Now, here again comes the part which I anticipated writing for a very long time ... Hope you will like it, and that it is not too cliche - but for Oghma's sake how can you write a FR fic without a dragon fight! Any input on spelling, typos, FR lore and anything else is greatly solicitated.
“Now, who would have thought that you of all people would offer a solution when everything seemed lost,” I muttered in utter disbelief. “I forgot about it completely. All you have to do is to touch the ruby and speak your wish aloud, plainly and clearly.”
“It is that simple, eh?” the halfling nudged me enthusiastically. “Watch me incinerate the old geezer on a spot!”
“Wait, wait! What is it you are going to wish for?” I yelped grabbing his palm before he had a chance to go on with his plan.
“I am going to wish that the reptilian scumbag would drop dead, obviously. You know: kick the bucket, pop off, catch his death, buy the farm!”
“Don’t!” I gave his hand a good shake to make my point. “Or you may end up thrown a thousand years forward into the future, when the dragon will be dead from natural causes, or into some other reality where he never even existed, and in the mean time what are we going to do here and now?”
A loud crackling noise, followed by another streak of lightning and a series of loud screams gave emphasis to my last statement. I thought I recognized the female voice as Olphara’s. From what little I could see and hear in the pandemonium, she and Mirriam were trying to collect the children and lead them away to safety. But where could they take them – everywhere the eye could see stretched the endless ocean of glittering sand, cold and malicious as eyes of a dragon.
Something squeezed at my heart then, ever so gently but painfully, as an image of another place ringing with cries of terrified people blended with roar of the fire and crackling of dying trees rose to the surface of my memory, only to flee before the desperate urgency of the current situation. And then I realized to my surprise, that the atrociousness of Iryklagathra’s delayed revenge bothered me less than its futility. What was the point of this slaughter? A crime committed in vain. Murder that served no purpose, and brought no reward and no closure. Why would he feel the need to attack the descendants of his former enemy’s allies after the enemy himself was centuries dead? The ancient wyrm was living on borrowed time and yet, he could find the energy and desire to kill, even with one foot in his grave... It felt ... distressing.
“Would you please stop drifting away and pay attention?” Omwo yelled into my ear. I blinked and turned back to the angry halfling. “You were saying I cannot wish him dead – what the hell did you mean by it? What good is the wish spell if you cannot wish anything you really want?”
“The Wish is a very complicated spell,” I explained patiently. “It alters the fabric of reality in our current universe, and of course as it is always the case, Nature tends to seek a path of least resistance. Slaying a dragon is a difficult task, thus it had to be balanced, by implementing many serious changes. Transporting you a thousand years forth is easier, since the disappearance of an unknown bard from our time and his reappearance in the future is not a big deal – nobody is going to miss you here...”
“I am actually well-known among certain circles in Darromar,” he started to protest.
“Look, this is not the point! What is important is the fact that it is much easier to move you away than to slay the dragon. Therefore, you have to be very precise when stating your wish or the spell will misfire. Say, you can wish for a heavy weight to be dropped on his head, or some really deadly spell to be fired at his scaly behind – but there is always a chance that he will survive.”
“Drat! Are you always such an optimist? And how do you know anyway? It is not like you ever had a scroll with the spell of that level in your hands...”
Omwo looked at me closely. The expression on my face was enough to convince him to stop arguing. I demonstratively let go of his hand, faking total indifference.
“I wish for the dragon to be incinerated like ... er like crunchy potato chip in the hot oven... he started uncertainly. “Wait, drop that one! I wish that the dragon would drop dead, but I would stay here and the village would be safe, and ... No, this will not do. Help me! Can’t you wish something intelligent for a change?”
“Technically speaking this is your turn,” I replied crisply, “the ring was given to you as part of the ‘loot’, if I remember correctly. Hence, it is up to you to make a wish, and save us all. As far as I know it may not even work, unless you formally gift it to me, and renounce your claim.”
“This is not the time to get into all these fine technical details!” the halfling yelped urgently. “Look – your magic is wearing off! Can you renew it quickly or something?”
I raised my head and issued an inarticulate hiss. Omwo was right – the giant reptile finally freed himself from my spell and was looking straight at us, grinning in all his terrible glory. Now, you have to keep in mind that that was my first encounter with a real dragon in the new life, which was the only one I knew at the time. The view was one I am not likely to forget in another few hundred years. Iryklagathra was an impressive beast, even in his ancient senility. The dragon towered over us like a mountain covered in dark blue crust of ancient lichen. His scales were dull and tinted with a faint gray patina that formed on his scabrous hide over the years, or mayhap centuries, of hibernation. The monstrous head, crowned with a huge horn, swayed from side to side rather like that of a poisonous snake ready to strike at the mesmerized mouse. Iryklagathra’s lips were drawn back from his toothless gums, his maw stretched into a visible snarl of triumph. Once again, the dragon opened his jaws, and took a deep intake of breath.
“Well,” I muttered fighting back the most inappropriate fit of hysterical laughter, and finding to my chagrin that the last drops of moisture had out of a sudden evaporated from my mouth. “If you still want to do something about him you better do it now!”
“I wish to save the village and all of its inhabitants, including us!” Omwo blurted out in one breath, snatching the ring from his hand and waiving it at the enraged reptile as if he expected a magical beam of some sort to emit from it, and strike at the dragon.
For a brief moment, I was afraid that it would not work, that nothing at all would happen, since the wish was not articulated properly. Then the air around us clouded and shimmered with haze that dispersed instantly, removing the illusion and revealing the familiar outlines of the mountains, and the stone edifices of Perch. And above the angry roar of the maddened wyrm I heard the first silver note that reverberated across the cold stony ground, reflecting from house walls and slopes of the mountains, filling the universe with a sound of such terrible sweetness and joy that my heart almost burst from a sudden surge of hope. The sound was repeated, and went on and on, booming and rolling over the mountains, until it reached the high slope above our heads, and the dark entrance to the cave veiled by the silvery swirls of the night fog. The bell on the small plaza hidden among the clay roofs and rickety walls of Perch was ringing.
“What the...,” Omwo mumbled in distress, “the old bugger is still alive and the stone is gone! Something must have gone wrong.”
I glanced at his hand. The ring was empty of the last ruby, its three sockets glaring at the world like blinded eyes of some bizarre insect. I tried to swallow nonexistent saliva – the dragon was still there, angry like a wounded adder, and his infuriated roar filled my ears, overwhelming the silver call of the bell.
“Cretins! Imbeciles! Foolish two-legged worms! Do you still think he will come out to protect you? He has been dead for millennia! I will show you, I will show you all!”
And as if in an answer to his string of violent curses, there came a distant cry, brought from above by the gust of night wind.
“I am coming little ones, I am coming! Be of good courage and strengthen your hearts!”
The voice was strong, yet melodious, and something in its intonation was undeniably female. The words were spoken in Common, and there was an eerie echo to them, that made me think of flying and vast open sky high above the tattered shroud of clouds. At the first sound of it, Iryklagathra screeched in violent rage, spreading his enormous wings and making an attempt to take to the air. But it was too late - the dragoness dived out of the mist and struck at him like a bright spear sent by a hand of a vengeful goddess.
She was magnificent in her righteous fury: elegant and lightly built. A precious statuette crafted out of the brightest white metal, pleasing to an eye of an aesthete. Yet, there was also strength, and above all purpose to the graceful outline of the slim, silver body and the sharp cut of her powerful wings. The two powers of epic proportion collided in mid-air, just as the blue dragon tried to take off. But his great age was taking its toll – he was too slow for the silver wrath on bright wings. The massive, dark indigo bulk of the great wyrm met the light aerial shape of the silver dragon. Iryklagathra roared in pain, collapsing back to the ground, and the dragoness retreated swiftly, hovering over him like a seagull over a great ugly vulture.
“By Urgolan’s black mastiff!” Omwo peeped in awe, “somebody, please pinch me! Am I sleeping, or we are about to see a battle between two dragons?”
“I would be more than happy to oblige but I am not sure if it will help you much. If both of us are experiencing the same illusion there is no warranty that my pinch would not be a hallucinatory one...”
“Oh, shut up Jonny,” he snapped nonchalantly, “you have the imagination of a dung beetle! It maybe the making of my career as a bard, that is if anybody would believe it!”
“I would say ‘if’ we would get out of this mess alive. There is no guarantee that she would win.”
“How do you know it is a she?”
“I just know. Have a good look at her bone structure, and her wings. And anyway, only a female could think of attacking something twice her size with such utter disregard of the consequences. The male dragon would have tried to negotiate first...”
Indeed, the situation did not look very promising, and after a first powerful rush of exalted emotions, I began to doubt the outcome of the battle. The silver dragon looked too small, almost fragile, although she probably would have towered over the highest house in Perch and Amkethran. Her tactics seemed to work at first – she was trying to keep her gargantuan opponent grounded, and nebbed at him from the air, alternating between deadly bites of her needle-sharp teeth, and slashes of her formidable claws. But her breath was only moderately useful for that style of a battle, as the other dragon, being very old, was immune to her paralyzing cloud attacks.
He was also clad in enormously thick layers of protective scales; thus rendering her second option - the cone of cold, practically useless. Even thought she pelted the old wyrm with streams of sharp fragments of ice, they could not penetrate his thick skin and deal enough direct damage. The blue dragon reared on his hind legs, supporting himself with his massive tail. He was balancing in this upright position, waving two enormous tattered wings, and parrying her attacks with front paws. His jaws, useless as a weapon, snapped at the dragoness in powerless rage, but his mouth regurgitated incredibly thick discharges of lightning, and some of them were hitting the target - the silver dragon was singed and probably much hurt. Finally, Iryklagathra’s claw caught her shoulder, and a gush of crimson blood sputtered over the bright mail of silver scales. I winced. It did not look good at all.
“Tell me your dastardly name, weakling female, so that I know it before the rest of your life force would spill out of your cooling carcass on the stones below!” Iryklagathra roared in Draconic. “It is the way of our kind to know the names of our dead enemies. Even though you follow the tradition of your perverted race, and prefer the worms crawling over earth to your brethren in the sky. I am Iryklagathra, the Sharpfangs. And who are you, insolent fool, who so boldly took over the home of my ancient enemy, and his tribe of servitors?”
“I am Adalon, the Bright,” was the simple answer, and my heart stopped beating, even as I felt a hurricane of blood rushing in my ears. I moaned, grasping at the solid earth under me, and almost fainted, but stopped the seizure with an incredible effort of will.
“Why?” an echo went inside my head, “Why does it have to be her? Curse it to the lowest level of the Abyss!” Then it all suddenly went quiet.
“I shall not allow you to ruin these good halflings homes, and take their lives as a tribute to your senseless fury, Ancient One!” the silver dragon’s voice sounded steady and serene, even as her lifeblood continued to flow out of the ghastly wound. She was still hovering in the air above the blue wyrm, but was forced to rise higher, and this allowed her opponent to finally take to the wing. It was a truly terrific sight: both of the dragons were rising in slow, gliding circles, avoiding each other’s breath.
“She is going to die. Nothing to worry about – she is already half-dead!”
