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 Posted: Sun Jul 04, 2010 11:48 pm
 Here's a chance for you to win our new guest colorist Tai's first ever completed herla! This is a special herla in that it is among the last of its kind~ (He is gonna have a twin sister. Yes, HE. This herla is a MALE. You're stuck having him be male, don't ask for him to be a girl. If you want him to be a girl, don't try for him.) Now how do you win this beauty? Why, we're having a little lore contest! I want you lovely people to write up a legend based on one of the three prompts given to you. The legend we like best will get you this herla! Now what is special about this herla? Why, this is no ordinary mountain herla~ This mountain herla lives at the very peak of the Icefall Mountains where no other herla can survive due to the frigid temperatures and low oxygen levels. How does that happen? This herla, as you can see, has ridiculously long and thick fur, allowing it to bear the temperatures. Furthermore...this herla has extra blood in it. Dragon (with dragons being loosely defined as an ancestor of the talons) blood to be precise... Prompt 1: This type of herla is one of the last of its kind, meaning the rest were wiped out somehow. Tell us, how did that happen? Prompt 2: How did this "dragon blood" get integrated with herla? And what were the "dragons"? Prompt 3: Why did these herla choose to live at the peaks of the Icefall Mountains? What is special about that place? A good way to start these prompts are: "Legend has it.../The legends say.../There is a tale about.../etc." The contest starts now! And it will end on the July 13th! Get writin' people!
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Posted: Mon Jul 05, 2010 8:38 am
There are legends, lore stories and songs of old. There once was a time that no fawn grew up without hearing something of this particular story, but now it’s fading as time washes away the memories and generations one by one never learn of a race of Herla. A race, that roars with the blood of the dragons! I will tell you now what I say is true, for not only have these ears heard all the stories and the songs but I have seen the race myself as it ended. So listen closely, for one day I’m sure, this race will spring forward again; and you all must be warned of their wonders and their dangers.
It started with a royal female who had been kicked from her herd. Narani she was called, her coat was glossy black and he eyes silver as stars. It was said she was large for a hind and her legs could push her to leaps like no other Herla could. This hind was ambitious; she wanted more power and spoke to her family of giving strength to their blood by making those who would be suitors fight to the death. Her family was appalled by her cruelty, they denied the suggestion and scolded Narani say she was of royal blood and should love her people more then to ever suggest something like that. Angered she stormed away. As suitors came to her, she ignored her parents and commanded that anyone wanted her they would need to fight.
Her family found out and in anger they pushed her out of the herd, banishing her to live away. This would prove to be a horrible mistake, on their part as their daughter was strong willed and strong blooded. She would not be denied what she wants, and so with quick hooves she left them all. In her head she heard her blood roar in anger. Now here the stories blur, many say she was mad by then and other say she was just lucky. I say that she was smart, and that it was a call she answered and only she could hear. So Narani ran, faster and faster she went until her hooves carried her to the mountains back where the sand of salt met snowy rocks. It was here the lore’s all say she met the dragons.
The story goes that Narani screamed and screamed, the sound was like a roar and before she knew it there was dragons all around her. She looked up at them as the perched on stones and craned their necks to look down on her. Dragons were well known then, they were like the talons today but smarter and able to speak many tongues, they were also rumored to have magic. One large dragon toward over the rest, clearly the oldest as a white beard fell from his chin to touch his front legs and his scales despite his age gleamed a florescent blue. “Little Herla,” he said in a voice that rumbled and purred like silk. “Why are you roaring at the sky, what has it done to you that you challenge it?” The voice seemed emotionless but the green jeweled eyes shown in amusement.
Now as the story continues, it is said here Narani got the idea that would make a whole new race; a dangerous race. She spoke back to the dragon, her head held high her eyes glowing in silver. Many say it was because of this the dragons did not eat her but let her talk, and that it was her sheer will that made the oldest dragon finally agree with her. “So your kin kicked you for that, a pity for what a nice idea.” Many of the dragons nodded, a brutal race but one with grace and beauty. They would be calm one minute, then go into a blood frenzy the next as anger bubbled in their veins like fire. Narani and the dragons spoke a long time, changing idea’s one after another but as the sun started to set she asked something that shocked all the dragons even the oldest whose name was too long and to hard for any Herla to speak.
