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| "For pony!"..."But that's not--" |
| FOR PONY |
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| I agree, how ridiculous. D< |
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| Total Votes : 3 |
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 Posted: Mon Jun 14, 2010 8:49 pm
A frosty cloud slithers from between his pale lips. No, not from the night air, but due to his own body. Ser Siegfried "Siege" Von Kriegstadt Eyse is a renowned paladin. Of noble breed he also has the pedigree of the ancient Eyse clans, those able to house winter within their own bodies. Their breath is by nature frosted, a foggy aura surrounds them when this power is in play. While this is indeed a unique power granted to such ancient blood it can also be quite dangerous. If placed into areas of stress; those of highly warm temperatures, an Eyse relative's body will spike into action to keep the temperature down around them. This can result in chilled vital organs or even crystals clotting in the bloodstream, melting and thusly bringing down body heat too rapidly which could send one into shock. Thankfully such an element can be shut down for as long as the holder wishes. However it takes a great deal of effort to start it once again. Wearing crystalline armor a man in his mid-twenties scans the dark hills surrounding the nearby town's livestock fields. Here in the northern lands, riddled with mountains, a hardy civilization is to be found. Kaltbourne is home to a population known as; Kalts, Kaltman, Kaltwoman, or a more negative term, chiseler. The latter none of them take kindly to seeing as it's an insult among themselves. Siege straightens up as he hears the bloodthirsty howls of the warg plaguing these mountains. In the background a few armed villagers watch, armed with torches and pitchforks. Well behind a thick barricade the paladin ordered them to remain well behind. Yet a handful of men, wanting to protect the giant aries herd. In the barns the few prized rams and multiple ewes nervously shift, catching wind of the putrid odor of the enraged predators.
Lo and behold, like some cursed malady, the small pack of wargs spews from the dark horizon overlooking the hills. Nearly as large as a common horse the lupines snarl and bristle, stalking towards the diamond encrusted warrior. His armor appears to be made of diamond and it very well could be. Forged by Eyse bred smiths who will never reveal their secrets. Siege withdraws a sword, made of the same material as his armor. The hilt has been wrapped with blue leather, hide from a mystic minotaur of Siege's first slaying rite as a young knight in training. Small bites branch off along the blade, adding more bite to it and earning the longsword the name of Frostbite. It can sync and attune itself finely to its master's frigid gift. Then again the paladin need not only the weapon in battle, loving it as he does, seeing as his own craft will do just fine. As the first warg approaches Siege inhales deeply before exhaling slowly but with force, ribcage constricting to ease out every bit of used oxygen. Now drenched with nitrogen and cold white silence, it layers sheets of heavy ice-based material on the warg's shoulder and side. Gripping this the fierce warrior wrenches it from the warg, taking with it a good measurement of fur and flesh. As the alpha howls in drunken rage Siege withdraws Frostbite and awaits the encircling beasts.
The blond maned male walks away from the bloodied pasture, four wargs in his wake. His pauldrons have been chewed through with damaged shoulders, the blood shaping into frigid square shapes, freezing with exposure to his heightened blizzard aura. It'll need to be looked at swiftly before anymore blood is exposed and nitrogen ice breach his capillaries. With the men ready to maffick the paladin is cornered by a number if unwed young damsels. Being so pious and upholding, he dares not lie to them and admit he is wooing another. Currently there are none within the noble houses he's come to fancy nor wish to lavish with gifts. No, he's focused more on purging the land of foul creatures and characters. His starets had firmly stamped the fair skinned male to adhere to such higher needs than that of matrimony. Not to say the paladin hasn't courted a lady before nor sought returned affections. It never lasted long since he'd be off on his quests and she, restless, would seek the next bachelor in line. Women are so fickle. "Ser Siege! Ser Siege!" a breath of relief is admitted passage from the knight's lips as the flock of women part and a messenger comes launching towards him atop a swift black horse. Most horses in Kaltbourne are white and thick, able to survive minor blizzards and scale steep landscapes. Such beauty and might is traded for sleek, lean equines suited to those seeking more speed. He bids farewell to the small village and returns to the main Kalt knight's estate with great haste.
