Thursday, April 16, 2015

Dwagone Tale 2

The soot-faced young woman found herself at the edge of a mountain with a gust of wind threatening to topple her over into a dark abyss. Her frail figure shook as she looked below and saw that her only path to safety was to climb down a jagged slope. She made her way with care, and every so often a small rock would break under the pressure of her feet causing her to slip somewhat, but nothing overtly hazardous or detrimental to her health.
Eventually, she reached the base and began to search for any clues to determine her current whereabouts. It dawned on her that she had no recollection of what had brought her to this desolate area.

Upon moving further, night turned into day and her confusion eased a bit. After walking for some time, she heard a faint bubbling sound emitting from underneath a plateau. The noise made her feel blissful and excited her to no avail. Running over to the source as quickly as she can, her breath began to fail her. A small voice in her head urged to keep going, as the pay-off would be grand.

That’s when she saw it. A forest of fruitful palm trees unlike anything she had ever laid her eyes on. A bustling oasis with clear waters emerged amidst a thought-to-be barren land, which a sight for sore eyes for a thirsty adventurer.

She kneeled by the water and drank her fill before washing the dirt off her face. The water was put ice in her veins and she felt reinvigorated and alive. The puzzling appearance of this piece of heaven boggled her mind still, and she pondered while staring at her own reflection in the reverberating water.

As she looked at herself, another figure materialized in the reflection, standing next to her.
The Great Amber Dwagone turned to face her, gazing upon her whimsically before she licked her across the cheek.

“Wake up, Ramilla! The eggs are burning!” an older man shouted as he frantically ran from the door to the kitchen.

Raman “Ramilla” ad-Dahhān XIII, Rami and Bari’s eldest child, had been dreaming of the dragon since she was 6-years-old. Not much has changed ten years later, save for the unquenchable desire to find meaning in these visions.

“I’m sorry,” she started as she groggily picked herself up from the couch that she had dozed off on. “I can really smell it, too.”

Ramilla rubbed her eyes and chose to banish any thoughts about mythical beings from her mind in order to deal with the inevitable repercussions of her nap.

She walked toward the kitchen and the smell of burning egg only further offended her senses.  

“Your father will have my head for this,” Bari said as he attempted to salvage what was left of the omelet.

Ramilla sifted through every item in the pantry, looking for possible alternatives.
“We’re out of eggs,” she proclaimed as she continued her desperate search. “If we’re lucky enough, they should be back with some more.”

“Not in the midst of Dragonfest they won’t,” Bari responded while opening up a window to allow the house some ventilation. “I suppose we can make due with some more meat.”
“I’m sorry,” Ramilla apologized once more with a look of sorrow starting to take over her face.

“It’s only a bit of food, my child,” Bari said as he embraced Ramilla, covering her with his hulking exterior. “This wasn’t the first time that you had fallen asleep in such manner, either.”

For as long as she has had these dreams, Ramilla only became more reluctant to discuss them with anyone before she clarified things for herself first.

“I’m well, Father, worry not about me,” she smiled, nuzzling her face on his blond beard.
“Good,” he said before kissing her forehead. “I’m always here for you, should you want to talk to me.”

“Thank you,” she replied before going back to chopping more wood for the fire.


No child dared to speak her name, fearing a brutal reprisal from the Regal Beast. She would swallow them whole as their parents often threatened if they ever referred to her taboo title.

However, this gave the Great Amber Dwagone very little solace. She still demanded vengeance, and she had been pacing in her Lair for the past 300 years, musing and plotting.

“Those damned Dahhāns shall burn!” was the most recurring thought she had had through this time.

She had waited so long for her plans to succeed. Alas, a prophecy must be fulfilled before can begin to execute her plot.

“A slayer shall appear from least likely of places. The slayer’s defeat will reignite the new Dawn of the Dragons, and the Great Resurrection will take place,” the fifth article of the ancient Dragon Lore proclaimed. The Dwagone believed in this wholeheartedly.

“Why else would I still be alive, but for the purpose of this grand achievement?” 

This thought kept her going, but time seemed to stand still. Yet there’s an odd change in the air; something that she hadn’t felt in centuries, fueling and exciting her instincts. 

The prophecy is coming to fruition, and she could sense it in her fire-ridden cavities.

She took flight toward the city, hoping that she isn't disappointed.