Hither in these ruins I standeth, a marker to remind of what hath transpired here. This place, once a village, now lieth in ruins.

A dragon of great might once made her abode nigh unto here, abiding by an ancient pledge that she would cause no harm unto the folk of this land.

Becoming accustomed to the sight of the ancient beast, the village folk began to harass her. Time passed, and new generations were born, and soon the foolish villagers forgot why dragons are held in such high esteem. The harassment turned to violence, the violence to arson, and the arson to attempts at murder. Yet, despite it all, the dragon never retaliated, and the townfolk felt emboldened to bully a creature that was supposed to be a force beyond compare. But they went too far.

I am a sign, a tale-teller, a warning to take heed. For even the most gentle heart may be broken. Blinded by wrath, the dragon chose to teach them a lesson, one far crueler than simple destruction. She chose to seek justice through the law.

The village's expansion, which included felling of the forest? A violation of tree law.

The attempted murder? Guilt was established.

Arson? Endangered species law was invoked.

The taking of water from the lake? Theft and trespassing.

The road? Constructed in violation of state laws.

The treehouse for children? Ye should not trifle with fricking tree laws. The list is longer than I can recount, but as a result, the villagers found themselves drowning in debt, facing legal fees and fines, with some even sent to prison. And finally, the town was built too near to the dragon's lair, and was found in contravention of the wildlife protection laws. And so, it was decreed to be disbanded forthwith.

Verily, ye should not mess with dragons.

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[Poem]

​

Am I to forsake being content in order to let your happiness bloom?

Do I drop my stake to not prevent you from rising from your gloom?

In what order do I assign priority when I'm torn between you and I?

Do I order my heart to live, while I just sentence your fire to die?

I love you so dearly but I don't know what path I should be taking,

Do I let you go free at the price of the smile I'll forever be faking?

But I love you so dearly that I know its only right to let you prosper,

Forgive me though, it'll still take me a minute to let this courage foster.

I'll bite my tongue and let you live the life you always deserved,

For a bout of my sadness is low price for your smile to be preserved.

Thank you!

[deleted]

Interesting story. It really painted a picture. In my head I saw an Air temple of ATLA sort of institution.

I saw the hunter the moment she stepped in my tavern, but I felt her and her partner when they entered my village bound. The other girl is in the stable, searching what isn't there. Same as all the hunters came before them.

I sighed inwardly. The blessing I received from the old monk of the hill, is turning more into a curse every decade.

She sat down in front of me, putting her scimitar down. " What is cooking today?" " We have meat pies and stew." " Can I get a pie and a mug of ale." " Your partner won't have anything?" To her surprised look, I said "what does she like, stew or pie?" "Stew. So, you're not hiding, are you?" " I run this tavern. Not exactly a hiding place. " " I have seen stranger things. " Well, she is a hunter, a young one. Her partner joined her table a few minutes later, when I was getting their food from the kitchen. Her presence isn't the same. And she smelled different, more primal. The blessing in me stirred differently for her. The only other time I smelled and felt that was when I got my blessing.

She is the heir. After centuries I would finally be able to rest. I'll be able to move on. The heir of the Ancient One finally found me, finally found their magic.

I put down their food and to my horror I realised she is only a hatchling. She looked at me with her big black eyes.
" Dine, you look hungry. "

That afternoon, after the whelp is fed and rested, we sat down in my home to talk. The girls were young even in human years. They were both orphans, raised and trained in a hunter tribe. Neither of them had any prophecies for them. So, they started hunting together, to find their own future. I told them the story of how I, a young hunter myself, found the Ancient One, beside the hill beyond this village, living as an old monk. He was resting when I approached him, but couldn't hurt him. His magic was ancient, millenia old, much more powerful. I was no match. But he didn't kill me. He seemed so tired and heart broken. He lost his mate a few centuries ago in a brutal battle, and lost their egg with her. He just never believed the egg to be destroyed. So he held on, waited, for his heir. "You are to be called Azar. And I am to give my blessings, to you." " You killed my sire? " " I hunted the Ancient One, because it was prophesied at my birth, those tricky things. I was to be the one to found him. And I did. I was to be the one to end him, and I did. But I didn't found a mighty beast, I met an old monk, who suffered for centuries from broken heart. I freed him from existing. I offered to be the vessel of his magic. It wasn't pity. It was a kindness returned. Now I ask of you the same."

