Round Three

[Wings of Endymion]

Kayu chose the location for the altar carefully, at the nexus between the leylines of the land and those of the sea. No matter how formal her robes or how neatly they were arranged about her, to an untrained eye she was simply a maiden of seventeen years, seated in the middle of concentric circles of powdered alabaster sprinkled upon the raised wooden dais. Only the attuned would perceive the potent vortex of arcane force that spiralled from her lap into the skies above, and the eldritch glow of the meticulously aligned symbols.

The taikyokuzu formed the central sphere, geometric nested circles symbolising the duality of light and dark that was the central tenet to her incarnate discipline. In close proximity sat the eight trigrams, representing the fundamental principles of reality, each consisting of three horizontal lines either broken or unbroken. The outermost layer encompassed the four elements, fire and water, earth and wind, laid out at each of the cardinal directions. It was one of the simplest circles of power she knew, but also one of the most effective and efficient; it took her only three days to sanctify and prepare the makeshift location, whereas a more complex circle might have taken her weeks. And that was in tandem with ten other spellweavers, now arrayed outside the circle helping to focus mana, giving her their aid.

The vanguard of the retreat approached late in the morning of the fourth day, bedraggled soldiers and defeated generals, most of who were either wounded or carrying somebody who was. The rain started to fall then, only adding to their misery as they crowded aboard the wallowing vessels they hoped would take them home. But at the same time the wind died, and two hundred sails lay limp and lifeless as they sheltered between the protective arms of the high bluffs.

By afternoon the hostilities drew close, and she could just about discern the banners on top of the cliffs that guarded the approach to the harbour. They ebbed and flowed with the tide of battle, gradually inching towards her like hesitant snails. Lord Kuroda’s blue hawk fell, and the black hibiscus of Lord Kato not long after. By that time, however, other more pressing matters demanded her attention. The allied armies committed their aerial brigades to the assault, and all that kept them from wreaking havoc in the harbour was her hemispherical shield of arcane energy, radiating like a shimmering haze from cliff-top to cliff-top like an upturned bowl, inland half a league and equally distant outwards into the sea. The cleft in the cliffs through which the Nipponese armies were retreating was the only gap she left in her protection.

That night was strangely quiet. The rain fell in fits and drizzles, but the wind never once picked up. Heavy clouds loomed overhead, concealing the occasional skirmisher as they probed her defences, and only her constant vigilance prevented any from sneaking through to sabotage the vulnerable troopships. Every moment she and the Nipponese armies bought was a chance for more of their fellows to escape, but every moment they remained in harbour was an opportunity for the powerful Choson fleet to head them off beyond the headland.

The breakthrough finally came on the fifth day.

Power erupted within the radius of her command, power that she had neither expected nor authorised. It registered in her mind like a dark flame, powerful and intense; her eyes fluttered open in shock, and she very nearly let her focus slip. As she fought to maintain precarious control over the whiplashing haze of eldritch force, a small voice in the back of her mind realised where she’d felt that particular power before.

Look, a dragon.

It rose from the cliffs like an ascendant god, bellowing defiance to the grey skies. Darkly intelligent eyes surveyed the ranks of warriors arrayed before him, ashy smoke gathering at the corners of its wedge-shaped head and rising like twin pyres into the low cloud. As rain pelted from its crimson scales with angry hisses and puffs of steam, it angled its sinuous form away from the harbour, powerful beats of its wings keeping its bulky mass hovering in place. Gasps of silent awe echoed all around, both armies – one desperately trying to maintain an orderly retreat, the other triumphantly pressing the pursuit – reacting in exactly the same manner.

“Dragon! Look, a dragon!”

The mythologies of Cathay and Choson had much in common with that of Nippon, and amongst the shared concepts was the veneration of dragons as figures of great wisdom and power, bringers of rainfall and good fortune. And what a majestic dragon this particular specimen was. Most Oriental dragons were tatsu, graceful lithe serpents that could fly without wings, guardians of rivers and lakes. They were powerful, intelligent foes, but not capable of laying waste to entire armies on their own. Only a very few had the capacity for such devastation; only a very few were true ryu. This was one of them.

It quickly became very obvious which side this particular dragon favoured.

With a heaven-rending crash it landed in the midst of the allied wedge, lashing out in all directions with fangs and talons and tail. The tall cliffs prevented her from witnessing the carnage it wrought, but she could track the ebb of emotions as they influenced the nearby leylines. The sour tinge of fear, mixed with the adrenaline rush of alarm and the cruel cold of hate; each caused the flowing rivers of mana in ground and air to shudder in different ways, plucking equivalently unique chords upon her heart. If she thought the desperation of battle was soul-destroying, then the panic of a one-sided slaughter was far worse.

Concentrate, Kayu. You have a job to do.

Her mental admonishment came just in time. The allied aerial brigade chose that precise moment to renew their assault, seeking to take advantage of the distraction. She closed her eyes and grit her teeth, concentration digging deep furrows across her forehead and between her eyes, and the intricately inscribed circles surrounding her pulsated white-hot in response. The haze overhead seemed to shimmer and ripple as she channelled fresh mana, repulsing and denying the chimaeric beasts and their riders yet again. Frustrated cries echoed above the pelting raindrops as they circled helplessly.

Then, as if by unheard command, they changed tactics. As one they folded their raven-like wings and dove, streaking like a flock of black lightning bolts towards the mythical monster that had singly thrown their vanguard into disarray. The crimson dragon saw them coming and rose to meet them, a plume of dark flame preceding its ascent into the skies. The two forces met in a violent clash halfway, impacting momentum knocking breaths from lungs, talons flashing and teeth glinting as black feathers rained upon the melee below.

