Dragonsbane - RP

[Dragonium]

I'm so bored, I felt like starting a good old fashioned RP.

~~~~~~

This is a world in turmoil.

Dragons, they call them. Wyrms, in the Old Tongue. The lowest form of existence, visited upon society as a plague, a curse. A pestilence upon the very soil we work for a living.

They come into our villages. Thirty feet, most of them. And those are the small ones. With a wingspan that can cast a shadow over a small town and breath which could scorch through thick steel, these "Dragons" are the ultimate predators. They do not discriminate. They take women, children, the elderly, all to feed their brood. And every few years, they multiply. Many people are losing hope.

There are those who would slay these Dragons. The Dragon Hunters,  as they choose to be known. They wield their weapons with complacence and pride, daring to stride forth and say that they alone will wrest the world from the Dragons' talons.

They usually die first.

Somewhere there lies an underground society, say the people with the knowledge. The Slayers' Circle, a band of hunters who are imbued with the Seed of Ages (The seed of the Yggdrasil tree, said to bring unnaturally long life), and have become expert in the slaying of these dragons. They recruit their members by selection, not from volunteers. They live secretive lives. And though they die sometimes from being unfortunate in their trade, there are a number who still live...

Dragons are tough. Even the professionals struggle to slay them.

And still, the Dragons grow in number. Soon, mankind in this world will be overwhelmed, and the Dragons may well become dominant. Some say they have an agenda, an intelligence more complex than man's, which allows them to strive for their goal. Whatever that is, nobody knows.

But we all must pray that soon, a band of heroes may find a way to destroy this vile plague and save us all from a fiery end.

(Yeah, it's all a bit Reign of Fire, but it'll unfold more as we progress)

~~~~~~

The usual RP rules apply. Any group is acceptable: characters can be Slayer's Circle members, self-employed Hunters, or other types. One character per player or it gets confusing. No Godmodding, etc. Story style writing please. Don't control other people's players. It's a Medieval, Fantasy setting, so no guns or futuristic stuff. Try to be professional about it. And please use good grammar. (Mini list of rules over )

Oh, and I don't care how tough your character is, you can't kill a Dragon in one hit, or without getting hit first. No Godmodding.

~~~~~~

Name: Dragonium.
Age: 510 (Prolonged by Seed of Ages).
Gender: Male.
Height: 6'1.
Race: Human.
Class: DragonSlayer.
Personality: Emotional, cynical, reckless in battle.
Weapons and Gear: Large two-handed Greatsword, ancient and sharp, known simply as a Slayer Blade. Wears full plate armour in a similar ornate style, with a helmet in the style of a Dragon's skull (The trademark helm of the Slayers' Circle). Hair is allowed to flow freely from beneath helmet. When fully armoured and wearing helmet, only the mouth of the wearer is visible. Also wears brown leather gloves and a bronze ring given to him by a friend.
Skills: No specific skills as such, but many years of education has left him able to bring down a Dragon alone, providing luck is on his side.  
Affiliation/Organisation: The Slayers' Circle.
Strengths: One-on-one combat, battling Dragons, using heavy weapons.
Weaknesses: Combat against numerous enemies, escaping from battle (Prefers to stand and fight rather than run), tends to be unlucky. As a side-effect of the Seed of Ages, he can quickly lose his cool in emotional situations.
Biography: A social outcast, Dragonium (Or Draa, as he was once known) was forced to earn a living on the farm or die on the Plains. While toiling on the land, he trained in the art of the sword with a friend. One day, while the two were training after a long day's work, a female Dragon, looking to feed her starving brood, swooped down on the farmland in a blaze of claws and fangs. Draa's friend was killed instantly, and Draa narrowly escaped death, earning himself a wound to his side while he did so. As the Dragon moved in to secure her meal, Draa used his last remaining strength to hoist his sword. The predator leaned in too eagerly towards the raised blade, and fell hard upon its tip, impaling itself and winning nothing but a quick death.
Draa awoke some time later, in the hall of the Slayers' Circle. Finding that a Circle mage had healed his wounds, he thanked the group, though still in mourning for his friend. In return, the Circle asked that he joined them, imbuing him with the Seed of Ages. He was thereby trained to slay Dragons, and his life as a Slayer began.
Description/Appearance: Tall and fairly muscular. Has long crimson hair tied into a ponytail. Wears armour much of the time.

(Sorry, long character intro. Omit details as you see fit)

~~~~~~

Dragonium reached for his blade.

