Author Topic: Tyra Dragonheart - Daughter of Swords (Read 1425 times)

ShiffDrgnhrt · « **Reply #80 on:** September 14, 2009, 10:38:01 am »

He's dead... but not by my hand...

It was a relief to be able to tell Bella she has nothing to fear from him anymore... But I feel cold...

I wanted to watch him die... but instead now I just have the feeling in my gut... the disgusting feeling of being a killer... I don't like this feeling... I've felt it before... Does it every go away completely?

ShiffDrgnhrt · « **Reply #81 on:** October 18, 2009, 12:06:12 am »

Much has changed...

I have begun to realize my skills are better used in conjunction with stealth then straightfowardneess. I do not have the skill of my father, and thus I can not stand toe to toe to strike things down, despite my skill with my blades.

I have to adjust the focus of my training now. I must try to increase my natural abilities, though I know I will never rival Tod's disappearing act, I have other ideas as to how I will keep out of sight.

I need certain tools though, tools I cannot make myself... I would need to find some kind ... i don't know... I may never find anything. So far my bracers catch people off guard, and my cloak allows me to see through my own tricks... but how far will that get me...

And how much longer can I get away with it...

ShiffDrgnhrt · « **Reply #82 on:** October 24, 2009, 07:26:04 pm »

Tyra sends a letter to the governance of Fort Vehl...

Quote

To Whom it Concerns:

I have taken a keen interest in a certain ruin within the boarders of the realm of Co'rys, the Dapplegreen Tower. I have also noticed that said tower is the base of operations to a rather slippery group of bandits who threaten the trade in the area. I have a proposition for your government that would be benefical to both of us. If you would like a chance to rid yourself of a nusance, gain an ally, and perhaps some long overdue taxes, send a message care of the Leringard Arms to Tyra Dragonheart. I can assure you that should my proposal please you, that you would not be disappointed with the results of my work.

Your Servant,
Tyra Dragonheart
Striker

ShiffDrgnhrt · « **Reply #83 on:** October 29, 2009, 05:15:05 pm »

Tyra comes in from a long journey into the wilds of Mistone to sit at her desk. Her mood was dark, and from the amount of mud and grime on her boots one could tell she had not been just out for a pleasant walk; Her muddy boots left footprints down the hall of the Leringard Arms, the hard-wood oak floor bearing a trail in her wake. Stopping outside her room, she unlaced her boots and left them outside the door, then stepped into the room. She hung her cloak on the inside door knob, unlaced the thick corset that served as the breastplate for her leather armor, pulled off the jerkin underneath and changed out of the rest of her gear into a robe, leaving a soggy pile of leather on the floor until she felt like cleaning it and hanging it.

Sitting down at her desk, she pulled out her black-bound journal from it's hiding spot and opened it on the desk, uncorking her inkwell and selecting a usable quill.
[INDENT]Oclar, 12 1456

Ghosty manifestations of psychotic killers that can't be destroyed... Lovely... I met one. I called it the Joker, cause he always laughs. Others called him... The Smiling one? The Laughing Death? Something like that... I don't recall...

I encountered this creature when I was investigating a rumor about a string of deaths in some backwater towns around Mistone, mostly off the beaten path. Apparently a number of people were killed in a... exceptionally cruel manner... which I got to see the aftermath of... In one of the towns they were keeping the body unburied for some observance period, some kind of superstition, I think, but the face had been.... removed... in places, along with other... parts...

At that point I decided I would help find [strike]this creature[/strike] what at the time I thought was some sick circus freak, since this seemed to happen in tandem with a circus coming through these towns. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, it is not uncommon for rumors to lure adventurers in who are looking to make a name for themselves (which I have to admit is why I was there also), but a group of them showed up at the same time I did... They decided to talk, I decided to spy. However, I learned nothing special, and ended up just spying on the other adventurers instead. That's when I learned about this Joker-Apparition.

After that, I (following the other group) journeyed to a graveyard that the circus buried their dead in and we ended up summoning the ghost of an old mage who had once trapped the beast in a box... as Bizarre as it sounded, it was true, as this ghost, named Littleman (he was a halfling), sent us to his ancient workshop to trap the beast again. There I found a rather overly protected desk with the information we needed (along with a very handy knife) and we got to work.

Turned out we had to not only trap the Joker in some magic prison, but fight off a horde of undead to do it. I got kind of worried their at the end, but... we did it. I am not exactly a fair match to the undead, as swords don't really do anything to creatures that don't mind being stabbed or eviscerated. But, one less [strike]madman[/strike] evil thing out there to harm people... I hope that halfling puts my name in that song though...

