A small yet humble fire stove proved to be the only source of warmth on this cold, wintry night. Snow blew in incessant flurries against the broad of the home of a family of four. Though sturdy, the household's temperature dropped low enough to chill to the bone, making nights sleeping near the wood stove a necessity. A little boy, seven years of age, was huddled nearest to the crackling heat inside his woolen blanket his mother had made him only a few weeks prior.
Warmth was taken unerringly serious in the mountainous village of Salus. Winters were harsher there because of the altitude, though being located on the treeline of Mt. R?et garnered beautiful summers. The village had roughly 200 residents, filled with those of various professions due to it's rustic marketplace. Simple compared to some of the larger towns, but it at least brought the traders through every once in a while, giving those with goods to sell a source of income. The town was also home to an inn, smithy, and a mining outpost, along with the general buildings one would expect a small town to have.
Over the crackling of the fire, the mother of the boy--who had been rocking the boy's little sister to sleep--spoke up in a whisper.
"What story shall I tell tonight, little one?" The mother inquired.
The boy stirred, his eyelids drooping. After a moment, he decided."Tell me about the dragons again."
The rocking chair squeaked to a halt momentarily before it resumed its swaying. "I just told that one last night. Are you sure?"
The boy nodded, staring through the grates of the stove pretending it was the belly of one of the mythical beasts.
With a whimsical sigh, the mother began.
"Before you, I, or even my great grandmother was born, there lived a beast so complex that most chose to fear it. No other creatures that has ever existed have proven to be as mysterious and graceful as they were fearsome. They were the protectors of nature, undoubted in their dominion. Only a few hundred have lived over the past eons, yet their impact will forever send trembles through the strings of time. They were..."
"Dragons..." the boy whispered dreamily. His gazed shifted from the fire towards his mother, whom he could see through his peripheral vision. "Tell me about the black ones!"
"Let me tell the story," his mother chided, though amusement colored her tone. "Four kinds were known to exist. They all shared so basic characteristics. For instance, they were solitary creatures, only rarely seen with its own kind. As you may expect, they also tended to harbor temper problems, though some more than others. There was the green dragon who's home and domain were the forested regions. Their loyalty to their realm was unequaled, protecting it at the cost of their lives."
The mother paused for a moment to see if her child had any comments, like usual. When none came, she continued.
"There were the blue dragons who preferred the water's many coastlines. These dragons were sleek and slender, with a large wingspan for faster flight. She dove into a long-winded tale of one such blue dragon who, ages ago, saved a fishing vessel in the middle of a maelstrom by guiding it back to land.
The boy's eyes lit up in wonder. "Is that all true?"
The mother gave a soft smile. I don't know, but it's nice to think so, isn't it?"
"And what of the black ones?" He asked eagerly.
"Patience, for we are almost there. Next comes the red dragons, known to live in a variety of dry landscapes such as deserts or in volcanic regions. They were broad and ferocious, though living in such taxing environments kept their wits razor-sharp. These were known to be one of the more intelligent types of dragon.
"...And now?" the boy hinted.
The mother chuckled. "and now, we come to the most mysterious dragon of all: the black dragons. Only two have ever been known to exist in thousands of years. Their black scales made them nightmares in the night, and their size made them titans. They were said to outsize any previous dragon tenfold, and live for many centuries. It's hard to tell what has become exaggerated over the years, but it was said you could fool a sleeping black dragon for a large hill!"
The boy giggled at the thought. The mother spent several more minutes detailing the time of dragons, before finally cutting herself off.
"I hope I satisfied your need for dragon stories, little one," she started, but now it's time for--"
"I want to hear the ending," the boy interrupted.
The rocking chair once again squeaked to a stop as a looming silence built in the room. "You know this is not one with a happy ending," the mother whispered with a hint of sadness.
"I know, I want to hear it anyway."
After debating with herself, she gave in and began to ponder how to begin.
