The surface of the lake stirred, rippling and bubbling. A hand reached out and grabbed the shore, slowly pulling out a person. His unkempt dark hair hung wet in front of his face and his olive green skin dripped with water. He was wearing gray pants so wet they almost looked black and ripped shirt, but his armor was gone, thrown off so as to not weigh him down. All he had now was a broken end of a spear and a bent cutlass. Slowly, he got to his feet and began walking. He didn’t even know where he was; let alone where he should go next. Thinking back on the events that had led him here, he realized there were holes in his memory. He knew most of his life, but some parts escaped him. It was like they were right in front of him, but every time he tried to grab them they vanished into smoke. He couldn’t even remember his name! Why couldn’t he remember his name? It was right there, on the edge of his mind. So close, yet so far. Eventually, a word came to him- Grask. His name was Grask, and it was time to rebuild his life.
Zargan flew after the massive dragon faster than he had ever flown before, but as fast as he went, the enemy was always faster, always a step ahead. As they flew over the shining river, something in the distance caught Zargan’s eye- mountains, reaching into the sky. Maybe if he could get there, he would be able to catch up. The enemy was too big to maneuver quickly across that terrain. He would have to make his move soon; they were nearly there. Putting forward a final burst of speed, he roared with all his might. The enemy turned to look at him, surprised, and that was when the mountain hit him, sending down a shower of rocks and dirt and bringing him crashing to the ground. Roaring again, Zargan dived at him. He would pay.
-last edited on May 6, 2017 14:36:40 GMT by RuleJJ
Post by RuleJJ on May 6, 2017 14:36:11 GMT
Chapter 104
Fireballs and lightning rained down from the sky to crash against the rumbling ground around the Towers of Sorcery. Screams and the smell of burning filled the air. From the beginning, the attackers hadn’t stood a chance. Thanks to Septimus Merlinsson’s early warning, the Towers, under the leadership of Cyril Isenthorne and other senior members, had been ready. As soon as the knights and orks had arrived, they had been on the defensive, rather than the offensive, as they had expected. There would be a considerable amount of clean-up, thanks to the destructive nature of the battle, but soon the enemies would be defeated and the Towers returned to normalcy.
Three figures strode through the battlefield, obscured by the smoke and fire. Syldar was the main force of the group, with Leid helping by attacking the enemies from behind while they were distracted and Jarios primarily providing healing for the two. They were looking for two people they were sure would be there, two people they knew needed help. Syldar was sure they would be here- the second dream, several nights later, had told him as much. He just didn’t know where. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement, and motioned to the others to follow him. Then he saw them. Huddled next to a large clump of dirt, thrown up by an explosion, were two people he hadn’t seen in a very long time. “Elf man!” shouted Person, “Person hasn’t seen you in long time! Person says thank you for helping him!” Mozz nodded, sniffing the air.
Syldar smiled, “You remember me? And Leid as well?” He motioned to his friend.
“Of course Person remembers! Friends helped Person and Mozz escape Arena! Person will always remember!”
“So, these are your friends,” said Jarios, “We’d better get them to safety.”
-last edited on May 6, 2017 16:06:30 GMT by RuleJJ
Post by RuleJJ on May 6, 2017 16:05:57 GMT
Chapter 105
King Dernar Dragonsson sat in his throne, waiting, waiting for an old friend to arrive. He hadn’t seen his friend in a long time, far too long in fact. The doors opened with a creak and in slipped a black-haired man- Reginald Dobson, or William Exeter, as he was calling himself these days. “Thank you for coming,” said Dernar, “We have much to talk about.”
Exeter approached the throne with a bow, “You are my king. I could hardly refuse.”
“I’ll have none of that. We both know you’d slip away somehow if you didn’t want to come. Besides, I need a friend today, not a subject,” Dernar said, shaking his head.
“As you wish,” Exeter replied, earning a sigh from the king, “But I’ll have you know I left that life behind long ago. Virida needs a father figure, not a daring adventurer.”
Dernar laughed at that, “It seems we have both had to fit ourselves into roles we thought we’d never have. I never wanted to be a king you know, and I never thought I would be. I was always hunting or going off on adventures with you. If my parents had known, they’d have never approved, but they never thought I would be king either. With three siblings standing in the way, they almost forgot about me entirely.”
