Eragon, Where Dragons dare

[nanobot_swarm]

Darkwolf
After killing his son, the Ice Wizard Nekron, the warrior Darkwolf had disappered into the dangerous wilds, never to be seen again by any early humans. As time passed man grew and empires fell, Nekron and Firekeep became mere legends, and Darkwolf was forgotten. Yet now a figure on a dark horse seemed to slip out from the mists of time. He wore clothing made from animal pelts, including bracers, boots, primitive pants, and a helm made from the head of a wolf, that obscured his face. Darkwolf had returned, with a deadly agenda on his mind.

Parias
After the destruction of Korax, the three warriors vowed to prevent anything similar to the demon's takeover ever again. Thus the ended the old system, which kept the population enslaved, freeing them into a republic. And departed to right any wrongs the serpent riders may have caused across the universe. Parias had detected a corruption on this alien world, and decided to investigate it. The cleric emerged from a dimensional portal into this strange land, clad in an armor that made him look more like a Darklord than a holy man.

[Cracklord]

Lu-Tze
The young man shakes his head. "I am Murtagh. And..." He shakes his head. "You are good at this. The King is Galbatorix. I'm one of the few people he cares about enough to talk too. Who are you a spy for?"

Guts
The elf parries. Impossible. No ones that fast. By some miracle, his blade doesn't snap, and he gives back a lightning faster counter, cutting two lines along you cheeks. Marks of dishonor, nothing more, nothing less.

Raistlin
Eragon moved aside, and Angela did as he instructed. As she did, a black cat leapt from the rafters, watching everything intently. Eragon is almost bursting with excitement. "Whats the information?" He blurts out.

Bilbo
The man pointed. "Therinsford is about a days walk South-West." He winked. "I'd lend you a horse, but i doubt you can ride, and we haven't any ponies. Have a good one." With that h waved, and walked back into the camp. The guards started re emerging.

Lord Soth
"Powerful enough." The man replied, still uncowed. "Who are you, and what do you want?" He was quite clearly insane, but drunk on power. Maybe he could do as you wanted.

Darkwolf
Icelands and tundra faded into mountains, whose passes led to a forest that stretched as far as the eye could see. Beyond it's borders lay the Empire.

[industrious]

Lu-Tze

"I'm not a spy; I'm a Sweeper. And a damn good one, too. And I'm looking for a way back to Ankh-Morpork; personally, I blame the wizards." The hero of old wrinkles his nose. " 'Let's explode Narrativium, they say' 'Simple, they say' Humph. Wizards can't do anything right. You've heard of Rule One, right?"

Raistlin

Gratefully accepting the herbal tea, Raistlin carefully drains the entire cup before answering. "I have discovered the existence of a device that can sever the link between a dragon and his Rider."

[doliest]

Lord Soth
"I need someone to shift me, my small group of soldiers, and my castle back to my home plane. The wizard who shifted me here didn't have the correct spell components on him to get me back. My men just threw what was left of his corpse out the window." He stares up at the wizard before him; he might be of some use, and if not....
Bilbo
"Thank you. I guess I'll be on my way; it's been so long since I've traveled the road and enjoyed adventure. I wonder if I can find a way to get in contact with Gandalf and convince him to go wandering with me again." His eyes lift up happily, "Those were the days. Killing dragons, slaying goblins, and tricking Trolls." Bilbo shrugs, turns around, the smile still plastered on his face, and starts wondering in the direction of the town."

[Cracklord]

Lu-Tze
The young man raises an eyebrow. "Do you mean a fight is not over until you win, or if you overuse magic you die?" He asks. Then blinks. "And what are you talking about? Where is Ank-Porekmor, and who is Naritvan?" He seems genuinely confused, and he's still holding his sword. "Well." He says. "It's too unlikely for you to be making it up, and a spy would come up with a better story. Talk to the King when he gets back, he likely knows a way."

Lord Soth
The wizard shook his head, his voice a dry croak. His face was prematurely aged, lean and emaciated, and generically unhealthy. He looked like he’d caught the wasting sickness, but somehow survived. His hair was grey, and shot with silver at the temples, and he trembled as he spoke. "Large scale transportation cannot be done without someone on the other end, and a mountain of power to burn through." He hissed in reply. "Is that all?"

