Encroachment
Various
wines and particularly stiff dwarven ale flows freely
in Woodwake’s local inn. Baddlack’s hostelry
defines the word boisterous at this early hour.
Over a dozen citizens sit around the room talking to the road-weary
travelers about the happenings of the past week.
Ozzob and Tolvis walk through the
cracking moonlight to Baddlack’s
With
a calm and reassuring voice, Tolvis says, “Trust
me. The mood is ripe.”
“I
just…” Ozzob releases a smooth sigh, “a… party?”
“You
will love it, and besides, you have to see this new woman. I think she is actually taken with Leone.”
“This
I have to see.”
Walking
through the doors of the
#
Shady
voids fill the crevices of Dedrick’s face as he
weaves a tale of mystery for his audience—the patrons of the inn. His words slice through the skin of everyone,
dripping with enhancing words like sorcery, despair and annihilation.
“The
beast’s master tore at us, lashed out… as if it wanted to murder the air. Leone was beaten, unconscious under the evil
maul. Before I was able to escort any of
these foul beasts to there maker, Ozzob burst
forward.”
Eyes
track after Dedrick’s,
pointing everyone to Ozzob as he makes his way across
the room.
“His
first strike simply cut one of the creatures in half; the second swing did no
less. Within seconds, we were the only
ones left in the room; even the beast’s master lay on the floor split
open. It was a devastating flurry from
the sorcerer’s hands.”
With
open mouths and gleaming faces, the small crowd was stunned. A single word fell from someone’s lips.
“Savage”
Kis’larn looked to Ozzob and
directed, “It seems as though you have no limits…”
In
the most earnest tone he can muster, Ozzob says, “We
all have our limits. I can feel closure
with every cast; every act draws me closer to the end of what I can do. I believe that my body interprets these
magical energies differently than other mortals; I draw from a lifetime pool,
and when that is gone, their will be nothing left. ”
With
that declaration in the wind, the sorcerer turned to the bar and asked for a
drink to sooth the bones.
#
I
remember sitting on the bar stool, a kind of joyful experience to spend time
with some friends. Then the voice
boomed, windows rattled all around us as the speech formed from the deep growls
and labored breaths. Few times in my
life have words been burned into my memory, this was one such time. “Give me peace.” The beast slurred.
I
trembled in my seat; instantly I knew our plight. This was a voice from another existence,
called here by me… by my caution-lacking alcohol-induced words. This was the voice of Glash;
he was here at my calling, the God of Dragons.
This would be the end of my world… my life, unless I fixed the problem I
caused.
I
remember it like a dream; I stood from the barstool. Waves of energy slid from my body,
impurities. Everyone in the room was
huddled around a window looking at the visual spectacle accompanying the god’s
appearance. I slowly walked upstairs,
each step cleared my thoughts, steadied my body.
There
was no time for forlorn promises and soaking goodbyes; I had to meet this
threat head on, I had to try-Regardless of my chances-I had to try. If I did win… what would it mean? I remember
a thought, for a moment I considered… ‘This fight would test more than my
skill, it would test my power.’
#
The
great dragon lumbers about on some invisible surface. The beast reaches forward and creates a giant
chasm from its cupped hands. Swarms of
dragons fly forth from the pit of darkness.
The progeny gather like an army of insects in the sky as their sluggish
creator flexes a finger in the direction of the tiny
The
sorcerer Ozzob peers out a third floor window set in
the stairway. Moving together, with a
single purpose the swarm soars into town.
Ozzob glanced down the stairs, thinking of his
friends and the carefree company he enjoyed only a few minutes ago. A second look flows up the stairs to his
destiny. Out the window, the swarm
breaks apart as sky appears between the individual dragons. Hundreds of specks glisten in the sky.
Back
inside the inn’s commons Leone questions, “How could such a creature ever
exist?”
“It’s
a god…”
“They
exist in a state of thoughts and ideas, there is no substance. Or at least there was none till now.”
“The immortals afterlife?”
“In
a sense, but when they enter this world, they become a physical representation
of there self ideas. This one is the god
of all dragons Glash.”
“Glash…”
Eyes
scan the room…
“Where
is Ozzob?”
#
The glare of inevitability holds the chorus of the gods silent.