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Post by Atarijor XVI on Fri Jan 18, 2019 6:44 pm

The Wyvern had never known a decent night's sleep. It didn't seem that that should change along with his life. The fifteenth son of Atarijor I had been plagued by nightmares since he was found by the IceWings. He had one last night. This time, it caused his frail mind to revert back to its captive state. Atarijor XVI had been slowly but surely making progress over the past few months. He was learning the Draconic language and getting better at it. Today, that would not be evident if the Wyvern had the opportunity to say anything. Atarijor usually stayed in the mountain hideout, but today he ventured outside. Driven by his memories as a slave, Atarijor sought out humans, any humans, to give him work so that he might eat. The Wyvern, who once had never known flight, flew across the frozen landscape. He flew to the southwest, toward the human city of Brysur... not that he knew this was its name, nor that humans lived there. He landed at the edge of the rogue territory--though with the monsters reigning supreme at the moment, it was all rogue territory--between the SeaWings' native land and the FireWings'. He wanted to walk for a while, to prepare for his work, work that surely not require him to fly.

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Post by Hildrhilt on Wed Feb 20, 2019 4:14 pm

Anyone within two miles of Hildrhilt would hear, if not feel, the altercation she was involved with. Hildrhilt’s growls and hisses would be an addition to the rumbling of the ground from her tussle with an Ogre, her sharp teeth digging into its tough hide to toss it aside, it’s vocalizations thundering through the silent forest around them.

Hildrhilt bore a nasty, deep set of gashes upon her left front leg, favoring it greatly as she held it off of the ground. As the Ogre charged angrily at her once more, its speed was reduced due to her long fangs doing damage to its vital areas yet it refused to die. Anger replaced the fear within Hildrhild’s core, her hazel orbs flashing as she growled, waiting for the Ogre to get close enough. Once the monster reached her strike range, she snaked her head out, mouth wide, to grasp the Ogre’s shoulder within her strong jaws. She reared onto her back two legs, lifting the Ogre with her before slamming the monster into the ground, pinning him under her left front leg. She then began to pull, gripping the battering monster as hard as her jaw would let her. The fist of the creature beat at her jaws, causing shooting pain to nearly become unbearable, yet her anger and the adrenaline from the encounter caused her to hold her ground. The force of her front leg upon the creatures pelvis not only crushed the area, but helped in her attempt of ripping the thing in half. When she felt the monster stretching, she felt the battering become less and less as it released pain filled gurgles, her growls mixing gave it an interesting sound. Her leg screamed in pain from the pressure yet she continued until her head flung back in the success of her attempt.

Hildrhilt tossed the top half aside before stepping back, immediately lifting her left leg to soothe the pain that radiated through her body. With an agonizing sigh, she limped a safe distance and lay down. Her ribs hurt, her left leg was cut and definitely hurting, her left wing was tender, and her jaw on both sides were killing her. Hildrhilt’s breath was labored and heavy, turning her hazel orbs to her left side to look at the severity of her wound. It had definitely been deeper than she had thought but not nearly as deep as it could’ve been if her scales weren’t so thick and strong. She then began cleaning the blood of the Ogre off of her, the taste causing her lips to curl over her teeth. Such foul monsters.
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Post by Atarijor XVI on Sun Mar 24, 2019 12:28 pm

Atarijor heard the sounds of a struggle. Felt them, rather. But he was not keen to go check it out. It reminded him of the Arena, the sounds of a Dragon in peril. He didn't want to be chosen to fight in the next battle; it was better for him to stay away. So, he continued on his present course. But a short while later, he came across a female Dragon. She looked severely injured. Because of his current mental state, the first thing that came to the Wyvern's mind was not to try to heal her. He approached, cautiously, and said as quietly as he could, as if he thought someone were listening--and in human tongue--"Can you work?"

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