“I sensed you,” Iryklagathra continued his insane recital, even as he climbed higher. It was getting harder and harder to comprehend his roars. “I could smell your presence in the air; it woke me up from my slumber in the bowels of earth below these mountains and almost drove me mad with its familiarity. All of your kind stink of rain and clouds - did you know that? There is nothing worse than this stench; it grows on you, goes under your skin, and into your very stomach! I watched and waited, and crawled around like a shadow to find out who and what you are. I know your new cave like my own. I have spent decades crawling around it, searching for the hidden doors, and I was afraid you would flee through the back exit at the first sight of me, and deny me the pleasure of snapping your arrogant neck! If I knew you would come out to protect your pet worms I would have wiped out this viper nest a long time ago! But I am glad they provoked me with their annoying festival.”
They were circling high above our heads now, estimating each others remaining strength; and I had roll over in order to see them better.
“Yes, the old grump is going to kill her. You are safe from her, worm. And he was right, that is what you are now - an earthworm crawling on its belly.”
That last passage filled me with cold dread. Was I finally going insane? Whose thoughts was I thinking? Why was the life and death of the silver dragon that I had never seen before, and that was technically on ‘my side’ a concern of mine? Or, to be more precise, why would I wish her dead? No answer. Only cold, resentful silence. I jumped to my feet shaking like a leaf.
“Jon, are you alright?” I realized that Omwo was tugging at the hem of my robe. We were both standing upright now, since the dragons paid no heed to anything besides their combat. “You look a bit paler than usual. Did it finally catch up with you? I know fear is a strange thing – it strikes you at the moment when the worst has already passed. We need to get out of here quick – they are evacuating the village. The Bright One may lose the battle, but she will save us all by delaying the rotten bastard and letting us flee into the caves below.”
“Stop babbling,” I replied softly, walking to the very edge of the rocky precipice. “Follow if you must, but I am not going anywhere.”
He was right - the halflings were all fleeing from the field, the only ones left behind were the guards and a few young women set on helping the wounded to escape, and checking the dead. Mirriam and her brother were helping Olphara to evacuate the children, although I expected the girl to rush back any moment now.
The two dragon shapes in the night sky were circling the full moon, disappearing from view and showing again in the long gashes between the swiftly running clouds. I could see the bright blue flashes of lightning dancing in the sky as Iryklagathra continued his assaults. Adalon answered with weaker gusts of white. Slowly but steadily she was drawing the old wyrm away from Perch and her cave.
Bitter Grey Ashes p 51, Adalon's flight
Started by
Guest_Dorotea_*
, Jul 18 2003 03:30 PM
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#2
Guest_Theodur_*
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Posted 18 July 2003 - 04:04 PM
Now, here again comes the part which I anticipated writing for a very long time ... Hope you will like it, and that it is not too cliche - but for Oghma's sake how can you write a FR fic without a dragon fight! Any input on spelling, typos, FR lore and anything else is greatly solicitated.
Dragon fight, mhhmmmm... hey, I've been reading this Lands Of Intrigue.pdf and stumbled upon the old Sharpfangs name. He's supposed to get his ass kicked by some imperor of the Shoon empire some thousand years prior to this... I hope he's in for his second beating
“Don’t!” I gave his hand a good shake to make my point. “Or you may end up thrown a thousand years forward into the future, when the dragon will be dead from natural causes, or into some other reality where he never even existed, and in the mean time what are we going to do here and now?”
Then again, maybe it would not be that bad? What exactly makes Jon cling to his life as it is now, the most?
Something squeezed at my heart then, ever so gently but painfully, as an image of another place ringing with cries of terrified people blended with roar of the fire and crackling of dying trees rose to the surface of my memory, only to flee before the desperate urgency of the current situation. And then I realized to my surprise, that the atrociousness of Iryklagathra’s delayed revenge bothered me less than its futility. What was the point of this slaughter? A crime committed in vain. Murder that served no purpose, and brought no reward and no closure. Why would he feel the need to attack the descendants of his former enemy’s allies after the enemy himself was centuries dead? The ancient wyrm was living on borrowed time and yet, he could find the energy and desire to kill, even with one foot in his grave... It felt ... distressing.
Some twisted form of revenge?
“The Wish is a very complicated spell,” I explained patiently. “It alters the fabric of the reality in our current universe, and of course as it is always the case, the Nature tends to seek a path of least resistance. Slaying a dragon is a difficult task, thus it had to be balanced, by implementing many serious changes. Transporting you a thousand years forth is easier, since the disappearance of an unknown bard from our time and his reappearance in the future is not a big deal – nobody is going to miss you here...”
“I am actually well-known among the certain circles in Darromar,” he started to protest.
Not enough wisdom to play with such rings, Omwo...
“Technically speaking this is your turn,” I replied crisply, “the ring was given to you as part of the ‘loot’, if I remember correctly. Hence, it is up to you to make a wish, and save us all. As far as I know it may not even work, unless you formally gift it to me, and renounce your claim.”
Umm, guys? There is a dragon on rampage a few feet away and you are both involved in a nonsensical ranting.
I glanced at his hand. The ring was empty of the last ruby, its three sockets glaring at the world like blinded eyes of some bizarre insect. I tried to swallow nonexistent saliva – the dragon was still there, angry like a wounded adder, and his infuriated roar filled my ears, overwhelming the silver call of the bell.
So, the ring is calling silver? A Silver?
She was magnificent in her righteous fury: elegant and lightly built. A precious statuette crafted out of the brightest white metal, pleasing to an eye of an aesthete. Yet, there was also strength, and above all purpose to the graceful outline of the slim, silver body and the sharp cut of her powerful wings. The two powers of epic proportion collided in mid-air. A massive, dark indigo bulk of the great wyrm met the light aerial shape of the silver dragon. Iryklagathra roared in pain and the dragoness retreated swiftly, hovering over him like a seagull over a great ugly vulture.
Old 'Sharpfangs' doesn't stand a chance against her, I fear...
“I just know. Have a good look at her bone structure, and her wings. And anyway, only a female could think of attacking something twice her size with such utter disregard of the consequences. The male dragon would have tried to negotiate first...”
Hmm, is Jon-Jon a bit of a sexist?
“I am Adalon, the Bright,” was the simple answer, and my heart stopped beating, even as I felt a hurricane of blood rushing in my ears. I moaned, grasping at the solid earth under me, and almost fainted, but stopped the seizure with an incredible effort of will.
Eh, the arrogant and self-righteous one?
That last iteration filled me with cold dread. Was I finally going insane? Whose thoughts was I thinking? Why was life and death of the silver dragon that I had never seen before and that was technically on ‘my side’ a concern of mine? No answer. Only cold, resentful silence. I jumped to my feet shaking like a leaf.
Oh, you've seen her all right, Jonny... I wonder if she got her precious eggs back from CHARNAME, in this continuity.
The two dragon shapes in the night sky were circling the full moon, disappearing from view and showing again in the long gashes between the swiftly running clouds. I could see the bright blue flashes of lightning dancing in the sky as Iryklagathra continued his assaults. Adalon answered with weaker gusts of white. Slowly but steadily she was drawing the old wyrm away from Perch and her cave.
Heh, so we must wait again to see how Adalon defeats the Ancient One? Argh.
#3
Laufey
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Posted 18 July 2003 - 06:06 PM
“I am going to wish that the reptilian scumbag would drop dead, obviously. You know: kick the bucket, pop off, catch his death, buy the farm!”
“Don’t!” I gave his hand a good shake to make my point. “Or you may end up thrown a thousand years forward into the future, when the dragon will be dead from natural causes, or into some other reality where he never even existed, and in the mean time what are we going to do here and now?”
Oh yes...Wish spells are tricky things.
Something squeezed at my heart then, ever so gently but painfully, as an image of another place ringing with cries of terrified people blended with roar of the fire and crackling of dying trees rose to the surface of my memory, only to flee before the desperate urgency of the current situation. And then I realized to my surprise, that the atrociousness of Iryklagathra’s delayed revenge bothered me less than its futility. What was the point of this slaughter? A crime committed in vain. Murder that served no purpose, and brought no reward and no closure. Why would he feel the need to attack the descendants of his former enemy’s allies after the enemy himself was centuries dead? The ancient wyrm was living on borrowed time and yet, he could find the energy and desire to kill, even with one foot in his grave... It felt ... distressing.
Oh, he's got a flashback of his attack on Suldanesselar! Very neat parallel!
“The Wish is a very complicated spell,” I explained patiently. “It alters the fabric of the reality in our current universe, and of course as it is always the case, the Nature tends to seek a path of least resistance. Slaying a dragon is a difficult task, thus it had to be balanced, by implementing many serious changes. Transporting you a thousand years forth is easier, since the disappearance of an unknown bard from our time and his reappearance in the future is not a big deal – nobody is going to miss you here...”
Kind and gentle as always.
“I am actually well-known among the certain circles in Darromar,” he started to protest.
LOL!
'among certain circles'
“I wish for the dragon to be incinerated like ... er like crunchy potato chip in the hot oven... he started uncertainly. “Wait drop that one! I wish that the dragon would drop dead, but I would stay here and the village would be safe, and ... No, this would not do. Help me! Can’t you wish something intelligent for a change?”
'will not do'
I raised my head and issued an inarticulate hiss. Omwo was right – the giant reptile finally freed himself from my spell and was looking straight at us, grinning in all his terrible glory. Now, you have to keep in mind that that was my first encounter with a real dragon in the new life, which was the only one I knew at the time. The view was one I am not likely to forget in another few hundred years. Iryklagathra was an impressive beast, even in his ancient senility. The dragon towered over us like a mountain covered in dark blue crust of ancient lichen. His scales were dull and tinted with a faint gray patina that formed on his scabrous hide over the years, or mayhap centuries, of hibernation. The monstrous head, crowned with a huge horn, swayed from side to side rather like that of a poisonous snake ready to strike at the mesmerized mouse. Iryklagathra’s lips were drawn back from his toothless gums, his maw stretched into a visible snarl of triumph. Once again, the dragon opened his jaws, and took a deep intake of breath.
Cooool!
“Cretins! Imbeciles! Foolish two-legged worms! Do you still think he would come out to protect you? He has been dead for millennia! I will show you, I will show you all!”
'he will come out'
The voice was strong, yet melodious, and something in its intonation was undeniably female. The words were spoken in Common, and there was an eerie echo to them, that made me think of flying and vast open sky high above the tattered shroud of clouds. At the first sound of it, Iryklagathra screeched in violent rage, spreading his enormous wings and making an attempt to take to the air. But it was too late - the dragoness dived out of the mist and stroke at him like a bright spear sent by a hand of a vengeful goddess.
She was magnificent in her righteous fury: elegant and lightly built. A precious statuette crafted out of the brightest white metal, pleasing to an eye of an aesthete. Yet, there was also strength, and above all purpose to the graceful outline of the slim, silver body and the sharp cut of her powerful wings. The two powers of epic proportion collided in mid-air. A massive, dark indigo bulk of the great wyrm met the light aerial shape of the silver dragon. Iryklagathra roared in pain and the dragoness retreated swiftly, hovering over him like a seagull over a great ugly vulture.
Ah, a lovely scene this!
