Fantasy
Frost Fall
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley, but now they're here and all I can think about is finding my family! The dragons keep coming through those blood red rifts in the sky. My god they're burning everything with their breath! I have to make it up the hill to my family's hut! I have to make sure my younger brother is safe!
By Wolf_of_ Frost4 years ago in Fiction
Perilous Heroics
"There wasn't always dragons in the valley..." started the storyteller Crim. He was an aged old man with long white hair and a long scraggly beard to match. His clothing was a simple patched and stained dark blue and grey robe with stars, moons, and suns all over it.
By Shannon Lejuan Clements4 years ago in Fiction
Spirit of the Dragon
“There weren’t always dragons in the Valley.” He said with a somber expression that made the wrinkles in his weathered face grow deeper beneath his bushy gray eyebrows and peppered beard that framed his chiseled jaw. Her father was handsome and wise, like any merchant sailor should be to navigate the violent seas. Diona turned her attention back to the ocean where the stars danced over the face of the water in fleeting glints. All the stars were out tonight, and the ocean swayed the ship with gentle rocking waves creating a calmness she wasn’t used to, but even with its lulling oscillation, she wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight. In just three days they would be home and she’d be able to see her mother again. At only 9 years old, her father wanted her to begin joining him on his journeys. He and her mother had been unable to have any more children after she was born and so he had no son. But that wasn’t an issue for them, they loved her just as much as they’d have loved a son and her father taught her all he knew. Like he was now about the dragons.
By Veronica Wiley4 years ago in Fiction
Shadows in the Valley
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. So, the tales say. Once, ages ago, the Valley was a lush, verdant expanse. It is said that it was the domain of a powerful king. His kingdom was one of the mightiest in the land. One day a wizard came to the king’s court to make a request. The exact details of this request have been lost to time; some say he came to ask for the princess’ hand in marriage. Others claim the wizard came demanding outrageous things from the King. Regardless of what the request was the tale holds that the king denied it and the wizard in his rage rent the veil between this world and a darker one. The portal ripped the castle asunder and poured forth horrors. The king’s forces fought valiantly by all accounts, but they were but mere mortals in the face of evil given form. The darkness seeping from the gaping wound in reality began to transform the king’s men, twisting them into monstrous forms. Those that had fallen in battle against the creatures began to rise to their feet once more, rotting corpses in ruined armor heeding the call of darkness and joining the battle against their former comrades. The skies themselves began to darken over the valley. As his kingdom fell the King had his court wizard send out a desperate call for aid. A great red dragon answered the call, swooping in from beyond the valley and burning the corrupt creatures to ash. As the fight wore on the dragon began to succumb to the corruption spewing forth from the portal.
By SirCrispix4 years ago in Fiction
Goblins, Gunpowder, and Getaway Carriages
Chapter One - A Good Day There weren’t always dragons in the valley. Usually they stayed on the upper east side of New Camelot. Something about all the natural stone and marble drew them in. I always thought that they just didn’t like concrete. Maybe dragons were allergic to it? That would be a great headline. SNOOTY OR SNEEZY? Are our scaled friends high class or do they have street dust sickness?
By Scott Sandback4 years ago in Fiction
Skullduggery
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. As far as Dill Rose knew, her home had been dragon-free until today. The family manor, Rose Hall, stood stoic and weather-beaten atop a hillside overlooking the Valley. Bordered by ash and birch, a river meandered through the Valley’s lowest reaches. Sheep grazed along the banks. They weren’t Rose family sheep—just a neighbor’s animals grazing on Uncle’s leased acreage. Lord knows, none of the Rose family Skullduggers would descend to sheep raising. They might be the barrel scrapers of the magical world, but they were still Practitioners.
By Kathy Bjornestad4 years ago in Fiction
