- Messages
- 182
- Character Biography
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The mountain was not kind on Alistair's legs, especially with the weight he had lost in the past months. Slugging his string bag over his shoulder, he pulled his feet up a set of stone steps that lead to the top of the mountain, it's peak hidden by clouds. He stood on the edge of the stairs and raised a hand to his brow, then looked around. Crows cawed and snow lined the stone, a precipice overlooking the mountains of the Spine. From the stairs where he stood, Alistair could make out the shape of crumbling ruins between the mountains, which was where the dragon keepers lived. He nodded to himself, slugged his bag over his shoulder and gripped the hem of his robes, then set on up the stairs.
His legs ached. Puffing and panting, he climbed the stairs, which wound around the side of the mountain and lead to the ruins. As he reached the top, a breeze blew up the stairs and swept up his robes.
He turned around, to see a dragon flying overhead. Eyes wide, Alistair gasped in awe, enamored by the sight of the magnificent beast. Grabbing his robes, he ran up the rest of the stairs and arrived at the ruins at the top of the mountain. A trail of smoke rose overhead, meaning there was a fire somewhere in the ruins. Alistair immediately felt his heartbeat rise, but ignored it. He took a breath and stepped onto a hill, which lead him to the front of the ruins. The dragon keepers appeared to have made them into a home of sorts. His string bag in hand, Alistair stepped over the barrier of the ruins and stepped inside, his head shrouded by shadows.
He was going to live with the dragon keepers for a few months to recuperate and practice his hydromancy. Maho Sparhawk's spellbook was in his bag, and he was going to study it over the coming months to prepare himself for facing fire again.
"Hello?" He called, "is anybody here?" He called again, but there was no answer.
Shrugging, he hauled his bag off his shoulder and walked around. A single candle stood on a ledge, it's flames flickering before the seat of white before the arrow slit. Alistair shuddered. His mind shifted, and for a split second, he was transported back to the scene of the battle. He saw the fireball as it hit the stables, incinerating Maho Sparhawk and Ashieron. He breathed in, shook his head and retained his composure. Gripping his hair, he screwed up his features as he waited for the vision to end, before he was ripped out of his trance by a shrill chirping. At the other end of the room, a baby dragon crawled forward, it's scales and wings very familiar to the one Alistair had met at Ninagal.
"Alzros! Hey buddy!" Alistair chimed.
Reaching down, he patted the dragon's head and laughed as he licked his face, when the sound of footsteps drew his eyes to the doorway. Standing in the stone frame, was the visage of an Elf.
"No way," Alistair thought to himself, "that can't be Ashieron, I saw him die!" The thought assailed his mind. Alzros chirped and ran onto Alistair's shoulder. Stroking his scales, he slowly rose to his feet and beheld Ashieron, whole and in one piece, as though the battle had never happened. Alzros in his arms, the young mage stepped forward, his mouth agape.
His soft, brown eyes widened and he gasped, "Ashieron, but you..." His voice trailed off, "I saw the fireball hit the stables!"
His legs ached. Puffing and panting, he climbed the stairs, which wound around the side of the mountain and lead to the ruins. As he reached the top, a breeze blew up the stairs and swept up his robes.
He turned around, to see a dragon flying overhead. Eyes wide, Alistair gasped in awe, enamored by the sight of the magnificent beast. Grabbing his robes, he ran up the rest of the stairs and arrived at the ruins at the top of the mountain. A trail of smoke rose overhead, meaning there was a fire somewhere in the ruins. Alistair immediately felt his heartbeat rise, but ignored it. He took a breath and stepped onto a hill, which lead him to the front of the ruins. The dragon keepers appeared to have made them into a home of sorts. His string bag in hand, Alistair stepped over the barrier of the ruins and stepped inside, his head shrouded by shadows.
He was going to live with the dragon keepers for a few months to recuperate and practice his hydromancy. Maho Sparhawk's spellbook was in his bag, and he was going to study it over the coming months to prepare himself for facing fire again.
"Hello?" He called, "is anybody here?" He called again, but there was no answer.
Shrugging, he hauled his bag off his shoulder and walked around. A single candle stood on a ledge, it's flames flickering before the seat of white before the arrow slit. Alistair shuddered. His mind shifted, and for a split second, he was transported back to the scene of the battle. He saw the fireball as it hit the stables, incinerating Maho Sparhawk and Ashieron. He breathed in, shook his head and retained his composure. Gripping his hair, he screwed up his features as he waited for the vision to end, before he was ripped out of his trance by a shrill chirping. At the other end of the room, a baby dragon crawled forward, it's scales and wings very familiar to the one Alistair had met at Ninagal.
"Alzros! Hey buddy!" Alistair chimed.
Reaching down, he patted the dragon's head and laughed as he licked his face, when the sound of footsteps drew his eyes to the doorway. Standing in the stone frame, was the visage of an Elf.
"No way," Alistair thought to himself, "that can't be Ashieron, I saw him die!" The thought assailed his mind. Alzros chirped and ran onto Alistair's shoulder. Stroking his scales, he slowly rose to his feet and beheld Ashieron, whole and in one piece, as though the battle had never happened. Alzros in his arms, the young mage stepped forward, his mouth agape.
His soft, brown eyes widened and he gasped, "Ashieron, but you..." His voice trailed off, "I saw the fireball hit the stables!"
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