Old Hogan was the one who found them, huddled and scared on the side of the Laneway heading into town. Poor Hogan was heading back from his favorite pub when he happened upon the wretched thing, cold and weak from exposure.

I was asleep, having stoked the fires of the Maesters rooms and ensuring all the doors and windows were locked when Hogan barged into my room.

"Yoan, we have a problem!"

Hogan half whispered, half murmured as my door banged open. I shot out of bed, the twilight of sleep washed away by the rude surprise. Clothed in nothing but my gracious skin, Hogan promptly turned around and closed the door before then knocking politely...before opening the door and stating again;

"Yoan! We have a problem and sorry I didn't knock."

Still naked, I began to dress and question Hogan about the problem 'we' had. Since I was asleep, in my room, and couldn't fathom what could be the problem I assumed that Hogan was just drunk and confused.

"Ok, Hogan. Explain to me 'our' problem so I can fix it. Did you beat a wench at the pub again? I have only so much coin to spare for your shenanigans."

Hogan huffed at me as I said this, shaking his head.

"Naw, Yoan, its na' that. At all. I have plenty of coin myself to pay a Death tax. Naw, 'tis here is something worse. It's a human, and its Branded."

I was listening to Hogan half heartedly, absent-mindedly dressing myself. I had slipped a few golden Dakas into my pocket as he spoke, smiling at the sheer absurdity at Hogans words. It was the tinkling of the gold in my pocket, the rattle of the silver candlestick as I bumped into my nightstand on the way out of my room when Hogans words dawned on me.

"Branded?" I croaked out, freezing as I crossed the threshold of my bedroom.

Hogan had his beat up hat in his hands, staring at me with almost tears in his eyes. The single candle he held sputtered and died. I took a sharp breath, trying to slow the sudden rise in my heartrate. Humans were like vermin to the Horken and Dyads, who viewed Terragia as sacred. The Humans, they spread like a disease across the vast continents of Terragia since their arrival via the Heavens thousands of years ago. They dug and burned and built, destroying to support their society and people. Hogan, poor Hobbled Hogan was wounded by one of them during The War.

"Where is this Branded human, Hogan? What trouble have you brought home at this time of night?"

Hogan nodded and just turned and headed up the dark hallway of the Servant Quarters. I heard him begin to thump up the stairs into the Hall of the Maesterium, as I dutifully followed him toward this Human he was speaking of. In a way, I was excited. In another, I knew deep down there was trouble coming.

Only Drogons branded anything, and only Drogons scared the Maesters.

Come on man, I'm trying to have fun here. Instead of arguing technicalities, why don't you write a story with the prompt and try to follow a bit of willing suspension of disbelief?

I have to know what they say!

Cecil was on duty again, but this time his eyes were peeled. He had his wonderful Petra with him to keep him company - and keep him awake. She often visited him during the day to bring him lunch anyhow, and she was enjoying spending a quiet afternoon on a warm summer day people watching. "She truly is made of stone" he'd say with a soft smile, and they would nod as though they understood. They thought of the cold stone floor beneath their feet, but in his mind he was basking on a rock in the sun.

He had started by telling her she was going to think he was crazy. "I already did, so no worries there." But her eyes grew wide as the tale carried forth. She sat in silence for several minutes. Finally, Cecil couldn't take it. "Well what do you think hun?"

"do...do you think I'm invited come with you to tea?" He burst out laughing and smothered her in kisses.

A day dragged by. Two. Cecil was starting to get worried when on day three, during the midday sun when everyone was inside to escape the scorching heat, Glassmaker returned.

"CECIL! I'm getting closer, but I need som--- oh! Hello there!"

Cecil hooked an arm around his wife's surprisingly still shoulders. "Glassmaker, allow my to introduce my wife, Petra!"

She gave a small curtsy and Glassmaker gave a rushed bow. "Lovely to meet you, you MUST join us for tea when I return" (she blushed, thinking he must've overheard earlier somehow) "but right now I'm in need of urgent aid. I need you to paint me like this."

The shimmering green stripes painted atop Glassmaker's dark blue skin were dizzying to look at. The golden spear had been so artfully applied that it really did look like it was making a bloody wound in his side, but somehow it made Cecil deeply worried. One of the townspeople had helpfully tied several bedsheets together and made a sort of false bandage to cover the gory parts.

Glassmaker clutched a sapling-sized flag pole, the cornflower blue bedsheet flapping cheerfully in the wind as he glided effortlessly on the thermals back to the coastline. He could already see the stadium and hear the cheering crowd inside. This would be one tournament they would never forget.

The opening ceremonies would be a declaration of peace, followed by 5 days of games and amnesty for prisoners. All this hinged upon Glassmaker agreeing to land as a sign of blessing for the peace. The plan was kept secret, but special care had been taken to ensure no panic at the event. "Expect something big! It might seem scary, but we promise it's safe."

