Trey Dawkins
Stories (9)
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A Rogue on the Prowl
As the great gathering continued their revelry, a young girl walked out into the vineyard her grandfather owned. The girl, Iphis, and her betrothed were set to wed tomorrow by her grandfather. Her father died during a defense against Spartan forces during their last attack on her home city-state of Thebes. Now she resides with her grandfather who betrothed her to a powerful Theban general though the man was 30 when they were promised and now he is 40 to her 15.
By Trey Dawkinsabout a year ago in Chapters
The Princes
The storm raged high above the young shaman’s head just outside of his hut outside of the hall’s land. Hidden deep within the forest that sat as the back drop to the King’s grand hall from which his father built for his budding kingdom. A hum of great power came from within the hut but an even greater voice rang out, one that sang of old powers and symbols long forgotten by men. The ground sang back to the young shaman as lightning flashed and thunder sang as well, suddenly and all in one moment the storm stopped and the ground became quiet as the shaman opened his eyes to see the king standing before him. The man with long red hair and beard with flashing blue eyes that stood tall before the shaman with his legs crossed and hands upon his knees could only stare up at the mighty king.
By Trey Dawkinsabout a year ago in Chapters
The Princes. Content Warning.
The morning sun had yet to rise against the hills of the tribe’s land, though all of the wolves were awake and ready much too soon for even the most ambitious wolves of the True North. Many groups were clumped together in an odd attempt to surround the camp of elven raiders, a rather young one sniffed the air and prodded one of the leaders in the shoulder, “Are you all sure these are elves? They seem more like us over their kin.”
By Trey Dawkinsabout a year ago in Chapters
The Princes
The two men sat close to the raiding camp, so few would even dare trespass let alone have the audacity to raid the tribe’s shores like this so it was of the utmost importance that the two sons of the chief come to investigate the raiding party. The oldest of the two, Goðþormr, bigger of the two as well bearing the almost platinum blonde hair of their father and the piercing blue eyes bore down on his younger brother, Beinviðr.
By Trey Dawkinsabout a year ago in Chapters
The Princes. Content Warning.
“And so the Council of Wolves gathered before the blood stained wolf, there the three white wolves and red wolf of the farther clans heard the young wolf’s plea. He cried he only wished to be accepted but this crime was too much as it crossed the boundaries of nature. The red wolf calmly proclaimed he would never accept a black wolf, that there and then the black wolves would carry a single curse from now till the end of time. All who were born of their blood would contain the same blood rage that consumed the young wolf and they would be cursed with the same blood red eyes that afflicted the young wolf as well but some will rise as that would be the only mercy the red wolf would give. Then the white wolves said-”
By Trey Dawkinsabout a year ago in Chapters
The Princes
The morning that rose after the night of revelry and joy, a night Torta hid behind booze and women to hide his deepest pain that he lost his own wife to his oath and love for his brother. He awoke to find the camp all in movement, to stow all rations and equipment upon the ships of the elven people, fashioned for their trips between worlds back when the Watcher allowed the Bifrost be open to all worlds freely. As the rising dawn glared into Torta’s eyes, he could do nothing but take a deep breath of relief as he began to realize this would be the final voyage to Midgard and he could be free of this duty. Torta quickly realized he was the first to awaken this fateful day and quickly jaunted over to the tower, a small tower built in a day of random material from the nearby trees which housed the horn of the tribe or otherwise known as the House Horn which was used to call forth the elven house’s forces to attack or gather for battle so Torta took a deep breath and blew upon the horn to awaken his people.
By Trey Dawkinsabout a year ago in Chapters
The Princes
Torta takes a moment and blinks then wipes his eyes with his hand as if trying to remove sleep from it as he stands before a grand forest with the most exquisite trees and animals dancing about. As the young elf sighs and shakes his head, he takes a step forward and the almost mirage like image fades to a bustling camp with the raucous sound of weapons being prepared by the elven smiths and warriors practicing their sword play with some of the fae servants and slaves. One in particular, a strong looking fae man with a dull sword and wooden shield stood before a shirtless elf who stood a good head taller with a muscle bound form that was uncommon for the elven folk and a shocking set of red locks that framed his battle scared face. The elf swung with one of his two swords upon the fae and as it connected with the fae’s shield, splintering a corner of the wood, the elf almost seemed to float around the fae and take his other blade close enough to the fae man’s throat but stopped before contact.
By Trey Dawkinsabout a year ago in Chapters
