fuse writes

“I am the largest, most fearsome dragon the north has seen in centuries", the old dragon told himself. “This tiny land of nobles has never seen a dragon of my stature, of my brilliance. The diminutive dragonkin of this region could not fathom power of this magnitude. I have eaten more nobles and their heirs than I can count, and I will continue to fill my belly until my bones are given back to the earth. Nothing shall stand in my way.”

He took in a deep breath and let the scent of his prize lure him closer. The sweet smell of human flesh; princess flesh. 

All dragonkin enjoyed the taste of human flesh, but the large dragons of the north enjoyed most the taste of highborn flesh. Lord and lady, king and queen, there was something  about the unctuous taste of nobility that had captivated dragons for millennia, but none was more coveted than the flesh of a true-born king aside the flesh of a true-born princess. Araluwa licked his jaws. Many dragons of old claimed that the eating of eldest, youngest, or only daughters of kings imbued one with magical intelligence, power and strong spiritual constitution. Others simply preferred the variety of flavor; Araluwa was of the same mind as these less fantastical dragons. The lower born the human, the more stale their flesh tastes. Even some royals had a sour smell and after-taste to them, often foretelling their bastardry. But the flesh of an especially delectable, true-born princess eaten by a dragon could satisfy the beast completely for months at the time. 

Araluwa beat his wings and the clouds around him dispersed into vapors. He spread his wings wide, the evening sunlight glowing through the russet membranes. His hide was marked from scars of battles long past, and shingled with jagged red and black scales that let off a dark, crimson glimmer in the evening sun. The old dragon had no reason to hide above the clouds or within them like lesser dragons, or to burrow through the foundations of cities like the wyrms and more innovative drakes have attempted in the past. Araluwa, an old and proud spectacle of a dragon, wanted his prey to see him for all that he was, in all of his greatness and glory.  He let all four of his muscular limbs hang from his body, putting the long, wickedly curved talons at the tip of each claw on full display. Coupled with that, and teeth made of the same hardy drake-ivory and stained in the dried noble blood, Araluwa was a beautiful and fearsome dragon that captivated and horrified the people of the north. 

Araluwa glowered down greedily at the farm lands beneath him with blood red eyes as he soared over, watching the humans scurry to gather their offspring and livestock, and flee and hide in their little log and straw huts. Araluwa grinned. He would circle back to the surrounding farmlands and villages for dessert, he decided, then pressed on toward the city. 

The palace came into view and towered above the city. Built of dark colored marble and stone, it was a culmination of several domed buildings and towers connected by long corridors, with a high wall around the perimeter. At the center sat a tower large enough to be its own castle. Araluwa squinted thoughtfully at the structure. The base of the tower was wide, almost a league across, and it stood nearly twice as tall as it was wide. It was tapered only slightly at its peak, and, by the look of it, was suspiciously broad enough to lodge a full grown dragon. 

Perhaps this family could pose some trouble. 

*********

“Open the Dragonvault!” 

The order rang through the courtyard of the palace, followed by trumpets that sounded and echoed throughout the streets of the city. Citizens all around the capital city of Usanyla stopped their selling and shopping, commutes and patrols, and rushed toward the few dozen sets of large metal doors positioned at the base of the city walls, leading downward to the safety of the tunnels below. Soon the streets were empty, leaving only wayward carts and abandoned bags or baskets scattered through the streets. 

Every guard and soldier around scurried to their positions. Many clambered up the stairs toward the lookout where the Princess Royal of Adun, Abya al Sidia-Adun, waited with her back to the entrance, standing among the unfathomable lengths of chains with links as thick around as small tree branches, made of dark dracainum metal. Her gaze was locked onto the window of the lookout, a large domed room at the precipice of the Dragonvault, the highest tower of the royal palace of King Agol al Sidia-Adun. The guards piled around the pairs of long, thick cables that were a part of an intricate system of pulleys and fulcrums designed by Abya's great-grandmother’s consort and royal engineer. The guards split up, with each group grabbing a set of cables connected to the system above and counted off in unison before heaving together with all their might.

