Fortnightly Writing Competition: Dragons, Dragons, Everywhere (Results)

Started by Frodo, Sun 12/08/2018 19:27:48

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Sinitrena

Part 3 of 3

*

“It is close, isn't it?” Layim asked, suppressing the fifth or sixth shiver that tried to run down his spine.

The chamberlain had lead them into a small room in the servants' house in the grounds of the castle and left them alone for an hour, not more.

“Yes.”

“Is that... Why can I feel it?”

“You know why.”

It was as if he heard it cry. It was so loud in his head, like the roars of the other dragons, but there was no anger in this voice. It was the cry of a baby, lonely, confused and, in a way, silent. This cry did not pass his ears or his mind on its way to his heart. It did not allow his own thoughts to stay stronger than it, it did not allow him to feel anything but what it felt.

Tears started to run down his cheeks, burning in the wound Chradragshza had left behind.

“Does everybody...?”

“No, only people touched by magic. Lord Hadren and I, who were both born with magic, you, because the dragons made you so.”

“It's... it's so loud.”

“Yes.”

It was as loud as the fire rumbling on a dragon's throat, as loud as thunder right next to him, as loud as a dragon falling from the sky. It seemed to get louder and louder.

“Please, make it stop!” The cry pierced him through and through. It filled every thought. It was as if it had found him and as if it knew that he was responsible, that he was... “Make it stop!”

“No. You are the only one who can make it stop and there is only one way. - Stay here while I entertain our host.”

Layim hardly noticed when the guardian grabbed a flute out of his old bag and left the room. He had sunk to the ground and pressed his hands over his ears. It didn't help. Flashes jerked in front of his eyes from a pain that wasn't really pain and from emotions he didn't want to have.

The guardian had said that he could make it stop. It was easy. He just had to leave, run away, run as far and as fast as he could. The dragons wouldn't hunt him, the guardian wouldn't find him, and even if he did, nothing could be worse than the cry that had suddenly filled him through and through.

He pressed his hands against the bed frame to steady himself, pressed them against the wall to keep upright. It had only started when they got close to the fledgling, it would stop when he was gone. He knew this. He didn't understand magic very well, but he knew that distance would help.

How can Lord Hadren stand this? He knew the answer. As it was so often in the last few days, he knew the answer. He knew both reasons: The dragons hadn't put him under their spell and he felt nothing for the little dragon imprisoned somewhere in this castle.

No, not somewhere, in the tower, where no window allowed the dragon to see. He had stumbled outside and his look whipped around to the tower. To the left was the gate, to the left was freedom and an end to him having anything to do with dragons, the guardian or magic, and to the right was the tower, was a prison that was far worse than the one underneath the castle where he had spend some time with his brother. To the right was magic, to the right were people who hated him for what he had done, to the right was eternal bondage.

The young dragon called to him, it cried out to him, again and again. It seemed to catch him with invisible chains, to drag him towards the tower. He fought against them, step by step, breath by breath.

And then he stopped. And then he turned around. The dragon was alone. It had no-one. Just the dragons' magic speaking..., he tried to think, he tried to believe it. He fought the thoughts down, fought against them with all his might, looking for his own thoughts, his own feelings. His brother was gone, killed by a dragon. His accomplices were dead, killed by Lord Hadren. Nothing was the same any-more. The world had changed. Slowly, the cry ebbed away, leaving room in his mind again, leaving him alone, allowing him to decide. He was alone and alone he made a decision.

He must have been there in front of the servants' house for a long while. The sun had set and lamps burned bright at the corners of the various buildings when he finally looked up again. A cold autumn wind, earlier than usual that year, blew his hair gently into his face. The courtyard was nearly empty and the few people still there at this hour did pay not attention to him. He took slow steps towards the main building, expecting with every one of them to be stopped, either by guards or by a magic that would have brought him to his knees again. But the gates of the castle were closed by now and everyone inside was allowed to be there.

And so, no guards stopped him when he pushed the heavy doors of the keep open and entered a small and empty hall. He knew the way he had to take, upwards through staircases decorated with tapestries and old swords. As these tapestries so often did, they showed scenes of heroic knights riding into battle against a large beast, lance and sword ready to strike, the horse never wavering from its path. And the dragons, colourful but not majestic and instead eerie and dangerous towered over them, flames coming out of greedy mouths, waited stupidly on the ground for their enemy to strike them. But the knights, never fearful, fought them with all their might and on the next tapestry the dragon lay on its back, a lance in its chest and a knight standing over it with one foot on the beasts stomach. They were small, no matter how imposing and worthy of conquest the artist had tried to make them out, compared to the mother dragon that had attacked Layim and even compared to Chradragshza, who he know knew was rather small, they seemed minuscule and unimportant.

Layim felt bile rising in his throat. He averted his gaze from this display of pretend victory and pressed on, taking two steps at a time as long as he could, tired and hungry as he was. He knew the room he was looking for. It took him a while to remember, but he had taken these steps before when guards dragged him out of the dungeon and into the Lord's study.

The halls and staircases, hallways and rooms, were empty of servants and guards. When he had passed a room on the second floor, he had heard voices and laughter but he did no stop to take a closer look. The little dragon wasn't among people. It was alone and lonely in the tower and so he went higher and higher.

The door was locked but Layim had grabbed a knife at some point during his walk through the castle. He didn't remember when, too focused on the one goal that led him, that dragged him towards this one room. The lock was simple and he didn't bother trying to mask his breaking it.

Now, the dragon's cries were real, not just in his mind. He heard them before he opened the door and louder once he was inside, though the dragon was not in the study. But a dragon's cry and a dragon's magic are both strong and so he knew where the hidden doorway was found behind a heavy tapestry.

At first the room was completely dark. Nearly no light fell from the single burned down lamp Layim had taken from the study into the room. The dragon's cry echoed helplessly through the darkness, filling the shadows with ghosts. Long, steady cries alternated with short ejections and sobs, steadily interrupted by hiccups and coughs. From time to time, there was a longer pause when the dragon gasped for air, only making the cries that did make it through the breathlessness all the more painful. The dragon fought against his own body, hoarse and exhausted but not willing to stop weeping.

