Conflicted Crossbreed, A Dragon's Son

[Draconicon]

(this story is something i am working on in my spare time, and it is far from finished, but i would welcome hearing anythign i can about it)


Conflicted Crossbreed

I do not know why my parents ever had me. I do not know why they stayed together to even consider it. They were different in many ways, hardly compatible. She was short, he was tall. He was brilliant, she was not. He was always moving: she was sedentary. But these could all be overcome, I suppose, and I can see by my existence they were. But evidence of the one problem they couldn't overcome is also seen in my existence: my mother was human, and my father was not.

I never noticed this before my 16th year, nor did anyone else in Fredge, the small town we lived in. He was always in his human state, never wishing to give a clue to his true nature, not to the village, not to his family, not even to me. And now I suppose I will have to do the same thing. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me tell you how I got to the predicament I'm currently in.



I was born to Dranta and Tinara in the year 302, three centuries after the separation of Shensil into two states. They were the same as many parents, save a little more intelligent on my father’s part. They had settled into the village of Fredge about two years after I was born, and seemed to be willing to spend the rest of their lives there. After growing a few years, I found that we had been completely assimilated into the village, physically and mentally.
The people of Fredge, heck, the people of Shenstar worshiped the possibility of an unchanging society, and did all they could to enforce the possibility. Everyone wore the same clothes, talked about the same stuff, and never did anything unexpected. Anyone who even thought about stepping out of the normal order of life was swiftly punished.
Anyway, time passed and I gradually became to be accepted, just as my parents were. It took a little longer with me because I was frequently off on some exploration or other, and the people of the village never got to know me. They never actually trust anyone not born there fully, but they will gradually trust those who fit in as best they can.
By the time I was about 14, it finally happened. People began to finally trust me, in a way few people trust others: they let me take care of their kids while they were busy. They frequently were, and so I was able to get acquainted with many of the young ones of Fredge. I can still remember most of the kids now…
There was Suun, was frequently tried to get away from me to stare at the sun. He was always wondering what it was, and where it came from. Needless to say, I could never figure out an answer to give him.
There was Tione, his sister, only 3 years old. She hadn’t learned to speak yet, but was valiantly trying with her cries of “Mo”, “Dri”, and “hom”.
There was Hienra, always hungry. I needed most of what I earned on the job to pay for her food.
There were Nieun, Bewor, and many others, all enjoying time away from parents and time spent with me.
I never told their parents this, but I frequently took their kids into the woods near the town. If they had ever found out, I would have been cast out long ago, but they never did, and the kids knew not to tell if they wanted to keep going there. And boy did they want to keep going there.
Still, going out with toddlers and very young kids can get very wearing, so sometimes I took the day off, snuck out, and took to the woods for a day, just to be alone. I was finally able to shed those awful clothes, white shirt and pants, for something a great deal more comfortable; my skin. Again, if ever found out, I would be in a great deal of trouble, but I was careful. I never left my clothes where they would be found, nor did I sneak off in broad daylight. I never drew attention, nor did I do move anything in the forest without putting it back.
The forest was a source of taboo with the people, and even with the lord of the town, Lord Frein. I didn’t really think that moving anything in the woods would bring bad luck, nor did I believe that there were bandits in the woods that carried out raids during the night. Still, I wasn’t one to tempt fate, so I went along with the superstitions of the town.



After another year, when I reached the age of fifteen, it happened. It was on a day I took off to spend in the woods, and I had pushed further into the woods than I had ever done before. The trees were thicker here, and they were also a great deal taller, so one could not see anything here from the forest edge. It would be the perfect place for secrets to be held, I thought to myself, before ducking behind a bush after seeing movement a few yards in front of me.
All of a sudden, a clearing appeared where a great cluster of trees had been before. My only chance of avoiding being seen was if I could reach the perimeter of the clearing before anyone entered it. I made it to the edge and behind a bush just as a woman entered the clearing about 10 feet to my right. I had never seen this woman before, nor do I think she had ever lived anywhere near here. Her clothing testified to that, or what clothing there was. She was, after all, in the woods on a rather warm day, so she had declined to wear more than a bra and exceptionally short pants.
Her skin was dark, like the people of the north, in Isol, but unlike them, her hair was red rather than brown. She walked with an air of authority, of power, of a person who was used to being obeyed.
As she reached the center of the clearing, another person entered opposite her, and the sight of him nearly made me cry out in shock. It was my father.
How could he be in here? The woods were my place, a place I knew inside and out. There was not a single way he could have entered the woods before without me seeing him, and there was no way that he could have found this clearing on his first time out in the forest. This clearing was isolated, and the path to it was nearly invisible. In fact, I only found it by sheer luck, by falling out of a tree and landing on it. Though painful, it was quite lucky that I had fallen on it, as the ground surrounding the path was covered with thorns and other prickly plants. The path itself was hidden by these plants, and would be nearly impossible to find without spearing yourself on those plants.
Still, why was my father here? More importantly, why was he here with another woman? As he reached the center of the clearing, the woman reached out and embraced him. Much to my surprise, he embraced her fervently in return. This was no way for a married man to act!
“I’ve missed you greatly, Dranta,” she said, her head lying on his shoulder. “We have to find ways to meet more often, don’t you agree?”
My father nodded as he let her go. “It truly has been far too long, Dringa. But you have never said what you feel without asking for a favor right afterward. So, spare me the tears that will flow and get to the point.”
“Oh, you always ruin my fun,” she said with a hint of a pout,”but you’re right. I do need help. Special help. Your help. Need I say more, my friend?”
Flinching back as if struck, my fathers face was horrified. “You-you can’t ask that of me, Dringa! You can not! HE has been bound for years, he can’t-”
“He can, and he has, and you know that I wouldn’t ask you for help if I wasn’t sure I needed it. Heavens knows that I hate asking for it, especially from you. But you are one of the Last-”, last what, I asked myself, “and so is he, and so am I. So, do I need to recite the Vow, or will you aid me willingly?” She crossed her arms as she waited for an answer, her eyes locked with those of my fathers.
He had the look of a man who was doing his best to find the flaws of a promise, a small loophole with which he could wiggle out of his oath, and you could clearly see when he reached the conclusion that there wasn’t one. “There is not any good way to say this, Dringa. I will not help you. Yes, I remember the Vow,” he stated, holding up his hand to forestall the protestation she would raise, “but I cannot leave the family I am responsible for. If you had ever felt the love I feel for my family, you would never, ever have taken the Vow at the first place.”
“But, Dranta, you know what He is, and you know what he will do if he ever finds you alone. He remembers everything, especially your participation in his binding.”
“Don’t you think I know that?! I wake in the night screaming in my head thinking about that, dreaming of the day he will finally perish in his prison. But that day will never come now, will it?
“I’m sorry, but no. It will not. But, Dranta, this is all the more reason to follow the Vow! We can finish him once and for all this time. We can-”
“No, Dringa. We can’t. Despite what you might think, I actually have kept abreast of what is happening on this island. If you had kept your ear to the ground as I have, you would have noticed the political changes in the last year. Nerast is building up its forces again, and so is Shenstar. You just told me the reason why.”
“What, because Dre”
“Don’t say his name! If he has any brains at all, and since he’s out again, I think he does, he has that spelled to attract his attention. He will listen in on anything we say, he’ll find exactly where-”
“Okay, okay, I get the point. But what does Dr-, his, breakout have to do with the military buildup in Nerast and Shenstar?”
“I hate having to explain things to people,” my father muttered under his breath. “Dringa, what was the only thing that kept him from staying free in the last battle? It was the fact that he was alone. If he had kept any forces near him, any allies at all, we wouldn’t have been able to capture him. Now he’s learned his lesson of weakness, and is recruiting for the next war. And if you don’t stop him, it will be the last war.”
“If I stop him? What about you? You are just as responsible for keeping him imprisoned as I am, and I need you. No matter how much you love this family, they are humans. You will outlive them by centuries, and then where will you be? A broken old male, sobbing over the graves of those not even your kind, with the most powerful being on the island after you!”
“Maybe, my dear, but I will not have their deaths on my conscience. Goodbye, and good luck,” he muttered as he turned on his heel and left the clearing. As he left, I could see that the woman he had called Dringa had tears in her eyes, but more than that, she was incredibly angry. As she turned to leave, I saw trees sprouting from the grass in the clearing, and within seconds, it was as if the clearing had never been.
I stood there for a few minutes, watching in shock. There was no way that could have just happened. Not a way in the world. And as I turned to find where my father was finding his way home from, I could have sworn I heard a voice echoing through the woods: You can never trust him again, can you? Shaking from a little fear from that voice, I continued down the path. I never saw my father, though.

After a few days, my father announced that we would be taking a trip. As it was summer and there was really nothing to do, I was rather eager to get out of Fredge for a few days, or even few weeks. However, my mother was dead set against it for some reason. About to speak up to tease her on it, I remembered what I had seen in the forest only a few days ago, and kept my mouth shut. I now knew that he had kept secrets from all of us. Still, a vacation from the drudgery of the town would be very good for all us, so my mother didn’t complain long.
Our trip was rather eventless, as all we did was travel the road to Plaare and back, barely spending a night in the town, much to my regret. The trip itself was rather boring, as there were no sights along the way, and we had to move rather quickly without breaks if we wanted to make it to Plaare before dark. And we did, because the road there didn’t have any places along the way where it was safe to sleep.
Once we reached Plaare, it was alright, although the inn we stopped at left much to be desired, filled with bugs and serving horrible food. Still, it wasn’t homemade food, and that was a welcome change. My mother’s food left much to be desired, though it wasn’t her fault, as she never actually learned to cook. At the inn, my mother almost slept outside, so frightened was she of the bugs, until my father promised her to keep the bugs away. I had no idea how he would do that, but the next morning, my mother was fine, and there was no evidence of the bugs she had seen the night before.
During the early morning, we walked around the town, taking in a few sights and visiting the few stands selling goods. They had a few exceptional goods, but typical to the markets the world over, the best items were out of our price range. Before noon, boredom had driven me to drive my family out of the town and back on the road. However, the road would prove to be a great deal more dangerous on this trip.
It all happened only a few miles from Fredge. Only a little closer and it might have all been averted.

[Aiden Fox]

That's a very good start to what I believe will be a masterpiece in the making. I like how you visualize upon certain characters. Making them very real through their emotions, mental and physical contact between one another. Even though, the 'traveled too places' could use a bit more detail to them, but I'm not sure if your wanting said things to be relevent to your storyline. All in all keep up the work! I'm looking foward to reading the rest. Great job thus far.

[Draconicon]

Thanks for the comments. I am going to be posting about so much at least once a week for a while. So keep coming back to check.

[Thoran]

That's a very good start to what I believe will be a masterpiece in the making. I like how you visualize upon certain characters. Making them very real through their emotions, mental and physical contact between one another. Even though, the 'traveled too places' could use a bit more detail to them, but I'm not sure if your wanting said things to be relevent to your storyline. All in all keep up the work! I'm looking foward to reading the rest. Great job thus far.

I can only say I absolutly agree with Aiden. This is bloody brilliant. Keep it up.

[wolfscythe]

This is an interesting place....!

[Aiden Fox]

Thanks for the comments. I am going to be posting about so much at least once a week for a while. So keep coming back to check.I definately will. *nod*

[Draconicon]

Okay, here is the next post of the story. I hope you like it as much as you did the first.




