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[WP] When I was 16 my father pulled me out of school and shoved me in the car. His eyes didn't leave the road as he threw a gun in my lap and said, "We're going to get your mother." | ... I rolled my eyes. This was the third time this semester. Any more of this and the school was going to start asking questions. The old pickup spun around and jolted forward with powerful ferocity, bolting out of the parking lot and swerving into the main road. Dad started psyching himself up as we picked up speed. He fell into a familiar pattern, breathing deep and twiddling his fingers on the wheel, some kind of nervous tick for him. After all of this time, I didn't know if he was actually still nervous or if it was more of a superstitious ritual, but he had done it every time without fail so far. I took a closer look at the gun he had thrown at me me and held it up to my eye level. It was sleek black Glock 22. It was heftier than I had anticipated; I wasn't used to shooting a .40 cal.
"Upping the ante this time, I see. What are you packing?" He gave me a quick, breathy chuckle and a manic grin. I slumped back in the passenger seat and drew out a long sigh. I knew that look.
"Today's the day, Wayne," he exclaimed, "Today, is, the, day!" His grin had evolved into a full toothy smile. It was always so hard to see him like this, but there was no stopping him from my end.
"Uh-huh. Where are we headed?"
"Carmichael Art Museum downtown. They're holding some sort of snooty bigwig fundraiser party."
"Sounds like something she'd like."
"Today's the day!" His smile held for a second longer before his face dropped back into an expression of unshakeably determined concentration. I opted to abstain from further conversation for the remainder of the trip.
As we pulled around the block to the art museum, we were greeted with rows and rows of police cruisers parked around the entrance. At the very least, that meant that we were on the right track. It was a giant building, adorned with intricate emulations of classical architecture covering the entire front face. Dozens of uniforms were standing around facing the solid brass doors with their pistols drawn. One of the fat ones had a megaphone and was blathering something about meeting demands and negotiating for hostages. Dad and I gave each other a knowing glance, the fat cop was wasting his time. We both knew how she worked, she had already made her statement and was probably already on her way out with more than a few pieces of fancy jewelry and wallets.
Dad pulled out a napkin with a crude map scrawled on it with blue pen. He pulled the car around to an alley several blocks down to the East of the museum. The cops had the building surrounded so the only logical exits were up or down, but we were pretty sure that the helicopter wasn't part of the plan this time. Without a word to each other we jumped out of the car and ran straight for the nearest manhole. With a little shove, the cover slipped right off and we descended into the dank depths of the city's labyrinthine sewer system. On the way down I caught a glimpse of his new arsenal. From what I could tell it consisted of several homemade smoke grenades, a crossbow, and some sort of modified rifle. If I didn't know any better I would have thought he was hunting Velociraptors.
We sprinted down a length of the murky corridor, following the napkin map to a T. I followed my father blindly, having faith in his meticulous preparations and obsessive methodology. He was good at this. After a few minutes of running he stopped us at an intersection, pressing up against the wall and slowing his breath. We could hear the faint rhythm of running footsteps getting louder from one of the tunnels. It was her. Dad brandished his rifle and rushed out into the middle of the cross, facing her.
"CHARLOTTE!" He yelled down to her. The rifle started glowing, crackling with electricity. "You're coming home!"
I saw her slow down to a stop, breathing heavily, unfazed by the spectacle of a middle-aged college professor with an electro-rifle holding her at gunpoint in a sewer. She was dressed in her professional gear: black leather jacket and gloves with red jeans, her shoulder length hair in a neat little auburn ponytail.
"Oh Howard," she sighed, "I was hoping to outrun you this time." She gave him a soft smile, an expression of loving sympathy. It conveyed a subtle joy, being able to see him, but also some concern. I knew how she felt, to a certain extent. I stepped out from around the corner and assumed a shooting stance, holding the Glock up threateningly toward her.
"Hi, Mom," I chimed in.
"Wayne!" Her face lit up. I smiled back, it was always good to catch up with her a little bit, even in situations like this.
"Charlotte," Dad repeated, his voice was a low monotone, "You are coming home." Mom's face reassumed her previous expression, only this time more somber. He pulled the trigger, summoning a brilliant flash of energy out of the muzzle of the rifle. In a single deft movement Mom dived under the trajectory of the bolt and rolled up to where Dad was standing. She knocked him out with one well placed hit right on his left temple. He collapsed, face first on the cobblestone, as if he'd fallen asleep standing up.
"I really wish I could, Howard," she said to him softly. I lowered my gun as she turned to me, ready to pounce. "You weren't going to shoot me, were you?" I raised my hands up over my shoulders in surrender.
"Chamber was empty the whole time."
"Good boy, I love you, and don't miss too much school."
"Love you too, I won't."
She scampered off into the darkness, probably toward the next political protest and high pressure heist hybrid caper she had her eyes on next. Dad stirred from his brief slumber, groaning from the splitting headache he had been gifted.
"Don't worry Dad, we'll get her next time."
| I understood immediately.
“How did you find her?” I look over to him.
Dad’s mouth remained pursed in a thin line. His eyes locked, expression empty.
“Where is she?”
This time he answered. “Industrial park warehouse off Branchville. Near the petrochem refineries.”
I rubbed the pistol in my lap, its cylinder cool and smooth. “What are they doing at a warehouse, they smuggling something? You know how many will be there?”
“No idea. Just got a tip that she’s there right now.”
On most days my dad would be considered a talkative person, but not today. He has always been taciturn when it came to mom.
I sighed and glanced out the car window. Buildings and pedestrians gradually gave way to lakes and trees. *Is this finally the day we get to mom?* Past memories circled my mind like fish in a tank. I tried to block them out but it's impossible to refuse thoughts that have already breached into consciousness. *My mother’s radiant smile as she hugged me close to her bosom. My father’s ashen face as he whispered, “she’s gone.”* I sighed again and began twirling the weapon in my palm. My eyes closed. *I will definitely get her this time.* The gun felt slipperier than usual. I glanced down and saw that it was coated with sweat.
By the time our sedan entered the industrial park, the sun had just descended. We parked away from the actual warehouse, which already hosted two 12-wheelers on its lot. The cartel obviously planned to load up them with some kind of lucrative loot inside.
"We're splitting up right?" I asked my father when we exited the car and scurried toward our destination. Faint shouts arise from inside the warehouse as we neared: "Vamos! Vamos buscar!" But no one posted guard outside.
"Yeah, there are two floors. I'll enter first and climb to the second floor. You wait a few minutes and make sure everything is clear outside. Then go survey the ground floor. If you hear gunshots at any time, come up."
I nodded. We were now crouched directly next to the double door entrance, both armed with a single pistol. I was taught years ago - after one acquires precise aim, the least cumbersome weapon is the most practical.
Dad turned and rested his hands on my shoulders. "Remember - if you see her, *get her*." And then he slipped through the dim entrance and was gone.
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I will update with more if you guys want. Wanted to post this first bit up here early.
| |
[WP] When I was 16 my father pulled me out of school and shoved me in the car. His eyes didn't leave the road as he threw a gun in my lap and said, "We're going to get your mother." | On my 16th birthday, dad surprised me by pulling me out of gym class halfway through the day. He didn't explain why he was there--not in the hallway, not in the parking lot. He waited until we were on the highway, pushing 90 MPH. And our luck.
"Dad?" I tried, finally. Halfway to SJC. Without taking his eyes off the road, he casually reached into his jacket and pulled out a handgun, which he threw in my lap before hopping in and out of the HOV lane.
"We're going to get your mother," he said. "Before she gets us."
"About time," I replied.
I didn't bother to check if it was loaded.
Dad never forgot that sort of thing. | I understood immediately.
“How did you find her?” I look over to him.
Dad’s mouth remained pursed in a thin line. His eyes locked, expression empty.
“Where is she?”
This time he answered. “Industrial park warehouse off Branchville. Near the petrochem refineries.”
I rubbed the pistol in my lap, its cylinder cool and smooth. “What are they doing at a warehouse, they smuggling something? You know how many will be there?”
“No idea. Just got a tip that she’s there right now.”
On most days my dad would be considered a talkative person, but not today. He has always been taciturn when it came to mom.
I sighed and glanced out the car window. Buildings and pedestrians gradually gave way to lakes and trees. *Is this finally the day we get to mom?* Past memories circled my mind like fish in a tank. I tried to block them out but it's impossible to refuse thoughts that have already breached into consciousness. *My mother’s radiant smile as she hugged me close to her bosom. My father’s ashen face as he whispered, “she’s gone.”* I sighed again and began twirling the weapon in my palm. My eyes closed. *I will definitely get her this time.* The gun felt slipperier than usual. I glanced down and saw that it was coated with sweat.
By the time our sedan entered the industrial park, the sun had just descended. We parked away from the actual warehouse, which already hosted two 12-wheelers on its lot. The cartel obviously planned to load up them with some kind of lucrative loot inside.
"We're splitting up right?" I asked my father when we exited the car and scurried toward our destination. Faint shouts arise from inside the warehouse as we neared: "Vamos! Vamos buscar!" But no one posted guard outside.
"Yeah, there are two floors. I'll enter first and climb to the second floor. You wait a few minutes and make sure everything is clear outside. Then go survey the ground floor. If you hear gunshots at any time, come up."
I nodded. We were now crouched directly next to the double door entrance, both armed with a single pistol. I was taught years ago - after one acquires precise aim, the least cumbersome weapon is the most practical.
Dad turned and rested his hands on my shoulders. "Remember - if you see her, *get her*." And then he slipped through the dim entrance and was gone.
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I will update with more if you guys want. Wanted to post this first bit up here early.
| |
[WP] When I was 16 my father pulled me out of school and shoved me in the car. His eyes didn't leave the road as he threw a gun in my lap and said, "We're going to get your mother." | You could hear a pin drop. I wished one would, if only to break the silence.
"Well... that's all well and good..." my teacher, Mrs. Fanshawe, began to say, "but Jeffrey has a test at exactly two pee..."
"Fuck the test. I said I need him." My father was not one to mince words.
He looked directly at me.
"Let's go."
There was no room for argument.
I could feel the hot stares from the other kids in the class burning my back as I walked out. I had to take the middle row. As I passed, some kids had wide grins, some had looks of pure sinister delight (nobody had said the F word in class since Jimmy Carpin had been sent home that one day), but most were still trying to scrape their jaws off the floor. I couldn't let their seething eyes slow me down, though, Dad was in full no-nonsense mode. Something bad had happened.
As soon as the classroom door and Mrs. Fanshawe's disapproving scowl were behind us, my father cranked up the pace and we raced down the hall. He banged the front doors open with more force than I had even seen them take, and we literally flew down the front steps.
He hurried me toward the family car parked crooked on the street (and partially on the sidewalk). I noticed fresh scratches on the outside bottom of the passenger-side door as my father shoved me in. They looked like some kind of animals claw marks, but I didn't get a good look and my mind was racing.
I pulled my seat belt over my shoulder as quick as I could. By the time I heard the metallic snap of the buckle, the engine had already turned over and we were moving.
As I watched the school's changeable letter sign disappear into the rear view mirror, ("Go Spartiates!"), I felt a heavy lump of curved metal drop into my lap with an audible thump.
It was a gun. My gun. Smith and Wesson Model M&P Bodyguard 380. Compact, black, menacing. The same one Dad had made me practice with every day since I was fifteen.
"We're going to get your mother," my father said. "Right now."
I knew exactly what he meant, I just never thought this day would actually come. It suddenly seemed so obvious to me what was happening, and I felt stupid for not getting it already.
"I'm ready." I said, trying to mean it as much as I could.
"No, you're not, but that doesn't matter now." My father's voice sounded unsteady. Maybe for the first time ever.
We drove a long time in silence. I gently stroked the red safety button on the pistol, and measured out my breathes. Dad was being very, very quiet. Soon, I knew I would be slamming the breach of my firearm into place and following him into a fight.
"There's not going to be a fight." My father said, as if reading my mind.
We hit a bump in the road before he could continue, and for a moment Dad's right hand was lifted off his lap and I saw what he was holding. H&R Model 929, extended barrel. The gun that he said he never used. The gun that was supposed to be just for show. The ammo loaded in it looked weird, each of the nine rounds had an orange cap on the end that I had never seen before, and they were... centerfire? Wasn't that model meant to shoot rimfire only?
"I know where she is. I'm going to go in, get her, and bring her to the car. No fighting. You will stay by the car, to protect it and yourself." My father explained.
I nodded in agreement. I knew he could see me even though his eyes didn't leave the road.
"And if you see me running toward you, you will shoot whatever is chasing me."
I let a long pause pass.
"Even if its Mom?" I asked quietly.
More silence.
"Yes."
I felt so many confusing emotions at once. A thousand questions raced through my mind, but none more pressing than if Mom was ok. And who she may have hurt so far.
"Your mother is... she's ok. Everything's going to be ok, you'll see." I didn't like the way he said it. It sounded like he had already accepted failure.
I didn't know what to say. I wanted so badly to say something that would make him feel better. I wanted to say the perfect words that the perfect son would say to his Dad in a situation like this. But I couldn't find them.
So the time passed as we drove, and nothing was said until we arrived at our destination.
I didn't recognize anything about the place as we pulled into the large gravel parking lot. It looked like some old dilapidated factory, abandoned for years. Two massive silos for storing... whatever... loomed in the background, each with exterior spiral staircases curling up the dirty rusted sides. A flat rectangular building spanned across the entire width of the site, with every window hosting a shattered pane of grimy glass. It was pure darkness inside the main building, evening had already settled in, and the shadows had grown long.
Dad let the car idle for a moment. The two headlight beams stretched across the front of the building, reflecting against unknown backdrops within and causing the interior to appear even darker.
"Wait here. Do as I said." Dad opened the door quickly and then he was off, following those beams of light into the shadows.
He made it to the gaping entrance of the flat building, and pushed the hanging door aside. It almost fell off its hinges.
For just a moment he looked back at me. His face had the look of ages on it. It carried no expression. Only age.
Dad disappeared into the darkness. Time slowed down.
I waited.
I got out of the car and held my pistol tight against my leg. I looked around, I scratched the dirt with the tips of my shoes, and I waited.
I was looking in the complete opposite direction when my father came stumbling back. It was the spurt and squirting that I heard first. I thought the windshield wiper spray of the car had accidentally been turned on. But it was blood. I knew that even before I turned around, I could see the trail of red leading back to the building. But I didn't think it was Dad, that it could be his blood.
I even raised my pistol for a moment. Then I saw my father, shambling over to me quickly, his right hand tucked under his left armpit and his other hand clasping the side of his neck.
He fell into my arms, which really meant he fell onto the front of the car. As he slipped down (far too heavy for me to hold up), and his hand slipped off his wet neck, he left a spatter of red paint over the top of the hood. He came to sit leaning against the front right hubcap, still clasping his neck.
I tried to help but I didn't, or couldn't.
As I fumbled, trying to rip off a piece of my shirt and failing, he grinned.
"She..." my father began to say, as I frantically tried to add pressure to the hand clasping his neck.
Suddenly he pushed me away, with such amazing instant strength that I fell backward on my behind.
For a half-second I sat there, bewildered, looking at my father as the life drained from his body. He grinned wider and let go of his neck. The exposed wound poured out blood. The shredded remains of his skin looked like strips of paper mache.
"She..." he said, allowing his grin to sprawl across his face in a slow, meaningful creep, "is a hungry little thing."
His eyes closed, his head slumped to the side, his body weight seemed to drop, and he was gone.
I rushed over to him, even though I knew it was too late. I grabbed his shoulders and when I did, his hidden right hand fell out of his armpit. Except there was no hand, just a stump. A bloody, gnawed-upon stump.
I looked back at the building. Two red dots peered at me from deep dark corners. Two red spots of hatred and chaos. I thought maybe, maybe they are mechanical lights. But then they shifted, together, in unison. Those were eyes. And they were looking right at me.
"MOM!" I shouted fiercely. The two red icicle tips just kept staring back.
"MOOOOOM!!!!"
They blinked. It was her, alright. It was time.
Safety off. | I understood immediately.
“How did you find her?” I look over to him.
Dad’s mouth remained pursed in a thin line. His eyes locked, expression empty.
“Where is she?”
This time he answered. “Industrial park warehouse off Branchville. Near the petrochem refineries.”
I rubbed the pistol in my lap, its cylinder cool and smooth. “What are they doing at a warehouse, they smuggling something? You know how many will be there?”
“No idea. Just got a tip that she’s there right now.”
On most days my dad would be considered a talkative person, but not today. He has always been taciturn when it came to mom.
I sighed and glanced out the car window. Buildings and pedestrians gradually gave way to lakes and trees. *Is this finally the day we get to mom?* Past memories circled my mind like fish in a tank. I tried to block them out but it's impossible to refuse thoughts that have already breached into consciousness. *My mother’s radiant smile as she hugged me close to her bosom. My father’s ashen face as he whispered, “she’s gone.”* I sighed again and began twirling the weapon in my palm. My eyes closed. *I will definitely get her this time.* The gun felt slipperier than usual. I glanced down and saw that it was coated with sweat.
By the time our sedan entered the industrial park, the sun had just descended. We parked away from the actual warehouse, which already hosted two 12-wheelers on its lot. The cartel obviously planned to load up them with some kind of lucrative loot inside.
"We're splitting up right?" I asked my father when we exited the car and scurried toward our destination. Faint shouts arise from inside the warehouse as we neared: "Vamos! Vamos buscar!" But no one posted guard outside.
"Yeah, there are two floors. I'll enter first and climb to the second floor. You wait a few minutes and make sure everything is clear outside. Then go survey the ground floor. If you hear gunshots at any time, come up."
I nodded. We were now crouched directly next to the double door entrance, both armed with a single pistol. I was taught years ago - after one acquires precise aim, the least cumbersome weapon is the most practical.
Dad turned and rested his hands on my shoulders. "Remember - if you see her, *get her*." And then he slipped through the dim entrance and was gone.
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I will update with more if you guys want. Wanted to post this first bit up here early.
| |
[WP] When I was 16 my father pulled me out of school and shoved me in the car. His eyes didn't leave the road as he threw a gun in my lap and said, "We're going to get your mother." | "Does that mean you believe me," I asked, out loud, though I'd been wondering ever since I'd told him what I'd seen a week ago.
His eyes shifted to me, almost imperceptibly, but I could see the corner of his mouth quivering in profile. There was sweat on his brow. His skin was flushed and waxy. He didn't have to confirm. He did anyway.
"Susan is different. I don't even know where she is right now."
My younger sister. She'd been mom's favorite target from the very start. Two years younger than me, but at least ten years smarter when it came to school. Mom had always doted on her, as if grooming her for something.
"I had to.. I tried to end it when I realised. Chris, you have to understand--"
"Just drive. We'll work out the details when it's done."
I shoved the gun into the waist of my jeans, not entirely sure how to use it but determined to make every attempt count.
*******
The house was quiet. The front door was open and just beyond the mat where we'd always wiped the mud off of our shoes I could see something wet and chunky. Dad pushed the door open further, leading with the shotgun he'd got out of the boot. I followed closely, but far enough to let him maneuver. I was trusting his movements as we slid into the house, trying to be quiet. I would have been scared enough if Mom had been our only issue but with Susan on the loose, we were at the very least evenly matched.
He took a step into the hallway that led to the stairs and a board creaked almost urgently. I froze. Dad crouched and put the double barrels up. We held our breath and waited for the fallout.
When it didn't come we locked eyes and continued. He motioned with a free hand for me to get low. I did, now fully aware of just how unprepared for any of this I was. That's when we heard it. Almost like a rattlesnake. The ceiling shook slightly. One or both of them were upstairs. And then a thud. Dad pointed to his gun and then to his leg and I understood. Susan was wounded. She might not even be able to maintain a form.
We crept up the stairs, holding onto the banister and making sure to step lightly. My gun felt heavy in my waistband. I was anxious about having to actually handle it. I'd never shot a gun before. Dad had at least been hunting. He got to the top of the stairs and held his hand up. I stopped and waited. He pointed at Susan's bedroom. I knew what we were about to do. Inhaling deeply, I reached for my gun but he shook his head. I nodded, maybe prematurely, but I didn't want to kill Susan. I hadn't seen her change. She was my little sister. Mom was something else, something foreign. I'd already grieved for her. I think he knew that seeing Susan that way would have killed me. Still, I was frustrated at my father. Did he know how strong these things were?
He moved forward. I crouched on the third to to riser, and slowly my teenage brain took over. Didn't he believe I could help? Did he really believe me? I listened to the quiet for his steps as he disappeared into Susan's room. Silence. Creak. Creak.
And then a hiss, like in the movies, and a rattle. He'd found her. But it did only sound like one. Mom must not be here. I could hear the struggle, muffled only just barely by the walls. Hisses interspersed with *daddy no, please* and then two shots. Bang. Silence. Bang. Silence.
I waited, my heart pounding, my brain refusing to take stock. One of the things was dead, I told myself as I sat on the stairs. I could almost breathe. I sat there, for minutes, gathering myself until I realised my father had not come back yet. I had unconsciously grabbed my gun. My body had already figured it out.
I snuck up the last steps and up to Susan's door. It was half shut. A scaled tail lay limp just beyond. There was blood on her bed. Following dad's lead, I inched the door open with the short barrel of my gun. I could see long hair in a tangle on the carpet. It was matted with blood.
I didn't see the tail move. Susan was dead. The real Susan. It was bigger and darker than my mother. He'd lied to me. I could feel warm breath on my neck. My father's scales created a symphony in front of me and my mother's shook to match. They were celebrating their harvest.
As her fangs sunk into my neck, I felt my father's ripping into my jeans. I put the gun in my mouth and fired.
Click. | "We're going to get your mother." The words echoed in my head as I turned the MP5 over in my hands. What happened to her? She had been fine when I'd left this morning. We'd only been in this city for a week. They never catch up this quickly. But... if *he's* here, then something's really gone wrong.
"Where is she?" I managed to gulp out, once I finally looked over at the man behind the wheel.
"On the move. We're meeting up at your contingency location. She said to expect heavy pursuit, so I hope you've trained with one of those before."
I nodded. "Yeah. But... are you sure this'll be enough? If you're *here*..."
"Yeah, it's that bad," he replied. He turned his head, briefly, looking into the back seat. "All set up back there?"
"I will be in a moment," Cameron's voice called back from the SUV's trunk. A few harsh, metallic clicks followed.
"Don't worry. I came prepared."
As soon as the words left his mouth, a crack appeared on the windshield.
"Shit!" I jumped on instinct, ducking my head down. And then another crack appeared, right where my head had been. And another. And another. In front of them, a man in a suit was leaning out the passenger door of a red minivan, firing a pistol.
"The window's bulletproof, but it's not gonna hold up!" my father yelled. He shoved my shoulder, while the passenger window starter rolling down. "Shoot back!"
I nodded, and thumbed off my gun's safety. I leaned out the window, just a few inches, and fired a quick burst. My shots went wide, a few hitting the vehicle, and others missing entirely. One of the man's bullets came so close I could feel the air it displaced, but my next burst caught him in the neck and shoulder. His gun fell from his hand, and he slumped over, body hanging halfway out the window.
Before I could do anything else, the entire care shook violently, while the massive, chainsaw-like sound of a minigun tore open my ears. I looked back to see Cameron firing out where the back window used to be, and the car behind us exploding in a burst of brilliant flame. She dispatched one more vehicle just as effortlessly, then powered down the mounted gun. "Targets neutralized."
A minute later, we pulled into the driveway of an old, run-down airstrip. My mom's car was already parked in front of the hanger. "Run to the hanger," my father said. "Help your mom get the plane ready. We'll set up out here."
I grabbed the gun, nodded, and ran to the hanger. On the way, my mother stepped out of her car, brandishing a heavy shotgun. "More'll be here any minute. Help me load the plane."
My mom's always been cool under pressure. At least, she has been ever since LA, and she certainly is now. With the trunk open, carrying our bare minimum of supplies into the prop plane's storage compartments was a simple task. It took more effort than I though I could manage to focus on that, instead of Cameron's gun, no doubt cutting another car in half.
As soon as the last crate was in, the gunfire stopped, interrupted by a sharp, metallic wrenching. My father came running into the hanger, his shirt torn and bloodied, no magazine in his M4. "Get in! It's here!"
"Where's Cameron?" I shouted back. I grabbed my gun, and ran to the open hanger door. Out in the parking lot, I saw her. Her minigun torn to shreds, and the man who did it- the man who's been hounding us since I was thirteen- with his hand around her throat. She raised a fist, and swung it at his head. The blow struck hard, tearing open his skin... and revealing a bright, metallic skull beneath.
The terminator had found us again. | |
[WP] When I was 16 my father pulled me out of school and shoved me in the car. His eyes didn't leave the road as he threw a gun in my lap and said, "We're going to get your mother." | He had pulled me out of school after lunch and made a scene in the hallway yelling at the principal, "This is my son and I'll take him out of school if I want to!"
He smelled like the bar again. He always smelled like the bar these days and he was always yelling at everyone, like the whole world was against him. I didn't really understand his anger, but it started after mom left. She blamed him for their marriage and blamed him for her not loving him anymore. He got even angrier when she had found someone new and angrier again when they married in a few months.
I followed him to the car after we left the school and got in with him. Once we got in the car he threw a gun on my lap and said, "We're going to get your mother."
Surprised and a bit confused I replied, "But dad she's-"
"I don't want to hear it. I said we we're going to get her and I don't want any goddamn complaints." he said not even looking in my direction.
I sat there in silence after that. The angrier he got the more I learned to be quiet. I mostly stayed quiet around him out of fear. Fear that he would also leave me and fear of what he would do if I didn't stay silent.
He started driving away from the school and I had wanted to say something to him, but he seemed like he would just shout at me if I said something. He stared at the road hardly even noticing I was there and breathing heavily like he was about to fight someone and I didn't want it to be me.
I ended up turning to look out the window and look at the sky. I ignored where he was driving because it wasn't the first time he had pulled me out of school with some crazy idea. It was an overcast day, dark and low clouds over head, and humid enough for your clothes to stick to you.
After about 15 minutes the car came to a stopped and I knew where we were. I looked over and saw the headstone "Jane Winsley 1975-2016". My father grabbed the gun and got out of the car and head over to the headstone.
"Hey! What are you doing?!" I yelled as I got out of the car and headed toward him and try to stop him.
He shoved me out of the way and knelt down in front of the headstone and put the gun under his chin. "We're going to get back at her! Get back at her for leaving us!", He yelled.
I stared at him kneeling there and didn't know what to do or what to say to stop him. I was frozen in panic and looked him in the eyes and saw the madness of everything that had happened to him in the past year. To us.
I took a step towards him to get the gun and then I heard the "Click." He forgot to load it.
He dropped the gun and I watch him as the tears started down his face. "Why did she have to leave us?" He sobbed.
I couldn't answer him because there was no answer. I just listen to the sounds of him sobbing and pounding the ground in anger.
I looked up towards the sky at those heavy dark clouds and then it started to rain.
| "We're going to get your mother." The words echoed in my head as I turned the MP5 over in my hands. What happened to her? She had been fine when I'd left this morning. We'd only been in this city for a week. They never catch up this quickly. But... if *he's* here, then something's really gone wrong.
"Where is she?" I managed to gulp out, once I finally looked over at the man behind the wheel.
"On the move. We're meeting up at your contingency location. She said to expect heavy pursuit, so I hope you've trained with one of those before."
I nodded. "Yeah. But... are you sure this'll be enough? If you're *here*..."
"Yeah, it's that bad," he replied. He turned his head, briefly, looking into the back seat. "All set up back there?"
"I will be in a moment," Cameron's voice called back from the SUV's trunk. A few harsh, metallic clicks followed.
"Don't worry. I came prepared."
As soon as the words left his mouth, a crack appeared on the windshield.
"Shit!" I jumped on instinct, ducking my head down. And then another crack appeared, right where my head had been. And another. And another. In front of them, a man in a suit was leaning out the passenger door of a red minivan, firing a pistol.
"The window's bulletproof, but it's not gonna hold up!" my father yelled. He shoved my shoulder, while the passenger window starter rolling down. "Shoot back!"
I nodded, and thumbed off my gun's safety. I leaned out the window, just a few inches, and fired a quick burst. My shots went wide, a few hitting the vehicle, and others missing entirely. One of the man's bullets came so close I could feel the air it displaced, but my next burst caught him in the neck and shoulder. His gun fell from his hand, and he slumped over, body hanging halfway out the window.
Before I could do anything else, the entire care shook violently, while the massive, chainsaw-like sound of a minigun tore open my ears. I looked back to see Cameron firing out where the back window used to be, and the car behind us exploding in a burst of brilliant flame. She dispatched one more vehicle just as effortlessly, then powered down the mounted gun. "Targets neutralized."
A minute later, we pulled into the driveway of an old, run-down airstrip. My mom's car was already parked in front of the hanger. "Run to the hanger," my father said. "Help your mom get the plane ready. We'll set up out here."
I grabbed the gun, nodded, and ran to the hanger. On the way, my mother stepped out of her car, brandishing a heavy shotgun. "More'll be here any minute. Help me load the plane."
My mom's always been cool under pressure. At least, she has been ever since LA, and she certainly is now. With the trunk open, carrying our bare minimum of supplies into the prop plane's storage compartments was a simple task. It took more effort than I though I could manage to focus on that, instead of Cameron's gun, no doubt cutting another car in half.
As soon as the last crate was in, the gunfire stopped, interrupted by a sharp, metallic wrenching. My father came running into the hanger, his shirt torn and bloodied, no magazine in his M4. "Get in! It's here!"
"Where's Cameron?" I shouted back. I grabbed my gun, and ran to the open hanger door. Out in the parking lot, I saw her. Her minigun torn to shreds, and the man who did it- the man who's been hounding us since I was thirteen- with his hand around her throat. She raised a fist, and swung it at his head. The blow struck hard, tearing open his skin... and revealing a bright, metallic skull beneath.
The terminator had found us again. | |
[WP] When I was 16 my father pulled me out of school and shoved me in the car. His eyes didn't leave the road as he threw a gun in my lap and said, "We're going to get your mother." | It was a semi-normal day. Math class first period, History second, Gym third, then Mechanics last. It felt good knowing that summer had finally come and that school was almost over. The thought had eased my mind and I was beginning to relax, but I was sorely mistaken. The intercom boomed over my history teacher in the middle of his lecture about global economics.
"Michael Soner to the main office please, Michael Soner."
Shocked, I awoke from my power-nap (History Sucks). Grabbing my books I meandered to my locker and packed my bag. On my walk to the office, I saw my father waiting outside. He seemed anxious, but somewhat frustrated. I hurried over to him and asked him what was wrong, I had never seen him like this before. He was always the no emotion, must always be strong, don't focus on the past type of person.
"Dad, what's up?"
Without warning, he grabbed me by the top of my backpack and started pulling me to the car.
"Dad?"
He didn't respond and shoved me into the passenger seat of his Ford Mustang.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Michael...," He said for the first time since we left the school and began to head out of town.
"We're going to get your mother." He added while simultaneously tossing a gun into my lap.
The 9mm felt heavy and cold on my thighs. A feeling of anxiety and fear washed over me as well. I've never held a gun before, let alone even see one in real life.
"What the hell is happening," I asked my Dad who has been swerving between the cars on the highway.
"Your mother has been taken by some bad people. People who have no morals or remorse for any of their actions." He said with a hint of anger in his voice.
"Who would want Mom? She is just a hairstylist at Quick Cuts. I don't even think she talks to anybody except you and her family."
"They want Mom because of me," He said while speeding up to 120 Kmph.
"You? You are just a construction worker though. Did you misplace a steel beam or something?"
"Mike..., before you were born, I had a bit of a drug issue. I would be buying close to $200 of weed a week. At the beginning, I would pay for it from my job's pay, but eventually it just wouldn't cut it. So I made a deal. I would do favours for the dealers. Threatening, interrogating, and sometimes attacking those who stole from my dealer."
"How do you know that they have Mom," I inquired.
"Well, yesterday I got a phone call from them saying that they need another favour. I refused. They took Mom earlier today while we were out. Now we have to get her back."
"Well then. Where are we going to go?" A mixed feeling of curiosity and fear filled me.
"The airport." He replied with a determined look on his face. He seemed much different from earlier when he picked me up. | "We're going to get your mother." The words echoed in my head as I turned the MP5 over in my hands. What happened to her? She had been fine when I'd left this morning. We'd only been in this city for a week. They never catch up this quickly. But... if *he's* here, then something's really gone wrong.
"Where is she?" I managed to gulp out, once I finally looked over at the man behind the wheel.
"On the move. We're meeting up at your contingency location. She said to expect heavy pursuit, so I hope you've trained with one of those before."
I nodded. "Yeah. But... are you sure this'll be enough? If you're *here*..."
"Yeah, it's that bad," he replied. He turned his head, briefly, looking into the back seat. "All set up back there?"
"I will be in a moment," Cameron's voice called back from the SUV's trunk. A few harsh, metallic clicks followed.
"Don't worry. I came prepared."
As soon as the words left his mouth, a crack appeared on the windshield.
"Shit!" I jumped on instinct, ducking my head down. And then another crack appeared, right where my head had been. And another. And another. In front of them, a man in a suit was leaning out the passenger door of a red minivan, firing a pistol.
"The window's bulletproof, but it's not gonna hold up!" my father yelled. He shoved my shoulder, while the passenger window starter rolling down. "Shoot back!"
I nodded, and thumbed off my gun's safety. I leaned out the window, just a few inches, and fired a quick burst. My shots went wide, a few hitting the vehicle, and others missing entirely. One of the man's bullets came so close I could feel the air it displaced, but my next burst caught him in the neck and shoulder. His gun fell from his hand, and he slumped over, body hanging halfway out the window.
Before I could do anything else, the entire care shook violently, while the massive, chainsaw-like sound of a minigun tore open my ears. I looked back to see Cameron firing out where the back window used to be, and the car behind us exploding in a burst of brilliant flame. She dispatched one more vehicle just as effortlessly, then powered down the mounted gun. "Targets neutralized."
A minute later, we pulled into the driveway of an old, run-down airstrip. My mom's car was already parked in front of the hanger. "Run to the hanger," my father said. "Help your mom get the plane ready. We'll set up out here."
I grabbed the gun, nodded, and ran to the hanger. On the way, my mother stepped out of her car, brandishing a heavy shotgun. "More'll be here any minute. Help me load the plane."
My mom's always been cool under pressure. At least, she has been ever since LA, and she certainly is now. With the trunk open, carrying our bare minimum of supplies into the prop plane's storage compartments was a simple task. It took more effort than I though I could manage to focus on that, instead of Cameron's gun, no doubt cutting another car in half.
As soon as the last crate was in, the gunfire stopped, interrupted by a sharp, metallic wrenching. My father came running into the hanger, his shirt torn and bloodied, no magazine in his M4. "Get in! It's here!"
"Where's Cameron?" I shouted back. I grabbed my gun, and ran to the open hanger door. Out in the parking lot, I saw her. Her minigun torn to shreds, and the man who did it- the man who's been hounding us since I was thirteen- with his hand around her throat. She raised a fist, and swung it at his head. The blow struck hard, tearing open his skin... and revealing a bright, metallic skull beneath.
The terminator had found us again. | |
[WP] When I was 16 my father pulled me out of school and shoved me in the car. His eyes didn't leave the road as he threw a gun in my lap and said, "We're going to get your mother." | Pat Two.
As I nodded to my father, my fingers wrapped around the handle of the passenger door of our family's SUV. Before giving the handle one solid jerk, I watched my father slide himself from the driver's seat and out into the middle of the intersection. With the same intensity as before, his eyes darted back and forth, as if surveying his surroundings. Finally, he motioned for me to exit the car. My heart still pounding in my chest, I followed his lead, one hand still firmly clasped around the gun.
When I was very young, I used to stare at my father's every move; whether he was adjusting his tie before heading to work or reading the paper, I always sat there, staring. Not like today. Today, I watched his every move. I loved and trusted my father with all my heart, but he seemed so different from the man I thought I had all figured out.
Slowly, one foot after the other, I exited the passenger seat and made my way around to the front of the car to see him sprint into action. He ran over to the car that had hit us; his feet splashing in the puddles that began to form from the rain. It wasn't till that moment did I hear her screams.
"Nathan!," my father screamed, "Get over here!"
Shaking away the accident, I dropped the gun to my side and sprinted over to my father who began pulling a young woman from the wreckage. Wrapping his arms around her, his body collapsed to the street as she collapsed into him.
"Remove your belt and help me put pressure on her leg," ordered my father.
Without hesitation, I unbuckled my worn leather belt and dropped to my knees to assist him. Giving him a quick nod, I stretched out my hands, waiting for his next order.
"Now wrap it around her leg there and pull as tight as you can," he ordered. I nodded again as I wrapped my belt around her leg and pulled. As the belt snapped tight she gave out a scream.
"Very good son," my father said calmly, "very good."
Time seemed to stand still as my father and I knelt around this young woman. Her screams had quieted to a muffled cry. I looked over at my father who sat there, stroking her hand in comfort. After what felt like a lifetime, in one fell swoop, he grabbed my hand and placed it on top of hers before standing up.
Confused and scared all at the same time, I asked, "where are you going?"
"I need to make a call," my father replied.
As I held her hand, the young woman shivered. I couldn't decide whether she was shivering from the cold or from shock, but I had convinced myself that if I held her hand, all would be OK.
Seconds later, my father came back and knelt beside us. For a few seconds he didn't say anything. He sat there, looking down at the young woman as her body trembled in the rain. Finally, he looked up at me.
"We have to go," he said softly. "We have to leave her."
"What?" I asked. "How could we leave her? Look at her!"
"I know Nathan," he said calmly. "But we have to go now. Help is on its way."
I couldn't believe him. How could my loving father leave someone in need? How could he so coldly make such a harsh decision?
"Nathan," my father said. "Look at me. We need to go get your mother. I've called for help and its on its way. Do you understand me?"
For the first time that day, I stared back at my father, questioning his judgement. My hand was still clasped tightly around the young woman's hand. I nodded to my father. It was time go.
"Do you still have that gun I gave you?" asked my father.
I gave another quick nod as the sound of sirens could be heard off in the distance.
| "We're going to get your mother." The words echoed in my head as I turned the MP5 over in my hands. What happened to her? She had been fine when I'd left this morning. We'd only been in this city for a week. They never catch up this quickly. But... if *he's* here, then something's really gone wrong.
"Where is she?" I managed to gulp out, once I finally looked over at the man behind the wheel.
"On the move. We're meeting up at your contingency location. She said to expect heavy pursuit, so I hope you've trained with one of those before."
I nodded. "Yeah. But... are you sure this'll be enough? If you're *here*..."
"Yeah, it's that bad," he replied. He turned his head, briefly, looking into the back seat. "All set up back there?"
"I will be in a moment," Cameron's voice called back from the SUV's trunk. A few harsh, metallic clicks followed.
"Don't worry. I came prepared."
As soon as the words left his mouth, a crack appeared on the windshield.
"Shit!" I jumped on instinct, ducking my head down. And then another crack appeared, right where my head had been. And another. And another. In front of them, a man in a suit was leaning out the passenger door of a red minivan, firing a pistol.
"The window's bulletproof, but it's not gonna hold up!" my father yelled. He shoved my shoulder, while the passenger window starter rolling down. "Shoot back!"
I nodded, and thumbed off my gun's safety. I leaned out the window, just a few inches, and fired a quick burst. My shots went wide, a few hitting the vehicle, and others missing entirely. One of the man's bullets came so close I could feel the air it displaced, but my next burst caught him in the neck and shoulder. His gun fell from his hand, and he slumped over, body hanging halfway out the window.
Before I could do anything else, the entire care shook violently, while the massive, chainsaw-like sound of a minigun tore open my ears. I looked back to see Cameron firing out where the back window used to be, and the car behind us exploding in a burst of brilliant flame. She dispatched one more vehicle just as effortlessly, then powered down the mounted gun. "Targets neutralized."
A minute later, we pulled into the driveway of an old, run-down airstrip. My mom's car was already parked in front of the hanger. "Run to the hanger," my father said. "Help your mom get the plane ready. We'll set up out here."
I grabbed the gun, nodded, and ran to the hanger. On the way, my mother stepped out of her car, brandishing a heavy shotgun. "More'll be here any minute. Help me load the plane."
My mom's always been cool under pressure. At least, she has been ever since LA, and she certainly is now. With the trunk open, carrying our bare minimum of supplies into the prop plane's storage compartments was a simple task. It took more effort than I though I could manage to focus on that, instead of Cameron's gun, no doubt cutting another car in half.
As soon as the last crate was in, the gunfire stopped, interrupted by a sharp, metallic wrenching. My father came running into the hanger, his shirt torn and bloodied, no magazine in his M4. "Get in! It's here!"
"Where's Cameron?" I shouted back. I grabbed my gun, and ran to the open hanger door. Out in the parking lot, I saw her. Her minigun torn to shreds, and the man who did it- the man who's been hounding us since I was thirteen- with his hand around her throat. She raised a fist, and swung it at his head. The blow struck hard, tearing open his skin... and revealing a bright, metallic skull beneath.
The terminator had found us again. | |
[WP] When I was 16 my father pulled me out of school and shoved me in the car. His eyes didn't leave the road as he threw a gun in my lap and said, "We're going to get your mother." | ... I rolled my eyes. This was the third time this semester. Any more of this and the school was going to start asking questions. The old pickup spun around and jolted forward with powerful ferocity, bolting out of the parking lot and swerving into the main road. Dad started psyching himself up as we picked up speed. He fell into a familiar pattern, breathing deep and twiddling his fingers on the wheel, some kind of nervous tick for him. After all of this time, I didn't know if he was actually still nervous or if it was more of a superstitious ritual, but he had done it every time without fail so far. I took a closer look at the gun he had thrown at me me and held it up to my eye level. It was sleek black Glock 22. It was heftier than I had anticipated; I wasn't used to shooting a .40 cal.
"Upping the ante this time, I see. What are you packing?" He gave me a quick, breathy chuckle and a manic grin. I slumped back in the passenger seat and drew out a long sigh. I knew that look.
"Today's the day, Wayne," he exclaimed, "Today, is, the, day!" His grin had evolved into a full toothy smile. It was always so hard to see him like this, but there was no stopping him from my end.
"Uh-huh. Where are we headed?"
"Carmichael Art Museum downtown. They're holding some sort of snooty bigwig fundraiser party."
"Sounds like something she'd like."
"Today's the day!" His smile held for a second longer before his face dropped back into an expression of unshakeably determined concentration. I opted to abstain from further conversation for the remainder of the trip.
As we pulled around the block to the art museum, we were greeted with rows and rows of police cruisers parked around the entrance. At the very least, that meant that we were on the right track. It was a giant building, adorned with intricate emulations of classical architecture covering the entire front face. Dozens of uniforms were standing around facing the solid brass doors with their pistols drawn. One of the fat ones had a megaphone and was blathering something about meeting demands and negotiating for hostages. Dad and I gave each other a knowing glance, the fat cop was wasting his time. We both knew how she worked, she had already made her statement and was probably already on her way out with more than a few pieces of fancy jewelry and wallets.
Dad pulled out a napkin with a crude map scrawled on it with blue pen. He pulled the car around to an alley several blocks down to the East of the museum. The cops had the building surrounded so the only logical exits were up or down, but we were pretty sure that the helicopter wasn't part of the plan this time. Without a word to each other we jumped out of the car and ran straight for the nearest manhole. With a little shove, the cover slipped right off and we descended into the dank depths of the city's labyrinthine sewer system. On the way down I caught a glimpse of his new arsenal. From what I could tell it consisted of several homemade smoke grenades, a crossbow, and some sort of modified rifle. If I didn't know any better I would have thought he was hunting Velociraptors.
We sprinted down a length of the murky corridor, following the napkin map to a T. I followed my father blindly, having faith in his meticulous preparations and obsessive methodology. He was good at this. After a few minutes of running he stopped us at an intersection, pressing up against the wall and slowing his breath. We could hear the faint rhythm of running footsteps getting louder from one of the tunnels. It was her. Dad brandished his rifle and rushed out into the middle of the cross, facing her.
"CHARLOTTE!" He yelled down to her. The rifle started glowing, crackling with electricity. "You're coming home!"
I saw her slow down to a stop, breathing heavily, unfazed by the spectacle of a middle-aged college professor with an electro-rifle holding her at gunpoint in a sewer. She was dressed in her professional gear: black leather jacket and gloves with red jeans, her shoulder length hair in a neat little auburn ponytail.
"Oh Howard," she sighed, "I was hoping to outrun you this time." She gave him a soft smile, an expression of loving sympathy. It conveyed a subtle joy, being able to see him, but also some concern. I knew how she felt, to a certain extent. I stepped out from around the corner and assumed a shooting stance, holding the Glock up threateningly toward her.
"Hi, Mom," I chimed in.
"Wayne!" Her face lit up. I smiled back, it was always good to catch up with her a little bit, even in situations like this.
"Charlotte," Dad repeated, his voice was a low monotone, "You are coming home." Mom's face reassumed her previous expression, only this time more somber. He pulled the trigger, summoning a brilliant flash of energy out of the muzzle of the rifle. In a single deft movement Mom dived under the trajectory of the bolt and rolled up to where Dad was standing. She knocked him out with one well placed hit right on his left temple. He collapsed, face first on the cobblestone, as if he'd fallen asleep standing up.
"I really wish I could, Howard," she said to him softly. I lowered my gun as she turned to me, ready to pounce. "You weren't going to shoot me, were you?" I raised my hands up over my shoulders in surrender.
"Chamber was empty the whole time."
"Good boy, I love you, and don't miss too much school."
"Love you too, I won't."
She scampered off into the darkness, probably toward the next political protest and high pressure heist hybrid caper she had her eyes on next. Dad stirred from his brief slumber, groaning from the splitting headache he had been gifted.
"Don't worry Dad, we'll get her next time."
| "We're going to get your mother." The words echoed in my head as I turned the MP5 over in my hands. What happened to her? She had been fine when I'd left this morning. We'd only been in this city for a week. They never catch up this quickly. But... if *he's* here, then something's really gone wrong.
"Where is she?" I managed to gulp out, once I finally looked over at the man behind the wheel.
"On the move. We're meeting up at your contingency location. She said to expect heavy pursuit, so I hope you've trained with one of those before."
I nodded. "Yeah. But... are you sure this'll be enough? If you're *here*..."
"Yeah, it's that bad," he replied. He turned his head, briefly, looking into the back seat. "All set up back there?"
"I will be in a moment," Cameron's voice called back from the SUV's trunk. A few harsh, metallic clicks followed.
"Don't worry. I came prepared."
As soon as the words left his mouth, a crack appeared on the windshield.
"Shit!" I jumped on instinct, ducking my head down. And then another crack appeared, right where my head had been. And another. And another. In front of them, a man in a suit was leaning out the passenger door of a red minivan, firing a pistol.
"The window's bulletproof, but it's not gonna hold up!" my father yelled. He shoved my shoulder, while the passenger window starter rolling down. "Shoot back!"
I nodded, and thumbed off my gun's safety. I leaned out the window, just a few inches, and fired a quick burst. My shots went wide, a few hitting the vehicle, and others missing entirely. One of the man's bullets came so close I could feel the air it displaced, but my next burst caught him in the neck and shoulder. His gun fell from his hand, and he slumped over, body hanging halfway out the window.
Before I could do anything else, the entire care shook violently, while the massive, chainsaw-like sound of a minigun tore open my ears. I looked back to see Cameron firing out where the back window used to be, and the car behind us exploding in a burst of brilliant flame. She dispatched one more vehicle just as effortlessly, then powered down the mounted gun. "Targets neutralized."
A minute later, we pulled into the driveway of an old, run-down airstrip. My mom's car was already parked in front of the hanger. "Run to the hanger," my father said. "Help your mom get the plane ready. We'll set up out here."
I grabbed the gun, nodded, and ran to the hanger. On the way, my mother stepped out of her car, brandishing a heavy shotgun. "More'll be here any minute. Help me load the plane."
My mom's always been cool under pressure. At least, she has been ever since LA, and she certainly is now. With the trunk open, carrying our bare minimum of supplies into the prop plane's storage compartments was a simple task. It took more effort than I though I could manage to focus on that, instead of Cameron's gun, no doubt cutting another car in half.
As soon as the last crate was in, the gunfire stopped, interrupted by a sharp, metallic wrenching. My father came running into the hanger, his shirt torn and bloodied, no magazine in his M4. "Get in! It's here!"
"Where's Cameron?" I shouted back. I grabbed my gun, and ran to the open hanger door. Out in the parking lot, I saw her. Her minigun torn to shreds, and the man who did it- the man who's been hounding us since I was thirteen- with his hand around her throat. She raised a fist, and swung it at his head. The blow struck hard, tearing open his skin... and revealing a bright, metallic skull beneath.
The terminator had found us again. | |
[WP] When I was 16 my father pulled me out of school and shoved me in the car. His eyes didn't leave the road as he threw a gun in my lap and said, "We're going to get your mother." | On my 16th birthday, dad surprised me by pulling me out of gym class halfway through the day. He didn't explain why he was there--not in the hallway, not in the parking lot. He waited until we were on the highway, pushing 90 MPH. And our luck.
"Dad?" I tried, finally. Halfway to SJC. Without taking his eyes off the road, he casually reached into his jacket and pulled out a handgun, which he threw in my lap before hopping in and out of the HOV lane.
"We're going to get your mother," he said. "Before she gets us."
"About time," I replied.
I didn't bother to check if it was loaded.
Dad never forgot that sort of thing. | "We're going to get your mother." The words echoed in my head as I turned the MP5 over in my hands. What happened to her? She had been fine when I'd left this morning. We'd only been in this city for a week. They never catch up this quickly. But... if *he's* here, then something's really gone wrong.
"Where is she?" I managed to gulp out, once I finally looked over at the man behind the wheel.
"On the move. We're meeting up at your contingency location. She said to expect heavy pursuit, so I hope you've trained with one of those before."
I nodded. "Yeah. But... are you sure this'll be enough? If you're *here*..."
"Yeah, it's that bad," he replied. He turned his head, briefly, looking into the back seat. "All set up back there?"
"I will be in a moment," Cameron's voice called back from the SUV's trunk. A few harsh, metallic clicks followed.
"Don't worry. I came prepared."
As soon as the words left his mouth, a crack appeared on the windshield.
"Shit!" I jumped on instinct, ducking my head down. And then another crack appeared, right where my head had been. And another. And another. In front of them, a man in a suit was leaning out the passenger door of a red minivan, firing a pistol.
"The window's bulletproof, but it's not gonna hold up!" my father yelled. He shoved my shoulder, while the passenger window starter rolling down. "Shoot back!"
I nodded, and thumbed off my gun's safety. I leaned out the window, just a few inches, and fired a quick burst. My shots went wide, a few hitting the vehicle, and others missing entirely. One of the man's bullets came so close I could feel the air it displaced, but my next burst caught him in the neck and shoulder. His gun fell from his hand, and he slumped over, body hanging halfway out the window.
Before I could do anything else, the entire care shook violently, while the massive, chainsaw-like sound of a minigun tore open my ears. I looked back to see Cameron firing out where the back window used to be, and the car behind us exploding in a burst of brilliant flame. She dispatched one more vehicle just as effortlessly, then powered down the mounted gun. "Targets neutralized."
A minute later, we pulled into the driveway of an old, run-down airstrip. My mom's car was already parked in front of the hanger. "Run to the hanger," my father said. "Help your mom get the plane ready. We'll set up out here."
I grabbed the gun, nodded, and ran to the hanger. On the way, my mother stepped out of her car, brandishing a heavy shotgun. "More'll be here any minute. Help me load the plane."
My mom's always been cool under pressure. At least, she has been ever since LA, and she certainly is now. With the trunk open, carrying our bare minimum of supplies into the prop plane's storage compartments was a simple task. It took more effort than I though I could manage to focus on that, instead of Cameron's gun, no doubt cutting another car in half.
As soon as the last crate was in, the gunfire stopped, interrupted by a sharp, metallic wrenching. My father came running into the hanger, his shirt torn and bloodied, no magazine in his M4. "Get in! It's here!"
"Where's Cameron?" I shouted back. I grabbed my gun, and ran to the open hanger door. Out in the parking lot, I saw her. Her minigun torn to shreds, and the man who did it- the man who's been hounding us since I was thirteen- with his hand around her throat. She raised a fist, and swung it at his head. The blow struck hard, tearing open his skin... and revealing a bright, metallic skull beneath.
The terminator had found us again. | |
[WP] When I was 16 my father pulled me out of school and shoved me in the car. His eyes didn't leave the road as he threw a gun in my lap and said, "We're going to get your mother." | You could hear a pin drop. I wished one would, if only to break the silence.
"Well... that's all well and good..." my teacher, Mrs. Fanshawe, began to say, "but Jeffrey has a test at exactly two pee..."
"Fuck the test. I said I need him." My father was not one to mince words.
He looked directly at me.
"Let's go."
There was no room for argument.
I could feel the hot stares from the other kids in the class burning my back as I walked out. I had to take the middle row. As I passed, some kids had wide grins, some had looks of pure sinister delight (nobody had said the F word in class since Jimmy Carpin had been sent home that one day), but most were still trying to scrape their jaws off the floor. I couldn't let their seething eyes slow me down, though, Dad was in full no-nonsense mode. Something bad had happened.
As soon as the classroom door and Mrs. Fanshawe's disapproving scowl were behind us, my father cranked up the pace and we raced down the hall. He banged the front doors open with more force than I had even seen them take, and we literally flew down the front steps.
He hurried me toward the family car parked crooked on the street (and partially on the sidewalk). I noticed fresh scratches on the outside bottom of the passenger-side door as my father shoved me in. They looked like some kind of animals claw marks, but I didn't get a good look and my mind was racing.
I pulled my seat belt over my shoulder as quick as I could. By the time I heard the metallic snap of the buckle, the engine had already turned over and we were moving.
As I watched the school's changeable letter sign disappear into the rear view mirror, ("Go Spartiates!"), I felt a heavy lump of curved metal drop into my lap with an audible thump.
It was a gun. My gun. Smith and Wesson Model M&P Bodyguard 380. Compact, black, menacing. The same one Dad had made me practice with every day since I was fifteen.
"We're going to get your mother," my father said. "Right now."
I knew exactly what he meant, I just never thought this day would actually come. It suddenly seemed so obvious to me what was happening, and I felt stupid for not getting it already.
"I'm ready." I said, trying to mean it as much as I could.
"No, you're not, but that doesn't matter now." My father's voice sounded unsteady. Maybe for the first time ever.
We drove a long time in silence. I gently stroked the red safety button on the pistol, and measured out my breathes. Dad was being very, very quiet. Soon, I knew I would be slamming the breach of my firearm into place and following him into a fight.
"There's not going to be a fight." My father said, as if reading my mind.
We hit a bump in the road before he could continue, and for a moment Dad's right hand was lifted off his lap and I saw what he was holding. H&R Model 929, extended barrel. The gun that he said he never used. The gun that was supposed to be just for show. The ammo loaded in it looked weird, each of the nine rounds had an orange cap on the end that I had never seen before, and they were... centerfire? Wasn't that model meant to shoot rimfire only?
"I know where she is. I'm going to go in, get her, and bring her to the car. No fighting. You will stay by the car, to protect it and yourself." My father explained.
I nodded in agreement. I knew he could see me even though his eyes didn't leave the road.
"And if you see me running toward you, you will shoot whatever is chasing me."
I let a long pause pass.
"Even if its Mom?" I asked quietly.
More silence.
"Yes."
I felt so many confusing emotions at once. A thousand questions raced through my mind, but none more pressing than if Mom was ok. And who she may have hurt so far.
"Your mother is... she's ok. Everything's going to be ok, you'll see." I didn't like the way he said it. It sounded like he had already accepted failure.
I didn't know what to say. I wanted so badly to say something that would make him feel better. I wanted to say the perfect words that the perfect son would say to his Dad in a situation like this. But I couldn't find them.
So the time passed as we drove, and nothing was said until we arrived at our destination.
I didn't recognize anything about the place as we pulled into the large gravel parking lot. It looked like some old dilapidated factory, abandoned for years. Two massive silos for storing... whatever... loomed in the background, each with exterior spiral staircases curling up the dirty rusted sides. A flat rectangular building spanned across the entire width of the site, with every window hosting a shattered pane of grimy glass. It was pure darkness inside the main building, evening had already settled in, and the shadows had grown long.
Dad let the car idle for a moment. The two headlight beams stretched across the front of the building, reflecting against unknown backdrops within and causing the interior to appear even darker.
"Wait here. Do as I said." Dad opened the door quickly and then he was off, following those beams of light into the shadows.
He made it to the gaping entrance of the flat building, and pushed the hanging door aside. It almost fell off its hinges.
For just a moment he looked back at me. His face had the look of ages on it. It carried no expression. Only age.
Dad disappeared into the darkness. Time slowed down.
I waited.
I got out of the car and held my pistol tight against my leg. I looked around, I scratched the dirt with the tips of my shoes, and I waited.
I was looking in the complete opposite direction when my father came stumbling back. It was the spurt and squirting that I heard first. I thought the windshield wiper spray of the car had accidentally been turned on. But it was blood. I knew that even before I turned around, I could see the trail of red leading back to the building. But I didn't think it was Dad, that it could be his blood.
I even raised my pistol for a moment. Then I saw my father, shambling over to me quickly, his right hand tucked under his left armpit and his other hand clasping the side of his neck.
He fell into my arms, which really meant he fell onto the front of the car. As he slipped down (far too heavy for me to hold up), and his hand slipped off his wet neck, he left a spatter of red paint over the top of the hood. He came to sit leaning against the front right hubcap, still clasping his neck.
I tried to help but I didn't, or couldn't.
As I fumbled, trying to rip off a piece of my shirt and failing, he grinned.
"She..." my father began to say, as I frantically tried to add pressure to the hand clasping his neck.
Suddenly he pushed me away, with such amazing instant strength that I fell backward on my behind.
For a half-second I sat there, bewildered, looking at my father as the life drained from his body. He grinned wider and let go of his neck. The exposed wound poured out blood. The shredded remains of his skin looked like strips of paper mache.
"She..." he said, allowing his grin to sprawl across his face in a slow, meaningful creep, "is a hungry little thing."
His eyes closed, his head slumped to the side, his body weight seemed to drop, and he was gone.
I rushed over to him, even though I knew it was too late. I grabbed his shoulders and when I did, his hidden right hand fell out of his armpit. Except there was no hand, just a stump. A bloody, gnawed-upon stump.
I looked back at the building. Two red dots peered at me from deep dark corners. Two red spots of hatred and chaos. I thought maybe, maybe they are mechanical lights. But then they shifted, together, in unison. Those were eyes. And they were looking right at me.
"MOM!" I shouted fiercely. The two red icicle tips just kept staring back.
"MOOOOOM!!!!"
They blinked. It was her, alright. It was time.
Safety off. | "We're going to get your mother." The words echoed in my head as I turned the MP5 over in my hands. What happened to her? She had been fine when I'd left this morning. We'd only been in this city for a week. They never catch up this quickly. But... if *he's* here, then something's really gone wrong.
"Where is she?" I managed to gulp out, once I finally looked over at the man behind the wheel.
"On the move. We're meeting up at your contingency location. She said to expect heavy pursuit, so I hope you've trained with one of those before."
I nodded. "Yeah. But... are you sure this'll be enough? If you're *here*..."
"Yeah, it's that bad," he replied. He turned his head, briefly, looking into the back seat. "All set up back there?"
"I will be in a moment," Cameron's voice called back from the SUV's trunk. A few harsh, metallic clicks followed.
"Don't worry. I came prepared."
As soon as the words left his mouth, a crack appeared on the windshield.
"Shit!" I jumped on instinct, ducking my head down. And then another crack appeared, right where my head had been. And another. And another. In front of them, a man in a suit was leaning out the passenger door of a red minivan, firing a pistol.
"The window's bulletproof, but it's not gonna hold up!" my father yelled. He shoved my shoulder, while the passenger window starter rolling down. "Shoot back!"
I nodded, and thumbed off my gun's safety. I leaned out the window, just a few inches, and fired a quick burst. My shots went wide, a few hitting the vehicle, and others missing entirely. One of the man's bullets came so close I could feel the air it displaced, but my next burst caught him in the neck and shoulder. His gun fell from his hand, and he slumped over, body hanging halfway out the window.
Before I could do anything else, the entire care shook violently, while the massive, chainsaw-like sound of a minigun tore open my ears. I looked back to see Cameron firing out where the back window used to be, and the car behind us exploding in a burst of brilliant flame. She dispatched one more vehicle just as effortlessly, then powered down the mounted gun. "Targets neutralized."
A minute later, we pulled into the driveway of an old, run-down airstrip. My mom's car was already parked in front of the hanger. "Run to the hanger," my father said. "Help your mom get the plane ready. We'll set up out here."
I grabbed the gun, nodded, and ran to the hanger. On the way, my mother stepped out of her car, brandishing a heavy shotgun. "More'll be here any minute. Help me load the plane."
My mom's always been cool under pressure. At least, she has been ever since LA, and she certainly is now. With the trunk open, carrying our bare minimum of supplies into the prop plane's storage compartments was a simple task. It took more effort than I though I could manage to focus on that, instead of Cameron's gun, no doubt cutting another car in half.
As soon as the last crate was in, the gunfire stopped, interrupted by a sharp, metallic wrenching. My father came running into the hanger, his shirt torn and bloodied, no magazine in his M4. "Get in! It's here!"
"Where's Cameron?" I shouted back. I grabbed my gun, and ran to the open hanger door. Out in the parking lot, I saw her. Her minigun torn to shreds, and the man who did it- the man who's been hounding us since I was thirteen- with his hand around her throat. She raised a fist, and swung it at his head. The blow struck hard, tearing open his skin... and revealing a bright, metallic skull beneath.
The terminator had found us again. | |
[WP] When I was 16 my father pulled me out of school and shoved me in the car. His eyes didn't leave the road as he threw a gun in my lap and said, "We're going to get your mother." | He had pulled me out of school after lunch and made a scene in the hallway yelling at the principal, "This is my son and I'll take him out of school if I want to!"
He smelled like the bar again. He always smelled like the bar these days and he was always yelling at everyone, like the whole world was against him. I didn't really understand his anger, but it started after mom left. She blamed him for their marriage and blamed him for her not loving him anymore. He got even angrier when she had found someone new and angrier again when they married in a few months.
I followed him to the car after we left the school and got in with him. Once we got in the car he threw a gun on my lap and said, "We're going to get your mother."
Surprised and a bit confused I replied, "But dad she's-"
"I don't want to hear it. I said we we're going to get her and I don't want any goddamn complaints." he said not even looking in my direction.
I sat there in silence after that. The angrier he got the more I learned to be quiet. I mostly stayed quiet around him out of fear. Fear that he would also leave me and fear of what he would do if I didn't stay silent.
He started driving away from the school and I had wanted to say something to him, but he seemed like he would just shout at me if I said something. He stared at the road hardly even noticing I was there and breathing heavily like he was about to fight someone and I didn't want it to be me.
I ended up turning to look out the window and look at the sky. I ignored where he was driving because it wasn't the first time he had pulled me out of school with some crazy idea. It was an overcast day, dark and low clouds over head, and humid enough for your clothes to stick to you.
After about 15 minutes the car came to a stopped and I knew where we were. I looked over and saw the headstone "Jane Winsley 1975-2016". My father grabbed the gun and got out of the car and head over to the headstone.
"Hey! What are you doing?!" I yelled as I got out of the car and headed toward him and try to stop him.
He shoved me out of the way and knelt down in front of the headstone and put the gun under his chin. "We're going to get back at her! Get back at her for leaving us!", He yelled.
I stared at him kneeling there and didn't know what to do or what to say to stop him. I was frozen in panic and looked him in the eyes and saw the madness of everything that had happened to him in the past year. To us.
I took a step towards him to get the gun and then I heard the "Click." He forgot to load it.
He dropped the gun and I watch him as the tears started down his face. "Why did she have to leave us?" He sobbed.
I couldn't answer him because there was no answer. I just listen to the sounds of him sobbing and pounding the ground in anger.
I looked up towards the sky at those heavy dark clouds and then it started to rain.
| "We're going to get your mother."
Taken aback by everything, I simply nodded my head. I was sixteen and prepared for this moment. I quickly opened the door and dove out of the moving vehicle.
That's what I would have done if I had unlocked the door first, but a firm fist held me down. I don't recall the exact words that he yelled at my bare pasty white fear filled face, but I remember the word "pussyfooting" and "coward." By the time I had another chance and unlocked the door, we were swinging on the highway. I fingered the gun in my lap, thinking of other devious yet meaningless ways to exit the car.
I decided that the car losing sudden control due to an excess of blood, shortage of brain would be more painful than not, so I hid that scenario in the back of my mind and thought about my mother.
I never knew my mother.
"That's the place." He didn't have to point it out. It was a gray building, topped off with a faux Victorian styled roof, separated to humanity by a fifteen foot guarded fence. Electric, probably. In the middle of no where, in a car that I had no business being in, with a gun in the middle of my lap, I was sure in for a doozy.
We were just outside the city, when I had the bright idea to ask where we were.
"Gotham Asylum." | |
[WP] When I was 16 my father pulled me out of school and shoved me in the car. His eyes didn't leave the road as he threw a gun in my lap and said, "We're going to get your mother." | It was a semi-normal day. Math class first period, History second, Gym third, then Mechanics last. It felt good knowing that summer had finally come and that school was almost over. The thought had eased my mind and I was beginning to relax, but I was sorely mistaken. The intercom boomed over my history teacher in the middle of his lecture about global economics.
"Michael Soner to the main office please, Michael Soner."
Shocked, I awoke from my power-nap (History Sucks). Grabbing my books I meandered to my locker and packed my bag. On my walk to the office, I saw my father waiting outside. He seemed anxious, but somewhat frustrated. I hurried over to him and asked him what was wrong, I had never seen him like this before. He was always the no emotion, must always be strong, don't focus on the past type of person.
"Dad, what's up?"
Without warning, he grabbed me by the top of my backpack and started pulling me to the car.
"Dad?"
He didn't respond and shoved me into the passenger seat of his Ford Mustang.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Michael...," He said for the first time since we left the school and began to head out of town.
"We're going to get your mother." He added while simultaneously tossing a gun into my lap.
The 9mm felt heavy and cold on my thighs. A feeling of anxiety and fear washed over me as well. I've never held a gun before, let alone even see one in real life.
"What the hell is happening," I asked my Dad who has been swerving between the cars on the highway.
"Your mother has been taken by some bad people. People who have no morals or remorse for any of their actions." He said with a hint of anger in his voice.
"Who would want Mom? She is just a hairstylist at Quick Cuts. I don't even think she talks to anybody except you and her family."
"They want Mom because of me," He said while speeding up to 120 Kmph.
"You? You are just a construction worker though. Did you misplace a steel beam or something?"
"Mike..., before you were born, I had a bit of a drug issue. I would be buying close to $200 of weed a week. At the beginning, I would pay for it from my job's pay, but eventually it just wouldn't cut it. So I made a deal. I would do favours for the dealers. Threatening, interrogating, and sometimes attacking those who stole from my dealer."
"How do you know that they have Mom," I inquired.
"Well, yesterday I got a phone call from them saying that they need another favour. I refused. They took Mom earlier today while we were out. Now we have to get her back."
"Well then. Where are we going to go?" A mixed feeling of curiosity and fear filled me.
"The airport." He replied with a determined look on his face. He seemed much different from earlier when he picked me up. | "We're going to get your mother."
Taken aback by everything, I simply nodded my head. I was sixteen and prepared for this moment. I quickly opened the door and dove out of the moving vehicle.
That's what I would have done if I had unlocked the door first, but a firm fist held me down. I don't recall the exact words that he yelled at my bare pasty white fear filled face, but I remember the word "pussyfooting" and "coward." By the time I had another chance and unlocked the door, we were swinging on the highway. I fingered the gun in my lap, thinking of other devious yet meaningless ways to exit the car.
I decided that the car losing sudden control due to an excess of blood, shortage of brain would be more painful than not, so I hid that scenario in the back of my mind and thought about my mother.
I never knew my mother.
"That's the place." He didn't have to point it out. It was a gray building, topped off with a faux Victorian styled roof, separated to humanity by a fifteen foot guarded fence. Electric, probably. In the middle of no where, in a car that I had no business being in, with a gun in the middle of my lap, I was sure in for a doozy.
We were just outside the city, when I had the bright idea to ask where we were.
"Gotham Asylum." | |
[WP] When I was 16 my father pulled me out of school and shoved me in the car. His eyes didn't leave the road as he threw a gun in my lap and said, "We're going to get your mother." | Pat Two.
As I nodded to my father, my fingers wrapped around the handle of the passenger door of our family's SUV. Before giving the handle one solid jerk, I watched my father slide himself from the driver's seat and out into the middle of the intersection. With the same intensity as before, his eyes darted back and forth, as if surveying his surroundings. Finally, he motioned for me to exit the car. My heart still pounding in my chest, I followed his lead, one hand still firmly clasped around the gun.
When I was very young, I used to stare at my father's every move; whether he was adjusting his tie before heading to work or reading the paper, I always sat there, staring. Not like today. Today, I watched his every move. I loved and trusted my father with all my heart, but he seemed so different from the man I thought I had all figured out.
Slowly, one foot after the other, I exited the passenger seat and made my way around to the front of the car to see him sprint into action. He ran over to the car that had hit us; his feet splashing in the puddles that began to form from the rain. It wasn't till that moment did I hear her screams.
"Nathan!," my father screamed, "Get over here!"
Shaking away the accident, I dropped the gun to my side and sprinted over to my father who began pulling a young woman from the wreckage. Wrapping his arms around her, his body collapsed to the street as she collapsed into him.
"Remove your belt and help me put pressure on her leg," ordered my father.
Without hesitation, I unbuckled my worn leather belt and dropped to my knees to assist him. Giving him a quick nod, I stretched out my hands, waiting for his next order.
"Now wrap it around her leg there and pull as tight as you can," he ordered. I nodded again as I wrapped my belt around her leg and pulled. As the belt snapped tight she gave out a scream.
"Very good son," my father said calmly, "very good."
Time seemed to stand still as my father and I knelt around this young woman. Her screams had quieted to a muffled cry. I looked over at my father who sat there, stroking her hand in comfort. After what felt like a lifetime, in one fell swoop, he grabbed my hand and placed it on top of hers before standing up.
Confused and scared all at the same time, I asked, "where are you going?"
"I need to make a call," my father replied.
As I held her hand, the young woman shivered. I couldn't decide whether she was shivering from the cold or from shock, but I had convinced myself that if I held her hand, all would be OK.
Seconds later, my father came back and knelt beside us. For a few seconds he didn't say anything. He sat there, looking down at the young woman as her body trembled in the rain. Finally, he looked up at me.
"We have to go," he said softly. "We have to leave her."
"What?" I asked. "How could we leave her? Look at her!"
"I know Nathan," he said calmly. "But we have to go now. Help is on its way."
I couldn't believe him. How could my loving father leave someone in need? How could he so coldly make such a harsh decision?
"Nathan," my father said. "Look at me. We need to go get your mother. I've called for help and its on its way. Do you understand me?"
For the first time that day, I stared back at my father, questioning his judgement. My hand was still clasped tightly around the young woman's hand. I nodded to my father. It was time go.
"Do you still have that gun I gave you?" asked my father.
I gave another quick nod as the sound of sirens could be heard off in the distance.
| "We're going to get your mother."
Taken aback by everything, I simply nodded my head. I was sixteen and prepared for this moment. I quickly opened the door and dove out of the moving vehicle.
That's what I would have done if I had unlocked the door first, but a firm fist held me down. I don't recall the exact words that he yelled at my bare pasty white fear filled face, but I remember the word "pussyfooting" and "coward." By the time I had another chance and unlocked the door, we were swinging on the highway. I fingered the gun in my lap, thinking of other devious yet meaningless ways to exit the car.
I decided that the car losing sudden control due to an excess of blood, shortage of brain would be more painful than not, so I hid that scenario in the back of my mind and thought about my mother.
I never knew my mother.
"That's the place." He didn't have to point it out. It was a gray building, topped off with a faux Victorian styled roof, separated to humanity by a fifteen foot guarded fence. Electric, probably. In the middle of no where, in a car that I had no business being in, with a gun in the middle of my lap, I was sure in for a doozy.
We were just outside the city, when I had the bright idea to ask where we were.