It's not that long....[/INDENT]

ShiffDrgnhrt · « **Reply #84 on:** November 03, 2009, 03:12:25 pm »

Tyra hides high in a tree, looking down on a certain old fort in the Dapplegreen Forest. For months she had come to observe the goings on of the bandits who used the place as a hideout, a stronghold, a meeting place... as many things. She watched for patterns, secrets, entrances and exits, anything that would help her infiltrate and weed out the bandits that have taken the decaying fort as their base...

And set herself up in their place...

ShiffDrgnhrt · « **Reply #85 on:** November 08, 2009, 01:42:15 pm »

Quote

Tyra,

Fair warning, the Blackwatch may decide to visit the Arms. If they break anything, or harm anyone, I think you know what to do. The Arms does not answer to the Blackwatch. I'll find you if things go poorly--so that we can get to work.

~Steel

"The Black Watch?" Tyra's eyes narrow, and she gets her sword belt...

ShiffDrgnhrt · « **Reply #86 on:** November 08, 2009, 02:45:43 pm »

Quote

Dear Tyra Dragonheart,

After checking my records, the current taxes on the Dapplegreen tower are fully paid by the rightful owner, a local nobleman and prominent businessman of Fort Vehl. Due to privacy concerns, I cannot release the owners name to you without their specific consent. Thank you.

Sincerely,
Millington Fox
Third Assistant Tax Collector
13 Commerce Lane
Fort Vehl

Tyra accepts a sealed letter from the messanger from Co'rys, tossing him a few coins, before walking back to her room. Her footfalls go unnoticed as she walks down the long corridor, breaking the seal and unrolling the shorter-than-expected scroll. She reaches the door of her room and enters without so much as a creaking from the hinges, and sits at her desk. She does not remain seated long.

"What the Hells!" she says jumping out of her chair.

The crash it makes against the floor, coupled with Tyra's angry shout, disturbs the Mouse sleeping under Tyra's bed. "I din't do nuthin!"

"Ugh! Not you, Bella!" Tyra responds, frustrated. "Now get up and get dressed... I want you to take care of the Arms until I get back..."

"But Stalker, I dun know how tah-"

"Just get up!" Tyra considers tearing the message in half, before rolling it up and stuffing it in her messenger bag. She stomps over to her armoire and pulls it open, pulling out her best set of 'normal' clothes and her leathers.

She hesitates as Bella crawls out from under the bed, looking between her armor and her finer clothes, then throws the clothes on her bed, and careful puts away most of her armor, strapping on her bracers and of course her hood, and her sword belt.

"Where yah goin' Stalker?" Bella asks.

"I've got some business in Fort Vehl." She pulls off her robe and pulls on her more regal clothes in a hurry. "I'll tell you about it later. Just make sure none of those drunks burn down the Arms while I'm gone..." She turns to give Bella a glare, then a grin. "I'll be back..." She then throws her black, shadowy cloak around herself and heads out of the Arms and to the docks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~

Stepping off the boat a day later in Fort Vehl, Tyra heads to the tax office on Commerce Ave. Before entering she removes her hood in a nearby alley, leaving the rest of her cloaked in black. As she enters, she glances around at those inside... (Details?) ... before walking up to the counter.

"I need to speak with a Mister Fox, Millington Fox," she says as politely as she can, given her history. "I received a letter from him concerning the taxes on a parcel of land in the Dapplegreen, and would like to discuss it with him..." She waits with a smile, or what could be a smile, while inside her cloak she nervously fidgets with one of her knives...

[/I]

ShiffDrgnhrt · « **Reply #87 on:** November 08, 2009, 07:28:22 pm »

Tyra didn't know what to do first, stab Steel or save her work, but she choose her work and ran to her room. The door was on fire, and she was ever thankful she choose to wear her red boots today as she kicked it down. She snatched her cousin's journal off the shelf and her eyes scanned the room fast for what needed saving next...

Metal armors, weapons... will survive...
Her leather work... can be replaced...
Scrolls... too late...
The unicorn Cloak!

She dove for her cabinet and punched through the burning doors to pull out the cloak and stuff it in her messenger bag. She stuffed in a few other pieces of clothes and a pair of bracers and was glad her truly valuable assets had been brought to be vaulted weeks ago.

Turning one last time to check, she saw her bed on fire, as spotted two scared teddy bears... She snatched them, patted out the embers on their ears and paws, and stuffed them into her bag...