"Centuries ago, a family rose to the throne in our kingdom who called themselves the Ulysians. The throne was contested for long, but through the ashes, Rotovin Ulysian took the throne. You know him as Ulysian the Slayer."
A knot formed in the little boy's throat, but he muttered not.
"It was he who slayed the first dragon. They had found each other by chance on the borders of the Josameyn Woodlands. The dragon retaliated against the king whom had taken to razing the forest to mark the place of his new castle. Some say the king alone fought the dragon, and after a long battle, Rotovin was victorious. The green dragon was to be the first domino to fall. The glory it brought the king was unparalleled, and all considered his right to rule absolute.
"And so began a time where dragon hunting became popular and those few who managed to...best the dragons were given glory, status, and riches. It went on for generations until finally..."
The mother stopped when the boy sniffed. It was obviously upsetting him, so she chose to stop. After a silence only broken by the timber ablaze in the stove.
"Are there any dragons left?" the boy whispered coldly.
The mother looked on apologetically. I do not know, my love. If so, they have found a way to hide for over a century.
The boy turned as his eyes grew soggy. "We're the monsters."
The mother considered this as she laid her baby daughter in her crib. "Yes, we are."
Her agreement confused the little boy, who turned to look at her. She was already by his side, ready to embrace him. He took it.
"But it's never too late to be who we might've been."
Thus far it had been a disappointing hunting trip. With naught to return with except a few rabbits, Christopher began to feel the anxiety of his duties. He was 21 years of age now, and if he couldn't provide food for his sister, then no one would. He could only imagine her all by herself in the homestead; it made him antsy. He wanted to return as soon as possible, but he wanted to at least string a doe first. The meat and coin from that would at least last a while.
His hunting trip had led him several days into the eastern forest known as Lilliwood. Down the mountain he trekked to an old spot of his where deer were usually teaming. Something was off about this year though; all day he had stalked the landscape without evening coming upon so much as a track. It was demoralizing.
But finally, after endless waiting, he spotted a doe naught a hundred paces away, walking slowly with muscles tense over to a small brook that babbled through the area. With the noise and wind his ally, he flashed a hungry smile, drawing his bow and stealthily creeping closer like the perfect predator.
As he drew nearer, the doe's head suddenly darted up. Christopher froze.
There's no way he could have seen me, Christopher thought exasperated. He had to think fast; the doe would surely make a move before long.
Just before he sprung up to take a shot, the doe bolted. He cursed under he breath as he let loose the arrow and--
FFFFFFFRRROOOM!
The noise of crashing thunder overhead was instantaneously followed by darkness that covered the land around him. It was if the sun had exploded and waves of violent energy were pinning him to the ground. Surrounded by ethereal night, Chris had no control over any of his senses.
And then quickly, it was over. His eyes darted skyward in an attempt to locate the source, but his beating heart rendered his hearing useless. Panting, he quickly strung another arrow, crouched down, and waiting to see what would happen.
A minute passed. Two. Three. Slowly, he let his muscles relax and let the bowstring fall limp. He fell back onto the ground with his head in his hands. He could not even begin to comprehend what just happened, but he didn't have much time until he found out.
"Dragon!" came a far-off shout. "It went that way!"
Christopher blood turned to ice. There's no way he heard that correctly. Dragons? A real dragon? Is that what darted overhead. Pure disbelief left him shocked for several moments before he noticed a good number of shouting voices coming straight for him. With little time to react, he jumped up into one of the trees and quickly climbed as high as he would dare. As the shouting grew uncomfortably near, he froze and watched from his branch.
Underneath, twelve lightly-clad warriors darted past his tree faster than any human should be able to run. From the brief sight of them, their dark-tanned skin, grey-tanned leather armor, and their tall stature, Christopher recognized their description from one of the stories his mother had told him as a child.
"The Jamuntetai," he whispered icily. Centuries ago they had been the king's personal dragon trackers, and then in the later years, his slayers. Christopher always assumed that they disappeared with the dragons. If they were here, that could really mean that a dragon was close.