The sky was a shade of piercing white, and it made his head swim. It was far too early.

After a lengthy struggle with his will, he opened his eyes. He was facing the sky, and that was never good. He sat up. The Plains opened wide around him, seemingly having no horizon. He would have stayed to enjoy the view if it weren't for more pressing business.

All around him, the ground was scorched and burnt. Apparently, he was lying in the centre of a ring of blackened grass. Damn, he thought to himself, That's never a good place to be lying. His legs felt as though they were rooted to the ground; he struggled to lift his weight off the ground, and almost fell back down when he tried to stand.

Finally he was able to look around. The ring of burnt grass was actually a teardrop shape, and he immediately set off in the direction of the point. That was always the way they made off, and he hoped dearly he'd managed to land a good hit before the flames hit him.

It wasn't so much the heat. He was used to that. It was the acrid, acid fumes which caught his throat and had him on the floor retching. Easy prey.

He crested a rise, and saw his quarry in the valley below. It was a good hundred feet away, but Dragons had incredible senses, and he would have been heard by now. It didn't move, and he knew it was dead.

Dragonium felt very pleased with himself. He hadn't noticed when it had been trying to tear him limb from limb, but it was a big one.

He came down the slope to where it lay. It was probably fifty feet long, though thirty of those were its tail. It had a long, thin snout, bathed in small red scales, like the rest of its body. He thought back to his training. What were these ones called? Ah, yes. Firemaw. Red Firemaw. Probably a male. It certainly had the wingspan to show for it. Impressive.

For a dwindling moment, he thought it looked almost sad, in its face. But no, that was stupid. They didn't feel sadness, he thought. Only anger. Blind rage.

Besides, there was no point dwelling on it. One dead Dragon, twenty more innocent lives spared. If only there was a way to do it without risking his life every single time.

But he knew that would never happen.

He climbed the slope, looked back down at his kill, and couldn't shake the feeling he was being watched.

(That's me for tonight. Get postin'. )

[Moosetroop11]

Name: Saint
Age: Mind: unknown. Body: 2
Gender: Male
Race: Grown

History: An ancient mage, he was a good man, but was obsessed with discovering eternal life. He was instrumental in discovering the seed of ages but wanted a permanant solution. In answer to this, he eventually learned to create a new body for himself every few hundred years, and transfer his mind to the new body. Over many of these transfers his mind has become incresingly unstable. As can be seen by his 'body age', he last transferred roughly two years ago.

Appearance: Although his body is two years old, he created it fully grown to his specifications, and thus he appears about nineteen. The only indication of his inhuman nature are his grey hair and deep purple eyes.

---------------------

Saint stood silently on a scortched hill, waiting patiently for the dragon hunter to leave. Only then did he descend and walk up to the lifeless corpse.

"Beautiful. But were you so wronged?"

He knelt by the dragon's head and placed his cheek against it's nose. "You mustn't be hard on him. You know he does what he must to protect his people." Saint's brown robes began to dampen with his tears. Then, suddenly angered by his weakness, he stood and struck the dragon's corpe with his booted foot. Then he composed himself. "You're dead you know" he noted. "The human must be doing something right."

[Dragonium]

Dragonium wandered back along the path he had taken to get here.

He could see the scorched ring where he had returned to consciousness, a shimmering black shadow on the horizon. It would be ten minutes walk until he got within visual distance of the village, Serradee. And then it would be another half hour until he could get to his room and sit down.

The midday sun was beating down in full force, and he felt as though he would be walking for a long time yet. The ground was baked dry from weeks of hot weather, and his feet were hurting already. Eventually he gave up, stuck his sword in the ground, and sat down in a heap.

He had his hip-flask with him, and he took a long draught of its contents. He shuddered. The cask at the Slayers' Den was old and unused, and the ale within was stagnant as a swamp. Certainly it refreshed him, and he did not mind the bitter taste or the fermented smell, but he absolutely refused to swallow it. God knew what was swimming about in it. He let it flow over his tongue for a moment, took in the taste, and then spat it out onto the ground.

Now would be a good time for a snack, he thought. Just something to keep his energy up. Searching with his hand, he found his knapsack on his back, and swung it about to reach into it.

Empty. There was a gaping hole singed in the bottom of the leather bag. Some fibres were broken at the edges of the burn, though they seemed not to have been burnt through.

