Moglin Crazed09
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The Prologue: Questions Raised
"Halt, Mortal! Your blood is forfeit; Lord Akriloth the First, constructed within Mistress Fiamme's domain, birthed through the Sun of Lore, seeks vengeance upon thine family. You have lived in this Land for generations, ignoring all demands to return to your home. The offer is no longer available; you shall die, here, as your family has died."
Tanien stumbled, her hands flying to the bulge that had overtaken her once slim figure. Her palms turned to face the Pyromantic Dragon before her, the runes sliced into them glowing bright. She had to protect the unborn child at all costs...Especially if the rest of the Dra'kin were deceased. She alone, in this weakened, aged state, would never be able to uphold the Balance. The runes carved into her palms lit up even brighter, until the light formed a nearly blinding shield around her. The Dragon snarled, prowling around the dome of magic, licking its chops. Damn, Tamien thought. It's a patient hunter... The Dragon stalked back to its initial position, craning its neck until its head was directly over top the shield. It lowered down, running its razor edged tongue across it. At first, there didn't seem to be an affect- but just a second before the beast moved back, its tongue lit up the color of flames, which poured over the shield, then down into Tanien's hands, feeding her manna.
"Ah...An Alchemy Shield. How Clever, Mortal. No matter what I do, you'll just convert it to manna, which means I'd eventually perish...That is, if I were a younger, rasher Dragon. But alas, I am not. I've served for hundreds of years under the Plane of Fire, under Lord Akriloth, and his father. If such a trick were to work on me, Mortal, do you think I would have survived this long? HA! No, I would have died long ago, when the Draconians tried to break away, or when the Elves tried to manipulate us. You will die here, Mortal, either by mine flames, or by your own over exertion."
"Your wrong, Dragon! I could not be defeated by such a meat headed, masculine beast as yourself!" Tanien winced as she spoke, using far too much Manna to keep the shield up while talking. It was always painful, when her focus shifted.
"Masculine? Foolish little snack. I am mother to nearly all of the Dragons who killed your family- a brood of eight, each more powerful than the last! Except me, of course, but that is because they are still young. One day, when they feed on my corpse, they will gain my magic and knowledge, my courage and strength! But that day is distant, as today, the last of the Dra'kin will be wiped from the face of Lore! The first step to regaining Lore! You cannot fool the powerful Flamestorm!"
Tanien smirked. It is a female Dragon...Good.
"While you've been blabbing...I was preparing your demise, Dragon! Above you!"
The beast blinked, glancing upwards just enough that Tanien was mostly out of her view. With a physically draining effort, she drew the shield back in- but not into her hands. The manna drifted through her stomach, wrapping itself around her very womb, the entirety of her child. The magic burned through the umbilical cord, leaving just the egg. She groaned in pain, but didn't let the magic stop flowing. Tanien screamed, drawing the Dragon's attention again. "HA," the Beast laughed, "you've burnt out already, Mortal? I was certain you'd be a better challenge than that."
For just a moment, the pain subsided, and Tanien smirked. "I have burnt out...But the victory is not yours. Enjoy the baby shower, Dragon."
"Wh...What?"
Tanien screamed one final time, a shriek that tore through the volcanic Kingdom, alerting monsters just like the Dragon to her presence. Her body glowed like flames, and and bluish orb shot forth, moving through the Dragon's skin and bones like a ghost. As it settled in one of three eggs that were to be layed in just a few days' time, her body reverted to ash.
As the scream's echoes died, the Dragon felt a shift within her. Her mind changed, at least for a time. Tanien had forced the last son of the Dra'kin into Flamestorm's egg, which would cause him to be hatched as a half Dragon. Flamestorm felt pity for her unborn half son, felt pity for his true mother...Which was odd, considering she'd been hunting her. Perhaps...That witch cast her mind into me as well!? This is...No...I don't seem to feel anger...But...I must flee! I must flee to the south, to the flat lands. No Dragon would be there...I could safely hatch him, teach him the basics of Dragons...And return here within just a few short years. So long as the Dra'kin are not in Akriloth's domain, they are not a threat, after all...
And so Flamestorm fled south, choosing a clearing in the deepest reaches of the Western Wildernesses. She found a clearing near a lake, with small mountains that were crawling with game and other beasts that would scare off most dragons. There, she layed her three eggs, keeping special care of the smallest of the three, which was colored black with familiar runes glowing all across it- the very runes Tanien and the other Dra'kin had carved across their bodies. This egg was fragile, due mostly to the nature of the creature inside. She made sure not to put too much weight on the egg, and not to leave it alone, in fear it would grow too cold to survive. Something inside her- the magic Tanien had cursed her with, probably- drew her to feel more protective of that egg...And more protective of the other two, as well. Something made her more motherly than ever before, softening her.
