I've finally gotten my muse back! Geez, it's been so long, months now,
since I updated. So, I've redone all three chapters, and am currently
typing up several more so that I don't fall behind in updating. Sorry to
all those who read this and figured I'd not write any more chapters. I'm
not done with these characters, not for a long shot!
Summary: When a young minotaur warrior and a dragon team up, the adventure begins. GOD that's the corniest thing I've ever written in my entire life...but it gets the idea off the ground, right?
Rating: PG-13 for violence and mild language.
Setting: Sometime before the dragons were sent away by the Gods. Continent of Ansalon...durr
Disclaimer: All places and familiar beings belong to the whole Dragonlance empire, while the characters I've made up belong to me. Once again...durr.
Authors Note: I just finished reading "Land of the Minotaurs" for the umpteenth time, and it got me to thinkin'. I love the fact that they have a dragon/rider relationship between Kaz, a minotaur, and Tiberia, a silver dragon. You don't get many dragonriders who are anything other than elf or human, so I decided to play along that route, as I fell in love with it so much. Dragons are my favorite creatures, while minotaurs take a close second when in the topic of Krynn.
Chapter 1: The Horned One
She couldn't believe it. The day had finally come. Inside her chest was a gushing fountain of pride and courage. As far as she knew, this was a good thing. All the veteran warriors she had talked to, and also the ones still in their fighting prime, assured her that this feeling was regular when one was about to fight in the Circus.
Nakluga, or Nak for short, was of the clan Madrik. Madrik was a clan well known for its warriors, and thus was high in the ranks of the Nethosak hierarchy. It was tradition amongst those of Clan Madrik that in their later adolescent years, the young minotaurs of the family would participate in the Circus. If they won, then they would be accepted as true members of the Clan, treated as adults, with respect. If they lost in the Circus, they shame the family. The only problem with that was that if you lost in the Circus, it meant, most likely, you were no longer amongst the living.
This particular occasion marked the day of summer that declared the beginning Nak's last year of adolescence. Here she stood, cloaked in the shadow of the doorway that led into the arena. From her vantage point, she watched as the limp body of a full grown male lion was dragged off to the side. She counted this as a good sign, because the creature/minotaur fight was used at the beginning, as a teaser building up to the real battles. She nodded her head to the victor, as he limped past, to have his mauled leg bandaged.
The cheers that thundered from the stands were cut off by the blaring of a loud, deep horn. Anticipation filled the air so thick you could choke on it. As all sound dissipated, three more clear blasts announced the next battle. Nak's grip on the hilt of her long sword intensified as she started to walk out, into the sunlight. As her name and clan was announced, she thrust her weapon in the air, and was greeted by a roar of applause. She lowered her hand and stepped off to the side of the circle, waiting for her opponent to appear.
The muscular, chestnut furred male walked out, his chest out and his head held high, being greeted in the same way by the loud cheering and hooting. His eyes fell on his opponent, and stared intensely, as if weighing her ability by sight. A tall minotaur, even for female standards, Nakluga made for quite the intimidating sight. Though he was a well experienced warrior, and she not even classified as one yet, he couldn't help but feel the slightest twinge of anxiety as he locked gazes with her. There were two types of minotaur females. Those built slender, with curves, and those, like Nak, who were built muscular. Her powerfully built body was covered in a midnight black pelt, while longer slightly wavy tendrils, almost like a horse's mane, fell across her shoulders and brow. Erupting from her fur, just above her ears, were twin horns, longer than usual, ivory white and curled forward, so that they pointed at him. Her honey brown eyes were ablaze with the fire of battle. Definitely a member of the Madrik warrior house.
Nak had on a simple breastplate, and a chain mail kilt. Her shins and thighs were protected by plated guards, and a generic scabbard was slung across her back in the usual minotaur halter. He was dressed in a similar fashion, with the exception of the breastplate. Nak listened with only half her attention as the male was introduced, his name being somewhere along the lines of 'Zenkar'. After they were both introduced, three similar blasts of the horn signaled the beginning of the fight.
