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Darkseeker
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Plot Fae and dragons have been enemies since the dawn of time. Territory disputes, conflicts, and bloody skirmishes have marred their entire histories, and the enmity between them has only grown over the centuries. Fae decorated their courts with the bones of dragons while dragons displayed Fae hearts in their own clans. Each had become a "kill on sight" for the other, culminating in the largest war that either species ever endured. Now, fifty years into the war, a very uneasy, tense truce has been reached out of necessity. Monsters are emerging from their dens radiating a thick, dark energy. Previously eradicated creatures are back with unseen strength and fury, leaving death and a literal darkness in their wake. Neither fae nor dragons can fight them off alone, especially when trying to win a three-way war. The elders of the courts and clans agreed to join together to create a counterattack, and they have sent their warriors to find the source of the monsters' power. But can eons of malice be set aside so easily? __
Rules for Thread
200+ word responses with the exception of writer's block I've decided AI is okay (might also help with writer's block) but pleeeeease still make it your own Keep the site rules in mind and follow them Hate the character, not the player (no OOC drama) |
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Darkseeker
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Leaders There is one fae and one dragon that lead the group together. -Neasa Róisín Ní Ruadháin (F) -- Earth Fae -- Bewitched - Cyra'Analeth (F) -- Solar Dragon (Fire) -- Mother Scouts The quicker, more stealthy fae and dragons are used as reconnaissance and hunters for the group. They also serve with the warriors when in battle. - Latayel Ithell (F) -- Fire Fae -- Mother - Illaloshal Cyranlene (F) -- Fire Fae -- Omen - Delkharn (M) -- Nightmare Dragon (Air) -- Tonneoshet - Tourmaline Chastain (F) -- Earth Fae -- Trace - Sylphrena -- Air Fae (F) -- MoonShadow Clan Medic A fae or dragon (or two) responsible for tending to wounds and illnesses. They may also function as a spiritual leader. - Sionnachán -- Life Dragon (Earth) -- Bewitched Warriors The main body of the group. Anything from princes to paupers, they are the strength and skill behind the mission. - Shoteka (M) -- Ice Dragon -- Mother - Ivan Mulek (M) -- Earth Fae -- Mother - Avyr (F) -- Dark Dragon (Air) -- Trace - Mystaria -- Water Dragon (F) -- MoonShadow Clan - Tezzaria Vo'Mir -- Fire Dragon (F) -- MoonShadow Clan |
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Darkseeker
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Starting Information The group was officially put together only days ago in the Fae-Dragon border city of Weber. On Day One, they were dispatched with instructions to confront an incoming monster horde and leave one alive in hopes that it would flee and lead the warriors to its origins. That is not what happened; when all but one monster were killed, the remaining beast merged its body with the carcasses, creating one giant monstrosity with all the dead's abilities combined. The group successfully defeated it before it could reach and destroy Weber, albeit after a lengthy and difficult battle. Since then, the fae and dragons have been working to track the horde backwards, but hard rains and dark fog have rendered traditional -- and even some magical -- tracking methods nearly useless. Sore, surrounded by old enemies, facing a moonless night over rough mountain terrain, and with progress slowing, the group is now sheltered in a massive cave while they wait out the most recent torrent of rain. Some may be trying to find dry wood or food, others could be seeking medical attention, a few might act as sentries, and more will be resting in the cave. |
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Darkseeker
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Cyra'Analeth (Solar Dragon), Shoteka (Ice Dragon), Ivan (Earth Fae), and Latayel (Fire Fae) || M: Those in the Cave ((Doing all of mine at once for this first one >_<)) The cave mouth howled with the fury of the storm outside, wind screaming like a dying beast as rain lashed the mountainside in sheets. Within the maw of the mountain, the flickering light of a small fire cast long shadows across stone walls and tense faces. The air, thick with the scent of damp earth and a steaming fire dragon, was further charged by a different kind of tension—one that had little to do with the weather. Cyra'analeth coiled her serpentine body near the edge of the firelight. Her gold-and-white scales shimmered with a dull glow, reflecting her smoldering irritation. The cave was cramped for one of her stature, and sharing it with fae — fae, of all things — was a knife to her pride. She kept her wings folded tight and her claws idly gouged shallow trenches into the stone floor, a silent warning that her temper could ignite at any moment. Across the fire, Ivan crouched near the mouth of the cave, his eyes narrowed as he peered into the storm. His russet hair was damp, plastered to his sharp features, and his cloak already bore the stains of travel and trouble. He said nothing, but his hand rested loosely on the hilt of his curved blades at