“Dragons, mate with me. I see no females; I hear rumors that you die out even now.” There were growls and snaps of teeth at her straightforward remark, but the eldest stared down at her his eyes unblinking. “See these eyes of mine, I can stare for a thousand years and watch as you age and your bones crumble to dust that will be swept away by the wind. Why would I or any of my kin humble ourselves to you?” The dragons were still growling and hissing, speaking in a tongue that is said to be so beautiful it would put a song bird to shame. “Great dragons, you grow old and you will die as well; perhaps long after I do but it will still happen. Mate with me and I can promise any female of the family will return to bear young for you again long after I have died. I want my blood to be stronger, my kin are weak but I am not!” She hissed and glared at the younger dragons, her ears back and her long tail swirling behind her in circles.
The eldest dragon stared down at her, his green eyes somber and his expression hidden. Then he turned to the other dragons and spoke to them in that same musical tongue yet his sound was unlike the younger ones and rumbled like a chorus of calls. They talked until the sun rose and Narani was weary with the need of sleep, but finally the eldest looked back to her and flashed a smile of sharp teeth some as long as her legs. “Little Herla we accept, for we are dying out and in time we will all be gone. We will share our blood with you, and create a new stronger race.” With the dragons acceptance Narani stayed with them and months later she gave birth to the first of the race. It was painful, the dragons all thought for sure she would die, but she was stubborn and strong and lived through it.
She gave birth to a boy, he had no fur but scales and his tail was a dragons and wings of one as well. His eyes were as green as his fathers, glowing like fire. His body looked Herla in everything else. When he grew older he was strong and had the temper of a dragon, but speed they did not have. As the story goes Narani gave birth to two more before her body could take it no more and she passed away. She did not die before she watched her son’s mate be given to the dragons however, and that she too gave birth to one of the new race. Narani’s other children were both girls and they took no mates but stayed with the dragons. The nursed children and helped them grow safely. The story continues on that the race grew bigger and stronger, and the dragons loved them. The first son of Narani led his siblings and his own children in an attack to their mother and grandmothers home where the herd she was kicked out from still ruled.
The new race was fierce and fought with the speed and grace of a Herla and the pure power and temper of a dragon. They killed the family, some of the new race had the stomach for meat and the Herla were eaten. After this the race continued to grow until one faithful day when they turned on each other in anger and hatred. Some of the race were more like dragons, eating meat and having scales even the tongue of the dragon so their voices were musical. The others looked more like the Herla mothers, fur sprouting over their body and having little wish for meat. It was a blood bath. When it ended only four of the race remained and the dragons who had loved them turned their backs on them and left. They were afraid of what they had done, unlike them the dragon blood Herla's had no control over their battle rage or their tempers; none at all. No one knows where they went or where they are now. Or even if they are all dead, but some say once in awhile in the high mountains you can hear their songs and roars of challenge.
The ancient race of Herla and dragon came to an end; the race was so unstable when they had too much dragon blood in them. They were to strong when scaled and often to proud when furred. The four that were left were three males and single pregnant female. Now here the story ends, for it is only guesses now as to what happened next. The last of the race died out or they tried to follow the dragons. What the few who still knows these stories do all say the same, is that there are none left now. I think the race was and is strong and they are somewhere hiding away until their stronger again. I will never know though, for my age catches up fast. I unlike the dragon kind do not live so long, nor do any of us today. I warn you children, this race is dangerous for all their kind words and graceful looks. Dragon blood is in them and in anger it is that blood that rules them.
Should you ever meet one, be respectful for they are no doubt older than many of the trees in the forest and older still then some of the rocks that make the mountains. You can tell their kind from us because of their eyes. No matter how thin their blood got it is said their eyes glow like fire and like magic. Magic that their kind may still have. So my children should you hear beautiful songs, should your ears catch the sounds of roars; do not run and do not hide for it will not matter. Instead stay very still, and if you truly see them and they you; I suggest you bow and say this. "Bright eyes I wish you no harm, but my kin are not meant for you, for my blood is not yours." They will know it true and leave you be.
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Posted: Mon Jul 05, 2010 4:51 pm
‘Don’t go into the swamp, little fawns, or else the dragons will come to gobble you up! They start with the hooves so you can watch every little bite right down to the last chomp!’
‘Dragons? Oh, pfft… dragons were never real. They’re just a story made up to scare fawns into behaving, you know.’
