As always constructive criticism is welcome, feel free to ask questions if things don't make sense to you, this will help write better, thank you
The Journey, Chapter 1 - Previous Chapter
Chapter 2.
The Elves retreated into their forests, the humans stayed put, the dragons illusive. That is to say there weren't many left. Ingmars, although chose to live in the desert caves, struggled to thrive and somewhat declined. All was quiet for a while, until darkness slowly crept from within. It’s the same with all stories: jealousy is foretold. They look better than us, he is stronger than us, she is so fast, they have more gold and silver, their weapons are the best, and so forth.
King James was a kind king, a virtuous one who loved his people, he tried his hardest to make everyone happy, for it was him that originally negotiated the trade routes with the Elvish people. His son however, was nefarious, and intimidating. Thomaz was tall, very tall for a human, his strength and speed unrivalled. People believed that King James had the elves weave their magic on Thomaz when he was born, that of course was not true. By some strange virtue the child was just born with good genes.
Braiden and Zeindaryys visited the citadel, for a celebratory event, the King's 30th year on the throne. Thomaz of course was drunk and aggressive the whole time, so much so that the King demanded he retire to his chambers. Thomaz in frustration declared he would get his own back on the dragon and his rider, Thomaz, stormed out.
The king apologised of course, and Braiden politely dismissed it as drunken behaviour, but Zeindarrys was worried, very worried. The celebrations unfolded, with musicians, court jesters and acrobats. With poetry and storytelling. It was indeed a grand spectacle. Late into the night, the patriots all stumbling back and forth in their drunken stupor the King retired for a good night's rest, for tomorrow would be a day of hunting. A rumour had surfaced of an abnormally large white boar roaming around near the lochs of the west.
Zeindaryys sent Braiden an image of worry about Thomaz through his mind, his emotions making it evident that he doesn’t trust the King's offspring. Braiden acknowledged this and sent comforting feelings back to his friend.
The morning waned through as a thick layer of fog started to dissipate revealing rolling fields, full of daisies and bluebells, and dandelions. The group of horses snorted in the courtyard by the citadel portcullis, the hounds tied up on leads held by the servants, everyone restless and raring to go. The crowd of civilians cheered as the hunting party slowly departed. Thomaz on his grey mare flashed Braiden a dirty look, Zeindaryys flying high in the sky circling, ‘this should be fine day for hunting’ the dragon growled. Braiden looked up and smiled.
The hunting party charged through the fields heading west, a few hours later finally coming to a copse of trees that created the boundary line to the lochs of the west. An apt name, ‘Lochs of the West’, how original. The Elves however called these locks the Shimmering Dales, ‘Brilantaj Valoj’.
King James raised his fist stating “from here out we go on foot.” Everyone dismounted and a temporary camp was set up, servants seeing to the horses and feeding the hounds. Thomaz hissed his distaste at Braiden being there, but Braiden remained polite, doing his kind’s traditional greeting of respect, bringing his middle finger and index to his chin and bringing them in an arch towards his chest. Zeindaryys grunted through their mind-link, ‘just say when’ and flashed Braiden an image of the stone yob.
At noon with bows and arrows drawn they crept into the copse of trees, a few boars here and there, as well as a large brown bear with a scar across the left side of its face.
‘Zeindaryys are you seeing what I’m seeing? There’s something not right about these animals’
The dragon looked around and sniffed the air. ‘There is magic most foul in the air, such as mine has not come across before’
It was too late to warn the King, for an arrow with blood red feathers whizzed through the air piercing the King's armour straight into his heart. The king died instantly, in a moment of lapsed judgement, another arrow flew where it could not be seen and hit Braiden piercing through his magic protective barriers into his chest poisoning him. Braiden collapsed falling from his mount, Zeindaryys roared in fury shooting purple flames all across the skies in anger, but suddenly the dragon stopped, frozen briefly in suspended in midair as the fury of his rage started to turn him to stone from inside out, eventually causing the dragon to fall from the skies crashing to the ground and shattering in to hundreds and thousands of pieces, leaving a crater like hole where he’d landed, from the dust cloud came a the largest pure white boar ever to be seen, swallowed the last free purple dragon scale, and saunter back off to wherever it came…
The Journey, Chapter 1 - Previous Chapter
Chapter 2.