“By Urgolan’s black mastiff!” Omwo peeped in awe, “somebody, please pinch me! Am I sleeping, or we are about to see a battle between two dragons?”
“I would be more than happy to oblige but I am not sure if it will help you much. If both of us are experiencing the same illusion there is no warranty that my pinch would not be a hallucinatory one...”
LOL! Isn't it just precious how he takes things literally?
“Oh, shut up Jonny,” he snapped nonchalantly, “you have an imagination of a dung beetle! It maybe the making of my career as a bard, that is if anybody would believe it!”
'the imagination'
“I just know. Have a good look at her bone structure, and her wings. And anyway, only a female could think of attacking something twice her size with such utter disregard of the consequences. The male dragon would have tried to negotiate first...”
*grin* Good point, that.
He was also clad in enormously thick layers of protective scales; thus rendering her second option - the cone of cold, practically useless. Even thought she pelted the old wyrm with streams of sharp fragments of ice, they could not penetrate his thick skin and deal enough direct damage. The blue dragon reared on his hind legs, supporting himself with his massive tail. He was balancing in this upright position, waving two enormous tattered wings, and parrying her attacks with front paws. His jaws, useless as a weapon, snapped at the dragoness in powerless rage, but his mouth regurgitated incredibly thick discharges of lightning, and some of them were hitting the target - the silver dragon was singed and probably much hurt. Finally, Iryklagathra’s claw caught her shoulder, and a gush of crimson blood sputtered over the bright mail of silver scales. I winced. It did not look good at all.
Oh dear...
“I am Adalon, the Bright,” was the simple answer, and my heart stopped beating, even as I felt a hurricane of blood rushing in my ears. I moaned, grasping at the solid earth under me, and almost fainted, but stopped the seizure with an incredible effort of will.
“Why?” an echo went inside my head, “Why does it have to be her? Curse it to the lowest level of the Abyss!” Then it all suddenly went quiet.
And another flashback! I can't wait to see what happens when Adalon meets him face to face.
Rogues do it from behind.
#4
Guest_Dorotea_*
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Posted 18 July 2003 - 09:17 PM
Dragon fight, mhhmmmm... hey, I've been reading this Lands Of Intrigue.pdf and stumbled upon the old Sharpfangs name. He's supposed to get his ass kicked by some imperor of the Shoon empire some thousand years prior to this... I hope he's in for his second beating
Lol! That is where I got him from - alright. But it was not him who got the asskicking, it was the Silver One, Rhimnasarl, see Ashes p 48. Sharpfangs was his enemy and he is indeed over 2000 years old, which is kinda old.
Then again, maybe it would not be that bad? What exactly makes Jon cling to his life as it is now, the most?
Hope? Intense desire to find out who he is and 'set things right'. He thinks he will have a sort of revenge on whoever put him into this humiliating position after he restores his magic ability.
Something squeezed at my heart then, ever so gently but painfully, as an image of another place ringing with cries of terrified people blended with roar of the fire and crackling of dying trees rose to the surface of my memory, only to flee before the desperate urgency of the current situation. And then I realized to my surprise, that the atrociousness of Iryklagathra’s delayed revenge bothered me less than its futility. What was the point of this slaughter? A crime committed in vain. Murder that served no purpose, and brought no reward and no closure. Why would he feel the need to attack the descendants of his former enemy’s allies after the enemy himself was centuries dead? The ancient wyrm was living on borrowed time and yet, he could find the energy and desire to kill, even with one foot in his grave... It felt ... distressing.
Some twisted form of revenge?
Yes - that is from the dragon's point, but I tried to draw a parallel ...
“I am actually well-known among the certain circles in Darromar,” he started to protest.
Not enough wisdom to play with such rings, Omwo...
“Technically speaking this is your turn,” I replied crisply, “the ring was given to you as part of the ‘loot’, if I remember correctly. Hence, it is up to you to make a wish, and save us all. As far as I know it may not even work, unless you formally gift it to me, and renounce your claim.”
Umm, guys? There is a dragon on rampage a few feet away and you are both involved in a nonsensical ranting.
Heh! But it is so much fun to write this inane conversation!
I glanced at his hand. The ring was empty of the last ruby, its three sockets glaring at the world like blinded eyes of some bizarre insect. I tried to swallow nonexistent saliva – the dragon was still there, angry like a wounded adder, and his infuriated roar filled my ears, overwhelming the silver call of the bell.
So, the ring is calling silver? A Silver?
The Silver.
She was magnificent in her righteous fury: elegant and lightly built. A precious statuette crafted out of the brightest white metal, pleasing to an eye of an aesthete. Yet, there was also strength, and above all purpose to the graceful outline of the slim, silver body and the sharp cut of her powerful wings. The two powers of epic proportion collided in mid-air. A massive, dark indigo bulk of the great wyrm met the light aerial shape of the silver dragon. Iryklagathra roared in pain and the dragoness retreated swiftly, hovering over him like a seagull over a great ugly vulture.
Old 'Sharpfangs' doesn't stand a chance against her, I fear...
We shall see. The older dragon is the more powerful it becomes, and Adalon is relatively young - mere 200 or so by my estimate ( I checked her stats vs dragon abilities and age table in the Monster Manual)
“I just know. Have a good look at her bone structure, and her wings. And anyway, only a female could think of attacking something twice her size with such utter disregard of the consequences. The male dragon would have tried to negotiate first...”
Hmm, is Jon-Jon a bit of a sexist?
I have a feeling he might be. Which is not surprising after Ellie.
“I am Adalon, the Bright,” was the simple answer, and my heart stopped beating, even as I felt a hurricane of blood rushing in my ears. I moaned, grasping at the solid earth under me, and almost fainted, but stopped the seizure with an incredible effort of will.
Eh, the arrogant and self-righteous one?
That's her!
That last iteration filled me with cold dread. Was I finally going insane? Whose thoughts was I thinking? Why was life and death of the silver dragon that I had never seen before and that was technically on ‘my side’ a concern of mine? No answer. Only cold, resentful silence. I jumped to my feet shaking like a leaf.
Oh, you've seen her all right, Jonny... I wonder if she got her precious eggs back from CHARNAME, in this continuity.
She sure did - and it has been a year so they may have hatched!
The two dragon shapes in the night sky were circling the full moon, disappearing from view and showing again in the long gashes between the swiftly running clouds. I could see the bright blue flashes of lightning dancing in the sky as Iryklagathra continued his assaults. Adalon answered with weaker gusts of white. Slowly but steadily she was drawing the old wyrm away from Perch and her cave.
Heh, so we must wait again to see how Adalon defeats the Ancient One? Argh.
Ah. I am sorry for another cliffhanger - it looks like I cannot avoid them ... It is probably because I stop writing when I get exhausted.
Thanks for reading and commenting!
#5
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Posted 18 July 2003 - 09:26 PM
“I am going to wish that the reptilian scumbag would drop dead, obviously. You know: kick the bucket, pop off, catch his death, buy the farm!”
“Don’t!” I gave his hand a good shake to make my point. “Or you may end up thrown a thousand years forward into the future, when the dragon will be dead from natural causes, or into some other reality where he never even existed, and in the mean time what are we going to do here and now?”
Oh yes...Wish spells are tricky things.
To say the least!
Something squeezed at my heart then, ever so gently but painfully, as an image of another place ringing with cries of terrified people blended with roar of the fire and crackling of dying trees rose to the surface of my memory, only to flee before the desperate urgency of the current situation. And then I realized to my surprise, that the atrociousness of Iryklagathra’s delayed revenge bothered me less than its futility. What was the point of this slaughter? A crime committed in vain. Murder that served no purpose, and brought no reward and no closure. Why would he feel the need to attack the descendants of his former enemy’s allies after the enemy himself was centuries dead? The ancient wyrm was living on borrowed time and yet, he could find the energy and desire to kill, even with one foot in his grave... It felt ... distressing.
Oh, he's got a flashback of his attack on Suldanesselar! Very neat parallel!
Thank you, all these discussions were inspirational.
So, now we have an individual with the soul and partially restored ability to feel remorse, but who is willfully repressing the memory of guilt - nice bouquet.
“The Wish is a very complicated spell,” I explained patiently. “It alters the fabric of the reality in our current universe, and of course as it is always the case, the Nature tends to seek a path of least resistance. Slaying a dragon is a difficult task, thus it had to be balanced, by implementing many serious changes. Transporting you a thousand years forth is easier, since the disappearance of an unknown bard from our time and his reappearance in the future is not a big deal – nobody is going to miss you here...”
Kind and gentle as always.
That's our boy.
“I am actually well-known among the certain circles in Darromar,” he started to protest.
LOL!
I always imagined Omwo would be vain too - he is an actor after all.
'among certain circles'
Thanks!
“I wish for the dragon to be incinerated like ... er like crunchy potato chip in the hot oven... he started uncertainly. “Wait drop that one! I wish that the dragon would drop dead, but I would stay here and the village would be safe, and ... No, this would not do. Help me! Can’t you wish something intelligent for a change?”
'will not do'
sight - and thnx again
I raised my head and issued an inarticulate hiss. Omwo was right – the giant reptile finally freed himself from my spell and was looking straight at us, grinning in all his terrible glory. Now, you have to keep in mind that that was my first encounter with a real dragon in the new life, which was the only one I knew at the time. The view was one I am not likely to forget in another few hundred years. Iryklagathra was an impressive beast, even in his ancient senility. The dragon towered over us like a mountain covered in dark blue crust of ancient lichen. His scales were dull and tinted with a faint gray patina that formed on his scabrous hide over the years, or mayhap centuries, of hibernation. The monstrous head, crowned with a huge horn, swayed from side to side rather like that of a poisonous snake ready to strike at the mesmerized mouse. Iryklagathra’s lips were drawn back from his toothless gums, his maw stretched into a visible snarl of triumph. Once again, the dragon opened his jaws, and took a deep intake of breath.
Cooool!
He is about to be fried
“Cretins! Imbeciles! Foolish two-legged worms! Do you still think he would come out to protect you? He has been dead for millennia! I will show you, I will show you all!”
'he will come out'
Nod
The voice was strong, yet melodious, and something in its intonation was undeniably female. The words were spoken in Common, and there was an eerie echo to them, that made me think of flying and vast open sky high above the tattered shroud of clouds. At the first sound of it, Iryklagathra screeched in violent rage, spreading his enormous wings and making an attempt to take to the air. But it was too late - the dragoness dived out of the mist and stroke at him like a bright spear sent by a hand of a vengeful goddess.
She was magnificent in her righteous fury: elegant and lightly built. A precious statuette crafted out of the brightest white metal, pleasing to an eye of an aesthete. Yet, there was also strength, and above all purpose to the graceful outline of the slim, silver body and the sharp cut of her powerful wings. The two powers of epic proportion collided in mid-air. A massive, dark indigo bulk of the great wyrm met the light aerial shape of the silver dragon. Iryklagathra roared in pain and the dragoness retreated swiftly, hovering over him like a seagull over a great ugly vulture.
Ah, a lovely scene this!
Ah, I was a bit worried about it. Did not want to get too sweet on her, but she must be a sight when flying.
“By Urgolan’s black mastiff!” Omwo peeped in awe, “somebody, please pinch me! Am I sleeping, or we are about to see a battle between two dragons?”
