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Fallen Skies is een 'high fantasy Textbased-RPG' die zich afspeelt in een mytische wereld vol wonderlijke wezens, monsters en magie. Het land verdeeld onder zes koningkrijken is altijd bewegend en beïnvloedbaar. Het kan zomaar zijn dat jij de held wordt van het gehele land of misschien zelfs de grootste terreur die Fallen Skies ooit meegemaakt heeft. Alles is mogelijk in deze gevaarlijk mooie wereld. En niets is gek genoeg.
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Aantal berichten : 30
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Age: 23 y/o
Occupation: Doctor´s Assistant
Residence : Archeon, Valyria
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Bad habbits and their limits

op vr apr 06, 2018 2:58 pm


Rays of sun danced trough the air as the wind weeped trough the pines above Sarovyr his head. A breeze filled with the aroma of those blooming together with flowers blew in his face as he leaned against the rough bark of a high tree with his back, sitting on the ground. As he had to clear his mind a bit he went to a silent part in the city, or at least, a residence. Whatever you could call Mothers Heart. He had a bad night, knowing it was just one night away from fullmoon. The Werewolf inside getting restless. Again, like every full moon, where his 'illness' took over his human form and he had to be restrained somewhere nobody could hear or see him. Chained up against trees or in an abandoned farm, so he couldn't harm anyone around him. As he closed his eyes again he imagined how his life would be, in the near future, but allso in ten years or even many more. He was sure to remain a doctor, or at least an Assistant at first untill his education was complete. He liked it, even though it had it's downsides. Travelling and seeing a bit of the land was not always easy for him, liking it a lot in warm Valyria, and then you had his Lycantrophy wich was always a risk. But as he met new people and to see how diffirent city's and villages were he didn't miss home as much he thought he would before hitting the road. But would he eventually settle down with someone, with his secret? What would his excuse be for 'dissapearing' once a month before midnight so he could chain himself up in a cellar?
For now he did not want to think about it. And just as he was falling asleep the fresh aroma in the air got replaced by a warm, stinking one. Before he could open his eyes he felt a wet tongue moving over his neck and cheek. His hands reached out to a thick layer of fur, pushing it away has he murmured ''Zev, no.'' came out, half laughing. As Sarovyr opened his eyes the dark brown ones of his wolf looked into his, and again he got suprised by him, the young animal playfully jumping against his chest with a big paw. He wanted to reach out to lick again, but got grabbed by the neck as Sarovyr did correct him ''No, Zev'' he said stern. As the wolf whined he felt guilty, but it had to be done. The young wolf had to learn manners or he would become dangerous. Allthough Sarovyr did know he had a wolf, not a dog that was fully domesticated. He stood up, still holding the wolf and released him as soon he stood tall. Now Zev calmed down and received a few strokes over his head. Zev wagged his tail again as Sarovyr did so, and walked back to the more crowded area wich had small houses around them. As Zev walked next to him he saw a man, walking in a strange phase. He had an unstable balance. Drunk was Sarovyr his first thought, and as he got a bit closer he smelled alcohol wich confirmed it. He wanted to leave the man alone, was it not he fell, tripping over his own legs in laughter and hiccups. With a frown Sarovyr did approach, looking if the man injured himself. He saw blood flowing trough his pepper blonde hairs. ''Hold still please. Let me take a look at that if I may.'' said Sarovyr with a calm tone as he took hold of the man his arm, trying to get him up. But the man seemed to pas out, or did he just.. Fell asleep? Zev approached, but Sarovyr did hold him back with a movement of his arm and checked the man his pulse. The palpitations were not in a regular rhytm, wich indicated he had way to much alcohol in his veins and with blood coming out of a wound on the head this was worrisome ''Mister, could you help me? I have to get him to my teacher, doctor Stertelöd.'' he asked a man with dark hairs, not knowing how the man that passed out would react. Who knows he might wake up and get agressive. Drunk people are unpredictable.



|| @Amon Boyd ||
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