"Gotham Asylum." | |
[WP] When I was 16 my father pulled me out of school and shoved me in the car. His eyes didn't leave the road as he threw a gun in my lap and said, "We're going to get your mother." | ... I rolled my eyes. This was the third time this semester. Any more of this and the school was going to start asking questions. The old pickup spun around and jolted forward with powerful ferocity, bolting out of the parking lot and swerving into the main road. Dad started psyching himself up as we picked up speed. He fell into a familiar pattern, breathing deep and twiddling his fingers on the wheel, some kind of nervous tick for him. After all of this time, I didn't know if he was actually still nervous or if it was more of a superstitious ritual, but he had done it every time without fail so far. I took a closer look at the gun he had thrown at me me and held it up to my eye level. It was sleek black Glock 22. It was heftier than I had anticipated; I wasn't used to shooting a .40 cal.
"Upping the ante this time, I see. What are you packing?" He gave me a quick, breathy chuckle and a manic grin. I slumped back in the passenger seat and drew out a long sigh. I knew that look.
"Today's the day, Wayne," he exclaimed, "Today, is, the, day!" His grin had evolved into a full toothy smile. It was always so hard to see him like this, but there was no stopping him from my end.
"Uh-huh. Where are we headed?"
"Carmichael Art Museum downtown. They're holding some sort of snooty bigwig fundraiser party."
"Sounds like something she'd like."
"Today's the day!" His smile held for a second longer before his face dropped back into an expression of unshakeably determined concentration. I opted to abstain from further conversation for the remainder of the trip.
As we pulled around the block to the art museum, we were greeted with rows and rows of police cruisers parked around the entrance. At the very least, that meant that we were on the right track. It was a giant building, adorned with intricate emulations of classical architecture covering the entire front face. Dozens of uniforms were standing around facing the solid brass doors with their pistols drawn. One of the fat ones had a megaphone and was blathering something about meeting demands and negotiating for hostages. Dad and I gave each other a knowing glance, the fat cop was wasting his time. We both knew how she worked, she had already made her statement and was probably already on her way out with more than a few pieces of fancy jewelry and wallets.
Dad pulled out a napkin with a crude map scrawled on it with blue pen. He pulled the car around to an alley several blocks down to the East of the museum. The cops had the building surrounded so the only logical exits were up or down, but we were pretty sure that the helicopter wasn't part of the plan this time. Without a word to each other we jumped out of the car and ran straight for the nearest manhole. With a little shove, the cover slipped right off and we descended into the dank depths of the city's labyrinthine sewer system. On the way down I caught a glimpse of his new arsenal. From what I could tell it consisted of several homemade smoke grenades, a crossbow, and some sort of modified rifle. If I didn't know any better I would have thought he was hunting Velociraptors.
We sprinted down a length of the murky corridor, following the napkin map to a T. I followed my father blindly, having faith in his meticulous preparations and obsessive methodology. He was good at this. After a few minutes of running he stopped us at an intersection, pressing up against the wall and slowing his breath. We could hear the faint rhythm of running footsteps getting louder from one of the tunnels. It was her. Dad brandished his rifle and rushed out into the middle of the cross, facing her.
"CHARLOTTE!" He yelled down to her. The rifle started glowing, crackling with electricity. "You're coming home!"
I saw her slow down to a stop, breathing heavily, unfazed by the spectacle of a middle-aged college professor with an electro-rifle holding her at gunpoint in a sewer. She was dressed in her professional gear: black leather jacket and gloves with red jeans, her shoulder length hair in a neat little auburn ponytail.
"Oh Howard," she sighed, "I was hoping to outrun you this time." She gave him a soft smile, an expression of loving sympathy. It conveyed a subtle joy, being able to see him, but also some concern. I knew how she felt, to a certain extent. I stepped out from around the corner and assumed a shooting stance, holding the Glock up threateningly toward her.
"Hi, Mom," I chimed in.
"Wayne!" Her face lit up. I smiled back, it was always good to catch up with her a little bit, even in situations like this.
"Charlotte," Dad repeated, his voice was a low monotone, "You are coming home." Mom's face reassumed her previous expression, only this time more somber. He pulled the trigger, summoning a brilliant flash of energy out of the muzzle of the rifle. In a single deft movement Mom dived under the trajectory of the bolt and rolled up to where Dad was standing. She knocked him out with one well placed hit right on his left temple. He collapsed, face first on the cobblestone, as if he'd fallen asleep standing up.
"I really wish I could, Howard," she said to him softly. I lowered my gun as she turned to me, ready to pounce. "You weren't going to shoot me, were you?" I raised my hands up over my shoulders in surrender.
"Chamber was empty the whole time."
"Good boy, I love you, and don't miss too much school."
"Love you too, I won't."
She scampered off into the darkness, probably toward the next political protest and high pressure heist hybrid caper she had her eyes on next. Dad stirred from his brief slumber, groaning from the splitting headache he had been gifted.
"Don't worry Dad, we'll get her next time."
| "We're going to get your mother."
Taken aback by everything, I simply nodded my head. I was sixteen and prepared for this moment. I quickly opened the door and dove out of the moving vehicle.
That's what I would have done if I had unlocked the door first, but a firm fist held me down. I don't recall the exact words that he yelled at my bare pasty white fear filled face, but I remember the word "pussyfooting" and "coward." By the time I had another chance and unlocked the door, we were swinging on the highway. I fingered the gun in my lap, thinking of other devious yet meaningless ways to exit the car.
I decided that the car losing sudden control due to an excess of blood, shortage of brain would be more painful than not, so I hid that scenario in the back of my mind and thought about my mother.
I never knew my mother.
"That's the place." He didn't have to point it out. It was a gray building, topped off with a faux Victorian styled roof, separated to humanity by a fifteen foot guarded fence. Electric, probably. In the middle of no where, in a car that I had no business being in, with a gun in the middle of my lap, I was sure in for a doozy.
We were just outside the city, when I had the bright idea to ask where we were.
"Gotham Asylum." | |
[WP] When I was 16 my father pulled me out of school and shoved me in the car. His eyes didn't leave the road as he threw a gun in my lap and said, "We're going to get your mother." | On my 16th birthday, dad surprised me by pulling me out of gym class halfway through the day. He didn't explain why he was there--not in the hallway, not in the parking lot. He waited until we were on the highway, pushing 90 MPH. And our luck.
"Dad?" I tried, finally. Halfway to SJC. Without taking his eyes off the road, he casually reached into his jacket and pulled out a handgun, which he threw in my lap before hopping in and out of the HOV lane.
"We're going to get your mother," he said. "Before she gets us."
"About time," I replied.
I didn't bother to check if it was loaded.
Dad never forgot that sort of thing. | "We're going to get your mother."
Taken aback by everything, I simply nodded my head. I was sixteen and prepared for this moment. I quickly opened the door and dove out of the moving vehicle.
That's what I would have done if I had unlocked the door first, but a firm fist held me down. I don't recall the exact words that he yelled at my bare pasty white fear filled face, but I remember the word "pussyfooting" and "coward." By the time I had another chance and unlocked the door, we were swinging on the highway. I fingered the gun in my lap, thinking of other devious yet meaningless ways to exit the car.
I decided that the car losing sudden control due to an excess of blood, shortage of brain would be more painful than not, so I hid that scenario in the back of my mind and thought about my mother.
I never knew my mother.
"That's the place." He didn't have to point it out. It was a gray building, topped off with a faux Victorian styled roof, separated to humanity by a fifteen foot guarded fence. Electric, probably. In the middle of no where, in a car that I had no business being in, with a gun in the middle of my lap, I was sure in for a doozy.
We were just outside the city, when I had the bright idea to ask where we were.
"Gotham Asylum." | |
[WP] When I was 16 my father pulled me out of school and shoved me in the car. His eyes didn't leave the road as he threw a gun in my lap and said, "We're going to get your mother." | You could hear a pin drop. I wished one would, if only to break the silence.
"Well... that's all well and good..." my teacher, Mrs. Fanshawe, began to say, "but Jeffrey has a test at exactly two pee..."
"Fuck the test. I said I need him." My father was not one to mince words.
He looked directly at me.
"Let's go."
There was no room for argument.
I could feel the hot stares from the other kids in the class burning my back as I walked out. I had to take the middle row. As I passed, some kids had wide grins, some had looks of pure sinister delight (nobody had said the F word in class since Jimmy Carpin had been sent home that one day), but most were still trying to scrape their jaws off the floor. I couldn't let their seething eyes slow me down, though, Dad was in full no-nonsense mode. Something bad had happened.
As soon as the classroom door and Mrs. Fanshawe's disapproving scowl were behind us, my father cranked up the pace and we raced down the hall. He banged the front doors open with more force than I had even seen them take, and we literally flew down the front steps.
He hurried me toward the family car parked crooked on the street (and partially on the sidewalk). I noticed fresh scratches on the outside bottom of the passenger-side door as my father shoved me in. They looked like some kind of animals claw marks, but I didn't get a good look and my mind was racing.
I pulled my seat belt over my shoulder as quick as I could. By the time I heard the metallic snap of the buckle, the engine had already turned over and we were moving.
As I watched the school's changeable letter sign disappear into the rear view mirror, ("Go Spartiates!"), I felt a heavy lump of curved metal drop into my lap with an audible thump.
It was a gun. My gun. Smith and Wesson Model M&P Bodyguard 380. Compact, black, menacing. The same one Dad had made me practice with every day since I was fifteen.
"We're going to get your mother," my father said. "Right now."
I knew exactly what he meant, I just never thought this day would actually come. It suddenly seemed so obvious to me what was happening, and I felt stupid for not getting it already.
"I'm ready." I said, trying to mean it as much as I could.
"No, you're not, but that doesn't matter now." My father's voice sounded unsteady. Maybe for the first time ever.
We drove a long time in silence. I gently stroked the red safety button on the pistol, and measured out my breathes. Dad was being very, very quiet. Soon, I knew I would be slamming the breach of my firearm into place and following him into a fight.
"There's not going to be a fight." My father said, as if reading my mind.
We hit a bump in the road before he could continue, and for a moment Dad's right hand was lifted off his lap and I saw what he was holding. H&R Model 929, extended barrel. The gun that he said he never used. The gun that was supposed to be just for show. The ammo loaded in it looked weird, each of the nine rounds had an orange cap on the end that I had never seen before, and they were... centerfire? Wasn't that model meant to shoot rimfire only?
"I know where she is. I'm going to go in, get her, and bring her to the car. No fighting. You will stay by the car, to protect it and yourself." My father explained.
I nodded in agreement. I knew he could see me even though his eyes didn't leave the road.
"And if you see me running toward you, you will shoot whatever is chasing me."
I let a long pause pass.
"Even if its Mom?" I asked quietly.
More silence.
"Yes."
I felt so many confusing emotions at once. A thousand questions raced through my mind, but none more pressing than if Mom was ok. And who she may have hurt so far.
"Your mother is... she's ok. Everything's going to be ok, you'll see." I didn't like the way he said it. It sounded like he had already accepted failure.
I didn't know what to say. I wanted so badly to say something that would make him feel better. I wanted to say the perfect words that the perfect son would say to his Dad in a situation like this. But I couldn't find them.
So the time passed as we drove, and nothing was said until we arrived at our destination.
I didn't recognize anything about the place as we pulled into the large gravel parking lot. It looked like some old dilapidated factory, abandoned for years. Two massive silos for storing... whatever... loomed in the background, each with exterior spiral staircases curling up the dirty rusted sides. A flat rectangular building spanned across the entire width of the site, with every window hosting a shattered pane of grimy glass. It was pure darkness inside the main building, evening had already settled in, and the shadows had grown long.
Dad let the car idle for a moment. The two headlight beams stretched across the front of the building, reflecting against unknown backdrops within and causing the interior to appear even darker.
"Wait here. Do as I said." Dad opened the door quickly and then he was off, following those beams of light into the shadows.
He made it to the gaping entrance of the flat building, and pushed the hanging door aside. It almost fell off its hinges.
For just a moment he looked back at me. His face had the look of ages on it. It carried no expression. Only age.
Dad disappeared into the darkness. Time slowed down.
I waited.
I got out of the car and held my pistol tight against my leg. I looked around, I scratched the dirt with the tips of my shoes, and I waited.
I was looking in the complete opposite direction when my father came stumbling back. It was the spurt and squirting that I heard first. I thought the windshield wiper spray of the car had accidentally been turned on. But it was blood. I knew that even before I turned around, I could see the trail of red leading back to the building. But I didn't think it was Dad, that it could be his blood.
I even raised my pistol for a moment. Then I saw my father, shambling over to me quickly, his right hand tucked under his left armpit and his other hand clasping the side of his neck.
He fell into my arms, which really meant he fell onto the front of the car. As he slipped down (far too heavy for me to hold up), and his hand slipped off his wet neck, he left a spatter of red paint over the top of the hood. He came to sit leaning against the front right hubcap, still clasping his neck.
I tried to help but I didn't, or couldn't.
As I fumbled, trying to rip off a piece of my shirt and failing, he grinned.
"She..." my father began to say, as I frantically tried to add pressure to the hand clasping his neck.
Suddenly he pushed me away, with such amazing instant strength that I fell backward on my behind.
For a half-second I sat there, bewildered, looking at my father as the life drained from his body. He grinned wider and let go of his neck. The exposed wound poured out blood. The shredded remains of his skin looked like strips of paper mache.
"She..." he said, allowing his grin to sprawl across his face in a slow, meaningful creep, "is a hungry little thing."
His eyes closed, his head slumped to the side, his body weight seemed to drop, and he was gone.
I rushed over to him, even though I knew it was too late. I grabbed his shoulders and when I did, his hidden right hand fell out of his armpit. Except there was no hand, just a stump. A bloody, gnawed-upon stump.
I looked back at the building. Two red dots peered at me from deep dark corners. Two red spots of hatred and chaos. I thought maybe, maybe they are mechanical lights. But then they shifted, together, in unison. Those were eyes. And they were looking right at me.
"MOM!" I shouted fiercely. The two red icicle tips just kept staring back.
"MOOOOOM!!!!"
They blinked. It was her, alright. It was time.
Safety off. | "We're going to get your mother."
Taken aback by everything, I simply nodded my head. I was sixteen and prepared for this moment. I quickly opened the door and dove out of the moving vehicle.
That's what I would have done if I had unlocked the door first, but a firm fist held me down. I don't recall the exact words that he yelled at my bare pasty white fear filled face, but I remember the word "pussyfooting" and "coward." By the time I had another chance and unlocked the door, we were swinging on the highway. I fingered the gun in my lap, thinking of other devious yet meaningless ways to exit the car.
I decided that the car losing sudden control due to an excess of blood, shortage of brain would be more painful than not, so I hid that scenario in the back of my mind and thought about my mother.
I never knew my mother.
"That's the place." He didn't have to point it out. It was a gray building, topped off with a faux Victorian styled roof, separated to humanity by a fifteen foot guarded fence. Electric, probably. In the middle of no where, in a car that I had no business being in, with a gun in the middle of my lap, I was sure in for a doozy.
We were just outside the city, when I had the bright idea to ask where we were.
"Gotham Asylum." | |
[WP] When I was 16 my father pulled me out of school and shoved me in the car. His eyes didn't leave the road as he threw a gun in my lap and said, "We're going to get your mother." | He had pulled me out of school after lunch and made a scene in the hallway yelling at the principal, "This is my son and I'll take him out of school if I want to!"
He smelled like the bar again. He always smelled like the bar these days and he was always yelling at everyone, like the whole world was against him. I didn't really understand his anger, but it started after mom left. She blamed him for their marriage and blamed him for her not loving him anymore. He got even angrier when she had found someone new and angrier again when they married in a few months.
I followed him to the car after we left the school and got in with him. Once we got in the car he threw a gun on my lap and said, "We're going to get your mother."
Surprised and a bit confused I replied, "But dad she's-"
"I don't want to hear it. I said we we're going to get her and I don't want any goddamn complaints." he said not even looking in my direction.
I sat there in silence after that. The angrier he got the more I learned to be quiet. I mostly stayed quiet around him out of fear. Fear that he would also leave me and fear of what he would do if I didn't stay silent.
He started driving away from the school and I had wanted to say something to him, but he seemed like he would just shout at me if I said something. He stared at the road hardly even noticing I was there and breathing heavily like he was about to fight someone and I didn't want it to be me.
I ended up turning to look out the window and look at the sky. I ignored where he was driving because it wasn't the first time he had pulled me out of school with some crazy idea. It was an overcast day, dark and low clouds over head, and humid enough for your clothes to stick to you.
After about 15 minutes the car came to a stopped and I knew where we were. I looked over and saw the headstone "Jane Winsley 1975-2016". My father grabbed the gun and got out of the car and head over to the headstone.
"Hey! What are you doing?!" I yelled as I got out of the car and headed toward him and try to stop him.
He shoved me out of the way and knelt down in front of the headstone and put the gun under his chin. "We're going to get back at her! Get back at her for leaving us!", He yelled.
I stared at him kneeling there and didn't know what to do or what to say to stop him. I was frozen in panic and looked him in the eyes and saw the madness of everything that had happened to him in the past year. To us.
I took a step towards him to get the gun and then I heard the "Click." He forgot to load it.
He dropped the gun and I watch him as the tears started down his face. "Why did she have to leave us?" He sobbed.
I couldn't answer him because there was no answer. I just listen to the sounds of him sobbing and pounding the ground in anger.
I looked up towards the sky at those heavy dark clouds and then it started to rain.
| "But Dad, she's still in prison!" I said.
"I know," said Dad, "We're busting her out!"
You might think this is the start of an epic tale where a completely ordinary child is dragged off onto a life on the run from the law, living in cheap hotels and eeking out a meager living on the streets, but when you're the son of two super villains, this was a Tuesday for me. Honestly, I'm surprised it took my Dad this long to get around to this, I think he's kind of slipping a little. He waited until mom was sent outside for the first time to work on a chain gang so dad could whip up a quick smash and grab plan to get her out of there.
I checked the gun and looked into the backseat to seat to see at least dad remembered to bring our costumes. The "car" was only a car in the visual sense. It had four wheels and they were round. It was really a souped up armored vehicle you could use to rob a bank without having to stop and get out. Dad quickly smashed through the prison bus and ran down two guards and nearly took out the whole chain gang. My mom, Molly McMaul, busted the chains with her bare hands and knocked out two guards with her fists before jumping into the moving car as I held the passenger door open.
"What the hell took you so long?" my mom blurted.
She didn't hit dad, Dad was a little busy driving and shooting at the same time, so I handed mom the gun Dad gave to me so mom could take her frustrations out on the guards. She shot two prisoners. They must have owed her money or something, don't mess with mom! As we peeled away my parents fell into their usual bickering as my mom struggled into her villain outfit. I don't know why she bothered wearing a mask, she was such a hulking giant of a woman a bear outfit would not be much of a disguise for someone built like her. However, I had to go back to school tomorrow without the FBI busting in on Mrs. Crabapple's class so the effort had to be made.
Within an hour we were home, secret identities intact, and I had to mentally switch gears from prison breaking to quadratic equations. Honestly, I'd rather be trying to overthrow a small South American government singlehandedly than do math homework.
| |
[WP] When I was 16 my father pulled me out of school and shoved me in the car. His eyes didn't leave the road as he threw a gun in my lap and said, "We're going to get your mother." | It was a semi-normal day. Math class first period, History second, Gym third, then Mechanics last. It felt good knowing that summer had finally come and that school was almost over. The thought had eased my mind and I was beginning to relax, but I was sorely mistaken. The intercom boomed over my history teacher in the middle of his lecture about global economics.
"Michael Soner to the main office please, Michael Soner."
Shocked, I awoke from my power-nap (History Sucks). Grabbing my books I meandered to my locker and packed my bag. On my walk to the office, I saw my father waiting outside. He seemed anxious, but somewhat frustrated. I hurried over to him and asked him what was wrong, I had never seen him like this before. He was always the no emotion, must always be strong, don't focus on the past type of person.
"Dad, what's up?"
Without warning, he grabbed me by the top of my backpack and started pulling me to the car.
"Dad?"
He didn't respond and shoved me into the passenger seat of his Ford Mustang.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Michael...," He said for the first time since we left the school and began to head out of town.
"We're going to get your mother." He added while simultaneously tossing a gun into my lap.
The 9mm felt heavy and cold on my thighs. A feeling of anxiety and fear washed over me as well. I've never held a gun before, let alone even see one in real life.
"What the hell is happening," I asked my Dad who has been swerving between the cars on the highway.
"Your mother has been taken by some bad people. People who have no morals or remorse for any of their actions." He said with a hint of anger in his voice.
"Who would want Mom? She is just a hairstylist at Quick Cuts. I don't even think she talks to anybody except you and her family."
"They want Mom because of me," He said while speeding up to 120 Kmph.
"You? You are just a construction worker though. Did you misplace a steel beam or something?"
"Mike..., before you were born, I had a bit of a drug issue. I would be buying close to $200 of weed a week. At the beginning, I would pay for it from my job's pay, but eventually it just wouldn't cut it. So I made a deal. I would do favours for the dealers. Threatening, interrogating, and sometimes attacking those who stole from my dealer."
"How do you know that they have Mom," I inquired.
"Well, yesterday I got a phone call from them saying that they need another favour. I refused. They took Mom earlier today while we were out. Now we have to get her back."
"Well then. Where are we going to go?" A mixed feeling of curiosity and fear filled me.
"The airport." He replied with a determined look on his face. He seemed much different from earlier when he picked me up. | "But Dad, she's still in prison!" I said.
"I know," said Dad, "We're busting her out!"
You might think this is the start of an epic tale where a completely ordinary child is dragged off onto a life on the run from the law, living in cheap hotels and eeking out a meager living on the streets, but when you're the son of two super villains, this was a Tuesday for me. Honestly, I'm surprised it took my Dad this long to get around to this, I think he's kind of slipping a little. He waited until mom was sent outside for the first time to work on a chain gang so dad could whip up a quick smash and grab plan to get her out of there.
I checked the gun and looked into the backseat to seat to see at least dad remembered to bring our costumes. The "car" was only a car in the visual sense. It had four wheels and they were round. It was really a souped up armored vehicle you could use to rob a bank without having to stop and get out. Dad quickly smashed through the prison bus and ran down two guards and nearly took out the whole chain gang. My mom, Molly McMaul, busted the chains with her bare hands and knocked out two guards with her fists before jumping into the moving car as I held the passenger door open.
"What the hell took you so long?" my mom blurted.
She didn't hit dad, Dad was a little busy driving and shooting at the same time, so I handed mom the gun Dad gave to me so mom could take her frustrations out on the guards. She shot two prisoners. They must have owed her money or something, don't mess with mom! As we peeled away my parents fell into their usual bickering as my mom struggled into her villain outfit. I don't know why she bothered wearing a mask, she was such a hulking giant of a woman a bear outfit would not be much of a disguise for someone built like her. However, I had to go back to school tomorrow without the FBI busting in on Mrs. Crabapple's class so the effort had to be made.
Within an hour we were home, secret identities intact, and I had to mentally switch gears from prison breaking to quadratic equations. Honestly, I'd rather be trying to overthrow a small South American government singlehandedly than do math homework.
| |
[WP] When I was 16 my father pulled me out of school and shoved me in the car. His eyes didn't leave the road as he threw a gun in my lap and said, "We're going to get your mother." | Pat Two.
As I nodded to my father, my fingers wrapped around the handle of the passenger door of our family's SUV. Before giving the handle one solid jerk, I watched my father slide himself from the driver's seat and out into the middle of the intersection. With the same intensity as before, his eyes darted back and forth, as if surveying his surroundings. Finally, he motioned for me to exit the car. My heart still pounding in my chest, I followed his lead, one hand still firmly clasped around the gun.
When I was very young, I used to stare at my father's every move; whether he was adjusting his tie before heading to work or reading the paper, I always sat there, staring. Not like today. Today, I watched his every move. I loved and trusted my father with all my heart, but he seemed so different from the man I thought I had all figured out.
Slowly, one foot after the other, I exited the passenger seat and made my way around to the front of the car to see him sprint into action. He ran over to the car that had hit us; his feet splashing in the puddles that began to form from the rain. It wasn't till that moment did I hear her screams.
"Nathan!," my father screamed, "Get over here!"
Shaking away the accident, I dropped the gun to my side and sprinted over to my father who began pulling a young woman from the wreckage. Wrapping his arms around her, his body collapsed to the street as she collapsed into him.
"Remove your belt and help me put pressure on her leg," ordered my father.
Without hesitation, I unbuckled my worn leather belt and dropped to my knees to assist him. Giving him a quick nod, I stretched out my hands, waiting for his next order.
"Now wrap it around her leg there and pull as tight as you can," he ordered. I nodded again as I wrapped my belt around her leg and pulled. As the belt snapped tight she gave out a scream.
"Very good son," my father said calmly, "very good."
Time seemed to stand still as my father and I knelt around this young woman. Her screams had quieted to a muffled cry. I looked over at my father who sat there, stroking her hand in comfort. After what felt like a lifetime, in one fell swoop, he grabbed my hand and placed it on top of hers before standing up.
Confused and scared all at the same time, I asked, "where are you going?"
"I need to make a call," my father replied.
As I held her hand, the young woman shivered. I couldn't decide whether she was shivering from the cold or from shock, but I had convinced myself that if I held her hand, all would be OK.
Seconds later, my father came back and knelt beside us. For a few seconds he didn't say anything. He sat there, looking down at the young woman as her body trembled in the rain. Finally, he looked up at me.
"We have to go," he said softly. "We have to leave her."
"What?" I asked. "How could we leave her? Look at her!"
"I know Nathan," he said calmly. "But we have to go now. Help is on its way."
I couldn't believe him. How could my loving father leave someone in need? How could he so coldly make such a harsh decision?
"Nathan," my father said. "Look at me. We need to go get your mother. I've called for help and its on its way. Do you understand me?"
For the first time that day, I stared back at my father, questioning his judgement. My hand was still clasped tightly around the young woman's hand. I nodded to my father. It was time go.
"Do you still have that gun I gave you?" asked my father.
I gave another quick nod as the sound of sirens could be heard off in the distance.
| "But Dad, she's still in prison!" I said.
"I know," said Dad, "We're busting her out!"
You might think this is the start of an epic tale where a completely ordinary child is dragged off onto a life on the run from the law, living in cheap hotels and eeking out a meager living on the streets, but when you're the son of two super villains, this was a Tuesday for me. Honestly, I'm surprised it took my Dad this long to get around to this, I think he's kind of slipping a little. He waited until mom was sent outside for the first time to work on a chain gang so dad could whip up a quick smash and grab plan to get her out of there.
I checked the gun and looked into the backseat to seat to see at least dad remembered to bring our costumes. The "car" was only a car in the visual sense. It had four wheels and they were round. It was really a souped up armored vehicle you could use to rob a bank without having to stop and get out. Dad quickly smashed through the prison bus and ran down two guards and nearly took out the whole chain gang. My mom, Molly McMaul, busted the chains with her bare hands and knocked out two guards with her fists before jumping into the moving car as I held the passenger door open.
"What the hell took you so long?" my mom blurted.
She didn't hit dad, Dad was a little busy driving and shooting at the same time, so I handed mom the gun Dad gave to me so mom could take her frustrations out on the guards. She shot two prisoners. They must have owed her money or something, don't mess with mom! As we peeled away my parents fell into their usual bickering as my mom struggled into her villain outfit. I don't know why she bothered wearing a mask, she was such a hulking giant of a woman a bear outfit would not be much of a disguise for someone built like her. However, I had to go back to school tomorrow without the FBI busting in on Mrs. Crabapple's class so the effort had to be made.
Within an hour we were home, secret identities intact, and I had to mentally switch gears from prison breaking to quadratic equations. Honestly, I'd rather be trying to overthrow a small South American government singlehandedly than do math homework.
| |
[WP] When I was 16 my father pulled me out of school and shoved me in the car. His eyes didn't leave the road as he threw a gun in my lap and said, "We're going to get your mother." | ... I rolled my eyes. This was the third time this semester. Any more of this and the school was going to start asking questions. The old pickup spun around and jolted forward with powerful ferocity, bolting out of the parking lot and swerving into the main road. Dad started psyching himself up as we picked up speed. He fell into a familiar pattern, breathing deep and twiddling his fingers on the wheel, some kind of nervous tick for him. After all of this time, I didn't know if he was actually still nervous or if it was more of a superstitious ritual, but he had done it every time without fail so far. I took a closer look at the gun he had thrown at me me and held it up to my eye level. It was sleek black Glock 22. It was heftier than I had anticipated; I wasn't used to shooting a .40 cal.
"Upping the ante this time, I see. What are you packing?" He gave me a quick, breathy chuckle and a manic grin. I slumped back in the passenger seat and drew out a long sigh. I knew that look.
"Today's the day, Wayne," he exclaimed, "Today, is, the, day!" His grin had evolved into a full toothy smile. It was always so hard to see him like this, but there was no stopping him from my end.
"Uh-huh. Where are we headed?"
"Carmichael Art Museum downtown. They're holding some sort of snooty bigwig fundraiser party."
"Sounds like something she'd like."
"Today's the day!" His smile held for a second longer before his face dropped back into an expression of unshakeably determined concentration. I opted to abstain from further conversation for the remainder of the trip.
As we pulled around the block to the art museum, we were greeted with rows and rows of police cruisers parked around the entrance. At the very least, that meant that we were on the right track. It was a giant building, adorned with intricate emulations of classical architecture covering the entire front face. Dozens of uniforms were standing around facing the solid brass doors with their pistols drawn. One of the fat ones had a megaphone and was blathering something about meeting demands and negotiating for hostages. Dad and I gave each other a knowing glance, the fat cop was wasting his time. We both knew how she worked, she had already made her statement and was probably already on her way out with more than a few pieces of fancy jewelry and wallets.
Dad pulled out a napkin with a crude map scrawled on it with blue pen. He pulled the car around to an alley several blocks down to the East of the museum. The cops had the building surrounded so the only logical exits were up or down, but we were pretty sure that the helicopter wasn't part of the plan this time. Without a word to each other we jumped out of the car and ran straight for the nearest manhole. With a little shove, the cover slipped right off and we descended into the dank depths of the city's labyrinthine sewer system. On the way down I caught a glimpse of his new arsenal. From what I could tell it consisted of several homemade smoke grenades, a crossbow, and some sort of modified rifle. If I didn't know any better I would have thought he was hunting Velociraptors.
We sprinted down a length of the murky corridor, following the napkin map to a T. I followed my father blindly, having faith in his meticulous preparations and obsessive methodology. He was good at this. After a few minutes of running he stopped us at an intersection, pressing up against the wall and slowing his breath. We could hear the faint rhythm of running footsteps getting louder from one of the tunnels. It was her. Dad brandished his rifle and rushed out into the middle of the cross, facing her.
"CHARLOTTE!" He yelled down to her. The rifle started glowing, crackling with electricity. "You're coming home!"
I saw her slow down to a stop, breathing heavily, unfazed by the spectacle of a middle-aged college professor with an electro-rifle holding her at gunpoint in a sewer. She was dressed in her professional gear: black leather jacket and gloves with red jeans, her shoulder length hair in a neat little auburn ponytail.
"Oh Howard," she sighed, "I was hoping to outrun you this time." She gave him a soft smile, an expression of loving sympathy. It conveyed a subtle joy, being able to see him, but also some concern. I knew how she felt, to a certain extent. I stepped out from around the corner and assumed a shooting stance, holding the Glock up threateningly toward her.
"Hi, Mom," I chimed in.
"Wayne!" Her face lit up. I smiled back, it was always good to catch up with her a little bit, even in situations like this.
"Charlotte," Dad repeated, his voice was a low monotone, "You are coming home." Mom's face reassumed her previous expression, only this time more somber. He pulled the trigger, summoning a brilliant flash of energy out of the muzzle of the rifle. In a single deft movement Mom dived under the trajectory of the bolt and rolled up to where Dad was standing. She knocked him out with one well placed hit right on his left temple. He collapsed, face first on the cobblestone, as if he'd fallen asleep standing up.
"I really wish I could, Howard," she said to him softly. I lowered my gun as she turned to me, ready to pounce. "You weren't going to shoot me, were you?" I raised my hands up over my shoulders in surrender.
"Chamber was empty the whole time."
"Good boy, I love you, and don't miss too much school."
"Love you too, I won't."
She scampered off into the darkness, probably toward the next political protest and high pressure heist hybrid caper she had her eyes on next. Dad stirred from his brief slumber, groaning from the splitting headache he had been gifted.
"Don't worry Dad, we'll get her next time."
| "But Dad, she's still in prison!" I said.
"I know," said Dad, "We're busting her out!"
You might think this is the start of an epic tale where a completely ordinary child is dragged off onto a life on the run from the law, living in cheap hotels and eeking out a meager living on the streets, but when you're the son of two super villains, this was a Tuesday for me. Honestly, I'm surprised it took my Dad this long to get around to this, I think he's kind of slipping a little. He waited until mom was sent outside for the first time to work on a chain gang so dad could whip up a quick smash and grab plan to get her out of there.
I checked the gun and looked into the backseat to seat to see at least dad remembered to bring our costumes. The "car" was only a car in the visual sense. It had four wheels and they were round. It was really a souped up armored vehicle you could use to rob a bank without having to stop and get out. Dad quickly smashed through the prison bus and ran down two guards and nearly took out the whole chain gang. My mom, Molly McMaul, busted the chains with her bare hands and knocked out two guards with her fists before jumping into the moving car as I held the passenger door open.
"What the hell took you so long?" my mom blurted.
She didn't hit dad, Dad was a little busy driving and shooting at the same time, so I handed mom the gun Dad gave to me so mom could take her frustrations out on the guards. She shot two prisoners. They must have owed her money or something, don't mess with mom! As we peeled away my parents fell into their usual bickering as my mom struggled into her villain outfit. I don't know why she bothered wearing a mask, she was such a hulking giant of a woman a bear outfit would not be much of a disguise for someone built like her. However, I had to go back to school tomorrow without the FBI busting in on Mrs. Crabapple's class so the effort had to be made.
Within an hour we were home, secret identities intact, and I had to mentally switch gears from prison breaking to quadratic equations. Honestly, I'd rather be trying to overthrow a small South American government singlehandedly than do math homework.
| |
[WP] When I was 16 my father pulled me out of school and shoved me in the car. His eyes didn't leave the road as he threw a gun in my lap and said, "We're going to get your mother." | On my 16th birthday, dad surprised me by pulling me out of gym class halfway through the day. He didn't explain why he was there--not in the hallway, not in the parking lot. He waited until we were on the highway, pushing 90 MPH. And our luck.
"Dad?" I tried, finally. Halfway to SJC. Without taking his eyes off the road, he casually reached into his jacket and pulled out a handgun, which he threw in my lap before hopping in and out of the HOV lane.
"We're going to get your mother," he said. "Before she gets us."
"About time," I replied.
I didn't bother to check if it was loaded.
Dad never forgot that sort of thing. | "But Dad, she's still in prison!" I said.
"I know," said Dad, "We're busting her out!"
You might think this is the start of an epic tale where a completely ordinary child is dragged off onto a life on the run from the law, living in cheap hotels and eeking out a meager living on the streets, but when you're the son of two super villains, this was a Tuesday for me. Honestly, I'm surprised it took my Dad this long to get around to this, I think he's kind of slipping a little. He waited until mom was sent outside for the first time to work on a chain gang so dad could whip up a quick smash and grab plan to get her out of there.
I checked the gun and looked into the backseat to seat to see at least dad remembered to bring our costumes. The "car" was only a car in the visual sense. It had four wheels and they were round. It was really a souped up armored vehicle you could use to rob a bank without having to stop and get out. Dad quickly smashed through the prison bus and ran down two guards and nearly took out the whole chain gang. My mom, Molly McMaul, busted the chains with her bare hands and knocked out two guards with her fists before jumping into the moving car as I held the passenger door open.
"What the hell took you so long?" my mom blurted.
She didn't hit dad, Dad was a little busy driving and shooting at the same time, so I handed mom the gun Dad gave to me so mom could take her frustrations out on the guards. She shot two prisoners. They must have owed her money or something, don't mess with mom! As we peeled away my parents fell into their usual bickering as my mom struggled into her villain outfit. I don't know why she bothered wearing a mask, she was such a hulking giant of a woman a bear outfit would not be much of a disguise for someone built like her. However, I had to go back to school tomorrow without the FBI busting in on Mrs. Crabapple's class so the effort had to be made.
Within an hour we were home, secret identities intact, and I had to mentally switch gears from prison breaking to quadratic equations. Honestly, I'd rather be trying to overthrow a small South American government singlehandedly than do math homework.
| |
[WP] When I was 16 my father pulled me out of school and shoved me in the car. His eyes didn't leave the road as he threw a gun in my lap and said, "We're going to get your mother." | You could hear a pin drop. I wished one would, if only to break the silence.
"Well... that's all well and good..." my teacher, Mrs. Fanshawe, began to say, "but Jeffrey has a test at exactly two pee..."
"Fuck the test. I said I need him." My father was not one to mince words.
He looked directly at me.
"Let's go."
There was no room for argument.
I could feel the hot stares from the other kids in the class burning my back as I walked out. I had to take the middle row. As I passed, some kids had wide grins, some had looks of pure sinister delight (nobody had said the F word in class since Jimmy Carpin had been sent home that one day), but most were still trying to scrape their jaws off the floor. I couldn't let their seething eyes slow me down, though, Dad was in full no-nonsense mode. Something bad had happened.
As soon as the classroom door and Mrs. Fanshawe's disapproving scowl were behind us, my father cranked up the pace and we raced down the hall. He banged the front doors open with more force than I had even seen them take, and we literally flew down the front steps.
He hurried me toward the family car parked crooked on the street (and partially on the sidewalk). I noticed fresh scratches on the outside bottom of the passenger-side door as my father shoved me in. They looked like some kind of animals claw marks, but I didn't get a good look and my mind was racing.
I pulled my seat belt over my shoulder as quick as I could. By the time I heard the metallic snap of the buckle, the engine had already turned over and we were moving.
As I watched the school's changeable letter sign disappear into the rear view mirror, ("Go Spartiates!"), I felt a heavy lump of curved metal drop into my lap with an audible thump.
It was a gun. My gun. Smith and Wesson Model M&P Bodyguard 380. Compact, black, menacing. The same one Dad had made me practice with every day since I was fifteen.
"We're going to get your mother," my father said. "Right now."
I knew exactly what he meant, I just never thought this day would actually come. It suddenly seemed so obvious to me what was happening, and I felt stupid for not getting it already.
"I'm ready." I said, trying to mean it as much as I could.
"No, you're not, but that doesn't matter now." My father's voice sounded unsteady. Maybe for the first time ever.
We drove a long time in silence. I gently stroked the red safety button on the pistol, and measured out my breathes. Dad was being very, very quiet. Soon, I knew I would be slamming the breach of my firearm into place and following him into a fight.
"There's not going to be a fight." My father said, as if reading my mind.
We hit a bump in the road before he could continue, and for a moment Dad's right hand was lifted off his lap and I saw what he was holding. H&R Model 929, extended barrel. The gun that he said he never used. The gun that was supposed to be just for show. The ammo loaded in it looked weird, each of the nine rounds had an orange cap on the end that I had never seen before, and they were... centerfire? Wasn't that model meant to shoot rimfire only?
"I know where she is. I'm going to go in, get her, and bring her to the car. No fighting. You will stay by the car, to protect it and yourself." My father explained.
I nodded in agreement. I knew he could see me even though his eyes didn't leave the road.
"And if you see me running toward you, you will shoot whatever is chasing me."
I let a long pause pass.
"Even if its Mom?" I asked quietly.
More silence.
"Yes."
I felt so many confusing emotions at once. A thousand questions raced through my mind, but none more pressing than if Mom was ok. And who she may have hurt so far.
"Your mother is... she's ok. Everything's going to be ok, you'll see." I didn't like the way he said it. It sounded like he had already accepted failure.
I didn't know what to say. I wanted so badly to say something that would make him feel better. I wanted to say the perfect words that the perfect son would say to his Dad in a situation like this. But I couldn't find them.
So the time passed as we drove, and nothing was said until we arrived at our destination.
I didn't recognize anything about the place as we pulled into the large gravel parking lot. It looked like some old dilapidated factory, abandoned for years. Two massive silos for storing... whatever... loomed in the background, each with exterior spiral staircases curling up the dirty rusted sides. A flat rectangular building spanned across the entire width of the site, with every window hosting a shattered pane of grimy glass. It was pure darkness inside the main building, evening had already settled in, and the shadows had grown long.
Dad let the car idle for a moment. The two headlight beams stretched across the front of the building, reflecting against unknown backdrops within and causing the interior to appear even darker.
"Wait here. Do as I said." Dad opened the door quickly and then he was off, following those beams of light into the shadows.
He made it to the gaping entrance of the flat building, and pushed the hanging door aside. It almost fell off its hinges.
For just a moment he looked back at me. His face had the look of ages on it. It carried no expression. Only age.
Dad disappeared into the darkness. Time slowed down.
I waited.
I got out of the car and held my pistol tight against my leg. I looked around, I scratched the dirt with the tips of my shoes, and I waited.
I was looking in the complete opposite direction when my father came stumbling back. It was the spurt and squirting that I heard first. I thought the windshield wiper spray of the car had accidentally been turned on. But it was blood. I knew that even before I turned around, I could see the trail of red leading back to the building. But I didn't think it was Dad, that it could be his blood.
I even raised my pistol for a moment. Then I saw my father, shambling over to me quickly, his right hand tucked under his left armpit and his other hand clasping the side of his neck.
He fell into my arms, which really meant he fell onto the front of the car. As he slipped down (far too heavy for me to hold up), and his hand slipped off his wet neck, he left a spatter of red paint over the top of the hood. He came to sit leaning against the front right hubcap, still clasping his neck.
I tried to help but I didn't, or couldn't.
As I fumbled, trying to rip off a piece of my shirt and failing, he grinned.
"She..." my father began to say, as I frantically tried to add pressure to the hand clasping his neck.
Suddenly he pushed me away, with such amazing instant strength that I fell backward on my behind.
For a half-second I sat there, bewildered, looking at my father as the life drained from his body. He grinned wider and let go of his neck. The exposed wound poured out blood. The shredded remains of his skin looked like strips of paper mache.
"She..." he said, allowing his grin to sprawl across his face in a slow, meaningful creep, "is a hungry little thing."
His eyes closed, his head slumped to the side, his body weight seemed to drop, and he was gone.
I rushed over to him, even though I knew it was too late. I grabbed his shoulders and when I did, his hidden right hand fell out of his armpit. Except there was no hand, just a stump. A bloody, gnawed-upon stump.
I looked back at the building. Two red dots peered at me from deep dark corners. Two red spots of hatred and chaos. I thought maybe, maybe they are mechanical lights. But then they shifted, together, in unison. Those were eyes. And they were looking right at me.
"MOM!" I shouted fiercely. The two red icicle tips just kept staring back.
"MOOOOOM!!!!"
They blinked. It was her, alright. It was time.
Safety off. | "But Dad, she's still in prison!" I said.
"I know," said Dad, "We're busting her out!"
You might think this is the start of an epic tale where a completely ordinary child is dragged off onto a life on the run from the law, living in cheap hotels and eeking out a meager living on the streets, but when you're the son of two super villains, this was a Tuesday for me. Honestly, I'm surprised it took my Dad this long to get around to this, I think he's kind of slipping a little. He waited until mom was sent outside for the first time to work on a chain gang so dad could whip up a quick smash and grab plan to get her out of there.
I checked the gun and looked into the backseat to seat to see at least dad remembered to bring our costumes. The "car" was only a car in the visual sense. It had four wheels and they were round. It was really a souped up armored vehicle you could use to rob a bank without having to stop and get out. Dad quickly smashed through the prison bus and ran down two guards and nearly took out the whole chain gang. My mom, Molly McMaul, busted the chains with her bare hands and knocked out two guards with her fists before jumping into the moving car as I held the passenger door open.
"What the hell took you so long?" my mom blurted.
She didn't hit dad, Dad was a little busy driving and shooting at the same time, so I handed mom the gun Dad gave to me so mom could take her frustrations out on the guards. She shot two prisoners. They must have owed her money or something, don't mess with mom! As we peeled away my parents fell into their usual bickering as my mom struggled into her villain outfit. I don't know why she bothered wearing a mask, she was such a hulking giant of a woman a bear outfit would not be much of a disguise for someone built like her. However, I had to go back to school tomorrow without the FBI busting in on Mrs. Crabapple's class so the effort had to be made.
Within an hour we were home, secret identities intact, and I had to mentally switch gears from prison breaking to quadratic equations. Honestly, I'd rather be trying to overthrow a small South American government singlehandedly than do math homework.
| |
[WP] When I was 16 my father pulled me out of school and shoved me in the car. His eyes didn't leave the road as he threw a gun in my lap and said, "We're going to get your mother." | He had pulled me out of school after lunch and made a scene in the hallway yelling at the principal, "This is my son and I'll take him out of school if I want to!"
He smelled like the bar again. He always smelled like the bar these days and he was always yelling at everyone, like the whole world was against him. I didn't really understand his anger, but it started after mom left. She blamed him for their marriage and blamed him for her not loving him anymore. He got even angrier when she had found someone new and angrier again when they married in a few months.
I followed him to the car after we left the school and got in with him. Once we got in the car he threw a gun on my lap and said, "We're going to get your mother."
Surprised and a bit confused I replied, "But dad she's-"
"I don't want to hear it. I said we we're going to get her and I don't want any goddamn complaints." he said not even looking in my direction.
I sat there in silence after that. The angrier he got the more I learned to be quiet. I mostly stayed quiet around him out of fear. Fear that he would also leave me and fear of what he would do if I didn't stay silent.
He started driving away from the school and I had wanted to say something to him, but he seemed like he would just shout at me if I said something. He stared at the road hardly even noticing I was there and breathing heavily like he was about to fight someone and I didn't want it to be me.
I ended up turning to look out the window and look at the sky. I ignored where he was driving because it wasn't the first time he had pulled me out of school with some crazy idea. It was an overcast day, dark and low clouds over head, and humid enough for your clothes to stick to you.
After about 15 minutes the car came to a stopped and I knew where we were. I looked over and saw the headstone "Jane Winsley 1975-2016". My father grabbed the gun and got out of the car and head over to the headstone.
"Hey! What are you doing?!" I yelled as I got out of the car and headed toward him and try to stop him.
He shoved me out of the way and knelt down in front of the headstone and put the gun under his chin. "We're going to get back at her! Get back at her for leaving us!", He yelled.
I stared at him kneeling there and didn't know what to do or what to say to stop him. I was frozen in panic and looked him in the eyes and saw the madness of everything that had happened to him in the past year. To us.
I took a step towards him to get the gun and then I heard the "Click." He forgot to load it.
He dropped the gun and I watch him as the tears started down his face. "Why did she have to leave us?" He sobbed.
I couldn't answer him because there was no answer. I just listen to the sounds of him sobbing and pounding the ground in anger.
I looked up towards the sky at those heavy dark clouds and then it started to rain.
| I thought it was my dad at the time but now I realize how silly I had been. Of course I hadn't seen my father since I was born. Foresight makes this obvious, yet to a 12 year old me I was over joyed when my father had come to rejoin our family.
After 10 minutes of silence and pure childlike wonder, a gun was dropped into my lap...
"We're going to get your mother John Conner." | |
[WP] When I was 16 my father pulled me out of school and shoved me in the car. His eyes didn't leave the road as he threw a gun in my lap and said, "We're going to get your mother." | It was a semi-normal day. Math class first period, History second, Gym third, then Mechanics last. It felt good knowing that summer had finally come and that school was almost over. The thought had eased my mind and I was beginning to relax, but I was sorely mistaken. The intercom boomed over my history teacher in the middle of his lecture about global economics.
"Michael Soner to the main office please, Michael Soner."
Shocked, I awoke from my power-nap (History Sucks). Grabbing my books I meandered to my locker and packed my bag. On my walk to the office, I saw my father waiting outside. He seemed anxious, but somewhat frustrated. I hurried over to him and asked him what was wrong, I had never seen him like this before. He was always the no emotion, must always be strong, don't focus on the past type of person.
"Dad, what's up?"
Without warning, he grabbed me by the top of my backpack and started pulling me to the car.
"Dad?"
He didn't respond and shoved me into the passenger seat of his Ford Mustang.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Michael...," He said for the first time since we left the school and began to head out of town.
"We're going to get your mother." He added while simultaneously tossing a gun into my lap.
The 9mm felt heavy and cold on my thighs. A feeling of anxiety and fear washed over me as well. I've never held a gun before, let alone even see one in real life.
"What the hell is happening," I asked my Dad who has been swerving between the cars on the highway.
"Your mother has been taken by some bad people. People who have no morals or remorse for any of their actions." He said with a hint of anger in his voice.
"Who would want Mom? She is just a hairstylist at Quick Cuts. I don't even think she talks to anybody except you and her family."
"They want Mom because of me," He said while speeding up to 120 Kmph.
"You? You are just a construction worker though. Did you misplace a steel beam or something?"
"Mike..., before you were born, I had a bit of a drug issue. I would be buying close to $200 of weed a week. At the beginning, I would pay for it from my job's pay, but eventually it just wouldn't cut it. So I made a deal. I would do favours for the dealers. Threatening, interrogating, and sometimes attacking those who stole from my dealer."
"How do you know that they have Mom," I inquired.
"Well, yesterday I got a phone call from them saying that they need another favour. I refused. They took Mom earlier today while we were out. Now we have to get her back."
"Well then. Where are we going to go?" A mixed feeling of curiosity and fear filled me.
"The airport." He replied with a determined look on his face. He seemed much different from earlier when he picked me up. | I thought it was my dad at the time but now I realize how silly I had been. Of course I hadn't seen my father since I was born. Foresight makes this obvious, yet to a 12 year old me I was over joyed when my father had come to rejoin our family.
After 10 minutes of silence and pure childlike wonder, a gun was dropped into my lap...
"We're going to get your mother John Conner." | |
[WP] When I was 16 my father pulled me out of school and shoved me in the car. His eyes didn't leave the road as he threw a gun in my lap and said, "We're going to get your mother." | Pat Two.
As I nodded to my father, my fingers wrapped around the handle of the passenger door of our family's SUV. Before giving the handle one solid jerk, I watched my father slide himself from the driver's seat and out into the middle of the intersection. With the same intensity as before, his eyes darted back and forth, as if surveying his surroundings. Finally, he motioned for me to exit the car. My heart still pounding in my chest, I followed his lead, one hand still firmly clasped around the gun.
When I was very young, I used to stare at my father's every move; whether he was adjusting his tie before heading to work or reading the paper, I always sat there, staring. Not like today. Today, I watched his every move. I loved and trusted my father with all my heart, but he seemed so different from the man I thought I had all figured out.
Slowly, one foot after the other, I exited the passenger seat and made my way around to the front of the car to see him sprint into action. He ran over to the car that had hit us; his feet splashing in the puddles that began to form from the rain. It wasn't till that moment did I hear her screams.
"Nathan!," my father screamed, "Get over here!"
Shaking away the accident, I dropped the gun to my side and sprinted over to my father who began pulling a young woman from the wreckage. Wrapping his arms around her, his body collapsed to the street as she collapsed into him.
"Remove your belt and help me put pressure on her leg," ordered my father.
Without hesitation, I unbuckled my worn leather belt and dropped to my knees to assist him. Giving him a quick nod, I stretched out my hands, waiting for his next order.
"Now wrap it around her leg there and pull as tight as you can," he ordered. I nodded again as I wrapped my belt around her leg and pulled. As the belt snapped tight she gave out a scream.
"Very good son," my father said calmly, "very good."
Time seemed to stand still as my father and I knelt around this young woman. Her screams had quieted to a muffled cry. I looked over at my father who sat there, stroking her hand in comfort. After what felt like a lifetime, in one fell swoop, he grabbed my hand and placed it on top of hers before standing up.
Confused and scared all at the same time, I asked, "where are you going?"
"I need to make a call," my father replied.
As I held her hand, the young woman shivered. I couldn't decide whether she was shivering from the cold or from shock, but I had convinced myself that if I held her hand, all would be OK.
Seconds later, my father came back and knelt beside us. For a few seconds he didn't say anything. He sat there, looking down at the young woman as her body trembled in the rain. Finally, he looked up at me.
"We have to go," he said softly. "We have to leave her."
"What?" I asked. "How could we leave her? Look at her!"
"I know Nathan," he said calmly. "But we have to go now. Help is on its way."
I couldn't believe him. How could my loving father leave someone in need? How could he so coldly make such a harsh decision?
"Nathan," my father said. "Look at me. We need to go get your mother. I've called for help and its on its way. Do you understand me?"
For the first time that day, I stared back at my father, questioning his judgement. My hand was still clasped tightly around the young woman's hand. I nodded to my father. It was time go.
"Do you still have that gun I gave you?" asked my father.
I gave another quick nod as the sound of sirens could be heard off in the distance.
| I thought it was my dad at the time but now I realize how silly I had been. Of course I hadn't seen my father since I was born. Foresight makes this obvious, yet to a 12 year old me I was over joyed when my father had come to rejoin our family.
After 10 minutes of silence and pure childlike wonder, a gun was dropped into my lap...
"We're going to get your mother John Conner." | |
[WP] When I was 16 my father pulled me out of school and shoved me in the car. His eyes didn't leave the road as he threw a gun in my lap and said, "We're going to get your mother." | ... I rolled my eyes. This was the third time this semester. Any more of this and the school was going to start asking questions. The old pickup spun around and jolted forward with powerful ferocity, bolting out of the parking lot and swerving into the main road. Dad started psyching himself up as we picked up speed. He fell into a familiar pattern, breathing deep and twiddling his fingers on the wheel, some kind of nervous tick for him. After all of this time, I didn't know if he was actually still nervous or if it was more of a superstitious ritual, but he had done it every time without fail so far. I took a closer look at the gun he had thrown at me me and held it up to my eye level. It was sleek black Glock 22. It was heftier than I had anticipated; I wasn't used to shooting a .40 cal.
"Upping the ante this time, I see. What are you packing?" He gave me a quick, breathy chuckle and a manic grin. I slumped back in the passenger seat and drew out a long sigh. I knew that look.
"Today's the day, Wayne," he exclaimed, "Today, is, the, day!" His grin had evolved into a full toothy smile. It was always so hard to see him like this, but there was no stopping him from my end.
"Uh-huh. Where are we headed?"
"Carmichael Art Museum downtown. They're holding some sort of snooty bigwig fundraiser party."
"Sounds like something she'd like."
"Today's the day!" His smile held for a second longer before his face dropped back into an expression of unshakeably determined concentration. I opted to abstain from further conversation for the remainder of the trip.
As we pulled around the block to the art museum, we were greeted with rows and rows of police cruisers parked around the entrance. At the very least, that meant that we were on the right track. It was a giant building, adorned with intricate emulations of classical architecture covering the entire front face. Dozens of uniforms were standing around facing the solid brass doors with their pistols drawn. One of the fat ones had a megaphone and was blathering something about meeting demands and negotiating for hostages. Dad and I gave each other a knowing glance, the fat cop was wasting his time. We both knew how she worked, she had already made her statement and was probably already on her way out with more than a few pieces of fancy jewelry and wallets.
Dad pulled out a napkin with a crude map scrawled on it with blue pen. He pulled the car around to an alley several blocks down to the East of the museum. The cops had the building surrounded so the only logical exits were up or down, but we were pretty sure that the helicopter wasn't part of the plan this time. Without a word to each other we jumped out of the car and ran straight for the nearest manhole. With a little shove, the cover slipped right off and we descended into the dank depths of the city's labyrinthine sewer system. On the way down I caught a glimpse of his new arsenal. From what I could tell it consisted of several homemade smoke grenades, a crossbow, and some sort of modified rifle. If I didn't know any better I would have thought he was hunting Velociraptors.
We sprinted down a length of the murky corridor, following the napkin map to a T. I followed my father blindly, having faith in his meticulous preparations and obsessive methodology. He was good at this. After a few minutes of running he stopped us at an intersection, pressing up against the wall and slowing his breath. We could hear the faint rhythm of running footsteps getting louder from one of the tunnels. It was her. Dad brandished his rifle and rushed out into the middle of the cross, facing her.
"CHARLOTTE!" He yelled down to her. The rifle started glowing, crackling with electricity. "You're coming home!"
I saw her slow down to a stop, breathing heavily, unfazed by the spectacle of a middle-aged college professor with an electro-rifle holding her at gunpoint in a sewer. She was dressed in her professional gear: black leather jacket and gloves with red jeans, her shoulder length hair in a neat little auburn ponytail.
"Oh Howard," she sighed, "I was hoping to outrun you this time." She gave him a soft smile, an expression of loving sympathy. It conveyed a subtle joy, being able to see him, but also some concern. I knew how she felt, to a certain extent. I stepped out from around the corner and assumed a shooting stance, holding the Glock up threateningly toward her.
"Hi, Mom," I chimed in.
"Wayne!" Her face lit up. I smiled back, it was always good to catch up with her a little bit, even in situations like this.
"Charlotte," Dad repeated, his voice was a low monotone, "You are coming home." Mom's face reassumed her previous expression, only this time more somber. He pulled the trigger, summoning a brilliant flash of energy out of the muzzle of the rifle. In a single deft movement Mom dived under the trajectory of the bolt and rolled up to where Dad was standing. She knocked him out with one well placed hit right on his left temple. He collapsed, face first on the cobblestone, as if he'd fallen asleep standing up.
"I really wish I could, Howard," she said to him softly. I lowered my gun as she turned to me, ready to pounce. "You weren't going to shoot me, were you?" I raised my hands up over my shoulders in surrender.
"Chamber was empty the whole time."
"Good boy, I love you, and don't miss too much school."
"Love you too, I won't."
She scampered off into the darkness, probably toward the next political protest and high pressure heist hybrid caper she had her eyes on next. Dad stirred from his brief slumber, groaning from the splitting headache he had been gifted.
"Don't worry Dad, we'll get her next time."
| I thought it was my dad at the time but now I realize how silly I had been. Of course I hadn't seen my father since I was born. Foresight makes this obvious, yet to a 12 year old me I was over joyed when my father had come to rejoin our family.
After 10 minutes of silence and pure childlike wonder, a gun was dropped into my lap...
"We're going to get your mother John Conner." | |
[WP] When I was 16 my father pulled me out of school and shoved me in the car. His eyes didn't leave the road as he threw a gun in my lap and said, "We're going to get your mother." | On my 16th birthday, dad surprised me by pulling me out of gym class halfway through the day. He didn't explain why he was there--not in the hallway, not in the parking lot. He waited until we were on the highway, pushing 90 MPH. And our luck.
"Dad?" I tried, finally. Halfway to SJC. Without taking his eyes off the road, he casually reached into his jacket and pulled out a handgun, which he threw in my lap before hopping in and out of the HOV lane.
"We're going to get your mother," he said. "Before she gets us."
"About time," I replied.
I didn't bother to check if it was loaded.
Dad never forgot that sort of thing. | I thought it was my dad at the time but now I realize how silly I had been. Of course I hadn't seen my father since I was born. Foresight makes this obvious, yet to a 12 year old me I was over joyed when my father had come to rejoin our family.
After 10 minutes of silence and pure childlike wonder, a gun was dropped into my lap...
"We're going to get your mother John Conner." | |
[WP] When I was 16 my father pulled me out of school and shoved me in the car. His eyes didn't leave the road as he threw a gun in my lap and said, "We're going to get your mother." | On my 16th birthday, dad surprised me by pulling me out of gym class halfway through the day. He didn't explain why he was there--not in the hallway, not in the parking lot. He waited until we were on the highway, pushing 90 MPH. And our luck.
"Dad?" I tried, finally. Halfway to SJC. Without taking his eyes off the road, he casually reached into his jacket and pulled out a handgun, which he threw in my lap before hopping in and out of the HOV lane.
"We're going to get your mother," he said. "Before she gets us."
"About time," I replied.
I didn't bother to check if it was loaded.
Dad never forgot that sort of thing. | We pulled up to the house about 7 or 8
And I yelled to my dad, "Yo pops, shoot her later!"
Come inside, grab up a drink if you dare.
Let's sit on our ass and watch Fresh Prince of Bel-Air | |
[WP] When I was 16 my father pulled me out of school and shoved me in the car. His eyes didn't leave the road as he threw a gun in my lap and said, "We're going to get your mother." | You could hear a pin drop. I wished one would, if only to break the silence.
"Well... that's all well and good..." my teacher, Mrs. Fanshawe, began to say, "but Jeffrey has a test at exactly two pee..."
"Fuck the test. I said I need him." My father was not one to mince words.
He looked directly at me.
"Let's go."
There was no room for argument.
I could feel the hot stares from the other kids in the class burning my back as I walked out. I had to take the middle row. As I passed, some kids had wide grins, some had looks of pure sinister delight (nobody had said the F word in class since Jimmy Carpin had been sent home that one day), but most were still trying to scrape their jaws off the floor. I couldn't let their seething eyes slow me down, though, Dad was in full no-nonsense mode. Something bad had happened.
As soon as the classroom door and Mrs. Fanshawe's disapproving scowl were behind us, my father cranked up the pace and we raced down the hall. He banged the front doors open with more force than I had even seen them take, and we literally flew down the front steps.
He hurried me toward the family car parked crooked on the street (and partially on the sidewalk). I noticed fresh scratches on the outside bottom of the passenger-side door as my father shoved me in. They looked like some kind of animals claw marks, but I didn't get a good look and my mind was racing.
I pulled my seat belt over my shoulder as quick as I could. By the time I heard the metallic snap of the buckle, the engine had already turned over and we were moving.
As I watched the school's changeable letter sign disappear into the rear view mirror, ("Go Spartiates!"), I felt a heavy lump of curved metal drop into my lap with an audible thump.
It was a gun. My gun. Smith and Wesson Model M&P Bodyguard 380. Compact, black, menacing. The same one Dad had made me practice with every day since I was fifteen.
"We're going to get your mother," my father said. "Right now."
I knew exactly what he meant, I just never thought this day would actually come. It suddenly seemed so obvious to me what was happening, and I felt stupid for not getting it already.
"I'm ready." I said, trying to mean it as much as I could.
"No, you're not, but that doesn't matter now." My father's voice sounded unsteady. Maybe for the first time ever.
We drove a long time in silence. I gently stroked the red safety button on the pistol, and measured out my breathes. Dad was being very, very quiet. Soon, I knew I would be slamming the breach of my firearm into place and following him into a fight.
"There's not going to be a fight." My father said, as if reading my mind.
We hit a bump in the road before he could continue, and for a moment Dad's right hand was lifted off his lap and I saw what he was holding. H&R Model 929, extended barrel. The gun that he said he never used. The gun that was supposed to be just for show. The ammo loaded in it looked weird, each of the nine rounds had an orange cap on the end that I had never seen before, and they were... centerfire? Wasn't that model meant to shoot rimfire only?
"I know where she is. I'm going to go in, get her, and bring her to the car. No fighting. You will stay by the car, to protect it and yourself." My father explained.
I nodded in agreement. I knew he could see me even though his eyes didn't leave the road.
"And if you see me running toward you, you will shoot whatever is chasing me."
I let a long pause pass.
"Even if its Mom?" I asked quietly.
More silence.
"Yes."
I felt so many confusing emotions at once. A thousand questions raced through my mind, but none more pressing than if Mom was ok. And who she may have hurt so far.
"Your mother is... she's ok. Everything's going to be ok, you'll see." I didn't like the way he said it. It sounded like he had already accepted failure.
I didn't know what to say. I wanted so badly to say something that would make him feel better. I wanted to say the perfect words that the perfect son would say to his Dad in a situation like this. But I couldn't find them.
So the time passed as we drove, and nothing was said until we arrived at our destination.
I didn't recognize anything about the place as we pulled into the large gravel parking lot. It looked like some old dilapidated factory, abandoned for years. Two massive silos for storing... whatever... loomed in the background, each with exterior spiral staircases curling up the dirty rusted sides. A flat rectangular building spanned across the entire width of the site, with every window hosting a shattered pane of grimy glass. It was pure darkness inside the main building, evening had already settled in, and the shadows had grown long.
Dad let the car idle for a moment. The two headlight beams stretched across the front of the building, reflecting against unknown backdrops within and causing the interior to appear even darker.
"Wait here. Do as I said." Dad opened the door quickly and then he was off, following those beams of light into the shadows.
He made it to the gaping entrance of the flat building, and pushed the hanging door aside. It almost fell off its hinges.
For just a moment he looked back at me. His face had the look of ages on it. It carried no expression. Only age.
Dad disappeared into the darkness. Time slowed down.
I waited.
I got out of the car and held my pistol tight against my leg. I looked around, I scratched the dirt with the tips of my shoes, and I waited.
I was looking in the complete opposite direction when my father came stumbling back. It was the spurt and squirting that I heard first. I thought the windshield wiper spray of the car had accidentally been turned on. But it was blood. I knew that even before I turned around, I could see the trail of red leading back to the building. But I didn't think it was Dad, that it could be his blood.
I even raised my pistol for a moment. Then I saw my father, shambling over to me quickly, his right hand tucked under his left armpit and his other hand clasping the side of his neck.
He fell into my arms, which really meant he fell onto the front of the car. As he slipped down (far too heavy for me to hold up), and his hand slipped off his wet neck, he left a spatter of red paint over the top of the hood. He came to sit leaning against the front right hubcap, still clasping his neck.
I tried to help but I didn't, or couldn't.
As I fumbled, trying to rip off a piece of my shirt and failing, he grinned.
"She..." my father began to say, as I frantically tried to add pressure to the hand clasping his neck.
Suddenly he pushed me away, with such amazing instant strength that I fell backward on my behind.
For a half-second I sat there, bewildered, looking at my father as the life drained from his body. He grinned wider and let go of his neck. The exposed wound poured out blood. The shredded remains of his skin looked like strips of paper mache.
"She..." he said, allowing his grin to sprawl across his face in a slow, meaningful creep, "is a hungry little thing."
His eyes closed, his head slumped to the side, his body weight seemed to drop, and he was gone.
I rushed over to him, even though I knew it was too late. I grabbed his shoulders and when I did, his hidden right hand fell out of his armpit. Except there was no hand, just a stump. A bloody, gnawed-upon stump.
I looked back at the building. Two red dots peered at me from deep dark corners. Two red spots of hatred and chaos. I thought maybe, maybe they are mechanical lights. But then they shifted, together, in unison. Those were eyes. And they were looking right at me.
"MOM!" I shouted fiercely. The two red icicle tips just kept staring back.
"MOOOOOM!!!!"
They blinked. It was her, alright. It was time.
Safety off. | We pulled up to the house about 7 or 8
And I yelled to my dad, "Yo pops, shoot her later!"
Come inside, grab up a drink if you dare.
Let's sit on our ass and watch Fresh Prince of Bel-Air | |
[WP] When I was 16 my father pulled me out of school and shoved me in the car. His eyes didn't leave the road as he threw a gun in my lap and said, "We're going to get your mother." | When I was 16, my father pulled me out of school and shoved me in the car. His eyes didn’t leave the road as he threw a gun in my lap and said, “We’re going to get your mother.”
It wasn’t the sort of thing that I’d talk about at parties or even disclose to friends, but home was a strange place. My mother had always been teetering perilously on the brink of madness. She would experience vivid hallucinations, and they would drill a thought into her head that she simply couldn’t shake. For the longest time, my dad was her knight in shining armor. He would dive into her world, head first, and pull her kicking and screaming from the depths of her despair back to reality. He was what grounded her in reality.
I loved my mother, and even in spite of the fits of madness, the love she had for me never waned. That’s why as her episodes gradually worsened, whereas my father lost his ability to keep her grounded in reality, the fact surfaced that I was able to ease her hallucinations. My father tried his best to hide it from me when I was young, and even though his own effectiveness waned, he never wanted me to be involved with it all even if I were a solution. My parents were loving, kind people, but they wanted to give me a better life than this. She never harmed anyone, but she would curl up in a ball on the floor, clutching at herself and muttering incoherently. These episodes were abrupt and sudden. She would just abandon whatever task she had at hand, and begin a slow, slithering descent to the floor. We all lived with the constant feeling knocking in the back of our minds that any moment, terror could grip my mother and steal her away from us. It was harmless. It was infrequent. It frightened me. My own mother frightened me.
My dad would always do his best to calm her down himself, but when that failed, he’d begrudgingly drag me into the situation. However, that day was different. He had given a handgun to me as soon as he was starting the car. Sweat was forming on his face and his face had been drained of its usual vitality. When this occurred, it terrified me. Today, Dad and I were on the same page. After a few minutes of driving and silence, I was finally able to speak. “What’s happening?”
“She-“ He took a deep breath. “This time, she got violent. She… she started swinging wildly.” He quickly wiped his eyes and sniffled. “Louise, I’m sorry that we can’t do any better for you. But we can’t lose her like this. She’s your mother.”
I had both hands on the gun, clasping it with white knuckles. I managed to stammer out a sentence. “What’s with this?”
“She needs you. But as much I want to help her, the last thing I want is to see you hurt. I don’t know how far gone she is, but if she tries anything funny, you have to defend yourself.”
“Dad, why don’t we just call for help? This is ridiculous.”
He nodded repeatedly, saying, “I know, I know. But it’s too late for that. I thought we could handle it, together as a family. I thought we could get past all this, but I should have swallowed my pride earlier. I should have called out for help. A therapist, a psychiatrist, a doctor. Anybody. I know that now. If we can just sweep this last one under the rug, I’ll do whatever it takes to put a stop to this. If we can’t do that, she’s a goner. They’ll lock her up and we’ll never see her again.”
At the time, that’s what he believed, and that’s what he told me. I would lose a mother, and he would lose the woman he loved. That’s why we kept it quiet: we didn’t know any better. We didn’t know that mental illness wasn’t a death sentence. There were two major stages in this. The first: “We can work through this together. It’s not so bad. We don’t need to see anybody about it.” The second: “We can’t tell anybody about this. They’ll take her away. They’ll ruin our family.” There wasn’t an intermediary stage. But look where that got us.
We finally pulled up to our home. From looking at the outside, nothing had changed, yet the ambiance had drastically shifted. It was ghost-like. The normal suburban background noise had died out. The usual chirping of wildlife was totally absent. They had cleared the area. I was slow to follow up behind my dad, but as I traced his steps up to the front door he was now unlocking, there was the unmistakable specks of blood following behind him. I could now see that on his left, he had wrapped bandages over the arm of his cut that had become soaked in blood and now drained upon the floor below. She had attacked him and he was still resolved to help her. As my dad opened the door, he quickly turned me to me and whispered, “Stay here. I’m going to check it out.” A brief moment later, he poked his head back out and motioned for me to come in.
Inside, I could see that broken glass lay scattered throughout the living room and the furniture had been torn open. My dad closed the door behind us. Wooden chairs had been cast aside and the table pushed back. On the floor with her back against the wall, holding her knees and staring straight ahead with dried tears on her face, sat my mother. I had seen her sitting like that before, but this new scene of disaster split my heart in two. Fear gripped me when I learned of these episodes, but as soon as I laid eyes on the poor wretch that Mom had become, I always found wells of inner strength to draw from. My grip went loose and I dropped that gun from my side. The last thing on my mind was my own well-being. My voice broke as I called out to her, “Mom!” Glass crushed under my sneakers as I ran and dropped to my knees by her side, throwing my arms around her. Up close, I could see stains of red on her face. She had been wiping her face with bloodied, scratched hands. My dad, while alarmed by my reckless abandon, quickly joined us on the floor when it became clear that the danger was gone. She was sullen and quiet, staring blankly out in space.
She had acquired a moment of clarity, and spoke openly to us, choking and stumbling on words. “I’m crazy. Every time this happens, I tell myself over and over again. I’m right here. I never left. I’m still with both of you. And yet, it feels like I’ve been taken away. I can breathe just fine, but I still feel like I’m suffocating. I tell myself that there was nothing in the corner of my eye, but I still panic all the same.”
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” my dad consoled. “Look, look. Louise is here now. Your daughter’s here. You’re alright. Everything’s going to be okay.”
Her eyes watered again, still staring off into space. “Why? I can hear your voices clearly, like you’re right next to me. You’re not the strange ones that I hear when I’m like this, but they still sound so far and distant. Louise, I’m trying so hard to be normal for you. I’m trying so hard to be alright, but I just can’t. No matter how much I insist to myself that I’m just seeing things, it just doesn’t seem to work.”
My heart was in shambles. She never had this clarity of thought before, and she spoke so openly of what she was going through. A schism had occurred between her perceptions of reality and what she knew was reality, and she fought to pull them together to no avail. Her mind was being ripped apart by these dissonant factors. I clasped one of her hands in both of mine and pressed it against my cheek. Her blood dried, but the scratches were numerous.