“And then it all changed,” said Exeter, finishing his thought, “After… what happened… someone had to step up, and you were the only one left.”
“You could be the highest nobleman in the lands, you know. Everyone would look up to the man who saved the kingdom,” Dernar looked at him. It was a look Exeter knew well. He had been offered this many times before, and each time he had turned it down.
Exeter shook his head, “You know my answer. I did what had to be done, and that was that.”
“Ha!” laughed Dernar, “You deposed a tyrant and a criminal in a duel for the history books. That’s, um, actually why I asked you here today. You see, I recently received a letter from… him.”
“No! He’s alive?” Exeter gasped.
Dernar shrugged, “It could be a fake, but it’s certainly his handwriting, and why would anyone else send such a blatant threat to a king?”
Exeter nodded, “Of course he’s still out there. Your brother wasn’t a man to give up so easily. What did Kelrin have to say?”
-last edited on May 6, 2017 16:50:10 GMT by RuleJJ
Post by RuleJJ on May 6, 2017 16:49:48 GMT
Chapter 106
Grask needed food. Water wasn’t too hard to come by, though he half wished he’d stayed by the lake. Over the past several hours, using his cutlass as a knife, he had carved himself a bow and managed to procure material for the string as well. Arrows had followed, and now it was time for the hunt. A slight breeze blew in his direction, sending the faint scent of pine needles. It brought him back to his time in the mountains, alone but at peace. How long ago had that been? He couldn’t remember. Why couldn’t he remember? The holes in his memory were so frustrating, but he had to move past them. Making sure the wind continued to blow his direction, Grask made his way through the trees, moving so slowly that he almost appeared not to be moving at all and carefully calculating each movement. These skills were something you never forgot. Through the trees, he saw a lone deer grazing on grass in the distance. Slowly, carefully, he nocked an arrow and drew it back until the fletching brushed against his cheek. With a tiny exhale, he released, only to be met with a flash of green light as a man materialized in front of him. Behind the man, he could see that the deer was gone. Turning his attention back to the man, he realized there was something familiar about him. “Hello, Skrag. I’m sorry to interrupt your hunt, but I have an urgent matter to discuss with you,” he said, dropping the arrow. He had caught it in mid-air, right before it hit his chest.
Grask grunted, looking down at the arrow, “That’s not my name. Who are you?”
The man laughed, “You can’t remember? How interesting. Perhaps you’ll be more useful than I had thought.” Grask shuddered. He didn’t know this man, at least not anymore apparently, but he certainly didn’t like him.
Zargan flew through a copse of trees- not of his own accord, but sent soaring by the massive brown dragon. He couldn’t win this fight and he knew it, but he had to keep fighting. He had to avenge Skrag, no matter the cost. The enemy tore through the trees with a roar, claws flailing as he attacked Zargan again. He couldn’t take much more of this. With a pitiful roar of his own, he fought back, striking the beast in the side with his tail. The enemy wasn’t even fazed, sending a jet of fire at Zargan that sent him to the ground once again. Zargan responded with a few spits of acid, but none seemed to have much effect. This enemy was just too strong. The massive dragon flew straight at him, with enough force to create a small crater around the two of them that sent a cloud of dust into the air. Zargan heard something snap as a wave of pain washed over him. He had to keep fighting. There was no other choice. He spat acid at the rider, who howled and clutched at his chest. The dragon roared, striking at Zargan again and again until he stopped, suddenly. Zargan looked at him, his vision swimming, and saw that the rider was missing. Where had he gone? At that moment, the enemy slumped to the ground, the light already leaving his eyes. Hovering above him with bared teeth was a large, black and gold dragon. It was Darkaraz, his father. “Father,” he croaked, reaching out with one claw.
“You’d better come with me, son,” said Darkaraz, a pained expression in his eyes. Zargan rose slowly, with a wince, and flew after his father. He was going home.
