The Tiran Wars: Liberty, at all Costs


Magical chains bound the helpless dragon to the ground. Teeth as large and sharp as swords occasionally were bared in the direction of a passing knight, who would continue walking away, sure in the knowledge that know force in heaven or earth could pull the dragon's chains from his severely battered body. The dragon's once lustrous scales now gleamed dully, unhealthily, in the light of the great fire pit that roasted wild pig and pheasant for the knights guarding their latest prize. Signs of the dragon's struggle marked the ground under him where his claws, as large as a grown man's arm, had plowed great furrows of rock and stone from the ground. Eyes that once held back such wild fury and intelligence had now accepted their fate and sat, blue and sullen at the bottom of the sockets.

Magi had come just half an hour ago to continue their work on the wild dragon. For half a year, the great dragon had been chained to the floor, held by chains that burned with the intensity of a thousand suns when the dragon struggled. The Magi came each day and continued to take things from the massive cut they made each morning in the dragon's belly, before healing it each night on their way out the door. The once proud and mighty dragon knew that his life was coming to a slow agonizing end. For each time he breathed he could feel the slow tear deep inside him, and the wild magic that coursed through his mighty body was now gone, held at bay by the civilized magic of the Magi's chains.

The knights guarding the dragon were callous and rude. They ate and drank heartily throughout the night and, come morning, when the Magi arrived, they retired to sleep until the Magi left again that night. Many times the dragon's guards had walked over and used the dragon's claws to sharpen their weapons, some even loosened their belts and urinated upon the filthy creature. In the beginning of his captivity, the dragon would have snapped his massive jaws and blew smoke from his nostrils, but now the dragon just laid upon his side and took whatever depravities the knights decided to inflict upon him. In short, the once magnificent wild dragon was now broken, both in body a spirit and he lay, slowly thirsting and starving to death on rations that would hardly keep a hatchling alive.

Meanwhile, outside of the dragon's prison, a cart with a decrepit old man driving trundled up the stone driveway. A paid of great horses pulled the cart, their hooves making clamping sounds upon the cobblestones, as the man at the reigns coughed and hacked in a cold northern wind that brought with it a freezing rain. Clamped in the driver's teeth was a cob pipe that he would take a draw on every few moments, the light being cast from the pipe lit up the driver's young and vibrant eyes with each slow draw. The pair of knights guarding the cobblestone drive stepped out in front of the cart and held up their chain mail clad hands for the hunchbacked driver to stop the cart.

When the horses pulling the cart finally came to a halt, the driver slowly climbed down out of the cart, like an old man walking down a steep flight of stairs and walked to where the pair of knights stood, their shoulders a few inches apart. The hunchbacked trader hobbled up to the pair of knights, with the help of a dragon's head cane, and one of them said, his breath steaming out of the holes in the fierce looking helmet "Begone from here trader, before I make you." The knight's voice was low and gruff, like an angry war dog.

The driver of the wagon stiffened in his cloak momentarily, before saying "It gets rather cold out here in the rain, my daughter's in the back of the wagon and she's mighty lonely. For a small price." The knights could not see the trader's teeth bite down anxiously on the stem of his pipe.

"We hunger not for some fish wife, leave." The other knight spoke up now, answering for his fellow, who looked over at his comrade in a motion that conveyed his annoyance at being answered for. The trader was momentarily worried that the guards wouldn't take him up on the offer, but then the guard that had been answered for said "Speak for yourself, this armor isn't nearly as warm as it looks."

"If you insist, but get it over with quickly, I want to sit next to that candle upon the back of the trader's wagon anyway's, get as warm as one can be in this damnable armor." The other said.

With that, the trader began hobbling towards the back of his wagon, the cane making a clicking sound with each smack upon the sidewalk. The trader stepped into the cold wind that blew upon the other side of his wagon, the knights behind the trader did not notice him twist the cap from his dragon's head cane, revealing a finely crafted stiletto.

As the knight began to step up into the carriage, which was lit from the inside by an open candle, the silhouette of a woman cast upon the white drapes inside, the almost impenetrable armor of a Knight was opened just a tad, enough for the trader to stab out with his revealed blade, which bit deep into the knight's back. The knight who was sitting beside the lantern hanging on the bumper of the trader's wagon gasped in horror as his comrade fell back out of the wagon, his helmet rolling off to reveal already dead eyes, the trader's poisoned knife having done it's work. The trader suddenly straightened up from his previous hunched position, what the knight had previous thought was a hunchback was revealed to be the hilt of a great broadsword, that his attacker pulled out of it's scabbard in a single fluid motion, bringing it down with all of his strength upon the crown of the knight's helmet. The heavy steel of the knight's helmet was no match for the magical broadsword and the previously mighty piece of armor was parted, as if it were made of parchment.

Kneeling down over the pair of bodies, the trader pushed them both off of the road, where they bounced down the steep incline on either side of the castle's drive until coming to a rest in the mud of the ditch at the bottom, two more bodies added to the filth and debris of the keep that stood over it. Silhouetted against the lighting and thunderstruck sky, the keep where the dragon was held loomed over the trader, as he went back to his cart and got the animals moving again, though they did not make haste, as was the habit of the slow moving mules.

The trader once again pulled his cart to a stop at the massive gates of the castle. The wood was studded and reinforced from the inside, built to withstand a siege of epic proportions. The trader could see the effects of many battles permanently emblazoned upon the wooden portal a map of scars that showed the signs of a hundred battles across the centuries that this castle had stood strong against the wind, rain and the enemies of it's occupants. The rain beat upon the castle gates, running down every possible surface, creating tiny waterfalls upon the roughened surfaces.

Hopping down from the seat of the wagon with a grace that was belied the halting limp that the trader walked with, he stumped around to the back of the wagon. The wagon's doors were equipped with a pair of ornate doorknobs that opened a pair of double doors, allowing the trader to walk inside. Once inside, the trader shivered from the cold of the rain, even packed in layers of cloak and armor, the rain still managed to run down to the skin, where a bone deep chill was slowly forming.

