Private Tales The Stuff of Fairy Tales

[Selene]

Off the west coast of Farwood, a two weeks journey across treacherous seas, sat an island. On that island lived a noble woman and the dragon that kept her there. Her name was Selena and her skin was as white as snow. Her eyes twinkled like diamonds when she smiled and her ivory neck sat long upon her shoulders. Her hair was like spun gold that cascaded down to her waist in long, iridescent waves. She had not had the chance to cut it in a long time. Her father did not leave her scissors in this tower. In fact, he didn't leave her anything noticeably sharp at all.

This damsel was not meant to rescue herself. Her fate was to sit in her isolating imprisonment and await the man who proved strong-willed enough to go through all of this to marry her. Only then would she be free from her punishment.

Val anir noble families were a strange bunch.

The island was composed of desolate black cliff faces, with only one rocky shore hidden at the back. A stone tower made of that same black rock sat in the middle-- tall and dreary. A single window laid open at the top. A fair head was propped on the sill, staring off at nothing as the wind sent the golden stands dancing around her.

It was the stuff of fairy tales. Or so it seemed.

 

[Rob Yew]

"Come now, Thunder, now was that so bad?"

The white charger nickered as Godfrey continued brushing out his mane. Fifteen hands high, he stood taller than most destriers, which made transporting him in the hold of the ship even more difficult. The fare for passage had cost Godfrey an arm and a leg, but for quests such as this were the stuff of songs. He would spare no expense to see it through.

Two weeks by sea and now they neared the isle of Godfrey's intent.

After leaving Thunder, he clambered above deck and neared the prow. Above him, the galleon's white sails pulled taut in the strong breeze. He breathed in deeply, drinking in smell, sight, and sound of the salty spray, the crisp gusts of wind, and the snapping of canvas o'erhead.

He could see the island ahead, with a tower jutting from amidst the cruel, black faced rocks.

"Hah," he barked loudly to a nearby sailor, "see? The tales are true. In yonder tower pines a some maiden fair."

The sailor grunted, "Ay, or a hag mores like."

"What? How now, come, speak plainly."

"Well iffin' her father couldn't stand the sight of her such that he'd lock her in a tower, seems to me she must be poxed or summat."

To that, Godfrey had no answer save a chuckle too loud by half.

Selene

 

[Selene]

As the sun broke through the clouds overhead, they would see it-- a strange red glint beaming off the far side of the island. The closer they drew, the clearer it would become-- the sun's rays blinding as it reflected off the scales of a massive, slumbering beast. It's large body was curled up on the black cliff face, it's wings stretched out and warming in the sun. A dragon. There really was a dragon there.

The head atop the tower suddenly perked, sitting up and hovering for a moment in the middle of a window .. before withdrawing into the darkness of the room.

The beast continued to slumber on, the ship's approach going unnoticed by it.

 

[Rob Yew]

A stir of mutterings broke through the sailors on deck like a rippling breeze as they caught a ruby glimmer ashore. There he sat, a dragon red, and rivaled by no peer, resplendent in the light of day.

Godfrey turned to the captain, whose face paled with realization that the charter he had accepted required him to draw even nearer to such a beast.

"Ready the boat, captain, and where is that damn dwarf?"

* * *

The keel of the boat crunched against the sand and Godfrey leaped ashore. Four men at arms followed him, though like as not they came for the loot and not loyalty. Mere sellswords, each with their own reasons for coming. His horse clambered out as well, deigning to be lead by the dwarf.

"Well Gunther, the legends speak true. Surely where there be dragon there be dame."

"Thas Gunther Siegewright tae yoos, Urahil. 'Nuff talk. Les' ge' crackin'." Burly even by dwarf standards and with hair an iron gray, Gunther was true to his name: a craftsman of all manner of war machines. He carried a crossbow and a large bag full of all manner of baubles.

"Right you are." Without further adieu, Godfrey mounted thunder and slid a bascinet over his head. He unlimbered his shield and took up a stout ash lance. "Onward!"

 

[Selene]

They'd be able to hike the steep steps up the island side, the black rock face wet and slippery. Heat beat off the dark surface, the rock soaking up the sun. The sea breeze was thick with the taste salt and unforgivingly brisk, occasionally tearing through their clothing as if it was nothing and giving them a thorough chill.

They'd be able to see the worn in path the supply trains had made, the girl in the tower clearly still taken care of, despite her imprisoned state.

They could walk this all unchallenged, the dragon remaining slumbering at the tower's front court yard.

 

[Rob Yew]

Up and up and up, they clambered, some slipping on wetted stairs, 'til tongues gave way to slander. Oaths they muttered and gods they cursed, for when stairs alone did best them, how could they dare the great drake to do his worst. At last, foul atemper and blood well heated, they drew near the top.

