Sir Arceon
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My attempts at an origin story, entered in Eukara Vox's Contest awhile back. Discussion here.
Drakonnax- the Next Generation(or Brother of the Dragons)
One fateful night, many years ago, a cloaked stranger walked up to the gates of Medrovia, the Vartai city which lay hidden in the Dragonspine mountains. In his hands, he held a basket. He set it down on the steps of the main gate, and placed a note inside. He took one last look at the basket's contents, knocked upon the great door three times, and, with a heavy heart, ran away as quickly as possible. Not two seconds later, the great door swung open.
Standing in the doorway were two Vartai swordsmen, their crimson and blue scales glittering in the pale moonlight. They looked down, and before them was a newborn human baby, wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a basket with a note placed upon him. The red-scaled guard picked up the note and read it carefully. He looked to his companion, who nodded. The blue-scaled guard then proceeded to carefully pick up the basket, and, closing the door behind them, the two immediately took the basket to the quarters of Lord Cyrus himself.
"Lord Cyrus, sir, we found this human infant outside," said the blue-scaled guard, kneeling with the basket held up in his hands.
"He had this in the basket with him," said the red-scaled guard. "It's addressed to you." Cyrus took the note in his hand and began to read. His eyes widened with surprise at the note's contents, and he knew immediately what had to be done.
"Send word to Gaspar, Sheila, and Xerxes at once," he commanded. "Tell them I need to speak with them immediately."
"Yes, sir!" Said the two guards simultaneously, and they left at once, leaving Cyrus to watch the child.
As he watched the sleeping infant, Cyrus read the note again.
"To Lord Cyrus, High Khan of the Dracomancers and ruler of the Vartai," it said. "This is my son. I cannot raise him by myself, for I have many enemies who would seek to cease the continuation of my bloodline. Therefore, I leave him in your care. I know that you are a wise and just ruler, and, as such, you will raise him to be a great hero and a strong Dracomancer. Raise him not as your son, but as your brother, for I have always considered dragons my brethren, and I wish for him to, as well. I place all of my trust in you. -D"
Just as he finished, the doors to his quarters opened, and in walked his brothers, Gaspar and Xerxes, as well as his sister, Sheila.
"Keep that Behemoth alive; I'm not done with it yet!" Xerxes called out into the hall. He closed the door and turned to his brother. "This had better be good, Cyrus," he said in an irritated voice.
"Believe me, Xerxes," said Cyrus, "this is far more important than combat training. Look." He then gestured to the basket, and a collective gasp rose from his siblings.
"A child?" said Sheila, who pulled the blanket away from the infant's face.
"And a human child at that!" said Xerxes. Gaspar simply stared. He knew Cyrus very well. He knew he would never kidnap an innocent human, let alone a child.
"Cyrus," he asked, "where did you find this child?" Cyrus proceeded to tell his brothers and sister that the child had been mysteriously left on their doorstep, with a note. He then recited the letter without skipping a beat.
"As our brother? HA!" Laughed Xerxes. "What place could this human have among the Vartai? Look at him! He can't even lift a twig, let alone a sword!"
"He is only a baby, Xerxes," Sheila reminded her brother.
"Besides," Gaspar added, "humans age ten times as quickly as us. He should be capable of the finest of battles within only twenty years, perhaps fewer."
"But, until then," Cyrus cut in, "we shall raise him ourselves, as one of us. He shall be the fifth among us, and, hopefully, a great dracomancer."
Suddenly, the baby opened his eyes. He looked at Sheila, Gaspar, and Cyrus and smiled. The three smiled back, knowing that the child had bonded with them. Then the baby looked at Xerxes. He took in the sight of the muscular half-dragon warlord and his twin battleaxes. He might not have known what or who Xerxes was, but he was definitely scared at the sight. The poor infant began to cry. The three brothers began to worry, but Sheila knew what to do, somehow. She rocked the child's basket back and forth, and began humming an old lullaby that her mother, a wise Ice Dragon, sung to her every night for the first 50 years of her childhood. The child began to settle down, and slowly fell into a deep sleep.
Xerxes watched the child as his sister sang to it. Coldblooded half-dragon warlord as he was, even he could not turn away an infant. Besides, he knew that once the child reached the proper age, he could be trained as the finest warrior. Xerxes smiled at the thought. His little brother, a human! Fighting alongside him in battle would certainly be a pleasure. He nodded to the rest of his siblings, letting them know of his approval.
"So be it, then," said Cyrus. He carefully unwrapped the child's left hand, and placed his own upon it. The rest of his siblings did the same. They held their hands there and focused. A few moments later, their hands lifted away to reveal something they all, now including the child, shared: the Black Claw of the High Khan. Now, he was one of them. They all looked at the child for a few minutes without speaking.
Then Xerxes chimed in, "Just so you all know, I am not changing any diapers."