Sometimes, little bursts of flame accompanied the dragon's sobs and allowed Layim to see. They danced around golden bars of a cage that hung from the ceiling and was too small for the fledgling but they couldn't pass an otherwise invisible barrier. They pushed against the empty air between the bars as if it were a wall. And when they touched the bars they made them glitter, vibrating with energy. The dragon was pressed into a corner of the swinging cage but never touching the bars themselves. On the wings of the dragon, that it â€" no, not it, he, Layim corrected himself immediately just knowing that this dragon was male â€" had slung around his body like a shield, angry red welts, as long and as thick as the bars, were burned into the still soft scales. His colour was beige or a dirty white, making the welts all the more prevalent and visible. A chain around his neck, made from the same golden material as the cage, fixed him to both sides of the cage, leaving hardly any room for him to move. The chain, too, had left a fiery red ring on his scales.

With every sob, the dragon's body shook and with every shiver it touched the bars again, making him flinch away again.

“Shhhh,” Layim said, stepping forward, past a bookcase and past instruments he paid no attention to and put his lamp on a table with bottles and boxes. “Shhhh, I'm here to help you.”

The dragon's head, about as big as a fist, whipped around, every muscle in his body tensed. He pulled on his chains, now ignoring the pain they obviously caused him, his wings unfurled and stretched. He snarled, baring his teeth and sending a steady stream of fire towards Layim, that was stopped nearly immediately. He opened his mouth dangerously wide and filled the air with the loudest roar he could muster. But hoarse, tired and young as he was, it sounded more like the yapping of a dog.

“Shhhh,” Layim said again, “I'll get you out of there, Fchvuch, I promise. That's... that's your name, isn't it? Fchvuch?”

The dragon narrowed his eyes to slits, fixing him with more panic than anger in his expression. For a long time, he stared at the boy, still trying to scream. Layim came slowly closer, not sure if the cage would really stop the dragon's fiery breath. He stretched his hand, the one not holding his knife, towards his snout when suddenly one distinct roar left the beast's mouth.

Liar!

He only heard a roar but the word still echoed through his mind, vibrating against his skull.

Fchvuch snapped in Layim's general direction, too far away to touch him.

Thief!

“Shh, Fchvuch, I'm really trying to get you out of there. Really. Please, please calm down, I'm trying to help. I'm sorry. I want to help.”

Go! Away!

“I'll leave, as soon as I've got you out of this cage.” With every word, he made one step forward towards the cage. He only hesitated for a second before he touched the bars, not sure if its magic would burn him as well or if the little dragon would bite or roast him.

The cage felt warm, vibrating, but otherwise like every other bar of a prison. Layim felt around its edges for a lock, not able to properly see in the faint light. He found the lock at the bottom of the cage and snapped it open with the knife. It offered little resistance. The cage was built with magic to keep a dragon inside, not to keep a magic-less thief out.

The dragon had flinched back again, eyeing his hands with tense expectation. He snarled and growled while smoke puffed out of his nostrils in small clouds but for the moment he waited silently.

Carefully, Layim put his hand into the cage, always waiting for Fchvuch to react. “I'm really not so bad,” he murmured just to say anything, while popping the chain from the dragon's neck. “And I'm really not going to hurt you.”

You! Did!

He had obviously said the wrong thing. Fchvuch's claws dug deep into his skin, pinning his hand to the bottom of the cage. Little flames shot out of his mouth and engulfed his fingers for a second. They stopped right away in the coughing fit of a little dragon and in light that fell suddenly on his back.

Layim spun around and Fchvuch dug his paws against the ground, grinding his claws for a moment deeper into Layim's hand and then he flapped his wings and used the air to jump on Layim's shoulder, hissing at the man who had just entered the room.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here? A thief who wants to steal from his lord? Or one that fancies himself a guardian?”

The little dragon hissed and used Layim's shoulder as a springboard to propel himself into the air, flapping with his wings wildly, trying to keep steady for the few steps he was from the man's face, his claws unsheathed. Fchvuch had trouble flying straight, his body fell and rose and the only energy moving him forward was the power from his legs when he jumped.

The man, Lord Hadren, grinned, watching the struggles of the little dragon. “I think not,” he said lifting his hand. A golden shimmer formed around his. “Go back to your cage.”

Won't!

Fchvuch tried to pounce onto the man, but it was more a falling than a striking and his claws padded helplessly through empty air.

The hand, filled with magic, backhanded the little dragon, throwing him against a wall.

“And you, I know you. Come to get your hard-earned pay?”

“I know how you pay...,” Layim  said and pressed his hand harder around the knife. He held it in front of his body, aware that it would do him little good against a wizard.

The grin became wider, showing bright white teeth in his lean face. Snorting, he ran his hand through his long grey hair. “I can't leave witnesses, you understand. I can't risk an actual guardian coming here, now, can I?”

“There already is!” Layim said - everything to make the lord pause, everything to give Vettian some time to come and rescue him. Please, please be close, please. Vettian, Chradragshza, anyone...

Lord Hadren laughed. “Yes, that is likely. I have no idea how you survived, boy, but... - Argh!”

Fchvuch had bitten him in the leg, making him jump. The little dragon moved his head from the left to the right, shaking it, trying to rip a piece of flesh out of the leg.

Deeming the dragon more dangerous and more painful than the boy, Lord Hadren readied another dose of magic in his hand. In that moment, Layim jumped forward, the knife about to strike.

In the last moment, magic struck them both, sending them both flying. This time Fchvuch was ready. His wings flapped mightily before he hit the wall a second time and steadied him. Fire shot out from his mouth, accompanied by a tiny roar.

Layim, lying on the ground with his head spinning, saw them bump against an invisible wall between the lord and the dragon.

“I said: Go back to your cage, boy. Behave!” He came towards the Fchvuch, his wall moving with him.

Fchvuch coughed, sending the flames out in little puffs instead of one steady stream now.

Layim couldn't get up, couldn't think. His head throbbed. The knife was gone, fallen somewhere he couldn't see. His muscles didn't want to follow his orders.