Aloof and aloft, Godfrey rode Thunder on, good humor strangely gone. A man want to raucous and rowdy regaling, this new mood left some wondering if he be moonstruck, or mad. Too long a knight kept in wooden barge, perhaps, like an eagle who, caged for a week, is set free and told to fly. It stumbles, confused, before stretching wings to their full height. So did Godfrey the Gryphon ride, thoughts to himself, for once in his life, until they reached the court yard.

When his eyes at last beheld the wyrm, scales shimmering like fresh slaughter, he came alight and stood in stirrups so that all might mark him well.

"There he lies, lads. Now set yourselves true. Fear not fire and flame. Come for glory or come for gold, we'll take his heart!"

He slammed shut his bascinet and raised high his lance so that it gleamed defiantly in the sun.

"Now Gunther, wake yon drake."

The dwarf raised his crossbow, sighted true, and with a squeeze of the trigger sped a quarrel on its way with a terrible twang.

 

[Selene]

The arrow bounced off the dragon's hard scales with a satisfying 'boooooing'. Smoke puffed from its nose, its eyes opening to reveal red black pupils that seethed with anger. He sprung up, wings unfurling and sending buffering gusts of wind at the men. He roared hot breath in their faces, positively angry at being shot at and woken. He tried to swipe them all away with the length of his tail, as if they were annoying mosquitoes.

Damn pesky humans.

 

[Rob Yew]

The wind from its wings beat upon them like a cyclone, causing the men to stumble and Thunder to rear up with a whinny. Godfrey struggled to keep his saddle as one of the men-at-arms rushed forward with a ragged yell. Philip Dardonia, a native of Alliria,. Godfrey could never tell whether he quested with them for the dragon's treasure hoard, or for the glory of taking the dragon's head.

And now he never could ask Philip, for with one foul lash of its mighty tail, the drake smote Dardonia across the body with such force and fury that it hurled him into the side of the tower's stone wall with a ghastly crunch. The soldier of fortune fell into a crumpled heap at the base, from which he ne'er did rise.

Godfrey's eyes came alight with anger and he spurred Thunder forward, lance level, straight for the beast with a wrothful shout.

 

[Selene]

The beast wouldn't give Godfrey a chance to cross the distance between them. He turned his head toward the threat and breathed fire at him with a mighty roar, forcing the man to abandon the charge or be fried.

The blaze was smoldering hot, hot enough to send beads of sweat chafing against the armor that began to absorb the fire's heat...
The dragon's fire held long and true, shot over the heads of the others now in an unspoken threat. Back off from his treasure. A fin of scales flared with each blaze of fire he shot out at the humans, settling back down seamlessly into his neck when the fire cut off. It was a weakness, a way inside a rather vulnerable part of his body. If you could dodge the flames and the claws to reach it.

 

[Rob Yew]

The blaze burned so brightly it blinded him. He threw up his shield before his eyes, but Thunder bucked beneath him so violently it tossed him to the ground. He hit hard, breath rushing from his lungs, and gasped for air. His horse engulfed in flames, ran headlong for the cliff face before hurtling off. The great white charger fell and fell and fell, before crashing into the sea.

Wheezing, Godfrey tried to stand, eyes wide and horrified.

The other two men at arms hid from the flames using their shields to soak up the flames, and cowering behind a boulder.

Gunther was nowhere to be seen.

 

[Selene]

The flames cut off, the fins at his neck steaming as they closed. The dragon let out a satisfied snort as his attack successfully drove back the puny flies. He lazily screeched, flicking his tail at them. He slammed it into the ground not five feet off from where they took cover, trying to finish warding them away.

 

[Rob Yew]

The ground shook, but Godrey managed to stand all the same. The dragon's attention had focused on the two remaining men-at-arms. Through visored gaze, Urahil managed to see the steam coiling from the dragon's neck, where soft fins opened and closed like the gills of a fish, and just like a fish's gills they looked to be unscaled.

Shield in one hand and sword in the other, Godfrey sprinted toward the dragon as fast as his legs would carry him. His thoughts carried grief into rage and before the great wyrm could turn, he was upon it. Twice did he strike with wide hacking blows at that place upon its neck, before with a mighty yell he plunged a thrust deep so that the blade would not come free.

The drake began to thrash its long neck about and stamp as hot blood poured from the wounds and soaked Godfrey. The vitae steamed and burned where it touched his skin, like boiling water. The neck smashed into Urahil and threw him to the ground.

The other two men-at-arms now rushed forward, but it smote at them with its fore claws, rending the first asunder and ripping into the leg of the second.

There came another twang and the bolt of a crossbow struck the beast again in the soft spot upon the neck. Gunther lowered the crossbow from where he stood near the boulder.

