Adventure
Oliver, Son of Genvalt
"If there is a fire that never ceases to burn, it surely lies in the maw of a dragon." (Sarkhan Vol) Oliver woke up in a cold sweat. For many days he had been haunted by a dream where he crept around a dark castle. Each time he passed the maid's room, the door creaked open as a long golden shaft of light crawled out onto the black floor. His mother laid on the bed moaning and crying and begging him for help. As he approached, she turned around, and her face dripped off her like candle wax, revealing a cold, gray skull.
By alettertomyself3 years ago in Fiction
The Ward
For a thousand years, the world lies still. The scent of blood hangs heavy and metallic in the air. Fields are strewn with the decayed remains of fallen soldiers, and whole kingdoms that had once spanned several leagues now exist only in a state of ruin—razed to the ground to be overtaken by moss and vine as the earth seeks to reclaim that which rightfully belongs to it.
By Raeanne Patterson3 years ago in Fiction
Long March
A little thing it was that came fumbling to my cave. A pink pudgy thing. Human. I must admit I haven’t indulged in the species; they seemed to be... too inconsistent. Some looked shriveled and wrinkly, while others looked fit to burst. Some looked underdone, and others overbaked. They never looked appealing; a different flavor with everyone. However, this one, maybe… Small, it may be, probably a child. No intelligent being would enter my cave with the number of dead things I have out front. My decorations often deter adventurers, treasure hunters, or anything else. But this stupid child ignored the warnings outside, stumbled upon my cave, and ventured down the winding corridors to my hoard, arousing me from my slumber. Usually, I am not disturbed until spring. However, she brought in the chill of winter. I can feel it piercing through my scales. Maybe that is why she ventured in. It matters not. I will pluck the child in my claw, ignore its insistent screaming, fry her with my breath, and enjoy a little sniggle.
By Cole Alexander Perron3 years ago in Fiction
Draconic Prosperity
Chapter 1: During my regular morning patrol for this moon, I looked down and saw an unusual clearing in the forest floor. I signaled to Hynnaria, the scout leader, and then carefully made my way into the nearby thick to safely take on a more subtle shape. The art of shapeshifting was unique to dragonkin and while a young dragon pup like myself can’t don a perfect disguise, it would be enough to fool onlookers from a distance. Naturally, I felt much more vulnerable as a humanoid, unable to soar the skies, nor defend myself with fiery breath. The smaller form was significantly less cumbersome however, and in this case, a preferred form in the thick forest.
By M.A Rector3 years ago in Fiction
Silver Line of Power
A fiery rain poured over my head at sunrise as the field artillery fired from the other side, sending their led balls hurdling towards us. All I wanted was to get out alive. This dreadful war was the worst thing I had gone through. It was worse than when three of my cousins died the same day of cholera. If only the South would just surrender. They were on the path to defeat, why delay the inevitable and cause more death. They called what we were doing ‘Northern aggression,’ but I had called what they were doing land theft. Jefferson Davis was the one who wanted to break off from the union, but maybe Lincoln could make a few concessions, give the South some of their own land in exchange for every slave and draftee on their side being freed. I had no preference as to which side won, I just hated fighting. I was no cowardly deserter though. I had fought gallantly with my honor and integrity intact.
By Alex H Mittelman 3 years ago in Fiction
In Between Worlds
Sedjna woke before first light. Finding himself lying in a soft bed of needles, under the protective boughs of a conifer tree. He was cold and damp as everything was covered in morning dew. Rising to his feet to stretch the stiffness out of his joints, a shiver ran through his body that persuaded him to seek warmth. Unsure where he was, other than in the forest. It was dark when he entered. The blackness of the night sky was giving way towards dawn, some stars were still visible, yet obscured through the treetops. Turning in all directions he checked the horizon hoping to find where the sun might rise. As he looked through the shadowy dark figures of the forest canopy a sudden burst lit up that section of the twilight. He had never seen anything like it in his life. A faint ring remained at the site of the eruption, a glowing ball across the veil of the heavens.
By Erik ubbink3 years ago in Fiction
Anderson's Prize
Winston lay weeping like so many times before. The toddler loved the woods so much his passion got ahead of him: he was alone. He looked this way and that - craving the sight of the mother he just left, and wept face down in the leaves. In the never-ending forest, nothing else mattered but mommy. Not the sunlight beaming upon his face, not the perfect October afternoon, not even the brilliant color fall held around the curled little boy. He shook, a helpless baby sobbing in a wild, foreign world. Yet, the pitiful sound was carried by the breeze, and heard by the most unlikely creature imaginable.
By Aaron Michael Grant3 years ago in Fiction