"I'll wait here with the mules." Said a voice from the darkness of a corner. A figure sat upon a barrel filled with nails, picking white teeth with a big bladed knife. Little was visible, aside from the glint of a knife in the oil lantern's light and the point of a nose protruding from a dark cloak.

"Very well, Rael. If I should not return in an hour, go inside. Remember, my friend, the dragon is the only reason we are here. If I should disappear, complete our objective and escape with the dragon. Do not come for me." the man disguised as a trader replied, as he shucked off all but his heavy armor and weapons.

"One more thing, Lucas." Rael said from the corner, as Lucas took a grappling hook from the wall "How do you intend to get the dragon out of there, assuming you can get past the bloodthirsty guards, dogs and guard spirits, of course."

"Have faith, Rael. Dragons fly, do they not?" Lucas said, as he opened the door and stepped out into the rain. His features lit up by the oil lamp hanging from the roof, any who were standing behind the wagon could see Lucas's features. Lucas stood in his heavy armored boots, because of his mission, climbing spikes were attached to the bottom of them. A two handed broadsword was sheathed across his muscular back the hilt peeking over his right shoulder. Lucas had a great black beard that masked a strong jaw line that gave off a look of unwavering righteousness. Laugh lines were at the corners of his mouth and the crinkle to the sides of his kind eyes.

As Rael climbed upon the driver's seat and began to back the wagon down the great castle's driveway, Lucas clutched in his hand a grappling hook and at least fifty feet of heavy rope. Lucas walked around, un hunched and proud, to the front of the wagon. He slowly began to twirl the hook, letting out more and more rope with each revolution, until he let it fly straight upwards with a mighty grunt. The hook soared straight up and over the fortress walls. Lucas began to pull upon the rope in his hands, until it went tight and he could no longer pull it loose. Lucas kicked a foot into the heavy wood of the castle gates and the climbing spikes upon his boots sunk deep into the wood.

The climb, fifty feet straight up in the air, was an arduous one. Lucas would be forced to use the climbing spikes upon his heavy boots to get enough purchase upon the gate to lever himself up a little further. Lucas's muscles stood out upon his arms under the pressure of heaving his bulk up the gate. It took the man several minutes to scale the gate, but he finally made it, his breath was coming ragged by the time he rolled up and onto the walls. Lucas laid there in the dark for many a moment, catching his breath and readying his mind for the task at hand.

Deep in the depths of the castle, the dragon bared it's teeth once more and roared in anger as the knights guarding it began to clean themselves of their revelry and make ready to exchange the dragon to their mage counterparts. They scurried about, packing wine and food into bags and stowing them out of sight of the magi that were due to arrive. The knights took hold of their great swords and stood at attention about the dragon and at the single entrance.

The magi slowly began to trickle into the room in pairs, a few arriving alone. Once all of the magi had arrived, they began to work their magic upon the bound and helpless dragon. The magi knew that the dragon had been hurt so badly that they had to fix the damage before they could continue. The head mage looked to his second, a look of anger upon his face "Where is that boy?" He said "You promised me that he would be here on time, Roland."

Putting up his hands, the second said in an anxious voice "I'm sorry sir, please, he must have been . Allow me to go find him!"

"So you can disappear too?" The head mage growled in a low, evil voice. "No, I think not. The dragon is not long for this world unless we start the ritual now. You will take the young apprentice's place, in repentance for your sloth."

"Master, please, I've been faithful for ten years. Please! Don't do this to me!" The second begged, as the head mage grinned cruelly and said three words, under his breath, the only reason we know of their existence being the movement of the head mage's mouth and the scream of terror that was ripped from Roland's throat.

Roland the Mage's feet began slowly to pick themselves up and sit themselves down. Commanded by the head mage, the second in command was walking across the floor, against his free will, as if the Head Mage had commanded his boots to walk. There was a pleading look in the second mage's eyes, as he sought out any friendly faces in the gathering of magi, but found none. A desperate look crossed the mage's face, as his traitorous feet took the last step to enter the circle of magi, who had grasped hands and were now chanting in a low tone that was inaudible, other than a low rumble, as if the earth itself was heaving. "You are all aware of the fate of the sacrificed!" Roland screamed, tears springing out upon his face "This will destroy my soul. Please!" His voice cracked during the last word.

None of the magi were paying attention anymore, all had fallen deep into the chant that blocked off the outside world. The magi were focusing all of their magical powers upon rending the poor soul in their circle apart, not just physically, but mentally and spiritually. In essence, they were taking the life force itself from Roland, and placing it inside the dragon, who protested with growls strong enough to shake the very castle's foundation.

So strong was their focus, that the chant was not broken, until the great sword of Lucas Fenren plunged straight down through the collarbone of one of the chanting magi. There was a great spout of blood that coated Lucas's blade and armor, which was concealed by the cloak of the missing apprentice. With a great heave of his shoulders and a battle cry filled with effort, Lucas tore his blade from the body of the first fallen and used the momentum to slash the next mage in line, nearly in half.

The magic that was being performed was interrupted by the disappearance of a third of it's strength and not even the Head Mage could continue the chanting, amid the screams of the dying mage whom had been cleaved in two by the sword of justice. The hour remaining magi gasped in horror as they took into account their slaughtered brethren. The Head Mage reacted quicker however and brought up a great ball of energy that he sent hurtling towards Lucas. The energy was visible as a translucent white hanging gash, almost as if the air itself had been gashed open. It flew through the air, as if fired from a bow and all the magi now cowering in fear believed their attacker would be dead in a matter of moments.

To their horror the magic of the Head Mage waned, before disappearing altogether, a full foot from the man, who was slowly walking towards them, his sword held at his side. The Head Mage ordered all of his remaining men to throw their own attacks at this intruder. Fire, lightning and rock disintegrated before coming anywhere near the man, who still walked slowly towards them.

"Protect me, you fools!" The Head Mage cried, hiking his robes up around his thighs and running towards the door.