The Elves retreated into their forests, the humans stayed put, the dragons illusive. That is to say there weren't many left. Ingmars, although chose to live in the desert caves, struggled to thrive and somewhat declined. All was quiet for a while, until darkness slowly crept from within. It’s the same with all stories: jealousy is foretold. They look better than us, he is stronger than us, she is so fast, they have more gold and silver, their weapons are the best, and so forth.
King James was a kind king, a virtuous one who loved his people, he tried his hardest to make everyone happy, for it was him that originally negotiated the trade routes with the Elvish people. His son however, was nefarious, and intimidating. Thomaz was tall, very tall for a human, his strength and speed unrivalled. People believed that King James had the elves weave their magic on Thomaz when he was born, that of course was not true. By some strange virtue the child was just born with good genes.
Braiden and Zeindaryys visited the citadel, for a celebratory event, the King's 30th year on the throne. Thomaz of course was drunk and aggressive the whole time, so much so that the King demanded he retire to his chambers. Thomaz in frustration declared he would get his own back on the dragon and his rider, Thomaz, stormed out.
The king apologised of course, and Braiden politely dismissed it as drunken behaviour, but Zeindarrys was worried, very worried. The celebrations unfolded, with musicians, court jesters and acrobats. With poetry and storytelling. It was indeed a grand spectacle. Late into the night, the patriots all stumbling back and forth in their drunken stupor the King retired for a good night's rest, for tomorrow would be a day of hunting. A rumour had surfaced of an abnormally large white boar roaming around near the lochs of the west.
Zeindaryys sent Braiden an image of worry about Thomaz through his mind, his emotions making it evident that he doesn’t trust the King's offspring. Braiden acknowledged this and sent comforting feelings back to his friend.
The morning waned through as a thick layer of fog started to dissipate revealing rolling fields, full of daisies and bluebells, and dandelions. The group of horses snorted in the courtyard by the citadel portcullis, the hounds tied up on leads held by the servants, everyone restless and raring to go. The crowd of civilians cheered as the hunting party slowly departed. Thomaz on his grey mare flashed Braiden a dirty look, Zeindaryys flying high in the sky circling, ‘this should be fine day for hunting’ the dragon growled. Braiden looked up and smiled.
The hunting party charged through the fields heading west, a few hours later finally coming to a copse of trees that created the boundary line to the lochs of the west. An apt name, ‘Lochs of the West’, how original. The Elves however called these locks the Shimmering Dales, ‘Brilantaj Valoj’.
King James raised his fist stating “from here out we go on foot.” Everyone dismounted and a temporary camp was set up, servants seeing to the horses and feeding the hounds. Thomaz hissed his distaste at Braiden being there, but Braiden remained polite, doing his kind’s traditional greeting of respect, bringing his middle finger and index to his chin and bringing them in an arch towards his chest. Zeindaryys grunted through their mind-link, ‘just say when’ and flashed Braiden an image of the stone yob.
At noon with bows and arrows drawn they crept into the copse of trees, a few boars here and there, as well as a large brown bear with a scar across the left side of its face.
‘Zeindaryys are you seeing what I’m seeing? There’s something not right about these animals’
The dragon looked around and sniffed the air. ‘There is magic most foul in the air, such as mine has not come across before’
It was too late to warn the King, for an arrow with blood red feathers whizzed through the air piercing the King's armour straight into his heart. The king died instantly, in a moment of lapsed judgement, another arrow flew where it could not be seen and hit Braiden piercing through his magic protective barriers into his chest poisoning him. Braiden collapsed falling from his mount, Zeindaryys roared in fury shooting purple flames all across the skies in anger, but suddenly the dragon stopped, frozen briefly in suspended in midair as the fury of his rage started to turn him to stone from inside out, eventually causing the dragon to fall from the skies crashing to the ground and shattering in to hundreds and thousands of pieces, leaving a crater like hole where he’d landed, from the dust cloud came a the largest pure white boar ever to be seen, swallowed the last free purple dragon scale, and saunter back off to wherever it came…
cheers mate
*cries