‘I heard that the Delta herla are part dragon. I mean, look at their scales and hair! Just look at them! Plus, they live in the swamp… no one goes there…’
‘Pfft… dragons indeed. Everyone knows that’s just an allegory for humans. Our ancestors couldn’t understand what was happening, so they made up this story to make themselves feel better about it.’
‘They’ say many things, typically directly contradicting another story. What they say depends on their audience, but they all have one thing in common:
They are completely wrong about everything.
~.~
“Dragons! There are dragons!” the herla scout gasped, taking huge heaving gulps of air. “I swear to you, I saw dragons! With… with great big flapping wings and eyes that could pierce your very soul! I… I saw the myself reflected on those eyes, surrounded by a sea of blood…” the scout shivered and refused to speak further.
But his words were damning enough, especially for the great flying beast that had taken up residence in the mountains. Several, in fact. The other herla murmured amongst themselves. For months, the young had been speaking of ‘dragons’. At first, no one had taken the sightings seriously. After all, fawns were always telling fantastic tales… but then, babies started to go missing…
The king snorted and stamped his hoof several times for quiet. This would NOT do, he decided. This was simply… simply unacceptable. It was clear to him what had happened. “So… the dragons mean to bring war, do they?” Never before had a dragon been spotted off the mountain and now there were suddenly dozens of sightings, all within months. This was the first time anyone had claimed to see a dragon up close, however, never mind the disturbing message delivered by the beast. The herla king tossed his head proudly, his beard waving under his chin. The last thing he would allow would be some mindless beast to ruin his home, the place he had fought so hard to keep safe.
Never mind his daughter! The girl was newly come into adulthood and full of fire and heart, moreso than any warrior the king had ever met. Sometimes, the king feared that her passion would be the downfall. Oh, he had no worries about her running into the wrong sort of hart; she had, for the most part, treated everyone with the same scrotum-ablating scorn, insisting that she would not be tied down by young. She would leave that sort of thing to her brothers. The white hind stood up now, her horns glittering in the moonlight and her voice rang out clear and true, “Father, I will lead the warriors to face these demons! I will not allow harm to come to our clan! This is our home! We will not give up a single inch until it is saturated with the blood of the dragons!”
The courageous words were met with cries, the mountain herla tossing their heads and stamping their hooves. They had seen worse attackers off before. The dragons would be no different! But, the king was afraid: no matter his daughter’s determination to meet the enemy, no matter her spirit, her courage, the king knew the truth. Courage, strength, and spirit were all very well, but this was his daughter. His only daughter… He closed his eyes in thought, blocking out the cries for war. “No,” he said finally. “We will not send out our full strength. And we certainly will not send you, my dear. This is our decision, not yours.”
~.~
Unfortunately, this turned out to be the wrong decision for many warriors. Wave after wave was sent out into the mountains, the mountain herla dressed for war. Their blood drenched the ground; rivers turned red for miles downstream. Losses were huge on both sides and, slowly but surely, the dragon numbers went down.
And yet, it still was not enough. One dragon, by far the most cunning of them all, remained. His eyes shone like sapphires in the night, his teeth sharp as doom itself. His fur gleamed under the moonlight, looking just like snow until it was too late for the warriors to tell the difference. He alone remained, fighting to protect what was his. He took what he desired from the forest, uncaring of the consequences. Once again, babies were missing in record numbers, never to be seen or heard from again. Not even bodies were found, surely evidence that the fawns had been eaten.
“Something must be done, Father,” the princess cried, her eyes flashing with a desire for vengeance. Despite her own desire to remain fawn-free, this wanton slaughter disgusted her. “Father, I have a plan,” she said cunningly, scooting closer to the lord of the clan. “We have been sending out large parties and every one has been ambushed. What if… what if we only send a party of one? The dragon-demon will never see it coming, father. Send me.”
“What? Out of the question!” The king snarled. This entire event was fraying his nerves. The fact that the same scout kept reporting the fawns going missing was beginning to dismay him. Every time he saw that scout, he was certain he had a minor heart attack out of sheer concern.
“But, father, listen,” his daughter wheedled, wheeling out so she stood in front of her king. “You know, the tales of old speak of sacrifices. A virgin sacrifice for an evil dragon. I think he would fall for that. Dragons are traditional creatures, are they not?” And everyone knew she fulfilled at least one of those requirements, although ‘sacrifice’ was a bit of a stretch. “He will never see it coming, not when my horns find his heart! And if I fail… I will fail, but I would sooner die than live knowing that I did nothing to help my clan!”