I muttered to her, “You’re going to be okay. We’re going to get help for you.”
Her voice began to crack, “But I don’t want to lose my family.”
My dad and I made contact in that moment, a silent agreement, as I told her, “You won’t. We promise we’ll be together, no matter what.”
That day never culminated in disaster as I thought it might when I first saw my dad after getting in the car. Looking back, I’m absolutely distraught that for even a moment, we thought that I might have to defend myself from my own mother. We all lived with this belief that society had abandoned people like her to her own devices. She was stuck between a rock and a hard place. She first believed that it could be managed, but by the time it got out of hand, she was afraid that it would mean separation from those she loved. We were all wrong. We didn’t dare seek help under the mistaken belief that there was no hope for a person that society might consider crazy. We kept her at home like a dirty secret. Circumstance was cruel to all of us.
We all made it through that day. Courage is a funny thing. Because of what we thought would happen, it took immense courage to reach out for help. It was like staring up at a towering monster and screaming back at it. However, in the moment you begin screaming, it dissipates, revealing that it only existed in our mind’s eye. We had to be very brave to do something that people would receive with compassion and concern. My mother never made a full recovery to a completely normal, functioning person, but it was close enough. Rather than dreading phone calls from my dad, I only have a residual, lurking fear that it might be something | We pulled up to the house about 7 or 8
And I yelled to my dad, "Yo pops, shoot her later!"
Come inside, grab up a drink if you dare.
Let's sit on our ass and watch Fresh Prince of Bel-Air | |
[WP] When I was 16 my father pulled me out of school and shoved me in the car. His eyes didn't leave the road as he threw a gun in my lap and said, "We're going to get your mother." | A gun. What the hell would I need a gun for?
"Uh, dad..?"
"Oh, shit, sorry." He takes back the gun, shoves it in under the seat, and hands me a birthday card. "Sign it. Teller you love 'er."
"We're taking your mother to Golden Corral. They have an early bird special, s'why I pulledja outta school early. Butcha gone hafta go over t'Jake's house later; momma and me guh'have a special night."
I stare at him as he thumbs his cassette tape of Whitesnake, lights up a smoke, and hums to himself.
I could've asked about the gun, but just then I remembered this really funny moment on that roadrunner cartoon, and I just laughed to myself. | We pulled up to the house about 7 or 8
And I yelled to my dad, "Yo pops, shoot her later!"
Come inside, grab up a drink if you dare.
Let's sit on our ass and watch Fresh Prince of Bel-Air | |
[WP] When I was 16 my father pulled me out of school and shoved me in the car. His eyes didn't leave the road as he threw a gun in my lap and said, "We're going to get your mother." | On my 16th birthday, dad surprised me by pulling me out of gym class halfway through the day. He didn't explain why he was there--not in the hallway, not in the parking lot. He waited until we were on the highway, pushing 90 MPH. And our luck.
"Dad?" I tried, finally. Halfway to SJC. Without taking his eyes off the road, he casually reached into his jacket and pulled out a handgun, which he threw in my lap before hopping in and out of the HOV lane.
"We're going to get your mother," he said. "Before she gets us."
"About time," I replied.
I didn't bother to check if it was loaded.
Dad never forgot that sort of thing. | "Does that mean you believe me," I asked, out loud, though I'd been wondering ever since I'd told him what I'd seen a week ago.
His eyes shifted to me, almost imperceptibly, but I could see the corner of his mouth quivering in profile. There was sweat on his brow. His skin was flushed and waxy. He didn't have to confirm. He did anyway.
"Susan is different. I don't even know where she is right now."
My younger sister. She'd been mom's favorite target from the very start. Two years younger than me, but at least ten years smarter when it came to school. Mom had always doted on her, as if grooming her for something.
"I had to.. I tried to end it when I realised. Chris, you have to understand--"
"Just drive. We'll work out the details when it's done."
I shoved the gun into the waist of my jeans, not entirely sure how to use it but determined to make every attempt count.
*******
The house was quiet. The front door was open and just beyond the mat where we'd always wiped the mud off of our shoes I could see something wet and chunky. Dad pushed the door open further, leading with the shotgun he'd got out of the boot. I followed closely, but far enough to let him maneuver. I was trusting his movements as we slid into the house, trying to be quiet. I would have been scared enough if Mom had been our only issue but with Susan on the loose, we were at the very least evenly matched.
He took a step into the hallway that led to the stairs and a board creaked almost urgently. I froze. Dad crouched and put the double barrels up. We held our breath and waited for the fallout.
When it didn't come we locked eyes and continued. He motioned with a free hand for me to get low. I did, now fully aware of just how unprepared for any of this I was. That's when we heard it. Almost like a rattlesnake. The ceiling shook slightly. One or both of them were upstairs. And then a thud. Dad pointed to his gun and then to his leg and I understood. Susan was wounded. She might not even be able to maintain a form.
We crept up the stairs, holding onto the banister and making sure to step lightly. My gun felt heavy in my waistband. I was anxious about having to actually handle it. I'd never shot a gun before. Dad had at least been hunting. He got to the top of the stairs and held his hand up. I stopped and waited. He pointed at Susan's bedroom. I knew what we were about to do. Inhaling deeply, I reached for my gun but he shook his head. I nodded, maybe prematurely, but I didn't want to kill Susan. I hadn't seen her change. She was my little sister. Mom was something else, something foreign. I'd already grieved for her. I think he knew that seeing Susan that way would have killed me. Still, I was frustrated at my father. Did he know how strong these things were?
He moved forward. I crouched on the third to to riser, and slowly my teenage brain took over. Didn't he believe I could help? Did he really believe me? I listened to the quiet for his steps as he disappeared into Susan's room. Silence. Creak. Creak.
And then a hiss, like in the movies, and a rattle. He'd found her. But it did only sound like one. Mom must not be here. I could hear the struggle, muffled only just barely by the walls. Hisses interspersed with *daddy no, please* and then two shots. Bang. Silence. Bang. Silence.
I waited, my heart pounding, my brain refusing to take stock. One of the things was dead, I told myself as I sat on the stairs. I could almost breathe. I sat there, for minutes, gathering myself until I realised my father had not come back yet. I had unconsciously grabbed my gun. My body had already figured it out.
I snuck up the last steps and up to Susan's door. It was half shut. A scaled tail lay limp just beyond. There was blood on her bed. Following dad's lead, I inched the door open with the short barrel of my gun. I could see long hair in a tangle on the carpet. It was matted with blood.
I didn't see the tail move. Susan was dead. The real Susan. It was bigger and darker than my mother. He'd lied to me. I could feel warm breath on my neck. My father's scales created a symphony in front of me and my mother's shook to match. They were celebrating their harvest.
As her fangs sunk into my neck, I felt my father's ripping into my jeans. I put the gun in my mouth and fired.
Click. | |
[WP] When I was 16 my father pulled me out of school and shoved me in the car. His eyes didn't leave the road as he threw a gun in my lap and said, "We're going to get your mother." | You could hear a pin drop. I wished one would, if only to break the silence.
"Well... that's all well and good..." my teacher, Mrs. Fanshawe, began to say, "but Jeffrey has a test at exactly two pee..."
"Fuck the test. I said I need him." My father was not one to mince words.
He looked directly at me.
"Let's go."
There was no room for argument.
I could feel the hot stares from the other kids in the class burning my back as I walked out. I had to take the middle row. As I passed, some kids had wide grins, some had looks of pure sinister delight (nobody had said the F word in class since Jimmy Carpin had been sent home that one day), but most were still trying to scrape their jaws off the floor. I couldn't let their seething eyes slow me down, though, Dad was in full no-nonsense mode. Something bad had happened.
As soon as the classroom door and Mrs. Fanshawe's disapproving scowl were behind us, my father cranked up the pace and we raced down the hall. He banged the front doors open with more force than I had even seen them take, and we literally flew down the front steps.
He hurried me toward the family car parked crooked on the street (and partially on the sidewalk). I noticed fresh scratches on the outside bottom of the passenger-side door as my father shoved me in. They looked like some kind of animals claw marks, but I didn't get a good look and my mind was racing.
I pulled my seat belt over my shoulder as quick as I could. By the time I heard the metallic snap of the buckle, the engine had already turned over and we were moving.
As I watched the school's changeable letter sign disappear into the rear view mirror, ("Go Spartiates!"), I felt a heavy lump of curved metal drop into my lap with an audible thump.
It was a gun. My gun. Smith and Wesson Model M&P Bodyguard 380. Compact, black, menacing. The same one Dad had made me practice with every day since I was fifteen.
"We're going to get your mother," my father said. "Right now."
I knew exactly what he meant, I just never thought this day would actually come. It suddenly seemed so obvious to me what was happening, and I felt stupid for not getting it already.
"I'm ready." I said, trying to mean it as much as I could.
"No, you're not, but that doesn't matter now." My father's voice sounded unsteady. Maybe for the first time ever.
We drove a long time in silence. I gently stroked the red safety button on the pistol, and measured out my breathes. Dad was being very, very quiet. Soon, I knew I would be slamming the breach of my firearm into place and following him into a fight.
"There's not going to be a fight." My father said, as if reading my mind.
We hit a bump in the road before he could continue, and for a moment Dad's right hand was lifted off his lap and I saw what he was holding. H&R Model 929, extended barrel. The gun that he said he never used. The gun that was supposed to be just for show. The ammo loaded in it looked weird, each of the nine rounds had an orange cap on the end that I had never seen before, and they were... centerfire? Wasn't that model meant to shoot rimfire only?
"I know where she is. I'm going to go in, get her, and bring her to the car. No fighting. You will stay by the car, to protect it and yourself." My father explained.
I nodded in agreement. I knew he could see me even though his eyes didn't leave the road.
"And if you see me running toward you, you will shoot whatever is chasing me."
I let a long pause pass.
"Even if its Mom?" I asked quietly.
More silence.
"Yes."
I felt so many confusing emotions at once. A thousand questions raced through my mind, but none more pressing than if Mom was ok. And who she may have hurt so far.
"Your mother is... she's ok. Everything's going to be ok, you'll see." I didn't like the way he said it. It sounded like he had already accepted failure.
I didn't know what to say. I wanted so badly to say something that would make him feel better. I wanted to say the perfect words that the perfect son would say to his Dad in a situation like this. But I couldn't find them.
So the time passed as we drove, and nothing was said until we arrived at our destination.
I didn't recognize anything about the place as we pulled into the large gravel parking lot. It looked like some old dilapidated factory, abandoned for years. Two massive silos for storing... whatever... loomed in the background, each with exterior spiral staircases curling up the dirty rusted sides. A flat rectangular building spanned across the entire width of the site, with every window hosting a shattered pane of grimy glass. It was pure darkness inside the main building, evening had already settled in, and the shadows had grown long.
Dad let the car idle for a moment. The two headlight beams stretched across the front of the building, reflecting against unknown backdrops within and causing the interior to appear even darker.
"Wait here. Do as I said." Dad opened the door quickly and then he was off, following those beams of light into the shadows.
He made it to the gaping entrance of the flat building, and pushed the hanging door aside. It almost fell off its hinges.
For just a moment he looked back at me. His face had the look of ages on it. It carried no expression. Only age.
Dad disappeared into the darkness. Time slowed down.
I waited.
I got out of the car and held my pistol tight against my leg. I looked around, I scratched the dirt with the tips of my shoes, and I waited.
I was looking in the complete opposite direction when my father came stumbling back. It was the spurt and squirting that I heard first. I thought the windshield wiper spray of the car had accidentally been turned on. But it was blood. I knew that even before I turned around, I could see the trail of red leading back to the building. But I didn't think it was Dad, that it could be his blood.
I even raised my pistol for a moment. Then I saw my father, shambling over to me quickly, his right hand tucked under his left armpit and his other hand clasping the side of his neck.
He fell into my arms, which really meant he fell onto the front of the car. As he slipped down (far too heavy for me to hold up), and his hand slipped off his wet neck, he left a spatter of red paint over the top of the hood. He came to sit leaning against the front right hubcap, still clasping his neck.
I tried to help but I didn't, or couldn't.
As I fumbled, trying to rip off a piece of my shirt and failing, he grinned.
"She..." my father began to say, as I frantically tried to add pressure to the hand clasping his neck.
Suddenly he pushed me away, with such amazing instant strength that I fell backward on my behind.
For a half-second I sat there, bewildered, looking at my father as the life drained from his body. He grinned wider and let go of his neck. The exposed wound poured out blood. The shredded remains of his skin looked like strips of paper mache.
"She..." he said, allowing his grin to sprawl across his face in a slow, meaningful creep, "is a hungry little thing."
His eyes closed, his head slumped to the side, his body weight seemed to drop, and he was gone.
I rushed over to him, even though I knew it was too late. I grabbed his shoulders and when I did, his hidden right hand fell out of his armpit. Except there was no hand, just a stump. A bloody, gnawed-upon stump.
I looked back at the building. Two red dots peered at me from deep dark corners. Two red spots of hatred and chaos. I thought maybe, maybe they are mechanical lights. But then they shifted, together, in unison. Those were eyes. And they were looking right at me.
"MOM!" I shouted fiercely. The two red icicle tips just kept staring back.
"MOOOOOM!!!!"
They blinked. It was her, alright. It was time.
Safety off. | "Does that mean you believe me," I asked, out loud, though I'd been wondering ever since I'd told him what I'd seen a week ago.
His eyes shifted to me, almost imperceptibly, but I could see the corner of his mouth quivering in profile. There was sweat on his brow. His skin was flushed and waxy. He didn't have to confirm. He did anyway.
"Susan is different. I don't even know where she is right now."
My younger sister. She'd been mom's favorite target from the very start. Two years younger than me, but at least ten years smarter when it came to school. Mom had always doted on her, as if grooming her for something.
"I had to.. I tried to end it when I realised. Chris, you have to understand--"
"Just drive. We'll work out the details when it's done."
I shoved the gun into the waist of my jeans, not entirely sure how to use it but determined to make every attempt count.
*******
The house was quiet. The front door was open and just beyond the mat where we'd always wiped the mud off of our shoes I could see something wet and chunky. Dad pushed the door open further, leading with the shotgun he'd got out of the boot. I followed closely, but far enough to let him maneuver. I was trusting his movements as we slid into the house, trying to be quiet. I would have been scared enough if Mom had been our only issue but with Susan on the loose, we were at the very least evenly matched.
He took a step into the hallway that led to the stairs and a board creaked almost urgently. I froze. Dad crouched and put the double barrels up. We held our breath and waited for the fallout.
When it didn't come we locked eyes and continued. He motioned with a free hand for me to get low. I did, now fully aware of just how unprepared for any of this I was. That's when we heard it. Almost like a rattlesnake. The ceiling shook slightly. One or both of them were upstairs. And then a thud. Dad pointed to his gun and then to his leg and I understood. Susan was wounded. She might not even be able to maintain a form.
We crept up the stairs, holding onto the banister and making sure to step lightly. My gun felt heavy in my waistband. I was anxious about having to actually handle it. I'd never shot a gun before. Dad had at least been hunting. He got to the top of the stairs and held his hand up. I stopped and waited. He pointed at Susan's bedroom. I knew what we were about to do. Inhaling deeply, I reached for my gun but he shook his head. I nodded, maybe prematurely, but I didn't want to kill Susan. I hadn't seen her change. She was my little sister. Mom was something else, something foreign. I'd already grieved for her. I think he knew that seeing Susan that way would have killed me. Still, I was frustrated at my father. Did he know how strong these things were?
He moved forward. I crouched on the third to to riser, and slowly my teenage brain took over. Didn't he believe I could help? Did he really believe me? I listened to the quiet for his steps as he disappeared into Susan's room. Silence. Creak. Creak.
And then a hiss, like in the movies, and a rattle. He'd found her. But it did only sound like one. Mom must not be here. I could hear the struggle, muffled only just barely by the walls. Hisses interspersed with *daddy no, please* and then two shots. Bang. Silence. Bang. Silence.
I waited, my heart pounding, my brain refusing to take stock. One of the things was dead, I told myself as I sat on the stairs. I could almost breathe. I sat there, for minutes, gathering myself until I realised my father had not come back yet. I had unconsciously grabbed my gun. My body had already figured it out.
I snuck up the last steps and up to Susan's door. It was half shut. A scaled tail lay limp just beyond. There was blood on her bed. Following dad's lead, I inched the door open with the short barrel of my gun. I could see long hair in a tangle on the carpet. It was matted with blood.
I didn't see the tail move. Susan was dead. The real Susan. It was bigger and darker than my mother. He'd lied to me. I could feel warm breath on my neck. My father's scales created a symphony in front of me and my mother's shook to match. They were celebrating their harvest.
As her fangs sunk into my neck, I felt my father's ripping into my jeans. I put the gun in my mouth and fired.
Click. | |
[WP] When I was 16 my father pulled me out of school and shoved me in the car. His eyes didn't leave the road as he threw a gun in my lap and said, "We're going to get your mother." | On my 16th birthday, dad surprised me by pulling me out of gym class halfway through the day. He didn't explain why he was there--not in the hallway, not in the parking lot. He waited until we were on the highway, pushing 90 MPH. And our luck.
"Dad?" I tried, finally. Halfway to SJC. Without taking his eyes off the road, he casually reached into his jacket and pulled out a handgun, which he threw in my lap before hopping in and out of the HOV lane.
"We're going to get your mother," he said. "Before she gets us."
"About time," I replied.
I didn't bother to check if it was loaded.
Dad never forgot that sort of thing. | He had pulled me out of school after lunch and made a scene in the hallway yelling at the principal, "This is my son and I'll take him out of school if I want to!"
He smelled like the bar again. He always smelled like the bar these days and he was always yelling at everyone, like the whole world was against him. I didn't really understand his anger, but it started after mom left. She blamed him for their marriage and blamed him for her not loving him anymore. He got even angrier when she had found someone new and angrier again when they married in a few months.
I followed him to the car after we left the school and got in with him. Once we got in the car he threw a gun on my lap and said, "We're going to get your mother."
Surprised and a bit confused I replied, "But dad she's-"
"I don't want to hear it. I said we we're going to get her and I don't want any goddamn complaints." he said not even looking in my direction.
I sat there in silence after that. The angrier he got the more I learned to be quiet. I mostly stayed quiet around him out of fear. Fear that he would also leave me and fear of what he would do if I didn't stay silent.
He started driving away from the school and I had wanted to say something to him, but he seemed like he would just shout at me if I said something. He stared at the road hardly even noticing I was there and breathing heavily like he was about to fight someone and I didn't want it to be me.
I ended up turning to look out the window and look at the sky. I ignored where he was driving because it wasn't the first time he had pulled me out of school with some crazy idea. It was an overcast day, dark and low clouds over head, and humid enough for your clothes to stick to you.
After about 15 minutes the car came to a stopped and I knew where we were. I looked over and saw the headstone "Jane Winsley 1975-2016". My father grabbed the gun and got out of the car and head over to the headstone.
"Hey! What are you doing?!" I yelled as I got out of the car and headed toward him and try to stop him.
He shoved me out of the way and knelt down in front of the headstone and put the gun under his chin. "We're going to get back at her! Get back at her for leaving us!", He yelled.
I stared at him kneeling there and didn't know what to do or what to say to stop him. I was frozen in panic and looked him in the eyes and saw the madness of everything that had happened to him in the past year. To us.
I took a step towards him to get the gun and then I heard the "Click." He forgot to load it.
He dropped the gun and I watch him as the tears started down his face. "Why did she have to leave us?" He sobbed.
I couldn't answer him because there was no answer. I just listen to the sounds of him sobbing and pounding the ground in anger.
I looked up towards the sky at those heavy dark clouds and then it started to rain.
| |
[WP] When I was 16 my father pulled me out of school and shoved me in the car. His eyes didn't leave the road as he threw a gun in my lap and said, "We're going to get your mother." | On my 16th birthday, dad surprised me by pulling me out of gym class halfway through the day. He didn't explain why he was there--not in the hallway, not in the parking lot. He waited until we were on the highway, pushing 90 MPH. And our luck.
"Dad?" I tried, finally. Halfway to SJC. Without taking his eyes off the road, he casually reached into his jacket and pulled out a handgun, which he threw in my lap before hopping in and out of the HOV lane.
"We're going to get your mother," he said. "Before she gets us."
"About time," I replied.
I didn't bother to check if it was loaded.
Dad never forgot that sort of thing. | It was a semi-normal day. Math class first period, History second, Gym third, then Mechanics last. It felt good knowing that summer had finally come and that school was almost over. The thought had eased my mind and I was beginning to relax, but I was sorely mistaken. The intercom boomed over my history teacher in the middle of his lecture about global economics.
"Michael Soner to the main office please, Michael Soner."
Shocked, I awoke from my power-nap (History Sucks). Grabbing my books I meandered to my locker and packed my bag. On my walk to the office, I saw my father waiting outside. He seemed anxious, but somewhat frustrated. I hurried over to him and asked him what was wrong, I had never seen him like this before. He was always the no emotion, must always be strong, don't focus on the past type of person.
"Dad, what's up?"
Without warning, he grabbed me by the top of my backpack and started pulling me to the car.
"Dad?"
He didn't respond and shoved me into the passenger seat of his Ford Mustang.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Michael...," He said for the first time since we left the school and began to head out of town.
"We're going to get your mother." He added while simultaneously tossing a gun into my lap.
The 9mm felt heavy and cold on my thighs. A feeling of anxiety and fear washed over me as well. I've never held a gun before, let alone even see one in real life.
"What the hell is happening," I asked my Dad who has been swerving between the cars on the highway.
"Your mother has been taken by some bad people. People who have no morals or remorse for any of their actions." He said with a hint of anger in his voice.
"Who would want Mom? She is just a hairstylist at Quick Cuts. I don't even think she talks to anybody except you and her family."
"They want Mom because of me," He said while speeding up to 120 Kmph.
"You? You are just a construction worker though. Did you misplace a steel beam or something?"
"Mike..., before you were born, I had a bit of a drug issue. I would be buying close to $200 of weed a week. At the beginning, I would pay for it from my job's pay, but eventually it just wouldn't cut it. So I made a deal. I would do favours for the dealers. Threatening, interrogating, and sometimes attacking those who stole from my dealer."
"How do you know that they have Mom," I inquired.
"Well, yesterday I got a phone call from them saying that they need another favour. I refused. They took Mom earlier today while we were out. Now we have to get her back."
"Well then. Where are we going to go?" A mixed feeling of curiosity and fear filled me.
"The airport." He replied with a determined look on his face. He seemed much different from earlier when he picked me up. | |
[WP] When I was 16 my father pulled me out of school and shoved me in the car. His eyes didn't leave the road as he threw a gun in my lap and said, "We're going to get your mother." | You could hear a pin drop. I wished one would, if only to break the silence.
"Well... that's all well and good..." my teacher, Mrs. Fanshawe, began to say, "but Jeffrey has a test at exactly two pee..."
"Fuck the test. I said I need him." My father was not one to mince words.
He looked directly at me.
"Let's go."
There was no room for argument.
I could feel the hot stares from the other kids in the class burning my back as I walked out. I had to take the middle row. As I passed, some kids had wide grins, some had looks of pure sinister delight (nobody had said the F word in class since Jimmy Carpin had been sent home that one day), but most were still trying to scrape their jaws off the floor. I couldn't let their seething eyes slow me down, though, Dad was in full no-nonsense mode. Something bad had happened.
As soon as the classroom door and Mrs. Fanshawe's disapproving scowl were behind us, my father cranked up the pace and we raced down the hall. He banged the front doors open with more force than I had even seen them take, and we literally flew down the front steps.
He hurried me toward the family car parked crooked on the street (and partially on the sidewalk). I noticed fresh scratches on the outside bottom of the passenger-side door as my father shoved me in. They looked like some kind of animals claw marks, but I didn't get a good look and my mind was racing.
I pulled my seat belt over my shoulder as quick as I could. By the time I heard the metallic snap of the buckle, the engine had already turned over and we were moving.
As I watched the school's changeable letter sign disappear into the rear view mirror, ("Go Spartiates!"), I felt a heavy lump of curved metal drop into my lap with an audible thump.
It was a gun. My gun. Smith and Wesson Model M&P Bodyguard 380. Compact, black, menacing. The same one Dad had made me practice with every day since I was fifteen.
"We're going to get your mother," my father said. "Right now."
I knew exactly what he meant, I just never thought this day would actually come. It suddenly seemed so obvious to me what was happening, and I felt stupid for not getting it already.
"I'm ready." I said, trying to mean it as much as I could.
"No, you're not, but that doesn't matter now." My father's voice sounded unsteady. Maybe for the first time ever.
We drove a long time in silence. I gently stroked the red safety button on the pistol, and measured out my breathes. Dad was being very, very quiet. Soon, I knew I would be slamming the breach of my firearm into place and following him into a fight.
"There's not going to be a fight." My father said, as if reading my mind.
We hit a bump in the road before he could continue, and for a moment Dad's right hand was lifted off his lap and I saw what he was holding. H&R Model 929, extended barrel. The gun that he said he never used. The gun that was supposed to be just for show. The ammo loaded in it looked weird, each of the nine rounds had an orange cap on the end that I had never seen before, and they were... centerfire? Wasn't that model meant to shoot rimfire only?
"I know where she is. I'm going to go in, get her, and bring her to the car. No fighting. You will stay by the car, to protect it and yourself." My father explained.
I nodded in agreement. I knew he could see me even though his eyes didn't leave the road.
"And if you see me running toward you, you will shoot whatever is chasing me."
I let a long pause pass.
"Even if its Mom?" I asked quietly.
More silence.
"Yes."
I felt so many confusing emotions at once. A thousand questions raced through my mind, but none more pressing than if Mom was ok. And who she may have hurt so far.
"Your mother is... she's ok. Everything's going to be ok, you'll see." I didn't like the way he said it. It sounded like he had already accepted failure.
I didn't know what to say. I wanted so badly to say something that would make him feel better. I wanted to say the perfect words that the perfect son would say to his Dad in a situation like this. But I couldn't find them.
So the time passed as we drove, and nothing was said until we arrived at our destination.
I didn't recognize anything about the place as we pulled into the large gravel parking lot. It looked like some old dilapidated factory, abandoned for years. Two massive silos for storing... whatever... loomed in the background, each with exterior spiral staircases curling up the dirty rusted sides. A flat rectangular building spanned across the entire width of the site, with every window hosting a shattered pane of grimy glass. It was pure darkness inside the main building, evening had already settled in, and the shadows had grown long.
Dad let the car idle for a moment. The two headlight beams stretched across the front of the building, reflecting against unknown backdrops within and causing the interior to appear even darker.
"Wait here. Do as I said." Dad opened the door quickly and then he was off, following those beams of light into the shadows.
He made it to the gaping entrance of the flat building, and pushed the hanging door aside. It almost fell off its hinges.
For just a moment he looked back at me. His face had the look of ages on it. It carried no expression. Only age.
Dad disappeared into the darkness. Time slowed down.
I waited.
I got out of the car and held my pistol tight against my leg. I looked around, I scratched the dirt with the tips of my shoes, and I waited.
I was looking in the complete opposite direction when my father came stumbling back. It was the spurt and squirting that I heard first. I thought the windshield wiper spray of the car had accidentally been turned on. But it was blood. I knew that even before I turned around, I could see the trail of red leading back to the building. But I didn't think it was Dad, that it could be his blood.
I even raised my pistol for a moment. Then I saw my father, shambling over to me quickly, his right hand tucked under his left armpit and his other hand clasping the side of his neck.
He fell into my arms, which really meant he fell onto the front of the car. As he slipped down (far too heavy for me to hold up), and his hand slipped off his wet neck, he left a spatter of red paint over the top of the hood. He came to sit leaning against the front right hubcap, still clasping his neck.
I tried to help but I didn't, or couldn't.
As I fumbled, trying to rip off a piece of my shirt and failing, he grinned.
"She..." my father began to say, as I frantically tried to add pressure to the hand clasping his neck.
Suddenly he pushed me away, with such amazing instant strength that I fell backward on my behind.
For a half-second I sat there, bewildered, looking at my father as the life drained from his body. He grinned wider and let go of his neck. The exposed wound poured out blood. The shredded remains of his skin looked like strips of paper mache.
"She..." he said, allowing his grin to sprawl across his face in a slow, meaningful creep, "is a hungry little thing."
His eyes closed, his head slumped to the side, his body weight seemed to drop, and he was gone.
I rushed over to him, even though I knew it was too late. I grabbed his shoulders and when I did, his hidden right hand fell out of his armpit. Except there was no hand, just a stump. A bloody, gnawed-upon stump.
I looked back at the building. Two red dots peered at me from deep dark corners. Two red spots of hatred and chaos. I thought maybe, maybe they are mechanical lights. But then they shifted, together, in unison. Those were eyes. And they were looking right at me.
"MOM!" I shouted fiercely. The two red icicle tips just kept staring back.
"MOOOOOM!!!!"
They blinked. It was her, alright. It was time.
Safety off. | I knew that this day would've come. My dad threw me into the backseat.
"Fasten your seatbelt son, we're going to get your mom!" he said with a strong voice.
He threw a gun in my lap. I picked it up and realised that my Counterstrike skills would finally come to use.
"I'm ready father, I've been waiting for this moment my whole life. Years of playing COD and Counterstrike have made me into a killing monster and today i'm going to aid you in this mission to rescue mother from evil" I said manly.
I picked up the gun. It's a glock 17. I checked the mag, I have one hundred bullets.
"This is the place" He said pointing his finger to a 50 stories tall building "mother is trapped on the highest floor so we have to go through and kill everyone on every floor"
"Alright, let's go" I said
I've never ever used a gun but to my suprise, I delivered several headshots, I even got the ace. Some of the opponents called me hacker. Oh well, we kept going until we reached the last floor. The boss.
"Okey, inside of this room there are 7 bad guys" my father started
"Wait, how do you know?" I asked cutting him off
"I don't know, I guessed." he said
"You have to listen to the footsteps dad"
He didn't answer but went straight for the door. He kicked it in, burying two guys in a 3 inch wide metal door. I decided that quickscoping is the best possible way to kil efficiently. I killed 3 guys. The last one held a knife, threatening to kill my mother. I've seen a lot of movies to know where this is going. I have to surrender but no. I'm going all in. I shot but unfortunately hit my mother, the second shot though hit him right in the face.
Later that day we called for an ambulance, my mother turned out fine, even with a gun wound to the chest. I went back home to my gaming chair and opened counterstrike. I looked at my rank, Global Elite.
| |
[WP] When I was 16 my father pulled me out of school and shoved me in the car. His eyes didn't leave the road as he threw a gun in my lap and said, "We're going to get your mother." | When I was 16, my father pulled me out of school and shoved me in the car. His eyes didn’t leave the road as he threw a gun in my lap and said, “We’re going to get your mother.”
It wasn’t the sort of thing that I’d talk about at parties or even disclose to friends, but home was a strange place. My mother had always been teetering perilously on the brink of madness. She would experience vivid hallucinations, and they would drill a thought into her head that she simply couldn’t shake. For the longest time, my dad was her knight in shining armor. He would dive into her world, head first, and pull her kicking and screaming from the depths of her despair back to reality. He was what grounded her in reality.
I loved my mother, and even in spite of the fits of madness, the love she had for me never waned. That’s why as her episodes gradually worsened, whereas my father lost his ability to keep her grounded in reality, the fact surfaced that I was able to ease her hallucinations. My father tried his best to hide it from me when I was young, and even though his own effectiveness waned, he never wanted me to be involved with it all even if I were a solution. My parents were loving, kind people, but they wanted to give me a better life than this. She never harmed anyone, but she would curl up in a ball on the floor, clutching at herself and muttering incoherently. These episodes were abrupt and sudden. She would just abandon whatever task she had at hand, and begin a slow, slithering descent to the floor. We all lived with the constant feeling knocking in the back of our minds that any moment, terror could grip my mother and steal her away from us. It was harmless. It was infrequent. It frightened me. My own mother frightened me.
My dad would always do his best to calm her down himself, but when that failed, he’d begrudgingly drag me into the situation. However, that day was different. He had given a handgun to me as soon as he was starting the car. Sweat was forming on his face and his face had been drained of its usual vitality. When this occurred, it terrified me. Today, Dad and I were on the same page. After a few minutes of driving and silence, I was finally able to speak. “What’s happening?”
“She-“ He took a deep breath. “This time, she got violent. She… she started swinging wildly.” He quickly wiped his eyes and sniffled. “Louise, I’m sorry that we can’t do any better for you. But we can’t lose her like this. She’s your mother.”
I had both hands on the gun, clasping it with white knuckles. I managed to stammer out a sentence. “What’s with this?”
“She needs you. But as much I want to help her, the last thing I want is to see you hurt. I don’t know how far gone she is, but if she tries anything funny, you have to defend yourself.”
“Dad, why don’t we just call for help? This is ridiculous.”
He nodded repeatedly, saying, “I know, I know. But it’s too late for that. I thought we could handle it, together as a family. I thought we could get past all this, but I should have swallowed my pride earlier. I should have called out for help. A therapist, a psychiatrist, a doctor. Anybody. I know that now. If we can just sweep this last one under the rug, I’ll do whatever it takes to put a stop to this. If we can’t do that, she’s a goner. They’ll lock her up and we’ll never see her again.”
At the time, that’s what he believed, and that’s what he told me. I would lose a mother, and he would lose the woman he loved. That’s why we kept it quiet: we didn’t know any better. We didn’t know that mental illness wasn’t a death sentence. There were two major stages in this. The first: “We can work through this together. It’s not so bad. We don’t need to see anybody about it.” The second: “We can’t tell anybody about this. They’ll take her away. They’ll ruin our family.” There wasn’t an intermediary stage. But look where that got us.
We finally pulled up to our home. From looking at the outside, nothing had changed, yet the ambiance had drastically shifted. It was ghost-like. The normal suburban background noise had died out. The usual chirping of wildlife was totally absent. They had cleared the area. I was slow to follow up behind my dad, but as I traced his steps up to the front door he was now unlocking, there was the unmistakable specks of blood following behind him. I could now see that on his left, he had wrapped bandages over the arm of his cut that had become soaked in blood and now drained upon the floor below. She had attacked him and he was still resolved to help her. As my dad opened the door, he quickly turned me to me and whispered, “Stay here. I’m going to check it out.” A brief moment later, he poked his head back out and motioned for me to come in.
Inside, I could see that broken glass lay scattered throughout the living room and the furniture had been torn open. My dad closed the door behind us. Wooden chairs had been cast aside and the table pushed back. On the floor with her back against the wall, holding her knees and staring straight ahead with dried tears on her face, sat my mother. I had seen her sitting like that before, but this new scene of disaster split my heart in two. Fear gripped me when I learned of these episodes, but as soon as I laid eyes on the poor wretch that Mom had become, I always found wells of inner strength to draw from. My grip went loose and I dropped that gun from my side. The last thing on my mind was my own well-being. My voice broke as I called out to her, “Mom!” Glass crushed under my sneakers as I ran and dropped to my knees by her side, throwing my arms around her. Up close, I could see stains of red on her face. She had been wiping her face with bloodied, scratched hands. My dad, while alarmed by my reckless abandon, quickly joined us on the floor when it became clear that the danger was gone. She was sullen and quiet, staring blankly out in space.
She had acquired a moment of clarity, and spoke openly to us, choking and stumbling on words. “I’m crazy. Every time this happens, I tell myself over and over again. I’m right here. I never left. I’m still with both of you. And yet, it feels like I’ve been taken away. I can breathe just fine, but I still feel like I’m suffocating. I tell myself that there was nothing in the corner of my eye, but I still panic all the same.”
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” my dad consoled. “Look, look. Louise is here now. Your daughter’s here. You’re alright. Everything’s going to be okay.”
Her eyes watered again, still staring off into space. “Why? I can hear your voices clearly, like you’re right next to me. You’re not the strange ones that I hear when I’m like this, but they still sound so far and distant. Louise, I’m trying so hard to be normal for you. I’m trying so hard to be alright, but I just can’t. No matter how much I insist to myself that I’m just seeing things, it just doesn’t seem to work.”
My heart was in shambles. She never had this clarity of thought before, and she spoke so openly of what she was going through. A schism had occurred between her perceptions of reality and what she knew was reality, and she fought to pull them together to no avail. Her mind was being ripped apart by these dissonant factors. I clasped one of her hands in both of mine and pressed it against my cheek. Her blood dried, but the scratches were numerous.
I muttered to her, “You’re going to be okay. We’re going to get help for you.”
Her voice began to crack, “But I don’t want to lose my family.”
My dad and I made contact in that moment, a silent agreement, as I told her, “You won’t. We promise we’ll be together, no matter what.”
That day never culminated in disaster as I thought it might when I first saw my dad after getting in the car. Looking back, I’m absolutely distraught that for even a moment, we thought that I might have to defend myself from my own mother. We all lived with this belief that society had abandoned people like her to her own devices. She was stuck between a rock and a hard place. She first believed that it could be managed, but by the time it got out of hand, she was afraid that it would mean separation from those she loved. We were all wrong. We didn’t dare seek help under the mistaken belief that there was no hope for a person that society might consider crazy. We kept her at home like a dirty secret. Circumstance was cruel to all of us.
We all made it through that day. Courage is a funny thing. Because of what we thought would happen, it took immense courage to reach out for help. It was like staring up at a towering monster and screaming back at it. However, in the moment you begin screaming, it dissipates, revealing that it only existed in our mind’s eye. We had to be very brave to do something that people would receive with compassion and concern. My mother never made a full recovery to a completely normal, functioning person, but it was close enough. Rather than dreading phone calls from my dad, I only have a residual, lurking fear that it might be something | I knew that this day would've come. My dad threw me into the backseat.
"Fasten your seatbelt son, we're going to get your mom!" he said with a strong voice.
He threw a gun in my lap. I picked it up and realised that my Counterstrike skills would finally come to use.
"I'm ready father, I've been waiting for this moment my whole life. Years of playing COD and Counterstrike have made me into a killing monster and today i'm going to aid you in this mission to rescue mother from evil" I said manly.
I picked up the gun. It's a glock 17. I checked the mag, I have one hundred bullets.
"This is the place" He said pointing his finger to a 50 stories tall building "mother is trapped on the highest floor so we have to go through and kill everyone on every floor"
"Alright, let's go" I said
I've never ever used a gun but to my suprise, I delivered several headshots, I even got the ace. Some of the opponents called me hacker. Oh well, we kept going until we reached the last floor. The boss.
"Okey, inside of this room there are 7 bad guys" my father started
"Wait, how do you know?" I asked cutting him off
"I don't know, I guessed." he said
"You have to listen to the footsteps dad"
He didn't answer but went straight for the door. He kicked it in, burying two guys in a 3 inch wide metal door. I decided that quickscoping is the best possible way to kil efficiently. I killed 3 guys. The last one held a knife, threatening to kill my mother. I've seen a lot of movies to know where this is going. I have to surrender but no. I'm going all in. I shot but unfortunately hit my mother, the second shot though hit him right in the face.
Later that day we called for an ambulance, my mother turned out fine, even with a gun wound to the chest. I went back home to my gaming chair and opened counterstrike. I looked at my rank, Global Elite.
| |
[WP] When I was 16 my father pulled me out of school and shoved me in the car. His eyes didn't leave the road as he threw a gun in my lap and said, "We're going to get your mother." | A gun. What the hell would I need a gun for?
"Uh, dad..?"
"Oh, shit, sorry." He takes back the gun, shoves it in under the seat, and hands me a birthday card. "Sign it. Teller you love 'er."
"We're taking your mother to Golden Corral. They have an early bird special, s'why I pulledja outta school early. Butcha gone hafta go over t'Jake's house later; momma and me guh'have a special night."
I stare at him as he thumbs his cassette tape of Whitesnake, lights up a smoke, and hums to himself.
I could've asked about the gun, but just then I remembered this really funny moment on that roadrunner cartoon, and I just laughed to myself. | I knew that this day would've come. My dad threw me into the backseat.
"Fasten your seatbelt son, we're going to get your mom!" he said with a strong voice.
He threw a gun in my lap. I picked it up and realised that my Counterstrike skills would finally come to use.
"I'm ready father, I've been waiting for this moment my whole life. Years of playing COD and Counterstrike have made me into a killing monster and today i'm going to aid you in this mission to rescue mother from evil" I said manly.
I picked up the gun. It's a glock 17. I checked the mag, I have one hundred bullets.
"This is the place" He said pointing his finger to a 50 stories tall building "mother is trapped on the highest floor so we have to go through and kill everyone on every floor"
"Alright, let's go" I said
I've never ever used a gun but to my suprise, I delivered several headshots, I even got the ace. Some of the opponents called me hacker. Oh well, we kept going until we reached the last floor. The boss.
"Okey, inside of this room there are 7 bad guys" my father started
"Wait, how do you know?" I asked cutting him off
"I don't know, I guessed." he said
"You have to listen to the footsteps dad"
He didn't answer but went straight for the door. He kicked it in, burying two guys in a 3 inch wide metal door. I decided that quickscoping is the best possible way to kil efficiently. I killed 3 guys. The last one held a knife, threatening to kill my mother. I've seen a lot of movies to know where this is going. I have to surrender but no. I'm going all in. I shot but unfortunately hit my mother, the second shot though hit him right in the face.
Later that day we called for an ambulance, my mother turned out fine, even with a gun wound to the chest. I went back home to my gaming chair and opened counterstrike. I looked at my rank, Global Elite.
| |
[WP] When I was 16 my father pulled me out of school and shoved me in the car. His eyes didn't leave the road as he threw a gun in my lap and said, "We're going to get your mother." | A gun. What the hell would I need a gun for?
"Uh, dad..?"
"Oh, shit, sorry." He takes back the gun, shoves it in under the seat, and hands me a birthday card. "Sign it. Teller you love 'er."
"We're taking your mother to Golden Corral. They have an early bird special, s'why I pulledja outta school early. Butcha gone hafta go over t'Jake's house later; momma and me guh'have a special night."
I stare at him as he thumbs his cassette tape of Whitesnake, lights up a smoke, and hums to himself.
I could've asked about the gun, but just then I remembered this really funny moment on that roadrunner cartoon, and I just laughed to myself. | When I was 16, my father pulled me out of school and shoved me in the car. His eyes didn’t leave the road as he threw a gun in my lap and said, “We’re going to get your mother.”
It wasn’t the sort of thing that I’d talk about at parties or even disclose to friends, but home was a strange place. My mother had always been teetering perilously on the brink of madness. She would experience vivid hallucinations, and they would drill a thought into her head that she simply couldn’t shake. For the longest time, my dad was her knight in shining armor. He would dive into her world, head first, and pull her kicking and screaming from the depths of her despair back to reality. He was what grounded her in reality.
I loved my mother, and even in spite of the fits of madness, the love she had for me never waned. That’s why as her episodes gradually worsened, whereas my father lost his ability to keep her grounded in reality, the fact surfaced that I was able to ease her hallucinations. My father tried his best to hide it from me when I was young, and even though his own effectiveness waned, he never wanted me to be involved with it all even if I were a solution. My parents were loving, kind people, but they wanted to give me a better life than this. She never harmed anyone, but she would curl up in a ball on the floor, clutching at herself and muttering incoherently. These episodes were abrupt and sudden. She would just abandon whatever task she had at hand, and begin a slow, slithering descent to the floor. We all lived with the constant feeling knocking in the back of our minds that any moment, terror could grip my mother and steal her away from us. It was harmless. It was infrequent. It frightened me. My own mother frightened me.
My dad would always do his best to calm her down himself, but when that failed, he’d begrudgingly drag me into the situation. However, that day was different. He had given a handgun to me as soon as he was starting the car. Sweat was forming on his face and his face had been drained of its usual vitality. When this occurred, it terrified me. Today, Dad and I were on the same page. After a few minutes of driving and silence, I was finally able to speak. “What’s happening?”
“She-“ He took a deep breath. “This time, she got violent. She… she started swinging wildly.” He quickly wiped his eyes and sniffled. “Louise, I’m sorry that we can’t do any better for you. But we can’t lose her like this. She’s your mother.”
I had both hands on the gun, clasping it with white knuckles. I managed to stammer out a sentence. “What’s with this?”
“She needs you. But as much I want to help her, the last thing I want is to see you hurt. I don’t know how far gone she is, but if she tries anything funny, you have to defend yourself.”
“Dad, why don’t we just call for help? This is ridiculous.”
He nodded repeatedly, saying, “I know, I know. But it’s too late for that. I thought we could handle it, together as a family. I thought we could get past all this, but I should have swallowed my pride earlier. I should have called out for help. A therapist, a psychiatrist, a doctor. Anybody. I know that now. If we can just sweep this last one under the rug, I’ll do whatever it takes to put a stop to this. If we can’t do that, she’s a goner. They’ll lock her up and we’ll never see her again.”
At the time, that’s what he believed, and that’s what he told me. I would lose a mother, and he would lose the woman he loved. That’s why we kept it quiet: we didn’t know any better. We didn’t know that mental illness wasn’t a death sentence. There were two major stages in this. The first: “We can work through this together. It’s not so bad. We don’t need to see anybody about it.” The second: “We can’t tell anybody about this. They’ll take her away. They’ll ruin our family.” There wasn’t an intermediary stage. But look where that got us.
We finally pulled up to our home. From looking at the outside, nothing had changed, yet the ambiance had drastically shifted. It was ghost-like. The normal suburban background noise had died out. The usual chirping of wildlife was totally absent. They had cleared the area. I was slow to follow up behind my dad, but as I traced his steps up to the front door he was now unlocking, there was the unmistakable specks of blood following behind him. I could now see that on his left, he had wrapped bandages over the arm of his cut that had become soaked in blood and now drained upon the floor below. She had attacked him and he was still resolved to help her. As my dad opened the door, he quickly turned me to me and whispered, “Stay here. I’m going to check it out.” A brief moment later, he poked his head back out and motioned for me to come in.
Inside, I could see that broken glass lay scattered throughout the living room and the furniture had been torn open. My dad closed the door behind us. Wooden chairs had been cast aside and the table pushed back. On the floor with her back against the wall, holding her knees and staring straight ahead with dried tears on her face, sat my mother. I had seen her sitting like that before, but this new scene of disaster split my heart in two. Fear gripped me when I learned of these episodes, but as soon as I laid eyes on the poor wretch that Mom had become, I always found wells of inner strength to draw from. My grip went loose and I dropped that gun from my side. The last thing on my mind was my own well-being. My voice broke as I called out to her, “Mom!” Glass crushed under my sneakers as I ran and dropped to my knees by her side, throwing my arms around her. Up close, I could see stains of red on her face. She had been wiping her face with bloodied, scratched hands. My dad, while alarmed by my reckless abandon, quickly joined us on the floor when it became clear that the danger was gone. She was sullen and quiet, staring blankly out in space.
She had acquired a moment of clarity, and spoke openly to us, choking and stumbling on words. “I’m crazy. Every time this happens, I tell myself over and over again. I’m right here. I never left. I’m still with both of you. And yet, it feels like I’ve been taken away. I can breathe just fine, but I still feel like I’m suffocating. I tell myself that there was nothing in the corner of my eye, but I still panic all the same.”
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” my dad consoled. “Look, look. Louise is here now. Your daughter’s here. You’re alright. Everything’s going to be okay.”
Her eyes watered again, still staring off into space. “Why? I can hear your voices clearly, like you’re right next to me. You’re not the strange ones that I hear when I’m like this, but they still sound so far and distant. Louise, I’m trying so hard to be normal for you. I’m trying so hard to be alright, but I just can’t. No matter how much I insist to myself that I’m just seeing things, it just doesn’t seem to work.”
My heart was in shambles. She never had this clarity of thought before, and she spoke so openly of what she was going through. A schism had occurred between her perceptions of reality and what she knew was reality, and she fought to pull them together to no avail. Her mind was being ripped apart by these dissonant factors. I clasped one of her hands in both of mine and pressed it against my cheek. Her blood dried, but the scratches were numerous.
I muttered to her, “You’re going to be okay. We’re going to get help for you.”
Her voice began to crack, “But I don’t want to lose my family.”
My dad and I made contact in that moment, a silent agreement, as I told her, “You won’t. We promise we’ll be together, no matter what.”
That day never culminated in disaster as I thought it might when I first saw my dad after getting in the car. Looking back, I’m absolutely distraught that for even a moment, we thought that I might have to defend myself from my own mother. We all lived with this belief that society had abandoned people like her to her own devices. She was stuck between a rock and a hard place. She first believed that it could be managed, but by the time it got out of hand, she was afraid that it would mean separation from those she loved. We were all wrong. We didn’t dare seek help under the mistaken belief that there was no hope for a person that society might consider crazy. We kept her at home like a dirty secret. Circumstance was cruel to all of us.
We all made it through that day. Courage is a funny thing. Because of what we thought would happen, it took immense courage to reach out for help. It was like staring up at a towering monster and screaming back at it. However, in the moment you begin screaming, it dissipates, revealing that it only existed in our mind’s eye. We had to be very brave to do something that people would receive with compassion and concern. My mother never made a full recovery to a completely normal, functioning person, but it was close enough. Rather than dreading phone calls from my dad, I only have a residual, lurking fear that it might be something | |
[WP] When I was 16 my father pulled me out of school and shoved me in the car. His eyes didn't leave the road as he threw a gun in my lap and said, "We're going to get your mother." | …
Everybody’s running from something.
Sometimes from themselves.
And when that happens…
…you call on someone very special.
Someone who stopped running long ago.
*The Highwayman.*
For a long while, folks thought he was a myth. No one knew his name or where he was from. He simply…*appears*. Materializing out of the dust storms in a rusted ol’ speedster with a firebreathing nitro-boosted engine to match. You’ll hear him.
You'll *definitely* hear him.
Snarling down the rippling asphalt with a determined face.
He’ll be wearing a plain white dress shirt with a simple vest and tie, his sleeves rolled up and dark glasses to match the leather gloves covering his disfigured hands. He answers to no one but helps *everyone.*
Addicts, runaways, mobsters, the abused, the forgotten, the ones who *wish* to be forgotten. He does not discriminate.
In the end…it doesn’t matter. He’ll come for you when you need him most.
Because *nothing* stops a Highwayman.
He’ll get you to where you need to be.
To threaten a Highwayman is a sin.
To kill a Highwayman is impossible.
You can try.
But you will fail.
Any man can die. But an idea? It is something more than a man.
…
Don’t bother listing off your sexual prowess or talking about your macho, brooding attitude.
In the Saffron Gentlemen’s Club, only money talks. A man can do so much with wealth. It’s almost absurd.
I pass a bloke droning on and on about thematic symbolism about a book he’s penned. Shameless plugging in a strip club. Never thought I’d see the day. The woman wrapped lovingly around his lap takes it all in, his words, his demeanor, his smell, everything, but I can see her eyes glaze over.
The only thing deep about her is her throat.
You could kill an epileptic by placing him in this club. Dazzling arrays of green and purple lights scatter across the hollering crowd, the strippers donning glow sticks around the parts that matter, the areas which tease your eyes and promise your mind pleasures you didn’t know you had.
The goddesses effortlessly slide up and down the fluorescent pole while saturated guitar leads wail in the background.
Pulsing in and out of my skull is a steady and infectious bassline, each downbeat coinciding perfectly with the sway of hips. I maneuver my way through the sea of patrons, who consist of wannabe womanizers, aristocrats and shady rats I’m not too keen on meeting.
I catch the attention of a brunette server clad in a bare bikini and ask her if she knows where Paige is.
“Wait, you’re not one of her new boyfriends, are you? Don’t cause any trouble or I’ll break your wrists.” she quickly snaps.
I show her a pair of silver car keys and a silver coin of unknown origin.
“Oh.” I can see on her face that she wants to apologize but for some reason she holds it in. “Well, look to the stage, hun.”
And there she was, wearing nothing but a wristband. Free as can be, with all of those men by the stage in the palm of her hand. They’re all vulnerable, powerless against her smile, her charisma, her body, her motions, her scent.
I don't care for it. I'm here for one reason only.
At last her dance ends, and I follow her to her dressing room. She's sitting in front of a mirror with those lightbulbs adorned around the frame. I make no effort to hide myself, even going as far to adjust my tie.
"You're *not* supposed to be back *here*." said Paige in a sing-songy voice.
"And you're supposed to be keeping a low profile." I respond.
"I make good money here. Hey...at least I settled on a small town."
"Put some clothes on."
She twirls her head around, reapplying her red lipstick. "Why? Am I...distracting you?"
I turn away. "Something took my wife."
"Sorry to hear that."
"No, you're not."
"How's your daughter doing-"
"Leave her out of this."
"But you've brought her with you...haven't you?"
"I need access to the Echidna's Map. And you're going to give it to me."
"Why should I?"
"I helped your Coven. Now you'll help me. I never ask anything in return. But now I need the map."
"You helped my Coven. Not *me*. I don't know where it is-"
I grab her arm. Not in a gentle manner. In a manner that lets her know the malice that I'm capable of.
"Let go...*Highwayman*."
"Give me what I need. Then I will leave."
"No one is supposed to use that map except for the Coven. If I give it to you...then I may be forced to hurt you." Paige smiles deviously.
"Threatening a Highwayman is a sin."
"I've sinned plenty, mister. And no. I'm not giving it to you."
Her skin starts to heat up, burning my palm. For a brief second her eyes glow a fantastic red.
A blade to the neck solves everything. I let her limp body fall to the floor and rummage through her shelves. I hear the place going silent, aside from the music. The witches will find me soon enough.
Then, behind the frame of an oil painting is a yellowed tattered excuse for a map. A map through the Deadlands. I shove it into my pocket.
"I'm coming, Jane." I mutter. "You won't be alone for long."
As I begin to leave, I'm struck by a silent broadhead. Pain surges up my shoulders.
Her Sisters have come.
I bolt towards the exit, as several more witches armed with bewitched crossbows take aim. I see now that the club is empty, besides a single woman in a long white coat sitting by the stage.
"You've made a mistake. Breaking into a Coven club without my permission." spoke the woman, drinking a glass of wine. "Breaking rules is so uncharacteristic of a *Highwayman*, hmm?"
"I'm not one anymore." I reply, tearing the arrow out of my arm.
"I can arrange that." The witch teleports behind me and kicks me onto the table. Glass tears away my fragile skin.
Get up.
*Get up, old man.*
I didn't have to.
With a thunderous crash, *The Revelator* barrels through the club's walls, flames erupting out from the skirt exhausts. The 8 cylinder engine growls and roars like a rabid animal unleashed. Luckily, my daughter can tame such a thing. She learned from the best.
"Dad! Get in!" shouts my daughter, firing a sawed off shotgun. I run through the ensuing chaos and land on top of the roof.
"Go! Alice! Go!"
She stomps on the throttle, the tires vomiting out bits of shredded rubber and smoke. 550 horsepower and enough torque to reverse the rotation of the planet violently propels the muscle car out of the building, leaving the Sisters with a nicely packed plume of dust and debris. But they're giving chase with two Harleys in hot pursuit.
"Honey!" I shout above the burble of the engine. Crossbows smash into the boot of the vehicle.
My daughter opens up the sun roof, and tosses me a revolver. I take aim and miss the first three shots.
"Keep it steady, Alice! Get it on pavement!"
Below me, she shifts into third gear, maneuvering the car around the wreckage of an airliner. "I'm trying!"
Cursing, I fire off my last shots, blowing the tires off of one motorcycle. Good riddance. The remaining witch is in the midst of reloading.
"Alice! Gun!" Blood is starting to seep onto the windows.
"Wait!" She's shuffling through the glove box while simultaneously weaving through the junkyard. "I-I'm tryin'..."
"Alice! Now, honey! Gun! GUN!"
"I'm reloading!"
The witch brings up her weapon to take aim, charging the arrow with sizzling arcane energy.
Panic courses through my bloodstream. "ALICE!"
**"HERE!"**
I catch the rifle and squeeze the trigger.
One flash.
One bullet.
One witch whose skull is scattered all over the sands.
I crawl my way into the passenger's seat and pat my daughter on the back. "You did good, honey. You did..."
Something insidious is looming in the rearview mirror. A titan of sand and rock ascending into the dark moonlit clouds.
"Dad...uh...what's that?" she asks, worry tinging her tone.
*The Beast.* The Guardian of the Deadlands. "How's our reserves?"
"Six buck for the shotty, two rounds for the Widow, and two Greek Fire grenades."
I swiftly reload the repeater. "Ugh. Keep your eyes on the road, and the pedal to the metal. You hear me, Alice?"
"Y-yeah..."
I hold her hand. "I know you're scared. But you can do this."
"I know..."
"Breath. Breath. In and out. Remember what I said?"
Alice grabs the shift knob which I fashioned out of an 8 ball. *"Nothing stops a Highwayman."*
I give her a smile and a quick peck on the cheek. "We're getting her back. I promise you."
Through the infinite wall of dust and fire...we ride together into the horizon, the Beast howling behind us.
We've got some road to burn.
...
| EXT. School - Day
DAD (42) and SON (13) walk up to the '84 Malibu and Son gets in the passenger seat and Dad walks around to the drivers seat and gets in. Dad turns the ignition and places his hand on Son's seat back and turns around.
DAD
Get your seat belt on.
Son grabs his seat belt quickly. Dad hits the gas and the tires spin until they hook up and the Malibu leaves a trail of rubber and smoke as the V8 growls. Dad spins the wheel and the car whips the front end around. With the car pointed to the highway the motor is finally unleashes with the scream of all eight cylinders tearing through the air.
SON
What are you doing?
Dad reaches in a duffle bag in the back and pulls out a Remington 870 and pushes it into Son's arms with the barrel pointed at the floor. Dad reaches in the bag and pulls drops a box of ammo in Son's lap.
DAD
Load'r up.
SON
Where are we going?
DAD
We're going to get your mother.
Son starts loading ammo in the shotgun.
SON
What are you talking about? Mom's dead.
DAD
No, she didn't. She went missing. We always assumed she was dead because I was sure if she was still alive she would have found some way to get back to us.
SON
What? Mom died in a car accident. You told me the wreck was so bad we had to cremate her.
DAD
Your mom's a spy. We both were. When she went missing I spent the next couple years looking for her. After I couldn't find her I realized my real job was to take care of you and I got out. Today this came in the mail.
Dad hands Son a small portable television with a tape player glued to it. Son plays the tap and is staring at a grainy black and white image on a two inch screen with hissing audio. There is a man in a suit with a woman tied to a chair with a gag in her mouth.
MAN ON TV
I have your wife. You come to my facility in Chicago and give me the Golem and I'll give you back your wife. Don't come and things will not end well for her.
They pass a sign on the highway saying Chicago 806 miles.
SON
What are we doing?
DAD
We're going there but we're not giving him shit. We're taking your mother back and anyone who gets in our way won't be there for long.
| |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | Princess Betta of Bathory leaned over a massive bath built into the stonework. The contents obscured from Sir Henry's blurry view, but already he'd seen enough to confirm the long whispered rumors of Betta's occult interests. He'd dismissed them as too outrageous to be true, and now as his awareness sharpened he realized he was thoroughly strapped down to a stone altar, with only his right arm free, dangling over a large metal urn, collecting the blood that trickled from the long and shallow cut down the length of his forearm.
He bucked, but the straps held firm, he writhed, but they didn't shift. His free arm twitched weakly, unable to reach the clasps that pinned him down.
Bathory hummed, her back still turned, and drew a short sword from her hip, leaning further toward her massive bath. A pair of thin legs stretched to the side, and began to rattle a heavy chain as Sir Henry realized that another captive was about to be slaughtered directly over the tub.
"Stop! Stop!" His ragged voice rang out in the dungeon, and at the sound of another voice the obscured captive cried out for help, and began to struggle more powerfully against the Princess.
"Help me! I'm down here!"
Bathory lost her footing and fell into her tub, with a splash of redness. A girl in a plain, ragged and dirty dress picked up the sword and ran to the anchor of her chain, attempting to pry open the padlock.
Bathory rose from the tub with a curse, dripping and stained with the blood of previous sacrifices, "No one is coming to save you, seamstress. Scream to your heart's content. The brave Sir Henry will join you shortly, in the pit."
The girl held the sword aloft menacingly, "I may die, but it'll cost your arms and your pretty face, vile hell beast!"
Bathory threw up her hands in exasperation, and reached for a crossbow mounted on the far wall.
"Our father in heaven, hallowed be thy name...!" Henry yelled the Lord's prayer, hoping to invoke divine intervention, until a crossbow bolt sank into his shoulder and made him scream instead.
"Your prayers don't hurt me, fool. They merely make me irritable." Bathory reached for another bolt and loaded it with a click. Carefully, she took aim at the girl who tensed and shifted on her feet, in an attempt to anticipate the shot.
A loud crack, and a sprinkle of dust from above caught Bathory's attention. Her eyes grew wide and she sprang aside as the masonry came down from above her. A massive shadow appeared behind the cloud of dust, and Bathory began to fire and reload in earnest into it.
The booming, draconic roar deafened them all, as the shadow came through the hole with eyes and jaws blazing, bolts sticking out of its snout and sternum.
A blast of flame shot forth, singing Bathory as she sprinted towards Henry's altar for cover. More shots clicked out, and the dragon shielded it's eyes before leaping forward with a snarling reptilian hiss.
Massive talons crunched into the stone around Henry's chest, narrowly avoided impalement. He froze and stared up at the black armored underbelly of the beast, and cringed at the radiated heat of another blast fired from above him.
Bathory screamed, and the dragon leapt from the altar, claws scrabbling against stone, until a series of loud, wet cunches filled the dungeon.
A soft retching sound, Henry was not sure if it came from his own mouth, and the scrabbling moved back towards him.
The massive, blazing visage loomed over him, shaking the bolts off as though it was only bathwater. A long slash of the fearsome black talons released him from the bindings and caused his heart to skip a beat within his breast.
The blazing eyes focused on him in a piercing gaze, and a small flame licked out, painfully cauterized his bleeding wound, but leaving no other burns.
"Lord or Lady dragon," the girls voice trembled slightly, "I beg that you spare us."
A strange cough erupted from the massive maw. "I am Ebonscale the Just. I ask only, for tribute of gold and song. I demand nothing."
A sharp swipe and a loud metallic crunch rent her chain from its mooring, and the great beast sprang up through the ceiling into the night. | Yes they all called me the Dragon. Why they kept coming back every week was beyond me, but maybe they saw through my ruthlessness through to my deep passion, or maybe simply they admired my particular intelligence, well beyond anyone. A small but solid group would endure merciless slaughter on a weekly basis, and my ruthlessness was starting to rub off on some of the more able.
Yet there was one older than most yet small and dainty. Her refusal to lift a finger in preparation for battle, and her arrogance in spite of her lack of skill led me, not altogether politely to call her the Princess. Her particular reason for coming week after week I'm sure was to outwit me - to boast that she was better than the Dragon. I looked for every excuse to rid my world of her, and most fortunately she gave me that excuse.
My most prized possession was handed down to me from my great-grandfather. With jewels and gold and silver it was clearly worth a fortune. Yet in my arrogance I used it many weeks to aid in my annihilation of any who dared stand against me. But this week something was different. I checked in the evening and noted that it was broken. I had deep suspicions.
The phone call from her Mom told me all we needed to know. "Yes, I've found the knight, we'll send it to chess club next week". | |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | "Hear me warrior." the dragon said after setting the knight down.
sir ronceval of Parrl was a knight of no small skill, but aside from the fact that this towering, rust-red scale coated behemoth whose every word came with generous gouts of fire that sputtered and crept over its upper jaws like souls being sent to the heavens was many times his size and power, he'd dropped his sword when it had carried him away from the castle, but not before burning it to the ground with as much ire and venom as it could muster in the initial blast of flame, a hellfire so potent that it was as though it had been a waterfall of white-hot flame, as though someone had dumped the flaming lakes of hell onto the castle's formerly pristine white surface to char and blacken both it, and the people within.
ronceval's thoughts turned to the princess, his charge, as well as the king, and he felt a great rage gripping him as the dragon held him down while he struggled.
"LISTEN TO ME!" the dragon roared, its voice shook the air and the flames spilling from its maw flared out with even more strength, crawling over its scaled cheeks to lick its eyes, causing it to blink as it shouted.
"you killed them!" ronceval screamed.
"THEY WERE ALREADY DEAD! THAT ENTIRE COURT HAS BEEN DEAD FOR CENTURIES!!" the dragon protested. "I slew no innocents!! I merely struck an illusion! an illusion that foul princess cast for the sake of maintaining the province of landis!! open your eyes sir knight! I saved you before I even began my assault!!"
though he showed no signs of calming down, the dragon lifted its massive paw from his chest, and ronceval rose and ran at the dragon, beating its massive paw, fully the size of ten angry roncevals of parrl, in futility.
"where are you from?" the dragon asked at length. "what is your title?"
"I am ronceval of parrl." he replied and the name gave the dragon pause as he considered the implications.
"Yes, I do recall the old king of landis once had designs on a diplomatic treaty with parrl, trade agreements if i'm not mistaken...before his death that is."
"you claim he is dead, yet I saw him not moments before you-"
"a corpse and nothing more." the dragon explained dismissively. "he was being held together by necromancy, an illusion kept you from seeing or smelling the truth. what of the princess then? how old is she?"
"she is fully into womanhood, what does it matter-" ronceval asked angrily before the dragon shook his head, waving him to silence. "she was but a troubled youth when she began delving into sorcery...try though i did to protect her from her father's abuses, she could not stomach the suffering she was dealt when I was not around to protect her, in the end she lost trust to all, myself included-" the dragon glanced down at his arm, his eyes moving over the scales he'd grown accustomed to.
"yes....before I became this...thing. you see sir knight, I was once a great knight, the general of the landis armies and personal bodyguard to the princess, I was like a father to her, or perhaps an older brother. but things....they slowly grew worse, the princess fell far, so far in fact that by the time i noticed that she was delving into witchcraft, it was too late. the king moved to have her executed, thinking to make an example of his own daughter. I considered my loyalties then and there and decided to make the hard choice of stopping her death. I succeeded, the flames of the burning did not so much as touch her, but in return for my loyalty, I uncovered a startling truth. she wanted death, and in her twisted mind i'd robbed her of that privilege, so she cursed me, turning me into this dragon before setting her sights on her own father. horrified and confused, I fled to the mountains and eventually recovered enough to observe the kingdom, to try to piece together what had happened after I left. what i discovered was nothing short of jarring. the princess had slain the entire court and used her ever-growing powers to reanimate the dead, to maintain the semblance of a court and to keep the kingdom under her thumb. far from wishing to die, it appeared as though she decided that if she was to live, she would live for the sake of deserving death, and so the hell that is the landis you and i know came to be. this was the day I grew tired of watching my greatest failure as a friend and mentor continue and struck out, and you were caught in the crossfires. I beg you sir knight, leave this realm, tell parrl of what has occurred, keep well away from that kingdom unless it is to invade and free the people from their corrupt princess."
with that, the dragon flew off, leaving ronceval to his confusion atop a great, snow-capped mountain. | Yes they all called me the Dragon. Why they kept coming back every week was beyond me, but maybe they saw through my ruthlessness through to my deep passion, or maybe simply they admired my particular intelligence, well beyond anyone. A small but solid group would endure merciless slaughter on a weekly basis, and my ruthlessness was starting to rub off on some of the more able.
Yet there was one older than most yet small and dainty. Her refusal to lift a finger in preparation for battle, and her arrogance in spite of her lack of skill led me, not altogether politely to call her the Princess. Her particular reason for coming week after week I'm sure was to outwit me - to boast that she was better than the Dragon. I looked for every excuse to rid my world of her, and most fortunately she gave me that excuse.
My most prized possession was handed down to me from my great-grandfather. With jewels and gold and silver it was clearly worth a fortune. Yet in my arrogance I used it many weeks to aid in my annihilation of any who dared stand against me. But this week something was different. I checked in the evening and noted that it was broken. I had deep suspicions.
The phone call from her Mom told me all we needed to know. "Yes, I've found the knight, we'll send it to chess club next week". | |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | "Oh, not this shit again."
Hrifbgueghn rubbed the soot from his eyes and poked his head out to see the villagers scurrying away. The girl was, as usual, chained to the stake that they had hastily pounded into the ground in front of his lair. Knowing the "Knight" would be along presently, he decided to ask the "Princess" how she got herself into this mess.
"Er, uh, HAROOF!" he cleared his throat, in an effort to not frighten her anymore than she already was. But the poor thing collapsed and started sobbing, unintelligible jabber bubbling up through her snot and tears.
"It's Okay, Princess, I'm not going to eat you."
"I'M NOT A PRINCESS!" she screamed/wheezed.
"I know."
"Then why did you call me that? And how can you talk? You have no lips, and your mouth is all teeth and fire."
Hrifbgueghn summed her up pretty quick, this one had more spirit than most, and she seemed to actually believe him when he told her he wasn't going to eat her. He'd been through this so many times, and he was glad that he really wasn't going to have to eat her, breaking his word always made his tummy a little unsettled.
"Well, I'm not really talking, you are hearing my thoughts, and I can sort of hear yours, but please, speak clearly, it makes it easier for me to understand you." He did posses the ability to read her thoughts, but right now they were mostly a mass of confusion fear anger and regret.
"He swore to me that I would be safe!"
"The King?"
"Yes, The King"
The King, what an asshole, Thought Hrifbgueghn.
"What?"
"Oh, nothing ... I didn't mean for you to hear that."
Just then the "Knight" came gallumphing into view on his poor old swayback mare. The kid looked like just that, a kid, dressed up in pots and pans riding the family dog.
"Leave her be! Foul Beast!" yelled the kid, trying his best to not let his voice crack.
"Harumph!" belched Hrifbgueghn, sending smoke rings into the air. This stopped the "Knight" in his tracks. "You gonna try to slay me now or something?"
"Yes, and rescue the Princess!"
"Okay, I'm going to try to make this easy for the both of you, "You, Princess, did the King catch you in bed with one of his "Rightful Heirs"?
"Uhm, uh ... yes?"
"And you, "Good Sir Knight" were, perchance hired by the King to rescue the kidnapped Maiden Fair?
"Well, I think 'Hired' makes me sound sort of mercenary, don't you thi ..."
"YES OR NO?!"
"Yes!"
"Okay, here's how this is going to play out, you two idiots have two choices, leave together, or leave separately. If you leave together, I feel I need to warn you, Sir Pots-n-Pans, that there's a more than likely chance that Princess Scullery Maid here is pregnant with the Prince's bastard child. (A weak protest from the "Princess" was stifled by a puff of smoke, and some flames.) If you leave separately, you're both on your own, don't expect me swooping down to save you at the last minute from the Evil Henchmen or anything crazy like that, Got it?"
"Got it."
"Got it."
"Now, they won't be expecting you back at all, Little Miss Roll in the Hay, so you can just leave out the back of the canyon and never be seen or heard from again. (With this, Hrifbgueghn scattered a bunch of gold coins at her feet, and told her to "Don't pay the Ferryman until he gets you to the other side."
"As for you, "Good Sir Knight" if you trust The King, you can go back, plead mercy, and hope he doesn't have Sir Choppy take your head ...
"Right then, she'll need someone to protect her from the Ferryman, so, I'll be going with her if that's alright with you." The Knight said said while scooping ancient gold coins into his helmet, "Thanks! Bye-bye!"
"They're going to make a cute couple", Hrifbgueghn thought to himself, as he lifted into the air, wheeled about, and started for the Castle. "I haven't had King in almost thirty years, this is going to be good."
| Yes they all called me the Dragon. Why they kept coming back every week was beyond me, but maybe they saw through my ruthlessness through to my deep passion, or maybe simply they admired my particular intelligence, well beyond anyone. A small but solid group would endure merciless slaughter on a weekly basis, and my ruthlessness was starting to rub off on some of the more able.
Yet there was one older than most yet small and dainty. Her refusal to lift a finger in preparation for battle, and her arrogance in spite of her lack of skill led me, not altogether politely to call her the Princess. Her particular reason for coming week after week I'm sure was to outwit me - to boast that she was better than the Dragon. I looked for every excuse to rid my world of her, and most fortunately she gave me that excuse.
My most prized possession was handed down to me from my great-grandfather. With jewels and gold and silver it was clearly worth a fortune. Yet in my arrogance I used it many weeks to aid in my annihilation of any who dared stand against me. But this week something was different. I checked in the evening and noted that it was broken. I had deep suspicions.
The phone call from her Mom told me all we needed to know. "Yes, I've found the knight, we'll send it to chess club next week". | |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | “Come on in.” The Dragon stepped aside to allow the two couple enter the room, taking their respective seat.
