Chapter 2: Narila, HalfBreed SwordsMan.
Dragons, Creatures of Might
Flying high on ancient wing,
Humans, Creatures of wisdom
Technology so great,
Two breeds into one
Power hidden in a single member,
Special unto them
Prized for his skill,
Narila, SwordsMaster, HalfBreed,
Stuck in between the Human, the Dragon.
Narila was a Master SwordsMan of his clan, and a special member for other reasons as well. His clan is prized for their Dragon training and riding, yet he was born with the ability to change into a Dragon. This alone made Narila a very valuable member of his clan, not taking into account his natural mastery of Swordsmanship.
During a squabble with a WitchMother of another clan, Narila was cursed while changing shape, and forced into being stuck between his Dragon state and Human form. For this, he was thought to be an even greater power for his clan, and was the central power of his army. Narila loved the thought of that.'his army.'
Sitting quietly in the Mercenary's Keep in the village, Narila waited for the announcement of war to come; he knew it would any moment now. He stood from his seat and picked his crescent blade up off the ground. Narila spent a few seconds cleaning, dusting, shining, polishing, and sharpening his beloved sword, which he called Draconia. He stepped out of the Keep, and looked about the small clan village.
From a mile and a half away, the war cries of an approaching tribe sounded, reverberating off of the canyon protecting Narila's own clan. He called the warriors of the village to his side, and all came, for once. They wielded many various weapons, a number of them holding two. Many women also came to help, wielding frying pans, broomsticks with their ends sharpened like spears, whatever could be found. A number of small children also held rocks and slingshots, clubs of wood, and other things they could use.
Narila set out first, ahead of the others, his crescent blade held high, ready to shed the blood of his enemies. Narila always had a serious blood lust and was not satiated until he had shed an army's worth; he would get that chance now.
Narila sped his pace, and reached the opposing forces within a minute. He lifted his blade in front of him, and drove through the first line unmatched. The second was more skilled, but still only a minute challenge. The third increased again, and Narila backed off, speeding back to his own clan's lines. "Forward!" he screamed forcefully, and the entire troop marched on to meet the enemies.
The two armies met in a clash of sword and shield, makeshift tool against makeshift tool, and Narila's side slightly overpowered. Narila began wiping out commanders, using strength and every weapon available to him to rip through foes. The many children were actually a rather large help to Narila, because their stones knocked many an enemy unconscious, and killed a few of them from impact.
~~~~~~~~~~~*******~~~~~~~~~~
After a number of hours, the war had finished, and Narila marched, exhausted, back to his own home, savoring the adrenaline rush from the battle, along with the blood dripping from every part of his body from the senseless beatings he had given out.
Narila entered his own home, and sat on the bed, remotely annoyed. He had lost more people than he had wished in that battle, as well as a top ranks Shaman of the tribe. This Shaman was the one most capable of anchoring a dead soul back in its own body, thus restoring life.
Not having this Shaman gave Narila no confidence, but did convince him to leave his clan and travel on his own. 'But first,' he thought, 'I must get sleep and food.' Narila fell backwards, nearly unconscious, asleep.
~~~~~*****~~~~~
When he awoke, his stomach was roaring, so Narila headed off to the Mess tent, where he ate voraciously. When he had finished his meal, he quickly walked back to his own home. In his hut, he grabbed his trusty sword, and then took off, leaving his clan village for good.
Dragons, Creatures of Might
Flying high on ancient wing,
Humans, Creatures of wisdom
Technology so great,
Two breeds into one
Power hidden in a single member,
Special unto them
Prized for his skill,
Narila, SwordsMaster, HalfBreed,
Stuck in between the Human, the Dragon.
Narila was a Master SwordsMan of his clan, and a special member for other reasons as well. His clan is prized for their Dragon training and riding, yet he was born with the ability to change into a Dragon. This alone made Narila a very valuable member of his clan, not taking into account his natural mastery of Swordsmanship.
During a squabble with a WitchMother of another clan, Narila was cursed while changing shape, and forced into being stuck between his Dragon state and Human form. For this, he was thought to be an even greater power for his clan, and was the central power of his army. Narila loved the thought of that.'his army.'
Sitting quietly in the Mercenary's Keep in the village, Narila waited for the announcement of war to come; he knew it would any moment now. He stood from his seat and picked his crescent blade up off the ground. Narila spent a few seconds cleaning, dusting, shining, polishing, and sharpening his beloved sword, which he called Draconia. He stepped out of the Keep, and looked about the small clan village.
From a mile and a half away, the war cries of an approaching tribe sounded, reverberating off of the canyon protecting Narila's own clan. He called the warriors of the village to his side, and all came, for once. They wielded many various weapons, a number of them holding two. Many women also came to help, wielding frying pans, broomsticks with their ends sharpened like spears, whatever could be found. A number of small children also held rocks and slingshots, clubs of wood, and other things they could use.
Narila set out first, ahead of the others, his crescent blade held high, ready to shed the blood of his enemies. Narila always had a serious blood lust and was not satiated until he had shed an army's worth; he would get that chance now.
Narila sped his pace, and reached the opposing forces within a minute. He lifted his blade in front of him, and drove through the first line unmatched. The second was more skilled, but still only a minute challenge. The third increased again, and Narila backed off, speeding back to his own clan's lines. "Forward!" he screamed forcefully, and the entire troop marched on to meet the enemies.
The two armies met in a clash of sword and shield, makeshift tool against makeshift tool, and Narila's side slightly overpowered. Narila began wiping out commanders, using strength and every weapon available to him to rip through foes. The many children were actually a rather large help to Narila, because their stones knocked many an enemy unconscious, and killed a few of them from impact.
~~~~~~~~~~~*******~~~~~~~~~~
After a number of hours, the war had finished, and Narila marched, exhausted, back to his own home, savoring the adrenaline rush from the battle, along with the blood dripping from every part of his body from the senseless beatings he had given out.
Narila entered his own home, and sat on the bed, remotely annoyed. He had lost more people than he had wished in that battle, as well as a top ranks Shaman of the tribe. This Shaman was the one most capable of anchoring a dead soul back in its own body, thus restoring life.
Not having this Shaman gave Narila no confidence, but did convince him to leave his clan and travel on his own. 'But first,' he thought, 'I must get sleep and food.' Narila fell backwards, nearly unconscious, asleep.
~~~~~*****~~~~~
When he awoke, his stomach was roaring, so Narila headed off to the Mess tent, where he ate voraciously. When he had finished his meal, he quickly walked back to his own home. In his hut, he grabbed his trusty sword, and then took off, leaving his clan village for good.