And they were headed for Salus.
The next 24 hours were an adrenaline-filled blur. Chris had run after the Jamuntetai, managing to somehow keep pace a few leagues away. He followed the tracks all the way back up the mountain until finally the tracks seem to deviate slightly from Salus. For the first time in a day, he allowed himself to pause and take a breath of relief. He felt much better knowing that this confrontation was heading away from his hometown. Still, he needed to be absolutely sure that the tracks wouldn't veer back towards his town, so he decided he would track the Jamuntetai until he was positive they were clear of the area.
Further up the mountain he went, past the treeline and stepping into the more treacherous, rocky parts of the mountain. Still, the incline wasn't too bad yet and the tracks were still fresh, so onward he followed. Soon he was satisfied that the tracks led far off from Salus, and began to backtrack.
That's when he heard the roar.
A roar so earth-shatteringly loud, he fell to the ground covering his ears. It lasted for several long seconds and then it once again drifted into silence. Chris got himself up, now just as worried as he had been. That roar couldn't have been more than a few leagues away, and if the warriors had found the dragon...
Christopher was torn. His boyhood fantasy had always been to see a dragon with his own eyes; to know that all the stories of heroics and mystery were true. But he also wanted desperately to know if his sister was alright. He knew he should return at once; the roar would've been heard clear as day in the village. She would be so frightened.
It was nearly settled, until heard the sound of another roar; quieter than the first. It wasn't a roar meant to scare or intimidate. This was a roar of distress.
Chris's eyes darted towards the mountain, then back towards Salus. He had never been so torn in his life, when finally with a loud curse, he sprinted off towards the mountain. With new-found energy, it only took him a quarter of an hour to reach the end of the tracks. They ended at the mouth of a cave.
Not just any cave. A cavern. The ceiling was so high that he first didn't recognize it as a cave. For a moment, Chris wondered if the entire mountain was hollow, but quickly rid his head of such nonsense. As he entered, it quickly became too dark to see. He swore quietly to himself as he went deeper into the tunnel as the only source of light--the mouth of the tunnel--became smaller.
That when the first sound of combat resonated off the walls, followed by another roar that forced Christopher to cover his ears once again. Suddenly, he saw light further down the tunnel. He hid behind a bolder and peered around just in time to see it.
Fire. It filled the cave further down, bright enough that made him shield his eyes. There, on the other side of hell, was the silhouette of what appeared to be doubtlessly the largest creature he had ever laid eyes on. For a brief moment, the flickering flames sparkled off the creature. Chris saw black scales. He mouth dropped open because he couldn't believe his eyes.
It was a black dragon.
And the Jamuntetai were all over it.
Chris watched in the horror of the firelight as several of the warriors could be seen on the beast, slashing and stabbing with the efficiency and coldness that could only come from years of training. Several bowmen dodged the trashing dragon and were aiming for what Chris could only guess was the dragon's weak points: mostly up towards the dragon's face or belly. The thrashing wasn't making their job easy.
With his heart pounding out of his chest, Chris ran to get a closer look, hiding behind a boulder that was too close for comfort. The ground shook like an earthquake as the dragon flailed desperately, trying to get it's assailants off. It's movements were slowing though, and Chris knew before long that the expert dragon slayers would soon claim what was possibly the last existing dragon as their own.
He knew that he couldn't stand by and watch this candle be extinguished forever. In the heat of the moment--with adrenaline pumping more than blood--he decided to act. He quickly strung his bow, peaked out from his rock, and took aim.
He closed his eyes momentarily, knowing what he was about to do and how there was no turning back. Then he refocused, and let loose the arrow.
It sailed through the air like a silent killer, and hit it's mark: one of the Jamuntetai at the base of the black dragon. He slumped over dead.
The five archers immediately switched aim towards Alex, who only by the skin of his teeth, managed to jump back behind the rock as a hail of arrows clacked off the walls and rocks around him. He knew at once that he was outmatched and it was only a matter of time before they were upon him.
