Adventure
Masters of the Storm
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. Those words were repeated, over and over in a mumbled, frantic tone, by a figure stumbling through a hurricane in the dead of night. “Not here, why here, this upends everything!” he frantically spoke aloud. The wind rushed vigorously, sending curtains of rain streaming sideways that felt like shards of glass against his skin. Anyone with an ounce of sanity would’ve turned back days ago or surrendered their fate to the elements. But his mission was anything but, it was too important. Traversing the Kethiat Mountains by going through the Valley of Iron was almost certainly a death sentence these days, for reasons that were quickly becoming obvious. But he had to find someone known as Nashiri in this region, that’s all he had been told by his doomed traveling party before they were annihilated in a blast of light. He was almost at his destination, he was sure of it. A flash of lightning illuminated him, scrambling over a broken, twisted path of rocks, accompanied seconds later by a drawn-out roar of thunder. It sounded different every time, this time it sounded like an actual roar of a fast-approaching monster, chilling and unnatural. Nothing about this seems natural, he thought. The rain was leaving small red marks on the parts of him that weren’t covered by his bulky gray part cloak, and the wind felt both impossibly cold and searingly hot. In the corners of his vision, blurred by the rain, a pale golden glow appears. There’s another loud crack of thunder, this time it sounds only meters away. He looks back and realizes his mistake, as he saw what looked like a claw made of lightning appear from the storm, moving toward him. The air around him begins to feel dry and energetic, as a hissing noise quickly overpowers the noise of the gale. Without time to react, the claw strikes the side of his face, and his vision gives out. A searing shockwave propels him forward, causing him to trip and fall, as an unbearable burning pain shoots through his head. As the rain pelted him, he felt a warm liquid trickling down his face. ‘Probably not a good sign’ he thought. Looking around, he noticed that his vision was faded and blurred. Out of his one eye that was working, he saw the scattered interior of his bag strewn among the ground. His food and remaining clothes that he accumulated from his prior journeys were all out in the open, ruined by the downpour. He turns around, lying on the ground and staring up as the rain hits his face, washing away the ever increasing amount of blood on it. “Why do I even try?” he groans, “It was a fool's errand to begin with”. As he lies there, panting heavily, the linings of the pitch-black clouds above him begin to glow with an ethereal red light, and the sound of the rain is accompanied by a low rumbling that sounds like breathing. With difficulty, he props himself up, and starts to move back slowly. The glow gets brighter, revealing what looks like two large dark red pearls with black pupils in the center. The light it casts faintly shows the huge head of a terrifying reptile-like being. “Ah… just as I feared. Pity, I was really hoping this nightmare would end” the downed figure says in a nervous tone. Looking around frantically at his scattered belongings, he lunges with what little strength he has remaining, and ends up flopping over to a cylindrical silver canister, etched with glowing orange lines in various shapes, reminiscent of hieroglyphs. Grabbing it tightly, he musters what little strength he had left and yells in a deep voice “INGENI, MAI”! The runes on the cylinder glow, and the ground around him begins to quake, the rumbling sounds briefly overpowering the howling gale. A plume of lava gushes forth out of the ground, jarringly illuminating the mountains and the dragon, with its stag-like antlers and ethereal smoky gray wings. It shoots high enough to strike it in one of its eyes. He’s then deafened by its roar of pain, loud enough that he can feel his body vibrate under the pressure. The ground around him cracks and convulses, as more jets of both lava and steam shoot forth. The creature rears its head back from the bursts and the hissing sound is heard again, as purple lightning shoots out from all along the creature’s body, striking the surrounding land in a vain attempt to counter the attack. Unable to stand amid the chaos, the figure crawls along, the canister tucked under his arm. He pays no attention to his other belongings, the instinct to escape powers him along, until he ducks behind a boulder, coughing violently. He winces as pain shoots through his arm. On his arm and hands are the inverted marks of the runes, etched into his skin. “I must… too far… where is she?” His thoughts swirled around, unable to think coherently among the howling vortex of wind and rain. His haze of thoughts is suddenly broken by the low rumbling sound of a dragon breathing. Panic grips his body and soul, as he realizes that his attempt at salvation failed. With a large thud that sends shockwaves through his body, the boulder providing his cover cracks in two. Looking up, he sees in horror that the boulder was broken by the weight of a large bird-like claw on it that crackles with electricity. Not staying to examine it, he runs on in panicked manner, trying to find some relative safety from his pursuer among the scattered boulders and cliffs. He sees an opening underneath an overhanging rock, and his basic instinct of survival kicks in. As he sees the pale golden glow behind him, and the hissing sound of an impending attack from the unnatural lightning, he dives for it, and realizes too late that it’s deeper than he thought. He rolls down a small slope into a stagnant pool of water. There’s a feeling of a rock catching his back, and the unbearable pain returns, as he collapses. The jolting feeling of the freezing water making contact with his skin is the only thing keeping him conscious. There’s a loud crack, as he sees the mouth of the cave suddenly engulfed by the purple lightning. In the dim glow, he sees the cave lead further in. He slowly moves forward in a hunched pose, his hands outstretched in front of him, ignoring the blood trickling from the gash in his back. He feels like he’s been moving for hours through the silent darkness, the only reminders of reality being the muffled sounds of the storm and the cold rock walls. Eventually, the rocks become clammy and he feels the faint spray of water. ‘An odd feeling for a cave’ he thought ‘but at least I’m getting somewhere’. Moving forward, the muffled sound of the storm gets louder. It’s now accompanied by the sound of a rushing river. As he continues on, he sees the outline of an opening in the cave. It appears to overlook a raging river, dimly lit by what he hoped was starlight, a comfort in his current situation. He stumbled over more small rocks in his path, and his legs gave out from fatigue. “No… almost there… Nashiri, save me…” he gasped, as he shuffled along. His vision became more blurred and monochrome, his breathing became heavier and longer. ALl he could hear now was the beating of his own heart, gradually getting slower and slower. At the edge of the cave, he gazes upon the river, and looks to what he assumes is the south where the river is running to. He sees a faint pulsating blue glow high above the left bank of the river far away. He gets a warm feeling when viewing it, either from its apparent passiveness or the pool of blood he’s lying in. His eyelids begin to flicker closed, as he wishes for the soothing warm feeling to stay. His body goes limp and he feels himself slipping away. “I suppose I’m not saving them” he says, as he falls into the raging waters below.
