The dates were especially sweet. Every time she popped one in her mouth, her toes curled in pleasure. Ambra thanked Naga that she had found this fruit. If she hadn’t… she would have died on the spot. Her stomach roared as she began to fill it. She would be able to sleep well that night, and that cheered her up. The red haired woman hadn’t been able to sleep for a while, and dark rings hung under her eyes. It was obvious that she was not well. Fatigue had ravaged her body. But now that she actually had food in her stomach… she was going to be better. At least… she hoped so.
Something caught her attention. It was the sound of footsteps. She turned to look in that general direction, but it was too late. The man was already on her. A blade shimmered in the sunlight as it swung down toward her, making her yelp and roll out of the way. Her body was screaming for rest, but she had to get out of the way. If she didn’t, she would be slaughtered by a pig. ”Wait! I don’t mean harm!” she cried out, sitting up and raising her hands in submission. Her eyes were wide with fear and she was trembling. It was a young swordsman, looking in worse shape than she was in. ”Don’t kill me!”
TwilightDragon Member
Dragon of the Night Sky
STATUS: Sorry for my absence. I'm back now but I go under a new name, Ambra. If you wanna RP with me again just search me up! 11 yrs ago
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- TwilightDragon 12 yrs ago
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11 yrs ago
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Sorry for my absence. I'm back now but I go under a new name, Ambra. If you wanna RP with me again just search me up!
11 yrs ago
Doge~
11 yrs ago
Nevermind.
11 yrs ago
I'm back~
11 yrs ago
Sigh
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Most Recent Posts
The boy picked himself off of the ground, brushing off the soot and ash that stuck to his clothing. Even though that Cyril was pissed at the moment, he knew that there were much more serious things on his plate. He turned to see the other boy try to help a man stuck under a metal beam. Worry began to well in him, and he rushed to the young man’s side, trying to lift the metal obstruction off of the man. Yet, Cyril was a smaller man. He wasn’t necessarily built for strength. His fingers continued to slip, and he was not able to keep his grip. I can’t-
Yet, a blond haired girl ran up to them, and she aided them in getting the old man out from under the metal bar. He watched as she slung one of his arms over her shoulder. Cyril rushed to her and did the same to his other arm. At least the old man was okay. Even though the smoke was continuously stinging his throat and eyes, he was pleased that he was able to help. ”Come on, hurry up!” he wheezed, glowering over at the two other teenagers. They had to hurry, or else the man might get poisoned from all of the smoke inhalation…
Yet, a blond haired girl ran up to them, and she aided them in getting the old man out from under the metal bar. He watched as she slung one of his arms over her shoulder. Cyril rushed to her and did the same to his other arm. At least the old man was okay. Even though the smoke was continuously stinging his throat and eyes, he was pleased that he was able to help. ”Come on, hurry up!” he wheezed, glowering over at the two other teenagers. They had to hurry, or else the man might get poisoned from all of the smoke inhalation…
I think people just got excited, that's all. XD
I'm posting now.
I'm posting now.
The thing is, I much rather we start out with Awakening first-
A sword would be better.
Later on, we can branch off, okay?
A sword would be better.
Later on, we can branch off, okay?
Looks good, only problem I have is his weapon. There aren't any daggers in FE... xD
I made Cyril trip over Benjamin~
Well, at least he was able to quickly go home and eat breakfast. After wolfing down the omelet with the slightly singed vegetables, Cyril decided that he should go out and get some fresh air. He always liked going on walks after eating, anyway. His aunt always complained about him leaving home too early and then coming home too late, but he really didn’t see what the big deal was. It wasn’t like he was going out to get into fights. Surprisingly, he was a very patient person and would only throw punches if he was seriously provoked. He sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets and walking down the street as he began to whistle a tune.
He had walked a few blocks when he began to smell smoke and hear people scream. Cyril paused, a frown coming over his face. Was that some sort of new ride? No… it couldn’t be… A new ride wouldn’t smoke that much. That’s a fire. he thought, the frown deepening on his lips. While Cyril was usually indifferent to things going on around him, this was something different. Pulling his hands out of his pockets, he ran to the festival.