Slowly he pieced together the clues. The Firemaw that had dived on him must have burnt a hole in the sack, but it had not broken. When he was descending the slope twenty minutes back, the blasted hide must finally have given out. Which meant that all his provisions were lying alongside the Dragon, down at the bottom of the valley.

He lifted his sword and turned, setting off back in the direction of the valley. As he began to walk, something caught his eye. Off in the distance a large shadow was circling in the sky. A Dragon, certainly. But the way it circled about worried him greatly. He had seen enough Dragon behaviour to know that Dragons only did that when they had their prey spotted, on the ground. It was then that they decided what to do. Firemaws tended to attack first with a diving blast of Dragon-Flame. Other types would fly down and maul their quarry.

Whatever it was, it had its victim spotted, and that meant he had to do all he could to help the situation.

It was a long walk, but still...

Dragonium took another draught from his hip-flask, spat the putrid alcohol onto the ground beside the first mouthful, and strode forth in the direction of the valley.

[Drace]

Name: Bowen
Age: 38
Gender: Male.
Height: 6'0.
Race: Human.
Class: Dragon hunter.
Personality: Strong mind, fearless, loner (That's a bad quality, fearless is too in a kinda way. It makes people act foolish sometimes.)
Weapons and Gear: An Excalibur Longsword, made for one hand and two hand fighting. Based on tales about the sword of the great king Arthur, Excalibur, Bowen has crafted the Excalibur Longsword along with a group of specialists. The Longsword is made from the strongest steel there is, but also from the one that's the lightests. It's sharp like knife through butter and light as a feather, the lenght of the blade is just on the edge of being to big for one hand, but the lightness makes it capeable to use it in one hand. Because of this, Bowen has a great adventage. He has a shield with him, made from the same metal as his sword, to protect him in battle. If the need is there, he can simple toss away his shield and use his sword with two hands.

Other than his weapons, Bowen wears only light to medium armor. He knows armor isn't going to help against a dragon's breath so he decided to keep it light so he can dodge attacks better.

Skills: No special skills, he knows how to fight extremely well with a one hand and two handed sword and use a shield and has experience at fighting dragons, but that's it.
Affiliation/Organisation: None.
Strengths: Dragons, one on one/two/three, swords.
Weaknesses: His fearless personality makes him act foolish sometimes, he also has a problem with fighting women (finds it not honorfull to kill a woman). He's a loner, so he also tends to prefer to fight and travel alone, except when the need to help is high.
Biography:
Sir Bowen was a soldier, a fighter befriended with the king. Bowen would often protect and watch over Einon, the son of the king. He thought Einon the old code and swordfighting. On one raid of a village, where Bowen stood with Einon on a hill overlooking the battle, the king fell. Einon foolishly rood to his father's corpse but fell of his horse and a spike impaled him and heavily damaged his hearth. There was still a change for Einon though. Einon's mother along with Bowen and a few soldiers took his body to Draco,  who split his own heart so the prince could live. However, after his resurrection, the prince became a cruel tyrant once he became the new king. Bowen decided that the dragon's heart made Einon evil, and set out to destroy the entire dragonkin. On his journey, Bowen met a monk, Brother Gilbert of Glockenspur, who wanted to write down events of Bowen's life as a dragon hunter. Brother Gilbert travels with Bowen ever since, but never joins the battle. Most of the times he's in the nearby village, finding out about new dragons for Bowen to hunt down, a place to stay the night, getting food and drinks and all the other stuff Bowen has little time for while tracking down the dragons.
----
Yar, mixing into Reign of Fire (Which Drag obviously leans towards) is Dragonhearth, one of the best dragon movies ever. Now, these two excellent and outstanding movies together will make one awesome story.
---

"A village, finally a village!" Brother Gilbert spoke with joy. Gilbert's eyes were sparkling with tears of happiness, for finally they had found a village. A place to rest from their endless journeying, a place to relax the old feet and to feast down on delicious food in a pub.

"Finally after eight days Bowen! We can rest again!"

"True my ol' friend, true. Well Gilbert, if you'll be so kind to find my horse and your mule a stable for the night, I'll try to find us a nice inn and a pub." Bowen said to Gilbert whiles dismounting his horse.

"Aye. I'll find our companions a nice stable. Will do them some good."