either side of him. He didn’t trust dragons, and most of the reptilian creatures present made no secret of their disdain for Fae. Yet here they were. Latayel leaned against the cave wall, her arms crossed and irritated yet wary gaze fixed on the ice dragon beside her. Shoteka, in contrast to Cyra, exuded a glacial calm. His scaled form shimmered with frost where moisture from the storm had frozen onto him. His brilliant blue eyes regarded the smaller forms of the Fae with quiet disdain. He hadn’t spoken since they entered the cave, but his presence alone seemed to make the air colder, the fire crackling lower in protest. For a moment, only the fire spoke—crackling softly, a rare neutral party in this fragile alliance. The storm outside was unrelenting, and it was clear the party would not be leaving soon, with the exceptions of necessary hunts or searches for something dry to burn. Forced into uneasy proximity, the dragons and Fae now faced a far more dangerous challenge than the weather: enduring one another. Latayel pushed off the wall with sudden gusto and began her hunt for someone less chilly to sit next to -- preferably someone who wouldn't kill her. Her gaze scanned the scattered frames around her in search of any of her fellow scouts, with the exception of the dark dragon, Delkharn, whose very existence was a terrifying thought for the usually undaunted woman. Ivan's eyes seemed to be seeking the same company, his own gaze glossing over the dragons with obvious wariness. |
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Lightbringer
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Tezzaria Vo'Mir (Fire Dragon), Mystaria (Water Dragon), Sylphrena(Air Fae) || M: Ivan & Latayel(dir), Those within The Cave .~. Rain, if they didn't see any more of the stuff for the rest of the year, she'd be happy. Teza couldn't stand any storms, especially any that brought rain. She curled her tail closer to her body in an attempt to keep her heat to herself. The melted rock she'd blasted before she settled into this spot, warm against her belly. Tezza glared at the fire flickering not far off, casting shadows like monsters across the walls. She'd been asked to help light some when the group had chosen this series of caves as a place to shelter from the storm, but how she loathed doing so. It was almost insulting, there were fire fae within the group, why couldn't they have done it? She growled lowly, the sound rumbling in her chest like the thunder outside. . The sky was covered in dark grey rolling clouds, which looked like turbulent murky waters. Myst sighed as her gaze swept over the horizon, scanning for anything that so much as twitched. She'd volunteered for watch as the weather didn't bother her in the slightest; in fact, she rather enjoyed it. The rain patterned against her scales, as they shimmered under her camouflage. The only thing that gave her away was the faintest outline of her large figure, seated just outside the cave mouth. Myst curled her tail in front of her, wings folded over her body like a raincoat. For all that it was worth, at least the rest could rest comfortably for now. She'd be sure to keep a vigilant watch until the storm had passed. . Sylph almost jumped out of her skin at the rumbling that reverberated through the ground, her uneasy gaze flicking to the possibly one of the largest dragons she's seen, resting in an alcove further into the cave. Teza, the fire dragon who'd been largely responsible for her mother's death. To say she wasn't on good terms with the beast would be an understatement. She sighed roughly, leaning against the cold stone of the cave wall. Her eyes scanned the few who still lingered by the fires, settling on a fellow scout and warrior fae who'd gathered closer to the cave mouth. Sylph hesitated, but gave out to her need for company, even if she just sat beside them in silence. So she stood on tired legs, carefully picking her way across the cave to join the two, holding her cloak close against the chill blowing in. |
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Neutral
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Avyr (Dark Dragon) and Tourmaline (Earth Fae) || M: Anyone in the cave, Sylph (ind)
By now, Avyr figured she should be used to the presence of so many fae in one place. One supposedly calm, non-hostile place. Yet, even after the few days travelling with them, she could hardly find it within herself to turn her back on them. From her position towards the mouth of the cave, sprinklings of rain blowing onto her scales, she could see the majority of her fellows. Only a few lay beyond her purview, blocked by another body or the shape of the cave itself.
If she were alone, she could risk traveling in the darkness, but between the pouring rain obscuring even her superior night-vision and the large group it was too much of a hassle. One of her ears flicked slightly at a noise and she turned her head to watch the movement of one of the fae toward the cave entrance. Avyr pressed herself back just slightly, tucking her front claws in a move not too dissimilar from a house-cat in an effort to stop, or at least hide, the clenching.
She glanced away, forcing herself to look away from the innards of the cave and instead towards the torrential downpour: seeking some sign of an enemy if only to distract herself.