The wizard put his hands around the dragon's neck, catching him out of the air, forcing him closer to himself, no matter how much the dragon hit the air with his wings. His claws scratched the man's arm but he ignored them, turning towards the cage. “Didn't think of protecting it against normal magic-less thieves,” he mused, “An oversight that will be rectified.”

Quick steps could be heard from the staircase and Lord Hadren wheeled around, the helplessly fighting baby dragon still in his hands.

“So he wasn't lying. I'll kill it if you try something.”

Vettian observed the scene for a moment, looking from the helpless Fchvuch to Layim on the ground. His look stayed for a moment on the boy, noticing the bleeding hand and the bruise on his head, but then his eyes drifted back to the dragon. For a second that seemed like eternity he just stared at the other man. But his attention was not on him but on the dragon. He bowed in the same way he had before, the head slightly to the side and only nodding once, while his eyes never left him.

“Fchvuch,” he said, ignoring the man threatening the fledgling, “honoured am I. Do you wish him to suffer or die?”

Die!

Vettian bowed again. Layim started to shiver when he saw the golden light form in the hands of Lord Hadren again but then...

Then the air was filled with heat. The walls, impenetrable before, not even letting light into the room, now melted before his eyes. Something, magic probably, though Layim really couldn't tell, pried the hands from Fchvuch's neck and the dragon bounced again through the air while Vettian stood impassive before him. He hadn't moved a muscle to free Fchvuch and he now moved only his cold blue eyes as he pushed Lord Hadren towards a hole forming in the wall. For a second, moonlight added to the confusing light in the room, then a big head obscured it again from Layim's view. Fire shot through the hole, engulfing Fchvuch and his former captor. The little dragon cried, for the first time, with joy, turning so that his wings could catch the hot air underneath and boost him higher up. The tips of the segments of his wings seemed to dance on the stream of fire that stopped right in front of Vettian, not held by any kind of magic but controlled by the dragon outside the tower. A small smile played in the corners of his mouth while he watched.

Lord Hadren stumbled towards the hole and right into the flames. His magic shield protected him and so he stood engulfed, the fire branching at his body. Chradragshza's fire didn't stop, melting the wall and enlarging the hole, and the flames sizzled and cackled through the room. But other than that and the weak cries of joy from Fchvuch, all was silent. The bigger dragon did not roar or cry, she did thunder with her legs against the side of the tower, she did not strike the air in deafening beats of her wings. Impassive, like Vettian, she grilled the inside of the room, never wavering.

But Hadren wavered. He stumbled forward, towards Vettian but the guardian held up one hand, stopping him in his tracks without touching him.

“He is yours,” Vettian said, still mainly ignoring the other man and only speaking to the little dragon.

Fchvuch hissed and then he pounced on the man, scraping the skin away from his face with unsheathed claws.

Chradragshza's fire ceased and she landed on the edge of the hole now big enough for her with her hind legs, shoulders and head stretching into the room. Everything still burned. Tables and chairs had caught fire, the glass bottles had shattered in the heat and the cage, impervious to the magic of a baby dragon, dripped golden tears onto the floor.

Layim still lay on the ground, watching, too confused and too hurt to get up and do anything.

Screams from Hadren now filled the air. He was too weakened by the constant stream of magic fire to protect himself against Fchvuch's claws and he ripped his face to shreds. Hadren had sunk to the ground and the dragon clung to his head while he bit him again and again. Red streaks of blood added to the red welts on his dirty white scales. Finally, after what seemed far too long, with screams filling the air the whole time, Fchvuch snapped at the throat of his former captor. His teeth went deep into the flesh, silencing him and when Fchvuch breathed his own fire into the wound, there was no magic left to protect the lord. Foamy blood boiled out of the wound and silenced his last screams.

Standing on the man's chest, Fchvuch spread his wings. With his paws he pounded onto his ribs, than he roared into the fire.

Dead!

Yes, a different voice throbbed through Layim's head, deep and old, never will he hurt you again, Fchvuch of Sacham, the Island of Storms.

Vettian, who had never moved at all, his hand still in the air, while the dragon killed the man, now knelt down next to him. He waited for Fchvuch to allow him to touch the man, then he verified that he was really dead. He took a dagger from his belt, opened Lord Hadren's shirt with a quick cut and then he carved a sign into his chest, never showing any kind of emotion the whole time.

When he was done, he looked up at the little dragon, who watched him curiously, and smiled. He put his hand underneath the dragon's little mouth, never touching him, but waiting for him to do whatever he felt like. After a while, he asked:

Friend?

Chradragshza's head came close to them both and her split tongue licked over Fchvuch's head.

As good a friend as you could wish for.

With that, the dragon put his head into Vettian's hand.

“We should leave,” he said, “Chradragshza, extinguish the fire, please.”

This place shall burn to the ground. The fire shall eat the tower and everything in it, it shall...

“No, the people here are not responsible. The rune shall be their warning, nothing else. Extinguish the fire.”

She looked at him questioningly for a moment, then she blew air into the room, letting the fire flicker to soot like a candle. One smooth swing with her front leg later and Layim found himself between her claws.

Chradragshza jumped from the edge and stood flying in the night air, now in complete darkness, just a shadow in front of the sky. Vettian took Fchvuch onto his shoulder, then he jumped after the dragon, landing on her back.

Layim closed his eyes.

*

The landing, just minutes later, was surprisingly gentle. Chradragshza took extra care to come down soft, only on her hind legs, and to put the young thief on a green patch of grass, close to where they had landed earlier in the day. Layim couldn't tell, not willing to open his eyes again or move at all. He just lay there, breathing in and out, listening to Vettian calmly and quietly talking to the little dragon.

He didn't understand the words and didn't want to anyway. Only when he felt a presence next to him did he move slightly to the side. Chradragshza had put her head down next to him and her long split tongue probed and prodded him gently.

Forgiveness is hard earned. Usually, stupidity is not the best currency, Chradragshza chided him gently. There was laughter and playfulness in her voice he would have considered impossible from a dragon just days ago.