After a minute of circling each other, the two were done adjusting themselves to their opponent's movements. Zenkar leapt forward, slashing downward with his long-handled axe. Expecting this, Nak kicked forward, stomping down on the flat of the blade with her hoof. Before he had a chance to react, she jabbed forward. He ducked, but the keen edge of her blade sliced a shallow groove into his shoulder, drawing first blood. There was a cheer from one half of the crowd, and a loud boo from the other, but all was forgotten as the fight continued.
Five minutes later, neither of the minotaurs seemed to be gaining the upper hand. Nak had a shallow gash across her bicep that would probably heal well, not to mention various other scratches and bruises. But, she gave as well as she got. Other than his shoulder wound, Zenkar was sporting a brilliant black eye. Nak had weaved around an over-thrust, and simply decked him right then and there, much to the amusement of the crowd.
Nak soon got her opportunity for the victory. They broke away from a weapon lock, and Nak feigned fatigue. The point of her sword drooped slightly, but just enough to make it clear, and her shoulders sagged. Zenkar's muscles tensed and he dove forward, sweeping the axe horizontally at neck-level, going for the all-out decapitation. Too late did he see the flash in Nak's eyes, as she ducked and moved forward, so that the axe head swung harmlessly over her head. She ducked her head, and pushed off the ground, digging one of her horns deep into the shoulder of the male. His shoulder guards stopped most of the attack, but she still felt the tip bite into flesh, and the grunt of pain issued from the warrior. She pulled back, yanking her horns free. She had a slight headache from the force of the blow, and she shook it to clear her thoughts. Bad move.
She just caught the glint of sunlight on metal out of the corner of her eye. She found her legs not positioned to jump either left or right, so she leapt back, bringing her legs up. Raising her hands over her head, she fell into a backwards handspring, losing her sword in the process. Her quick thinking didn't come for free though; she wasn't fast enough to stop the edge of the axe blade from sweeping across her face. There was a searing pain, and then she was blinded as blood covered her face. She could tell the wound wasn't serious, but the blood had clouded her vision, despite her attempts to blink it away. Rubbing at it with the back of a hand, she backed away, in search of her weapon.
Unfortunately, the male minotaur, now with a smile of triumph on his face, stood between her and her only blade. But she had one more trick up her sleeve, which formed itself in her mind as Zenkar slashed downwards at her. Using the adrenaline that coursed through her veins in a torrent, she jumped back at the last possible second. The oncoming blade dug into the dirt, becoming temporarily stuck. She jumped forward, placing one hard hoof on the blade, and jumped off it, spinning in midair. Despite her size, she surprised Zenkar as her leg swung up and connected with his jaw. There was the splintering telltale of the broken mandible, and the bellow of pain that was cut off as the minotaur was knocked unconscious.
Nak landed in a slight crouch, ready for anything else. The crowd had gone silent, waiting for her to retrieve her sword and finish off the kill. Instead, she stood, and calmly walked over to him. Smiling gently, she turned, and raised her arms to the crowd. They cheered, until they realized, slowly, that she wasn't moving for the blade. The Emperor, Takerd, pounded a fist on the armrest of his throne.
"Kill him, you are the victor! In the name of Sargas!" He commanded, but to no avail. Nak looked up at him with contempt in her eyes. This Zenkar, now starting to come around, was moaning almost piteously. He would be eating paste for a couple of weeks, and she was sure he had spit out at least two teeth. Was that not punishment enough? "He is a great warrior, and should not be butchered. I will not claim the life of one with so much honor."
Honor was always the biggest virtue among minotaurs. Sargas had instilled the idea of minotaurs being the most honorable beings on Krynn himself. Nak believed this, of course, it was in her blood, but sometime, not long ago, she had found that following the laws of Kiri-Jolith, the bison-headed God of justice, was her true calling. It was then that she uttered the three words that would ultimately seal her fate within the minotaur hierarchy. "Sargas be damned." With that, she turned, and walked out of the arena. The crowd was silent, completely and totally stunned by her words.