Bilbo
You come to the town as the sun is setting. A bridge spans the river, seemingly the only was across, and a bored man waits, clearly a guard of some sort. The village has no hobbit holes, but lots of wooden buildings and thatched roofs. Smoke corkscrews lazily form chimneys, and shops close as the sun finishes setting.

Raistlain
Eragon blinks, then jumps to his feet. "That's fantastic! We can..." Then he stops. "You never did prove to me your not a spy. Before I take you Nuasda, you had best be prepared. Take down your defenses, I'm going to read your mind."

Parias
Urû'baen was built on the ruins of an Elven city, and it’s sheer cliffs had made it a natural fortress for the first ragged hunters who stumbled across it, and their ancestors had dwelled their ever since, using the nearby river to conduct trade, and the valuable farmland around it to become rich.
The citadel towered above Urû'baen, like a great lance thrust up to scrape against the sky by a titan in the world’s creation. Made of black stone in ages past before the time of men, or even elves, it dominated the landscape for miles around, atop the cities great cliffs so that it could be seen on the Horizon from as far as The Spine.
It had been the seat of the kings of humanity since they first settled in Alagaësia. It had always been dark, Made of dark granite, but once the kings had tried to disguise this fact, hanging colorful pendants and banners, and growing flower gardens around the walls. Once. But Galbatorix didn’t see the need. Power wasn’t something you had to flaunt, honor and justice weren’t won with pretty flags, and beauty was relative. To him, the austere walls and Spartan, functionality of the place was far more beautiful then what the other kings had done. And who would argue with him?
If the structures rulers occupy reflect their regard for the ruled, then the fortress spoke volumes. It’s entryways were heavily guarded, and it’s gates were locked with heavy iron portcullises. Lookouts were stationed on it’s towers, and it was garrisoned extensively, by the Domiavard as well as conventional soldiers. It appeared a dark, grim place, every inch harder then the cliffs it was built on.
Beneath the citadel was a maze of passageways and tunnels, underground caverns and rooms that had never seen the sun, the work of thousands of years of excavating the stone bedrock. They stretched beneath the entire city, and perhaps one could walk among them forever, never again finding the way to the surface.

[doliest]

Lord Soth
"Can ANYONE in your backwards kingdom shift the me through the planes of reality back to my realm!?" Those near Soth can practically feel the anger in his words radiating to them. His hand is twitching, begging him to work off the aggression by bringing this 'Fort' down around him and going on the kind of killing spree this world has never seen before. A spree dedicated to Kitiara, who he would never reach. Kitiara, who's face and voice he could still picture. Perfection, the perfect woman for a man like him.
Bilbo
Bilbo sighs happily as he reaches the town and his feet start yelling at him to sit down and stop bloody walking before they decide he's not worth listening to and simply run off without him and leave him to crawl to a bed and write them letters apologizing for what he was doing to them.

[industrious]

Lu-Tzu

"Then you don't know Rule One. What about Rule...3, or 19? Nothing. Then they did it. They blew it up." Sitting on his haunches, Lu-Tze looks pensive. "I always did know that if the world was going to end, it would be in Anhk-Morpork." Staring at the man for a moment, Lu-Tze sighs. "I can't go back, lad. Narrativium is what powers the Disc, rules our lives, shapes reality. And you don't even know Rule One, not even instinctively. They really did it. Blew away the Disc, and sent me down the wrong leg of the Trousers of Time."

Raistlin

"Give me a moment." Back when he was a mere student, back when he was a child, Raistlin had been known as the Sly One. Always planning, lying, manipulating. He had been flattered by the moniker. Now, in the height of his power, the archmage could lie even under telepathy; could disguise his thoughts so well that the Rider's probe would reveal only what he wished...though he would leave a single obvious shield in place, to throw the man off.

