In Search of Hope

[Crimson]

The lively flames of the fireplace in the Mistyvale Inn danced, and their chaotic dance reflected in Darions eyes as he watched them.

Feuron the Red, and his Trial of Strength.
Kâ-ánnâne the Black, and her Trial of Wisdom.
Kakena the Green, and her freedom won with bloodshed and thinking.

He narrowed his eyes slightly as the memory of the ancient green dragons form.
The enemy was capable of such cruelty, such madness. It made him feel sick, but even more, it made him seeth with rage on Kakena's behalf.

Darion pushed the grim memory away for now, and focused on the flames again.
Who did he need to find now? Kakena had given no leads - and that only made sense, since she had been held captive.

"Red... black... green..." he whispered, and then it hit him.
"...white."

He looked away from the flames, over his shoulder at Master Roggins who stood on his usual spot.
"Master Roggins! An ale please!"

He nodded to the dwarf, and returned his faintly glowing gaze to the flames.
"White it is then." he mumbled to himself.

He would be leaving soon, for he knew one thing about the White Dragons... he would have to go somewhere cold, somewhere very cold.

[Crimson]

Snow falls not on this lightless day, though heavy clouds suggests that it may start at any time.
Each step has his heavy, bronze-gilded adamantine armor shift and clank as always, and his heavy boots sink deeply into the thick carpet of snow which covers the Ravenwood.

Never before has he faced this much snow and cold, but against his physical power and his heavy, warm equipment, the freezing winds and the chilling snow stands little chance of getting to him.

He constantly scans the area as he moves forward, for he must be prepared for anything. The Ravenwood is no longer a good place...

At some point, he stops walking and looks around before lowering the hood on his heavy, woollen cloak.
A few thoughts flies through hs mind; thoughts of Shayde and him, and what they had had together - now lost forever, as he had expected.
Though it pains him, it also gives him an edge: He can now focus on what is truly important. He can now turn his back to that which has kept him from further ascension and evolution.

"What is the hurry...?" he whispers with a small smirk, the dragonic words comes as easy to him as commion does - perhaps even easier.

It was time to fulfill his duty and become what he was meant to be... and it was time to move on, and save the last remnants of a race who depended on his success for their survival. His race.

Darion of the Bronze starts walking again, confident yet ready, as a dragon should always be.

[Crimson]

"You must go where your heart once died..."

The words were not easily forgotten, nor should they be.
He had found no dragon in the Ravenwood - but he had gotten a clue, and he intended to follow that clue.
There were two places he could think of, one more likely than the other... so he started with the one that was easiest: the ruins of Grassfold, near Corda.

He had traveled for a few days now, and every night before he fell asleep had been the same, thinking and wondering... the words of the Pure One had done something to him. And so he would sit there during the darkest hours of the night and think... what was the truth?

"Your father was just as quick to anger..."

"Two fell on that day..."

He would bury his head in his hands and rub his temples and then he would rise and walk around, until the thoughts could finally be dismissed.

But it was always there, deep in his mind... which of the two was his father?


Darion crossed the last hill, and took a deep breath as he saw the ruins of his old home.
He had lost everything here... his family, his loved one, his greatest chance of learning the truth...

Though it was a bitter place to him, Darion continued on foot, and entered the place he had once called home.

[Crimson]

A chilling wind blew as he reached the center of the ruins, where the marketplace had once been, and where his foster father had died right in front of him.

Darion looked around quietly.
This place held little more than death, yet nature had done its best to reclaim it.
For a while, Darion walked among the ruins, taking in all the memories that came to him. Faces of people he had once held dear showed up in his mind; kind Old Laela with her cakes and cookies, Mary and Augos, his foster parents, Fuffer the Darion-tackling dog(Okay, maybe half bear...) and Linnea, his first and truest love.

Never would they be forgotten.

Darion continued on foot towards the forest where he and Linnea had hunted and played as children.
Old ruins were charming... but these particular ones were no longer a place he could rest.

[DM Sanguinity]

It is cooler beneath the trees. Typically, when people think of Corda, they think of the lush grasslands that gave rise to the herds of magnificent horses that were once Corda’s claim to fame. But south of the grasslands there is an extensive patchwork of small forests and woodlands. Younger than the ancient, primordial, forests of Daris or Ravenswood they are made up of poplar, silver birch and willow. The home to deer, bears and wolves they are gentler than the ancient forests and there are dozens of small villages, similar to Grassfold that was, dotted along the edges of them.

A short walk from the ruins of his childhood come is the lake of Darion’s youth. Crystal clear, generations of Grassfold’s young have learnt to swim in its cool placid waters, generations of young lovers haves walked its shores by moonlight. It holds a bittersweet place in Darion’s heart and truthfully, ever since the mysterious messenger had uttered her ominous words, he has known that he must make this journey and, almost of their own accord, his feet lead him along a long overgrown path.

Where he once found Linneas’ bow, it seems so long ago, a small bush has grown . Its dark, almost black, glossy leaves veined with crimson proclaim its name, Azak Kel.

[Crimson]

He looks at the plant for a moment, and then he kneels down before it.
"Why, oh why am I not surprised to see you?" he says and strokes one of the leaves.

"Is it fate, that you should grow right on this spot?"
It made sense that the Eldest would seek another world... this one was rotting in more ways than one.

Darion picks one leaf from the Azak Kel, and sits down, leaning aainst a tree.
Fully aware of the danger that lies herein, he then places the mysterious leaf on his tongue, and closes his eyes.