***
As she was no prisoner, Nak was allowed to leave the Circus at any time, which she chose to do so now. She walked right out, and strode purposefully down the main street towards her clan's home. It was near the center of the city, as were most houses of the higher-ranking Clans. Therefore, it wasn't far from the Circus, which was of course the social gathering point in Nethosak.
Many inhabitants of Nethosak watched as she passed, her face a mask of blood. As she reached the door, she barged right in, not bothering with pleasantries to the help or guards. Every member of her family had been attending the Circus, and so she would not have to worry about running into one of them on her way through the halls of the large manor. She stalked straight to her room, and stopped at the foot of her bed.
There, waiting for her, was a chest. It was just a simple chest on the outside, but it was not the box she wanted. It was the treasure inside. As tradition went, if the young minotaur came back from the Circus alive, then they would receive their first real weapons. If they died, then the chest would be taken back to the store room, until the next warrior came home victorious.
Unlatching the lid, she raised it, her eyes falling on the weapons laid before her. A strange two-bladed dagger, complete with a small six inch sheathe, was soon clipped to her belt. The scabbard she received in the arena was replaced by one of finer, more buttery leather, and was holding a broadsword of massive proportions. With that settled, she closed the lid, sighed, and headed for the fountain.
In the back yard of the manor, a fountain flowed freely, as it was connected to a burbling stream. She looked at her bloody visage in the water's reflection for a while, before cupping her hands, and dipping them in the water. She proceeded to scrub the dried blood off, making herself more comfortable, and presentable. She then cleaned the cut and the other scrapes and wounds, to prevent infection. As she finished, she gazed long and hard at her muzzle. The wound would leave a handsome scar, and surprisingly, she couldn't wait. Her thoughts were interrupted by a harsh, deep voice.
"Nakluga Menthros Madrik, do you have any idea what you've done?" She knew her father's voice immediately. As the patriarch of his clan, Delmex de- Madrik was accustomed to discipline and honor. And right now, both were in serious question. His voice wasn't raised, but even and deathly calm. Nak knew by experience that this was much worse. She'd actually be relieved if he yelled at her instead.
Standing, she turned slowly, and faced her father. He was even more intimidating then she, just over 8 feet tall, with his massive set of horns and similar ink black pelt, though his was starting to streak silver with age. Suddenly feeling like a small child again, she looked at the floor. He spoke again. "You have seriously dishonored this clan, Nakluga. You were victorious in battle, but you let your opponent live! Not only did you dishonor this clan, but his own, as well. Do you know the consequences? I am well within my rights to send you to the Circus as a permanent guest, until you fight back the clan's honor. It's either that or you are exiled from our clan. Of course, the choice is mine."
Nak frowned, her rage building like a fire in her belly. "You were once the leader of a great army, Father, you know how important it is for an army to have strong warriors! How many will you have if they're all killed during the Circus, as entertainment?" Delmex shook his head, his expression softening. "It is our tradition, Nak. You know that. You are a promising fighter, with a sound mind and a strong will. I wouldn't have you thrust into the Circus like some sort of criminal."
Nak saddened, and hung her head once more. She blinked owlishly. "That leaves only one option." She whispered. Delmex nodded, and pulled her into a hug, before whispering in her ear, "Only in public, Nak. Know you will always be a Madrik no matter what the laws."
With a last nod, she readjusted her back halter, and inhaled deeply. She smiled to her father, and walked out the door, without a good bye. They both knew she'd come back. Delmex declared that she had taken the ultimatum to the public soon after and left Nethosak in Clan exile.
With her head held high and her muzzle set in a broad smile, she walked past the gates and out into the country. She was without a clue of what awaited her, but she was also struck with the confidence of the young and adventurous spirit.