~.~
The princess had prepared herself for this moment. The air swirled around her, cold enough to burn her lungs. Every exhale came out in a blast of steam, fighting back helplessly against the icy wind. The snow went up to her belly, scratching her chest. But, her fur was thick and warm, protecting her against the elements. She kept her head high, refusing to bow before anything. Nothing would defeat her, not now. Not when the dragon’s lair was in sight…
It didn’t fit her vision of what a ‘lair’ ought to look like, she realized. It distinctly lacked the ‘doom and gloom’ feeling that she instinctively felt all evil lairs ought to have. Bones crunched under her seemingly delicate hooves. She didn’t flinch at the sudden noises, or the remains; if anything, they only intrigued her. Delicately, she leaned over and nudged the bones with one hoof. With a scoff, she lost interest; nothing there but bones from animals. Just boar and other small fauna. Certainly not fawns. Those were certainly deeper in the cave. At least it was warm in here. The thick clumps of ice attached to her fur started to melt in the warmth of the cave.
"H-hello?" she said, forcing her voice to waver in mock-fear. "I... I've been sent as a sacrifice... so you stop hurting my family." She was really quite proud of herself for putting a little sniffle on the end of it. Actually, that wasn't pure acting; the sudden warmth after all that icy air was giving her the sniffles.
There was no answer for some time. Finally, a voice came out, crying in several tones at once. "GO AWAY. I don't want you," it said simply. "Or anyone. Just leave me alone."
This... was not how the Princess felt the confrontation ought to go. First, she would cower while the dragon went all, 'Mwahahaha! AH A DELICATE FLOWER FOR MY MEAL!!' and then she would gut him. Perhaps he'd have time to make an overly long dying speech about how this was not supposed to happen an... anyway, the point was, she expected some sort of conflict. Being sent away, like an unruly child, was a slap to her pride. She pouted and continued to walk down the tunnels, determined to see this dragon face-to-face. There were no more words.
More importantly, she heard the pneumatic breathing of something deep in the heart of the place. She moved on, fearless in the face of death. If she faced death tonight, then so be it! She would face it with one hoof holding onto the precipice of life, just so’s she could make a rude gesture with the other. And that’s when she found him.
He was not the dragon she had expected. For one thing, he was far smaller. His fur was so white it was almost the color of blue ice, the fringes like smoke before the moon. Thick rope-like scars knotted his body, making it impossible for fur to grow in places, making him look rather patch-work. His tail ended far too abruptly to be natural and one horn was twisted and broken. But those were mere war-wounds. Beyond that… well, this was the first dragon she had ever seen. He was hardly larger than an average hart. Sure, he was stumpier, with short legs and small rounded ears, but there was definitely some resemblance...
One eye opened, one bright sapphire in the dark. “YOU!” he roared in musical tones, unwrapping himself from his nest. “GET AWAY FROM HERE!” He pulled himself up onto his hind legs, bringing himself to stand much taller than the princess. And yet, he did not attack. In fact, he was merely acting defensively.
He was frightened.
Well, he was right to be so, the hind thought to herself, lowering her head to lunge. “Die, beast! You’ll never threaten another living soul again!” At first, the dragon merely swatted her to one side with one hand, but she refused to die so easily. She lunged again. The dragon was slow. Perhaps it was his old wounds or maybe it was because he had just woken up, but the hind had the edge. She was faster, smaller, more agile; her sharp hooves and antlers cut small wounds on the beast while his clumsy attempts at fighting back were… well… clumsy and pathetic.
And yet he refused to move from his spot, angrily hissing and crouching over it. “LEAVE!” he said, his one bright eye fixated on the intrusive hind. “LEAVE AND I MAY LET YOU LIVE!” He was heaving now, a dribble of blood dripping off of his jaws. Exhaustion and wounds were taking their toll. His bright blood stained the ground, making it slippery.
“No! I will not allow any threat to my clan survive!” It was the last strike the princess needed. Just one last opening and her horn pierced the dragon’s hide, slipping into his lungs. The dragon fell over, panting even more heavily.
And yet he still wouldn’t move, curling protectively around something. “I… will not leave this place…” he gasped, his eye going dim. “Tell me… my dear… why must you fight? Why must you… condemn me?”
“Don’t lie to me! We know you’ve been taking fawns!” the princess snarled, her blood afire with fight and victory.