Raistlin concentrates, beginning to form his story; fact mixed with falsehood to create the life of Raistlin Majere, traitor to the Empire and former archivist. A sickly youth, bullied by the other students. Studying for exams, working his way up the bureaucracy of the Empire. Taking a job as archivist in the Library in Uru'Baen. Being cursed in order to ensure his loyalty. Finding out about the device; finding also accounts of Galbatorix's true nature. Fleeing for his life, as the curse took effect, crippling his body. The wizard sighs. "I am ready."

[Cracklord]

Lord Soth
The Wizard is still not bothered. You doubt he'd scream if you dismembered him. "Try the King." He says. "Or the elves." He twitches "Or the madman of seven hills, or anyone else with soft spot for hopeless causes." He looked at the Death Knight. "Do you want a map?"

Lu-Tze
The young man has given up trying to follow you. He seems convinced you are insane.

Raistlin
Eragon is not gentle, bulldozing through your thoughts with no care or elegance, but the pain is laughable compared to what you are used to enduring. He has power, nearly as much as you, but no finesse, and limited control.
After an eternity, he seems satisfied. "I am convinced." He states, not bothering with condolences. "How is it done?"

Bilbo
Close to the center of the town was a supply store, huddled against a four story building, a sign clumsily declaring it to be an inn, although it didn't have a name. Yellow lamplight coming from the windows downstairs was the only color standing out from the greyness of the day and building.
The men in the bar were an even mix of big, simple, scarred, worn, drunk and dangerous. One sitting at the door was cleaning his fingernails with a throat-cut razor.
A big, bearded, red-headed man with a thick beard and arms like most men's legs and a rat perched on one shoulder was sharpening the biggest sword he had ever seen with a whetstone, and a bunch of similar men were seated around him, looking like the opening of hostilities in a mid-range war. The only man sitting at the bar was around forty, slight, his every movement careful, with a single sword belted at his hip, sipping tea.

[industrious]

Raistlin
"Did you not hear me the first time, boy? I said, it is a device, not a technique. And good for you too; a technique can be copied by anybody. Imagine the Dragon race, free to do as they wished upon the world once more. Who'd be the first to the slaughter, you think?" Raistlin smirks once more at Eragon.

Lu-Tze
Patting Murtagh on the back, the Sweeper stares at nothing for a moment. "I don't suppose you have any tea, do you? I've had a rough day, and tea should help. For it is said: Drink up: it'll put hair on your chest."

[doliest]

Lord Soth
"Burn." Soth let's loose a massive fireball from his palm aimed at every wizard in the room before him. If no one in this pathetic world could send him back, then so be it. He'd make this fort a monument to his lost love, a tribute that none would forget if it was the last thing he did when this world finally ended.
Bilbo
Bilbo quickly slides up to the bar, and orders whatever the swordsman is drinking, "What's going on with the huge group over there? Haven't seen a group that rowdy since the Dwarfs came to my house for food." He pulled out his pipe and started smoking more of the low quality pipe-weed. He really needed to get better stuff than this, alongside a good cake, maybe something good to drink, like that tea appeared to be.

[Cracklord]

Bilbo
The barman was a stocky man, with a shaved scalp, a short, shaggy beard, who was chewing on a nail. Nodding, he turned his back to arrange the cup.
The swordsman smiled. "Good choice."

Lu-Tze
"Kitchen is on the first floor." Murtagh replied, still trying to find his way through the fog of Lu-Tze's words.

Raistlin
Eragon nodded, clearly not listening, and strutted out the door. The herbalist turned her back and resumed grinding into her easel.
Hello. The cat drawled, oozing confidence. Never seen anyone like you before. Which world are you from?

Lord Soth
When the blast clears, the table has burnt to a crisp, the floor and walls are blackened, and most of the black robes have burned t death. The cripple is staring at you, totally untouched. He clacks his teeth. "I thought I told you to leave." He hissed, this time with real malice.

[Fan]

Beginning to get agitated, Guts swung out again, this time in a faster two handed strike, actually intending to give this Elf what he had now.

As for the scars... Well they were literally nothing for him, and were merely more marks among his already insanely scarred face.

Ignoring this wounds, he lashed out again, continuing to attempt to push the Elf to the edge of the Dragon Slayers reach, and to keep him from using the superior speed of his lighter blade.