By Will Miller4 years ago in Fiction
King Dellor & The Curse Of The Seven Realms
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. But due to the rise in power of the evil Lord, Vulmeir. Dragons had descended on all parts of the realm. Causing havoc wherever they tread and then residing in major areas of the realms to strike order over the cities and its people to Vulmeir's despicable deeds and killing those that defy him.
By George Hall4 years ago in Fiction
Tales of the 8th light
Some people say money is the answer to all of their problems while others say that it's the cause of all their pain and sorrow. I, on the other hand, couldn't care less for it. But it provides for me and my family. My name is Terry Thomas, but most people call me Junior and I live in the Kingdom of Deroloc.
By Oshawn Jefferson Jr.4 years ago in Fiction
Dragon Fire: Beginnings
Prologue There weren’t always dragons in the valley, and where her ancestors had come from, Zal didn’t know. It mattered little to her. She was a dragon, the most noble and majestic of Mother’s children. Her hide was tougher than the mountain and more beautiful than the wild flowers, why should she care about her origins. She would often marvel at her scintillating blue on light blue scales, so closely matching the color of the endless sky. Her kind was the oldest in all of Altara and pride and vanity ran deep in their hearts. And why not? They were the apex predators, masters of all and prey to none.
By Andrew Ruda4 years ago in Fiction
The New Age of Dragons
There weren’t always dragons in the valley…none that we knew of. My village lives a peaceful life within the blue mountains which surround us on every side. Our families have been here for centuries. It’s like we were placed here. We were born here. We didn’t come from anywhere else. Dragons are thought to be our creators. They are something our parents told us about as kids to teach us about challenges. “Be Brave, Be Strong, for when the world turns its back, we must rise to the occasion and endure the attack.” I have always wanted to meet a dragon one day. My parents told me that when I was born, I stretched out my limbs so far that it looked like I was trying to take off and soar in the clouds, so they appropriately named me Zweven, which means soar in my language.
By Kristopher Michael Cafaldo4 years ago in Fiction
The passing light
The passing light There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. There have never been dragons in the Valley. Dragons are a fantasy conjured up by many authors in the multitude of fantasy books circulating today. Yet, Zack could not call the animal he saw in the middle of the valley anything, but a dragon, and it was magnificent. As far as dragons went, from descriptions and pictures he had seen in fantasy books, this one was pretty typical, which defied any logic. How could authors describe a mythical creature with such accuracy. How could he think that this animal was typical for its kind? The thought made him chuckle. Maybe he was having a heat stroke. He had been drinking plenty of water, but the day was quite warm, and his friend Ben and him had been hiking for hours. The original idea had been to drive out to Banff National Park, walk far into the woods and camp for a couple days. Zack didn’t expect anything bad to happen, as they had mapped out their trip and made sure bears had not been sighted for a few weeks. I suppose he should have asked for dragon sightings as well. That made him chuckle again. Wondering why Ben was so quiet, Zack turned around to ask his friend if he could also see this dragon. Ben was fast asleep and could not be roused. Had he passed out from the heat? He quickly brought him to the shade and checked him for signs of stroke, but Ben was fine, just sleeping. That was weird. He looked back to where the dragon had been a few minutes ago and couldn’t see it. Too bad, as he just remembered that he probably should have taken a picture. Nobody will believe him now. Better take care of his friend then. As he turned around to check on Ben, the dragon he had seen was standing in front of him staring down with a look that could only be described as one of puzzlement. Zack tried to run, really tried, but his muscles somehow refused to obey. He put all his thoughts and energy into moving his legs, anything. He was succeeding at moving a finger when the dragon suddenly spoke, in his head. The dragon was speaking to him in his head! Not in a language he could understand, which ruled out the possibility of Zack imagining it. With an annoyed grunt, the dragon closed his blue eyes and Zack suddenly felt lightheaded. He was about to pass out when the feeling went away, and the dragon was once again looking at him. It was more than looking. Zack felt like he was being analyzed by that look. Like the dragon could see inside of him. When the dragon spoke in that same language, Zack was amazed that he could understand. What had that dragon done to him?
By Claude Malenfant4 years ago in Fiction
Farrin Whitefoot
There weren't always dragons in the valley. In fact, only moments ago there were no mythical creatures of any sort anywhere. At least, that's what Farrin had been brought up believing. He continued to believe this even now, while his entire vision was filled with a plethora of said creatures. It wasn't that his mind argued against the evidence provided so thoroughly by his eyes. His thoughts never got that far. The part of him which dealt with logic simply curled up into a ball and decided that life would be altogether much easier if it switched off for a few minutes. Perhaps it would try a reboot? - Farrin's eyes were taking in rather a lot of what can only be described as nonsense. Yes. A quick restart was in order.
By Will Gosling4 years ago in Fiction