The door closed gently behind them, and the Dragon stood in front of the couple with the clipboard. “Now to get on-”
“Are we still have to go through this again?” The Princess huffed, standing from her seat. “I believe that we have established that we are ok together.”
“No we haven’t,” The patience that the large creature had, had instantly thinned by the female’s attitude. “But we have established that you are a toxic influence to not only your husband, but to everyone around you.”
“What?” She shouted. “You just saying that because you hate me, ever since I was locked up in the tower by you!”
“Please don’t discuss something unrelated here; we are here to figure how to have a healthy relationship together,” A small glance to the cowering Knight. “But it looks like it wiser to separate you two.”
“No, you obviously hate my guts, and this is why we are done meeting with you.”
“Knight didn’t say if he agreed with your choice there.”
“Of course he’ll agree, he’s my husband and he should always agree with me! Isn’t that right?” She looked at her husband with confidence.
The haggard young man looked at the Dragon, who in turn nod, and looked at his hands. “Honey, I don’t agree with you.”
*“What?”* She hissed. “You are supposed to agree with me! When did you gain such an attitude?”
“I loved you. You were so beautiful when I rescue you from this dragon.” He motioned to professionally dressed creature. “But I didn’t know what I was getting into…” His words trailed, struggling to get something to get across. “…I wished I listened to your words back then.”
The Dragon sighed, patting the back of the broken youth. The human-sized lizard gazed at the delicately dressed woman with a frown. “As you can see, he doesn’t agree with your choice and I will talk with both of your lawyers to see that your divorce won’t be messy.”
“You are not talking with our lawyers and we won’t be getting a divorce.” The Princess went to reach out for the Knight’s arm. “We’re going home and we’re going to have a talk about today.”
A clawed hand reached out and grabbed the thin wrist tightly. “I am losing patience with you woman, I tried to be civil with you despite our past and I tried to work out things through human methods, but you’re too unbearable to talk with.” The creature wrenched her arm towards itself. “Instead we can go back to holding you captive in the castle again. This isn’t first time we had do this and this time I won’t let anyone get to you anymore.”
The Princess freed her arm, rubbing the sore wrist as she sneered at the Dragon. “Fine, we will have lawyers involved, but remember that when I win, you will be executed for treason. Dragons are supposed to follow the law, and you’re holding onto the wrong maiden this entire time. I let that go the first time, since father didn’t want to do anything with me at the time, but I will get you killed one way or another.”
She left, slamming the door and stomping her feet on her way out. The Knight stopped cowering, hugging the giant dragon. “Thank you.” He whispered.
The Dragon patted the man’s shoulder, sitting down on his chair. “I told you, we Dragons are here to protect the people of the land we live on. Even from their own princesses.”
------
Just trying to actually post what I write from these prompts. | Yes they all called me the Dragon. Why they kept coming back every week was beyond me, but maybe they saw through my ruthlessness through to my deep passion, or maybe simply they admired my particular intelligence, well beyond anyone. A small but solid group would endure merciless slaughter on a weekly basis, and my ruthlessness was starting to rub off on some of the more able.
Yet there was one older than most yet small and dainty. Her refusal to lift a finger in preparation for battle, and her arrogance in spite of her lack of skill led me, not altogether politely to call her the Princess. Her particular reason for coming week after week I'm sure was to outwit me - to boast that she was better than the Dragon. I looked for every excuse to rid my world of her, and most fortunately she gave me that excuse.
My most prized possession was handed down to me from my great-grandfather. With jewels and gold and silver it was clearly worth a fortune. Yet in my arrogance I used it many weeks to aid in my annihilation of any who dared stand against me. But this week something was different. I checked in the evening and noted that it was broken. I had deep suspicions.
The phone call from her Mom told me all we needed to know. "Yes, I've found the knight, we'll send it to chess club next week". | |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | Dragons are very long-lived creatures. We divide ourselves between two groups: the ones who hibernate, and the ones who don't. If you choose not to, like me, you need something to while away the centuries.
Taking human form helps. I've spent lives as other animals, but the pleasures available to them are quite limited - even being an apex predator gets old fast, prey animals mostly live in undignified fear, and simpler creatures are barely alive at all. So humanity is where I spend most of my time.
I've been an emperor, and I've been a tyrant. I've lived lives of faith and lives of debauchery. I've bedded countless beautiful men and women, and although I couldn't give them children, I've raised human children and I've watched them grow old from afar. These were all entertaining in their time.
As of late, I've been watching a man named Donovan. A valorous knight, he was, and gallant. He was made to marry the princess of this kingdom - a cruel and unfaithful woman named Arda. She has nothing but contempt for him, and his virtue will not allow him to go with other women.
I am thinking perhaps I will wear my war body and interfere. She could be tragically slain, or perhaps Sir Donovan and I could fight and he would come out the victor. Or I could kidnap one of them, and they might even send an army after me! It would break the monotony, if nothing else.
And if I can't think of something, well, I've been meaning to try a dolphin. | Yes they all called me the Dragon. Why they kept coming back every week was beyond me, but maybe they saw through my ruthlessness through to my deep passion, or maybe simply they admired my particular intelligence, well beyond anyone. A small but solid group would endure merciless slaughter on a weekly basis, and my ruthlessness was starting to rub off on some of the more able.
Yet there was one older than most yet small and dainty. Her refusal to lift a finger in preparation for battle, and her arrogance in spite of her lack of skill led me, not altogether politely to call her the Princess. Her particular reason for coming week after week I'm sure was to outwit me - to boast that she was better than the Dragon. I looked for every excuse to rid my world of her, and most fortunately she gave me that excuse.
My most prized possession was handed down to me from my great-grandfather. With jewels and gold and silver it was clearly worth a fortune. Yet in my arrogance I used it many weeks to aid in my annihilation of any who dared stand against me. But this week something was different. I checked in the evening and noted that it was broken. I had deep suspicions.
The phone call from her Mom told me all we needed to know. "Yes, I've found the knight, we'll send it to chess club next week". | |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | "Should you have the honour of rescuing my daughter, the beautiful princess Yazariya from that lair, you may take her hand and rule alongside her."
Prince Renal nodded respectfully in silence, for he was recognizing the grief and sorrow of the king and also a father of the poor child. The princess was missing for 20 years now, snatched away from her cradle as a newborn. And yet her father never gave up on her. He sent many brave souls after her trail, certain she was alive and held captive from the beast. An effort in vain as all of them went through heaven's doors.
Many tried to convince him he was wasting his time and resources and men, his queen included. “Let the poor girl rest in peace, my dear. We owe her this.”, but none of their words reached the mourning father. Fateful to his promise he made to himself, he sent elite divisions and armies after the beast. None of them successful.
By advice of his trusted men, the ruler decided to trust not brute force but wit and tactics. By sending single warriors or knights, the chances of them to trick the dragon or sneak right past him were higher. And the sacrifice was far smaller.
Prince Renal was determined to do his best or die trying. He wanted to help not only the innocent damsel in distress but to ease her father as well. And the idea of a union between their kingdoms would mean only well for their people. He prepared his armor and his best horse. He also took his father's sword, ready to slay if needed.
It took him two weeks to find the place described by tales all around. He stood before a high tower, lonely in a green field. The old stone was covered with moss and ivy. Dead silence ruled the lands as birds were quiet and the air was still. Prince Renal got off his horse and dared step forward. Not a sign from the dragon. Was this a trap? Did he sense his presence from afar?
He came upon a simple wooden door, which wasn’t hidden nor unapproachable. It wasn’t locked either and with ease he opened the door. From the distance within, somewhere in the dark, he heard the rattle of shackles or so he thought. “My fair maiden!”
Before he can rush in after his promised one, a dirty beast hidden in the shadows grasped him and knocked him down. It bit his arm and tore his flesh. He screamed in agony and tried to pierce the beast but it did not feel any pain. It screamed in triumph and in blood lust, and attacked again.
Renal could barely look at what attacked him as he tried to push the thing away. He could see multiple lesions on its faint skin as it outlined the bones underneath like a map outlining mountains. It barely had any hairs but its teeth were sharp and it was merciless. At one point Renal was sure it would end his life before he can manage to escape. Its eyes were cruel and thirsty.
He couldn’t outrun it. He couldn’t overpower it. His head was heavy and he felt dizzy. Was he poisoned? Was this black magic? The thing jumped forward and tried to reach for his hand, he attacked back desperately trying to cut off its head. But the agile monster evaded and tacked him again. Before it could bite him, he clutched a nearby stone and smashed it against its head. And even though he managed to kick it away from himself, he was unable to get up or move at all. Thick roots were rambled around and held him down, now crushing his body and bones. The grip grew tighter around his ankles and arms.
"No running away now, love." - the thing giggled while getting up. Renal was unable to believe that its rotten mouth was capable of speech. Its voice was just as hideous as its looks. It was sarcastic and mocking and just the sound of it made him shiver with disgust. "Save me from my curse, dearie. Let me feast upon your valiant heart. If it is such truly."
Before the thing could attack one final time, Renal heard wings flapping. A shadow devoured them, from above a flying beast dived without a second doubt. A nature’s force, the dragon stood between the man and the beast. The thing stepped back, hissing.
Yazariya knew the dragon’s fire couldn’t reach her but despite that a dragon should never be underestimated.
"You’re back." - She laughed. Renal could feel how bitter she was from the fact. Yet, she stared at him while she talked to the dragon. "Why did you have to come back?"
The dragon growled and tore the roots around Renal’s body with one of his paws. The wench looked at them furious, clutching her fists and lips into a twisted smile. Distant trees began moving, screeching. The dragon was ready to take any of her attacks.
“Run, you fool!”
Renal got on his feed, shaking. The horse was nowhere to be found, but he turned around and ran as fast as he can.
The child was left behind, alone, distant from everyone and unwanted - even from her own mother. | Yes they all called me the Dragon. Why they kept coming back every week was beyond me, but maybe they saw through my ruthlessness through to my deep passion, or maybe simply they admired my particular intelligence, well beyond anyone. A small but solid group would endure merciless slaughter on a weekly basis, and my ruthlessness was starting to rub off on some of the more able.
Yet there was one older than most yet small and dainty. Her refusal to lift a finger in preparation for battle, and her arrogance in spite of her lack of skill led me, not altogether politely to call her the Princess. Her particular reason for coming week after week I'm sure was to outwit me - to boast that she was better than the Dragon. I looked for every excuse to rid my world of her, and most fortunately she gave me that excuse.
My most prized possession was handed down to me from my great-grandfather. With jewels and gold and silver it was clearly worth a fortune. Yet in my arrogance I used it many weeks to aid in my annihilation of any who dared stand against me. But this week something was different. I checked in the evening and noted that it was broken. I had deep suspicions.
The phone call from her Mom told me all we needed to know. "Yes, I've found the knight, we'll send it to chess club next week". | |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | Hyperion drew his sword as he entered the bedchamber. Lit scented candles littered the shelves and dressers placed up against the wall bathing the enormous room in an orange glow. Hanging overhead was a metallic chandelier with five or six more lit candles. The walls were decorated with fine silk tapestries depicting the inhabitant's previous conquests.
On one side of the room Hyperion could see his friend's suit of armor laying neatly in the corner. The dragon let out a low bellow in order to signal to his friend that he had arrived. Hyperion's scales bristled at the thought of what might have happened to his friend. He crept through the room toward the center where the enormous bed lay. Something stirred under the covers. His tail stood erect. He unsheathed his sword ready for a fight.
With a loud and feral growl the princess burst out of the covers. She stood over the night stripped down to his underwear and bound to the bedpost with a leather strap. Scrawny arms and slender legs flapped and flailed at the dragon. Fire emerged from her behind lipstick laden lips as she screeched toward her adversary. Hyperion lifted his sword and blocked the flames. He met hers with flames of his own.
"You will not have him!" the creature said, "he's mine! We're meeting my parents for dinner later on tonight!"
The woman lunged off the bed at the dragon baring long, fake nails. Hyperion swung his tail. The princess let out a yelp with the impact of the noble dragon's tail. She landed on the wooden floor with a thud. While the woman was knocked out Hyperion rushed to the knight's side. He took a dagger from his side and cut the leather straps.
"Thank goodness you came," the knight said.
"Maybe this will teach you to stop paying attention to your other head."
"You don't have to tell me twice."
The princess on the floor started coming to. Holding her head, she rolled over and picked herself up. She staggered toward the dragon and the knight reaching out. She fell to her knees.
"You may have defeated me," she said, " but I still have my ladies in waiting. They will make quick work of you."
The princess collapsed once again and lost consciousness. Sounds of women screeching and howling came from behind the door on the other side of the bed chamber.
"Princess Ophelia?" one of the ladies in waiting called. Her nails could be heard scraping against the polished wood. "Is everything okay in there? Do we need to come in?"
"We have to get out of here," Hyperion said helping his friend with his armor. | Yes they all called me the Dragon. Why they kept coming back every week was beyond me, but maybe they saw through my ruthlessness through to my deep passion, or maybe simply they admired my particular intelligence, well beyond anyone. A small but solid group would endure merciless slaughter on a weekly basis, and my ruthlessness was starting to rub off on some of the more able.
Yet there was one older than most yet small and dainty. Her refusal to lift a finger in preparation for battle, and her arrogance in spite of her lack of skill led me, not altogether politely to call her the Princess. Her particular reason for coming week after week I'm sure was to outwit me - to boast that she was better than the Dragon. I looked for every excuse to rid my world of her, and most fortunately she gave me that excuse.
My most prized possession was handed down to me from my great-grandfather. With jewels and gold and silver it was clearly worth a fortune. Yet in my arrogance I used it many weeks to aid in my annihilation of any who dared stand against me. But this week something was different. I checked in the evening and noted that it was broken. I had deep suspicions.
The phone call from her Mom told me all we needed to know. "Yes, I've found the knight, we'll send it to chess club next week". | |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | "I was pulled from the local brothel by my fragile yet fateful squire Elrish. I'm sure he sounded something like this while attempting to pull me away from the heaven I found myself in."
"Pppp...pardon me, great lord Martin. Slayer of Evil, Lover of Women, and Bringer of Joy"
Elrish stumbled forward sluggishly to place his hand on the back of Martins right shoulder only to miss by a foot and fall flat on his face.
"I didn't say soooch (belch) such a think as...um..as that."
"Good god man, Get a hold of yourself and stop hogging all the rum."
Martin snatches the rum from Elrish and takes three long gulps then continues his tale.
"As I was saying. I was forcefully removed from this pleasure, the pleasure of helping a poor lass down on her luck of course, by kings order. The king then told me to quest here and well, kill you. You see we became something of a legend and were called upon to slay any monsters or creatures that may harm the people of this kingdom. And this legend all started in a small village far to the west. Me and sweet, fragile Elrish here.."
"Not fragile" Elrish belched out.
"Says the man flat on his back. Now as I was saying me and sweet, dumb, fragile, child-like Elrish here (Elrish's hands reach from the ground toward the bottle only to have it ripped away by Martin who takes yet another swig) were taking a nice stroll through the beautiful country side."
"We were fleeing" Elrish said as he slumped himself over a dark, slimy rock.
"Perhaps we were fleeing who can remember? All I recall is the stunning scenery and the grace of the steeds we rode at full speed."
"Stolen steeds."
"Well yes, stolen from an evil man hell bent on over pricing his horses." Martin now becoming sluggish himself.
"Twas an old man, Pleasant in fact."
"Well if denying a man in need of a horse is pleasa-"
"You fucked his daughter after he graciously invited us to stay the night."
"She was very good to us, fed us well and made our beds. Was I to deny her when she entered my chambers?"
A booming voice crackled and echoed towards them. "ON WITH YOUR FOOLISH TALE!!!!"
Martin, looking fearful, clears his throat. "Right, so before we reached this small town we see what appears to be a body lying on a hill in the distance. So naturally, being the good upstanding gentlemen that we are, we go to see if we can help. Only this was no human body it was a dire wolf and a big one at that. With the knowledge of the gold we would receive from the fur of a dire wolf we have a few drinks in celebration."
"A bottle." Elrish whispers
"Being as we were a little drunk mind you, we seemed to not be able to skin this beast in a proper manner. In fact we quite butchered the thing and decided to sleep off the liquors' hold on us. Then we awoke to see a crowd of people standing around us. We thought perhaps we'd been caught but it turns out they were commoners of the local town we sought. And this dire wolf was a tormentor of theirs for years. They paraded us into town like kings and praised us. Some even cried at our feet. It was all quite fetching if I may say so myself."
"Aye, they gave us plenty of food, women, and mead." Elrish spat this out now standing on his feet next to Martin.
"This praise went on for days and the story of our heroism glided throughout the kingdom only getting more and more embellished as it worked its way to the kings ear. And when it finally reached his ear we were plucked from that glorious town and thrown before the king where I was knighted and Elrish was named my squire."
"Twas bullshit that. I should have been the Knighted one."
"Well you shouldn't have drank so much to the point of passing out. The people had many questions. What was I to do?"
Elrish rolled his eyes and grabbed the bottle out of Martins hand to take a swig.
Martin smirks and proceeded to say "The king then told us we are to slay any monsters or creatures that bring fear and death to his people and so with no real choice we set off to do just that. And to our luck we found that people are afraid of just about anything. Each story was as foolish as the last. There was the Ghost of the Hollow Woods which only appeared at full moon. It was only a white sheet high in a tree that caught the light of the moon. Then there was the Massive Tunnel Snake that would drag you under if given the chance. Turns out that was just a fat wood chuck, Elrish now keeps him as a pet."
"I call him Chuck Elrish the 3rd. Cute little bugger he is. Turns out hes a bourbon man." Elrish leans in with a hand to his cheek as if to whisper. "Keeps him from biting it does. Oh (hiccup) and don't forget about the Shrieking Banshee of Western Swallow. Now that was just an old toad. I think I still got a bit of him on me boot." Elrish struggles to lift his left boot then gives up. "well its down there somewhere." (hiccup).
Martin then steps forward to once again take control of the story.
"So you see that's what brought us to were we stand today, to kill...(Martin, quivering, takes another drink from the bottle of rum) a dragon."
A massive black scaly face with fangs the length of a mans arm and eyes as gold as the kings crown slowly inches into the moonlight that seeps into the entrance of the cave. All they can hear is the faint sound of water dripping from above and echoing deep as they await their death.
"MUHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA" The dragon laughs hysterically and slams his menacing paw to the ground over and over. The wind of his laughter blows back Martin and Elrishs hair while the slamming of his paw knocks them to the ground. The dragon looks back at them with a frightening grin and says with his booming voice " I am Morgune, It is a pleasure to meet you boys."
Martin and Elrish slowly stand and dust themselves off still shaking with fear. "Yes, well yes it's also quite the pleasure to meet you."
Elrish forces a quivering smile "Aye, it sure is."
Morgune leans in close and asked softly. "Now what reward do you receive by killing me?"
Martin takes a submissive step back. "Well we are to be paid in a mountain of gold and I am to wed the princess. Her beauty knows no bounds as does her cruelty. Some would say she is fair and just, but any man with sense would say shes...well a bit of..."
Elrish interrupts. "She's a cunt." (belch)
Morgune Ponders for a time and offers a sinister counter offer. "How would you two like all the kings gold and Martin how would you like to be free of this princess?"
Both men spit out the rum they were sharing and say at the same time. "Well sir I'd love nothing more" (Martin)
"Well shit I'd love nothing more"(Elrish)
"Then rulers and conquerors you shall be. Free from the shrill princess and rich beyond your dreams. I love nothing more then a good tale and yours, though good, is only just beginning."
| Yes they all called me the Dragon. Why they kept coming back every week was beyond me, but maybe they saw through my ruthlessness through to my deep passion, or maybe simply they admired my particular intelligence, well beyond anyone. A small but solid group would endure merciless slaughter on a weekly basis, and my ruthlessness was starting to rub off on some of the more able.
Yet there was one older than most yet small and dainty. Her refusal to lift a finger in preparation for battle, and her arrogance in spite of her lack of skill led me, not altogether politely to call her the Princess. Her particular reason for coming week after week I'm sure was to outwit me - to boast that she was better than the Dragon. I looked for every excuse to rid my world of her, and most fortunately she gave me that excuse.
My most prized possession was handed down to me from my great-grandfather. With jewels and gold and silver it was clearly worth a fortune. Yet in my arrogance I used it many weeks to aid in my annihilation of any who dared stand against me. But this week something was different. I checked in the evening and noted that it was broken. I had deep suspicions.
The phone call from her Mom told me all we needed to know. "Yes, I've found the knight, we'll send it to chess club next week". | |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | Sir Gunther trudged wearily toward the cave, his breathing labored from hours of plodding through the muddy banks of the Toffee Swamp. As he pulled his last booted foot from the muck and struck out on solid footing, he mumbled a prayer to whichever saint happened to be listening. Normally he had the time to be picky about prayer, but today was not one of those days.
Hesitantly, Sir Gunther took a few steps forward and leaned against the wall of the cave, drawing in slow, deep breaths in an attempt to quiet his pounding heart. The moisture-slick stone felt oddly warm against the palms of his hands. He sniffed the air. The entryway smelled of ash and reptile droppings. He was in the right place.
After collecting himself, Sir Gunther stepped away from the wall and watched the granite cavern pulse in and out in a steady breathing motion. He wondered for a moment if he was mistaken and had somehow ended up inside the belly of the creature that he sought. He mused over the thought, and soon decided that it was most likely true.
"Hello?" he shouted at the cave walls. "Hello? Can you hear me in here?" He took a moment to adjust his helmet, which all of a sudden felt much smaller than it had before. "I seek Sparky the Dragon!"
"Who goes there??" a great, booming voice replied.
"It is I, Sir Gunther of Rathskeller!" After a moment's pause, the knight added: "The one whom, a moment earlier, you so voraciously consumed!"
A thunderous noise, like the pounding of a titanic drum, echoed through the great chamber, coming steadily closer with each beat. Sir Gunther braced himself for the worst - surely the dragon was about to send him hurtling through its digestive system.
And then, as he peered into the inky depths of the cave, he saw it. A massive, scaly foot, easily the size of a full-grown man, came to rest upon the cave floor with a force that sent shockwaves across the bare rock.
"I dined on no knight this day," the voice rumbled. "Besides, I went vegetarian four or five decades ago. All that fiber works wonders in my old age."
A second foot thrust itself out of the darkness ahead of the first, coming to rest on the stony ground with a great thud. It was then that Sir Gunther realized that he was not in the dragon's stomach, but was, in fact, simply in a cave *with* the beast. The thought was of only mild comfort to him.
"I... I have journeyed long and far from Rathskeller to visit you, O Great Sparky!" the knight stammered. "Across the vast golden fields of Elysium! Through the dense, jagged Forest of Eternal Peril! Over the-"
"What in the blazes are you talking about, human?" The voice interrupted. "The town of Rathskeller is only two or three miles away."
Another footstep, and Sir Gunther could finally see the head of the beast. Its bright pink, undulating skin wrapped itself around three mouths, all of which spoke in unison.
"And another thing," the dragon continued, "Do *not* insult me with this 'Sparky' nonsense! My name is Sparcinious the Burning Ember, Scourge of Guttenberg, Ruiner of Empires! Get it right, human!"
"Um, I apologize, O Great Sparcinius the... uh..." Sir Gunther blinked again, and suddenly the dragon's head was pale white and studded with hundreds of tiny, crimson eyes that blinked with every syllable that he spoke. "...what was the rest of that again?"
The dragon let out a deep, ragged sigh from its three mouths, and in barely the blink of an eye, they coalesced into a single, gaping maw. "Nevermind. What brings you here, human?" As the dragon spoke, its great black tongue began to worm its way out of its mouth. "Do you wish to do battle? Slay me? Bring my head home as a trophy for some human female?"
"I, well, I was wondering," Sir Gunther continued, casually leaning against the cave wall. "Can I maybe, please, have one of your scales, O Terrible Spar..." He paused, his eyes growing wide as he watched the beast's tongue extend several feet below its chin and swing to and fro like a fleshy pendulum. "...er, whatever the rest of that was?"
The dragon's million eyes widened. Sir Gunther watched as they crawled like beetles toward the center of the creature's forehead, where they collected like water droplets into one Cyclopean eyelid.
"Ah!" the dragon gasped. "Ingested the Crimson Death mushroom, did we?"
"Yes, O Great... One," Sir Gunther said, hoping that the generic declaration of respect would suffice.
The dragon uttered a sharp guffaw. "You aren't the brightest flower in the field, are you, human?" As he spoke, Sir Gunther watched his tongue snake back into his mouth. Now the creature's reptilian scowl was impossibly wide, and when it spoke, it emitted puffs of rainbow-hued smoke from its nostrils. "Tell me. How long ago did you consume the fungus?"
"This past evening," Sir Gunther replied in the midst of struggling not to look at his own hands, which had elongated into furry, bat-like claws.
"In that case, the hallucinations have long since begun," Sparcinius said. "Death will come within a day's time." The dragon raised its gigantic right claw and, with a sound like the snapping of a thick tree branch, pried a canary yellow scale from its forehead. "Take this," he said, tossing the scale to rest at Sir Gunther's feet, where it landed with a thump. "Brew it for five minutes in boiling water and drink the resulting potion. The effects should wear off within an hour's time."
Sir Gunther bent down and picked up the scale in between two bat-talons. Curiously, it was much smaller than he expected - about the size of a rose petal.
"Go, now," the dragon sneered, "and leave me in peace. I have a lovely dinner salad to prepare."
Sir Gunther began to step back toward the cave entrance, his dilated pupils never leaving the monster before him. "Thank you, O Great Sparky!" he bellowed, before promptly turning tail and scurrying away as fast as his heavy leather-and-mail armor would allow.
"Sparcinius," the dragon mumbled grimly. As he spoke, a jet of flame shot forth from his nostrils, momentarily revealing his emerald-scaled body, no bigger than that of a large dog. "And what was that bumbling coward so afraid of, anyway?"
-------
Meanwhile, after having traversed the Cloud Mountains, ran the Rainbow Racetrack, and swim-walked the Seven Fathoms of Aphelion, Sir Gunther arrived back at his mansion in Rathskellar only to find that it had transformed into a three-story caramel flan in his absence. He spent a good twenty minutes attempting to eat his way through to the interior when, purely by happy chance, he stumbled upon the front door.
"Gunther! Thank God! Where have you been?" Princess Hilda screamed as he entered the door. "I've been worried sick about you!"
Gunther braced himself against the door frame. The entire world undulated around him, as though he were in the midst of a slow-motion earthquake. Furthermore, the Princess Hilda standing before him now possessed a few extra arms and also the face of a tarantula.
"Brew this for five minutes in boiling water," he said in between staccato breaths, tossing the scale in Hilda-Spider's general direction. "And make sure there's no poison mushrooms in it, please."
"For the thousandth time, I'm sorry!" Hilda said as she bent down to pick up the shiny, chartreuse-hued object. "It looked exactly like a porcini and I thought it would be perfect for my famous risotto."
"Just hurry, please," said an exasperated and suddenly very pale Sir Gunther.
Hilda shot her husband an icy glare and dashed over to the stove, scale in hand. With a grunt, she hoisted a kettle of steaming water off of the fireplace and decanted it in to a floral-patterned teapot on the counter. After replacing the kettle on its perch, she unceremoniously plopped the scale into the pot.
"You know," she said, resting a delicate hand on her hip and smiling a lovely arachnid smile at her knight, "it's rather difficult being a princess most of the time. There's matters of state to look after, protocol and etiquette to obey, and on top of all that, I need to take care of you, too."
"Right. So difficult," Sir Gunther replied through gritted teeth. "So very difficult indeed." | Yes they all called me the Dragon. Why they kept coming back every week was beyond me, but maybe they saw through my ruthlessness through to my deep passion, or maybe simply they admired my particular intelligence, well beyond anyone. A small but solid group would endure merciless slaughter on a weekly basis, and my ruthlessness was starting to rub off on some of the more able.
Yet there was one older than most yet small and dainty. Her refusal to lift a finger in preparation for battle, and her arrogance in spite of her lack of skill led me, not altogether politely to call her the Princess. Her particular reason for coming week after week I'm sure was to outwit me - to boast that she was better than the Dragon. I looked for every excuse to rid my world of her, and most fortunately she gave me that excuse.
My most prized possession was handed down to me from my great-grandfather. With jewels and gold and silver it was clearly worth a fortune. Yet in my arrogance I used it many weeks to aid in my annihilation of any who dared stand against me. But this week something was different. I checked in the evening and noted that it was broken. I had deep suspicions.
The phone call from her Mom told me all we needed to know. "Yes, I've found the knight, we'll send it to chess club next week". | |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | "You Never talk to me anymore, all of our conversations are one way. I slave over a hot furnace all day to make you a warm meal everyday when you come home from work. That dragon doesn't cook itself you know! HELLO! Can you even hear what i'm saying to right know."
(silence)
"God Charles, you are unbelievable. I don' t even know why I try with you anymore."
This had been Charlie's life for the past 7 years. After 11 hours off hunting dragons and scouting mountains, all Charlie wanted to come home to was peace. A nice relaxing evening free from bitching and complaining from his wife about how hard it was to be home. They didn't have kids after all, she was not expected to pay for anything and most importantly, he never asked anything in return from her for his hard work.
Charlie had been contemplating leaving her for a while now but he didn't have the heart to abandon his wife as he knew no other man in the village would marry her based on what she put Charlie through on a daily basis. Unfortunately, to Charlie death would be the only escape from his miserable life.
The next morning, Charlie woke up promptly at 5 am just as he had everyday. He gather his armor and weaponry from the blacksmith and prepared himself for another long shift of knight duty. His wife ordered him to be home by 6 sharp or she would throw his dinner in the garbage. Threats like this were not unusual for Charlie, he nodded and walked out the door. He arrived at the castle and the king had informed the army that a dragon was spotted in Tranmere (The next town over from his village, Swindmore). The knights ordered to aid the neighboring army in slaying the dragon and returning with it's head to prepare soup for all the people in Swindmore. Charlie and the rest of the kings men put on their helmets and marched towards Tranmere.
They had been traveling for a few hours now when finally one of the knights spotted the dragon on top of the watchtower blowing fire down on the poor civilians below. Then men met up with the brave warriors of Tranmere who then disclosed their plan of attack. The plan was to wait until sunset when the dragon would have tired himself of the destruction and retreat back to his cave for the night. They were to attack at this very moment and ambush the dragon right outside of his home and slay him then. The men responded in unison with a overwhelming, "Yes Sir!"
"Excuse me." a nervous voice said among the hundreds of men who just agreed to the plan.
"Yes?" responded the General of Tranmere.
"My wife asked that I might be home by 6, is there anyway we could ambush the dragon earlier?" asked Charlie.
The armies laughed as they thought this was a joke but the general looked in Charlies eyes and say that this was a genuine question.
"I am sorry" respond Joseph "We must attack while the dragon is tired and unsuspecting or else we will all surely killed"
Charlie nodded in compliance trying to hide his disagreement. Charlie knew if he wasn't home by 6 his wife would surely kill him if the dragon had not. He thought his best bet was to attack the dragon himself and be killed quickly than rather than suffer the wrath of an angry spouse. That afternoon around 5, Charlie slipped away from his platoon and prepared to march himself into battle with the dragon in hopes of a painless death.
Charlie arrived at the burning watchtower where the dragon had been and unsheathed his sword. The dragon stopped his destruction as he noticed Charlie. At this point, Charlie had been trembling with fear, a small crowd had gathered at the bottom of the hill once they noticed a single soldier attempting to slay a giant beast.
Charlie finally spoke up, "Excuse me, Dragon? Would you mind making my death quick I wouldn't want to burden you with my screams for too long."
The dragon puffed out a cloud of thick some from his nostrils and opened his mouth preparing to devour Charlie in a single bite. As he bent over to consume the soldier he made eye contact with him. The dragon saw the look in charlies eyes, it was the same look the dragon had every night when he returned to his wife who was unhappy with the dragon for spending to much time terrorizing villages. Immediately, the dragon stopped. He and Charlie stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. By this point almost the entire town had gathered at the bottom of the hill watching Charlie and the dragon.
Charlie gazed at the dragon, he too had recognized their connection in home lives. The dragon relaxed his tail and allowed Charlie to climb onto his back. Charlie climbed aboard the stroked the dragon on its side.
"yip, yip!" said Charlie, and the dragon jumped into the air and began flying toward the sunset.
"wait" said Charlie "one stop before we leave forever." Charlie guided the dragon towards Swindmore and landed the dragon on the roof of his home. The dragon looked at Charlie and awaited further instruction. The knight looked back at the now tamed beast and nodded his head. The dragon raised his hind leg and shit right on the roof of the home. A shit so massive it collapsed the house in a matter of seconds. Charlie's wife ran out, covered in feces and watched the dragon and Charlie fly away into the horizon.
Not much was said about the two after that. Charlie's wife had become a beggar who spent her days digging through garbage looking for any scrap of food she could find. Both villages had peace for years to come and no one worried about where the dragon would attack next. As for Charlie and the dragon, they spent their days traveling the world and shitting on all the people who deserved it.
tl;dr: Man and dragon live in abusive relationships and team up to shit on all abusive people in the world. | Yes they all called me the Dragon. Why they kept coming back every week was beyond me, but maybe they saw through my ruthlessness through to my deep passion, or maybe simply they admired my particular intelligence, well beyond anyone. A small but solid group would endure merciless slaughter on a weekly basis, and my ruthlessness was starting to rub off on some of the more able.
Yet there was one older than most yet small and dainty. Her refusal to lift a finger in preparation for battle, and her arrogance in spite of her lack of skill led me, not altogether politely to call her the Princess. Her particular reason for coming week after week I'm sure was to outwit me - to boast that she was better than the Dragon. I looked for every excuse to rid my world of her, and most fortunately she gave me that excuse.
My most prized possession was handed down to me from my great-grandfather. With jewels and gold and silver it was clearly worth a fortune. Yet in my arrogance I used it many weeks to aid in my annihilation of any who dared stand against me. But this week something was different. I checked in the evening and noted that it was broken. I had deep suspicions.
The phone call from her Mom told me all we needed to know. "Yes, I've found the knight, we'll send it to chess club next week". | |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | Princess Betta of Bathory leaned over a massive bath built into the stonework. The contents obscured from Sir Henry's blurry view, but already he'd seen enough to confirm the long whispered rumors of Betta's occult interests. He'd dismissed them as too outrageous to be true, and now as his awareness sharpened he realized he was thoroughly strapped down to a stone altar, with only his right arm free, dangling over a large metal urn, collecting the blood that trickled from the long and shallow cut down the length of his forearm.
He bucked, but the straps held firm, he writhed, but they didn't shift. His free arm twitched weakly, unable to reach the clasps that pinned him down.
Bathory hummed, her back still turned, and drew a short sword from her hip, leaning further toward her massive bath. A pair of thin legs stretched to the side, and began to rattle a heavy chain as Sir Henry realized that another captive was about to be slaughtered directly over the tub.
"Stop! Stop!" His ragged voice rang out in the dungeon, and at the sound of another voice the obscured captive cried out for help, and began to struggle more powerfully against the Princess.
"Help me! I'm down here!"
Bathory lost her footing and fell into her tub, with a splash of redness. A girl in a plain, ragged and dirty dress picked up the sword and ran to the anchor of her chain, attempting to pry open the padlock.
Bathory rose from the tub with a curse, dripping and stained with the blood of previous sacrifices, "No one is coming to save you, seamstress. Scream to your heart's content. The brave Sir Henry will join you shortly, in the pit."
The girl held the sword aloft menacingly, "I may die, but it'll cost your arms and your pretty face, vile hell beast!"
Bathory threw up her hands in exasperation, and reached for a crossbow mounted on the far wall.
"Our father in heaven, hallowed be thy name...!" Henry yelled the Lord's prayer, hoping to invoke divine intervention, until a crossbow bolt sank into his shoulder and made him scream instead.
"Your prayers don't hurt me, fool. They merely make me irritable." Bathory reached for another bolt and loaded it with a click. Carefully, she took aim at the girl who tensed and shifted on her feet, in an attempt to anticipate the shot.
A loud crack, and a sprinkle of dust from above caught Bathory's attention. Her eyes grew wide and she sprang aside as the masonry came down from above her. A massive shadow appeared behind the cloud of dust, and Bathory began to fire and reload in earnest into it.
The booming, draconic roar deafened them all, as the shadow came through the hole with eyes and jaws blazing, bolts sticking out of its snout and sternum.
A blast of flame shot forth, singing Bathory as she sprinted towards Henry's altar for cover. More shots clicked out, and the dragon shielded it's eyes before leaping forward with a snarling reptilian hiss.
Massive talons crunched into the stone around Henry's chest, narrowly avoided impalement. He froze and stared up at the black armored underbelly of the beast, and cringed at the radiated heat of another blast fired from above him.
Bathory screamed, and the dragon leapt from the altar, claws scrabbling against stone, until a series of loud, wet cunches filled the dungeon.
A soft retching sound, Henry was not sure if it came from his own mouth, and the scrabbling moved back towards him.
The massive, blazing visage loomed over him, shaking the bolts off as though it was only bathwater. A long slash of the fearsome black talons released him from the bindings and caused his heart to skip a beat within his breast.
The blazing eyes focused on him in a piercing gaze, and a small flame licked out, painfully cauterized his bleeding wound, but leaving no other burns.
"Lord or Lady dragon," the girls voice trembled slightly, "I beg that you spare us."
A strange cough erupted from the massive maw. "I am Ebonscale the Just. I ask only, for tribute of gold and song. I demand nothing."
A sharp swipe and a loud metallic crunch rent her chain from its mooring, and the great beast sprang up through the ceiling into the night. | A feeling of dread waved over the knight. This is not the life he pictured he'd have years ago before he saved the princess from that tower. He regretted that day so much. Unsurprisingly, a princess raised in solitary confinement did not have the best social skills. So instead of his bachelor days where he went on amazing quests and broke the hearts of many fair maidens, he was now committed to a woman not capable of being in a relationship. Brought together by circumstance, and not love, both participants longed for something more. The princess longed for something magical but unattainable. She had been dreaming up the day being rescued her whole life, so of course her expectations fell short when it actually happened. Her lack of romantic experience also kept her from being able to effectively communicate her feelings as well. Both members were stuck, neither wrong for their feelings, just wrong together. Days had gone by and then months. They felt nothing was ever going to improve until they got word of a dragon storming a local village. All able bodied men were ordered to help. A sense of relief filled them both. He'd have the adventure he so craved and she'd get the alone time she so missed. It seemed that this knight was saved from his life of dullness thanks to a dragon. | |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | "Hear me warrior." the dragon said after setting the knight down.
sir ronceval of Parrl was a knight of no small skill, but aside from the fact that this towering, rust-red scale coated behemoth whose every word came with generous gouts of fire that sputtered and crept over its upper jaws like souls being sent to the heavens was many times his size and power, he'd dropped his sword when it had carried him away from the castle, but not before burning it to the ground with as much ire and venom as it could muster in the initial blast of flame, a hellfire so potent that it was as though it had been a waterfall of white-hot flame, as though someone had dumped the flaming lakes of hell onto the castle's formerly pristine white surface to char and blacken both it, and the people within.
ronceval's thoughts turned to the princess, his charge, as well as the king, and he felt a great rage gripping him as the dragon held him down while he struggled.
"LISTEN TO ME!" the dragon roared, its voice shook the air and the flames spilling from its maw flared out with even more strength, crawling over its scaled cheeks to lick its eyes, causing it to blink as it shouted.
"you killed them!" ronceval screamed.
"THEY WERE ALREADY DEAD! THAT ENTIRE COURT HAS BEEN DEAD FOR CENTURIES!!" the dragon protested. "I slew no innocents!! I merely struck an illusion! an illusion that foul princess cast for the sake of maintaining the province of landis!! open your eyes sir knight! I saved you before I even began my assault!!"
though he showed no signs of calming down, the dragon lifted its massive paw from his chest, and ronceval rose and ran at the dragon, beating its massive paw, fully the size of ten angry roncevals of parrl, in futility.
"where are you from?" the dragon asked at length. "what is your title?"
"I am ronceval of parrl." he replied and the name gave the dragon pause as he considered the implications.
"Yes, I do recall the old king of landis once had designs on a diplomatic treaty with parrl, trade agreements if i'm not mistaken...before his death that is."
"you claim he is dead, yet I saw him not moments before you-"
"a corpse and nothing more." the dragon explained dismissively. "he was being held together by necromancy, an illusion kept you from seeing or smelling the truth. what of the princess then? how old is she?"
"she is fully into womanhood, what does it matter-" ronceval asked angrily before the dragon shook his head, waving him to silence. "she was but a troubled youth when she began delving into sorcery...try though i did to protect her from her father's abuses, she could not stomach the suffering she was dealt when I was not around to protect her, in the end she lost trust to all, myself included-" the dragon glanced down at his arm, his eyes moving over the scales he'd grown accustomed to.
"yes....before I became this...thing. you see sir knight, I was once a great knight, the general of the landis armies and personal bodyguard to the princess, I was like a father to her, or perhaps an older brother. but things....they slowly grew worse, the princess fell far, so far in fact that by the time i noticed that she was delving into witchcraft, it was too late. the king moved to have her executed, thinking to make an example of his own daughter. I considered my loyalties then and there and decided to make the hard choice of stopping her death. I succeeded, the flames of the burning did not so much as touch her, but in return for my loyalty, I uncovered a startling truth. she wanted death, and in her twisted mind i'd robbed her of that privilege, so she cursed me, turning me into this dragon before setting her sights on her own father. horrified and confused, I fled to the mountains and eventually recovered enough to observe the kingdom, to try to piece together what had happened after I left. what i discovered was nothing short of jarring. the princess had slain the entire court and used her ever-growing powers to reanimate the dead, to maintain the semblance of a court and to keep the kingdom under her thumb. far from wishing to die, it appeared as though she decided that if she was to live, she would live for the sake of deserving death, and so the hell that is the landis you and i know came to be. this was the day I grew tired of watching my greatest failure as a friend and mentor continue and struck out, and you were caught in the crossfires. I beg you sir knight, leave this realm, tell parrl of what has occurred, keep well away from that kingdom unless it is to invade and free the people from their corrupt princess."
with that, the dragon flew off, leaving ronceval to his confusion atop a great, snow-capped mountain. | A feeling of dread waved over the knight. This is not the life he pictured he'd have years ago before he saved the princess from that tower. He regretted that day so much. Unsurprisingly, a princess raised in solitary confinement did not have the best social skills. So instead of his bachelor days where he went on amazing quests and broke the hearts of many fair maidens, he was now committed to a woman not capable of being in a relationship. Brought together by circumstance, and not love, both participants longed for something more. The princess longed for something magical but unattainable. She had been dreaming up the day being rescued her whole life, so of course her expectations fell short when it actually happened. Her lack of romantic experience also kept her from being able to effectively communicate her feelings as well. Both members were stuck, neither wrong for their feelings, just wrong together. Days had gone by and then months. They felt nothing was ever going to improve until they got word of a dragon storming a local village. All able bodied men were ordered to help. A sense of relief filled them both. He'd have the adventure he so craved and she'd get the alone time she so missed. It seemed that this knight was saved from his life of dullness thanks to a dragon. | |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | "Oh, not this shit again."
Hrifbgueghn rubbed the soot from his eyes and poked his head out to see the villagers scurrying away. The girl was, as usual, chained to the stake that they had hastily pounded into the ground in front of his lair. Knowing the "Knight" would be along presently, he decided to ask the "Princess" how she got herself into this mess.
"Er, uh, HAROOF!" he cleared his throat, in an effort to not frighten her anymore than she already was. But the poor thing collapsed and started sobbing, unintelligible jabber bubbling up through her snot and tears.
"It's Okay, Princess, I'm not going to eat you."
"I'M NOT A PRINCESS!" she screamed/wheezed.
"I know."
"Then why did you call me that? And how can you talk? You have no lips, and your mouth is all teeth and fire."
Hrifbgueghn summed her up pretty quick, this one had more spirit than most, and she seemed to actually believe him when he told her he wasn't going to eat her. He'd been through this so many times, and he was glad that he really wasn't going to have to eat her, breaking his word always made his tummy a little unsettled.
"Well, I'm not really talking, you are hearing my thoughts, and I can sort of hear yours, but please, speak clearly, it makes it easier for me to understand you." He did posses the ability to read her thoughts, but right now they were mostly a mass of confusion fear anger and regret.
"He swore to me that I would be safe!"
"The King?"
"Yes, The King"
The King, what an asshole, Thought Hrifbgueghn.
"What?"
"Oh, nothing ... I didn't mean for you to hear that."
Just then the "Knight" came gallumphing into view on his poor old swayback mare. The kid looked like just that, a kid, dressed up in pots and pans riding the family dog.
"Leave her be! Foul Beast!" yelled the kid, trying his best to not let his voice crack.
"Harumph!" belched Hrifbgueghn, sending smoke rings into the air. This stopped the "Knight" in his tracks. "You gonna try to slay me now or something?"
"Yes, and rescue the Princess!"
"Okay, I'm going to try to make this easy for the both of you, "You, Princess, did the King catch you in bed with one of his "Rightful Heirs"?
"Uhm, uh ... yes?"
"And you, "Good Sir Knight" were, perchance hired by the King to rescue the kidnapped Maiden Fair?
"Well, I think 'Hired' makes me sound sort of mercenary, don't you thi ..."
"YES OR NO?!"
"Yes!"
"Okay, here's how this is going to play out, you two idiots have two choices, leave together, or leave separately. If you leave together, I feel I need to warn you, Sir Pots-n-Pans, that there's a more than likely chance that Princess Scullery Maid here is pregnant with the Prince's bastard child. (A weak protest from the "Princess" was stifled by a puff of smoke, and some flames.) If you leave separately, you're both on your own, don't expect me swooping down to save you at the last minute from the Evil Henchmen or anything crazy like that, Got it?"
"Got it."
"Got it."
"Now, they won't be expecting you back at all, Little Miss Roll in the Hay, so you can just leave out the back of the canyon and never be seen or heard from again. (With this, Hrifbgueghn scattered a bunch of gold coins at her feet, and told her to "Don't pay the Ferryman until he gets you to the other side."
"As for you, "Good Sir Knight" if you trust The King, you can go back, plead mercy, and hope he doesn't have Sir Choppy take your head ...
"Right then, she'll need someone to protect her from the Ferryman, so, I'll be going with her if that's alright with you." The Knight said said while scooping ancient gold coins into his helmet, "Thanks! Bye-bye!"
"They're going to make a cute couple", Hrifbgueghn thought to himself, as he lifted into the air, wheeled about, and started for the Castle. "I haven't had King in almost thirty years, this is going to be good."
| A feeling of dread waved over the knight. This is not the life he pictured he'd have years ago before he saved the princess from that tower. He regretted that day so much. Unsurprisingly, a princess raised in solitary confinement did not have the best social skills. So instead of his bachelor days where he went on amazing quests and broke the hearts of many fair maidens, he was now committed to a woman not capable of being in a relationship. Brought together by circumstance, and not love, both participants longed for something more. The princess longed for something magical but unattainable. She had been dreaming up the day being rescued her whole life, so of course her expectations fell short when it actually happened. Her lack of romantic experience also kept her from being able to effectively communicate her feelings as well. Both members were stuck, neither wrong for their feelings, just wrong together. Days had gone by and then months. They felt nothing was ever going to improve until they got word of a dragon storming a local village. All able bodied men were ordered to help. A sense of relief filled them both. He'd have the adventure he so craved and she'd get the alone time she so missed. It seemed that this knight was saved from his life of dullness thanks to a dragon. | |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | “Come on in.” The Dragon stepped aside to allow the two couple enter the room, taking their respective seat.
The door closed gently behind them, and the Dragon stood in front of the couple with the clipboard. “Now to get on-”
“Are we still have to go through this again?” The Princess huffed, standing from her seat. “I believe that we have established that we are ok together.”
“No we haven’t,” The patience that the large creature had, had instantly thinned by the female’s attitude. “But we have established that you are a toxic influence to not only your husband, but to everyone around you.”
“What?” She shouted. “You just saying that because you hate me, ever since I was locked up in the tower by you!”
“Please don’t discuss something unrelated here; we are here to figure how to have a healthy relationship together,” A small glance to the cowering Knight. “But it looks like it wiser to separate you two.”
“No, you obviously hate my guts, and this is why we are done meeting with you.”
“Knight didn’t say if he agreed with your choice there.”
“Of course he’ll agree, he’s my husband and he should always agree with me! Isn’t that right?” She looked at her husband with confidence.
The haggard young man looked at the Dragon, who in turn nod, and looked at his hands. “Honey, I don’t agree with you.”
*“What?”* She hissed. “You are supposed to agree with me! When did you gain such an attitude?”
“I loved you. You were so beautiful when I rescue you from this dragon.” He motioned to professionally dressed creature. “But I didn’t know what I was getting into…” His words trailed, struggling to get something to get across. “…I wished I listened to your words back then.”
The Dragon sighed, patting the back of the broken youth. The human-sized lizard gazed at the delicately dressed woman with a frown. “As you can see, he doesn’t agree with your choice and I will talk with both of your lawyers to see that your divorce won’t be messy.”
“You are not talking with our lawyers and we won’t be getting a divorce.” The Princess went to reach out for the Knight’s arm. “We’re going home and we’re going to have a talk about today.”
A clawed hand reached out and grabbed the thin wrist tightly. “I am losing patience with you woman, I tried to be civil with you despite our past and I tried to work out things through human methods, but you’re too unbearable to talk with.” The creature wrenched her arm towards itself. “Instead we can go back to holding you captive in the castle again. This isn’t first time we had do this and this time I won’t let anyone get to you anymore.”
The Princess freed her arm, rubbing the sore wrist as she sneered at the Dragon. “Fine, we will have lawyers involved, but remember that when I win, you will be executed for treason. Dragons are supposed to follow the law, and you’re holding onto the wrong maiden this entire time. I let that go the first time, since father didn’t want to do anything with me at the time, but I will get you killed one way or another.”
She left, slamming the door and stomping her feet on her way out. The Knight stopped cowering, hugging the giant dragon. “Thank you.” He whispered.
The Dragon patted the man’s shoulder, sitting down on his chair. “I told you, we Dragons are here to protect the people of the land we live on. Even from their own princesses.”
------
Just trying to actually post what I write from these prompts. | A feeling of dread waved over the knight. This is not the life he pictured he'd have years ago before he saved the princess from that tower. He regretted that day so much. Unsurprisingly, a princess raised in solitary confinement did not have the best social skills. So instead of his bachelor days where he went on amazing quests and broke the hearts of many fair maidens, he was now committed to a woman not capable of being in a relationship. Brought together by circumstance, and not love, both participants longed for something more. The princess longed for something magical but unattainable. She had been dreaming up the day being rescued her whole life, so of course her expectations fell short when it actually happened. Her lack of romantic experience also kept her from being able to effectively communicate her feelings as well. Both members were stuck, neither wrong for their feelings, just wrong together. Days had gone by and then months. They felt nothing was ever going to improve until they got word of a dragon storming a local village. All able bodied men were ordered to help. A sense of relief filled them both. He'd have the adventure he so craved and she'd get the alone time she so missed. It seemed that this knight was saved from his life of dullness thanks to a dragon. | |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | Dragons are very long-lived creatures. We divide ourselves between two groups: the ones who hibernate, and the ones who don't. If you choose not to, like me, you need something to while away the centuries.
Taking human form helps. I've spent lives as other animals, but the pleasures available to them are quite limited - even being an apex predator gets old fast, prey animals mostly live in undignified fear, and simpler creatures are barely alive at all. So humanity is where I spend most of my time.
I've been an emperor, and I've been a tyrant. I've lived lives of faith and lives of debauchery. I've bedded countless beautiful men and women, and although I couldn't give them children, I've raised human children and I've watched them grow old from afar. These were all entertaining in their time.
As of late, I've been watching a man named Donovan. A valorous knight, he was, and gallant. He was made to marry the princess of this kingdom - a cruel and unfaithful woman named Arda. She has nothing but contempt for him, and his virtue will not allow him to go with other women.
I am thinking perhaps I will wear my war body and interfere. She could be tragically slain, or perhaps Sir Donovan and I could fight and he would come out the victor. Or I could kidnap one of them, and they might even send an army after me! It would break the monotony, if nothing else.
And if I can't think of something, well, I've been meaning to try a dolphin. | A feeling of dread waved over the knight. This is not the life he pictured he'd have years ago before he saved the princess from that tower. He regretted that day so much. Unsurprisingly, a princess raised in solitary confinement did not have the best social skills. So instead of his bachelor days where he went on amazing quests and broke the hearts of many fair maidens, he was now committed to a woman not capable of being in a relationship. Brought together by circumstance, and not love, both participants longed for something more. The princess longed for something magical but unattainable. She had been dreaming up the day being rescued her whole life, so of course her expectations fell short when it actually happened. Her lack of romantic experience also kept her from being able to effectively communicate her feelings as well. Both members were stuck, neither wrong for their feelings, just wrong together. Days had gone by and then months. They felt nothing was ever going to improve until they got word of a dragon storming a local village. All able bodied men were ordered to help. A sense of relief filled them both. He'd have the adventure he so craved and she'd get the alone time she so missed. It seemed that this knight was saved from his life of dullness thanks to a dragon. | |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | "Should you have the honour of rescuing my daughter, the beautiful princess Yazariya from that lair, you may take her hand and rule alongside her."
Prince Renal nodded respectfully in silence, for he was recognizing the grief and sorrow of the king and also a father of the poor child. The princess was missing for 20 years now, snatched away from her cradle as a newborn. And yet her father never gave up on her. He sent many brave souls after her trail, certain she was alive and held captive from the beast. An effort in vain as all of them went through heaven's doors.
Many tried to convince him he was wasting his time and resources and men, his queen included. “Let the poor girl rest in peace, my dear. We owe her this.”, but none of their words reached the mourning father. Fateful to his promise he made to himself, he sent elite divisions and armies after the beast. None of them successful.
By advice of his trusted men, the ruler decided to trust not brute force but wit and tactics. By sending single warriors or knights, the chances of them to trick the dragon or sneak right past him were higher. And the sacrifice was far smaller.
Prince Renal was determined to do his best or die trying. He wanted to help not only the innocent damsel in distress but to ease her father as well. And the idea of a union between their kingdoms would mean only well for their people. He prepared his armor and his best horse. He also took his father's sword, ready to slay if needed.
It took him two weeks to find the place described by tales all around. He stood before a high tower, lonely in a green field. The old stone was covered with moss and ivy. Dead silence ruled the lands as birds were quiet and the air was still. Prince Renal got off his horse and dared step forward. Not a sign from the dragon. Was this a trap? Did he sense his presence from afar?
He came upon a simple wooden door, which wasn’t hidden nor unapproachable. It wasn’t locked either and with ease he opened the door. From the distance within, somewhere in the dark, he heard the rattle of shackles or so he thought. “My fair maiden!”
Before he can rush in after his promised one, a dirty beast hidden in the shadows grasped him and knocked him down. It bit his arm and tore his flesh. He screamed in agony and tried to pierce the beast but it did not feel any pain. It screamed in triumph and in blood lust, and attacked again.
Renal could barely look at what attacked him as he tried to push the thing away. He could see multiple lesions on its faint skin as it outlined the bones underneath like a map outlining mountains. It barely had any hairs but its teeth were sharp and it was merciless. At one point Renal was sure it would end his life before he can manage to escape. Its eyes were cruel and thirsty.
He couldn’t outrun it. He couldn’t overpower it. His head was heavy and he felt dizzy. Was he poisoned? Was this black magic? The thing jumped forward and tried to reach for his hand, he attacked back desperately trying to cut off its head. But the agile monster evaded and tacked him again. Before it could bite him, he clutched a nearby stone and smashed it against its head. And even though he managed to kick it away from himself, he was unable to get up or move at all. Thick roots were rambled around and held him down, now crushing his body and bones. The grip grew tighter around his ankles and arms.
"No running away now, love." - the thing giggled while getting up. Renal was unable to believe that its rotten mouth was capable of speech. Its voice was just as hideous as its looks. It was sarcastic and mocking and just the sound of it made him shiver with disgust. "Save me from my curse, dearie. Let me feast upon your valiant heart. If it is such truly."
Before the thing could attack one final time, Renal heard wings flapping. A shadow devoured them, from above a flying beast dived without a second doubt. A nature’s force, the dragon stood between the man and the beast. The thing stepped back, hissing.
Yazariya knew the dragon’s fire couldn’t reach her but despite that a dragon should never be underestimated.
"You’re back." - She laughed. Renal could feel how bitter she was from the fact. Yet, she stared at him while she talked to the dragon. "Why did you have to come back?"
The dragon growled and tore the roots around Renal’s body with one of his paws. The wench looked at them furious, clutching her fists and lips into a twisted smile. Distant trees began moving, screeching. The dragon was ready to take any of her attacks.
“Run, you fool!”
Renal got on his feed, shaking. The horse was nowhere to be found, but he turned around and ran as fast as he can.
The child was left behind, alone, distant from everyone and unwanted - even from her own mother. | A feeling of dread waved over the knight. This is not the life he pictured he'd have years ago before he saved the princess from that tower. He regretted that day so much. Unsurprisingly, a princess raised in solitary confinement did not have the best social skills. So instead of his bachelor days where he went on amazing quests and broke the hearts of many fair maidens, he was now committed to a woman not capable of being in a relationship. Brought together by circumstance, and not love, both participants longed for something more. The princess longed for something magical but unattainable. She had been dreaming up the day being rescued her whole life, so of course her expectations fell short when it actually happened. Her lack of romantic experience also kept her from being able to effectively communicate her feelings as well. Both members were stuck, neither wrong for their feelings, just wrong together. Days had gone by and then months. They felt nothing was ever going to improve until they got word of a dragon storming a local village. All able bodied men were ordered to help. A sense of relief filled them both. He'd have the adventure he so craved and she'd get the alone time she so missed. It seemed that this knight was saved from his life of dullness thanks to a dragon. | |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | Hyperion drew his sword as he entered the bedchamber. Lit scented candles littered the shelves and dressers placed up against the wall bathing the enormous room in an orange glow. Hanging overhead was a metallic chandelier with five or six more lit candles. The walls were decorated with fine silk tapestries depicting the inhabitant's previous conquests.
On one side of the room Hyperion could see his friend's suit of armor laying neatly in the corner. The dragon let out a low bellow in order to signal to his friend that he had arrived. Hyperion's scales bristled at the thought of what might have happened to his friend. He crept through the room toward the center where the enormous bed lay. Something stirred under the covers. His tail stood erect. He unsheathed his sword ready for a fight.
With a loud and feral growl the princess burst out of the covers. She stood over the night stripped down to his underwear and bound to the bedpost with a leather strap. Scrawny arms and slender legs flapped and flailed at the dragon. Fire emerged from her behind lipstick laden lips as she screeched toward her adversary. Hyperion lifted his sword and blocked the flames. He met hers with flames of his own.
"You will not have him!" the creature said, "he's mine! We're meeting my parents for dinner later on tonight!"
The woman lunged off the bed at the dragon baring long, fake nails. Hyperion swung his tail. The princess let out a yelp with the impact of the noble dragon's tail. She landed on the wooden floor with a thud. While the woman was knocked out Hyperion rushed to the knight's side. He took a dagger from his side and cut the leather straps.
"Thank goodness you came," the knight said.
"Maybe this will teach you to stop paying attention to your other head."
"You don't have to tell me twice."
The princess on the floor started coming to. Holding her head, she rolled over and picked herself up. She staggered toward the dragon and the knight reaching out. She fell to her knees.
"You may have defeated me," she said, " but I still have my ladies in waiting. They will make quick work of you."
The princess collapsed once again and lost consciousness. Sounds of women screeching and howling came from behind the door on the other side of the bed chamber.
"Princess Ophelia?" one of the ladies in waiting called. Her nails could be heard scraping against the polished wood. "Is everything okay in there? Do we need to come in?"
"We have to get out of here," Hyperion said helping his friend with his armor. | A feeling of dread waved over the knight. This is not the life he pictured he'd have years ago before he saved the princess from that tower. He regretted that day so much. Unsurprisingly, a princess raised in solitary confinement did not have the best social skills. So instead of his bachelor days where he went on amazing quests and broke the hearts of many fair maidens, he was now committed to a woman not capable of being in a relationship. Brought together by circumstance, and not love, both participants longed for something more. The princess longed for something magical but unattainable. She had been dreaming up the day being rescued her whole life, so of course her expectations fell short when it actually happened. Her lack of romantic experience also kept her from being able to effectively communicate her feelings as well. Both members were stuck, neither wrong for their feelings, just wrong together. Days had gone by and then months. They felt nothing was ever going to improve until they got word of a dragon storming a local village. All able bodied men were ordered to help. A sense of relief filled them both. He'd have the adventure he so craved and she'd get the alone time she so missed. It seemed that this knight was saved from his life of dullness thanks to a dragon. | |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | "I was pulled from the local brothel by my fragile yet fateful squire Elrish. I'm sure he sounded something like this while attempting to pull me away from the heaven I found myself in."
"Pppp...pardon me, great lord Martin. Slayer of Evil, Lover of Women, and Bringer of Joy"
Elrish stumbled forward sluggishly to place his hand on the back of Martins right shoulder only to miss by a foot and fall flat on his face.
"I didn't say soooch (belch) such a think as...um..as that."
"Good god man, Get a hold of yourself and stop hogging all the rum."
Martin snatches the rum from Elrish and takes three long gulps then continues his tale.
"As I was saying. I was forcefully removed from this pleasure, the pleasure of helping a poor lass down on her luck of course, by kings order. The king then told me to quest here and well, kill you. You see we became something of a legend and were called upon to slay any monsters or creatures that may harm the people of this kingdom. And this legend all started in a small village far to the west. Me and sweet, fragile Elrish here.."
"Not fragile" Elrish belched out.
"Says the man flat on his back. Now as I was saying me and sweet, dumb, fragile, child-like Elrish here (Elrish's hands reach from the ground toward the bottle only to have it ripped away by Martin who takes yet another swig) were taking a nice stroll through the beautiful country side."
"We were fleeing" Elrish said as he slumped himself over a dark, slimy rock.
"Perhaps we were fleeing who can remember? All I recall is the stunning scenery and the grace of the steeds we rode at full speed."
"Stolen steeds."
"Well yes, stolen from an evil man hell bent on over pricing his horses." Martin now becoming sluggish himself.
"Twas an old man, Pleasant in fact."
"Well if denying a man in need of a horse is pleasa-"
"You fucked his daughter after he graciously invited us to stay the night."
"She was very good to us, fed us well and made our beds. Was I to deny her when she entered my chambers?"
A booming voice crackled and echoed towards them. "ON WITH YOUR FOOLISH TALE!!!!"
Martin, looking fearful, clears his throat. "Right, so before we reached this small town we see what appears to be a body lying on a hill in the distance. So naturally, being the good upstanding gentlemen that we are, we go to see if we can help. Only this was no human body it was a dire wolf and a big one at that. With the knowledge of the gold we would receive from the fur of a dire wolf we have a few drinks in celebration."
"A bottle." Elrish whispers
"Being as we were a little drunk mind you, we seemed to not be able to skin this beast in a proper manner. In fact we quite butchered the thing and decided to sleep off the liquors' hold on us. Then we awoke to see a crowd of people standing around us. We thought perhaps we'd been caught but it turns out they were commoners of the local town we sought. And this dire wolf was a tormentor of theirs for years. They paraded us into town like kings and praised us. Some even cried at our feet. It was all quite fetching if I may say so myself."
"Aye, they gave us plenty of food, women, and mead." Elrish spat this out now standing on his feet next to Martin.
"This praise went on for days and the story of our heroism glided throughout the kingdom only getting more and more embellished as it worked its way to the kings ear. And when it finally reached his ear we were plucked from that glorious town and thrown before the king where I was knighted and Elrish was named my squire."
"Twas bullshit that. I should have been the Knighted one."
"Well you shouldn't have drank so much to the point of passing out. The people had many questions. What was I to do?"
Elrish rolled his eyes and grabbed the bottle out of Martins hand to take a swig.
Martin smirks and proceeded to say "The king then told us we are to slay any monsters or creatures that bring fear and death to his people and so with no real choice we set off to do just that. And to our luck we found that people are afraid of just about anything. Each story was as foolish as the last. There was the Ghost of the Hollow Woods which only appeared at full moon. It was only a white sheet high in a tree that caught the light of the moon. Then there was the Massive Tunnel Snake that would drag you under if given the chance. Turns out that was just a fat wood chuck, Elrish now keeps him as a pet."
"I call him Chuck Elrish the 3rd. Cute little bugger he is. Turns out hes a bourbon man." Elrish leans in with a hand to his cheek as if to whisper. "Keeps him from biting it does. Oh (hiccup) and don't forget about the Shrieking Banshee of Western Swallow. Now that was just an old toad. I think I still got a bit of him on me boot." Elrish struggles to lift his left boot then gives up. "well its down there somewhere." (hiccup).
Martin then steps forward to once again take control of the story.
"So you see that's what brought us to were we stand today, to kill...(Martin, quivering, takes another drink from the bottle of rum) a dragon."
A massive black scaly face with fangs the length of a mans arm and eyes as gold as the kings crown slowly inches into the moonlight that seeps into the entrance of the cave. All they can hear is the faint sound of water dripping from above and echoing deep as they await their death.
"MUHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA" The dragon laughs hysterically and slams his menacing paw to the ground over and over. The wind of his laughter blows back Martin and Elrishs hair while the slamming of his paw knocks them to the ground. The dragon looks back at them with a frightening grin and says with his booming voice " I am Morgune, It is a pleasure to meet you boys."
Martin and Elrish slowly stand and dust themselves off still shaking with fear. "Yes, well yes it's also quite the pleasure to meet you."
Elrish forces a quivering smile "Aye, it sure is."
Morgune leans in close and asked softly. "Now what reward do you receive by killing me?"
Martin takes a submissive step back. "Well we are to be paid in a mountain of gold and I am to wed the princess. Her beauty knows no bounds as does her cruelty. Some would say she is fair and just, but any man with sense would say shes...well a bit of..."
Elrish interrupts. "She's a cunt." (belch)
Morgune Ponders for a time and offers a sinister counter offer. "How would you two like all the kings gold and Martin how would you like to be free of this princess?"
Both men spit out the rum they were sharing and say at the same time. "Well sir I'd love nothing more" (Martin)
"Well shit I'd love nothing more"(Elrish)
"Then rulers and conquerors you shall be. Free from the shrill princess and rich beyond your dreams. I love nothing more then a good tale and yours, though good, is only just beginning."
| A feeling of dread waved over the knight. This is not the life he pictured he'd have years ago before he saved the princess from that tower. He regretted that day so much. Unsurprisingly, a princess raised in solitary confinement did not have the best social skills. So instead of his bachelor days where he went on amazing quests and broke the hearts of many fair maidens, he was now committed to a woman not capable of being in a relationship. Brought together by circumstance, and not love, both participants longed for something more. The princess longed for something magical but unattainable. She had been dreaming up the day being rescued her whole life, so of course her expectations fell short when it actually happened. Her lack of romantic experience also kept her from being able to effectively communicate her feelings as well. Both members were stuck, neither wrong for their feelings, just wrong together. Days had gone by and then months. They felt nothing was ever going to improve until they got word of a dragon storming a local village. All able bodied men were ordered to help. A sense of relief filled them both. He'd have the adventure he so craved and she'd get the alone time she so missed. It seemed that this knight was saved from his life of dullness thanks to a dragon. | |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | Sir Gunther trudged wearily toward the cave, his breathing labored from hours of plodding through the muddy banks of the Toffee Swamp. As he pulled his last booted foot from the muck and struck out on solid footing, he mumbled a prayer to whichever saint happened to be listening. Normally he had the time to be picky about prayer, but today was not one of those days.
Hesitantly, Sir Gunther took a few steps forward and leaned against the wall of the cave, drawing in slow, deep breaths in an attempt to quiet his pounding heart. The moisture-slick stone felt oddly warm against the palms of his hands. He sniffed the air. The entryway smelled of ash and reptile droppings. He was in the right place.
After collecting himself, Sir Gunther stepped away from the wall and watched the granite cavern pulse in and out in a steady breathing motion. He wondered for a moment if he was mistaken and had somehow ended up inside the belly of the creature that he sought. He mused over the thought, and soon decided that it was most likely true.
"Hello?" he shouted at the cave walls. "Hello? Can you hear me in here?" He took a moment to adjust his helmet, which all of a sudden felt much smaller than it had before. "I seek Sparky the Dragon!"
"Who goes there??" a great, booming voice replied.
"It is I, Sir Gunther of Rathskeller!" After a moment's pause, the knight added: "The one whom, a moment earlier, you so voraciously consumed!"
A thunderous noise, like the pounding of a titanic drum, echoed through the great chamber, coming steadily closer with each beat. Sir Gunther braced himself for the worst - surely the dragon was about to send him hurtling through its digestive system.
And then, as he peered into the inky depths of the cave, he saw it. A massive, scaly foot, easily the size of a full-grown man, came to rest upon the cave floor with a force that sent shockwaves across the bare rock.
"I dined on no knight this day," the voice rumbled. "Besides, I went vegetarian four or five decades ago. All that fiber works wonders in my old age."
A second foot thrust itself out of the darkness ahead of the first, coming to rest on the stony ground with a great thud. It was then that Sir Gunther realized that he was not in the dragon's stomach, but was, in fact, simply in a cave *with* the beast. The thought was of only mild comfort to him.
"I... I have journeyed long and far from Rathskeller to visit you, O Great Sparky!" the knight stammered. "Across the vast golden fields of Elysium! Through the dense, jagged Forest of Eternal Peril! Over the-"
"What in the blazes are you talking about, human?" The voice interrupted. "The town of Rathskeller is only two or three miles away."
Another footstep, and Sir Gunther could finally see the head of the beast. Its bright pink, undulating skin wrapped itself around three mouths, all of which spoke in unison.
"And another thing," the dragon continued, "Do *not* insult me with this 'Sparky' nonsense! My name is Sparcinious the Burning Ember, Scourge of Guttenberg, Ruiner of Empires! Get it right, human!"
"Um, I apologize, O Great Sparcinius the... uh..." Sir Gunther blinked again, and suddenly the dragon's head was pale white and studded with hundreds of tiny, crimson eyes that blinked with every syllable that he spoke. "...what was the rest of that again?"
The dragon let out a deep, ragged sigh from its three mouths, and in barely the blink of an eye, they coalesced into a single, gaping maw. "Nevermind. What brings you here, human?" As the dragon spoke, its great black tongue began to worm its way out of its mouth. "Do you wish to do battle? Slay me? Bring my head home as a trophy for some human female?"
"I, well, I was wondering," Sir Gunther continued, casually leaning against the cave wall. "Can I maybe, please, have one of your scales, O Terrible Spar..." He paused, his eyes growing wide as he watched the beast's tongue extend several feet below its chin and swing to and fro like a fleshy pendulum. "...er, whatever the rest of that was?"
The dragon's million eyes widened. Sir Gunther watched as they crawled like beetles toward the center of the creature's forehead, where they collected like water droplets into one Cyclopean eyelid.
"Ah!" the dragon gasped. "Ingested the Crimson Death mushroom, did we?"
"Yes, O Great... One," Sir Gunther said, hoping that the generic declaration of respect would suffice.
The dragon uttered a sharp guffaw. "You aren't the brightest flower in the field, are you, human?" As he spoke, Sir Gunther watched his tongue snake back into his mouth. Now the creature's reptilian scowl was impossibly wide, and when it spoke, it emitted puffs of rainbow-hued smoke from its nostrils. "Tell me. How long ago did you consume the fungus?"
"This past evening," Sir Gunther replied in the midst of struggling not to look at his own hands, which had elongated into furry, bat-like claws.
"In that case, the hallucinations have long since begun," Sparcinius said. "Death will come within a day's time." The dragon raised its gigantic right claw and, with a sound like the snapping of a thick tree branch, pried a canary yellow scale from its forehead. "Take this," he said, tossing the scale to rest at Sir Gunther's feet, where it landed with a thump. "Brew it for five minutes in boiling water and drink the resulting potion. The effects should wear off within an hour's time."
Sir Gunther bent down and picked up the scale in between two bat-talons. Curiously, it was much smaller than he expected - about the size of a rose petal.
"Go, now," the dragon sneered, "and leave me in peace. I have a lovely dinner salad to prepare."
Sir Gunther began to step back toward the cave entrance, his dilated pupils never leaving the monster before him. "Thank you, O Great Sparky!" he bellowed, before promptly turning tail and scurrying away as fast as his heavy leather-and-mail armor would allow.