Vettian looked over to them. “You are one to talk. Attacking a castle? I'll have to spend hours, maybe even months, with the king to make this right again. What were you thinking?”

The human youngling called me! He was in danger, she defended herself.

“And you listened to him? That's great, just great.” Vettian came over to them, Fchvuch on his shoulder, sleeping and nuzzling up against his neck. He knelt down next to him and held his hands over the throbbing wound in Layim's hand, healing it. “You think he was worth saving?”

So do you.

“Maybe. Tell me one thing, boy: Did you save Fchvuch because the dragons' magic forced you or because you wanted to?”

“It... I... It was the right thing to do.” If Layim was ever sure of anything it was this.

“No, it wasn't. It was stupid and impulsive and it nearly cost you your life. And Fchvuch's life. And because of this decision, a whole kingdom might be up in arms soon. Probably not, we'll see, but it is possible.”

“I'm sorry.” And in this word, there was so much more than an apology for just this one decision.

“I know you are, Layim, I know you are. - Was it your decision?”

“Yes. Yes, it was.”

“You may leave, should you wish to do so.”

Layim just shook his head and leaned against Vettian, too tired, it felt, to ever get up again. He fell asleep, tickling a dozing and silently weeping dragon under the chin.

Frodo

Fantastic entries, Wiggy and Sinitrina.  :cheesy:

Only 1 day left, people.  :wink:

Durinde

This was the first bit of fiction that I've written in a while so this was a tough one for me. I tried taking the story in a few different tangents that didn't work out, so that's why the whole thing feels truncated and a piece of a larger world. Very rough around the edges.

Green and Me

    The all-too-familiar jolt of something landing on the bed pulled me from sleep. The first few times it had happened, I had bolted upright, my sleep-addled mind unsure of what to make of the very alien presence landing next to me. Now, it was a daily occurrence. I knew if I kept my eyes closed and didn't move much, I might be able to snatch a few more precious moments of rest before going about my day.

    I felt the presence shift as it curled its cat-sized body into a ball next to me. I knew by now that the “intruder” was attempting to absorb body heat in the cool autumn morning air. I remained still, trying to cling to the last vestiges of a half-forgotten dream. It was fruitless, sleep would not come again this morning.
   
    I opened my eyes to a darkened room. The sun hadn't risen yet and it was Saturday, meaning I could relax without the rush of getting ready for work. A glance at the clock confirmed that it was a good half-hour before sunrise.
   
    I looked at the curled mass that had balled itself up next to me. Occasionally, I would catch a white wisp rising from its nostrils, and the faintest scent of woodsmoke. As somebody who enjoyed camping, I loved the smell. It was a benefit of owning a green.
   
    I gave myself a few more moments of relaxation before I pulled myself into a sitting position. A snort of annoyance broke the morning silence as the animal was suddenly robbed of a very warm and very comfortable spot.    
   
    Reaching down I began to scratch the creature under its chin. The animal that I uncreatively dubbed “Green” nuzzled my hand. It repositioned itself on the bed and looked up at me expectantly.

    It's not that hard to describe what green looks like, take western description of a dragon and scale it down to the size of a large housecat. Wings(check), scales(check), claws(check), ability to breath fire (eh… best we can do is smoke).

    And if your wondering why I haven't called Green a he or she, well that's because dragons are sexless. The last thing D-Pet wants is for private citizens to cut into their profits by breeding their own dragons.

    Swinging my legs from beneath the warm covers I sat on the edge of the bed. Green quickly moved onto the still-warm pillow and settled in. They would probably snooze a couple of more hours in that spot if I'd let them.

    The whole idea of owning a dragon was a still very new concept to myself and the world. Until a few months prior, they simply didn't exist. Although altering human genetics was still a very big no-no, recent lobbying had relaxed the rules on other species A LOT and a few companies jumped on the chance to create “Designer Pets”. Up until that point, they were fiddling with lifespans and intelligence, making sure that Fido lived to a ripe old age and Mrs. Pussypants would leave the dead mice outside. Fantastical creatures were a completely new development.

    I guess I should explain how I got Green. At 18 I had finished high school without any real plan for my future. After a failed attempt at college and a year working retail jobs, I joined the military as a vehicle technician. Aside from 6-months in a hot and sandy country, I spent the next three years working in the motor pool of an unremarkable base smack in the middle of the country.
   
    When it came time to renew my contract, I decided that I didn't want to spend the next few decades of my life in the army and decided to strike it out on my own. Applying for pretty much everything and anything that wasn't retail, I found a job listing for a maintenance worker for a national park.
   
    The maintenance job was a pretty good gig. The pay was OK, and housing was included in the form of a smallish, rustic cabin. A lot of my day was keeping the ranger's ATVs and trucks running as well as maintenance on various generators and pumps in and around the park's facilities. I'm was also an extra hand if the rangers need help with anything.
   
    It was early spring, and I had gotten a call from management to “take a look” at a private vehicle had broken down inside the park's boundaries. Normally I wouldn't be called to work on a non-park vehicle, but it turns out that this particular truck was owned by D-Pet. The same D-Pet that had made a fairly sizeable donation to the park. Subsequently, they had gotten permission send a team of scientists to study wildlife behaviour in the park during the off-season. Management wanted us park employees to treat any member of the D-Pet team as VIPs.
   
    I grabbed my toolbox and headed out on one of the park's pick-ups. The gravel roadways of the park were still extremely pitted and rough from the winter's snow and frost, so it made for a bumpy ride.  It would be a couple of weeks at least before we would open to the public, so there was still plenty of time to get the roadways graded to make things a little more public friendly.
   
    I rounded the corner and saw a group of people standing around a white truck with the D-Pet logo. The truck was parked next to the entrance of a hiking trail with its hood propped open. The open hood concerned me a little, the last thing I needed was an amateur poking about an engine and possibly making things worse.
The small group consisted of one very bored looking man of considerable height, a woman on a cell-phone. Off to the side was Andy, the park ranger that had been assigned to “guide” this particular group. It had been Andy that had called in the breakdown in the first place.
   