The hatchling didn't seem convinced. The hunter looked uncertain. I asked them to get some rest. And think it over. I have time. The full moon is next week. The dawn of full moon is when I'll be able to give away.

I observed the girls through the week. Neither of them seemed to be aware of the bond between them. Well they couldn't see the magic yet. This orphan isn't a hunter either, though she is trained. I conferred with the Ancient Magic. She'll be the First Rider of the new dragon millenia. The dawn of next full moon will be the new beginning. I pack things for the journey to the hill of the old monk. The Ancient cave, is waiting for us. The tavern will be closed for the first time in five centuries. I said my goodbyes to the villagers. I bid farewell to the Ancient magic. We started with the rise of full moon.

The precise detail I visualized this story is absolutely insane I’m riding the train and was lost in the story - I almost missed my stop haha

From the little that I remember of my parents, I know they loved me. It was just that they had their priorities. You know, mages. Their magic was their life. The fact that I was also a part of their life seemed to be of little importance in any day to day function. I tried. I actually tried very hard to become part of their world if only to just spend a little more time with them.

For years I studied like they did, getting help from their assistants and their apprentices all the while trying to reach for their attention. I was good. At least, I think I was good. Being as young as I was and pushing passed men and women in their mid-twenties with magic that was meant for a master mage hopefully meant something. They went to my demonstrations and for a while, I seemed to meet their expectations.

The work that I did seemed to give me nothing but respect in return. As a kid, I just wanted to be loved. Being told, good job or well done like I was their charge was as hollow as the birthday cards they got the secretaries to write. Even when they talked to me, it didn’t sound like they were even the ones to sign off on the emotion they used.

It got worse when he arrived.

I didn’t know where Path came from back then nor did I care. Everything that I had been striving for, even desperately reaching out to, seemed to collapse the week that old man arrived. My parents, their attention, just seemed to disappear. Why? Research needed to be done. It was simple. I should have understood but I didn’t. How could I? I was twelve.

Weeks turned to months. Path, my parents, several of the grand master mages, and what was bitterly called the inner circle were all locked away in the college's basement. Sub-basement. Whatever, it was deep. Deeper than I ever had been. They said it was for safety reasons and the shockwaves that would shake the college made sure no one thought twice.

I kept up my studies but it felt like the drive was gone. Bending fire, compressing it into an arc and expanding it back out into a trap was really the only way that I could focus my anger. Or was it my loneliness? It didn’t really matter when I was able to focus.

Something happened, though, that I wasn’t expecting. The months that slowly ticked by turned to disappointment. I could feel it. Somewhere in the college, it was starting to slowly seep into everything that we did. The rumblings from the basement started to get more frequent but when people talked about them, it wasn’t in awe anymore. They were just another nuisance. Not that it mattered to me.

Another rumble, another day alone, another candle lit, another bowl filled, another stage set, and another drill ready. Pulling the flame toward me, I dragged it over the small bowl of oil and in my wrath, compressed the light until it twinkled like a star in front of me. White light enveloped the room as I tilted the energy away from heat and pushed it out into the room.

Now in darkness, I felt at peace. The quiet of my mind was a facade but the control was what kept me together. I could have stayed like this forever. Somewhere just beyond though I felt something different. A presence. It wasn’t intrusive. It was like a new painting had been hung on the wall but all the dust in the room had already accepted it. If not for this state, would I have noticed? Letting my mind focus, I let my hidden arc hit the target and blow a small hole in the panel in front of me.

“I felt that.”

It was Path, the old man my parents had abandoned me for. Why was he here? In a castle full of empty promises and false hope, why would he disturb the one place where I could feel numb? I let out a sigh longer than I was meaning to before turning and bowing to him.

“My apologies,” I spoke as neutrally as I could, “I did not know I had an audience.”

“But you did,” the Path mused, cutting off anything else I had to say as he walked toward me, “I felt your mind see me and see past me. How did you learn to do that?”

