For fun, Quinn and I have started a roleplay for the two of us to share; in this roleplay we have taken the long and rather intricate story we played out years ago in LEGOs and have started it over---with a few changes, I admit, because some of the characters and ideas we had were very silly! We haven't gotten very far, and probably won't, because I quickly run out of writing ideas, and Quinn doesn't like reading everything I do write. :) But this is the beginning of what I've started...I'm not real sure it's very good, and pretty much completely exists of description, which I'm sure is boring to read. :)
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Steelburn could see the proud flag in the distance, whipped about by the chilling morning wind. It was red as blood, and imprinted upon it was the silver phoenix of the Dragon Chain; even across the tethered, homey hills, Steelburn could make out its noble head, and powerful wings: glistening under the pale sunlight.
Sweat tickling between his shoulder blades, the knight trudged forward; his heavy iron armor was smeared in grime, and the battleax strapped to his waist was caked with mud and dried blood. His pack of supplies was empty, and strung across his back, and his helmet visor was propped open so he could breath easier, revealing tired, but determined gray eyes.
The young man had traveled for three months, braving untamed wilderness, to reach the flag ahead. The flag that was, as it were, mounted to the tallest tower of what castle he hoped would become his home, and his worth-fighting-for. The infamous, but destroyed, DragonClaw Kingdom.
The royal family of the Dragon Chain had formed the DragonClaw realm back before records were kept of such things, and nobody had thought it would be toppled by the Dragon Chain's broken sister the Draconi.
The DragonClaw's Kingdom was overtaken, and the survivors fled under the guidance of their young king, Zarrowg. That had been four years before, and now, rumors were spread and scattered on the wind like smoke, whispering about the kingdom's untimely, but determined comeback. They were building again, seeking to set a new war on the Draconi and regain power of their lands again.
Steelburn was a no-lander, and had no kingdom to serve. But he wanted in, and unwilling to go with the Draconi's primal cruelty, he sought for King Zarrowg, hoping he was even still alive.
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Steelburn eventually stopped, taking a long, sucking breath, as he came across a broad, freshly-harrowed moat, yet to filled with water. It was of great expanse, and far deeper than the tallest of men, stacked on another's shoulders. He looked into it, his wide chest heaving as he drank in the biting morning air. On the otherside of the dank, shadowy moat was the castle, and it did him well to see it.
With favoring eyes, the knight looked upon the brave, thick walls, built of honed gray stone, carefully cemented and collected in a massive structure that had that cold presence of a determined lord; fanning in the frosty wind, the silver phoenix flag of the Dragon Chain was large, and displayed in noble grandeur; he could hear it snap, and whip, rippling with fine red and silver colors against the pale, hard sky.
After sparing several moments to admire the growing towers, and seemingly impenetrable walls of the castle, Steelburn Burnes directed his gray eyes down the moat, seeking some way to pass. But there was none in sight. Opting to venture alongside it, he began walking, hoping to find some passage.
But the deep moat circled completely around the castle, leaving only a hundred yards between its depths, and the great, frigid walls. It took Steelburn a whole hour to finish his tread around the monstrosity, and had to his dismay seen no living being, nor any way to cross the moat, and reach the massive, looming doors that he knew would take him into the heart of the castle. They seemed shaped of bronze, and oak, carefully sculpted and withstanding. He stood staring at them, bemused and exhausted from his long journey, and further exertions. To add distress, his stomach cramped with hunger, and his hand was weak at the battleax belted to his waist. He was beginning to wonder if he should quit, and seek shelter before the afternoon waned and night fell; for there was not even a partially-constructed drawbridge to assist him in crossing. For a dreadful, sinking moment, he wondered if the menacing castle was deserted; or if the possible life that dwelled behind its walls could possibly be adverse to a young knight seeking to join their ranks. What if the famed lord and his few surviving subjects turned out to be hostile? Or worse---what if they had already been vanquished by the Draconi?
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