Lucas cut down one mage, then another, their blood splattered the floors and the walls of the keep. The crimson of his enemies drenched his face and armor, as he cut down the third, who cried pitifully as the sheer force of the blow slammed him against a wall a full five feet away. The awesome and horrible sight of the oncoming warrior caused the remaining mage to pick stone from under Lucas's feet, but the stone did not move while the lifeblood soaked warrior was near. Magic simply evaporated in the warrior's presence.

The once chained dragon roared in unparalleled fury, it's wings lifted high into the sky, as the mystical chains that had burnt scars upon his magnificent scales simply fell apart, the links growing red hot, before melting away into nothingness. A righteous indignation glittered in the dragon's eyes, as it turned it's attention upon a group of knights, the very ones that had subjected it to such mistreatment, who were charging into the keep from their barracks. The heavily armored bodies flew high into the air, as the dragon let go with the first burst of fire he had made in two decades. The magi had to keep the dragon alive and healthy, in order to continue harvesting the magically recreated internal organs each night, this turned out to be their undoing, for as the dragon stood, tall, proud and furious, the knights assigned to guard them were facing the fury of a dragon that had suffered at their hands for over twenty years. It did not go well for them.

Lucas continued his slow walk, following the Head Mage, who was still running, every so often he would fling a bolt of lightning back over his shoulders, but, like everything it simply had no effect. It finally came to a point, where the Head Mage had run out of places to run, and stood upon the fortress wall, watching in horror as his knights were slaughtered by the dragon they had so long abused. For the first time in his life, the Head Mage felt fear, in the face of this man who still walked towards him in an even step.

"Who are you? What do you want demon!?!" he called out at Lucas.

The look upon Lucas's face was that of fury beyond imagining, as he lifted his sword high overhead "I am no demon." he said.

"Then what are you? No man is immune to the effects of magic!" the mage, standing upon the wall screamed, spittle flying from his mouth and soaking his chin.

"I am something you are your masters have not encountered in a long time. The days of your tyrannical rule over Tiran has come to an end, mage. I am the anger of the earth, I am the sword of the righteous, I am the one who will bring you to your knees. I know you have a telepathic link to your master, mage, tell him that I am each and every lash the people of Tiran feel upon their backs. I have refused to believe your magic can hurt me, and it hasn't. I am a free man." Lucas yelled, as he brought the hilt of his blade forward in such a lightning quick movement that it sent the mage spiraling off the fortress walls, where he plummeted a thousand feet to his death, upon the rocks below.

Lucas stood upon the battlements and stared down at the Head Mage's body which was barely visible, impaled upon a rock the very lifeblood he had coveted so much, soaking into the rocks and brush around his now dead body. "A free man." were the words that echoed down, through the rocky spires of the mountains and all the way to the great Tiran capital itself, where the Master Mage's spine involuntarily shivered in fear.




War has arrived and you have chosen your side. As a member of the guerrilla army that wages a war of revolution against the corruption of the Tiran capital, you are charged with protecting your comrades and all those you see.

This is not a simple task that can be accomplished in a few months, or even a few years, for this war has been raging for over five years now, and it's only getting larger. With each addition, the the guerrillas become more powerful and you, a member of this group, in higher spirits.

There are few dragons that are free of their magical chains, but those that are side with you and yours. There are no more free dragons, other then the three that have sided with the rebels. These dragons are named Grongar, Fenren and Eladrion and only Lucas and a select few of his top advisers know their location. These dragons are proud beasts who refuse to be ridden, to all of the dragons of this realm, being ridden is a sign of being dominated, enslaved and the dragons, the memory of their brethren still enslaved across all of Tiran, will not submit to such.

This is approximately two thousand years before the battles with the Demon Giant and, later, the slavers of Tiran.

It is time, you and your companions have been selected to become the attackers of castles, like the first one Lucas attacked, five years ago. This will take much for you to learn, it will make you something else, something that is no longer completely human, but something in between. Our story begins with you and your companions, newly recruited into the Guerrillas, sitting about the wagon you arrived in, waiting for your training to begin, so tell me, warrior, what is your worth?

The sheet!

Gender: (Men and women are generally treated as equals in Tiran, but some don't consider this to be the case.)
Class: (Warrior(Swords, Pikes, Picks and hammers), Free Mage (Magic wielders free of the Master Mage's control), Rogue (Knives and explosives) or Archer (Bows, Crossbows and Javelins)
Weapons of Specialization: (What are your weapons of choice?)
Skills: (These should be actual marketable skills, such as lock picking or coercion, not how loud your character can burp or the length of his chest hair.)
Biography: (Where you came from, what your memorable experiences are, stuff that makes a person who they are.)

Le Rules!

There are only a few.

1: Thou shalt adhere to the Campfire Commandments (No god modding, no blatant sexuality, etc.) That's my only content rule, however I have a few RP specific rules.


3: Certain characters like Lucas and Rael have extra special powers that make them nearly invincible. This is done to propel the story forward, you can't have them. :D

4: Each class has a certain use. Warriors wade into the thick of things, Archers and Mages stand back from the fighting and Rogues use cunning and stealth to get behind their opponents. Use your class like you mean it.

5: The Missing Man rule. Our characters will carry with them NPCs that are nameless, in case absentee RPers, or new RPers, would like to join midway through.

6: Have fun.

((Please forgive the double post, Regal. My openings are too long. Sorry.))

((I will post my character tonight, I have some stuff to attend to really quick.))
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Name: Thorin Forkbeard
Age: 28
Gender: Male
Class: Warrior
Weapons of Specialization: Dane Axe, Sword, Shield, Knife.
Skills: Fighting and Intimidation.
Biography: he was born in the harsh, frozen lands of the north, and his father, Sven trained him as a warrior. when he came of age, his father gave him his Dane Axe, and Thorin became a Norse Warrior.
when he was 23, the Orcs of the north invaded his homeland, and after a brutal three year stuggle, he and his fellow Norsemen were pushed south.
now two years since then, Thorin has joined the guerilla army, and is eager to travel north once more and drive the Orcs from his homeland.