“I didn’t,” I muttered, shaking my head.

“Talent enhanced by training,” Path stated, I think more to himself than to me, “Your parents must be very proud of your progress. Who are they?”

“You’d know better than me,” I shouldn’t have said it but it came out like a flame. Biting my tongue quickly and looking away I took a breath and focused. This was an honoured guest. I quietly apologized and muttered, “Sorry, umm, they are Masters Byron and Aria-Lynn.”

“That’s a shame,” Path nodded as looked me over.

He didn’t say anything else that day and left after a couple of long minutes of awkward contemplation. Nothing was said about it at dinner that night. My parents were locked up in their studies as always and their assistants were just as absent. Had Path said anything? Nothing seemed amiss but shouldn’t there have been something?

I started noticing him more and more outside of the grand hall and the guest areas. Sometimes he was in full garb and gown but other times he was dressed like a worker. Sometimes he was actually working, sweeping the halls or mopping an entrance. I tried to help. He would simply straighten up and leave when I got too close. That was until one day he just handed me a mop.

“Can you clean without being disturbed?”

“Is this a test?” I asked back, now very confused.

“If you want it to be,” Path explained, “Or if it would help to think of it as one.”

“Umm,” I muttered, taking the mop and rolling up my sleeves, “Okay.”

And then we mopped.

We mopped the entire entranceway to the south hall. Him in a servant's tunic and me in my robes. Why? Multiple times, I started a thought about what we were doing but Path broke in before I spoke and told me to stay on task.

When we finished and Path had set his mop down he took a look around at the crowded entrance as people, many of them mages, floated by us. It was easy to be ignored by them as I had made my life about only being noticed when I wanted to. Path on the other had seemed pleased by it.

“Can you be seen without being heard?” Path asked curiously.

It took barely a moment to look someone in the eye and for them to chuckle at me.

“Did you get yourself grounded, Oliver?” one of dad’s apprentices scoffed at me. His name was Barry? I couldn’t remember. Dad only muttered the names of those he liked or those that disappointed him. Barry was just boring.

“Finally, someone of promise,” Path beamed.

It wasn’t overnight but the college felt a little brighter after that day. Path watched me practice after he had finished whatever he was doing with my parents. I may have resented him but the man was persistent and knew so much that it overrode whatever I was feeling before. He made me feel seen. If that makes any sense. It felt like the journey I was on suddenly had a purpose.

I didn’t know that purpose nor Path’s true form until some years later and by that time it didn’t really shock me. My parents, in all their ambition, managed to annihilate themselves trying to achieve a fraction of the power that Path had contained within himself. That was a hard day but as shocking as it was that it happened I wasn’t surprised by it. I wrote and read the eulogy and was told how strong I was to do it.

Path was with me throughout it though. He had become the parent that I never really expected but always sort of hoped for. Not the, I want to be your best friend, type of parent mind you but the type of parent that it mattered to me when he said he was proud. I cried the first time I realized he meant it when he said he loved me.

I was twenty-five when he transferred his power to me and it took a couple of months after that for me to actually start living again without him. The only thing I attended in that time was his funeral. I could remember how cold the world was before I had met him but it seemed sharper now that I had known him. Dragons had this power of presence that seeped into anyone around them and for a while, everyone and everything felt the sting of losing him.

He had become my father.

I had become his son.

As he was a dragon of old, I was sure he would live long after I had passed into the abyss and my name was forgotten to time. Fate, the gods, or maybe it was just time itself seemed to deem that unwise. Where he had come from or why he had chosen to make our little college his last refuge, I don’t know. I will be forever grateful for the time he chose to spend with me.

I closed my journal as I finished writing out one of his more unusual stories as I sat in the office that I grew up in. Path, as he had put it, had only finished his first life. His second, the stories that he had created and shared were still going strong and I would be damned if I didn’t strive to make sure his second life stayed vibrant and healthy. My books, my training, and my leadership would push Path’s struggles into the light.

“Sir,” a squire, not as young as I was at the beginning but still greasy, yelled as he entered my office, “Sir, there are hunters at the west entrance.”

