The land of Lore is a place bereft with conflict of... varying degrees. If it's not one thing, it's another, as the saying goes. That pretty much explains Lore in it's entirety. The story you are about to delve into, my friends, is one of slight humor, a lot of fighting, a dash of romance, and a few dozen handfuls of chaotic encounters, all centered around one unlikely hero. The story you are about to hear, dear readers, is that of the infamous Steele.
Her time was that of great and terrible happenings. There were things stirring that could make even the bravest souls want to turn tail, run home, and pretend they never saw anything. The dragon lords were slowly becoming an endangered species, most dragons being too wild to tame or just disappearing altogether. And as the strongest line of defense against the darkness faded out, the countries became more and more tumultuous and greater, more volatile evils were allowed to develop unchecked. The roads were hazardous, and most would-be travelers chose to seek refuge in whatever safe haven they could find. Those that didn't... often didn't live very long. It was a trying time for all.
Steele, however, was unaware of most of the blacker events taking place as she spent her time in the sheltered confines of Oaklore Forest. And though the Keep of the Knights of the Pactagonal Table served as her home, she was not a Knight herself and therefore was not permitted to listen in on Table meetings. Thus, she only knew of the barely sinister antics of the Sneevils, the box loving race of goblin-kind, and that was only because Sir Valence took a shining to her and saw potential. Our story begins one rather nice weathered day, when our hero was at her most restless.
...
Steele didn't know why, but she was tense. She had been for the past month or so, and especially on calm, sunny days such as this. Her training wasn't sating her as it usually did and she found herself wandering the Keep more and more often without purpose. Today, Rolith had become much too fed up with her pacing and had sent her out to save himself a headache. Now the young woman was perched on a cliff overlooking a wizened old forest, trying with all her might to keep herself occupied and not thinking about her unease.
Needless to say, it wasn't working very well.
There was a whisper of fabric and a rattle of sheathed metal as she shifted once again, trying to get comfortable and at the same time keep her foot from falling asleep. That wasn't really working either. Again, she scanned the trees beneath her hanging feet for any signs of excitement and came out with nothing. The aged gray trees with their dull green leaves and near silent wildlife stayed just as quiet and gloomy as ever.
She shifted again, and the dry, yellowing grass beneath her crunched slightly. One rather nasty blade had solidified into a sharp spike, which stung her palm irately when she leaned on it. She drew back from the unexpected pain with a surprised hiss. Her dark, obsidian eyes tried to pick out the offending piece of vegetation, but it, like most other things that suddenly decided to attack her, was a master of the secret ninja art of being a completely untraceable pain in the neck and blended in with the rest of its peers perfectly, foiling her attempt. So she decided to hurl a rather childish insult in what she assumed was its general direction and hope she didn't offend any other grass too horribly, lest it, too, decided to stab her.
Steele was a tall, slender woman, with long silver hair and deep pools of sable, which could be like liquid nighttime or the flintiest chips of onyx depending on her mood. Her skin retained a light tan from the extensive time she spent outside. Her outfit was a dark, earthy brown, the short sleeved shirt and knee length shorts were one piece, and her boots also reached just below her knees, leaving a small strip of skin visible between the shorts and the top of her boots. She had leather armlets protecting her forearms from elbow to wrist, and steel shoulder and knee guards glinted in the sunlight. Hanging from a leather belt slung loosely around her hips were her daggers. Simple and sturdy, made of steel like her minimalist armor, they served their purpose and that was all that really mattered in the end.
Fidgeting once again, the silver haired rogue huffed in frustration with her own restlessness. She longed to leave Oaklore Forest and the Keep behind and travel the world, but the knights seemed almost reluctant to let her leave. It was as if they were making her wait for something. She scanned the trees below her again, hoping to catch sight ofsomething- anything- of interest. Her eyes lifted to the horizon line far off in the distance, and finally there was something worth looking at. Her silver brows furrowed and she squinted against the light from the sun in an attempt to see the object clearer.