Name: Sun Mei
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Class: Magi
Weapons of Specialization: Martial arts, Fire magic
Skills: Foreign languages, Herbalism, Magical Lore
Biography: Born in the east, Sun Mei grew up in a small mountain village where the villagers quietly grew their crops and tended their livestock, only the tax collector and his retinue of guards disturbed the tranquillity, but the people were loyal and so paid the ever increasing taxes, a small price for the quiet freedom that they enjoyed and because they bore no weapons the capital left the small village alone.
At the age of thirteen Sun Mei, the daughter of a peasant farmer and his wife began to display signs of the “art” they were terrified for they knew what it would mean for their daughter. They would send her far away to the master mage to become a Mage, never to be seen again, but as luck should have it a different course would present itself.
An old man passing through the village witnessed the young girl producing sparks from her fingertips for her younger brother’s amusement and was intrigued by what he saw. Upon speaking with the girls parents he revealed that he was a magi working without the Master Mages authority and would willingly take their daughter as an apprentice, thrilled with not having to send their daughter to the city they agreed.
Six years past quickly high up in the mountains where under the tutelage of her master Sun Mei became proficient in the ways of the magi, capable of wielding all four elements, although it quickly became apparent that it was in fire that she excelled.
He also taught her to read and right in the various languages used to write scrolls, he also taught her the way of the open hand so that she could defend herself when magic was not an option.
Things seemed to be going well for her until one fateful day when it all came crashing down around her.
The mages had learnt of Sun Mei presence up in the mountains and promptly dispatched men to capture the unsanctioned magi and bring her to the city.
Although Sun Mei hadn’t been present at the time, out picking herbs when the men had arrived, it was clear what had happened. The house a smoking ruin with the bodies of several men including that of her masters within.
With nowhere else to go Sun me gathered what few possessions she could find and fled, eventually finding herself amongst the rebellion where she hopes to complete her training as a Magi.

The young girl sat in the back of the wagon, her legs folded beneath herself as she meditated, although she was finding the rocking of the wagon and voices of the other recruits distracting.
She was short no more than 5’ 3” with pale almost porcelain skin and hazel eyes, her long hair woven atop her head and held in place with a pair of delicate black chopsticks as was the style back in her village, her hair itself had once upon a time been jet black but was now a violently bright shade of red matching the red silk kimono she wore.
It was no wonder that she stood out when placed in amongst the leather and mail worn by the others not to mention the fact that unlike the others she was completely unarmed a fact that had raised a few eyebrows amongst her new colleagues.
A large man with a bald head and gap tooth grin obviously assuming that the small unarmed girl was an easy target grabbed Sun Mei’s small bag with one of his great meaty paws “Let see what you have here little girl” he said with a smile pulling the bag towards himself.
Sun Mei’s hand shot out like a striking snake to catch hold of the man’s wrist who yelped with pain as the smoke began to rise from between her delicate fingers, releasing the bag.
After quietly collecting her things from the floor of the wagon she turned her attention back to meditating content that no one else would see her as an easy target.
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Thorin rested in the wagon, his back propped up against the wooden side, he was a tall man, and he was dressed in a shirt of mail, on his head he wore a thick helmet with eyepieces, noseguard, cheekguards and gold lining, underneath his mailshirt he wore a simple dark green tunic and dark brown trousers, on his feet were his fur-clad boots. attached to his back was his roundshield, painted red and green with a round boss.
his sword was sheathed on his belt, and his treasured Dane Axe was propped up next to him, in his fingers he twirled his knife, only vaguely listening to the conversations going on around him.
Thorin looked up as he heard some kind of commotion coming from the back of the wagon, there was a small wisp of smoke rising. he craned his neck, trying to see what was going on.

Lord Regal

Well-Known Member
Name: Joshua
Age: 24
Gender: Male

Class: Warrior (Swordmaster)
Weapons of Specialization: Sword (Audhulma)
Skills: Agility, speed, dodging, gambling
Biography: Joshua is a bit of an enigma to most people. He never speaks of his past, although anyone with a worldly knowledge can figure it out. By the fact he wears no armor and instead has a long, simple grey piece of clothing that extends to his ankles, it is obvious he is a Swordmaster, one of the desert nation Jehanna's finest fighters. Swordmasters are known for their ability to avoid attacks with an uncanny speed. They also don't move more than they have to when dodging, oftentimes simply leaning back just enough to have the strike miss. As far as attacking, they specialize in piercing any armor, oftentimes killing their enemy with a single blow.
Joshua may be a talented fighter, but he does have an almost unhealthy obsession with gambling. He constantly carries a coin around and flips it for any big decision, claiming luck will guide him in the proper direction. He seems flippant in his manner, but he's completely dependable once the fight starts. He carries with him a blade he calls Audhulma. What it means he has never said, although from the ancient and ornate hilt it is obvious it is an artifact of some sort.
Despite knowing how to fight, Joshua was never in Jehanna's army. Why he never said, and flat out refuses to say why he left his homeland. However, when the magi invaded the desert nation, he immediately signed up for the Guerilla force, as he knew they'd eventually head up that way to liberate his homeland.


Joshua saw the tall man across from him look over at the commotion in the back of the wagon. "Relax, friend." he said with a slight accent. "Whatever it is, it obviously has not caused anyone near them to tense up. As such, we should not worry about such frivolities." He leaned back. "Now then, might I inquire as to who you are and from where you came?" His hand casually moved to his sheath and felt the reassuring grip of Audhulma before returning it to its previous position. To the trained eye, that simple motion told mountains about what Joshua felt about the sword, but he doubted anyone here would be that perceptive.