~ ~ ~
Tourmaline’s spot near the fire allowed just enough light to polish her dagger by, tilting the gleaming metal this way and that to ensure the light shone off of it just right. It helped that the reflection from the dagger helped her get a few extra glimpses at the others around the fire without having to look directly at them.
There was an interesting collection of fae and dragon huddled within the cave and it was only through sheer will, and an intense internalized categorization of each individual, that Tourmaline managed to tap down the urge to converse. The desire to schmooze and make connections was damn near bred into her blood, beaten back only by a similarly well-trained etiquette that told her that this was the worst possible situation for yammering away to whoever may lend an ear.
She frowned, shaking herself from her musings by once again inspecting the weapon at hand. Satisfied with the gleam, she tucked it away, pulled forth its twin and began to work on it. |
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Neutral
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Delkarhn | ¤Nightmare (Air) Dragon¤ | M: Those in the cave Delkarhns voided eyes seemed to suck in any and every bit of light that the fire cast upon them, his white dotted pupils staring at those around him with that chilling and unsettling gaze he always wore. He had made himself quite at home in the cave, used to the darker, smaller spaces. Using his large claws he had hollowed out a decent small well in the ground to fit majority of his body, almost like a basket, leaving only the thick dark gray fur of his mane and his horned head peeking out. He had been awfully silent since they had come into the cave. Whether it was because there was simply nothing he could say or because he couldn't think of anything to say, well, he couldn't tell. It was a prime time for him to be hunting. A dark space. Countless wary and anxious souls. All the uneasiness and distrust. It was just so delicious. But he refrained from moving to act upon the urges that so desperately gnawed at him, growling at him to simply take a few of the fae down for a snack... Or perhaps even one of the dragons would do. But even he knew when he was outnumbered, and outmatched, and not to mention the bright orange scales of Cyra'Analeth served as a constant reminder that should he dare defy the truce and try act out of his own volition, he'd most definitely get scorched to kingdom come without hesitation. He regarded a few of the other much larger dragons within the cave, his eyes still unblinking as he scanned over each of their appearances. And those wings... He couldn't say he wasn't a tad bit jealous at the thought that nature had dealt him with the short end of the stick when it came to dragon genes, but flying had never seemed all too important to Delkarhn. Why would he need to fly when everything he ever needs is on the ground? Or better yet. Beneath it. He let out a long yawn as his horned head tilted back, revealing his multiple rows of sharp fangs descending into the depths of his jaw and throat, the action more one of boredom than of exhaustion. 'Soon...' He thought to himself as he puffed up his mane a bit more, resting his head against the fur like a soft and comfy pillow. |
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Darkseeker
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Neasa | Earth Fae | Leader | Mentions: Cyra (D) Indirectly: Those in the Cave The rain strikes the mountain, beating down in endless rhythm against jagged stone and slick moss. It drums on the entrance of the cave where they’ve taken refuge, swallowing the stars, soaking the scent of blood and sweat from their battle days ago into the soil, into their skin. The fire lights up the cave, its smoke coils sluggishly through the damp, thick air. Somewhere deeper inside, wings rustle. A claw grates against stone. No words follow, only the crackling of fire. Neasa sits near the mouth of the cave, apart from the others, her back to the flickering fire. She does not want its warmth. Draped in her cloak of wet moss-green, she looks across the mountain scape. Raindrops cling to her lashes and hair, glistening like dew on wild thorns. The storm beyond dances in erratic pulses of lightning. Then stillness. She listens, not with her ears, but with the rhythm of her breath and the tension stitched into the very air. Her gaze remains fixed on the shifting veil of rain, as if she expects it to peel back and reveal something – someone – sent to finish what the fused monstrosity could not. Behind her, the group lies scattered and uneven, frayed at the seams. The cave should have offered safety, but mistrust gnaws through the stone walls like rot. The divide between fae and dragon is not new, a rift centuries deep, hastily stitched together in uneasy peace only days ago. She has wanted peace for as long as she could remember, but especially now. Now that command rests on her shoulders. And leadership, it seems, is not a crown. It is a blade. And tonight, it rests at her throat. Neasa exhales, slow and deep, feeling the Earth call to her, its weight settling in her bones. The mountain feels vast around her, and the silence between thunderclaps is too loud. She rises; the motion is smooth but deliberate, her moss-drenched cloak trailing behind her like old roots torn from the ground. Her boots press softly into damp stone as she steps deeper into the shelter, eyes sweeping over the scattered group. Dragons loom in shadowed corners, their scales catching glints of firelight. She spotted Cyra’Analeth, her form unmistakable even in the wavering light, sunfire coiled beneath scales. Neasa moved toward her slowly, picking her way through the packed cave with practiced steps, careful not to disturb the injured or the half-sleeping. When she reached the dragoness, she paused, standing before her. Neasa dipped her head slightly in respect, glancing at the gouges made by her claws, “Cyra,” she said, her voice low, meant only for the space between them. “What are your thoughts on sending a small party to look for food and other supplies?” Her eyes didn’t waver from the dragoness’s. “We could send an Earth fae to track animal movement or a Water dragon if there is a lake or river near." She paused for a moment. "The storm’s beginning to ease, and I believe many are becoming restless.” |