“Mage hunters don’t concern us,” I scoffed, waving him away.

“They aren’t mage hunters, sir,” the boy explained, “They say they are dragon hunters.”

“Well, then tell them they are about six months too late,” I chuckled, Path would have found this hilarious. He had warned me that these idiots, with their crossbows and swords, may come looking but the old man had always kept his presence hidden.

“Sir, umm, Jai sort of did but they said they are here for the dragon in the spire,” the squire tried his best to explain, “Do they mean you, sir? You aren’t. Right? I mean I know. I tried to tell them but they kept pointing up here.”

“Well,” I said with a frown, “If they are threatening the college, it doesn’t matter who they are hunting. We are all mages and we treat mage hunters all the same.”

“Yes,” the squire said with a quick and firm nod, “Understood sir.”

After the young man closed my door, I muttered as I got up from my table, “What did you do to me Path?”

Ohhhh sweet. Beautiful flow and the twist... not really a twist but foreshadowed and projected.

Sins of the fathers and all that...

Very nice!

I really liked the "whirlwind of insanity masquerading as a horse" line. That whole paragraph. The concept of recurring dream. The father's advice which is vaguely fitting for horse riding, but which in the context of the prompt gets a new, more sinister meaning.

It really hooked me. I stopped to re-read it a few times and thought "wow, it's going to be good". And I was not disappointed :) Well done!

Wow. Just.. wow.

My father didn't have the tiniest bit of magic in him, he couldn't understand it. He was a farmer. A practical man. So he did what his father had done before him, and any good father would do - his absolute best in raising his daughter. He knew he couldn't educate me in the ways of magic, so he tried to educate me in the ways of the world.

I remember it as clear as anything - the day he taught me to ride a horse. I was small and puny in my childhood, as most magic users are. We grow to rely on the magic for simple things, you see. This prevents us from growing large muscles and hampers our control of our bodies. My father didn't care. He put me on that horse and told me to ride. It was a gentle mare but I had not learned to control minds yet. What felt to me like a humongous beast underneath the saddle terrified me and I fell.

I woke up in my bed. My father had carried me there. He seemed both apologetic and disappointed at the same time. He told me then the most important lesson in my life - the lesson that would come to define me. He said "You can never let go, never give up control. If you do they will never respect you. And you'll be just another fool along for the ride."

I dreamed that night a powerful nightmare that seemed to go on forever. It was me riding the mare. At first gently walking, then trotting, then galloping around the farm trying to cast me off. But no matter what it did, how it moved, I held on. I kept my control. In this dream I was a master. I woke up the next morning and my father taught me some actual ways to ride - how to respect your mount, how it was an agreement between you and the horse, as well as practical things that would have been great to learn the day before.

But always in my nightmares I remembered the horse from my fall. A caricature of a horse, more vicious and evil than you could possibly imagine. Always the same - me, in control, riding the whirlwind of insanity masquerading as a horse. Holding on no matter what - or fall forever.

The dream stayed with me as I grew up and came into my real magical strength. Only now it wasn't just the mare from my childhood. When I was at the Colleges to further my studies in magic, it appeared as a feisty stallion. Young still, but four times the strength and twice the temper. Then, when I joined the Guilds and started adventuring, I dreamed of a mighty knight's steed in armor and covered in garish flags. The kind of mount that had seen the glory of combat and not just lived through it but grown from it. The more dangerous the world became around me, the greater the danger the mount posed in my dreams. I held on.

I will not say that the dreams didn't affect me. I needed control of everything in my life, and as a result lived a fairly lonely life. If someone were to describe me as controlling, I will say they were being gentle. But it was the way I was, the way I had been raised, and the way I lived each night. It gave me self-control as well, and that allowed me to develop my magical talents faster and farther than any other. Giving up - letting go - was simply unthinkable for me. If I gave up the reigns for even a second the world would cast me out.

I suppose it was inevitable that I would try to ride a dragon. My group of adventurers had done a marvelous job tracking it down and fighting the beast. It had roamed the countryside, burning villages, extorting Kingdoms for gold. A true terror. I wouldn't have gone with less than those hunters against the dragon for they the best, but I do want to credit them for the dragon's defeat. As it lay dying on the ground - as large as two buildings with a wingspan as tall as twenty - I felt that I had to try to ride it.

