The Beginning of Darkness

The roars of the Orc horde could have been heard from beneath the mines of Dresebul, the deepest mines of the world. They flew forward in a rage as the people of the small village of Fawnlight, within the land of Asterine, screamed and ran for cover. This small fishing village stood no chance against the onslaught as the Orc horde overcame them as a shadow cast from a setting sun overtakes the land. Fires erupted, people scattered and screamed as they attempted to escape their fate from the large apex predators viewing the village as prey today. Smoke filled the sky, the once stark crimson of a sunrise now marking a day of bloodshed. A young woman with a fresh gash upon her forehead cowers behind a dying horse, her small sweating hands exacerbating the horse’s temperament from a giant axe wound at its nape. Within her grasp, her younger brother swaddled against her chest. As she attempted to run, she is knocked over by the panicking horse, almost like a candle in the night, giving attention to a group of Orcs as she attempts to flee. She scrambled up on her feet and ran further and further, tears flew down her face, her breath caught in her throat, the burning sensation of the smoke caused her to choke, the burns of the fire were fresh upon her back. She still saw the stuck face of her mother seared into her memory. The sword wound in the young girl’s abdomen created more tension as she attempted to flee. The Orcs were gaining, their grunting to one another now a perfect harmony of understanding on how to corner their next meal. The sobbing of the young woman was overcome by the screams from behind her, the clumping of heavy feet gaining upon her, and the now dead silence in front of her. She hurried forward still, sheer willpower drove her until her foot caught on a decaying log and she fell into a wide birth of uprooted and torn down trees. She buried her burnt and scratched face into her hands, as she attempted to cocoon her young brother with her quivering body. She struggled to breathe as she cried, awaiting with torturous agony of what the Orcs had in store for her and her brother. After what felt like an eternity, she rolled over and wiped her eyes, looking in bewilderment at the group of Orcs staring past her with dumbfounded looks painted on their bloodied faces. She turned around to see a very large golden dragon, its neck curling backward like a cobra preparing to strike, its tongue flickering in and out while its hands spread wide, showing massive golden scaled wings in between its long and outstretched fingers.

“I was sleeping!” It roared, causing the Orcs to turn tail, and run. Villagers are easy to kill. Full size dragons? Not even the entire horde was prepared for such a feast. With a deep breath, the dragon hurled forth a liquid level of magma and flame toward the Orcs, its aim remarkably on point as the Orcs didn’t even have an opportunity to scream in agony before being melted where they last stood. The young woman didn’t move, fear immobilized her and prevented her from even breathing as she watched the scaly beast that had easily destroyed what had recently been such a fear to her.

“I see you there, stand or be killed,” The Dragon spoke firmly. She gasped as she struggled to stand, blood pouring freely from the wound through her stomach as the adrenaline continued to pump the life force out of her like a burgundy waterfall flowing down her gowns as water down the rocks. She shakily removed the swaddled baby from around her and held him in front of her. She kissed his cheek with tears in her eyes, then fell to her knees and offered the young boy to the Dragon, “Please, sire, P-“ The last of her life ensuring the safety of her little brother as the Dragon swiftly caught him from hitting the ground.

“Hmm,” The Dragon said to himself, “So you’re the reason I’m here, are you?” The small boy looked up at the Dragon, his bright green eyes gazing up at him while he cooed softly, his bright red curls billowed as the Dragon’s breath softly hit his face and caused him to giggle. The Dragon looked over at the corpse of the young lifeless woman, “Such a brave young thing, a pity you were not meant to see past today. May your soul take you further than your body could, brave maiden.” With a single puff, the Dragon lit her body aflame, the respect of her courage not missed by one so wise. The Dragon stood tall, peering over the wooded area to the village to see the Orcs feasting upon the corpses that lay strewn about.