“I would be more than happy to oblige but I am not sure if it will help you much. If both of us are experiencing the same illusion there is no warranty that my pinch would not be a hallucinatory one...”
LOL! Isn't it just precious how he takes things literally?
And he likes to be sarcastic I bet.
“Oh, shut up Jonny,” he snapped nonchalantly, “you have an imagination of a dung beetle! It maybe the making of my career as a bard, that is if anybody would believe it!”
'the imagination'
ah ... thanks!
“I just know. Have a good look at her bone structure, and her wings. And anyway, only a female could think of attacking something twice her size with such utter disregard of the consequences. The male dragon would have tried to negotiate first...”
*grin* Good point, that.
Aren't we vicious little things?
He was also clad in enormously thick layers of protective scales; thus rendering her second option - the cone of cold, practically useless. Even thought she pelted the old wyrm with streams of sharp fragments of ice, they could not penetrate his thick skin and deal enough direct damage. The blue dragon reared on his hind legs, supporting himself with his massive tail. He was balancing in this upright position, waving two enormous tattered wings, and parrying her attacks with front paws. His jaws, useless as a weapon, snapped at the dragoness in powerless rage, but his mouth regurgitated incredibly thick discharges of lightning, and some of them were hitting the target - the silver dragon was singed and probably much hurt. Finally, Iryklagathra’s claw caught her shoulder, and a gush of crimson blood sputtered over the bright mail of silver scales. I winced. It did not look good at all.
Oh dear...
I am sorry ... but good not always triumphs over evil, and the price has to be paid
“I am Adalon, the Bright,” was the simple answer, and my heart stopped beating, even as I felt a hurricane of blood rushing in my ears. I moaned, grasping at the solid earth under me, and almost fainted, but stopped the seizure with an incredible effort of will.
“Why?” an echo went inside my head, “Why does it have to be her? Curse it to the lowest level of the Abyss!” Then it all suddenly went quiet.
And another flashback! I can't wait to see what happens when Adalon meets him face to face.
Nod. Neither can I - although I am a bit scared myself of what is going to happen...
Thanks for reading and commenting!
#6
Guest_Broken Phoenix_*
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Posted 19 July 2003 - 01:28 PM
*snicker* buy the farm? I didn't know that one.“I am going to wish that the reptilian scumbag would drop dead, obviously. You know: kick the bucket, pop off, catch his death, buy the farm!”
It does, doesn't it... very distressing.The ancient wyrm was living on borrowed time and yet, he could find the energy and desire to kill, even with one foot in his grave... It felt ... distressing.
I would leave 'the' before nature and reality, since they're both abstracts.“It alters the fabric of the reality in our current universe, and of course as it is always the case, the Nature tends to seek a path of least resistance.
He cannot be serious at a time like this“I am actually well-known among the certain circles in Darromar,” he started to protest.
Weellll....“Drat! Are you always such an optimist? And how do you know anyway? It is not like you ever had a scroll with the spell of that level in your hands...”
Comma?“Wait drop that one!
On an ancient blue wyrm? Sure“This is not the time to get into all these fine technical details!” the halfling yelped urgently. “Look – your magic is wearing off! Can you renew it quickly or something?”
'had'“Well,” I muttered fighting back the most inappropriate fit of hysterical laughter, and finding to my chagrin that the last drops of moisture have out of a sudden evaporated from my mouth.
btw, would he actually do that?
LOL!“I wish to save the village and all of its inhabitants, including us!” Omwo blurted out in one breath, snatching the ring from his hand and waiving it at the enraged reptile as if he expected a magical beam of some sort to emit from it, and strike at the dragon.
Ah, there it is...The sound was repeated, and went on and on, booming and rolling over the mountains, until it reached the high slope above our heads, and the dark entrance to the cave veiled by the silvery swirls of the night fog. The bell on the small plaza hidden among the clay roofs and rickety walls of Perch was ringing.
Aww... she has certainly developed a sweeter, more silverlike attitude since she left her old lair...“I am coming little ones, I am coming! Be of good courage and strengthen your hearts!”
“By Urgolan’s black mastiff!” Omwo peeped in awe
Well, no, but she *has* a chance. Her brain, for instance, is in a much better state.“I would say ‘if’ we would get out of this mess alive. There is no guarantee that she would win.”
“The male dragon would have tried to negotiate first...”
No, that wasn't sexist. That was humor
Don't say that. I once played a PnP session wherein a 1st level paladin actually killed an adult red. And yes, it was believable.Indeed, the situation did not look very promising, and after a first powerful rush of exalted emotions, I began to doubt the outcome of the battle.
A nice riddle, come to think of it
It's her! The silver!“I am Adalon, the Bright,” was the simple answer
She is a descendant of the ancient former dragon? Or did she take up his mantle out of the kindness of her heart?
“Why?” an echo went inside my head, “Why does it have to be her? Curse it to the lowest level of the Abyss!”
And a magnificent battle! Epic with a twist.It was a truly terrific sight: both of the dragons were rising in slow, gliding circles, avoiding each other’s breath.
I am confused. He wanted to go head to head with her, and attacking the halflings wasn't meant to draw her out of hiding?"Then I simply could not stand it anymore! I was afraid you would flee at the first sight of me, and deny me the pleasure of snapping your arrogant neck. If I knew you would come out to their defense - I would have wiped out this viper nest a long time ago!”
The only right thing to do.“Stop babbling,” I replied softly, walking to the very edge of the rocky precipice. “Go if you must, but I am not going anywhere.”
Like I said, epic with a twist... I can't wait to see more of these two forces of nature in combat!The two dragon shapes in the night sky were circling the full moon, disappearing from view and showing again in the long gashes between the swiftly running clouds. I could see the bright blue flashes of lightning dancing in the sky as Iryklagathra continued his assaults. Adalon answered with weaker gusts of white. Slowly but steadily she was drawing the old wyrm away from Perch and her cave.
Okay, it wouldn't have done the story itself much good, but actually-- I might have liked the sight of Omwo tele-slaying that arrogant senile reptile out of the sky... heh
#7
Weyoun
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Posted 19 July 2003 - 02:45 PM
Now, here again comes the part which I anticipated writing for a very long time ...
Oh, I have that all the time. Generally, all the best Ideas (in my humble mind) that I get for Tnt are mostly placed in the far future of the series.
Hope you will like it, and that it is not too cliche - but for Oghma's sake how can you write a FR fic without a dragon fight!
Well, you can always have the dragon take a wrong turn and accidentally crash into the mountain.
“I am going to wish that the reptilian scumbag would drop dead, obviously. You know: kick the bucket, pop off, catch his death, buy the farm!”
Good wish at the time.
“Don’t!” I gave his hand a good shake to make my point. “Or you may end up thrown a thousand years forward into the future, when the dragon will be dead from natural causes, or into some other reality where he never even existed, and in the mean time what are we going to do here and now?”
An equally good point.
“The Wish is a very complicated spell,” I explained patiently. “It alters the fabric of the reality in our current universe, and of course as it is always the case, the Nature tends to seek a path of least resistance.
In other words, don't screw around with that spell.
“I wish for the dragon to be incinerated like ... er like crunchy potato chip in the hot oven... he started uncertainly. “Wait drop that one! I wish that the dragon would drop dead, but I would stay here and the village would be safe, and ... No, this would not do. Help me! Can’t you wish something intelligent for a change?”
Like a meteor crashing on top of the dragon's tail?
“I am coming little ones, I am coming! Be of good courage and strengthen your hearts!”
The voice was strong, yet melodious, and something in its intonation was undeniably female. The words were spoken in Common, and there was an eerie echo to them, that made me think of flying and vast open sky high above the tattered shroud of clouds. At the first sound of it, Iryklagathra screeched in violent rage, spreading his enormous wings and making an attempt to take to the air. But it was too late - the dragoness dived out of the mist and stroke at him like a bright spear sent by a hand of a vengeful goddess.
She was magnificent in her righteous fury: elegant and lightly built. A precious statuette crafted out of the brightest white metal, pleasing to an eye of an aesthete. Yet, there was also strength, and above all purpose to the graceful outline of the slim, silver body and the sharp cut of her powerful wings. The two powers of epic proportion collided in mid-air. A massive, dark indigo bulk of the great wyrm met the light aerial shape of the silver dragon. Iryklagathra roared in pain and the dragoness retreated swiftly, hovering over him like a seagull over a great ugly vulture.
Hey, I think we know that drake!
“Oh, shut up Jonny,” he snapped nonchalantly, “you have an imagination of a dung beetle! It maybe the making of my career as a bard, that is if anybody would believe it!”
Uh-oh? Wasn't Jon the one who swiped her eggs? *gulps*
He was also clad in enormously thick layers of protective scales; thus rendering her second option - the cone of cold, practically useless. Even thought she pelted the old wyrm with streams of sharp fragments of ice, they could not penetrate his thick skin and deal enough direct damage. The blue dragon reared on his hind legs, supporting himself with his massive tail. He was balancing in this upright position, waving two enormous tattered wings, and parrying her attacks with front paws. His jaws, useless as a weapon, snapped at the dragoness in powerless rage, but his mouth regurgitated incredibly thick discharges of lightning, and some of them were hitting the target - the silver dragon was singed and probably much hurt. Finally, Iryklagathra’s claw caught her shoulder, and a gush of crimson blood sputtered over the bright mail of silver scales. I winced. It did not look good at all.
Wow! Impressive fight!
“Why?” an echo went inside my head, [i]“Why does it have to be her? Curse it to the lowest level of the Abyss!” Then it all suddenly went quiet.
LOL! Bit of a D'oh! moment for Jonny, ey?
The two dragon shapes in the night sky were circling the full moon, disappearing from view and showing again in the long gashes between the swiftly running clouds. I could see the bright blue flashes of lightning dancing in the sky as Iryklagathra continued his assaults. Adalon answered with weaker gusts of white. Slowly but steadily she was drawing the old wyrm away from Perch and her cave.
Cool! Don't keep us waiting long for the sequel!
Great stuff,
---Weyoun
TnT Enhanced Edition: http://www.fanfictio...rds-and-Tempers
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Sith Warrior - Master, I can sense your anger.
Darth Baras - A blind, comotose lobotomy-patient could sense my anger!
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"The New Age? It's just the old age stuck in a microwave oven for fifteen seconds" - James Randi
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Sith Warrior - Master, I can sense your anger.
Darth Baras - A blind, comotose lobotomy-patient could sense my anger!
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"The New Age? It's just the old age stuck in a microwave oven for fifteen seconds" - James Randi
#8
Guest_Dorotea_*
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Posted 19 July 2003 - 04:55 PM
*snicker* buy the farm? I didn't know that one.“I am going to wish that the reptilian scumbag would drop dead, obviously. You know: kick the bucket, pop off, catch his death, buy the farm!”
I have to confess - I used dictionary of idioms. It does, doesn't it... very distressing.The ancient wyrm was living on borrowed time and yet, he could find the energy and desire to kill, even with one foot in his grave... It felt ... distressing.
I hope so! He has to start experiencing pangs of ... not guilt yet but premonition of it.