We had been walking for most of the day, and it was nearing sunset. We were all tired from the walk to Plaare yesterday, and the walk back today, so we figured since we were in sight of Fredge, it would be safe to sit down and wait for a while. Oh, we were wrong. Within 30 ticks of sitting on the ground, they came, and with them, HE came as the leader.
With yells of fury, 10 men descended from a hill just a few steps from where we were sitting. They were waving swords, daggers, clubs, and many other associated weapons. And standing on the hill, watching with his swirling black eyes, was their leader. I didn’t learn his name at the time, but since then, I found his name from another: Drentin.
We would have all died the moment they came in range, save for my father, who finally revealed the secret he had kept from my mother and me for so long. He transformed into his true shape, a dragon.
He fell to all fours as a flash surrounded him, and when we could finally see again, I saw a bright red dragon amidst the men who would have killed us. His body was 50 feet long, and a third of that was his tail. As it swung to knock back half of the raiders, his great mouth lunged forward to bit two others in half. The remaining three hung back, knowing they were no match for the powerful creature standing before them. I never loved my father more than at that moment.
As the remaining raiders looked back and forth at each other, trying to find a way to get out of this with their lives, their leader on the hill seemingly pulled a bow out of nowhere, and fitted it with an arrow bigger than anything I had ever seen before. Being as the new danger was almost behind my father, he couldn’t see the arrow pointed directly at his skull. All I could do was shout a warning.
“Dad, behind you! There’s an arrow pointed right at you!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, but apparently dragons cannot hear as well as humans, or maybe I wasn’t loud enough, or maybe he knew he wouldn’t be able to kill the leader before he was killed. Whatever the reason, he lunged for the remaining soldiers and managed to chomp them down in one gulp. Before he could make a single move more, the massive arrow was loosed.
The arrow seemed to move in slow motion, so slow that I was sure that my father could move out of the way before it reached him. I turned to watch my father, sure that he would slide out of the way the same way all dragons do in a story. Too late, I remembered that any dragon was killed in a story was with an arrow. And the same as any story, the arrow struck true.
It lodged deep in his right eye, and it seemed to dig itself in further with every passing second. His life’s blood flowed out in spurts, and fell to the ground, staining it to a color just the same as the ocean. The blue blood of the dragon quickly slowed to an ooze, and it looked as if, miraculously enough, he might survive this horrible wound.
Then a second arrow hit him, taking him in his other eye, sending more and more blood spurting in all directions. It landed on the ground, on my clothes, on everything we were carrying. We would later find that the stain was impossible to get out. As my father fell, his life nearly spent, I whirled to the hill where that man, the man with the swirling black eyes, had stood. He was gone.
My anger was vastly greater than my grief, and as I ran toward that hill, I grabbed the blade of one of the fallen raiders. I would stab this blade through that dishonorable murderer, many, many times. Before I could even take a few steps, however, I was stopped by my father’s whispered command, “Stop.” It was spoken quietly, but with the authority he had carried for his entire life.
“Father, I must kill him! He killed you, and would have killed us had he not left. I must follow while he is still in shock or fear from seeing you! I-“
“Son,” my father said, his voice gurgling with blood, “if you do this, all you will succeed in is killing yourself, and ending any chance of revenge. He was not in shock of me, nor does he fear me. Anyway, now he doesn’t have anything to fear, does he?” he said, laughing quietly as he did so. Then, lifting his reptilian head so his eyeholes were staring directly into my eyes, he told me what would eventually be both my most dreadful duty and my greatest salvation.
“That man was my brother, and the same power that flows through my veins and his flows through yours.”



I was in shock, barely aware of events as they passed by. The vomiting at the sight of the bodies on the hill. The gasping when they caught sight of my father’s body. The villagers dragging us back into Fredge. They were shaking me for details on what happened, but I couldn’t answer. I was afraid of what they would do when they found out that the dragon was my dead father.
Those who were different, those who stood out in Shenstar, were always feared by everyone else. Similarities were darn near worshipped, and differences were condemned. Those who were only a little different were tolerated, but never truly embraced. Those who were of a medium degree of different were banished from the nation, but those who were truly different and could never fit in, no matter how hard they tried, they were in the most trouble.
If one of these people were discovered, both they and their immediate families were taken for punishment. Their final destination was the capital of the nation, Sandar, and since the punishment was not officially legal, they were held in secret in the lowest dungeons of the Royal Castle. There, they were tortured until death, and worse, made to torture one another.
There were many methods of torture. There was the rack, the whip, and most of the other usual torture devices. But there was also the oil kept on an eternal boil, the fire chair, and the ring heater. Each of these had been designed for maximum pain and minimum actual damage, in order to keep the victim alive for as long as possible. It was the fear of these devices and the experts who used them that kept the people basically making themselves into clones of one another.
What finally tore me out of my shock was the announcement of the method of body disposal: cremation. Jumping to my feet, I ran to the center of the village, prepared to fight even Lord Frein if I had to.
I did.


“People of Fredge,” I could hear the lord crying out,” we have here an abomination of nature. Doubtless, it was the killer of the men in the wilderness, and the consumer of Dranta, a valued member of our community. Whoever killed it deserves our thanks, and our praise.” That, that moment there, was the moment I severed any and all citizenship of Shenstar in my heart.
“Now, we have a body that must be destroyed. Who knows but that it is one of the damned that return to life whenever it is killed? If it is, the only way to destroy it is to burn it, hot and long.” He was interrupted by a cheer, and by now I could see him.
He was standing on the raised platform of the village, built specifically for speeches the whole town needed to hear. He was gesturing as he spoke, his voice rising and falling in all the right places. I could see him smiling, knowing just how he played the crowd. He was loving this, and I could see his arm muscles bunching up, holding the torch over the body of the dragon.
“We will burn the body at sundown! All of you, be there, or face the fate of Difference!” With that final threat, he stepped down and walked off to his manor.
As I finally reached the holding facility that held my fathers corpse, I reached out and just held my hand to his side. I sat there a while, silently crying. I couldn’t let any one see me crying over him, because the only explanation I could give would lead my mother and I would face the fate of Difference.


As night began to fall, and sundown was nearly there, I could see the torches of the village being gathered, being brought toward the Dead Holding. The Dead Holding, I should explain, is the building that held any dead bodies before they were buried. In this case, my fathers body was actually outside the building, as there was no way it could hold a body of his size.
The torch-bearers started at the fountain near the speech platform and began their march, led by Lord Frein, who was holding two torches in his enthusiasm. His ceremonial robes stirred the dust and nearly tripped him a couple of times. Obviously, whoever had made his robes didn’t make them to fit very well.
I couldn’t allow them to burn my father’s body. I don’t know why, but I just couldn’t. It wouldn’t be right to allow his body to be destroyed by flame, as if he was a demon or something that didn’t belong on earth. I just couldn’t allow it.
As I stepped away from my father’s body, the mob coming for it finally caught sight of me. As Lord Frein recognized me, he smiled, not knowing my grief.
“Here to see the bonfire, Drinta? It will be a large one, that’s for sure,” he said with a small chuckle. “Hey, go grab a torch; I don’t think we have enough to burn this thing yet.”
His callous words struck some part of me, some part that I had never really noticed, but had always been there. Something deep, old, primal. Something strong. Something that was now very, very angry.
“THAT’S NOT A DEMON OR AN ABOMINATION YOU IDIOT! THAT’S DRANTA!” I yelled at the top of my lungs, no longer caring what they would do, only that they acknowledge the truth. They all took a step backward, shocked at both the announcement and at the vehemence of it. More to the point, they had started staring behind me.
Turning quickly, I didn’t see anything, so I turned back around and asked, “What are you staring at? There’s nothing moving out there, and the dragon is dead. My father is dead! Can’t you give him the simple dignity of the dead?”
They didn’t answer, just stared past me. And now that I actually followed their eyes, it seemed they were staring over me. Looking over my shoulder rather than turning around this time, I saw what had them all wide-eyed. There were little nubs growing out of my shoulder blades, and as I watched, they grew still further, and they seemed to grow faster as each second passed.
I looked down at my hands, where a burning had recently developed. My skin, formerly lightly tanned, was blood red at the fingertips, spreading down my fingers and onto my hands, and it would eventually reach my arms.
The townsmen started screaming. “Demon!” “Monster!” “Abomination!”
The only one to keep his head was Lord Frein, and he only grinned. “We seem to have another creature to destroy. Come, townsmen! We mustn’t let it escape to make more of itself,” he cried as he charged me, followed by a few of the braver townsfolk. However, most of them were too freaked out by what they had just seen to do more than stand there, let alone charge someone that seemed to be turning into a dragon.
And I was changing faster and faster. My once short nails grew longer and sharper, and my skin changed to scales at an astonishing rate, starting at a dull pink and gradually deepening to a blood red. My mouth stretched out about half a foot, and my teeth lengthened by several inches. My muscles grew, giving me far greater strength than I had ever known a human to have. I could feel my body stretching, growing taller, taller.
By the time they had reached me, I had ripped through my clothes, now 8 feet tall. My skin had fully transformed to scales, and I had 3 inch long talons, both on my hands and on my feet. There was a spur on my heels. My eyes had changed, and I could see better in the darkness than an eagle could in the light. As the lord and his followers reached me, I knew that they wouldn’t be able to hurt me.
Frein took his torches and flung them at me, pulling a sword from his sheath the minute they had left their hands. The torches impacted my chest, and all I felt was comfortable warmth. The fire burned beneath my feet, and it bothered me no more than a warm fire bothers a child on a cold night.
As Frein charged at me with sword drawn, all I could feel was anger. Anger at my father’s death. Anger at the treatment his body had been given. And anger at the way any difference was treated in Shenstar. I needed to make someone hurt for it, and Lord Frein seemed as good a target as any.
I let him strike with his blade once, to let him know just how futile his attack was. As it came down, I watched his face. It gleamed with a primal joy, a longing for destruction that I have come to see all too often in the human race. Even as his blade shattered against my chest, that gleam never diminished, never disappeared.
As the shards of his spent blade fell to the ground, my newly-taloned hand struck his face. My talons ripped half the skin off of it, and disfigured the other half of his face. It wasn’t enough. I struck him in his stomach, on his arms, legs, anywhere and everywhere I could reach. By the time my anger finally diminished, there were only a few scraps of him spread across the ground.
The few townsfolk that had followed him had fled at the first exchange of blows. They had never seen such rending of human flesh before, and they all hoped they never would again. Peeking out from behind the buildings, they saw me looking around at the few remaining pieces of their former lord. And, finally, revenge taken on one person, I was just too exhausted to hold myself up any longer. Collapsing, I felt my form shifting back to human, and then all was black.



When I finally woke up, the first thing I noticed was the incredible silence. The air lacked the sounds of conversation, of others walking around, and even of the wildlife I knew had to be around somewhere. It was as if everything had gone silent, or I had gone deaf.
“How are you feeling, Drinta?” came a voice from off to my side. Relieved by the voice that I hadn’t gone deaf, I sat up and turned to face the person who had spoken. When I saw who it was, it was all I could do not to faint dead away.
Leaning against the wall of the room stood the lady who had been talking to my father in the forest. What was her name!?
“You were lucky I found you before that mob got their courage back, Drinta,” she said, walking toward the bed I was laying on.
“So, my father told you about me,” I said, hoping to surprise some information out of her. It worked, as she blinked several times, and then left her eyes wide.
“Well, yeah. He did, but how did you know he knew me?”
“The last time you two talked in the forest, I saw. And heard. I didn’t really know what to think after seeing you and my father apparently that close to one another,” I said, my voice trailing off. What the hell was her name?!!
Again, she was very surprised. “In the forest? But I had scanned the whole place, and it was empty. There was no way you could have been there, none! You must have been mista-“
“Dringa! That was your name! I’m sorry, I just couldn’t remember it for a minute,” I said, rather excited.
The fact that I knew her name seemed to be the turning point of her belief. After all, how else could I possibly know what her name was if I hadn’t heard it? I leaned forward to question her further, but I apparently still needed rest, because I fell back in exhaustion, fading back into the void that was oblivion.

[Thoran]

It exceeds in brilliance only further Draconicon. A very good job.

[Draconicon]

Thank you, thoran. Anyone else have anything they want to say on the last two sections?

[Silvac]

I liked them, Very interesting, you have a good knack for writing

[Draconicon]

Thank you for taking the time to read them. I will be posting the next bit on Sunday, I think. Maybe earlier, depending on my computer access this weekend.

[Silvac]

Have fun! see ya guys on saturday maybe friday!

[Aiden Fox]

Wow.. I was't expecting that strong of a begining to the second part.. I'm loving every bit of this story thus far. I can't wait for the next.

[Draconicon]

Again, Thanks for the comment. I am glad I can provide something to avert boredom with my writing.

[Draconicon]

Here is the third update to the story.


The next time I woke up, I could see the moon through the tree branches above me. “So I’m in the forest,” I though to myself. Pushing myself back off the bed, I found that I needed my clothes. Apparently, Dringa had stripped me before putting me in this bed. Maybe she thought that would be enough to keep me from leaving. Well, I would prove her wrong on this point, at least.
As I roamed through the room looking for my clothes, or at least my pants, I found that the night-sight I had gained in that shapeshift had been kept. I could still see very, very well. But despite how well I could see, I couldn’t find any of my clothes, except for a shred of a shirt.
Seeing it in the corner of the room, I picked it up, trying to figure out which shirt I had it had come from. Not that I needed too, I was just curious. It didn’t take long to determine it was one that my mom had made. As that realization registered, I felt like I had been hit in the stomach. My mom! What had happened to her?!
“She is fine, Drinta,” came a voice from behind me. Turning quickly, I found Dringa was behind me, and staring rather pointedly at my bare condition. “Isn’t it a little chilly to be without clothes, Nephew?”
“Not really, I’m used to the col- Wait. Nephew?!” This was a development, and a welcome one at that. Now I knew why my father had been so close to her in the forest. He wasn’t meeting someone from a previous affair, or someone he had once loved. It was only a meeting of family, which completely excused each and every one of the actions he had taken in that forest clearing.
“What just came into your head, nephew?” my aunt asked me.
“I just realized a great relief! My father, when he met you, wasn’t being unfaithful! He was still the same person he had always been!” I was happy enough to dance, and I started to before being recalled to earth by my aunt’s statement of:”Um, I wouldn’t exactly say that…”
Suddenly brought back down to earth, I wasn’t quite sure what she meant. Had my father been different in his youth? Did his kind, and now that I think of it, her kind, actually mate within families? I truly, truly hoped not.



