Locke
Manakete
"I am the Guardian of the Sanctuary."
Posts: 152
Profession: Disguised Dragon
Affiliation: Arcadia
Guild: None
Affinity: Anima
Dragon Element: Earth
Profile: Locke
OoC Alias: Ryu
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Post by Locke on Nov 30, 2016 23:04:47 GMT -6
The grassland was rustling, the wind sizzling through the tall grasses and whistling gently, shaking both the stalks of the wild flora and the green hair of a lone man walking through the sea of grass. The mischievous wind pulled at the wild and unbound strands upon the traveler's head, also blowing through his cloak and ruffling his pants. However, it did not seem to bother him in the slightest; in fact, he seemed rather exhilarated, singing and swaying along a path that seemed to exist only in his head, despite the very large mace that hung upon his back. The heavy weapon, wrought of silver alloy and tempered by dragonfire, was known in the Earth Manakete's tribe as the Mace of the Guardian, an ancient weapon forged for the defenders of the sacred Sanctuary.
Locke had come into possession of the weapon when it chose him, far underground in the untouched inner Sanctuary. He had taken it up and assumed the mantle of Guardian in the presence of the human Isis, the one human who understood him and truly sought peace and coexistence between the two races. The weapon had been good to him ever since, although he still struggled with the finer points of using human weaponry. It was a bit unwieldy, he felt. He'd rather simply shift and let his power flow forth, but in this day and age, it was impractical, if not suicidal.
And then a man ran screaming at him, brandishing an axe. Locke was briefly confused, but then burst into motion, sidestepping and swinging his left fist up in a powerful uppercut. His arms, shrouded by his sleeves, had become covered with scales, and his hands were more akin to dextrous claws, clenched into a tight clump almost like a small wrecking ball. The Manakete made contact, and while the blow wasn't anything like what Aeos, his dragonkin friend could produce, it did lift the attacker off his feet and send him sailing back a meter or two.
More men appeared, encircling Locke, five strong and cocky. The Manakete smiled, and in a motion that seemed smooth and natural, lifted the mace off of his back, hefting the weapon into his hands and twirling the haft, watching the light twinkle upon the many spines that erupted from the head of the weapon. The light danced upon the Mace of the Guardian, and the Guardian wielding it. Locke breathed in slowly, and closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, they were strange - slightly slitted, with a third lid barely visible. Empowered by his dragonstone, Locke waited, and then, as the men charged, spun, using all his might and twirling like a top, letting centrifugal force assist him as he slammed the head of the mace into the attackers.
The first to meet the mace was brutally killed, the spikes impaling him and the head of the weapon pushing him along into the next man, and then the next, until all five had been smacked backwards. As Locke slowly spun to a halt, briefly dizzy, the man slipped off of the spikes, blood spurting from the many punctures all over his chest and abdomen as his lifeless corpse collapsed into the grass.
The battle progressed quickly after that; the combat itself was boring to Locke. He merely bashed the humans, smashing them without style or grace. They had attacked with the roughness and slipshod manner of common barbarians, and so he treated them to a barbaric end. When it was over, the manakete flipped each man face-down, and then stood, hooking the Mace of the Guardian once more upon his back and beginning to walk slowly away.
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Post by Asher on Dec 1, 2016 0:27:16 GMT -6
Warmth
A simple feeling in what was, at the moment, a simple life. The rider let the reins drop and leaned back slightly, his face angled towards the sun and his body swaying with the thuds of his horse's steps through the long grass. Anyone who inspected the reins, saddle, horse, or even the rider himself would see that they were well cared for, if not well-worn. Faded to a light tan from its dark brown finish, the leather was frayed where it saw the most use. The horse appeared aged, but fit and healthy, its strong muscles rippling beneath its brindle coat. The young man atop the horse wore traditional Sacaen robing, the deep red cloth billowing in the wind, showing a black undershirt beneath. His short blond hair was tousled by the same wind, and his stubble itched from where it was pulled. On his back was a simple leather quiver, polished lovingly. From the quiver one could see an unstrung bow sticking out of the top, with several arrows' fletching reaching for the same sun that was being enjoyed by the rider. It was a simple life, but one that sought more than simplicity.
Asher looked toward the sun, hoping to absorb as much of the radiance as he could while the wind howled across the plainlands. He had grown used to the winds, having spent a large part of his life in Sacae. But as much as he loved the wild lands he had adopted as home, it was time for a change. He needed what others would call an adventure. He called it life. From Bulgar, Asher had set out with no real destination in mind. His intentions were to head in the general direction of his original home in Bern, meandering as much as possible and stopping to smell the roses as often as he pleased. If he was destined for something big, he would chance upon it on the road. If no grand schemes arose, he would visit his home for a short period and head back out. So far nothing had appeared to sate his longing, but he was still hopeful, for his sojourn was still young.
