Recent content by Kovac Edward

Distraught by the situation, and by the act he had to keep up, Kovac cowered before the tall, shadow-man, before running towards the door, snatching up his clothes and bag as he left, almost tripping on the floor. He looked back towards Chaceledon, helpless to the situation. Or maybe just too...

600 Boys? That's a lot. Then again, Chaceledon was over 15,000 years old, so he wasn't surprised to hear that they'd raised more than a handful of people. Was it more of the warriors he trained that he mentioned earlier? He hoped not. He felt embarrassed and ginger as Chaceledon proceeded to...

Kovac couldn't believe that Chaceledon was concerned with the quality of his room being subpar to his expectations. Not only was he being provided with a hot, soothing bath, but with also a delicious and hearty meal. He was being cared for in a way he certainly didn't expect from a captive. Then...

He looked towards the gown Chaceledon had picked out for him. It happened to be in his favourite colour, green. You saw so little of it in Seret, deserts on all sides. When he travelled to Elbion for the first time, he remembered the wonder of seeing fields of uncut grass, and the smell it had...

His complete bliss was interrupted by Chaceledon walking back into the room, terrifying a maid, giving her orders to clean his clothes. Now he thought of it, he'd never actually had his clothes cleaned before. He did it himself but, never a real job. He thought how nice it'd be to not smell like...

"Bu-" "I-" "You really mustn't-" Kovac truly couldn't get a word in edgeways as Chaceledon let forth his commands to the Barkeep, along with his insults too. The response from the barkeep didn't put him off his new found fellowship, but it certainly didn't put him at ease. He wouldn't argue...

"Yeah, hah... funny..." He giggled awkwardly as Chaceledon made fun of the title 'Dragon Lord'. He'd never really thought of it, but it did sound pretty ridiculous. No man could ever truly hold any real control over Dragons, let alone be the Lord of them. He'd definitely need to ask about that...

He certainly didn't recognise the House of Peridot, but he did know Chaceledon very faintly. But it could have been from anywhere; his father may of mentioned it in one of his many stories, could've been his mother. Could simply be that he's getting his words mixed up with something he'd heard...

Kovac watched as the valueless, priceless weapons were casually tossed into the fire- blazing so hot and fierce that it seemed to swallow the instruments whole, all that was left a blackened, ashen mess. It was enough to drive a Smith to tears. But there was to be much more pain ahead. He felt...

The tone of the Dragon became sadder and duller as they went on, as if going back to their own history pained them. To think that they once roamed the skies, unmatchable by man or beast, to go and do as they wanted. Kovac admired that, to be admired and admonished. He couldn't go through the...

The dialogue the Dragon initiated into was a sad one. Up until now Kovac had simply believed he were here to continue his art. But no. He had a master of some sort, to live in slavery. He couldn't begin to imagine what that must feel like, to be robbed of your ability to fly, the very thing that...

Steel singing. That sounded almost too poetic to refer to the steel from which a Smith makes his art, but was true enough. He gripped the sword tightly, bending his knees and straightening his back. With a grunt, he struck the beaten pole with a side-strike, digging its way into the side. There...

He walked into the Smithy, invited in by the well-kept man. He wasn't surprised to hear about the lack of affordability, it didn't take an expert Blacksmith to identify that these were no common soldiers armoury. These were the weapons of myths and legends. Weapons of esteem. "Dragonforged...

The reply from the man had a sharp tip like a whip, and took Kovac back a little. Under his long eyelashes, the eyes of the man pierced, the purple of his eyes hotter than the fire itself. Looking around the workshop, you could see he worked with fine tools, the examples of his work being...

"Fucking Elves..." Kovac did not relish being in the Falwood. Not one bit. His father had always warned him of the place. It wasn't the forest or villages you had to watch out for when you were a Kavosh, it was the people. All Elves seemed to have a sense of smell when it came to race, for the...