The brutal fight was over in a matter of moments. The dragon was left scarred and bleeding, but its opponents were beaten and scattered. A triumphant roar reverberated across the bay, driving away even the relentless rain for the briefest of moments. As one, the allied armies turned to flee, panic taking hold and propagating infectiously. Within heartbeats, despite the best efforts of their commanders, they were in rout.

Kayu watched it all from the safety of her circle, almost forgetting to breathe as the glyphs gradually faded and cooled around her. Twenty long hours of battle without food or sleep had taken their toll, and only then did she regain awareness of herself and her immediate surroundings. Her silken black hair was limp and damp, her robes soaked through with tears from the heavens and spray from the sea, and the only reason she was not shivering from cold was because she had allowed herself to forget that she actually possessed limbs. Fully half of the other spellweavers had already collapsed from exertion, and those that remained were skeletal husks barely recognisable as human.

Part of her mind feared to think what she must look like at the moment. The remainder, however, realised that it didn’t matter. A feathery caress touched upon her wet cheeks, gradually growing in intensity until the assembled sails strained and billowed at their tethers.

Wind! she thought exultantly, a cry that was almost immediately taken up by the soldiers assembled on board the ships. Home!

Truly, the dragon was a bringer of good fortune.

[Whispers of Abyssion]

The aftermath of the battle had left the village in shambled ruins. Tall thin spires and rounded dwellings that had survived much of the Great Corpse War had finally succumbed at the fourth time of asking. The first three sieges had been battles of occupation, fought over ownership of the buildings as much as the decimation of the foe. The last had been one of simple annihilation.

But it had been won by the living. Finally, at long last, Raiaera was free of the Necromancer’s foul touch.

Fires still crackled amongst the toppled rubble, dark flames licking at wooden supports and dusty furniture. The good thing was that most undead constructs burnt almost as well as dry crackling, which made it an easy matter to dispose of the tide of filth and decay that had infested the town in a last stand. The bad thing was that dragonflame fed on living flesh too, and the victorious company of elves and allies had to be careful not to accidentally singe themselves. Beneath the ashy heavens the Warstriders laboured, carefully cleansing every last taint and corruption from their liberated lands.

The warrior walked amongst them wearily, once again wearing his full suit of lacquered lamellar plate. Displayed prominently on his chest was his family’s crest, six black coins that represented the money needed to cross the rivers of death and signified that he was not afraid to die in battle. The dragonflame crimson of his armour indicated in turn his clan’s claim to be descended from the first dragons of Nippon. Not that any of the elves who respectfully stepped aside to let him pass knew any of this. Like so many who fought in this war, he was far from home.

He ducked his stocky form beneath a whitestone archway, set in a wall that no longer existed, and emerged into the courtyard of just another destroyed home. Iron warboots resounded like stentorian drumbeats off the cracked pavestones as they carried him unerringly to the outhouse in the far corner. There, a wooden trapdoor had burnt away to reveal a set of narrow stairs leading into a dank food cellar, and it was down these that his path now took him.

The large shoulder guards on his armour made it difficult to manoeuvre in the confined spaces, and his gloved hand rested lightly on the butt of the shorter companion sword at his waist, rather than the oversized odachi on his back. Dark eyes nestled deep below the brim of his full helm, glinting as they took in the single torch blazing at the end of the corridor. It was newly lit, certainly no older than the battle he had just finished.

“Touma,” he said, muffled behind the armoured mask that hid his features. His words echoed off the stone walls like a discordant symphony, accompanied by the jingle of his armour as he took a step into the room. It stank of wet rot and decay.

“Akiyoshi.”

The warrior’s eyes snapped to the direction from which his name had been spoken. They were yet to fully adjust to the darkness, but already he could make out the vague figure seated formally upon the stone floor… and the otherworldly shadows that surrounded it.

They had grasping hands, and bloodshot eyes, and soundless voices keening for the souls of the living. Like the tendrils of some alien plant, they sprouted from the mirror-like sheen of an extradimensional portal anchored to the floor beneath Touma’s folded legs. They were daemons, albeit lesser beings barely deserving of the name.

Realisation struck him like a lightning bolt, nearly staggering him with the weight of long years of deception. He choked back an angry roar, gaze narrowing in the slit of exposed skin between mask and helm.

“Let me guess. This is how you survived the akki ambush when we were young. This is how you lived through the Night of Nefarious Flame. This is how you escaped from Choson.”

The voice that replied had sounded in his head as the battle above had drawn to a close, shaking him so badly that he had lost control over his transformation and nearly plummeted to his death. It had directed him to this particular spot, asking him to come alone, and had promised to explain everything. And now, as the shadowy spirits danced at Touma’s command, he understood. All that he had assumed of the mage came crashing down around his head.

“I won’t deny it.”

The man was no mere kijutsushi. Likely he had never been. Akiyoshi had no idea when his old acquaintance had sold himself to the darkest of powers, but his instincts told him that it had happened long before they had met at the Academy in Nippon.

Illusions and mental tricks may still have been central to Touma’s arsenal, but his abilities went far beyond the necessity to rely on such subtleties. Not only could he read the future, as precarious as such clairvoyance might be, but he could directly influence it as well. He could hide in the shadows, safely out of harms way, and watch and wait as his enemies destroyed one another and his plans came to fruition. Even when threatened he could simply sit back in a protected location, secure in the knowledge that if all came to worst he could bend the very rules of time and space to save his skin.

