Thursday, April 23, 2020

218 - The Poetry of Heathrax Dragonfriend

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Many seeds are planted in my garden
Flowers, fruits, and herbs all grow, tangled
They’ve gathered from many lands.
Some have drifted to me with the winds.
They are all now my friends

    - Heathrax Dragonfriend


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Monday, April 20, 2020

217 - “Rise Again” - Tonklyn - A Tale of Heroes

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For two full days, snow had fallen on the mountain, and the canyon winds had funneled the blizzard over the shrine. The terraces, the bridge, the scattered rubble, and the twisted dragon’s body were all covered over in almost two feet of new snow. The bony skeleton of the bridge’s structure underneath held it steady, but the damage from the fight was still evident. The stone debris lay in scattered shambles across the walkway, and the snow, gray in the dim, blended into the charred black stones where the dragon had spit its last flames.

Several of the layered pools along the wall of the canyon had been emptied when the force of the dragon’s body clambering over them crushed the ledges holding the water in place. Without the hot water filling them, the shells were now buried in snow. Jagged stones from the damage stuck up like knives through the snow. The hot springs still flowed, cutting down the side of the mountain in steaming streams, keeping the snow at bay until they faded into the mists in the valley below. Ice flows on either side of the streams dripped in the gray light like blood from daggers. The rising heat of the waters underneath had not yet had time to melt the snow on the bridge, but icicles from that afternoon were starting to dangle from its precipices.

The night weighed heavy on the canyon and the thick darkness of shadow descended. The only sounds were the wooing winds and the haunting mumbled conversations of the springs and falls.

On the bridge near the shrine, a bit of the snow shifted. It crunched a little in the quiet, bumping up a few inches.

Then another piece near it moved, as if a small animal were burrowing under its surface. Then, for a moment, there was an uncertain still again.

Quickly, the snow shook and rustled from side to side with a fiercer motion. A clump of snow rose up, like something was trying to break out from under it into the dark air.

A dark hand burst out. It swung from side to side, sweeping the snow away. It’s motions were jerks and strokes, like its arm below were still frozen and lifeless.

Soon, a second hand emerged and shoved more of the snow aside.

A dark head and torso sat up, and turned over, straining to stand. His face was dark and scaly, and his hair matted and tangled. When he stood, he shook as if his limbs were uncertain of how to be steady. He tossed his cloak to cast off the snow, then bent and reached back into the snow to pull out his spear.

He meticulously began walking across the bridge, stumbling through the snow toward the path down the mountain.


“It will take him a long time to get back here.” Tonklyn said, as he and Kirraxal watched the drama unfold on their shadow stage in the throne room. That’s why Kirraxal wasn’t angry after the battle. It doesn’t matter as much if he’s not so good at fighting. He’ll just wake back up. I wonder how many unlives he has. One more? Two? Maybe he’s undying. 

“True.” Kirraxal agreed. “Maybe I should send him to Emberfire City to wait for you there.”

Maybe. This is an interesting twist that I’ll need to plan for.

“As you command, Your Majesty. As you command.”



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This continues the story of the heroes in Wynne, in Twynne Rivers, in the world of The Hero's Tale, Family Friendly RPGs. Here's more info on The Hero's Tale, and family friendly RPGing. If you like this story, support us at our Patreon!
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Thursday, April 16, 2020

216 - “Top of the World” - Thissraelle - A Tale of Heroes

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Thissraelle and Eddiwarth stood on the crest of the mountain, in the same spot where they had been with Korr earlier. Hours before? Days before? She couldn’t tell. There seemed to be deeper, fresher snow than there had been then.

The winds blew their cloaks around them, and her hair flew around her hooded face. The sun was sinking low in the western horizon and the sky behind them was turning a dark blue. The mountain below them was covered in a thick blanket of snow dappled in an orange glow; the deep slope behind them was already dark.