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Darkseeker
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Sionnachán | Life Dragon | Medic | Mentions: Indirectly: Everyone The cave stank of blood and wet stone. Sionnachán crouched near a runoff channel where the rainwater trickled down through cracks in the mountain wall, gathering in a shallow pool around his talons. His wings folded tightly against his moss-draped back, vines along his forelegs flexing with the slow tension of thought. The others were scattered before him, a mismatched tangle of damp wings, cracked armor, and fraying tempers. His bioluminescent gaze skimmed the cave’s shadowed interior, pausing briefly on a few coughing forms curled near the back. The wounded. The exhausted. He would tend to them – not out of kindness, but obligation. Life deserved preservation. Even now, even here. He glanced toward the cave’s entrance where rain poured like a curtain of silver. Somewhere beyond it lay the remnants of the monster horde, trails gone cold beneath mud and fog. Sionnachán shifted, horns scraping low stone. Flowers along his shoulder shuddered and curled inwards, petals closing like shutters against the storm. He had seen unnatural things rise from corpses before, but never like what they’d faced days ago. Never that. His claws pressed harder into the cave floor as memory soured his already grim expression. They had killed it, yes, but not cleanly. Not without cost. And the truce? The peace this whole mess was supposed to rely on? Rotten at the root. |
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Darkseeker
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Cyra'analeth || Solar Dragon || M: Neasa, Others The fire crackled with a damp sort of defiance, as though it, too, resented sharing space with soaked stone and old grudges. The heat from her body steamed against the wetness clinging to the cave’s interior, but even that couldn’t banish the chill of suspicion curling through the air. Neasa's footsteps were soft -- infuriatingly so. Like a leaf gliding down to rest on the surface of a still pool. Cyra heard her approach long before she arrived. Of course she would come. The Fae always did when silence had stretched long enough for discomfort to set in. Peace, they called it. Bridging divides. Finding common ground. Dragons like herself had other names for it. Weakness. Presumption. Intrusion. Cyra did not look up when Neasa stopped in front of her. She didn’t need to. The scent of wet moss and magic filled her nostrils—green things and deep soil, freshly torn. She kept her gaze low and angled, watching the firelight dance over the gouges she had clawed into the cave floor hours ago. It had soothed her at the time, carving lines into the rock just to feel something yield. “Cyra,” the elf said, like her name belonged in that mouth. The sound of it curled against the walls, too gentle, too poised. “What are your thoughts on sending a small party to look for food and other supplies?” There was no real pause. No request, not really. The woman spoke with the kind of quiet authority that made Cyra’s hackles riseShe dragged in a breath through her nostrils, slow, measured. Her eyes lifted at last, twin embers narrowing as they locked onto Neasa’s. Her head tilted slightly, just enough to expose one row of gleaming, serrated teeth, but her maw didn't part in an answer right away. Instead, she surveyed the group. Delkarhn lay sprawled like a shadow stitched into the rock, his long, twisted limbs drawn in close for once. A rare sight, that- the nightmare dragon looking anything but haunted. His breathing was even. Unbothered. Too unbothered. Then Sionnachán. The life dragon and their medic. His vibrant form glistened with residual rain, bright even in weariness. And yet… his expression mirrored her own. Stiff. Guarded. Watching the Fae with the same quiet unease. Cyra gave a low, dry snort. “Perhaps he would care to play errand-boy,” she muttered, flicking her tail in Shoteka's direction before returning her attention to the woman. "He's the only water creature in this group, seeing how none of your pool party Fae cousins decided to show up." Smoke curled from her nostrils, curling up toward Neasa’s face like a serpent testing the air. She did not roar. She did not rise. There was power in stillness, and Cyra was nothing if not precise. “Let me be clear, Fae. I am not your advisor. I am not your shield. I am not your ally beyond the scraps of this cursed arrangement.” Her voice dipped lower, rough and deliberate. “I am here because necessity demands it. That’s all. So send your party. Or don’t. The dragons can hold out.” |
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Fall Month: 2 
Night 
Light Rain Moon: 