It was some sort of avian, flying towards her at a rather rapid pace if the rate at which it was getting larger and closer was any indication. When it got close enough for her to realize what exactly it was, she sucked in a breath with a low curse. There was a dragon flying at her. A living, moving, destructive monstrosity with glinting crimson scales and eyes an unhappy yellow. It was massive, Steele noted faintly as it landed just before the cliff edge, it's humongous horned head towering above her and throwing the entire outcropping into shadow. It stared down at her as she scrambled away from the ledge and to her feet. She stared back up, knowing that no matter what, she was doomed.
A dragon was by far one of the toughest foes that any person would ever come across. They were the true kings of Lore, far stronger and more intelligent than any human could ever hope to become in their much shorter lifespans. A single bite from a dragon could destroy all materials short of solid diamond. Running from a dragon was even more foolhardy than facing one head on; at least if you were trying to kill it, you actually had a chance of coming out alive. Those who ran found themselves getting acquainted with the dragon's last meal within minutes. Fire breathers could easily take out an entire village with one exhale if they so chose. Other elemental dragons could be just as destructive if they were riled up enough, but it was usually the fire breathers that caused all the chaos.
The dragon looming over her was definitely a fire breather.
Steele sucked in a shaky breath and drew her blades, trying to stop the quivering of her arms as she stared into the large, glassy eyes of the dragon. The monster grinned, and slowly lowered its head to level its snout with the cliff. It made no move to inhale or even take a bite out of her, however, and in fact it seemed to be having a rather good laugh at her expense. From over the crest of the giant horned head came a tiny red figure with large ears. Whatever it was slid down the snout between the eyes and hopped the small gap between dragon and ground. As it came to a stop beside her and turned back towards the dragon Steele stared, rather startled, at the small moglin. What is going on here? She thought.
Moglins were small, friendly creatures, but they were timid in the face of danger. They resided in a large, aged forest whose magics concealed the moglin village in its depths. It was absolutely impossible to locate the forest without a moglin's help, which meant that if they didn't want you there, you weren't going to get there.
Moglins could have fur in all colours of the rainbow. The one in front of her was a deep red, much like the dragon. Considering females were usually pink or some other sort of soft colour, Steele supposed this one was male. There was a hole through his right ear, and he carried a little wooden staff with him. A vibrant green leaf waved from the very top. Why is there a moglin riding a dragon? Steele puzzled to herself.
"The coast is clear, Priestess, you can come out now!" The moglin called in a squeaky sort of voice. This gave Steele pause, and she turned back to the dragon's head, wondering what brand of person would appear over the horned ridge this time. Her question was answered momentarily; dressed all in white, a woman carrying a black box with a dragon figurehead over the lock emerged, stepping daintily down the snout of the dragon and onto solid ground. The dragon lifted its head again, but didn't take off right away. Instead, it seemed to be monitoring the area. The woman lifted her head and Steele caught sight of eyes almost as dark as her own, framed by long silver locks. Her mouth was set in a firm way, but she was smiling faintly. Her skin was creamy and fair.
"I ask you to pardon our intrusion, friend, we are just passing through." She said, moving past the rogue and continuing on into the trees. The moglin looked up at the bemused girl with wide, admiring glassy eyes for whatever reason, and then turned to run off after the priestess with a small wave. Without much warning the dragon, too, left, taking off with a buffeting gale of air from its wings. Steele was nearly blown off her feet.
"What was that all about?" She wondered to herself aloud. Seeking answers, she too retreated into the trees after the strange duo of priestess and moglin. As she moved off in the direction of the Keep- the most logical route for the two to take- she heard the bellowing roar of a gorillaphant up the road.
She ran towards the noise, alarm shown clearly in her face; gorillaphants were violent, territorial creatures by nature, and if she didn't stop it fast, she was going to find herself with a bowlful of priestess-and-moglin soup, complete with little crunchy bits. They were hulking, grey skinned monstrosities with tusks protruding from their upper lips and muscular arms that they had no issue with swinging about roughly.