The amount of smoke increased significantly the closer he got to the festival. Cyril wheezed as he rushed into the midst of the flaming stalls and tents. The smoke stung his eyes and made them well up with tears. Is there anyone here? he thought, coughing. Why did I come again? I should have just minded my own business… But maybe there was a child or someone else that needed help. Just because I don’t like festivals doesn’t mean I shouldn’t go and help when people are in danger…
Cyril coughed again, turning and running further into the festival. Though he tripped over someone before he could get very far. He fell on his face, skidding a few inches before his body came to a stop. Pain razed across his jaw, and he sat up, snarling violently over his shoulder at the idiot who was sitting on his ass. ”What the hell are you doing?!” he shouted, his voice hoarse from the smoke inhalation. ”You must be a fucking idiot, sitting on the floor in the middle of a fire!”
He had walked a few blocks when he began to smell smoke and hear people scream. Cyril paused, a frown coming over his face. Was that some sort of new ride? No… it couldn’t be… A new ride wouldn’t smoke that much. That’s a fire. he thought, the frown deepening on his lips. While Cyril was usually indifferent to things going on around him, this was something different. Pulling his hands out of his pockets, he ran to the festival.
The amount of smoke increased significantly the closer he got to the festival. Cyril wheezed as he rushed into the midst of the flaming stalls and tents. The smoke stung his eyes and made them well up with tears. Is there anyone here? he thought, coughing. Why did I come again? I should have just minded my own business… But maybe there was a child or someone else that needed help. Just because I don’t like festivals doesn’t mean I shouldn’t go and help when people are in danger…
Cyril coughed again, turning and running further into the festival. Though he tripped over someone before he could get very far. He fell on his face, skidding a few inches before his body came to a stop. Pain razed across his jaw, and he sat up, snarling violently over his shoulder at the idiot who was sitting on his ass. ”What the hell are you doing?!” he shouted, his voice hoarse from the smoke inhalation. ”You must be a fucking idiot, sitting on the floor in the middle of a fire!”
A seemingly infinite sea of straw yellow rested under a blanket of pale blue sky. The sun, a harsh orb of light that cast piercing rays of heat down onto the earth without mercy, was at its peak. Not a cloud drifted across the stretch of azure. The sandy ground did not have a taste of rain for what seemed like days. That was Plegia for you—how one could survive in such a dead looking country was a mystery. The whole place was basically desert. Sometimes one could find small mountain ranges where dead or dying trees provided some sort of shelter from the merciless heat that plagued the land. The animals were usually small and scaly. It wasn’t often that travelers had to take a bite out of rattlesnake or other sorts of reptiles.
That was why the black haired Dark Mage was in an uncomfortable mood. Talbot wouldn’t mind sunning himself in the mild rays of sunshine, but it seemed like heaven was raining fire down upon them. Sweat drenched his body, making his dark colored robes stick to his skin. It was truly an irritating experience. What I wouldn’t give for a cool dip in a lake right now, he thought, running a hand through his already messy hair. Several tendrils of hair had slipped out from his tight ponytail sitting high on his head and into his face. Droplets of perspiration hung off of the tips and dripped onto his brow and cheeks, making his face twist in annoyance.
He supposed that he was lucky; some of the Shepherds had found each other already, and he was amongst the small group that gathered under the shade of several perishing trees that lined the top of a mountain. Talbot was no longer alone, but he was starving and parched. The crimson blush that clung to his cheeks had been there for a day or two, and he could feel his body scream for water with every moment. His lips were dry, his skin was pale, and his stomach rumbled… before long he would have to resort to scouting for water himself.
Talbot sighed and placed his hat back atop his head, his fingers returning to the instrument he had in his hands to pluck at its strings. If it weren’t for his lute, he would have surely gone insane. Music was what kept him going. It cheered him up on days like this, and allowed smiles to come to his lips. Even though it was painful to do so, at least he could be beaming on the inside. Everyone’s so tired… I don’t blame them. We’ve been trying to navigate this desert for days… he sighed once more, continuing to strum his lute and hoping that that would get the conversation flowing.