-last edited on May 6, 2017 19:16:37 GMT by RuleJJ
Post by RuleJJ on May 6, 2017 19:16:01 GMT
Chapter 108
Darkaraz led Zargan deep into the mountain range, to the place he had once called home. They passed a few small, haggard-looking, groups of dragons, none of whom gave them a second glance, merely staring off into the distance. Zargan expected the two of them to stop at the cave had lived in, but instead they passed it by. Eventually, they came to another cave Zargan remembered well- the cave that Marrzak had lived in for a while before he smashed Kurukin and sent Zargan off on a journey that changed his life forever. For the green dragon it represented loss and change. There Darkaraz stopped, leading his son inside, “Stay here. You’ll be safe.”
Zargan looked at him, “Why wouldn’t I be safe out there?”
“You left us, Zargan,” said his father with a sigh, “You know what that means. Many, especially Kalkuzar, would rather you were never here at all.”
“Then why bring me in the first place?”
“We’re fighting a war, son. And judging by the armor on that warrior you were facing, so are you.” Darkaraz began moving out of the cave.
“They smashed my best friend,” whispered Zargan.
Darkaraz continued walking, “We’ve all lost friends and relatives in this fight.”
“But we’re dragons,” Zargan said, surprised, “Most of them are humans! How can they face us and succeed?”
“They have a spell caster, a powerful one. The goblins fight alongside us, but they can only do so much.” With that, Darkaraz left, leaving Zargan alone in the dark. The green dragon almost began following, but thought better of it. He had to stay here, alone with his thoughts. And foremost in his thoughts was Skrag. Zargan cried, and the cave echoed it back. It was a long, cold, miserable night.
A lone tear splashed to the ground. The sound seemed amplified a thousand times in Gorvechev’s ears. His only friend, the only thing he had ever felt the slightest emotional attachment to, was gone. It was an awful way to go too, crushed by a fallen tree. In fact, he knew it would never have happened by mere happenstance. Ponos had been a strong warrior, made stronger because she was a dragon. Someone had caused this, and he knew who. He knew all too well. Jon led the army in the forest now that Volkmar and Strike were gone, and his methods were unorthodox at best. Like Jon, he had joined Kelrin’s army to get revenge on a people he felt had wronged him. Like Jon, he was one of the elite, one of the dragon riders. Ponos had been so small and innocent when she had hatched, and instead of a baby he had seen a tool, yet unforged but immensely powerful. He had forged that tool, shaped it, and wielded it. All his life, he had felt nothing but pain, and he poured that pain into his dragon, even grafting a mask onto her face that constantly drove needles into her skin. That was wrong of him. Eventually, something had grown in his heart, a seed of something else. He regretted using her as a tool, but that was in the past. Now, she was gone. Jon had thought he was a loose cannon, unpredictable and dangerous to friends as well as enemies. Jon had thought eliminating Ponos would shape him into a tool that could be used against the elves with precision. He had been wrong. Eliminating Ponos had shaped him, but not at all the way Jon had intended. For a long time, he had felt only pain, then his life had changed, and now that had been ripped away from him, leaving only pain once again. It was Jon’s turn to feel pain, all the pain that he had ever felt. First, though, he had to get rid of what remained of his friend. Potestas would eat any meat she came across.
Korin slowly opened his bleary eyes. He was aching all over and his head pounded. What had happened? Looking up, he saw two people standing above him. Well, two people and three dragons- Calin and Knoxin were there, along with Terra and Raini, and Cloventail, of course. She made a little jump of excitement when he opened his eyes. Pushing himself upright with a groan, he asked, “Where am I?”
Calin, rushing to support him, answered, “You’re in a guest room at the Lion Castle. Cloventail says you used a lot of energy to get here. You need to rest.”
“How?” asked Korin, still unsure as to the events that had led him here. He remembered flying off with Cloventail to go get help, but that was it, until now, “Cloventail was the one flying, not me.”
“From what she tells us, you did something unprecedented. We’ve known there was a special bond between a rider and a dragon hatched by him or her, but we’ve never heard of anything like this. It was nothing short of remarkable,” Terra answered.
Korin frowned, “But what did I do?”
Raini spoke up this time, “You transferred your own life force into Cloventail so she would not tire. That’s how you were able to make it here so fast. As Terra said, we had not known it was even possible.”
“We need to go to the dwarves. They need help. Skrag-,” Korin began, getting to his feet despite Calin’s protests and his shaky legs.
