Pay Heed to the Call [Semi-Closed]

[Akira Aoyama]

"Can you hear it?"

"Of course."

"Then why do you sit idly by, doing nothing?"

"I don't know this place...what am I supposed to do?"

"Pitiable..."

Ilend found himself atop a hill, overlooking the vast bastion of humanity known as Saint Desolatus. His flaming oculars straining with weariness as a conversation was carried out silently within his mind. A conversation which had ended as abruptly as it had begun, and left the armored being with more questions than answers. Questions that needed answers if there were to be any success in the goal he had in mind.

Slowly his armor creaked as his sturdy figure lurched forward, the charred grass beneath his feet sifting into ash as each reddened boot made contact with the flesh of Gaia. His eyes no longer were red in weariness, yet appeared a brilliant white as they now once again held purpose. His eyes were unlike that of any mortal being, as they told countless centuries of tales that were now naught but legend. Fables that piled as high as the most mighty of mountains.

As his fiery figured slowly descended downwards upon a more solid footing he slowly began to change form. At first it was only an insignificant change, the heat around his body slowly dying out. Yet as Ilend drove onward and made his way closer towards civilization, the changes became naught but startling. No longer did his body embrace the flame which he controlled so brazenly, no more did the armor sear the skin of mother earth. For now his armor seemed to melt down as if the heat had become far too much for it to handle.

Slowly the armor grew taut across his core, taking on a more humanoid shape than it had originally. It carved out several features such as the ears and nose, and even clothing began to take shape from within the molten material. By the time he had arrived at the gates of the city he now looked as human as any other whom he may encounter. His now shoulder length hair hung freely down the sides of his head, parted in the front to allow sight and for others to of course view his face. A face which seemed to belong to a rather uncaring and unkempt man. His piercing brown eyes were half shut from the glare of the sun, and the stubble upon his face caused irritation to him in the extreme.

Aside from his facial features his armor had also formed a set of clothing perfectly suited for this type of look. A heavy ebon cloak which was clasped about the neck with a silver button that took on the appearance of a dragon head. The hood upon the back of it laid neatly behind his head and under his messy hair. His upper body was bare, yet hidden by the robe, whilst his brown pants were partially visible at the lower regions. His feet were protected by heavy brown boots, which seemed to be worse for wear to say the least. This was his obvious ensemble, however he did have a few surprises clasped to the underside of his cloak. Each of which could bring a rather swift demise to those who would be aggressive towards him.

It was now that he made his way into the city. It was now that he would finally begin his journey into this new world, in search of his original body, and in search of something else which he himself chose to put out of his mind for the time being.

It did not take long for him to navigate his way about the city, learning by simply observing the inhabitants. He soon found himself outside of what appeared to be an area for social gatherings, perhaps a pub or some other form of business. He cared not, yet he decided that it would be as good a place as any to prepare a supply of knowledge. With this in mind he slowly began to walk in.....

[wolfbat9008]

I'm telling you! There was this big honkin' bone dragon that dun burned down ma' farm!"Cried a scrawny, paniced farmer who was in the pub. Two men were gathered 'round him, laughing at him. A young boy sat nearby, not laughing at all. In fact, his expression was a bit more grim."Hahahah! Silly ol' farmer, no dragons have been spotted around here in years! Do you know when the last dragon that came here was? Fifteen years ago! Ahahaha!"Bellowed one man. The rest of the pub was listening, most of them laughing with the man."But I'm telling you! This big boney dragon, with horns an' teeth an' such, was breathin' fire all over ma' house! It was at least fifteen feet tall at the shoulder!"The farmer, who also had stubble on his face, cried out."Please! Stop pulling our legs, Old Crow! Hahaha, you don't know what you're talking about! You're crazy!"Now everyone was laughing. All except for the young thirteen-year-old in the pub, enjoying a small cup of tea.

