A Drunkard's Tale

The man stares at the fire.

There weren't always dragons in the valley. The Voice of Death had swamped the moon mountains and killed thousands of livestock. It crossed the Co'bak rivers and spread like a disease until all that was left were dead animals, yoleans (insect dragons with many legs that fed on dead bodies), and migrating fire-breathing dragons.

The Voice of Death, sometimes called Phoelluyus' wrath, is a spectral being that kills faster than any soul has seen. Soldiers and great warriors have attempted to exchange swords with this beast, but, like dead branches, they fell to the ground, with only the forest to tell the tale of their gruesome deaths.

This spectral being travels with the wind and leaves a white, flaky substance on the flowers along its path. Like dust, it swirls in the air and is only visible when it catches the sun's light. Yet, like the glistening full moon, its presence is felt as it surrounds you.

"There are different names for this beast, but the one that has endured through distance and time is 'the Voice of Death.' This name stuck among travelers for once you heard its windy cries, death followed!"

No living being has dwelled in its presence for more than an hourglass. Humans, being the only species with no special ability but an unquenchable desire to invent tools, fight wars, and plant crops, typically lasted five heartbeats. And the large cavern cannibals, also known as boondongs, lasted fifteen to twenty heartbeats before they danced to the siren songs of death.

The elves, unlike most, gave the Voice of Death their best fight. They could last fifty to sixty heartbeats with the help of a full moon. Most elves drew their strength from the moon, and when the waves of the sea were at their strongest, an elf could fight a god.

The man tightly squeezes his wine keg and stares ghostly at the burning wood. He continues,

"Stories have been told among villagers about the origin of this killer. Some people believe it is the ghost of a wind elf avenging the genocide of his people.

Many ten-moons ago, General Mkukui, the greatest boondong warrior from the Ir'cha tribe, ordered the genocide of the Xxava village. The way the boondong soldiers massacred the Xxava villagers made everyone's blood crawl with both rage and fear. Many people avoided talking about the genocide and simply refer to it as 'the night blood became clay.'

Tales were told about how the male Xxava elves watched as their wives became feasts for hounds. The infants and babies were buried alive in holes in the ground, and the warriors...

Oh, the poor Xxava warriors," the man moaned.

"They were all lined up from the strongest to the weakest and forced to bear witness to the horrors that befell their wives and children. The elves believed in polygamy, so every Xxava male cried out to their gods more than once and lost their hope to the pool of blood that covered the ground they stood on."

The man stops and looks away from the fire with a pang of sadness. He looks back at his only audience and remarks, "I could give you more details, my dear friend, but I am worried it will only cause this sour wine to taste even more bitter. So, I'll skip all of that."

"So, where was I?" the man remarked.

"Oh yeah, there weren't always dragons in the valley, you know. The Voice of Death..."

"Wait, I already said all that. Did I mention dragons? I can't really remember. The sound of swords and armor clashing against each other is deafening."

The man stops and shakes his head aggressively.

"No, no, no, no. What am I saying?" He said.

"You know what? I am going to cut off my left toe because my father once told me that if you are lost in your words, cut your left toe."

"Aye, you see! I remember now. As I was saying..." He continues,

"There are many folklores about the origin of the Voice of Death. Most people believe it is the wrath of Phoelluyus that has fallen upon the earth dwellers. Ir'cha villagers believe Phoelluyus, the god of chaos and order, was angry with the human knowledge-seekers who discovered the second moon of Tabhita.

You see, some knowledge-seekers secretly traveled to the Ir'cha cold mountains to explore the secrets beyond the universe. As a result of their exploration, they discovered a second moon near Tabhita with a long stick they called the horizon-seer. The villagers in the Ir'cha tribe believe that the ground they used to disrupt the order of knowledge birthed the phantom killer.

Since the Ir'cha village was the first place the Voice of Death visited, many people believed their stories until they suggested all knowledge-seekers should be sacrificed to stop the killer. This was a problem because the cult of knowledge-seekers had members from all over the world.

Some of these members are of royal blood, and killing them would prompt an ungodly war that could last hundreds of ten-moons, killing more people faster than the Voice of Death would have ever done.

There are other beliefs about the origin of the Voice of Death. Some elves from the North believe that the savage cavern dwellers from the Ir'cha tribe fed and fornicated with forbidden animals and evil spirits. So Phoelluyus sent this purifier to cleanse all tribes until all that was left was pure blood.

The northern elves believe they were a superior race forged by Kroig, the goddess of everything. They believe they were molded from the skin beneath her breast and that other impure bloodlines are merely mutants from animal evolution and inter-racial marriages.

They call themselves "The Pure."

The man chuckles and remarks, "I call them the cowards."

"We all exist, we feel, we cry, we think, and we die. No one should be treated wrongfully because they are different."

He takes another sip of his sour wine and squeezes his face hard enough to turn it red. He continues,

The only folklore whose origin seems to bear a form of truth is that the Voice of Death originated from a broken dragon's egg.

It is believed that a blacksmith in the Ir'cha tribe broke a dragon's egg in a foundry furnace to prove that a dragon's egg was unbreakable. No one knows how he got the egg, but everyone agrees that if he did, he was stupid.