Calin shushed him, setting the dwarf back down on the bed, “We know. Cloventail’s already told us.”
“Then why are we still here?” asked Korin, confused, “We need to be out there helping them, not holed up in a castle.”
Knoxin shook his head, “The battle’s over. The enemy has left.”
“Why? What are they doing?” Korin scratched his head, reluctantly lying back down.
Terra sighed, “We don’t know. We’ll just have to keep watching.” She paused, then added, “I hope Skrag’s okay.” Korin wasn’t sure he was. The last time he had seen him, the half-breed had been in bad shape.
Grask raised his bow again, another arrow already nocked and ready to be shot at the man. He wasn’t sure what good it would do, but it was worth a try. However, before he could release, the man collapsed to the ground, writhing as if in some sort of struggle with himself. Grask wasn’t sure what to do. When he got back to his feet, his eyes had changed color from and startlingly bright green to gray-blue. “Skrag,” he said, bent over as if in pain, “Listen to me. I’m being controlled by some sort of spirit. I’ll try to hold him off as long as I can, but you need to run. Run as far as you can and don’t look back.” The man grunted, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. He held out his hand, showing a small black pebble, “Take this and find Zargan. In the mountains. He can help. Run!” With that, he collapsed once again with a cry of pain.
Grask wasn’t sure what made him suddenly decide to trust the man, but trust him he did. He ran as soon as the pebble was in his hand, eyes focused forward and feet pounding a rhythm on the forest floor. He ran as fast as he could and as he ran the memories began to return. The man, his name was Hithrol. He led the Dragon Riders. Grask was in the Dragon Riders. So was Terra. Was she okay? His name wasn’t Grask, he had been called Skrag. His dragon was Zargan. Hithrol said he had to find Zargan. Hithrol was possessed. He needed help. Zargan could help. Zargan was in the mountains. He had to get to the mountains. But how? Slowing down a little, he looked at the pebble in his hand. Where was Olifin? Hithrol wouldn’t have come without him. Maybe Olifin had escaped whatever had possessed his rider. Without thinking, Grask rubbed the pebble. With a flash of green light, Olifin appeared in front of him, tears on his face. “What have you done to me?” the dragon cried.
A tempest of black and red, blades and armor flashing all around like a thousand mirrors, reflecting sunlight into his eyes. Desperately, Skirj fought on. The enemy was destroying their armies, and even with the aid of the dragons, it wouldn’t be long now before they were defeated. But Skirj had something to prove, more than any of the other goblins. His father had betrayed the clan and Skirj was paying the price. Though he was among the best young warriors in the clan, the others refused to treat him as such.
As he fought through the crowd with his blade, it started to thin, until he reached the very edge. There he saw the reason the battle was going so badly- the dragon rider. A hooded man stood on the back of a blue-scaled dragon, lightning and fire flying from his fingers, perfectly aimed to hit only Skirj’s allies. They fell by the dozens, screaming as black-armored warriors filled the gaps they had previously occupied. One goblin, however, survived. Korst, the Warlord of Skirj’s clan, was stealthily creeping up on the mage, spear at the ready. He could end it right here. Korst was the best they had, unstoppable in battle, a force of nature. Just a few more steps and it would all be over. Lightning struck the Warlord. He didn’t even have a chance to scream, smoke rising from the charred spot of ground where he had stood mere seconds before. Skirj fell to his knees. All was lost. Without Korst, the clan would fall into chaos. They needed a Warlord, but so many of their best warriors had fallen already. The goblin was surprised to find himself crying as the battle continued to rage on around him. No one had noticed yet, but soon they would begin to wonder what had happened to their Warlord, and then it would all be over. No, Skirj refused to let that happen. With a cry of anger, he leapt back into the fight. He couldn’t give up now. They would find a way. Skirj only wished he knew what- or who- that way was.
-last edited on May 7, 2017 14:07:55 GMT by RuleJJ
Post by RuleJJ on May 7, 2017 14:04:46 GMT
Chapter 113
“We’re nearly there!” Grask shouted over the rushing wind. Olifin had explained how Hithrol- or, rather, the person in Hithrol’s body- had trapped him in the pebble, forcing Olifin to follow his commands. Since Grask had released Olifin, it appeared he now had control over the dragon, but he was doing his best to avoid giving commands.