    I stopped the pick-up and pulled the toolbox off the passenger seat.  Andy strolled over and gave a head-shake. “Not sure what the issue is,” he said. “Ran fine on the way in. We hiked out to the D-pet monitoring site and made our way back after a few hours watching some deer. Couldn't get it to start when we got back”
   
    “What's with the popped hood,” I questioned as I brought the toolbox towards the truck.
   
    “I checked the oil,“ he admitted. “That's about all I know how to do in a situation like this.”
   
    “And?”
   
    “Seemed fine, “ he shrugged. “I figured I'd leave the hood open so you could take a look when you got here.”
   
    I nodded and walked to the front of the truck. The large man gave me a quick up-and-down before returning to looking bored. The woman seemed absorbed in her cellphone conversation. I could hear snippets and I could only hear one side of the exchange. Talk of beta testing and shareholders. Must be less of a science-type and more of a corporate-type.
   
    Everything looked OK inside the hood. I bent down and pulled the voltmeter from my toolkit and tested the battery. I found my problem.
As I unhooked the voltmeter, I noticed the phone-woman had finished her conversation and was headed my way.
   
    “It's the battery isn't it,” she asked.
   
    “Seems like it,“ I confirmed. “Going to give you a boost. You'll probably want to replace it ASAP.”
   
    “Thought so,” she said, seemingly self-satisfied by this. “Name?”
   
    “Alec McEvoy,” I said extending my hand.
   
    I should mention that during my youth I had decided to get a tattoo on my forearm. I read a lot of fantasy when I was a kid and decided I wanted a fire breathing dragon because… well dragons are awesome. It was a nice piece of art, super stylized and vibrant, but I became more self-conscious of it as I grew older. The woman's eyes locked onto the ink on my arm for a few moments before taking my hand. “Dragon,” she said.
   
    “Yeah,“ I chuckled, a little red with embarrassment. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”
   
    “I like it,” she said. “McEvoy… Dragon.”
   
    Without giving me a chance to respond, the woman turned and headed towards the large man who was near the back of the truck. I shrugged at the abruptness of our exchange and headed towards my own truck to retrieve the jumper cables. I could see her saying something to the large man, who now had a notepad open and was scribbling something down as she spoke to him.
   
    The boost happened without much fanfare and without any further exchange from the woman or from her large friend. Andy pointed them in the direction to the park exit before climbing into my truck for a lift back to the ranger station.
   
    “They've made arrangements with one of the local garages to get the battery replaced,” Andy said as we drove along the bumpy gravel road.
   
    “Quite the… interesting pair,” I said.
   
    “Yeah, corporate muckety-mucks here to check on the scientists in the field. Studying animal behavior. The guy didn't talk at all, and the woman… well my few exchanges with her have been kinda odd.”
   
    “I uh noticed.”
   
    “She did ask me what my favorite fantasy animal was,” Andy shrugged.
   
    “Yeah, she took a weird interest in my tattoo.”
   
    “Genetic manipulation…” Andy said. “As if mother nature didn't have enough to worry about with her own creations.”
   
    I dropped Andy at the ranger station and things pretty much went back to normal after that. The D-Pet folks departed a few weeks later and I had pretty much forgotten about the encounter. Mid-summer, I received an e-mail from park management, asking if it was OK for them to give a D¬-Pet representative my phone number.
   
    “They want to thank you for your help in the spring,” the e-mail said.
   
    I e-mailed back and gave permission. Looking back at the interaction in the spring, I expected the call to be very brief and very formal. The call came a few hours later.
   
    “Mr. McEvoy,” a woman's voice inquired. It sounded familiar.
   
    “Yes, that's me.”
   
    “Mr. McEvoy, “ the voice paused for a moment. “I'm Ellen Keats, CEO of D-Pet. We met in the park a few months ago.”
   
    So, it was the woman. She continued. “I personally wanted to pay you back for helping us out.

    “It was no big deal ma'am, I was just doing my job.”

    “Mr. McEvoy,” she continued, ignoring my last statement. “I would love to offer you a free beta-testing opportunity for or new line of products. You love dragons right?”
   
    Baffled, I didn't know how to respond. “Dragons?”
   
    “Yes Mr. McEvoy, have you ever considered owning one?”
   
   

WHAM

I've yet to read it, but... HOLY HELL, SINITRENA!
Are... are you all right? Need an ice bag, either for the brain or the fingers?

I look forward to reading all this!
Wrongthinker and anticitizen one. Pending removal to memory hole. | WHAMGAMES proudly presents: The Night Falls, a community roleplaying game

Frodo

Quote from: WHAM on Sun 26/08/2018 10:03:45
I've yet to read it, but... HOLY HELL, SINITRENA!
Are... are you all right? Need an ice bag, either for the brain or the fingers?

I look forward to reading all this!

I'm SO glad Sinitrena got her entry in!  :cheesy:

Sinitrena

Thanks, I just hope quality is as good as quantity. And I'll take a nice glass of white wine for my head please. ;-D

Baron

My experience of white wine is that it's bad for the head.  Really, really bad for the head.... (roll)

My entry is about two-thirds done.  I'm pretty confident I can flesh out the rest this evening.

WHAM

Quote from: Baron on Sun 26/08/2018 17:23:40
My entry is about two-thirds done.  I'm pretty confident I can flesh out the rest this evening.

*eyes the clock in a worried fashion*
Wrongthinker and anticitizen one. Pending removal to memory hole. | WHAMGAMES proudly presents: The Night Falls, a community roleplaying game

Frodo

Do you want an extension, Baron?  :smiley:
Also, does Ponch still want to submit anything?  :confused:

I'll leave this open until Tuesday evening - an extra 2 days.  :wink:

Baron

If you keep extending the deadline, I'll keep procrastinating! ;-D  As it stands now I'm already planning to retire further west so that I can eke out a few more hours before the comps officially close. (roll)

Quest for Concord

   â€œDecay, destruction, ruin, and woe,” Carla Fae pronounced as she surveyed the devastation of the ruined city.  Great skeletons of steel stood sentinel over the tumbled concrete and rust that made the whole terrain a treacherous web of danger.