Even if there had been no ghost killer as a result of his actions, the dragon's parent would have vaporized the entire tribe and all neighboring tribes if it had discovered what the blacksmith had done.

So now, there are two logical explanations for the outcome of this mistake. The nature elves from the south believe that the Voice of Death is a lonely dragon spirit that has lost its way.

It is commonly believed that an egg is just a shell until the spirit of the offspring possesses it. For some animals, this process occurs quickly, but for magical creatures like dragons, this process takes many ten-moons, if not tens of ten-moons.

The nature elves believe the egg hatched prematurely, and that the dragon's soul is stuck between the physical and spirit realm. Its intentions are purely survival. Every time it visits the physical realm, it wanders the earth looking for something to possess to remain here.

The man looks back at his only audience. He rests his hands on its head and remarks, "They say it doesn't even know it is a dragon. How sad is that to not know your own self." He continues,

It possesses every living creature on its path, hoping that it will find its proper body. Since no living being can absorb the power of a dragon, they are killed instantly. The cure offered by the nature elves is to place a dead baby dragon in the evil forest for it to possess. Although the solution sounds plausible, it is impossible to find a dead infant dragon. It is like looking for a flower in a garden of lava.

The second explanation was offered by the knowledge-seekers. They believe that the Voice of Death is an airborne virus that originated from the dragon's egg. They suspect the virus was living on the corpse of the dead offspring inside the dragon's egg.

They also claimed that the offspring died in the egg long before it was forcefully hatched because, if it wasn't dead, the offspring's parent would still be looking for it, and the gods help any soul that crossed their path.

The knowledge-seekers believed that the virus was very deadly because it had little to no symptoms. For this reason, people wouldn't know they had contracted it until it was too late and they began hallucinating.

Unfortunately, their first suggestion for a cure was to bathe in salt water and drink lotus-flower soup regularly. An entire village found out the hard way that it was not effective. So now, no one believes them.

The truth is, no one knows the true origin of the Voice of Death. All that is known is that dragons are immune to it, especially KaTungs (predator fire-breathing dragons).

The man stops and spits into the fire.

He remarks loudly, "Yes! The bloody dragons are somehow able to survive the attacks of the Voice of Death. Not a soul was surprised when they found out.

Hmm, the only burden a dragon has to face is that it must eat. You know, we are all food, my dear friend."

He laughs and holds his breath for a while, and immediately frowns at the fire. He continues,

Meanwhile, kings and queens from different tribes are offering bounties of leather and silver to any individual who is capable of capturing and taming the Voice of Death.

They believe that the spirit or virus (or whatever it may be) is the key to controlling all tribes and winning all wars.

He drinks the last gulp of his sour wine and says with a pensive face, "Imagine holding death in your hands... You get to decide who lives and who dies. Only gods should hold such power."

He yelled drunkenly, "You know, my good friend, we can both be gods if you will stop eating from the ground and help me capture this killer.

I am beginning to think that you don't care about the moment that we are sharing before we both meet our gruesome deaths."

A soldier runs toward the fire and yells,

"What are you doing, you drunk fool?

"We are being attacked by dragons, and you are here talking to a goat!"

"Go get your sword and join the battle," the soldier continues.

The man throws his empty keg into the fire, and a gallop of fire arises from the charred wood.

He shouts,

"Farewell, my friend. Either I will eat you tomorrow, or I will be eaten by dragons tonight. Whatever the outcome may be, remember that I love you from the bottom of my heart."

The tied baby goat continues bleating and attempts to escape from the rope around its neck. The man attempts to hug the goat but gets kicked in the mouth. With shame, he staggers as he picks up his sword and puts on his silver helmet.

"You are a feisty one," the man says. He walks away from the fire and yells as he points his sword to the moon.

"I will not let the dragons take the little food we have left. I will fight until I can't anymore, and if it be the wishes of the gods, let my blood cover this valley, and our victory make many poems for our children."

Meanwhile, thousands of human soldiers and farmers gather at the base of the valley to chase the KaTungs away. They march like frightened ants in silver armor as they yell,

"Until blood!"

"Until death!"

"Until freedom!"

"We shall fight!"

The soldiers chanted as they marched to the top of the hill. The KaTungs spotted them from afar and flew over them as though they were playing with their food. The man clumsily joined the formation, and the general yelled,

"HOLD YOUR FORMATION!"

"SHIELDS!"

"ARROWS"

"FIREEEE!"...

"SHIELDS!"

"ARROWS"

"FIRE!"

"HOLD YOUR FORMATION I SAY"

"THE FIRST MAN TO SLAY A DRAGON WILL MAKE OUT WITH THEIR GENERAL IN THE MORNING!"

The general laughs

The KaTungs opened their mouths and rained fire on the men while they stood their ground and fought desperately. Their arrows were no match for fire.

Many lives were lost that night. Even the drunk man experienced the wrath of the dragons. The moon turned red, and the dead bodies of the soldiers and farmers lay like carpets on the hill.

All but one survived this ambush. The baby goat managed to remove the leash from its neck and ran into the forest.

The irony, however, is that the men chose to fight the dragons to save the little food they had left, while their food chose to run into the forest to save the little life they had left. Both experienced death: one by the explosive fire of a dragon's breath and the other by the cold embrace of the Voice of Death.