“Me…? Don’t make me laugh…” despite his words, the dragon chuckled anyway, wincing at the motions. “I’ve never, in my life, harmed any of your people. Nor have any of mine, except in self-defense… I’ve been the very last one for a while now… well, almost the last one…”
“Liar! Why should I believe you?”
“Because, my dear… dragons can’t lie… we live for the truth… look… into my eye and you will see…”
It sounded like a trick. It had to be a trick, one last desperate attempt for the dragon to gut her. And yet, the princess did so anyway, mostly to show that she was not afraid. What she saw terrified her. She saw herself, as she truly was. “…Ohgod… you’re a mother,” she whispered, realizing what she had done. The dragon----this dragon----had never attacked anyone, except to defend herself and her young.
“Heh… the eyes of the dragon reflect only the truth… it’s why so many fear us.” The eye blinked slowly and went dim.
From beyond the dragon’s body, a small squeaking came out. The babies were barely larger than a newborn fawn. But their eyes were the same, bright blue as the adult's and looking at the truth. “Mama?” one said pathetically, nosing his mother’s corpse. “M… why are you sleeping…?”
For the first time in her life, the princess cried.
~.~
The scout was practically bouncing off of his hooves when the Princess returned. An anxious smile crossed his muzzle like a spider; it stopped, vanishing back into the darkness when he saw the little shapes toddling along after her. "Why are you bringing these monsters back?" he hissed, hurrying to meet her. "Come, we must destroy them now, while they're still small..."
"The first one to lay any harm on these babies will have to answer to my father. But, he'd have to get to them quickly," the Princess said. Her voice was low, but her words rang out as a true declaration of war. "Do you know why? Because my father would have to beat ME to them."
She advanced on the scout, every bit of fur standing out from her body in anger. Previously, she had been a small creature, almost delicate in appearance. Now she was a true warrior, one prepared to fight, not to the death, but to the end. "What. Did. You. See." she said each word clearly.
"I... I saw nothing," the Scout stammered, suddenly refusing to meet her eyes. The little dragons snuffled around his feet, making him dance nervously. "Nothing!"
"Liar! You saw everything! I saw myself as I truly am, you know. Not the future... and do you know what? I think you did too. You saw yourself surrounded by blood, you said. And missing fawns. You did this. You tried to cover it up. It ends here."
~.~
In all her days, the Princess never spoke of what she saw. The scout----who oh-so-coincidentally kept reporting missing fawns----was banished for his crimes; with the help of the young dragons, it became clear who was truly responsible for the crimes. For you see, the dragons’ eyes reflect the truth. They do not reflect what a herla thinks they are, or wishes they could be…
A dragon's eyes reflect what the viewers truly are. Dragons have no mercy in discovering the truth. They will peel away the layers of lies, inch by inch, until there is nothing left but the truth, naked and screaming. They do not care how awful it is. They do not care how terrifying it is. They do not care who it will hurt. All they care about is dragging it to face the light of day, where all can see and judge it.
The dragons are gone now, having disappeared like fog, but they say that their descendants remain: the princess wished to pay penance for her crimes, for driving the other dragons away. Under her rule, her clan stood fast, trying to wait for the dragons to return so they could apologize properly. Before long, the clan became one of dragon-hybrids. The dragon-herla hybrids remain, fulfilling these wishes. There were others, once, but they began to lose hope, slowly drifting away in search of the dragons. Two still remain, holding fast onto the legends of their ancestors.
Watching.
Waiting.
Hoping.
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Posted: Tue Jul 06, 2010 3:41 pm
((I am sorry that I had to post this is tiny font... the poem is really long and I didn't know if you would get upset for a page stretch... >_<; )) The Legend of the Dragon-Herla
I have legend,
that starts long long ago,
about a mysterious race
of which no body knows.
Where the snow always falls,
and it's really quite cold,
and many old stories
wait to be told.
I sit here before you
and tell you this tale,
which was told to me,
in great detail.
Of an ancient being,
full of fire and ice,
and of a quest for power
at a terrible price.
A dragon, you see
is like nothing you've seen,
with muscles so strong
and eyes so keen.
They looked part wolf,
and yet part bird as well,
perhaps with some lizard
a mix right from hell.
But though they were strong
they were not that cruel,
perhaps a little fierce
and did not bother with fools.
They drew power from magic,
which helped them fly,
they came to be known
as the terrors of sky.