I would leave 'the' before nature and reality, since they're both abstracts.“It alters the fabric of the reality in our current universe, and of course as it is always the case, the Nature tends to seek a path of least resistance.
thnak you - done
He cannot be serious at a time like this“I am actually well-known among certain circles in Darromar,” he started to protest.
Gee, I have no clue how this banter came about - but after I wrote it I realised this is the way it will be .
Weellll....“Drat! Are you always such an optimist? And how do you know anyway? It is not like you ever had a scroll with the spell of that level in your hands...”
Comma?“Wait drop that one!
yep - thnx!
On an ancient blue wyrm? Sure“This is not the time to get into all these fine technical details!” the halfling yelped urgently. “Look – your magic is wearing off! Can you renew it quickly or something?”
Sure, I'll do it right away ... Omwo is a bit naive, but I think he is relatively low level bard with his last 10 years spent under domination spell, and before that he was more of a city dweller and bar client with penchant to banter, drinking, and carousing when he was not busy writing his 'tragedies' and palying on-stage comical villains. I sort of made him a cross between Pratchet's dwarf playwright from Wyrd Sisters, Bibo and Jan Jansen, but his is also bald and weird looking ...
'had'“Well,” I muttered fighting back the most inappropriate fit of hysterical laughter, and finding to my chagrin that the last drops of moisture have out of a sudden evaporated from my mouth.
btw, would he actually do that?
Laugh? He is a fatalist , and in this case his inner apathy I think takes over - "so, I am going to die again, after all that happened it is not really such a big deal ... and it is better from an angry dragon than from a madwoman possessed by the undead, or by the filthy knife of some lunatic in the desert"
LOL!“I wish to save the village and all of its inhabitants, including us!” Omwo blurted out in one breath, snatching the ring from his hand and waiving it at the enraged reptile as if he expected a magical beam of some sort to emit from it, and strike at the dragon.
Ah, there it is...The sound was repeated, and went on and on, booming and rolling over the mountains, until it reached the high slope above our heads, and the dark entrance to the cave veiled by the silvery swirls of the night fog. The bell on the small plaza hidden among the clay roofs and rickety walls of Perch was ringing.
The Bell? Yes - it had been shot err rung
Aww... she has certainly developed a sweeter, more silverlike attitude since she left her old lair...“I am coming little ones, I am coming! Be of good courage and strengthen your hearts!”
Yes, I believe back then she was rather paranoid about these eggs ...
“By Urgolan’s black mastiff!” Omwo peeped in awe
Well, no, but she *has* a chance. Her brain, for instance, is in a much better state.“I would say ‘if’ we would get out of this mess alive. There is no guarantee that she would win.”
Oh yes - but she is 'much' younger, although I. is senile ...
“The male dragon would have tried to negotiate first...”
No, that wasn't sexist. That was humor
it was - I think Jon-Jon has plenty of it now that it is his only weapon of MDDon't say that. I once played a PnP session wherein a 1st level paladin actually killed an adult red. And yes, it was believable.Indeed, the situation did not look very promising, and after a first powerful rush of exalted emotions, I began to doubt the outcome of the battle.
A nice riddle, come to think of it
Ah, I am not spoiling you just yet ...
It's her! The silver!“I am Adalon, the Bright,” was the simple answer
She is a descendant of the ancient former dragon? Or did she take up his mantle out of the kindness of her heart?
More like she needed a new place - the eggs - remember? Would you try to raise the young close to the city with enraged drow? And I. was reported to be dead. But I think she might be related to the old silver dragon - there is only so many of them in the area and it takes a very long time for them to become fertile and raise the wyrmlings ...
“Why?” an echo went inside my head, “Why does it have to be her? Curse it to the lowest level of the Abyss!”
And a magnificent battle! Epic with a twist.It was a truly terrific sight: both of the dragons were rising in slow, gliding circles, avoiding each other’s breath.
Ah, thank you!
I am confused. He wanted to go head to head with her, and attacking the halflings wasn't meant to draw her out of hiding?"Then I simply could not stand it anymore! I was afraid you would flee at the first sight of me, and deny me the pleasure of snapping your arrogant neck. If I knew you would come out to their defense - I would have wiped out this viper nest a long time ago!”
He is senile. He wants her head, yes. But he remembers the old enemy and how he was late to challenge and slay him. She may come out of the cave, but she may also flee - and I bet the cave has more than one exit. So, he is creeping around undecided but then Jon and Omwo practically provoke him with their show. I did not want it to be their fault entirely. Does it make sense? I will make Jon analyze it later.
The only right thing to do.“Stop babbling,” I replied softly, walking to the very edge of the rocky precipice. “Go if you must, but I am not going anywhere.”
Nod. He is not cowardly, that's for sure.
Like I said, epic with a twist... I can't wait to see more of these two forces of nature in combat!The two dragon shapes in the night sky were circling the full moon, disappearing from view and showing again in the long gashes between the swiftly running clouds. I could see the bright blue flashes of lightning dancing in the sky as Iryklagathra continued his assaults. Adalon answered with weaker gusts of white. Slowly but steadily she was drawing the old wyrm away from Perch and her cave.
Hey - I promise, I promise. As soon as I have time. I have everything planned a very long time ago.
Okay, it wouldn't have done the story itself much good, but actually-- I might have liked the sight of Omwo tele-slaying that arrogant senile reptile out of the sky... heh
LOL! It might be fun. Then the little toad would puff intil he burst!
Thanks for commenting!
#9
Guest_Dorotea_*
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Posted 19 July 2003 - 05:02 PM
Now, here again comes the part which I anticipated writing for a very long time ...
Oh, I have that all the time. Generally, all the best Ideas (in my humble mind) that I get for Tnt are mostly placed in the far future of the series.
Do you write them down? I have a huge file just for this kinda stuff.
Hope you will like it, and that it is not too cliche - but for Oghma's sake how can you write a FR fic without a dragon fight!
Well, you can always have the dragon take a wrong turn and accidentally crash into the mountain.
I bet you can!
“I am going to wish that the reptilian scumbag would drop dead, obviously. You know: kick the bucket, pop off, catch his death, buy the farm!”
Good wish at the time.
“Don’t!” I gave his hand a good shake to make my point. “Or you may end up thrown a thousand years forward into the future, when the dragon will be dead from natural causes, or into some other reality where he never even existed, and in the mean time what are we going to do here and now?”
An equally good point.
Wish spells are tricky.
“The Wish is a very complicated spell,” I explained patiently. “It alters the fabric of the reality in our current universe, and of course as it is always the case, the Nature tends to seek a path of least resistance.
In other words, don't screw around with that spell.
Yes, you can end up with your food turning into gold as you touch it ...
“I wish for the dragon to be incinerated like ... er like crunchy potato chip in the hot oven... he started uncertainly. “Wait drop that one! I wish that the dragon would drop dead, but I would stay here and the village would be safe, and ... No, this would not do. Help me! Can’t you wish something intelligent for a change?”
Like a meteor crashing on top of the dragon's tail?
that will be a sight!
“I am coming little ones, I am coming! Be of good courage and strengthen your hearts!”
The voice was strong, yet melodious, and something in its intonation was undeniably female. The words were spoken in Common, and there was an eerie echo to them, that made me think of flying and vast open sky high above the tattered shroud of clouds. At the first sound of it, Iryklagathra screeched in violent rage, spreading his enormous wings and making an attempt to take to the air. But it was too late - the dragoness dived out of the mist and stroke at him like a bright spear sent by a hand of a vengeful goddess.
She was magnificent in her righteous fury: elegant and lightly built. A precious statuette crafted out of the brightest white metal, pleasing to an eye of an aesthete. Yet, there was also strength, and above all purpose to the graceful outline of the slim, silver body and the sharp cut of her powerful wings. The two powers of epic proportion collided in mid-air. A massive, dark indigo bulk of the great wyrm met the light aerial shape of the silver dragon. Iryklagathra roared in pain and the dragoness retreated swiftly, hovering over him like a seagull over a great ugly vulture.
Hey, I think we know that drake!
Sure its her.
“Oh, shut up Jonny,” he snapped nonchalantly, “you have an imagination of a dung beetle! It maybe the making of my career as a bard, that is if anybody would believe it!”
Uh-oh? Wasn't Jon the one who swiped her eggs? *gulps*
Yeah, that was him alright ... now he willhave to pay. The worst part - he does not even remember what it was ... just feels nervous around her.
He was also clad in enormously thick layers of protective scales; thus rendering her second option - the cone of cold, practically useless. Even thought she pelted the old wyrm with streams of sharp fragments of ice, they could not penetrate his thick skin and deal enough direct damage. The blue dragon reared on his hind legs, supporting himself with his massive tail. He was balancing in this upright position, waving two enormous tattered wings, and parrying her attacks with front paws. His jaws, useless as a weapon, snapped at the dragoness in powerless rage, but his mouth regurgitated incredibly thick discharges of lightning, and some of them were hitting the target - the silver dragon was singed and probably much hurt. Finally, Iryklagathra’s claw caught her shoulder, and a gush of crimson blood sputtered over the bright mail of silver scales. I winced. It did not look good at all.
Wow! Impressive fight!
Thanks!
“Why?” an echo went inside my head, [i]“Why does it have to be her? Curse it to the lowest level of the Abyss!” Then it all suddenly went quiet.
LOL! Bit of a D'oh! moment for Jonny, ey?
I do like to torment him so.
The two dragon shapes in the night sky were circling the full moon, disappearing from view and showing again in the long gashes between the swiftly running clouds. I could see the bright blue flashes of lightning dancing in the sky as Iryklagathra continued his assaults. Adalon answered with weaker gusts of white. Slowly but steadily she was drawing the old wyrm away from Perch and her cave.
Cool! Don't keep us waiting long for the sequel!
Ah, I shall try to be quicker. And I realised all of my later posts are sort of cliffhangers ... sorry.
Thanks for reading and commenting!
#10
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Posted 19 July 2003 - 07:15 PM
Ohhhhhh, my gosh! Adalon!!
I applaud your interpretation of the Wish spell. I never thought about it that way, but that spell really IS designed for a GM to muck up a player's day -- exactly that way! That actually could make for a very neat story, though ...
Adalon's summoning and appearance were, literally, breathtaking. I was really perched on the edge of my seat reading this story, and I'm terrified on the outcome! And poor Jon! Was it him who stole her eggs in the game, or was he just part of the drow's plot?
Anyway, wow.
Rose of Jericho.
I applaud your interpretation of the Wish spell.
I never thought about it that way, but that spell really IS designed for a GM to muck up a player's day -- exactly that way! That actually could make for a very neat story, though ... Adalon's summoning and appearance were, literally, breathtaking. I was really perched on the edge of my seat reading this story, and I'm terrified on the outcome! And poor Jon! Was it him who stole her eggs in the game, or was he just part of the drow's plot?
Anyway, wow.
Rose of Jericho.
#11
Guest_Dorotea_*
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Posted 19 July 2003 - 08:50 PM
Ohhhhhh, my gosh! Adalon!!
Yahoo!
I applaud your interpretation of the Wish spell.
To think of it - yes. I used my favorite source - the Wizard's spell compendium Ad&D 2 ed. in 4 tomes and the Player Handbook, but most of it is my own interpretation.