It turns out that that didn't matter, for his shot had killed the warrior that had been keeping the dragon stationary. With a mighty roar, the dragon charged forward right into the archers, who scrambled to get out of the way. It was as successful as trying to dodge an avalanche.
With a final scream of panic, the dragon made quick work of the archers. Without the support, those on the dragon tried to abort their task. Most of them tried jumping off and running, but like the archers, they couldn't hope to escape the wrath of the dragon. Soon, all the warriors had been slain.
The black dragon let loose a triumphant roar that echoed off the walls, but something was off. The dragon was shaking under it's own weight, swaying dangerously. Without much time to react, the dragon collapsed on the ground, sending a tremor through the group that made Christopher topple over. After he had recovered, he slowly peaked out from his rock to access the damage. Although most of the fire had died, there were still patches on the cave wall the provided enough illumination to see how hurt the dragon really was.
It's wings were punctured in several places as they hung limp on the ground. There was an uncountable number of gashes and cuts that covered its entire body. Finally it's face, which was the closest to Chris, was bloodied with the arrows that were still embedded deep into the flesh. The beast's eyes were beginning to glaze over, and the massive eyelids threatening to close any moment.
Throwing caution to the wind, Chris exited the relative safety of his rock. The second the dragon spotted him, his eyes re-sharpened and furled into a menacing snarl. It let loose a growl the trembled the cave around them.
Chris raised his hands in omission, slowly unstrapping his bow and throwing it clear away. He gulped, wondering how the dragon would choose to kill him.
The dragon attempted to stand, but its weight proved too much and it just ended back up on the ground. Another thunderous vibration echoed through the cave. After several long moment of Chris standing as still as statue with the dragon glaring at him, he decided to speak up.
"I-I'm not...," Chris stuttered, but realized he was talking to quietly. He cleared his throat and tried again. "I'm not with them. I'm the one who shot the arrow that freed you."
He slowly motioned over towards his bow. The dragon's eyes followed his hand towards the bow. All of a sudden, the snarling ceased. The dragon's eyes lulled back and the eyelids shut closed. The beast's whole body went limp.
"Oh... oh no. Oh no, no, no, please no," Chris muttered to himself in disbelief.
Once again forgetting all imminent danger he ran over towards the beast. It was only when he was so close that he realized how truly massive it was. Everything he had heard about the black dragon was true; its head alone was the size of a small house. A row of fangs stuck out of its mouth; they were all larger than him!
He ran over to the side of the beast and touch a portion of exposed belly. After a few seconds, he felt it breath faintly. It was still alive. Chris didn't know how much of a difference it would make, but he began heal the dragon's wounds as best he could. He started with the dragon's enormous head, where he noticed arrows that punctured through the weaker scales on the dragon's face. He took some time, but he managed to remove a good number of them (the ones he could reach; some were too high) and he applied some salve to the cuts to help them close. He was lucky he brought the stuff hunting.
After he felt he did all he could with the face, he moved onto a foreleg. He couldn't do anything about the larger gashes except try to bandage them, but it was like trying to bandage a great oak. Just as he was applying the salve to some of the smaller, more manageable cuts, the dragon stirred.
Christopher froze in place as the dragon's massive neck craned around and looking down on him. They were now face-to-face. Smoke plumed out of the dragon nostrils as it began to lean forward with a menacing snarl upon its lips. It was the most terrifying thing the young hunter had ever experienced.
"I'm trying to help you!" Chris shouted. "Help! Heal! Your cuts are deep and you won't last long! Don't you see that I'm only trying to assist!"
The dragon stopped, it's eyes cold and analyzing. Chris's mouth hung open.
"Can...can you understand me?" he spoke, barely audible.
The dragon's gaze intensified.
"L-listen! I am not like them! I can't express how truthful that is! All I want to do is make sure you live through your wounds, but I can't do that if you kill me!"