END OF CHAPTER ONE!!!!! Long, I know, but don't worry. The dragon will have his introduction in the next chapter.
Summary: When a young minotaur warrior and a dragon team up, the adventure begins. GOD that's the corniest thing I've ever written in my entire life...but it gets the idea off the ground, right?
Rating: PG-13 for violence and mild language.
Setting: Sometime before the dragons were sent away by the Gods. Continent of Ansalon...durr
Disclaimer: All places and familiar beings belong to the whole Dragonlance empire, while the characters I've made up belong to me. Once again...durr.
Authors Note: I just finished reading "Land of the Minotaurs" for the umpteenth time, and it got me to thinkin'. I love the fact that they have a dragon/rider relationship between Kaz, a minotaur, and Tiberia, a silver dragon. You don't get many dragonriders who are anything other than elf or human, so I decided to play along that route, as I fell in love with it so much. Dragons are my favorite creatures, while minotaurs take a close second when in the topic of Krynn.
Chapter 1: The Horned One
She couldn't believe it. The day had finally come. Inside her chest was a gushing fountain of pride and courage. As far as she knew, this was a good thing. All the veteran warriors she had talked to, and also the ones still in their fighting prime, assured her that this feeling was regular when one was about to fight in the Circus.
Nakluga, or Nak for short, was of the clan Madrik. Madrik was a clan well known for its warriors, and thus was high in the ranks of the Nethosak hierarchy. It was tradition amongst those of Clan Madrik that in their later adolescent years, the young minotaurs of the family would participate in the Circus. If they won, then they would be accepted as true members of the Clan, treated as adults, with respect. If they lost in the Circus, they shame the family. The only problem with that was that if you lost in the Circus, it meant, most likely, you were no longer amongst the living.
This particular occasion marked the day of summer that declared the beginning Nak's last year of adolescence. Here she stood, cloaked in the shadow of the doorway that led into the arena. From her vantage point, she watched as the limp body of a full grown male lion was dragged off to the side. She counted this as a good sign, because the creature/minotaur fight was used at the beginning, as a teaser building up to the real battles. She nodded her head to the victor, as he limped past, to have his mauled leg bandaged.
The cheers that thundered from the stands were cut off by the blaring of a loud, deep horn. Anticipation filled the air so thick you could choke on it. As all sound dissipated, three more clear blasts announced the next battle. Nak's grip on the hilt of her long sword intensified as she started to walk out, into the sunlight. As her name and clan was announced, she thrust her weapon in the air, and was greeted by a roar of applause. She lowered her hand and stepped off to the side of the circle, waiting for her opponent to appear.
The muscular, chestnut furred male walked out, his chest out and his head held high, being greeted in the same way by the loud cheering and hooting. His eyes fell on his opponent, and stared intensely, as if weighing her ability by sight. A tall minotaur, even for female standards, Nakluga made for quite the intimidating sight. Though he was a well experienced warrior, and she not even classified as one yet, he couldn't help but feel the slightest twinge of anxiety as he locked gazes with her. There were two types of minotaur females. Those built slender, with curves, and those, like Nak, who were built muscular. Her powerfully built body was covered in a midnight black pelt, while longer slightly wavy tendrils, almost like a horse's mane, fell across her shoulders and brow. Erupting from her fur, just above her ears, were twin horns, longer than usual, ivory white and curled forward, so that they pointed at him. Her honey brown eyes were ablaze with the fire of battle. Definitely a member of the Madrik warrior house.
Nak had on a simple breastplate, and a chain mail kilt. Her shins and thighs were protected by plated guards, and a generic scabbard was slung across her back in the usual minotaur halter. He was dressed in a similar fashion, with the exception of the breastplate. Nak listened with only half her attention as the male was introduced, his name being somewhere along the lines of 'Zenkar'. After they were both introduced, three similar blasts of the horn signaled the beginning of the fight.