“You stood by and did nothing, while everybody died…”

You consorted with daemons and brought it upon them.

“My interference then would not have changed anything, except to add one more name to the list of the fallen…”

“You stood by and did nothing! Miiko, and Chiaki, and Yukimi, and Satori… you did nothing!”

“I stayed where it was safe and waited for the storm to pass.”

Before he realised it, he had reacted: a cacophony of clanging metal as his hand gripped his sword and his body tensed for the strike. Akiyoshi very nearly drew his blade, there and then. It was not merely Touma’s justifications that piqued his ire, but the calm and uncaring manner in which he presented them. All the death, all the devastation… it meant nothing to him.

Only the mage’s complete lack of fear stopped him in his tracks, along with the harsh truth that at this distance, at this range, Touma could easily escape through the portal below him. After a lengthy battle to control his fury, the warrior managed to grind out a single word between tautly grit teeth.

“Why.”

“Because I had to, Aki.” Touma’s eyes shone in the dark, pools of still water caught amongst the blackest of nights. His features were gaunter than his five-and-twenty years, cast in shadow far deeper than the misty miasma that played about his folded knees. “I’m telling you this now because I know you will understand. There is no such thing as evil power, or even goodly power. There is merely power that is put to purpose.”

Akiyoshi was reminded of what he himself had needed to do to control the fires within him. His own strength, the strength of the Dragonblooded, had not come easily or without sacrifice; there was good reason why dragonflame was dark and hungry. Someday, no matter how many other lives he took in the process, it would devour him whole.

“I need this power. Someday you will see for yourself, but for now know this… my soul, damned as it may be, is nothing compared to what I have been working to prevent. Even Xem’zund was only the harbinger, an insignificant speck when compared to what we truly face. Are you truly so naively idealistic that you would not accept the aid of a small evil in order to defeat the greater?”

Touma’s gaze pierced him where he stood, composed and emotionless. Akiyoshi could barely hold it, such was its potency.

“I brought you here today to warn you. This is nowhere near the end.”

The mage unfolded his legs, slowly rising to his feet as the fiends gibbered in dismay. His frame was lanky, his limbs long, and the Nipponese robes hung from his shoulders like washing stretched out to dry. Arcane miasma swirled dustily at his bare soles as he took one step, then another, across the stony floor. He did not stop until he was eye to eye with the warrior.

“I reveal myself today so that you will see what I have had to become, so that you will not underestimate my warning or dismiss my words as fallacy. You know what you have to do, Akiyoshi. I need you to do it.”

Together. Together we will protect her. Words from a long-forgotten past echoed in his ears. The pledge of three young men, caught in a war not of their making, looking to rescue a cherished friend from the pyres of sacrifice and defeat. With an effort he pushed away the mage’s subtle influence, but his mind only tumbled into a sequence of anguished memories.

He thought of Yukimi, who had adored him so, and her gruesome death as the daemon’s claws ripped her apart. He thought of Satori, who he had loved, and the tears on her pale cheeks as the revenant clove her in two. He thought of Touma, who had indirectly orchestrated both their deaths through his dealings with the netherworld.

He thought of the nameless boy, the phoenix who had been reborn from the depths of despair to save a nation, only to be lost again. He thought of Kayu, the kirin whose purity and strength had saved them all so many times. He thought of Touma again, the serpent who played them off against each other and against the world, all for his own aims.

He thought of himself, and of the darkness he cradled within. He thought of the young boy he had once been, full of pride and delusions of grandeur, and what he had ended up becoming. He thought of Touma a third time, and realised that they had been the same once, perhaps even now.

He returned to the present, and found himself still staring eye to eye with the mage. It was as if he saw Touma for the first time, and reflected in Touma’s eyes, himself as well. They had both believed, and they were both paying the price.

In the end, he found that he did not have it in him to condemn the man.

Together we will protect her.

He forced his hand to relax from the hilt of his short sword, knowing that Touma’s life was within his reach, knowing that he dared not take it any more. His crimson armour jingled as he slowly stepped back into a neutral stance, eyes smouldering with barely suppressed anger and hate.

“I’ve never liked you much, Touma. Your heart is colder than a snake’s scales and darker than the depths of the void.”

His voice was frigid, a tone that would have frozen the hearts of a thousand lesser men. But Touma’s eyes were colder still, and the mage didn’t even flinch. The warrior studied them for a moment longer before allowing the fire to take hold.

“Just remember this, Touma. The serpent cannot devour the dragon.”

Akiyoshi turned to leave, the stylised crest on his helmet glinted gold as it caught the light from the flickering torch. Between the gilded horns nestled a rearing beast from the depths of legend, foreclaws splayed wide and serrated teeth bared in aggression.

Touma allowed a small smile to creep across his face.

“… look,” he whispered. “A dragon.”

[blackdog1]

Ganlon suddenly ran past Milo and off the narrow trail, "Look, a Dragon," he shouted as he continued, heedless of danger, into the clearing.

Milo was taken by surprise, it was not everyday that his traveling companion noticed anything other than plants and herbs before he did. He considered Ganlon to be a good friend and gifted healer. Unfortunately, Ganlons child like enthusiasm was sometimes a distracting and dangerous thing. Milo hoped that this was not one of those times.

If Ganlon was running like a river of enthusiasm into the clearing, than Milo was creeping like a fog of wonder.

Milo's feet made no sound as he drifted through the tall grass, completely focused on the spectacle before him. As he drew closer to the dragon his partners near constant banter of discovery slowly faded to the background.