   â€œThat's catchy,” Debbie Lee replied as she spat dust through the gap of her missing front teeth.  “You gonna put that in your dairy book?”

   Carla Fae shook her head.  “I think it's Shakespeare.  And it's a diary, not a dairy.”

   Debbie Lee took a big swig of brown water.  It might have been clear once, before she added a dram of whiskey to kill off the bacteria.  But chances were it was brown from the start.  “One forgotten word's as good as another,” she said.

   There was a long moment of silence as the two women listened to the distant bleating of a motorcycle echoing through the desolation.

   â€œThere are still those of us who believe that there is much knowledge to be gleaned from the Olden Days,” Carla Fae said at last.

   Debbie Lee waved her hand over the ruined landscape.  “Yeah, looks like them folk had it all figured out.”

   â€œMaybe older Olden Days,” Carla Fae conceded.  “Before the Tyranny of Science, people believed in powerful beings that could raze the Earth and remake it again.”

   Debbie Lee spat again.  “I'm not interested in you running your mouth on about Gord.”

   â€œIt's god, not Gord.  And I'm not talking about some invisible man in the sky.  I'm talking about the dragons.”

   Debbie Lee rolled her eyes skyward but said nothing.

   â€œThink about it,” Carla Fae continued.  “The metal-faced wizard visits in the night.  The king meets with his council and summons all his knights for a quest.  The knights all charge off on their bikes into this nest of shrapnel and debris.  There's something important going on here, and I think it has to do with dragons.”

   â€œWhy dragons?” Debbie Lee asked skeptically.  “Why not something real, like sky spiders or zombie coyotes?”

   â€œBecause of the mark,” Carla Fae said simply.  She remade the complicated design in the dust.  Debbie Lee recognized the stick-boy kicking the ball next to the number five, above an A and an E, both with too many cross lines.  The men had all painted it on to their shields before roaring off into the purple haze of dawn.  “It means dragon in old take-out speak.”

   â€œSo what?  The knights couldn't find shit if it was dangling from the ends of their noses.  Remember that Grail fiasco?”

   Carla Fae shook her head.  “We both know the men folk are all just quish junkies and paste heads.  That's why we have to do this.”

   Debbie Lee looked sideways at her bookish friend.  “You said we were raiding an abandoned hooch mart!”

   â€œThat was just to get you out of the brooding hall.  I tell you, Dee-El, there's something to the legends, and the metal-faced wizard sure thought he was on to something this time.  What do you say, old pal?  Care to show the boys how questing should really be done?”

   *   *   *   *   *

   The purple glow of dawn receded into the dull green glow of their third day in the ruins.  Debbie Lee rolled off the rusty springs that had provided her with a surprisingly comfortable night's sleep.  She  horked her morning loogie and wondered idly if she'd be lucky enough to find another pigeon to juice today.  Carla Fae was carefully reading some graffiti prophecies by roach-glow in the deeper recessions of the underpass.

   â€œWhat's that smell?” Debbie Lee asked as she approached, suddenly noticing an enticing waft.

   â€œWhat?  Oh, I couldn't sleep, so I rustled up some roadkill bacon.”

   â€œNice!”

   Debbie Lee tucked happily into her breakfast while Carla Fae continued to study the wall.

   â€œWell?” Debbie Lee asked, licking the last of the grease from her fingers and picking the hair from between her teeth.

   â€œThe text is damaged,” Carla Fae said absently, gesturing at the pock-marked wall.  “But, I think it's indicating the presence of a dragon temple in a pavilion on a floating mountain.”

   Debbie Lee knew most of her letters, but struggled to make any kind of sense out their infinite combinations.  “It looks like the scribblings of a booze-mummed toddler.”

   â€œLook here,” Carla Fae pointed.  “It's stylized, but if you squint you can see the dragon symbol.”

   Debbie Lee squinted real hard, but... wait.  Now that it was pointed out to her, it did look an awful lot like the dragon symbol they'd been chasing.  “Well, I'll be a floating brain-squid's mother.  I do see it!”

   â€œI'm just struggling with the floating mountain bit,” Carla Fae confided absently, deep in thought.

   Debbie Lee scrunched up her eyes and let her own mind-gears spin.  She was well aware that she was more the muscle in their partnership, but she did enjoy firing the odd neuron now and then.  “Maybe we can see the mountain from up high on one of these steel towers?” she thought aloud.

   Carla Fae shook her head.  “No, they're too precarious.  If we don't fall off, we're as likely to die in a collapse.  And there's not a lot of cover up there if it starts raining sky spiders.”

   â€œGood point,” Debbie Lee agreed.  She picked her ass to help get her thinking juices flowing.  “What if we went to the edge of the dust bowl?  It's nice and open there-?”

   Carla Fae snapped her fingers.  “Debbie Lee, you are a nerd-lord!  In ancient times the dust bowl was flooded by a great brine puddle.  The floating mountain was probably a hill that stuck up out of the brine, appearing to float!”

   Debbie Lee was getting excited, too.  “So all we have to do is find a hill in the dust bowl with a monument on top!  Well, that and cross the dust-bowl without being attacked by zombie yotes or sky spiders....”

   Carla Fae frowned briefly, then brightened.  “I think it's time we jacked a hog.”

   Debbie Lee smiled back.  Jacking was one of her strong points.

   *   *   *   *   * 

   The two friends climbed the great stairs in front of the monument.  Behind them stretched the parched barrens of the old brine bottom, and behind that loomed the stark skyline of the rusty ruins.  To the west a cloud of sky spiders seethed menacingly in a growing wind that was beginning to churn up the dust.

   Debbie Lee spat an impressive fourteen-footer downwind.  “Storms brewin',” she said.

   Carla Fae was entranced by the carved stone decoration of the ancients that towered above them.  “Storms are but a symptom,” she replied absently.  “They spawn from a far greater evil unleashed by the hubris of the ancients.”

   â€œEr....?” Debbie Lee responded.

   Carla Fae shook her head and smiled.  “Perhaps the dragons can help us?”

   â€œI reckon we're about to find out.”