After a minute of circling each other, the two were done adjusting themselves to their opponent's movements. Zenkar leapt forward, slashing downward with his long-handled axe. Expecting this, Nak kicked forward, stomping down on the flat of the blade with her hoof. Before he had a chance to react, she jabbed forward. He ducked, but the keen edge of her blade sliced a shallow groove into his shoulder, drawing first blood. There was a cheer from one half of the crowd, and a loud boo from the other, but all was forgotten as the fight continued.
Five minutes later, neither of the minotaurs seemed to be gaining the upper hand. Nak had a shallow gash across her bicep that would probably heal well, not to mention various other scratches and bruises. But, she gave as well as she got. Other than his shoulder wound, Zenkar was sporting a brilliant black eye. Nak had weaved around an over-thrust, and simply decked him right then and there, much to the amusement of the crowd.
Nak soon got her opportunity for the victory. They broke away from a weapon lock, and Nak feigned fatigue. The point of her sword drooped slightly, but just enough to make it clear, and her shoulders sagged. Zenkar's muscles tensed and he dove forward, sweeping the axe horizontally at neck-level, going for the all-out decapitation. Too late did he see the flash in Nak's eyes, as she ducked and moved forward, so that the axe head swung harmlessly over her head. She ducked her head, and pushed off the ground, digging one of her horns deep into the shoulder of the male. His shoulder guards stopped most of the attack, but she still felt the tip bite into flesh, and the grunt of pain issued from the warrior. She pulled back, yanking her horns free. She had a slight headache from the force of the blow, and she shook it to clear her thoughts. Bad move.
She just caught the glint of sunlight on metal out of the corner of her eye. She found her legs not positioned to jump either left or right, so she leapt back, bringing her legs up. Raising her hands over her head, she fell into a backwards handspring, losing her sword in the process. Her quick thinking didn't come for free though; she wasn't fast enough to stop the edge of the axe blade from sweeping across her face. There was a searing pain, and then she was blinded as blood covered her face. She could tell the wound wasn't serious, but the blood had clouded her vision, despite her attempts to blink it away. Rubbing at it with the back of a hand, she backed away, in search of her weapon.
Unfortunately, the male minotaur, now with a smile of triumph on his face, stood between her and her only blade. But she had one more trick up her sleeve, which formed itself in her mind as Zenkar slashed downwards at her. Using the adrenaline that coursed through her veins in a torrent, she jumped back at the last possible second. The oncoming blade dug into the dirt, becoming temporarily stuck. She jumped forward, placing one hard hoof on the blade, and jumped off it, spinning in midair. Despite her size, she surprised Zenkar as her leg swung up and connected with his jaw. There was the splintering telltale of the broken mandible, and the bellow of pain that was cut off as the minotaur was knocked unconscious.
Nak landed in a slight crouch, ready for anything else. The crowd had gone silent, waiting for her to retrieve her sword and finish off the kill. Instead, she stood, and calmly walked over to him. Smiling gently, she turned, and raised her arms to the crowd. They cheered, until they realized, slowly, that she wasn't moving for the blade. The Emperor, Takerd, pounded a fist on the armrest of his throne.
"Kill him, you are the victor! In the name of Sargas!" He commanded, but to no avail. Nak looked up at him with contempt in her eyes. This Zenkar, now starting to come around, was moaning almost piteously. He would be eating paste for a couple of weeks, and she was sure he had spit out at least two teeth. Was that not punishment enough? "He is a great warrior, and should not be butchered. I will not claim the life of one with so much honor."
Honor was always the biggest virtue among minotaurs. Sargas had instilled the idea of minotaurs being the most honorable beings on Krynn himself. Nak believed this, of course, it was in her blood, but sometime, not long ago, she had found that following the laws of Kiri-Jolith, the bison-headed God of justice, was her true calling. It was then that she uttered the three words that would ultimately seal her fate within the minotaur hierarchy. "Sargas be damned." With that, she turned, and walked out of the arena. The crowd was silent, completely and totally stunned by her words.