Approaching it from the front, Milo gently placed the flat of his hand on the nose of the great beast and slowly ran it up the skull to the point the twisted horns jutted out to the sky. The sun and weather had bleached the skull and left it with the texture of fine silk. As Milo lifted his gaze, the entire skeleton was laid out before him, surprisingly unmolested.

Milo took a few steps back and began to slowly make his way around the entire dragon skeleton. He had never been this close to a dragon, dead or alive, finally getting the chance he would absorb as much as he could. Even though it was obviously long dead, a creature of this magnitude, strength and intelligence deserved respect.

As he walked around the sunlit clearing, Milo could not help but question how the creature ended up here in this state.

The beast was stretched to it's full length, nearly 30 paces, with the wings spread out to the sides. The result was an intact skeleton laid out in the shape of a cross. All of the bones appeared to be in their proper place, the hungry forest scavengers and trophy seekers alike had not robbed the site.

The lack of any disturbance was the first thing that made Milo think this place was somehow special. Few things in the world escaped the destruction of hunger and greed.

The second remarkable point to Milo was the vegetation immediately surrounding the bones. Each piece of the dragon skeleton was outlined by wild red roses. The only exception was the rib cage where the roses climbed the bones to create an arbor of red and white.

Milo was faced with more questions than he had answers for about the understated spectacle before him.

Was this a memorial to the slayer or the slain? A magical marker of beacon? Or was it simply an attempt to pay homage to what is possibly the most impressive beast to inhabit the world of the living.

The sun shifted in its course through the afternoon sky while Milo was lost in thought about the origin and intent of the obviously special and sacred place.

He made a promise to himself that day to hunt down a free and wild dragon. Not to slay or conquer it, but to meet, communicate with and study it. Hopefully he could learn more about the one beast of the world that was still a mystery to him.

Movement in the rose and rib arbor brought Milo back to the here and now. Ganlon was moving about the heart of the dragon.

"Rose hips," Ganlon nearly shouted, waving a small sack in the air, "They are very useful for treating colds,the coughing sickness and a host of other ailments, as well as reducing swelling and pain of the joints." Holding a handful out to Milo he added, "These are some nice ones too."

Milo could only smile at his friend collecting herds in a place like this. He was certain that they would do all that Ganlon claimed and much more.

"Funny though," Ganlon rambled on as he picked,"This is a strange variety of rose that would still be in bloom this time of year."

Milo took it as one more question that he would hopefully be able to answer someday.

[Bloodrose]

"What do you think he wants?" Sidsa asked. She was holding the curtain by the door open, staring out the window alongside Teric at the man who'd shown up just before dark.

"I don't know," the mercenary muttered, "but I get the feeling that whatever it is, we're not gonna like it."

Sidsa's brow furrowed in worry, and she started gnawing on her lower lip. The stranger outside made no effort to hail the cabin, nor did he come any closer than a dozen paces. He was a bigger man, probably a good head and shoulders taller than Teric, and broader as well. Standing there, waiting as he was, the man's legs seemed to grow out of the snow like twin oaks decorated with an odd mishmash of hides, treated leather, and rusty platemail. Straddling those muscular legs was a torso to match, wrapped tight in dull colored chainmail and sporting arms as thick at the bicep as most men were at the waist. He had an axe large enough to fell a small building - the shaft of which was probably as tall as Sidsa.

"Wait here." Teric added. Sword in hand, he yanked open the cabin door and stepped outside.

The cold hit him as snow crunched beneath his boots, and Teric strode forward until he had a good five or six paces between his back and the cabin behind him. The stranger didn't move, but the mercenary saw his eyes focus on the sword. Those eyes were dark, set into a heavy skull that looked as though it might have been carved from granite. The mystery man had a strong, square jaw as well, and more stubble than hair. It struck Teric as odd, as he squared up opposite this uninvited guest, that the man didn't seem phased in the least by the early evening chill. His huge arms hung bare at his sides, he wore nothing on his bald head, and yet the man didn't shiver at all.

"Who are you?" Teric asked.

"Olavi Kaukinen." The man replied, his voice heavily accented. There was something familiar about that accent; something upsetting. Furthermore, in combination with the man's size, and his apparent disregard for the cold...

"Reus?" Teric inquired, not quite sure. The veteran's fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword expectantly.

Olavi nodded once, nothing more.

Shit. The Reus were the stuff of children's nightmares; more orc than human, although you couldn't necessarily tell just to look at them. There was a common misconception in Salvar that orcs were all green-skinned, tusk-toothed barbarians, but in truth just about everyone who made their homes in Berevar could trace their ancestry back to some orcish lineage. In a frozen, barren wasteland as hellish as the tundra of Berevar, those were the only sort of people who could survive.

"Awful far south for one of your kind, aren't you?" Teric tried not to let his dismay come across in his voice.

"Wij hebben oud op dit gewacht, heksbloed." Olavi replied in Taal, the language that replaces Salvic Common as the dialect of choice north of Sulgoran's Axe. Teric's grasp on the language was tenuous at best, but he got the general gist of it. We've waited a long time for this.

"Got a Name?" Teric asked his hulking guest.

"Draak." Olavi smiled.

Dragon. Teric shuddered to think what Olavi could have done to earn a moniker like that. "Named Men" were a sort of warrior elite in Reus society, a Name being something you earned, not something that was bestowed on you. To outsiders they just seemed like nicknames the tribals used amongst themselves, but like wizards, Reus took their Names very seriously. Named Men protected chieftains or became tribal leaders themselves. Named Men could marry, have children, and stake out territory for themselves. Really, in order to be considered anything higher than a dog in Berevar, one had to earn their Name.