But as the world died
so did the magic,
they did no live long
and the end came quite quick.
And there once was a dragon,
the last of his kind,
who was old and wise,
and almost blind.
He decided he needed
an heir quick and strong,
one with cunning and wit
who could help him along.
Descending from the sky
he searched for a mate,
but his people were gone,
though once they were great.
How could this be?
When had they died?
Where is our magic,
Our source of great pride?
So he went on a quest,
perilous and long,
to look for the magic
that made dragons strong.
He flew to the very
tip top of the world,
and found the old shrine
where life had unfurled.
But the snow was so deep,
the old shrine was buried,
and so he began to dig
with such urgent speed.
His claws tore and bled,
his scales, they froze,
his fire was dying,
when out of the depths there rose...
A light so blinding,
so beautiful and pure,
the dragon then felt
so sure and secure.
He reached out a hand
and plucked up a jewel
that give him some life
and a great tool.
With which he could
revive his dying race
and bring back all
their greatness, gentleness, and grace.
But the jewel could not pull
life from thin air,
it could only change
what was already there.
With a bellow of anger
and a fiery snort,
the dragon had to rely
on his last resort.
He had to find a race
that could succeed
in holding a dragon's magic,
a very hard deed.
He raised his wings,
but could not fly away,
his wings had stopped working,
to his great dismay.
So he trudged through the snow
until he could not go on,
but soon he was found
by a little fawn.
This little buck
stared in awe,
at the great dragon
who raised his great paw.
"Come forth little deerling,
do not be afraid,
you must help me,
you must come to my aid!"
The little buck strode forth
and nodded his head,
"I will help you mister..."
is what he had said.
The dragon smiled,
why this was just right!
These little deer
they were cunning and bright!
They had strong horns,
fast bodies, warm blood...
He could not have found better,
a diamond in mud.
"Here little fawn,
take this orb from my hand,
take it to your King,
it will make your race grand"
"It is the magic of
the dragons of old,
who's story can now
always be told...!"
The fawn just shrugged,
and not sure what to do,
walked up to the dragon
and took the great jewel.
With a great flash
and a dying roar,
the dragon disappeared
and the race was no more.
The fawn was sad,
for just a moment,
and then turned around
and began his descent.
As he walked
the orb, it glowed,
then disappeared in a flash
and the magic was bestowed.
The fawn returned to his home
and told his story with pride,
though the herd was wary
and began to divide.
Some wanted the power,
some seemed afraid,
some left for good,
and others stayed.
The fawn told them all
he felt fire within,
like there was a flame
beneath his skin.
The leader decided
to keep the fawn away,
but the fawn ran off
not wanting to stay.
A couple years later
and his fur grew long,
his eyes began to glow,
and he felt strong.
He challenged his old leader,
saying the dragon was right!
They must unleash the power
that would give them great might...
The leader was wary
and young buck lost faith,
"You are weak and unworthy,
and I will no long wait!"
"This was coming all long
don't you see?
This herd needs a strong leader
a leader like me!"
So the young buck
slayed the old King,
but then saw the herd
and all the weaklings.
He then chose a mate,
who was graceful and smart,
who would bear his children,
and a great herd they would start.
Some fawns died
from the fire so hot,
Some went insane,
though not a lot.
Soon there was herd
full of dragon-like deer,
whose strength and grace
were a source of great fear.
One day the young buck
felt a great pull
back to the mountain,
to the source of the jewel.
The shrine, it called,
to the blood of the dragon,
and the herd began to climb
every last one...
Then the story gets hazy,
not many know from here,
but listen closely
and lend me your ear.
They say these herla
had a taste for meat
and killed each other,
leaving only the elite.
Those that were left
where the most strong and wise,
and up in the mountains
they still survive.
Some say they guard
the source of their magic,
though others hint
to something much more tragic...
I think they are afraid
of what they can do,
of how their power
just grew and grew.
Some say they have wings
and others, fiery breath,
Some say only their long fur
keeps them from death.
I think they are happy,
up where they are,
high in the mountains,
right next to the stars.
Sure not many remain,
but those that still do
are strong, wise, and graceful
with hearts pure and true.
But don't take my word,
for who knows if I'm right,
I have never been up
to such a great height.
But perhaps some day
they shall return,
and teach us
all there is to learn.
