Tuesday, January 16, 2007

   The 2nd draft
Well its took a while (a long while) but i have re read, rewriten and will now start reposting, yay. currently im very close to finishing the story completely (well the first part at least) so here it is the beginning of....

The Demon Dragon

Prologue

“The dragons were the first. That’s the only thing everyone is sure of; they are the first creatures to form any intelligent thoughts and rules. It was the dragons who taught the elves the art of writing and magic, the elves in turn taught the men and dwarfs. The dragons were the eldest and wisest of all the creatures upon the land of Yeratod. However not even the wise dragons are immune to the pull of the darkness within their hearts and the lure of evil.”

“After the accidental death of his mother, Donoth, by an elfish spear Diminoth went mad he vowed revenge on the hunter who murdered his mother, however there was no hunter. Diminoth’s mother died when a forgotten weapon from the last Great War between the factions of plains men, poked through the dirt, Donoth was forced from the air by a fierce wind and hit the ground hard, the ever-sharp elfish spear pierced Donoth’s softer belly scales and she soon died though no fault of her own or any hunter. Diminoth refused to believe his mother would die in such a way so vowed to find and kill the hunter to avenge his mother.Diminoth was chasing a ghost and soon he attacked every man of the plains, elf of the woods and sea and the dwarfs deep under the earth that he ever came across, all those capable of lifting a spear would be slain and soon even those who were not. His murderous rampage began, he slew many and destroyed towns and cities before the other dragons could finally subdue him and he was brought before the elder dragon and the council for punishment. Diminoth’s heart was long ago lost to the darkness, his quest for avenging his mother’s death fell into insignificance, and he killed now for the pleasure and feeling of power he got from each kill. The other dragons who loved the men and elves where sickened and passed judgement quickly.
Diminoth the black hearted dragon was driven from Yeratod for the unspeakable evil he bestowed upon the peoples of the world. He was burned black with the fire of several dozen dragons except for a patch of his underbelly which stayed a noble golden colour. He was forced into the vast expanse of desert to the far east of what would become the capital and stronghold of men, Ter Bonin. The elder dragons would never allow Diminoth to return to their number as his acts where unforgivable and if he ever strayed near the border of Yeratod he would not be again spared the elder dragon’s wraith”
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“Diminoth grows stronger now and waits in the far eastern desert for a chance to exact his revenge, but it would no longer be directed towards the small antlike peoples of Yeratod, they were not worth his strength, but on the dragons. With the elder dragon removed the other dragons that opposed him would be lost in a confusion to pose any resistance. He could rule the land by invoking the ancient laws of old when the dragons where ruled by the strongest of their number, and when he killed the elder dragon that would be him. He could force the people and dragons that once tried to kill him, to be his slaves and the world would be his to control.”

The old story teller smiled when his last slow sentence got the desired reaction from the children of the village, they were all gathered around a huge bonfire in the village market place, The sun had just set and the village was in near darkness and the cold crept in from the surrounding desert.
“That my children, happened over two centuries ago, it’s more likely the black dragon is long dead now, for not even the noble dragons could survive the harsh heat of the Jerlot desert”
The sigh of relief from the children nearly made the old storyteller laugh out loud. The story was a legend and it was retold to scare the children of the village, for this was the closest settlement to the vast Jerlot desert. With a mischievous tinkle in his eye the storyteller continued,
“However, Diminoth was no ordinary dragon,” this drew gasps from the children and a small yelp from one of the younger ones, “they say that during his rampage that Diminoth gained a terrible power from an evil warlock and learned to use dark magic that was one of the reasons they couldn’t catch him for many years.”
Suddenly, a loud, ear-splitting roar ripped though the village, the old storyteller, now on his feet, relaxed, and smiled.
“Peace children, peace” he said to clam the young ones, “it was only a dragon roar”.
The children relaxed but still looked fearful, the dragons were well liked and respected among men although they no longer played a significant role in the lives of men. But the grin faded from the storytellers face once the children returned home. “This doesn’t make sense the nearest dragon hold is over 50 miles to the northwes…”
The colour drained from the old man’s face, it was a dragon roar and a big one at that. And it came from the east!


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