The boy had sandy brown hair with white roots, and a very peculiar set of eyes. The left one was a bright cyan blue, the color of the sea, and his right eye was sterling silver, like the sea foam. They glittered brightly like jewels in a dragon's horde. He had pale skin like porcelain, and his nails were just a tiny bit longer than they should have been. His ears, though covered by his shoulder-length hair, were pointed like an elf's. He had oddly pronounced canines, and he seemed a little on the scrawny side. This boy was no ordinary boy, however, as he was a powerful and rare type of mage known as a dragomancer. Dragomancers were wizards who relied on the powers of the wise and mighty dragons to cast their spells.

The boy's full name was Reth Lox. It wasn't his real name, but it was the name givin to him by the one that chose him to be an apprentice. Reth Lox was his dragonish name, as all dragomancers recieved a new name when they started their apprenticeship. They would be called ony by their dragonish name, and their original name would never be used for any purpose. The original name was considered "lost", for once one has started on the path of dragomancy, they could never look back. Reth's last name, Lox, meant "light" in dragonish. And Reth, while not an actual word and more of a name in dragonish, meant "glory". So his name, when pulled together, translated to "Glorious Light".

Now, Reth was unnerved by this dragon sighting, as the description was what worried him most.

"A big bone dragon, with horns an' teeth an' such..."

That sounded like Reth's cruel and unforgiving teacher, Modric Lanuk. Modric's name meant "evil, bad" or "malevolent", while Wyrim meant "Wyrm". It had never occured to Reth that his teacher was evil, as cruel as he was, and that Reth could translate his name, but Modric was indeed a blackened soul. You see, dragomancers, when advanced enough, could transform into dragons themselves. Their "Inner Dragon" depended on the type of dragon they could become. They could find this inner dragon by having a special dream. It wa not pleasant to mak this dream happen, however. Anyway, Reth and Modric could both easily turn into dragons. Modric's dragon form was a Bone Wyrm, and a "big bone dragon" was a pretty blunt but accurate way of describing one.

Reth was worried his teacher had gone on another rampage, which usually happened when Modric had to let off some steam or when he was angry. Reth quietly slunk away, leaving a few copper coins on the counter and leaving the pub with great silence. Not only because he was worried that Modric was loose killing things, but also because another man had entered, and he had a bad feeling about the new visitor.

[Modulation]

Efante entered the town, all his worldly possessions over his shoulder. Young-faced, slightly scarred...with eyes that gleamed as he took in the sights. He was writing down notes in a small journal. He was attracting a bit of attention, with his neat attire and groomed nails. He kept clean, and he showed it. What was catching more attention, though, were the goggles on his head and the large thing around his neck - he called them his "headphones". Also the fact that he openly wore a gun holstered on the left side of his chest. He was basically a walking contradiction - but he definitely had money, for all of his machinery looked like it was made of gold.

"The folk of this town - Saint Desolatus, I believe - seem to regard me strangely. Perhaps they do not have an academy here? A pity - I was hoping to learn about the local history here. It seems a big town, generally disposed to farmers and merchants. The children play in the streets, and seem to follow me. Perhaps they're looking for my money-pouch? Children often learn bad things in the city. I hope this isn't the case, but children are children. Maybe I'll throw a coin or two their way..."

He continued his notes in this fashion, stepping over the legs of children trying to trip him. For being seventeen, he sure knew his stuff. He could calculate the trajectory of an arrow, calibrate explosive devices, and even construct a gun from spare parts. But he had yet to see hardship. His eyes were actually scanning for the people who showed certain characteristics...quietness, sniffing around...he was a researcher of Lycanthropy. In fact, he was the expert - unfortunately, he was traveling to avoid having another lab burnt down.

He looked up at a tavern for a moment, debating whether they had wine. But it was the boy who came out that caught his attention. Heterochromia, pale skin, the nails, a nervous demeanor...even the odd hair color suggested possibilities to him. And the scrawniness suggested that this boy was possibly a lycanthrope of the rat variety. But the heterochromia...and in such unusual colors. Was this an undocumented type? Or something else entirely? Having only glanced at the boy before him, Efante found the best way to engage a conversation.