After a moment the metal roof creaked and groaned as it folded in on itself, slowly revealing the simmering, orange evening sky. Princess Abya squinted as her eyes adjusted to the light. The sun sat low above the mountains to the west, and to the north a silhouette soared in their direction. Abya held out her hand and her Shield-Lord, Bahani, handed her a looking glass. She peered through, and the silhouette morphed into a fully realized and detailed figure. 

A dragon, huge, many times anything Abya had ever seen in person. Araluwa, an infamous and old, battle hardened dragon that had plagued the northern kingdoms for several centuries. He was as large as three mature southern dragons, and had a wingspan that seemed to stretch the length of the horizon and swallowed the farmlands outside the city in shadow. Araluwa’s hulking frame was lined with deep red and black scales, and shimmered an eerie glow in the evening sunlight. Long dragon ivory horns and spikes lined his crown and crest and back, and his legs hung below his massive body, lined with thick muscle and hide. Abya’s heart pounded underneath her chest plate. Her moment had come. 

 Her brothers had each captured and slain their own dragon, and now it was her turn to do the same. The youngest of Agol’s children, Princess Abya possessed an intelligence and battle prowess that even her valiant, princely brothers did not. Even her eldest brother, Crown Prince Thusan, who slew his first dragon at the dangerously young age of nineteen, just barely a man, had never captured a dragon of this size. She remembered the parades and celebrations that went on in the city after the heir’s first kill; holding her mothers hand as they were guided through the city in the royal carriage, escorted by the royal guards and Shield-Lords. Her brothers rode ahead on horseback, flanking Thusan and their father. They all followed a large cart holding Prince Thusan's kill as the citizens of Usanyla packed the streets to cheer on and shout blessings to their Crown Prince and his family. Now, nearly a decade later, Abya stood before her prey, a young knight of just eighteen herself. She marveled at the idea of one upping her brothers and gaining their father’s favor by taking the largest dragon the kingdom had seen in a generation for her first kill. She gripped the hilt of her sword and smiled manically. 

“I know that face,” Bahani pointed out with a smirk. “Keep steady, princess, he will come to you. We’ve set a trap that he cannot resist. A princess, helpless in her tower. We Adun have the resilience and wisdom of Trappers, not the recklessness of Hunters.” 

The line of Sidia had long since made a name for themselves across the continent as dragonslayers. The Trappers, like the Aduns, held in their well fortified and highly advanced citadels built to capture, hold and kill large, fully grown dragons or wyverns who competed for domination in the air; some Trapper families made their dragonvaults underground to lure in wayward wingless drakes and slithering, limbless wyrms that lived underground. The Hunters, however, left their castles to tame invasive packs of drakes and rogue wyrms. No matter the method, each branch of Sidia’s clan used their ancestral might, honed skills and strategic minds to defeat the beasts that scourged their lands.

Abya chuckled and handed back the looking glass. “But we slayers nonetheless. Besides, the Hunters have their merits; they are the fiercest of warriors and fight like dragons themselves. But we Adun have proven the most innovative of Trappers. I wonder his surprise when he finds the daughter of Agol waiting for him. Araluwa is an old, powerful and wise dragon. Intelligent. Surely he knows of my family’s history, our role in this world.”

“The Line of Sidia is well known throughout many lands for their mastery of battle and dominion over all dragonkin, princess,” Bahani started. “But you must remember the countless members of that line- kings, queens, princesses and princes, knights and priests- that have all fallen to those wretched beasts.”

Abya rolled her eyes and turned to Bahani.

“I have been cautioned about the sacrifices of my forebears, Bahi, time and time again. Mostly by you these days. You should know to trust me by now.”

Bahani nodded, but chewed on the inside of his cheek anxiously. He paced away, squawking orders at the lower ranked guards to ease his nerves. Abya snickered quietly, then turned back to the sky, Araluwa soaring toward her, his form growing larger and larger as he approached. 