A small, lithe figure struggled to push itself forward, its smaller feet shoving against the sand in order to make its body crest the vermillion mound. Ragged gasps escaped the scrawny woman’s lips as her tired body cried out for her to stop and flop face first into the hill. Her skin was scorched by the sun’s rays; sunburns stretched up and down her arms and shoulders. Ambra had already gotten used to the pain. It wasn’t like this was her first few days in the desert. Like the other Shepherds, she had escaped the deadly grip of the massacre at her barracks before she was severely injured. Yet… the images of people dying around her remained in her mind. There was so much blood and death… she recalled, closing her eyes as she inched her way down the other side of the mound. No one deserves that kind of death…
After making it over the dune, Ambra continued searching for some sort of asylum from the harsh rays of sunlight. Hours passed before she found a small mountain with dying foliage clutching to its dry earth. Readjusting her satchel, which contained many poultices and other healing stuffs, she made her way to the mountain. If I’m lucky, she thought as she dragged her tired and sore body across the distance between the sand dune and mountain, puffing with the effort, There’ll be food and water on there. I don’t think I can last much longer without those…
How long had she been without food? Water? She didn’t know, but she knew that she ran out of food before she ran out of water, and she ran out of water a day ago. Or was it two days? Ambra groaned as she realized that she couldn’t even remember when she ran out of grub and drink. The heat is really getting to me. I need a long nap… The thought of a deep sleep did seem refreshing, but she knew that it would be fatal if she decided to settle down in such an open area. Bandits or even worse could find her, and she would wake up to find that her head had been chopped off. Sighing, Ambra staggered up the mountain.
Her body tired out quickly, and she found herself stopping halfway up. Trees lined the cliff edges as well, and Ambra noted that some sort of nourishment hung from some of their dry boughs. She decided that the little clearing on the side of the mountain would be enough for her, and she pulled off her satchel, pushing it against a jutting, gray rock. After making sure that her supplies were in order, she glanced back up at the bundle of fruit basically waiting for her on the tip of that branch.
And so, the red haired woman began to climb the tree. She was accustomed to this sort of activity. When she was young, her father taught her how to climb a tree all the way to the topmost bough, and then come back down again. That was why she wasn’t afraid of climbing this tree; it was short and ugly, and the lack of leaves meant that she could climb freely without worrying about getting tangled in them. Before she knew it, she was at the branch where the fruit hung from. They’re dates. she told herself. I’ve heard they’re an amazing source of nourishment for travelers…
Easy now, Ambra began to crawl along the branch, wincing slightly at the groaning sound it made. If she were any heavier, she was pretty sure it would have broken by now. That was why she was comfortable enough to inch more and more along the bough until the fruit grazed her fingers—and then, with a yank, she pried it off the branch. The force of taking the fruit off of the branch made it jerk violently and produce a loud cracking sound, one that made Ambra flinch. That was bad. She should have-
It was too late for “should have”s. The branch snapped off of the trunk and hurtled toward the ground. She cried out as she fell as well, and then the ground crashed against her, driving the wind out of her lungs. Coughing, she let go of the detached limb and rolled onto her back, clutching the fruit to her chest. Ambra breathed heavily, wincing slightly in pain. Note to self, don’t climb dead trees. Common sense, but… at least she had food, right?
The mess hall was always so loud at this hour. Even though it was early in the morning, many of his men were already getting drunk as hell. The hall was filled with boisterous laughter and annoying gossip. While Darrian would usually ignore said ramblings about generals and other higher ups, he was not in a good mood. It was painfully obvious that the Exalt did not want to be in the middle of drunken fools or in the midst of a loud mess hall. The black haired, blue eyed man had an arm plopped up on the table, his chin resting in his hand as he idly rolled an apple back and forth the space in front of him. Would he be able to stand such nonsense today? No, he wanted silence, and he would get it, one way or another.