[industrious]

Raistlin

The archmage is surprised at the cat's perspicacity. Nodding for a brief second, he replies in kind, deciding to be truthful. If someone could see through his former deception, then spinning more would be useless. Krynn. And likewise, Mr...?

Lu-Tze

"Thank you." Bowing his way out, the Sweeper heads down to the kitchens. "Tea. A whole pot of it. And don't hold the rancid yak butter."

[Cracklord]

Raistlin
Here, I'm Solembum. Good a name as any. He yawned widely. A king traded an empire. What for? A bigger one, of course. The boundless and infinite Empire of Nothing. A mage did the same for magic. Leaping lightly, he vanished into the shadows of the rafters, lost in the murk. He'd said his piece.

Guts
The elf ducks under the blow, then leaps back at the next, avoiding your strikes with inhuman timing. He's mocking you, toying with you, trying to get you angry. "Your technique is disgraceful." He mocks. "If all humans are so pathetic, it must be numbers that let them over run this country."

Lu-Tze
The cook gestures to a pot over the fire. "It'll be done in a moment."

[doliest]

Lord Soth
Soth pulls out his blade, "Your men will be here soon, and they will die. This fort will be dragged down to the ground. This entire place will burn." He then attempts to run the man through with his blade. The man's head would be put up somewhere in Dargaard, likely the first in a long line of heads, considering the tendency of men in this world to anger him.
Bilbo
"Figured I'd have what you have. Had any interesting adventures, lately? You've got the look of a traveler about you, and I'm interested in any good stories someone might have to tell." He sipped the tea and continued smoking the low-quality pipe-weed, hoping the man might inform him of what was going on.

[Cracklord]

Bilbo
The man gives you an odd look. "Hail to the King. May he live long and prosper." He says loudly. As he says it, his eyes focus on you, gauging your reaction.

Lord Soth
The sword stops a foot away from the mage, as though caught in a vice. The mage gestures, and you are sent rocketing across the room to crash into a wall.
"I will not ask you again." He says, getting ponderously to his feet, swaying slightly as he tries to ballence. "Leave."

[industrious]

Lu-Tze

The Sweeper rubs his hands together, and was careful to not look at the pot; after all, a watched pot never boils. "Excellent."

Raistlin

Hourglass eyes turn to the herbalist. "Who are you?"

[doliest]

Lord Soth
"Why? According to you, no one can send me back. I've lost the only thing that mattered. Why should I stop before this fort burns? Why should I stop before this world burns as a monument to my loss? TELL ME WIZARD, WHY!?" He lifts up his hand and starts murmuring the word of power that would rip the very soul from his body.
Bilbo
"What King? I've known several, sir." Bilbo's guessing he means the king of this land, but he doesn't know the man's name, much less if the man would end up living a long life or should he. He starts sipping the tea again, thinking that it's rather good.

[Fan]

Raistlin
Here, I'm Solembum. Good a name as any. He yawned widely. A king traded an empire. What for? A bigger one, of course. The boundless and infinite Empire of Nothing. A mage did the same for magic. Leaping lightly, he vanished into the shadows of the rafters, lost in the murk. He'd said his piece.

Guts
The elf ducks under the blow, then leaps back at the next, avoiding your strikes with inhuman timing. He's mocking you, toying with you, trying to get you angry. "Your technique is disgraceful." He mocks. "If all humans are so pathetic, it must be numbers that let them over run this country."

Lu-Tze
The cook gestures to a pot over the fire. "It'll be done in a moment."

"Your making me angry. That's a mistake spirit."

Guts says through clenched teeth as he begins fighting dirty, a over head strike being preluded by Guts attempting to kick dirt in the face of the Elf, the blade will also turn in a feint to the side for a diagonal slash that will catch a suspected side dodge.

However, now he's also fighting a little more defensively now... Whatever this spirit was, it was skilled, maybe even a apostle, he didn't like that the first thing he encountered here was on those THINGS level... He didn't like it one bit.

[darkblade]

Leonidas

The King did not take the words of this new messenger well. Although since the full army was present it wouldn't do to simply decapitate him.

"Sparta has never before made a move against your Empire. It was you who sent a man into Sparta telling us to surrender. Against our very nature. What else would you have me do? Lie down and surrender to your pathetic army?"