[Emerates]

Name: Haku
Age: 22
Gender: Male.
Height: 5'10
Race: Human
Class: Ensign
Personality: Quiet, determined, perceptive, analytical
Weapons and Gear: Between medium and heavy armor, sprayed with flame-retardent to help defend against dragon.  Lance while riding horse, katana on foot.

Skills: Telekinesis
Alignment: Light
Attribute: Wind
Biography: Married at age 19 in secret, ran from home and joined the royal guard, where he graduated within the top 16th in his class.  Disbanned shortly after graduation for disobeying superior officers.  Often trains in his spare time, while trying to maintan a small farm to support his wife and son.  Occasionally takes small-time mercenary jobs to make ends meet.

----------

   "I'll come back.  I promise," Haku said quietly to Kiya.  "It won't be like last time.  I'm much stronger now.  And besides, we need the money to get Kashi through his schooling."
   "I know we need the money, but I still hate it when you take these hunting jobs.  I nearly died when I saw how badly you were hurt on your last job."
   "Don't worry.  I'll be back in two weeks, at the max.  It's just a small infestation up on the other side of the ridge.  It's nothing to worry about.  I just go into the cave, slay some of the Wyrms, and collect my fee.  Nothing to it.  I've done it a dozen times."
   "Alright.  But be careful.  And take your armor this time."
   "Of course."  Haku walked slowly through the cottage, stopping to look out the only window in the house, to gaze out at his son playing with his small dog, Yoshi.  Something to stay alive for.

   Slowly, Haku donned the old armor he had earned three years earlier from his training in the Royal Guard.  He winced,  still feeling the deep cut that still burned in his left shoulder.  That won't happen this time, he thought through the stinging sensation that was slowly starting to course through his body.
   "I'm ready," he said to no one in particular.  Pacing himself, he crossed the length of the house and stepped out the door, circling around the house to the small stable jutting out from the side of the house.  His horse, Jade, was waiting for him.  Kiya must have gotten her ready for me, he thought to himself.
   Haku noticed the two strangers coming down from the opposite hill.  Perhaps if they were here when he got back, he would talk with them about their travels.  But for now, there was business to attend to.

[Dragonium]

I think it's best if I clear some things up before we continue.

1) I'm not basing the story off any movies. I mentioned Reign of Fire because after writing the story I re-read it and noticed it sounded a little like Reign of Fire, but in a different setting. It's not taken from anything. Like a wise man once said, "When two men wear the same robes, they do not wear the same titles". Or something.

2) We're using a fantasy setting. By this reasoning, places from our world (i.e. Camelot) wouldn't be included. If you want to make up the name of a town or country for this RP, that's perfectly fine. It's good if we can all shape the world.

3) Original characters only please. We want it to be fun and not copied from anywhere, and it's best if we're not always thinking, "Hold on, that never happened in the movie".

Drace, you can use that character. That's fine. However, would you mind tweaking your story to omit the Dragonheart details? (Camelot, Draco, etc.). We're using a different idea of dragons here, so Draco wouldn't fit in. Like I say, original characters. Apart from that, everything's fine.

Since I'm here I'd better make a post.