As we sat down to talk and Dringa poured some tea she had prepared, I couldn’t help but wonder. What else had I not known about my father, and his family? What else would happen in the future, now that I had a second form? Obviously, the people of Shenstar hated anything different, so there was no way I could continue to live here. But where could I go?
“Your father had always been the most, shall we say, human-like of us,” Dringa said as she poured some tea for herself. “So it stands to reason that he also was the one who actually took his pleasure with them.”
Shocking as that was, I could hardly be surprised by such things anymore. “Are you telling me that he was somebody who frequented whorehouses, who paid small silver to ta-“
I fell to the floor from the impact of her slap. As I rose back to my feet, I noticed that Dringa trembled with rage. “I assume from the slap I’m wrong,” I said, taking my chair.
“You certainly are,” she responded, her voice tight with rage. My eyes were drawn to her hands, where I saw a small color change taking place. My guess confirmed by the growing white patches on her dark skin, I raised my eyes back to her face. “Despite his love for them, he seldom, if ever, lowered himself to that, except in your case. In fact, your case is the only said case in our history.”
“Whose history?” I asked, pretty sure I already knew the answer.
“Why, the history of the dragons, of course,” was her response, and based on the tone, I was in for quite a long lecture.
“It started about two millennia ago, back when Shenstar and Isol were still part of Old Nerast, when the Fallen Peak was still tall and whole…”
(See final page for history appendix, human and dragon view)



“So you see why we fought, why I begged your father to continue to fight?” questioned my aunt. “Your uncle, my younger brother, is evil personified, and like anything else evil, it is our duty to destroy it. Can’t you see that?” She looked at me with a look that nearly begged me to answer yes, but I honestly couldn’t.
“Dringa, in all of that, you never once gave the reason that my uncle so hated my father,” I said, trying to buy some time to find some real flaw in her argument, so that I could refuse her plea. “Maybe, if you can explain that, I would understand your history and your hate.”
Dringa seemed shocked. I guess she couldn’t really believe that I wouldn’t agree unconditionally. After all, most people really hated my uncle, and since he had killed my father, I guess normally I would have joined without thinking. But I kept remembering my father refusing her on the basis of protecting his family, and I knew he knew we could protect ourselves. There had to be another reason.
“Why, Drinta? How could you not understand?! He. Killed. Your father. How could you not hate him, not see his evil, after such an act? How could you?” She began to tear up, obviously distraught at this lack of aid. Looking at her face, I began to find that her tears were a rather potent weapon. But so are any female’s tears, for that matter.
My eyes, not really under control of my mind, were spinning all over the room, searching for some kind of thing that would distract both my aunt and anyone else might be in the house. After all, I had only seen the one I had been sleeping in: there was no telling who else might be in the house. And I finally saw what might work.
On the floor near my bed, there lay a small, unlit lamp. It was half-melted, but it just might be big enough for a distraction.
“Dringa, you are nearly insane,” I said, pulling away from the table and walking back to the bed, still wishing I had been able to find my clothes. “There is always a reason for everything, and if my father didn’t agree to help you, he had a hell of a good reason. You obviously didn’t know him very well, if you thought that the reason he gave you was the only reason he had.” Reaching down and picking up the lamp without catching her attention was a bit of a trick, but I managed it by faking a fall. “Dringa, I can’t help you. Not without knowing just why my father did what he did.”
She drew herself up to her full height, which was an imposing seven feet in human form, and stepped toward the door. “Then you will stay in this room until you do. I can’t risk another person allying themselves with my crazy brother. Correction, my living, crazy brother.” She was almost at the door. It was now or never if I was to make my escape, so I threw that lamp with as much force as I could.
It struck her right on target, the center of the back of her head, and she fell. As she hit the floor, there came quite a bang, rather disproportionate to her size. Immediately after she had settled and was obviously not getting up anytime soon, I ran to the door and down the stairs. Even as I did, I could hear the stomps of someone else coming up the stairs. Someone else lived here, or at least had come to visit.
There was no way I could stay on the stairway, and I had sealed my fate with regards to my aunt with that projectile to her head. There was no way that she would allow me to stay here, at least as long as I was alive. If I ran downstairs, there existed a possibility, however slim, that I might get past with surprise alone, and if not…Well, I’d better hope the shape shifting power responded to will as well as emotion.
As I reached the middle of the stairs, I saw who else inhabited the house, and they looked incredibly mad.
The two looked almost like normal human twins, save for one feature: they both had tails, scaled over. And when they opened their mouths, I saw they had fangs, rather than teeth. Their fangs slid out and slid back in as they screeched at me. Their speech was garbled by said fangs, but understandable: “Kill him, tear him, eat him, KILL HIM!” This was not good at all.
As the stairway had no railing, and the floor didn’t look too far away, I decided to take the risk of a jump, but I waited too long. As I jumped, I crashed into the pair that had been rushing at me, and all three of us tumbled to the ground. With the last bit of consciousness left to me, I pulled myself to the wall, stuffed myself into a corner. Some instinct made my hands make several strange motions, but before I could think exactly what it might have been, oblivion claimed me again.

As awareness painfully found its way back into my skull, I looked around and realized I hadn’t moved since I crashed. I sat in the same corner I had taken a nap in. Stranger yet, that creepy pair that seemed so interested in eating me were nowhere to be seen. Surely, when they had woken up, they would have killed me while I was helpless?
Looking down, but otherwise not changing my position, I received yet another shock: I was invisible!
A closer look gave me some relief; I wasn’t invisible, just incredibly well camouflaged. The only way someone would see me was if they knew exactly where I was, and it would still take some doing, even then. “This will get me out of the house,” I thought to myself. As I pushed on the wall to lift myself up, however, I noticed the camouflage fading.
“Oh, hell!” I cursed to myself, looking everywhere for the slightest trace of movement. Although there was none to be seen, I still moved very cautiously. If I could do this, there was no telling what my aunt and her visitors might be able to do. After finding no movement for several minutes, made my way along the wall toward what I hoped was the front door.
Passing several desks, I finally reached the great door, ten feet wide, and made to push the door open. Before I could do so, however, someone from behind me spoke.
“If you want to get out, that might not be the best way,” it said, deep enough to make my throat hurt. “But if you come with me, I believe you would find it.” As I turned to see who was speaking, I silently cursed myself for an idiot. I could have been out the door and on my way to freedom if I hadn’t been curious. But curiosity has always been a vice of mine, so I could no more resist its urge than the sea could resist the tides.
The sight of the speaker was a shock. He was rather short, barely passing four feet in height, and he was quite bald. Not a hair remained on his head. With the pale yellow robes that were nearly skin colored, he looked like a giant male genital. But despite his appearance, his eyes hadn’t changed from the first time I had seen him, only a few days ago.
My uncle had found me, and more than likely, would soon kill me.



“Why are you just standing there?! Come on!” he hissed at me. Without waiting for a response or for me to take action, he turned on his heel and walked back the way I had come. With so little choice of what to do, I decided to follow him. Evil uncle or not, he seemed my best chance to get out of this house.
He led the way past the desks I had passed, up a few steps I skipped when I leapt from the stairway, until we came to a wall. Maybe he controlled magic that allowed him to step through walls, but I remained unconvinced that I did. Thankfully, that didn’t matter in the least.
Reaching the wall, he felt over several sections of it. Guessing he was looking for some kind of switch, I came to the wall and felt around as well. “Just guessing, uncle, but what kind of switch are we looking for?” Seeing him flinch out of the corner of my eye, I groaned. Were all the people related to my father idiots?
Without answering me, he continued feeling across the wall. Despite the great size of the wall, I felt disappointed that we hadn’t found any switch or lever by now. Surely it couldn’t be that well hidden.
We froze as clicks from the stairway a few feet away drifted to our ears. The sound faded for a minute, then came back, stronger. Someone was coming downstairs.
Our searches became more frantic, and I began to wonder yet again at the conversation between my father and Dringa. If my uncle was so strong, so fierce, that it took both of his siblings to subdue him, why did he need to leave before anyone came down? Surely with his strength, he could handle them? Glancing back at the stairway, I saw two pairs of legs and a pair of tails. “Great, the killer twins. They related to you guys, too?” I muttered under my breath toward my uncle, beginning to feel some of his fear.
As time seemed to slow, I saw their bodies gradually become more visible. Their upper legs. Their waists. Their chests. And when their faces came into view, uncle finally found the switch. A section of the wall peeled away and a passage could be seen, but the final destination of said passage remained vague. Still, anywhere seemed better than here, so I plunged into the darkness, followed swiftly by my uncle. I shuddered at the shrieks that sounded before the wall shut itself again. I had exchanged a somewhat known danger, the killer twins, for a completely unknown danger, one that could and probably would kill me at any moment.
Despite all the questions that burned in my mind, I kept silent, and with no input from myself, so did my uncle. Excepting the sound of our footfalls, our passage through this beforehand unknown tunnel was silently deafening.


I don’t know how long we were in that tunnel, but it seemed like days. During the few times we rested, I felt as if I slipped into iced water. By the time we finally reached the end of the passage and could see sunlight again, I would have given anything for clothing and food. Looking back, I can see that may have been Drentin’s plan. After all, he always was on the lookout for allies.
We waited on the hill the passage had exited on, gathering our strength, waiting for some sunlight to warm us from the chill the tunnel had left in our bones. Again, this took quite some time. When we finally were warm again, I felt I had enough energy to look around, see where we were. To the east of us (I was only able to tell because the sun peaked over the horizon, and when we had come out, it hadn’t risen yet), there flowed a river, about thirty feet across at some points, fifty feet in others. The current looked slow from our viewpoint, and the scales of the fish and other animals that lived in it gleamed in the morning sun. As I watched its progress across the land, I saw it ended at the coast, and near the coast was a city.
The walls stood tall, at least forty feet, and each sixty feet of wall led to a protruding tower, with archers stationed at each. Near the river, the main gate stood open to the road. The gate itself was as much of a marvel as the city walls themselves, about sixty feet across total and made of solid, highly polished steel. I imagined them turned toward the sun, and the thought of the light reflecting off them nearly made me wince. “That amount of light could blind a lot of men,” I whispered to myself.
“Yes it could,” said that painfully deep voice of my uncle,” and it has been used for that purpose before. Doubtlessly, they will use it for that purpose again.” Turning to face this man, no, I had to admit it, this dragon that everyone said was the ultimate personification of evil, and I only succeeded in confusing myself. This helpful, if ugly, guy, was the one who had killed my father and brought about the end of dragons, had broken the Shining Peak? There was a lot more that I had to find out, and something told me there wasn’t a whole lot of time left to learn it.

[Draconicon]

Again, I want to hear as many comments as i can get. I want to hear that i am not wasting my time with this stuff, and that some people might very well buy it should it ever get finished.

[Aiden Fox]

Great escape Drac. I like it very much. I feel a bit sorry for the aunt though, taking it to back of the head like that. OUch indeed. But it seems to me that the uncle could very well be trying to use reverse psychology, or that the "evil" dragon brother was none other than the "good" one and the young dragon is torn between a bunch of "He said, she said". I would definatley purchase such a story without hesitation. I'm all about Fantasy, especially when "Drama" is the key to it. Keep it up!

[Draconicon]

Thank you much, aiden. I will have another length here by Tuesday at latest, and after a few more entries, I believe you will find another crucial part of many a fantasy novel: the female that brings some happiness to the hero's life. Or male, with some cases. You will just have to wait to find out.

[Silvac]

I cannot wait it sound's intriuging @D@

[Draconicon]

And here is the new entry, number four. Hope you are all still enjoying this.

Somewhere between the time we left the hill and when we entered the gate to the city, Drentin had cast a spell that gave me the illusion of clothes. Personally, I would’ve preferred actual clothes, because the illusion only provided protection for modesty, not from the cold. I desperately wanted to reach an inn, to warm up, and a store, to get some supplies and then get the hell away from Drentin. To figure this stuff out, I needed to be alone.
My uncle had apparently foreseen that possibility, however, for he took steps to prevent my escape. He took out a spelled rope and wrapped it around my neck, and the complete lack of reaction of the people swarming around us told me just what kind of spell had been cast on it. “You try to run, Drinta, and this rope will decapitate you before you take five steps,” came his voice from behind me, followed by a small tug of the rope. Turning to the southern road of the city, we walked toward the Evergreen Inn. Thus began my first visit to the capital city of Sandar.




