The Children of Dragons
Prelude to Bloodline of Fire
Kalid should have known it was a bad idea from the start. Yes, he had just reached adulthood, which was considered an incredible accomplishment for green dragons because of the natural cruelty or their race. Still, he should have known it was a bad idea to attack the elder of the group of green dragons he had joined a few years ago...
He just barely dodged out of the path of the fireball spell the wyrm had flung at him. He already knew that fighting with his breath would be pointless because of the natural immunity their race had to acid. His ability to use magic was also limited; he couldn't come anywhere close to the amount of skill the wyrm possessed. So, to Kalid's dismay, he was forced to retreat.
He had one advantage; though he was still a poor flyer, the wyrm was worse still. He just had to try to keep out of reach of his magic. He knew that the wyrm wouldn't bring itself to fight with its body unless it expanded all of its magic. All he needed to do was keep ahea...
He felt an incredibly pain as the wyrm's lightning spell struck him in his back. The intense force of it sent him into unconsciousness, and he hurtled towards the forest below. His body crashed through the trees, creating a line of devastation in its wake.
The wyrm looked down at it's opponent, satisfied that it was more than likely dead. Hopefully, this would teach a lesson to the younger members of it's hunting party.
About twenty miles from the city of Gamsburt, and only five miles from the Forest of the Warring Ancients (known for the constant struggle between groups of green and gold dragons) was a cave known as Kuthlamak. Very few people ever journeyed towards it, as it was known territory to a powerful and large Kobold tribe, who were known to reach levels of expertise unknown to most kobolds, and who's leader, The Old Matron, was said to truly have been a descendent of a dragon. They were known for their fanatic study of the arcane arts, many of them using the blood of their ancestry to its fullest extent. They had reached a peace agreement with the people of Gamsburt as well as the near-by goblin tribe.
There was, however, a member of the tribe considered eccentric even among his own people. This was Barrakus, the head cleric of their god Kurtulmak and a very powerful master of the arcane. It was, however, the way he studied the arcane art that made him a recluse; he did not use the blood of dragons he possessed to wield arcane magic, but rather he'd stay in his quarters and study. Many of the member of this tribe considered this blasphemy to their race and heritage. Yet, the Old Mother did not prohibit him from this, and so none confronted him. ........................................... Matsushio despised Barrakus with his whole heart. Not only did he consider Barrakus to be one that had thrown his whole heritage away, but also considered him to be quite close to the border of insanity. He was disgusted with the position he held; the position of head cleric belonged to his cousin Hishna, the daughter of the Old Mother. Yet, she was still too young and too frightened to battle Barrakus for the position.
When that day came, Matsushio planned to make sure she won the battle one way or another.
He also despised that fact that he was the only one who had enough courage to go and talk to Barrakus. He was, after all, the nephew of the tribe leader and the leader of their warriors. Many of his men looked up to him, and if they wouldn't go, then he must go.
He finally came to Barrakus's door, his shortsword and dagger jangling by his side. Barrakus had written various prayers and reverences to Kurtulmak upon the door, as if creating a profane border around the edges. The knocker for the door was the head of a dragon with a brass ring within its mouth. Disgusted with the upcoming confrontation he'd have to have with the priest, he took the knocker and slammed it into the door with all his might. He was determined to talk to Barrakus, whether he still be awake or having been asleep.
Barrakus answered and looked as if he had been obviously awake, as Matsushio had expected. Barrakus was as odd looking as his behavior was eccentric for the kobold race. He wore a fine pair of spectacles for reading, as well as a shortened red robe. He wore a thin pair of gloves he claimed to be from the skin of a young red dragon, and no one had ever dared to attempt to contradict him or challenge him on that. "For what reason," the creature asked in the yapping version of Draconic their race possessed, "do you find it appropriate to disturb me at this hour, Matsushio?"
"My men found something that may prove of interest even to you Barrakus." He replied coldly. He for a kobold, Barrakus could be an incredibly intimidating figure. Yet, no matter how intimidating he was, Matsushio was even more so.
The creature chuckled lightly, a sound that came out as a mix between a gag and a snort. "I seriously doubt that you or the rabble you call a patrol have found anything that would interest me." He began to close the door, though he did not get far before Matsushio put his boot in the doorway.
"You'd consider a green dragon not worth your time?"
Barrakus' eyes went wide with interest, though this lasted only for a second. They soon narrowed into slits, looking at Matsushio suspiciously. "Impossible. You could not have gotten one of the grand ones unless it was dead." He smirked slightly. "A corpse does not warrant that much of an inspection, Matsushio. You're wasting my time."