(EDIT: Typos removed)

~~~~~~~~~~

He reached the valley after a brisk stroll, and ensuring he had his sword at the ready, he descended into the valley.

For a fleeting moment, he thought he saw another person standing by the Dragon's corpse, but instead of investigating closer he dismissed the thought and gathered up his fallen provisions. Once he had everything secured in the pouches on his belt, he climbed the slope.

As he reached the top and looked around to get his bearings, the Dragon sailed overhead in the direction of the village.

Dragonium cursed, feeling panic rising in his chest, lifted his sword and set off behind the flying creature.

This couldn't be good.

[Moosetroop11]

Saint gazed upon Haku with slight interest. Here was a man who thought he knew his path. His many years had taught him surprisingly little -This could be told from a glance- but  Saint had a feeling that the man would have a part to play in the unfolding story.

Saint turned and walked away from the town. For now, another part of the story was unfolding elsewhere, and as always he would be present to witness it. Fallen leaves whipped around his feet as he steadily made his way towards the Wyrm infestation on a nearby mountain. Where predators gather, surely the hunter shall as well.

[coreystranick]

Name: Crag Onmar
Age: 300 (Due to Seed of Ages)
Gender: Male.
Height: 5'11"
Race: Human.
Class: DragonSlayer.
Personality: Good-hearted, cynical at times. A loner
Weapons and Gear:  Heavy-class armor. But with the metal it is made from it does not wear as much as heavy armor so movement is still good, but not great. A greatsword that has been in his family for ages. And a crossbow, used only when first sighting a dragon or when they are flying.
Skills: Very good at one-on-one combat. Also good at using ranged weapons.
Affiliation/Organisation: The Slayers' Circle.
Strengths: Good-hearted so wants to always help, strong and good with his weapons.
Weaknesses: Trying to help all the time, and gets into trouble with older members of the Slayer's Circle
Biography: He does not recall his past days as they are from away from him now. He does remember that his village had been burned down by a huge onix colored dragon. He has yet to find the name of it, nor battle a dragon like that.  He is also one of the younger memebers of the order, so his tends to be lectured alot. Due to this he sometimes uses his own judgement of always having to help, and does not remember nor follow the elder member's rules.
Description/Appearance: Hair is a dark brown, as well as his eyes. Some say he has "wild eyes", this may be due to the tragedy he faced before becoming a member. His skin has been tanned and scorched from many battles with dragons and being in the sun, so his has a dark color skin.  Being a loner he often fights alone, this can be bad but he does it anyway. His armor is stained red from the bloof of many battles, but the original color is ebony.
========================================
Crag awakes from his slumber.
"Ahh, 'tis a new day. I wonder if that dragon will attack today."
He starts to reminisce about the day his village burned.His mind starts to slowly drift back to when he was 15. He sits wincing as the screams of mothers and daughers ring thorugh his ear, people funning. Everything is being burned, houses collapse with people still inside. He remembers his father coming by on a horse and picking him up. They rode off away from the screams of his freinds. As he sits on the saddle with his father he hopes that his friends have gotten out alive. All he rememebers after that is falling asleep,leaning on his father. It was the last day he would ever see his friends again.  

Even though he is 300 years old, that is one memory that is still vivid in his mind.

"Bah, I will have that dragon's head one day."

*There is a knocking on his dor*

"Yes? what is it?"
"Dragon sited around the town of Bjorn, you have been sent to dispatch it", says a messenger of the Circle.
"What kind?",Crag questions eagerly.
"We are not sure, the boy who came to us with the call was in too much shock to describe it"
"Alright, well, I shall leave at once"

With that he gathers his crossbow, sword and armor. As well as other provisions he may need. And with that sets off towrads Bojn, feeling that this may be the day he can get his revenge on that dragon.

[Dragonium]

(Corey, I'm finding it quite disturbing that the way you described the Slayers' Circle is exactly how I originally invented it. )

~~~~~~~~~~

Dragonium carried on running.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed. Nor was he aware of the breathlessness he had to endure. That was the usual feeling; not being able to run any more, and yet being unable to stop. A Dragon going for a well-populated village was a rare occurence, since they usually attacked travellers, warriors, traders, but it was not unheard of. He cursed under his breath. He hated it when they did that. How dare they?!

He really hated Dragons.

Dragonium knew that one of the reasons the Circle picked its members was their utmost hatred of Dragonkind. And that wasn't fair. A man who hates another man can live his life alongside his bitter enemy. But when his enemy is an entire species, common as the proverbial worms that they were - that just wasn't fair.

The group was a small one. A hundred members spread around the world. And they spent a lot of time together, considering the Seed. They were close, certainly. A few rivalries built up on occasion. A missed attack here, a stolen kill their. But on the whole, nobody cared who won out so long as the Dragon was dead.

The Dragon reached the town, and for once Dragonium was able to get a decent look at it. The scales were white on first glance, but with a lustrous tint to them which shimmered in the sun. Its snout was shorter than that of a Firemaw, and had a distinctly square edge to it. Its tail was the most prominent feature of its figure; long, wider at the end and adorned with a fierce array of sharp spikes.

Thorntip. Female. And if one was attacking a village, it was very hungry.

Charging a hungry Thorntip head on would mean certain death. Dragonium hoped dearly that there weren't any fool Dragon-hunters in the village who fancied trying their luck. Idiots. He hated them almost as much as the Dragons. What, he was protecting them from ever having to fight a Dragon, so they'd just go out and get themselves killed?

That wasn't fair either.

He reached the village as the Dragon circled overhead. It wouldn't attack until it had a target picked out, which was fortunate.

"Get inside", he called, hoisting his sword and waiting for the villagers to scatter and run into their houses. That was the safest place for them to be, which wasn't saying much.