As we entered the Evergreen, I could see, somewhat, how it had gotten its name. Each corner of the common room held a small pine sapling, each completely green. The rafters had branches of the same plant hanging from them, though thankfully not over the tables. Apparently, the kitchen had been placed close to the common room, because the smells of a stew wafted into my nose the minute I stepped into the room. Best of all, I could tell the meat was lamb, my favorite. Well, at least I would eat well tonight.
But my uncle seemed set against anything that would make me feel the least bit better, for he dragged me up to the room and tied his rope to a bedpost. “I am going down to eat, Nephew, and you are going to sit here, undoubtedly to plan a way to get away. Let me save you some time. Don’t. You are not going to find a way, and that rope can not be cut, so don’t waste your time with that idea. If you stay here and don’t do a thing, I might bring back some scraps for you to eat.” Turning on his heel, he slammed the door shut, leaving me alone in the room.
Against anything else my common sense told me, there rose a small voice in my head, pumping a fist and muttering,” Perfect!”




Wriggling a little, I found that, whatever else Drentin had said, he was correct about that rope. It wouldn’t shift, cut, or otherwise move from where he had set it. So, I would have to come up with some other plan that would allow me to get away. The possibility of magic seemed the best idea; after all, if Drentin, Dringa, and my father used magic, there seemed a pretty good chance I had the same ability.
There were all sorts of stories about how to use magic, such as with spell materials, magic words, wands, concentration, etc., but I dismissed these as false. As I didn’t have a wand or spell materials to use, nor did I know any magic words. Also, concentration alone would most likely not accomplish anything, or everyone would be able to use it. No, it had to be something else.
Looking back over my memories, examining every time I had seemed to use magic, looking for some pattern, I finally found one. Each time I used magic, I was desperate, highly emotional, and used some hand gestures. Well, I was desperate and highly emotional now; all I needed were the appropriate hand gestures.
Since my hands were not the part connected to the rope, it was easy to manipulate them, not so easy to find what exactly they were supposed to do. I tried flicking my fingers, opened and shut my hands quickly, tapped them together, even tried snapping them. Nothing happened.
This was exceptionally frustrating.
Throwing my hands away from me in anger, a fireball flew from them and through the floor. Eyes widening, I stared at my hands, which were even now changing color to the blood-red they were in dragon form. “Now it works,” I muttered to myself, angry but relieved. Angry because that fireball undoubtedly alerted Drentin to the situation up here, relieved because I could now fight back.
Looking down at the rope around my neck, I watched it snap as my neck expanded. Finally freed from that worry, I jumped from the window overlooking the stable, expecting to land on the roof and continue running. Instead, I crashed through the stable ceiling.
Rubbing my bruised backside, I looked at all the horses, knowing it would take a very strong horse to take my weight as a dragon-human mix. I didn’t really care about speed at this point, just as long as they could carry me out of this death trap of a city. As each horse I saw panicked as I looked at it, my heart sunk. Suddenly, a warm breath blew into my back, and when I turned to see what it was, my hope was restored.
A Shire horse stood in its stall, its head sticking out over the wall, staring at me. Looking it over, I felt encouraged. This horse had been kept in good shape, and the muscles of its legs and chest were well developed. Best of all, it wasn’t afraid of me.
As I approached its dark brown, nearly black, sides, it almost seemed to tremble. I wasn’t sure it was in anticipation or in fear, but either would be equally warranted. The minute I had settled myself on its back, the horse was off, knocking the stall door open with a single well placed kick. As we passed through the door that led outside, I looked through the door that led to the inn. Through it, I noticed Drentin racing up the stairway of the inn. Hopefully, he would be too busy staying unnoticed that I would have time to get supplies and escape.
As I followed the city road, I noted a sign at the fork. It consisted of an arrow, followed by the words, “to Lord Frein’s Manor.” How could I pass up a chance like that? Turning my new mount in the direction the sign had indicated, I hoped that I would be able to get some supplies there.
Approaching the manor, I saw the walls were just as thick as the ones that surrounded the city. Where the road ended, there stood a thirty foot wide gate, closed tight. That would take a little bit of thinking to get past. Muttering “Stay” to my horse, I walked over to the walls, hoping to find some weakness.
A minute’s observation gave me some good news; the walls were completely unmanned. Of course, there was no way they could have gotten word from Fredge yet about his death, but still, the lack of troops on watch was encouraging. Still, there seemed to be no weakness to the walls themselves.
A gust of wind reminded me that I was still standing naked in the middle of a city, during daylight. Thankfully, the street I stood on was deserted, at least for the moment. Shivering with the chill, I actually rose in the air a few inches. Turning to look at what may have done that, I saw my forgotten wings.
There was my answer of how to get over the walls. Flapping the wings, I got a surprisingly smooth flight, ending with an equally painful landing when I reached the other side.
“Gotta work on that,” I said to myself as I walked into the seemingly abandoned manor.



The moment I entered the kitchen, I also entered a state of rapture. Food filled the cupboards, and meats hung from the ceiling, all spiced and seasoned, ready to be consumed when supper came. “They won’t miss a few of these,” I said, tossing a few lengths of sausages into a pack, “or a bundle of these,” tossing a bundle of bananas in as well. With all the rest of the food laying around me, however, whatever self restraint I had went out the window.
By the time I left the kitchen, they were short a roast, three lengths of sausages, 3 bunches of bananas, and five loaves of bread. Hopefully, the kitchen staff wouldn’t get in trouble for this.
My pack filled to capacity, I wandered toward what I assumed was the lord’s bedroom, remembering that Frein and I wore approximately the same clothes size. The way my luck had been going, however, I would have to climb up a great deal of stairs, while hoping to avoid any people who were still in the keep. I couldn’t fly up there because there was no window in the lord’s tower, and especially not in his bedroom at the top.
Panting at the length of the trip, I finally reached the top of the tower. After taking about 1674 stairs, I think anybody would be a little tired. When the door failed to open, I am not ashamed to say I threw a rather pathetic temper tantrum. Can you imagine an eight foot tall, blood-red, taloned, nude creature stomping their feet and fussing over a closed door?
Somehow, in the course of said temper tantrum, the door exploded. That shocked me out of the tantrum pretty quickly. I didn’t expect anything to happen, but then, maybe I should have. Whatever magic I have seemed to respond to anger, so maybe I need to be angry to do anything. If I couldn’t get that under control, I could have a serious problem later on the road.
As I entered the room, whatever anger that had dissipated toward Frein, no longer lord, came back in a hurry. The decorations he kept here would keep a family in comfort anywhere on the island for a year, yet so many people in Fredge had been on the brink of starvation. He kept ancient tapestries on each wall, and a collection of golden goblets lay on a cloth in the center of his desk. Each one had to have been worth as much as a house, embedded as they were with precious gems, and looking to have been made of pure gold.
Each wall sported a sword, as well as the previously mentioned tapestries. Each hilt contained more precious gems. And as I looked further around the room, it became ever more apparent that Frein had been really, really greedy, and had kept most of his valuable stuff in his room. Looking at the wreckage from his door, I could see how he would see this room as a good store room.
I crossed the room to his closet, hoping to find some serviceable shirts that also fit. Looking at myself as I walked to his closet, it seemed I had stayed in this form for a great deal longer than the last time. If this was permanent, I could have a great deal of trouble staying unnoticed. Opening his closet, I was at once repulsed and in awe.
Not a single one of his shirts were made of anything less than silk, nor were a single one of his pants prepared with anything less than the purest cotton. But not a single one seemed actually practical to any situation other than that of noble life. Why, a single hard, fast movement could result in a quite embarrassing rip.
Still, I needed some clothing, even if only to keep warm, so I grabbed a few pairs of everything, including his slippers. Who knows, I might need a pair of slippers someday. I stuffed them into my pack, giving one final look at all the wealth in this room and snorting at the thought of taking it with me. After all, how would I carry it and what would I do with it? As I turned to go back down the stairs, groaning at the prospect, my luck took a turn for the worse.
Standing in the doorframe, looking from the broken wood from the door to me and back again, was a serving woman. She looked like she was about to scream in fear, alarm, or some other emotion, thus alerting the entire manor. The minute that happened, the chances of me getting out of the city without Drentin knowing would decrease by the second. I had to stop her. Reaching for her, all I accomplished was knocking her over and forcing her to fall down the stairs, and before long, I heard the snap of a broken neck.
Groaning, I turned to the wall I hoped faced toward the east wall of the city. So there were no windows here? There would be soon, I thought to myself. Thrusting my hands out, I threw a ball of compressed air at the stone wall. It crumbled at the impact, and the stones fell to the ground floor of the manor. Jumping out, the wind caught my wings, and I began a glide to the docks I had sighted beyond the east wall. Maybe there I could find someone to get me out of here, to somewhere I could finally think.


Thankfully, the wings lasted until I was over the wall. Unfortunately, they gave out basically the moment I was over it. The only thing that saved me from broken bones in the fall was the fact that the scales that I gained in shape shift cushioned the fall. Looking back up from the small crater my fall caused, I was relieved to see that any guards that might have been on the walls hadn’t noticed my descent. Looking down, I saw that whatever spell Drentin had cast to clothe me had either worn off or he had discontinued it. I wasn’t sure that he could do that, but I suppose it was possible.
Pulling out some of the clothes I had stolen from Frein’s Manor, I put them on and paced toward the docks. Hopefully, they would take someone on without money. After everything else I had taken, why did I not take some money?


The dock held only one boat, the Grenisle, and despite how wide and waddly it looked, something told me it moved very quickly when it had to. The bow seemed poised like a knife before the first great cut of a roast, but this seemed a great deal more dangerous. As I walked up the red plank and passed the ships port entry, I found myself a new home.
That last phrase takes a little explaining, I think. The crew of the Grenisle consisted of misfits and outcasts of Isol, Shenstar, and even Surest. They were quite willing to let someone in trouble with civilized authority get somewhere safe. Since I obviously looked like someone wealthy, they didn’t even discuss price, trusting that I would pay them on arrival.
With a last glance behind me at the already fading Sandar, something caught my eye. Someone on the wall, pacing, with a glint of light coming from their location. A telescope, maybe. I strained my eyes toward this aberration, but despite the still lingering dragon sight, I couldn’t make anything out. My best guess, however, was that Drentin had spied me from the wall, and wished to keep an eye on the direction of my departure.
“Great, just great,” I muttered to myself. I must mention, I was also getting tired of having only myself to talk to.
“What are you talking about, honored sir?” came a small but still commanding voice from my left. “I hope you are not displeased with our speed, because I doubt we could actually get my ship to sail any further.” Shifting his position to lean on the railing, he directed his gaze to where I had been staring. “What are you staring at?”
“Someone I think I know,” I replied, not really knowing I could trust him.
“Anyone I should be aware of, sir?” he asked.
“Not if you can’t use a bow with the best of them,” I responded, turning from the railing. Realizing this guy must be the captain, I twisted back to give my respects and my thanks.
“Captain, thank you for passage, and for the speed at which you left Sandar. It means more than you know.”
“Captain?” he asked, looking a little puzzled. “Captain? I suppose that is as good a word for it as any,” he said, never turning away from the railing and whatever he saw on the wall.



The journey over sea continued fairly uneventfully, as most journeys should go. We stopped in Friea, a small fishing village, for supplies. Based on how much lighter my belongings were after we left, they used a fair bit of my belongings to pay for it. Fair, I suppose, considering I wouldn’t be able to pay them at the journeys end.
After leaving Friea, the crew gave me a choice of destinations: going up the Red River and arriving at Todias, there to make another trip home, or to go north and to Lake Frenst, to make port at Roone, capital of Nerast. Considering how little I knew of the land outside of Fredge, I decided we should go to Roone. Maybe there I could get a guide that could get me back home. Maybe I could get a job, too. The supplies I had stolen from Frein’s manor had already been exhausted, and the few sets of clothing wouldn’t be worth much in such a large city.
As they changed the sails and took whatever measurements sailors took when changing their course, I failed to suppress the feeling that we were being watched. Trying to distract myself, I watched the sails unfold again, catching the wind and billowing out to the size of small clouds. It was a small bit of cheer.

[Thoran]

Can you like... not impress me for once here? It just keeps getting better and better.