“Such ghastly creatures,” The Dragon said, looking down at the young boy, who stretched out and began to fall asleep, “Shall we?” The Dragon laid the small boy in a bundle of sticks that had been stuck together. He grasped the bundle with his hind legs as he outstretched his massive hands and shot into the sky. Within moments, the Dragon and the boy were gone. Life continued back into the wooded area, small creatures scurried about, birds whistled merrily, the trees played with one another as the wind blew through the tops. From behind a tree, bright green eyes watched where the Dragon was last seen. Her pointed nose sniffed the air, her elf like ears twitched as she listened for the Orcs within the village to look for their missing brethren. She drew an arrow from her leg pouch, drawing it taunt and aimed it to her East as she waited patiently.

“What was Golangaria here for, Esmer?” A male voice asked her while he hung by his legs from a limb next to her. His arms crossed as he viewed where she aimed her bow.

“Don’t trust my scouting, Edwin?” Esmer asked. She smirked as she released the arrow. Within moments an Orc rounded a tree, unable to say a word as an arrow immediately struck the Orc’s throat. It instantly grasped its throat, unable to yell for help as another arrow quickly found the Orc’s eye, dropping it where it stood.

“Hmm,” Edwin said as he released from the tree and landed next to Esmer, “If you count losing the boy to an old, slow, and sassy dragon? Then yes, I don’t trust your scouting.” Esmer rolled her eyes as she notched another arrow and let it fly, turning to face Edwin as the arrow burrowed itself into the eye of another Orc.

“And who will this turn out bad on? Me, who was here to scout the Dragon? Or you, who followed, and also allowed the Dragon to take the child?” Esmer asked. Edwin crossed his arms and said, “You wouldn’t.” Esmer smiled and got closer, “Wouldn’t you?” Edwin scowled and notched his own two arrows. He loosed them and dropped the two Orcs who appeared around the tree. Both elves smirked, and with a swish, disappeared into the wood as they ran for Liola, the beautiful Elvin City.

As Golangaria drew in for a landing, his wings stretched out, allowing him to land upon the Triciolea Peak. It was the home of the Dragons, what few remained. A place to discuss much of the lands issues and to talk amongst themselves about ways they could either allow any issue to happen, or to intervene in their own ways.

“Do you have the child?” A slender green dragon with large feathered wings lifted her elegant neck, waiting patiently for Golangaria to gather himself. He very carefully picked up the bundle, and placed it in front of Elevangantry, the slender green dragon.

“Where are the others?” Golangaria asked. She cooed softly at the boy, then lifted her head up to speak.

“Well, Avantash says he will not be joining, he is currently watching something, though he won’t disclose what, nor where.” She said.

“Ah what is that old scraggle tooth up to,” He asked, more to himself than to her.

“Jeyaglare is midflight, as is Zubredra, Hurfoldra, Brugadley, Friestary, the twins Pichreign and Lichrey, Hollisdaria-“

“HA! So that scaley fireball finally decides to join us?” Golangaria stood tall, almost smug at the thought of Hollisdaria being within the same view as himself.

“Golangaria, must we do this every time? It has been centuries, let it go.” Elevangantry’s eyes glowed bright, staring up at him. He shook his head, furling down to his tail, and huffing a puff out. He bowed gracefully, and asked, “And the others?”

“Authenbrook, Braskaline, Juvillegra, and Killicrock will also be attending. Nobody has heard from Hutterania, nor from Visculbra.” Golangaria closed his eyes and tried to use his Dragon Sight, reaching deep to find Hutterania. All he could see was darkness, and fog. He then tried for Visculbra, and only saw the same thing.

“Darkness with fog, for both?” He asked as helooked at Elevangantry. Before she could speak, there was a plethora of wings flapping as the entire hoard came to rest. Elevangantry huffed, looked up, then back at Golangaria, then grabbed the bundle and boy, and slowly walked into the cave, followed closely by Golangaria. Bit by bit the others followed in suit, taking their place as they began their council.