A few people drew their swords and looked up at the Dragon circling overhead. Damn hunters. They'd be dead very soon if they didn't get inside.

A door opened close by and a familiar face stepped out. Crag Onmar, one of the members of the Circle he shared a particular friendship with, despite his relatively young age. "Crag", he gasped, still breathless from the sprint to the village, "I understand if you have other business, but for now let's make sure Serradee doesn't end up as a pile of rubble".

Crag nodded and smiled.

Lifting his sword onto his shoulder, Dragonium looked up at the Dragon, and then around at the assorted people still on the streets. There was a warrior and a monk a little way up the road, a warrior who had just stepped out of a house nearby, and a young grey-haired man who seemed to be leaving, and appeared to be unarmed.

"These people aren't shifting", he sighed. "Come on Crag, let's show 'em how real DragonSlayers fight".

[coreystranick]

(Haha, wow that is kinda weird)
=======================
After stepping through the door and seeing Drag there, Crag knew something wasn't right. There must be a dragon here.

While unsheathing his sword Crag thought to himself,"How did I sleep through a buch of people screaming? That dragon must have come while I had that flashback and the screams from the village must have mixed into my flashback."

"Dragonium, why do these "Hunters" insist on tyring to fight dragons the wrong way?"

Dragonium just laughed.

"Wait, Dragonium, you run ahead and I will go behind the dragon and start shooting it with my crossbow,to distract it, while you get those two out of here."

Dragonium just nodded. The plan was set. Not a sure-fire plan but you can't really have an exact plan when fighting a hungry dragon. They set off to their posistions, Crag found a good spot below the dragon and readied his crossbow. The dragon has yet to pick a target.

"I won't give that filthy beast a chance!"

And with that fires one of his arrows. But Crag's arrows are special, half-way to their target and it splits into four. Gives a must greater chance to hit a dragon.

The arrow has split and the dragon makes a loud roar.

"Yes, atleast one of my arrows hit it."

Crag looks and sees that the dragon has started to desecend, it chose the perfect target. Him.

"Now starts the real fun."

Crag unsheathes his sword, may this be the final time or not, who knows.

[Dragonium]

Dragonium nodded again for confirmation. Crag might be one of the younger Slayers, he thought, but he certainly knew how to hold his own until reinforcements arrived. Thorntips weren't too tough when the Slayer was in an enclosed space. If you survived the Dragon's initial diving attack, they were just big lizards. With big spikes all over them.

It was a dangerous business. You had to learn fast, or you were dead.

He ran to the group of assembled warriors. "I don't have time to explain, but you should get to cover. I don't care who you are, how skilled you are, or what reasons you have for fighting. Get moving. Now". With that, he turned and ran back to where Crag stood, ready.

He looked up to where the Dragon had got to. It was roughly half way through its dive, and he could see the tail spikes and talons bristling, ready to hack and claw and gouge. Crag was ready. Fortunate. Though if he could defend against that properly, with all the desperation of a hungry Dragon, he was very lucky.

Dragonium lifted his sword again and ran to a hidden position at the the corner of the house. When the Dragon got close to the floor as it made its dive, it would be within range for a counter-attack.

He couldn't kill it in one strike. Nor could anyone. But he'd be damned if he'd abandon Crag to fight alone.

He sighed and steadied his grip. Time for action.

[I Have a Sandwich]