"Sparcinius," the dragon mumbled grimly. As he spoke, a jet of flame shot forth from his nostrils, momentarily revealing his emerald-scaled body, no bigger than that of a large dog. "And what was that bumbling coward so afraid of, anyway?"
-------
Meanwhile, after having traversed the Cloud Mountains, ran the Rainbow Racetrack, and swim-walked the Seven Fathoms of Aphelion, Sir Gunther arrived back at his mansion in Rathskellar only to find that it had transformed into a three-story caramel flan in his absence. He spent a good twenty minutes attempting to eat his way through to the interior when, purely by happy chance, he stumbled upon the front door.
"Gunther! Thank God! Where have you been?" Princess Hilda screamed as he entered the door. "I've been worried sick about you!"
Gunther braced himself against the door frame. The entire world undulated around him, as though he were in the midst of a slow-motion earthquake. Furthermore, the Princess Hilda standing before him now possessed a few extra arms and also the face of a tarantula.
"Brew this for five minutes in boiling water," he said in between staccato breaths, tossing the scale in Hilda-Spider's general direction. "And make sure there's no poison mushrooms in it, please."
"For the thousandth time, I'm sorry!" Hilda said as she bent down to pick up the shiny, chartreuse-hued object. "It looked exactly like a porcini and I thought it would be perfect for my famous risotto."
"Just hurry, please," said an exasperated and suddenly very pale Sir Gunther.
Hilda shot her husband an icy glare and dashed over to the stove, scale in hand. With a grunt, she hoisted a kettle of steaming water off of the fireplace and decanted it in to a floral-patterned teapot on the counter. After replacing the kettle on its perch, she unceremoniously plopped the scale into the pot.
"You know," she said, resting a delicate hand on her hip and smiling a lovely arachnid smile at her knight, "it's rather difficult being a princess most of the time. There's matters of state to look after, protocol and etiquette to obey, and on top of all that, I need to take care of you, too."
"Right. So difficult," Sir Gunther replied through gritted teeth. "So very difficult indeed." | A feeling of dread waved over the knight. This is not the life he pictured he'd have years ago before he saved the princess from that tower. He regretted that day so much. Unsurprisingly, a princess raised in solitary confinement did not have the best social skills. So instead of his bachelor days where he went on amazing quests and broke the hearts of many fair maidens, he was now committed to a woman not capable of being in a relationship. Brought together by circumstance, and not love, both participants longed for something more. The princess longed for something magical but unattainable. She had been dreaming up the day being rescued her whole life, so of course her expectations fell short when it actually happened. Her lack of romantic experience also kept her from being able to effectively communicate her feelings as well. Both members were stuck, neither wrong for their feelings, just wrong together. Days had gone by and then months. They felt nothing was ever going to improve until they got word of a dragon storming a local village. All able bodied men were ordered to help. A sense of relief filled them both. He'd have the adventure he so craved and she'd get the alone time she so missed. It seemed that this knight was saved from his life of dullness thanks to a dragon. | |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | "You Never talk to me anymore, all of our conversations are one way. I slave over a hot furnace all day to make you a warm meal everyday when you come home from work. That dragon doesn't cook itself you know! HELLO! Can you even hear what i'm saying to right know."
(silence)
"God Charles, you are unbelievable. I don' t even know why I try with you anymore."
This had been Charlie's life for the past 7 years. After 11 hours off hunting dragons and scouting mountains, all Charlie wanted to come home to was peace. A nice relaxing evening free from bitching and complaining from his wife about how hard it was to be home. They didn't have kids after all, she was not expected to pay for anything and most importantly, he never asked anything in return from her for his hard work.
Charlie had been contemplating leaving her for a while now but he didn't have the heart to abandon his wife as he knew no other man in the village would marry her based on what she put Charlie through on a daily basis. Unfortunately, to Charlie death would be the only escape from his miserable life.
The next morning, Charlie woke up promptly at 5 am just as he had everyday. He gather his armor and weaponry from the blacksmith and prepared himself for another long shift of knight duty. His wife ordered him to be home by 6 sharp or she would throw his dinner in the garbage. Threats like this were not unusual for Charlie, he nodded and walked out the door. He arrived at the castle and the king had informed the army that a dragon was spotted in Tranmere (The next town over from his village, Swindmore). The knights ordered to aid the neighboring army in slaying the dragon and returning with it's head to prepare soup for all the people in Swindmore. Charlie and the rest of the kings men put on their helmets and marched towards Tranmere.
They had been traveling for a few hours now when finally one of the knights spotted the dragon on top of the watchtower blowing fire down on the poor civilians below. Then men met up with the brave warriors of Tranmere who then disclosed their plan of attack. The plan was to wait until sunset when the dragon would have tired himself of the destruction and retreat back to his cave for the night. They were to attack at this very moment and ambush the dragon right outside of his home and slay him then. The men responded in unison with a overwhelming, "Yes Sir!"
"Excuse me." a nervous voice said among the hundreds of men who just agreed to the plan.
"Yes?" responded the General of Tranmere.
"My wife asked that I might be home by 6, is there anyway we could ambush the dragon earlier?" asked Charlie.
The armies laughed as they thought this was a joke but the general looked in Charlies eyes and say that this was a genuine question.
"I am sorry" respond Joseph "We must attack while the dragon is tired and unsuspecting or else we will all surely killed"
Charlie nodded in compliance trying to hide his disagreement. Charlie knew if he wasn't home by 6 his wife would surely kill him if the dragon had not. He thought his best bet was to attack the dragon himself and be killed quickly than rather than suffer the wrath of an angry spouse. That afternoon around 5, Charlie slipped away from his platoon and prepared to march himself into battle with the dragon in hopes of a painless death.
Charlie arrived at the burning watchtower where the dragon had been and unsheathed his sword. The dragon stopped his destruction as he noticed Charlie. At this point, Charlie had been trembling with fear, a small crowd had gathered at the bottom of the hill once they noticed a single soldier attempting to slay a giant beast.
Charlie finally spoke up, "Excuse me, Dragon? Would you mind making my death quick I wouldn't want to burden you with my screams for too long."
The dragon puffed out a cloud of thick some from his nostrils and opened his mouth preparing to devour Charlie in a single bite. As he bent over to consume the soldier he made eye contact with him. The dragon saw the look in charlies eyes, it was the same look the dragon had every night when he returned to his wife who was unhappy with the dragon for spending to much time terrorizing villages. Immediately, the dragon stopped. He and Charlie stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. By this point almost the entire town had gathered at the bottom of the hill watching Charlie and the dragon.
Charlie gazed at the dragon, he too had recognized their connection in home lives. The dragon relaxed his tail and allowed Charlie to climb onto his back. Charlie climbed aboard the stroked the dragon on its side.
"yip, yip!" said Charlie, and the dragon jumped into the air and began flying toward the sunset.
"wait" said Charlie "one stop before we leave forever." Charlie guided the dragon towards Swindmore and landed the dragon on the roof of his home. The dragon looked at Charlie and awaited further instruction. The knight looked back at the now tamed beast and nodded his head. The dragon raised his hind leg and shit right on the roof of the home. A shit so massive it collapsed the house in a matter of seconds. Charlie's wife ran out, covered in feces and watched the dragon and Charlie fly away into the horizon.
Not much was said about the two after that. Charlie's wife had become a beggar who spent her days digging through garbage looking for any scrap of food she could find. Both villages had peace for years to come and no one worried about where the dragon would attack next. As for Charlie and the dragon, they spent their days traveling the world and shitting on all the people who deserved it.
tl;dr: Man and dragon live in abusive relationships and team up to shit on all abusive people in the world. | A feeling of dread waved over the knight. This is not the life he pictured he'd have years ago before he saved the princess from that tower. He regretted that day so much. Unsurprisingly, a princess raised in solitary confinement did not have the best social skills. So instead of his bachelor days where he went on amazing quests and broke the hearts of many fair maidens, he was now committed to a woman not capable of being in a relationship. Brought together by circumstance, and not love, both participants longed for something more. The princess longed for something magical but unattainable. She had been dreaming up the day being rescued her whole life, so of course her expectations fell short when it actually happened. Her lack of romantic experience also kept her from being able to effectively communicate her feelings as well. Both members were stuck, neither wrong for their feelings, just wrong together. Days had gone by and then months. They felt nothing was ever going to improve until they got word of a dragon storming a local village. All able bodied men were ordered to help. A sense of relief filled them both. He'd have the adventure he so craved and she'd get the alone time she so missed. It seemed that this knight was saved from his life of dullness thanks to a dragon. | |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | “Come on in.” The Dragon stepped aside to allow the two couple enter the room, taking their respective seat.
The door closed gently behind them, and the Dragon stood in front of the couple with the clipboard. “Now to get on-”
“Are we still have to go through this again?” The Princess huffed, standing from her seat. “I believe that we have established that we are ok together.”
“No we haven’t,” The patience that the large creature had, had instantly thinned by the female’s attitude. “But we have established that you are a toxic influence to not only your husband, but to everyone around you.”
“What?” She shouted. “You just saying that because you hate me, ever since I was locked up in the tower by you!”
“Please don’t discuss something unrelated here; we are here to figure how to have a healthy relationship together,” A small glance to the cowering Knight. “But it looks like it wiser to separate you two.”
“No, you obviously hate my guts, and this is why we are done meeting with you.”
“Knight didn’t say if he agreed with your choice there.”
“Of course he’ll agree, he’s my husband and he should always agree with me! Isn’t that right?” She looked at her husband with confidence.
The haggard young man looked at the Dragon, who in turn nod, and looked at his hands. “Honey, I don’t agree with you.”
*“What?”* She hissed. “You are supposed to agree with me! When did you gain such an attitude?”
“I loved you. You were so beautiful when I rescue you from this dragon.” He motioned to professionally dressed creature. “But I didn’t know what I was getting into…” His words trailed, struggling to get something to get across. “…I wished I listened to your words back then.”
The Dragon sighed, patting the back of the broken youth. The human-sized lizard gazed at the delicately dressed woman with a frown. “As you can see, he doesn’t agree with your choice and I will talk with both of your lawyers to see that your divorce won’t be messy.”
“You are not talking with our lawyers and we won’t be getting a divorce.” The Princess went to reach out for the Knight’s arm. “We’re going home and we’re going to have a talk about today.”
A clawed hand reached out and grabbed the thin wrist tightly. “I am losing patience with you woman, I tried to be civil with you despite our past and I tried to work out things through human methods, but you’re too unbearable to talk with.” The creature wrenched her arm towards itself. “Instead we can go back to holding you captive in the castle again. This isn’t first time we had do this and this time I won’t let anyone get to you anymore.”
The Princess freed her arm, rubbing the sore wrist as she sneered at the Dragon. “Fine, we will have lawyers involved, but remember that when I win, you will be executed for treason. Dragons are supposed to follow the law, and you’re holding onto the wrong maiden this entire time. I let that go the first time, since father didn’t want to do anything with me at the time, but I will get you killed one way or another.”
She left, slamming the door and stomping her feet on her way out. The Knight stopped cowering, hugging the giant dragon. “Thank you.” He whispered.
The Dragon patted the man’s shoulder, sitting down on his chair. “I told you, we Dragons are here to protect the people of the land we live on. Even from their own princesses.”
------
Just trying to actually post what I write from these prompts. | Arthur's face fell as Guinevere sneezed violently again, and again, snot shooting across the room, landing on a tapestry of his family's crest. 'I cath sthay!” The merchant-queen had been feeling ill since she'd arrived at Camelot's walls, only gotten worse once she'd arrived at the storybook castle proper, and, the King swore, was going to kneel over from being unable to breathe properly. Everyone had assumed it was coastal weather that frequently occurred to people from the midland plains.
A roaring snort into a delicate handkerchief, “TE Webbin s OFF!' the future queen shouted and fled the room, sneezing and coughing violently, turned on heel, and fled the room.
Arthur was left standing in the room with his dragon companion. Only dragon was not the fierce gnarled lizard of legend that minstrels harped about endlessly after St George had slain such an ancient creature all those years ago, well maybe not. They were known for keeping secrets.
Pendragon. The epithet his forbears had earned for their skill with dragons, befriending and keeping the beasts as part of daily life in the land that would become Camelot. Over generations the name had changed from the old tongue to the new, but still came off rather literal anyway; Pen-dragon, or dragon tamer. His father had lamented it was some joke that had stuck with the family over a lost bet generations back. The creatures might turn into the great scaly beasts of old, but they would start off as something resembling a cat with a wolf's dark scraggly coloring and fur, with lithe scales underneath.
Arthur looked at the empty doorway through which his formerly to-be bride had fled and stroked the fur of his regal dragon that had recently occupied his lap. “Well Merlin,” The merchant king sighed, “I guess I'll need to find a new bride.”
“Never would have worked out anyway, I imagine.” The beast grumped as he gnawed at the tip of a retractable claw. | |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | Dragons are very long-lived creatures. We divide ourselves between two groups: the ones who hibernate, and the ones who don't. If you choose not to, like me, you need something to while away the centuries.
Taking human form helps. I've spent lives as other animals, but the pleasures available to them are quite limited - even being an apex predator gets old fast, prey animals mostly live in undignified fear, and simpler creatures are barely alive at all. So humanity is where I spend most of my time.
I've been an emperor, and I've been a tyrant. I've lived lives of faith and lives of debauchery. I've bedded countless beautiful men and women, and although I couldn't give them children, I've raised human children and I've watched them grow old from afar. These were all entertaining in their time.
As of late, I've been watching a man named Donovan. A valorous knight, he was, and gallant. He was made to marry the princess of this kingdom - a cruel and unfaithful woman named Arda. She has nothing but contempt for him, and his virtue will not allow him to go with other women.
I am thinking perhaps I will wear my war body and interfere. She could be tragically slain, or perhaps Sir Donovan and I could fight and he would come out the victor. Or I could kidnap one of them, and they might even send an army after me! It would break the monotony, if nothing else.
And if I can't think of something, well, I've been meaning to try a dolphin. | Arthur's face fell as Guinevere sneezed violently again, and again, snot shooting across the room, landing on a tapestry of his family's crest. 'I cath sthay!” The merchant-queen had been feeling ill since she'd arrived at Camelot's walls, only gotten worse once she'd arrived at the storybook castle proper, and, the King swore, was going to kneel over from being unable to breathe properly. Everyone had assumed it was coastal weather that frequently occurred to people from the midland plains.
A roaring snort into a delicate handkerchief, “TE Webbin s OFF!' the future queen shouted and fled the room, sneezing and coughing violently, turned on heel, and fled the room.
Arthur was left standing in the room with his dragon companion. Only dragon was not the fierce gnarled lizard of legend that minstrels harped about endlessly after St George had slain such an ancient creature all those years ago, well maybe not. They were known for keeping secrets.
Pendragon. The epithet his forbears had earned for their skill with dragons, befriending and keeping the beasts as part of daily life in the land that would become Camelot. Over generations the name had changed from the old tongue to the new, but still came off rather literal anyway; Pen-dragon, or dragon tamer. His father had lamented it was some joke that had stuck with the family over a lost bet generations back. The creatures might turn into the great scaly beasts of old, but they would start off as something resembling a cat with a wolf's dark scraggly coloring and fur, with lithe scales underneath.
Arthur looked at the empty doorway through which his formerly to-be bride had fled and stroked the fur of his regal dragon that had recently occupied his lap. “Well Merlin,” The merchant king sighed, “I guess I'll need to find a new bride.”
“Never would have worked out anyway, I imagine.” The beast grumped as he gnawed at the tip of a retractable claw. | |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | Hyperion drew his sword as he entered the bedchamber. Lit scented candles littered the shelves and dressers placed up against the wall bathing the enormous room in an orange glow. Hanging overhead was a metallic chandelier with five or six more lit candles. The walls were decorated with fine silk tapestries depicting the inhabitant's previous conquests.
On one side of the room Hyperion could see his friend's suit of armor laying neatly in the corner. The dragon let out a low bellow in order to signal to his friend that he had arrived. Hyperion's scales bristled at the thought of what might have happened to his friend. He crept through the room toward the center where the enormous bed lay. Something stirred under the covers. His tail stood erect. He unsheathed his sword ready for a fight.
With a loud and feral growl the princess burst out of the covers. She stood over the night stripped down to his underwear and bound to the bedpost with a leather strap. Scrawny arms and slender legs flapped and flailed at the dragon. Fire emerged from her behind lipstick laden lips as she screeched toward her adversary. Hyperion lifted his sword and blocked the flames. He met hers with flames of his own.
"You will not have him!" the creature said, "he's mine! We're meeting my parents for dinner later on tonight!"
The woman lunged off the bed at the dragon baring long, fake nails. Hyperion swung his tail. The princess let out a yelp with the impact of the noble dragon's tail. She landed on the wooden floor with a thud. While the woman was knocked out Hyperion rushed to the knight's side. He took a dagger from his side and cut the leather straps.
"Thank goodness you came," the knight said.
"Maybe this will teach you to stop paying attention to your other head."
"You don't have to tell me twice."
The princess on the floor started coming to. Holding her head, she rolled over and picked herself up. She staggered toward the dragon and the knight reaching out. She fell to her knees.
"You may have defeated me," she said, " but I still have my ladies in waiting. They will make quick work of you."
The princess collapsed once again and lost consciousness. Sounds of women screeching and howling came from behind the door on the other side of the bed chamber.
"Princess Ophelia?" one of the ladies in waiting called. Her nails could be heard scraping against the polished wood. "Is everything okay in there? Do we need to come in?"
"We have to get out of here," Hyperion said helping his friend with his armor. | Arthur's face fell as Guinevere sneezed violently again, and again, snot shooting across the room, landing on a tapestry of his family's crest. 'I cath sthay!” The merchant-queen had been feeling ill since she'd arrived at Camelot's walls, only gotten worse once she'd arrived at the storybook castle proper, and, the King swore, was going to kneel over from being unable to breathe properly. Everyone had assumed it was coastal weather that frequently occurred to people from the midland plains.
A roaring snort into a delicate handkerchief, “TE Webbin s OFF!' the future queen shouted and fled the room, sneezing and coughing violently, turned on heel, and fled the room.
Arthur was left standing in the room with his dragon companion. Only dragon was not the fierce gnarled lizard of legend that minstrels harped about endlessly after St George had slain such an ancient creature all those years ago, well maybe not. They were known for keeping secrets.
Pendragon. The epithet his forbears had earned for their skill with dragons, befriending and keeping the beasts as part of daily life in the land that would become Camelot. Over generations the name had changed from the old tongue to the new, but still came off rather literal anyway; Pen-dragon, or dragon tamer. His father had lamented it was some joke that had stuck with the family over a lost bet generations back. The creatures might turn into the great scaly beasts of old, but they would start off as something resembling a cat with a wolf's dark scraggly coloring and fur, with lithe scales underneath.
Arthur looked at the empty doorway through which his formerly to-be bride had fled and stroked the fur of his regal dragon that had recently occupied his lap. “Well Merlin,” The merchant king sighed, “I guess I'll need to find a new bride.”
“Never would have worked out anyway, I imagine.” The beast grumped as he gnawed at the tip of a retractable claw. | |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | “Come on in.” The Dragon stepped aside to allow the two couple enter the room, taking their respective seat.
The door closed gently behind them, and the Dragon stood in front of the couple with the clipboard. “Now to get on-”
“Are we still have to go through this again?” The Princess huffed, standing from her seat. “I believe that we have established that we are ok together.”
“No we haven’t,” The patience that the large creature had, had instantly thinned by the female’s attitude. “But we have established that you are a toxic influence to not only your husband, but to everyone around you.”
“What?” She shouted. “You just saying that because you hate me, ever since I was locked up in the tower by you!”
“Please don’t discuss something unrelated here; we are here to figure how to have a healthy relationship together,” A small glance to the cowering Knight. “But it looks like it wiser to separate you two.”
“No, you obviously hate my guts, and this is why we are done meeting with you.”
“Knight didn’t say if he agreed with your choice there.”
“Of course he’ll agree, he’s my husband and he should always agree with me! Isn’t that right?” She looked at her husband with confidence.
The haggard young man looked at the Dragon, who in turn nod, and looked at his hands. “Honey, I don’t agree with you.”
*“What?”* She hissed. “You are supposed to agree with me! When did you gain such an attitude?”
“I loved you. You were so beautiful when I rescue you from this dragon.” He motioned to professionally dressed creature. “But I didn’t know what I was getting into…” His words trailed, struggling to get something to get across. “…I wished I listened to your words back then.”
The Dragon sighed, patting the back of the broken youth. The human-sized lizard gazed at the delicately dressed woman with a frown. “As you can see, he doesn’t agree with your choice and I will talk with both of your lawyers to see that your divorce won’t be messy.”
“You are not talking with our lawyers and we won’t be getting a divorce.” The Princess went to reach out for the Knight’s arm. “We’re going home and we’re going to have a talk about today.”
A clawed hand reached out and grabbed the thin wrist tightly. “I am losing patience with you woman, I tried to be civil with you despite our past and I tried to work out things through human methods, but you’re too unbearable to talk with.” The creature wrenched her arm towards itself. “Instead we can go back to holding you captive in the castle again. This isn’t first time we had do this and this time I won’t let anyone get to you anymore.”
The Princess freed her arm, rubbing the sore wrist as she sneered at the Dragon. “Fine, we will have lawyers involved, but remember that when I win, you will be executed for treason. Dragons are supposed to follow the law, and you’re holding onto the wrong maiden this entire time. I let that go the first time, since father didn’t want to do anything with me at the time, but I will get you killed one way or another.”
She left, slamming the door and stomping her feet on her way out. The Knight stopped cowering, hugging the giant dragon. “Thank you.” He whispered.
The Dragon patted the man’s shoulder, sitting down on his chair. “I told you, we Dragons are here to protect the people of the land we live on. Even from their own princesses.”
------
Just trying to actually post what I write from these prompts. | So the dragon slumbered in its lair weaving intricate dreams, while keeping an an eye on the surrounding land with its clairvoyant abilities. One seemingly peaceful afternoon a disturbance woke the dragon, and it tuned in to the presence. Visions appeared of a meadow, the old cottage in the center, then the disturbance. The dragon strained to focus on the incessant buzzing and winced realizing it belonged to the voice of humans.
"zzzzzzuselesszzzzzzzposhzzzzzzzflowerszzzzz and you couldn't even bring me a unicorn horn" came a high pitched womans voice."The watchers know they are probably grazing just outside while you sit inside reminiscing".
A somber male replied "It is against my vows to slay such a noble b-".
"Any of those other armor clad idiots would have done that by now but noooo, daddy says you were the most worthy of my hand, me, the most beautifull princess in the land".
The ancient serpent knew many things of beauty but this woman did not relate. The dragon shook its great head, ridding itself of the visions, yet the buzzing remained. One thing was for certain, something must be done about this disturbing creature.
The next day dark skies plagued the land, and fog laid thick upon the meadow. The aging knight sat by the window staring into the blanket of nothingness, feeling eerily similar. Footsteps broke the silence announcing a woman whos beauty was only broken by the scowl she wore which pierced the man, sharper than any foes blade.
"Do something usefull with yourself and draw me a bath, this weather is spoiling my skin".
"Of course" replied the man. He began to move but stumbled as the earth shook. Looking outside his face crumpled as he beheld a great dragon looming at the edge of the fog. The princess began to scream but was quickly drowned out by a massive roar.
A strong, deep voice boomed from outside "My hunger is vast, and I shall feast upon any within this house unless anyone is brave enough to face me"
The princess was shaking as she shrieked "GO DO YOUR DUTY AND PROTECT ME".
The knight nodded his head silently as he gathered his sword and shield from the wall. He stepped outside feeling defeated already and looked up at the monster, a smile playing across its scaly lips.
"ahh a brave knight. Follow me to the creek and we shall do battle" and the serpent turned and moved beyond the fog, the knight hesitantly following.
A short time passed and a great roar was heard. The princess waited at the window, and saw the knight materialize from the the grey with a spring in his step. "My dear I hath slain the beast and I give you its scale as a gift" and he handed her a shimmering dragon scale.
"You are truly the knight my father spoke so kindly of and a noble husband!", and the man smiled deeply feeling a long forgotten warmth. A week passed and already the princess forgot of the great deed and with it went her love. The knight was meant to feel useless again and said "my sweet I will go slay another dragon and bring you another gift", so he left for a time. The woman waited by the window and heard a great roar from within the forest, and moments later from the trees the man appeared smiling broadly.
"Another dragon slain my love, we are safe". He handed her a talon and as exchange the womans love returned. Yet after a weeks time the talon lay forgotten by the scale.
"What a useless lowlife when your not slaying beasts! All you do is sulk unless I tell you what to do". The man began to believe that allowing the beast to slay him would have been a better course of action. The next day the man is desperate to leave and announces "Another dragon will taste my blade this day my sweet" and leaves in a hurry. He crosses the creek, into the forest, and arrives at a cave opening, concealing whats within in darkness.
"Great honorable dragon" shouts the man into the mouth of the rock. "Still she is unhappy". The ancient serpent lumbers into the light and shows its monstrous form, missing a scale and talon. "Is there anything else you can do for me great one?" The dragons nostrils flare as he exhales in distress then say "There is one more thing I will do for you small one, I will show you the truth. Go, and in the morning you will see".
That night the dragon entered the meadow and entered a trance, breathing an enchantment into the cottage. In the morning the knight was woken by screams of anguish. He burst into the washroom expecting death but was halted by the dying. The beautiful princess had transformed completely, hair shriveled, skin sallow and wrinkly, breasts drooping. She swiveled as he entered the room and glanced at him then hid her eyes screaming "DON'T LOOK AT ME!", and she fled the cottage. The man stood at the doorway watching her run as the dragon swooped down and settled next to him.
The dragon noted the fleeing figure and said "her looks will return but the truth of her existence will stay forever". The ancient one fixed the man with a look of concern and said "sometimes the veil between a dream and a nightmare is split by a thread of truth", and he took to the skies. That night both the knight and the dragon slumbered deeply.
| |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | Dragons are very long-lived creatures. We divide ourselves between two groups: the ones who hibernate, and the ones who don't. If you choose not to, like me, you need something to while away the centuries.
Taking human form helps. I've spent lives as other animals, but the pleasures available to them are quite limited - even being an apex predator gets old fast, prey animals mostly live in undignified fear, and simpler creatures are barely alive at all. So humanity is where I spend most of my time.
I've been an emperor, and I've been a tyrant. I've lived lives of faith and lives of debauchery. I've bedded countless beautiful men and women, and although I couldn't give them children, I've raised human children and I've watched them grow old from afar. These were all entertaining in their time.
As of late, I've been watching a man named Donovan. A valorous knight, he was, and gallant. He was made to marry the princess of this kingdom - a cruel and unfaithful woman named Arda. She has nothing but contempt for him, and his virtue will not allow him to go with other women.
I am thinking perhaps I will wear my war body and interfere. She could be tragically slain, or perhaps Sir Donovan and I could fight and he would come out the victor. Or I could kidnap one of them, and they might even send an army after me! It would break the monotony, if nothing else.
And if I can't think of something, well, I've been meaning to try a dolphin. | So the dragon slumbered in its lair weaving intricate dreams, while keeping an an eye on the surrounding land with its clairvoyant abilities. One seemingly peaceful afternoon a disturbance woke the dragon, and it tuned in to the presence. Visions appeared of a meadow, the old cottage in the center, then the disturbance. The dragon strained to focus on the incessant buzzing and winced realizing it belonged to the voice of humans.
"zzzzzzuselesszzzzzzzposhzzzzzzzflowerszzzzz and you couldn't even bring me a unicorn horn" came a high pitched womans voice."The watchers know they are probably grazing just outside while you sit inside reminiscing".
A somber male replied "It is against my vows to slay such a noble b-".
"Any of those other armor clad idiots would have done that by now but noooo, daddy says you were the most worthy of my hand, me, the most beautifull princess in the land".
The ancient serpent knew many things of beauty but this woman did not relate. The dragon shook its great head, ridding itself of the visions, yet the buzzing remained. One thing was for certain, something must be done about this disturbing creature.
The next day dark skies plagued the land, and fog laid thick upon the meadow. The aging knight sat by the window staring into the blanket of nothingness, feeling eerily similar. Footsteps broke the silence announcing a woman whos beauty was only broken by the scowl she wore which pierced the man, sharper than any foes blade.
"Do something usefull with yourself and draw me a bath, this weather is spoiling my skin".
"Of course" replied the man. He began to move but stumbled as the earth shook. Looking outside his face crumpled as he beheld a great dragon looming at the edge of the fog. The princess began to scream but was quickly drowned out by a massive roar.
A strong, deep voice boomed from outside "My hunger is vast, and I shall feast upon any within this house unless anyone is brave enough to face me"
The princess was shaking as she shrieked "GO DO YOUR DUTY AND PROTECT ME".
The knight nodded his head silently as he gathered his sword and shield from the wall. He stepped outside feeling defeated already and looked up at the monster, a smile playing across its scaly lips.
"ahh a brave knight. Follow me to the creek and we shall do battle" and the serpent turned and moved beyond the fog, the knight hesitantly following.
A short time passed and a great roar was heard. The princess waited at the window, and saw the knight materialize from the the grey with a spring in his step. "My dear I hath slain the beast and I give you its scale as a gift" and he handed her a shimmering dragon scale.
"You are truly the knight my father spoke so kindly of and a noble husband!", and the man smiled deeply feeling a long forgotten warmth. A week passed and already the princess forgot of the great deed and with it went her love. The knight was meant to feel useless again and said "my sweet I will go slay another dragon and bring you another gift", so he left for a time. The woman waited by the window and heard a great roar from within the forest, and moments later from the trees the man appeared smiling broadly.
"Another dragon slain my love, we are safe". He handed her a talon and as exchange the womans love returned. Yet after a weeks time the talon lay forgotten by the scale.
"What a useless lowlife when your not slaying beasts! All you do is sulk unless I tell you what to do". The man began to believe that allowing the beast to slay him would have been a better course of action. The next day the man is desperate to leave and announces "Another dragon will taste my blade this day my sweet" and leaves in a hurry. He crosses the creek, into the forest, and arrives at a cave opening, concealing whats within in darkness.
"Great honorable dragon" shouts the man into the mouth of the rock. "Still she is unhappy". The ancient serpent lumbers into the light and shows its monstrous form, missing a scale and talon. "Is there anything else you can do for me great one?" The dragons nostrils flare as he exhales in distress then say "There is one more thing I will do for you small one, I will show you the truth. Go, and in the morning you will see".
That night the dragon entered the meadow and entered a trance, breathing an enchantment into the cottage. In the morning the knight was woken by screams of anguish. He burst into the washroom expecting death but was halted by the dying. The beautiful princess had transformed completely, hair shriveled, skin sallow and wrinkly, breasts drooping. She swiveled as he entered the room and glanced at him then hid her eyes screaming "DON'T LOOK AT ME!", and she fled the cottage. The man stood at the doorway watching her run as the dragon swooped down and settled next to him.
The dragon noted the fleeing figure and said "her looks will return but the truth of her existence will stay forever". The ancient one fixed the man with a look of concern and said "sometimes the veil between a dream and a nightmare is split by a thread of truth", and he took to the skies. That night both the knight and the dragon slumbered deeply.
| |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | Dragons are very long-lived creatures. We divide ourselves between two groups: the ones who hibernate, and the ones who don't. If you choose not to, like me, you need something to while away the centuries.
Taking human form helps. I've spent lives as other animals, but the pleasures available to them are quite limited - even being an apex predator gets old fast, prey animals mostly live in undignified fear, and simpler creatures are barely alive at all. So humanity is where I spend most of my time.
I've been an emperor, and I've been a tyrant. I've lived lives of faith and lives of debauchery. I've bedded countless beautiful men and women, and although I couldn't give them children, I've raised human children and I've watched them grow old from afar. These were all entertaining in their time.
As of late, I've been watching a man named Donovan. A valorous knight, he was, and gallant. He was made to marry the princess of this kingdom - a cruel and unfaithful woman named Arda. She has nothing but contempt for him, and his virtue will not allow him to go with other women.
I am thinking perhaps I will wear my war body and interfere. She could be tragically slain, or perhaps Sir Donovan and I could fight and he would come out the victor. Or I could kidnap one of them, and they might even send an army after me! It would break the monotony, if nothing else.
And if I can't think of something, well, I've been meaning to try a dolphin. | Tis brave knight Sir Alex, riding onwards,
Sir Alex’s kingdom now conquered,
He had his blonde beautiful curls of hair,
The knight’s great blade shines just and fair!
His horse a dark color raging,
He laid our Lord’s favor for his nation!
The conqueror, a young short lass,
Her capture had been quick and fast,
The king had died upon filial blade,
A thousand men marched forward,
Upon this traitor’s great unholy glade,
The kingdom had been greatly altered.
As Men were good and true,
Alex knew there were a traitor’s crew,
Still Lord and lady found themselves slain,
As beasts of devil creation formed,
The knight found some great pain,
As fiends tore arm and leg adjourned!
Tis still a peppy tune to sing,
As monstrous skulls began t’ring.
A large dragon of holy shape and mind,
Came down to breathe purifying flames,
And destroy our unholiest crime,
The bird of fire now monsters bane.
Alex saved! His armies marched godly!
An evil princess praying to the unholy,
The beast now dead began to rise,
No one could hear the horrible cries,
As they started to conglomerate,
A match for dragon’s might and fate!
The beast was made of meat and steel,
Tis was of great large size and keel,
It’s blasts of frost was as cold as ice,
The wings as feared as plague filled mice.
It flew with songs of gods long dead,
With sounds too terrifying to fill our heads.
A godly dragon will not yet fall,
As it landed upon the traitors hall,
The monstrous beast tore Alex to bits,
As our holy armies got a case of the shits,
The princess fell to purifying blue flames,
And knights fell upon the beast to maim.
In victory the dragon fell to god,
His type not usually allowed.
Good Saint Peter decided to allow,
Exceptions for the good and true,
It's in Iambic octamator? I couldn't get ten per line, though I do play around with length here and there, hope its not terrible. | |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | "Should you have the honour of rescuing my daughter, the beautiful princess Yazariya from that lair, you may take her hand and rule alongside her."
Prince Renal nodded respectfully in silence, for he was recognizing the grief and sorrow of the king and also a father of the poor child. The princess was missing for 20 years now, snatched away from her cradle as a newborn. And yet her father never gave up on her. He sent many brave souls after her trail, certain she was alive and held captive from the beast. An effort in vain as all of them went through heaven's doors.
Many tried to convince him he was wasting his time and resources and men, his queen included. “Let the poor girl rest in peace, my dear. We owe her this.”, but none of their words reached the mourning father. Fateful to his promise he made to himself, he sent elite divisions and armies after the beast. None of them successful.
By advice of his trusted men, the ruler decided to trust not brute force but wit and tactics. By sending single warriors or knights, the chances of them to trick the dragon or sneak right past him were higher. And the sacrifice was far smaller.
Prince Renal was determined to do his best or die trying. He wanted to help not only the innocent damsel in distress but to ease her father as well. And the idea of a union between their kingdoms would mean only well for their people. He prepared his armor and his best horse. He also took his father's sword, ready to slay if needed.
It took him two weeks to find the place described by tales all around. He stood before a high tower, lonely in a green field. The old stone was covered with moss and ivy. Dead silence ruled the lands as birds were quiet and the air was still. Prince Renal got off his horse and dared step forward. Not a sign from the dragon. Was this a trap? Did he sense his presence from afar?
He came upon a simple wooden door, which wasn’t hidden nor unapproachable. It wasn’t locked either and with ease he opened the door. From the distance within, somewhere in the dark, he heard the rattle of shackles or so he thought. “My fair maiden!”
Before he can rush in after his promised one, a dirty beast hidden in the shadows grasped him and knocked him down. It bit his arm and tore his flesh. He screamed in agony and tried to pierce the beast but it did not feel any pain. It screamed in triumph and in blood lust, and attacked again.
Renal could barely look at what attacked him as he tried to push the thing away. He could see multiple lesions on its faint skin as it outlined the bones underneath like a map outlining mountains. It barely had any hairs but its teeth were sharp and it was merciless. At one point Renal was sure it would end his life before he can manage to escape. Its eyes were cruel and thirsty.
He couldn’t outrun it. He couldn’t overpower it. His head was heavy and he felt dizzy. Was he poisoned? Was this black magic? The thing jumped forward and tried to reach for his hand, he attacked back desperately trying to cut off its head. But the agile monster evaded and tacked him again. Before it could bite him, he clutched a nearby stone and smashed it against its head. And even though he managed to kick it away from himself, he was unable to get up or move at all. Thick roots were rambled around and held him down, now crushing his body and bones. The grip grew tighter around his ankles and arms.
"No running away now, love." - the thing giggled while getting up. Renal was unable to believe that its rotten mouth was capable of speech. Its voice was just as hideous as its looks. It was sarcastic and mocking and just the sound of it made him shiver with disgust. "Save me from my curse, dearie. Let me feast upon your valiant heart. If it is such truly."
Before the thing could attack one final time, Renal heard wings flapping. A shadow devoured them, from above a flying beast dived without a second doubt. A nature’s force, the dragon stood between the man and the beast. The thing stepped back, hissing.
Yazariya knew the dragon’s fire couldn’t reach her but despite that a dragon should never be underestimated.
"You’re back." - She laughed. Renal could feel how bitter she was from the fact. Yet, she stared at him while she talked to the dragon. "Why did you have to come back?"
The dragon growled and tore the roots around Renal’s body with one of his paws. The wench looked at them furious, clutching her fists and lips into a twisted smile. Distant trees began moving, screeching. The dragon was ready to take any of her attacks.
“Run, you fool!”
Renal got on his feed, shaking. The horse was nowhere to be found, but he turned around and ran as fast as he can.
The child was left behind, alone, distant from everyone and unwanted - even from her own mother. | Queen Hulwen had been one of the most beautiful rulers of the kingdom of Tirwelys, however, due to a tragic curse that that befell many generations of her family, she was also known as "Hulwen the Mad."
She had taken over the Kingdom after her father and mother were killed in a fire that happened at a farm house where King Adimond and his wife, Queen Lumonde were taking rest.
Though only 30 winters old, Hulwen was ambitious. She had wanted her kingdom to become a provider of materials for all other kingdoms. To do this she extracted resources and people to the breaking point and used force to take the peasants land, force them to work on it at all hours of the day, and take all of their money so she could build more and also take over places that had more resources (such as the mining country of Glonant, which was a small mountain republic that had been left alone for nearly 400 years since overthrowing their evil King, Yelvinoff"
One of the men who stood up to her was a Lord named Gariad of Pentrebud, a village in one of the western provinces who was also known as the "dragon killer" since he had been said to have killed the last dragon in order to rescue the then 15 winter old Hulwen, who had been captured by bandits (though some wondered if she had snuck off to try and learn dark magick or commit other nasty deeds not worth mentioning any further).
After rescuing Hulwen, young Gariad, son of a cooper, was made a knight and given an estate in his village. He also was known as a great military leader, particularly known for helping quell rebellions, but also being just and fair and kind, making sure needs were met rather than just going out and killing those who were against the King.
Things changed however, and soon a civil war swallowed up Tirmelys, with those who's title was earned by blood and their family (known as high bloods) siding with the Mad Queen, while those who had earned it through service and their loyal peasants followed Gariad and many other common born nobles. Their flag was a gone flag with a Red, Blue and Green Dragon on it. As such they were known as Dragon keepers.
Eventually however Gariad was captured and taken to Minasafon, where Queen Hulwen ruled. He was put in a the city's large castle, known as Bryondorchal, which was said to not only be patrolled by 1000 guards but also dark magic.
Gariad was kept in the heart of the castle, near the queen's bed chamber. One night, while she was asleep, a loud roar echoed through the castle. Soon a large blue dragon had showed up at the door. Most had thought Dragons were extinct, but soon, one dragon was now making his way though the castle. He was only about 10 feet tall, but he had large bull horns and yellow eyes and had thick scales. His main power though was a large shriek which could tear down walls and make humans deaf. He did this to a number of the guards and their ears kept ringing and made them writhe in pain.
Just then, Queen Hulwen woke up. She walked up to the chained Gariad.
"you know Gariad, your wife would never take you back if you were unfaithful, and your followers wouldn't like that either."
"You'll never touch me like that." Said Gariad.
"You are completely mad."
"Oh yes I know, which is why i will kill you afterwards. Then i'll finally have you. Just like i have all my other men and lovers. And of course my husband. Granted he's such a dimwit."
That was the only thing that Gariad could agree with that the Queen said.
Just as the Queen began to head back to her bedchamber, the blue dragon swooped in, and let out a loud shriek. he then blew fire into the queens bedroom and a blood curdling scream filled the air.
Gariad didn't hear that, or anything. He passed out from the pain, but soon found himself in the arms of a blue dragon, flying over the countryside. Soon he recognized Pentrebud and its large village hall and his home at the edge of the village.
It was late at night when he landed.
"Thank you" he said to the dragon. The dragon made a small roar and raised its right leg. Gariad then touched his hand to the dragon.
"Are you helping me because I helped your father?"
The dragon nodded.
"Well thanks. I hope you would help us against our evil Queen and her highblood allies. I'm sure they haven't been kind to Dragons either."
Just then the Dragon lowered its head in a bow of gratitude.
"Thank you again, and please tell what is left of your kind to help. My allies might be scared, but i will spread the word that you will help. You truly are noble beasts you dragons."
| |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | Hyperion drew his sword as he entered the bedchamber. Lit scented candles littered the shelves and dressers placed up against the wall bathing the enormous room in an orange glow. Hanging overhead was a metallic chandelier with five or six more lit candles. The walls were decorated with fine silk tapestries depicting the inhabitant's previous conquests.
On one side of the room Hyperion could see his friend's suit of armor laying neatly in the corner. The dragon let out a low bellow in order to signal to his friend that he had arrived. Hyperion's scales bristled at the thought of what might have happened to his friend. He crept through the room toward the center where the enormous bed lay. Something stirred under the covers. His tail stood erect. He unsheathed his sword ready for a fight.
With a loud and feral growl the princess burst out of the covers. She stood over the night stripped down to his underwear and bound to the bedpost with a leather strap. Scrawny arms and slender legs flapped and flailed at the dragon. Fire emerged from her behind lipstick laden lips as she screeched toward her adversary. Hyperion lifted his sword and blocked the flames. He met hers with flames of his own.
"You will not have him!" the creature said, "he's mine! We're meeting my parents for dinner later on tonight!"
The woman lunged off the bed at the dragon baring long, fake nails. Hyperion swung his tail. The princess let out a yelp with the impact of the noble dragon's tail. She landed on the wooden floor with a thud. While the woman was knocked out Hyperion rushed to the knight's side. He took a dagger from his side and cut the leather straps.
"Thank goodness you came," the knight said.
"Maybe this will teach you to stop paying attention to your other head."
"You don't have to tell me twice."
The princess on the floor started coming to. Holding her head, she rolled over and picked herself up. She staggered toward the dragon and the knight reaching out. She fell to her knees.
"You may have defeated me," she said, " but I still have my ladies in waiting. They will make quick work of you."
The princess collapsed once again and lost consciousness. Sounds of women screeching and howling came from behind the door on the other side of the bed chamber.
"Princess Ophelia?" one of the ladies in waiting called. Her nails could be heard scraping against the polished wood. "Is everything okay in there? Do we need to come in?"
"We have to get out of here," Hyperion said helping his friend with his armor. | Queen Hulwen had been one of the most beautiful rulers of the kingdom of Tirwelys, however, due to a tragic curse that that befell many generations of her family, she was also known as "Hulwen the Mad."
She had taken over the Kingdom after her father and mother were killed in a fire that happened at a farm house where King Adimond and his wife, Queen Lumonde were taking rest.
Though only 30 winters old, Hulwen was ambitious. She had wanted her kingdom to become a provider of materials for all other kingdoms. To do this she extracted resources and people to the breaking point and used force to take the peasants land, force them to work on it at all hours of the day, and take all of their money so she could build more and also take over places that had more resources (such as the mining country of Glonant, which was a small mountain republic that had been left alone for nearly 400 years since overthrowing their evil King, Yelvinoff"
One of the men who stood up to her was a Lord named Gariad of Pentrebud, a village in one of the western provinces who was also known as the "dragon killer" since he had been said to have killed the last dragon in order to rescue the then 15 winter old Hulwen, who had been captured by bandits (though some wondered if she had snuck off to try and learn dark magick or commit other nasty deeds not worth mentioning any further).
After rescuing Hulwen, young Gariad, son of a cooper, was made a knight and given an estate in his village. He also was known as a great military leader, particularly known for helping quell rebellions, but also being just and fair and kind, making sure needs were met rather than just going out and killing those who were against the King.
Things changed however, and soon a civil war swallowed up Tirmelys, with those who's title was earned by blood and their family (known as high bloods) siding with the Mad Queen, while those who had earned it through service and their loyal peasants followed Gariad and many other common born nobles. Their flag was a gone flag with a Red, Blue and Green Dragon on it. As such they were known as Dragon keepers.
Eventually however Gariad was captured and taken to Minasafon, where Queen Hulwen ruled. He was put in a the city's large castle, known as Bryondorchal, which was said to not only be patrolled by 1000 guards but also dark magic.
Gariad was kept in the heart of the castle, near the queen's bed chamber. One night, while she was asleep, a loud roar echoed through the castle. Soon a large blue dragon had showed up at the door. Most had thought Dragons were extinct, but soon, one dragon was now making his way though the castle. He was only about 10 feet tall, but he had large bull horns and yellow eyes and had thick scales. His main power though was a large shriek which could tear down walls and make humans deaf. He did this to a number of the guards and their ears kept ringing and made them writhe in pain.
Just then, Queen Hulwen woke up. She walked up to the chained Gariad.
"you know Gariad, your wife would never take you back if you were unfaithful, and your followers wouldn't like that either."
"You'll never touch me like that." Said Gariad.
"You are completely mad."
"Oh yes I know, which is why i will kill you afterwards. Then i'll finally have you. Just like i have all my other men and lovers. And of course my husband. Granted he's such a dimwit."
That was the only thing that Gariad could agree with that the Queen said.
Just as the Queen began to head back to her bedchamber, the blue dragon swooped in, and let out a loud shriek. he then blew fire into the queens bedroom and a blood curdling scream filled the air.
Gariad didn't hear that, or anything. He passed out from the pain, but soon found himself in the arms of a blue dragon, flying over the countryside. Soon he recognized Pentrebud and its large village hall and his home at the edge of the village.
It was late at night when he landed.
"Thank you" he said to the dragon. The dragon made a small roar and raised its right leg. Gariad then touched his hand to the dragon.
"Are you helping me because I helped your father?"
The dragon nodded.
"Well thanks. I hope you would help us against our evil Queen and her highblood allies. I'm sure they haven't been kind to Dragons either."
Just then the Dragon lowered its head in a bow of gratitude.
"Thank you again, and please tell what is left of your kind to help. My allies might be scared, but i will spread the word that you will help. You truly are noble beasts you dragons."
| |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | "I was pulled from the local brothel by my fragile yet fateful squire Elrish. I'm sure he sounded something like this while attempting to pull me away from the heaven I found myself in."
"Pppp...pardon me, great lord Martin. Slayer of Evil, Lover of Women, and Bringer of Joy"
Elrish stumbled forward sluggishly to place his hand on the back of Martins right shoulder only to miss by a foot and fall flat on his face.
"I didn't say soooch (belch) such a think as...um..as that."
"Good god man, Get a hold of yourself and stop hogging all the rum."
Martin snatches the rum from Elrish and takes three long gulps then continues his tale.
"As I was saying. I was forcefully removed from this pleasure, the pleasure of helping a poor lass down on her luck of course, by kings order. The king then told me to quest here and well, kill you. You see we became something of a legend and were called upon to slay any monsters or creatures that may harm the people of this kingdom. And this legend all started in a small village far to the west. Me and sweet, fragile Elrish here.."
"Not fragile" Elrish belched out.
"Says the man flat on his back. Now as I was saying me and sweet, dumb, fragile, child-like Elrish here (Elrish's hands reach from the ground toward the bottle only to have it ripped away by Martin who takes yet another swig) were taking a nice stroll through the beautiful country side."
"We were fleeing" Elrish said as he slumped himself over a dark, slimy rock.
"Perhaps we were fleeing who can remember? All I recall is the stunning scenery and the grace of the steeds we rode at full speed."
"Stolen steeds."
"Well yes, stolen from an evil man hell bent on over pricing his horses." Martin now becoming sluggish himself.
"Twas an old man, Pleasant in fact."
"Well if denying a man in need of a horse is pleasa-"
"You fucked his daughter after he graciously invited us to stay the night."
"She was very good to us, fed us well and made our beds. Was I to deny her when she entered my chambers?"
A booming voice crackled and echoed towards them. "ON WITH YOUR FOOLISH TALE!!!!"
Martin, looking fearful, clears his throat. "Right, so before we reached this small town we see what appears to be a body lying on a hill in the distance. So naturally, being the good upstanding gentlemen that we are, we go to see if we can help. Only this was no human body it was a dire wolf and a big one at that. With the knowledge of the gold we would receive from the fur of a dire wolf we have a few drinks in celebration."
"A bottle." Elrish whispers
"Being as we were a little drunk mind you, we seemed to not be able to skin this beast in a proper manner. In fact we quite butchered the thing and decided to sleep off the liquors' hold on us. Then we awoke to see a crowd of people standing around us. We thought perhaps we'd been caught but it turns out they were commoners of the local town we sought. And this dire wolf was a tormentor of theirs for years. They paraded us into town like kings and praised us. Some even cried at our feet. It was all quite fetching if I may say so myself."
"Aye, they gave us plenty of food, women, and mead." Elrish spat this out now standing on his feet next to Martin.
"This praise went on for days and the story of our heroism glided throughout the kingdom only getting more and more embellished as it worked its way to the kings ear. And when it finally reached his ear we were plucked from that glorious town and thrown before the king where I was knighted and Elrish was named my squire."
"Twas bullshit that. I should have been the Knighted one."
"Well you shouldn't have drank so much to the point of passing out. The people had many questions. What was I to do?"
Elrish rolled his eyes and grabbed the bottle out of Martins hand to take a swig.
Martin smirks and proceeded to say "The king then told us we are to slay any monsters or creatures that bring fear and death to his people and so with no real choice we set off to do just that. And to our luck we found that people are afraid of just about anything. Each story was as foolish as the last. There was the Ghost of the Hollow Woods which only appeared at full moon. It was only a white sheet high in a tree that caught the light of the moon. Then there was the Massive Tunnel Snake that would drag you under if given the chance. Turns out that was just a fat wood chuck, Elrish now keeps him as a pet."
"I call him Chuck Elrish the 3rd. Cute little bugger he is. Turns out hes a bourbon man." Elrish leans in with a hand to his cheek as if to whisper. "Keeps him from biting it does. Oh (hiccup) and don't forget about the Shrieking Banshee of Western Swallow. Now that was just an old toad. I think I still got a bit of him on me boot." Elrish struggles to lift his left boot then gives up. "well its down there somewhere." (hiccup).
Martin then steps forward to once again take control of the story.
"So you see that's what brought us to were we stand today, to kill...(Martin, quivering, takes another drink from the bottle of rum) a dragon."
A massive black scaly face with fangs the length of a mans arm and eyes as gold as the kings crown slowly inches into the moonlight that seeps into the entrance of the cave. All they can hear is the faint sound of water dripping from above and echoing deep as they await their death.
"MUHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA" The dragon laughs hysterically and slams his menacing paw to the ground over and over. The wind of his laughter blows back Martin and Elrishs hair while the slamming of his paw knocks them to the ground. The dragon looks back at them with a frightening grin and says with his booming voice " I am Morgune, It is a pleasure to meet you boys."
Martin and Elrish slowly stand and dust themselves off still shaking with fear. "Yes, well yes it's also quite the pleasure to meet you."
Elrish forces a quivering smile "Aye, it sure is."
Morgune leans in close and asked softly. "Now what reward do you receive by killing me?"
Martin takes a submissive step back. "Well we are to be paid in a mountain of gold and I am to wed the princess. Her beauty knows no bounds as does her cruelty. Some would say she is fair and just, but any man with sense would say shes...well a bit of..."
Elrish interrupts. "She's a cunt." (belch)
Morgune Ponders for a time and offers a sinister counter offer. "How would you two like all the kings gold and Martin how would you like to be free of this princess?"
Both men spit out the rum they were sharing and say at the same time. "Well sir I'd love nothing more" (Martin)
"Well shit I'd love nothing more"(Elrish)
"Then rulers and conquerors you shall be. Free from the shrill princess and rich beyond your dreams. I love nothing more then a good tale and yours, though good, is only just beginning."
| Queen Hulwen had been one of the most beautiful rulers of the kingdom of Tirwelys, however, due to a tragic curse that that befell many generations of her family, she was also known as "Hulwen the Mad."
She had taken over the Kingdom after her father and mother were killed in a fire that happened at a farm house where King Adimond and his wife, Queen Lumonde were taking rest.
Though only 30 winters old, Hulwen was ambitious. She had wanted her kingdom to become a provider of materials for all other kingdoms. To do this she extracted resources and people to the breaking point and used force to take the peasants land, force them to work on it at all hours of the day, and take all of their money so she could build more and also take over places that had more resources (such as the mining country of Glonant, which was a small mountain republic that had been left alone for nearly 400 years since overthrowing their evil King, Yelvinoff"
One of the men who stood up to her was a Lord named Gariad of Pentrebud, a village in one of the western provinces who was also known as the "dragon killer" since he had been said to have killed the last dragon in order to rescue the then 15 winter old Hulwen, who had been captured by bandits (though some wondered if she had snuck off to try and learn dark magick or commit other nasty deeds not worth mentioning any further).
After rescuing Hulwen, young Gariad, son of a cooper, was made a knight and given an estate in his village. He also was known as a great military leader, particularly known for helping quell rebellions, but also being just and fair and kind, making sure needs were met rather than just going out and killing those who were against the King.
Things changed however, and soon a civil war swallowed up Tirmelys, with those who's title was earned by blood and their family (known as high bloods) siding with the Mad Queen, while those who had earned it through service and their loyal peasants followed Gariad and many other common born nobles. Their flag was a gone flag with a Red, Blue and Green Dragon on it. As such they were known as Dragon keepers.
Eventually however Gariad was captured and taken to Minasafon, where Queen Hulwen ruled. He was put in a the city's large castle, known as Bryondorchal, which was said to not only be patrolled by 1000 guards but also dark magic.
Gariad was kept in the heart of the castle, near the queen's bed chamber. One night, while she was asleep, a loud roar echoed through the castle. Soon a large blue dragon had showed up at the door. Most had thought Dragons were extinct, but soon, one dragon was now making his way though the castle. He was only about 10 feet tall, but he had large bull horns and yellow eyes and had thick scales. His main power though was a large shriek which could tear down walls and make humans deaf. He did this to a number of the guards and their ears kept ringing and made them writhe in pain.
Just then, Queen Hulwen woke up. She walked up to the chained Gariad.
"you know Gariad, your wife would never take you back if you were unfaithful, and your followers wouldn't like that either."
"You'll never touch me like that." Said Gariad.
"You are completely mad."
"Oh yes I know, which is why i will kill you afterwards. Then i'll finally have you. Just like i have all my other men and lovers. And of course my husband. Granted he's such a dimwit."
That was the only thing that Gariad could agree with that the Queen said.
Just as the Queen began to head back to her bedchamber, the blue dragon swooped in, and let out a loud shriek. he then blew fire into the queens bedroom and a blood curdling scream filled the air.
Gariad didn't hear that, or anything. He passed out from the pain, but soon found himself in the arms of a blue dragon, flying over the countryside. Soon he recognized Pentrebud and its large village hall and his home at the edge of the village.
It was late at night when he landed.
"Thank you" he said to the dragon. The dragon made a small roar and raised its right leg. Gariad then touched his hand to the dragon.
"Are you helping me because I helped your father?"
The dragon nodded.
"Well thanks. I hope you would help us against our evil Queen and her highblood allies. I'm sure they haven't been kind to Dragons either."
Just then the Dragon lowered its head in a bow of gratitude.
"Thank you again, and please tell what is left of your kind to help. My allies might be scared, but i will spread the word that you will help. You truly are noble beasts you dragons."
| |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | Sir Gunther trudged wearily toward the cave, his breathing labored from hours of plodding through the muddy banks of the Toffee Swamp. As he pulled his last booted foot from the muck and struck out on solid footing, he mumbled a prayer to whichever saint happened to be listening. Normally he had the time to be picky about prayer, but today was not one of those days.
Hesitantly, Sir Gunther took a few steps forward and leaned against the wall of the cave, drawing in slow, deep breaths in an attempt to quiet his pounding heart. The moisture-slick stone felt oddly warm against the palms of his hands. He sniffed the air. The entryway smelled of ash and reptile droppings. He was in the right place.
After collecting himself, Sir Gunther stepped away from the wall and watched the granite cavern pulse in and out in a steady breathing motion. He wondered for a moment if he was mistaken and had somehow ended up inside the belly of the creature that he sought. He mused over the thought, and soon decided that it was most likely true.
"Hello?" he shouted at the cave walls. "Hello? Can you hear me in here?" He took a moment to adjust his helmet, which all of a sudden felt much smaller than it had before. "I seek Sparky the Dragon!"
"Who goes there??" a great, booming voice replied.
"It is I, Sir Gunther of Rathskeller!" After a moment's pause, the knight added: "The one whom, a moment earlier, you so voraciously consumed!"
A thunderous noise, like the pounding of a titanic drum, echoed through the great chamber, coming steadily closer with each beat. Sir Gunther braced himself for the worst - surely the dragon was about to send him hurtling through its digestive system.
And then, as he peered into the inky depths of the cave, he saw it. A massive, scaly foot, easily the size of a full-grown man, came to rest upon the cave floor with a force that sent shockwaves across the bare rock.
"I dined on no knight this day," the voice rumbled. "Besides, I went vegetarian four or five decades ago. All that fiber works wonders in my old age."
A second foot thrust itself out of the darkness ahead of the first, coming to rest on the stony ground with a great thud. It was then that Sir Gunther realized that he was not in the dragon's stomach, but was, in fact, simply in a cave *with* the beast. The thought was of only mild comfort to him.
"I... I have journeyed long and far from Rathskeller to visit you, O Great Sparky!" the knight stammered. "Across the vast golden fields of Elysium! Through the dense, jagged Forest of Eternal Peril! Over the-"
"What in the blazes are you talking about, human?" The voice interrupted. "The town of Rathskeller is only two or three miles away."
Another footstep, and Sir Gunther could finally see the head of the beast. Its bright pink, undulating skin wrapped itself around three mouths, all of which spoke in unison.
"And another thing," the dragon continued, "Do *not* insult me with this 'Sparky' nonsense! My name is Sparcinious the Burning Ember, Scourge of Guttenberg, Ruiner of Empires! Get it right, human!"
"Um, I apologize, O Great Sparcinius the... uh..." Sir Gunther blinked again, and suddenly the dragon's head was pale white and studded with hundreds of tiny, crimson eyes that blinked with every syllable that he spoke. "...what was the rest of that again?"
The dragon let out a deep, ragged sigh from its three mouths, and in barely the blink of an eye, they coalesced into a single, gaping maw. "Nevermind. What brings you here, human?" As the dragon spoke, its great black tongue began to worm its way out of its mouth. "Do you wish to do battle? Slay me? Bring my head home as a trophy for some human female?"
"I, well, I was wondering," Sir Gunther continued, casually leaning against the cave wall. "Can I maybe, please, have one of your scales, O Terrible Spar..." He paused, his eyes growing wide as he watched the beast's tongue extend several feet below its chin and swing to and fro like a fleshy pendulum. "...er, whatever the rest of that was?"
The dragon's million eyes widened. Sir Gunther watched as they crawled like beetles toward the center of the creature's forehead, where they collected like water droplets into one Cyclopean eyelid.
"Ah!" the dragon gasped. "Ingested the Crimson Death mushroom, did we?"
"Yes, O Great... One," Sir Gunther said, hoping that the generic declaration of respect would suffice.
The dragon uttered a sharp guffaw. "You aren't the brightest flower in the field, are you, human?" As he spoke, Sir Gunther watched his tongue snake back into his mouth. Now the creature's reptilian scowl was impossibly wide, and when it spoke, it emitted puffs of rainbow-hued smoke from its nostrils. "Tell me. How long ago did you consume the fungus?"
"This past evening," Sir Gunther replied in the midst of struggling not to look at his own hands, which had elongated into furry, bat-like claws.
"In that case, the hallucinations have long since begun," Sparcinius said. "Death will come within a day's time." The dragon raised its gigantic right claw and, with a sound like the snapping of a thick tree branch, pried a canary yellow scale from its forehead. "Take this," he said, tossing the scale to rest at Sir Gunther's feet, where it landed with a thump. "Brew it for five minutes in boiling water and drink the resulting potion. The effects should wear off within an hour's time."
Sir Gunther bent down and picked up the scale in between two bat-talons. Curiously, it was much smaller than he expected - about the size of a rose petal.
"Go, now," the dragon sneered, "and leave me in peace. I have a lovely dinner salad to prepare."
Sir Gunther began to step back toward the cave entrance, his dilated pupils never leaving the monster before him. "Thank you, O Great Sparky!" he bellowed, before promptly turning tail and scurrying away as fast as his heavy leather-and-mail armor would allow.
"Sparcinius," the dragon mumbled grimly. As he spoke, a jet of flame shot forth from his nostrils, momentarily revealing his emerald-scaled body, no bigger than that of a large dog. "And what was that bumbling coward so afraid of, anyway?"
-------
Meanwhile, after having traversed the Cloud Mountains, ran the Rainbow Racetrack, and swim-walked the Seven Fathoms of Aphelion, Sir Gunther arrived back at his mansion in Rathskellar only to find that it had transformed into a three-story caramel flan in his absence. He spent a good twenty minutes attempting to eat his way through to the interior when, purely by happy chance, he stumbled upon the front door.
"Gunther! Thank God! Where have you been?" Princess Hilda screamed as he entered the door. "I've been worried sick about you!"
Gunther braced himself against the door frame. The entire world undulated around him, as though he were in the midst of a slow-motion earthquake. Furthermore, the Princess Hilda standing before him now possessed a few extra arms and also the face of a tarantula.
"Brew this for five minutes in boiling water," he said in between staccato breaths, tossing the scale in Hilda-Spider's general direction. "And make sure there's no poison mushrooms in it, please."
"For the thousandth time, I'm sorry!" Hilda said as she bent down to pick up the shiny, chartreuse-hued object. "It looked exactly like a porcini and I thought it would be perfect for my famous risotto."
"Just hurry, please," said an exasperated and suddenly very pale Sir Gunther.
Hilda shot her husband an icy glare and dashed over to the stove, scale in hand. With a grunt, she hoisted a kettle of steaming water off of the fireplace and decanted it in to a floral-patterned teapot on the counter. After replacing the kettle on its perch, she unceremoniously plopped the scale into the pot.
"You know," she said, resting a delicate hand on her hip and smiling a lovely arachnid smile at her knight, "it's rather difficult being a princess most of the time. There's matters of state to look after, protocol and etiquette to obey, and on top of all that, I need to take care of you, too."
"Right. So difficult," Sir Gunther replied through gritted teeth. "So very difficult indeed." | Queen Hulwen had been one of the most beautiful rulers of the kingdom of Tirwelys, however, due to a tragic curse that that befell many generations of her family, she was also known as "Hulwen the Mad."
She had taken over the Kingdom after her father and mother were killed in a fire that happened at a farm house where King Adimond and his wife, Queen Lumonde were taking rest.
Though only 30 winters old, Hulwen was ambitious. She had wanted her kingdom to become a provider of materials for all other kingdoms. To do this she extracted resources and people to the breaking point and used force to take the peasants land, force them to work on it at all hours of the day, and take all of their money so she could build more and also take over places that had more resources (such as the mining country of Glonant, which was a small mountain republic that had been left alone for nearly 400 years since overthrowing their evil King, Yelvinoff"
One of the men who stood up to her was a Lord named Gariad of Pentrebud, a village in one of the western provinces who was also known as the "dragon killer" since he had been said to have killed the last dragon in order to rescue the then 15 winter old Hulwen, who had been captured by bandits (though some wondered if she had snuck off to try and learn dark magick or commit other nasty deeds not worth mentioning any further).
After rescuing Hulwen, young Gariad, son of a cooper, was made a knight and given an estate in his village. He also was known as a great military leader, particularly known for helping quell rebellions, but also being just and fair and kind, making sure needs were met rather than just going out and killing those who were against the King.
Things changed however, and soon a civil war swallowed up Tirmelys, with those who's title was earned by blood and their family (known as high bloods) siding with the Mad Queen, while those who had earned it through service and their loyal peasants followed Gariad and many other common born nobles. Their flag was a gone flag with a Red, Blue and Green Dragon on it. As such they were known as Dragon keepers.
Eventually however Gariad was captured and taken to Minasafon, where Queen Hulwen ruled. He was put in a the city's large castle, known as Bryondorchal, which was said to not only be patrolled by 1000 guards but also dark magic.
Gariad was kept in the heart of the castle, near the queen's bed chamber. One night, while she was asleep, a loud roar echoed through the castle. Soon a large blue dragon had showed up at the door. Most had thought Dragons were extinct, but soon, one dragon was now making his way though the castle. He was only about 10 feet tall, but he had large bull horns and yellow eyes and had thick scales. His main power though was a large shriek which could tear down walls and make humans deaf. He did this to a number of the guards and their ears kept ringing and made them writhe in pain.
Just then, Queen Hulwen woke up. She walked up to the chained Gariad.
"you know Gariad, your wife would never take you back if you were unfaithful, and your followers wouldn't like that either."
"You'll never touch me like that." Said Gariad.
"You are completely mad."
"Oh yes I know, which is why i will kill you afterwards. Then i'll finally have you. Just like i have all my other men and lovers. And of course my husband. Granted he's such a dimwit."
That was the only thing that Gariad could agree with that the Queen said.
Just as the Queen began to head back to her bedchamber, the blue dragon swooped in, and let out a loud shriek. he then blew fire into the queens bedroom and a blood curdling scream filled the air.
Gariad didn't hear that, or anything. He passed out from the pain, but soon found himself in the arms of a blue dragon, flying over the countryside. Soon he recognized Pentrebud and its large village hall and his home at the edge of the village.
It was late at night when he landed.
"Thank you" he said to the dragon. The dragon made a small roar and raised its right leg. Gariad then touched his hand to the dragon.
"Are you helping me because I helped your father?"
The dragon nodded.
"Well thanks. I hope you would help us against our evil Queen and her highblood allies. I'm sure they haven't been kind to Dragons either."
Just then the Dragon lowered its head in a bow of gratitude.
"Thank you again, and please tell what is left of your kind to help. My allies might be scared, but i will spread the word that you will help. You truly are noble beasts you dragons."
| |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | “Gods curse me. Clearly the Gods hate me,” a man moaned pitifully, ready and willing to be the subject of serious coddling. His tone revealed the bravo of a kid with the manliness of a slug.
Although a sword hung at the man’s hip, it remained firmly in it’s sheath, unused and forgotten. The pristine hilt gave away its lack of experience in battle. A shiny gem encrusted the very tip of the hilt.
“The Princess of Storms. SHE’S CALLED THE PRINCESS OF STORMS,” came a frustrated bellow, far different from the whiny voice with its rising inflections. With a small breathy sigh he ducked a long stream of lightning and covered the tiny fleshy thing that was clinging to his forearm to protect him from the onslaught.
“I thought it was just a clever title! I’m Balion the Fierce! It’s just what royalty DOES!” the prince fired back, haughty and idiotic.
“How dare you!” came a female voice, furious at the pair currently cowering before her. “I take a small nap and wake up to your ugly face trying to-to-“
“Kiss you,” Balion added helpfully. Another stream of electric wind aimed at his face was her reply. Again he was protected by a great leathery appendage.
“And you! You’re MY dragon!” the girl raged, aiming another spell at the pair, which reflected harmlessly off his wings. Her hair stood out, frazzled and thick, her powers causing herself a very bad hair day.
“Yes, but I’m tired of watching you crisp every prince who comes to court you. Just pick one so we can leave this stupid tower. This one looks good. Look at his little sword,” the dragon enticed, picking up Balion effortlessly in a large claw to inspect the tiny sword more closely. A single claw reached out to bop the handle. “Look at it! Shiny too.”
“I don’t like him! … He has a big nose,” she said, the air flickering around her to ensure everyone remembered who was in charge. Balion covered his offended nose with a free hand.
“I hate royalty. Look, Balion, was it? Your kingdom has a nice remote tower somewhere, right?”
“Of course. Any royalty of clout has a tower. Where would we put…” he gave a nervous glance at the princess, “uh, you know…”
“Great. You need a dragon to guard it?”
“Oh sure, Father’s been looking for a dragon for ages, ever since our neighboring kingdom got one. That’s all you hear all day, the Vicloi family got a dragon. A fire breathing one! They think they’re so great, but I hear the dragon accidently burned down half the village-“
“Shut up. Let’s go,” the dragon interrupted, his great wings expanding to prepare for escape.
“What?!” the Princess of Storms exclaimed in shock at the sudden change of events. Sure, the dragon occasionally tried to save the odd suitor or two, but he’d never indicated that he would ditch her!
“I like the cut of his jib.”
“You owe me a life debt,” she reminded.
“Eh, those are overrated. Come along Balion the Fancy,” the dragon was airborne in moments, the prince taken along for the ride, ready and willing or not.
“It’s Fierce!” came a girly scream as they disappeared into the distance.
| Queen Hulwen had been one of the most beautiful rulers of the kingdom of Tirwelys, however, due to a tragic curse that that befell many generations of her family, she was also known as "Hulwen the Mad."
She had taken over the Kingdom after her father and mother were killed in a fire that happened at a farm house where King Adimond and his wife, Queen Lumonde were taking rest.
Though only 30 winters old, Hulwen was ambitious. She had wanted her kingdom to become a provider of materials for all other kingdoms. To do this she extracted resources and people to the breaking point and used force to take the peasants land, force them to work on it at all hours of the day, and take all of their money so she could build more and also take over places that had more resources (such as the mining country of Glonant, which was a small mountain republic that had been left alone for nearly 400 years since overthrowing their evil King, Yelvinoff"
One of the men who stood up to her was a Lord named Gariad of Pentrebud, a village in one of the western provinces who was also known as the "dragon killer" since he had been said to have killed the last dragon in order to rescue the then 15 winter old Hulwen, who had been captured by bandits (though some wondered if she had snuck off to try and learn dark magick or commit other nasty deeds not worth mentioning any further).
After rescuing Hulwen, young Gariad, son of a cooper, was made a knight and given an estate in his village. He also was known as a great military leader, particularly known for helping quell rebellions, but also being just and fair and kind, making sure needs were met rather than just going out and killing those who were against the King.
Things changed however, and soon a civil war swallowed up Tirmelys, with those who's title was earned by blood and their family (known as high bloods) siding with the Mad Queen, while those who had earned it through service and their loyal peasants followed Gariad and many other common born nobles. Their flag was a gone flag with a Red, Blue and Green Dragon on it. As such they were known as Dragon keepers.
Eventually however Gariad was captured and taken to Minasafon, where Queen Hulwen ruled. He was put in a the city's large castle, known as Bryondorchal, which was said to not only be patrolled by 1000 guards but also dark magic.
Gariad was kept in the heart of the castle, near the queen's bed chamber. One night, while she was asleep, a loud roar echoed through the castle. Soon a large blue dragon had showed up at the door. Most had thought Dragons were extinct, but soon, one dragon was now making his way though the castle. He was only about 10 feet tall, but he had large bull horns and yellow eyes and had thick scales. His main power though was a large shriek which could tear down walls and make humans deaf. He did this to a number of the guards and their ears kept ringing and made them writhe in pain.
Just then, Queen Hulwen woke up. She walked up to the chained Gariad.
"you know Gariad, your wife would never take you back if you were unfaithful, and your followers wouldn't like that either."
"You'll never touch me like that." Said Gariad.
"You are completely mad."
"Oh yes I know, which is why i will kill you afterwards. Then i'll finally have you. Just like i have all my other men and lovers. And of course my husband. Granted he's such a dimwit."
That was the only thing that Gariad could agree with that the Queen said.
Just as the Queen began to head back to her bedchamber, the blue dragon swooped in, and let out a loud shriek. he then blew fire into the queens bedroom and a blood curdling scream filled the air.