The Council Cavern of Triciolea Peak was truly a site to behold. The entirety of the mountain close to the top was completely hollowed out, allowing these godlike beings to meet. Dragon Flame circled the entirety of the cavern along rows climbing toward the open top, giving light to the stars and a view of the sky. Many a dwarf had worked tirelessly to etch exquisite designs, statues, and monoliths of scenes upon the walls, the magic imbued upon them causing the statues to move, stone flames appearing for each Dragon still alive today. Though there were still pictorial scenes in honor of these gods of flame, many of them no longer moved, the life force creating movement now a memory to only those present within this chamber.

“Thank you all for joining, as we discuss and decide together what is to be done with this boy,” Golangaria began, “Though it is not without trouble, a band of Orcs had almost got to the boy, and I was being watched by two High Elm Elves.”

“Hmm, Elves,” Jeyaglare, a massive rocky skinned dragon with a gravelly voice said, “Always thinking they’re so quick and nimble. I’ve got more grace than the lot of them.”

“Besides the point, what were they doing watching you, or the boy?” Zubredra asked. She had gems upon her scales, causing her to shine and glisten against her ebony body.

“I know not,” said Golangaria, “But they were most interested in the boy.”

“Elves share the same sight we do thanks to Hollisdaria’s deal, do you believe they see he’s the chosen being?” Pichreign said, glaring his red eyes toward Hollisdaria, his orange/red skin glowing softly within the massive cavern.

“Now wait-“ Elevangantry began before being cut off.

“I did what was needed for the good of our kind, the fact that none of you support me on this even after so long, shows I was foolish to come here!” Hollisdaria yelled out. The others began to argue as well, the roars getting louder as the young boy began to cry. Suddenly Golangaria roared violently, releasing forth a plume of red glowing smoke into the top of the cavern. The others died down, and watched curiously, as even the boy watched in fascination to the small flakes of red falling down the cavern ceiling.

“This is of importance!” Golangaria bellowed, “The boy is here! It matters not what has been done or who it had been done to! We are here to discuss what will happen with this boy. He is to change the world! The Elves do not have him, we do, and we need to discuss what to do and how to do it. Look among you! Where is Visculbra or Hutterania? The darkness is coming, and it is no longer something we can stand by and ignore!” Elevangantry looked over and bowed her head to say thank you. The Dragons each one closed their eyes and searched, unable to see anything but darkness and fog.

“What does this mean?” Killicrock asked, his deep bellowing voice ringing from his massive golden frame.

“We do not know,” Elevangantry said, “But I find this no coincidence that the boy was born, his village attacked by a random Orc raid, and Elves watching from a distance. Something is happening. And this is a darkness we’ve never dealt with before. The entire world is in danger in some way, and we need to know what to do. The boy needs training, he needs to be given the proper wisdom and guidance as well.”

“Oh, do not pawn this sweet child off on some old human claiming to know magic because he strikes his gloves against a metal staff.” Juvillegra huffed from his perch, his tail flickering behind him as his bronzed skin glistened against the soft flames around the cavern. The others around him murmured amongst themselves in agreement.

“Old he may be and a charlatan he is, he is the only one capable of training the boy. After all, he is still a champion and a knight,” Zubredra responded.

“And a drunk,” Golangaria said while shaking his head.

“Regardless,” Elevangantry said, standing tall to assert her own level of dominance, “He can give the boy the training he needs. However, we need to agree, and will hold a majority vote.” After speaking, Elevangantry opened her mouth and held a fireball within her throat. One by one the other dragons repeated her action, save Juvillegra, Hollisdaria, and Jeyaglare.

“The boy will be taken, but who will take him? And who can stand the “Great Champion’s” strength of stench?” Killicrock asked, his deep voice cutting the silence. The dragons all looked at one another, nobody said a word. After a few more moments, Hollisdaria said, “Well don’t everybody speak at once, seeing as you all were the ones who thought this was the best idea for the boy.” Still, nobody said a word.

“Fine!” Golangaria said, “Seeing as I was the one who found the boy, I’ll be the one to take him to Knight Stinky.” The dragons all murmured amongst one another in agreement.

“We are all in agreement, may we all go forth into the glory of the stars,” Elevangantry said.