Adalon's summoning and appearance were, literally, breathtaking. I was really perched on the edge of my seat reading this story, and I'm terrified on the outcome! And poor Jon! Was it him who stole her eggs in the game, or was he just part of the drow's plot?
I think it was *him*. He masterminded the whole plot ( and we will find out just how he did it) and when he got the eggs he went straight to the drow.
I am not very kind to him, but he needs these 'moments of truth' to come in terms with who he used to be and what will it cost him to re-establish himself as a different person ...
Anyway, wow.
Thanks!
By the way - someone asked me how come Adalon is not using her magic to fight the nasty blue wyrm. I decided I will post his stats vs hers. You maybe curious as well.
In this story Adalon is an Adult Silver Dragon – I simply looked at her stats in the game and her HP. She cannot therefore be older than 150-200. Iryklagathra is over 2000. He is Great Wyrm or to be precise – an ‘Ancient’ Great Wyrm turning senile. Still here is the difference:
Silver Dragon Adult ~ 100-200 years old
Attack Bonus. Fortitude save. Reflexes save. Will save.
+28 +18 +13 +18
Breath Weapon. Spell Resistance. Strength. Dexterity Caster level AC
2d8(26) 22 27 10 7 29
Blue Dragon
Great Wyrm 2000+ years old
Attack Bonus. Fortitude save. Reflexes save. Will save.
+49/24 +29 +21 +27
Breath Weapon. Spell Resistance. Strength. Dexterity Caster level AC
24d8(37) 31 39 10/7 17 41
Lets assume his attack bonus halved because of the lost teeth and make it 24, and his dexterity dropped to 7 or even lower from 10
She will try to avoid magical combat at all cost, her only chance is to force him to a direct combat and hope he is vain enough not to use magic on her – she is resistant to it, but his spell selection is simply better and he can memorize much, much more .
#12
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Posted 19 July 2003 - 09:35 PM
I am not very kind to him, but he needs these 'moments of truth' to come in terms with who he used to be and what will it cost him to re-establish himself as a different person ...
Which will make his redemption believable, since he must first understand that what he did was wrong, and then work to make amends somehow. Good storytelling.
By the way - someone asked me how come Adalon is not using her magic to fight the nasty blue wyrm. I decided I will post his stats vs hers. You maybe curious as well.
I actually did wonder about that, but I recalled the chart in the MM that discusses the ages, sizes and abilities of the various dragons. Makes perfect sense to me.
She will try to avoid magical combat at all cost, her only chance is to force him to a direct combat and hope he is vain enough not to use magic on her – she is resistant to it, but his spell selection is simply better and he can memorize much, much more .
This is precisely why I'm petrified for her. ...
Good application of the sources.
I give you an A+
#13
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Posted 19 July 2003 - 10:57 PM
I am not very kind to him, but he needs these 'moments of truth' to come in terms with who he used to be and what will it cost him to re-establish himself as a different person ...
Which will make his redemption believable, since he must first understand that what he did was wrong, and then work to make amends somehow. Good storytelling.
I am trying my best. Jonny will suffer some more soon.
By the way - someone asked me how come Adalon is not using her magic to fight the nasty blue wyrm. I decided I will post his stats vs hers. You maybe curious as well.
I actually did wonder about that, but I recalled the chart in the MM that discusses the ages, sizes and abilities of the various dragons. Makes perfect sense to me.
Good - still I think it is a good idea to explain this a little in the next part. Maybe I will make Jon to tell this to Omwo or something.
She will try to avoid magical combat at all cost, her only chance is to force him to a direct combat and hope he is vain enough not to use magic on her – she is resistant to it, but his spell selection is simply better and he can memorize much, much more .
This is precisely why I'm petrified for her. ...
Sob
, even if she is not very nice in the game - I feel for her. She had her future children stolen to be sacrificed to a demon. Jon will have a lot of explanations to do ...Good application of the sources.
Thanks!
#14
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Posted 20 July 2003 - 07:07 AM
She will try to avoid magical combat at all cost, her only chance is to force him to a direct combat and hope he is vain enough not to use magic on her – she is resistant to it, but his spell selection is simply better and he can memorize much, much more .
This is precisely why I'm petrified for her. ...
Sob
Well, you mentioned that Adalon seemed a little paranoidal about those eggs in the game - something that I also had noticed and found slightly puzzling. I stumbled upon something that might shed some light on *why* is she acting like that - remember those five story tellers in the Tavern of Ust Natha? Well, you can ask one of them about the dragon's nearby and here is what he tells you:
It is said that the silver dragon once had a mate, long ago... a mate who was captured by our people when we were still dwellers of the southern reaches. The heart of her mate was ripped from its body whole, as I hear. The Queen of the Drow used its heart in a ceremony of great darkness, one that angered an old, pale god of the surface elves... I know not which one. Does it matter? When we were driven beneath the surface, sentenced by our fiendish cousins, their god made a pact with Adalon. In return for her vow to guard the old passages to the surface, he would give her what she desired most. At a time of her choosing, when she had grown old, Adalon could call on the god and he would grant her children... eggs that would be made real by the soul of her lost dragon love. Or so the story goes. I hold little truck with it, myself... but, then, I would never venture into those old passages just in case the tales of her presence are true.
*sob* Makes me kinda sorry for Adalon... of course, Theo in my story won't know this backstory
#15
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Posted 20 July 2003 - 12:07 PM
“It is that simple, eh?” the halfling nudged me enthusiastically. “Watch me incinerate the old geezer on a spot!”
'on the spot'.
Uh oh, doesn't look like Omwo has high enough wis to be trusted with a wish spell...
“Wait, wait! What is it you are going to wish for?” I yelped grabbing his palm before he had a chance to go on with his plan.
there should be a comma after 'yelped'.
[
“Don’t!” I gave his hand a good shake to make my point. “Or you may end up thrown a thousand years forward into the future, when the dragon will be dead from natural causes, or into some other reality where he never even existed, and in the mean time what are we going to do here and now?”
well at least Jon would be rid of Omwo's insults
A loud crackling noise, followed by another streak of lightning and a series of loud screams gave emphasis to my last statement. I thought I recognized the female voice as Olphara’s. From what little I could see and hear in the pandemonium, she and Mirriam were trying to collect the children and lead them away to safety. But where could they take them – everywhere the eye could see stretched the endless ocean of glittering sand, cold and malicious as eyes of a dragon.
'as cold and malicious as the eyes of a dragon'
Something squeezed at my heart then, ever so gently but painfully, as an image of another place ringing with cries of terrified people blended with roar of the fire and crackling of dying trees rose to the surface of my memory, only to flee before the desperate urgency of the current situation. And then I realized to my surprise, that the atrociousness of Iryklagathra’s delayed revenge bothered me less than its futility. What was the point of this slaughter? A crime committed in vain. Murder that served no purpose, and brought no reward and no closure. Why would he feel the need to attack the descendants of his former enemy’s allies after the enemy himself was centuries dead? The ancient wyrm was living on borrowed time and yet, he could find the energy and desire to kill, even with one foot in his grave... It felt ... distressing.
'ringing with the cries', 'the dying trees'.
no commas are needed after 'surprise' or 'and yet'.
Poor jon - as if he doesn't have enough problemsright now without getting Suldanessellar flashbacks as well!
“The Wish is a very complicated spell,” I explained patiently. “It alters the fabric of reality in our current universe, and of course as it is always the case, Nature tends to seek a path of least resistance. Slaying a dragon is a difficult task, thus it had to be balanced, by implementing many serious changes. Transporting you a thousand years forth is easier, since the disappearance of an unknown bard from our time and his reappearance in the future is not a big deal – nobody is going to miss you here...”
'as is always the case', 'the path of least resistance', 'it has to be balanced'.
No comma needed after 'balanced'.
This is really not the time for either a lecture on magic or insulting Omwo, Jon...
“I am actually well-known among certain circles in Darromar,” he started to protest.
And Omwo's just as bad.“I wish for the dragon to be incinerated like ... er like crunchy potato chip in the hot oven... he started uncertainly. “Wait, drop that one! I wish that the dragon would drop dead, but I would stay here and the village would be safe, and ... No, this will not do. Help me! Can’t you wish something intelligent for a change?”
'potato chips in a hot oven'. You're missing a set of speechmarks after 'oven'.
I raised my head and issued an inarticulate hiss. Omwo was right – the giant reptile finally freed himself from my spell and was looking straight at us, grinning in all his terrible glory. Now, you have to keep in mind that that was my first encounter with a real dragon in the new life, which was the only one I knew at the time. The view was one I am not likely to forget in another few hundred years. Iryklagathra was an impressive beast, even in his ancient senility. The dragon towered over us like a mountain covered in dark blue crust of ancient lichen. His scales were dull and tinted with a faint gray patina that formed on his scabrous hide over the years, or mayhap centuries, of hibernation. The monstrous head, crowned with a huge horn, swayed from side to side rather like that of a poisonous snake ready to strike at the mesmerized mouse. Iryklagathra’s lips were drawn back from his toothless gums, his maw stretched into a visible snarl of triumph. Once again, the dragon opened his jaws, and took a deep intake of breath.
'had finally freed himself', 'in a dark blue crest, 'that had formed'.
Love the description.
“Well,” I muttered fighting back the most inappropriate fit of hysterical laughter, and finding to my chagrin that the last drops of moisture had out of a sudden evaporated from my mouth. “If you still want to do something about him you better do it now!”
'all of a sudden', 'you had better'
There should be a comma after 'muttered'.
“I wish to save the village and all of its inhabitants, including us!” Omwo blurted out in one breath, snatching the ring from his hand and waiving it at the enraged reptile as if he expected a magical beam of some sort to emit from it, and strike at the dragon.
'waving'
Hmm - that sounds pretty easy to misinterpret, if the DM is in an evil mood...
For a brief moment, I was afraid that it would not work, that nothing at all would happen, since the wish was not articulated properly. Then the air around us clouded and shimmered with haze that dispersed instantly, removing the illusion and revealing the familiar outlines of the mountains, and the stone edifices of Perch. And above the angry roar of the maddened wyrm I heard the first silver note that reverberated across the cold stony ground, reflecting from house walls and slopes of the mountains, filling the universe with a sound of such terrible sweetness and joy that my heart almost burst from a sudden surge of hope. The sound was repeated, and went on and on, booming and rolling over the mountains, until it reached the high slope above our heads, and the dark entrance to the cave veiled by the silvery swirls of the night fog. The bell on the small plaza hidden among the clay roofs and rickety walls of Perch was ringing.
no comma is needed after 'for a brief moment' or after 'the sound was repeated'
'with a haze', 'from house walls and the slopes of the mountains', or maybe 'from house walls and mountainsides' would sound better.
But didn't the legend say that the guardian dragon was dead?
I glanced at his hand. The ring was empty of the last ruby, its three sockets glaring at the world like blinded eyes of some bizarre insect. I tried to swallow nonexistent saliva – the dragon was still there, angry like a wounded adder, and his infuriated roar filled my ears, overwhelming the silver call of the bell.