Safe. He grumbled a little internally. He was not safe. He was kind. Merciful. Even a little silly sometimes he admitted, looking at the stripes and flapping flag.

Something was wrong. The men on the stage were not the men from the boat. The men from the boat were standing on... gallows. The speech ended with "and we take these signs from the gods that these men be declared traitors and executed for their crimes." A smattering of confused applause.

He tucked into a fast dive, slamming to earth in front of the gallows.

"Morcant. Seems things haven't gone to plan."

He was so relieved he could've hugged the beast. "No. The scum at the podium decided war was way more profitable."

"All of them?"

"All except the woman on the far left."

"Sorry, Cecil" he thought, as his jaws opened. He reached for the first on the end, but he paused. No. Let the humans handle it their way. But perhaps he could set them on the right course. He turned in a broad circle, speaking to the crowd.

"The men on the stage were afraid because the men at the gallows had won my trust. I came here dressed as your sigil to honor them. Take what signs from that you will. What say you?"

I think you did wonderfully! This is what I was thinking when I put up the prompt. Please, I'd love for you to try and continue the story! I wanna see where you take it! 🙂

For most of the world the last month has been normal whatever that mean for who ever it's concerning. For me I have been in grief like a child loosing it's parents. All of my kin is affected by this sadness. We struggle to find comfort in anything as it is out comfort that was taken from us. The love of my life as lost her magnificent voice while I lost my sight. It's a tragic joke that we have to reconcile with.

I was the eyes of Venicia the planet of a thousand seas my paintings and creations are spread across the stars as witness of both my home and now my sight. My masterpiece is a reprentation of the winter horizon on the last day of the season when the red sky the clear seas and the black moon fade into each other, it took me years to see it in the same way that the rest of the Galaxy did I guess I was the hardest critic of my art.

My Muse was nicknamed the voice of the stars by everyone that heard her sing she was shy about her songs would never sing twice to the same person when she could avoid it, performed in isolated unknowed places to small crowds she was just doing it to make a few people happy at a time.

Being cursed to live without my eyes has made me rethink what art is supposed to be yo who and why was I making it. I also had more time to think; how many were affected ? As my wife got cursed even if only a few knew she was singing some others were also not affected while still creating magnificent pieces torward it so I wonder who knows on what criteria the artists are chosen ? Does the Heart of the people choose them as artists or does their belief in the art they make as cursed them ?

Thanks for taking the time to comment! I’m glad you enjoyed!

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Would love to read more! Great writing

Is it typically pronounced “Vall-R-E?” That’s how I read it.

I added some! I'll try to keep the thread going as I think of more :)

Glassmaker chuckled to himself as he circled high above the castle. The small band of mercenaries were armed to the teeth as they tiptoed out of the back gate. Scorching "parlay?" in flaming letters on the meadow in front of the castle had hardly been subtle, but he hadn't quite expected them to simply flee.

No... not fleeing. They carried among their swords buckets of paint. "Terms?"

His wings folded as he dove silent except for the rush of air past his wings, landing daintily behind them.

"I beg your pardon, but would you mind if we simply spoke face to face?"

In hundreds of years, it never got old. He watched them collapse into a disorganized heap of curses and yelps. Some of them even fell flat on their backsides, making a pleasant ringing sound as their shortswords clanked off armor and rock. They exchanged terrified glances, eyes trailing over the huge splashes of cornflower blue paint now covering their armor and swords, shaking like leaves to man.

"Sorry about that. I find it safer to land behind a party when they're armed."

Some sobs. A bit of gibbering. "Now now, none of that. I'm here for Sir Alden Darwin."

"Wh-wh--------who?"

"Sir Alden Darwin. Bout yea high. Short red hair. Big toothy smile beneath a big twirly red moustache."

"h-h-h-h-he's not here."

Glassmaker cocked an eyebrow. He opened the palm of his massive hand, and revealed a handful of sapphires, each the side of a robin's egg. "Are you certain?"

He saw the fear flash to greed in the eyes of around half the men. The other half were more sensible. One in the back he looked pointedly at. He knew a man scheming when he saw it.

"You. The leader. Stand up."

A man a few years younger than Alden stood up. "I'm in charge here and--" under the level gaze of the dragon he suddenly found himself at a loss for words.

The schemer, hair steel-gray and more than enough scars to go with the years, spoke up. "Guess the Dragon's in charge now."

"Oh, I don't really go in for that sort of thing. I'm just here to negotiate Alden's release. He missed our luncheon three weeks in a row."

Utter confusion. Two different arguments broke out, and he couldn't help it. The indignant shout of "--some kind of dragon-sized mug of ale?!" made Glassmaker actually burst out laughing.

