Fantasy
The Whispersong
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. Once, a long time ago it was said that a mysterious creature called a m'an kind was said to have roamed the green lands. On long wistful evenings Broodmother Enrys would gather the 'lings around her, coiling back her deep red scales, and releasing the soft down of her underfeathers and sing the songs of the once was. Of trees made of Stone called Casteels, and the endless wars of the M'an and their children. She would wind on in tremendous detail, burning one lyric after another into the air, as the stories took shape in tone and smoke. The favorites always seemed to be those of the foolish tales of those Elders who would wear the skins of other animals, and stones from the mountain while they sent their younglings out on the backs of horses to skewer each other.
By B. L. De VITO4 years ago in Fiction
Fire and Blood: The Fall of an Empire
There weren’t always Dragons in the Valley. Keleth could remember a time when even a single Dragon had been a rare thing, a legend told to children and around campfires. Not many had really believed that they even existed. That was back when the kingdom of Yseria had controlled much of The Reach. It had been a strong nation, a dynasty that had ruled for a thousand years as much through diplomacy and clever negotiation as through force of arms. Their capitol city, so prized by the Yser as the jewel of their nation had been a sight to see, or so he had read. A marvel of engineering and architecture designed to thrill the eye and inspire the heart. A center of trade and learning with broad avenues and resplendent palaces to reflect the power and wealth of Yseria. All their might had come to naught, however, after the Awakening.
By John Eleby4 years ago in Fiction
Valley of the Dragon
“There weren't always dragons in the Valley…” Dayton was crying as he said the words, so Alex knew that dad had whipped him hard. It wasn’t like her little brother to cry. Alex found his tears unsettling. She jiggled the door handle to let him in, but the door was stuck. He kept repeating the phrase “There weren't always dragons in the Valley…” between sobs that were coming so hard now that Dayton was gulping in between words, “Alex! Let me in!”
By Jennifer Pierce4 years ago in Fiction
Veins of the Earth
Karrik tiptoed on the cracked highways from the Old World, careful not to fall in one of the massive gaps caused by the Earth’s Veins rising so long ago. It was one of the few times in the year that a scrapper could leave the protection of the New Cities to find materials to sell for food. The veins were receding, and Karrik had a job, find an old oven, he was getting paid good money for this. He would have to go to one of the Old Cities for this, some of the most dangerous places in the New World, aside from near Earth Veins of course. The spirits of the dead, killed during The Great Cataclysm, wandered the cities and the highways, though they were much harder to avoid in the cave-like cities, as compared to the clear-skied no man's land in between the New Cities and the Old Cities. Along the way to the Old City he knew best, he saw a couple of other scrappers, scavenging what little was left of the cars and trucks on the highways, they gave each other friendly waves, in-fighting between humans was far too dangerous.
By Wynter Belle4 years ago in Fiction
Dragons Next Door
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. Then the Thornbushes moved in. The Valley consisted of all kinds of creatures who lived there but this was the first time a dragon family moved in. Some of the neighbors were skeptical because they heard about how bad dragon neighbors were. Dragons are hoarders. Dragons start fires everywhere they go. Dragons are loud and will ruin the neighborhood. So many opinions were whirling around the Valley about the Thornbushes that even the children were talking about the new dragons.
By Rebecca Hackney4 years ago in Fiction
Shadow Valley
There weren’t always dragons in the valley. None like this, such colors of scales as if hewn from the very land they patrol. Grey as the mountain, green as the grass, and red and orange as the fire they spew from their throats. Frightening indeed to cross such a valley, but that’s how it’s been for just over 300 years now. Even for Colton, who as a turtlefolk can live for 150 years or more, knows nothing of the land on the other side of Shadow Valley. Anyone who has tried to brave the journey never came back, there are stories and legends of a few that have made it but for some reason no one has ever met them. Any elf, fairy, or other magical creatures of Enterra old enough to know the time before the dragons is long gone, including Colton’s parents. The books of old say the valley used to be a perfect trade route. Merchants would travel those lands daily with no threat of attack, except the occasional group of goblin bandits or wolfman tribes. No dragons though, no one even knows where they came from. Colton knows all there is to know about it, his nose always in these books during all hours. A simple man, Colton makes a modest living digging graves for 10 copper a grave in a small village. Work was slow as most graves are dug for the elderly and those who get too sick for the feeble medicine of the quiet and small town of Linden. His graves dug for the night, he digs a small hole at the edge of the cemetery which lies on the outside of town just over a hill, to rest his shell and reads the rest of his book, The Time Before Shadows.
By Jason Brown4 years ago in Fiction
Dragons of Renden
Chapter 1 Do Not Meddle in the Affairs of Dragons There weren’t always dragons in the valley. At least, that’s what my grandmother used to say. When I was a boy, she scolded me for even talking about dragons; she said it would bring bad luck. That somehow, speaking about dragons would manifest them into being. It must have worked; talk of dragons was common in the taverns among the discourses of surly men. As a child, I remember my father’s fist hammering on the dinner table whenever rumors of dragon attacks reached the valley.
By Jason Logan Maxwell4 years ago in Fiction
The Phoenix Dragons
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. It was hard to imagine now, in the dizzying oven-like heat that lingered from the summer that Phoenix, Arizona, had also once been touched by the Ice Age - a time that many don’t realize we are now exiting and hastening with greenhouse gases. Still, the desert was littered with animals that were reminiscent of dragons that we now know as distant cousins - snakes, lizards, all kinds of creepy-crawly cold blooded creatures. I wasn’t a stranger to them – I, too, had come from a hot place, but a much wetter one. Florida had a host to all kinds of reptiles, from the invasive iguanas to the oil-slick backed alligator. But still, none of them flew and all of them had been around consistently forever.
By Sophia Jurgens4 years ago in Fiction
Dragon Rider
There weren’t always dragons in the valley. Most were still oblivious to their existence, eyes attuned to a world of Durmak’s making, unable to see the magick that was growing in power every day since the event. Soon the day would come where all people and beasts alike would see it and the dragon riders would be able to hide no more.
By Raye White4 years ago in Fiction
The Ruin of Fashi'ma
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. There weren’t always knights in polished plate intent on wealth and glory. Some say ‘twas men enticed the beasts, settling the fertile glen, flaunting spoils of wars waged upon their own kind—a just if terrible retribution. Others uphold Velomas and Daggertooth claimed it for dragons after laying fiery waste to Emory, the once-bright city of gold. Its remnant warriors sought brave recompense, hunting their scaled foes ‘cross rivers rushing and mountains old.
By W Flannigan4 years ago in Fiction