[Draconicon]

Sorry, Thoran, but I just write as it comes to me. For all those others that like my story, here is update number five, and I hope to hear your opinions of it.

We reached Roone after a month of sailing. Despite the supplies we purchased in Friea, we nearly starved because of a sudden storm that blew us very far off course. We all cheered at the sight of the city, desperate for food, water, and land under our feet. It had been a trying journey for us all. As we got close enough to be able to see details of the city, the first thing I noticed was how unlike Sandar it was.
Sandar is a walled city. Roone wasn’t, the only defense being a group of guards where the roads led to the buildings that made up the city. They were also stationed down at the dock, also a change from Sandar. Sandar’s building were all in neat little roads, while Roone’s construction was the result of a dandelions seeds, randomly distributed. No matter how you might line yourself up, there was no way you could make it seem there was only one house with all the others lined up behind it. For me, and for several other people from Shenstar, this was very disorienting.
Grenisle approached the dock and halted merely inches before it would have crashed into the fragile wood that made up their dock. The expertise of the crew was evident as they threw the anchoring ropes to the dock men waiting below, as they ran up the lines of the ship to roll the sails and get any loose items secured. It was a marvel of precision.
The soldiers on the dock marched to the Grenisle, ready to proceed with the regular customs check they were paid to do day in and day out. This was not good to me, especially if anyone had gotten news from Sandar to these people. If they had, the soldiers would know immediately that every bit of my possessions were stolen goods. That would lead to my arrest and the arrest of my new friends on the crew, on suspicion of collusion. I couldn’t let that happen.
Running below deck drew puzzled glances from the rest of the crew, but if I could get to my quarters, get my stuff, and get off the ship before the soldiers could get there, they could be as puzzled as they wanted. At least they wouldn’t be in prison.
The sound of the wood thumping under my feet was the only noise I could hear as I kept moving, needing to get to my cabin. Why on earth did I agree to have the cabin that far from the deck?!
Finally reaching the door, I pulled it open to find the Captain waiting for me inside. He sat on my bed, holding up several suits that I had taken from Sandar. “Is this what you were running to get?” he asked, a frown tightening his face. “I came down here to collect my fee, and what do I find? A few fancy shirts and an empty food pack.” Rising to his feet, he equaled my six feet of height. His presence was such that I felt a great deal smaller, though.
“Did you plan on running out without paying, sir? Did you mean to leave us in the lurch, to pay for your misdeeds, sir?! Well, I have news for you, SIR!! You are going back up there, confessing to whatever crimes you may have done, and the bounty those soldiers will undoubtedly give will pay for some of the losses you have incurred. Now, march!” he commanded, pointing his blade at me. He had pulled it out at some point of his rage; he had drawn it from its sheath. Holding it on me, he seemed assured I would do exactly as she said. Based on the familiar feelings of anger and desperation rising up in me, it did not seem likely.
“Captain, you are making a very large mistake,” I said, holding out my hands in a halting gesture. I felt the dragon rising, the human waning. Control, Drinta, control. Just a little longer. “If you hand me over, you will be murdering me. And if you don’t put that down now, and help me get out of here, doubtlessly you will have killed yourself and your crew as well.” I could feel my jaws begin to stretch and my body begin to grow. It wouldn’t be much longer.
“What are you talking about?” the captain asked, sneering derisively. “Even if you could take this sword from me,” he said, shaking said weapon, “do you really think you could kill me, the guards, and the entire crew? Rather arrogant, aren’t we?”
Either this guy was blind, or he had never noticed how I looked before, because he certainly wasn’t reacting to the changes I was going through. My eyes darted down and saw the blood-red scales beginning to spread up my arms. Soon, I would no longer look like a human, not by any stretch of the imagination. “Captain, I won’t be the one to kill you, far from it. It will be the person who commands the soldiers that even now are searching this ship for me. He will take me, kill you, and sink your ship. Look at me, Captain, and actually pay attention. If I wanted to kill you, don’t you think I could?”
The Captain lowered his sword slightly, and for the first time during the entire voyage, actually took a good hard look at me. He flinched back and covered his mouth to stifle a scream, apparently terrified of what he saw. Looking down, I could almost see why.
I stood almost a foot and a half taller than him, and about half again as wide. The talons on my hands had grown to their full length, and my jaw had stretched out a little further than last time, about ¾ of a foot. My fangs had grown in completely, stretching my mouth into a grotesque imitation of a smile. This is the image I saw in the mirror behind the Captain.
Taking a step forward, I saw the fear in his eyes grow stronger, more pronounced, and as if his eyes weren’t clue enough, he took several steps backward for each step I took. Holding his blade in a trembling hand, he stammered out, “B-back off, creature!” Despite his fear, his voice still held so much authority that I was tempted to obey him, but with the current situation, it was relatively easy to quell that instinct.
“Captain, you have seen my human form, and you have seen this form. Which do you think you have a chance against?” I asked him.
Taken aback, the Captain tried to cover his surprise with a sneer. “What, you think I can’t defeat you in any form? I am the best swordsman of the seas! I am the fear of all those who travel upon the ocean! I am-“
“Yeah, yeah, I know. But be honest with yourself. Do you actually think you can defeat a dragon-human in any form? Especially in tight quarters with that tiny weapon. If you do, you are more of an idiot than I thought.”
This had just the effect I was trying to provoke. “Idiot?! Is that what you think of me? Well, you think wrong, dragon!” Again with only the creature part of my life. Does the fact that my mother was human escape people completely? “I’ll have you know that this sword has killed dragons in the past, and it will today. Prepare to die, Monster!” Thus screaming, he lunged at me.
All I could do was sigh. It was all too easy to anger people most of the time, but I hated having to do it. Whenever people get angry, they get stupid, and stupid people are easy to deal with.



After escaping the Grenisle, I watched the soldiers/guards look through the ship from the dock. Apparently, they were getting very mad, because they were grabbing the crew and shaking them, yelling for answers. It made me sad that they didn’t seem to give them, because it is the same with authorities the world over. If you don’t do what they want, they find some way to make you wish you had.
It certainly didn’t take these guards very long to figure out an appropriate punishment. Using their authority as army officers, they confiscated the Grenisle for the Nerastan Navy. It was the one punishment they shouldn’t have chosen. Confiscating their cargo might have made them talk, and threatening one of them with death almost certainly would have, but trying to take their ship? No. That only served to make them furious. Furious enough to try fighting them off rather than give in.
Pulling their blades from their scabbards, they fell on the surprised soldiers with a vengeance, ripping, tearing, and stabbing. Even with the memory of Frein’s killing fresh in my mind, this was by far the bloodiest thing I had ever seen. The water of the lake churned as sharks and other predatory fish rushed to the sight of so much blood. As the dead began to fall from the ship, they became ever more excited. All this, I saw from the pier where the Grenisle was docked.
Sitting on the dock, I made sure all of my appendages were out of the water. While my scales certainly could halt a blade, I did not want to find out if they could keep out the teeth of a predatory fish. Especially here, with my uncle doubtlessly waiting for any word of my location. If the smallest trace of my description leaked out, he would be here faster than I could leave.
Speaking of, I needed to find a hiding place to wait out the next few hours of my transformation. With a city as disorganized as this, surely there was someplace unoccupied for now. Wandering from the dock, I avoided the guardhouses on the main path and reached the town center.
With a point of view similar to most people from Shenstar, this city was almost nauseatingly disheveled. The only organization that could be seen was in the formations of soldiers as they patrolled the streets. Sneaking by them was neither easy nor pleasant, but I managed it by using the roofs and garbage piles near each house. I was beginning to see why criminals preferred Shenstar to Nerast or Isol; it was easier to find hiding places when everything was arrayed in the same pattern. The houses, spread out in such an odd order, left nearly no hiding place for someone who did not wish to be seen.
After sneaking from house to house, roof to roof, pile to stinking pile, I had yet to find a single hiding place that would remain secure for more than a few minutes. I needed a rest while I thought out my next move, so I settled myself behind the nearest garbage pile, plugging my nose against the rancid odor as I did.
While I contemplated my next move, I scanned the place with an instinctual magic. A few guards to the south, and twice their number to the east. And one drunk-off- his-butt soldier to the north. The only direction open to me was west, and I couldn’t see any hiding places in that direction.
“This would be a good time to remember the camouflage spell from Dringa’s, Drinta,” I muttered to myself, my mind racing to remember how I did that one. I couldn’t try just running there, nor could I try flying. If the wings gave out during the glide or flight, I would be seen immediately upon my crash landing. Running, I would be seen the minute I left the main group of buildings.
Finally, I remembered. Waving my talons in a few weird gestures, I watched myself go from blood-red to pale red to transparent. Remembering the problem movement had brought last time I cast this spell, I made a few careful moves, praying the spell would hold this time.
Thankfully, it did.
Letting out a whoop of triumph, I regretted that almost immediately. The magic I had out for scanning immediately picked up movement from the east, and from half the guards to the south. Even as a dragon, the only way I could get away from all of them would be to kill them, and I did not want to do that. I had had enough of killing, for several lifetimes.
There being no way to go, I let the magic go, turning visible again. As the magic left, so did a surprisingly large amount of energy. As I fell unconscious again, I also noticed myself changing back to human. Again, minus clothes.



I woke up in a richly adorned room. Like Frein’s room back in Sandar, there were tapestries hanging from each wall. Unlike that room, though, this one was circular, made of white marble. Looking beneath me, I found just about the biggest bed I had ever seen, sans covers and blankets. Looking around again, I couldn’t help but gape at the decorations. It seemed to be enough to bankrupt even the richest lord of Shenstar, and they put a stranger in here?
Walking off the bed, I was pulled up short. Looking down, I noticed some leg shackles around my ankles. So, they weren’t being as careless as I thought. Still, with what I could do, shackles were the least of my worries. Testing the shackles, I found that I couldn’t move all that far from the bed. Not even far enough to reach one of the swords hanging from the wall or to reach some clothes that were hanging from a chair that went with a desk near the door.
Without anything to do, and lacking sufficient reason or anger to transform, I decided to simply wait until someone came to explain matters to me. The window completely opposite the door showed me the time was shortly before sunset. I assumed that someone would come with dinner, and then I could get some answers.
I didn’t realize at the time how important the sun would be in telling me just how long I waited.



The sun had set that first night, and risen and set another seven times before I saw another human being. By this time, I would have willingly confessed to anything and everything they asked, just in exchange for water and food. If anyone ever tells you it is easy to resist food deprivation as a torture, they are lying to you.
The sun had just set for the eighth time when the people who held me finally got around to talking and, far more important, feeding me. As the door to my prison (long since identified as mahogany) opened, my attention was swiftly drawn from my increasingly insane musings to the woman who stood in the doorway.
She stood as tall as me, with red hair hanging down to her waist. Her hips swayed, I think consciously, as she sauntered toward me. Her eyes drew me into their dark, cold depths. So cold were they, I shivered as she approached. Smiling, she slapped me, and then tossed what I took to be my dinner at me.
“Eat, then we will talk,” she said, in quite a familiar voice. Turning to leave, she couldn’t resist giving the parting shot of, “I told you that you would stay locked up until you help me. I mean to keep that promise.” Slamming the mahogany door, she left me with a pitiful dinner, dead, rotting rat.
I ate every bite and wished for more.