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Posted: Mon Jul 12, 2010 11:27 pm
The herla stood, covered in bells, silver and scars. Her face seems worn, and the long black mane is just as tattered as the rest of her. Perhaps she was beautiful once, but time has taken its toll on her. The gypsy lifts her face to the moon, basking in its light. Something..ethereal is in her bright purple eyes. They draw you in with a thrill of panic. You cannot get away, after all, you're the one who had asked her for the story. Her voice begins, smooth, like a river stone. "There is a tale, long forgotten by many, and dismissed as fiction by the few who know it. Well, perhaps not all. All but two that is...
It was long ago, when the day was new, and the dragons owned the skies and land. Their wings cast fearsome shadows wherever they fell. They were the great beasts, but their time had long passed when our story begins to flower, and there was but one dragon left, and the herla had begun to rise....
The orphaned fawn trembled as the earth shook, and looked up in wonder. "Little creature," The great voice boomed, "I will let you live, but on one condition." The fawn nodded, his ears pressed to his skull with fear. "....You will live with me, and learn from me, until the day I dismiss you." His answer had been small, shaken with fear, "Yes.."
The road had been long and hard, living with the dragon, but he had honored his word. Long days, filled with lessons that had made little sense then, weighed heavily on him now. It was not until a year after the Dragon dismissed him that he had begun to understand. He still didn't understand. So many instructions that made no sense. Still, they were a list drilled into his mind. The young buck had begun with the first on the list, become a charge in the king's army. Now was a time of war, when the King's greed stretched to the lands beyond the mountains. Many battles for one so young as him. Many more for his companions, some, nearly half his age.
The talon armies had been cunning in their approach. Rightfully the land was theirs, it had always been theirs. The herla of the mountain courts were beginning to doubt their invincible king.. While he was dragon blessed, his armies were not. Unrest had grown, but still, no one dare challenge his word. The king was a wrathful thing, filled with the fire of dragons.
It was a thrilling moment for the young buck, his heart leaping as the charge was called. The clash between the two seas threw blood into the air, and the sounds, sights and smells of death and battle filled the air. He kicked and gouged, heavy shoulders knocking the talons to the ground with ease and crushing them beneath his hooves.
A grimace took his face as their line slowly began to recede. As the battle had worn on, his stamina had waned. His hide blossomed with streaks of red, running deep into his fur. He tossed his great horns, bellowing at his enemy as a flash caught his eye. A golden hide that could not be mistaken. The king, the golden king! The talons swarmed him, near burying the golden hide among their writhing bodies. The lowly soldier charged in, burying tooth and hoof into their hides until he unearthed the fallen king.
It is said that it was not the herla to first hear the guardians, but rather, the dragons. Some whisper they were born from the guardian's failures, others, that they had watched from afar, and mourned the failure and death of 'man.' They were the most horrifying of creatures, but perhaps, the last of its kind was the wisest. Long had he watched from his mountain top, and long had he mourned. It had been foretold that his gift to the golden fawn would be sorely misused, and now, when the Golden King proclaimed war on those that should have been his brothers... The great beast heaved a heavy sigh. He had done the one thing he could do to stop this, and hopefully guide this new life to its proper path... Still, the stars whispered of hope, and all the dragon could do in time, was wait.
The court flourished with life and gold, its hollow carved out of the mountain side, and crafted by the great bears. The young buck could only stare in wonder at its beauty, such a shame. Few ever saw the courts, but all heard tell of its beauty. He had never expected that it would far surpass his dreams.It was a wonder that he could never have fathomed.
When the king appeared, adorned in the same gold that lined his court. His lords and knights seemed wearied, eying the great king with a sort of disdain. When he should have been past his prime, the king was far from it. His knights were tired, and thinning from battle, his armies were faring far worse. Still, his greed rose like a snake. He wanted the lands far beyond their mountains, the valleys and streams. It drove him. He was invincible.. He would never fall. His eyes fell to the young buck, his savior. The word disgusted him. He had needed no help. There was nothing that could kill him, so why should he have needed the help of some lowly soldier? A slight snarl wrinkled the King's nose as he looked at the little whelp. Hardly four years old, he must have been.... Still. It was a great deed he had done, and it was customary that such bravery was rewarded. If nothing else, surely he could be proud that one of his charges would so bravely seek to defend his king when all others had died or fled.
