The Tale Of Sharptail

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley.

Welcome, my friends, to Sharptail Valley. It was not always called this, however. ..

In the dawn of humanity, men and women took their first clumsy, well-deserved stumbles out of the darkness and onto Planet Zealion.

Planet Zealion has abundant grass, fertile soil, and mystical legends to go around. It is a huge planet with seemingly endless space.

Whether it be arid, rocky plains with tepid grass and blisteringly hot temperature, or perhaps a cool, moist jungle abundant with fruit and fauna, there is something for everyone. And there will always be regions, characterized by their biome, for organisms to do as they please.

Many species of wildlife seem to have come straight out of a storybook, for Zealion is a mystical haven for any creatures to reside. There are unicorns and pegasus. Elves, orcs. And even then, there are oh so many more.

What was that? You want to hear about the dragons? Oh, alright…

See, the dragons lived on islands in the sky. The humans used to be here, but their feet could not stand on the clouds. Down they would fall. Spiraling down, down, down. Luckily for them, the soft leaves would cushion their fall as they slipped down into the shallows of a creek or perhaps tumbled crashing down onto the carpet-like grass.

The dragons were very smart. They were intelligent beings, capable of many things. They had their own civilizations and culture, just as the humans did. The dragons here were unique from others. They were strong powerhouses of impeccable size and valor, adorned with long claws and jaws full of sharp teeth.

Dragons are currently the dominant species in the skies, with a massive wingspan and incredible durability. They have builds of different colors, shapes and sizes. Most have fur running along their spine and protective scales encasing their soft skin type.

The leader of the village is StoneScale, a large gray-hued dragon with a mysterious aura. He resides upon a huge palace isolated to newcomers and elites, and will occasionally pop up at dinner circles or to manage his subjects. Fixated upon this role is Shasta, a teenage dragonet who aspires to lead his peers someday. But for now, he is bound to apprenticeship by his clan.

Shasta was walking upon the clouds. They were soft and fluffy, yet could easily be flown through if not careful. The only reason the dragons can walk on these clouds is from Aduhi, the material on the tips of their talons and the heels of their feet.

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Shasta strolled about his village. Cabins, houses and shops were scattered about the large cloud. Most of them were portable, as the clouds would move, and sometimes depart, so the dragons mustn’t be hesitant to move, too.

Shasta paused, stretching in the morning sun. The sun was rising, bright beautiful flares illuminating the village once cloaked in darkness not so long ago. The sun streaked his softened pelt and brightened it. Astonishing shades of ruby, carnelian, scarlet, and rose dappled his entire body. His shiny teeth glimmered in the rays as he parted his maw for a large yawn, opening his wings and flexing his talons before him, beautiful orange-hued splotches freckling the entirety of his scales, his fur creasing and wisping in the wind like a cape as he gazed out upon his peers, squinting through the tawny air.

The entire sky looked ablaze with color, purples and yellows and oranges and reds locked in mortal combat in short turmoil to win over the sky. Shasta flicked his reddish ears and twitched his whiskers, his eyes entranced upon the stirring dragons, his ears straining to hear the yelps, yips and yawns as the younger dragons grumpily rose, his nose twitching to smell the wonderful, savory smell of meat charing over a firelit grill. He chortled, thinking to himself, “ I have a long day ahead. “

So he outstretched his wings and leaped off the clouds. And down he went. And instantly, back up he went again with a couple of eased wingbeats. He dove down towards the cooking station, his stomach rumbling, sneering and snarling at the thought of the wonderful banquet ahead. The cooking area has one huge campfire in the middle, enough to cook 3 whole adult-sized dragons all at once, with their wings spread!

A team of dragons would cook and prepare the meals. Hunters would do most of the hard parts, chasing prey. Sometimes it was as simple as rallying up some cows, swooping, snatching, and scorching in one fascinating yet timely manner. Other times they would catch exotic foods that fought back, such as the elegant, quick-witted pegasi or the great, proud phoenixes. Whichever it be, a patrol of dragons was sure to scratch, claw, bite, snag and sneer their way to absolute victory, risking their lives outside borders to deliver the perfect banquet for the citizens and their leaders. If they failed, they would be shunned, disciplined, and turned out of the hunting patrollers.

Shasta shimmied his way through the crowd. The fire was not lit, and several dragons came here all at once, seeking food, gossip, a good chat, or maybe an encounter with StoneScale himself. Shasta held his head high inquisitively, propping on his hind legs and balancing with his tail, desperate to see over the crowd.