Just as a ceiling beam crashed down over her head crushing her weapon rack and smashing her trophy case to splinters...

Tyra stumbled. Now the smoke was getting to her, and she leaped over the beam and sprinted down the hall, missing another falling beam as she ran out the door...

Turning to look back she dumped what was in her hands on the street as she watched what had become a home to her burn down....

ShiffDrgnhrt · « **Reply #88 on:** November 08, 2009, 09:03:57 pm »

~Trespassers Will be Killed on Sight.~
~Stay Away from the Tower.~

Tyra smirks, reading the sign from her vantage point in the trees. As night fell Tyra returned to her spying on the Tower, watching with even more suspiciously the goings on at 'her' tower. She was pleased to note that a number of the guards appeared to be either outfitted better, or actual mercenaries. However, she would be even more impressed, at least for a moment, when one of them finds her.

As that thought crossed her mind, she heard the stretching of a bow below her. "Get outta dat tree er I'll pin yah terit..." Below her was one of the said mercenaries, an elf male, armed with a bow. The pair of blades at his sides made her grin as she simultaneously stole all the light from the the moon, and hoped down beside the man, swords drawn. Her blades flickered in the moonlight as the light returned, allowing the elf pierce her shoulder with a shoot. Tyra broke the shaft in half with one sword and swung at the elf with the other, as the elf drew his own blades to parry her.

She swung for his legs, he swung at her wounded shoulder. Both connected, but Tyra growled the pain away and returned the favor, causing the elf to double over. She swung overhand as the elf parried the blade and sliced across her bicep, but her upswing connected with his stomach.

She heard some air hiss out of him before he coughed up blood and looked up at her before sliding off her blade, dead...

Looking back towards the tower, she notices that the guards seem to have heard the conflict, and she runs off into the night, clutching her arm...

ShiffDrgnhrt · « **Reply #89 on:** November 16, 2009, 02:28:19 pm »

After a fair amount of poking around in Fort Vehl, Tyra gets the names of the people who "rule" Co'rys. Not that it was a big secret, but having spent more time their trying to avoid people then listen to them, she had never paid much attention to way things 'worked' in Co'rys, but with a noble claiming the piece of land she wanted, it was time to educate herself.

What she figured out was that a man by the name of Andrew Cartier who supposedly is in charge of whatever Co'rys calls an army, and who she hoped had some sense of honor to go along with his 'rank.' Next was Yveisha, an elven mage who seems to care more about the Gloom Woods then anything else, or so say the rumors. She seems to prefer deceit to destruction, which might make her like Tyra's brand of getting things done... or not... considering her track record. A few other names of some seemingly unimportant council members was found to, mostly because of some huge fight that nearly ended in bloodshed (supposedly), and two dwarves (one a mage). Lastly was of course the 'ruler,' or Urzhrah, of Co'rys, Kezed Gran'dherm. A dwarf, he is said to like dancing, though what that means she was not quite sure. She knew most of all, however, that she had no strings to pull with any of these people, and needed to find some... fast...

ShiffDrgnhrt · « **Reply #90 on:** January 15, 2010, 12:31:43 pm »

"Go to the Pits"

ShiffDrgnhrt · « **Reply #91 on:** January 19, 2010, 11:01:36 am »

"Go to the Pits"

She was looking for strings to pull, and she found some. It was too late, however, before she realized the strings she was pulling belonged to Commander Creekskipper.

Tyra and the Commander headed to Fort of Kings to track down Albert and his guild to get information about Guissen. Tyra just wanted it to get the Dapplegreen Tower. Jennara, to hold someone responsible for the mayhem caused by the mercenaries he hired. Tyra strung Jennara along, making it look like Tyra would help her and give her the piece of the puzzle Tyra got from Albert, but instead she used it to blackmail Guissen for what is now her tower.

Her undead infested, dilapidated, moldy old Tower.

She was proud of herself for a moment, blinded by her own desire, when four words, whispered on the wind of Jennara's breath, "Go to the Pits," let all the wind out of her sails.

She had gotten what wanted, and used Jennara to get it. The stolen paperwork Tyra took from Albert's office and gave to Jennara couldn't wipe away that betrayal.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Tyra sits in a dark corner of Fort Vehl, looking at the rolled up deed she now possesses. She had relinquished it from a conceited self serving noble who hunted people for fun, and in the process became just like him. Selfish, arrogant, always sneaking after people to spy on them. She had even found power over people through treachery and blackmail, even through torture.