“And the shine of the stars light your way forward.” The dragons responded. With that being said, each of them took their turn leaving. Golangaria closed his eyes, looking for the old, drunk, and smelly charlatan, Sir Hemberfold. With no surprise, a tavern was seen, a hog and a sword over the door. Golangaria nodded to Elevangantry, then flew toward the Gutted Hog Tavern.

As Edwin and Esmer raced one another, with a flash of light another Elf appeared before them, halting them in their paths. The bright crimson suit, wrapped neatly in golden bands and a very clean and neat leather, with a set of golden wings rank upon his shoulders, he stood tall and proud before the two scouts.

“Report,” he said curtly.

“Report to whom, exactly?” Esmer said, looking down her nose at the Elven superior.

“You know me,” he said, “And I outrank you, so report what happened.”

“My father did not earn me a commission as a Scout Captain,” Edwin said coyly, “But you should know that we are reporting directly to Supreme Commander Ettenbrack, not you, Eshton.”

“You are not reporting to anybody, Scout Edwin,” Scout Captain Eshton responded, “And it is Scout Captain Eshton to you, scout. Or I shall report you for insubordination.”

“Going to tell your father I’ve been a bad girl?” Esmer asked, getting close to Scout Captain Eshton, “We all know the only reason you’re where you are is to report to the Council. So no, I do not think I’ll report to you.” Esmer ducked and pulled away as Scout Captain Eshton attempted to grab onto her. Within the same moment, Edwin had two blades on both sides of Scout Captain Eshton’s neck, his mouth directly next to his ear, “What a shame, Senior Elber, your son was slain by the Orcs as we attempted to watch the Dragon.” Eshton gritted his teeth and attempted to elbow Edwin away from him, the blades already creating a small flow of blood from where they rest. With a scowl, he relaxed and crossed his arms.

“Good boy,” Edwin said, “You have no battle experience. So how, pray tell, do you expect us to follow or respect your command? Don’t bother answering, you are simply a thorn in our gloves, nothing more.”

“Until we can pluck you out of our glove, stay out of our way, or you’ll find yourself in the stomach of an Orc.” Esmer said, glaring ahead at Eshton. With a flash, Scout Captain Eshton was gone. Esmer and Edwin both smirked at one another and took off in the direction of Liola.

Upon arriving within the military camp, Edwin and Esmer both took a knee in front of the Supreme Commander Ettenbrack. His crimson cape covered within embossed gold, the silver shoulder guards showing a bright golden star, his ebony top fitted over a very well fitted armor, with a beautifully crafted ebony leather boots and silver bracers, golden blades fitted to extend with the right flick of the wrist. His long ebony hair flowed to a point to the center of his firm frame. Without looking up from his parchment, he welcomed to the two scouts.

“At ease,” Supreme Commander Ettenbrack stated, his firm baritone voice giving ease to the two scouts, “Well, what was Golangaria doing so close to the city?”

“First and foremost, Supreme Commander,” Edwin began, “We were intercepted by Eshton-“

“Scout Captain Eshton,” Supreme Commander Ettenbrack stated, still looking over the parchment in his hands, “Regardless of your feelings of him, you will respect the rank he possesses.”

“Scout Captain Eshton intercepted us halfway between the city and the location of Golongaria,” Esmer said. Supreme Commander Ettenbrack paced back and forth, still not looking up from the parchment as he grabbed a quill and crossed something off the parchment.

“We all know Scout Captain Eshton’s purpose within my command, I trust you did not give him any information the Council would deem useful?” Supreme Commander Ettenbrack asked, finally looking up at Esmer. Her breath caught from his eyes, one of the rare elves to have received the gift from the dragons, Supreme Commander Ettenbrack’s bright, almost glowing, golden eyes stared at her with intent. His stern look showed centuries of experience as a soldier, the confidence of his glare showed no signs of wavering.