”Get out!” Darrian shouted, standing up abruptly and slamming both hands on the table. The hall became very quiet, and dozens of pairs of eyes stared at him as he bristled angrily. Then, the men and women got up and rushed out of the room, each of them hanging their heads in shame. While Darrian was nothing but a yapping lapdog to them, they knew better than to get him angrier than he already was. It was better to leave and get drunk elsewhere, and leave Darrian to his brooding, anyway. The Exalt snarled at the empty room, and walked around the long table, beginning to pace as he held the apple in his hand.
Why hadn’t the Shepherds been captured yet? It had been far too long since the massacre. They should have been killed on the spot, but someone had let them escape. He had sent his most trusted men and women to carry out the deed, and yet, they failed. That made his blood boil. Darrian’s teeth grinded together under the skin of his jaw as he glanced up at the ornate stained glass windows that lined the room. Most of them portrayed scenes of Naga in all of her radiance. When they were bathed in light, they cast different shades of blue and silver into the room. That was what it was doing now, and it pissed him off.
Darrian roared in frustration and anger, chucking the apple straight at the glass. The round fruit shattered the window, leaving a gaping hole in a particularly beautiful scene of the she-dragon. Yet… that didn’t sate his fury. He was left panting, unable to release all of his rage on what was in that room at the moment.
That was why the black haired Dark Mage was in an uncomfortable mood. Talbot wouldn’t mind sunning himself in the mild rays of sunshine, but it seemed like heaven was raining fire down upon them. Sweat drenched his body, making his dark colored robes stick to his skin. It was truly an irritating experience. What I wouldn’t give for a cool dip in a lake right now, he thought, running a hand through his already messy hair. Several tendrils of hair had slipped out from his tight ponytail sitting high on his head and into his face. Droplets of perspiration hung off of the tips and dripped onto his brow and cheeks, making his face twist in annoyance.
He supposed that he was lucky; some of the Shepherds had found each other already, and he was amongst the small group that gathered under the shade of several perishing trees that lined the top of a mountain. Talbot was no longer alone, but he was starving and parched. The crimson blush that clung to his cheeks had been there for a day or two, and he could feel his body scream for water with every moment. His lips were dry, his skin was pale, and his stomach rumbled… before long he would have to resort to scouting for water himself.
Talbot sighed and placed his hat back atop his head, his fingers returning to the instrument he had in his hands to pluck at its strings. If it weren’t for his lute, he would have surely gone insane. Music was what kept him going. It cheered him up on days like this, and allowed smiles to come to his lips. Even though it was painful to do so, at least he could be beaming on the inside. Everyone’s so tired… I don’t blame them. We’ve been trying to navigate this desert for days… he sighed once more, continuing to strum his lute and hoping that that would get the conversation flowing.
A small, lithe figure struggled to push itself forward, its smaller feet shoving against the sand in order to make its body crest the vermillion mound. Ragged gasps escaped the scrawny woman’s lips as her tired body cried out for her to stop and flop face first into the hill. Her skin was scorched by the sun’s rays; sunburns stretched up and down her arms and shoulders. Ambra had already gotten used to the pain. It wasn’t like this was her first few days in the desert. Like the other Shepherds, she had escaped the deadly grip of the massacre at her barracks before she was severely injured. Yet… the images of people dying around her remained in her mind. There was so much blood and death… she recalled, closing her eyes as she inched her way down the other side of the mound. No one deserves that kind of death…
After making it over the dune, Ambra continued searching for some sort of asylum from the harsh rays of sunlight. Hours passed before she found a small mountain with dying foliage clutching to its dry earth. Readjusting her satchel, which contained many poultices and other healing stuffs, she made her way to the mountain. If I’m lucky, she thought as she dragged her tired and sore body across the distance between the sand dune and mountain, puffing with the effort, There’ll be food and water on there. I don’t think I can last much longer without those…
How long had she been without food? Water? She didn’t know, but she knew that she ran out of food before she ran out of water, and she ran out of water a day ago. Or was it two days? Ambra groaned as she realized that she couldn’t even remember when she ran out of grub and drink. The heat is really getting to me. I need a long nap… The thought of a deep sleep did seem refreshing, but she knew that it would be fatal if she decided to settle down in such an open area. Bandits or even worse could find her, and she would wake up to find that her head had been chopped off. Sighing, Ambra staggered up the mountain.