The next fifteen years flew by quickly. The boy, whom they named Drake, grew up into a fine young warrior. His spirit was outshined only by the joy which always shone in his eyes, which were as blue as a Water Dragon's scales. Just as they had promised, the four raised him as their brother. Xerxes trained him in combat, Gaspar taught him swordsmanship, Sheila showed him how to use all types of elemental magic, and Cyrus tutored him in dracomancy, where, as Cyrus predicted, he showed the most talent.
Drake was able to bond with dragons quite easily. In fact, when he was only a few months into the age of five, one Vartai scout reported seeing him in the Skraeling Desert, making sandcastles with a Sand Dragon! But, as much as Drake loved dragons, he knew that there were some in the world whose greed and lust for power had caused them to turn down the path of evil, as he found out many times over the years with such villains as the Dragon King and Shearhide. With this knowledge, he decided to learn how to slay dragons from Galanoth, so that he could fight evil dragons if the need ever arose. Though he hated killing dragons, he always did what he needed to do. In the end, Drake became a well balanced and skilled hero. None were prouder than his surrogate siblings when he became a Guardian, except for the mysterious, cloaked figure who watched from the shadows.
Drake had always felt out of place among the Vartai. He knew that he was not one of them, yet they accepted him. He'd always had nagging questions at the back of his head.
Who am I? Who are my real parents? Where are they? Why did they abandon me? He asked himself these questions many times, wanting nothing more than answers. Sometimes, Cyrus and the others could overhear him asking himself these questions. They knew that they had to tell him the truth eventually, so it was no surprise to them when Drake confronted Cyrus.
"Cyrus, I know we aren't truly brothers," he said, "but I feel like I can place my trust in you."
So, thought Cyrus, the day has come. The two sat down, and Cyrus explained how Drake had been left at Medrovia's gates that fateful night. Then, he pulled out the note, and handed it to Drake, who read it slowly and carefully.
"D? Is that... my father's initial?" Drake stared at the note and read it over and over, until a tear began to form in the corner of his eye. Cryus put his hand on Drake's shoulder.
"Listen, Drake," he said, "even if you aren't one of us..." he paused to lift Drake's left hand and removed the gauntlet, revealing the Black Claw, then continued, "...you're still my brother."
Then, as if on cue, Gaspar, Sheila, and Xerxes, who overheard, each stepped out, one by one, and said in turn, "And mine." Drake looked at his surrogate siblings and smiled. Even if he didn't know who his father was, he knew he still had a family in them.
One day, the Dragonslayers and the Dracomancers recieved word that a villain of some kind had been reanimating Dracoliches, and rumor had it that he was planning on using them to assault Battleon. Drake, who hated seeing dragons used for evil, donned his Golden Dragonslayer Eclipse armor, equipped his Light Dragon Blade and Dragonslayer Shield, and went on the hunt, alone. When he made it to the southern region of Darkovia, where the villain had been spotted, he half-expected an ambush. Instead, a cloaked stranger stepped out, as if to greet him.
"You, there!" shouted Drake. "Are you the one who has been disturbing these dragons' eternal slumber!?"
"Indeed I am," said the stranger, "and for that, I am sorry." Drake was confused by this. A necromancer SORRY about raising the dead? Who was this guy?
The stranger walked up to Drake and slowly lifted his helm, revealing Drake's brown hair, blue eyes, and confused face.
"Just as I thought," the stranger said. "It is you, after all. You've grown into a fine young man." Drake was so confused that he simply acted on instinct, lifting the stranger's hood from his face and revealing the most horrifying mask he'd ever seen! Stumbling back in shock, Drake pointed his Light Dragonblade at the stranger's mask, whick resembled Drakonnan's, only a much darker crimson, with two smaller horns above the forehead. The stranger paused a few moments, then lifted the mask, revealing a middle-aged man, with dark black hair, dull brown eyes, and a thin goatee. He seemed somehow familiar to Drake, but he pushed these thoughts aside. He knew he had to focus on the matter at hand.
"Who are you!?" Drake asked, ready for battle.
The stranger looked slightly sad, and said, "You mean you don't even recognize your own father?"
Drake was taken aback by this. My father? he thought. Impossible!
"You lie!" Drake shouted angrily. "You're not my father! My father couldn't have been a necromancer!" The stranger sighed.
"Trust me, son, necromancy isn't the finest of arts," he said, "but it has its benefits." Drake was completely outraged at the stranger. How dare he claim to be my father!? Drake rushed at the stranger, Light Dragonblade in hand, screaming in rage. The stranger gasped and leapt aside. Before Drake could swing again, the stranger grabbed the sides of his head and cried in desperation,
"Please, son, just try to remember!" Drake was still outraged, but calmed down long enough to fish out the memories he had long forgotten.