 

[Selene]

The dragon roared in pain, no fire able to erupt from his mouth as the arrows embedded into the fin. It was a clash of claws and swords, one that sent the dragon scrambling backwards, trying to regain its ground against the tiny humans. But there was no ground to be found, the dragon scrambling back right over the cliff face. His tail whipped up, like a hand trying to grab the ledge. He disappeared out of sight.

The air resonated in a rythmatic 'woosh'. The dragon rose in the air, massive wings beating. He screeched in pain and launched away from the island.

A chest sat where he had originally laid. Inside of it would be a key. It would work on the tower door.

 

[Gal]

Her Ladyship was a swift menace on the eastern seas, cutting across the glinting waves ahead of the school of silverbacks piercing the water in sync to the snapping sails.

Gal was leaning against the gunwale with a pipe hanging loose between her lips. Her eyes were closed; her face upturned to receive a welcome breeze on one cheek and the warm sun on the other.

She puffed out a lazy plume of blue smoke and watched as it got whisked away by the spray.

“Capitain!”

Gal sighed and ashed the pipe overboard. “Qe?”

“Fior avet vist’ un draq lla!”

Her eyebrows shot up. She slid off the gunwale and was on the bow in the blink of an eye, a spyglass clicking as she yanked it out of her sash.

“A’ale.” And then, “Ease off da jibs! Brace da fores’ls and bear off six points ta’ port!”

They had a dragon to catch.

 

[Selene]

The dragon flew circles above the island, roaring in pain and trying to claw the arrows out of the shaft in his neck. Up and down, around and round, it flew wildly, not ready to relinquish its treasure but. You know. Needing a moment.

Weak flames spewed from its wound as it tried and failed another fire breath attempt.

 

[Gal]

Turquoise water lapped at their boots as they dragged the boats ashore. White sand crunched underneath their feet as they filtered into the thick underbrush, stealing through the patchwork of jungle and shadow like thieves in the night.

Gal had her cutlass drawn, and the rest of her party trailed behind with the same. A few hefted boarding axes instead, grinning with the few teeth they had left, and all of them were bedecked with knives besides.

Nary a leaf rustled as they reached the edge of the fortress clearing. Breath lingered low and bated in every throat, and keen seafaring eyes took in the mise en scène.

The Nazrani pressed a single finger to her lips before motioning to the crossbowman. A stocky dwarf, as broad as he was tall. He would be the first to go, and then the sole knight – if he was a knight at all – would be at the mercy of their numbers.

Soon.

 

[Rob Yew]

Godfrey fell to his knees beside Tully and let the sword slip from his grasp. Carefully, he lifted Tully’s helm. The dark haired Vel Anirian stared up at him, the whites of his eyes red and filled with blood.

“Godfrey?”

“I am here Tully.” He gripped the man’s hand in his own.

Above them, the dragon circled, loosing suffering screeches. Godfrey thought the wounds would be mortal in time, but Tully needed him now.

Behind him, he heard the heavy crunch of Gunther’s boots. The dwarf watched, grief in his gaze.

Of all their companions on this two week journey, Tully had been the best of them. He came for the glory, hoping to bring honor to his house.

And he had.

He had.

Godfrey brushed the hair away from Tully’s face as the man’s breath quickened, shuddering.

“I can’t see, Godfrey. I can’t see.”

Urahil felt the hot sting of tears and shut his eyes tight against them lest they fall.

“I know. I am here, Tully. You fought with valor, well worthy of a knight of Vel Anir.”

“I will never see them again. The gray towers, with their pennants caught full in the morning breeze. I will never sit saddle and ride triumphant through her gates.”

“You will. We will ride through them together.”

Tully’s grip on Godfrey tightened. “Promise me.”

“I will do more. To your knees Tully.” Godfrey picked up his sword and placed it upon first one shoulder, then the other. “For bravery and fortitude, I name thee a knight, Sir Tully. A knight of Vel Anir. Now rise.”

Slowly, shakily, blind Tully got to his feet. “Thank you, sir. What of the dragon?”

Godfrey laughed, though it caught in his throat. “And what of it? It flies and founders. Soon it will fall, I think. Come, into the tower.”

Gunther had taken the time to retrieve the key from the chest. He used it on the tower door now, Godfrey ushered them both inside, eyes on the sky.

 

[Selene]

Selene paced back and forth at the top of the tower, frying pan in hand. She held it like a weapon, but it shook inside her sweating fingers.

It was hot in the tower. The black rock of the island absorbed the unforgiving sun, making each step up the rounding stairs feel that much harder than the last.

She had intended to stand by the door and whack the first person through so she could run, but the second arrival stopped her. There was no misunderstanding what that ship was. It stood a stark contrast besides the knight's own, and the men that poured out of it gave her no false hopes.

She was screwed.

