Tales from Tal'ville

Chapter 1: The Visions

There weren't always dragons in the Valley. That's what father used to say anyways. I'm too young to remember when those abominations came to this place, forever scaring these lands, forever scaring my home. Dragon attacks have always played a role in my life, and today was no different.

Today's attack was a green drake, a particularly nasty dragon to go up against. One wrong step and it will melt right through your armor and straight to your heart with its putrid acid breath. It certainly did so to my ally Demetrius, may he rest in peace and find solace in whatever afterlife he believed in. After the poor bastard started to disintegrate before my eyes, I was filled with a determination I've only felt but a few times in my life.

I had just watched poor Demetrius receive a rather large burst of acid to the face, instantly melting through his helmet. The only thought running through my mind being one word; Survive. I channeled what small magical energy I could muster to create the image of a small dwarf off to my right. Once the shimmering green drake began to pounce on m illusion, similar to a feline who's cornered its prey, I dashed around the other side of the grain shed, and with the grace of a feline I leaped up onto its back, and stabbed deep into its acrid heart with Fury, the sword my father bestowed upon me when my training started at 7. I got lucky however. The drake being such a young creature had not quite yet hardened its scales, displaying wide gaps of skin to leave it fatally vulnerable. It roared, trying to bite me to no avail as its ichor flowed everywhere from the wound. Even the drake's blood was mildly acidic, taking bits of my clothing. This quality is something new I will have to record for my hunter's log.

It was simply another day, another attack, and another good soldier lost. At least through all the loss I was starting to build a reputation. After today's haul, that puts my personal kill count at 14, only 6 away from the village record held by Dasterian Penwalsh, a brilliant marksman and a previously good friend of my father.

I spent the next several hours skinning the beast, harvesting its bright scales, so that they would be used in the village weaponry and building. Dragon scales make good shingles fireproofing the roofs of the town, and sold for a lot to wandering traders who passed through. I looked at the now the now stagnant and stabilized blood getting all over my fingers and hands, and poured some into a vial which I stung around my neck like a pendant. As I went forth to cut off the head, I felt the familiar feeling of blood rushing to my head, but this time everything was different.

My head was spinning, I could feel myself falling to the ground, but where the burnt and decaying grass was before, was only smoke. I kept falling, into the deep dark clouds of the smoke, lightning crackling around me, and heard a deep, guttural voice piercing through my mind.

"Hello young Dragon Murderer..."

Then I was back on that soft grass, Drake head in hand. The local farmer who's field I was defending was standing there, staring at me in slight confusion.

"You alright son? You look a little dazed just holding that dragon head." the farmer remarked.

I shook my head and stood up. "Of course" I couldn't take my eyes of the head I was holding "I'll have some of the village guard come clean this up for the meat. We'll have it out of here by nightfall."

"Well I can't begin to thank you enough. Say, aren't you Tirik's kid?" the man pondered for a minute, as if trying to remember an old colleague.

"Yeah that's me. Name's Vernon Mallor, son of Tirik Mallor."

The farmer looked surprised but pleasantly so. "The name is Jack Rishter. It's good to see you took after your father before-"

I quickly cut him off, not wanting to relive that memory. "Yeah the accident. It's why I do what I do now. To honor him."

He tipped his hat in respect. "You do a mighty fine job, maybe even better. He defended this very same field you know, just over on the north side. Although I must say you killed that dragon much quicker than your father. Seems like you're getting good at this. Come, let's walk and talk about compensation"

I walked with the man for a while, telling him about the times my father trained me, but in reality my mind was stuck on the hallucination I had prior. I knew some dragons had telepathic powers, particularly those big and powerful enough to develop such a thing, but a small drake shouldn't have been able to impart that powerful of a vision into my head. And that voice, it was so... terrifying. I've never felt the presence of something like that.

"Excuse me son you seemed to have drifted off again." The farmer observed, chuckling as he did so. "I was just asking you what you wanted for compensation?"

"Nothing much" I remarked. " Just enough coin and a little bit of food to get me by and I'll be on my way."