What was happening to her, she did not know, but she was beginning to like it less and less. Was she really becoming a Dread Blade? Was she really seeking to become an avatar of fear, ruthless and deadly, in the minds of any she called 'Enemy'? What happened to the little girl who once only ever wanted her father to come home to tell her stories of adventure? Is she really gone for good, replaced by a hateful, inconsiderate, selfish mercenary... Striker... Dread Blade...?

She lit a candle, holding it up to see the broken seal and waxy parchment it was stuck to... and for a moment considered burning it. She wouldn't though. She wouldn't put the final nail in her coffin and completely spit in the face of Jennara by burning what she paid for with her honor. With a deep breath and a firm nod to herself, she decided to make the best of her situation, no longer sink into the mire of Co'rys corruption and turn that tower into a symbol of good in Co'rys, even if it made her an enemy of an entire kingdom...

But how she was going to do that, this chapter does not say...

ShiffDrgnhrt · « **Reply #92 on:** January 28, 2010, 09:18:43 am »

Anira Fcilnyn Silmn The Black Mark

That's what Raz called it, when I told him what I have done. He said there are only two things to be done once that happens, let or grow or learn from it.

I don't know where I'm headed. I'm not even sure how I feel. I know I should feel some kind of guilt for how I treated the bandit... and yet I'm not sure if I do. It troubles me, but... I care more about what Commander Creekskipper said. I hope whatever was on those papers helps her cause, because it would at least... make me feel better...?

And then there's how I've treated Mouse lately... Why do I do that...

Dad would not be happy... but do I really care... He left us...

ShiffDrgnhrt · « **Reply #93 on:** January 31, 2010, 01:43:31 am »

I killed myself over some treasure?

What is wrong with me...

ShiffDrgnhrt · « **Reply #94 on:** February 05, 2010, 11:04:02 pm »

While staying at the Twin Dragon Inn, since Tyra is needed for some priliminary work for the reconstruction of the Leringard Arms, she finds a scroll case on the small table inside her room. The letter inside is rolled tight. Unfurling it, a precise italic script is inked down the page. It is a song. There is no musical score, and no signature.

[INDENT] Little girls are made of sugar and spice
But their daddies are not always so nice
Her heart pounds
Where is he, her protector in life
Leaving the child all alone?

A gilt box of thorns
Stroked every day
Sticky with blood
But the sting goes away
The sting goes away...

She builds it to armor, this anger and pain
And no one will ever hurt her again
Her heart pounds
A caged bird behind walls painted in ice
Wings beating hard on the stone

A gilt box of thorns
Stroked every day
Coated with gore
It gets easier each day
Easier each day...

Will she open the box?
Listen once more?
Hear his voice calling her, calling her...
Or keep the box shut
Wrapped in ribbons of skin
A red and white bow keeps the agony in

Who is she now, this little sweet maid
A dragon's heart or a purple nightshade
Her heart pounds
A child's hand resting lightly on thorns
While the woman presses down to the bone
[/INDENT]
After reading it, she tears it in half, cursing and swearing out the name of the person she is sure composed the song. She storms down the hall and kicks in his door to find him not there.

But she does find one of his precious violins.

Sitting on top of his desk beside a stack of blank staff paper and a vial of ink, the hickory violin became the target of Tyra's wrath. Picking up the slender bow, she thoughtlessly snapped it in half, but as she lifts the violin by it's neck, over her head to smash across his sheets of music, underneath the violin sat a little sketch. It wasn't clear, or perfect, and certainly not how she would have wanted it, but it was a picture of a woman, wearing a long coat and cloak, standing infront of a wooden barricade looking up at the nights sky.

It was her, the night she stood waiting for a bunch of elves to decide if they would flee or stand and fight a suicidal battle.

She put the violin back down, fetched the broken bow and sighed. She wrapped the bow with a strip of leather to mend it, and took a piece of staff paper and wrote a single word on it...

[INDENT] Thanks
[/INDENT]
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that night, a single sound could be heard coming from her room. No answer came from knocks, or complaints. It lasted for a while, only interrupted by an occassional sob or sigh.

Wrapped in an old shirt and holding a bunch of torn paper in her hands, Tyra sat alone in her room, crying all night...

ShiffDrgnhrt · « **Reply #95 on:** February 18, 2010, 02:18:56 pm »

Opening up a rolled up piece of clothe, Tyra finds a drawing, the drawing of her. It is finished. The picture has been char-coaled, mainly in black - Tyra is the darkest thing in the picture, the center of the page. Her clothing, as well as the sky, have been smudged with deeper blues and purples.