Matsushio returned with a smirk of his own, a light playing around and dancing in his eyes. "You seem to think I'm a fool. I would not interrupt you if it were merely a corpse. However, that may be what it becomes if you don't come soon."
Barrakus stared at him for a moment more before allowing himself to follow the younger (and insubordinate) kobold. If what he said was true, this was too big an opportunity to pass up.
Kalid's unconscious body had landed only two miles from the kobold cave. Upon having found the dragon, Matsushio had called several of the younger priests of Kurtulmak to apply healing spells and poultices to the wounds. The priests had originally been unwilling to do so; they were terribly frightened of the dragon. Still, they were much more comfortable with going near the dragon then having to face the wrath of Barrakus, who had ordered that all dragons be treated with the respect nearly due to deities. They had been, for the last twenty minutes, been applying herbs to all wounds they had found and using the most minor of healing spells, afraid of awakening it to soon before Barrakus arrived.
They all soon parted from the small mass they had made near the dragon when Barrakus approached. They all stood in awe as they saw him approach the dragon in a casual manner.
In truth, Barrakus himself would admit that he was a little nervous himself. He had never been so close to a live dragon before. Yet, he knew his duty; was he and his whole race not spawned from the same blood as these creatures? He put one of his gloved hands to the scales of the creature, smooth and slick, and recited the chant for a spell he knew provided moderate curative powers. He could feel the force of the spell go through him and enter into its new host.
He gasped in surprise as the green dragon opened one of its huge eyes and looked directly at the small creature. In fact, he barely noticed when his legs give way under him.
'Kobolds.' Kalid thought to himself in a sneer of disgust. Nearly everything about the insignificant creatures irked him. He hated how they talked in that small, yapping voice and in a mockery of the glorious language of the dragons. He hated how cowardly they were and how they were willing to serve under others, and yet they claimed to be related to dragons.
Yet, he knew he was currently too weak to get up and do what he needed on his own. For now, it would be best to allow them to do what they wished to help him get back to strength.
Perhaps he'd even find another use for the creatures.
TO BE CONTINUED IN BLOODLINE OF FIRE CHAPTER ONE, COMING JANUARY 2004
Prelude to Bloodline of Fire
Kalid should have known it was a bad idea from the start. Yes, he had just reached adulthood, which was considered an incredible accomplishment for green dragons because of the natural cruelty or their race. Still, he should have known it was a bad idea to attack the elder of the group of green dragons he had joined a few years ago...
He just barely dodged out of the path of the fireball spell the wyrm had flung at him. He already knew that fighting with his breath would be pointless because of the natural immunity their race had to acid. His ability to use magic was also limited; he couldn't come anywhere close to the amount of skill the wyrm possessed. So, to Kalid's dismay, he was forced to retreat.
He had one advantage; though he was still a poor flyer, the wyrm was worse still. He just had to try to keep out of reach of his magic. He knew that the wyrm wouldn't bring itself to fight with its body unless it expanded all of its magic. All he needed to do was keep ahea...
He felt an incredibly pain as the wyrm's lightning spell struck him in his back. The intense force of it sent him into unconsciousness, and he hurtled towards the forest below. His body crashed through the trees, creating a line of devastation in its wake.
The wyrm looked down at it's opponent, satisfied that it was more than likely dead. Hopefully, this would teach a lesson to the younger members of it's hunting party.
About twenty miles from the city of Gamsburt, and only five miles from the Forest of the Warring Ancients (known for the constant struggle between groups of green and gold dragons) was a cave known as Kuthlamak. Very few people ever journeyed towards it, as it was known territory to a powerful and large Kobold tribe, who were known to reach levels of expertise unknown to most kobolds, and who's leader, The Old Matron, was said to truly have been a descendent of a dragon. They were known for their fanatic study of the arcane arts, many of them using the blood of their ancestry to its fullest extent. They had reached a peace agreement with the people of Gamsburt as well as the near-by goblin tribe.
There was, however, a member of the tribe considered eccentric even among his own people. This was Barrakus, the head cleric of their god Kurtulmak and a very powerful master of the arcane. It was, however, the way he studied the arcane art that made him a recluse; he did not use the blood of dragons he possessed to wield arcane magic, but rather he'd stay in his quarters and study. Many of the member of this tribe considered this blasphemy to their race and heritage. Yet, the Old Mother did not prohibit him from this, and so none confronted him. ........................................... Matsushio despised Barrakus with his whole heart. Not only did he consider Barrakus to be one that had thrown his whole heritage away, but also considered him to be quite close to the border of insanity. He was disgusted with the position he held; the position of head cleric belonged to his cousin Hishna, the daughter of the Old Mother. Yet, she was still too young and too frightened to battle Barrakus for the position.