She paced faster, utter fear pulsating through her, contorting all of her thoughts. She had withered her father's rage, she had withered her time on this island, locked in this room. But she could not, would not wither .. this. Whatever this was, her fear told her it was the end of everything. And so she did the most desperate thing. She ran to the window and hoisted herself up, standing on the ledge.

The way down was long and frightening, the jagged rocks below promising her a quick death. But she froze, just as quickly realizing that death was not what she wanted. The pan slipped from her fingers, tumbling down... down... down...

 

[Gal]

Before Gal could give the final order to attack, a sudden streak of black tumbled through the canopy and caved in the skull of their would-be arbalist.

The man crumpled to his knees, then onto his face.

Everyone stared, silent.

There, in the pool of brain matter, bits of bone, and blood, glinted a cast-iron skillet.

“Wat da fook.”

Her first mate looked as dumbfounded as Gal felt. His beady brown eyes flickered from the dead orc to the hole in the leaves that marked the unceremonious entrance of the pan into the scene.

“We wait,” Gal hissed, ordering her people deeper into the brush. There would not be a repeat incident involving weaponized crockery. “Surround da clearin’. When dey get baq down, we’ll have words.”

The pirates dispersed through the jungle, slowly encircling the courtyard at the foot of the tower. The dragon continued to wail in the distance, its pained roars echoing across the island.

 

[Rob Yew]

Tully leaned on Gunther and the two of them hobbled up the tower's stairs. Godfrey followed, wiping his sword on a bit of his tabard that was not soaked in dragon blood. He thought the dragon would be the only foe they faced today and in truth the price had been higher than he had expected.

Foolish of him, to charge it like that, and Thunder had paid the price for his putzery. Sorrow weighed heavy on his heart with the loss of his horse. There ne'er was a finer stallion, nor should there be again. Foolish, so, so foolish. His father had always called him an oaf, who would see everyone around him killed. He was right.

"Just a bit farther," Godfrey rumbled, "Princess Selene," he called up the stairs, "We are knights, come to free you. We've driven the dragon off."

 

[Selene]

Selene stumbled back inside the tower, cornered and at a loss for what she should do. She did not want to leave with a Knight. Oh but by gods, she did not want to leave with pirates either. She had heard more than her fair share of stories of them, the barbarians the source of strain on her father's shipping exploits.

Alas, she settled on the lesser of two evils, opening the door so the knights could gain entry. "Quickly," she pleaded, desperation marring her features as they rounded the landing. "Inside, there's pirates out there!"

"What kind of knight brings pirates to a nobles home!" She whapped Godfrey's chest, desperation turning into a slight fury at such an improper course of action!

 

[Rob Yew]

The sight of her struck him dumb, for never in the midst of such dreadful sorrow had he beheld such beauty. Her hair shone finer than the gold of a dwarven hoard, each strand a ray of sun. The clothing she wore wreathed her frame, setting his pulse quick. Eyes like gems and skin like pearl, pure and untouched by pox or plague.

“My lady,” he managed a bow.

How could a man lock up a treasure such as she? Sooner cage a songbird than she, cloistered and kept far from the world.

Her words slowly dragged him back.

“Pirates? What pirates?”

 

[Selene]

"The. Pirates!" She grabbed Godfrey's arm most imprudently and dragged him to her singular window. She gestured with restrained panic at the second set of sails beached on the shore, their very state and color lending to her apt assumption.

"Did you not realize you were being followed by pirates?" She asked, a touch flabbergasted. She shook her head, dismissing the question just as quickly. "It doesn't matter, you will stop them, right?" The plea made her voice crack, her eyes watering in fear.

 

[Gal]

“Geddy, Ratchett, march op. Keshten, keep da bow on da window. Ombole and Aytala, keep da bow on da door. Anyoo else but os com’ oota dat door, make ‘em lik da spiky plants o’ Amol-Kalit.”

Gal grinned as she watched two pirates peel out of the underbrush, knives and cutlasses at the ready. They rattled a good bit, for show more ‘n anything, and then they disappeared up the stairs fierce with want for loot and killing.

 

[Selene]

The clanking of footsteps up the stairs drove a gasp of fear from her lips. "They're coming," she gasped. She stood still frozen in fright for a moment before kicking into motion. She darted forward, slamming the door to the landing shut. It lacked a key, so grunted and dragged her table in front of it, not even thinking to lay it on its side. She just.... slid it before the door as if it would help.

And then she kicked into a frenzy, darting back and forth like a frightened rabbit, trying to find a makeshift weapon. She had already dropped her frying pan. Perhaps her tea kettle? She dropped that onto the floor, it landing with a solid thump, as her wild eyes set upon Godfrey's own sword. She dashed forward, frighteningly fast, and grasped at the handle with both hands in an attempt to steal it.

It was suffice to say the girl was descending into a bit of a panicked fit.

This was more stimulation than she had had in years.