She leaned back on him, her head against his shoulder, and his arm wrapped around her waist, across her cloak. Life had been a storm of changes in the immediate past. Her father turned out to be not so much of a villain, after all. Dragons had almost killed her, and then the object of her quest turned out to be a dragon. Then, that dragon had agreed to take her on as a student. Her friends, well, they were always there, but now she appreciated them so much more. And Eddiwarth was now her... My what? My friend? My love? There should be a word in between those two. She drew in cold air.

“It’s hard to breathe up here,” she said.

“I always feel that way around you.”

“Really?” She rolled her eyes. “That’s the best you’ve got?”

“Probably, I’m sad to say.”

She laughed and pressed herself close against him again. “You need to read more poems.”

She let the winds blow around her and watched the sun dip a few degrees lower. She marveled at the beauty of the view stretched out before them. “So, are those the Graemal mountains?” She squinted and pointed slightly to the right of the darkening sun. There was a low line of jagged blue and white bumps on the distant horizon.

“I don’t know. I think that’s another branch of the Emberfire ranges.” He also squinted and shielded his eyes with his hand, then pointed. “Way off over there, more south. Those tiny points might be.”

She looked, too, but the sun was halfway hidden, and the darkness was descending. The few high and wispy clouds were lit with a vivid orange and gray.

“Now that’s breathtaking.” Thissraelle said.

She turned to face Eddiwarth and put her arms around his neck. “Thanks for showing me the beautiful view.” He started to say something, but she hurried to kiss him first.

Then they just embraced tightly and felt each other’s warmth in the darkening cold.


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This continues the story of the heroes in Wynne, in Twynne Rivers, in the world of The Hero's Tale, Family Friendly RPGs. Here's more info on The Hero's Tale, and family friendly RPGing. If you like this story, support us at our Patreon!
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Monday, April 13, 2020

215 - "What Is This Thing?” - Granthurg - A Tale of Heroes

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Interludes:


It was snowing again in the Graelmal mountains. Not a fierce, harsh blizzard, just a steady snowfall where millions of flakes quietly float down through the still night air. Even though the city wasn’t high up the slope, nestling in the gentler foothills, it still got a lot of snow each winter.

Winterfest was only a week away, and many celebrations had already been going on. As the long dark of winter nights settled over the city, the Giants of Graemalan had begun hanging their lights and banners. The lights were small shards of gems, tiny oculi, dropped in the bottom of small glass jars. A wire was looped around the neck and it was set dangling over a door or window. Most houses had one or two, the most they could afford, but some of the wealthier families had dozens. They kept the snow in the narrow city streets glowing.

One of these lights shone through the thin curtain of a window onto Granthurg, stretched out long in his bed. He had been glad to get home so many months ago. After several years in the human-run world, it had been nice to not have to stoop in a house, squat on a chair, or curl up on a bed.

His mother and two younger siblings had been thrilled to see him, and had embraced him fiercely when he had surprised them with his arrival. That first dinner home had filled him with joy and melancholy. He missed his father who had passed many years before, and his older brother was away working the river.

He also carried a heavy heart whenever he thought of Thissraelle and Karendle. Every once in a while, he would raise his eyes to the sky and ask The Creator to watch over them.

He turned in his bed. His mattress was soft, but also a bit worn. He felt a familiar discomfort from under the mattress, a rigid stiffness. He knew what it was. He kept it there, hidden, but accessible. Occasionally, he pulled it out and thought about it. He did that tonight. He reached under his arm, under his mattress and grabbed the sheath. Holding it in the cool night air, he unsnapped the strap and drew the blade. The shiny, short white dagger glistened a little in the soft light coming in through the window.

What ARE you?

The point and edge were very sharp. He knew it well. He had pricked his finger on it many times, trying to feel it, to learn its powers. The only time he’d ever been surprised by it was the one moment when he’d used it to fight the drake while thrashing in the river. So many people seemed to want it, even though most people didn’t even know it existed. It frightened him, baffled him, and fascinated him. He wanted to find out about it, its history and function.

You’re a fool, Granthurg. Get rid of it. It will be the death of you.