He bumped into Reth, pinwheeling his arms as he lost his balance, leaning too far towards the bar. "Sorr- woahwoahwoah...!" The journal was already closed, to avoid damaging it. Efante was not quite known for his social skills.

[Aleksei]

```o PRIDE

Fingertips tangoed across the edge of the small glass, using it as a rope to show off their delicious skills. Upon their lithe bodies was dirt and dust from the days wear and tear, but that didn't stop their small dance. It was impossible to escape your own skin, to remove all the blood and tears from every dip and dive; becoming what you wear and carry. For now though these hands were happy on their glass string.

It was a small choice to enter the congested pub full of faithful hearts and drunk tongues. The atmosphere lively as men threw away all ambition to be courteous and gentile, replacing these fair occupations with brute and beastly ways. So fully entertaining to see how they all changed when in the crowd of friends, away from their women and jobs. Just like caterpillars shedding away it's cocoon to become a beautiful bug with vibrate colors. Amongst all this there was a man of elderly age speaking of a dragon perched atop his home, burning it down with it's fiery breath. As much of there was truth to the saying dragons were a rarity, it didn't necessarily mean they were fully exstinct. But why would one attack his home? To her, that would be the last place to go if she were a dragon.

Growing tired of the men mocking the elderly a white cloaked figure stood away from the bar and approached the group. The body was slender and somewhat tall, but beneath the heavy fabrics it was hard to tell if there was even a solid form under it all. The air surrounding this interruption was something fierce, simply demanding the men stop their mocking manners without having to say a single word. As sure as winter they all stopped laughing at the stranger, letting his old heart finally calm down as a slender hand planted itself on his shoulder.

"Follow me sir, I'm interested in your story."

A voice seeped from beneath the white hood, giving the indication that it was a woman. She let the man follow her back to the bar where he would take a seat, there she offered him a drink of water. By the looks of it he was frail, on the edge of death but too proud to tip over. He had a story to share and no one wanted to listen, but luckily she was very willing to hear what he had to say.

"So what of this dragon?"

[Oljhin Akusao]

Great... It’s just nutjob after nutjob in this place… Syl silently complained as he eyed the farmer blathering on about some dragon burning down his house. He sat alone in the corner of the small pub, his gray cloak blending in well to the moth eaten, black curtains on the window behind him. But since the farmer’s doing a great job of attracting any wandering looks in his direction, he was somewhat grateful. His first few weeks upon arrival in Genesaris had been nothing but mess after mess. His travels were rough, and every day came with the possibility of another disaster. Images of a knight and an angel flashed before his eyes… his brow furrowed as he tried to forget that memory. He wrapped his hand around the ale-filled cup in front of him, lifted it to his lips and emptied it in a few swigs, attempting and failing at his attempt to wash the bitter taste of that incident from both his mind and mouth. As he set his cup down, he had noticed that the laughter and shouting had quieted down. He looked up; eyes scanning the pub until his gaze finally found the farmer, and the white cloaked figure standing beside him. Syl saw the stranger by the bar as he entered the then deserted pub, and was one of two people there that he kept an eye out for. A slender, graceful hand lay on the farmer’s shoulder from beneath the white cloak. He instinctually reached for his staff, which was leaning on his chair, with his left hand. A sharp pain shot through the length of his arm up to his chest, his grimace hidden by his gray hood. Damned knight… he grumbled to himself as he discreetly lifted his sleeve, checking his scarred arm. There was a new addition to his blood seal markings; an elliptical scar made by a throwing dagger. Syl remembered it like yesterday, how he had pulled out the blade that had sunk almost hilt deep into his arm, how he felt and heard a crunch as its pointed tip slid out of the bone that it had punctured. His knuckles had gone white when a voice echoed by his ear, faint as a whisper.