Wings and tails and horns, snouts and claws flailed around, voices overlapping and chanting could be heard as the hunting patrol drew visible on the horizon, with large bags stuffed with enough to keep a gorgon full. Shasta exhaled a breath of relief as a large group of chef dragons gathered around. All in perfect synchronization they lit the huge fire. They strained themselves and even stopped to take breaths, just to cover the entire flame. Shasta loved watching the process.

Then, they would gather wing-fulls of coal and dump them in, getting covered in coal dust. Finally, they would beat their wings as hard as they could, their wings slicing and chopping through the air faster and stronger than a Fenrir’s tooth. The flames would gather up as if reaching for the sun itself, dragons cheering in excitement and jubilee, a happy buzz in the air. Then the hunting patrollers would untie their bags and pouches, and food rained from the skies in huge quantities to feed the clan. Pigs, hogs, boars, phoenix, pegasus, horse, cow, cattle. All of it fell into the fire, cooked with the expertise of the dragons’ skillful fireproof talons.

And after the food was done, the hunting patrol would disperse the food to everyone. Dragons would reach for the fire, fluttering and leaping up high on top of each other as though they were mocking each blaze. The patrollers would toss the portions out and, whoever caught it would scarf it down and try again. Sometimes dragons got two bits of cow or would fight over another helping of phoenix. But there was always enough food for everyone to enjoy. Yes, everyone. There were enough scraps to nourish the small fledglings of the tribe until their stomachs were stretched tight. There was more than enough of a variety to thrill every and all dragon types. And there is enough to feed every resident inside of the community.

According to Shasta, Everything was going great. Heck, he was sure this was a normal day. But oh, was he wrong...

A couple of hours had passed. It was time for Shasta to go out and patrol. See, Shasta was only about a teen in dragon years, so he had to go with Ivory, an old dragoness that was required to teach him.

Shasta looked up to Ivory. He thought she was nice. Kinda rude, but he’d grown fond of her over the years. Shasta flew over to the Redhouse, a cloud notorious for its reddish color. It was usually where dragons would talk business with colleagues or their mentors. Sure enough, Ivory was waiting there, her pale grayish-white scales polished by the warm sunlight. Her eyes showed wisdom and experience, and through her graceful, shallow appearance, there was toughness and skill in her craft.

“ Hey there," Ivory said almost instantly. She leaped to her claws and waved.

“Oh, hey Ivory,” Shasta said. But as he was wishing her a good morning and properly updating her about some important issues, he began to notice that in his polite nature he’d stop talking to accommodate Ivory, who was clearly talking over him.

“ Yeah. Hey, hi. Look, there’s been lots of things going on recently between the long-beaked you know whats and the rest of us. I’ll meet you at Shroom forest- that is, if you can catch up!"

And in a grayscale blur, her wings expanded and she catapulted through the skies, leaving a powerful gust of wind behind. Man, she’s a fast flier. Shasta thought to himself as he threw himself off the edge of Redhouse, quickly opening his wings and darting after her. The two shot through the air, their mass carving through the skies as fast as a hot knife severing butter.

Ivory’s wings closed as she landed on one of the tall trees of Shroom forest. Shroom forest has mushrooms everywhere, some small and some larger than the trees there. Shasta joined her, landing on the shaky pine. The two glided down and landed in the warm grass. The sun was beginning to shakily set, and the moon was ripe in its prime.

“So, what’s going on?” Shasta asked. He cocked his head to Ivory, purely dumbfounded at best.“Well, it’s about the griffins. Their forces have been strengthening, and the sightings have been spiking at an all-time high. I don’t know how else to break it to you, but.. we are going to war.”

Those words hit Shasta hard. He knew it was for real because Ivory’s face was contorted harshly with stress and fury. Her tail was lashing aggressively and her claws were unsheathed.

Shasta’s fur prickled. His shoulders tensed and his talons clenched. He’d dealt with griffin invasions here and there, sure. That was the least of his worries. All he had to do was watch the other dragons fight.

“We’re going to need all the help we can get,” Ivory dipped her head as if she’d already sensed his mood.

“I’m just a teen- an adolescent- a dragonet. I don’t know how to fight!”

Ivory narrowed her eyes and snorted. “Don’t bark at me in that tone! Anybody and anyone can help. Big or small. If I were you, I'd rather die defending the clan than chickening out over some foul evil fiends who can’t trust their own kind.”

Shasta sighed. Adrenaline was pumping through his body like a caffeinated metronome. His eyes widened and he shook, bracing himself as the world around him filled with intensity. He knew that if the dragons lost the war, they would probably lose their lives, too. He scrunched up his snout and grimaced. He was not fond of the idea. Before he knew it, acceptance was spilling out of his maw and he frowned in defeat.

“ Sure... I’ll help.”

“Great! And don't leave at the last minute, either.”

(TO BE CONTINUED)