His king had summoned him from that village, two days ago, to instead seek a much more dire situation. Rumor has it that an evil warrior, known as Kalts as a "wulfen", has been scourging the lands for no known reason. Siege is to not only discover this reason but also make the sinner atone or simply rid his undesirable presence from the world. The term wulfen is by far more an insult than chiseler. Chiseler is someone who idles their time, doesn't contribute to society and disrespects many in anyway possible. Hence the term "chiseler"; one who would hack their life away with themselves as the pick. Now a wulfen is someone who is far worse than just a lazy lout. They're wretched, diseased in a sense and a menace to society. They prey on the weak and feed only themselves. "Wulfen" derives from the word of "wolf". Kalts loathe wolves and wargs as the creatures deal much damage to their lives. Siege is one such that he hates wolves. He goes on seasonal hunts to take down at least an entire pack. And if he finds wargs along the way, so be it. Always more room for a lovely fur rug in his chamber.
Hair cascading down to his lower back in thick, straight strands the sun catches his blond tresses with honey colored highlights. Since he's so stubborn in the fact he wishes to have long hair, he refuses to wear a helm most of the time. It makes him feel holed in and limited anyhow. With a muscular build and keenly charming features he is easily the epitome of a paladin. Still fully equipped and feeling refreshed, he is atop a Kalt mare, easily known as a snow-horse. Patting Schnei's neck he squints past the morning mist of the lowlands, now leaving the Kalt territories to begin his hunt for the fiendish knight.
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Posted: Wed Jun 16, 2010 8:07 pm
Darkness. It was the single most fear of a great many people. In the quite of their bed chambers, covers pulled up tight around their quaking forms, boys and girls would hide away from the shadows that clung to the corners of their room. Fears were routed in every child’s mind of the darkness and what it might contain; of the monsters that lurked just out of human senses. When the boys grew to men and the girls to women such thoughts were traded for a fear of the unknown; a more metaphorical darkness. Men and women did not like what they did not understand. They hated and feared the world that would not reveal all of its secrets. From these secrets a man had been born.
Balthazar Mephisto Kreken of the sinister Kreken family was a child straight out of horror stories. His long, raven hair and dark, almost-black eyes made him frightening even to his own kin. His mannerisms were cold and secretive, his heart closed off, if a heart he even had. The family was used to being seen as consorts to demons. Rumour had spread that their strange gifts were born from an unholy union between a daughter of Kreken and a demon, but rumours are hard – if not impossible – to prove. As such, it was no more than myths about their heritage that left those who knew the name fearing them as a whole, a feat that Balthazar was greatly fond of.
Now as he stood, admiring his latest act of cruelty from a safe distance, a wicked grin slipped across his lips. The brisk morning hadn’t a chance of reaching him through the shining black armor he wore. Like a true black knight he sat atop his black steed, hooves stomping the ground impatiently beneath his mount while he sat perfectly smug on its back. His black armor was spiked in certain places, like his shoulders, to add a rather dark and evil look to him – as if he couldn’t have accomplished the task in his own right. For the time being he had removed his helm, a wonderful piece that had been designed specifically for him to look much like a skull, though horns protruded from the top in a rather vicious display of dark and malicious power.
Patting the eager beast beneath him, Balthazar watched as a nearby town burned to ash before his dark eyes. He shifted slightly, obsidian sword in it’s equally dark sheath rattling against his armor as he did so. Turning his eyes at last away as the screams of people trapped in burning houses died away the man kicked his steed into a steady trot, moving away happily as if he were on nothing more than a pleasant stroll through the country. He hadn’t a care for the lives he had just ended nor the damage he had done. He hadn’t a care for anything but the pleasure derived from his orders. Yes, even this self-gratifying man obeyed the occasional order, especially if it adhered to his own desires and goals. Causing such wretched beings to suffer seemed only right in his eyes. They didn’t deserve the life they had been given if they wouldn’t even attempt to fight back. They had put up such little resistance, though who could truly stand against his might? He was the Shade of the South, a being not truly human nor truly mortal. He was both hated and loved by those in his land, for they both feared and revered him. Some thought him a god, though they were foolish and ignorant to the world around them. He was but a man, a powerful man but mortal all the same. And in their end those villagers to his back had known this yet still they could not fight him. Try as they might have – if their pathetic attempts could be justified as anything at all – they had fallen to his sword and his shadows alike. As all the others before them they had been devoured by the darkness they had so rightly feared as children.
}~{ Is not a very good post, and I'm sorry, but I'm beat from so much driving these past couple days. I'll try to make them better! }~{
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