***********

 The sound of battle trumpets that rang out below filled Aralwua’s head with the intoxicating lust for royal flesh. He swooped low and dove down toward the city with incredible speed. He spread his wings just as the rooftops grew closer, and clipped the tips and edges of towers and buildings, sending stone and debris cascading down onto the streets below. Araluwa chuckled and flashed his teeth. He stretched his jaws wide, smoke leaking from his nostrils and between his teeth, and a stream of red and gold flames erupted from his throat, scorching anything in his line of sight. He charred the stone of their towers and burned their banners ash and reduced their districts to rubble. Then the old dragon paused. There were no screams, no clambering of guards or merchants, not even a stray dog wandered the streets. The city was completely deserted, populated only by the destruction left in the wake of dragon fire. 

Puzzled, Araluwa found a warm current and rose aloft, high above the city, eyeing the main tower of the palace. The roof was open now, revealing a large, open area with guards marching around in their tiny steel armor. At the center stood a knight clad in armor of dark colored metal with a familiar gleam and wrapped in an ebony cloak.

Peculiar. 

Araluwa pulled in his wings, and tucked his legs into his body and dove toward the castle. Araluwa peered down at the knight as he grew closer and realized the cloak was a mass of dark, billowing curls framing a face with soft features and a fierce expression. This was a woman, Araluwa thought. A princess. 

Araluwa pulled his wings tighter, increasing his speed, his snout aimed straight for the armor-clad princess, and he caught her gaze with his own. She did not waiver, but instead stared intently at the old dragon with a cunning smirk wiped across her face, her eyes still and confident. 

How incredulous, Araluwa thought. I will repay this insolence with fire. 

Araluwa closed in on the tower. He reached out his claws and bared his teeth in a devilish grin. Smoke and flames bubbling at his jaws, he spread his wings in a fearsome display, when he felt a great weight wrap around his left wing and pull him toward the tower beyond his control. A chain of thick links made of the same dark metal as the princess’s armor ensnared his wing, steering him downward. Araluwa looked down a length of chain to see the princess gripping the other end by a link as big around as her arm, her tongue out and eyes intent with concentration. She heaved another length of chain into the air like it was a rope of jute, and hurled it toward Araluwa, clenching his other wing shut and dragging him through the air toward the tower. 

They can chain me, but their tower will never hold up to my mass! 

He veered closer to his would-be captor. The guards strayed clear of the area around the princess, leaving her alone before him, holding the chains taught like the reins on a horse. She snapped the chains, and they drug Araluwa down quicker than he could ever dive, and he crashed into the hard stone of the tower, scraping marble and stone with his horns and spines.

 The princess lunged into action. She surged around the dragon, grabbing chains from the ground and slinging them over her shoulder with one hand, her other hand gripped tight around the hilt of her sheathed sword. Araluwa groaned and roared, and the heat of its fiery breath filled the room as he reared his head back to attack. She hurled another length of chain through the air and pulled it taught around the dragon’s snout, pinning his chin to stone with a loud thud. She flung chains across the dragonvault as the roof closed slowly overhead. 

"I am Abya al Sidia-Adun, only daughter of King Agol, Princess Royal of Adun, and furthermore, Araluwa," she called out, her voice loud and triumphant, "I am your doom."

***********

Araluwa looked up in shock and panic. The roof of the tower was closing rapidly and the chains were so heavy, unlike any metal that had dared to bind him. It was made of thick, black metal, that reeked of fire and magic.

Dracainum, he seethed. An ancient metal, poisoned by magic with the power to bind and harm dragons. How did this family come into possession of such amounts of the substance? And how were they properly able to mold it?

“Whatever your last thoughts, Araluwa,” Abya called out, her face twisted with exhilaration, “make them meaningful. I know you dragons hold some intelligence, but will not serve you today. Today you die.” 

Blasphemy! Araluwa thrashed under the immense weight of the dracainum chains and twitched his jowls to flash his teeth as best he could. He flexed his muscular body with all his might to flare his wings, to lift himself from his confinement, but to no avail. Flames peaked from the corners of his mouth, and he let out a frantic squeal more akin to a small lizard than a mighty dragon. He would be made a mockery, he thought. His legacy ruined, tarnished by this small girl-child. 