As the weeks went by, Flamestorm domesticated the grounds surrounding her clearing, making it a slightly more safe environment. As the hatching day grew near, she cleared off a dozen or so hunting areas, trimming down anything too strong for newly hatched dragons. With her magic, she crafted a sword of fire and rock for the Half Dragon boy, knowing he wouldn't be able to shift between forms as well for another year or so. After hunting, she'd craft clothing of the felts and scales of the creatures she feasted on, and went so far as to bless the clothing and weapon to grow with the boy, and to remain in a clean state no matter what.
Eventually, two months had passed, and the first of the eggs hatched. The dragon born from the largest egg was born of Wind, and was well built for stealth and speed. She was aptly dubbed "Huntress." Huntress learned and grew quickly, her silvery scales becoming sturdy army just a month after her birth. By the time the second egg had hatched and the dragon within awoken, Huntress had established a small cave of her own just a few miles away from the clearing, and was a bit larger than a horse, a lot stronger than a Groillaphant.
When the second egg hatched, the Dragon within was of Fire, just as Flamestorm. He grew quickly, but learned slowly. After two weeks, he was equal in size and strength to Huntress, but seemed unable to use magic of any kind correctly, and had trouble flying. Pyrus, unlike Huntress, ended up remaining in the clearing, valiantly helping protect the final egg.
As the months rolled by, Flamestorm grew worried, beginning to fear that the Dra'kin boy would not hatch. She began going to absurd lengths to coax him out- singing, begging, transmitting children's stories telepathically...
A year passed, and Pyrus managed to secure an entire cavern to himself- though he was sharing with half a dozen humans, who accepted him as a protector. In return for scaring off invaders, they fed him, gave him treasure, hunting grounds, and the mages even began teaching him the Human language and magic. Flamestorm was rather disappointed at this, but was- and this surprised even her- happy he hadn't gone off and died.
A year and three months passed, and it was then Flamestorm grew extremely worried. She'd become domesticated in the last year, raising her children, lauding over the unborn Half Dragon. Something was wrong, that he hadn't hatched...Wait...He...He's only half dragon...He can't get out on his own!"
Flamestorm let loose a roar, which alerted the surrounding villages to her presence- something she would come to regret. She swung her tail down with all of her might, whacking the top of the black, rune infested egg off. There was a burst of familiar light- the same kind she'd seen over a year earlier. The runes danced around the pillar of light, drifting in, wrapping around the silhouetted figure in the center. As the last of the runes shifted into and onto him, the chunks of his egg drifted up, beginning to form something Flamestorm never thought she'd see- something she often dreaded, for it was the very thing that had domesticated her brothers and sisters so often. The beast took a step back, as the shards of egg formed a black orb...As the white chunks wrapped around it, and the last of the powerful light sprung onto it, staining the item gold and red.
The light dimmed, the Dra'kin boy drifted to the ground, and the Dragon Amulet fell into his hands.
He looked up, his brown hair covering most of his forehead and parts of his piercing grey eyes. Having hatched late, he'd grown inside the shell, to the equivalent of a year old Dragon. While a year wasn't normally much to a fully grown dragon, it was a lot to a youngling. Having hatched late, the Dra'kin boy was already teenaged, in terms of his human state...
His ears poked up through his hair, and his skin was tinted a shadowy color. His nails were sharp, and his teeth were pointed. There were scales along either side of his back, where wings would sprout if he chose to let them. The boy cocked his head up at Flamestorm, the titanic red dragon she was. "Are you...Are you my mother?"
Flamestorm blinked, wondering for a moment if she should tell the truth... It would surely take far too long to explain to the boy the harsh history he'd had in being born- and that she'd been planning to kill him in the first place. No...It would be best, for both their safeties, that the boy went unaware of his human half. At least until he was older and able to defend himself better.
"Yes, hatchling..." She paused, wondering what she would call someone who had survived the wrath of a dragon at such a young age...Who had, against all odds, managed to survive his family's assassination, and even end up born as not some lowly human who would have died within days, but a Dragon. A Half dragon, yes, but a dragon none the less. Her eyes ran across the dimly glowing runes- they glowed like embers, as if, with the slightest bit of fuel, they would set ablaze, wrathfully devouring all in their path. And it was then, whether of her own intellect or some other worldly being, Firestorm spoke the name that, by some divine working, would grow to be ironic, and iconic. "Yes...Inferno."
< Message edited by Moglin Crazed09 -- 6/23/2012 15:53:55 >
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