When that day came, Matsushio planned to make sure she won the battle one way or another.
He also despised that fact that he was the only one who had enough courage to go and talk to Barrakus. He was, after all, the nephew of the tribe leader and the leader of their warriors. Many of his men looked up to him, and if they wouldn't go, then he must go.
He finally came to Barrakus's door, his shortsword and dagger jangling by his side. Barrakus had written various prayers and reverences to Kurtulmak upon the door, as if creating a profane border around the edges. The knocker for the door was the head of a dragon with a brass ring within its mouth. Disgusted with the upcoming confrontation he'd have to have with the priest, he took the knocker and slammed it into the door with all his might. He was determined to talk to Barrakus, whether he still be awake or having been asleep.
Barrakus answered and looked as if he had been obviously awake, as Matsushio had expected. Barrakus was as odd looking as his behavior was eccentric for the kobold race. He wore a fine pair of spectacles for reading, as well as a shortened red robe. He wore a thin pair of gloves he claimed to be from the skin of a young red dragon, and no one had ever dared to attempt to contradict him or challenge him on that. "For what reason," the creature asked in the yapping version of Draconic their race possessed, "do you find it appropriate to disturb me at this hour, Matsushio?"
"My men found something that may prove of interest even to you Barrakus." He replied coldly. He for a kobold, Barrakus could be an incredibly intimidating figure. Yet, no matter how intimidating he was, Matsushio was even more so.
The creature chuckled lightly, a sound that came out as a mix between a gag and a snort. "I seriously doubt that you or the rabble you call a patrol have found anything that would interest me." He began to close the door, though he did not get far before Matsushio put his boot in the doorway.
"You'd consider a green dragon not worth your time?"
Barrakus' eyes went wide with interest, though this lasted only for a second. They soon narrowed into slits, looking at Matsushio suspiciously. "Impossible. You could not have gotten one of the grand ones unless it was dead." He smirked slightly. "A corpse does not warrant that much of an inspection, Matsushio. You're wasting my time."
Matsushio returned with a smirk of his own, a light playing around and dancing in his eyes. "You seem to think I'm a fool. I would not interrupt you if it were merely a corpse. However, that may be what it becomes if you don't come soon."
Barrakus stared at him for a moment more before allowing himself to follow the younger (and insubordinate) kobold. If what he said was true, this was too big an opportunity to pass up.
Kalid's unconscious body had landed only two miles from the kobold cave. Upon having found the dragon, Matsushio had called several of the younger priests of Kurtulmak to apply healing spells and poultices to the wounds. The priests had originally been unwilling to do so; they were terribly frightened of the dragon. Still, they were much more comfortable with going near the dragon then having to face the wrath of Barrakus, who had ordered that all dragons be treated with the respect nearly due to deities. They had been, for the last twenty minutes, been applying herbs to all wounds they had found and using the most minor of healing spells, afraid of awakening it to soon before Barrakus arrived.
They all soon parted from the small mass they had made near the dragon when Barrakus approached. They all stood in awe as they saw him approach the dragon in a casual manner.
In truth, Barrakus himself would admit that he was a little nervous himself. He had never been so close to a live dragon before. Yet, he knew his duty; was he and his whole race not spawned from the same blood as these creatures? He put one of his gloved hands to the scales of the creature, smooth and slick, and recited the chant for a spell he knew provided moderate curative powers. He could feel the force of the spell go through him and enter into its new host.
He gasped in surprise as the green dragon opened one of its huge eyes and looked directly at the small creature. In fact, he barely noticed when his legs give way under him.
'Kobolds.' Kalid thought to himself in a sneer of disgust. Nearly everything about the insignificant creatures irked him. He hated how they talked in that small, yapping voice and in a mockery of the glorious language of the dragons. He hated how cowardly they were and how they were willing to serve under others, and yet they claimed to be related to dragons.
Yet, he knew he was currently too weak to get up and do what he needed on his own. For now, it would be best to allow them to do what they wished to help him get back to strength.
Perhaps he'd even find another use for the creatures.
TO BE CONTINUED IN BLOODLINE OF FIRE CHAPTER ONE, COMING JANUARY 2004