RDM RP Page #9
Drazon rumbled and waited for her return,"Theria
...you should name the little one."
"I told you that it was your father who was here, Theria. I know that voice anywhere," Enrias said.
"But..." Theria shook her head and smiled as she looked to Drazon. "Illatrius called it Ar'rias...I think that fits." The small dragon squeaked and nuzzled up against her. She giggled. "He's so cute."
Illatrius began to worry that Erindor and Erador couldn't hear her cries for help, but kept calling for them in her own persistance. She laid her rider on his back from laying on his side. Something hit her, she was becoming weak due to her master's wound and illness. She could feel the pain he was going through when she saw his eyes weakily open, but then they fell shut when sleep took him again.
How could she not see them present over the fallen lord? Erindor himself kneeling beside him, and it would be hard to argue somebody not seeing a dragon as large as Erador. Perhaps she was still in a great deal of shock from this terrible incident.
"Illatrius," began Erador, nudging her on the wing with with his large, triangular and streamlined head. "Calm, we are here, we've been here all along, there's no need to fret." "We need to get Malias to the castle however. Judging by his injuries, I think that having him ride by saddle would be safer than being carried Illatrius, unless you've a saddle with you." Suggested Erindor calmly, however with a note of desperation. Erador took action to the indecision at the moment. He carefully, very carefully, maneuvered his head around and caught the back of Malias's clothes with a few of his array of half foot long ivory white fangs. With a swift, fluid and smooth movement, he arced his neck, lifting his head, and Malias to the saddle at his back.
"Secure him, then let us be off. The battle is now nothing now that their leader has run away like a scared bunny." Observed Erador with a certain venom in his deep rolling mental words. "Aye, Illatrius!" called out Erindor to the female dragon as he ascended to the saddle atop Erador's shoulders, "you can, nay you must help us and the healers mend his wounds, please, follow us quickly." As soon as the injured Lord of Sar'dan was secure in the saddle, the armoured emerald dragon took to the air, heading for the castle.
Illatrius nodded and followed them into the sky, watching Amrevar's beasts below flee out of the city. Malias's forces were far too powerful for the creatures to completely overtake the city. Illatrius was proud to be her master's dragon, but at the moment he was her main concern.
Amrevar growled and vanished out of the throne room with an angry glare in his eye. He hated his father, so why should he let him stay within the castle walls? “I don’t want you here, Dravescar!’ Amrevar yelled as he appeared within his father’s room. “You are the reason why I am trapped in this world you created! I am what you created me to be! Everything I have ever done was always in vain, for what I am trapped in is what I am forced to do! I long to follow the ways of Malias…for peace… I have lost my dragon because of what you made of me… Leave or I will finish it!” Amrevar yelled trying to hold back the worst of his anger. “All the treachery I have caused was your always your intention…not my own…and the only reason why I continue it…is because I want them to end me…I always had to live with secrets that held back my true self…”
“Fine!” Dravescar replied acknowledging his son’s power; then he vanished.
Amrevar could no longer hold back the tears that now streamed down the sides of his face. He laid down upon his bed, arms hanging back over the sides. ”Drazon…I’m sorry…Continue to hate me…for all that I have done was wrong…I do not pass my apologies to Malias so I can hold my…reputation…I wish I could change… but I am held captive in my own world…Find yourself a wiser rider…The next you see me, you have a right to kill me…Do your worst…” Amrevar thought to Drazon. He closed his eye. “…I’m sorry…”\
Malias tightened his eyes in the pain, but he wouldn't open them for fear that who he thought was Za'nix was still there. He didn't know where he was; he had thought he was still on the ground. He couldn't regain his full senses yet, but when he had realized he was in the sky, he thought he had been captured. He didn't dare to open his mouth to speak. He kept silent until pain shot through him again and he passed back out.
"Hurry Erador, Malias is strong, but even the strongest of us all would soon perish from this injury." Exclaimed Erindor with worry, he had found Malias' puncture wound from Amrevar, or whomever, was much deeper than he had adressed before. "I'm not the best healer, but I can manage this...anything to help Malias," he was half talking to himself. Removing the worn, black armoured glove from his right hand, he placed it above the worst of the wounds, and uttered the words; "gëuloth du zar'roc". His palm glowed a metallic emerald, streamers of magic flowing from it to Malias. "Dull the misery..." he repeated the spell in normal tongue. It was all he could do for Malias to make him more comfortable.