He slid it back into its sheath and snapped the strap again. He reached under his mattress and replaced it. It wasn’t so comfortable, but that reminded him that it was there. Really, its very existence made him a bit uncomfortable.

He turned back over and resettled his blanket.

Now to just get some sleep.


<<<>>>



This continues the story of the heroes in Wynne, in Twynne Rivers, in the world of The Hero's Tale, Family Friendly RPGs. Here's more info on The Hero's Tale, and family friendly RPGing. If you like this story, support us at our Patreon!
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Thursday, April 9, 2020

214 - “Last Questions” - Thissraelle - A Tale of Heroes

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“I have more questions.” Thissraelle interjected, as she reached for an apple on the blanket before her.

Heathrax nodded his huge head toward her. “And I have a few for you.”

“Ah. Okay.” She hesitated and sat back. “Go ahead.”

“You told me how you were instructed to find me, but not how you came to actually find me.”

“Oh. Yeah. Well, that’s a long story, too.”

The dragon, with just a bit of sarcasm in his smile, raised his head and flexed the tendrils on his face. He tried to speak with a mocking high female lilt to his voice, “Well, I don’t think we’re going anywhere anytime soon, and time doesn’t seem to matter here, anyway, so...”

Thissraelle rolled her eyes. “Fine.” She began her story with when she met Granthurg and Karendle, telling how they had all battled the slavers in the manor near Dirae. Eddiwarth and Karendle interrupted with their own embellishments and points of view. They talked about their time in the monastery, and the visitation of St Ivarr. They talked about meeting Parith and Korr in the battle at the Cathedral, and spending time in The Vast with the Seekers.

“They said they knew you, that you had helped to found their order.” Thissraelle said to Heathrax.

“Yes, I did.” Heathrax affirmed. “Many years later, I tried to get Jaxil to join, but he was too concerned with the Guild and their machinations in the City.” Jaxil sighed and nodded.

Thissraelle continued, “They told us they thought you were in the Emberfire mountains, so we all began the journey.”

Eddiwarth interjected with a wink at Thissraelle, “We really like your poetry, by the way.”
“My poetry?” The dragon looked surprised.

“Yes, they gave me a book of your poems,” Thissraelle said, “but they never mentioned that you were a dragon. That might have helped us.”

Heathrax laughed again.

“Hey!” Karendle exclaimed to Thissraelle, “Couldn’t they have just portaled us here? If they knew him and all. That would have saved us a lot of trouble.”

Heathrax shook his head. “I have been isolated for many, many years. I don’t believe any of them know where to find me. I’ve been quite content to be alone.”

The story continued. Korr told of the party traveling through the forest, of being attacked, and ending up in TreeHaven. Thissraelle told him about the shrine, and their efforts to find out more about him there.

“That is a remarkable journey.” Heathrax confirmed.

Korr nodded. “My master teaches that all things are connected, and the world is one, a whole, a complete round. Any road that you walk will eventually lead you to where you need to be.”

Heathrax chuckled. “Your master is wise, but he always makes me laugh.”

Thissraelle smiled. Yes, the long road got us here. Who could have foreseen all of this? We had no idea where we were going. She looked at her friends with gratitude. She reached out and took Eddiwarth’s hand, then Karendle’s. Each of them took Korr’s and Parith’s as well. “Thank you all. You each risked so much for me, and I have learned so much from each of you. Thank you.”

Karendle embraced her. “I’m with you, sis. I’m with you!”

Heathrax nodded to them. “This could be why Ivarr came to you.”

Thissraelle sat back. “I don’t understand.” I’ve been saying that a lot in the last few months.

“You said you had been troubled not knowing why you had been given this task. Look around you. Look how you have all become so close, how much you have obviously all grown. You might have thought that the task was to bring me a vitally important message of the dangers in the world, but The Creator is often very involved in helping small changes in the lives of seemingly small people. Sometimes that’s how big things happen.”

Thissraelle looked around at the others and breathed deep.

A thought jumped up in her mind. “I still want to know how you and my father knew to come save us at the shrine. We were all set to die. How did you know to help us in the fight?”

