(Post written by Script and Tiko)
The gentle lapping of water on shingle made for an eerily peaceful backdrop to the cold winter's day. The sun shone brightly in the sky above, although you wouldn't have known it for the temperature, intermittently fading as a pale grey cloud lazily drifted past to cast a shadow over the lakeside. The water itself was dark, patches of thin ice from the night still scattered across its surface the only detectable movement - no telltale ripples from fish, nor even a hovering dragonfly.
Past the small shingle beach, thin grass and weeds were scattered across an otherwise largely bare stretch of ground leading up to a sheer rock-face a dozen feet high, as though some oversized creature had left a footprint in the earth, slicing a chunk from it and squashing it downwards. Little plantlife other than thistles and bracken made the harsh terrain its home.
A crunch of boots on pebbles broke the peaceful silence of the lakeside and signalled the approach of two intruders on the scene. The first was hooded, cloak pulled tightly about her form as the chilling late-morning wind cut through the area. A staff was held at her side, planted in the ground with each step. The cloak obscured any other armaments she might be carrying, and much of her appearance.
The second was an imposing individual, standing at about six foot eight, and though humanoid in form, her features were unmistakably draconic in nature. Her face was the visage of a dragon snout complete with bony protrusions and a mouthful of vicious looking fangs. In place of skin she had scales, crimson red, and on her back she sported a large pair of wings.
In one hand she clutched a halberd and a large shield was strapped to the forearm of the other, appearing to be crafted from crimson dragon scales matching her own coloration. Her armor was a finely crafted suit of scale mail, overlaid with what appeared to be dragon scales, also of the same crimson hue. Across her back was a longsword, securely sheathed and strapped between her wings.
Her footsteps were heavy upon the ground as the pair walked in somberness, but at last it was the dragonborn that broke the silence. Her footsteps fell silent as she looked to the escarpment, and the winding trail that would lead to the plateau above.
?Go on without me, there's something I need to do while we're here.?
A historian such as Sylvire would well know of the war that had plagued these lands in times past. It was said that it was here that that the dragonborn empire fell. The battles that had raged across these wastelands had ravaged their numbers and left their people broken and fragmented, with no home to call their own, and no heroes left to rebuild what was lost. As the years wore on, the dragonborn people faded from the world, and only a select few remained, and fewer still who knew of them.
Sylvire looked up at Taima and nodded to her. "Take as long as you need," she said, coming to a halt on the beach, "I will wait."
Taima nodded her thanks, appreciating the lack of inquiry into her intentions. For all her stoicism, some things even the hardened dragonborn preferred to leave to the past. She could have taken to the air and flown her way to the top, but something about walking these lands again kept her grounded. Perhaps it was a morbid sense of nostalgia that drove her to see if the pathway remained and to walk it once again.
As she neared the base of the escarpment she uncovered what she was looking for - a deep but narrow crevice concealed within the shadows cast by the overhead sun. The way was barren and devoid of obstacles save a few fallen rocks and Taima slowly began her ascent to the plains above. It was here that she had led an ambush in the battle of Kryomor. A battle that not a one of her men had returned from.
Sighing heavily she finished her ascent, briefly coming into view at the top of the precipice before stepping away from it and towards the wasteland that lay before her. The elements had long ravaged the battle field and bits of snow dotted the hills, but even after all these years the telltale signs of battle still lingered. Bits of broken weapons, a few scraps of metal, and even the remnants of a few snow covered war machines dotted the area.
As she began to pick her way through the area, the sound of a crunch came from beneath her foot and she looked down at what appeared to be a bit of bone. Recent erosion had uncovered the grizzly history of the place, and the skeletal remains of those that had been left without burial to suffer the ravages of time.
After a moments deliberation, Taima drove her halberd into the frozen earth and lowered herself to one knee. Bowing her head, she offered a moments prayer to the lives lost so very long ago. A moments time to recall the past, before she and Sylvire could get back on the trail of the fugitives that they pursued.
Source: http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/RolePlayGateway/~3/FdmPj_TDP3M/viewtopic.php
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