Easy, Syl… that lesson is learned. Ah, but here is a new one. Tell me, what interests you with that farmer so? Seeking to make a dragon summon? “Don’t be stupid, Smoke, we both know I’ve a long way to go before facing dragons.” Hmm… then we’d best get started continuing your training then. “Not yet, I’ve a feeling we’ll be in for something tonight” Who’s being stupid now? You know you’re not fit for fighting in your condition… tch, if you die, I will enjoy torturing your soul for eternity in limbo. “Relax, you may know that, but they don’t. And besides, it’s almost dusk…” Syl looked out the window, the street outside bathed in the orange glow of the setting sun. “You should be strong enough should the need arise”

Tsss… The sharp noise in his ear made Syl snap his head to one side. His previous immobility broken, a few eyes wandered in his direction. He shifted his eyes towards his table and his cup, avoiding any eye contact that would expose his brilliant iridescent eyes. His hood now cast a slight shadow over his face, and then darkened by his shadowmeld to create a thin veil of darkness that masked his face as he studied the newest patron of the small establishment. A tall man walked in, as the small, sand haired boy left the pub hurriedly. Score already, pickpocket? The stranger had long, greasy hair, and an unshaved face. One would assume that he was a pauper, seeking shelter for the night, until one saw the gleaming dragonhead that held the black cloak draped over him.

Syl observed the stranger, eyeing him curiously. He often shifted his eyes to the white cloak that stood with its back towards him, most likely conversing with the deranged farmer. “Black and white, well I’ll be damned. Seems I’m in the middle with gray” Syl chuckled softly to himself. Think that’s funny? Let’s see if you can laugh when they pull you apart in the middle, and then all you’ll see is red. “Smoke, I know you won’t let that happen… Well now, I do believe we have a responsibility to introduce ourselves” What?! You fool! You don’t even know these people and yo- “Shut it, Smoke, and get ready, I have this most troubling sensation that NOTHING will go wrong… but I could be wrong and it might just be the ale…”

Standing slowly, Syl grabbed his staff and left a few coppers on the table. Leaning on his staff for support, he made his way towards the bar. Positioning himself between the white and black cloaked strangers, Syl motioned for another cup of ale. He set his left hand on the furnished wood and leaned his staff on his knee, as his right hand fell on his lap. “Nice day for a drink… Such troubled times it seems, Dragons! I hear… and no ordinary one by that. Bone wyrm was it, old man?” Syl directed his voice toward the farmer, but he hoped that the small piece of code in it would not fall on deaf ears.

[Akira Aoyama]

Ilend had no sooner made his presence known within the pub, and already he had a shocking new development. Talk of a Bone Wyrm, a man who walked by him and carried a powerful and foreboding aura, and two people who seemed interested in the story from what looked to be your typical farmer. An audible chuckle almost escaped the cracked lips of the hooded figure as he almost wanted to give himself a pat on the back for his decision. It was fortuitous indeed that things had gone so well thus far, and if lady luck were truly on his side today, perhaps things may blossom into something much more.

His lazy gaze wandered across the room as he continued walking, bumping into the Dragomancer as he did so. This was done on purpose as he then pretended it was an accident, all whilst never truly taking his focus off of the trio in the back. His seemingly parched lips split apart, allowing his somewhat hoarse and calm voice to carry itself towards the ears of the one who attempted to tame his kind.

"Apologies....It looks like my journeys have wore me out too much."

And with that he continued on towards the group in the back, taking no time to sway in between the crowd and simply choosing to push them out of the way as he approached his destination. This of course caused at least one person to go into a drunken rage, and in their rage they swung at him without hesitation. This was met by a simple crouching maneuver, which was masked easily as Ilend rose with a coin in his hand and a smile on his face.

"Well I'll be damned...lady luck really is on my side today."