(It's fine Peril...I love how thorough you are in your intros...sets a great background. Also, I don't know if anyone recognizes Joshua...I didn't make him up...if you don't recognize him, don't go looking as to his origins...I have plans for that later :) )
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Name: Ypoli the Hawk Rider

Age: 72 seasons

Gender: Female

Race: Fae

Class: Rogue

Appearance: Ypoli stands at a mighty 8 inches. She dresses in home made clothing from bits and pieces she's scrounged. The coloring of the clothing she wears is entirely dependent upon the season, as she uses it as extremely effective camouflage against the giants' rotten eyesight. Her skin is covered in a variety of brown tattoo art, most of which consists of sigils and swirls. They identify her tribe, and more importantly, she believes they provide powerful protection against dark magic. She always carries a bow and quiver of arrows, and a sewing needle slipped into the belt around her waist.

Weapons of Specialization: Spear, Bow, Fae Magic

Equipment: Home made bow and arrows, home made spear, backpack, several jars of poisons, twine, sewing needle.

Skills: Tracking, Stealth, Herbalism, Scrounging, Lock Picking, Bowyer/Fletcher, Crafting, Animal Ken

Biography: Ypoli was born under the auspicious sign of the second full moon of the same month in the autumn season. She grew for many seasons with her tribe, but was soon called upon by the council of elders, the representatives of each tribe, to accept a most important role as a scout of her people. She had already shown great aptitude with tracking and stealth, but the magic surrounding her birth was believed to protect her all the more from the giants who freely roamed the land.

She accepted the role with relish, as it played into the adventurer within her soul. She acted very well in her role, using her extremely keen eyesight to lead brownie raiding parties to unsuspecting giants who dared enter the realm of the brownies. It was short work, to put these giants to rest, and move them to places where they could pose no more harm.

Ypoli has an inordinate affinity with animal kind. When she happened upon a hawk, which had a severely injured wing, she alone was able to console it enough for the healers of the tribe to help the poor animal. The hawk, which she named Ackph because of its smell, befriended her whilst mending. When he was able to fly, Ypoli was able to place a harness upon his sturdy back, and they have been an inseperable team since. Ypoli took to the skies as a scout, and soon learned of the Giants War.

She watched from afar, ever fearful as the war steadily encroached closer to her borders. She informed the council of elders, and was ordered to act as emissary to the army. She sought out Lucas the Wise, and presented her case to the leader of the guerilla army. He, being wise and wishing not to offend the great brownie nation, opted to allow her to fight for the army as a scout, and act as liaison if the time comes for the army to enter her lands, lest the giants incur the wrath of the Fae.


The shrill cry of Ackph, a large male Red Tail Hawk, sounded high above the encampment. He circled the area a few times, tipped lazily over, and dove toward the ground. Ackph leveled out a few feet from the ground, and sailed his way through a group of startled onlookers, before flapping his wings furiously to land on a nearby stump. The hawk stood stoically on the stump, and a small flurry of movement occurred on his back.

Only by climbing off of the hawk's back did an extremely small being,
so well camouflaged amongst the feathers, become visible. This being, a scant inches tall, stretched and then stroked the fine underbelly feathers of the hawk, which chirped at her. She pulled a tiny makeshift spear from a home made harness, spoke to the hawk, grabbed the harness, and was carried over to the wagon. The hawk beats its wings furiously, and the being dropped down to the planking. Ackph landed long enough to get enough standing leverage to take off in flight once more.

The tiny woman looked up at the giants in the wagon, and moved over to the corner under the seat. She sat down, and rolled the diminutive spear back and forth on the plank she sat upon. She looked out at the giants and said nothing.


Name: Ral Belfast
Age: 22
Gender: Male
Class: Warrior
Weapons of Specialization: A hand and a half sword, as well as a long curved pick.
Skills: Coercion and Blending
Biography: Ral Belfast was born to Lord and Lady Belfast of the southern kingdoms. His noble birth sat him immediately upon a path of political intrigue and excess. His father was a rich man who made his fortune selling the sick, homeless and untrustworthy of his lands into slavery, though Ral, and Lady Belfast, were unaware of their patriarch's business dealings until much later.

As Ral grew, so did his natural deftness with a blade. Lord Belfast, realizing his son's skill and seeing an opportunity to cement his power back home in Tiran, sent out for the best swordsman money could buy. Ral believed that his father just wanted him to be happy, but the lord thought that, if his son was skilled enough, he could be given a place of authority in the Tiran army, little did he know that a month before his son would leave, she came.

She was an unparalleled beauty, a bard from a far off land. Her short red hair hung down to her chin and was ever so slightly disturbed when she spoke in an accent that made men's hearts melt and turn to putty. Her striking hazel eyes had an intensity and passion behind them that set Ral, and his father, on edge. Ral and Alexandria, the bard, soon fell deeply in love, unbeknowst to Ral's father. Lord Belfast, the lord of the manor soon took the bard, unwillingly, to his bed.

Alexandria, however, did not wish the Lord's attention, but she was in no place to argue his advances. Ral confronted her one evening and learned that she was forced each night, after Lord Belfast's wife, Ral's mother, went to sleep. Ral, both concerned for the bard and sick with anger at his father, both for his betrayal and for his nightly attacks upon the bard, begged off joining the army. This infuriated his father, and for the next year, she told him that the lord's attacks got more and more savage. She covered her bruises in fine silks and ointments, claiming she was clumsy while fox hunting, or that she had tripped while getting wine from the cellars, Lady Belfast never suspected.

Ral got angrier and angrier with each passing day. Each night, dinner was an affair that consisted of Ral and his father staring at each other with a look that, among strangers, would have been murderous. Ral had deprived his father of the influence he had paid so highly for and Ral's father was slowly killing the woman his son had come to cherish so.

It was late December when Ral and the bard, Alexandria, took flight from his father's lands upon a pair of stolen horses. They were followed. Ral and Alexandria got all the way into the wilds of Tiran before his father's men caught up with them. Ral and Alexandria fought an uphill battle against the five assassins, sent to kill the disgraced son of Lord Belfast and bring the bard back to Belfast. The battle seemed lost, Belfast's men proded at them with spears and Ral, the only one with a blade, could not defend them for long. That was when the Lucas stepped out of the underbrush, along with three of his archers.