"Quite the humble one too. I've heard of Slayers who demand hundreds, sometimes thousands of coin just for killing a baby dragon. You sure that's all you want?"

"Yes I'm quite sure."

The farmer went inside and came back out, a pouch in hand and a sack slung over his shoulder. "Well here's some dried meat, vegetables, and some gold. Should get you by for a while. You're always welcome if you need a place to stay."

"This is so much more than needed. Thank you for your generosity sir."

"The honor is mine. Any son of old Tirik's, especially one that kills dragons as well as you, deserves more than you think. Now get the town guard over here. I think I speak for all of us when I say that thing stinks a little too much as it is, and I don't want it around long enough to smell even more."

I chuckled. "Of course, I'll get them right on it." I began walking to the village once more. I had ridden here with Demetrius before but his horse was spooked and ran off into the forest nearby. Gods knows if I'll see that cowardly animal again.

As I reached the center of Tal'ville, my hometown, I knocked on the guards barracks and reported the situation. Within minutes they were well on their way to cleaning up the mess I left, and I was free to go home. Another day, another attack, another dragon slain.

As I arrived to my home, I greeted mother sitting on porch chair, rocking as she knit something. "Hello mother. How's the scarf coming along?"

"It's a hat dear. You're going to need it in the winter."

"Mother it's the middle of the Valley summer, the hottest time of the year."

"Well it's always good to prepare dear. Get inside, I cooked some soup for you."

I obeyed and walked in. My mother wasn't ever the same since father died. It took more of a toll on her than I. As I looked around, I saw there was no soup prepared, so I took the liberty of using some of the meat and vegetables I had just received to make some stew for the both of us. I took a bowl out to her and went down into my study.

I wrote down everything I remembered, the acidic drake's breath, the way it moved like a cat, the way its scales shimmered in the beating sun, but I still couldn't get over the vision I had. I began pouring through my father's works, searching for anything that might give an answer. "It has to be here somewhere." But alas all I found was that adult and ancient dragons were typically the only ones powerful enough to do what this drake did. Disheartened by my lack of findings, I grabbed an extra set of clothes and went to bathe in the lake, but not before making sure mother was getting to bed.

As I went on my way to the lake across town, I got quite the odd stares, some from the homeless and drunk who roamed the streets at night, some from hooded figures in the shadows. A bloodied man was not too uncommon around these parts, but jarring to look at all the same. As I passed by taverns and inns, tempting me with the opportunity to enjoy a good drink, I noticed one particular figure, hunched over as if their back had given out. They had an oddly ornate walking stick, made of what looked like bone or ivory. Although I could not tell for sure due to their hooded appearance, they appeared to be staring directly at me. I looked back down the road, then back at the hunched figure in the shadows, but they were gone. Although I was troubled, I continued forward, wanting nothing more than to be clean.

As I arrived to the lake, I walked to my bathing spot, a nice little shaded bit where the forest meets the water offering a fair bit of privacy. I got in the lake and washed off the dried guts from my body, erasing all but the scars from earlier in the day. As I watched the blood and guts mix with the water below, I was reminded of the vial around my neck. I quickly grabbed the vial, holding it up to the moonlight. I watched it slosh around the vial, as if it had a mind of its own. Perhaps the blood acted as a medium, for the vision I received. It definitely wasn't the green drake who entered my head.

In a fit of impulse, I uncorked the vial and poured it onto my self, and once more was transported to that realm of dark smoke, falling once more. Again, the deep booming voice spoke to me

"Ahhhh Dragon Murderer, I see you once more. Have you come seeking that which taunts you?"

"Who are you?!?" I yelled into the void

The deep voice laughed and a singular giant yellow eye stared at me through the clouds. "A Nightmare."

Then I woke up under the water, choking on the liquid as it filled my lungs. I stood up, coughing up all the water and looked to shore, only to see the hooded figure standing at shore. As they took their hood off, I recognized her as the village oracle, a crazy elderly gnome lady who was often regarded as untrustworthy and shady.

She croaked as she pointed her cane at me "You've had visions recently haven't you?"

Moments later I passed out...