The snarling ceased, but the gaze was as piercing as ever. For a minute, nothing happened. The two stared each other down with unblinking eyes. The dragon was accessing him; Chris saw great intelligence behind those eyes. Finally, for a brief moment it's eyes flickered away from Chris towards the wounds he hand been healing. Just as quickly, his eyes returned.
"I can fix this," Chris started with growing confidence. "Please let me help you. I have he means to heal you further, but not here. I have to return to my village. There's people there I trust who are a lot better at this than I."
The beast growled at the mention of other people.
Chris decided to take a chance and be bold. "You are going to die here, don't you see? I am your on chance at survival. I promise you that on my return, I will do everything in my ability to make things right."
Another minute passed in silence. The dragon's eyes shimmered in the failing firelight. Fear and doubt danced across its visage. Chris thought he would simply decide to take his chances by himself, and gobble him up.
He was never so happy to be wrong. The dragon closed it's massive eyes as it relented, craning it's neck forward to it's original spot. He laid on the ground and let out a huge breath of air. It was most likely the closest thing to a sigh a dragon could muster.
With the head out of the way, the way back became clear. Chris took the initiative and started running for the entrance.
"I'll be back, you'll see!" Chris's jaw set firmly as he focused on sprinting. He peered back at the dragon one last time. It was watching him.
"I'm not a monster," he muttered under his breath.
The story is of Christopher Boddec, a hunter from the town of Salus. In a cave higher on the mountain, he discovers a black dragon (most likely the last of its kind), being brutally attacked by the king's dragon trackers/slayers, the Jamuntetai. As the dragon appears to be losing, Chris throws all caution to the wind and decides to fire an arrow at one of the warriors and kills him. As all the warriors' attentions focus on him, it provides enough of a distraction for the dragon to go on a rampage and kill all of them.
Wounded, the dragon collapses and eventually faints. Chris does what he cans to heal the wounds that he can find, but the dragon is absolutely massive and some of the gashes go too deep. The dragon wakes up to find Chris healing him, and after initial hostilities wear off, the dragon allows Chris to leave the cave, who has vowed to return to his village, and return with more help.
After Chris returns to the village, he finds many willing to help him. They all return to the cave and begin the arduous task of healing the wounded black dragon. Several days past as the dragon becomes the main focus of the town. Everyone wants to pitch in and do what they can. Some provide food, water, and supplies. A few take the more difficult task of bandaging the larger wounds. After two weeks of this, the dragon is finally strong enough to stand, but only just.
The dragon seems intelligent enough to understand what they are saying. It's tension against the village eases up as the days go by and its strength returns.
Days turn to weeks and the dragon starts becoming accustomed to the visits of humans. Though still wary, the beast has seemed to cease most hostilities towards the people of Salus.
Something wonderful is thing discovered deeper in the cave: dragon eggs
Months pass. The dragon has been give to the name Devliot and responds to it. As Devliot begins to trust the villagers of Salus more and more, he allows them closer and closer to the clutch of eggs he seemed to have been guarding. After much talking from the villagers to Devliot, they come to an agreement that seems beneficially to the draconic race: they will help raise these dragons in secret. But for how long can this secret last? How long before the king comes looking for his missing soldiers? Who can they trust?
Your character will be a villager in Salus, though the specifics are up to you. You will also be given one of the dragon eggs for safe-keeping. It is a responsibility that you don't take lightly, and you respect the black dragon for taking such a huge risk to keep its species alive. You may choose between a green, blue, or red dragon egg (black dragons are incredibly rare. Not entirely sure I'd want another one running around considering how big they get, but if you think you can convince me otherwise then go for it). They will hatch soon after you obtain one.
Our job is to continue the healing process of the wounded dragon, and take care of the hatchlings, all while remaining undetected in a land that seems dead-set on wiping out the draconian race.
I'm very tired after writing this thread. I'll probably go back later and add some more detail about the actually RP specifics, but I'm sleepy and sick so I'll leave what I have for now. Feel free to ask any questions
Source: http://feeds.feedburner.com/RolePlayGateway
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