Fantasy
Valley of the Dragons
Art by Roel Wielinga "There weren't always dragons in The Valley. There was a time, so they say, when the first families settled here, when the valley was safe, fertile and families grew into tribes. For the most part there was peace. Swords and knives were used only to slaughter pigs and cattle, for weapons were forbidden. The sages told us that far, far back weapons had become so advanced that humankind almost destroyed themselves and the world we live in.
By Mark Newell4 years ago in Fiction
Peasant's Luck
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. On the same fateful day that the dragons arrived, the forces of darkness were defeated and true light broke out across the land. Fuelled by a righteous need for vengeance; dragonfire and magic were used to shatter ensorcelled defences that no mere mortals could penetrate, and the Lord of Darkness Nazh’ruuk fled as his power was broken and armies destroyed. A great flight of dragons heralded the new age, roaring and breathing fire into the sky as they perched on the battlements of the liberated Sentinel Castle.
By Marcus Rockstrom4 years ago in Fiction
The Case of the Shaggy Half-Cu
The only ones between order and chaos in Gipine are the Inquisitors. Sure, the Purists run around and slay their little monsters, but we deal with the mess of corrupted humanity. I've been an Inquisitor for the Hallowed City since I was a twelve-year-old boy. I had an “above average” aptitude for alertness, which is why I was placed in the Order.
By Joshua Reed4 years ago in Fiction
Dragon Valley
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. A curse had been inflicted upon them long ago. A curse that also affected the residents of the Valley. Dragons that tried to enter turned to stone and humans that tried to leave suffered the same fate. Once a human entered the Valley, they were never allowed to leave. The Valley was encircled by statues that taught all the fate the hard way. Only one woman carried the capability of inflicting such a curse. Medusa's anger at the people and dragons of the Valley could not be contained by a simple death or even a simple time period. The statues had surrounded the Valley for centuries, long after her death of seeing that fateful mirror. She got her revenge on him though, he tried to leave the Valley, now a sign hangs on him, tossed from the cursed border, “Savior and victim.” That was only within the first five years of the curse, and it prevailed. Many tried to find other solutions to break the curse, but resources were limited. Medusa’s library was immense and written in languages that were unknown to many. Time passed and generations soon accepted their fate of never leaving the Valley. Signs were posted to warn the weary traveler to not venture on. Most heeded the warning, some ventured too close to the signs. They would take a step across the invisible line only to step back and turn to stone.
By MaryLei Barclay4 years ago in Fiction
Rise of Aleister
CHAPTER 1 “No, Paige, the red candle goes in that corner! Why do I feel like I’m talking to myself here?!” Craig whined, ringing his pudgy hands together before pushing his glasses back up his pudgy face. At 16, he was already dumpy, short hair sticking out in seventeen different directions, his sallow skin pockmarked with old and new acne scars. Paige, on the other hand, was a study in extremes, balancing out the sweaty teenager’s neuroticism with cool detachment, a look of almost comical long-suffering crossing her features as she rolled her eyes, moving the candle the scant few centimeters necessary to defuse Craig’s agitation. Running her fingers through neon green hair, the young girl stood, the piercings in her nose and ears catching the glow of candlelight. “Anything else, sahib?” she spat at him, all of her animosity toward an entire gender buried in those three words. “Easy, Paige.” Everett Hall stepped out of the shadows on the other side of the sigil on the floor, carrying a container of partially congealed cat’s blood and a paint brush. “You wouldn’t want our resident expert to start having fits and cutting himself, would you?” This last was said with just a hint of irony, the tall eighteen year old’s eyes shifting to slightly to a far corner of the room, gleaming maliciously under the dyed black hair that draped across his face. With pale skin and black lipstick, the eerily skinny teen looked uncomfortably like a walking corpse, and his personality wasn’t much better. The object of his attention, Brandon Jackson, lifted one arm, flipping the older boy the middle finger. As he did so, the frayed sleeve on his dark hoodie pulled back, showing a crosshatch of very fine lines, telltale signs of a troubled youth spent at the bad end of a straight razor. Chrissy Franklin, looking like a cross between a drug addict and a model for a Halloween costume advertisement, stepped out from behind Brandon’s right shoulder, her purple lips twisted into a grimace of dislike. “Back off, asshole. Brandon hasn’t done anything to you.” Everett laughed, his crooked yellow teeth showing sickly in the candlelight. “Precisely! What has that walking suicide watch done for anyone here?” Turning, Everett finished the sigil on the floor, an odd goat’s head inside of an inverted pentagram. “Anything else you need, Dough Boy?” Everett’s gaze crossed to Craig, and the nervously pacing teen jerked slightly at the animosity in his older compatriot’s voice. “…n..no. No. We’re good here. We just need to gather the rest of the ingredients, and we can begin.”
By Jared Thompson4 years ago in Fiction
Our Kind of People
“There weren’t always dragons in the Valley, you know,” Margery Riddlehouse said to her new neighbor, Alyse Bower. They were sitting on Alyse’s just-delivered sofa in the Bowers’ freshly repainted living room, with a view from (still!) curtainless front windows to the house across the street. “But you know how it is,” Margery went on. “One has no control over who buys a house these days," she said with a nod towards the children playing noisily in the front yard of the Robinettes' home.
By Hillora Lang4 years ago in Fiction
The Komodo Fire Bomb Dragon
There weren't always dragons in the valley. But, now there was a new species of dragons in the valley that wreaked havoc on the valley, the Bay Area, and Los Angeles. No one knew, yet, what a mess they would make. Not even the scientists and the Stem Cell Research and Animal Husbandry Department where it all originated.
By Lucy Socha4 years ago in Fiction