It took several minutes to convince the mercenaries that the gouts of flame were not on purpose, but the fact that they had been directed well away from even mild singing distance mollified them some.

Lighter a handful of gems (after all, he could always return for a "refund" if they had misled him) he winged his way north and west, scouring the coastline for a barque moored to a dock flying a cornflower blue flag with a -- they had really hesitated to tell him this -- wounded dragon sigil.

agreed. im reading it as both the typical pronounciation of the name, and as "valor-ee", and its poking my brain with "hang on a second" feelings.

Okay, so what happens when someone on here posts a one-in-a-million WP and some Hollywood producer just poaches it for thier own blockbuster project?

Thank you! I really dug the prompt.

I chose Valari cause it means brave in Latin (I think?). It fits with her being the newest member to the Bravery Militia

Ohh ok

I made a Shrek reference.

I'm confused

>Valari

Wait, why does that name seem so familiar to me? Also, nice work!

Wow, I love your writing style! It sounds lots like Roddy Doyle, and I love it!

I'm glad you caught the lack of death threats! I'd love to see a continuation, Glassmaker rescuing Sir Alden Darwin, and perhaps that tea as well!

Three members of the Bravery Militia deliberated at their meeting place. Each studied a map sprawled out on a wooden table. A stack of papers documenting all of Crow's Pond residents sat nearby. The Hunter's Guide Against Dragons shook in Gillis's arms.

"We have to meet the dragon's demands. It claims the peasant is more valuable than a horde of gold. I have no reason to believe that, but regardless, dragon's are tenacious and won't stop until their desires are met." Gillis said.

Noa shook her head. "I won't be able to sleep if we surrender the little girl."

"Let's be grateful its asking for a peasant rather than a princess."

"I'd be just as upset if the Dragon asked for a princess," Noa said.

"Would you rather choose the other option and have the dragon pillage Crow's Pond until it retrieves his prize?" Gillis spat.

Raik knocked on the table. "Can we all agree none of us will be satisfied until everyone from peasants to princesses are safe?"

Gillis furrowed his brow at the youngest member of the group. "We're Crow's Pond best defense but are outmatched when it comes to certain creatures. Dragons top the lists. Keeping everyone safe? You'd have a better luck slaying a werewolf on a new moon night."

"For once, I agree with Gillis," Noa said. "We will have some kind of loss because the dragon proposed a chariot scenario. Do you know what that is Raik?"

The young man shook his head.

"Imagine a chariot filled with innocent people moving at a remarkable speed on a pathway. Further down, a person lays passed out on the dirt road. You play a wizard who's watching the event unfold. You can use a spell and redirect the chariot but doing so will lead it off the pathway and into the woods where it will crash and kill every passenger. Or, do you allow the chariot to remain on the pathway and run over the one person?"

Gillis clapped his hands. "In our case the peasant girl is the person on the road; the remaining population of Crow's Pond represents the chariot's passengers. I rather have one person die than a whole bunch."

"But could you live with yourself knowing that you were the reason the person on the road died? We must not forget that the person is a peasant girl is young, perfectly innocent, and undeserving being captive."

The three fell into silence.

Raik knocked on the table once more. "The chariot scenario ends with a period once a decision is made, but our decision can end with a comma."

The other two looked at him wearing a baffled expression.

"Interesting. Go on," Gillis said.

"I agree that we won't be able to successfully defend Crow's Pond from a dragon attack. Her buildings are flimsy and dull blades gather in the armory." Raik drew a breath. "We must give in to the Dragon's demands and hand over the peasant girl. But we won't stop there -- that's our comma."

"I refuse to go along with this plan," Noa interrupted, but Raik raised a hand to hush his fellow member.

"The dragon claims that the girl is more costly than gold. Though the idea is unclear to us, we know that it will care for her. Once she's captive, we wait for days. Perhaps weeks. When the dragon relaxes its guard, we will take the peasant girl back."

Noa nodded in agreement, but Gillis shook his head.

"And then what? The dragon will storm Crow's Pond and reclaim its prize," he said.

Raik cracked his knuckles, "Then we'll have to slay the dragon while we're at it."

The young man's last statement convinced Gillis to nod in agreement.

"There is one issue. We have to convince the peasant girl to be the dragon's prisoner," Gillis said.

"That won't be a problem," Noa said. "Though she might be young, the peasant girl has more adventure in her bones than the three of us combined. When we propose the plan, she'd act as if she was the fourth member of the Bravery Militia."

"Perfect. If she's going to be a part of our group, we must know her name."

Noa smiled.

"Her name is Valari."

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This was good I’d love to see a continuation of it

To be fair, this is going to be a fun one to read.

But where's the fun in that?