Paranon

Paranon, the distant world of dragons. Fury, fire, warfare, and rivalry were already all that was understood in this distinct realm. Grandiar of Dragon Valley, the Valley of Paranon, had sewn this place as a haven only understood by dragons. He had meant for a place where dragons would war over territory and rivalry without harming man. However, that was from a young age. He had aged and grown wisdom. The oldest and wisest of dragons wept over the wanton deaths and firey destruction of war. However, his remaining relief was that the dragons' sadistic sport and life was uninterrupted by the meddling touch of man.

Then, there was the night of one of several firey sky wars between Grandiar and his tribe from Dragon Valley and heated Lotan and his brood from Dragon Mountain. These rivals were great and Grandiar could not stop their passion for fiery war; though in his elderly wisdom, he had tried many times to reason with Grox, his young general.

The evening of these tribes' greatest and most passionate fight was the evening of the child of man in the forest; an evening that altered Paranon's rich history of a secluded dragon haven and reshaped all of history...

Grandiar had long since cast aside the aspirations of rivalry and warfare. However, the oldest and wisest of dragons would not abandon his tribe when the youths did react to their natural inclination of fiery fury. He would hang to watch over their livelihoods; and weep over their inclination for bloodshed. Should any of his tribe fall, Grandiar, oldest, wisest, and master seamster of Paranon, knew quieter forms of vengeance on whomsoever struck down his own dragon brethren.

It was while Grandiar hung back from the fiery war ahead of him that he was the one who saw the startling shape in the forest below...

A child. A child of man; on the hallowed ground of Paranon. Paranon, the dragon's keep already beseiged by their own centuries old violence, had been inhabited by man; warlike pillagers with little patience for what was beyond their understanding. Grandiar's home had been invaded and his patience began to shake.

"Stop!" he bellowed. "Halt this violence for but a moment!"

Grox and the dragons of the valley begrudgingly halted at their wise leader's command. Lotan and his own dragon servants halted in pushing back as well; it was understood that whoever was the first to strike down Grandiar, even in accident, would face the wrath of not only his own dragon followers but those of every other tribe.

"You stopped us, Grandiar!" Grox bellowed.

"Yes; why, Great One?" Elix, Grox's brother, demanded.

"Ah; do you fear the blood of your own dragons sprinking their valley and forest home?" Lotan, the dragon general from Dragon Mountain, taunted.

The insult was more than Elix and Grox were prepared to bear and they drew back their mighty heads. Lotan and Ciran saw the challenge and they copied their opponents moves. Down below, the displaced boy merely watched in horror.

Grandiar had seen enough. Words of reason were not working. He promptly put himself in between the two factions. Naturally, both saw him in time and took pause. No one would go down in history as the dragon to slay Grandiar and face that wrath; by design or by accident.

"Hold your fiery tempers for but a moment!" Grandiar bellowed as his eternal patience of age wore thin. "Do you not see below as I do?"

Grandiar drew back his head and launched enough ground fire to illuminate the valley floor without lighting the forest. That alone spooked the boy behind a tree.

"It is a child; alone, afraid, and very much displaced." Grandiar announced.

"A dragon-child!" Grox bellowed. "We of Dragon Valley do not abandon our own! We will force these monsters of Dragon Mountain back from whence they came and we will raise and protect the dragon infant!"

Lotan heard the challenge and narrowed his eyes.

"One side, Grandiar; shield your own no longer!" he barked.

Grandiar glared first at Lotan then at Grox.

"I said to buck this foolishness for a spare moment!" Grandiar insisted. "Now Grox, tell me, are even Dragon Mountain yearlings so deformed as to have hair, natural arms and fingers, legs and feet, and not even a pair of wings?"

Lotan head butted Grandiar in the side and prompted the dragons of Paranon Valley to rear up in protest.

"Do you insult our aesthetic, Oldest and Wisest?" Lotan demanded. "My warning that you clear back first is revoked!"

The rivaling factions of dragons roared at one another yet again, either in defense of Grandiar or in challenge to his authority. Grandiar, however, did not budge.

"No; I am correcting the matter that the child below is a human; our natural haven away from man is discovered." Grandiar insisted.

Sure enough, the human child stuck his head out into the glow of the fire to take in the sight of the flaming sky. There was nothing else to do and, under Grandiar's lead, the dragons of the valley landed in front of the forest and to block the child. The dragons of the mountains didn't want to be the first to harm an unarmed, unidentified child either and they flew back to their mountain peaks.

The boy took in the dragons close up and promptly went to back away in fright. However, his natural action back him right into Grandiar. The other dragons leered at the boy-child until a mighty huff from Grandiar redirected their approach.

"You are safe here with us for now, child." Grandiar boomed. "However, you are still a human boy displaced here. What is your name, youngling?"

The dragons had spoken in audible English and had even stayed back the rival faction. Then, this one seemed to try to comfort him. The boy still had very real fear; he also sensed that he could trust these dragons.

"Arax." he answered.

"Very well, Arax; I am Grandiar and you are safe." Grandiar reassured him.

"How did you find us here?" Grox demanded as his own youthful patience for pleasantries wore out.

Arax naturally shrank back once more. However, he did answer.

"My father had heard of dragons in this territory and wished to..." Arax began. "...Oh, you are too kind; and it is too dreadful!"

The dragons had heard enough to fill in the missing blanks.

"...A dragon-hunt in our hallowed grounds!" Elix boomed.

Grandiar's own countenance for humanity had thinned as well. However, he glanced back down at the boy and back up at his dragon followers.

"This Arax is not the barbaric enemy; he is a misplaced youth." he insisted. "Now, how did you and your father come to be here?"

"My mother used magic to bridge a gate." Arax answered. "Please; let me return to my father and his camp. I will reason with them to go back. It was I who wandered too far at night and..."

"DRAGONS; IN THE VALLEY!" a displaced shout came.

Spears, torches, swords, and shields advanced in the hands of unwise barbarians.

"My son," the lead torch bearer grumbled, raising a mace, "they have my son!"

Grandiar's younger followers had been steered away from conflict once that day and their patience for a peaceful life was exhausted.

"Go." Grandiar said, pushing Arax as timidly as a full-grown dragon could to a ten-year-old boy. "Your place is with your father."

"...and your place?" Arax asked.

"The safety of our place is already disturbed; we are found..." Grandiar answered, simply.

Arax could only go back to his father and the villagers. Nevertheless, the armed mob from a place other than Paranon was not ready to leave in peace yet. Grandiar took in the humans in pain and nodded to his dragon brothers to take to the sky; and defend themselves...

There weren't always meant to be people in Paranon's valley. The boy born of warrior and witchcraft had been the first to breach the reality between Earth and the haven of dragons. The touch of man brought warfare, greed, prejudice, and pillaging to Paranon's shores; and forever altered its history. Warriors and witches called one another enemies; and either side called the dragons enemies or useful mounts to be played with and used. Paranon was changed; and the arrival of the boy had done so...