Her body tired out quickly, and she found herself stopping halfway up. Trees lined the cliff edges as well, and Ambra noted that some sort of nourishment hung from some of their dry boughs. She decided that the little clearing on the side of the mountain would be enough for her, and she pulled off her satchel, pushing it against a jutting, gray rock. After making sure that her supplies were in order, she glanced back up at the bundle of fruit basically waiting for her on the tip of that branch.
And so, the red haired woman began to climb the tree. She was accustomed to this sort of activity. When she was young, her father taught her how to climb a tree all the way to the topmost bough, and then come back down again. That was why she wasn’t afraid of climbing this tree; it was short and ugly, and the lack of leaves meant that she could climb freely without worrying about getting tangled in them. Before she knew it, she was at the branch where the fruit hung from. They’re dates. she told herself. I’ve heard they’re an amazing source of nourishment for travelers…
Easy now, Ambra began to crawl along the branch, wincing slightly at the groaning sound it made. If she were any heavier, she was pretty sure it would have broken by now. That was why she was comfortable enough to inch more and more along the bough until the fruit grazed her fingers—and then, with a yank, she pried it off the branch. The force of taking the fruit off of the branch made it jerk violently and produce a loud cracking sound, one that made Ambra flinch. That was bad. She should have-
It was too late for “should have”s. The branch snapped off of the trunk and hurtled toward the ground. She cried out as she fell as well, and then the ground crashed against her, driving the wind out of her lungs. Coughing, she let go of the detached limb and rolled onto her back, clutching the fruit to her chest. Ambra breathed heavily, wincing slightly in pain. Note to self, don’t climb dead trees. Common sense, but… at least she had food, right?
The mess hall was always so loud at this hour. Even though it was early in the morning, many of his men were already getting drunk as hell. The hall was filled with boisterous laughter and annoying gossip. While Darrian would usually ignore said ramblings about generals and other higher ups, he was not in a good mood. It was painfully obvious that the Exalt did not want to be in the middle of drunken fools or in the midst of a loud mess hall. The black haired, blue eyed man had an arm plopped up on the table, his chin resting in his hand as he idly rolled an apple back and forth the space in front of him. Would he be able to stand such nonsense today? No, he wanted silence, and he would get it, one way or another.
”Get out!” Darrian shouted, standing up abruptly and slamming both hands on the table. The hall became very quiet, and dozens of pairs of eyes stared at him as he bristled angrily. Then, the men and women got up and rushed out of the room, each of them hanging their heads in shame. While Darrian was nothing but a yapping lapdog to them, they knew better than to get him angrier than he already was. It was better to leave and get drunk elsewhere, and leave Darrian to his brooding, anyway. The Exalt snarled at the empty room, and walked around the long table, beginning to pace as he held the apple in his hand.
Why hadn’t the Shepherds been captured yet? It had been far too long since the massacre. They should have been killed on the spot, but someone had let them escape. He had sent his most trusted men and women to carry out the deed, and yet, they failed. That made his blood boil. Darrian’s teeth grinded together under the skin of his jaw as he glanced up at the ornate stained glass windows that lined the room. Most of them portrayed scenes of Naga in all of her radiance. When they were bathed in light, they cast different shades of blue and silver into the room. That was what it was doing now, and it pissed him off.
Darrian roared in frustration and anger, chucking the apple straight at the glass. The round fruit shattered the window, leaving a gaping hole in a particularly beautiful scene of the she-dragon. Yet… that didn’t sate his fury. He was left panting, unable to release all of his rage on what was in that room at the moment.
I know, I have it on a word document~
I'm halfway done with Ambra's post, after that, I'll have to do Darrian.
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