DinoDroid
Star
- Joined
- Sep 13, 2011
Rome, a time where personal honor meant everything to a man. Britain, when a man would fight to the death to protect those he cared about most. Early America, when good men fought for what they believed in, when they fought for freedom. In 6000 years Draykon had seen it all. He was a proud warrior, he had seen great acts of selflessness and honor. During these times he was glad to be virtually imortal, now he looks around himself. A great city with buildings that stretch to the heavens, and no wonder. Man had become so filthy, the rich subjugating the poor, the corrupt finding places of power to manipulate and torture others, and the evil able to get away with the murder of children. The world had become rotten, and there was nothing he could do about it.
In the distance Draykon lost in thought, and loathing of the world notices that he has found himself in a dark alley that he does not recognize, but by the poor state of the buildings he believes he must be in an older area. It begins to rain, and he tilts his head up, his face hidden behind a large hood, he puts it down and lets the rain fall on him. His crimson scar from a long ago battle begins to throb, but when hit by the clean water is soothed. He moves farther down the alley with his hood still down. Suddenly he stops, he hears a cry for help, and he turns a corner to find a young woman being set upon by a group of men. She is fighting valliently but the one pulls out a small knife and slides it into her side. He charges forward and begins to fight them, these are mere street thugs and are no match for millenium of fighting experience, and in a few moments he has them knocked out cold. Once sure they are down he turns to the woman and makes a move toward her wound.
In the distance Draykon lost in thought, and loathing of the world notices that he has found himself in a dark alley that he does not recognize, but by the poor state of the buildings he believes he must be in an older area. It begins to rain, and he tilts his head up, his face hidden behind a large hood, he puts it down and lets the rain fall on him. His crimson scar from a long ago battle begins to throb, but when hit by the clean water is soothed. He moves farther down the alley with his hood still down. Suddenly he stops, he hears a cry for help, and he turns a corner to find a young woman being set upon by a group of men. She is fighting valliently but the one pulls out a small knife and slides it into her side. He charges forward and begins to fight them, these are mere street thugs and are no match for millenium of fighting experience, and in a few moments he has them knocked out cold. Once sure they are down he turns to the woman and makes a move toward her wound.