She skidded to a halt, kicking up a small cloud of dust, as a red streak came flying through the air towards her. As it slid to a stop, she recognized the little moglin from two minutes ago. With little thought to what she was doing, she snatched the little creature up by the scruff of his neck and ran towards the large grey form of the gorillaphant. Eyes glued to her target, she hefted the moglin behind her head and yelled "Make sure you aim for feet-first, and dig your heels in!" before she slung the poor little red blob at the creature's head. Obviously the moglin heard her, because the gorillaphant found itself being jabbed in the eyes with tiny moglin feet and emitted a pained, surprisingly high-pitched squeal.
Steele wasted no time in rushing the agonized monster, unsheathing a dagger and drawing it rather viciously up the muscled forearm nearest her with both hands. There was a deafening snap of tendon as the blade bit deeply into the leathery grey flesh, and this time the tusked behemoth outright roared. The rogue had to dodge several swings of the one good arm and the wickedly pointed tusks but, thanks to the moglin ambush on its eyes, its accuracy was dismal at best. Steele easily ducked another sloppy swing and dived headlong into the opening that the move had left wide. Pulling her other dagger from its sheath she drove both blades into the sensitive stomach of the beast. Blood spurted from the two large punctures and across her face as she pulled the weapons out and created another pair to match, and then another. The gorillaphant gurgled pathetically on its own life's essence as she pressed forward mercilessly. A few more swift jabs, these to its other arm and eyes, and Steele pushed it backwards forcefully with a well placed kick to the chest. Slowly, the creature teetered precariously on its feet and then crashed to the ground with a colossal thud. It kicked up a cloud of dust with its landing, but other than that was motionless.
Inhaling deeply and trying not to let the coppery scent of the copious amount of blood- now covering her and staining her clothing, not to mention the ground, dull red- bother her, Steele turned to the white swathed priestess who didn't actually look all that shaken. The woman was smiling, still carrying the black box in her hands, and seemed completely at ease. The moglin sat beside her on a stump, where he'd moved after his little contribution to the fight to be out of the rogue's way. He was again looking up at the silver-haired girl with an adoring look in his eye, and this time she quirked a small smile at him in return before moving her attention to the priestess completely. "Are you alright, Ma'am?" Steele asked seriously, visually skimming for any injuries and not finding any. The priestess smiled serenely.
"Oh yes, I'm quite fine. I thank you for your concern, Steele." She replied. "There is nothing that I should worry about; I have foreseen my journey, I shall be perfectly fine."
"Oh, I see, you divine the future. It would explain why you know my name"
"Yes, indeed." The priestess said jovially. "Would you be so kind as to escort myself and my companion the rest of the way to the Keep? We shall be staying there for a while before moving on to Falconreach." Steele merely inclined her head as an answer, and set off down the road. The priestess walked beside her, still carrying the box in her hands.
"So what business do you have to take care of all the way out here?" Steele asked, breaking the silence.
"As I said before, we are simply passing through. Although I will say that Fate requires my assistance in saving our world along the way." Steele gave a small 'huh' at her answer. She brought the odd little group to a stop beside a pond off the road so that she could wash her face and blades before returning to the Keep. If she didn't Rolith wouldn't be so happy with her- though Steele couldn't remember a time when he was actually happy with her, but at least now he wouldn't yell so much. The pond was a quiet, peaceful place. The water was clear and patched with reeds here and there along the rim. There was a wide strip of grass circling around the pond, and the trees lined the little clearing neatly. Steele waded into the water and unbuckled her leather armlets, scrubbing at her arms and face and neck. The rest she could leave until after she got back to the keep, but she doubted Rolith would even let her in if she waltzed up looking like a serial killer. With a quick breath in, she dunked her head to scrub away some of the grime caught in her hair before scooping up her armlets and exiting the water with a sigh. She was now soaked, her hair was sopping, and the breeze weaving through the trees made her shiver slightly, but at least she felt somewhat cleaner than she had before.