   Together they climbed the remaining steps and passed over a great serpentine seal carved into the floor stones.  Even Debbie Lee could decipher the unmistakable pattern of the dragon's mark.  The building itself seemed to moan, and then the floor vibrated perceptibly.

   â€œSo... what exactly is a dragon?” Debbie Lee asked with an affected calmness.

   â€œHeh, how silly of me not to share.  I've read a lot of conflicting accounts, but there are some basic similarities.  They are powerful armoured beasts, capable of flight and making fire out of thin air.”

   â€œHuh,” Debbie Lee sniffed.  “Kinda like men, then.”

   Carla Fae furrowed her brow pensively.  “Some accounts mention great wisdom,” she said at length.

   â€œAh,” was all Debbie Lee replied.

   â€œ...But others stress the qualities of greed and gluttony.”

   Debbie Lee arched an eyebrow, but said nothing.  A sudden clap of thunder made them both jump.

   â€œThey are extremely long-lived,” Carla Fae continued in a quavering voice.  “And they have impeccable memories.  They will remember the Olden Days, and the many eras before that.  They will remember what brought the desolation upon the Earth.  In their great wisdom, they might even know how to-”

   They both froze in place as a fell shadow swooped over them, but in the merest blink it had vanished as suddenly as it had come.

   â€œUh....  So what do we do when we meet a dragon?” Debbie Lee asked.

   Carla Fae opened her mouth to respond when suddenly a much louder clap of thunder crashed through the interior of the monument.  The ground lurched sideways and they both lost their footing.     

   Debbie Lee was the first back up on her feet.  “See-Fay!” she hissed, straining her senses to detect the direction of the attack.  “What do we do now?”

   But Carla Fae just lay on the ground, the most peaceful look glazed over her face.

   â€œOh shit,” Debbie Lee muttered to herself.  Then there was another clap of thunder.  Almost instinctively she leapt, the sideways lurch of the ground this time sliding her unconscious friend to rest against the statue of an ugly serpent, but she herself landed safely on the ground once it had steadied once more.

   â€œImpressive...” a booming voice echoed.

   Debbie Lee squinted through the gloom in all directions, but she could not detect the source of the voice.  “Er.... Thanks,” was all she could manage.

   Two glowing eyes appeared against the blackness of the high ceiling, and they slowly grew until a monstrously huge face of a bearded lizard resolved out of the gloom.  “Hmmmm....  Brave and skilled, and yet also well mannered?” it rumbled.  “What is become of men at the end of days?”

   Debbie Lee did not quite know what to make of the giant talking beast.  Her bladder had already made up its mind and had completely surrendered, but something inside her mind screamed at her not to follow suit.  So, despite shaking inside worse than the floor had just moments ago, Debbie Lee drew herself up her full height and replied: “the men are a bunch of cunt-faced idiots!”

   Great.  A quest to the death to find salvation for the world, and that's what comes spilling out of her word hole?  Inwardly she kicked herself, but was careful to keep her eyes locked on the dragon's.

   To her great surprise, the beast reared its head in laughter.  The building shook, and she couldn't help glancing at her unconscious friend to make sure that no further misfortune had befallen her.

   â€œToo true,” the dragon boomed.   Then a guileful expression crossed its face.  “I suppose you know better?”

   Debbie Lee considered this.  She figured it was mostly true, but in her experience it had never paid to play up one's smarts.  Better to be underestimated and surprise, rather than come across as arrogant and disappoint.  “Me, I don't know nothing.”

   The dragon blinked, then lowered its head again, thankfully to a less threatening distance.  “Humble as well...  Tell me, are there any noble qualities that you do not possess?”

   â€œEr... I'm ok with no bull.”

   At this the dragon laughed once more.  “Tell me, my straight-talking fellow, what is it that you are trying to achieve in your quest?”

   â€œUh.....” Debbie Lee stalled.  “Well, see the thing is, my friend was kind of in charge of most of the figuring on this trip.  I think....  I think she wanted to know how we could go about fixin' up this shit hole.  Or something like that.”

   The dragon stared at her for many long moments.  “Quite,” was all he said.  In a flash he struck with his tail, shattering the statue looming over Carla Fae's body, sending debris flying back away from her, but leaving a shiny orb floating in the air just above.  On the backswing the dragon caught the orb with his tail and brought it with impossible speed up to Debbie Lee's face.  “There is something you will want to see, then.”

   Debbie Lee stepped back despite herself.  “Uh, no.  I'm afraid I'm not very smart when it comes to figurin' and such.”

   The dragon's head lurched forward so that it was eye to eye with her.  “That is precisely why it must you,” he rumbled, and then his tail slowly brought the glowing orb back between them. 

   The orb seemed to open into the yawning chasm of history, and suddenly the nature of the world was perfectly clear to her.
   


Frodo

Okay, that's it people.  Time to start voting.   :smiley:
Thanks to everyone who entered.  :grin:
Sinitrena, hope your brain, and your hand, has recovered from that mega-epic story.  :cheesy:



We have 5 brilliant entries: 

Hard Bargain by Wham
Dragons by Wiggy
Dragon's Guardian by Sinitrena
Green And Me by Durinde
Quest For Concord by Baron


Please vote on:
- BEST CHARACTER
- BEST WRITING
- BEST STORY
- BEST ATMOSPHERE
- BEST DRAGON



You can vote for the same story in more than one category if you wish.  e.g.  If you think Story X has Best Writing and Best Atmosphere, that's fine. 
Voting will stay open until Tuesday 4 September.

Wiggy

It's a "lay down misere" as far as I can see, Sinitrena gets all my votes in all categories; that wasn't just a story - it was a novella, and probably should be expanded into a short story or series of same. Google "Pantera books" and follow the directions - you'll be published! (If you can find the descendants of the publishers of Alexandre Dumas and Charles Dickens, then you're in clover 'coz they got paid by the word!) Saucer of milk please...thank-you, where was I?

There's no point in embellishing the other worthy entries, 'coz all my points are gone. Once again I pay tribute to the conveners and participants and applaud the high standard demonstrated. My next story will have to start with; "Rikki the magic pixie went to visit Daisy Bumble...."