Olifin nodded as the half-breed spoke. Once they found Zargan, they would begin looking for a way to free Hithrol, and then it was time to find those knights again and stop them. Soon, the mountains came into view, and so did a mass of people- dragons, goblins, and armored warriors. Olifin slowed to a halt, “Did you know they would be here?”
Grask shook his head, “No, but it appears the dwarves were not the only target of the invasion. It doesn’t matter now, though. We have to find Zargan before he gets hurt!”
At his word, Olifin swooped toward the teeming mass, eyes peeled and searching for the green dragon. But he was nowhere to be found. As a lightning bolt streaked past the two of them, barely missing, Olifin broke from the fray, “We need to get out of here. We’re not going to find Zargan like this anyway.”
With a reluctant nod, Grask directed the dragon away from the battle. Where could they possibly find Zargan in all this chaos? As they flew, a stray blast of fire clipped Olifin’s wing, sending him careening towards the ground. Grask tried to slow his descent, but it was no use and they both tumbled across the rocks. Grask stood up with a groan, “You okay?”
“Yes,” nodded Olifin, “Just a little beat up, though I won’t be back in the skies for a little while.”
Grask grimaced, “I guess we should find some shelter. It’s not safe out here with the battle going on.” The two of them made for a small cave a short distance away, big enough to fit Olifin, but not more than two dragons.
-last edited on May 7, 2017 16:59:00 GMT by RuleJJ
Post by RuleJJ on May 7, 2017 16:55:50 GMT
Chapter 114
As they entered, something grew visible at the back- a large, scaly figure. “Zargan!” shouted Grask, running over to his friend.
Zargan looked up, a confused expression on his face, “Skrag? I thought you were smashed.”
Grask smiled, “I’m fine. And, um, it’s Grask now, but that’s a long story. Listen, Hithrol sent me to find you. He needs help.”
“What happened?” Squinting his eyes, Zargan noticed Olifin lurking by the cavern’s entrance, “Are you okay? Your wing looks a little beat up.”
Olifin nodded, “I know. Grask, can you put me back in the pebble? I won’t be able to fly for a while yet, and I don’t want to hold you back. Zargan can take you back to the forest.”
“Are you sure? From what you told me, it’s not a comfortable experience,” Grask said, reaching into his pocket.
“I’m sure,” Olifin reassured him, “Trust me.” Grask nodded, rubbing the pebble between his fingers. Instantly, a green light shot out and pulled in the dragon, causing the half-breed to take a step back- he had almost expected it to fail.
The task done, Grask moved closer to Zargan, “Come on. We’re going to find Hithrol and help him. I’ll explain the situation on the way. I don’t know how much time we have.”
“What did you do to Olifin? Will he be okay?” Zargan stood up, moving toward the entrance and Grask followed closely behind.
“He’ll be fine,” Grask explained, “That’s part of what I need to tell you. Now, we’ll need to be careful flying away. The battle is raging and we’ll want to give that as wide a berth as possible.”
“Don’t worry. It’s plenty dangerous where you are,” Hithrol stepped into the cave, “Did you think I wouldn’t be able to find you? I-.”
Grask shot an arrow at him. It dropped to the ground before hitting, “Get out. I don’t know who you are, but you need to get out of him right now.”
“The name’s Morath, and that’s not going to happen. If anyone’s leaving, it’s you.” Morath drew his sword, “Now, where’s my dragon?”
-last edited on May 7, 2017 20:51:21 GMT by RuleJJ
Post by RuleJJ on May 7, 2017 20:50:34 GMT
Chapter 115
“I smashed Potestas,” said Gorvechev, approaching Jon.
“Ah, yes,” he replied, “I had expected you might.”
“You’re not-.”
Jon laughed, a cold, heartless laugh, “She was a tool, Gorvechev, no more. Potestas was among my more useful tools, I will admit that, but she was still just a tool. Did you think I care for her as you cared for Ponos?”
“No, I honestly don’t think you care for anyone or anything,” Gorvechev admitted, “Nothing at all, except maybe for yourself.”
“Well then, that puts us on an even playing field, now doesn’t it?” Jon smiled, “Except of course for your one exception. Personally, I never saw that coming. You really did treat her awfully when she first hatched.”