'the blinded eyes'
The voice was strong, yet melodious, and something in its intonation was undeniably female. The words were spoken in Common, and there was an eerie echo to them, that made me think of flying and vast open sky high above the tattered shroud of clouds. At the first sound of it, Iryklagathra screeched in violent rage, spreading his enormous wings and making an attempt to take to the air. But it was too late - the dragoness dived out of the mist and struck at him like a bright spear sent by a hand of a vengeful goddess.
no comma is needed after 'echo to them'.
'of flying and of the vast open sky', 'the hand of a veangeful goddess'
A dragon fight? Cool!
She was magnificent in her righteous fury: elegant and lightly built. A precious statuette crafted out of the brightest white metal, pleasing to an eye of an aesthete. Yet, there was also strength, and above all purpose to the graceful outline of the slim, silver body and the sharp cut of her powerful wings. The two powers of epic proportion collided in mid-air, just as the blue dragon tried to take off. But his great age was taking its toll – he was too slow for the silver wrath on bright wings. The massive, dark indigo bulk of the great wyrm met the light aerial shape of the silver dragon. Iryklagathra roared in pain, collapsing back to the ground, and the dragoness retreated swiftly, hovering over him like a seagull over a great ugly vulture.
'the eye of an aesthete'
no comma needed after 'yet'
“By Urgolan’s black mastiff!” Omwo peeped in awe, “somebody, please pinch me! Am I sleeping, or we are about to see a battle between two dragons?”
heh, Omwo will probably love this.
“I would be more than happy to oblige but I am not sure if it will help you much. If both of us are experiencing the same illusion there is no warranty that my pinch would not be a hallucinatory one...”
Anyone else would be either petrified with fear or amazed by the spectacle, but it seems that Jon's not going to let anything distract him from arguing with Omwo...“Oh, shut up Jonny,” he snapped nonchalantly, “you have the imagination of a dung beetle! It maybe the making of my career as a bard, that is if anybody would believe it!”
'may be', 'if anyone will believe it'.
Whether they believe it or not, it'll still make for a good story!
“I would say ‘if’ we would get out of this mess alive. There is no guarantee that she would win.”
'if we get out of this mess', 'she will win'.
He was also clad in enormously thick layers of protective scales; thus rendering her second option - the cone of cold, practically useless. Even thought she pelted the old wyrm with streams of sharp fragments of ice, they could not penetrate his thick skin and deal enough direct damage. The blue dragon reared on his hind legs, supporting himself with his massive tail. He was balancing in this upright position, waving two enormous tattered wings, and parrying her attacks with front paws. His jaws, useless as a weapon, snapped at the dragoness in powerless rage, but his mouth regurgitated incredibly thick discharges of lightning, and some of them were hitting the target - the silver dragon was singed and probably much hurt. Finally, Iryklagathra’s claw caught her shoulder, and a gush of crimson blood sputtered over the bright mail of silver scales. I winced. It did not look good at all.
'-the cone of cold- practically useless', 'even though', 'with his front paws'
“Tell me your dastardly name, weakling female, so that I know it before the rest of your life force would spill out of your cooling carcass on the stones below!” Iryklagathra roared in Draconic. “It is the way of our kind to know the names of our dead enemies. Even though you follow the tradition of your perverted race, and prefer the worms crawling over earth to your brethren in the sky. I am Iryklagathra, the Sharpfangs. And who are you, insolent fool, who so boldly took over the home of my ancient enemy, and his tribe of servitors?”
'the rest of your life force spills out of',
“I am Adalon, the Bright,” was the simple answer, and my heart stopped beating, even as I felt a hurricane of blood rushing in my ears. I moaned, grasping at the solid earth under me, and almost fainted, but stopped the seizure with an incredible effort of will.
Uh oh - looks like Jonny's subconsiousness remembers her only too well.
“I shall not allow you to ruin these good halflings homes, and take their lives as a tribute to your senseless fury, Ancient One!” the silver dragon’s voice sounded steady and serene, even as her lifeblood continued to flow out of the ghastly wound. She was still hovering in the air above the blue wyrm, but was forced to rise higher, and this allowed her opponent to finally take to the wing. It was a truly terrific sight: both of the dragons were rising in slow, gliding circles, avoiding each other’s breath.
'halflings' homes', 'The silver dragon's voice'.
No comma needed after 'homes'.
“She is going to die. Nothing to worry about – she is already half-dead!”
Looks like whichever dragon wins it could turn out badly for Jon.
“I sensed you,” Iryklagathra continued his insane recital, even as he climbed higher. It was getting harder and harder to comprehend his roars. “I could smell your presence in the air; it woke me up from my slumber in the bowels of earth below these mountains and almost drove me mad with its familiarity. All of your kind stink of rain and clouds - did you know that? There is nothing worse than this stench; it grows on you, goes under your skin, and into your very stomach! I watched and waited, and crawled around like a shadow to find out who and what you are. I know your new cave like my own. I have spent decades crawling around it, searching for the hidden doors, and I was afraid you would flee through the back exit at the first sight of me, and deny me the pleasure of snapping your arrogant neck! If I knew you would come out to protect your pet worms I would have wiped out this viper nest a long time ago! But I am glad they provoked me with their annoying festival.”
'bowels of the earth', 'if I had known you would come out'
They were circling high above our heads now, estimating each others remaining strength; and I had roll over in order to see them better.
'each other's remaining strength'
That last passage filled me with cold dread. Was I finally going insane? Whose thoughts was I thinking? Why was the life and death of the silver dragon that I had never seen before, and that was technically on ‘my side’ a concern of mine? Or, to be more precise, why would I wish her dead? No answer. Only cold, resentful silence. I jumped to my feet shaking like a leaf.
poor jon - this must really freak him out.
“Stop babbling,” I replied softly, walking to the very edge of the rocky precipice. “Follow if you must, but I am not going anywhere.”
So has he decided now that he can't ignore these flashes of memory any longer?
The two dragon shapes in the night sky were circling the full moon, disappearing from view and showing again in the long gashes between the swiftly running clouds. I could see the bright blue flashes of lightning dancing in the sky as Iryklagathra continued his assaults. Adalon answered with weaker gusts of white. Slowly but steadily she was drawing the old wyrm away from Perch and her cave.
Great chapter - I loved the whole dragon battle
#16
Guest_Dorotea_*
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Posted 20 July 2003 - 04:54 PM
Well, you mentioned that Adalon seemed a little paranoidal about those eggs in the game - something that I also had noticed and found slightly puzzling. I stumbled upon something that might shed some light on *why* is she acting like that - remember those five story tellers in the Tavern of Ust Natha? Well, you can ask one of them about the dragon's nearby and here is what he tells you:
Ah! Shame on me - I saw that one and had a note of it but forgot. Thansk for reminding.
It is said that the silver dragon once had a mate, long ago... a mate who was captured by our people when we were still dwellers of the southern reaches. The heart of her mate was ripped from its body whole, as I hear. The Queen of the Drow used its heart in a ceremony of great darkness, one that angered an old, pale god of the surface elves... I know not which one. Does it matter? When we were driven beneath the surface, sentenced by our fiendish cousins, their god made a pact with Adalon. In return for her vow to guard the old passages to the surface, he would give her what she desired most. At a time of her choosing, when she had grown old, Adalon could call on the god and he would grant her children... eggs that would be made real by the soul of her lost dragon love. Or so the story goes. I hold little truck with it, myself... but, then, I would never venture into those old passages just in case the tales of her presence are true.
Now, I think the old drow is right - this is not possible since Adalon has to be over 10,000 of age for this.
-10000 Descent of the Drow: Corellon’s magic, as directed through his priests and High Mages, transforms the dark elves, whether the corrupt Ilythiiri or others, into the drow. Whether by magic or by the weaknesses that banish them from the sunlit lands, all drow retreat within two months’ passing into the Underdark.
And our story takes place in 1370-1371 ...
Here is another quote , from Draconomicon:
As mentioned in the previous
chapter, great wyrms eventually
reach a point where their physical
strength ceases to increase, while
their bodies continue to grow in
size and weight. Different dragons
reach this point at different ages,
and continued vigorous exercise
can sometimes stave it off. In general,
however, it sets in at an age of
2d100 + 1,700 years. For each
100 years the dragon lives beyond
this point, its maximum flying
speed decreases by 1, while for
each additional 200 years, its maximum
ground speed decreases by
1. (Thus, a black dragon 300 years
past this threshold age can fly at
27 and can move on the ground at
11.) In addition, for each 200 years
past the threshold, the creature
suffers a -1 penalty to its attack
roll.
There is theoretically no limit to
how long a dragon can live. In real
life, however, their decreasing
physical abilities put an upper
limit on life span. A dragon with a
normal ground speed of 12 is unable
to move at all 2,400 years after
it reaches the threshold age (at
this point the dragon is anywhere
from 4,101 to 4,300 years old).
Long before this point, it will begin
having difficulty in catching food
(unless it is highly magical, or is
willing to subsist on rocks and
other inert matter). The word will
also get out that the old dragon is
losing it. In the case of evil dragons,
this generally means that
young challengers will arrive to
fight the dragon for its hoard.
raving. Especially in the case of
evil dragons, the creatureís kin will
almost certainly have killed it long
before this happens.
The more intelligent dragons
will usually not let themselves suffer
the indignities of aging, preferring
to ìgo out in style.î This
differs from species to species, of
course. While creatures like reds
frequently stage one last kamikaze
attack against an old enemy (ìif
youíre going down, you may as
well go down in flamesî), golds, silvers,
and bronzes are usually
much more dignified about it.
All dragons have the ability to
will themselves to die. The process
is quick, quiet, and totally painless.
It is simply a matter of releasing
the link between the dragonís
anima and its body.
Besides, Adalon's stats from the game suggest that she is barely an Adult Dragon (ie 101-200) But it is a matter of personal creativity to define her age I think. I have her as relatively young and vigorous , and slightly unsettled. But again - thanks for reminding me! I think I am adapting the part of her mate being captured and killed by the drow at some point in the past ...
*sob* Makes me kinda sorry for Adalon... of course, Theo in my story won't know this backstory
Yes - he would not have any clue until he gets inside Ust Natha...
#17
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Posted 20 July 2003 - 05:12 PM
Thank you for all your corrections. I will promptly implement these and correct it on the novel website !
I don't think so either, but Jon is being obstinate and capricious because (a) he did not think of it himself and (
he is scared out of his skin but will never show it ...
Yes - but what would be the fun in the story without Omwo?
Serves him right though - he should be aware of his past ...
Grin. Somehow I could not get rid of this image though ... the two of them bickering when they need to act. Maybe next time Jon will be less hazed. Here he is facing the Great Wyrm with a couple of magic missiles and a net of shadows as his only resourse, no wonder he is shaken. It is like PC from the Candlekeep facing Jon from the end of SoA.
I decided I will be benevolent. Since he has no clue what he is asking for ...
He is! But there is someone else.
Hope so. Always wanted to write one.
He is just being himself. Besides, since it is 'him' who is writing this , he would not be that open about his true emotions ...
Oh, I bet.
Oh - it does.
Lets just say that he is going to be in deep trouble ...
Oh yes - and he wants to see this through ...
It is not over yet - but I am glad it was entertaining!
Thanks for reading and correcting! I am getting sloppy again I gather ...