Steele led the two up the road to the entrance of Oaklore Keep and nodded to the two Knights posted as gatekeepers as she passed. "Rolith should be somewhere around here. He never leaves the courtyard unless necessary." She explained as she searched the large open ground for the man. She caught a flash of blonde hair off to the side and gestured the Priestess and moglin to follow her towards it. Sure enough, it was Captain Rolith of the Pactagonal Order. His Knight's Mace sat at his feet, his gauntlet-clad hands resting on the pommel of the handle as he spoke with another Knight. His skin was even more tanned than Steele's, although she was willing to bet any amount of money that he had some pretty interesting looking tan lines hidden under those layers of armor. Steele once again wished she was better at reading lips as she squinted at what she could see of Rolith's face, because maybe she'd be able to figure out what it was they were discussing. But nonetheless, she walked up with the two rather out of place visitors in tow.
"Rolith," she said, cutting in as politely as one could be when interrupting another conversation, "these two have stopped by on their way to other places and wanted to speak with you." Rolith sighed and turned to stare reproachfully at Steele, but stopped when he saw just who "these two" entailed.
"Lady Celestia! It's good to see you've arrived safely." The blonde, tanned man said. "I hope you didn't have too much trouble on your way?"
The Priestess, suddenly known as Lady Celestia, tittered slightly. "Not at all, Captain Rolith. Our journey was quite... pleasant." Steele huffed incredulously; well of course she'd had a pleasant time- she hadn't had to do anything. Although she was annoyed, she kept her thoughts to herself. Agitating Rolith right now- or ever, really- wasn't a very good idea.
The silver-haired rogue cleared her throat and asked with all the respect that she had for the Captain (which was a surprisingly large amount actually) "Sir, may I take my leave now? I have some other issues to attend to." Nodding curtly at the group when she received assent, Steele turned on her heel and walked away, planning her route through the Keep to assist the Knights.
Her stomach decided for her when it growled at her. Startled, the rogue realized that she hadn't had lunch yet and it was getting on in the day. "A visit to Sir Loin first I guess..." She once again noticed the state of her clothing and her nose wrinkled. "No, a visit to the baths first, then to Sir Loin."
Sir Loin's mess hall was dimly lit and a little muggy with the perspiration of the knights huddled around the tables with savory meals before them. The scent of spices and cooking meats filled her nostrils and set her mouth to watering. There were a few low-voiced conversations being held around the room, almost a quiet hum in the background. In the center of the back wall was the bar, behind which Sir Loin stood. No-one was really quite sure what Sir Loin actually was; he cooked good food and was a decent conversationalist who could bash heads in just as well as he could tenderize beef, thank you very much, and that was all that mattered in a place like Oaklore Keep. The boar-headed Knight was wiping down a brass tankard as she approached, and gave her a grunt in greeting. Steele leaned against the counter; that sort of greeting was Sir Loin's way of saying "wait and I'll get to you in a minute".
The rogue perched on a stool tucked away beneath the lip of the bar with her cheek in her palm and elbow planted on the counter top. "It's getting so dull around here, Loin. Nothing happens anymore – at least, nothing that Rolith will let me have a part in." She grumbled to the half-attentive Knight. "I'm getting extremely irritated with the world."
There was a silence that spanned half a minute before the other deigned to give her an answer. "Well, then take it out on the world and don't sit here griping at me. There's some tuskmongers digging up my vegetable plots again. You could deal with them if you're so inclined." Which in Sir Loin's language meant that you were so inclined whether you liked it or not.
A few minutes later, Steele found herself whistling a cheery tune as she ruthlessly gutted another of the boar-like creatures and left its cooling corpse lying there in her wake. Animal activists be damned, she was enjoying this and nothing was going to change that. Of course, she'd end up cleaning it up afterwards, whether of her own volition or Sir Loin's. He'd be getting fresh meat, either way.
After she'd come back in from her rather unfair, violent game of "tag-the-tuskmonger", somehow miraculously not once again finding her clothes in a nightmarish state, she was finally given something to eat. A hearty stew was set before her and the rogue tucked in with gusto that even some of the other Knights were always in envy of.
Sir Loin gave a low whistle- another thing that no-one was quite sure of how he pulled off, since he had a boar's head- as he watched her eat. "That has to be the most civilized form of shoveling that I've ever seen. How do you tuck it back like that, girlie?" Steele paused only long enough to glance up with a smirk before hiding her face with the bowl again as she scraped the last of the broth from the bottom.
"Sorry," She said between swallows. "Trade secret."