***

Black Knight

Sir Percy approaches the robed man.

"Excuse me sir. You wouldn't happen to know who is in charge of this outpost would you? I come from the island nation of Camelot which recently apeared on your shores due to magic most fouls. I wish an audience with your leader."

[Cracklord]

Leonidas
The man chuckled. "My man told you to surrender, yes, but that was all. I would have left you alone, free to do as you wish." His voice had hardened. "And you refused me. Very well. Reap what you have sown." With that he turned his back on you, the ultimate insult, an returned to his dragon. The thing roared, so loud the very air vibrated, then launched itself into the sky. It was certainly an impressive exit.But soon he would be back, with more soldiers.

Guts
The dirt gets in the elf's left eye, but it barely seems to slow him. He swing his sword in a lethal series of jabs at four neck and groin, and it is all you can do to ward them off and keep the cuts superficial. Then he over extends, the blade slipping too far forwad, and you catch him in the ribs. The cut is horrific, but not lethal. And it has the bonus of finally wiping the sneer of his face.
"Well struck." He said, his sarcasm laced with grudging respect. "But you haven't won yet."

Raistlin
The Herbalist turns and gives you a warm smile. "I am Angela." She replies. "Of course, a better question is who are you? You don't act like a runaway Empire magician. Their all fanatics, and they fear Eragon too much to act like you do. Besides, Solembum doesn't talk to just anyone, now."

Bilbo
The man leans over. "Right now, everyone who is loyal to the Empire makes a big show of it." He says in a low voice. "It's the rebellion, see. Everyone is either for the rebels or against them. No middle ground. And then there's us." He smiled. "Whether it's the rebels or the Empire who kill you, you're still dead. Whoever takes your livelihood for the war, you still starve. It doesn't matter who forces themselves on your daughter, the deed is still done."
He takes a long sip of his tea. "So that's where we come in. We're our own side, and we're fighting for the people, the ones who actually suffer. We don't care who wins, who gets the empire, we just help out when we can."

Lu-Tze
The tea is black enough to float a horseshoe, and tastes exquisite with butter and salt. Some people give you odd looks, preferring milk or sugar, but you let them.
Then you hear a commotion on the floors above. Something is happening. And you bet it's very dusty, wherever it is.

Lord Soth
Them man's eyes don't leave you. But he has no counter, and slump, as he dies.
You are alone in a fortress, with twenty thousand soldiers, none with the ability to hurt you.

Black Knight
As you approach, the man is escorted into the building by a tall man. The guards stop you, and you wait until the young man returns. he looks slightly... fey. Like the forest spirits Arthur once talked about (Once and Future King). His eyes are intense, despite the fact he has a certain slack jawed look on his face.
"I am Eragon Shadeslayer." He says, introducing himself. "I cannot bring you to our leader unproven, for one thing we fear assassination."

[Fan]

"That blow should have cut you in half. It's not often I meet someone on your level, at least, one that isn't of daemonic nature. I'd hate to have to kill someone who could keep the apostles from killing this forest. Lay down your arms now, and we may walk away from this with little more between us then respect for each other's skill."

He says with the closest thing he can equate to grudging civility towards the elf. He didn't enjoy killing people, Daemons, Servants of Daemons, and those who would protect The Apostle's he could kill all day, but this was just a forest spirit defending his domain... Nothing else.

[Cracklord]

For a moment the elf looks like it might agree. But then it spits. "No. I cannot yield to a human. I would rather you kill me, and expunge my shame, then give in and live in it. The very fact that you suggest it proves you have no honour." Just the same, he doesn't take the offensive, waiting for you to move in.
It would have been a good tactic if not for the wound, every drop of blood lost weakens him, and soon he'll collapse. He hates you so much, he won't stop fighting until one of you are dead.

[Fan]

"Then I shall tell travelers of the skilled forest spirit who died for his pride then."

Guts says as he settles into a more offensive stance, knowing that for anyone but him Blood Loss= Becoming weaker, he decided to lunge forward into a spinning strike. A nearly unavoidable attack for most, but he suspected that this spirit would find a way to parry it... If it still had the strength.