Her father answered, “Well, I was contacted by Heathrax. He told me you were about to be in trouble and told me where. Years and years and years of nothing, not a ‘how do you do’, and suddenly, he’s telling me that my daughter’s about to get killed. I have no idea how he knew.” He looked over at the dragon.

Heathrax exclaimed, “Why, you told me!”

Jaxil frowned. “No, I didn’t.”

“Not you, Jaxil. You didn’t.” Heathrax gestured at Thissraelle. “However, you did.”

“What?” Thissraelle face was twisted in confusion.

“I received a message to my mind that you would be there, and that you urgently need my help. I reached out to your father immediately, then hurried to my portal.”

“But I didn’t know you.. I had no idea how to communicate with you! And how would you know who I was and that I would need your help?”

“Time is funny. It marches along very strangely here in The Vast. You obviously didn’t know me then. But now you do. And someday I imagine you will know how to send me that message.”

Thissraelle took a deep breath, her mind reeling a bit, then slowly bit from the apple she had held in her lap. There was no logical response to that statement. She looked at the blank and surprised faces of the others and had no answer for them, either. “So,” she munched, “what do we do now?”

Her father slowly stood. “You four,” he gestured to all of Thissraelle’s friends, “should rest. You should all come with me to Emberfire City and be honored guests in my home there. Stay for the Winterfest. It is amazing here in the mountains.”

“And what about me?” Thissraelle pressed.

Jaxil sighed deeply. “I can no longer command you as your father. You need not obey me. I hope, however, that you will also come home, at least for a time. Please. If not for me, come to comfort your mother.”

Oh. 

Yes. My Mother. 

That’s going to be an... interesting visit.  

She looked at Karendle with pleading in her eyes. “Maybe we can go on another quest...?”




The End of Part 15, and Story Arc 4



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This continues the story of the heroes in Wynne, in Twynne Rivers, in the world of The Hero's Tale, Family Friendly RPGs. Here's more info on The Hero's Tale, and family friendly RPGing. If you like this story, support us at our Patreon!
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Monday, April 6, 2020

213 - “The Dragons Stir” - Thissraelle - A Tale of Heroes

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“The dragons stir.” Thissraelle said, sitting on another floating rock. This one was significantly bigger than the others they had been on, with a large flat space some thirty feet across. It was mostly a deep red, but had veins of green and black running through it. “That’s my message for you. I have no idea what it means, but I would really like to know. That’s just what I was told to tell you.”

Heathrax hummed deep in his throat and nodded. He floated in The Vast just a few steps away from the rest of the group, who all relaxed in a semi-circle next to Thissraelle on the stone. Eddiwarth had used his power to start a fire in the middle, more for relaxation and emotional comfort than for warmth or cooking. Thissraelle’s father had retrieved some food from Emberfire, back in The Great Reality, breads and fruits, and it was all spread out at their feet on cloths between each of them and the fire.

“Jaxil?” The old dragon wheezed, “What do you think?”

“It probably has something to do with the Dragon’s Flame.”

“Are they still around?”

“Apparently, and becoming more active.”

Thissraelle interrupted. “Yeah, just who is this Dragon’s Flame group?”

Her father said, “They’re a strange cult that--”

“--that worships dragons, I know that, but who ARE they? Where did they come from? What do they want?”

“Shall I tell you the short version? Or the full story?” Heathrax looked at her with what might have been the draconic equivalent of a smirk.

Thissraelle leaned back, tucked her chin, and raised her brows. “Well, I don’t think we’re going anywhere anytime soon, and time doesn’t matter out here, anyway, so...”

Heathrax growled a chuckle out of his throat, then he coughed. “Excuse me, I’m very old, and not fully well.” he said. “About 400 years ago, when I was a much younger dragon, we ruled the land of Wynne. You’ve probably heard of that time. The great Dragon Kings lived in the western mountains and ruled all of the land. Most of the records of the dragons note that it was a time of great civilization and great learning. Dragons were everywhere.