A half hour of traveling saw his hopes fulfilled. Not far off appeared to be a man walking from four or five large objects close to the ground. Asher instantly leaned back forward in his saddle and grabbed the reins, ready for any kind of interaction. As he neared, he realized that the lumps were more than just that. They were bodies, brutalized by the blunt weapon the man that had removed himself from the bloody situation possessed. Although he wasn't keen on starting conversations with anyone, Asher knew that approaching a man unannounced that had the capability to do that to a group of people would be folly.
"Hello there, friend!" He called to the man from what he thought was a safe distance back.
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Locke
Manakete
"I am the Guardian of the Sanctuary."
Posts: 152
Profession: Disguised Dragon
Affiliation: Arcadia
Guild: None
Affinity: Anima
Dragon Element: Earth
Profile: Locke
OoC Alias: Ryu
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Post by Locke on Dec 1, 2016 17:10:30 GMT -6
“Hello there, friend!”
Locke turned, his head swiveling on his neck and allowing him to peer behind him, glimpsing the man on horseback through his peripheral vision. Then the rest of his body followed, and the Manakete performed an about-face, his gaze coming to rest in a straight line towards the Nomad. Now, Locke took the time to truly examine the man in red, walking towards him and raising a hand in greeting, his green hair still flying about in the breeze and a small smile upon his face.
“Salaam, man of the plains. I am sorry you had to witness that incident.”
Indeed, Locke regretted having to dispatch of the bandits, but his safety, as the Guardian, was paramount. He had a duty to his people and to the world. Still a safe distance away, Locke introduced himself, standing upon the earth and in the wind, with the sun of Elibe, his birthright, and his home, shining upon him.
“My name is Xerxes Locke. I am the Guardian of the Sanctuary in Nabata… I commune with the spirit of the earth that I protect. By your dress I identify you as Sacaean, though by your facial features alone, I would not think you a plainsman. Most interesting. I myself do not hail from the land of Sacae…The place of my birth is far away, in the great desert of Nabata.”
The Manakete gave a traditional greeting, bowing slightly with folded hands. He continued to watch the other man carefully, unobtrusively observing all the details about him , his equipment, and his mount.
“You are quite trusting, to approach without your weapon drawn. I assure you that I mean no harm to you, if you are not a bandit or opportunistic brigand. Judging by your current stance, I would wager that you are neither. And of course, I shall trust your words, as I trust the words of all Sacaeans. If you call me friend, so too shall I call you friend. Peace unto you, friend.”
Locke felt his stone, warm against his chest, and drew forth from its power, still standing straight but closing his eyes as he felt his energy pulsate outward. Tiny scales speckled his hands, almost unnoticeable, and his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Behind his back, however, the earth split, jagged openings cracking the surface of the plains around each body. Soundlessly, the earth rose around the bodies, surrounding each one in a mound, and then sinking back beneath the surface, leaving nothing to indicate that there had been a fight except five patches of bare earth where no grass could be seen.
The Earth Manakete opened his eyes, smiling slightly at the Nomad and his horse.
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Post by Asher on Dec 3, 2016 12:31:54 GMT -6
At the unnatural movement of the ground, Asher's horse whinnied and cantered back, panicked at the sight.
"Woah, old man." He spoke to the horse calmly, although he himself was unnerved by the show.
"In all my years, be them very few, I haven't seen nor heard of magic of this sort." He stated to Locke, finally bringing the horse to a calm state.
Although surprised by the sudden display, Asher did not feel threatened. The man from Nabata seemed peaceful, considering what he had just done to those poor few. The wind still blowing at his back, Asher chose to inspect Locke closely. Besides his green hair and the impressively destructive weapon on his back, the traveler appeared to be simple enough, despite making the earth move. He almost ceased his overview before a small glimmer caught his eye from Locke's hands, something that would have been lost on him before his migration to Bulgar. However, even though he was not truly Sacaen, over the course of his years on the plains he had been taught to inspect closer than just a quick, cursory glance. Given Locke's observation of him, he had clearly been taught the same. He decided to keep the sight of the shine to himself, so as not to interrogate someone he did not fully know.
Locke had been right, it was overly trusting of Asher to approach without so much as stringing his bow. But something about this Guardian of the Sanctuary made him feel at ease. With thieves and bandits abound in Sacae, stumbling upon a slaughter in a remote part of the plains often meant some sort of hostility would arise; however, the tranquility that Locke possessed seemed to bring a quiet calm about the area. As such, Asher's bow remained unstrung.
"You see much. You are correct, I'm not of Sacae. My name is Asher. I'm originally from Bern, but as fate would have it I've been living here a large portion of my life. Please don't apologize for the act. I've seen much on these plains, and not all of it was pleasant." He gave a small, half-grin as he said this. "I prefer to trust men as forthcoming as yourself, and I am glad you name me friend as well, but might I ask who the aggressor was in this, ah, incident?"
