Players
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Fronlaasfrin January 19, 2018 |
Kalfeynsuum roars in anger. He ran into something in mid-air, though he wasn't sure what. He got up and looked to the sky seeing a frost dragon. He didn't think this was the obstacle, especially when he saw a small dragon next to him. "Drem yol lok, dovah. Wo los hi?" He spoke in full Dovahzul, not knowing if these dovah spoke it fully as well. |
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OED Kaldmit January 19, 2018 |
Shaking his head, Dovahsefus folded his wings onto his back and got his four feet under him and stood up. Looking up with one pitch black eye and one pure white eye, he sees Kalfeynsuum towering over him and the hair of his mane stood on end. While shaking his black scales Dovahsefus says "Zu'u los Dovahsefus. Zu'u los aan rinik rare dovah. Wo los hi?". After saying this, he sits down and plays with the small tuft of fur at the end of his tail. |
Shaking his head, Dovahsefus folded his wings onto his back and got his four feet under him and stood up. Looking up with one pitch black eye and one pure white eye, he sees Kalfeynsuum towering over him and the hair of his mane stood on end. While shaking his black scales Dovahsefus says "Zu'u los Dovahsefus. Zu'u los aan rinik rare dovah. Wo los hi?". After saying this, he sits down and plays with the small tuft of fur at the end of his tail.
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Frinmulaar January 19, 2018 |
Vendumir circles the spot of the collision. Huge wings cycle restlessly up, fore, down, aft. The elder below has initiated conversation just as foreseen. Vendumir stays out of the way, the thought of intruding on the greeting banished far from the mind. The delicate balance of a peace offer is always in potential danger of collapsing before its most useful moment. "Dovahsefus"? The name grates on the armour of Vendumir's metallic ears. Within a breath, they dull to it. One does not command the call of an individual's true rotmulaag. |
Vendumir circles the spot of the collision. Huge wings cycle restlessly up, fore, down, aft. The elder below has initiated conversation just as foreseen. Vendumir stays out of the way, the thought of intruding on the greeting banished far from the mind. The delicate balance of a peace offer is always in potential danger of collapsing before its most useful moment.
"Dovahsefus"? The name grates on the armour of Vendumir's metallic ears. Within a breath, they dull to it. One does not command the call of an individual's true rotmulaag.
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OED Kaldmit January 20, 2018 |
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