Gorvechev growled, “You didn’t smash her to convince me to fight them. That’s what I thought at first, but it’s not true. Why did you do it?”
“That was a small part of it, but no, it wasn’t the main reason. That would be my two favorite things- power and revenge. Those above all else”
“How could smashing my dragon possibly get you either of those?” asked Gorvechev, temper rising.
Jon laughed again, “Why, it’s simple really. You are a dragon rider. That means you have power, power that could be mine alone. Smashing your dragon solved that. As for revenge, you are an elf, like me, and every other elf I’ve ever met wanted to hurt me. You proved you were no exception when you smashed Potestas. When I destroy all of the elves here and everywhere else, I will finally have my revenge, as well as all the power I could ever desire. After so many years my plan is finally starting to come to fruition.”
“You’re a madman, Jon,” said Gorvechev, shaking his head.
“Be that as it may,” sneered Jon, “Though I don’t believe it’s true, I’m still a madman who can fight better than you. Prepare to be smashed, Gorvechev.”
-last edited on May 7, 2017 22:32:03 GMT by RuleJJ
Post by RuleJJ on May 7, 2017 22:31:30 GMT
Chapter 116
Gorvechev already had his weapons in hand- a sword and a spear- so he was able to attack while Jon was not yet ready, swinging wildly at his opponent. Quickly, Jon blocked Gorvechev’s strike and did so for the next three as well before going into the offensive with two rapid attacks of his own. It went back and forth for several minutes, neither elf gaining any advantage, until Jon sent Gorvechev’s sword flying out of his hand. The loss of a weapon made Gorvechev hesitate and in that moment Jon was able to injure his leg. Recovering quickly, Gorvechev renewed his offensive, packing as much power as he could into each blow, but Jon still managed to block them all with ease. Then with two precise, lightning-fast strikes it was over. Gorvechev fell to the ground, eyes wide. Jon laughed, “I told you I was the better warrior. You always did rely too much on brute strength. Now I must see to more important-.”
Thud. Thud. Thud. Jon fell to the ground without a sound, the arrows having already done their job. Behind him stood three elves- Legolie, Fingolfin, and Link. “Serves that filthy traitor right,” said the queen, lowering her bow, “He was too caught up in whatever that was to notice real danger. Fingolfin, deal with what’s left of their army. Link, gather up the armies. The battle is done. Our home is safe. Tomorrow we march.”
Link looked at her, a little confused, “Where are we going?”
“I’ve heard the Falcons could use our assistance. Apparently, this group has armies everywhere.”
As Fingolfin and Link went to see to their duties, Legolie took a seat on a smooth, flat rock, releasing a long sigh. Too much had been lost. This war had to end soon or there would be nothing left. She was afraid it might already be too late.
“It’s too late, Grask,” sneered Morath, “This body is mine and nothing you can do will stop me. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like my dragon back and I won’t ask again.”
Grask bared his teeth, “You won’t have too.” He looses three arrows in quick succession. The first two Morath blocks with ease, but the third strikes him in the foot- not a life-threatening wound by any means, but painful nonetheless.
Morath screeched, and flung a ball of green fire at Grask. The half-breed rolled to the side and it collided with the wall, sticking there and continuing to burn. Three more left his palm before he was done, but Grask managed to avoid each one, shooting a few more arrows that all missed their marks.
Still unsure quite what was going on, Zargan joined the fray, stepping between Morath and Grask. Turning to the former, he growled, “Leave him alone.”
Morath sneered, “You must be Zargan. Your brother’s more impressive.” With a wave of his hand, translucent, glowing green shackles appeared on the dragon’s limbs and a similar-looking muzzle covered his mouth. Though he struggled with all his strength, Zargan was unable to remove them. Seeing Morath distracted, Grask took his chance to rush at him, tackling him and sending them both rolling out of the cave. In the process, Hithrol’s sword was knocked out of Morath’s hand and it slid across the cave floor.
As soon as Morath regained his bearings, he flung Grask away with much more strength than he should have been able to muster. The half-breed flew into a spindly pine reaching out of the ground nearby and sank to the ground with a groan. “Please… Hithrol… don’t do this….”