Gariad didn't hear that, or anything. He passed out from the pain, but soon found himself in the arms of a blue dragon, flying over the countryside. Soon he recognized Pentrebud and its large village hall and his home at the edge of the village.
It was late at night when he landed.
"Thank you" he said to the dragon. The dragon made a small roar and raised its right leg. Gariad then touched his hand to the dragon.
"Are you helping me because I helped your father?"
The dragon nodded.
"Well thanks. I hope you would help us against our evil Queen and her highblood allies. I'm sure they haven't been kind to Dragons either."
Just then the Dragon lowered its head in a bow of gratitude.
"Thank you again, and please tell what is left of your kind to help. My allies might be scared, but i will spread the word that you will help. You truly are noble beasts you dragons."
| |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | The castle loomed in the distance, and Trist could feel her heart constricting in anticipation. Arthur was so close. She had heard the whispers from the birds about the bruises and the cuts that he had been enduring, the torture games that Camille, the future wife, had created for the sake of filling her sadistic desires.
*It all started four years ago. Arthur was Trist's best friend, after her egg was given to him as a birthday present. She immediately bonded with him after she hatched, and together they learned to be a formidable force. At the tender age of 16, Arthur was invited to a ball being held by the kingdom; the king was in the market for selling his daughter off to the most impressive man. Pursuing honor and status, Arthur commissioned the most impressive, detailed armor from the esteemed blacksmith Carver. His father, a powerful, rich, and influential man, hired the flashiest and most ornate caravan to transport the aspiring groom to the event. Trist, being a massive Bloodstone beast, was forbidden from joining.*
*The duo met outside the town before his departure. It was a very emotional short eternity before they said their goodbyes, and a wistful prayer for good luck was sent.*
*The princess Camille was absolutely enamored by the finery and grace of the young knight, and they were betrothed mere months later. They were to be wed on her 18th birthday. However, talks of the lovely wedding turned into confusion as the knight seemed to become too ill to ever make public appearances. The population began to question if he would survive to the wedding. It was a tragic story that left much speculation for the kingdom to muse over.*
It was now the last week of Arthur's bachelor days, and Trist was unable to stand the thought of her dearest partner enduring the torture for the rest of his life. She landed on a hill a few miles away, finding some local wildlife to build some strength, and waited for nightfall.
The enticing lunar goddess was creeping too slowly towards the top of the world. Trist was anticipating on waiting for the moon to be directly above the castle before approaching the rescue mission, but became impatient, and jumped in the air with a burst of powerful leather wings.
Luckily, Trist was a very small being, the size of three horses. Bursting through the front doors were a trivial matter. The guards attempted bravery until she let out a beautiful stream of glowing blue flames, then scattered about, leaving her free to search for Arthur.
The king was all about open, massive rooms. Unfortunately, he did not feel the same about his hallways. It was no matter, however. Trist was strong, and the wooden supports were mere annoyances as she rampaged the fortress.
Deep into the castle, she heard the groans that could only be Arthur. The smell of blood and sweat confirmed her suspicions, and served as a burst of adrenaline to smash her way to the dark, gloomy room that might as well have been a dungeon.
The scene ahead of her was almost enough to make Trist sick, if she was a human. Arthur was tied into place on a bed with maroon sheets, and a half dressed Camille, darkness gleaming in her emerald eyes, was idly placing a hot poker on random parts of the naked knight's body. His figure was destroyed, covered in layers of scars from various instruments of Camille's entertainment. He was broken, eyes pale and distant as he tried his best to mentally escape her games.
The encounter was short and anticlimatic. Trist didn't allow the cruel Camille continued savagery, opting instead to lunge and take her body as a midnight snack.
The flight home was a long, arduous and fearful one. Arthur didn't even seem to recognize her. A shadow of a smile traced the bethrothed's face as he felt the cool air of freedom kiss his cheeks, and much needed rest overtook his exhausted body. She made sure to avoid any turbulence and stay as low to the ground as possible to not wear on the knight or his open wounds any more than naturally possible. Slow travel was prudent with her loose clasp of him, as she feared adding any more cuts.
A small group of close friends awaited them outside of the gates. A collective cry of anger and shock passed the group as Trist landed and gently placed Arthur on the ground. The moon was nearing her exit from the world as Arthur was rushed by horse carriage to the doctor to attempt to dress his wounds.
---
The physical wounds healed, but the destruction of the knight's soul and body was forever done. Trist was devastated as she knew that she had come too late. Everyone in the castle that hid him could see him slowly withering away, heard the screams at night of the relived memories.
She would take Arthur out for small adventures like they always did before, but they were comprised of blank stares at the lakes and him clinging to her as if he was afraid of disappearing forever if he loosened his grasp of her leg or neck. Speech slowly seemed to return to him, words then phrases. One day, Trist wished he had never been able to talk again.
"I can't do this, Trist. I can't sleep. Eating is a chore. Waking up is a chore. She is burned into my eyes. I am still there. I walk with you but I'm still in that hell, enduring scathing commentary during the day and scorching games at night. I'll never be your Arthur again."
She nuzzled him. *Don't say that. You're progressing every day.*
"Kill me. Please. I want to die."
A plume of instinctual smoke ejaculated from Trist's snout as she glared at him with amethyst orbs. *You do **not** mean that.*
"But I do. If you don't do it, I'll do it myself. I cannot keep going."
The sun made a long journey across their small forest as the stifling silence surrounded them. Suicide or homocide was the only choices she had, as he seemed determined to die. A fire had sparked in his eyes. As the light was beginning to fade, he stood, walked towards the river a few meters away, and drew his sword.
"Don't make me do this myself. I desire a chance at paradise." Tears began to streak down his carved face.
*Please, we can heal. You are strong.*
He raised his sword.
*ARTHUR.*
It found its target on his chest.
Trist leaped for the sword, willing to part him of his arm if that was what it took, but it was too late.
The town heard the roars of Trist, and the king issued a search party with their fastest horses. He knew where they were, and it wasn't far away.
When the group arrived to the clearing, the king dropped from his horse and attempted to recover, but only managed to bring himself to his knees. His beloved child, the only chance at advancing his family name, lay in the crimson pool of his life, next to the slumped body of the midnight dragon, her eyes vacant pools of sorrow. She had managed to relieve the body of the metallic method of suicide, but there was no way to repair his mangled heart.
The pyre that night was ignited by Trist herself. The sound of silence was crippling to the townsfolk as the smell of burnt flesh and the crackle of the fire licking away the mangled body chugged away. All was lost. | Queen Hulwen had been one of the most beautiful rulers of the kingdom of Tirwelys, however, due to a tragic curse that that befell many generations of her family, she was also known as "Hulwen the Mad."
She had taken over the Kingdom after her father and mother were killed in a fire that happened at a farm house where King Adimond and his wife, Queen Lumonde were taking rest.
Though only 30 winters old, Hulwen was ambitious. She had wanted her kingdom to become a provider of materials for all other kingdoms. To do this she extracted resources and people to the breaking point and used force to take the peasants land, force them to work on it at all hours of the day, and take all of their money so she could build more and also take over places that had more resources (such as the mining country of Glonant, which was a small mountain republic that had been left alone for nearly 400 years since overthrowing their evil King, Yelvinoff"
One of the men who stood up to her was a Lord named Gariad of Pentrebud, a village in one of the western provinces who was also known as the "dragon killer" since he had been said to have killed the last dragon in order to rescue the then 15 winter old Hulwen, who had been captured by bandits (though some wondered if she had snuck off to try and learn dark magick or commit other nasty deeds not worth mentioning any further).
After rescuing Hulwen, young Gariad, son of a cooper, was made a knight and given an estate in his village. He also was known as a great military leader, particularly known for helping quell rebellions, but also being just and fair and kind, making sure needs were met rather than just going out and killing those who were against the King.
Things changed however, and soon a civil war swallowed up Tirmelys, with those who's title was earned by blood and their family (known as high bloods) siding with the Mad Queen, while those who had earned it through service and their loyal peasants followed Gariad and many other common born nobles. Their flag was a gone flag with a Red, Blue and Green Dragon on it. As such they were known as Dragon keepers.
Eventually however Gariad was captured and taken to Minasafon, where Queen Hulwen ruled. He was put in a the city's large castle, known as Bryondorchal, which was said to not only be patrolled by 1000 guards but also dark magic.
Gariad was kept in the heart of the castle, near the queen's bed chamber. One night, while she was asleep, a loud roar echoed through the castle. Soon a large blue dragon had showed up at the door. Most had thought Dragons were extinct, but soon, one dragon was now making his way though the castle. He was only about 10 feet tall, but he had large bull horns and yellow eyes and had thick scales. His main power though was a large shriek which could tear down walls and make humans deaf. He did this to a number of the guards and their ears kept ringing and made them writhe in pain.
Just then, Queen Hulwen woke up. She walked up to the chained Gariad.
"you know Gariad, your wife would never take you back if you were unfaithful, and your followers wouldn't like that either."
"You'll never touch me like that." Said Gariad.
"You are completely mad."
"Oh yes I know, which is why i will kill you afterwards. Then i'll finally have you. Just like i have all my other men and lovers. And of course my husband. Granted he's such a dimwit."
That was the only thing that Gariad could agree with that the Queen said.
Just as the Queen began to head back to her bedchamber, the blue dragon swooped in, and let out a loud shriek. he then blew fire into the queens bedroom and a blood curdling scream filled the air.
Gariad didn't hear that, or anything. He passed out from the pain, but soon found himself in the arms of a blue dragon, flying over the countryside. Soon he recognized Pentrebud and its large village hall and his home at the edge of the village.
It was late at night when he landed.
"Thank you" he said to the dragon. The dragon made a small roar and raised its right leg. Gariad then touched his hand to the dragon.
"Are you helping me because I helped your father?"
The dragon nodded.
"Well thanks. I hope you would help us against our evil Queen and her highblood allies. I'm sure they haven't been kind to Dragons either."
Just then the Dragon lowered its head in a bow of gratitude.
"Thank you again, and please tell what is left of your kind to help. My allies might be scared, but i will spread the word that you will help. You truly are noble beasts you dragons."
| |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | "So... so you just came after her?"
Despite Sir Elric's many protestations and declarations, Firemouth wouldn't get off the couch.
"Cease your bargaining, evil wyrm! Thy reign of terror is no more!"
Despite Firemouth's refusal to take him seriously, Elric kept up the show.
"Save me, Elric! Save your princess!"
Lady Bella rattled the bars of her cage as she cried out.
"Yes, I shall save my fair lady! Prepare to taste my steel, foul beast!"
Firemouth pressed a crooked talon to his left nostril and shot a quick flame into the bowl of the pipe sitting in his lap with effortless precision. He drew deeply and said, "I mean... fine, whatever, take her."
"Thy days of- wait, what?"
Firemouth exhaled an enormous cloud of purple smoke. "Yeah, go ahead. I didn't kidnap her, she's all yours."
"What are you... I mean, your tricks won't confuse me, dragon!" Elric was determined. "My mind is clear, and my will is iron! I shall strike you down this day!"
"Oh god, you're so fucking hot baby. Save me!"
"How long has she been stringing you along like this, dude?" The last tendrils of smoke drifted up past Firemouth's red eyes. His scaly eyelids blinked slowly.
"My lady is... my lady is the fairest of the land, and as such, detestable snakes like yourself steal her often! It is her beauty that-"
"The fuck would I want with a human woman, bro?"
"What?"
"I'm a dragon, man. She's a human. Why would I want to steal her?"
"She, she is the fairest in all the-"
"Dude, I'm a *dragon*. Even if I did find a member of another species attractive, what am I gonna do with her? Stare at her? I'm ten times your guys' size, if I did anything else I'd *break her in half*."
"Don't listen to him, baby! Slay this motherfucker!"
Elric's sword dropped a bit, but he raised it again. "Then... then you want her for her ransom!"
"I live in a cave, dude! Besides, dragons have their own currency. Your gold pieces are too small for me to even pick up."
"Yes, but it is well known that you and your lizardkin love gold! The feel, the smell, the-"
"Oh god, the fucking Smaug thing?" Firemouth rolled his eyes and took another drag of his pipe. "That was ONE FUCKING GUY with a gold fetish."
"A... gold fetish? I-"
"Shit's just ignorant, bro. Offensive, too."
Elric lowered his shield and sword. "Oh, my god, I am so sorry, I didn't mean to-"
"He's getting in your head, baby! He's gonna like... eat me or some shit! Get this fucking asshole!" She rattled her cage's bars again.
Firemouth exhaled and turned to her. "Will you knock it off with the fucking cage?"
Elric raised his sword and shield once more. "Ah ha! If you didn't take her here, then why is she in a cage?"
"I don't know, it's not mine. She brought the cage up here herself."
Lady Bella opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
"She... Bella, is this true?"
"Well... I mean, it's... I mean it's not like this is **my** cage, but-"
"Oh my god, Bella. What the fuck?" Elric dropped his sword and shield to the ground and began to pace.
"Ha. Hahahaha," Firemouth's laugh echoed off the enormous cave's walls as he lit up another drag of his pipe. "Yeah Bella, what the fuck?"
Elric put his hands on his hips. "Have *any* of these been real, then?"
Bella bit her lip and looked away.
"Oh what the FUCK, BELLA?!" Now Elric's voice echoed.
"Haaaaa! Hahahaha," Firemouth exhaled more purple smoke as he laughed. "I'm sorry, this isn't funny. This is pretty fucked up, actually. I'm so sorry, dude."
Bella kicked the cage door out and stormed up to Elric, pointing her finger in his face. "Don't you fucking curse at me, you fucking pussy!"
"Holy fucking shit, Bella! How many dragons have I killed for you?!"
"Don't act like you didn't enjoy it! You rode out here as fast as you could!"
"Oh shit, so this... this has been, like... happening for like... a while, hasn't it?" Firemouth's eyes had turned blood red.
Bella turned to Firemouth. "Shut the fuck up, you fucking pothead! You're ruining it!"
"Don't turn this around on him!" Elric grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. "You've been getting yourself kidnapped for years!"
Bella pushed Elric away. "Yeah, well..." she stopped as her face started to seize up.
"What... what's going on? Is she like... ok, man?" Firemouth was barely hanging onto consciousness.
"Are you... are you trying to cry? Are you actually trying to cry right now?" Elric's eyes widened in amazement. "WOW, Bella. WOW."
Her face immediately turned to scorn. "Fuck you, you fucking asshole. Why don't you go suck your wizard friend's dick some more?"
"Really? You're going to bring Merlin, the *ancient wizard who came back from the dead to tell me I'm the hero chosen to reunite the provinces*?"
"Yeah, you've got time for him, but never for me!"
"That's because he's helping me *avoid the fucking orc apocalypse!*"
"Fuck you!" Bella spit at Elric.
"I'm done. I'm out of here. Go fuck yourself, Bella," Elric picked up his sword and shield, and walked towards the mouth of the cave.
Bella followed, screaming at him. "Don't you think we're fucking done here, you son of a bitch!"
"Don't fucking follow me! Get your own needy ass home! And don't think..." Elric's voice faded out as they left the cave.
Firemouth took another drag of his pipe and exhaled. "Oh fuck- Hey! You guys want your cage, or like...?" | Queen Hulwen had been one of the most beautiful rulers of the kingdom of Tirwelys, however, due to a tragic curse that that befell many generations of her family, she was also known as "Hulwen the Mad."
She had taken over the Kingdom after her father and mother were killed in a fire that happened at a farm house where King Adimond and his wife, Queen Lumonde were taking rest.
Though only 30 winters old, Hulwen was ambitious. She had wanted her kingdom to become a provider of materials for all other kingdoms. To do this she extracted resources and people to the breaking point and used force to take the peasants land, force them to work on it at all hours of the day, and take all of their money so she could build more and also take over places that had more resources (such as the mining country of Glonant, which was a small mountain republic that had been left alone for nearly 400 years since overthrowing their evil King, Yelvinoff"
One of the men who stood up to her was a Lord named Gariad of Pentrebud, a village in one of the western provinces who was also known as the "dragon killer" since he had been said to have killed the last dragon in order to rescue the then 15 winter old Hulwen, who had been captured by bandits (though some wondered if she had snuck off to try and learn dark magick or commit other nasty deeds not worth mentioning any further).
After rescuing Hulwen, young Gariad, son of a cooper, was made a knight and given an estate in his village. He also was known as a great military leader, particularly known for helping quell rebellions, but also being just and fair and kind, making sure needs were met rather than just going out and killing those who were against the King.
Things changed however, and soon a civil war swallowed up Tirmelys, with those who's title was earned by blood and their family (known as high bloods) siding with the Mad Queen, while those who had earned it through service and their loyal peasants followed Gariad and many other common born nobles. Their flag was a gone flag with a Red, Blue and Green Dragon on it. As such they were known as Dragon keepers.
Eventually however Gariad was captured and taken to Minasafon, where Queen Hulwen ruled. He was put in a the city's large castle, known as Bryondorchal, which was said to not only be patrolled by 1000 guards but also dark magic.
Gariad was kept in the heart of the castle, near the queen's bed chamber. One night, while she was asleep, a loud roar echoed through the castle. Soon a large blue dragon had showed up at the door. Most had thought Dragons were extinct, but soon, one dragon was now making his way though the castle. He was only about 10 feet tall, but he had large bull horns and yellow eyes and had thick scales. His main power though was a large shriek which could tear down walls and make humans deaf. He did this to a number of the guards and their ears kept ringing and made them writhe in pain.
Just then, Queen Hulwen woke up. She walked up to the chained Gariad.
"you know Gariad, your wife would never take you back if you were unfaithful, and your followers wouldn't like that either."
"You'll never touch me like that." Said Gariad.
"You are completely mad."
"Oh yes I know, which is why i will kill you afterwards. Then i'll finally have you. Just like i have all my other men and lovers. And of course my husband. Granted he's such a dimwit."
That was the only thing that Gariad could agree with that the Queen said.
Just as the Queen began to head back to her bedchamber, the blue dragon swooped in, and let out a loud shriek. he then blew fire into the queens bedroom and a blood curdling scream filled the air.
Gariad didn't hear that, or anything. He passed out from the pain, but soon found himself in the arms of a blue dragon, flying over the countryside. Soon he recognized Pentrebud and its large village hall and his home at the edge of the village.
It was late at night when he landed.
"Thank you" he said to the dragon. The dragon made a small roar and raised its right leg. Gariad then touched his hand to the dragon.
"Are you helping me because I helped your father?"
The dragon nodded.
"Well thanks. I hope you would help us against our evil Queen and her highblood allies. I'm sure they haven't been kind to Dragons either."
Just then the Dragon lowered its head in a bow of gratitude.
"Thank you again, and please tell what is left of your kind to help. My allies might be scared, but i will spread the word that you will help. You truly are noble beasts you dragons."
| |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | The beast was pregnant.
*Balls*, thought Sir Dragonsbane to himself as he crested the hill. The village messenger had conveniently forgotten that little detail. Dragon slayers weren’t exactly a dime a dozen, but even the most foolish ones knew better than to attack a broodmother with child. The fool knew that, and brought him and his entire force anyway. They were far enough away from the village that she hadn’t noticed them yet, but she could close the distance in seconds if she so chose. She was a fine beast, as far as they went; her scales were a healthy pinkish-orange, with a white belly distended with the girth of her spawn, and greenish-tinged claws that would fetch a pretty coin if he were so inclined.
“Sir?” his second-in-command asked weakly, bringing him back from his reverie. The caged look in her eyes told him she knew very well what their only option would be. Her last commander had been one of the foolish ones.
Dragonsbane sighed. “Retreat,” he said wearily, turning his horse. The village messenger at his side started in shock.
“You can’t leave us here!”, he yelled shrilly. “She’ll destroy us all!”
Dragonsbane stopped, staring down his nose at the man. “If a broodmother has chosen to make her nest in the dead center of your village, you will have to evacuate and flee now with whatever survivors you can find. There is nothing we can do.”
A shout from his brigade drew his attention back to the village. She was aloft and headed their way.
“She’s spotted us now, you great buffoon,” he spat towards the villager. “Take it down an octave or three next time and she might not hear - though there will probably not be a next time, now.”
The man squawked and took off running for the forest. Dragonsbane turned his attention to the more immediate problem. “Leave him, he’s either dead or alive no matter our efforts now,” he shouted. “Defensive formation!”
His hand-picked squad fell into form faster than he could have hoped, filling his chest with pride. He had picked each person with care, based on their bravery, quickness, and prowess. Among them were no knights, but they were stoic to the last. “*Well, if I have to die now, I’ll go out among good folk*,” he thought.
The dragon behaviorist at his side had been a pricey hire, but had proven himself worth his weight in gold several times over. He said in low tones, “Even if we get away she won’t rest until we’re fifty miles away or more. Our chances are next to nothing.”
“Yes,” he replied staunchly. “Let’s give her hell first,” nocking a bolt in his crossbow as he spoke.
A loud, booming roar from behind them startled them all.
“Incoming from the north!” shouted his scout. Even she had been taken off guard.
Dragonsbane whirled to see the largest bull dragon he had ever seen, black as obsidian and with a wingspan that easily covered his small company in its shadow, headed towards them with murder in his eyes and blood on his claws.
He made a quick calculation. Male dragons only flamed rarely, and usually in turf wars, so the fire was not the most immediate threat; it was the claws.
“Everyone, down!” he shouted as loudly as he could.
To a man, they lept off their horses and fell flat to the ground, partially hidden by the long grass. The dragon swooped overhead, blackening the sky for a second. A horse screamed as its sides were pierced by the long claws of the bull. A sickening thud a few seconds later told him that the horse had landed. He hoped that it was dead.
The behaviorist tapped his shoulder. “Sir, the bull has landed and has his head resting on the ground, towards us. He looks like he’s expecting something.” He broke into a grin. “Sir, I think he wants to talk.”
*Talk?* He thought incredulously. Only a few accounts of human-dragon communication had ever been recorded, and those were spotty accounts at best. He had his doubts, but was out of options. He nodded curtly to the behaviorist. “Do what you must,” he said gruffly, masking his unease.
The behaviorist rose unceremoniously and began walking- no, hobbling- towards the bull dragon, who had indeed lay down and was examining the man with one eye as he walked towards him. Behind them, the broodmother screamed angrily, not daring to cross the bull to get to the humans. The man had never hobbled before, but maybe he was buying into the hogwash that dragons only attacked healthy humans. Dragonsbane waited with bated breath. It was out of his hands now. He hated that.
Having reached the bull, the behaviorist - what was his name? Tim? - reached out his hand. The bull nosed it gently. Had he still been seated on a horse, Dragonsbane would have fallen out of his saddle in shock. The bull began making low rumbling noises in its throat, sounding almost like a very, very large cat. A *happy* cat.
Just as soon as it started, the moment was over. The bull whirled towards the female, the low rumble continuing as he loped over to her. She ignored him at first, eating the horse carcass huffily. She eventually allowed him to briefly touch her nose with his, then alighted into the sky and soared north again. Dragonsbane sneezed. He was sure he had felt someone *thank* him. Not to mention, since when had dragons had feelings, and emotions? Yet he was sure that they had been communicating with each other.
He stood, with more questions than his mind could handle. He chose to handle none of them. The behaviorist was glowing like a boy after his first shave, with no trace of a hobble now. He was practically skipping. They stood next to each other for a moment, watching them fly off.
Tim spoke. “It was a misunderstanding, I guess,” he said incredulously. “She wanted veal and he brought her lamb, so she left in a huff, prepared to make her own nest.”
Dragonsbane was too shocked to speak.
Tim chuckled. “He’ll be a fantastic father, I suppose. His lady is lucky to have him. He wouldn’t refer to her as anything but his princess.”
| Queen Hulwen had been one of the most beautiful rulers of the kingdom of Tirwelys, however, due to a tragic curse that that befell many generations of her family, she was also known as "Hulwen the Mad."
She had taken over the Kingdom after her father and mother were killed in a fire that happened at a farm house where King Adimond and his wife, Queen Lumonde were taking rest.
Though only 30 winters old, Hulwen was ambitious. She had wanted her kingdom to become a provider of materials for all other kingdoms. To do this she extracted resources and people to the breaking point and used force to take the peasants land, force them to work on it at all hours of the day, and take all of their money so she could build more and also take over places that had more resources (such as the mining country of Glonant, which was a small mountain republic that had been left alone for nearly 400 years since overthrowing their evil King, Yelvinoff"
One of the men who stood up to her was a Lord named Gariad of Pentrebud, a village in one of the western provinces who was also known as the "dragon killer" since he had been said to have killed the last dragon in order to rescue the then 15 winter old Hulwen, who had been captured by bandits (though some wondered if she had snuck off to try and learn dark magick or commit other nasty deeds not worth mentioning any further).
After rescuing Hulwen, young Gariad, son of a cooper, was made a knight and given an estate in his village. He also was known as a great military leader, particularly known for helping quell rebellions, but also being just and fair and kind, making sure needs were met rather than just going out and killing those who were against the King.
Things changed however, and soon a civil war swallowed up Tirmelys, with those who's title was earned by blood and their family (known as high bloods) siding with the Mad Queen, while those who had earned it through service and their loyal peasants followed Gariad and many other common born nobles. Their flag was a gone flag with a Red, Blue and Green Dragon on it. As such they were known as Dragon keepers.
Eventually however Gariad was captured and taken to Minasafon, where Queen Hulwen ruled. He was put in a the city's large castle, known as Bryondorchal, which was said to not only be patrolled by 1000 guards but also dark magic.
Gariad was kept in the heart of the castle, near the queen's bed chamber. One night, while she was asleep, a loud roar echoed through the castle. Soon a large blue dragon had showed up at the door. Most had thought Dragons were extinct, but soon, one dragon was now making his way though the castle. He was only about 10 feet tall, but he had large bull horns and yellow eyes and had thick scales. His main power though was a large shriek which could tear down walls and make humans deaf. He did this to a number of the guards and their ears kept ringing and made them writhe in pain.
Just then, Queen Hulwen woke up. She walked up to the chained Gariad.
"you know Gariad, your wife would never take you back if you were unfaithful, and your followers wouldn't like that either."
"You'll never touch me like that." Said Gariad.
"You are completely mad."
"Oh yes I know, which is why i will kill you afterwards. Then i'll finally have you. Just like i have all my other men and lovers. And of course my husband. Granted he's such a dimwit."
That was the only thing that Gariad could agree with that the Queen said.
Just as the Queen began to head back to her bedchamber, the blue dragon swooped in, and let out a loud shriek. he then blew fire into the queens bedroom and a blood curdling scream filled the air.
Gariad didn't hear that, or anything. He passed out from the pain, but soon found himself in the arms of a blue dragon, flying over the countryside. Soon he recognized Pentrebud and its large village hall and his home at the edge of the village.
It was late at night when he landed.
"Thank you" he said to the dragon. The dragon made a small roar and raised its right leg. Gariad then touched his hand to the dragon.
"Are you helping me because I helped your father?"
The dragon nodded.
"Well thanks. I hope you would help us against our evil Queen and her highblood allies. I'm sure they haven't been kind to Dragons either."
Just then the Dragon lowered its head in a bow of gratitude.
"Thank you again, and please tell what is left of your kind to help. My allies might be scared, but i will spread the word that you will help. You truly are noble beasts you dragons."
| |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | "You Never talk to me anymore, all of our conversations are one way. I slave over a hot furnace all day to make you a warm meal everyday when you come home from work. That dragon doesn't cook itself you know! HELLO! Can you even hear what i'm saying to right know."
(silence)
"God Charles, you are unbelievable. I don' t even know why I try with you anymore."
This had been Charlie's life for the past 7 years. After 11 hours off hunting dragons and scouting mountains, all Charlie wanted to come home to was peace. A nice relaxing evening free from bitching and complaining from his wife about how hard it was to be home. They didn't have kids after all, she was not expected to pay for anything and most importantly, he never asked anything in return from her for his hard work.
Charlie had been contemplating leaving her for a while now but he didn't have the heart to abandon his wife as he knew no other man in the village would marry her based on what she put Charlie through on a daily basis. Unfortunately, to Charlie death would be the only escape from his miserable life.
The next morning, Charlie woke up promptly at 5 am just as he had everyday. He gather his armor and weaponry from the blacksmith and prepared himself for another long shift of knight duty. His wife ordered him to be home by 6 sharp or she would throw his dinner in the garbage. Threats like this were not unusual for Charlie, he nodded and walked out the door. He arrived at the castle and the king had informed the army that a dragon was spotted in Tranmere (The next town over from his village, Swindmore). The knights ordered to aid the neighboring army in slaying the dragon and returning with it's head to prepare soup for all the people in Swindmore. Charlie and the rest of the kings men put on their helmets and marched towards Tranmere.
They had been traveling for a few hours now when finally one of the knights spotted the dragon on top of the watchtower blowing fire down on the poor civilians below. Then men met up with the brave warriors of Tranmere who then disclosed their plan of attack. The plan was to wait until sunset when the dragon would have tired himself of the destruction and retreat back to his cave for the night. They were to attack at this very moment and ambush the dragon right outside of his home and slay him then. The men responded in unison with a overwhelming, "Yes Sir!"
"Excuse me." a nervous voice said among the hundreds of men who just agreed to the plan.
"Yes?" responded the General of Tranmere.
"My wife asked that I might be home by 6, is there anyway we could ambush the dragon earlier?" asked Charlie.
The armies laughed as they thought this was a joke but the general looked in Charlies eyes and say that this was a genuine question.
"I am sorry" respond Joseph "We must attack while the dragon is tired and unsuspecting or else we will all surely killed"
Charlie nodded in compliance trying to hide his disagreement. Charlie knew if he wasn't home by 6 his wife would surely kill him if the dragon had not. He thought his best bet was to attack the dragon himself and be killed quickly than rather than suffer the wrath of an angry spouse. That afternoon around 5, Charlie slipped away from his platoon and prepared to march himself into battle with the dragon in hopes of a painless death.
Charlie arrived at the burning watchtower where the dragon had been and unsheathed his sword. The dragon stopped his destruction as he noticed Charlie. At this point, Charlie had been trembling with fear, a small crowd had gathered at the bottom of the hill once they noticed a single soldier attempting to slay a giant beast.
Charlie finally spoke up, "Excuse me, Dragon? Would you mind making my death quick I wouldn't want to burden you with my screams for too long."
The dragon puffed out a cloud of thick some from his nostrils and opened his mouth preparing to devour Charlie in a single bite. As he bent over to consume the soldier he made eye contact with him. The dragon saw the look in charlies eyes, it was the same look the dragon had every night when he returned to his wife who was unhappy with the dragon for spending to much time terrorizing villages. Immediately, the dragon stopped. He and Charlie stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. By this point almost the entire town had gathered at the bottom of the hill watching Charlie and the dragon.
Charlie gazed at the dragon, he too had recognized their connection in home lives. The dragon relaxed his tail and allowed Charlie to climb onto his back. Charlie climbed aboard the stroked the dragon on its side.
"yip, yip!" said Charlie, and the dragon jumped into the air and began flying toward the sunset.
"wait" said Charlie "one stop before we leave forever." Charlie guided the dragon towards Swindmore and landed the dragon on the roof of his home. The dragon looked at Charlie and awaited further instruction. The knight looked back at the now tamed beast and nodded his head. The dragon raised his hind leg and shit right on the roof of the home. A shit so massive it collapsed the house in a matter of seconds. Charlie's wife ran out, covered in feces and watched the dragon and Charlie fly away into the horizon.
Not much was said about the two after that. Charlie's wife had become a beggar who spent her days digging through garbage looking for any scrap of food she could find. Both villages had peace for years to come and no one worried about where the dragon would attack next. As for Charlie and the dragon, they spent their days traveling the world and shitting on all the people who deserved it.
tl;dr: Man and dragon live in abusive relationships and team up to shit on all abusive people in the world. | Queen Hulwen had been one of the most beautiful rulers of the kingdom of Tirwelys, however, due to a tragic curse that that befell many generations of her family, she was also known as "Hulwen the Mad."
She had taken over the Kingdom after her father and mother were killed in a fire that happened at a farm house where King Adimond and his wife, Queen Lumonde were taking rest.
Though only 30 winters old, Hulwen was ambitious. She had wanted her kingdom to become a provider of materials for all other kingdoms. To do this she extracted resources and people to the breaking point and used force to take the peasants land, force them to work on it at all hours of the day, and take all of their money so she could build more and also take over places that had more resources (such as the mining country of Glonant, which was a small mountain republic that had been left alone for nearly 400 years since overthrowing their evil King, Yelvinoff"
One of the men who stood up to her was a Lord named Gariad of Pentrebud, a village in one of the western provinces who was also known as the "dragon killer" since he had been said to have killed the last dragon in order to rescue the then 15 winter old Hulwen, who had been captured by bandits (though some wondered if she had snuck off to try and learn dark magick or commit other nasty deeds not worth mentioning any further).
After rescuing Hulwen, young Gariad, son of a cooper, was made a knight and given an estate in his village. He also was known as a great military leader, particularly known for helping quell rebellions, but also being just and fair and kind, making sure needs were met rather than just going out and killing those who were against the King.
Things changed however, and soon a civil war swallowed up Tirmelys, with those who's title was earned by blood and their family (known as high bloods) siding with the Mad Queen, while those who had earned it through service and their loyal peasants followed Gariad and many other common born nobles. Their flag was a gone flag with a Red, Blue and Green Dragon on it. As such they were known as Dragon keepers.
Eventually however Gariad was captured and taken to Minasafon, where Queen Hulwen ruled. He was put in a the city's large castle, known as Bryondorchal, which was said to not only be patrolled by 1000 guards but also dark magic.
Gariad was kept in the heart of the castle, near the queen's bed chamber. One night, while she was asleep, a loud roar echoed through the castle. Soon a large blue dragon had showed up at the door. Most had thought Dragons were extinct, but soon, one dragon was now making his way though the castle. He was only about 10 feet tall, but he had large bull horns and yellow eyes and had thick scales. His main power though was a large shriek which could tear down walls and make humans deaf. He did this to a number of the guards and their ears kept ringing and made them writhe in pain.
Just then, Queen Hulwen woke up. She walked up to the chained Gariad.
"you know Gariad, your wife would never take you back if you were unfaithful, and your followers wouldn't like that either."
"You'll never touch me like that." Said Gariad.
"You are completely mad."
"Oh yes I know, which is why i will kill you afterwards. Then i'll finally have you. Just like i have all my other men and lovers. And of course my husband. Granted he's such a dimwit."
That was the only thing that Gariad could agree with that the Queen said.
Just as the Queen began to head back to her bedchamber, the blue dragon swooped in, and let out a loud shriek. he then blew fire into the queens bedroom and a blood curdling scream filled the air.
Gariad didn't hear that, or anything. He passed out from the pain, but soon found himself in the arms of a blue dragon, flying over the countryside. Soon he recognized Pentrebud and its large village hall and his home at the edge of the village.
It was late at night when he landed.
"Thank you" he said to the dragon. The dragon made a small roar and raised its right leg. Gariad then touched his hand to the dragon.
"Are you helping me because I helped your father?"
The dragon nodded.
"Well thanks. I hope you would help us against our evil Queen and her highblood allies. I'm sure they haven't been kind to Dragons either."
Just then the Dragon lowered its head in a bow of gratitude.
"Thank you again, and please tell what is left of your kind to help. My allies might be scared, but i will spread the word that you will help. You truly are noble beasts you dragons."
| |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | There once was a princess' dragon
Since childhood, kept as a pet
Even in youth he was massively brute
And had stone scales that never stayed wet
|
Unbeknownst to the hundred-pound playmate
Was the princess' heart on her sleeve
Since the age of eighteen she'd been madly in love
With a daring young squire named Steve
|
Now this Steve was a little bit clueless
So he wasn't aware of her itch
All he saw when he looked at the princess' face
Was a ditz who was naive and rich
|
Having never worked more than a day in her years
And he, living out endless strife
By fates alone, wished that she was his own
As a trophy reward for a wife
|
Since the princess was pretty and Steve was quite vain
He'd settled on taking his chances
He hit her with ever dumb line in the book
In the place of authentic romances
|
Dragons, however, are smarter than smart
So her pet friend was wise to Steve's tricks
They're as patient a creature as can be, as well
So it waited—"Let's see if this sticks."
|
Five years had gone by, and she was still quite smitten
And Steve went from squire to knight
But he never got any more noble, therefore
The dragon saw this as a plight
|
"My poor friend the princess," the dragon called out
"What a sloppy, one-sided affair."
"This dude needs to go, so the princess will know
that it's me who will always be there."
|
If you're not yet made wise to a dragon's anatomy
I'll give you a simplified clue
In the time since their youth, dragon's weights? Through the roof!
Its once hundred pounds turned into two.
|
The dragon confronted Knight Steve in a field
And yelled "pick on someone your own size!"
So Steve drew out his sword, and then prayed to the lord
With both anger and fear in his eyes
|
He ran towards the dragon, and thrust forth his weapon
It hit, but then splintered to shards
"My scales are like rocks," the ticked dragon exclaimed
"Your demise may be found in your cards!"
|
Knight Steve drew his shield, quite expecting a flame
But never got shot by the beast
Said the pet: "It is *I* who have loved her the most
And for so long she's valued me least!"
|
So the dragon extended its thick, mighty claw
Cutting back through the air like a mace
Knight Steve, with no lance, then post-haste shit his pants
And the claws gently ripped off his face.
|
Flying far, the creature looked back to his girl
who mourned loud for the corpse of her beau
Then in sadness put walls up to not feel again
Leaving only this moral to know:
|
If you're pretty and dumb and your standards aren't high
You might find yourself lonely and blue,
For your knights could be dragons, and dragons white knights
With you helpless to sort out the two
| Queen Hulwen had been one of the most beautiful rulers of the kingdom of Tirwelys, however, due to a tragic curse that that befell many generations of her family, she was also known as "Hulwen the Mad."
She had taken over the Kingdom after her father and mother were killed in a fire that happened at a farm house where King Adimond and his wife, Queen Lumonde were taking rest.
Though only 30 winters old, Hulwen was ambitious. She had wanted her kingdom to become a provider of materials for all other kingdoms. To do this she extracted resources and people to the breaking point and used force to take the peasants land, force them to work on it at all hours of the day, and take all of their money so she could build more and also take over places that had more resources (such as the mining country of Glonant, which was a small mountain republic that had been left alone for nearly 400 years since overthrowing their evil King, Yelvinoff"
One of the men who stood up to her was a Lord named Gariad of Pentrebud, a village in one of the western provinces who was also known as the "dragon killer" since he had been said to have killed the last dragon in order to rescue the then 15 winter old Hulwen, who had been captured by bandits (though some wondered if she had snuck off to try and learn dark magick or commit other nasty deeds not worth mentioning any further).
After rescuing Hulwen, young Gariad, son of a cooper, was made a knight and given an estate in his village. He also was known as a great military leader, particularly known for helping quell rebellions, but also being just and fair and kind, making sure needs were met rather than just going out and killing those who were against the King.
Things changed however, and soon a civil war swallowed up Tirmelys, with those who's title was earned by blood and their family (known as high bloods) siding with the Mad Queen, while those who had earned it through service and their loyal peasants followed Gariad and many other common born nobles. Their flag was a gone flag with a Red, Blue and Green Dragon on it. As such they were known as Dragon keepers.
Eventually however Gariad was captured and taken to Minasafon, where Queen Hulwen ruled. He was put in a the city's large castle, known as Bryondorchal, which was said to not only be patrolled by 1000 guards but also dark magic.
Gariad was kept in the heart of the castle, near the queen's bed chamber. One night, while she was asleep, a loud roar echoed through the castle. Soon a large blue dragon had showed up at the door. Most had thought Dragons were extinct, but soon, one dragon was now making his way though the castle. He was only about 10 feet tall, but he had large bull horns and yellow eyes and had thick scales. His main power though was a large shriek which could tear down walls and make humans deaf. He did this to a number of the guards and their ears kept ringing and made them writhe in pain.
Just then, Queen Hulwen woke up. She walked up to the chained Gariad.
"you know Gariad, your wife would never take you back if you were unfaithful, and your followers wouldn't like that either."
"You'll never touch me like that." Said Gariad.
"You are completely mad."
"Oh yes I know, which is why i will kill you afterwards. Then i'll finally have you. Just like i have all my other men and lovers. And of course my husband. Granted he's such a dimwit."
That was the only thing that Gariad could agree with that the Queen said.
Just as the Queen began to head back to her bedchamber, the blue dragon swooped in, and let out a loud shriek. he then blew fire into the queens bedroom and a blood curdling scream filled the air.
Gariad didn't hear that, or anything. He passed out from the pain, but soon found himself in the arms of a blue dragon, flying over the countryside. Soon he recognized Pentrebud and its large village hall and his home at the edge of the village.
It was late at night when he landed.
"Thank you" he said to the dragon. The dragon made a small roar and raised its right leg. Gariad then touched his hand to the dragon.
"Are you helping me because I helped your father?"
The dragon nodded.
"Well thanks. I hope you would help us against our evil Queen and her highblood allies. I'm sure they haven't been kind to Dragons either."
Just then the Dragon lowered its head in a bow of gratitude.
"Thank you again, and please tell what is left of your kind to help. My allies might be scared, but i will spread the word that you will help. You truly are noble beasts you dragons."
| |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | "Should you have the honour of rescuing my daughter, the beautiful princess Yazariya from that lair, you may take her hand and rule alongside her."
Prince Renal nodded respectfully in silence, for he was recognizing the grief and sorrow of the king and also a father of the poor child. The princess was missing for 20 years now, snatched away from her cradle as a newborn. And yet her father never gave up on her. He sent many brave souls after her trail, certain she was alive and held captive from the beast. An effort in vain as all of them went through heaven's doors.
Many tried to convince him he was wasting his time and resources and men, his queen included. “Let the poor girl rest in peace, my dear. We owe her this.”, but none of their words reached the mourning father. Fateful to his promise he made to himself, he sent elite divisions and armies after the beast. None of them successful.
By advice of his trusted men, the ruler decided to trust not brute force but wit and tactics. By sending single warriors or knights, the chances of them to trick the dragon or sneak right past him were higher. And the sacrifice was far smaller.
Prince Renal was determined to do his best or die trying. He wanted to help not only the innocent damsel in distress but to ease her father as well. And the idea of a union between their kingdoms would mean only well for their people. He prepared his armor and his best horse. He also took his father's sword, ready to slay if needed.
It took him two weeks to find the place described by tales all around. He stood before a high tower, lonely in a green field. The old stone was covered with moss and ivy. Dead silence ruled the lands as birds were quiet and the air was still. Prince Renal got off his horse and dared step forward. Not a sign from the dragon. Was this a trap? Did he sense his presence from afar?
He came upon a simple wooden door, which wasn’t hidden nor unapproachable. It wasn’t locked either and with ease he opened the door. From the distance within, somewhere in the dark, he heard the rattle of shackles or so he thought. “My fair maiden!”
Before he can rush in after his promised one, a dirty beast hidden in the shadows grasped him and knocked him down. It bit his arm and tore his flesh. He screamed in agony and tried to pierce the beast but it did not feel any pain. It screamed in triumph and in blood lust, and attacked again.
Renal could barely look at what attacked him as he tried to push the thing away. He could see multiple lesions on its faint skin as it outlined the bones underneath like a map outlining mountains. It barely had any hairs but its teeth were sharp and it was merciless. At one point Renal was sure it would end his life before he can manage to escape. Its eyes were cruel and thirsty.
He couldn’t outrun it. He couldn’t overpower it. His head was heavy and he felt dizzy. Was he poisoned? Was this black magic? The thing jumped forward and tried to reach for his hand, he attacked back desperately trying to cut off its head. But the agile monster evaded and tacked him again. Before it could bite him, he clutched a nearby stone and smashed it against its head. And even though he managed to kick it away from himself, he was unable to get up or move at all. Thick roots were rambled around and held him down, now crushing his body and bones. The grip grew tighter around his ankles and arms.
"No running away now, love." - the thing giggled while getting up. Renal was unable to believe that its rotten mouth was capable of speech. Its voice was just as hideous as its looks. It was sarcastic and mocking and just the sound of it made him shiver with disgust. "Save me from my curse, dearie. Let me feast upon your valiant heart. If it is such truly."
Before the thing could attack one final time, Renal heard wings flapping. A shadow devoured them, from above a flying beast dived without a second doubt. A nature’s force, the dragon stood between the man and the beast. The thing stepped back, hissing.
Yazariya knew the dragon’s fire couldn’t reach her but despite that a dragon should never be underestimated.
"You’re back." - She laughed. Renal could feel how bitter she was from the fact. Yet, she stared at him while she talked to the dragon. "Why did you have to come back?"
The dragon growled and tore the roots around Renal’s body with one of his paws. The wench looked at them furious, clutching her fists and lips into a twisted smile. Distant trees began moving, screeching. The dragon was ready to take any of her attacks.
“Run, you fool!”
Renal got on his feed, shaking. The horse was nowhere to be found, but he turned around and ran as fast as he can.
The child was left behind, alone, distant from everyone and unwanted - even from her own mother. | Eh, just word vomited for a bit before I had to get to work.
Sir Hendrick Samsmith was a man of many talents and victories. He had spoken his vows at the feet of Good King Symor nearly thrity years ago after the fall of the Ghazadi Empire, and served Symor's family faithfully ever since. There were good times and bad, but he lived by the code of knighthood.
"Protect the realm," they said.
"It will be fun," they said.
What they didn't know was the abomination that would come many years later. No, not some dark lord to drive the kingdom into chaos. Or even an invading force of magical creatures, bent on destroying mankind. This evil was worse.
Princess Raylee was born after a particularly devastating winter to Prince Raymor and the beautiful, Lady Gana. At the time, the elders claimed that she was the light to bring about the end of cold and suffering for the good people of Alithia. But in the years since, it seemed she was just as cold and ruthless as winter.
The morning sun rose over the hillside as they departed, twelve in all, for Treestone, and Hendrick rode with them. He was a strong man, but had gotten along in years. As such, he had been relegated to the protection of the princess.
"How much further?" The princess called from her wheelhouse. "I'm thirsty, and hot."
"Not much, little one," Hendrick answered. "If we keep at this pace, we should arrive at Treestone in a few hours."
"No," Raylee said. "We'll stop here. Fetch me a drink, knight."
"But princess we -," Hendrick started, but Raylee cut him off.
"I said no, and I meant it, old man. Now, fetch me a drink."
The wheelhouse screeched to a halt, and the other's began to set up camp. Hendrick climbed off of his steed, Addie, and lashed her to the others. He collected the empty water skins and wandered into the hills in search of a spring.
Unbeknownst to any of them, high above, a great winged beast watched intently. He had been following them for some time, waiting for the right moment to strike.
########
I may come back and finish it later.
| |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | Hyperion drew his sword as he entered the bedchamber. Lit scented candles littered the shelves and dressers placed up against the wall bathing the enormous room in an orange glow. Hanging overhead was a metallic chandelier with five or six more lit candles. The walls were decorated with fine silk tapestries depicting the inhabitant's previous conquests.
On one side of the room Hyperion could see his friend's suit of armor laying neatly in the corner. The dragon let out a low bellow in order to signal to his friend that he had arrived. Hyperion's scales bristled at the thought of what might have happened to his friend. He crept through the room toward the center where the enormous bed lay. Something stirred under the covers. His tail stood erect. He unsheathed his sword ready for a fight.
With a loud and feral growl the princess burst out of the covers. She stood over the night stripped down to his underwear and bound to the bedpost with a leather strap. Scrawny arms and slender legs flapped and flailed at the dragon. Fire emerged from her behind lipstick laden lips as she screeched toward her adversary. Hyperion lifted his sword and blocked the flames. He met hers with flames of his own.
"You will not have him!" the creature said, "he's mine! We're meeting my parents for dinner later on tonight!"
The woman lunged off the bed at the dragon baring long, fake nails. Hyperion swung his tail. The princess let out a yelp with the impact of the noble dragon's tail. She landed on the wooden floor with a thud. While the woman was knocked out Hyperion rushed to the knight's side. He took a dagger from his side and cut the leather straps.
"Thank goodness you came," the knight said.
"Maybe this will teach you to stop paying attention to your other head."
"You don't have to tell me twice."
The princess on the floor started coming to. Holding her head, she rolled over and picked herself up. She staggered toward the dragon and the knight reaching out. She fell to her knees.
"You may have defeated me," she said, " but I still have my ladies in waiting. They will make quick work of you."
The princess collapsed once again and lost consciousness. Sounds of women screeching and howling came from behind the door on the other side of the bed chamber.
"Princess Ophelia?" one of the ladies in waiting called. Her nails could be heard scraping against the polished wood. "Is everything okay in there? Do we need to come in?"
"We have to get out of here," Hyperion said helping his friend with his armor. | Eh, just word vomited for a bit before I had to get to work.
Sir Hendrick Samsmith was a man of many talents and victories. He had spoken his vows at the feet of Good King Symor nearly thrity years ago after the fall of the Ghazadi Empire, and served Symor's family faithfully ever since. There were good times and bad, but he lived by the code of knighthood.
"Protect the realm," they said.
"It will be fun," they said.
What they didn't know was the abomination that would come many years later. No, not some dark lord to drive the kingdom into chaos. Or even an invading force of magical creatures, bent on destroying mankind. This evil was worse.
Princess Raylee was born after a particularly devastating winter to Prince Raymor and the beautiful, Lady Gana. At the time, the elders claimed that she was the light to bring about the end of cold and suffering for the good people of Alithia. But in the years since, it seemed she was just as cold and ruthless as winter.
The morning sun rose over the hillside as they departed, twelve in all, for Treestone, and Hendrick rode with them. He was a strong man, but had gotten along in years. As such, he had been relegated to the protection of the princess.
"How much further?" The princess called from her wheelhouse. "I'm thirsty, and hot."
"Not much, little one," Hendrick answered. "If we keep at this pace, we should arrive at Treestone in a few hours."
"No," Raylee said. "We'll stop here. Fetch me a drink, knight."
"But princess we -," Hendrick started, but Raylee cut him off.
"I said no, and I meant it, old man. Now, fetch me a drink."
The wheelhouse screeched to a halt, and the other's began to set up camp. Hendrick climbed off of his steed, Addie, and lashed her to the others. He collected the empty water skins and wandered into the hills in search of a spring.
Unbeknownst to any of them, high above, a great winged beast watched intently. He had been following them for some time, waiting for the right moment to strike.
########
I may come back and finish it later.
| |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | "I was pulled from the local brothel by my fragile yet fateful squire Elrish. I'm sure he sounded something like this while attempting to pull me away from the heaven I found myself in."
"Pppp...pardon me, great lord Martin. Slayer of Evil, Lover of Women, and Bringer of Joy"
Elrish stumbled forward sluggishly to place his hand on the back of Martins right shoulder only to miss by a foot and fall flat on his face.
"I didn't say soooch (belch) such a think as...um..as that."
"Good god man, Get a hold of yourself and stop hogging all the rum."
Martin snatches the rum from Elrish and takes three long gulps then continues his tale.
"As I was saying. I was forcefully removed from this pleasure, the pleasure of helping a poor lass down on her luck of course, by kings order. The king then told me to quest here and well, kill you. You see we became something of a legend and were called upon to slay any monsters or creatures that may harm the people of this kingdom. And this legend all started in a small village far to the west. Me and sweet, fragile Elrish here.."
"Not fragile" Elrish belched out.
"Says the man flat on his back. Now as I was saying me and sweet, dumb, fragile, child-like Elrish here (Elrish's hands reach from the ground toward the bottle only to have it ripped away by Martin who takes yet another swig) were taking a nice stroll through the beautiful country side."
"We were fleeing" Elrish said as he slumped himself over a dark, slimy rock.
"Perhaps we were fleeing who can remember? All I recall is the stunning scenery and the grace of the steeds we rode at full speed."
"Stolen steeds."
"Well yes, stolen from an evil man hell bent on over pricing his horses." Martin now becoming sluggish himself.
"Twas an old man, Pleasant in fact."
"Well if denying a man in need of a horse is pleasa-"
"You fucked his daughter after he graciously invited us to stay the night."
"She was very good to us, fed us well and made our beds. Was I to deny her when she entered my chambers?"
A booming voice crackled and echoed towards them. "ON WITH YOUR FOOLISH TALE!!!!"
Martin, looking fearful, clears his throat. "Right, so before we reached this small town we see what appears to be a body lying on a hill in the distance. So naturally, being the good upstanding gentlemen that we are, we go to see if we can help. Only this was no human body it was a dire wolf and a big one at that. With the knowledge of the gold we would receive from the fur of a dire wolf we have a few drinks in celebration."
"A bottle." Elrish whispers
"Being as we were a little drunk mind you, we seemed to not be able to skin this beast in a proper manner. In fact we quite butchered the thing and decided to sleep off the liquors' hold on us. Then we awoke to see a crowd of people standing around us. We thought perhaps we'd been caught but it turns out they were commoners of the local town we sought. And this dire wolf was a tormentor of theirs for years. They paraded us into town like kings and praised us. Some even cried at our feet. It was all quite fetching if I may say so myself."
"Aye, they gave us plenty of food, women, and mead." Elrish spat this out now standing on his feet next to Martin.
"This praise went on for days and the story of our heroism glided throughout the kingdom only getting more and more embellished as it worked its way to the kings ear. And when it finally reached his ear we were plucked from that glorious town and thrown before the king where I was knighted and Elrish was named my squire."
"Twas bullshit that. I should have been the Knighted one."
"Well you shouldn't have drank so much to the point of passing out. The people had many questions. What was I to do?"
Elrish rolled his eyes and grabbed the bottle out of Martins hand to take a swig.
Martin smirks and proceeded to say "The king then told us we are to slay any monsters or creatures that bring fear and death to his people and so with no real choice we set off to do just that. And to our luck we found that people are afraid of just about anything. Each story was as foolish as the last. There was the Ghost of the Hollow Woods which only appeared at full moon. It was only a white sheet high in a tree that caught the light of the moon. Then there was the Massive Tunnel Snake that would drag you under if given the chance. Turns out that was just a fat wood chuck, Elrish now keeps him as a pet."
"I call him Chuck Elrish the 3rd. Cute little bugger he is. Turns out hes a bourbon man." Elrish leans in with a hand to his cheek as if to whisper. "Keeps him from biting it does. Oh (hiccup) and don't forget about the Shrieking Banshee of Western Swallow. Now that was just an old toad. I think I still got a bit of him on me boot." Elrish struggles to lift his left boot then gives up. "well its down there somewhere." (hiccup).
Martin then steps forward to once again take control of the story.
"So you see that's what brought us to were we stand today, to kill...(Martin, quivering, takes another drink from the bottle of rum) a dragon."
A massive black scaly face with fangs the length of a mans arm and eyes as gold as the kings crown slowly inches into the moonlight that seeps into the entrance of the cave. All they can hear is the faint sound of water dripping from above and echoing deep as they await their death.
"MUHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA" The dragon laughs hysterically and slams his menacing paw to the ground over and over. The wind of his laughter blows back Martin and Elrishs hair while the slamming of his paw knocks them to the ground. The dragon looks back at them with a frightening grin and says with his booming voice " I am Morgune, It is a pleasure to meet you boys."
Martin and Elrish slowly stand and dust themselves off still shaking with fear. "Yes, well yes it's also quite the pleasure to meet you."
Elrish forces a quivering smile "Aye, it sure is."
Morgune leans in close and asked softly. "Now what reward do you receive by killing me?"
Martin takes a submissive step back. "Well we are to be paid in a mountain of gold and I am to wed the princess. Her beauty knows no bounds as does her cruelty. Some would say she is fair and just, but any man with sense would say shes...well a bit of..."
Elrish interrupts. "She's a cunt." (belch)
Morgune Ponders for a time and offers a sinister counter offer. "How would you two like all the kings gold and Martin how would you like to be free of this princess?"
Both men spit out the rum they were sharing and say at the same time. "Well sir I'd love nothing more" (Martin)
"Well shit I'd love nothing more"(Elrish)
"Then rulers and conquerors you shall be. Free from the shrill princess and rich beyond your dreams. I love nothing more then a good tale and yours, though good, is only just beginning."
| Eh, just word vomited for a bit before I had to get to work.
Sir Hendrick Samsmith was a man of many talents and victories. He had spoken his vows at the feet of Good King Symor nearly thrity years ago after the fall of the Ghazadi Empire, and served Symor's family faithfully ever since. There were good times and bad, but he lived by the code of knighthood.
"Protect the realm," they said.
"It will be fun," they said.
What they didn't know was the abomination that would come many years later. No, not some dark lord to drive the kingdom into chaos. Or even an invading force of magical creatures, bent on destroying mankind. This evil was worse.
Princess Raylee was born after a particularly devastating winter to Prince Raymor and the beautiful, Lady Gana. At the time, the elders claimed that she was the light to bring about the end of cold and suffering for the good people of Alithia. But in the years since, it seemed she was just as cold and ruthless as winter.
The morning sun rose over the hillside as they departed, twelve in all, for Treestone, and Hendrick rode with them. He was a strong man, but had gotten along in years. As such, he had been relegated to the protection of the princess.
"How much further?" The princess called from her wheelhouse. "I'm thirsty, and hot."
"Not much, little one," Hendrick answered. "If we keep at this pace, we should arrive at Treestone in a few hours."
"No," Raylee said. "We'll stop here. Fetch me a drink, knight."
"But princess we -," Hendrick started, but Raylee cut him off.
"I said no, and I meant it, old man. Now, fetch me a drink."
The wheelhouse screeched to a halt, and the other's began to set up camp. Hendrick climbed off of his steed, Addie, and lashed her to the others. He collected the empty water skins and wandered into the hills in search of a spring.
Unbeknownst to any of them, high above, a great winged beast watched intently. He had been following them for some time, waiting for the right moment to strike.
########
I may come back and finish it later.
| |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | Sir Gunther trudged wearily toward the cave, his breathing labored from hours of plodding through the muddy banks of the Toffee Swamp. As he pulled his last booted foot from the muck and struck out on solid footing, he mumbled a prayer to whichever saint happened to be listening. Normally he had the time to be picky about prayer, but today was not one of those days.
Hesitantly, Sir Gunther took a few steps forward and leaned against the wall of the cave, drawing in slow, deep breaths in an attempt to quiet his pounding heart. The moisture-slick stone felt oddly warm against the palms of his hands. He sniffed the air. The entryway smelled of ash and reptile droppings. He was in the right place.
After collecting himself, Sir Gunther stepped away from the wall and watched the granite cavern pulse in and out in a steady breathing motion. He wondered for a moment if he was mistaken and had somehow ended up inside the belly of the creature that he sought. He mused over the thought, and soon decided that it was most likely true.
"Hello?" he shouted at the cave walls. "Hello? Can you hear me in here?" He took a moment to adjust his helmet, which all of a sudden felt much smaller than it had before. "I seek Sparky the Dragon!"
"Who goes there??" a great, booming voice replied.
"It is I, Sir Gunther of Rathskeller!" After a moment's pause, the knight added: "The one whom, a moment earlier, you so voraciously consumed!"
A thunderous noise, like the pounding of a titanic drum, echoed through the great chamber, coming steadily closer with each beat. Sir Gunther braced himself for the worst - surely the dragon was about to send him hurtling through its digestive system.
And then, as he peered into the inky depths of the cave, he saw it. A massive, scaly foot, easily the size of a full-grown man, came to rest upon the cave floor with a force that sent shockwaves across the bare rock.
"I dined on no knight this day," the voice rumbled. "Besides, I went vegetarian four or five decades ago. All that fiber works wonders in my old age."
A second foot thrust itself out of the darkness ahead of the first, coming to rest on the stony ground with a great thud. It was then that Sir Gunther realized that he was not in the dragon's stomach, but was, in fact, simply in a cave *with* the beast. The thought was of only mild comfort to him.
"I... I have journeyed long and far from Rathskeller to visit you, O Great Sparky!" the knight stammered. "Across the vast golden fields of Elysium! Through the dense, jagged Forest of Eternal Peril! Over the-"
"What in the blazes are you talking about, human?" The voice interrupted. "The town of Rathskeller is only two or three miles away."
Another footstep, and Sir Gunther could finally see the head of the beast. Its bright pink, undulating skin wrapped itself around three mouths, all of which spoke in unison.
"And another thing," the dragon continued, "Do *not* insult me with this 'Sparky' nonsense! My name is Sparcinious the Burning Ember, Scourge of Guttenberg, Ruiner of Empires! Get it right, human!"
"Um, I apologize, O Great Sparcinius the... uh..." Sir Gunther blinked again, and suddenly the dragon's head was pale white and studded with hundreds of tiny, crimson eyes that blinked with every syllable that he spoke. "...what was the rest of that again?"
The dragon let out a deep, ragged sigh from its three mouths, and in barely the blink of an eye, they coalesced into a single, gaping maw. "Nevermind. What brings you here, human?" As the dragon spoke, its great black tongue began to worm its way out of its mouth. "Do you wish to do battle? Slay me? Bring my head home as a trophy for some human female?"
"I, well, I was wondering," Sir Gunther continued, casually leaning against the cave wall. "Can I maybe, please, have one of your scales, O Terrible Spar..." He paused, his eyes growing wide as he watched the beast's tongue extend several feet below its chin and swing to and fro like a fleshy pendulum. "...er, whatever the rest of that was?"
The dragon's million eyes widened. Sir Gunther watched as they crawled like beetles toward the center of the creature's forehead, where they collected like water droplets into one Cyclopean eyelid.
"Ah!" the dragon gasped. "Ingested the Crimson Death mushroom, did we?"
"Yes, O Great... One," Sir Gunther said, hoping that the generic declaration of respect would suffice.
The dragon uttered a sharp guffaw. "You aren't the brightest flower in the field, are you, human?" As he spoke, Sir Gunther watched his tongue snake back into his mouth. Now the creature's reptilian scowl was impossibly wide, and when it spoke, it emitted puffs of rainbow-hued smoke from its nostrils. "Tell me. How long ago did you consume the fungus?"
"This past evening," Sir Gunther replied in the midst of struggling not to look at his own hands, which had elongated into furry, bat-like claws.
"In that case, the hallucinations have long since begun," Sparcinius said. "Death will come within a day's time." The dragon raised its gigantic right claw and, with a sound like the snapping of a thick tree branch, pried a canary yellow scale from its forehead. "Take this," he said, tossing the scale to rest at Sir Gunther's feet, where it landed with a thump. "Brew it for five minutes in boiling water and drink the resulting potion. The effects should wear off within an hour's time."
Sir Gunther bent down and picked up the scale in between two bat-talons. Curiously, it was much smaller than he expected - about the size of a rose petal.
"Go, now," the dragon sneered, "and leave me in peace. I have a lovely dinner salad to prepare."
Sir Gunther began to step back toward the cave entrance, his dilated pupils never leaving the monster before him. "Thank you, O Great Sparky!" he bellowed, before promptly turning tail and scurrying away as fast as his heavy leather-and-mail armor would allow.
"Sparcinius," the dragon mumbled grimly. As he spoke, a jet of flame shot forth from his nostrils, momentarily revealing his emerald-scaled body, no bigger than that of a large dog. "And what was that bumbling coward so afraid of, anyway?"
-------
Meanwhile, after having traversed the Cloud Mountains, ran the Rainbow Racetrack, and swim-walked the Seven Fathoms of Aphelion, Sir Gunther arrived back at his mansion in Rathskellar only to find that it had transformed into a three-story caramel flan in his absence. He spent a good twenty minutes attempting to eat his way through to the interior when, purely by happy chance, he stumbled upon the front door.
"Gunther! Thank God! Where have you been?" Princess Hilda screamed as he entered the door. "I've been worried sick about you!"
Gunther braced himself against the door frame. The entire world undulated around him, as though he were in the midst of a slow-motion earthquake. Furthermore, the Princess Hilda standing before him now possessed a few extra arms and also the face of a tarantula.
"Brew this for five minutes in boiling water," he said in between staccato breaths, tossing the scale in Hilda-Spider's general direction. "And make sure there's no poison mushrooms in it, please."
"For the thousandth time, I'm sorry!" Hilda said as she bent down to pick up the shiny, chartreuse-hued object. "It looked exactly like a porcini and I thought it would be perfect for my famous risotto."
"Just hurry, please," said an exasperated and suddenly very pale Sir Gunther.
Hilda shot her husband an icy glare and dashed over to the stove, scale in hand. With a grunt, she hoisted a kettle of steaming water off of the fireplace and decanted it in to a floral-patterned teapot on the counter. After replacing the kettle on its perch, she unceremoniously plopped the scale into the pot.
"You know," she said, resting a delicate hand on her hip and smiling a lovely arachnid smile at her knight, "it's rather difficult being a princess most of the time. There's matters of state to look after, protocol and etiquette to obey, and on top of all that, I need to take care of you, too."
"Right. So difficult," Sir Gunther replied through gritted teeth. "So very difficult indeed." | Eh, just word vomited for a bit before I had to get to work.
Sir Hendrick Samsmith was a man of many talents and victories. He had spoken his vows at the feet of Good King Symor nearly thrity years ago after the fall of the Ghazadi Empire, and served Symor's family faithfully ever since. There were good times and bad, but he lived by the code of knighthood.
"Protect the realm," they said.
"It will be fun," they said.
What they didn't know was the abomination that would come many years later. No, not some dark lord to drive the kingdom into chaos. Or even an invading force of magical creatures, bent on destroying mankind. This evil was worse.
Princess Raylee was born after a particularly devastating winter to Prince Raymor and the beautiful, Lady Gana. At the time, the elders claimed that she was the light to bring about the end of cold and suffering for the good people of Alithia. But in the years since, it seemed she was just as cold and ruthless as winter.
The morning sun rose over the hillside as they departed, twelve in all, for Treestone, and Hendrick rode with them. He was a strong man, but had gotten along in years. As such, he had been relegated to the protection of the princess.
"How much further?" The princess called from her wheelhouse. "I'm thirsty, and hot."
"Not much, little one," Hendrick answered. "If we keep at this pace, we should arrive at Treestone in a few hours."
"No," Raylee said. "We'll stop here. Fetch me a drink, knight."
"But princess we -," Hendrick started, but Raylee cut him off.
"I said no, and I meant it, old man. Now, fetch me a drink."
The wheelhouse screeched to a halt, and the other's began to set up camp. Hendrick climbed off of his steed, Addie, and lashed her to the others. He collected the empty water skins and wandered into the hills in search of a spring.
Unbeknownst to any of them, high above, a great winged beast watched intently. He had been following them for some time, waiting for the right moment to strike.
########
I may come back and finish it later.
| |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | The castle loomed in the distance, and Trist could feel her heart constricting in anticipation. Arthur was so close. She had heard the whispers from the birds about the bruises and the cuts that he had been enduring, the torture games that Camille, the future wife, had created for the sake of filling her sadistic desires.
*It all started four years ago. Arthur was Trist's best friend, after her egg was given to him as a birthday present. She immediately bonded with him after she hatched, and together they learned to be a formidable force. At the tender age of 16, Arthur was invited to a ball being held by the kingdom; the king was in the market for selling his daughter off to the most impressive man. Pursuing honor and status, Arthur commissioned the most impressive, detailed armor from the esteemed blacksmith Carver. His father, a powerful, rich, and influential man, hired the flashiest and most ornate caravan to transport the aspiring groom to the event. Trist, being a massive Bloodstone beast, was forbidden from joining.*
*The duo met outside the town before his departure. It was a very emotional short eternity before they said their goodbyes, and a wistful prayer for good luck was sent.*
*The princess Camille was absolutely enamored by the finery and grace of the young knight, and they were betrothed mere months later. They were to be wed on her 18th birthday. However, talks of the lovely wedding turned into confusion as the knight seemed to become too ill to ever make public appearances. The population began to question if he would survive to the wedding. It was a tragic story that left much speculation for the kingdom to muse over.*
It was now the last week of Arthur's bachelor days, and Trist was unable to stand the thought of her dearest partner enduring the torture for the rest of his life. She landed on a hill a few miles away, finding some local wildlife to build some strength, and waited for nightfall.
The enticing lunar goddess was creeping too slowly towards the top of the world. Trist was anticipating on waiting for the moon to be directly above the castle before approaching the rescue mission, but became impatient, and jumped in the air with a burst of powerful leather wings.
Luckily, Trist was a very small being, the size of three horses. Bursting through the front doors were a trivial matter. The guards attempted bravery until she let out a beautiful stream of glowing blue flames, then scattered about, leaving her free to search for Arthur.
The king was all about open, massive rooms. Unfortunately, he did not feel the same about his hallways. It was no matter, however. Trist was strong, and the wooden supports were mere annoyances as she rampaged the fortress.
Deep into the castle, she heard the groans that could only be Arthur. The smell of blood and sweat confirmed her suspicions, and served as a burst of adrenaline to smash her way to the dark, gloomy room that might as well have been a dungeon.
The scene ahead of her was almost enough to make Trist sick, if she was a human. Arthur was tied into place on a bed with maroon sheets, and a half dressed Camille, darkness gleaming in her emerald eyes, was idly placing a hot poker on random parts of the naked knight's body. His figure was destroyed, covered in layers of scars from various instruments of Camille's entertainment. He was broken, eyes pale and distant as he tried his best to mentally escape her games.
The encounter was short and anticlimatic. Trist didn't allow the cruel Camille continued savagery, opting instead to lunge and take her body as a midnight snack.
The flight home was a long, arduous and fearful one. Arthur didn't even seem to recognize her. A shadow of a smile traced the bethrothed's face as he felt the cool air of freedom kiss his cheeks, and much needed rest overtook his exhausted body. She made sure to avoid any turbulence and stay as low to the ground as possible to not wear on the knight or his open wounds any more than naturally possible. Slow travel was prudent with her loose clasp of him, as she feared adding any more cuts.
A small group of close friends awaited them outside of the gates. A collective cry of anger and shock passed the group as Trist landed and gently placed Arthur on the ground. The moon was nearing her exit from the world as Arthur was rushed by horse carriage to the doctor to attempt to dress his wounds.
---
The physical wounds healed, but the destruction of the knight's soul and body was forever done. Trist was devastated as she knew that she had come too late. Everyone in the castle that hid him could see him slowly withering away, heard the screams at night of the relived memories.
She would take Arthur out for small adventures like they always did before, but they were comprised of blank stares at the lakes and him clinging to her as if he was afraid of disappearing forever if he loosened his grasp of her leg or neck. Speech slowly seemed to return to him, words then phrases. One day, Trist wished he had never been able to talk again.
"I can't do this, Trist. I can't sleep. Eating is a chore. Waking up is a chore. She is burned into my eyes. I am still there. I walk with you but I'm still in that hell, enduring scathing commentary during the day and scorching games at night. I'll never be your Arthur again."
She nuzzled him. *Don't say that. You're progressing every day.*
"Kill me. Please. I want to die."
A plume of instinctual smoke ejaculated from Trist's snout as she glared at him with amethyst orbs. *You do **not** mean that.*
"But I do. If you don't do it, I'll do it myself. I cannot keep going."
The sun made a long journey across their small forest as the stifling silence surrounded them. Suicide or homocide was the only choices she had, as he seemed determined to die. A fire had sparked in his eyes. As the light was beginning to fade, he stood, walked towards the river a few meters away, and drew his sword.
"Don't make me do this myself. I desire a chance at paradise." Tears began to streak down his carved face.
*Please, we can heal. You are strong.*
He raised his sword.
*ARTHUR.*
It found its target on his chest.
Trist leaped for the sword, willing to part him of his arm if that was what it took, but it was too late.
The town heard the roars of Trist, and the king issued a search party with their fastest horses. He knew where they were, and it wasn't far away.
When the group arrived to the clearing, the king dropped from his horse and attempted to recover, but only managed to bring himself to his knees. His beloved child, the only chance at advancing his family name, lay in the crimson pool of his life, next to the slumped body of the midnight dragon, her eyes vacant pools of sorrow. She had managed to relieve the body of the metallic method of suicide, but there was no way to repair his mangled heart.
The pyre that night was ignited by Trist herself. The sound of silence was crippling to the townsfolk as the smell of burnt flesh and the crackle of the fire licking away the mangled body chugged away. All was lost. | Eh, just word vomited for a bit before I had to get to work.
Sir Hendrick Samsmith was a man of many talents and victories. He had spoken his vows at the feet of Good King Symor nearly thrity years ago after the fall of the Ghazadi Empire, and served Symor's family faithfully ever since. There were good times and bad, but he lived by the code of knighthood.
"Protect the realm," they said.
"It will be fun," they said.
What they didn't know was the abomination that would come many years later. No, not some dark lord to drive the kingdom into chaos. Or even an invading force of magical creatures, bent on destroying mankind. This evil was worse.
