Anastasia
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Kumpleto Tue, Mar 29, 201636m
It is deathly silent.
No one dares make a single sound. Movement is out of the question. They stand, petrified into stillness; waiting.
Their numbers far exceed the hundreds. Noblemen, merchants and beggars alike; countless faces: upturned and expectant. All eyes fixed in fearful veneration on a large, raised platform in the center of the courtyard.
The courtyard itself is vast: a cavernous enclosure encircled by the towering stone walls of the palace. It is enshrouded completely in darkness; the moon a barely visible sliver of pale light in the cloudless midnight sky. There are black-cloaked palace guards lining the walls, torchbearers hulking in every niche and corner. The flames throw long and looming shadows over the flagstones that seem to come alive with frightening clarity. Gargoyles: mid-descent, bodies bent, talons extended menacingly; dragons: mid-growl, heads reared, jaws locked in fearful combat.
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#253
espionage
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The land was divided by an invisible boundary no soul dared to cross. To the north lay the rugged mountains of the Draconis Dominion, where blackened peaks reached toward storm-lit skies. It was a land of fire and stone, ruled by dragons-mighty warriors whose breath scorched the battlefield and whose talons could carve through the thickest armor. Their scales were deep shades of onyx, crimson, and midnight blue, their eyes sharp as blades. They lived by the law of strength, where the weak perished, and the strong thrived. To the south stretched the shimmering plains of Celestara, a land kissed by moonlight and veiled in silver mist. Here, wyverns reigned-beings of magic, whose songs could weave illusions and whose wings carried the whispers of forgotten spells. Unlike their dragon counterparts, wyverns had only two legs, their lithe forms gliding effortlessly between the stars. Their scales gleamed in hues of pearl, gold, and frost, as though they had been sculpted from the heavens themselves. Power among them was not measured in brute strength, but in wisdom, cunning, and the mastery of the arcane. A war had separated them centuries ago, a conflict so brutal that neither side spoke of it anymore-only that to set foot on the other's land was to invite death. No one remembered what had started it, only that the hatred had never faded. The sky itself seemed to split in two, an unseen force keeping dragons and wyverns from ever meeting. But history was written in lies, and time had buried the truth beneath layers of bitterness.
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