"I don't supposed I have to tell you mine, seeing as you're here."

"All the Reus still know Bloodrose." Olavi replied in halting Common.

There was a sound like a thunderclap, and the Reus warrior Olavi "Draak" Kaukinen was dead before he hit the ground. The sword that had been hovering near Teric's right hip was now up around his left shoulder - tip pointed off into the sky like he'd just swung it up and across his body. It all happened so quickly that the bloody 'X' shaped wound on Olavi's chest didn't have time to stain the snow beneath his feet before he landed in a heap on his back.

"Good to know." Teric snorted derisively, letting his sword fall back to his hip.

Sidsa was on the mercenary before he could make it back to the warmth of the cabin. The witch had a look on her face that registered somewhere between surprise and terror.

"What the hell was that?" Sidsa demanded to know, trying to shoulder past Teric as he extended an arm and herded her back towards the door. "Why did you kill him?"

"He was a message." Teric explained, poorly. "We're not safe here."

[Zerith]

“I can’t begin to explain how much of an honour it is to finally meet you sir,” a soldier confessed as he saluted his new superior.

“The feeling’s mutual,” Zerith Dracosius, newly appointed Captain-Commander of the Morian army, answered. It wasn’t a complete lie, the halberdier really did consider it a privilege to meet the stranger. The only issue he had was that he felt uncomfortable when men obviously older than he was saluted him.

It was clearly part of the new role he had as the head of his brother-in-law’s army. King Eric felt confident that the new prince was more than capable of handling the job, and to see Zerith take it so seriously brought a smile to the ruler’s face as he stood next to the young General. “Captain Granas here is one of the senior officers of our dragonriders,” Eric explained. “He’s served with them for the majority of his career.”

"Dragons.” The word alone reminded Zerith of the whole reason he found himself standing in the outpost the army built high atop one of the two cliffs in northern Moriah. Weeks ago he decided to inspect the various divisions of the kingdom’s forces, and now all the only thing he needed to see firsthand was the esteemed dragons native to Moriah. “I’m really excited to see one of these dragons firsthand,” Zerith replied as he turned to look at Eric. “I’ve never seen one before.”

“You’ve honestly never seen a dragon before? I’m surprised,” Jasmine interjected. The halberdier had asked his wife to accompany him for the sake making him feel a little more comfortable. Though now as her lips formed an amused smile, he was beginning to wonder if he should have kept that small secret of his to himself. “I always assumed you had a story of a fight against a dragon, especially when you have a name like “Dracosius.”

“Same here,” Eric added. “Even more so when you think of what some of the townspeople are calling you.”

“What are they calling me?” Zerith asked, a touch of concern hidden in his voice.

“”The Dragon General”,” Jasmine beamed. “But I think it’s only because of our last name.”

Zerith sighed, “Can I please just see one of these dragons?”

“Of course, sir.” Captain Granas said, interrupting the friendly conversation amongst the royal family. “Let me introduce you to my dragon, Athkore”

As if one cue, a thunderous roar echoed across the cliffs. Loud wingbeats could be heard from the north until something finally appeared from over the stone wall of the fort. With silver scales that held something close to a mirror-like sheen, the beast was easily around twenty four feet long. As it landed beside it’s rider, the finally few downbeats of his massive wingspan caused the wind to toss Zerith’s hair about in a fury and forced the prince to shield his face. Landing with a loud, audible “thud”, the dragon quickly folded it’s wings along before rearing it’s head back and roaring one final time in a display of overall power.

All in all, the sight was absolutely majestic.

“…Incredible,” was the only word that Zerith could force out of his mouth. As Eric and Jasmine watched silently with smiles on their faces, the halberdier slowly approached in a manner that almost seemed like reverence. The dragon moved as he lifted his hand, lowering it’s large head down so it was just above the prince’s. Its powerful muscles moved perfectly, and every breath that left its nostrils made the air feel hot. The dragon’s eyes were a rich blue more vibrant that anything the halberdier had every seen before and made him feel like the carried more wisdom that he could ever possess in a lifetime. He could hardly believe he was standing face to face with an actual dragon. The entire experience was definitely going to be something he would remember for the rest of his life.

“How…how many dragons do we currently have with riders?” Zerith asked

“One hundred to be exact,” Eric answered, stepping forward so that he could stand next to his brother-in-law. “Moriah has always had one hundred dragons in its military at all times. The extensive process of bonding a rider to a dragon prevents us from having more.”

“What exactly is involved with his “bonding” process?”

“Well one can’t just sign up for this job,” Captain Granas began to explain. As he spoke, he rubbed his hand against Athkore’s neck. “We’re not quite sure how the rest of Althanas refers to the developmental cycle of dragons, but here in Moriah we refer to the ones that just become a year old as “yearlings”. Although they’re still young, they are incredibly intelligent, and even at that age it’s very difficult for someone to convince one to form a bond with them. If someone can do that then the rest is basically training and learning how to fight as a single unit. What nobody tells you is the fact that being bonded with a dragon causes you to share some telepathic bond with the dragon. With a single though, I can make Athkore here bank left or dive while we’re in the air. As a result of this, it makes us a much more formidable opponent.”

“You hear that Jasmine? It’s apparently being like being married to you,” Zerith teased as he looked back to wife, who merely smiled and laughed in response. “What do you think; would it be possible for someone like me to have a dragon of my own?”

“Are you seriously considering that, love?” Jasmine asked as she joined her brother and husband. “Where would it sleep? We don’t exactly have a little cave beside the manor for it to sleep in.”