He remembered his father carrying him in a basket as a baby, running from a wave of flames and lightning. He remembered his father putting him down on the steps of Medrovia, and how he had a sad look on his face. His face... the stranger's face! It was the exact face of his father! Drake gasped in shock, returning to the present. Neither him nor his father spoke for several minutes. Finally, Drake said the one name he'd been waiting to call someone for fifteen years.
"...Dad?"
At last, Drake had reunited with his father. There was hugging, tears, the whole shebang. Drake's father explained that he was actually Drakonnax, the long-lost brother of the original Drakonnan. When Drakonnan II and Drakonnas found out, they assaulted Drakonnax, blaming him for the death of Drakonnan the first. In an act of desperation, he had left his only son to be raised by the Vartai, whom he trusted greatly.
"I didn't want you to get hurt, son," he explained. "They could've killed you to get to me."
Drake didn't hate his father for leaving him. He knew it was only to protect him. Drakonnax also explained that the dragons he reanimated were old friends of his, and that he just wanted to see them again. He wasn't going to use them to harm anyone, on that he gave his word. They knew that Drakonnax would have to remain in hiding, so Drake wasn't completely upset when his father told him that he had to leave again.
Just as Drakonnax replaced his mask and was about to pull his hood back over it, Galanoth and Artix burst into the clearing.
"At last," said Artix gleefully, "the necromancer! I look forward to killing you, watching you turn into a lich, and killing you again!"
"Not to mention slaying all those undead dragons!" Galanoth said with as much glee as his paladin comrade.
"But first," he continued, "we'll deal with you!" Artix prepared a Sunburst, while Galanoth called the Fire Dragon.
"No!" shouted Drake. "You don't understand!" But it was too late. The two released their attacks, which combined into a burst of burning light. Drake knew immediately what had to be done. He lept in front of his father, using his body as a shield.
"What are you doing!?" Artix, Drakonnax, and Galanoth asked in unison.
Drake replied simply, "Saving my dad!" The last thing he knew was a horrible burning sensation all over his body, and the world turning black.
Drake awoke about two seconds later, only to see Death rowing up to him on the river of souls.
"Well, lookee here," Death said. "If it isn't Drakonnax's boy!"
Drake was surprised. "You knew my father?" he asked.
"Do I ever!" Death replied. "If I had a thousand Gold for every favor he owed me, I'd be rich!" Death pulled the gondola over. "Of course, what with all the favors he owes me, I need some collateral," Death said with a grin. Reluctantly, Drake stepped forward, but before he could get in, he found hiself standing in a beam of light.
"Oh, no," said Death angrily, "not again!" Drake slowly rose, and next thing he knew, he heard his father's voice. "Son! Son, wake up!"
Drake slowly opened his eyes. Looking up, he saw his father, who had taken off his mask, as well as Cyrus, Sheila, Gaspar, Xerxes, Galanoth, and Artix, all standing around him. He felt dizzy for some reason.
"What... happened?" he asked wearily. Artix and Galanoth exchanged a look of guilt.
"We sort of..." Artix began. "...killed you," finished Galanoth.
"And I... reanimated you," Drakonnax explained. Drake took a few seconds to take this in.
"I'm... undead?" He noticed that Artix had a look of guilt, sadness, and stress all at once. It must've been tough on the poor guy, seeing one of his friends turned undead, and it must've been even tougher resisting the urge to kill him again.
Drake stood up and looked at his reflection in his shield. The attack of his friends had completely singed all the flesh off his head, leaving only a bare skull, while the rest of his skin was burned black. He then regretted not putting his helm back on. Drakonnax walked up to his now undead son.
"I'm sorry, son," he said, "but I owed Death too much; he wouldn't have let you come back. I had no choice."
"I'm not mad because I'm undead, Dad," Drake said, "I'm upset because now, I really have no place with Cyrus and the others." He pulled what was left of the gauntlet off his left hand. He couldn't even distinguish the Black Claw of the High Khan from the rest of his hand now! Drake angrily pounded his fist against a nearby tree.
Sheila walked up behind him and took his left hand. She focused, calling upon her skill in Luminomancy. Drake felt a burning sensation on the back of his hand. After a few seconds, Sheila lifted her hand. Drake looked and saw that now, the Black Claw had been turned white, and it was visible on his now-charred hand! He paused for a moment.
"Thank you, sister," he said. Sheila smiled. Undead or not, he was a part of their family, and they all knew it.
And so, Drakonnax went back into hiding, and Drake, Cyrus, Sheila, Gaspar, and Xerxes all returned to Medrovia, their home. Drake made himself a white Drakonnan-style helm, and took his father's name. Now, the rest of the world would know him as Drakonnax II, the first undead dracomancer. He finally knew who he was, and he felt even stronger for knowing. One thing was for certain; after learning his past, Drakonnax was more than ready for the future.
THE END..?
< Message edited by Dwelling Dragonlord -- 5/19/2013 15:42:13 >
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