Then, in the thralls of anguish, desperate for any escape, the old dragon thought of a salutation. An arcane tale, a rumor, that he had learned from older, wiser dragons as a hatchling; a rumor only because the skill had been lost with time. He wondered if he was able to accomplish such a feat. All intelligent dragons should, he thought, harking back to his sire’s teachings. One just needed the proper motivation, and he assumed that his current situation sufficed. Araluwa closed his eyes and concentrated just as the princess lunged forth with her dracainum blade unsheathed and aimed at his forehead. She had a sadistic smile wiped across her face and it stained Araluwa’s mind even as his eyes were closed. Panicked, Araluwa let his mind surge forth and imagined himself smaller, weaker. He envisioned his scales slackened into a supple, vulnerable skin, and the horns and spines that lined his crown and neck and back into long, red hair. 

The air hung still over Araluwa’s head, devoid of the clanging of chains and armor. He opened one eye to see the black sabatons of his captor before him. He looked up slowly to see her face twisted in confusion and horror. 

Araluwa looked to the side and saw a hand with veins pushed to the surface of smooth, deep brown skin, gripping the stone next to him like a claw. It twitched. Then each finger flexed one by one and, shakily, the hand pressed into the stone. Araluwa's weight lifted slowly and his line of sight rose, then he swayed, his balance taken, and fell over to the side. He grimaced. The ground was cold and it stung when he hit it. Another hand swung itself around and planted firmly to the stone, lifting Araluwa’s sight back level with the princess’s knees. He realized then that he controlled these limbs, and he used them to heave himself upward with all his strength. The joints in his legs unhinged and moved in unfamiliar ways, but he pulled himself up until he stood only a head higher than the princess. He looked down into the reflection of her armor and saw a dark face with masculine features and long, wavy red hair and blazing red eyes. Araluwa blinked. The figure blinked back. I’ve done it, he thought. The chains slipped off of his body, the knots too loose for his new frame.

Princess Abya snapped to attention and pointed her sword at the throat of the stranger before her. She tried her best to run through everything she had just witnessed. Araluwa, a huge and formidable dragon, had morphed into this tall, dark skinned being with crimson red hair running down his back. He loomed over her, glowering down with red eyes. The chains slipped off of his shoulders and he flexed the muscles in his legs to lunge. Abya snapped the chains in her hand and they licked up like flames engulfing Araluwa’s new, smaller frame. She pulled them taught around his arms and torso and he fell to his knees. 

“What are you?” Abya demanded through gritted teeth, her eyes still wide with confusion. “By what magic do you perform this feat?”

“I am a dragon of the north,” Araluwa hissed in a deep, silky voice. “You could not comprehend the power we hold.” 

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Adolphia “Doll” Seran of Vyrth, 18 - Blade/Portal Magic & Empath/Battle Mage

“We of House Seran don’t cower behind our fathers’ name or position.”

Adolphia is the over-achieving daughter of the Head of House Seran. Heir to her mother’s seat, she has worked hard to prove her worth to her mother, and the rest of the kingdom, and there is little that she will let stand in her way.

Emon, 20 - Necromancer/Rogue Mage

“Necromancy is an art, just like yours. I was born with my magic, it’s branded on me like—like your name. Without your magic, you have your Houses. Without my magic? I am nothing.”

Mysterious and aloof, Emon works as a thief and professional grave robber. His ability to summon the dead and reanimate corpses makes him a powerful mage, but it’s his wicked mind and ruthlessness that make him a sinister foe.

Sana Slumstotter, 18 - Nature Magic & Healer/Support Mage

“You choose who you are. I don’t mean shape-shifting; who you really are, where you go, the life you lead. No one else should make that decision for you.”

Sana, born a little boy to a peasant woman in a slum of Thar’bon known as Grimebay, new who she really was from a young age. With no formal last name or training, Sana uses her skills as a healer and influence over nature to be inducted into the Order.

Ilerion DeClare, 18 - Time Magic/Battle Mage

"Underestimate me again and I'll shove your words back in your highborn mouth."

Born into a mediocre house from the highlands, Ilerion is determined to make something of himself. His goal is to ascend the ranks of the order, and gain his house greater status and glory.

————————————————————-

I'll be posting more world building including a map, character outlines (and astrological profiles!!!), lore and much much more!!! I'm finishing nano this year 😬 please let me know if you want to be added to a tag list!

Check out my other projects here

and