“Moriah’s a small kingdom, Jasmine,” Zerith answered. “The distance from here to the manor would mean nothing for a fully grown dragon.”

“True, but do you honest think you can manage to convince a dragon to bond with you?” Jasmine challenged with fiery determination.

“I don’t see what I couldn’t,” Zerith said with a grin. “If I can manage to convince you to marry me, this should be a piece of cake.”

[orphans]

“Dragons sing?”

“Of course!” The response from Maybel Wallsmore, a six circle mage of Seoyruun, was immediate and absolute. It had the intended effect of both surprising and holding the small girl on the edge of his bed before him in awe. “Admittedly, I’ve never seen a real dragon before or heard one sing, but it has to be true! It’s been recorded down over and over in multiple histories!”

“Oh,” was all the child in front of Maybel could manage. Her answer visibly left the man flabbergasted at her lack of enthusiasm.

“Don’t you see, Sophia? You might be a dragon! Or maybe have dragon blood in you, rather.” Sophia Ambrose seemed to fidget at the notion that she could be such a thing, which sorely disappointed Maybel. “You know, most would be rather excited at the possibility of having dragon blood in them.”

In truth, it was because “Sophia” wasn’t accustomed to being called upon as such yet. Azza Ambrose was what she would have preferred to be called by, but she had been warned against using it. Lying about her identity didn’t seem right, so Azza did the next best thing – she reclaimed her first given name. “I’m sorry Maybel… but I don’t understand what this has to do with me…”

At Azza’s issue with his theory, Maybel’s deep brown eyes lit up. So eager was he to explain one of his more favorite subjects, that he took a few deep breaths before he started. “Wonderful question Sophia! But first, tell me what you know of dragons.”

“They fly around, and burn down barns, and steal cattle and stuff.”

Maybel made to respond, however, so shocked was he at her response that he stood there for a good few seconds with his mouth agape, trying to form an answer. “Erm, not quite young lady. And what do you mean by ‘stuff’?” Waving his hand in irritation, he continued quickly, “Never mind that. Those are the stereotypes of dragons in legends and stories. What I’m talking about are true lore and knowledge.”

“But you said you’ve never seen a real dragon…”

“That’s not the point. One can glean the truth from researching all of those things. Stories have to come from somewhere and same as the legends.” Pausing in thought, Maybel broke out into a grin. “Okay, fine, maybe what you said is true too, but that’s all the negative perceptions of dragons.”

Frowning, Azza muttered softly under her breath, “But I don’t do any of those things…”

Aside from the usual din inside the giant metal ship, Leviathan, Azza’s voice drifted to Maybel easily and made him laugh in mirth. “Of course not, I wouldn’t have expected you to.” Bringing both his hands before him, Maybel wove an intricate shape with his fingers. Within moments, a small glowing figure of a dragon appeared in miniature form. “Now, what do you see, Sophia?”

Azza stared at the shape and the pretend dragon stared back at her. A puff of false smoke rose steadily from its nostrils, making Azza wrinkle her nose. “A baby dragon?”

“Erm, not quite.” Pulling a chair from beneath his desk, Maybel plunked himself down to continue his explanation, or rant – Azza wasn’t sure which it was anymore. “Dragons, or at least the dragons of old, were majestic beings and were the guides of all life in Althanas.”

“I thought the Thaynes were.”

“They’re part of it. Dragons are what came before them.”

“Are you sure?” Azza’s eyes dripped with skepticism as she studied Maybel’s young face.

“Well… it’s one interpretation. In any case, come here and look closer at the dragon,” Maybel offered as he motioned for her to scoot closer. Azza did so, though she continued to stare at Maybel. “At the dragon, not me.”

“Alright, what am I supposed to see?”

“First, we’ll do comparisons. Dragons have horns, correct?” Azza nodded. “Well, so do you.”

An instant insecurity settled onto Azza’s shoulders as she moved to touch her right horn gingerly. “… so do goats and bears.”

“They’re different – hold on, bears? No they don’t! Wait, stop sidetracking me. My point is, your horns and their pattern are the exact same as some dragon horns recovered.” Turning, Maybel pulled a large book off his desk and thumbed to somewhere near the middle. “Here, take a look. Don’t these look similar to the pattern on your horns, Sophia?”

As much as Azza didn’t want to admit it, Maybel was right. The spiral design of her horns was similar, if not identical, to the one portrayed in the book. She might as well have looked in a mirror. “Just because I have one similarity doesn’t mean I’m a dragon.”

“Dragons are also creatures of intense concentrations of mana. You, Sophia, are nearly blistering with it. Those sensitive to magic can practically smell you from miles away.”

“I… how come I can’t see it myself? Wouldn’t a dragon be able to see those sorts of things?”

“Like I said. You may only have some blood of one. If that’s the case, you would have to be taught how to.” Clapping his hands together as if he achieved some minor victory, Maybel turned and grabbed another book. “Now, dragon and dragonkin have been known to have minor clairvoyance, some stronger than others. Rather, more specifically, memories.”

Azza froze. She didn’t exactly know what clairvoyance meant, but the later seemed to strike dead on. Or did they? It was true that Azza had vivid dreams of places and that she could feel what happened around her in those dreams, but were they memories?

“I’ll take your silence to be that you’ve had similar experiences.” Opening the book, Maybel frowned a little and looked up into Azza’s maroon eyes carefully, searching for something. “May I ask you a question, Sophia?”

“Alright.”