[Cracklord]

The elf did, but his parry was weak, and his blade was knocked from his hand. "How swift your sword..." He says weakly, then topples. Quite dead.
"A worthy fight." Says a coldly arrogant voice from somewhere behind him, and at that moment you remember Vanir claimed you were surrounded. "You acted honorably, and gave him the chance to yield, so his death is forgiven. I would prefer not to be your enemy, so I say this to you. You are trespassing on elven soil. As you were unaware, I will allow you to leave, but to come any further, the penalty is death."

[Fan]

"I did not wish to kill one of the few swordsmen who were as skilled as he. A pity his pride brought his down fall. As for trespassing. It's quite unintentional, you see. I am the Black Swordsmen. A hunter of the Apostles of The Godhand. Not a slayer of beings who are merely in their rightful place."

Guts says disdainfully as he begins to wrap his blade in the white cotton... and to bandage his own mostly superficial wounds.

"Tell me though. What was his name?"

[Cracklord]

"His name was Vanir. One of our most promising swordsmen. But the fire ran to hot in his veins. He never mastered it, so it mastered him."
Another elf appeared behind him. There was little to distinguish him from Vanir. "You hunt black wizards and demon worshipers? The only place I know of is the human city of Dras-Leona." He said.

[doliest]

Bilbo
"A just and worthy cause. I can't say I've seen many battles where one could completely say that one group was in the right; the elves and dwarfs nearly came to blows over a dragon horde, where I came from. From what I've seen, this kingdom is not a fire-covered wasteland, so it's king does his job; but then rebellions rarely rise without cause. Tell me; why does one rise here?" Bilbo smiles at the man; he's definitely got the right idea when it comes to fighting.
Lord Soth
Soth throws the door of the hinges and starts running down the tower stairs, cutting a swathe through anyone in his way; once he reaches the bottom of the tower, he'd slay every man in this fort. It would be a fitting way to establish himself in this world he was trapped in.

[darkblade]

Leonidas

The King smirked upon the man's remark.

"Spartans! The Empire is upon us. Prepare for battle!"

***

Black Knight

"Reasonable but insulting. I am the Black Knight of Camelot. My kingdom apeared off the coast of this land due to magic I myself do not understand. I come here on behalf of King Arthur to propose a temporary alliance between us against the Empire."

[Cracklord]

Bilbo
"The King killed the old rulers to take power a century ago." The man said, putting down his cup and ordering another one. "How right he was to do it depends who you ask. But he did it. There wasn't a civil war, almost went off a couple of times, but he got the country under control and gave the lords their power back, so it went fine. The rebellion started around then, and it's been growing all the time. And now they finally feel their strong enough to move openly because they have an heir to the old rulers."
He took a sip of his tea. "As to the kingdom, well nothing is ever as good as people remember it. Who knows what the old one was like, none of us were alive." He says, totally unaware that Bilbo was one hundred and thirty one.

Leonidas
The sun sets, and their is no sign of the enemy. The lake is full of fish, so you are unlikely to run out of supplies.
Captain Artemis approaches. Hi muscles are freshly oiled, and his hair is freshly gelled, as befits a Spartan preparing for War.
"Me King." He says, clenching his fist in a warriors salute, his accent making him sound like a violent Glaswegian. "We can hold out longer then the trojans if it comes to it, but my men were wondering if in this whole country we'd find any allies. It would be a shame to hold out for nothing. They'll never take Sparta, but winning is better then death."

Lord Soth
Most of the men in the tower are black robes, who fling magic at you. Some of it is painful, but you toss them aside.
As you leave the tower, the scarred general from before is across the street, glaring forbiddingly at you, his less confident looking man shaking behind him. Most of the soldiers are in their quarters or manning the walls, and the entire city is far from roused.
Brammar draws his sword. He's not a young man, he fells the distance he just ran, but he doesn't so much as flinch.
"Put up your sword, if you have any honor." He wheezes loudly through his ruined throat.

Black Knight
Eragon nods, looking thrilled. "We will take any allies we are offered. I thank you and your king." He replies politely. "Come in."