Belfast's men fell easily to the overwhelming strength of Lucas Fenren and Ral, not having anywhere to go, joined the Guerrillas.

After so long in the saddle, so many hours of running from their past, Ral and Alexandria sat slumped against each other in the bed of the wagon, so tired were they that it was only the weight of the other that kept them upright. Ral's sword, given to him by his father 00hen he was but a lad, sat across his lap now in it's sheath.

Ral, one arm resting around the bard's waist and the other upon the hilt, caressed the ruby that was inlaid in the pommel. He smiled bitterly when he remembered the day his father had given it to him and told him that it was the sword of his ancestors, it's name was Duty, his father had said, looking up and down the blade with a loving expression. The sword had, when Ral was eleven, been so very heavy but now it was the perfect weight, weighty enough to stop a heavy blow, but light enough to move with alacrity. Ral looked down at it and smiled "You. You are Justice." he whispered.

Beside him, Alexandria stirred slightly and moved against him, her red hair parted, revealing the mottled bruises beneath, it made Ral angry. He thought of his father, his father the politician, his father the slaver, his father the willing disciple of the gods, his father. "I am not my father's son." Ral whispered again, more to reassure himself than anybody.

Alexandria spoke softly to him, without opening her eyes "I know this, Ral, you are a good man." her accent nearly broke his heart.

Ral smiled to himself, as he looked up from his sword, to the mage sitting not three feet away from him, her legs crossed. She was pale and had flame red hair. She looked to be at peace, until a large unsavory character tried to take the pack from her, then her hand whipped out and took his wrist in a grip that caused bone to creak, tears came to the man's eyes, as the mage pushed him away. He didn't come back, but Ral noticed him trying to use his hand, the bone was broken beyond repair.

A pair of fur boots stomped above him and a big northman looked back at the mage, his gaze quickly passing over Ral and Alexandria. Ral didn't know if he trusted these people, they were so different then he was, they were rough bearded men who sat around campfires, spitting and telling raucous jokes.

Ral and Alexandria looked out of place amid these people. Ral was a tall man, six a half feet tall with hair of a color between brown and red, no beard. Looking around, Ral saw a few men that looked as he did, but they were few and far between.

None, with the exception of the mage meditating beside her, looked as Alexandria did, however. The women all wore chainmail, just as the men, no dresses were in sight, aside from the robes worn by many of the magi. Alexandria was five and a half feet tall while standing in the heeled riding boots she had escaped with Ral in. Her dress was split in the skirts, as to allow her to ride a horse astride, it was a simple dress with a high neckline, but she wore it well, even after so much time.

Ral was startled momentarily by the screech of a hawk, he was surprised when he saw one of the red tails land on a nearby stump and stare at him. It was odd. What was even stranger was when it flew over to the wagon and sat a small person down onto the seat. Ral was flabbergasted for a moment, as the being sat down within touching distance of him "Uh. How do you do." Ral said to it, looking closely at the being's camouflage "I am Ral, please to meet you."
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Ypoli looked down at the giant named Ral, and quirked an eyebrow as he addressed her. She scratched absently at her shaggy looking mane of brown hair, and nodded. She said, "I am Ypoli the Hawk Rider." The tiny woman said her name with such pride, that it was impossible not to smirk in response. She looked at the others in the wagon, and then back at Ral. She said, "Surely with the assembled heroes here, the army is bound to succeed." The woman nodded her head vehemently, and looked up at the sky as she shielded her eyes. She looked back Ral, and stopped rolling her spear back and forth.


Ral surveyed the men of the camp, big hairy men sat around lazily, drinking from canteens, flasks and cups, Ral didn't think it was tea in there. He was used to the intimidating precision of units being ordered about, their shining spears standing straight up the unit's colors proudly on display, not the dirty unkempt guerrilla's, with the notched blades and earthy toned clothing that covered chainmail.

He looked back at the tiny person "If they can drag themselves out of the bottle." he said. "They don't seem to be very disciplined, from what I know, it takes that to engage in large battles."


Rael, Lucas Fenren's second, stepped into view of the wagon and called for silence, with a wave of his hand. As the men and women around the wagon stopped their conversations to look up at the man he spoke in a loud and authoritative voice "Alright, lovelies, Lucas is gathering up the last of you lot. He's got a welcome speech planned for you and all, so pay attention, it's important."

Meanwhile, Lucas approached Joshua, still speaking to their recruiter who looked rather edgy. Lucas clapped the man upon the shoulder a great grin across his face, it made the skin on either side of his eyes crinkle in a friendly and trustworthy way "It is good you came, friend." Lucas spoke "I am about to go speak to the unit you will be assigned with, please come."

With that, Lucas dismissed the recruiter's questions with a nod and showed Joshua to the wagons. As soon as everyone was settled, Lucas began his speech.

"Before I say anything of your roles, I would like to thank you. Our war for freedom will be long and hard, it has cost so many lives thus far that even I have worried that our war is not worth it, but what will be lost is nothing compared to what we shall gain."

Lucas pointed a thumb at Rael "Five years ago, Rael and I assaulted a fortress, just the two of us, and released the dragon being held there. I ask the same of this group of heroes before me today. There are hundreds of dragons, all across Tiran, who can be freed. Dragons have a strong community mind and will fight to free their comrades, the more we can save, the stronger force we will have."

"If you have any questions, this would be the time to ask them, before we start your training." Lucas stood and waited for one of the group to ask a question.