“We gave him nothing, Supreme Commander,” Edwin responded. Supreme Commander Ettenbrack took a deep breath, his eyes darted between the two of them. Esmer took a breath as well, seemingly following the trance Ettenbrack had upon her, then continued, “He soon departed after we refused to give him any information. But Golangaria was a stone’s throw from Fawnlight, that small fishing village, and arrived at his spot within the woods hours before an Orc raid upon said village. Odd behavior being, the Orc’s were also killing everyone, even so much so as chasing down a girl with a small boy wh-“

“Did the boy get away?” Supreme Commander Ettenbrack moved swiftly forward to close the small distance between himself and Esmer. He was unable to hide the eagerness in his voice as news of the small boy was brought forward. Esmer subconsciously took a stance of defense against the Supreme Commander. After a few moments of realizing she would already be dead had Ettenbrack moved against her, she immediately corrected herself and bowed in respect to her sudden transgression. Ettenbrack paid her no mind, grabbing her shoulders as he lifted her up to ask, “Did the boy get away?”

“Yes!” Esmer responded quickly, “The dragon slayed the Orcs who gave chase, burned the body of the boy’s guardian, a young girl, and then took the boy and flew away. I don’t think he saw us, for he did not speak to us nor looked at us.” Ettenbrack let her go and turned to pace again, he folded his hands behind his back as he said, “Golangaria is old, but he is no fool. You were of little threat, and of smaller interest to him. That boy was his reason for being there.”

“Forgive me, Supreme Commander,” Edwin began, “What use is a human child? Why is he so important that we had to watch, and why were Orc’s after him?” The Supreme Commander stopped pacing, looked at both scouts and said, “You both did very well. You’re dismissed. Please stay close, I’m going to send you out again soon. I need to find out where that boy is going, and I need solitude to do so. For the time being, avoid Eshton. I’ll deal with him myself.” With that, both scouts bowed, then left the tent.

“Something about that boy,” Edwin said, “And why is Eshton so interested in a scout report with a dragon and a human boy? And why are Orcs so organized to not let someone escape? And why a dragon?” Esmer said nothing. She grabbed an elf weed and chewed on the stem. She reached over and grabbed a few stalks of yew wood, a handful of falcon feathers, and a bag of titrant bricks. Edwin smirked as they both walked to the scout’s camp to restock their pouch of arrows and get prepared for their next mission.

The Gutted Hog Tavern was a bustling inn and tavern that was built on the crossroads from the shores of Asterine to the deadlands of Wag, and the deserts of Dibligatoria to the frosted lands of Dresebul. There was a market location for the traveling merchants, stories passed from different lands over cups of ale, as well as a mutual respect from every being in the land known as, all taverns were neutral grounds with no bloodshed. This tavern in particular was full of swords and armor hanging on the walls from the numerous beings who chose to violate that very rule, adding to its quaint nature and exciting heritage of being a gutted hog of the land. Amongst its many sights, loud noises, and colorful patrons were the owners and twin sisters Madistair and Jazzishay. The sisters were complete opposites but were never against each other in anything that was said or done. The only way to tell them apart was by what they were wearing and how they acted. Madistair was always wearing purple, but was very alert and bright eyed, and Jazzishay was always wearing blue and was most likely drinking more ale than the patrons. Seeing as their mother had died giving birth to the two of them, their father did the best he could to raise them with the knowledge he had as a knight. Thankfully, Madistair was able to take up a motherly role, while Jazzishay followed directly in her father’s footsteps. Both women were a sight to behold, and fiercely loyal to one another in any instance.

“I should’ve been named Esmerelda!” Jazzishay would drunkenly yell out, “But the bloody elves and their gor damn E wars!”

“Stop talking about the damn elves, you drunken whore!” Madistair would respond.

“Cheers! I’ll drink to that!” Jazzishay would shout back with cheers from the patrons. The cheering and noises of chatter did not stir the old man in rusted chain mail sitting at the edge of the bar, a cup seeming to hold him on his seat as his head laid upon the counter. The entirety of the tavern became quiet when a loud roar was heard outside. Jazzishay wasted no time in ripping a sword from the wall, a cup of ale in her hand as she yelled out, “The elves have tamed a winged lizard! That won’t stop me from getting my name back ya curt faced bastards!” Madistair quickly jerked the chair out from under Jazzishay, causing Jazzishay to fall face first onto the table and knock herself out. Madistair fixed her dress and hair to the best of her ability, and very properly walked out to greet the dragon. All the patrons cowered behind and inside the tavern, watching with interest as Madistair walked forward and curtsied to Golangaria.