Erador was flying so low he clipped the parapet atop the castle's highest outer wall with his tail. His course changed as he banked to the right on axis around one of four large moonlight washed ivory towers of the castle. Its cold, stony surface glowing like some sort of apparition in the early morning. A low vibration with rich overtones resonated from Erador's chest as their course righted with the world, headed for the castle's infirmary. The large dragon touched down with all the care his mass and armour would allow. Unique in the castle's design, was a circular terrace from whence dragons could land next to the hospital gates. Erador moved aside to provide room for Illatrius to land while Erindor heaved the injured elf onto his back, warm blood running over his hands. "Quickly" he hissed to himself as he descened from the saddle, jumping the last few feet to the ground nimbly. Erindor bore Malias off of his back and held his bleeding form in his arms. He carried him thus and sprinted to infirmary doors, which were large enough to allow a dragon passage. "Nurse, healers! Lord Malias has been injured, please spare a moment and a bed for this noble man!"
Illatrius landed with a powerful intention of following the others inside. She peered down at her wounded master with a grievous look in her sparkling blue eyes. She watched as the healers came in with a great rush and carried Malias into a chamber where they immediately tended to his wounds, their eyes were full of fear. Illatrius gave out a weak roar as her master's pain could be felt through their mental link. She swished her tail in rage and hurt, nothing seemed to comfort her even if her master was in good hands. She was struck with mourn when she saw Malias's blood on the marbled stone floor that glistened in the candlelight.
Either Erindor was good at reading people, or he felt what she was feeling. Seeing Malias' blood on himself was troublesome for him, and would probably effect Illatrius much worse. "Excuse me," he said politely before stepping outside to watch the morning grow. Erador watched him go, sharing his feelings of worry, and acknowledging Illatrius' strife. The large emerald dragon, still in his battle armour, padded over to the white dragon, and sat sphinx like on the polished stone floor. Perhaps the presence of her own kin would soothe her.
"Why do I always fear for the worst?" Illatrius asked, her voice musical, but still held grief. She didn't even look at Erador as she sat in mournful thought, she was silent for some moment. "What do you think of this dark hour, Erador?" Then she laid her head down upon the ground and peered up with her eyes only to see grey clouds rolling in for a day's chill rain.
Metal plates shifted with small oiled rasps as Erador swung his neck and head slightly to look at her more directly. When he spoke, his words were deep and rolling, but with overlaying chords, as if every sound were part of a string orchestra. "What I think of this dark hour, Illatrius, is that it is the beginning of the end. Evil has been cutting off the air, the essance to life for thousands of years. Fate is about to play a cruel trick on the cruel, and reward the patient, and true of heart." He paused to shift a wing, "our position is fragile, so is our enemy's. We are all equally profound in this titanic engagement that we've been dancing around for countless moons. This war could be decided by one aiding factor to one side or the other. I fear Amrevar has allready discovered and possibly exploited such a factor." He yawned, turning his head in the opposite direction then layed his large, magestic, polished armour clad head on the marble floor. -With another rider, he will be victorious.-
"I know," Illatrius replied, trying to calm herself of the anguish. "I wonder what part Malias has to play in all this... My rider can be sometimes wise, but why he still has cares for his brother, no one can say why..." She growled with distaste. "I wish he would just get rid of the fool. Amrevar nearly killed my master so many times. The Dark Lord makes me sick with what he does." Illatrius grimaced as she looked back on what happened so many weeks ago. "Amrevar is truely heartless."
At this, Erador lifted his head again and looked at Illatrius squarely, "Malias' only real weakness is his...empathy for his brother. Perhaps he sees something in his brother that the rest of us cannot. Perhaps thats the wisdom, it may be shrouded in pain, and repeated injury, but if there's a shred of good, that one tiny iota of good will destroy all the evil ravaging the poor man's soul. Given the chance of course...Malias tries to give it that chance, but has failed on repeated accounts." Erador heaved a heavy sigh, the billows of life in his chest blowing incense like trails of smoke out of his triangular nostrils. He gazed at the doors that shrouded Malias and the healers from view, "the only problem is, another force is working to keep the good in Amrevar dead. Malias is actually not working against his brother's evil, but the evil that is what has made Amrevar the way he is."
...
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