“Some of us, however, began to feel that using our power and strength to dominate the humans, elves, dwarves, giants, and everyone, was not right. There was a philosophical movement among the dragons toward hominid self-determination and liberty. Since we, as dragons of the ruling class, enjoyed freedom to share our thoughts, even though the people did not, some of us began to speak out. The debate at times became heated, and there were some clashes. At first, they were just clashes of words, but they soon escalated.”

Thissraelle nodded. “Is that why you’re called the DragonFriend?”

“Yes.” Heathrax got a deep, almost nostalgic look on his face. “The elves of the forest first called me that. I rather liked that name.”

“When we were first looking for you, I assumed that it was the name of a man who was a friend to dragons, not the other way around.”

Heathrax smiled and continued, “There were some among the people that were loyal to the dragon kings. For some reason that I will never understand, they believed we were ordained to rule all, by the Creator himself. Then, they took it even further, implying that the Creator had made us dragons to be deities from the beginning, and that since our ancestors had even helped create the world, according to the legends, we should be worshipped.

“Unfortunately, some of us rather liked being worshipped. I always found it oddly awkward.” Heathrax shook his head sadly. “Anyway. Other groups of the people did not believe us to be gods, and instead wanted to overthrow the rule of the dragons. They bounded together into armies and tried to fight, but between the dragons themselves, and the loyalist armies, there was little hope for them. Just a lot of blood. Some dragons were killed, but it was mostly the blood of people, I’m afraid.”

After a moment’s pause, Thissraelle encouraged, “So, how did the reign of the Dragon Kings end? Did you eventually convince the others to allow the people to be free?” She had never really been interested in historical things before, but now found herself fascinated. Granthurg would be loving this talk!

“Oh, no! That was a bizarre twist of fate. Soon after the wars, the dragons were struck with a pox, a disease. It ran through our populace like a grass fire through a meadow. It ravaged us, killing most. Easily two out of every three dragons succumbed. Magic couldn’t cure it, and none of us knew any arts of natural healing. Most of those left were sickly and weak. That was my fate. That is why I still breathe and talk like I do.”

“People in the cities sensed that our rule was weakening, and formed their armies with renewed excitement. What remained of us after the pox were killed or driven from our holds and palaces, scattered away. I flew here to the Emberfire mountains, along with a few others, to establish ourselves in hiding. It was easy enough to do. These mountains are difficult to climb. Others left the land of Wynne entirely.”

Eddiwarth asked, “Are you still dying off?”

“Oh, no. The pox is over. But we are few, and very solitary. Once a year or two we might fly to find a mate and have a small clutch of eggs, but as a group, we have no leader, no society, no way of knowing how many of those hatchlings survive.”

Jaxil picked up the story. “After defeating the dragons, the people fought among themselves for a time, until the Mage kings of the high elves established order and civilization again.”

Parith and Thissraelle exchanged saddened glances.

“So,” Jaxil continued, “the logical conclusion here is that some descendant of one of the old dragons has raised its head, begun to rally the old cult, and stir up trouble. It has happened before.”

Karendle swallowed a bite of bread. “Does this have anything to do with Granthurg and that dagger?”

Heathrax’s head turned quickly, startling Eddiwarth. He dropped his cup with a clatter. Heathrax whispered, “A dagger?”

“Yeah.” Karende went on between bites, “It was short, white, curved, and had a lot of carvings. There was a dragon design cast into the pommel. He said everyone was trying to get it from him.”

The great dragon drew in a breath in wonder. “Yes, in fact, it does have much to do with that. Does he still have it?”

Karendle looked at Thissraelle. “Yeah, I guess so. What is it?”

“It’s a relic I, actually, had hoped had been lost. It was made by human mages in the early days of the uprising, from the tooth of a slain dragon.” Everyone went quiet. “It was legendary, and, after the great pox, helped the humans to kill many dragons. That was its only power, to kill dragons.”

“So, if you happen to worship dragons...” Thissraelle began.

Heathrax inserted, “or if you ARE a dragon...”

“It would be very good to have it in your control.”