Name: Singhin Kirsehn
Age: 23
Gender: Male
Height: 5' 9"
Race: Human
Class: Slayer Knight
Personality: Stern, overly rational
Weapons and Gear: The equipment Singhin posesses is minimal, for when one is in a business such as his, being burdened
with frivolrous items is nothing but a hassle. Of course he is equipped with the standard armor one needs for such a job. Its
steel complexion is littered with dirt and grime which dulls the gilded trim adorning each individual plate. Small bits of
gravel and md have worked their way within some of the joints of the armor, inhibiting the speed if his motion, particular in
his left arm. Hanging from his left hip is a blade slightly smaller than the average broadsword, Allowing it to be used in one
hand. Dried blood is caked along the steel, the hide of the grip permanently stained the deep red color of the death. WHile the
back of the tasset of the armor seems like any other plate, it was designed with intention for use of a shield, detaching from
the rest when needed. A gold crucifix adorns the left pauldron, the single icon which identifies himself to the guild. Hanging
from his right hip is a small satchel made from the intestine of one of his victims, the thick leather protecting its components
inside rather well from the average wear and tear. When needed, an old battered and burned cloak, with a pin in the form of the
Guilds icon, is draped over his shoulders. For maximum efficiency, on his hands are black finger less gloves, heavily padded on the palm of his grip, allowing him to grip  his blade without destroying his hands.
Skills: Swordsmanship, guild techniques
Affiliation/Organisation: The Guild
Strengths: Can plan out entire battles from the beginning to hopefully ensure himself the least bodily harm
Weaknesses: Overly rational, thinks things out too thoroughly. Tends to pass up opportunities believing them to be chaos
 in disguise.
Biography: A simple city child for the early stages of his life, he always felt like he was meant to do something
important, something from which the others of the world could benefit from. He grew up in the northern city of Knowls, a city
few go to, including hunters. One day, when Singhin was roughly 11 years old, soemthing occured which cemented his decision of
what his life would mean. A wyvern, a smaller species of dragon, no match for a trained hunter, attacked the city. Of course,
this was a smaller city, and without anyone with proper training around, the wyvern caused massive property and human damage.
His family made it out alive, and for the next for years, his life was a constant debate with them on his decision to become a
hunter.

Luckily, his chance came near the end of his fifthteenth year. A wandering hunter by the name of Glosnust came through
the city. The citizens praised his arrival, and paid him handsomely to dispatch the wyvern that had been plauging them for
years. Of course, he quickly defeated it, collecting his pay and moving on rather quickly. Singhin begged and pleaded him to
allow him to come, citing his experience since childhood with a sword. WHile he had been using a sword for many years, without a
proper trainer his abilities were unbalanced at best. Glosnust turned him down, claiming that the hunters way of life was
neither a happy nor an easy one, but this did not deter Singhin. When HGlosnust left out, Singhin followed him, carrying nothing
but what he had worn that morning.

For 2 weeks he followed Glosnust, scrounging whatever he found on his way, waiting for
Glosnust to acknowledge him. Seventeen days later, he did. Glosnust agreed to take him and train him, teaching him the art of
slaying dragons. Until the age of 20 he traveled with him, slaying dragons alongside his master, learning and growing in the
skill. One day, they took a job with a royal member from an unknown bloodline to defeat a dragon plauging one of his
territories. They took this job, but during the fight Glosnust was dealt a lethal wound. Calling Singhin to his side, he pulled
the cross off his own pauldron, and in handing it to SInghin told him where he could find the headquarters of the Guild, and if
he showed them the icon, he could join their ranks. Congratulating Singhin on his abilities to become a hunter, he shortly died,
leaving SInghin on his own.

Alone, he journeyed to the Guild, wearing the armor his master had crafted for him many years ago.
After finding the headquarters, and proving himself to be pupil of Glosnust, he was accepted into the guild, placing the cross
on his own pauldron, marking his status as an official dragon hunter. Once he had entered the ranks of the guild, he was allowed
to train himself in even more skills exclusive to its hunters. He was taught the techniques developed by its founder known as
"Shining tehniques".

These techniques, usually used by channeling energies through ones blade, can harness light and energy into
an attack which can often give one the upper edge. Unfortuantely, these techniques require much focus, as well as much energy
from within the summoner, leaving them to be used as a last resort.
Description/Appearance: Singhins hair hangs down to the bottom of his neck in the back, with bangs reaching just below
his dark brown eyes, but parted to the right so he may see visibly during the day. Like many other members of the Guild, his
hair has been dyed a deep purple using a process only known by the Guild itself. His face is always a stern look, rarely
faltering to express even the mst minute amount of joy.
The Guild: While the SLayer's Circle is most likely the most known and influential group of slayers, there are many other
organizations, many with members of the same strengths. The Guild is one of these. With a formation date unknown to even its
leaders, for centuries it has taken in hunters, training them to be its knights, to serve and to honor the ways of their
brotherhood. Membership however, is just as exclusive as the Circle, with member counts barely breaching 400. But unlike the
Circle, they do allow applications, but due to its secrecy in intself, very few non-members even know of the Guild, much less
how to apply.
(I'll wait to post for a second if yeh don't mind)
================================

[Emerates]

Haku woke slowly.  The fatigue from his ascent had taken its toll both mentally and physically.  His head was still swimming when he saw the commotion going on.  A massive dragon, spikes adorning its spine, swooping at the ground and an occasional jet of flames.  How? Haku wondered.  He had made it half-way up the mountain, only to have to turn back around.