I am but a blade of grass within a field of many Sun Mei thought quietly letting her conciousness wander where it willed her, in the hope that it would reveal to her what the next step in her path would be. The screeching of a hawk pierced her thoughts causing her to open her eyes and gaze down at the tiny figure sat on the floor of the wagon but a short distance from where she sat "You honour me with your presence little spirit" she spoke quietly, bowing her head in respect as she had been instructed by her elders when in the presence of a spirit before allowing it to speak with the man beside her a high honour indeed.
Back in her village it had been traditional to leave offerings of cream and candied fruits for the spirits on certain nights of the year in order to avoid their mischief and perhaps if you were lucky to gain a small favour from them.
As the wagon finally trundled into the camp, Sun Mei gazed around at the army gathered around smoking campfires, large dirty looking men dressed in rough clothing and mail, laughing racously at crude jokes and drinking what she suspected to be liquor by the unsteadiness of some of them. It wasn't what she had expected, then again what had she expected? the only soldiers she had ever seen were the tax collectors retinue, tall men dressed in shining mail and the dark purple livery of the tax collector their lances held high as they rode their destriers into the village.
Carefully climbing from out of the wagon, her meagre belongings clutched tightly to her chest, Sun Mei watched as a tall man approached them before proceeding to address the assembled recruits in a friendly manner though when he spoke of training Sun mei suddenly became afraid that she had made a terrible mistake especially upon seeing the plethora of armoured men, never before had she felt so out of place "Excuse me...." she began speaking quietly upon hearing the invitation to ask questions "...but what manner of training are we to partake? for i have no skill with weapons or armour and if that is the case then a i am afraid that i'll of little use to you" she could feel the eyes of the other recruits on her as she spoke causing what little courage and serentity gathered in the back of the wagon to abandon her, leaving her somewhat nervous of her new surroundings.

Lord Regal

Well-Known Member
When the man with the axe didn't respond, Joshua didn't take offense, realizing his soft voice probably couldn't be heard over the commotion of the wagon and the other conversations. However, repeating himself would be awkward, so he settled back and continued to ride in silence.

Upon exiting the wagon, Joshua was only half listening to Rael's introduction. Rather, he spent his time looking around the camp at the ragtag bunch of men and women and attempting to determine their worth on the battlefield. He was interrupted by Lucas himself, who approached him and greeted him enthusiastically. At first Joshua was taken aback, wondering if he'd been recognized. However, after a moment he realized that his clothes (and utter lack of armor) marked him as a Jehanna Swordmaster. Realizing that their reputation preceded him, he relaxed and smiled as well. "Anything to end the tyranny" he replied, his accent marring the final word.

At the end of the introduction speech, the mage girl asked what kind of training they were to receive. Almost lazily he slightly raised two fingers on his right hand, as if seeking permission to speak. In his quiet, accented speech, he asked, "I would like to know that as well. I have been trained already to become what I am...I don't like the idea of having my style imposed on by other'd be unlucky at best."


"Ahh" Lucas exclaimed "This training will be different from anything you've ever experienced before. It's not meant to help you fight. When we freed the first dragon five years ago, Rael and I had mastered an art that few know. This art is our secret weapon against the magi that guard our dragonfriends. Magic simply disipated around us, if we wish it so."

He withdrew a small piece of parchment from a pocket and walked to the wagon. Lucas spread the rolled parchment out and weighted down each end with rocks, so it wouldn't roll back out. Upon the paper was a map of Tiran, from the wilds to the southlands, the entire kingdom of Tiran spread out upon the piece of paper. At intervals and in large cities were large black drawings that looked, in a rough way, like fortresses. Three of the black blobs had been crossed out with red ink.

"Each of these fortresses have a head magi, who respond directly to their master, who is in the capital."

Lucas clapped the men to either side of him upon the shoulder and said "I could not teach you to fight any better than you already do, my friends." Lucas pointed to a fortress that was on the outskirts of the wilds "You see, Rael and I have had our eyes on this for quite awhile, and now that you are here, we will be able to take it. This training you will recieve in the field, it is very dangerous and most that enter do not make it, but if this group perfects the skill, we will have a force strong enough to take a few more fortresses. Rael or I shall accompany you the first time, until we know you have the art."

Looking from face to face, Lucas ended his speech simply "All that is required for you to learn this skill is for you to believe the magic will not harm you. It is that simple." Lucas tried a reassuring smile "Any more questions? If not, I suggest you find an empty piece of ground and make your camp there."


Ypoli looked at Sun as she was greeted so formally, and grinned savagely at the woman. This one is going to be a lot of fun to play with she thought to herself. She looked around the wagon, at the others, while tilting her head as she kept her attention on Joshua and Thorin. She'd not seen most of the heraldry of any of these giants and wondered what manner of trouble the circle had led her to.

She turned her attention toward Rael as he informed the group of the approach of Lucas the Wise. She listened to the man speak, and hurried over to stand at the top of his map to look at, while he explained the strategy. She wrapped her arms around her spear, and leaned against it, lifting her eyes toward Lucas the Wise and said, "My markings already protect me from magic though."

Lord Regal

Well-Known Member
Joshua looked over the map, his normally cheerful expression darkening as he saw a black fortress in the capital of Jehanna, not far from Jehanna Hall, where the Queen resided. It was from there that the attack had come from, overwhelming the forces and seizing control. Queen Ismaire was still alive, but she was undoubtedly a prisoner, and even though he wasn't there, Joshua knew all of Jehanna would feel as he did...utter anger and hatred towards the cowardly mages who had committed the atrocity. He didn't know what Lucas meant by believing the magic wouldn't hurt him, but he decided that since he already knew how to recognize where most magic would hit and how to avoid it this new tactic wouldn't be too hard.

As he had no further questions, Joshua wandered a distance away from the main company and set up his own personal camp. He traveled simply, and as such his "camp" was really a soft area of ground with a disheveled blanket and a ragged version of the long piece of clothing he had on. He quietly drew Audhulma from its sheath and examined it. It was truly a thing of beauty. Adorned with a ruby, the pommel was ornate, and the hilt was made of perfectly crafted wood. The blade itself was relatively plain, but it too seemed to be very elegant. Overall, the weapon looked ancient and worth a ton of money. After giving it a thorough check-up, he sheathed it again and leaned back, simply enjoying the afternoon sun.


Lucas looked at Ypoli with a look of amazement. It took him a moment to form his thoughts into words "You are sure of this? Your markings? Could these not be converted for our use? We will have to speak on this again soon."