***
As she was no prisoner, Nak was allowed to leave the Circus at any time, which she chose to do so now. She walked right out, and strode purposefully down the main street towards her clan's home. It was near the center of the city, as were most houses of the higher-ranking Clans. Therefore, it wasn't far from the Circus, which was of course the social gathering point in Nethosak.
Many inhabitants of Nethosak watched as she passed, her face a mask of blood. As she reached the door, she barged right in, not bothering with pleasantries to the help or guards. Every member of her family had been attending the Circus, and so she would not have to worry about running into one of them on her way through the halls of the large manor. She stalked straight to her room, and stopped at the foot of her bed.
There, waiting for her, was a chest. It was just a simple chest on the outside, but it was not the box she wanted. It was the treasure inside. As tradition went, if the young minotaur came back from the Circus alive, then they would receive their first real weapons. If they died, then the chest would be taken back to the store room, until the next warrior came home victorious.
Unlatching the lid, she raised it, her eyes falling on the weapons laid before her. A strange two-bladed dagger, complete with a small six inch sheathe, was soon clipped to her belt. The scabbard she received in the arena was replaced by one of finer, more buttery leather, and was holding a broadsword of massive proportions. With that settled, she closed the lid, sighed, and headed for the fountain.
In the back yard of the manor, a fountain flowed freely, as it was connected to a burbling stream. She looked at her bloody visage in the water's reflection for a while, before cupping her hands, and dipping them in the water. She proceeded to scrub the dried blood off, making herself more comfortable, and presentable. She then cleaned the cut and the other scrapes and wounds, to prevent infection. As she finished, she gazed long and hard at her muzzle. The wound would leave a handsome scar, and surprisingly, she couldn't wait. Her thoughts were interrupted by a harsh, deep voice.
"Nakluga Menthros Madrik, do you have any idea what you've done?" She knew her father's voice immediately. As the patriarch of his clan, Delmex de- Madrik was accustomed to discipline and honor. And right now, both were in serious question. His voice wasn't raised, but even and deathly calm. Nak knew by experience that this was much worse. She'd actually be relieved if he yelled at her instead.
Standing, she turned slowly, and faced her father. He was even more intimidating then she, just over 8 feet tall, with his massive set of horns and similar ink black pelt, though his was starting to streak silver with age. Suddenly feeling like a small child again, she looked at the floor. He spoke again. "You have seriously dishonored this clan, Nakluga. You were victorious in battle, but you let your opponent live! Not only did you dishonor this clan, but his own, as well. Do you know the consequences? I am well within my rights to send you to the Circus as a permanent guest, until you fight back the clan's honor. It's either that or you are exiled from our clan. Of course, the choice is mine."
Nak frowned, her rage building like a fire in her belly. "You were once the leader of a great army, Father, you know how important it is for an army to have strong warriors! How many will you have if they're all killed during the Circus, as entertainment?" Delmex shook his head, his expression softening. "It is our tradition, Nak. You know that. You are a promising fighter, with a sound mind and a strong will. I wouldn't have you thrust into the Circus like some sort of criminal."
Nak saddened, and hung her head once more. She blinked owlishly. "That leaves only one option." She whispered. Delmex nodded, and pulled her into a hug, before whispering in her ear, "Only in public, Nak. Know you will always be a Madrik no matter what the laws."
With a last nod, she readjusted her back halter, and inhaled deeply. She smiled to her father, and walked out the door, without a good bye. They both knew she'd come back. Delmex declared that she had taken the ultimatum to the public soon after and left Nethosak in Clan exile.
With her head held high and her muzzle set in a broad smile, she walked past the gates and out into the country. She was without a clue of what awaited her, but she was also struck with the confidence of the young and adventurous spirit.
END OF CHAPTER ONE!!!!! Long, I know, but don't worry. The dragon will have his introduction in the next chapter.