“Ah yes, you must be the sober one,” Golangaria dropped his head to be on speaking levels with Madistair, “Might I inquire if there is an old knight in your tavern? Probably smells terrible and is most likely drunk? I’m not referring to your sister, mind you.” Madistair smiled and responded, “I apologize if you’ve heard any insults to your great race from my sister. And yes, Sir Hemberfold is currently upon the tavern counter. Shall I wake him? Or would you like me to deliver a message for you?” Golangaria bowed to Madistair’s hospitality, “Mind you cover your ears? I believe this will do.” Madistair immediately placed her hands to her ears so Golangaria could let loose an absolute ground shattering roar. The drunken knight at the end of the tavern stirred, looking at everybody shaking, and seeing Jazzishay passed out on the floor. Drunkenly he asked, “Oh god are the bloody elves on another damn crusade?”

“Nay!” A patron whispered, “There be a dragon outside.”

“What the bloody hell is a dragon doing outside?” The knight asked.

“I know not, but I’m not going to ask him either,” The patron said. The drunken knight stood to his feet and took his cup of ale with him to waltz outside, to see the giant dragon staring at him in earnest.

“Golangaria, is that you?” The knight asked.

“Ah, Sir Hemberfold,” Golangaria responded, “I thought I could smell you coming.”

“Still a stout mouthed lizard, I see,” Sir Hemberfold chuckled as he walked forward. He stopped in his tracks when he heard the sound of a baby crying. Golangaria looked down, then looked up at Sir Hemberfold, “Ah, the reason for my visit to you. I have a new squire for you, Sir Hemberfold.” Madistair wasted no time as she squealed with glee and ran forward to pick up the baby. The baby excitedly giggled as Madistair kissed at his hands and held him close. Sir Hemberfold shook his head, “What exactly do you want me to do with that?”

“As I said, that is your new squire,” Golangaria said.

“Usually my squires are more, boy like, not baby like,” Sir Hemberfold responded.

“Yes as I remember it, usually your squires are more dead,” Golangaria said, looking down at the old knight as his shoulders slumped, and he again began to drink his ale. Golangaria wasted no time in waving a wing and knocking the old knight off his feet, knocking his drink to the ground, then saying, “That’s enough of that. It is time you moved out of the past and into the present. That boy needs guidance and training, and all of us agreed that you are the one to do so. But to do so, it is time you climb out of that cup and out of the past. Get these two sisters to help you. Obviously this one has a mother’s touch, and if you’re so determined to keep up the drink, rely on the other one to do that for you. Let this be the final win for the Champion of Asterine.” Jazzishay busted out of the tavern door with a sword in her hand. She stumbled over her dress as she took a drink of ale and walked forward. She stopped in front of Golangaria and yelled up at him, “You here to take my name ya giant piss lizard?”

“Ugh,” Golangaria shook his head and reeled back, “Sir Hemberfold it appears there is a creature capable of smelling worse than you do.” Sir Hemberfold grabbed the sword from Jazzishay and kicked her feet out from under her, knocking her unconscious again as he looked up at Golangaria. Madistair walked over, rocking the baby and cooing at him. The dragon smiled at the four unlikely characters, “What a strange family you lot will be. But a family that boy finally has. May you go forth in the glory of your stars.” Golangaria immediately lifted himself off the ground and flew away from the tavern in moments. Sir Hemberfold smiled slightly at the baby, then looked up to the disappearing Golangaria, “And the shine of the stars light your way forward,” he murmured. Unbeknownst to himself the twins and the baby, two elven scouts were fast on approach to their location. And they were not going to be there for a drunken sister’s name.