Princess Raylee was born after a particularly devastating winter to Prince Raymor and the beautiful, Lady Gana. At the time, the elders claimed that she was the light to bring about the end of cold and suffering for the good people of Alithia. But in the years since, it seemed she was just as cold and ruthless as winter.
The morning sun rose over the hillside as they departed, twelve in all, for Treestone, and Hendrick rode with them. He was a strong man, but had gotten along in years. As such, he had been relegated to the protection of the princess.
"How much further?" The princess called from her wheelhouse. "I'm thirsty, and hot."
"Not much, little one," Hendrick answered. "If we keep at this pace, we should arrive at Treestone in a few hours."
"No," Raylee said. "We'll stop here. Fetch me a drink, knight."
"But princess we -," Hendrick started, but Raylee cut him off.
"I said no, and I meant it, old man. Now, fetch me a drink."
The wheelhouse screeched to a halt, and the other's began to set up camp. Hendrick climbed off of his steed, Addie, and lashed her to the others. He collected the empty water skins and wandered into the hills in search of a spring.
Unbeknownst to any of them, high above, a great winged beast watched intently. He had been following them for some time, waiting for the right moment to strike.
########
I may come back and finish it later.
| |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | "So... so you just came after her?"
Despite Sir Elric's many protestations and declarations, Firemouth wouldn't get off the couch.
"Cease your bargaining, evil wyrm! Thy reign of terror is no more!"
Despite Firemouth's refusal to take him seriously, Elric kept up the show.
"Save me, Elric! Save your princess!"
Lady Bella rattled the bars of her cage as she cried out.
"Yes, I shall save my fair lady! Prepare to taste my steel, foul beast!"
Firemouth pressed a crooked talon to his left nostril and shot a quick flame into the bowl of the pipe sitting in his lap with effortless precision. He drew deeply and said, "I mean... fine, whatever, take her."
"Thy days of- wait, what?"
Firemouth exhaled an enormous cloud of purple smoke. "Yeah, go ahead. I didn't kidnap her, she's all yours."
"What are you... I mean, your tricks won't confuse me, dragon!" Elric was determined. "My mind is clear, and my will is iron! I shall strike you down this day!"
"Oh god, you're so fucking hot baby. Save me!"
"How long has she been stringing you along like this, dude?" The last tendrils of smoke drifted up past Firemouth's red eyes. His scaly eyelids blinked slowly.
"My lady is... my lady is the fairest of the land, and as such, detestable snakes like yourself steal her often! It is her beauty that-"
"The fuck would I want with a human woman, bro?"
"What?"
"I'm a dragon, man. She's a human. Why would I want to steal her?"
"She, she is the fairest in all the-"
"Dude, I'm a *dragon*. Even if I did find a member of another species attractive, what am I gonna do with her? Stare at her? I'm ten times your guys' size, if I did anything else I'd *break her in half*."
"Don't listen to him, baby! Slay this motherfucker!"
Elric's sword dropped a bit, but he raised it again. "Then... then you want her for her ransom!"
"I live in a cave, dude! Besides, dragons have their own currency. Your gold pieces are too small for me to even pick up."
"Yes, but it is well known that you and your lizardkin love gold! The feel, the smell, the-"
"Oh god, the fucking Smaug thing?" Firemouth rolled his eyes and took another drag of his pipe. "That was ONE FUCKING GUY with a gold fetish."
"A... gold fetish? I-"
"Shit's just ignorant, bro. Offensive, too."
Elric lowered his shield and sword. "Oh, my god, I am so sorry, I didn't mean to-"
"He's getting in your head, baby! He's gonna like... eat me or some shit! Get this fucking asshole!" She rattled her cage's bars again.
Firemouth exhaled and turned to her. "Will you knock it off with the fucking cage?"
Elric raised his sword and shield once more. "Ah ha! If you didn't take her here, then why is she in a cage?"
"I don't know, it's not mine. She brought the cage up here herself."
Lady Bella opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
"She... Bella, is this true?"
"Well... I mean, it's... I mean it's not like this is **my** cage, but-"
"Oh my god, Bella. What the fuck?" Elric dropped his sword and shield to the ground and began to pace.
"Ha. Hahahaha," Firemouth's laugh echoed off the enormous cave's walls as he lit up another drag of his pipe. "Yeah Bella, what the fuck?"
Elric put his hands on his hips. "Have *any* of these been real, then?"
Bella bit her lip and looked away.
"Oh what the FUCK, BELLA?!" Now Elric's voice echoed.
"Haaaaa! Hahahaha," Firemouth exhaled more purple smoke as he laughed. "I'm sorry, this isn't funny. This is pretty fucked up, actually. I'm so sorry, dude."
Bella kicked the cage door out and stormed up to Elric, pointing her finger in his face. "Don't you fucking curse at me, you fucking pussy!"
"Holy fucking shit, Bella! How many dragons have I killed for you?!"
"Don't act like you didn't enjoy it! You rode out here as fast as you could!"
"Oh shit, so this... this has been, like... happening for like... a while, hasn't it?" Firemouth's eyes had turned blood red.
Bella turned to Firemouth. "Shut the fuck up, you fucking pothead! You're ruining it!"
"Don't turn this around on him!" Elric grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. "You've been getting yourself kidnapped for years!"
Bella pushed Elric away. "Yeah, well..." she stopped as her face started to seize up.
"What... what's going on? Is she like... ok, man?" Firemouth was barely hanging onto consciousness.
"Are you... are you trying to cry? Are you actually trying to cry right now?" Elric's eyes widened in amazement. "WOW, Bella. WOW."
Her face immediately turned to scorn. "Fuck you, you fucking asshole. Why don't you go suck your wizard friend's dick some more?"
"Really? You're going to bring Merlin, the *ancient wizard who came back from the dead to tell me I'm the hero chosen to reunite the provinces*?"
"Yeah, you've got time for him, but never for me!"
"That's because he's helping me *avoid the fucking orc apocalypse!*"
"Fuck you!" Bella spit at Elric.
"I'm done. I'm out of here. Go fuck yourself, Bella," Elric picked up his sword and shield, and walked towards the mouth of the cave.
Bella followed, screaming at him. "Don't you think we're fucking done here, you son of a bitch!"
"Don't fucking follow me! Get your own needy ass home! And don't think..." Elric's voice faded out as they left the cave.
Firemouth took another drag of his pipe and exhaled. "Oh fuck- Hey! You guys want your cage, or like...?" | Eh, just word vomited for a bit before I had to get to work.
Sir Hendrick Samsmith was a man of many talents and victories. He had spoken his vows at the feet of Good King Symor nearly thrity years ago after the fall of the Ghazadi Empire, and served Symor's family faithfully ever since. There were good times and bad, but he lived by the code of knighthood.
"Protect the realm," they said.
"It will be fun," they said.
What they didn't know was the abomination that would come many years later. No, not some dark lord to drive the kingdom into chaos. Or even an invading force of magical creatures, bent on destroying mankind. This evil was worse.
Princess Raylee was born after a particularly devastating winter to Prince Raymor and the beautiful, Lady Gana. At the time, the elders claimed that she was the light to bring about the end of cold and suffering for the good people of Alithia. But in the years since, it seemed she was just as cold and ruthless as winter.
The morning sun rose over the hillside as they departed, twelve in all, for Treestone, and Hendrick rode with them. He was a strong man, but had gotten along in years. As such, he had been relegated to the protection of the princess.
"How much further?" The princess called from her wheelhouse. "I'm thirsty, and hot."
"Not much, little one," Hendrick answered. "If we keep at this pace, we should arrive at Treestone in a few hours."
"No," Raylee said. "We'll stop here. Fetch me a drink, knight."
"But princess we -," Hendrick started, but Raylee cut him off.
"I said no, and I meant it, old man. Now, fetch me a drink."
The wheelhouse screeched to a halt, and the other's began to set up camp. Hendrick climbed off of his steed, Addie, and lashed her to the others. He collected the empty water skins and wandered into the hills in search of a spring.
Unbeknownst to any of them, high above, a great winged beast watched intently. He had been following them for some time, waiting for the right moment to strike.
########
I may come back and finish it later.
| |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | The beast was pregnant.
*Balls*, thought Sir Dragonsbane to himself as he crested the hill. The village messenger had conveniently forgotten that little detail. Dragon slayers weren’t exactly a dime a dozen, but even the most foolish ones knew better than to attack a broodmother with child. The fool knew that, and brought him and his entire force anyway. They were far enough away from the village that she hadn’t noticed them yet, but she could close the distance in seconds if she so chose. She was a fine beast, as far as they went; her scales were a healthy pinkish-orange, with a white belly distended with the girth of her spawn, and greenish-tinged claws that would fetch a pretty coin if he were so inclined.
“Sir?” his second-in-command asked weakly, bringing him back from his reverie. The caged look in her eyes told him she knew very well what their only option would be. Her last commander had been one of the foolish ones.
Dragonsbane sighed. “Retreat,” he said wearily, turning his horse. The village messenger at his side started in shock.
“You can’t leave us here!”, he yelled shrilly. “She’ll destroy us all!”
Dragonsbane stopped, staring down his nose at the man. “If a broodmother has chosen to make her nest in the dead center of your village, you will have to evacuate and flee now with whatever survivors you can find. There is nothing we can do.”
A shout from his brigade drew his attention back to the village. She was aloft and headed their way.
“She’s spotted us now, you great buffoon,” he spat towards the villager. “Take it down an octave or three next time and she might not hear - though there will probably not be a next time, now.”
The man squawked and took off running for the forest. Dragonsbane turned his attention to the more immediate problem. “Leave him, he’s either dead or alive no matter our efforts now,” he shouted. “Defensive formation!”
His hand-picked squad fell into form faster than he could have hoped, filling his chest with pride. He had picked each person with care, based on their bravery, quickness, and prowess. Among them were no knights, but they were stoic to the last. “*Well, if I have to die now, I’ll go out among good folk*,” he thought.
The dragon behaviorist at his side had been a pricey hire, but had proven himself worth his weight in gold several times over. He said in low tones, “Even if we get away she won’t rest until we’re fifty miles away or more. Our chances are next to nothing.”
“Yes,” he replied staunchly. “Let’s give her hell first,” nocking a bolt in his crossbow as he spoke.
A loud, booming roar from behind them startled them all.
“Incoming from the north!” shouted his scout. Even she had been taken off guard.
Dragonsbane whirled to see the largest bull dragon he had ever seen, black as obsidian and with a wingspan that easily covered his small company in its shadow, headed towards them with murder in his eyes and blood on his claws.
He made a quick calculation. Male dragons only flamed rarely, and usually in turf wars, so the fire was not the most immediate threat; it was the claws.
“Everyone, down!” he shouted as loudly as he could.
To a man, they lept off their horses and fell flat to the ground, partially hidden by the long grass. The dragon swooped overhead, blackening the sky for a second. A horse screamed as its sides were pierced by the long claws of the bull. A sickening thud a few seconds later told him that the horse had landed. He hoped that it was dead.
The behaviorist tapped his shoulder. “Sir, the bull has landed and has his head resting on the ground, towards us. He looks like he’s expecting something.” He broke into a grin. “Sir, I think he wants to talk.”
*Talk?* He thought incredulously. Only a few accounts of human-dragon communication had ever been recorded, and those were spotty accounts at best. He had his doubts, but was out of options. He nodded curtly to the behaviorist. “Do what you must,” he said gruffly, masking his unease.
The behaviorist rose unceremoniously and began walking- no, hobbling- towards the bull dragon, who had indeed lay down and was examining the man with one eye as he walked towards him. Behind them, the broodmother screamed angrily, not daring to cross the bull to get to the humans. The man had never hobbled before, but maybe he was buying into the hogwash that dragons only attacked healthy humans. Dragonsbane waited with bated breath. It was out of his hands now. He hated that.
Having reached the bull, the behaviorist - what was his name? Tim? - reached out his hand. The bull nosed it gently. Had he still been seated on a horse, Dragonsbane would have fallen out of his saddle in shock. The bull began making low rumbling noises in its throat, sounding almost like a very, very large cat. A *happy* cat.
Just as soon as it started, the moment was over. The bull whirled towards the female, the low rumble continuing as he loped over to her. She ignored him at first, eating the horse carcass huffily. She eventually allowed him to briefly touch her nose with his, then alighted into the sky and soared north again. Dragonsbane sneezed. He was sure he had felt someone *thank* him. Not to mention, since when had dragons had feelings, and emotions? Yet he was sure that they had been communicating with each other.
He stood, with more questions than his mind could handle. He chose to handle none of them. The behaviorist was glowing like a boy after his first shave, with no trace of a hobble now. He was practically skipping. They stood next to each other for a moment, watching them fly off.
Tim spoke. “It was a misunderstanding, I guess,” he said incredulously. “She wanted veal and he brought her lamb, so she left in a huff, prepared to make her own nest.”
Dragonsbane was too shocked to speak.
Tim chuckled. “He’ll be a fantastic father, I suppose. His lady is lucky to have him. He wouldn’t refer to her as anything but his princess.”
| Eh, just word vomited for a bit before I had to get to work.
Sir Hendrick Samsmith was a man of many talents and victories. He had spoken his vows at the feet of Good King Symor nearly thrity years ago after the fall of the Ghazadi Empire, and served Symor's family faithfully ever since. There were good times and bad, but he lived by the code of knighthood.
"Protect the realm," they said.
"It will be fun," they said.
What they didn't know was the abomination that would come many years later. No, not some dark lord to drive the kingdom into chaos. Or even an invading force of magical creatures, bent on destroying mankind. This evil was worse.
Princess Raylee was born after a particularly devastating winter to Prince Raymor and the beautiful, Lady Gana. At the time, the elders claimed that she was the light to bring about the end of cold and suffering for the good people of Alithia. But in the years since, it seemed she was just as cold and ruthless as winter.
The morning sun rose over the hillside as they departed, twelve in all, for Treestone, and Hendrick rode with them. He was a strong man, but had gotten along in years. As such, he had been relegated to the protection of the princess.
"How much further?" The princess called from her wheelhouse. "I'm thirsty, and hot."
"Not much, little one," Hendrick answered. "If we keep at this pace, we should arrive at Treestone in a few hours."
"No," Raylee said. "We'll stop here. Fetch me a drink, knight."
"But princess we -," Hendrick started, but Raylee cut him off.
"I said no, and I meant it, old man. Now, fetch me a drink."
The wheelhouse screeched to a halt, and the other's began to set up camp. Hendrick climbed off of his steed, Addie, and lashed her to the others. He collected the empty water skins and wandered into the hills in search of a spring.
Unbeknownst to any of them, high above, a great winged beast watched intently. He had been following them for some time, waiting for the right moment to strike.
########
I may come back and finish it later.
| |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | "You Never talk to me anymore, all of our conversations are one way. I slave over a hot furnace all day to make you a warm meal everyday when you come home from work. That dragon doesn't cook itself you know! HELLO! Can you even hear what i'm saying to right know."
(silence)
"God Charles, you are unbelievable. I don' t even know why I try with you anymore."
This had been Charlie's life for the past 7 years. After 11 hours off hunting dragons and scouting mountains, all Charlie wanted to come home to was peace. A nice relaxing evening free from bitching and complaining from his wife about how hard it was to be home. They didn't have kids after all, she was not expected to pay for anything and most importantly, he never asked anything in return from her for his hard work.
Charlie had been contemplating leaving her for a while now but he didn't have the heart to abandon his wife as he knew no other man in the village would marry her based on what she put Charlie through on a daily basis. Unfortunately, to Charlie death would be the only escape from his miserable life.
The next morning, Charlie woke up promptly at 5 am just as he had everyday. He gather his armor and weaponry from the blacksmith and prepared himself for another long shift of knight duty. His wife ordered him to be home by 6 sharp or she would throw his dinner in the garbage. Threats like this were not unusual for Charlie, he nodded and walked out the door. He arrived at the castle and the king had informed the army that a dragon was spotted in Tranmere (The next town over from his village, Swindmore). The knights ordered to aid the neighboring army in slaying the dragon and returning with it's head to prepare soup for all the people in Swindmore. Charlie and the rest of the kings men put on their helmets and marched towards Tranmere.
They had been traveling for a few hours now when finally one of the knights spotted the dragon on top of the watchtower blowing fire down on the poor civilians below. Then men met up with the brave warriors of Tranmere who then disclosed their plan of attack. The plan was to wait until sunset when the dragon would have tired himself of the destruction and retreat back to his cave for the night. They were to attack at this very moment and ambush the dragon right outside of his home and slay him then. The men responded in unison with a overwhelming, "Yes Sir!"
"Excuse me." a nervous voice said among the hundreds of men who just agreed to the plan.
"Yes?" responded the General of Tranmere.
"My wife asked that I might be home by 6, is there anyway we could ambush the dragon earlier?" asked Charlie.
The armies laughed as they thought this was a joke but the general looked in Charlies eyes and say that this was a genuine question.
"I am sorry" respond Joseph "We must attack while the dragon is tired and unsuspecting or else we will all surely killed"
Charlie nodded in compliance trying to hide his disagreement. Charlie knew if he wasn't home by 6 his wife would surely kill him if the dragon had not. He thought his best bet was to attack the dragon himself and be killed quickly than rather than suffer the wrath of an angry spouse. That afternoon around 5, Charlie slipped away from his platoon and prepared to march himself into battle with the dragon in hopes of a painless death.
Charlie arrived at the burning watchtower where the dragon had been and unsheathed his sword. The dragon stopped his destruction as he noticed Charlie. At this point, Charlie had been trembling with fear, a small crowd had gathered at the bottom of the hill once they noticed a single soldier attempting to slay a giant beast.
Charlie finally spoke up, "Excuse me, Dragon? Would you mind making my death quick I wouldn't want to burden you with my screams for too long."
The dragon puffed out a cloud of thick some from his nostrils and opened his mouth preparing to devour Charlie in a single bite. As he bent over to consume the soldier he made eye contact with him. The dragon saw the look in charlies eyes, it was the same look the dragon had every night when he returned to his wife who was unhappy with the dragon for spending to much time terrorizing villages. Immediately, the dragon stopped. He and Charlie stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. By this point almost the entire town had gathered at the bottom of the hill watching Charlie and the dragon.
Charlie gazed at the dragon, he too had recognized their connection in home lives. The dragon relaxed his tail and allowed Charlie to climb onto his back. Charlie climbed aboard the stroked the dragon on its side.
"yip, yip!" said Charlie, and the dragon jumped into the air and began flying toward the sunset.
"wait" said Charlie "one stop before we leave forever." Charlie guided the dragon towards Swindmore and landed the dragon on the roof of his home. The dragon looked at Charlie and awaited further instruction. The knight looked back at the now tamed beast and nodded his head. The dragon raised his hind leg and shit right on the roof of the home. A shit so massive it collapsed the house in a matter of seconds. Charlie's wife ran out, covered in feces and watched the dragon and Charlie fly away into the horizon.
Not much was said about the two after that. Charlie's wife had become a beggar who spent her days digging through garbage looking for any scrap of food she could find. Both villages had peace for years to come and no one worried about where the dragon would attack next. As for Charlie and the dragon, they spent their days traveling the world and shitting on all the people who deserved it.
tl;dr: Man and dragon live in abusive relationships and team up to shit on all abusive people in the world. | Eh, just word vomited for a bit before I had to get to work.
Sir Hendrick Samsmith was a man of many talents and victories. He had spoken his vows at the feet of Good King Symor nearly thrity years ago after the fall of the Ghazadi Empire, and served Symor's family faithfully ever since. There were good times and bad, but he lived by the code of knighthood.
"Protect the realm," they said.
"It will be fun," they said.
What they didn't know was the abomination that would come many years later. No, not some dark lord to drive the kingdom into chaos. Or even an invading force of magical creatures, bent on destroying mankind. This evil was worse.
Princess Raylee was born after a particularly devastating winter to Prince Raymor and the beautiful, Lady Gana. At the time, the elders claimed that she was the light to bring about the end of cold and suffering for the good people of Alithia. But in the years since, it seemed she was just as cold and ruthless as winter.
The morning sun rose over the hillside as they departed, twelve in all, for Treestone, and Hendrick rode with them. He was a strong man, but had gotten along in years. As such, he had been relegated to the protection of the princess.
"How much further?" The princess called from her wheelhouse. "I'm thirsty, and hot."
"Not much, little one," Hendrick answered. "If we keep at this pace, we should arrive at Treestone in a few hours."
"No," Raylee said. "We'll stop here. Fetch me a drink, knight."
"But princess we -," Hendrick started, but Raylee cut him off.
"I said no, and I meant it, old man. Now, fetch me a drink."
The wheelhouse screeched to a halt, and the other's began to set up camp. Hendrick climbed off of his steed, Addie, and lashed her to the others. He collected the empty water skins and wandered into the hills in search of a spring.
Unbeknownst to any of them, high above, a great winged beast watched intently. He had been following them for some time, waiting for the right moment to strike.
########
I may come back and finish it later.
| |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | There once was a princess' dragon
Since childhood, kept as a pet
Even in youth he was massively brute
And had stone scales that never stayed wet
|
Unbeknownst to the hundred-pound playmate
Was the princess' heart on her sleeve
Since the age of eighteen she'd been madly in love
With a daring young squire named Steve
|
Now this Steve was a little bit clueless
So he wasn't aware of her itch
All he saw when he looked at the princess' face
Was a ditz who was naive and rich
|
Having never worked more than a day in her years
And he, living out endless strife
By fates alone, wished that she was his own
As a trophy reward for a wife
|
Since the princess was pretty and Steve was quite vain
He'd settled on taking his chances
He hit her with ever dumb line in the book
In the place of authentic romances
|
Dragons, however, are smarter than smart
So her pet friend was wise to Steve's tricks
They're as patient a creature as can be, as well
So it waited—"Let's see if this sticks."
|
Five years had gone by, and she was still quite smitten
And Steve went from squire to knight
But he never got any more noble, therefore
The dragon saw this as a plight
|
"My poor friend the princess," the dragon called out
"What a sloppy, one-sided affair."
"This dude needs to go, so the princess will know
that it's me who will always be there."
|
If you're not yet made wise to a dragon's anatomy
I'll give you a simplified clue
In the time since their youth, dragon's weights? Through the roof!
Its once hundred pounds turned into two.
|
The dragon confronted Knight Steve in a field
And yelled "pick on someone your own size!"
So Steve drew out his sword, and then prayed to the lord
With both anger and fear in his eyes
|
He ran towards the dragon, and thrust forth his weapon
It hit, but then splintered to shards
"My scales are like rocks," the ticked dragon exclaimed
"Your demise may be found in your cards!"
|
Knight Steve drew his shield, quite expecting a flame
But never got shot by the beast
Said the pet: "It is *I* who have loved her the most
And for so long she's valued me least!"
|
So the dragon extended its thick, mighty claw
Cutting back through the air like a mace
Knight Steve, with no lance, then post-haste shit his pants
And the claws gently ripped off his face.
|
Flying far, the creature looked back to his girl
who mourned loud for the corpse of her beau
Then in sadness put walls up to not feel again
Leaving only this moral to know:
|
If you're pretty and dumb and your standards aren't high
You might find yourself lonely and blue,
For your knights could be dragons, and dragons white knights
With you helpless to sort out the two
| Eh, just word vomited for a bit before I had to get to work.
Sir Hendrick Samsmith was a man of many talents and victories. He had spoken his vows at the feet of Good King Symor nearly thrity years ago after the fall of the Ghazadi Empire, and served Symor's family faithfully ever since. There were good times and bad, but he lived by the code of knighthood.
"Protect the realm," they said.
"It will be fun," they said.
What they didn't know was the abomination that would come many years later. No, not some dark lord to drive the kingdom into chaos. Or even an invading force of magical creatures, bent on destroying mankind. This evil was worse.
Princess Raylee was born after a particularly devastating winter to Prince Raymor and the beautiful, Lady Gana. At the time, the elders claimed that she was the light to bring about the end of cold and suffering for the good people of Alithia. But in the years since, it seemed she was just as cold and ruthless as winter.
The morning sun rose over the hillside as they departed, twelve in all, for Treestone, and Hendrick rode with them. He was a strong man, but had gotten along in years. As such, he had been relegated to the protection of the princess.
"How much further?" The princess called from her wheelhouse. "I'm thirsty, and hot."
"Not much, little one," Hendrick answered. "If we keep at this pace, we should arrive at Treestone in a few hours."
"No," Raylee said. "We'll stop here. Fetch me a drink, knight."
"But princess we -," Hendrick started, but Raylee cut him off.
"I said no, and I meant it, old man. Now, fetch me a drink."
The wheelhouse screeched to a halt, and the other's began to set up camp. Hendrick climbed off of his steed, Addie, and lashed her to the others. He collected the empty water skins and wandered into the hills in search of a spring.
Unbeknownst to any of them, high above, a great winged beast watched intently. He had been following them for some time, waiting for the right moment to strike.
########
I may come back and finish it later.
| |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | "Should you have the honour of rescuing my daughter, the beautiful princess Yazariya from that lair, you may take her hand and rule alongside her."
Prince Renal nodded respectfully in silence, for he was recognizing the grief and sorrow of the king and also a father of the poor child. The princess was missing for 20 years now, snatched away from her cradle as a newborn. And yet her father never gave up on her. He sent many brave souls after her trail, certain she was alive and held captive from the beast. An effort in vain as all of them went through heaven's doors.
Many tried to convince him he was wasting his time and resources and men, his queen included. “Let the poor girl rest in peace, my dear. We owe her this.”, but none of their words reached the mourning father. Fateful to his promise he made to himself, he sent elite divisions and armies after the beast. None of them successful.
By advice of his trusted men, the ruler decided to trust not brute force but wit and tactics. By sending single warriors or knights, the chances of them to trick the dragon or sneak right past him were higher. And the sacrifice was far smaller.
Prince Renal was determined to do his best or die trying. He wanted to help not only the innocent damsel in distress but to ease her father as well. And the idea of a union between their kingdoms would mean only well for their people. He prepared his armor and his best horse. He also took his father's sword, ready to slay if needed.
It took him two weeks to find the place described by tales all around. He stood before a high tower, lonely in a green field. The old stone was covered with moss and ivy. Dead silence ruled the lands as birds were quiet and the air was still. Prince Renal got off his horse and dared step forward. Not a sign from the dragon. Was this a trap? Did he sense his presence from afar?
He came upon a simple wooden door, which wasn’t hidden nor unapproachable. It wasn’t locked either and with ease he opened the door. From the distance within, somewhere in the dark, he heard the rattle of shackles or so he thought. “My fair maiden!”
Before he can rush in after his promised one, a dirty beast hidden in the shadows grasped him and knocked him down. It bit his arm and tore his flesh. He screamed in agony and tried to pierce the beast but it did not feel any pain. It screamed in triumph and in blood lust, and attacked again.
Renal could barely look at what attacked him as he tried to push the thing away. He could see multiple lesions on its faint skin as it outlined the bones underneath like a map outlining mountains. It barely had any hairs but its teeth were sharp and it was merciless. At one point Renal was sure it would end his life before he can manage to escape. Its eyes were cruel and thirsty.
He couldn’t outrun it. He couldn’t overpower it. His head was heavy and he felt dizzy. Was he poisoned? Was this black magic? The thing jumped forward and tried to reach for his hand, he attacked back desperately trying to cut off its head. But the agile monster evaded and tacked him again. Before it could bite him, he clutched a nearby stone and smashed it against its head. And even though he managed to kick it away from himself, he was unable to get up or move at all. Thick roots were rambled around and held him down, now crushing his body and bones. The grip grew tighter around his ankles and arms.
"No running away now, love." - the thing giggled while getting up. Renal was unable to believe that its rotten mouth was capable of speech. Its voice was just as hideous as its looks. It was sarcastic and mocking and just the sound of it made him shiver with disgust. "Save me from my curse, dearie. Let me feast upon your valiant heart. If it is such truly."
Before the thing could attack one final time, Renal heard wings flapping. A shadow devoured them, from above a flying beast dived without a second doubt. A nature’s force, the dragon stood between the man and the beast. The thing stepped back, hissing.
Yazariya knew the dragon’s fire couldn’t reach her but despite that a dragon should never be underestimated.
"You’re back." - She laughed. Renal could feel how bitter she was from the fact. Yet, she stared at him while she talked to the dragon. "Why did you have to come back?"
The dragon growled and tore the roots around Renal’s body with one of his paws. The wench looked at them furious, clutching her fists and lips into a twisted smile. Distant trees began moving, screeching. The dragon was ready to take any of her attacks.
“Run, you fool!”
Renal got on his feed, shaking. The horse was nowhere to be found, but he turned around and ran as fast as he can.
The child was left behind, alone, distant from everyone and unwanted - even from her own mother. | "Why didn't you buy me a necklace instead of flowers I can find anywhere in the fields!" It was just another example of how the princess treated me every day. If I would buy her jewelery she would complain it wasn't expensive enough, if I would get her the best foods out of town it wasn't good enough for her. I had even traveled for days only to get her the most exotic items but it still wasn't enough.
I regretted the day I saved her from the dragon in the mountains, the person I thought was a witch for having her locked up there, now sounded like a fairy godmother to me. Tomorrow I would start my quest to find her so I could get this spoiled brat locked up again.
With a sigh I put the sleeping drops in my tea again just before desert came so I would stop hearing her yell at me when they would start working in about 30 minutes. "1... 2... 3...4..." Maybe I just had to add a few extra to make sure I would get a full nights sleep, "5...6...7...8...".
Before my desert was finished I started to feel extremely drowsy and sleepy. The princess looked at me with one of those looks again, the one that always managed to make me feel like a failure. "How you dare to make a fool out of me again! What will our servants think of us if you do this to me again!" The rest of her preach faded away as I fell asleep on the dinner table.
The next morning I woke up earlier as expected, it was still dark. I rushed to get myself dressed and ran down to the kitchen to get myself stocked up with some food and water for the journey.
"Good evening sir, do we need to make you anything?"
I guess I slept longer as I had thought. "That won't be necessary Jaqueline, do you have any loafs of bread leftover I can take with me?". I filled my water bottle and grabbed some of the herbs I had taken with me from the east to make what was called "tea". Something the princess apparently didn't like at all after I was scolded for hours because I only brought some 'weeds' with me.
Jaqueline came back with 3 loafs of bread for me. "Thank you Jaqueline".
"Another journey for the princess? I don't think there exists anything that would make her happy you know?". Jaqueline which I had known for most of my life knew what I was going through. She had even offered me, just before the wedding, to be the one to say we shouldn't get married. I wish I had let her, but I knew she might not have lived now if she had done so.
"Not for the princess this time, it is a journey for me. If I may ask, do you know where the princess is right now?"
"She is dining sir, should I inform her you are coming?"
"No, she would only punish you for that anyway. If she asks where I am just tell her I am looking for a new castle, as she doesn't like the draft that is here.". I could see a smile form on her face when I had said that, she always knew what I was up to and today probably was no different.
Through the backdoor I left towards the stables. Finally I would be alone, if not forever after this, at least until my rations would be depleted.
After traveling for days, I had still not found any trace of the witch which had locked her up. The villagers I had met had given me some good information about where to search for them, but they all left before I could reach them. I guess a prince on a white horse was enough to chase them out of their houses.
After having knocked on the so manieth witchhouse, this time one made out of candy, I decided to take another approach. I would just have to find a dragon willing to take this horrible creature away from me. I quickly snapped some of the cookies and candy canes off, if the witches wouldn't help me by locking her up they should at least give me enough rations to find someone or something else willing to do it for me. Without any hestiation I started riding towards the mountain where I had originally saved her from.
After 2 long days I found the cave where the dragon lived.
"So you have finally found out that the princess you saved isn't quite the one for you, eh?".
"Yes, uhmmm, is there any way I could ask you to take her back? I will pay you with gold, the finest fabric, or even the best foods the world has ever had."
"No thank you, we dragons don't exactly give garantees. Aside, why should I help you after you stuck a sword through my scales?"
"Well, you are the only dragon now without a princess, and one of the few that had lost her at the first attempt." It was a risk to talk to a dragon like this, but even if I would be grilled by him, it was better as the alternative.
"Very well then I will take her back but on one condition, you have to make me the most inpenetrable armour you have ever seen, and it has to be gold plated."
"Deal!". The dragon took off towards my castle and it didn't take long for it to return with the princess in its paws. I would finally be able now to enjoy life again.
| |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | Hyperion drew his sword as he entered the bedchamber. Lit scented candles littered the shelves and dressers placed up against the wall bathing the enormous room in an orange glow. Hanging overhead was a metallic chandelier with five or six more lit candles. The walls were decorated with fine silk tapestries depicting the inhabitant's previous conquests.
On one side of the room Hyperion could see his friend's suit of armor laying neatly in the corner. The dragon let out a low bellow in order to signal to his friend that he had arrived. Hyperion's scales bristled at the thought of what might have happened to his friend. He crept through the room toward the center where the enormous bed lay. Something stirred under the covers. His tail stood erect. He unsheathed his sword ready for a fight.
With a loud and feral growl the princess burst out of the covers. She stood over the night stripped down to his underwear and bound to the bedpost with a leather strap. Scrawny arms and slender legs flapped and flailed at the dragon. Fire emerged from her behind lipstick laden lips as she screeched toward her adversary. Hyperion lifted his sword and blocked the flames. He met hers with flames of his own.
"You will not have him!" the creature said, "he's mine! We're meeting my parents for dinner later on tonight!"
The woman lunged off the bed at the dragon baring long, fake nails. Hyperion swung his tail. The princess let out a yelp with the impact of the noble dragon's tail. She landed on the wooden floor with a thud. While the woman was knocked out Hyperion rushed to the knight's side. He took a dagger from his side and cut the leather straps.
"Thank goodness you came," the knight said.
"Maybe this will teach you to stop paying attention to your other head."
"You don't have to tell me twice."
The princess on the floor started coming to. Holding her head, she rolled over and picked herself up. She staggered toward the dragon and the knight reaching out. She fell to her knees.
"You may have defeated me," she said, " but I still have my ladies in waiting. They will make quick work of you."
The princess collapsed once again and lost consciousness. Sounds of women screeching and howling came from behind the door on the other side of the bed chamber.
"Princess Ophelia?" one of the ladies in waiting called. Her nails could be heard scraping against the polished wood. "Is everything okay in there? Do we need to come in?"
"We have to get out of here," Hyperion said helping his friend with his armor. | "Why didn't you buy me a necklace instead of flowers I can find anywhere in the fields!" It was just another example of how the princess treated me every day. If I would buy her jewelery she would complain it wasn't expensive enough, if I would get her the best foods out of town it wasn't good enough for her. I had even traveled for days only to get her the most exotic items but it still wasn't enough.
I regretted the day I saved her from the dragon in the mountains, the person I thought was a witch for having her locked up there, now sounded like a fairy godmother to me. Tomorrow I would start my quest to find her so I could get this spoiled brat locked up again.
With a sigh I put the sleeping drops in my tea again just before desert came so I would stop hearing her yell at me when they would start working in about 30 minutes. "1... 2... 3...4..." Maybe I just had to add a few extra to make sure I would get a full nights sleep, "5...6...7...8...".
Before my desert was finished I started to feel extremely drowsy and sleepy. The princess looked at me with one of those looks again, the one that always managed to make me feel like a failure. "How you dare to make a fool out of me again! What will our servants think of us if you do this to me again!" The rest of her preach faded away as I fell asleep on the dinner table.
The next morning I woke up earlier as expected, it was still dark. I rushed to get myself dressed and ran down to the kitchen to get myself stocked up with some food and water for the journey.
"Good evening sir, do we need to make you anything?"
I guess I slept longer as I had thought. "That won't be necessary Jaqueline, do you have any loafs of bread leftover I can take with me?". I filled my water bottle and grabbed some of the herbs I had taken with me from the east to make what was called "tea". Something the princess apparently didn't like at all after I was scolded for hours because I only brought some 'weeds' with me.
Jaqueline came back with 3 loafs of bread for me. "Thank you Jaqueline".
"Another journey for the princess? I don't think there exists anything that would make her happy you know?". Jaqueline which I had known for most of my life knew what I was going through. She had even offered me, just before the wedding, to be the one to say we shouldn't get married. I wish I had let her, but I knew she might not have lived now if she had done so.
"Not for the princess this time, it is a journey for me. If I may ask, do you know where the princess is right now?"
"She is dining sir, should I inform her you are coming?"
"No, she would only punish you for that anyway. If she asks where I am just tell her I am looking for a new castle, as she doesn't like the draft that is here.". I could see a smile form on her face when I had said that, she always knew what I was up to and today probably was no different.
Through the backdoor I left towards the stables. Finally I would be alone, if not forever after this, at least until my rations would be depleted.
After traveling for days, I had still not found any trace of the witch which had locked her up. The villagers I had met had given me some good information about where to search for them, but they all left before I could reach them. I guess a prince on a white horse was enough to chase them out of their houses.
After having knocked on the so manieth witchhouse, this time one made out of candy, I decided to take another approach. I would just have to find a dragon willing to take this horrible creature away from me. I quickly snapped some of the cookies and candy canes off, if the witches wouldn't help me by locking her up they should at least give me enough rations to find someone or something else willing to do it for me. Without any hestiation I started riding towards the mountain where I had originally saved her from.
After 2 long days I found the cave where the dragon lived.
"So you have finally found out that the princess you saved isn't quite the one for you, eh?".
"Yes, uhmmm, is there any way I could ask you to take her back? I will pay you with gold, the finest fabric, or even the best foods the world has ever had."
"No thank you, we dragons don't exactly give garantees. Aside, why should I help you after you stuck a sword through my scales?"
"Well, you are the only dragon now without a princess, and one of the few that had lost her at the first attempt." It was a risk to talk to a dragon like this, but even if I would be grilled by him, it was better as the alternative.
"Very well then I will take her back but on one condition, you have to make me the most inpenetrable armour you have ever seen, and it has to be gold plated."
"Deal!". The dragon took off towards my castle and it didn't take long for it to return with the princess in its paws. I would finally be able now to enjoy life again.
| |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | "I was pulled from the local brothel by my fragile yet fateful squire Elrish. I'm sure he sounded something like this while attempting to pull me away from the heaven I found myself in."
"Pppp...pardon me, great lord Martin. Slayer of Evil, Lover of Women, and Bringer of Joy"
Elrish stumbled forward sluggishly to place his hand on the back of Martins right shoulder only to miss by a foot and fall flat on his face.
"I didn't say soooch (belch) such a think as...um..as that."
"Good god man, Get a hold of yourself and stop hogging all the rum."
Martin snatches the rum from Elrish and takes three long gulps then continues his tale.
"As I was saying. I was forcefully removed from this pleasure, the pleasure of helping a poor lass down on her luck of course, by kings order. The king then told me to quest here and well, kill you. You see we became something of a legend and were called upon to slay any monsters or creatures that may harm the people of this kingdom. And this legend all started in a small village far to the west. Me and sweet, fragile Elrish here.."
"Not fragile" Elrish belched out.
"Says the man flat on his back. Now as I was saying me and sweet, dumb, fragile, child-like Elrish here (Elrish's hands reach from the ground toward the bottle only to have it ripped away by Martin who takes yet another swig) were taking a nice stroll through the beautiful country side."
"We were fleeing" Elrish said as he slumped himself over a dark, slimy rock.
"Perhaps we were fleeing who can remember? All I recall is the stunning scenery and the grace of the steeds we rode at full speed."
"Stolen steeds."
"Well yes, stolen from an evil man hell bent on over pricing his horses." Martin now becoming sluggish himself.
"Twas an old man, Pleasant in fact."
"Well if denying a man in need of a horse is pleasa-"
"You fucked his daughter after he graciously invited us to stay the night."
"She was very good to us, fed us well and made our beds. Was I to deny her when she entered my chambers?"
A booming voice crackled and echoed towards them. "ON WITH YOUR FOOLISH TALE!!!!"
Martin, looking fearful, clears his throat. "Right, so before we reached this small town we see what appears to be a body lying on a hill in the distance. So naturally, being the good upstanding gentlemen that we are, we go to see if we can help. Only this was no human body it was a dire wolf and a big one at that. With the knowledge of the gold we would receive from the fur of a dire wolf we have a few drinks in celebration."
"A bottle." Elrish whispers
"Being as we were a little drunk mind you, we seemed to not be able to skin this beast in a proper manner. In fact we quite butchered the thing and decided to sleep off the liquors' hold on us. Then we awoke to see a crowd of people standing around us. We thought perhaps we'd been caught but it turns out they were commoners of the local town we sought. And this dire wolf was a tormentor of theirs for years. They paraded us into town like kings and praised us. Some even cried at our feet. It was all quite fetching if I may say so myself."
"Aye, they gave us plenty of food, women, and mead." Elrish spat this out now standing on his feet next to Martin.
"This praise went on for days and the story of our heroism glided throughout the kingdom only getting more and more embellished as it worked its way to the kings ear. And when it finally reached his ear we were plucked from that glorious town and thrown before the king where I was knighted and Elrish was named my squire."
"Twas bullshit that. I should have been the Knighted one."
"Well you shouldn't have drank so much to the point of passing out. The people had many questions. What was I to do?"
Elrish rolled his eyes and grabbed the bottle out of Martins hand to take a swig.
Martin smirks and proceeded to say "The king then told us we are to slay any monsters or creatures that bring fear and death to his people and so with no real choice we set off to do just that. And to our luck we found that people are afraid of just about anything. Each story was as foolish as the last. There was the Ghost of the Hollow Woods which only appeared at full moon. It was only a white sheet high in a tree that caught the light of the moon. Then there was the Massive Tunnel Snake that would drag you under if given the chance. Turns out that was just a fat wood chuck, Elrish now keeps him as a pet."
"I call him Chuck Elrish the 3rd. Cute little bugger he is. Turns out hes a bourbon man." Elrish leans in with a hand to his cheek as if to whisper. "Keeps him from biting it does. Oh (hiccup) and don't forget about the Shrieking Banshee of Western Swallow. Now that was just an old toad. I think I still got a bit of him on me boot." Elrish struggles to lift his left boot then gives up. "well its down there somewhere." (hiccup).
Martin then steps forward to once again take control of the story.
"So you see that's what brought us to were we stand today, to kill...(Martin, quivering, takes another drink from the bottle of rum) a dragon."
A massive black scaly face with fangs the length of a mans arm and eyes as gold as the kings crown slowly inches into the moonlight that seeps into the entrance of the cave. All they can hear is the faint sound of water dripping from above and echoing deep as they await their death.
"MUHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA" The dragon laughs hysterically and slams his menacing paw to the ground over and over. The wind of his laughter blows back Martin and Elrishs hair while the slamming of his paw knocks them to the ground. The dragon looks back at them with a frightening grin and says with his booming voice " I am Morgune, It is a pleasure to meet you boys."
Martin and Elrish slowly stand and dust themselves off still shaking with fear. "Yes, well yes it's also quite the pleasure to meet you."
Elrish forces a quivering smile "Aye, it sure is."
Morgune leans in close and asked softly. "Now what reward do you receive by killing me?"
Martin takes a submissive step back. "Well we are to be paid in a mountain of gold and I am to wed the princess. Her beauty knows no bounds as does her cruelty. Some would say she is fair and just, but any man with sense would say shes...well a bit of..."
Elrish interrupts. "She's a cunt." (belch)
Morgune Ponders for a time and offers a sinister counter offer. "How would you two like all the kings gold and Martin how would you like to be free of this princess?"
Both men spit out the rum they were sharing and say at the same time. "Well sir I'd love nothing more" (Martin)
"Well shit I'd love nothing more"(Elrish)
"Then rulers and conquerors you shall be. Free from the shrill princess and rich beyond your dreams. I love nothing more then a good tale and yours, though good, is only just beginning."
| "Why didn't you buy me a necklace instead of flowers I can find anywhere in the fields!" It was just another example of how the princess treated me every day. If I would buy her jewelery she would complain it wasn't expensive enough, if I would get her the best foods out of town it wasn't good enough for her. I had even traveled for days only to get her the most exotic items but it still wasn't enough.
I regretted the day I saved her from the dragon in the mountains, the person I thought was a witch for having her locked up there, now sounded like a fairy godmother to me. Tomorrow I would start my quest to find her so I could get this spoiled brat locked up again.
With a sigh I put the sleeping drops in my tea again just before desert came so I would stop hearing her yell at me when they would start working in about 30 minutes. "1... 2... 3...4..." Maybe I just had to add a few extra to make sure I would get a full nights sleep, "5...6...7...8...".
Before my desert was finished I started to feel extremely drowsy and sleepy. The princess looked at me with one of those looks again, the one that always managed to make me feel like a failure. "How you dare to make a fool out of me again! What will our servants think of us if you do this to me again!" The rest of her preach faded away as I fell asleep on the dinner table.
The next morning I woke up earlier as expected, it was still dark. I rushed to get myself dressed and ran down to the kitchen to get myself stocked up with some food and water for the journey.
"Good evening sir, do we need to make you anything?"
I guess I slept longer as I had thought. "That won't be necessary Jaqueline, do you have any loafs of bread leftover I can take with me?". I filled my water bottle and grabbed some of the herbs I had taken with me from the east to make what was called "tea". Something the princess apparently didn't like at all after I was scolded for hours because I only brought some 'weeds' with me.
Jaqueline came back with 3 loafs of bread for me. "Thank you Jaqueline".
"Another journey for the princess? I don't think there exists anything that would make her happy you know?". Jaqueline which I had known for most of my life knew what I was going through. She had even offered me, just before the wedding, to be the one to say we shouldn't get married. I wish I had let her, but I knew she might not have lived now if she had done so.
"Not for the princess this time, it is a journey for me. If I may ask, do you know where the princess is right now?"
"She is dining sir, should I inform her you are coming?"
"No, she would only punish you for that anyway. If she asks where I am just tell her I am looking for a new castle, as she doesn't like the draft that is here.". I could see a smile form on her face when I had said that, she always knew what I was up to and today probably was no different.
Through the backdoor I left towards the stables. Finally I would be alone, if not forever after this, at least until my rations would be depleted.
After traveling for days, I had still not found any trace of the witch which had locked her up. The villagers I had met had given me some good information about where to search for them, but they all left before I could reach them. I guess a prince on a white horse was enough to chase them out of their houses.
After having knocked on the so manieth witchhouse, this time one made out of candy, I decided to take another approach. I would just have to find a dragon willing to take this horrible creature away from me. I quickly snapped some of the cookies and candy canes off, if the witches wouldn't help me by locking her up they should at least give me enough rations to find someone or something else willing to do it for me. Without any hestiation I started riding towards the mountain where I had originally saved her from.
After 2 long days I found the cave where the dragon lived.
"So you have finally found out that the princess you saved isn't quite the one for you, eh?".
"Yes, uhmmm, is there any way I could ask you to take her back? I will pay you with gold, the finest fabric, or even the best foods the world has ever had."
"No thank you, we dragons don't exactly give garantees. Aside, why should I help you after you stuck a sword through my scales?"
"Well, you are the only dragon now without a princess, and one of the few that had lost her at the first attempt." It was a risk to talk to a dragon like this, but even if I would be grilled by him, it was better as the alternative.
"Very well then I will take her back but on one condition, you have to make me the most inpenetrable armour you have ever seen, and it has to be gold plated."
"Deal!". The dragon took off towards my castle and it didn't take long for it to return with the princess in its paws. I would finally be able now to enjoy life again.
| |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | Sir Gunther trudged wearily toward the cave, his breathing labored from hours of plodding through the muddy banks of the Toffee Swamp. As he pulled his last booted foot from the muck and struck out on solid footing, he mumbled a prayer to whichever saint happened to be listening. Normally he had the time to be picky about prayer, but today was not one of those days.
Hesitantly, Sir Gunther took a few steps forward and leaned against the wall of the cave, drawing in slow, deep breaths in an attempt to quiet his pounding heart. The moisture-slick stone felt oddly warm against the palms of his hands. He sniffed the air. The entryway smelled of ash and reptile droppings. He was in the right place.
After collecting himself, Sir Gunther stepped away from the wall and watched the granite cavern pulse in and out in a steady breathing motion. He wondered for a moment if he was mistaken and had somehow ended up inside the belly of the creature that he sought. He mused over the thought, and soon decided that it was most likely true.
"Hello?" he shouted at the cave walls. "Hello? Can you hear me in here?" He took a moment to adjust his helmet, which all of a sudden felt much smaller than it had before. "I seek Sparky the Dragon!"
"Who goes there??" a great, booming voice replied.
"It is I, Sir Gunther of Rathskeller!" After a moment's pause, the knight added: "The one whom, a moment earlier, you so voraciously consumed!"
A thunderous noise, like the pounding of a titanic drum, echoed through the great chamber, coming steadily closer with each beat. Sir Gunther braced himself for the worst - surely the dragon was about to send him hurtling through its digestive system.
And then, as he peered into the inky depths of the cave, he saw it. A massive, scaly foot, easily the size of a full-grown man, came to rest upon the cave floor with a force that sent shockwaves across the bare rock.
"I dined on no knight this day," the voice rumbled. "Besides, I went vegetarian four or five decades ago. All that fiber works wonders in my old age."
A second foot thrust itself out of the darkness ahead of the first, coming to rest on the stony ground with a great thud. It was then that Sir Gunther realized that he was not in the dragon's stomach, but was, in fact, simply in a cave *with* the beast. The thought was of only mild comfort to him.
"I... I have journeyed long and far from Rathskeller to visit you, O Great Sparky!" the knight stammered. "Across the vast golden fields of Elysium! Through the dense, jagged Forest of Eternal Peril! Over the-"
"What in the blazes are you talking about, human?" The voice interrupted. "The town of Rathskeller is only two or three miles away."
Another footstep, and Sir Gunther could finally see the head of the beast. Its bright pink, undulating skin wrapped itself around three mouths, all of which spoke in unison.
"And another thing," the dragon continued, "Do *not* insult me with this 'Sparky' nonsense! My name is Sparcinious the Burning Ember, Scourge of Guttenberg, Ruiner of Empires! Get it right, human!"
"Um, I apologize, O Great Sparcinius the... uh..." Sir Gunther blinked again, and suddenly the dragon's head was pale white and studded with hundreds of tiny, crimson eyes that blinked with every syllable that he spoke. "...what was the rest of that again?"
The dragon let out a deep, ragged sigh from its three mouths, and in barely the blink of an eye, they coalesced into a single, gaping maw. "Nevermind. What brings you here, human?" As the dragon spoke, its great black tongue began to worm its way out of its mouth. "Do you wish to do battle? Slay me? Bring my head home as a trophy for some human female?"
"I, well, I was wondering," Sir Gunther continued, casually leaning against the cave wall. "Can I maybe, please, have one of your scales, O Terrible Spar..." He paused, his eyes growing wide as he watched the beast's tongue extend several feet below its chin and swing to and fro like a fleshy pendulum. "...er, whatever the rest of that was?"
The dragon's million eyes widened. Sir Gunther watched as they crawled like beetles toward the center of the creature's forehead, where they collected like water droplets into one Cyclopean eyelid.
"Ah!" the dragon gasped. "Ingested the Crimson Death mushroom, did we?"
"Yes, O Great... One," Sir Gunther said, hoping that the generic declaration of respect would suffice.
The dragon uttered a sharp guffaw. "You aren't the brightest flower in the field, are you, human?" As he spoke, Sir Gunther watched his tongue snake back into his mouth. Now the creature's reptilian scowl was impossibly wide, and when it spoke, it emitted puffs of rainbow-hued smoke from its nostrils. "Tell me. How long ago did you consume the fungus?"
"This past evening," Sir Gunther replied in the midst of struggling not to look at his own hands, which had elongated into furry, bat-like claws.
"In that case, the hallucinations have long since begun," Sparcinius said. "Death will come within a day's time." The dragon raised its gigantic right claw and, with a sound like the snapping of a thick tree branch, pried a canary yellow scale from its forehead. "Take this," he said, tossing the scale to rest at Sir Gunther's feet, where it landed with a thump. "Brew it for five minutes in boiling water and drink the resulting potion. The effects should wear off within an hour's time."
Sir Gunther bent down and picked up the scale in between two bat-talons. Curiously, it was much smaller than he expected - about the size of a rose petal.
"Go, now," the dragon sneered, "and leave me in peace. I have a lovely dinner salad to prepare."
Sir Gunther began to step back toward the cave entrance, his dilated pupils never leaving the monster before him. "Thank you, O Great Sparky!" he bellowed, before promptly turning tail and scurrying away as fast as his heavy leather-and-mail armor would allow.
"Sparcinius," the dragon mumbled grimly. As he spoke, a jet of flame shot forth from his nostrils, momentarily revealing his emerald-scaled body, no bigger than that of a large dog. "And what was that bumbling coward so afraid of, anyway?"
-------
Meanwhile, after having traversed the Cloud Mountains, ran the Rainbow Racetrack, and swim-walked the Seven Fathoms of Aphelion, Sir Gunther arrived back at his mansion in Rathskellar only to find that it had transformed into a three-story caramel flan in his absence. He spent a good twenty minutes attempting to eat his way through to the interior when, purely by happy chance, he stumbled upon the front door.
"Gunther! Thank God! Where have you been?" Princess Hilda screamed as he entered the door. "I've been worried sick about you!"
Gunther braced himself against the door frame. The entire world undulated around him, as though he were in the midst of a slow-motion earthquake. Furthermore, the Princess Hilda standing before him now possessed a few extra arms and also the face of a tarantula.
"Brew this for five minutes in boiling water," he said in between staccato breaths, tossing the scale in Hilda-Spider's general direction. "And make sure there's no poison mushrooms in it, please."
"For the thousandth time, I'm sorry!" Hilda said as she bent down to pick up the shiny, chartreuse-hued object. "It looked exactly like a porcini and I thought it would be perfect for my famous risotto."
"Just hurry, please," said an exasperated and suddenly very pale Sir Gunther.
Hilda shot her husband an icy glare and dashed over to the stove, scale in hand. With a grunt, she hoisted a kettle of steaming water off of the fireplace and decanted it in to a floral-patterned teapot on the counter. After replacing the kettle on its perch, she unceremoniously plopped the scale into the pot.
"You know," she said, resting a delicate hand on her hip and smiling a lovely arachnid smile at her knight, "it's rather difficult being a princess most of the time. There's matters of state to look after, protocol and etiquette to obey, and on top of all that, I need to take care of you, too."
"Right. So difficult," Sir Gunther replied through gritted teeth. "So very difficult indeed." | "Why didn't you buy me a necklace instead of flowers I can find anywhere in the fields!" It was just another example of how the princess treated me every day. If I would buy her jewelery she would complain it wasn't expensive enough, if I would get her the best foods out of town it wasn't good enough for her. I had even traveled for days only to get her the most exotic items but it still wasn't enough.
I regretted the day I saved her from the dragon in the mountains, the person I thought was a witch for having her locked up there, now sounded like a fairy godmother to me. Tomorrow I would start my quest to find her so I could get this spoiled brat locked up again.
With a sigh I put the sleeping drops in my tea again just before desert came so I would stop hearing her yell at me when they would start working in about 30 minutes. "1... 2... 3...4..." Maybe I just had to add a few extra to make sure I would get a full nights sleep, "5...6...7...8...".
Before my desert was finished I started to feel extremely drowsy and sleepy. The princess looked at me with one of those looks again, the one that always managed to make me feel like a failure. "How you dare to make a fool out of me again! What will our servants think of us if you do this to me again!" The rest of her preach faded away as I fell asleep on the dinner table.
The next morning I woke up earlier as expected, it was still dark. I rushed to get myself dressed and ran down to the kitchen to get myself stocked up with some food and water for the journey.
"Good evening sir, do we need to make you anything?"
I guess I slept longer as I had thought. "That won't be necessary Jaqueline, do you have any loafs of bread leftover I can take with me?". I filled my water bottle and grabbed some of the herbs I had taken with me from the east to make what was called "tea". Something the princess apparently didn't like at all after I was scolded for hours because I only brought some 'weeds' with me.
Jaqueline came back with 3 loafs of bread for me. "Thank you Jaqueline".
"Another journey for the princess? I don't think there exists anything that would make her happy you know?". Jaqueline which I had known for most of my life knew what I was going through. She had even offered me, just before the wedding, to be the one to say we shouldn't get married. I wish I had let her, but I knew she might not have lived now if she had done so.
"Not for the princess this time, it is a journey for me. If I may ask, do you know where the princess is right now?"
"She is dining sir, should I inform her you are coming?"
"No, she would only punish you for that anyway. If she asks where I am just tell her I am looking for a new castle, as she doesn't like the draft that is here.". I could see a smile form on her face when I had said that, she always knew what I was up to and today probably was no different.
Through the backdoor I left towards the stables. Finally I would be alone, if not forever after this, at least until my rations would be depleted.
After traveling for days, I had still not found any trace of the witch which had locked her up. The villagers I had met had given me some good information about where to search for them, but they all left before I could reach them. I guess a prince on a white horse was enough to chase them out of their houses.
After having knocked on the so manieth witchhouse, this time one made out of candy, I decided to take another approach. I would just have to find a dragon willing to take this horrible creature away from me. I quickly snapped some of the cookies and candy canes off, if the witches wouldn't help me by locking her up they should at least give me enough rations to find someone or something else willing to do it for me. Without any hestiation I started riding towards the mountain where I had originally saved her from.
After 2 long days I found the cave where the dragon lived.
"So you have finally found out that the princess you saved isn't quite the one for you, eh?".
"Yes, uhmmm, is there any way I could ask you to take her back? I will pay you with gold, the finest fabric, or even the best foods the world has ever had."
"No thank you, we dragons don't exactly give garantees. Aside, why should I help you after you stuck a sword through my scales?"
"Well, you are the only dragon now without a princess, and one of the few that had lost her at the first attempt." It was a risk to talk to a dragon like this, but even if I would be grilled by him, it was better as the alternative.
"Very well then I will take her back but on one condition, you have to make me the most inpenetrable armour you have ever seen, and it has to be gold plated."
"Deal!". The dragon took off towards my castle and it didn't take long for it to return with the princess in its paws. I would finally be able now to enjoy life again.
| |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | The castle loomed in the distance, and Trist could feel her heart constricting in anticipation. Arthur was so close. She had heard the whispers from the birds about the bruises and the cuts that he had been enduring, the torture games that Camille, the future wife, had created for the sake of filling her sadistic desires.
*It all started four years ago. Arthur was Trist's best friend, after her egg was given to him as a birthday present. She immediately bonded with him after she hatched, and together they learned to be a formidable force. At the tender age of 16, Arthur was invited to a ball being held by the kingdom; the king was in the market for selling his daughter off to the most impressive man. Pursuing honor and status, Arthur commissioned the most impressive, detailed armor from the esteemed blacksmith Carver. His father, a powerful, rich, and influential man, hired the flashiest and most ornate caravan to transport the aspiring groom to the event. Trist, being a massive Bloodstone beast, was forbidden from joining.*
*The duo met outside the town before his departure. It was a very emotional short eternity before they said their goodbyes, and a wistful prayer for good luck was sent.*
*The princess Camille was absolutely enamored by the finery and grace of the young knight, and they were betrothed mere months later. They were to be wed on her 18th birthday. However, talks of the lovely wedding turned into confusion as the knight seemed to become too ill to ever make public appearances. The population began to question if he would survive to the wedding. It was a tragic story that left much speculation for the kingdom to muse over.*
It was now the last week of Arthur's bachelor days, and Trist was unable to stand the thought of her dearest partner enduring the torture for the rest of his life. She landed on a hill a few miles away, finding some local wildlife to build some strength, and waited for nightfall.
The enticing lunar goddess was creeping too slowly towards the top of the world. Trist was anticipating on waiting for the moon to be directly above the castle before approaching the rescue mission, but became impatient, and jumped in the air with a burst of powerful leather wings.
Luckily, Trist was a very small being, the size of three horses. Bursting through the front doors were a trivial matter. The guards attempted bravery until she let out a beautiful stream of glowing blue flames, then scattered about, leaving her free to search for Arthur.
The king was all about open, massive rooms. Unfortunately, he did not feel the same about his hallways. It was no matter, however. Trist was strong, and the wooden supports were mere annoyances as she rampaged the fortress.
Deep into the castle, she heard the groans that could only be Arthur. The smell of blood and sweat confirmed her suspicions, and served as a burst of adrenaline to smash her way to the dark, gloomy room that might as well have been a dungeon.
The scene ahead of her was almost enough to make Trist sick, if she was a human. Arthur was tied into place on a bed with maroon sheets, and a half dressed Camille, darkness gleaming in her emerald eyes, was idly placing a hot poker on random parts of the naked knight's body. His figure was destroyed, covered in layers of scars from various instruments of Camille's entertainment. He was broken, eyes pale and distant as he tried his best to mentally escape her games.
The encounter was short and anticlimatic. Trist didn't allow the cruel Camille continued savagery, opting instead to lunge and take her body as a midnight snack.
The flight home was a long, arduous and fearful one. Arthur didn't even seem to recognize her. A shadow of a smile traced the bethrothed's face as he felt the cool air of freedom kiss his cheeks, and much needed rest overtook his exhausted body. She made sure to avoid any turbulence and stay as low to the ground as possible to not wear on the knight or his open wounds any more than naturally possible. Slow travel was prudent with her loose clasp of him, as she feared adding any more cuts.
A small group of close friends awaited them outside of the gates. A collective cry of anger and shock passed the group as Trist landed and gently placed Arthur on the ground. The moon was nearing her exit from the world as Arthur was rushed by horse carriage to the doctor to attempt to dress his wounds.
---
The physical wounds healed, but the destruction of the knight's soul and body was forever done. Trist was devastated as she knew that she had come too late. Everyone in the castle that hid him could see him slowly withering away, heard the screams at night of the relived memories.
She would take Arthur out for small adventures like they always did before, but they were comprised of blank stares at the lakes and him clinging to her as if he was afraid of disappearing forever if he loosened his grasp of her leg or neck. Speech slowly seemed to return to him, words then phrases. One day, Trist wished he had never been able to talk again.
"I can't do this, Trist. I can't sleep. Eating is a chore. Waking up is a chore. She is burned into my eyes. I am still there. I walk with you but I'm still in that hell, enduring scathing commentary during the day and scorching games at night. I'll never be your Arthur again."
She nuzzled him. *Don't say that. You're progressing every day.*
"Kill me. Please. I want to die."
A plume of instinctual smoke ejaculated from Trist's snout as she glared at him with amethyst orbs. *You do **not** mean that.*
"But I do. If you don't do it, I'll do it myself. I cannot keep going."
The sun made a long journey across their small forest as the stifling silence surrounded them. Suicide or homocide was the only choices she had, as he seemed determined to die. A fire had sparked in his eyes. As the light was beginning to fade, he stood, walked towards the river a few meters away, and drew his sword.
"Don't make me do this myself. I desire a chance at paradise." Tears began to streak down his carved face.
*Please, we can heal. You are strong.*
He raised his sword.
*ARTHUR.*
It found its target on his chest.
Trist leaped for the sword, willing to part him of his arm if that was what it took, but it was too late.
The town heard the roars of Trist, and the king issued a search party with their fastest horses. He knew where they were, and it wasn't far away.
When the group arrived to the clearing, the king dropped from his horse and attempted to recover, but only managed to bring himself to his knees. His beloved child, the only chance at advancing his family name, lay in the crimson pool of his life, next to the slumped body of the midnight dragon, her eyes vacant pools of sorrow. She had managed to relieve the body of the metallic method of suicide, but there was no way to repair his mangled heart.
The pyre that night was ignited by Trist herself. The sound of silence was crippling to the townsfolk as the smell of burnt flesh and the crackle of the fire licking away the mangled body chugged away. All was lost. | "Why didn't you buy me a necklace instead of flowers I can find anywhere in the fields!" It was just another example of how the princess treated me every day. If I would buy her jewelery she would complain it wasn't expensive enough, if I would get her the best foods out of town it wasn't good enough for her. I had even traveled for days only to get her the most exotic items but it still wasn't enough.
I regretted the day I saved her from the dragon in the mountains, the person I thought was a witch for having her locked up there, now sounded like a fairy godmother to me. Tomorrow I would start my quest to find her so I could get this spoiled brat locked up again.
With a sigh I put the sleeping drops in my tea again just before desert came so I would stop hearing her yell at me when they would start working in about 30 minutes. "1... 2... 3...4..." Maybe I just had to add a few extra to make sure I would get a full nights sleep, "5...6...7...8...".
Before my desert was finished I started to feel extremely drowsy and sleepy. The princess looked at me with one of those looks again, the one that always managed to make me feel like a failure. "How you dare to make a fool out of me again! What will our servants think of us if you do this to me again!" The rest of her preach faded away as I fell asleep on the dinner table.
The next morning I woke up earlier as expected, it was still dark. I rushed to get myself dressed and ran down to the kitchen to get myself stocked up with some food and water for the journey.
"Good evening sir, do we need to make you anything?"
I guess I slept longer as I had thought. "That won't be necessary Jaqueline, do you have any loafs of bread leftover I can take with me?". I filled my water bottle and grabbed some of the herbs I had taken with me from the east to make what was called "tea". Something the princess apparently didn't like at all after I was scolded for hours because I only brought some 'weeds' with me.
Jaqueline came back with 3 loafs of bread for me. "Thank you Jaqueline".
"Another journey for the princess? I don't think there exists anything that would make her happy you know?". Jaqueline which I had known for most of my life knew what I was going through. She had even offered me, just before the wedding, to be the one to say we shouldn't get married. I wish I had let her, but I knew she might not have lived now if she had done so.
"Not for the princess this time, it is a journey for me. If I may ask, do you know where the princess is right now?"
"She is dining sir, should I inform her you are coming?"
"No, she would only punish you for that anyway. If she asks where I am just tell her I am looking for a new castle, as she doesn't like the draft that is here.". I could see a smile form on her face when I had said that, she always knew what I was up to and today probably was no different.
Through the backdoor I left towards the stables. Finally I would be alone, if not forever after this, at least until my rations would be depleted.
After traveling for days, I had still not found any trace of the witch which had locked her up. The villagers I had met had given me some good information about where to search for them, but they all left before I could reach them. I guess a prince on a white horse was enough to chase them out of their houses.
After having knocked on the so manieth witchhouse, this time one made out of candy, I decided to take another approach. I would just have to find a dragon willing to take this horrible creature away from me. I quickly snapped some of the cookies and candy canes off, if the witches wouldn't help me by locking her up they should at least give me enough rations to find someone or something else willing to do it for me. Without any hestiation I started riding towards the mountain where I had originally saved her from.
After 2 long days I found the cave where the dragon lived.
"So you have finally found out that the princess you saved isn't quite the one for you, eh?".
"Yes, uhmmm, is there any way I could ask you to take her back? I will pay you with gold, the finest fabric, or even the best foods the world has ever had."
"No thank you, we dragons don't exactly give garantees. Aside, why should I help you after you stuck a sword through my scales?"
"Well, you are the only dragon now without a princess, and one of the few that had lost her at the first attempt." It was a risk to talk to a dragon like this, but even if I would be grilled by him, it was better as the alternative.
"Very well then I will take her back but on one condition, you have to make me the most inpenetrable armour you have ever seen, and it has to be gold plated."
"Deal!". The dragon took off towards my castle and it didn't take long for it to return with the princess in its paws. I would finally be able now to enjoy life again.
| |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | "So... so you just came after her?"
Despite Sir Elric's many protestations and declarations, Firemouth wouldn't get off the couch.
"Cease your bargaining, evil wyrm! Thy reign of terror is no more!"
Despite Firemouth's refusal to take him seriously, Elric kept up the show.
"Save me, Elric! Save your princess!"
Lady Bella rattled the bars of her cage as she cried out.
"Yes, I shall save my fair lady! Prepare to taste my steel, foul beast!"
Firemouth pressed a crooked talon to his left nostril and shot a quick flame into the bowl of the pipe sitting in his lap with effortless precision. He drew deeply and said, "I mean... fine, whatever, take her."
"Thy days of- wait, what?"
Firemouth exhaled an enormous cloud of purple smoke. "Yeah, go ahead. I didn't kidnap her, she's all yours."
"What are you... I mean, your tricks won't confuse me, dragon!" Elric was determined. "My mind is clear, and my will is iron! I shall strike you down this day!"
"Oh god, you're so fucking hot baby. Save me!"
"How long has she been stringing you along like this, dude?" The last tendrils of smoke drifted up past Firemouth's red eyes. His scaly eyelids blinked slowly.
"My lady is... my lady is the fairest of the land, and as such, detestable snakes like yourself steal her often! It is her beauty that-"
"The fuck would I want with a human woman, bro?"
"What?"
"I'm a dragon, man. She's a human. Why would I want to steal her?"
"She, she is the fairest in all the-"
"Dude, I'm a *dragon*. Even if I did find a member of another species attractive, what am I gonna do with her? Stare at her? I'm ten times your guys' size, if I did anything else I'd *break her in half*."
"Don't listen to him, baby! Slay this motherfucker!"
Elric's sword dropped a bit, but he raised it again. "Then... then you want her for her ransom!"
"I live in a cave, dude! Besides, dragons have their own currency. Your gold pieces are too small for me to even pick up."
"Yes, but it is well known that you and your lizardkin love gold! The feel, the smell, the-"
"Oh god, the fucking Smaug thing?" Firemouth rolled his eyes and took another drag of his pipe. "That was ONE FUCKING GUY with a gold fetish."
"A... gold fetish? I-"
"Shit's just ignorant, bro. Offensive, too."
Elric lowered his shield and sword. "Oh, my god, I am so sorry, I didn't mean to-"
"He's getting in your head, baby! He's gonna like... eat me or some shit! Get this fucking asshole!" She rattled her cage's bars again.
Firemouth exhaled and turned to her. "Will you knock it off with the fucking cage?"
Elric raised his sword and shield once more. "Ah ha! If you didn't take her here, then why is she in a cage?"
"I don't know, it's not mine. She brought the cage up here herself."
Lady Bella opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
"She... Bella, is this true?"
"Well... I mean, it's... I mean it's not like this is **my** cage, but-"
"Oh my god, Bella. What the fuck?" Elric dropped his sword and shield to the ground and began to pace.
"Ha. Hahahaha," Firemouth's laugh echoed off the enormous cave's walls as he lit up another drag of his pipe. "Yeah Bella, what the fuck?"
Elric put his hands on his hips. "Have *any* of these been real, then?"
Bella bit her lip and looked away.
"Oh what the FUCK, BELLA?!" Now Elric's voice echoed.
"Haaaaa! Hahahaha," Firemouth exhaled more purple smoke as he laughed. "I'm sorry, this isn't funny. This is pretty fucked up, actually. I'm so sorry, dude."
Bella kicked the cage door out and stormed up to Elric, pointing her finger in his face. "Don't you fucking curse at me, you fucking pussy!"
"Holy fucking shit, Bella! How many dragons have I killed for you?!"
"Don't act like you didn't enjoy it! You rode out here as fast as you could!"
"Oh shit, so this... this has been, like... happening for like... a while, hasn't it?" Firemouth's eyes had turned blood red.
Bella turned to Firemouth. "Shut the fuck up, you fucking pothead! You're ruining it!"
"Don't turn this around on him!" Elric grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. "You've been getting yourself kidnapped for years!"
Bella pushed Elric away. "Yeah, well..." she stopped as her face started to seize up.
"What... what's going on? Is she like... ok, man?" Firemouth was barely hanging onto consciousness.
"Are you... are you trying to cry? Are you actually trying to cry right now?" Elric's eyes widened in amazement. "WOW, Bella. WOW."
Her face immediately turned to scorn. "Fuck you, you fucking asshole. Why don't you go suck your wizard friend's dick some more?"
"Really? You're going to bring Merlin, the *ancient wizard who came back from the dead to tell me I'm the hero chosen to reunite the provinces*?"
"Yeah, you've got time for him, but never for me!"
"That's because he's helping me *avoid the fucking orc apocalypse!*"
"Fuck you!" Bella spit at Elric.
"I'm done. I'm out of here. Go fuck yourself, Bella," Elric picked up his sword and shield, and walked towards the mouth of the cave.
Bella followed, screaming at him. "Don't you think we're fucking done here, you son of a bitch!"
"Don't fucking follow me! Get your own needy ass home! And don't think..." Elric's voice faded out as they left the cave.
Firemouth took another drag of his pipe and exhaled. "Oh fuck- Hey! You guys want your cage, or like...?" | "Why didn't you buy me a necklace instead of flowers I can find anywhere in the fields!" It was just another example of how the princess treated me every day. If I would buy her jewelery she would complain it wasn't expensive enough, if I would get her the best foods out of town it wasn't good enough for her. I had even traveled for days only to get her the most exotic items but it still wasn't enough.