<<<>>>



This continues the story of the heroes in Wynne, in Twynne Rivers, in the world of The Hero's Tale, Family Friendly RPGs. Here's more info on The Hero's Tale, and family friendly RPGing. If you like this story, support us at our Patreon!
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Thursday, April 2, 2020

212 - “Striking Power” - Korr - A Tale of Heroes

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“Slow, steady breathing. Steady.”

Slow. Steady.

Korr stood on the ridge of the mountain, his feet in a solid square stance. He took in a breath, but the cold and the thinness of the air made that difficult. He looked out across the deep valley floor below. It showed the expanse of Umbrawood, but it was much further beneath him than it had been before. He shifted his feet in the snow through a few forms. He set his arms at his side, his fists turned wrist-up. His eyes were closed. The frigid wind blew past him, billowing his shirt. He tried to ignore the cold.

“Now, shape the sun,” the dragon’s deep and airy voice said to him.

Korr took in another freezing breath and opened his hands. He slowly moved them to a place before his torso, one low, turned upward, and the other above it, palm down.

Shape the sun.

Beside him, Heathrax floated, his long tendrils flowing in the wind. His long tail shifted back and forth, many dozens of feet behind them. Thissraelle and Eddiwarth had come out of The Vast with Korr and stood on his other side, also several paces back, so as not to be a distraction in the lesson.

“Good. Now breathe your will into the su—.” The dragon’s voice choked on the word.

Korr slowly exhaled.

Is it there? I’m not sure if I’m feeling it.

When he was out of breath, he paused, then hung his head and broke his stance with a gasp.

Immediately, Heathrax turned his head away and coughed out in a few loud and deep raspy huffs. “I’m sorry. I tried to hold that in, to not distract you. Try again.”

It’s not the dragon’s fault. I can’t find my will.

He held his arms and shook his feet in the snow, then reset them into his stance. He blew misty fog from his mouth a few times and glanced over at his friends, who just nodded encouragement.

He looked at Heathrax, who nodded. “Set your stance again. Shape the sun, then find your will.”

Korr followed the instructions. He closed his eyes and dropped his mind into the space between his hands.

“Maan Korr, find your will.” Heathrax whispered. “It is your will you must find. Not your Master’s, not mine, not your friends’. You have served everyone else well, but this must be for you. It must be your will. Do you want it?”

I want this. I want to learn it. I want to have it.

He felt a warmth form in his chest.

Yes. I want this. I must learn this. It is my will.

The feeling grew inside him, a warmth deep within. He willed it to flow through his hands and coalesce into the space he’d shaped between his palms. Power and heat formed there, in a small spinning ball of energy. It grew and whirled more fiercely as he channeled more and more will into it.

“Yes. Good. Are you ready?” Heathrax asked with calm.

Korr dropped his right foot back, bending his knees and turning his shoulders and torso to the side. He opened his determined eyes and focused them on a large snowy rock outcropping a short distance along the windy ridge.

He leaned into his forward leg. With a twist of his hips and shoulders he thrust the palms of his hands straight out, throwing the ball of striking power straight at the stone. It hit and exploded, shattering the upper half of the stone into tiny pebbles and a few larger chunks that fell all around them, making impressions in the new fallen snow.

“By the Creator!” Eddiwarth shouted. Thissraelle shrieked and clapped with excitement.

Korr breathed calmly and returned to a resting stance. He turned to Heathrax and bowed. The dragon returned the gesture.

As Korr looked down, he saw one of the broken stones in the snow at his feet. He picked it up and inspected it. It had several fractured facets, delineated by sharp jagged edges. He smiled in satisfaction and closed his fingers around the stone. He was suddenly aware of the cold again, and shivered.

He was almost knocked off balance by Thissraelle grabbing him and hugging him from behind.



<<<>>>



This continues the story of the heroes in Wynne, in Twynne Rivers, in the world of The Hero's Tale, Family Friendly RPGs. Here's more info on The Hero's Tale, and family friendly RPGing. If you like this story, support us at our Patreon!
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