Tuesday, October 26, 2010

RP - Unbound

** The following is the introduction to Khelandros' RP mount. For those who are not aware, Khelandros has a runic dragonblade with the essence of a 10,000 year old dragon named Wyrmsfire trapped inside. The essence is bound to the sword, much like a demon is bound to a demon hunter. I hope you enjoy the story. Feel free to RP this in game as well. **

The crunch of the freshly fallen snow reverberated loudly in the chill night air as the one known as The Dark Destroyer walked away from the ruins. Coldarra was a barren wasteland, inhabited by members of the blue dragonflight. Mortals dared not step foot into this region without invitations, and those were not forthcoming any time soon.

The chill of the night settled in on Khelandros, frost rimming the plate armor of his father, armor that had at one time shone brightly in the light, but is now scorched to a blackness deeper than the darkest of night. The cold did not bother him. His time as a Death Knight in service to Arthas allowed him to learn and master the cold, using it to fuel and strengthen him.

Through the light snowfall, he could make out his destination: Frostbridge. The ruins of this bridge have a legend associated with their making. It is said that the bridge was created for a human, who had become good friends with the great dragon aspect Malygos. It would be the only way to gain access to the isle and watched over by the dragonflight. Since the great war, the bridge had been destroyed and is no longer usable.

Wyrmsfire, the runic dragonblade created 10,000 years ago, sat upon the death knight's back buzzing with anticipation. He and the death knight worked well together. Both had willingly sacrificed their souls in order to be where they are now. Both knew the risks, and the potential rewards of their sacrifices.

With each step closer to the bridge, the dragon blade quivered with excitement. It became so much that Khelandros removed the blade from his back and held it extended in his hand. Blue frostfire danced across the blade, and the runes of power emblazoned upon the sword in the ancient writing of the dragons flared a bright blue.

Khelandros finally reached the base of the ruins of the Frostbridge. The frostfire spread from the blade of the sword to the handle, burning his hand. Khelandros had felt the fire before and it had never affected him. The shock at the burning sensation caused him to release the weapon. The sword fell from his hand and embedded itself into the stone pathway of the bridge.

Wringing his still throbbing hand, the death knight took a step back. He had never seen the sword behave this way before. The runes on the blade continued to burn bright, frostfire dancing across the sword. Then the voice that Khelandros had become so accustomed to spoke.

"The Frostbridge. The presence of my brothers and sisters is strong here."

The runes running along the blade darkened and became black. The frostfire extinguished itself. The presence of the essence of the dragon faded from the sword, and all became quiet. Khelandros looked around, as the falling of the snow was the only sound that could be heard. Through the distance, he thought he could hear a faint rumbling. He pulled the edges of his dark hood back from his face, exposing his ears. Yes, it was there.

A shaft of bright light burst through a crack in the metal of the sword. One by one, the cracks grew and let more light shine. The ground began to tremble and shake as the sword exploded with a thunderous crack, sending shards of metal throughout the area.

Khelandros looked around. Broken shards of what used to be his dragonblade lay scattered. He picked a piece that had embedded itself into nearby stone wall, looked at it once, then placed it within a pouch at his belt. He moved over to the area where the sword had once been, the site now scorched and blackened. He moved ever closer to the edge of the cliff, where the bridge had extended over a large gaping chasm and abruptly ended.

Just as Khelandros looked over the edge, a huge blue blur rushed up from the chasm, knocking him backwards and onto his back. Reeling from the force of the impact, his vision blurred. Catching his breath and forcing his body to calm down, his eyesight slowly cleared and focused on a huge leviathan of a beast standing before him. He reached for the sword at his back, finding only an empty space where Wyrmsfire once sat.

The dragon moved closer to where Khelandros knelt. In it's maw, it clutched a sword, which it dropped to the ground. The great beast finally spoke.

"Do not fear, my friend. You are in no danger. For we are friends, bound to each other forever and always."

Khelandros roared up to the dragon. "Speak your name, beast! Who are you?!"

The dragon smiled, revealing rows of sharp dagger like teeth.

"I am Wyrmsfire."

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