After the food, bad as it was, took the edge off my hunger, I found I could think lucidly again. For those of you who haven’t been listening, what the lady had told me led me to believe another aspect of dragon magic existed. After all, this form wasn’t what my aunt had been wearing before.
So, she thought that I was stuck here with her, did she? Well, I wouldn’t be kept in a cage, and regardless of the rich adornments that hung around me, this was still a cage. The presence of my aunt, added to the fact she was the one imprisoning me, gave me plenty of anger to fuel the transformation. Thinking through the process this time, I managed to make a few changes to my second form.
Instead of making myself quite as tall, I kept myself to the tall side of normal. Instead of growing blood-red scales, I grew skin colored ones. The wings remained close to the skin, and didn’t flare out when they fully materialized. I kept my face fairly human looking. But there were a few things I couldn’t change.
I still grew talons and the spur on my heel stayed. My muscles grew, keeping me stronger than any other human being. And, unfortunately, this time I grew a tail.
The only reason I noticed this was because of the very audible thump that resulted when it formed. Looking behind me, I saw this 4 foot long lump of scaled matter hanging from me, apparently useless. Recalling what Father had done with his, though, reminded me that it could be a potent weapon.
As my leg muscles expanded, the shackles grew increasingly tighter. I was gambling on the strength of the scales and muscles to beat the metal work of the shackles, and while I was still confident, there is no certainty about anything, especially not magic.
Just when I thought it wouldn’t snap and I would probably have to gnaw my leg off, the shackle finally snapped. Pulling back from them, I grabbed some clothes, again, and grabbed one of the swords as well. This time, I didn’t want to have to rely on this form for defense, just in case Drentin happened to be in the area.
Pulling on the clothes, I couldn’t believe that Dringa actually thought this pitiful excuse for a jail cell would contain me. She knew I was part dragon. She knew I was learning. Why was she being so stupid about this?
Now dressed and armed, I felt ready to make my escape from my aunt once again. Before I tried to go anywhere, though, I needed to know just where I was being kept. Strolling to the window, I looked out, hoping to find some landmark that would guide me, that would remind me just where I would have to go.
The city of Roone lay about 240 feet to the southeast, so I gathered I was being held in the house I had been running toward only a week or so ago. How is that for irony? Leaving the window with a sigh, I walked to the door, hoping dragon magic would be strong enough to break it down. It was, after all, a rather strong door.
Focusing my anger at my aunt, multiplying it with my hatred toward my uncle, I soon gathered enough anger to break down the building if I wanted to. Despite my initial urges to do so, however, I didn’t, for several reasons.
1, there were other people in this building. 2, I now stood in the top floor of said building, and I didn’t know if I would survive the collapse. And 3, I wanted to be up close and personal when I finally dealt with her. Before what small hold I had on my anger could fall apart, I unleashed the magic I had built up in my hand at the door, splintering it into a thousand pieces. “I gotta find some way to do that quieter,” I muttered to myself as I ran through the shattered doorframe and down the stairs, taking them three at a time. “At this rate, the sound of those things are gonna get me caught more than the spells themselves.”
Despite how tall the building was, there was no sign of anyone as I ran down the stairs. I didn’t even see my aunt, or her two followers who had tried to kill me in her house back in the forest. The house was abandoned. Not a servant or a resident could be found. Not that I looked all that hard, though. After all, I was trying to escape, not meet a lot of people.
Finally reaching the ground floor, I thought that maybe I had time to rest for a little while. Slumping against the wall next to the front door, I closed my eyes…


And was woken up rather rudely by the door slamming in my face. As it moved away again, I forced myself not to move, although the impulse to rub away the pain in my face was quite strong. When my view finally cleared, I barely suppressed a sound. I say a sound because I wasn’t sure if it would be a groan of exasperation or a gulp of fear.
Standing just in front of me were the twins from my aunt’s house. Thankfully, for now they were oblivious to me. After all, who regularly checks behind the front door after they open it for strangers? They each grabbed something from the wall opposite me, and began to climb the stairs.
I couldn’t help it. I laughed in relief, which promptly brought them running to my location.
My short rest had rejuvenated me somewhat, but not enough to face these two, who were carrying blades of their own. Based on the shine the held in this lightless place, I could safely assume they were magical, which meant they could penetrate my hide whereas other blades could not. So, I had to find some way to postpone this conflict until I could deal with them appropriately and safely.
Sliding out the door quickly, I found a bolt on the outside, strangely enough. Shoving it into place, I ran from that house as fast as I could. After being captured by this family three times, I was not eager to sample the experience a fourth time. Hearing them thumping on the other side of the door, I knew the door would break within a few minutes, if not within the minute. Running to town seemed my only choice for the moment, so off I ran.
Finally reaching the town, I hid myself behind one of the guardhouses. It didn’t provide all that much cover, but it did provide safety from the town’s criminal elements, as well as from guards that may have been in Dringa’s employ. Unless Dringa had taken over the government of Nerast, all the guards would have to pretend they upheld the law, lest they lose any and all authority. Still, I kept my presence hidden from them. What they didn’t know about, they couldn’t act on.
The fountains of the square behind me seemed the only sound that could be heard, when there occurred a rather loud bang. Looking to the northwest, I saw two things that warranted a great deal of worry: the door of the tower had been blown apart, and my aunt had taken dragon form.
Her wings spanned over the building she had abandoned, thirty feet in all. As she slithered through the air, her body cutting through it like a boat cuts the water it sails upon. Her forty foot length seemed weightless in the air, and her white scales caught the sun at every turn. As she panned her eyes left and right, up and down, I pulled myself back under what little cover I had. If I was seen, there would be no way I could escape again, not with her this alert.
My only choice would be to sneak away, to try and reach the docks. Ships were entering and leaving Roone at all times, so there shouldn’t be any problem actually finding one to take me somewhere. The only problem was, if she suspected I boarded a ship, she’d bombard each and every vessel leaving the harbor, and many people would die.
Running west and a little north, to maintain cover, I reached the Eastern Barracks of the city without being noticed. From here, it would be a straight shot to the harbor, but no cover. Also, the soldiers were mobilizing, setting guards on the dock and sending others into the city. Soon, they would have a perimeter that no one could get through unnoticed. Well, no one that wasn’t invisible. “Time for some more magic,” I thought to myself, beginning to wave my hands in the gestures that would render me invisible.
Before I was even halfway through the spell, however, Drentin appeared, flying over the harbor toward the city. Black scales gleamed as he cut through the air like a hot knife through butter, winding through the skies, searching for, at a guess, me. Any magic I might cast would give me away almost immediately, so that option was abruptly canceled. Staring at the two dragons soaring from the east and the west, I knew there was no possible way I could get out without some kind of outside aid.
Suddenly, there came a snort from behind me. Whirling to face the source of the sound, I found myself face to face with the Shire horse I had stolen back in Sandar. Since it was nuzzling me with its head, I assumed it was happy to see me, so I grabbed its neck in a great embrace. Flipping myself onto his back, I found my confidence restored. Despite the fact that there existed no horse that could outrun a dragon, there was no reason not to make an attempt.
Leaning over his neck, my scaled face directly next to his ear, I smiled. “Want to be the first horse to outrace a dragon?” I whispered to him. He answered me by rearing up and racing off, with me desperately hanging on.


Sheran ran as fast as the wind the dragons rode, yet we couldn’t actually leave them behind. Every night, we stopped only minutes after my aunt and uncle stopped, and started before them. Despite this, we could put no further distance between us. That is, until Rorn.

[Silvac]

Wow... It's really good... Makes my poems feel sad... XC

[Draconicon]

It is not meant to make you feel bad about your writing, I just like to hear the comments of those that read mine.

[Silvac]

I didn't mean it in a bad way... Your writing is really good XD. I just am currious do you get really bored and decide to write(What I do) or do you just set time aside and write then?

[Draconicon]

Unfortunately, it is more often than not that I get bored, though I am trying to set aside time to write each day. This story is just driving a little nuts, my other one is going a lot easier.

[Silvac]

Ah... I just listen to some music (Kung Fu Dancing or Go Go power Rangers {Don't ask}) It helps me come up with stuff

[Thoran]

A brilliant masterpiece, once more. Looking forward to the next part.

[Draconicon]

Thank you, Thoran, and I do listen to music, Copperdragon, but sometimes, writers block is writers block.

[Silvac]

That is true...

[Draconicon]

So, does anyone else have any comments on my story, or specific parts in it they really liked?

[Silvac]

I thought that the part with that they almost crashed was funny...:D and that you seem to have the details of the ship down pretty well

[Draconicon]

Well, to be completely honest, I was completely guessing with the part about the ship, and my only real info was from other fantasy books that seemed to mention them.

[Silvac]

Ah... Guessing is a good way of getting things I would suggest getting a picture of the ship perhaps... or just draw one your self! It helps having an image

[Draconicon]

Three words. I can't draw.

[Silvac]

oh... Well you could just find a picture on the internet... *Weak smile*

[Draconicon]

Here is another update. Not to sound negative, but I feel that the story is beginning to go downhill. If anyone feels different, make sure to tell me.

Rorn is a small town in the northern half of Nerast, almost halfway between Roone and Riverborn. There truly isn’t much there, but if you need to hide, this is the place to do it. Established near the end of the Nerastan Civil War, when it was obvious that Shensil would emerge victorious, Rorn was built with a single purpose in mind: to make as much profit out of the end of the war as possible.
There were all kinds of businesses here: smuggling, slave trading, whorehouses, and some of the more legal trades as well, weapons smiths, blacksmiths, tanners, etc. Still, the predominant, and by far more profitable, industry lay with illegal matters, so few people actually engaged in so-called “honorable” practices.
By the end of the war, most of the demand for Rorn’s supplies had dried up, so the populace actually was forced into the formerly despised practices of blacksmithing, tanning, and otherwise honest livings. They frequently commented on the fact that they should have done this years ago, however, once they actually joined this class of people. It made them far more trustworthy, and thus made their other jobs easier.
Some people hadn’t left their lives of crime behind, and with the reputation most people from Rorn gathered, they were able to con people out of a great deal of money. As well as the fortune they amassed by these actions, they frequently took in people who were on the run from others, as long as they could pay. In fact, if they were rich enough, they even offered to teach them some of their more minor skills.
I know this for a fact, because these were the people I used to get away from my confounded relatives.
Sheran and I raced into the town from the north, still only minutes ahead of my aunt and uncle. Racing down the road, we jumped the railing blocking the path at the guard house, nearly trampled several families, and knocked down the door at the local inn before we finally stopped.
Thankfully, my dragon man form had worn off several days ago, otherwise the people inside the Red Eye (bad name, incidentally, for they served no alcohol, nor anything else that could give their customers red eyes) would have been even more shocked. As it was, seconds after I rode Sheran into the inn, they were screaming for my name, for the guard, and for just about anyone else in the town you could name. Knowing I only had a short time before the authorities showed up, I leaned over the counter to ask the proprietor a few questions.
“What’s your business, sir?” she asked, almost as if this sort of thing happened every day. Her dark hair fell over her eyes as she leaned forward to be able to hear me better over the voices of her other patrons. “Not in trouble with outsiders, are you?” she inquired, a small grin on her face. She knew I was in trouble, all right.
“The word “outsiders” might be stretching it a little bit, but yes, I am,” I responded, also with a grin. Looking over my shoulder, both to check on Sheran by the door and to listen for my reptilian family, everything seemed to be alright for the moment. I still had a minute or two before they arrived. “Is there anybody you know who could help me?” I asked, hoping it wouldn’t cost all that much. I hadn’t taken all that much from Roone, after all.
“I might know somebody, but he will have conditions for his help. Would you like to hear them?”
Knowing I didn’t have a whole lot of time, I was tempted to agree without question. However, my recent travels had beaten a little common sense into me, and if I agreed blindly, I might just be signing myself to either of my relatives for life. No way would I let that happen. “What are the conditions?” I asked, dreading the answer would be something I couldn’t fulfill.
“Two things. One, you have to pay for each day you are under protection and in hiding, the cost being 2 pieces of gold a day.”
“TWO?! That is more than a week in an inn, why should I-“
“Do you want protection, or not? Now, the second condition is both easier and harder, depends on who you are, I suppose. Before you leave our company, you have to prove yourself to be an interesting person. You will do this by conversation, by physical prowess, and simply by your personality. If you cannot fulfill this, we will not let you go, and, if you cannot prove yourself a week after required, you will be turned over to the people you are running from.” Looking back and forth over the room, making sure no one was listening, she asked, “Do we have a deal?”
Proving myself interesting would be no real problem, I knew, and I was pretty sure I had enough gold to last out my relatives. Still, there was something here I was missing, although I couldn’t think of what it could be. With my aunt and uncle approaching, however, any other choices simply wouldn’t work. Nodding my head, I accepted her offer, and was promptly hit over my head. Before I blacked out, I noticed the proprietor sighing. Hopefully, this was what they did with everybody.


It was, and I had to admit, it was a marvelously effective process, if a little painful for the one going into hiding. They could no more give away their benefactors than a turtle could fly to the moons, since anybody would be unconscious after a blow to the head like that. By the time they woke up, they were hiding in whatever safe house the criminals had chosen.
“Well, you’re awake,” a woman’s voice said from above me. “You don’t like to sleep, it seems.”
“I don’t need much sleep, ma’am,” I replied, looking around the room for the new arrival. Never pays to let someone stay hidden when you are dealing with them. “Although your way of receiving visitors could do with a little more gentleness, and a few less blunt objects.”
“We…prefer to physically enforce our rules on new guests. They learn better that way, generally. With you, this seems to be the wrong approach.” Suddenly, down came a rope, and with it, the speaker.
Dressed in evergreen tones, she sauntered across the floor, her eyes meeting mine. The moment they did, I knew I was in trouble.
Those azure eyes belonged in someone much, much older than this young lady, and while not the eyes of my aunt, or my uncle, they were the eyes of a dragon. This was just too much for my brain, and it went to shock/awe/overload mode, which basically meant that my jaw dropped, eyes bugged, and basically turned into an aware vegetable. Seeing this, my…keeper, for lack of a better word, laughed and began to ascend the rope, leaving me inside this stone square.
“I’ll be back by nightfall to see how you are doing, and I will bring an offer with me, so be ready to talk, and listen, and hopefully agree,” she said as I lost sight of her. The minute she left my sight was the moment I regained control of my mind. The loss of that control greatly worried me, so I went over everything that happened mentally.
After more than a half-hour, by body clock, I was no closer to figuring out why I had gone, if you pardon the phrase, goo-goo ga-ga over this lady. Yes, she was pretty, but I knew she wasn’t my type. By now, I was seriously wondering if I even had a type. She didn’t use magic, or I would have sensed it. She didn’t have any kind of perfume that might have some enchantment on it, because dragons are immune to any enchantment but those of their own kind. So what the hell had caused this?!!
Hoping I would figure it out before she got back, I thought, I contemplated, I pondered, and I deliberated, but I could not think of a single reason for this happening before I fell asleep from mental exhaustion.


