Fantasy
The siege of the mountain kingdom of Teramere.
There weren’t always dragons in the valley or in the heart of the mountain, but the days had grown dark as our king fell to madness, and a shadow lingered in the hearts of all mortal races. We, the dwarves that once ruled over the mountain now overruled by the draconian dictate of our oppressors. The days were bright, but felt as dark as the deepest shroud of night that ensnared and permeated our senses with fear, without a cloud or gray overcast over the heavens. The sounds within the night itself almost amplified by the rush of fear, with the scent of death almost lurking in the winds that eerily glided among the branches of the trees, near the edge of the mountain. The mountain that we once called, our home.
By Jordan Zuniga4 years ago in Fiction
The Furry Scythe
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. The Valley is a collection of woods that used to be home to the lost spirits and the people who were below poor. The truth of the small statement burns my heart deeply, even greater than the idea that I'm orphaned. Dragons were never meant to exist amongst humans, this placement I believe must've been an accident in the celestial realm. If only I could discover at least my parents, then I would feel somewhat welcome in this accursed realm.
By Daveen Éveline 4 years ago in Fiction
Experiment 3798
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. Of course, not a literal valley. The ever so popular city of Circa Valley. ‘Once upon a time’, there was a boy as happy as can be. People called him [NAME CLASSIFIED] and he had one goal set for his tiny 6 year old brain, to find a dragon. I know it’s not much of a story yet, so, I’ll try to be more professional. Sorry, I will try. I guess I should start over then.
By Kimiko Bearde-Xisin4 years ago in Fiction
Beyond the Bones of Verateus
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. Ripp's dying words were sent forth like dust upon the wind. I watched as the pouch of gizzard gems upon his chest was slowly freed of his hold, then liberated evermore. But before I could bring myself to retrieve it, I was overcome by a flood of tears, and could do nothing but lay my head down beside it, and weep.
By Ad-Libbing With The Z-Man4 years ago in Fiction
I Should Have Known
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. Sometimes, in the recurring daydream that I'd have— some may have called them episodes— there were big cats. Their giant paws would pad around me as I lay motionless in the forest, and their rough sandpaper growls would lull me back to sleep. Other times, there would be stags. Their magnificent antlers would glow and pulse with different colors every time I saw them, bathing me in blue, pink, orange, red...
By Madi Scruggs4 years ago in Fiction
Dragon's Bane
There weren’t always dragons in the valley. There were myths and legends told around the campfires for hundreds of years, but that was what everyone living in the valley assumed; they were myths and legends. Things changed last fall, first with the mysterious disappearance of half a flock of sheep on the south slope of “the three heroes”, the mountain in the north end of the valley known for its very distinct three snow-capped peaks, which resembled three heads with white helmets. Brother Jerrol, a local monk and sheep herder, stumbled into the village of Merrywind, sobbing and holding a shredded piece of bloody wool and skin, and fell down in the center square. His normally clean brown tunic was rumpled and caked with mud, the knotted rope that served as his belt missing. White whisps of hair hung loosely from under his monks-cap, the thin round cloth askew on the top of his head. His eyes were wild, peering all around the town square, then down at the bloody skin. He screamed and buried his face in the dirt. Town folk quickly surrounded him and helped him to his feet.
By Roger Stefani4 years ago in Fiction
Brave New Sky
There weren’t always dragons in the valley. Once we farmed this land. We loved and nurtured it. When it was scorched it was because of natural disasters not because of rage. I felt my chest swell with anger as I crouched behind the stony outcropping watching the sky for the tell tale sign of danger. Of aggression. Of suppression.
By Margaret Maxfield4 years ago in Fiction
The Wood Dragon
Prologue Fantasy Challenge There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. They were there now. She could feel them. It made no sense to Caitir that she was the only one. Their breath vibrated in her dreams at night, from the safe confines of the crannog. There was a hum in the Valley that, if the old stories were true, hadn’t been heard for eons. To deny it was tearing her apart.
By ClaireJulia4 years ago in Fiction
