Fantasy
One With The Fire
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. There was a time that it was quiet, peaceful, filled with lush vegetation and lively animals. There was a village in the center, and the people were farmers, blacksmiths, merchants, and more. They were happy. They didn't know the horrors that would come when a stranger walked into their midst. She had hair the color of a fires embers, her eyes so dark they were almost black, and she walked as if the world was supposed to bow before her. These are the things I remember about her. These are the things that stood out the most.
By Sabyl Curtis 4 years ago in Fiction
John Tillery
Chapter 1- Glass Potatoes There weren’t always dragons in the valley. Men didn’t always know how to make gunpowder, magic secrets weren’t sold like an apple-pie recipe, and Human maps didn’t have Halfling towns on them. Change can make a fella anxious. Then again, there wasn’t always sugar in cornbread, iced tea wasn’t a thing ten years ago, and I didn’t use to have as many stories. Change can make things better. There weren’t always dragons in the valley – at first there was only one.
By T.W. Bivins4 years ago in Fiction
Dolor Reptilia
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. Now there are many. At least, that’s what the rest of Orthylla thinks. In truth, there is only one dragon in the Valley, and no one has seen her for millenia. Instead, the Valley is overrun with Litheneae, vile creatures thrust into existence by pain, curiosity, and greed.
By Brigitte Nauck4 years ago in Fiction
The Ways of Wind and Fire
The Ways of Wind and Fire “There weren't always dragons in the valley.” That is what my father would tell me. That's to say if there even are dragons. Every now and then I’d ask if I would ever meet one. And he would almost always say “you will, soon”. I don't know what “soon” means in his world, but it must mean a hundred years from now. I have just turned nineteen and still never met one. Or even see one flying in the distance. My father is getting old, and I fear I may never get the chance. I would travel myself, but I have never been too far from home. Only to the edge of the old forest, that my father has named Fildegarde. We live in an open plain that bordered the mountain range called Varda, it mainly consisted of long green grass and Buffalo. The rolling hills went on forever eastward, making the sunrise uncontested. To the south, it was barred off by a river and a town named Rinathrin. The North is unknown to me, I was always told to veer away from it. At night I see a dim light beyond the horizon.
By Brayden Kesteloot4 years ago in Fiction
The Terrible Price
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. At that time, when Ered was young, life was peaceful and good. He worked with his father in the smithy and played with his mates everywhere else: in the village, in the fields, in the forest. The first time he saw a dragon, the first thing he heard was a cry in the village: “Dragon!” The same word repeated. His head turned this way and that, and he looked up all around, but the tops of the houses and trees blocked his view . . . until a dark shape passed directly overhead. He looked up just in time to see it flying away from his position. Though it was spring, he felt a chill. Then he saw the dragon wheel around and turn toward the village again. Something in him said, Run. Then he remembered the rule of being chased: run sideways. His father had used a word like “perpendiculous”, but Ered knew it as sideways. He would not run in front of a horse, an ox, or a dragon. But he had to save his family first. He ran inside their hut.
By Robert Peate4 years ago in Fiction
Curse of the Dragon: Return of the Ancient Blood
"There weren't always dragons in the valley," muttered Gregor Herolis, “but I would have no power without them.” Gregor sat confidently on the back of Master Dragon, Praug, ready for the impending attack on Dragonia again. He shouted out loud, "I am the Dragon Master, and so why am I one of so many not respected." He then commanded the many dragons to his side, ready for his attack despite the storm. He dismissed all of it and started on the journey to his formal home, where he was no longer welcome. His dark brown hair blew through the wind with his short bowl cut to keep it tamed. His blue eyes were filled with anger, but he had become a monster in their eyes. His youthful looks hid the old age and his rage. His children looked more senior, and yet Gregor never saw them again.
By Sarah Danaher4 years ago in Fiction
Awakening
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. What a trivial thought to have at a time like this. Here, nearing the completion of centuries worth of planning, that was the thought that sprang into their head. It did make some logical sense they supposed. When approaching the end of a journey it was only natural to reflect on the major points that led there, and foul weather can bring out a pensive attitude in anyone apparently.
By Mark Mason4 years ago in Fiction
The Uloralie Plains
"There weren’t always dragons in the valley," Eothyn says gently, closing his eyes in thought. "My father – our father, told me so often and so fondly about his travels along what used to be called the Uloralie Plains." He points out through the trees and brush, giving way to a sheer drop off the mountainside the four friends are perched upon. They overlook onto pale green rolling hills and in the far, misty distance, remains a blackened site of ill repute. A line, in essence, a border, stretching easily from one side of the plains to the other and much further beyond.
By J. Arthur Collins4 years ago in Fiction