I regretted the day I saved her from the dragon in the mountains, the person I thought was a witch for having her locked up there, now sounded like a fairy godmother to me. Tomorrow I would start my quest to find her so I could get this spoiled brat locked up again.
With a sigh I put the sleeping drops in my tea again just before desert came so I would stop hearing her yell at me when they would start working in about 30 minutes. "1... 2... 3...4..." Maybe I just had to add a few extra to make sure I would get a full nights sleep, "5...6...7...8...".
Before my desert was finished I started to feel extremely drowsy and sleepy. The princess looked at me with one of those looks again, the one that always managed to make me feel like a failure. "How you dare to make a fool out of me again! What will our servants think of us if you do this to me again!" The rest of her preach faded away as I fell asleep on the dinner table.
The next morning I woke up earlier as expected, it was still dark. I rushed to get myself dressed and ran down to the kitchen to get myself stocked up with some food and water for the journey.
"Good evening sir, do we need to make you anything?"
I guess I slept longer as I had thought. "That won't be necessary Jaqueline, do you have any loafs of bread leftover I can take with me?". I filled my water bottle and grabbed some of the herbs I had taken with me from the east to make what was called "tea". Something the princess apparently didn't like at all after I was scolded for hours because I only brought some 'weeds' with me.
Jaqueline came back with 3 loafs of bread for me. "Thank you Jaqueline".
"Another journey for the princess? I don't think there exists anything that would make her happy you know?". Jaqueline which I had known for most of my life knew what I was going through. She had even offered me, just before the wedding, to be the one to say we shouldn't get married. I wish I had let her, but I knew she might not have lived now if she had done so.
"Not for the princess this time, it is a journey for me. If I may ask, do you know where the princess is right now?"
"She is dining sir, should I inform her you are coming?"
"No, she would only punish you for that anyway. If she asks where I am just tell her I am looking for a new castle, as she doesn't like the draft that is here.". I could see a smile form on her face when I had said that, she always knew what I was up to and today probably was no different.
Through the backdoor I left towards the stables. Finally I would be alone, if not forever after this, at least until my rations would be depleted.
After traveling for days, I had still not found any trace of the witch which had locked her up. The villagers I had met had given me some good information about where to search for them, but they all left before I could reach them. I guess a prince on a white horse was enough to chase them out of their houses.
After having knocked on the so manieth witchhouse, this time one made out of candy, I decided to take another approach. I would just have to find a dragon willing to take this horrible creature away from me. I quickly snapped some of the cookies and candy canes off, if the witches wouldn't help me by locking her up they should at least give me enough rations to find someone or something else willing to do it for me. Without any hestiation I started riding towards the mountain where I had originally saved her from.
After 2 long days I found the cave where the dragon lived.
"So you have finally found out that the princess you saved isn't quite the one for you, eh?".
"Yes, uhmmm, is there any way I could ask you to take her back? I will pay you with gold, the finest fabric, or even the best foods the world has ever had."
"No thank you, we dragons don't exactly give garantees. Aside, why should I help you after you stuck a sword through my scales?"
"Well, you are the only dragon now without a princess, and one of the few that had lost her at the first attempt." It was a risk to talk to a dragon like this, but even if I would be grilled by him, it was better as the alternative.
"Very well then I will take her back but on one condition, you have to make me the most inpenetrable armour you have ever seen, and it has to be gold plated."
"Deal!". The dragon took off towards my castle and it didn't take long for it to return with the princess in its paws. I would finally be able now to enjoy life again.
| |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | The beast was pregnant.
*Balls*, thought Sir Dragonsbane to himself as he crested the hill. The village messenger had conveniently forgotten that little detail. Dragon slayers weren’t exactly a dime a dozen, but even the most foolish ones knew better than to attack a broodmother with child. The fool knew that, and brought him and his entire force anyway. They were far enough away from the village that she hadn’t noticed them yet, but she could close the distance in seconds if she so chose. She was a fine beast, as far as they went; her scales were a healthy pinkish-orange, with a white belly distended with the girth of her spawn, and greenish-tinged claws that would fetch a pretty coin if he were so inclined.
“Sir?” his second-in-command asked weakly, bringing him back from his reverie. The caged look in her eyes told him she knew very well what their only option would be. Her last commander had been one of the foolish ones.
Dragonsbane sighed. “Retreat,” he said wearily, turning his horse. The village messenger at his side started in shock.
“You can’t leave us here!”, he yelled shrilly. “She’ll destroy us all!”
Dragonsbane stopped, staring down his nose at the man. “If a broodmother has chosen to make her nest in the dead center of your village, you will have to evacuate and flee now with whatever survivors you can find. There is nothing we can do.”
A shout from his brigade drew his attention back to the village. She was aloft and headed their way.
“She’s spotted us now, you great buffoon,” he spat towards the villager. “Take it down an octave or three next time and she might not hear - though there will probably not be a next time, now.”
The man squawked and took off running for the forest. Dragonsbane turned his attention to the more immediate problem. “Leave him, he’s either dead or alive no matter our efforts now,” he shouted. “Defensive formation!”
His hand-picked squad fell into form faster than he could have hoped, filling his chest with pride. He had picked each person with care, based on their bravery, quickness, and prowess. Among them were no knights, but they were stoic to the last. “*Well, if I have to die now, I’ll go out among good folk*,” he thought.
The dragon behaviorist at his side had been a pricey hire, but had proven himself worth his weight in gold several times over. He said in low tones, “Even if we get away she won’t rest until we’re fifty miles away or more. Our chances are next to nothing.”
“Yes,” he replied staunchly. “Let’s give her hell first,” nocking a bolt in his crossbow as he spoke.
A loud, booming roar from behind them startled them all.
“Incoming from the north!” shouted his scout. Even she had been taken off guard.
Dragonsbane whirled to see the largest bull dragon he had ever seen, black as obsidian and with a wingspan that easily covered his small company in its shadow, headed towards them with murder in his eyes and blood on his claws.
He made a quick calculation. Male dragons only flamed rarely, and usually in turf wars, so the fire was not the most immediate threat; it was the claws.
“Everyone, down!” he shouted as loudly as he could.
To a man, they lept off their horses and fell flat to the ground, partially hidden by the long grass. The dragon swooped overhead, blackening the sky for a second. A horse screamed as its sides were pierced by the long claws of the bull. A sickening thud a few seconds later told him that the horse had landed. He hoped that it was dead.
The behaviorist tapped his shoulder. “Sir, the bull has landed and has his head resting on the ground, towards us. He looks like he’s expecting something.” He broke into a grin. “Sir, I think he wants to talk.”
*Talk?* He thought incredulously. Only a few accounts of human-dragon communication had ever been recorded, and those were spotty accounts at best. He had his doubts, but was out of options. He nodded curtly to the behaviorist. “Do what you must,” he said gruffly, masking his unease.
The behaviorist rose unceremoniously and began walking- no, hobbling- towards the bull dragon, who had indeed lay down and was examining the man with one eye as he walked towards him. Behind them, the broodmother screamed angrily, not daring to cross the bull to get to the humans. The man had never hobbled before, but maybe he was buying into the hogwash that dragons only attacked healthy humans. Dragonsbane waited with bated breath. It was out of his hands now. He hated that.
Having reached the bull, the behaviorist - what was his name? Tim? - reached out his hand. The bull nosed it gently. Had he still been seated on a horse, Dragonsbane would have fallen out of his saddle in shock. The bull began making low rumbling noises in its throat, sounding almost like a very, very large cat. A *happy* cat.
Just as soon as it started, the moment was over. The bull whirled towards the female, the low rumble continuing as he loped over to her. She ignored him at first, eating the horse carcass huffily. She eventually allowed him to briefly touch her nose with his, then alighted into the sky and soared north again. Dragonsbane sneezed. He was sure he had felt someone *thank* him. Not to mention, since when had dragons had feelings, and emotions? Yet he was sure that they had been communicating with each other.
He stood, with more questions than his mind could handle. He chose to handle none of them. The behaviorist was glowing like a boy after his first shave, with no trace of a hobble now. He was practically skipping. They stood next to each other for a moment, watching them fly off.
Tim spoke. “It was a misunderstanding, I guess,” he said incredulously. “She wanted veal and he brought her lamb, so she left in a huff, prepared to make her own nest.”
Dragonsbane was too shocked to speak.
Tim chuckled. “He’ll be a fantastic father, I suppose. His lady is lucky to have him. He wouldn’t refer to her as anything but his princess.”
| "Why didn't you buy me a necklace instead of flowers I can find anywhere in the fields!" It was just another example of how the princess treated me every day. If I would buy her jewelery she would complain it wasn't expensive enough, if I would get her the best foods out of town it wasn't good enough for her. I had even traveled for days only to get her the most exotic items but it still wasn't enough.
I regretted the day I saved her from the dragon in the mountains, the person I thought was a witch for having her locked up there, now sounded like a fairy godmother to me. Tomorrow I would start my quest to find her so I could get this spoiled brat locked up again.
With a sigh I put the sleeping drops in my tea again just before desert came so I would stop hearing her yell at me when they would start working in about 30 minutes. "1... 2... 3...4..." Maybe I just had to add a few extra to make sure I would get a full nights sleep, "5...6...7...8...".
Before my desert was finished I started to feel extremely drowsy and sleepy. The princess looked at me with one of those looks again, the one that always managed to make me feel like a failure. "How you dare to make a fool out of me again! What will our servants think of us if you do this to me again!" The rest of her preach faded away as I fell asleep on the dinner table.
The next morning I woke up earlier as expected, it was still dark. I rushed to get myself dressed and ran down to the kitchen to get myself stocked up with some food and water for the journey.
"Good evening sir, do we need to make you anything?"
I guess I slept longer as I had thought. "That won't be necessary Jaqueline, do you have any loafs of bread leftover I can take with me?". I filled my water bottle and grabbed some of the herbs I had taken with me from the east to make what was called "tea". Something the princess apparently didn't like at all after I was scolded for hours because I only brought some 'weeds' with me.
Jaqueline came back with 3 loafs of bread for me. "Thank you Jaqueline".
"Another journey for the princess? I don't think there exists anything that would make her happy you know?". Jaqueline which I had known for most of my life knew what I was going through. She had even offered me, just before the wedding, to be the one to say we shouldn't get married. I wish I had let her, but I knew she might not have lived now if she had done so.
"Not for the princess this time, it is a journey for me. If I may ask, do you know where the princess is right now?"
"She is dining sir, should I inform her you are coming?"
"No, she would only punish you for that anyway. If she asks where I am just tell her I am looking for a new castle, as she doesn't like the draft that is here.". I could see a smile form on her face when I had said that, she always knew what I was up to and today probably was no different.
Through the backdoor I left towards the stables. Finally I would be alone, if not forever after this, at least until my rations would be depleted.
After traveling for days, I had still not found any trace of the witch which had locked her up. The villagers I had met had given me some good information about where to search for them, but they all left before I could reach them. I guess a prince on a white horse was enough to chase them out of their houses.
After having knocked on the so manieth witchhouse, this time one made out of candy, I decided to take another approach. I would just have to find a dragon willing to take this horrible creature away from me. I quickly snapped some of the cookies and candy canes off, if the witches wouldn't help me by locking her up they should at least give me enough rations to find someone or something else willing to do it for me. Without any hestiation I started riding towards the mountain where I had originally saved her from.
After 2 long days I found the cave where the dragon lived.
"So you have finally found out that the princess you saved isn't quite the one for you, eh?".
"Yes, uhmmm, is there any way I could ask you to take her back? I will pay you with gold, the finest fabric, or even the best foods the world has ever had."
"No thank you, we dragons don't exactly give garantees. Aside, why should I help you after you stuck a sword through my scales?"
"Well, you are the only dragon now without a princess, and one of the few that had lost her at the first attempt." It was a risk to talk to a dragon like this, but even if I would be grilled by him, it was better as the alternative.
"Very well then I will take her back but on one condition, you have to make me the most inpenetrable armour you have ever seen, and it has to be gold plated."
"Deal!". The dragon took off towards my castle and it didn't take long for it to return with the princess in its paws. I would finally be able now to enjoy life again.
| |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | "You Never talk to me anymore, all of our conversations are one way. I slave over a hot furnace all day to make you a warm meal everyday when you come home from work. That dragon doesn't cook itself you know! HELLO! Can you even hear what i'm saying to right know."
(silence)
"God Charles, you are unbelievable. I don' t even know why I try with you anymore."
This had been Charlie's life for the past 7 years. After 11 hours off hunting dragons and scouting mountains, all Charlie wanted to come home to was peace. A nice relaxing evening free from bitching and complaining from his wife about how hard it was to be home. They didn't have kids after all, she was not expected to pay for anything and most importantly, he never asked anything in return from her for his hard work.
Charlie had been contemplating leaving her for a while now but he didn't have the heart to abandon his wife as he knew no other man in the village would marry her based on what she put Charlie through on a daily basis. Unfortunately, to Charlie death would be the only escape from his miserable life.
The next morning, Charlie woke up promptly at 5 am just as he had everyday. He gather his armor and weaponry from the blacksmith and prepared himself for another long shift of knight duty. His wife ordered him to be home by 6 sharp or she would throw his dinner in the garbage. Threats like this were not unusual for Charlie, he nodded and walked out the door. He arrived at the castle and the king had informed the army that a dragon was spotted in Tranmere (The next town over from his village, Swindmore). The knights ordered to aid the neighboring army in slaying the dragon and returning with it's head to prepare soup for all the people in Swindmore. Charlie and the rest of the kings men put on their helmets and marched towards Tranmere.
They had been traveling for a few hours now when finally one of the knights spotted the dragon on top of the watchtower blowing fire down on the poor civilians below. Then men met up with the brave warriors of Tranmere who then disclosed their plan of attack. The plan was to wait until sunset when the dragon would have tired himself of the destruction and retreat back to his cave for the night. They were to attack at this very moment and ambush the dragon right outside of his home and slay him then. The men responded in unison with a overwhelming, "Yes Sir!"
"Excuse me." a nervous voice said among the hundreds of men who just agreed to the plan.
"Yes?" responded the General of Tranmere.
"My wife asked that I might be home by 6, is there anyway we could ambush the dragon earlier?" asked Charlie.
The armies laughed as they thought this was a joke but the general looked in Charlies eyes and say that this was a genuine question.
"I am sorry" respond Joseph "We must attack while the dragon is tired and unsuspecting or else we will all surely killed"
Charlie nodded in compliance trying to hide his disagreement. Charlie knew if he wasn't home by 6 his wife would surely kill him if the dragon had not. He thought his best bet was to attack the dragon himself and be killed quickly than rather than suffer the wrath of an angry spouse. That afternoon around 5, Charlie slipped away from his platoon and prepared to march himself into battle with the dragon in hopes of a painless death.
Charlie arrived at the burning watchtower where the dragon had been and unsheathed his sword. The dragon stopped his destruction as he noticed Charlie. At this point, Charlie had been trembling with fear, a small crowd had gathered at the bottom of the hill once they noticed a single soldier attempting to slay a giant beast.
Charlie finally spoke up, "Excuse me, Dragon? Would you mind making my death quick I wouldn't want to burden you with my screams for too long."
The dragon puffed out a cloud of thick some from his nostrils and opened his mouth preparing to devour Charlie in a single bite. As he bent over to consume the soldier he made eye contact with him. The dragon saw the look in charlies eyes, it was the same look the dragon had every night when he returned to his wife who was unhappy with the dragon for spending to much time terrorizing villages. Immediately, the dragon stopped. He and Charlie stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. By this point almost the entire town had gathered at the bottom of the hill watching Charlie and the dragon.
Charlie gazed at the dragon, he too had recognized their connection in home lives. The dragon relaxed his tail and allowed Charlie to climb onto his back. Charlie climbed aboard the stroked the dragon on its side.
"yip, yip!" said Charlie, and the dragon jumped into the air and began flying toward the sunset.
"wait" said Charlie "one stop before we leave forever." Charlie guided the dragon towards Swindmore and landed the dragon on the roof of his home. The dragon looked at Charlie and awaited further instruction. The knight looked back at the now tamed beast and nodded his head. The dragon raised his hind leg and shit right on the roof of the home. A shit so massive it collapsed the house in a matter of seconds. Charlie's wife ran out, covered in feces and watched the dragon and Charlie fly away into the horizon.
Not much was said about the two after that. Charlie's wife had become a beggar who spent her days digging through garbage looking for any scrap of food she could find. Both villages had peace for years to come and no one worried about where the dragon would attack next. As for Charlie and the dragon, they spent their days traveling the world and shitting on all the people who deserved it.
tl;dr: Man and dragon live in abusive relationships and team up to shit on all abusive people in the world. | "Why didn't you buy me a necklace instead of flowers I can find anywhere in the fields!" It was just another example of how the princess treated me every day. If I would buy her jewelery she would complain it wasn't expensive enough, if I would get her the best foods out of town it wasn't good enough for her. I had even traveled for days only to get her the most exotic items but it still wasn't enough.
I regretted the day I saved her from the dragon in the mountains, the person I thought was a witch for having her locked up there, now sounded like a fairy godmother to me. Tomorrow I would start my quest to find her so I could get this spoiled brat locked up again.
With a sigh I put the sleeping drops in my tea again just before desert came so I would stop hearing her yell at me when they would start working in about 30 minutes. "1... 2... 3...4..." Maybe I just had to add a few extra to make sure I would get a full nights sleep, "5...6...7...8...".
Before my desert was finished I started to feel extremely drowsy and sleepy. The princess looked at me with one of those looks again, the one that always managed to make me feel like a failure. "How you dare to make a fool out of me again! What will our servants think of us if you do this to me again!" The rest of her preach faded away as I fell asleep on the dinner table.
The next morning I woke up earlier as expected, it was still dark. I rushed to get myself dressed and ran down to the kitchen to get myself stocked up with some food and water for the journey.
"Good evening sir, do we need to make you anything?"
I guess I slept longer as I had thought. "That won't be necessary Jaqueline, do you have any loafs of bread leftover I can take with me?". I filled my water bottle and grabbed some of the herbs I had taken with me from the east to make what was called "tea". Something the princess apparently didn't like at all after I was scolded for hours because I only brought some 'weeds' with me.
Jaqueline came back with 3 loafs of bread for me. "Thank you Jaqueline".
"Another journey for the princess? I don't think there exists anything that would make her happy you know?". Jaqueline which I had known for most of my life knew what I was going through. She had even offered me, just before the wedding, to be the one to say we shouldn't get married. I wish I had let her, but I knew she might not have lived now if she had done so.
"Not for the princess this time, it is a journey for me. If I may ask, do you know where the princess is right now?"
"She is dining sir, should I inform her you are coming?"
"No, she would only punish you for that anyway. If she asks where I am just tell her I am looking for a new castle, as she doesn't like the draft that is here.". I could see a smile form on her face when I had said that, she always knew what I was up to and today probably was no different.
Through the backdoor I left towards the stables. Finally I would be alone, if not forever after this, at least until my rations would be depleted.
After traveling for days, I had still not found any trace of the witch which had locked her up. The villagers I had met had given me some good information about where to search for them, but they all left before I could reach them. I guess a prince on a white horse was enough to chase them out of their houses.
After having knocked on the so manieth witchhouse, this time one made out of candy, I decided to take another approach. I would just have to find a dragon willing to take this horrible creature away from me. I quickly snapped some of the cookies and candy canes off, if the witches wouldn't help me by locking her up they should at least give me enough rations to find someone or something else willing to do it for me. Without any hestiation I started riding towards the mountain where I had originally saved her from.
After 2 long days I found the cave where the dragon lived.
"So you have finally found out that the princess you saved isn't quite the one for you, eh?".
"Yes, uhmmm, is there any way I could ask you to take her back? I will pay you with gold, the finest fabric, or even the best foods the world has ever had."
"No thank you, we dragons don't exactly give garantees. Aside, why should I help you after you stuck a sword through my scales?"
"Well, you are the only dragon now without a princess, and one of the few that had lost her at the first attempt." It was a risk to talk to a dragon like this, but even if I would be grilled by him, it was better as the alternative.
"Very well then I will take her back but on one condition, you have to make me the most inpenetrable armour you have ever seen, and it has to be gold plated."
"Deal!". The dragon took off towards my castle and it didn't take long for it to return with the princess in its paws. I would finally be able now to enjoy life again.
| |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | There once was a princess' dragon
Since childhood, kept as a pet
Even in youth he was massively brute
And had stone scales that never stayed wet
|
Unbeknownst to the hundred-pound playmate
Was the princess' heart on her sleeve
Since the age of eighteen she'd been madly in love
With a daring young squire named Steve
|
Now this Steve was a little bit clueless
So he wasn't aware of her itch
All he saw when he looked at the princess' face
Was a ditz who was naive and rich
|
Having never worked more than a day in her years
And he, living out endless strife
By fates alone, wished that she was his own
As a trophy reward for a wife
|
Since the princess was pretty and Steve was quite vain
He'd settled on taking his chances
He hit her with ever dumb line in the book
In the place of authentic romances
|
Dragons, however, are smarter than smart
So her pet friend was wise to Steve's tricks
They're as patient a creature as can be, as well
So it waited—"Let's see if this sticks."
|
Five years had gone by, and she was still quite smitten
And Steve went from squire to knight
But he never got any more noble, therefore
The dragon saw this as a plight
|
"My poor friend the princess," the dragon called out
"What a sloppy, one-sided affair."
"This dude needs to go, so the princess will know
that it's me who will always be there."
|
If you're not yet made wise to a dragon's anatomy
I'll give you a simplified clue
In the time since their youth, dragon's weights? Through the roof!
Its once hundred pounds turned into two.
|
The dragon confronted Knight Steve in a field
And yelled "pick on someone your own size!"
So Steve drew out his sword, and then prayed to the lord
With both anger and fear in his eyes
|
He ran towards the dragon, and thrust forth his weapon
It hit, but then splintered to shards
"My scales are like rocks," the ticked dragon exclaimed
"Your demise may be found in your cards!"
|
Knight Steve drew his shield, quite expecting a flame
But never got shot by the beast
Said the pet: "It is *I* who have loved her the most
And for so long she's valued me least!"
|
So the dragon extended its thick, mighty claw
Cutting back through the air like a mace
Knight Steve, with no lance, then post-haste shit his pants
And the claws gently ripped off his face.
|
Flying far, the creature looked back to his girl
who mourned loud for the corpse of her beau
Then in sadness put walls up to not feel again
Leaving only this moral to know:
|
If you're pretty and dumb and your standards aren't high
You might find yourself lonely and blue,
For your knights could be dragons, and dragons white knights
With you helpless to sort out the two
| "Why didn't you buy me a necklace instead of flowers I can find anywhere in the fields!" It was just another example of how the princess treated me every day. If I would buy her jewelery she would complain it wasn't expensive enough, if I would get her the best foods out of town it wasn't good enough for her. I had even traveled for days only to get her the most exotic items but it still wasn't enough.
I regretted the day I saved her from the dragon in the mountains, the person I thought was a witch for having her locked up there, now sounded like a fairy godmother to me. Tomorrow I would start my quest to find her so I could get this spoiled brat locked up again.
With a sigh I put the sleeping drops in my tea again just before desert came so I would stop hearing her yell at me when they would start working in about 30 minutes. "1... 2... 3...4..." Maybe I just had to add a few extra to make sure I would get a full nights sleep, "5...6...7...8...".
Before my desert was finished I started to feel extremely drowsy and sleepy. The princess looked at me with one of those looks again, the one that always managed to make me feel like a failure. "How you dare to make a fool out of me again! What will our servants think of us if you do this to me again!" The rest of her preach faded away as I fell asleep on the dinner table.
The next morning I woke up earlier as expected, it was still dark. I rushed to get myself dressed and ran down to the kitchen to get myself stocked up with some food and water for the journey.
"Good evening sir, do we need to make you anything?"
I guess I slept longer as I had thought. "That won't be necessary Jaqueline, do you have any loafs of bread leftover I can take with me?". I filled my water bottle and grabbed some of the herbs I had taken with me from the east to make what was called "tea". Something the princess apparently didn't like at all after I was scolded for hours because I only brought some 'weeds' with me.
Jaqueline came back with 3 loafs of bread for me. "Thank you Jaqueline".
"Another journey for the princess? I don't think there exists anything that would make her happy you know?". Jaqueline which I had known for most of my life knew what I was going through. She had even offered me, just before the wedding, to be the one to say we shouldn't get married. I wish I had let her, but I knew she might not have lived now if she had done so.
"Not for the princess this time, it is a journey for me. If I may ask, do you know where the princess is right now?"
"She is dining sir, should I inform her you are coming?"
"No, she would only punish you for that anyway. If she asks where I am just tell her I am looking for a new castle, as she doesn't like the draft that is here.". I could see a smile form on her face when I had said that, she always knew what I was up to and today probably was no different.
Through the backdoor I left towards the stables. Finally I would be alone, if not forever after this, at least until my rations would be depleted.
After traveling for days, I had still not found any trace of the witch which had locked her up. The villagers I had met had given me some good information about where to search for them, but they all left before I could reach them. I guess a prince on a white horse was enough to chase them out of their houses.
After having knocked on the so manieth witchhouse, this time one made out of candy, I decided to take another approach. I would just have to find a dragon willing to take this horrible creature away from me. I quickly snapped some of the cookies and candy canes off, if the witches wouldn't help me by locking her up they should at least give me enough rations to find someone or something else willing to do it for me. Without any hestiation I started riding towards the mountain where I had originally saved her from.
After 2 long days I found the cave where the dragon lived.
"So you have finally found out that the princess you saved isn't quite the one for you, eh?".
"Yes, uhmmm, is there any way I could ask you to take her back? I will pay you with gold, the finest fabric, or even the best foods the world has ever had."
"No thank you, we dragons don't exactly give garantees. Aside, why should I help you after you stuck a sword through my scales?"
"Well, you are the only dragon now without a princess, and one of the few that had lost her at the first attempt." It was a risk to talk to a dragon like this, but even if I would be grilled by him, it was better as the alternative.
"Very well then I will take her back but on one condition, you have to make me the most inpenetrable armour you have ever seen, and it has to be gold plated."
"Deal!". The dragon took off towards my castle and it didn't take long for it to return with the princess in its paws. I would finally be able now to enjoy life again.
| |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | "Should you have the honour of rescuing my daughter, the beautiful princess Yazariya from that lair, you may take her hand and rule alongside her."
Prince Renal nodded respectfully in silence, for he was recognizing the grief and sorrow of the king and also a father of the poor child. The princess was missing for 20 years now, snatched away from her cradle as a newborn. And yet her father never gave up on her. He sent many brave souls after her trail, certain she was alive and held captive from the beast. An effort in vain as all of them went through heaven's doors.
Many tried to convince him he was wasting his time and resources and men, his queen included. “Let the poor girl rest in peace, my dear. We owe her this.”, but none of their words reached the mourning father. Fateful to his promise he made to himself, he sent elite divisions and armies after the beast. None of them successful.
By advice of his trusted men, the ruler decided to trust not brute force but wit and tactics. By sending single warriors or knights, the chances of them to trick the dragon or sneak right past him were higher. And the sacrifice was far smaller.
Prince Renal was determined to do his best or die trying. He wanted to help not only the innocent damsel in distress but to ease her father as well. And the idea of a union between their kingdoms would mean only well for their people. He prepared his armor and his best horse. He also took his father's sword, ready to slay if needed.
It took him two weeks to find the place described by tales all around. He stood before a high tower, lonely in a green field. The old stone was covered with moss and ivy. Dead silence ruled the lands as birds were quiet and the air was still. Prince Renal got off his horse and dared step forward. Not a sign from the dragon. Was this a trap? Did he sense his presence from afar?
He came upon a simple wooden door, which wasn’t hidden nor unapproachable. It wasn’t locked either and with ease he opened the door. From the distance within, somewhere in the dark, he heard the rattle of shackles or so he thought. “My fair maiden!”
Before he can rush in after his promised one, a dirty beast hidden in the shadows grasped him and knocked him down. It bit his arm and tore his flesh. He screamed in agony and tried to pierce the beast but it did not feel any pain. It screamed in triumph and in blood lust, and attacked again.
Renal could barely look at what attacked him as he tried to push the thing away. He could see multiple lesions on its faint skin as it outlined the bones underneath like a map outlining mountains. It barely had any hairs but its teeth were sharp and it was merciless. At one point Renal was sure it would end his life before he can manage to escape. Its eyes were cruel and thirsty.
He couldn’t outrun it. He couldn’t overpower it. His head was heavy and he felt dizzy. Was he poisoned? Was this black magic? The thing jumped forward and tried to reach for his hand, he attacked back desperately trying to cut off its head. But the agile monster evaded and tacked him again. Before it could bite him, he clutched a nearby stone and smashed it against its head. And even though he managed to kick it away from himself, he was unable to get up or move at all. Thick roots were rambled around and held him down, now crushing his body and bones. The grip grew tighter around his ankles and arms.
"No running away now, love." - the thing giggled while getting up. Renal was unable to believe that its rotten mouth was capable of speech. Its voice was just as hideous as its looks. It was sarcastic and mocking and just the sound of it made him shiver with disgust. "Save me from my curse, dearie. Let me feast upon your valiant heart. If it is such truly."
Before the thing could attack one final time, Renal heard wings flapping. A shadow devoured them, from above a flying beast dived without a second doubt. A nature’s force, the dragon stood between the man and the beast. The thing stepped back, hissing.
Yazariya knew the dragon’s fire couldn’t reach her but despite that a dragon should never be underestimated.
"You’re back." - She laughed. Renal could feel how bitter she was from the fact. Yet, she stared at him while she talked to the dragon. "Why did you have to come back?"
The dragon growled and tore the roots around Renal’s body with one of his paws. The wench looked at them furious, clutching her fists and lips into a twisted smile. Distant trees began moving, screeching. The dragon was ready to take any of her attacks.
“Run, you fool!”
Renal got on his feed, shaking. The horse was nowhere to be found, but he turned around and ran as fast as he can.
The child was left behind, alone, distant from everyone and unwanted - even from her own mother. | Princess Betta of Bathory leaned over a massive bath built into the stonework. The contents obscured from Sir Henry's blurry view, but already he'd seen enough to confirm the long whispered rumors of Betta's occult interests. He'd dismissed them as too outrageous to be true, and now as his awareness sharpened he realized he was thoroughly strapped down to a stone altar, with only his right arm free, dangling over a large metal urn, collecting the blood that trickled from the long and shallow cut down the length of his forearm.
He bucked, but the straps held firm, he writhed, but they didn't shift. His free arm twitched weakly, unable to reach the clasps that pinned him down.
Bathory hummed, her back still turned, and drew a short sword from her hip, leaning further toward her massive bath. A pair of thin legs stretched to the side, and began to rattle a heavy chain as Sir Henry realized that another captive was about to be slaughtered directly over the tub.
"Stop! Stop!" His ragged voice rang out in the dungeon, and at the sound of another voice the obscured captive cried out for help, and began to struggle more powerfully against the Princess.
"Help me! I'm down here!"
Bathory lost her footing and fell into her tub, with a splash of redness. A girl in a plain, ragged and dirty dress picked up the sword and ran to the anchor of her chain, attempting to pry open the padlock.
Bathory rose from the tub with a curse, dripping and stained with the blood of previous sacrifices, "No one is coming to save you, seamstress. Scream to your heart's content. The brave Sir Henry will join you shortly, in the pit."
The girl held the sword aloft menacingly, "I may die, but it'll cost your arms and your pretty face, vile hell beast!"
Bathory threw up her hands in exasperation, and reached for a crossbow mounted on the far wall.
"Our father in heaven, hallowed be thy name...!" Henry yelled the Lord's prayer, hoping to invoke divine intervention, until a crossbow bolt sank into his shoulder and made him scream instead.
"Your prayers don't hurt me, fool. They merely make me irritable." Bathory reached for another bolt and loaded it with a click. Carefully, she took aim at the girl who tensed and shifted on her feet, in an attempt to anticipate the shot.
A loud crack, and a sprinkle of dust from above caught Bathory's attention. Her eyes grew wide and she sprang aside as the masonry came down from above her. A massive shadow appeared behind the cloud of dust, and Bathory began to fire and reload in earnest into it.
The booming, draconic roar deafened them all, as the shadow came through the hole with eyes and jaws blazing, bolts sticking out of its snout and sternum.
A blast of flame shot forth, singing Bathory as she sprinted towards Henry's altar for cover. More shots clicked out, and the dragon shielded it's eyes before leaping forward with a snarling reptilian hiss.
Massive talons crunched into the stone around Henry's chest, narrowly avoided impalement. He froze and stared up at the black armored underbelly of the beast, and cringed at the radiated heat of another blast fired from above him.
Bathory screamed, and the dragon leapt from the altar, claws scrabbling against stone, until a series of loud, wet cunches filled the dungeon.
A soft retching sound, Henry was not sure if it came from his own mouth, and the scrabbling moved back towards him.
The massive, blazing visage loomed over him, shaking the bolts off as though it was only bathwater. A long slash of the fearsome black talons released him from the bindings and caused his heart to skip a beat within his breast.
The blazing eyes focused on him in a piercing gaze, and a small flame licked out, painfully cauterized his bleeding wound, but leaving no other burns.
"Lord or Lady dragon," the girls voice trembled slightly, "I beg that you spare us."
A strange cough erupted from the massive maw. "I am Ebonscale the Just. I ask only, for tribute of gold and song. I demand nothing."
A sharp swipe and a loud metallic crunch rent her chain from its mooring, and the great beast sprang up through the ceiling into the night. | |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | Hyperion drew his sword as he entered the bedchamber. Lit scented candles littered the shelves and dressers placed up against the wall bathing the enormous room in an orange glow. Hanging overhead was a metallic chandelier with five or six more lit candles. The walls were decorated with fine silk tapestries depicting the inhabitant's previous conquests.
On one side of the room Hyperion could see his friend's suit of armor laying neatly in the corner. The dragon let out a low bellow in order to signal to his friend that he had arrived. Hyperion's scales bristled at the thought of what might have happened to his friend. He crept through the room toward the center where the enormous bed lay. Something stirred under the covers. His tail stood erect. He unsheathed his sword ready for a fight.
With a loud and feral growl the princess burst out of the covers. She stood over the night stripped down to his underwear and bound to the bedpost with a leather strap. Scrawny arms and slender legs flapped and flailed at the dragon. Fire emerged from her behind lipstick laden lips as she screeched toward her adversary. Hyperion lifted his sword and blocked the flames. He met hers with flames of his own.
"You will not have him!" the creature said, "he's mine! We're meeting my parents for dinner later on tonight!"
The woman lunged off the bed at the dragon baring long, fake nails. Hyperion swung his tail. The princess let out a yelp with the impact of the noble dragon's tail. She landed on the wooden floor with a thud. While the woman was knocked out Hyperion rushed to the knight's side. He took a dagger from his side and cut the leather straps.
"Thank goodness you came," the knight said.
"Maybe this will teach you to stop paying attention to your other head."
"You don't have to tell me twice."
The princess on the floor started coming to. Holding her head, she rolled over and picked herself up. She staggered toward the dragon and the knight reaching out. She fell to her knees.
"You may have defeated me," she said, " but I still have my ladies in waiting. They will make quick work of you."
The princess collapsed once again and lost consciousness. Sounds of women screeching and howling came from behind the door on the other side of the bed chamber.
"Princess Ophelia?" one of the ladies in waiting called. Her nails could be heard scraping against the polished wood. "Is everything okay in there? Do we need to come in?"
"We have to get out of here," Hyperion said helping his friend with his armor. | Princess Betta of Bathory leaned over a massive bath built into the stonework. The contents obscured from Sir Henry's blurry view, but already he'd seen enough to confirm the long whispered rumors of Betta's occult interests. He'd dismissed them as too outrageous to be true, and now as his awareness sharpened he realized he was thoroughly strapped down to a stone altar, with only his right arm free, dangling over a large metal urn, collecting the blood that trickled from the long and shallow cut down the length of his forearm.
He bucked, but the straps held firm, he writhed, but they didn't shift. His free arm twitched weakly, unable to reach the clasps that pinned him down.
Bathory hummed, her back still turned, and drew a short sword from her hip, leaning further toward her massive bath. A pair of thin legs stretched to the side, and began to rattle a heavy chain as Sir Henry realized that another captive was about to be slaughtered directly over the tub.
"Stop! Stop!" His ragged voice rang out in the dungeon, and at the sound of another voice the obscured captive cried out for help, and began to struggle more powerfully against the Princess.
"Help me! I'm down here!"
Bathory lost her footing and fell into her tub, with a splash of redness. A girl in a plain, ragged and dirty dress picked up the sword and ran to the anchor of her chain, attempting to pry open the padlock.
Bathory rose from the tub with a curse, dripping and stained with the blood of previous sacrifices, "No one is coming to save you, seamstress. Scream to your heart's content. The brave Sir Henry will join you shortly, in the pit."
The girl held the sword aloft menacingly, "I may die, but it'll cost your arms and your pretty face, vile hell beast!"
Bathory threw up her hands in exasperation, and reached for a crossbow mounted on the far wall.
"Our father in heaven, hallowed be thy name...!" Henry yelled the Lord's prayer, hoping to invoke divine intervention, until a crossbow bolt sank into his shoulder and made him scream instead.
"Your prayers don't hurt me, fool. They merely make me irritable." Bathory reached for another bolt and loaded it with a click. Carefully, she took aim at the girl who tensed and shifted on her feet, in an attempt to anticipate the shot.
A loud crack, and a sprinkle of dust from above caught Bathory's attention. Her eyes grew wide and she sprang aside as the masonry came down from above her. A massive shadow appeared behind the cloud of dust, and Bathory began to fire and reload in earnest into it.
The booming, draconic roar deafened them all, as the shadow came through the hole with eyes and jaws blazing, bolts sticking out of its snout and sternum.
A blast of flame shot forth, singing Bathory as she sprinted towards Henry's altar for cover. More shots clicked out, and the dragon shielded it's eyes before leaping forward with a snarling reptilian hiss.
Massive talons crunched into the stone around Henry's chest, narrowly avoided impalement. He froze and stared up at the black armored underbelly of the beast, and cringed at the radiated heat of another blast fired from above him.
Bathory screamed, and the dragon leapt from the altar, claws scrabbling against stone, until a series of loud, wet cunches filled the dungeon.
A soft retching sound, Henry was not sure if it came from his own mouth, and the scrabbling moved back towards him.
The massive, blazing visage loomed over him, shaking the bolts off as though it was only bathwater. A long slash of the fearsome black talons released him from the bindings and caused his heart to skip a beat within his breast.
The blazing eyes focused on him in a piercing gaze, and a small flame licked out, painfully cauterized his bleeding wound, but leaving no other burns.
"Lord or Lady dragon," the girls voice trembled slightly, "I beg that you spare us."
A strange cough erupted from the massive maw. "I am Ebonscale the Just. I ask only, for tribute of gold and song. I demand nothing."
A sharp swipe and a loud metallic crunch rent her chain from its mooring, and the great beast sprang up through the ceiling into the night. | |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | "I was pulled from the local brothel by my fragile yet fateful squire Elrish. I'm sure he sounded something like this while attempting to pull me away from the heaven I found myself in."
"Pppp...pardon me, great lord Martin. Slayer of Evil, Lover of Women, and Bringer of Joy"
Elrish stumbled forward sluggishly to place his hand on the back of Martins right shoulder only to miss by a foot and fall flat on his face.
"I didn't say soooch (belch) such a think as...um..as that."
"Good god man, Get a hold of yourself and stop hogging all the rum."
Martin snatches the rum from Elrish and takes three long gulps then continues his tale.
"As I was saying. I was forcefully removed from this pleasure, the pleasure of helping a poor lass down on her luck of course, by kings order. The king then told me to quest here and well, kill you. You see we became something of a legend and were called upon to slay any monsters or creatures that may harm the people of this kingdom. And this legend all started in a small village far to the west. Me and sweet, fragile Elrish here.."
"Not fragile" Elrish belched out.
"Says the man flat on his back. Now as I was saying me and sweet, dumb, fragile, child-like Elrish here (Elrish's hands reach from the ground toward the bottle only to have it ripped away by Martin who takes yet another swig) were taking a nice stroll through the beautiful country side."
"We were fleeing" Elrish said as he slumped himself over a dark, slimy rock.
"Perhaps we were fleeing who can remember? All I recall is the stunning scenery and the grace of the steeds we rode at full speed."
"Stolen steeds."
"Well yes, stolen from an evil man hell bent on over pricing his horses." Martin now becoming sluggish himself.
"Twas an old man, Pleasant in fact."
"Well if denying a man in need of a horse is pleasa-"
"You fucked his daughter after he graciously invited us to stay the night."
"She was very good to us, fed us well and made our beds. Was I to deny her when she entered my chambers?"
A booming voice crackled and echoed towards them. "ON WITH YOUR FOOLISH TALE!!!!"
Martin, looking fearful, clears his throat. "Right, so before we reached this small town we see what appears to be a body lying on a hill in the distance. So naturally, being the good upstanding gentlemen that we are, we go to see if we can help. Only this was no human body it was a dire wolf and a big one at that. With the knowledge of the gold we would receive from the fur of a dire wolf we have a few drinks in celebration."
"A bottle." Elrish whispers
"Being as we were a little drunk mind you, we seemed to not be able to skin this beast in a proper manner. In fact we quite butchered the thing and decided to sleep off the liquors' hold on us. Then we awoke to see a crowd of people standing around us. We thought perhaps we'd been caught but it turns out they were commoners of the local town we sought. And this dire wolf was a tormentor of theirs for years. They paraded us into town like kings and praised us. Some even cried at our feet. It was all quite fetching if I may say so myself."
"Aye, they gave us plenty of food, women, and mead." Elrish spat this out now standing on his feet next to Martin.
"This praise went on for days and the story of our heroism glided throughout the kingdom only getting more and more embellished as it worked its way to the kings ear. And when it finally reached his ear we were plucked from that glorious town and thrown before the king where I was knighted and Elrish was named my squire."
"Twas bullshit that. I should have been the Knighted one."
"Well you shouldn't have drank so much to the point of passing out. The people had many questions. What was I to do?"
Elrish rolled his eyes and grabbed the bottle out of Martins hand to take a swig.
Martin smirks and proceeded to say "The king then told us we are to slay any monsters or creatures that bring fear and death to his people and so with no real choice we set off to do just that. And to our luck we found that people are afraid of just about anything. Each story was as foolish as the last. There was the Ghost of the Hollow Woods which only appeared at full moon. It was only a white sheet high in a tree that caught the light of the moon. Then there was the Massive Tunnel Snake that would drag you under if given the chance. Turns out that was just a fat wood chuck, Elrish now keeps him as a pet."
"I call him Chuck Elrish the 3rd. Cute little bugger he is. Turns out hes a bourbon man." Elrish leans in with a hand to his cheek as if to whisper. "Keeps him from biting it does. Oh (hiccup) and don't forget about the Shrieking Banshee of Western Swallow. Now that was just an old toad. I think I still got a bit of him on me boot." Elrish struggles to lift his left boot then gives up. "well its down there somewhere." (hiccup).
Martin then steps forward to once again take control of the story.
"So you see that's what brought us to were we stand today, to kill...(Martin, quivering, takes another drink from the bottle of rum) a dragon."
A massive black scaly face with fangs the length of a mans arm and eyes as gold as the kings crown slowly inches into the moonlight that seeps into the entrance of the cave. All they can hear is the faint sound of water dripping from above and echoing deep as they await their death.
"MUHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA" The dragon laughs hysterically and slams his menacing paw to the ground over and over. The wind of his laughter blows back Martin and Elrishs hair while the slamming of his paw knocks them to the ground. The dragon looks back at them with a frightening grin and says with his booming voice " I am Morgune, It is a pleasure to meet you boys."
Martin and Elrish slowly stand and dust themselves off still shaking with fear. "Yes, well yes it's also quite the pleasure to meet you."
Elrish forces a quivering smile "Aye, it sure is."
Morgune leans in close and asked softly. "Now what reward do you receive by killing me?"
Martin takes a submissive step back. "Well we are to be paid in a mountain of gold and I am to wed the princess. Her beauty knows no bounds as does her cruelty. Some would say she is fair and just, but any man with sense would say shes...well a bit of..."
Elrish interrupts. "She's a cunt." (belch)
Morgune Ponders for a time and offers a sinister counter offer. "How would you two like all the kings gold and Martin how would you like to be free of this princess?"
Both men spit out the rum they were sharing and say at the same time. "Well sir I'd love nothing more" (Martin)
"Well shit I'd love nothing more"(Elrish)
"Then rulers and conquerors you shall be. Free from the shrill princess and rich beyond your dreams. I love nothing more then a good tale and yours, though good, is only just beginning."
| Princess Betta of Bathory leaned over a massive bath built into the stonework. The contents obscured from Sir Henry's blurry view, but already he'd seen enough to confirm the long whispered rumors of Betta's occult interests. He'd dismissed them as too outrageous to be true, and now as his awareness sharpened he realized he was thoroughly strapped down to a stone altar, with only his right arm free, dangling over a large metal urn, collecting the blood that trickled from the long and shallow cut down the length of his forearm.
He bucked, but the straps held firm, he writhed, but they didn't shift. His free arm twitched weakly, unable to reach the clasps that pinned him down.
Bathory hummed, her back still turned, and drew a short sword from her hip, leaning further toward her massive bath. A pair of thin legs stretched to the side, and began to rattle a heavy chain as Sir Henry realized that another captive was about to be slaughtered directly over the tub.
"Stop! Stop!" His ragged voice rang out in the dungeon, and at the sound of another voice the obscured captive cried out for help, and began to struggle more powerfully against the Princess.
"Help me! I'm down here!"
Bathory lost her footing and fell into her tub, with a splash of redness. A girl in a plain, ragged and dirty dress picked up the sword and ran to the anchor of her chain, attempting to pry open the padlock.
Bathory rose from the tub with a curse, dripping and stained with the blood of previous sacrifices, "No one is coming to save you, seamstress. Scream to your heart's content. The brave Sir Henry will join you shortly, in the pit."
The girl held the sword aloft menacingly, "I may die, but it'll cost your arms and your pretty face, vile hell beast!"
Bathory threw up her hands in exasperation, and reached for a crossbow mounted on the far wall.
"Our father in heaven, hallowed be thy name...!" Henry yelled the Lord's prayer, hoping to invoke divine intervention, until a crossbow bolt sank into his shoulder and made him scream instead.
"Your prayers don't hurt me, fool. They merely make me irritable." Bathory reached for another bolt and loaded it with a click. Carefully, she took aim at the girl who tensed and shifted on her feet, in an attempt to anticipate the shot.
A loud crack, and a sprinkle of dust from above caught Bathory's attention. Her eyes grew wide and she sprang aside as the masonry came down from above her. A massive shadow appeared behind the cloud of dust, and Bathory began to fire and reload in earnest into it.
The booming, draconic roar deafened them all, as the shadow came through the hole with eyes and jaws blazing, bolts sticking out of its snout and sternum.
A blast of flame shot forth, singing Bathory as she sprinted towards Henry's altar for cover. More shots clicked out, and the dragon shielded it's eyes before leaping forward with a snarling reptilian hiss.
Massive talons crunched into the stone around Henry's chest, narrowly avoided impalement. He froze and stared up at the black armored underbelly of the beast, and cringed at the radiated heat of another blast fired from above him.
Bathory screamed, and the dragon leapt from the altar, claws scrabbling against stone, until a series of loud, wet cunches filled the dungeon.
A soft retching sound, Henry was not sure if it came from his own mouth, and the scrabbling moved back towards him.
The massive, blazing visage loomed over him, shaking the bolts off as though it was only bathwater. A long slash of the fearsome black talons released him from the bindings and caused his heart to skip a beat within his breast.
The blazing eyes focused on him in a piercing gaze, and a small flame licked out, painfully cauterized his bleeding wound, but leaving no other burns.
"Lord or Lady dragon," the girls voice trembled slightly, "I beg that you spare us."
A strange cough erupted from the massive maw. "I am Ebonscale the Just. I ask only, for tribute of gold and song. I demand nothing."
A sharp swipe and a loud metallic crunch rent her chain from its mooring, and the great beast sprang up through the ceiling into the night. | |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | Sir Gunther trudged wearily toward the cave, his breathing labored from hours of plodding through the muddy banks of the Toffee Swamp. As he pulled his last booted foot from the muck and struck out on solid footing, he mumbled a prayer to whichever saint happened to be listening. Normally he had the time to be picky about prayer, but today was not one of those days.
Hesitantly, Sir Gunther took a few steps forward and leaned against the wall of the cave, drawing in slow, deep breaths in an attempt to quiet his pounding heart. The moisture-slick stone felt oddly warm against the palms of his hands. He sniffed the air. The entryway smelled of ash and reptile droppings. He was in the right place.
After collecting himself, Sir Gunther stepped away from the wall and watched the granite cavern pulse in and out in a steady breathing motion. He wondered for a moment if he was mistaken and had somehow ended up inside the belly of the creature that he sought. He mused over the thought, and soon decided that it was most likely true.
"Hello?" he shouted at the cave walls. "Hello? Can you hear me in here?" He took a moment to adjust his helmet, which all of a sudden felt much smaller than it had before. "I seek Sparky the Dragon!"
"Who goes there??" a great, booming voice replied.
"It is I, Sir Gunther of Rathskeller!" After a moment's pause, the knight added: "The one whom, a moment earlier, you so voraciously consumed!"
A thunderous noise, like the pounding of a titanic drum, echoed through the great chamber, coming steadily closer with each beat. Sir Gunther braced himself for the worst - surely the dragon was about to send him hurtling through its digestive system.
And then, as he peered into the inky depths of the cave, he saw it. A massive, scaly foot, easily the size of a full-grown man, came to rest upon the cave floor with a force that sent shockwaves across the bare rock.
"I dined on no knight this day," the voice rumbled. "Besides, I went vegetarian four or five decades ago. All that fiber works wonders in my old age."
A second foot thrust itself out of the darkness ahead of the first, coming to rest on the stony ground with a great thud. It was then that Sir Gunther realized that he was not in the dragon's stomach, but was, in fact, simply in a cave *with* the beast. The thought was of only mild comfort to him.
"I... I have journeyed long and far from Rathskeller to visit you, O Great Sparky!" the knight stammered. "Across the vast golden fields of Elysium! Through the dense, jagged Forest of Eternal Peril! Over the-"
"What in the blazes are you talking about, human?" The voice interrupted. "The town of Rathskeller is only two or three miles away."
Another footstep, and Sir Gunther could finally see the head of the beast. Its bright pink, undulating skin wrapped itself around three mouths, all of which spoke in unison.
"And another thing," the dragon continued, "Do *not* insult me with this 'Sparky' nonsense! My name is Sparcinious the Burning Ember, Scourge of Guttenberg, Ruiner of Empires! Get it right, human!"
"Um, I apologize, O Great Sparcinius the... uh..." Sir Gunther blinked again, and suddenly the dragon's head was pale white and studded with hundreds of tiny, crimson eyes that blinked with every syllable that he spoke. "...what was the rest of that again?"
The dragon let out a deep, ragged sigh from its three mouths, and in barely the blink of an eye, they coalesced into a single, gaping maw. "Nevermind. What brings you here, human?" As the dragon spoke, its great black tongue began to worm its way out of its mouth. "Do you wish to do battle? Slay me? Bring my head home as a trophy for some human female?"
"I, well, I was wondering," Sir Gunther continued, casually leaning against the cave wall. "Can I maybe, please, have one of your scales, O Terrible Spar..." He paused, his eyes growing wide as he watched the beast's tongue extend several feet below its chin and swing to and fro like a fleshy pendulum. "...er, whatever the rest of that was?"
The dragon's million eyes widened. Sir Gunther watched as they crawled like beetles toward the center of the creature's forehead, where they collected like water droplets into one Cyclopean eyelid.
"Ah!" the dragon gasped. "Ingested the Crimson Death mushroom, did we?"
"Yes, O Great... One," Sir Gunther said, hoping that the generic declaration of respect would suffice.
The dragon uttered a sharp guffaw. "You aren't the brightest flower in the field, are you, human?" As he spoke, Sir Gunther watched his tongue snake back into his mouth. Now the creature's reptilian scowl was impossibly wide, and when it spoke, it emitted puffs of rainbow-hued smoke from its nostrils. "Tell me. How long ago did you consume the fungus?"
"This past evening," Sir Gunther replied in the midst of struggling not to look at his own hands, which had elongated into furry, bat-like claws.
"In that case, the hallucinations have long since begun," Sparcinius said. "Death will come within a day's time." The dragon raised its gigantic right claw and, with a sound like the snapping of a thick tree branch, pried a canary yellow scale from its forehead. "Take this," he said, tossing the scale to rest at Sir Gunther's feet, where it landed with a thump. "Brew it for five minutes in boiling water and drink the resulting potion. The effects should wear off within an hour's time."
Sir Gunther bent down and picked up the scale in between two bat-talons. Curiously, it was much smaller than he expected - about the size of a rose petal.
"Go, now," the dragon sneered, "and leave me in peace. I have a lovely dinner salad to prepare."
Sir Gunther began to step back toward the cave entrance, his dilated pupils never leaving the monster before him. "Thank you, O Great Sparky!" he bellowed, before promptly turning tail and scurrying away as fast as his heavy leather-and-mail armor would allow.
"Sparcinius," the dragon mumbled grimly. As he spoke, a jet of flame shot forth from his nostrils, momentarily revealing his emerald-scaled body, no bigger than that of a large dog. "And what was that bumbling coward so afraid of, anyway?"
-------
Meanwhile, after having traversed the Cloud Mountains, ran the Rainbow Racetrack, and swim-walked the Seven Fathoms of Aphelion, Sir Gunther arrived back at his mansion in Rathskellar only to find that it had transformed into a three-story caramel flan in his absence. He spent a good twenty minutes attempting to eat his way through to the interior when, purely by happy chance, he stumbled upon the front door.
"Gunther! Thank God! Where have you been?" Princess Hilda screamed as he entered the door. "I've been worried sick about you!"
Gunther braced himself against the door frame. The entire world undulated around him, as though he were in the midst of a slow-motion earthquake. Furthermore, the Princess Hilda standing before him now possessed a few extra arms and also the face of a tarantula.
"Brew this for five minutes in boiling water," he said in between staccato breaths, tossing the scale in Hilda-Spider's general direction. "And make sure there's no poison mushrooms in it, please."
"For the thousandth time, I'm sorry!" Hilda said as she bent down to pick up the shiny, chartreuse-hued object. "It looked exactly like a porcini and I thought it would be perfect for my famous risotto."
"Just hurry, please," said an exasperated and suddenly very pale Sir Gunther.
Hilda shot her husband an icy glare and dashed over to the stove, scale in hand. With a grunt, she hoisted a kettle of steaming water off of the fireplace and decanted it in to a floral-patterned teapot on the counter. After replacing the kettle on its perch, she unceremoniously plopped the scale into the pot.
"You know," she said, resting a delicate hand on her hip and smiling a lovely arachnid smile at her knight, "it's rather difficult being a princess most of the time. There's matters of state to look after, protocol and etiquette to obey, and on top of all that, I need to take care of you, too."
"Right. So difficult," Sir Gunther replied through gritted teeth. "So very difficult indeed." | Princess Betta of Bathory leaned over a massive bath built into the stonework. The contents obscured from Sir Henry's blurry view, but already he'd seen enough to confirm the long whispered rumors of Betta's occult interests. He'd dismissed them as too outrageous to be true, and now as his awareness sharpened he realized he was thoroughly strapped down to a stone altar, with only his right arm free, dangling over a large metal urn, collecting the blood that trickled from the long and shallow cut down the length of his forearm.
He bucked, but the straps held firm, he writhed, but they didn't shift. His free arm twitched weakly, unable to reach the clasps that pinned him down.
Bathory hummed, her back still turned, and drew a short sword from her hip, leaning further toward her massive bath. A pair of thin legs stretched to the side, and began to rattle a heavy chain as Sir Henry realized that another captive was about to be slaughtered directly over the tub.
"Stop! Stop!" His ragged voice rang out in the dungeon, and at the sound of another voice the obscured captive cried out for help, and began to struggle more powerfully against the Princess.
"Help me! I'm down here!"
Bathory lost her footing and fell into her tub, with a splash of redness. A girl in a plain, ragged and dirty dress picked up the sword and ran to the anchor of her chain, attempting to pry open the padlock.
Bathory rose from the tub with a curse, dripping and stained with the blood of previous sacrifices, "No one is coming to save you, seamstress. Scream to your heart's content. The brave Sir Henry will join you shortly, in the pit."
The girl held the sword aloft menacingly, "I may die, but it'll cost your arms and your pretty face, vile hell beast!"
Bathory threw up her hands in exasperation, and reached for a crossbow mounted on the far wall.
"Our father in heaven, hallowed be thy name...!" Henry yelled the Lord's prayer, hoping to invoke divine intervention, until a crossbow bolt sank into his shoulder and made him scream instead.
"Your prayers don't hurt me, fool. They merely make me irritable." Bathory reached for another bolt and loaded it with a click. Carefully, she took aim at the girl who tensed and shifted on her feet, in an attempt to anticipate the shot.
A loud crack, and a sprinkle of dust from above caught Bathory's attention. Her eyes grew wide and she sprang aside as the masonry came down from above her. A massive shadow appeared behind the cloud of dust, and Bathory began to fire and reload in earnest into it.
The booming, draconic roar deafened them all, as the shadow came through the hole with eyes and jaws blazing, bolts sticking out of its snout and sternum.
A blast of flame shot forth, singing Bathory as she sprinted towards Henry's altar for cover. More shots clicked out, and the dragon shielded it's eyes before leaping forward with a snarling reptilian hiss.
Massive talons crunched into the stone around Henry's chest, narrowly avoided impalement. He froze and stared up at the black armored underbelly of the beast, and cringed at the radiated heat of another blast fired from above him.
Bathory screamed, and the dragon leapt from the altar, claws scrabbling against stone, until a series of loud, wet cunches filled the dungeon.
A soft retching sound, Henry was not sure if it came from his own mouth, and the scrabbling moved back towards him.
The massive, blazing visage loomed over him, shaking the bolts off as though it was only bathwater. A long slash of the fearsome black talons released him from the bindings and caused his heart to skip a beat within his breast.
The blazing eyes focused on him in a piercing gaze, and a small flame licked out, painfully cauterized his bleeding wound, but leaving no other burns.
"Lord or Lady dragon," the girls voice trembled slightly, "I beg that you spare us."
A strange cough erupted from the massive maw. "I am Ebonscale the Just. I ask only, for tribute of gold and song. I demand nothing."
A sharp swipe and a loud metallic crunch rent her chain from its mooring, and the great beast sprang up through the ceiling into the night. | |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | "You Never talk to me anymore, all of our conversations are one way. I slave over a hot furnace all day to make you a warm meal everyday when you come home from work. That dragon doesn't cook itself you know! HELLO! Can you even hear what i'm saying to right know."
(silence)
"God Charles, you are unbelievable. I don' t even know why I try with you anymore."
This had been Charlie's life for the past 7 years. After 11 hours off hunting dragons and scouting mountains, all Charlie wanted to come home to was peace. A nice relaxing evening free from bitching and complaining from his wife about how hard it was to be home. They didn't have kids after all, she was not expected to pay for anything and most importantly, he never asked anything in return from her for his hard work.
Charlie had been contemplating leaving her for a while now but he didn't have the heart to abandon his wife as he knew no other man in the village would marry her based on what she put Charlie through on a daily basis. Unfortunately, to Charlie death would be the only escape from his miserable life.
The next morning, Charlie woke up promptly at 5 am just as he had everyday. He gather his armor and weaponry from the blacksmith and prepared himself for another long shift of knight duty. His wife ordered him to be home by 6 sharp or she would throw his dinner in the garbage. Threats like this were not unusual for Charlie, he nodded and walked out the door. He arrived at the castle and the king had informed the army that a dragon was spotted in Tranmere (The next town over from his village, Swindmore). The knights ordered to aid the neighboring army in slaying the dragon and returning with it's head to prepare soup for all the people in Swindmore. Charlie and the rest of the kings men put on their helmets and marched towards Tranmere.
They had been traveling for a few hours now when finally one of the knights spotted the dragon on top of the watchtower blowing fire down on the poor civilians below. Then men met up with the brave warriors of Tranmere who then disclosed their plan of attack. The plan was to wait until sunset when the dragon would have tired himself of the destruction and retreat back to his cave for the night. They were to attack at this very moment and ambush the dragon right outside of his home and slay him then. The men responded in unison with a overwhelming, "Yes Sir!"
"Excuse me." a nervous voice said among the hundreds of men who just agreed to the plan.
"Yes?" responded the General of Tranmere.
"My wife asked that I might be home by 6, is there anyway we could ambush the dragon earlier?" asked Charlie.
The armies laughed as they thought this was a joke but the general looked in Charlies eyes and say that this was a genuine question.
"I am sorry" respond Joseph "We must attack while the dragon is tired and unsuspecting or else we will all surely killed"
Charlie nodded in compliance trying to hide his disagreement. Charlie knew if he wasn't home by 6 his wife would surely kill him if the dragon had not. He thought his best bet was to attack the dragon himself and be killed quickly than rather than suffer the wrath of an angry spouse. That afternoon around 5, Charlie slipped away from his platoon and prepared to march himself into battle with the dragon in hopes of a painless death.
Charlie arrived at the burning watchtower where the dragon had been and unsheathed his sword. The dragon stopped his destruction as he noticed Charlie. At this point, Charlie had been trembling with fear, a small crowd had gathered at the bottom of the hill once they noticed a single soldier attempting to slay a giant beast.
Charlie finally spoke up, "Excuse me, Dragon? Would you mind making my death quick I wouldn't want to burden you with my screams for too long."
The dragon puffed out a cloud of thick some from his nostrils and opened his mouth preparing to devour Charlie in a single bite. As he bent over to consume the soldier he made eye contact with him. The dragon saw the look in charlies eyes, it was the same look the dragon had every night when he returned to his wife who was unhappy with the dragon for spending to much time terrorizing villages. Immediately, the dragon stopped. He and Charlie stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. By this point almost the entire town had gathered at the bottom of the hill watching Charlie and the dragon.
Charlie gazed at the dragon, he too had recognized their connection in home lives. The dragon relaxed his tail and allowed Charlie to climb onto his back. Charlie climbed aboard the stroked the dragon on its side.
"yip, yip!" said Charlie, and the dragon jumped into the air and began flying toward the sunset.
"wait" said Charlie "one stop before we leave forever." Charlie guided the dragon towards Swindmore and landed the dragon on the roof of his home. The dragon looked at Charlie and awaited further instruction. The knight looked back at the now tamed beast and nodded his head. The dragon raised his hind leg and shit right on the roof of the home. A shit so massive it collapsed the house in a matter of seconds. Charlie's wife ran out, covered in feces and watched the dragon and Charlie fly away into the horizon.
Not much was said about the two after that. Charlie's wife had become a beggar who spent her days digging through garbage looking for any scrap of food she could find. Both villages had peace for years to come and no one worried about where the dragon would attack next. As for Charlie and the dragon, they spent their days traveling the world and shitting on all the people who deserved it.
tl;dr: Man and dragon live in abusive relationships and team up to shit on all abusive people in the world. | Princess Betta of Bathory leaned over a massive bath built into the stonework. The contents obscured from Sir Henry's blurry view, but already he'd seen enough to confirm the long whispered rumors of Betta's occult interests. He'd dismissed them as too outrageous to be true, and now as his awareness sharpened he realized he was thoroughly strapped down to a stone altar, with only his right arm free, dangling over a large metal urn, collecting the blood that trickled from the long and shallow cut down the length of his forearm.
He bucked, but the straps held firm, he writhed, but they didn't shift. His free arm twitched weakly, unable to reach the clasps that pinned him down.
Bathory hummed, her back still turned, and drew a short sword from her hip, leaning further toward her massive bath. A pair of thin legs stretched to the side, and began to rattle a heavy chain as Sir Henry realized that another captive was about to be slaughtered directly over the tub.
"Stop! Stop!" His ragged voice rang out in the dungeon, and at the sound of another voice the obscured captive cried out for help, and began to struggle more powerfully against the Princess.
"Help me! I'm down here!"
Bathory lost her footing and fell into her tub, with a splash of redness. A girl in a plain, ragged and dirty dress picked up the sword and ran to the anchor of her chain, attempting to pry open the padlock.
Bathory rose from the tub with a curse, dripping and stained with the blood of previous sacrifices, "No one is coming to save you, seamstress. Scream to your heart's content. The brave Sir Henry will join you shortly, in the pit."
The girl held the sword aloft menacingly, "I may die, but it'll cost your arms and your pretty face, vile hell beast!"
Bathory threw up her hands in exasperation, and reached for a crossbow mounted on the far wall.
"Our father in heaven, hallowed be thy name...!" Henry yelled the Lord's prayer, hoping to invoke divine intervention, until a crossbow bolt sank into his shoulder and made him scream instead.
"Your prayers don't hurt me, fool. They merely make me irritable." Bathory reached for another bolt and loaded it with a click. Carefully, she took aim at the girl who tensed and shifted on her feet, in an attempt to anticipate the shot.
A loud crack, and a sprinkle of dust from above caught Bathory's attention. Her eyes grew wide and she sprang aside as the masonry came down from above her. A massive shadow appeared behind the cloud of dust, and Bathory began to fire and reload in earnest into it.
The booming, draconic roar deafened them all, as the shadow came through the hole with eyes and jaws blazing, bolts sticking out of its snout and sternum.
A blast of flame shot forth, singing Bathory as she sprinted towards Henry's altar for cover. More shots clicked out, and the dragon shielded it's eyes before leaping forward with a snarling reptilian hiss.
Massive talons crunched into the stone around Henry's chest, narrowly avoided impalement. He froze and stared up at the black armored underbelly of the beast, and cringed at the radiated heat of another blast fired from above him.
Bathory screamed, and the dragon leapt from the altar, claws scrabbling against stone, until a series of loud, wet cunches filled the dungeon.
A soft retching sound, Henry was not sure if it came from his own mouth, and the scrabbling moved back towards him.
The massive, blazing visage loomed over him, shaking the bolts off as though it was only bathwater. A long slash of the fearsome black talons released him from the bindings and caused his heart to skip a beat within his breast.
The blazing eyes focused on him in a piercing gaze, and a small flame licked out, painfully cauterized his bleeding wound, but leaving no other burns.
"Lord or Lady dragon," the girls voice trembled slightly, "I beg that you spare us."
A strange cough erupted from the massive maw. "I am Ebonscale the Just. I ask only, for tribute of gold and song. I demand nothing."
A sharp swipe and a loud metallic crunch rent her chain from its mooring, and the great beast sprang up through the ceiling into the night. | |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | Hyperion drew his sword as he entered the bedchamber. Lit scented candles littered the shelves and dressers placed up against the wall bathing the enormous room in an orange glow. Hanging overhead was a metallic chandelier with five or six more lit candles. The walls were decorated with fine silk tapestries depicting the inhabitant's previous conquests.
On one side of the room Hyperion could see his friend's suit of armor laying neatly in the corner. The dragon let out a low bellow in order to signal to his friend that he had arrived. Hyperion's scales bristled at the thought of what might have happened to his friend. He crept through the room toward the center where the enormous bed lay. Something stirred under the covers. His tail stood erect. He unsheathed his sword ready for a fight.
With a loud and feral growl the princess burst out of the covers. She stood over the night stripped down to his underwear and bound to the bedpost with a leather strap. Scrawny arms and slender legs flapped and flailed at the dragon. Fire emerged from her behind lipstick laden lips as she screeched toward her adversary. Hyperion lifted his sword and blocked the flames. He met hers with flames of his own.
"You will not have him!" the creature said, "he's mine! We're meeting my parents for dinner later on tonight!"
The woman lunged off the bed at the dragon baring long, fake nails. Hyperion swung his tail. The princess let out a yelp with the impact of the noble dragon's tail. She landed on the wooden floor with a thud. While the woman was knocked out Hyperion rushed to the knight's side. He took a dagger from his side and cut the leather straps.
"Thank goodness you came," the knight said.
"Maybe this will teach you to stop paying attention to your other head."
"You don't have to tell me twice."
The princess on the floor started coming to. Holding her head, she rolled over and picked herself up. She staggered toward the dragon and the knight reaching out. She fell to her knees.
"You may have defeated me," she said, " but I still have my ladies in waiting. They will make quick work of you."
The princess collapsed once again and lost consciousness. Sounds of women screeching and howling came from behind the door on the other side of the bed chamber.
"Princess Ophelia?" one of the ladies in waiting called. Her nails could be heard scraping against the polished wood. "Is everything okay in there? Do we need to come in?"
"We have to get out of here," Hyperion said helping his friend with his armor. | "Hear me warrior." the dragon said after setting the knight down.
sir ronceval of Parrl was a knight of no small skill, but aside from the fact that this towering, rust-red scale coated behemoth whose every word came with generous gouts of fire that sputtered and crept over its upper jaws like souls being sent to the heavens was many times his size and power, he'd dropped his sword when it had carried him away from the castle, but not before burning it to the ground with as much ire and venom as it could muster in the initial blast of flame, a hellfire so potent that it was as though it had been a waterfall of white-hot flame, as though someone had dumped the flaming lakes of hell onto the castle's formerly pristine white surface to char and blacken both it, and the people within.
ronceval's thoughts turned to the princess, his charge, as well as the king, and he felt a great rage gripping him as the dragon held him down while he struggled.
"LISTEN TO ME!" the dragon roared, its voice shook the air and the flames spilling from its maw flared out with even more strength, crawling over its scaled cheeks to lick its eyes, causing it to blink as it shouted.
"you killed them!" ronceval screamed.
"THEY WERE ALREADY DEAD! THAT ENTIRE COURT HAS BEEN DEAD FOR CENTURIES!!" the dragon protested. "I slew no innocents!! I merely struck an illusion! an illusion that foul princess cast for the sake of maintaining the province of landis!! open your eyes sir knight! I saved you before I even began my assault!!"
though he showed no signs of calming down, the dragon lifted its massive paw from his chest, and ronceval rose and ran at the dragon, beating its massive paw, fully the size of ten angry roncevals of parrl, in futility.
"where are you from?" the dragon asked at length. "what is your title?"
"I am ronceval of parrl." he replied and the name gave the dragon pause as he considered the implications.
"Yes, I do recall the old king of landis once had designs on a diplomatic treaty with parrl, trade agreements if i'm not mistaken...before his death that is."
"you claim he is dead, yet I saw him not moments before you-"
"a corpse and nothing more." the dragon explained dismissively. "he was being held together by necromancy, an illusion kept you from seeing or smelling the truth. what of the princess then? how old is she?"
"she is fully into womanhood, what does it matter-" ronceval asked angrily before the dragon shook his head, waving him to silence. "she was but a troubled youth when she began delving into sorcery...try though i did to protect her from her father's abuses, she could not stomach the suffering she was dealt when I was not around to protect her, in the end she lost trust to all, myself included-" the dragon glanced down at his arm, his eyes moving over the scales he'd grown accustomed to.
"yes....before I became this...thing. you see sir knight, I was once a great knight, the general of the landis armies and personal bodyguard to the princess, I was like a father to her, or perhaps an older brother. but things....they slowly grew worse, the princess fell far, so far in fact that by the time i noticed that she was delving into witchcraft, it was too late. the king moved to have her executed, thinking to make an example of his own daughter. I considered my loyalties then and there and decided to make the hard choice of stopping her death. I succeeded, the flames of the burning did not so much as touch her, but in return for my loyalty, I uncovered a startling truth. she wanted death, and in her twisted mind i'd robbed her of that privilege, so she cursed me, turning me into this dragon before setting her sights on her own father. horrified and confused, I fled to the mountains and eventually recovered enough to observe the kingdom, to try to piece together what had happened after I left. what i discovered was nothing short of jarring. the princess had slain the entire court and used her ever-growing powers to reanimate the dead, to maintain the semblance of a court and to keep the kingdom under her thumb. far from wishing to die, it appeared as though she decided that if she was to live, she would live for the sake of deserving death, and so the hell that is the landis you and i know came to be. this was the day I grew tired of watching my greatest failure as a friend and mentor continue and struck out, and you were caught in the crossfires. I beg you sir knight, leave this realm, tell parrl of what has occurred, keep well away from that kingdom unless it is to invade and free the people from their corrupt princess."
with that, the dragon flew off, leaving ronceval to his confusion atop a great, snow-capped mountain. |
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