Hey! This is pretty unusual for what I do here, so here’s a quick FYI. I was wrestling with a bad mood last week (Spoilers: I’m much better now, thanks!) and I wasn’t 100% sure why. Eventually, my mind wandered over to this creative writing idea for a fantasy setting I spontaneously had, and working on it broke me out of that funk. Since my attempt at the fanfiction Bloggers Wanted prompt last month was received well, I figured “Heck, why not share this here?”! Who knows? Getting into a habit of doing just a little storytelling regularly is one of my New Year Resolutions, so maybe I’ll make more blogs like this?
Without any further delay, here’s “The Dread Wyvern & the Enchanting Light”! Enjoy~
An erratic crackling mercilessly scattered all around.
Smoke permeated the air.
Bodies laid scattered across the floor.
Heat pressed against the beast’s skin, embers dangling from its maw. Its breathing steadied as the embers died out.
Amidst the foggy crags, a faint whimpering shivered. The beast approached it, steps thumping heavily. The whimpering slowed, but the beast could feel its shaking accelerate.
The beast’s body shone with a pale light. It shrunk from its lumbering and looming shape to an imposing, yet condensed and toned build. Its scale-like armor smoothed and thinned into shimmering emerald plates. Its translucent wings bent from overgrown bat curves to long teardrops. His fanged mouth and sharp horns rounded out into… a slightly less fanged mouth with long antennae. His beady black eyes remained unchanged.
“They’re gone,” he spoke, the figure cowering behind the smoke breathing a smidgen slower.
“Yo-You’re t-th-the D-Dre…” she weakly stammered, her voice trembling. “Dread… Wyvern?”
“Your man hired me,” three of his arms folded, the fourth shooting a thumb behind his shoulder. “We’re leaving.”
Her short-haired silhouette shivered in place, sitting on the floor. “I-I can’t…”
“That’s an order, Esthel” he shook his head. “The bandits’ main patrol will be back from their raid any minute. That means we’re going now.”
“N-No, I mea-” she coughed, even though the smoke was clear enough to see her blue eyes, chestnut hair, and gaudy clothing. His face leaned closer, reading the fear in the human’s face. He didn’t move any farther nor closer as his eyes studied her skin, fair and pale… except for the wound on her leg.
“Should have figured…” his knees crouched. “Fine. I’ll carry you.”
Her hand trembled as it approached his shoulder.
She climbed on.
Rain plummeted from the cloudy sky, buffeting the deep earth underneath the dragonfly’s feet with mud. Esthel hung from his shoulder, eyes shifting between her unrequited bodyguard and the road behind them.
“So, er… you are the real Dread Wyvern, right? The famous merc?”
“That’s what Gaians call me,” he stated. “It works better than Dakhan.”
“So, can you transform?”
“Any Lunan can.”
“No need to be a smart aleck,” she pouted. “I meant to get us back faster?”
“That’s what they bandits are looking for,” he said plainly. “And transforming makes it hard enough to see in clear weather.”
“Oh…” she disappointedly lowered her head. “S-Sorry…”
He said nothing, and continued carrying her onward.
“You know, I could maybe walk a little-”
“No you can’t,” he shook his head. “Fighting against the mud is bad for your injury.”
“Says the man who lives and breathes pain, pretty much literally.”
“That’s because I’m a bred warrior,” he calmly followed up. “Lunans are practically born for combat. We’re lucky if we grow up knowing how to not be bloodthirsty monsters.”
“You say that so… normal-ly,” she spoke somberly.
“Well, when you’re born in a meteor shard that fell at random from the moon,” he matter-of-factly recalled. “It really is normal for your brothers to grow up without ever meeting Gaian civilization. I was just lucky enough to be dropped near someone who knows a fighter when he sees one. I’m no scholar, or farmer, or… whatever you are,” he stared at her impractically extravagant clothes. “Being strong’s the only thing I’m good at.”
“Well, that’s pretty cruddy,” she pouted. “Aren’t you tired of fighting all the time?”
“I got tired of it a long time ago,” he dully stated, the annoyance in his voice rising. “I said it’s all I have.”
“If you hate it so much, Mr. Doom and Gloom,” Esthel turned herself upside-down. “Why haven’t you given any thought about what other jobs that power you got can be used for?”
Esthel leapt, winking as she fell below the wooden platform.
“She actually jumped!?” The dragonfly bent forward from his front-row seat, his head descending as did her body - which clung onto a trapeze that intersected with her fall, and not a blink too soon.
He could only watch in awe as she leapt from trapeze to trapeze. He could only gawk in doubt as she flipped and spun daringly from each jump. Time seemed to slow while she disconnected herself from everything except the air. His heart beat again as she fastened her grip on the wooden shaft, no longer descending towards the ground. If her leg wasn’t mended by those Gaian mages, she’d be dead already. He had lost track of her performance’s length, recognizing the time that passed only once she daringly sprung back onto another, lower platform by a pole supporting the big top.
And the audience roared with glee.
“She… she did it…?”
“Thank you very much, Esthel dear!” The ringlord announced, pausing until the audience’s applause grew quiet. “And now! For our next star! The Lunan Lord of Lightning! The King of the Deep! Give a show of hands for GUSAAAAAAAAARR!”
The crowd cheered vigorously, as white smoke emerged from the stage. A damp splishing and sploshing echoed from the floor, a lanky figure emerging from it. Dark blue scales glistened against the spotlights. Fins swayed like oversized fans from the shape’s lithe back and long legs. The fish-man took a bow as the crowd’s support echoed across the tent.
“Please,” he calmly spoke, raising an open palm “Hold your applause.”
Step by step, he ascended the stepladder, the massive pool shining underneath. With a wide salute, Gusarr leapt backwards, his body shining with a pale light as he sunk below.
His form was obscured by the murky waters… and by the light filling the pool. Energy coursed across the tank. Sparks danced across its surface. The glow of electricity overshadowed the spotlights themselves. A spout of shining water leapt upwards, rippling across the pool’s lengths as he reverse-cannonballed his way out of the water.
The mutant sahuagin gave a boisterous roar, his blade-like fins and claws adorned with bolts of lightning. The crowd matched his roar with a shout of applause and awe, and he dove back. He spiraled across the air and water alike, performing tricks and sleights of body not unlike Esthel before him, but trading her grace for his alacrity. He darted all about, circling so quickly that the electricity in the pool swirled into a whirlpool. Bolts flew forth from his fintips, striking an array of targets held by his own troupe-mates.
Dakhan’s maw fell agape, buttocks leaning forward off of his seat.
And the crowd rooted for the mutant in the ring, the spotlight beaming an enchanting radiance onto him as it did his peers before. They applauded for him. Celebrated him. Praised. Lauded. Cheered.
A gentle pair of footsteps pittered about, increasing in volume until they stopped, Esthel sitting next to him with an expectant grin. “So, mister Dread Wyvern-”
“Call me Dakhan.”
“Sorry! So, mister Dakhan…?”
“Yeah… I like this idea.” He gently smiled.