But as Haku started to scramble for his equipment, he noticed the dragon's behaviour.  Instead of sweeping random victims into its large claws and scorching anything that moved, it appeared to be focused on one particular area.  Or, more spefically, one person.  Apparently, someone had already engaged the dragon in combat.  Or it had found its first victim.

There was nothing he could do but watch, as a sprint back down the mountain would prove effectively useless.  By the time he got there, the dragon would either be dead, have fled, or have burned his village to the ground.  

Suddenly, the dragon recoiled sharply, as if stabbed in some part of its body.  Somebody had wounded it.  Hopefully.  Only a few moments later, it jerked again, flew behind the monastery, and disappeared from Haku's sight.  There was some small movement, as two figures closed in on it.  Nothing to do but hope for the best, Haku thought slowly.  If they were real dragon slayers, born and trained for this line of work, the dragon would be dead momentarily.  If not, the village, along with its people would be several minutes later.

Slowly, Haku resumed outfitting his armor.  Another few hours, and he would be at the top of the mountain.  On the other side, the cave supposedly filling with Wyrms.  He checked his large satchel.  One filled with provisions, food and bandages, prepared by his humble wife. The other....  if the monk had been correct, it would collapse the cave, leaving the dragons no place to settle anywhere near here until they found a new cavern large enough to colonize.  And that could take months.

As he tied the last length of ribbon around his armor, he looked back to the village.  It was still there.  Which meant the dragon was either gone, or dead.  Hopefully the latter.  Haku swung up onto Jade, checking the straps and reins.  Hmmm.....  He had forgotten to do so before sadling up.  The excitement down at the village must have distracted him.  Or maybe he was just rusty from last time.

Slowly, Jade began to move up the slope.  Eventually, it would get too steep, and Haku would have to go on foot.  After that, he would have to climb.  And hauling a 60-stone bag, along with his armor, would not be easy.  But it had to be done.

Haku reached the relative point where his horse could no longer go steadily.  He tied her reins to a nearby log, and slowly began his long walk to the dangers ahead, alone.

[coreystranick]

The dragon headed straight for Crag. With his sword ready he waited. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dragonium get into a hidden spot. Atleast hidden from the dragon. He knew a fellow Slayer would bever leave the other behind.

Crag knew that even if he blocked this attack he would be stunned momentarily from such great force, he was glad to have Dragonium there, otherwise this would surley be his final battle.

The attack is coming, a couple more seconds and he will live or die. Atleast for a good cause.


A sound of clashing claws ans swords it heard. Crag has been thrown back by the force of the dragon attack. He goes through some houses, and lands hard.

He can hear the dragon coming close, or is he just going fading out? Is it for a short period of is he dead?

While everything starts to turn balck and fade away Crag mutters to himself,"I will have shamed my village if I neveer beat that dragon, bah, atleast I may have died in a good battle."

Still fading he loses sense of time hos mind wanders. Thoughts cross over one another.

"Is the battle still going on?"
"Am I alive?"
"How is Drag fairing?"
" Will I wake up to the battle still raging and be able to help?"

Everything goes balck and Crag can hear nor see anything that is going on. His mind stops turning....is he dead?

[I Have a Sandwich]

Singhin watches from what he sees as a vantage point, staring at Crags motionless body. If he was to go down in there all gung ho, the bounty would be split three ways, well, two now that one of them had gone down. What are they thinking? he thought to himself, wathcing as the dragon boasted itself over its victory. Who do they think they are? A strong gust of wind hit him square in the face, wrapping his cloak around his steady body. He just had to wait until this other man was down before he could take this kill. Deep inside of him though, he knew he wasn't going to get this one. Something about the other man he recognized, not his appearance, but something about the way he carried himself. He had noticed it in the other as well before he went down.

It was subtle, but he began to realize that these men were not the first he had seen like this. Before, he had met one, far more skilled than himself in the art of the hunter. He didn't know his name, but he was afraid of him, afraid of his skill. These two weren't shaping up to be like the man in his memory. Maybe he was mistaken, it happens.

The dragon's ear splitting roar ripped through the air, hitting hard on his brain. That was it, the one thing he could not stand about these beasts, that aggrivating sound. It was like a thousands trumpets, blaring off key in unison. Terrible.

He grabbed his sword, waiting for the other man to fall. It was a matter of when, not if, and he needed to be ready to gain the attack immediately.