Crack.
That was the sound that woke me. That and the slap that accompanied it. My face definitely was starting to feel rather sore.
“Wake up, you lazy Crocrachak,” said the woman who had woken me earlier. “I said I would be back, and for you to be aware!” Crack. “I said that I needed to talk to you!” Crack. “I said-“
On her next downswing, I caught her arm, feeling just how strong she was. She proved she was quite strong by getting to my face anyway, although with a reduced impact. Pulling her arm out of my grip, she yanked me to my feet, and shoved me against the wall. Again, showing how strong she was, she knocked the breath out of me with that impact.
“Now listen and listen well, Crocrachak!” she said, waving her finger in my face. “You are here for a reason, and while I do not know what it is, I do know that it most likely isn’t good for my people or my family!”
Pushing her finger out of my face, I said, “Shouldn’t they be the same thing, ma’am?” and I believe I managed to say it rather calmly. “At least, they are for me.” Giving her a small shove, I was able to get away from the wall, so she couldn’t pin me or knock the breath out of me again.
“Any particular reason you are being quite so violent, ma’am?” I asked her, absorbed by her movements as she pushed herself back to her feet. “And, um, a small question. What does that word mean, the one that you’ve been calling me? Corcakch or something like that?”
“Crocrachak. It means dragon-born, and I call you that because that is what you are, a filthy spawn of a creature that should have died years ago!”
“And that is what you are too, unless I miss my guess by a long mark.” I said in return, surprised by how much she hated dragons, especially since she was at least part dragon. If I was right.
She reeled back, stunned. Why was it that everybody I ran into, if they had the least bit of dragon blood, were so stupid? Did the arrogance of that race simply bleed the brains from their skulls? Whatever the reason, she recovered faster than most people, although her only reaction was a hung head and a few mumbled words.
“How did you know?” she asked me when I prompted her to repeat herself.
“Oh. It was the eyes, there is no way you can disguise that look. So if you are thinking of blaming yourself, don’t bother. There was nothing you could have done.” I began to reach for her, but was unsurprised when she retreated out of my reach. Obviously, she was still angry at me for pointing out just what she was.
“You are safe here, Crocrachak, but do not think that you are welcome,” she said as she reached for the rope. “If it were up to me, you would be returned to your relatives in minutes, if not seconds. And it may yet be up to me.”
As she climbed back out of what I now perceived to be a prison, I couldn’t help but wonder just what she meant.



I was told I was only in that room for a few days, but the roars of my relatives made it seem like 2 weeks. Each cry they emitted seemed louder, closer, more desperate. Despite how that woman had treated me, I didn’t wish harm to the organization that sheltered me. Still, I wouldn’t have minded that woman being found by my aunt. By Drentin, maybe not, but my aunt definitely would get along with her.
By what they told me when they finally let me out of my not so comfortable quarters, the two dragons had hung around for a day and a half, finally taking off for some reason that nobody understood. They also finally told me the name of the person who had spoken to me in the room I had been held. Apparently, her name was Cridea, and the daughter of the mayor of Rorn. Hearing that, I was exceptionally happy I hadn’t done anything to harm her when she was in that room, despite how angry she had made me.
“That explains what she meant. ‘It may yet be up to me.’” I muttered to myself, thinking I was being quiet. “That explains what she meant. ‘It may yet be up to me.’” I muttered to myself, thinking I was being quiet. I was proved wrong when one of the people who had pulled me out asked me, “What do you mean, ‘It may yet be me?”
“Oh, um, just something I heard someone say when I was down there,” I responded, gesturing to the room that had been my quarters for the last few days. I had to distract him with something, so I asked if there was anything I could do around here. Seeing a rather impish smile, I began to regret asking almost immediately.
“Oh, there is something, all right,” he answered. Grabbing me by the arm, he began to pull me to yet another location in this building. “And I am going to enjoy showing it to you.”



Mere minutes later, I was in an arena that had, somehow, been hidden from the public yet still was open to the sky. Unlike most arenas, this one was not circular, and as I looked around where I guessed I would be fighting, I noticed there was a great deal of corners. Well of course there were corners, it had ten sides. And based on what little experience I had fighting, I assumed those corners would have a big impact on fighting styles.
With the ending of that thought, three people I heretofore had assumed to be friendly turned out not to be as they rushed at me, daggers flashing in each hand. Despite all the observers in the stands, I couldn’t force myself to ignore these attackers. In spite of my previous resolution to keep my abilities secret, they were now forcing me to reveal them.
Pulling out all the stops on my anger, the transformation took place, far faster than usual. The scales raced from my center, covering me with armor within a second. The talons raced from my fingers with a speed unrivaled by anything they had done before, and with the reclaiming of my dragon muscles, I rushed them in turn.
Shocked as they were, they still proved strong opponents. Unheeding of the damage I could inflict upon them, their daggers slashed at my skin, bounced off, and broke. Pulling out more, they continued again and again, ruining more daggers with every second. Pity overcame my rage, and I merely stood there, letting them wear themselves out. Surely, they couldn’t carry enough daggers to keep striking for a whole lot longer.
With a sharp pain to the back of my neck, I felt the third man pulling on my wings, yanking himself onto my back and within striking range of my eyes. Suddenly worried, I tried to take off, but the additional weight of my passenger prohibited me from taking off. He had climbed still higher on my back, and was now hanging on my neck.
Now nearly terrified, I pulled all sorts of body shakes, trying to loosen his hold. All I succeeded in doing was temporarily halting his advance.
Finally exhausted, I couldn’t struggle anymore. Sinking to my knees, I waited for what must be the killing blow. After all, they had attacked me with no provocation, and without even giving me a weapon. Ashamed, all I could do was hang my head.
“Well, that was interesting,” said the guy hanging on my neck, as he climbed back down. Once he hit the ground, however, all sense of balance disappeared as if by magic. One step and he fell flat on his butt.
“No matter how much I prepare,” he muttered as he pushed himself back to his feet, “I simply cannot walk on the ground!” His two friends helped him stand, and after a few minutes, he seemed to be steady enough to stand on his own. Pushing the two of them away, he looked at me and smiled.
“So, what was your mistake?” he asked, startling me out of my shame. I was so sure they were going to kill me, and they were asking me what my mistake was?!
“What are you talking about?” I asked them, my voice cracking a little. “You just proved you are better, so get the torment over with and kill me, like you are supposed to!” I yelled, angered and more scared than I would have liked to admit.
The three people standing over me just laughed. Walking forward, the one who had been hanging on my neck, said, while still laughing, “Despite what you might think, not everything is an attempt to see you dead.” Pulling me up with his strong arms, he brought me over to the group that, I thought, had been trying to kill me.
Waving to the taller, leaner man, my chortling companion introduced him as Denga, while the other man was known only as Drotan. They still hadn’t stopped laughing. Despite being completely confused, their laughter was contagious, and I soon joined them in their mirth.
“What…are we laughing…about?” I said between gales of laughter, not entirely sure that I could be heard at all.
“You, my friend,” the strongman said, still hanging onto me, keeping me from running off. Despite how much he had been laughing before, he stopped quite easily. “Now, back to the question I asked when I got off your back: what was your mistake?”
“Why do you care what my mistake was?” I asked, just now realizing how much trouble I was in. My secret as a crossbreed certainly had gotten out, and, despite how friendly these guys seemed, how could I know I could trust them with my secret?
“Two reasons, young one. One, you need to know how to fight, and not just rely on the advantages that you have over regular people.” Leaning forward to whisper in my ear, he continued, “Second, you need to know this so you can bring down our confounded relatives, Dringa and Drentin.”
You could not imagine my emotional state at this time. Not only had I found someone that shared the secret of draconic existence, they were also related to me.
I was no longer without possible family.




Before we left the arena, I changed back to human form. No need to scare anyone, or to pass my secret any further. Grabbing some clothes, I followed my new possible relatives.
Once we left the arena, however, there was no longer any clue that they might be related to me. Not one, as they just started laughing again at my misfortunes. As more of the group came to the arena to practice, they joined in the laughter, not knowing what it was for but simply enjoying the feeling of laughing.
Despite the laughter I had shared with Denga, Drotan, and the as-of-yet unnamed man, I felt humiliated now. They were laughing at me, I just knew it.
Once out of the open air, and inside my room, or cell, depending on my mood, I felt safe again. In spite of how humiliating it was being beaten, and how attractive the option was of changing back and flying off, my opponents had been right. I was not fighting to the best of my ability, and if by some chance I was, my best was really horrible. I needed to learn to fight if I wanted to have any chance of defeating my aunt and uncle.
Staring at the ceiling, no matter how interesting it is at first, is exceptionally boring after several hours of doing nothing but stare. Getting up, I decided to actually explore this room my “friends” had decided to keep me in. Who knew but that I would need to know how to escape from here at some point or another?
As I paced off the room a couple of times, I noticed that the measurements didn’t quite add up. The first time I paced the room off, it was about fourteen paces to a side. The second time, it was twenty paces, and the third time, it was ten. Now I know a house changes size as it settles, but not back and forth between larger and smaller, and certainly not that fast.
“You aren’t the only one who can use magic, Crocrachak,” whispered Cridea’s voice from above me, “and while you are still limited by having to learn as you go, I have already mastered my powers. Watch and learn…”
My eyes darting to every possible place she could be hiding in, I occasionally found sparks flying from a small stoneway, and rushed over there. Slinking along the wall to avoid being noticed if she was hiding there, I received yet another surprise when I fell through the wall and knocked Cridea off her feet. Moments after, the ‘wall’ I had fallen through disappeared. Simple illusion.
As she whirled to her feet, I saw anger start to burn in her eyes. She definitely wasn’t very happy with me, and she intended to show that. Physically. Painfully. Shoving me back, she began her transformation, giving me the final confirmation that she was of the same race as me.
Roaring, I watched as violet scales raced up her arms, covering her with near impenetrable armor. Her talons began to emerge, as did her other natural weapons. I only had a few moments left before I would be helpless to stop her, so I took my only chance and ran directly for her, trying to knock her away before her transformation would be complete.
My breath went out in an “oof”, but I managed to knock her down. Pulling back, I managed my own transformation before she could regain her air, much less her feet. Now, the playing field was one where I actually stood a chance. Roaring yet again, she flapped her almost non-existent wings, and flew directly toward me. Bracing myself, I prepared to hold her, to keep her from getting away and ruining both of our chances of survival. After all, if Dringa or Drentin were listening at all, they would have heard all that magic, as well as both transformations.
This would be cutting it very close.
She feinted left, and just as she was changing course to the right, I jumped for her. Catching her just as she was about to pass me, I hung on for dear life. It is one thing to grab hold of a dragon, even a half-dragon. It is something else entirely to hold on.
She flung herself from side to side, and I got rather good looks at every part of her lower body. And I mean every part, since she was shaking me around so violently. Despite the situation, I couldn’t help but notice how beautiful she was. Not the most appropriate thoughts, I know, but they were the ones passing through my mind at the time.
Still, I made myself focus on what had to happen, which was getting her out of the air and out of dragon-human form. Fortunately, I was heavier than she was, and I managed to drag her out of the air with my weight alone. Since this was far from what she wanted to do, she turned her claws and fangs on me the minute she touched ground, hoping to catch me off guard. However, since I had already been humiliated once in a fight, there was no way I was going to allow someone to beat me again. At least, not this easily.
Her claws came down, mine came up. Her spurs flicked forward, I swung her body so it was out of the way. Her wings came at my head with crushing force, and I locked them back with mine. If anyone strolled into the room at this moment, I’m not sure whether they would see a single creature or two, so close were we to each other.
Cridea struggled for another few seconds before finally slumping in my hold. As I relaxed my grip, however, I learned just how sneaky the mayor’s daughter could be.
She turned in my hold and bit me right on the neck, similar to how a vampire would. Thankfully, my scales stopped them from penetrating too deeply, but they still managed to draw blood. Screaming, I grabbed her neck with one hand, shoving her off me, while with my other hand, I started to cast a spell.
Waving it in circles with a point in the middle, I had no idea what I was doing. Apparently, instinct had taken over again, and while I didn’t like having to wait until I was in trouble to learn new spells, I wasn’t going to complain right now. As Cridea raised her head, she saw the gestures I was making. Lunging at me with fear in her eyes, she ran right into the spell. Despite the brightness emanating from the spell, I kept my eyes open. I needed to see the effects of the spell if I wanted to know when to use it again.
Cridea lay face down on the stone floor, what little hair she had left attempting and failing to cover her unscaled, naked body. Apparently, part of the spell effect was changing you out of a spell-form. I reached for her shoulders and, shaking her, tried to wake her up. In hindsight, this definitely would not be the brightest move, but I was worried that I had killed her. What had actually happened was a great deal worse, at least for a time.
She turned over and her eyes opened, and for the biggest surprise, she smiled. A loving, caring smile. Leaping up, she grabbed me, and despite my draconic form, gave me the best kiss of my life. “Oh, great, a love spell,” was my last thought before she wiped thought from my mind.