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Locke
Manakete
"I am the Guardian of the Sanctuary."
Posts: 152
Profession: Disguised Dragon
Affiliation: Arcadia
Guild: None
Affinity: Anima
Dragon Element: Earth
Profile: Locke
OoC Alias: Ryu
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Post by Locke on Dec 4, 2016 0:29:44 GMT -6
"In all my years, be them very few, I haven't seen nor heard of magic of this sort."
Locke smiled. Of course, he would not expect the man to have seen the power of an Earth Manakete, but the magic he had drawn forth was easily mistaken even by mages for that of Gaea, the discipline of Anima magic that manipulated rocks and earth and stones.
“That is the power of Gaea,” the manakete responded, smiling at the horseman. “I am an elementalist, as most of my tribe is. We focus upon communing with the earth, and we have grown close to the earth. Our magic reflects that bond we share with the land from which we all have come.”
The manakete gave another small, knowing smile, nodding as the Nomad responded to his observations.
“You see much. You are correct, I'm not of Sacae. My name is Asher. I'm originally from Bern, but as fate would have it I've been living here a large portion of my life. Please don't apologize for the act. I've seen much on these plains, and not all of it was pleasant." He gave a small, half-grin as he said this. "I prefer to trust men as forthcoming as yourself, and I am glad you name me friend as well, but might I ask who the aggressor was in this, ah, incident?"
There was no way for the young man to know that Locke had seen more Bernese than he had in his lifetime, or that Locke had seen whole generations come into and exit the world. In his many centuries upon Elibe, Locke had seen much. But it was fine; the Nomad could chalk it up to perception. What he didn’t know would certainly not hurt him, and in fact was probably for the better.
“I was beset by one man who attempted to behead me with his axe. I repelled his attack with an upward punch and was then surrounded by said man and his four associates. I believe you know the end result.
I would not instigate such a fight; I loathe the idea of spilling blood and wasting life for such idiotic reasons as money or goods. We have so much to learn, so much to do, and so many wrongs to right in our world that will never be mended by chasing after coin and property.”
The manakete shook his head mournfully.
“Once upon a time, we coexisted with dragons. Now, we cannot even coexist with each other. Why must we invade one another, kill fellow men, and plunder their livelihoods? Why do borders and countries exist? Are we not all one race?”
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Post by Asher on Dec 6, 2016 11:57:52 GMT -6
“That is the power of Gaea. I am an elementalist, as most of my tribe is. We focus upon communing with the earth, and we have grown close to the earth. Our magic reflects that bond we share with the land from which we all have come.”
Asher gained interest at each word Locke spoke. Although he had little experience with magic, and no talent whatsoever for the practice, the arcane, powerful art had always fascinated him. He had never seen Gaea before, and it had no less of an effect on him as the other magic he had seen in his life. What interested him more, however, was Locke's description of the battle. Not only did it confirm his hunch that Locke was in the right, if he was telling the truth as Asher was inclined to believe, but in truth Asher loved tale-telling and gossip.
“I was beset by one man who attempted to behead me with his axe. I repelled his attack with an upward punch and was then surrounded by said man and his four associates. I believe you know the end result.
I would not instigate such a fight; I loathe the idea of spilling blood and wasting life for such idiotic reasons as money or goods. We have so much to learn, so much to do, and so many wrongs to right in our world that will never be mended by chasing after coin and property.”
The man standing before him had eliminated five by himself. Asher appreciated prowess, and Locke certainly possessed a large amount.
"Unfortunate for them to have stumbled upon you. Of all the people they could have chosen, it was the one who could end them."
He chuckled at the justice of the situation. While he could see Locke's point of view concerning unnecessary violence (gods knew there had been enough throughout Elibe as of late), and he certainly held no love for it, he held no hatred for it as well. If it started, so be it. Ash had more than enough experience ending it.
“Once upon a time, we coexisted with dragons. Now, we cannot even coexist with each other. Why must we invade one another, kill fellow men, and plunder their livelihoods? Why do borders and countries exist? Are we not all one race?”
This query took Asher a little aback. With rebellions, uprisings, and wars just behind or upon Elibe, bloodshed was more common than it ought to be. Asher had heard mothers, fathers, and siblings pray for loved ones to return, and subsequently the violence to stop, and some of Locke's questions were not far off from what he had heard already. What took him back was the mention of dragons and older times. It seemed as if it was more to Locke than history. Ash heard a longing for missed days, old times from an old life.
"It is human nature to wage war. As long as there are different ideals and opinions, less intelligent men will find the need to fight. An unfortunate nature to have, but it is reality nonetheless. As long as there are people to bring it to an end, there's a small hope."
Ash realized he may be getting too deep into philosophy with the man he had met not five minutes ago.
"Enough of foreboding and ominous subjects. If I may ask, what is your current destination, Locke?"
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