While the skill of the artist clearly lies far less in visual deptiction than other arts, her face has been worked on with great care. Her mouth is set in a line. Her eyes are directed up at the charcoal sky, carefully shaded their vibrant hue; one crease has been penciled lightly between her brows. Those startling purple eyes are narrowed but not hard, on the paper. The interpretation of that look might be forced patience, or resolution, or possibly concern. Perhaps all three.

The picture is signed. A note is included...

[INDENT] You are welcome. Forgive my lack of ability - I was inspired, but I don't draw often.

This is for you alone.
[/INDENT]After staring at it for a while she brings it over to where she hid her journal. Retrieving the black-leather bound tome, she opens it to the page she pinned the song to and pins the picture over it...

ShiffDrgnhrt · « **Reply #96 on:** March 10, 2010, 02:53:02 pm »

Tyra sat rather smugly in an old oak chair on the top floor of her new Tower. With the orb that once haunted the place removed and confiscated by the Shining Hand, she went about cleaning out the tower as much as she could by herself.
Managing to move some of the rubble from the stairwell on her own, she was exhausted. The tower seemed structurally sound if not for the gaping hole in the roof. She kind of liked it though. When it wasn't cloudy at night, Ausir or Orn shines it's light in through her impromptu sky light. She knew she had to fix it though, or at least repair it and install a real window up there.
She found the small room the local bandits had used as a rest stop to be quite cozy, but she made sure to break up and burn the beds that were there. She had no interest in sharing a bed with whatever lived in those soggy beds, or laying on anything bandits slept on.
All in all, she was happy the way things turned out. Somehow she managed to keep the Toranites from tearing it down, and found it to be sufficient for her purposes.

Now all was left was recruitment...

ShiffDrgnhrt · « **Reply #97 on:** March 22, 2010, 08:45:47 am »

It's happening... I have a base, I have help, and I have plans. All that is needed now is to secure my ownership of the tower and to repair the fire damage.

But what of my old plans. Were they too ambitious? Unattainable? I hope not. Perhaps when I have proven myself capable in Co'rys I can dare try to catch the attention of a Dragon.

And then perhaps take the fight to the Cult.

ShiffDrgnhrt · « **Reply #98 on:** March 25, 2010, 02:18:45 pm »

Somewhere in the desert, amidst a forgotten and haunted canyon, Tyra sat with green eyes watching two couples enjoying the company of their other, while she sat in the distance, occasionally with the company of someone she did not take much notice of. Instead she sat staring at her apprentice and her future husband, at her musical friend and her aunt, with thoughts of both destroying that happiness and wanting to protect it flowing side by side.

She knew why she was alone. She knew what she was like. But she was too proud to admit it, to accept the responsibility for her loneliness, to apologize publicly to the people she treats badly. She had a vain belief that if they just tried to get to know her they'd understand, ignoring the fact that many of them have tried only to have her spit her venom in response.

"Dad would've listened..." she'd find herself thinking, and at the same time only drawn deeper into her bitterness by it. "No he wouldn't. He left me for his own desires. He never cared... he never listened..."

Somewhere in her heart a spark of the innocent girl who loved her father still existed, and before it stood the avatar of what her father had once been to her, the unconquerable hero, fighting to keep alive the warmth that girl once. But now all that stood was a crippled old man, robbed of his armor, feebly waving a broken sword against the cold visage of the girl Tyra had let herself become, wrapped in the dark steel of anger and bitterness.

She wasn't Daddy's Little Girl anymore... and part of her would make sure she would never be, ever again, allowing her to become whatever she thought she needed to be to achieve her goals...

And yet somewhere, watching Bella smile at Daniel, watching Andrew tease Elohanna, on the hill overlooking Haven staring at that certain old man marching vigilantly around the village, was a daughter wishing to be so again...

ShiffDrgnhrt · « **Reply #99 on:** March 29, 2010, 08:27:11 am »

If there was ever anything in her life Tyra regretted, it was trying to pick up that Cult dart. She constantly feels nauseated. Sometimes to the point of vomitting but most often just a queasy feeling in her stomach. Eating has become a chore to be endured. Her skin has become dry and cracked with greenish yellow liquid seeping out of the cracks. At first it is her hands and arms, but she gets the suspicion. The cracks hurt. Her joints hurt. She has a constant low grade fever most of the time. Sometimes the fever spikes and she sees things that are not there.

For the time being, she stays in Fort Vehl's Temple, hoping the Rofireinites can at least keep it from getting worse...