Uh oh, doesn't look like Omwo has high enough wis to be trusted with a wish spell...
I don't think so either, but Jon is being obstinate and capricious because (a) he did not think of it himself and ( he is scared out of his skin but will never show it ...well at least Jon would be rid of Omwo's insults
Yes - but what would be the fun in the story without Omwo?
Poor jon - as if he doesn't have enough problemsright now without getting Suldanessellar flashbacks as well!
Serves him right though - he should be aware of his past ...
This is really not the time for either a lecture on magic or insulting Omwo, Jon...
And Omwo's just as bad.
Grin. Somehow I could not get rid of this image though ... the two of them bickering when they need to act. Maybe next time Jon will be less hazed. Here he is facing the Great Wyrm with a couple of magic missiles and a net of shadows as his only resourse, no wonder he is shaken. It is like PC from the Candlekeep facing Jon from the end of SoA.
Hmm - that sounds pretty easy to misinterpret, if the DM is in an evil mood...
I decided I will be benevolent.
Since he has no clue what he is asking for ...But didn't the legend say that the guardian dragon was dead?
He is! But there is someone else.
A dragon fight? Cool!
Hope so.
Always wanted to write one. heh, Omwo will probably love this.
Quote:
“I would be more than happy to oblige but I am not sure if it will help you much. If both of us are experiencing the same illusion there is no warranty that my pinch would not be a hallucinatory one...”
Anyone else would be either petrified with fear or amazed by the spectacle, but it seems that Jon's not going to let anything distract him from arguing with Omwo...
He is just being himself. Besides, since it is 'him' who is writing this , he would not be that open about his true emotions ...
Whether they believe it or not, it'll still make for a good story!
Oh, I bet.
Uh oh - looks like Jonny's subconsiousness remembers her only too well.
Oh - it does.
Looks like whichever dragon wins it could turn out badly for Jon.
Lets just say that he is going to be in deep trouble ...
poor jon - this must really freak him out.
Quote:
“Stop babbling,” I replied softly, walking to the very edge of the rocky precipice. “Follow if you must, but I am not going anywhere.”
So has he decided now that he can't ignore these flashes of memory any longer?
Oh yes - and he wants to see this through ...
Great chapter - I loved the whole dragon battle
It is not over yet - but I am glad it was entertaining!
Thanks for reading and correcting! I am getting sloppy again I gather ...
#18
Guest_H'kira the Wolf_*
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Posted 20 July 2003 - 09:21 PM
Now, here again comes the part which I anticipated writing for a very long time ... Hope you will like it, and that it is not too cliche - but for Oghma's sake how can you write a FR fic without a dragon fight! Any input on spelling, typos, FR lore and anything else is greatly solicitated.
I must say, this is the first one of your stories I've ever read, and I was absolutely amazed by it. It was beautiful, and you bring such a life to your characters. You are truly talented, Dorotea.
Now I'm going to have to go back and read all the rest of them.
“I am going to wish that the reptilian scumbag would drop dead, obviously. You know: kick the bucket, pop off, catch his death, buy the farm!”
“Don’t!” I gave his hand a good shake to make my point. “Or you may end up thrown a thousand years forward into the future, when the dragon will be dead from natural causes, or into some other reality where he never even existed, and in the mean time what are we going to do here and now?”
Yeah, that could be bad...
“Look, this is not the point! What is important is the fact that it is much easier to move you away than to slay the dragon. Therefore, you have to be very precise when stating your wish or the spell will misfire. Say, you can wish for a heavy weight to be dropped on his head, or some really deadly spell to be fired at his scaly behind – but there is always a chance that he will survive.”
“Drat! Are you always such an optimist? And how do you know anyway? It is not like you ever had a scroll with the spell of that level in your hands...”
Omwo looked at me closely. The expression on my face was enough to convince him to stop arguing. I demonstratively let go of his hand, faking total indifference.
“I wish for the dragon to be incinerated like ... er like crunchy potato chip in the hot oven... he started uncertainly. “Wait, drop that one! I wish that the dragon would drop dead, but I would stay here and the village would be safe, and ... No, this will not do. Help me! Can’t you wish something intelligent for a change?”
hehehe...
I raised my head and issued an inarticulate hiss. Omwo was right – the giant reptile finally freed himself from my spell and was looking straight at us, grinning in all his terrible glory. Now, you have to keep in mind that that was my first encounter with a real dragon in the new life, which was the only one I knew at the time. The view was one I am not likely to forget in another few hundred years. Iryklagathra was an impressive beast, even in his ancient senility. The dragon towered over us like a mountain covered in dark blue crust of ancient lichen. His scales were dull and tinted with a faint gray patina that formed on his scabrous hide over the years, or mayhap centuries, of hibernation. The monstrous head, crowned with a huge horn, swayed from side to side rather like that of a poisonous snake ready to strike at the mesmerized mouse. Iryklagathra’s lips were drawn back from his toothless gums, his maw stretched into a visible snarl of triumph. Once again, the dragon opened his jaws, and took a deep intake of breath.
*shivers*
“I am coming little ones, I am coming! Be of good courage and strengthen your hearts!”
The voice was strong, yet melodious, and something in its intonation was undeniably female. The words were spoken in Common, and there was an eerie echo to them, that made me think of flying and vast open sky high above the tattered shroud of clouds. At the first sound of it, Iryklagathra screeched in violent rage, spreading his enormous wings and making an attempt to take to the air. But it was too late - the dragoness dived out of the mist and struck at him like a bright spear sent by a hand of a vengeful goddess.
She was magnificent in her righteous fury: elegant and lightly built. A precious statuette crafted out of the brightest white metal, pleasing to an eye of an aesthete. Yet, there was also strength, and above all purpose to the graceful outline of the slim, silver body and the sharp cut of her powerful wings. The two powers of epic proportion collided in mid-air, just as the blue dragon tried to take off. But his great age was taking its toll – he was too slow for the silver wrath on bright wings. The massive, dark indigo bulk of the great wyrm met the light aerial shape of the silver dragon. Iryklagathra roared in pain, collapsing back to the ground, and the dragoness retreated swiftly, hovering over him like a seagull over a great ugly vulture.
This part was especially wonderful to read. It was like I could see them...
“I just know. Have a good look at her bone structure, and her wings. And anyway, only a female could think of attacking something twice her size with such utter disregard of the consequences. The male dragon would have tried to negotiate first...”
*chuckles*
“Tell me your dastardly name, weakling female, so that I know it before the rest of your life force would spill out of your cooling carcass on the stones below!” Iryklagathra roared in Draconic. “It is the way of our kind to know the names of our dead enemies. Even though you follow the tradition of your perverted race, and prefer the worms crawling over earth to your brethren in the sky. I am Iryklagathra, the Sharpfangs. And who are you, insolent fool, who so boldly took over the home of my ancient enemy, and his tribe of servitors?”
“I am Adalon, the Bright,” was the simple answer, and my heart stopped beating, even as I felt a hurricane of blood rushing in my ears. I moaned, grasping at the solid earth under me, and almost fainted, but stopped the seizure with an incredible effort of will.
Love this twist...
Great story,
Loved it,
H'kira n' the Wolf
#19
Guest_Dorotea_*
Guest_Dorotea_*
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- Guests
Posted 21 July 2003 - 02:21 AM
I must say, this is the first one of your stories I've ever read, and I was absolutely amazed by it. It was beautiful, and you bring such a life to your characters. You are truly talented, Dorotea.
Wow, that was a serious praise. /Blush/ And I am seriously touched - I thank you very much. I know my stories are a bit ... odd, and not everybody likes them.
I know you wrote your own Irenicus' redemption story and I liked it a lot.
I hope you will find the rest of the Ashes interesting enough. Writing it has been my little obsession for the last year or so, despite all the controversial feelings that it seem to stir in some readers.Now I'm going to have to go back and read all the rest of them.
I hope you will like it. It is a bit long though.
Sigh. I am always verbose.“Don’t!” I gave his hand a good shake to make my point. “Or you may end up thrown a thousand years forward into the future, when the dragon will be dead from natural causes, or into some other reality where he never even existed, and in the mean time what are we going to do here and now?”
Yeah, that could be bad...
Oh, a misfired wish spell can be a 'serious' problem... especially with dragon breathing down your neck!
I raised my head and issued an inarticulate hiss. Omwo was right – the giant reptile finally freed himself from my spell and was looking straight at us, grinning in all his terrible glory. Now, you have to keep in mind that that was my first encounter with a real dragon in the new life, which was the only one I knew at the time. The view was one I am not likely to forget in another few hundred years. Iryklagathra was an impressive beast, even in his ancient senility. The dragon towered over us like a mountain covered in dark blue crust of ancient lichen. His scales were dull and tinted with a faint gray patina that formed on his scabrous hide over the years, or mayhap centuries, of hibernation. The monstrous head, crowned with a huge horn, swayed from side to side rather like that of a poisonous snake ready to strike at the mesmerized mouse. Iryklagathra’s lips were drawn back from his toothless gums, his maw stretched into a visible snarl of triumph. Once again, the dragon opened his jaws, and took a deep intake of breath.
*shivers*
Yeah - it was rather, unpleasant ...
She was magnificent in her righteous fury: elegant and lightly built. A precious statuette crafted out of the brightest white metal, pleasing to an eye of an aesthete. Yet, there was also strength, and above all purpose to the graceful outline of the slim, silver body and the sharp cut of her powerful wings. The two powers of epic proportion collided in mid-air, just as the blue dragon tried to take off. But his great age was taking its toll – he was too slow for the silver wrath on bright wings. The massive, dark indigo bulk of the great wyrm met the light aerial shape of the silver dragon. Iryklagathra roared in pain, collapsing back to the ground, and the dragoness retreated swiftly, hovering over him like a seagull over a great ugly vulture.
This part was especially wonderful to read. It was like I could see them...
I am very happy to hear this! This part was sitting at the back of my mind since May - I just needed to write it down.
“I just know. Have a good look at her bone structure, and her wings. And anyway, only a female could think of attacking something twice her size with such utter disregard of the consequences. The male dragon would have tried to negotiate first...”
*chuckles*
Well, the funny part - all the girls liked this one, and all the boys find it an insult!
“I am Adalon, the Bright,” was the simple answer, and my heart stopped beating, even as I felt a hurricane of blood rushing in my ears. I moaned, grasping at the solid earth under me, and almost fainted, but stopped the seizure with an incredible effort of will.
Love this twist...
Oh Jon-Jon is going to be in a lot of trouble in the next few chapters, let's see how he wriggles out of it, shall we?
Thank you very much for reading and commenting!
#20
Arcalian
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- Inactive
- 5654 posts
Transcendent
Posted 22 July 2003 - 01:29 AM
DoroteaDoroteaDorotea fiagro! Maginificoooooo!
Whoa, that was indeed magnifico. I hope Adalon wins.....don't want her to die, at least not in this timeline...
Is Jonny going Shcizoid??
Story of a girl without a name!!!
Whoa, that was indeed magnifico. I hope Adalon wins.....don't want her to die, at least not in this timeline...
Is Jonny going Shcizoid??
Story of a girl without a name!!!
The road to the abyss may be paved with good intentions, but it is those with bad intentions that race down that road as fast as they can.
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