Hey! Just to let you know, this FanFiction that you are about to read is almost immediately filled with pretty descriptive violence, so if you don't like books with blood and drama and descriptive deaths and wounds (there are no guts, just blood) and stuff, please be warned. This is rated T for violence, but there will be little to no cussing, absolutely ZERO AMOUNTS of 'gross stuff,' or other things that would make a movie rated PG-13 or R. Most of my other FanFictions will have the same (if not a higher) level of violence, so if you aren't into that sort of stuff, I suggest you move on.

Best regards,

Firetide the Facinorous


And a quick side-note to anyone who decides to try and correct some rule I have unconsciously broken: I'm sorry, I didn't mean to break said rule, I WILL fix it if you ask nicely and aren't a complete asshole about it (unlike some people that will remain unmentioned). Also, great news: I DISCOVERED HOW TO BLOCK PEOPLE! Yep, it's possible. Anyways, I've dealt with incredibly rude people before, so please, if you're just looking for someone to bug, go bother someone else. This is a happy place for me, and I would like it to remain that way.


3992 PS


A black-haired scavenger rider opened his eyes, his hands still clasped around the reins from when he first fell asleep a few hours ago. His horse's hoofs clomped, muffled, against the earthen path, in rhythm with the other war horses around him, each mounted by a warrior-in-training. The moon had long since dropped below the horizon, leaving the dull glow of the sun lighting their path ahead, barely reaching the ground below.

"How much longer, do you think?" one of the other trainees were asking a companion. He shrugged, his armor clinking with the motion.

He turned his head left and then right, taking in his surroundings. The legion appeared to be traveling through a thick forest with trees that reached up to the sky, spreading their leafy branches to suck up the faint sunlight that filtered between them. The humidity in the air was overwhelmingly high, and perspiration clung to their armor in sparkling droplets.

Suddenly without warning, all the horse's hoofbeats became uneven, their ears cocked and swiveled this way and that, and any conversation that started up earlier was drowned out in the startled shouts from the riders. The black-haired scavenger's steed, a jet black female, reared completely and whinnied in fear. It took a great effort to calm her down, and his broadsword from the sheath in the process.

But that was still ten minutes before they heard the screaming.

It was an otherworldly sound that twisted the stomach into knots of fear and turned the blood cold. Involuntarily, the general and Battlemaster reined in as he heard it. Every horse plunged wildly against the reins. It came from nowhere and everywhere, sounding like it came from within their heads, and rose and fell, until the very air quaked with the horror of it.

Several minutes passed before anyone said a word.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Someone squeaked from the thicket of knights.

Finally, someone nearby managed to say, "It's a DarkClaw." They were referring to the oversized subspecies of incredibly intelligent and manipulative NightWing with only two legs, a tail that split into forks like a dragon's tongue, four wings, four horns and spiked ridges that could vanish, breathe fire and spit acid; dragon, yet not quite that.

The Battlemaster looked in his direction quizzically. "Preston, DarkClaws are legends. That was a dying dragon, at the worst. Sky or Rain, I am not sure, but I can assure you, that was no DarkClaw. There is no such thing as DarkClaws." As soon as the last word left his mouth, everything was dead silent. But even as the black-haired scavenger silently compared the swath of space to either side to straight ahead, the air ahead seemed to be a mask. Every detail was absolutely perfect, but something looking at it felt wrong. It felt as if someone had draped a perfect picture of a tunnel over a wall, and it was so realistic that one might try to walk through it.

"Scavenger scum," an impossibly rich female voice resonated through the air, touching at the worst nightmares of many of the knights. "Why have you imbeciles entered my hunting territory? Are you trying to get yourselves killed...?"

His heart sinking, the black-haired scavenger hopelessly thought back to the moment that a massive DarkClaw had promptly destroyed his kingdom after a careless knight had sought 'glory' and killed its youngling. Those hateful red eyes, casting evil across the landscape, stilling hearts by sheer terror.

"Answer me."

The Battlemaster's skin had turned white as parchment, like many of the others, as he turned in the direction of the voice. "W-w-we do no- do not seek to c-c-c-cause harm to a-a-any. Oh, Great One, to what do owe this visit?" Dragons that spoke the common language were extremely rare and unspeakably deadly.

A pause. Then, the creature decided to become visible. Her scales seemed to literally melt and flip over, changing out of the camouflage and into a panther shade of black. The red eyes were piercing and hostile. The delicate curve of the limbs yet the broad frame pointed mainly at a female that had lived a long life. Her four horns curved up and around her head like a spiky crown, and small scars crisscrossed her snout. Her claws dug into a fallen tree the forest floor. Her wings had the disdainful tilt of a creature that knew they had the upper hand in a quarrel.

"Tell your IDIOTIC little ruler to never enter the territory of Skotono the DarkClaw if he wishes not to lose any more troops, and to not send out any more STUPID KNIGHTS to kill my hatchlings."

The Battlemaster knitted his eyebrows for a moment. He only had a moment before the black acid rained down as an unstoppable wave of death.