The swing continued full circle and ended up colliding with another patron, who then in his own drunken rage started a brawl with the person who decked him square in the nose. And thus another bar fight began, and Ilend simply acted as if nothing were going on behind him at all. A few steps more and he found himself standing slightly to the left of the white robed figure, his eyes flickering to the various members of the group. His enhanced senses told him there was more to the hooded people here than most would guess at first glance, and he had already learned a bit about them due to their actions. Simply put, a normal person doesn't casually go to the side with an old man talking about bone wyrms. No, normal people do what the ones behind him were doing. These were perhaps warriors, or maybe even scholars, either way they would likely be a valuable source of information at the very least.

Having arrived he wasted no time in interrupting the conversation that may or may not have fully started. Before doing so he had inspected the coin which he found upon the ground thoroughly, and took the opportunity to pickpocket a person or two on the way there using the brawl as a great distraction. He now had two small bags of coin, each approximately half full with a variety of coin. Having stole off a look, he saw that it was likely a fairly hefty amount. At least enough in each to feed a man for a week. With this in mind he slammed the coin bags onto the table using his right hand, and his piercing oculars then gazed upon the old man.

"Look, I'm not here to mince words. You get both bags of coin if you do one small thing for me cottar. Tell me where your farm is, and how to get there."

As soon as he spoke these words he felt it coming on, the other half of his persona, the real half. His voice suddenly changed in tone, and as he spoke again it carried a deep serpentine hiss to it. Even hearing this voice made it almost blatantly obvious to knowledgeable people as to his true nature. That of a dragon himself, a glorious beast no longer in possession of that which was rightfully his. A proud creature forced to shackle itself to the bodies of lesser beings....a truly lamentable existence.

"As for the two of you..." His right hand then motioned towards the other two cloaked figures. "We have something to discuss. And especially you warrior, I remember you now." His right index finger pointed directly at the one in gray. "It is interesting that you survived that battle in the forest. You could be helpful if you are willing, I will pay if that is your price."

[wolfbat9008]

Reth was a little jumpy at his point, and being bumped into was sure to make him yelp from suprise. And he did. It was a short "Tarik!" sor of sound that he made. Not many knew the language dragonish, so the stranger would probably think it was just a foreign sound from a foreign creature. He gulped hard, a little scared of strangers, and decided to help up the odd man."C-can I...h-help you?"He asked, holding out a hand for Efante. He was very frightened of strangers, as his teacher Modric had taught him that the world was a cruel and unforgiving place, that the world was evil and lacked in heroes. He seemed to be rich or something, as he had many odd inventions that appeared to be made of gold or brass. What really scared him was not the strange inventions that could of held danerous magic, but it was the gun he had on him that scared him most. He didn't see guns often, but when he did, he knew that they were deadly. He didn't know if bullets could penetrate dragon scales, but he didn't want to find out. He just wanted to play it safe and hope this guy wasn't looking for a brand new pair of dragonhide boots. He left immediately and disappeared into the forest.

I was just mindin' me own buisness..."Began the farmer to the white figure, ignoring everyone else...
"And as I was plowin' the fields, and me wife was milkin' cows, a huge dragon made entirely out of bones appeared and started dun breathin' fire all over the place! It was destroyin' ev'rythin'! It had eyes that glowed red like the devil, it had! And it's bones were old and cracked, but seemed as strong as steel!"He cried, making gestures with his hands to explain the details in his story.

Another being entered the area, but she was much, much younger. She had to be at least nine or ten in age. She had a very peculiar appearance, having pinkish-red armor covered in ancient runes and eyes of the same color. She had blonde hair like gold and a pair of armored wings on her back. She was short, and her eyes were deceitfully innocent. She was a demon, a demon who was training to destroy the world and obliterate all signs of life. As small as she was, she had a moderate amount of power, though still not enough to, oh, I don't know, summon a meteorite to destroy the whole solar system. She was outside the tavern, chasing down a squirrel as she tried to burn it with little balls of fire....