[Thoran]

Well, I still think it's awesome. Also, I lol'd at 'Great, a love spell'. Very nice twist, I expected some kind of powerful Spell of Destruction and Chaos or something, but this is way... waaaay better :D

[Draconicon]

I'm glad you liked it Thoran. Yeah, that part definitely needed something of a twist, and I thought a love spell would provide just the thing.

[Draconicon]

Anyone else want to comment?

[Draconicon]

Next update.

As awareness found its way back to me, I opened my eyes and looked around me. Again, I was still in my chamber, and also, again, I was not alone. Cridea still lay beside me, her arm folded across my chest. Looking down at myself, I found that I had my human shape again. Despite how hard I examined my memory, I couldn’t find just when I had changed back.
Trying to move myself out of her arms without waking her up was obviously not going to happen, particularly since she was still infatuated with me. How did I know? Because there exists no spell that wears off within twenty four hours without someone canceling it out with another spell.
Despite that fact, I tried to move away from her. The only result was bringing her to the waking world immediately. Seeing me leaving, she whined, “Where are you going, honey?”
That voice made me grind my teeth hard enough to give me an instant headache. No matter what had happened last night, and I don’t really know to this day what had happened, there was nothing that could excuse her calling me ‘honey.’ Turning to berate her on that, I found her simply staring at me with those azure eyes, begging me not to leave.
No matter what anyone tells you, no matter how wise they might seem, there is one thing that everyone lies about: some method to deal with someone you care about crying while they beg you to do something. No matter what they say, there is no defense against that. And, thinking about it now, that is probably how it should be.
Leaning down toward her, but staying carefully out of reach, I asked her what she was talking about, thinking maybe she could fill some of the holes in my memory of last night. What she said blew me off my feet: “We had sex, all night. And now I’m pregnant.”
Needless to say, this statement nearly sent me back into the sleep I had so recently left. Only sheer disbelief kept it at bay. For one, I don’t know if a dragon-human can get one another with child, nor did I know if either of us was mature enough to actually have accomplished this act. It simply didn’t seem possible.
“What are you talking about, Cridea? I don’t remember anything like that happening, and in spite of the lack of experience I may have had, I’m pretty sure that I would remember that!” I said, desperately hoping she was playing a really bad joke.
“It was part of the spell, you silly guy. It made me love you, made you more potent, and made us both forget what happened last night.” Cridea stood up and glanced around the room, and, seeing nothing, sat back down. Her only covering was the hand she held over her top. “Since we are both naked, I’m pretty sure what happened last night was…well, what I just told you,” she said, blushing furiously. Apparently, she was a little embarrassed that we had done this quite as quickly as we did.
Before I could say a word in consolation, however, a voice drifted down from the door above us.
“Wow, you two look like you’ve been having fun. Any chance the rest of us could join in?” Looking up, I saw that the source of the voices were the guys I had been training and fighting with the day before. They had just walked in through the door, and had apparently seen us nude. Like most guys, they had immediately jumped to the most erotic, and unfortunately, correct, solution.
Groaning in embarrassment, I stood up from the floor, searching the room for any trace of clothing. Failing that, some blanket or something to cover me or Cridea would do. But nothing was to be found.
Glancing back up, I yelled, “No, no you can’t ‘join in’, as you put it. We simply spent the night together, nothing else. And I emphasize that fact, cousins.” Finally finding a solution, I made a few gestures and pulled a shirt off of Denga, and pulling another one off of Drotan. Handing one to Cridea, I held the other one over my nether regions. “Do you guys think you could give us some privacy, please?” I asked, hoping that they would.
Instead of agreeing, or even talking, they only stared down at us. I looked back at Cridea, then at myself. Seeing nothing of consequence, I waited for them to explain the looks on their faces. When they still didn’t, I said, “Either tell me why you are looking at us like that, or get rid of that expression. It makes you look like an idiot.”
Shaking themselves, Drotan, Denga, and the one that still hadn’t told me his name all started talking at once. Despite how good my hearing was, I couldn’t understand a word they were staying, what with the echoes and the enclosed space and how loud they were talking. Holding up a hand, the unnamed guy halted what the other two were saying. “What was that you just did, Drinta?” he asked.
I was completely confused, since all I had done was magic, which, from watching Dringa and Drentin, I had assumed all dragons and half-dragons could do. With the look these guys had been giving me, apparently not. “Before I tell you anything, Cousin, I would prefer that you give me your name. I am tired of just thinking of you as ‘that guy’.”
He seemed to consider, and then nodded. “Okay, Drinta. My name is Dronga. There, that was my side of the deal, so now you tell me what you just did.” Dronga was actually tapping his foot, he was that impatient.
Thinking I would tease him a little, I laughed. “What, you didn’t recognize it? I thought all beings of dragon blood could do it.” Laughing a little more, I almost didn’t dodge the lightning bolt he breathed at me. Looking up with a stunned look on my face, I noticed immediately that he was wearing a look that was just as surprised as mine was.
“Drinta, why don’t I come down there? I think we both have a lot to learn.” As he descended down to my level, I pushed Cridea further away. Even though these guys probably were family, that didn’t mean they were good people, nor did it mean they would take kindly to what had happened to Cridea. After all, Dringa and Drentin definitely were not extended family material. They would kill or lock me away without a thought, and the same to all my friends, and in Cridea’s case, probably something far worse.
Putting our heads together, we hoped to learn enough from one another to actually be able to defeat the last of the pure dragons.

[dragonking]

very very nice my friend you out done you're self again,I'm looking forward to the next piece.

[Draconicon]

Hey, I am going to try and get a couple pics in here. They are of the map I made for the story, and I hope they come out somewhat clear. I don't know for sure if they will, and if they don't, apologies. also, if you are just getting to the story, I apologize that you waited this long.

[Draconicon]

“So, how did that lightning bolt come into being,” I asked Dronga, “or did it just happen too fast for you to know?”
“I honestly don’t know,” Dronga replied, leaning forward. “I was hoping that you would know, especially since you had already used magic. Are you sure that this wasn’t just a bit of magic that I used without thinking?”
“No, it couldn’t have been that, especially since that bolt came from your mouth. No matter what else you might have done, magic does not exit bodily orifices. If it did, I don’t think there would be a single magic user that would be able to survive the pain and embarrassment that would cause. Don’t you agree?”
“Good point,” Dronga said, nodding. “But if it wasn’t magic, what else could it have been? I mean, that is a dragon’s major strength, its magic. What else is it good for in a fight?”
“Dronga, have you forgotten just what I used for protection in our fight earlier? My scales?” Transforming a small section to demonstrate, I lifted my now-scale covered arm to show them off. “They stopped each of your weapons, and these aren’t even as strong as a regular dragon’s scales would be. Don’t you think that dragons have even more talents hidden away? Now let me think for a while,” I said, a little upset at just how dense some of my relatives were.
Moving off by myself for a moment, Cridea came over, an idea in her head. She whispered into my ear for a moment, and when we were done talking, I was quite glad to find out that she wasn't an airhead. It was something comforting to know that I hadn't possibly mated with a female that was a complete idiot.
“What are you saying, there is no magic for that lightning?! I can understand that no magic was used directly, sure, but no magic at all?! That is impossible!” Dronga said after I told him my theory about that lightning bolt. Apparently I would have to explain it again.
“Dronga, would you agree that dragons have abilities, not necessarily magic, that others don’t?” Knowing that he nodded, I just kept going. “Then why is it so hard to believe that a dragon can breathe lightning bolts? It isn’t really any more fantastic than believing they breathe fire,” I argued.
“I know they have hidden talents, Drinta, but breathing lightning? That is just too hard to accept. Fire, yeah, that seems possible, but lightning? How would they store it inside them for later use? Tell me that, Drinta, tell me.”
I stayed quiet. I couldn’t tell him because I didn’t know. However, when you are quiet, sometimes people say things that they later wish they hadn’t. This time was no exception.
Dronga had descended into babbling. “I mean, after all, dragons are only so powerful, they can’t really be that strong, it just isn’t possible. They would be nearly invincible, lightning is too strong. It shouldn’t be in any mortal’s hands….”and so on and so forth.
Listening to this, I realized that Dronga didn’t disbelieve me so much as he didn’t want to believe me. If dragons could do it, and he could do it, he worried about what would happen. I guess he still hadn’t fully accepted his heritage, because I had no problem with it, and neither did either of his friends. They were both trying to convince him I was right, and that we should use this ability against our relatives. They were also trying to get him to teach us the same thing.
“Just think, Dronga, how much damage we could inflict on them with that lightning!” Denga said. “Even if they can do the same thing, we still need to know how to do this. Especially if they know how to do it. How else can we expect to counter it?”
“But what about the people who are sure to be in the middle of the fighting? How will they cope with this flying between them?” Dronga asked, the morality of using these powers still undecided with him. “How can we use these powers when they are sure to get others killed?”
“How could they get others killed, Dronga?” I asked, wondering how he came up with that idea. “After all, we would be the ones using the powers, so Auntie and Uncle would be a bit preoccupied getting rid of us rather than anyone with us, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Drinta, you aren’t looking at the big picture,” Dronga muttered in exasperation. “When those bolts start flying, our relatives aren’t going to want to get close to us. They are going to take out anyone they can, so we focus on defending our allies rather than attacking them!”
From the corner, Cridea said, “Isn’t it a little early to be counting on having allies when fighting them? And why do you assume they would be on the same side? Don’t they hate each other quite a bit?”
We all turned and stared at her. She had hit the nail right on the head, without having been in on these talks at all. Looking at one another, we hung our heads in embarrassment. Its what we got for assuming things. No wonder people hated that old saying: Assume makes an ass out of u and me. It came true far too often.
Finally giving in, Dronga began to think through everything that had led up to that lightning bolt.



Despite several hours’ worth of conversation, we were no closer to figuring out the lightning ability than we were before. There had been no instincts that had taken over; there had been no gesturing for spells. Again, nothing made sense.
“I only remember being angry,” Dronga said, throwing his hands up in disgust. “That is all I can remember, cousins, I swear.”
“Wait,” I said, holding his arm. “Did you say ‘anger’?”
“Yeah, I did. What is the significance?” Dronga asked, a confused look on his face.
Still holding his arm, I paused to think. Currently, I was the only one who knew how to use magic, and despite how these others seemed, I wasn’t sure if I could trust them with that power. In the end, I decided to try for a half truth.
“Anger is the fuel for magic. Be angry, and you can cast it. Maybe it holds true with natural abilities as well,” I said, looking away from Dronga as I talked. I told the truth, all right, just not all of it.
“Are you sure, Drinta?” Dronga asked while pulling my arm off of his. “Because if you are, we have a heck of a lot of work to do, and you have a hell of a lot to teach us.” Pulling me close, so that none of the others could hear us, he whispered, “We need to know this, cousin. We need this if we want to beat Drentin and Dringa. Surely you realize that?”
Even though I knew I could stop Dronga, turn him from this path of revenge, I didn’t. I still wanted revenge for what had happened to my father, and to free my mother from Dringa. Nodding my head, I said, “I’m positive,” although I most certainly wasn’t.
Pulling apart again, I let Dronga go back to the others, and I prepared to assume the role of a teacher.
Time for the others to learn their heritage.

[Silvac]

man you should seriuosly think about become a novelist with something like this!

[Draconicon]

I am thinking about it.