Closing the book, Maybel replaced it behind him and then faced the girl squarely. “You said you were an orphan, correct?” Azza nodded. “Did you sing often at the orphanage?” Azza shook her head. “Really?!”

Giggling at his reaction, Azza nodded her head again. “Really. Erieai actually… taught me.”

Slumping in his chair, Maybel looked to be the epitome of a man with all his hopes and dreams destroyed. “You mean that you’ve just started to sing? And that Erieai is the one teaching you?”

“That’s right. Why?”

Fuming silently for a moment, Maybel waved away the image of the small dragon and straightened himself again. “Well, you just killed my theory of you having dragon blood or maybe being a dragon.”

“Really?” Azza asked, with a bit more excitement in her voice than she meant. “Does this mean I can go now?”

With a hand on his temple, Maybel nodded. “Yes. You can have the rest of the day off before you join Erieai’s unit again, Sophia. I’ll need to talk to her as well.” Nearly bolting up, Azza offered a quick thanks and was out the entrance before Maybel managed to get in another word. Sighing to himself, Maybel turned to his desk and pulled out a sheet of paper.

On the paper, names of various races and creatures were written and all were crossed out save for one on the bottom: Dragons. With another heavy sigh, Maybel crossed it out with a piece of charcoal and frowned. “Well, I’m out of ideas…”

[Atzar]

My apologies for the wait! This was a fun round to read, and I was very pleased that every story was markedly different than all of the others. Admittedly I was somewhat concerned when I wrote the prompt that I wasn’t giving you a very open-ended topic, but to your credit the creativity here was excellent and I received fifteen very different entries.

MetalDrago

This was a cool entry (and the prompt probably fit your character perfectly), and a good start to the round. Your selection of a somewhat overused theme was saved by the creativity you injected into it. I especially appreciated the familiarity that you exhibited with Althanas lore.

Let’s talk setting. I felt that you weren’t detailed enough. You mentioned the initial setting as ‘inky blackness’, which I thought was vague. Was it a swirling black mist, that drifted and eddied around the plane? Or was it just… blank? Then, once the dragon blew the blackness away, you called it a ‘bleak, desolate wasteland’. Again, this is leaving a lot to the imagination. Give me colors, features, details. You just gave me a mood – and while that’s important, I think you’d do well to dig a little deeper.

SirArtemis

I enjoyed the fact that you didn’t take the prompt literally – this was a cool interpretation. You presented the setting clearly, and your story was easy to follow. My issue with you is the same as it always was – I feel that you use awkward phrases and superfluous details that don’t contribute to the story (although there were less of these instances than there have been in the past, so credit where it’s due for continuing to work on it).

I was a little disappointed in the ending. Throughout the first half, I felt that you were building tension for a conflict of some sort that would follow, but I don’t think you ever effectively released it – the bit with the drunkard’s knife was creative, but ultimately somewhat of a letdown. If it was your goal to dispel the notion that the Dragon was this ill-tempered badass who would obliterate the city if somebody looked at him wrong, then I think you should have paid more attention to setting up and following through on that point from the beginning. As it is, the story was entertaining but it never really went anywhere.

Captain on the Wind

This was a trip. I thought your description of the setting was very effective in a forehead-slapping, over-the-top kind of way. It’s always refreshing to see something written with a sense of humor on this site – we tend as a group to take ourselves too seriously at times. As I read it I thought the part where Gale pissed on the tree was going to be somewhat awkward to read about, but surprisingly enough, it worked!

I felt that your character came across as a bit flat for much of the story. Until the bit with the gnome at the end, you didn’t really give me much indication of what Gale was thinking. The setting is important, yes, but what really makes a story come to life is a sense of who your character is and why he’s doing what he’s doing – I didn’t get that here. Also, there were a couple of minor typos and grammatical errors that could likely be spotted and corrected with a reread.

Cydnar Yrene

This was a great read. I’m pleased that somebody managed to pull Dheathain into one of the entries here – it doesn’t get the love it deserves. I thought the story you told me here was compelling and entertaining, and in general your descriptions were very good – I got a clear picture of the setting, and I appreciated that you fed it to me piece by piece rather than in one large lump. It really helps the pacing of the story that way.

I felt that you could have used a better hook at the beginning of your story. In the first sentence, you immediately bombard me with a bunch of words to which I can’t assign meanings, and it’s left to me to puzzle out what they actually are throughout the rest of the post. I think it would have helped you to ease your reader into the story a little more gently. Also, some of your sentences can get pretty long, to the point of being difficult to follow. Keep an eye out for that. Still, I thoroughly enjoyed this post.

Blackandblueeyes

I thought the premise of this story was awesome. I enjoyed the first-person perspective, and you pulled it off well.

My only real complaint is that it seemed like you didn’t finish! Perhaps you were going for a cliffhanger there, but I felt that there were too many loose ends. Why did your attitude toward the dragon change so suddenly? I was kind of wondering if it was controlling your mind or something. Also, I would have loved to know what happened next. Take that as a compliment, if you will – up to that point, the story had been riveting enough that I wanted more.

Restless Soul

You seemed unsure of whether or not your entry would be too loose an interpretation of the prompt, but this is actually the kind of entry I was looking forward to - I enjoyed your ability to stay within the prompt while not taking it literally. An occasional mechanical mistake aside, this was well-written, with strong descriptions. I also liked the overall tone of your post and felt that it fit the setting perfectly.

On the negative side, this is another case where I don’t feel the cliffhanger worked as well as you’d hoped. I’m not sure I understood who your ‘captor’ was at the end – or even if he was actually capturing Amras. Was the man one of the mages being suppressed by the University? I can’t tell if I’m trying to read into things too deeply here, or if I’m not reading into them deeply enough. A few more hints and a little more clarity would have helped you. Still, this was well-written and enjoyable.