The ceremony was brief, a blessing from the king, and the young buck had achieved the second thing on Old Dragon's list. Become a Knight. The young buck settled in his new quarters, not far from the very courts, but rather than happiness, he could only find himself puzzled. The first two of the list had been straight forward, but now, there were only two left, and both worried him. Correct the king. The king was DragonTouched! All knew the stories of the fawn, born barely breathing. All knew the tale of his mother's climb to the top of the mountain, and how a dragon had given a part of its very heart to save him. A great sigh, perhaps something he had learned in his childhood from Old Dragon. The old lizard had never thought much of the king. He had never heeded any laws, nor had he even paid second thought to the way of the King. But he was a dragon. Such things were afforded to the powerful...
Two years passed as the young buck became an adult, serving his king, but never forgetting the ways of the Old Dragon. The list was ever present in his mind as he did his best to help his king. When he could, he tried to dissuade the king from another attack, tried to make him realize that he had enough land. "Don't you see? We simply cannot take another attack.. Our armies are spread thin as we are!" His voice had raised, a desperation in his tone. Since the day that had caused the young buck to become a knight, the king had not been in battle. He had not seen the young soldiers die, or live mangled in body and mind. But the king only raged. He would have his way. He was the KING, he would not be told. He would not be ordered. The young buck tossed his head, his temper worn thin. The more and more he had spent time in the courts, the more and more he had seen the king for nothing more than a spoiled child. "No!" His voice rang loud, deep and strong. For a moment, even the king shrank away from the voice that sounded so much like.. like.. A dragon's.
Fear shook through the king. Could this stupid little child be dragontouched? There was no way.. There was but one dragon left, and the old bat had only half a heart.. Better safe than sorry rang through his head, twisted to fit his own view, as everything around him was. Treason! He screamed, throwing his horns at the young knight as he charged, eyes blazing with fire.
But as the young buck lighted away, a roar shook the skies. It sent the weak rolling, and made the strong cringe. A deep crash rolled the earth under their feet, and the dragon's massive head peered into the court. Lords, ladies and knights fled, darting through the passage ways, and forsaking their king. All that was left of the dragon's audience was the young knight, and the king.
"You." The voice rumbled, a deep sound that had always made the young buck think it was the earth itself speaking. But he was not the one who the snarl was pointed at, and he thanked the heavens for it. When the great claws appeared in the court, the young knight knew well enough to bolt out the door. He had seen those claws rend the mountains in his youth. Their shine made the glitter of gold and the sharpness of weapons seem feeble.
The dragon tore at the court, gouging the lavish gold until none of it remained before he turned his glittering eyes on the 'king.'
You have defiled the gift I have given you. You have torn the lands, and created a rift between my kin and your kind that will never be repaired." His teeth glittered in the low light, his snarl a nightmarish thing to behold. "..For this trespass, terrible king, I will take back what I have given."
Blood soaked the earth, and the dragon fell.
The young buck darted to the Old Dragon's side, eyes wide with panic. Blood poured from the dragon's chest, where there was no wound, only the broken king, dead in his wondrous court. He nuzzled his old friend as a fawn might his father, eyes welling with tears that he would not let fall. "Dragon-" A rattle of breath from the massive reptile hushed him, glittering eyes steadily growing dim. "No. Listen." The fretted young buck silenced himself. "...The mountain courts will be no more. Disband them, it is the last thing I charge you with." The young buck nodded as the dragon took a ragged breath. He could not tell if the dragon felt pain, but the dimness of the ageless eyes, and the finality of things frightened him. "....Lancelot... It is the name I gave you so long ago..." His eyes closed, remembering in perfection. The trembling little fawn, the promise that the stars had given him. A little, frail thing that had grown in so many ways, with so much promise. Of all the things he had expected to gain in his venture to set things right, a son had not been one of them. "...I have one last thing to give you. It is all that is left of my kind.. Live a good life..And know that I will be watching from the stars.." A deep rattle, and the dragon was gone. The light faded from the large, beautiful eyes, but as the young buck nuzzled close, he did not see the pale light leave the dragon, and settle into his own skin.
Imagine his surpise years later, when he would see his first son's eyes, a mirror image to the Old Dragon's."
The gypsy let loose a sigh, shaking with the sorrow and beauty of her story. For a moment, her eyes close, as if she could see the exact scene behind those closed lids. A long moment later, her eyes open, and she looks back to you.
"Slay the Dragon
It had been the last of his list, and something that the Old Dragon had done for him, in part, at least. After all, the dragons still live, but in very few, you know."
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