DragonInk: My Entries

Round Two: Disturbances Afar

Prompt: Your character has been in Ellesméra for some time now. You're acquainted with all of your fellow Rider's. One day, Queen Arya approaches you about an issue at the border; plants and animals have been dying and she wants you to investigate. You may choose to fly solo, or bring one or two other members from the competition with you. Good Luck!

Characters: Lanalynn "Lana" Morningstar(bookworm12600) and Belle Liressdaughter(Nikkisha16)

Naiad Mirrors: Bronze tools made by naiads that have the ability to let their user scry and see anything they wish, negating the rule of having to have seen objects/people in order to see them when you're scrying. Created by @Nikkisha16

Score: 6/12. After speaking with the judges I was told that if I had followed the prompt rules better, my entry would've received a 9.

My entry:

"Are you ready Roslyn?"

"As I'll ever be," I said with an exuberant sneer prying at my lips. My instructor, Pælnor, a human nomad who was an aristocrat at swordsmanship, effortlessly straddled his offensive position. He was a lanky and tremendously lean man. With a coarse, un-shaven face and shoulder-length raven black hair, Pælnor appeared to be a gruesome warrior, in fact he was.

He had been a stern nomad since his teen years and had earned the aristocrat status at a young age. This caused the Riders' Empire to keep tabs on him, and later, recruit him to instruct their novices. He was now a middle aged man, but he was not yet graying.

Astoundingly, his forte for many years had been instructing new elven apprentices when, in nature, his fighting techniques should have been futile against an elf's. Because of this, I had regrettably misjudged him.

Feahthum, my elegant, lustrous sword was stationed at my waist. The blade had been crafted in the ancient blacksmith, Rhünon's forge. The blacksmith had forged the most superb and vicious swords in all Rider history. Feahthum, had been no exception to her talents. It was a long, angular blade. It was longer than most swords, and thinner. This was a result of my height, weight, and my dragon's build. I had specifically asked Rhünon to imbed my person insignia on the blade below the hilt, the symbol for stealth. The hilt had been fashioned with obsidian stained iron intertwined together mirroring the roots of trees. At the end of the hilt the obsidian "roots" enveloped around an emerald rhombus.

My legs were a short distance apart where my balance could be easily preserved. My left hand was at my other side, tense as I anticipated my instructor's moves.

I tossed Feahthum's grip in my palm anxiously as it began to perspire. Pælnor suddenly lunged forward, feinting to my left. My instincts previously concluded that I would follow his movements and block my left side. Pælnor grinned as he side stepped and in one strike, the blunt edge of his sword collided with my shoulder, hip, and shin, causing me to stumble backwards. I quickly lost my balance and tumbled into the dirt.

Panting, my emotions boiling, I pushed myself off the ground and brushed off my leggings and leather jerkin.

The training grounds, completely composed of a compacted dirt ground, was a secluded area in the center of a clearing. The day was gruesomely hot, and the sun showed no mercy to my body. Sweat clung to my skin and dampened my bangs and underarms. Dirt clung to my wet skin and dust clouds spread the sand to uncomfortable places, causing my body to itch.

"That's enough for today, Roslyn. We'll work on re-wiring your instincts and your concentration tomorrow at dawn."

"But Ebrithil, it's only an hour past noon. I feel as if in all the six months I've been here, the attempts on educating me on swordsmanship is futile. I need more practice," I argued.