that provided good mobility. He knew that, in battle, speed was victory. He sighed, another breakout attempt failed. He flopped down back onto the bed and rolled onto his side, defeated.
((You do not HAVE to be a Weapon, but you MUST have a connection to the academy or emperor in some way or another.))