Sinitrena

WHAM: An interesting idea: dragons that need to get used to the bureaucracy of a human state where they just don't fit. I like the concept and I feel a bit sorry for Ferrungis, but at the same time he comes across as very "toothless", just not very dragon-like. Granted, he is in a bad situation, but he also seems slightly stupid. After all, he apparently has enough money to buy his food alive, so why not start to grow his own herd? Okay, it's probably not allowed, and the taxes and fines... Yeah, poor guy (laugh)

Wiggy: I like poetry and the different definition of dragon for your work is a nice variety to the other stories. The execution could use some work. The meter is all over the place and the rhyme scheme is also very irregular. Both isn't bad in itself. It works for a lot of pieces, but when it becomes difficult to read a poem fluently (is that the right expression in English?) without stumbling, it might need a bit of additional work. It's not bad from a content point of view, though, just missing a bit of structure.

Durinde: A dragon story that doesn't dragon enough. Again, a very interesting concept: genetically engineered dragons as pets are inherently interesting, which makes me all the more disappointed that the story is actually about someone servicing a car. I think the reason why Alec is chosen as a beta tester is a bit flimsy. There are countless people who would love to have a dragin as a pet (me included) so it couldn't be difficult to find testers. And if they don't want just countless, irresponsible fan-boys and -girls, a randonly chosen person with a dragon tatoo also doesn't seem like the best choice. I'd prefered reading about life with a pet dragon.

Baron: I'm not sure when and where this story takes place. It feels like a post-apocalyptic world based on our own. Which makes me wonder where the dragons come from? This story has the beginnings of great world building but it needs a bit more. And it feels like it ends too suddenly. That's a compliment on the one hand because it means I wanted to read more, but on the other hand it means that the story feels unfinished to me. But, as always, great writing otherwise.


BEST CHARACTER: Baron, I like the two girls.
BEST WRITING: Baron. I tend to give this category to poetry, so Wiggy is a close second, but Baron's writing is just this tiny bit better.
BEST STORY: WHAM, it has the best structure and plot.
BEST ATMOSPHERE: WHAM, I felt so sorry for Ferrungis
BEST DRAGON: Durinde, Green just reminded me so much of a cute little cat.

Durinde



Quote from: Sinitrena on Wed 29/08/2018 16:22:59

Durinde: A dragon story that doesn't dragon enough. Again, a very interesting concept: genetically engineered dragons as pets are inherently interesting, which makes me all the more disappointed that the story is actually about someone servicing a car. I think the reason why Alec is chosen as a beta tester is a bit flimsy. There are countless people who would love to have a dragin as a pet (me included) so it couldn't be difficult to find testers. And if they don't want just countless, irresponsible fan-boys and -girls, a randonly chosen person with a dragon tatoo also doesn't seem like the best choice. I'd prefered reading about life with a pet dragon.

Totally agree with most of the points. I had a really difficult time choosing a focus for the story. I didn't want it to become too long and kept cutting things back. In hindsight, I should have gone ahead and fleshed things out a little more.

Frodo


WHAM

Just got home from yet another 5 day stint at the hospital. Will try to read through the stories tomorrow and cast my votes.
Wrongthinker and anticitizen one. Pending removal to memory hole. | WHAMGAMES proudly presents: The Night Falls, a community roleplaying game

Frodo

So sorry you were in the hospital, Wham.   *hugs*   :sad:
Hope you're okay. 

Baron

BEST CHARACTER - Ferrungis by WHAM.  He's like an overworked middle-aged dad, once all powerful but now ground down by taxes, inflation, and the general indignities of growing ever more feeble.  Not exactly charismatic, but he sure played to my demographic. ;)

BEST WRITING - I'm going with WHAM, with Sinitrena as a very close second.  Both painted terrific pictures in my mind, but some editing lapses in Sinitrena's work broke the spell.  Tickling a dozing?  Er.... :)

BEST STORY - Now this category must be Sinitrena.  That... was... EPIC!  Before I started reading I was a little apprehensive of the length, but on finishing it I'm thinking it's actually too short.  You've got material here for at least five chapters in a larger novel.  I'm with Wiggy on this one: flesh it out as a novel and try to get it published.  I'll even offer my editing services for a discounted fee.... ;-D

BEST ATMOSPHERE - Again Sinitrena, for creating a complex world of magic and misery.  I should note that I liked WHAM's grungy world as well, but I think Sinitrena's spoke more to my soul.

BEST DRAGON - Eeeee....  I think in terms of character it must be Ferrungis by WHAM.  Sinitrena's dragons didn't relate enough at our human level (until the end) to really get to know them.  Durinde's dragon did a cute little cameo, but I never really felt like I knew... er, them.  And Wiggy's ladies seem, uh... a little less than magical. (roll)

Overall another good outing, folks!

Sinitrena

Quote from: Baron on Mon 03/09/2018 05:21:28
BEST WRITING - I'm going with WHAM, with Sinitrena as a very close second.  Both painted terrific pictures in my mind, but some editing lapses in Sinitrena's work broke the spell.  Tickling a dozing?  Er.... :)

I don't doubt that there are countless errors in this story, especially because I did no editing at all, but what is wrong with tickling a dozing and silently weeping dragon? I mean, as a non-native speaker of English I obviously make mistakes, but as far as I can tell, this is exactly what I wanted to say. Layim tickles the dragon. The dragen dozes and weeps silently at the same time. What do I miss?

But thanks for your votes. This story was actually planned to be longer but I was so running out of time. Originally, Layim was not supposed to know who hired him, only an intermidiary (one of the two who escape) and only one of the two who get away from the dragons is found outside the city. There would then be some investigation going on. Also, the villain is supposed to have more of a personallity then “raw,I'm evil“, illustrated through the scene where Vettian actually does his performance as a bard. I also skipped most of the backstory for Layim, and removed all possible obstacles for him while going up to the tower.

All in all, I shortened the story considerably from my original idea and still had no time to properly proofread.

Baron

Oh man, I was so tired when I read that the "dozing" just didn't register as an adjective, even after I went back and reread it to make sure.  Sorry Sinitrena! (roll)

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