Adventure
Above the Ashes
“There weren’t always dragons in the Valley…” Just days before he died, this was how my father had started to reveal the truth to me behind the mysterious Before. We had made camp on Kindle Valley’s border, among great redwood trees that provided shelter from the great winged beasts. Beasts that now slept on the flat grassy basin not more than a hundred yards from us.
By Nicholas Sparkman4 years ago in Fiction
Starfall
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. As a matter of fact, there hadn’t always been a Valley. Looking down from a perch high up in the ruins, Æric could barely remember that time. He’d only seen 6 summers when the star fell, and they were setting up for the 10th Starfall celebration at the end of summer. Could it really be 10 years already?
By Richard Nesbitt4 years ago in Fiction
Tock and the Second Sounding: Excerpt from Chapter 1
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. Spawned seemingly from nothing, with arched tectonic wings and throats warbling creation, they brought with them the Sounding and with it the Valleyfolk rose anew from the magick that seeped into the very earth beneath their feet.
By R.C. Taylor4 years ago in Fiction
Tales from Tal'ville
Chapter 1: The Visions There weren't always dragons in the Valley. That's what father used to say anyways. I'm too young to remember when those abominations came to this place, forever scaring these lands, forever scaring my home. Dragon attacks have always played a role in my life, and today was no different.
By Satchel Gizmo4 years ago in Fiction
ALL BUT BLACK AND WHITE
There weren’t always dragons in the valley. This valley was roaming with happy people full of colourful events, and celebrations of all types. The king was perfect, young, handsome, kind, considerate, and above all, he was a king who loved and heard his people's concerns. But who can forever be happy? These kinds of things don’t last. Everything pretty comes to an end, and it wasn’t long till all that happiness was drained.
By Nadima Abdul-Karim4 years ago in Fiction
The Prophecy Atlas
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. During the coldest months of the seasonal year, the remainder of their kind escaped into the caverns that tunnelled deep beneath the Icehils, while the winter blizzards blew across Northern Country and made ranging beyond the Spindle Woods impossible for Dane Callahan and his men. Before the dragons of the Continent had been banished from the southern realm by human mages, they had been magnificent creatures born from fire. But five hundred years of ice and cold had extinguished their inner flame, and now they could barely garner the strength to fly. If the bitter winds through the Icehils ever allowed for such form of travel. They blew west across Northern Country—across its glacial fjords and frozen tundras, its barren mountain ranges and vast woodlands—from the eastern ocean where an eternal storm tossed the black waters and made sea voyages north of the Lialirian Isles a gamble with death.
By Alexandra Luttrell4 years ago in Fiction
The Last Dragon of Zalar
“There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. The Valley was once home to my ancestors. You don’t believe me? I tell ye - it’s true! Not a dragon or goblin seen for miles. My people were not relegated to the Eastlands, we were everywhere! We lived deep in the Valley, as far as Xhengrel. My great-grandfather, he told me himself. Or was it my great-grandmother? It’s true, the Valley was home to those who now call themselves Zalarans, and it held the greatest trade route this land has ever seen. Wait, perhaps - was it my great Uncle? Yes - great Uncle! What was I saying? Oh - pardon me, madam.”
By Billy Bronson4 years ago in Fiction
An Awakening
"There weren't always dragons in the valley", he said. His face forlorn, riddled with cragged lines where time had marked the many years. The fire, it's hell blaze, reached towards the heavens. Its heat immense, raging, as the men stood there in their armor thirsty for old tales and new ones to be made. The light cast shadows behind the man against the large boulder's face. Dancing shadows, emissaries of some other spirit reaching towards an unknowable blackness, seeking some god or demon to consume them. "Behold, times lost, now revisited. Time, before time when the world was young and its lust for life was manifest in blood." It began to drizzle, the water bouncing off the young men's armor and in no way quenching the fires' thirst. The king, that great orator's voice rang with magic.
By SEAN WILDE4 years ago in Fiction
Of Bones and Organs Past
“There weren’t always dragons in the Valley,” Marissa says. We sit knee-to-knee in a small, freshly-dug trench, wide enough to spread our arms out. The walls of the trench––packed with dry, gritty dirt and pockmarked with the hollows of fallen rocks––reach high enough to escape the night’s bitter wind, but not enough to escape its raking howl. I lean in closer.
By Danny Cummins4 years ago in Fiction
