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 Small Puddles can make big messes

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Posts : 395
Join date : 2012-07-08
Location : Coming up with a plot within a plot

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PostSubject: Small Puddles can make big messes   Tue Oct 08, 2013 1:11 am

Zephyr ran her cool fingers in the stream moving swiftly around her ankles, the temperature suggested that it would freeze over in the next few weeks. Stepping out of the water, she dried her feet off with her cloak before pulling her shoes and socks on. Her white blonde hair fell long down her back and it was unbound as well. Her bright green eyes were half closed as the wind caressed her cheek. It had been weeks since she had last seen another living thing... strangely enough Zephyr was neither living or dead. She was a sword, a demon sword. Most people who could read auras would classify her as a demon... but she didn't have a heart beat or blood. Strange indeed.

Zoe was one of five swords, her brother worked for the dark king. Zoe generally fought against them. But sometimes she was just alone... like now. Her three siblings who were missing were, water, earth, and lightning. Fire caused enough trouble...

Zoe started from her revere, drawing her hood up around her long white hair... something was going to happen. She couldn't tell what yet... but something was.

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Dungeon Master

Posts : 7
Join date : 2013-01-17

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PostSubject: Re: Small Puddles can make big messes   Sat Dec 14, 2013 4:51 pm

A distant thudding echoes out. It is the sound 100,000 soldiers marching in step. It is sound of the end.

Kypler Flammarus and his army is on its way to the first realm. Sylvia.

Sylvia's end would come soon and come swiftly, at least, if they were caught unawares.

This army of rejects and villainous scum were not just hired goons, but trained killers all. Scars adorned their skin and weapons hung at their sides or on their backs. Each one was as wretched and ruthless as the next, if not more so. They were ready, after years of hard living, to take back lands they'd once dominated before Wrendell's patrols cleared them away.

The pounding feet and clang of gear is as ominous as it is loud. It is the sound of an army prepared to kill and prepared to die.

The skies seem darker and the air smells of ash.

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