Sagequeen

I actually feel bad about this assessment. I know how much you value feedback and constructive criticism. I feel like I’m doing you a disservice by not giving any advice for improvement, but I don’t know what to say without just splitting hairs. The story was wonderful.

Erissa and Jensen are polar opposites and highlight each other’s personalities very well. Your setting was vividly-described and wonderful, and the ending was hilarious and something I would have never expected from you. It was long, but I never felt that it dragged anywhere. A terrific job across the board here, and the well-deserved winner of this round.

Aegis of Espiridion

Short and light-hearted. I was impressed with the dialogue in this story. Given the relatively scant information you gave to me outside of the conversation itself, it was noteworthy that you managed to bring their personalities forth through their words alone.

While I see what you were trying to do here, I would have appreciated more detail, especially in the paintings. I don’t think the conversation quite bridged the gap between what you wanted me to see and what I actually saw.

Flames of Hyperion

You have a very intense, graphic style with this character. It’s usually effective, and the fact that this all took place in the middle of a bloody goblin raid gave you ample opportunity to show it off. There are times, however, when I feel that you’re trying a bit too hard to be eloquent. For example: “A disorientating cacophony of chittering washed over their position…” While there were certainly many times in this thread where your word choice served you well, there were a few times like this one where I thought it was unnecessary.

Also, my lack of familiarity with your characters hurt me a bit in reading this story. Had this been in a part of a quest where I’d had time to get acquainted with the people I’m reading about, I think some of the scenes (particularly the death of Gyo) would have been a lot more poignant. Still, this was a very well-written job overall.

Wings of Endymion

The story you attached to this one was fascinating. To be honest, I’m surprised that I didn’t get more like this – you were the only one who decided to show off a dragon’s power in combat. As usual, your imagery and attention to detail regarding the setting stood out.

My biggest qualm with this entry was that most of it simply felt like a description of the battle. Kayu’s personality never really came forth, and as a result I felt that the only thing I learned about her in the course of this vignette was the bit at the beginning about her brand of magic.

Whispers of Abyssion

I thought this was the best of your four, mostly because this one tied everything together. The dialogue was intense and very well-constructed, and this one gave me some insight into a few of the questions I had from the Flames and Wings entries. I felt that both parties were believable in their motives and their responses, which is a difficult thing to do – so well done on that front.

I have a minor gripe with the fact that the inclusion of the dragon was only a small and unimportant part of this entry. I feel like, given that dragons are the prompt, the effort should be made to focus the story on the dragon in some way (and you did that with your other three stories). I do understand that Akiyoshi is the dragon in a way, but like I said I felt like that was merely a minor detail and played only a cursory role in the plot.

Blackdog1

This was an interesting and unique take on the prompt. The best thing that you did, in my opinion, was the fact that you consistently interacted with your environment throughout your post. This is an important part of the setting that many people miss.

I think you would do well to use more powerful words and verbs in your writing, especially for those parts that deserve the extra attention. For example, take this line: “He had never been this close to a dragon, dead or alive, finally getting the chance he would absorb as much as he could.” Perhaps a more effective way of saying this would be something like “He knew he might never be this close to a dragon again. With this thought foremost in his mind, he studied the magnificent skeleton intently, etching every last detail into his memory.” Do you see what I did here? It’s more descriptive and more elaborate, without going over the top. Remember that the exploration of the skeleton is one of the most important sections of your post – you want people to remember this. So exercise your inner wordsmith and play it up (within reason, of course!).

Bloodrose

Your strength, in my opinion, lies in your grasp of the relatively subtle personality of your character and in your clarity and concision. You don’t waste words, and you took the oftentimes difficult-to-write awkwardness of a foreign language and expressed it in a clear, easily-understood way.

In this case, however, I thought that there wasn’t enough meat on the bones. The story was very short, and added to your natural brevity the thing just blew by way too quickly for me. I would have liked to see you flesh this out a little bit more in some way. Perhaps you could expand the dialogue, or maybe the battle (such as it was) would consist of more than one shot. After all, you made a point to mention that a Reus who had earned the Name Draak was probably a force to be reckoned with. I know Teric is badass, but I thought killing your visitor with one movement was a little bit anticlimactic.

Zerith

The give and take between Zerith and Jasmine was charming, and I thought your punchline at the end of the story was well-delivered. I, too, found it ironic that a man named Dracosius had never actually seen a dragon – that was an amusing detail that I enjoyed.

There were numerous typos in your post – extra words, missing words, out-of-place apostrophes, that sort of thing – that you could have removed. Remember that possessive “its” doesn’t need an apostrophe. Also, there were places where I thought you could have tightened up your prose – for example, “…downbeats of his massive wingspan caused the wind to toss Zerith’s hair about…” could be cleaned up by taking ‘caused the wind to toss’ and replacing it with ‘tossed’. Also, I think ‘wings’ works better than ‘wingspan’ here as well.

Orphans

Cute and charming as usual, and I loved the dialogue, particularly from Azza/Sophia – her lines sounded exactly like something a little kid would actually say. I enjoyed how you revealed the source of Maybel’s enthusiasm right at the end – it was an amusing ending.

This is classic Azza. You weren’t nearly as ambitious as some of the others in this round, but you wrote your story well. This made for an excellent, lighthearted close to the round.




Congratulations to Sagequeen, the winner of this round! Thanks for your participation, and enjoy round four!