Rael, who had wondered off sometime during Lucas'es welcome speech, returned in a hurry. To the surprise, and alarm, of everybody arrayed about the wagons, Rael had one of his short swords clutched in his fist. The first third of the blade had drying blood upon it. "Lucas, we've got a scouting column closing in on the camp. What do you suggest?"

His back stiffening, Lucas rolled the piece of paper up and shoved it into his pocket. Looking around, he made eye contact with everyone from the wagon. He pulled the sword from his back and pushed the tip into the ground. "It seems that your rest must wait, friends. I hope you do not mind."

Ral sat up in the wagon, disturbing Alexandria in the process. He stood in the wagon and jumped from it, before helping the bard down with a helping hand upon her waist. Looking at her, Ral spoke "Stay in the camp, you are too tired to fight."

"Nonsense, Ral, this is my home too and you've been awake as long as I. Just allow me some privacy." Alexandria spoke softly, reaching into the wagon's bed and withdrawing her overstuffed pack. There was an unstrung bow and quiver of arrows fixed to the outside of it and, looking into it, Ral couldn't place any of what he saw, to him it was just a jumble of unmentionables and clothing. "Have a care where your eyes linger, Ral, wouldn't want anyone to see this mess." she threw over her shoulder, as she turned and walked into a nearby tent that was unoccupied.

Looking around, Ral noticed that Joshua, the swordsman that Lucas praised so highly, was still sitting at the camp he had sat up. Ral ran over to Joshua. The master swordsman had his finely made sword upon his lap and was stroking it, almost lovingly. Ral's eyes lingered on the blade "That is a fine blade, sir." Ral spoke "We have a problem. Lucas is calling us to battle, there is a Tiran force just a few miles away." Ral pulled the sword from the sheath across his back "I think we should go speak to Lucas, don't you agree?"

Lord Regal

Well-Known Member
Joshua opened his eyes and smiled lazily. "A few miles? All the time in the world then." Realizing his joke fell on flat ears, he adopted a slightly more serious expression and shook his head. "We're too young to worry such." However he stood, pulling Audhulma from its sheath, nodding in thanks at the compliment. "It's a..." there was a fairly long pause..."family heirloom." He was telling the truth, but there was obviously more to it than that. However, he declined to add more, instead smiling again. "So then, let's get over to Lucas, shall we?" He frowned, then laughed. "I believe I forgot to ask your apologies...I will correct the error now." He grinned at Ral, his silly expression making him look even younger than he was.


Ral fell into step beside Joshua, who was headed towards Lucas. There was something odd about Joshua's heirloom comment, as if he was telling one of those half truths Ral heard from his father so often. It annoyed Ral, a little, but he let it slide from his mind and focused upon the coming battle.

"I am Ral Belfast of the south." He told Joshua, as they neared the wagon. Lucas and Rael talked, as the heroes got ready for battle. Some sharpened blades, others, those that didn't live in it, put their chainmail on. When Joshua got to the wagon, Ral reached in and retrieved his own pack. Cinched to the outside of the pack by a buckle was a heavy pick. At one end was a leather handle and the other end was double edged one side was blunt and the other was pointed, there was still dried blood in a few of the crevices the weapon had acquired throughout it's long and distinguished career at the hands of the Belfasts.

Ral pushed the pick into his belt, before taking his shirt off and slipping some chainmail over his chest. He shivered, as the mail was cold upon his bare flesh, but it heated soon enough and it was wearable. He pulled his shirt back on over the top of the chain and smiled, the familiar weight of it comforted him.

It was then that Alexandria rounded the wagon. She folded the dress she had been wearing in upon itself and stashed it away in her pack, before taking the bow from it and, bending it against the ground, stringing it. Instead of the beautiful dress with the high neckline, she wore a tight fitting shirt that would have shown more skin than was proper, if not for the heavy mail she had on under the forest green tunic. She still wore the riding boots, but the trousers she wore obscured all but the toe of them. Her red hair still hung closely about her chin and moved slightly when she spoke "Do you approve?" she asked, her accent was soft and made Ral smile, as he said yes.


Lucas spoke in an authoritative tone, as he told Rael to make ready some horses and to gather a few more troops. He looked back at the group of assmebled heroes and spoke "It is almost time, friends. Make yourselves ready for battle."


Sun Mei looked about herself somewhat unsure as to what to do as the others from the wagon set about gathering weapons and armour for the upcoming attack. Looking about herself she spotted the red head as she came out of the tent dressed in mail and carrying a bow and quiver of arrows.
Taking a deep breath she cautiously walked towards her, she had never been very good at making friends and six years up in the mountains hadn’t made things any easier, but she had seemed nice so Sun Mei decided she’d risk it.
“Hello…I am Sun Mei….do you mind if I tag along with you…..only this is all very new to me” she asked trying to hide her nervousness, only to be betrayed by her fingers fidgeting with the strap on her bag, inside of which were the few items she had managed to rescue from her masters burning house.
From across the field in which they were camped, came the sound of Lucas’ voice calling the call to arms; being unarmed and carrying no armour meant that Sun Mei had very little in the way of preparation to make all she had to really do was relax and concentrate on remembering what she had been taught although the idea that magic could be resisted simply by Not believing in it was still somewhat difficult for her to grasp, she had spent the best part of her life learning the art and as far as she could tell their was nothing that could stop magic on a permanent basis even wards and enchantments eventually wore down though perhaps it was something to meditate on later when things quietened down a bit.


Ypoli listened to the giants talking about an encroaching enemy, and shielded her eyes from the sun as she searched the skies. She easily scaled the side of the wagon to stand on the bench. She shrilly whistled and yelled, "Ackph!" The hawk's screech sounded, and she placed the spear in her left hand as she moved to the edge of the wagon. The hawk came flying down low, and Ypoli leapt out as it soared by, grabbed the harness and was climbing onto his back even as the hawk began beating its wings to get higher in the sky. She turned and headed off in the direction Rael had indicated the army was moving in from.