I was compelled. Not by magic, not by mind control. There wasn't a person in the world that could breach my mind then. But the dragon was a challenge. Like a musician playing a lonely note that can overwhelm you with emotions, seeing the dragon brought me back to my father's advice. I had to ride it. I had to be in control.

So I did. The dragon agreed. One last flight. Its wounds were too great, its nature too dangerous to be kept alive. But I did connect with the dragon during that one last ride. I suppose it imparted in me its wisdom and knowledge of dragon magic. The scholars told me later that it was a great honor. All I could feel riding the dragon was an unattainable level of accomplishment. Like I was doing what I was always meant to do.

It should come as no surprise to you that when I dreamed, I rode the dragon still. It was not mad like its dreamlike predecessors, but calm, submissive even. And me in control on top of it. I was not one to pour lavish words onto my own self confidence. I did experience a sense of nobility. A sense of right, with no determinable source. Every mad dreamride in my life had brought me to this point. I was on top of the world, master of all. As long as I held on, no danger could touch me.

The dragon's magic had further boosted my magical powers and with that my reputation in the Kingdoms. As in all things, it was windy on the top of the mountain. Years later, I was no longer working for the Guilds but running them. And they prospered under my rule - mightier than any king in the lands. Anything else would have been beneath me.

I had dealt with the odd assassin in my days but this change in me and my status brought about a change in the quality of people that came after me. Still, even I was surprised when the dragon hunters came after me. I was shocked even, a word I never would have used to describe myself before that day. It was the dragon hunters that had helped me slay the dragon all those years past. Though they were never my friends, nevertheless I couldn't help but feel a sense of betrayal.

They told me I reeked of dragon. "Impossible", I said, "I haven't ridden a dragon for a decade. You were there - or don't you remember?" They launched their attacks, their manipulative strikes, their carefully planned traps. All that was inconsequential for me now. I had grown too powerful. Though they were masters in their own crafts, to me they seemed sluggish, predictable. I flew between them, striking them one at a time and receiving not a single cut on my body.

But I did respect them for trying. When it came down to the last of them, I paused for a moment. None would accuse me of being melodramatic in any other moment. For this moment, I would concede the point. I supposed I felt a tinge of sadness at the passing of the old masters. "Why?" I asked them. I wanted to know what madness had driven them to this foolish endeavor.

At first they said nothing, so I pressed them, my breath hot in the air. "Were you so envious of the power I gained from the dragon? Or was it the reputation I received, did you feel stubbed? That your role was underplayed and less known? Or was it the riches that I spent wisely while you squandered it? Or were you simply unable to move on - stuck in your life trying to relive the old glory days?" The last of them looked me right in my eyes and uttered their last words. "You're the dragon."

I dreamed that night, as I had every night before since my fall from that mare my father tried to teach me to ride. For years, ever since we defeated the dragon, that dragon was what I had been riding in my dreams. But now, this night, everywhere I searched in my dreams - I couldn't find myself. I saw only the dragon roaming the lands, going where it wanted, doing what it wished. No matter what villages were burnt, what kings that begged for mercy. A true terror that none dared resist. The perfect image of control that nothing could threaten.

Where was I in the dream?

I was 50/50 expecting dragons or spontaneous human combustion. Results are not disappointing, so go ahead with yours

The vibe in the room complements the disco ball above the dance floor, flashing red and yellow lights and the sounds emitting Till Lindemann's voice. "No vaping here".. I direct a customer as I approach him. The stranger, without bothering to reply, with a distant look in his eyes, continues to stare at the disco ball as the white plume of smoke from his mouth turns blue,green, yellow. "It's not vape.......... it's just .......memories " he replies in a serene voice, his right palm clenched to his left wrist. The lights in the room start to turn dim as the disco ball starts flashing green lights resembling a satellite emitting laser beam. The smoke plume turns orange, the orange of wild fire. The customer leans forward to grab his spirit of choice, revealing the tattoo etched on his wrist '0-BBY'. I remove my mask and emit a plume of orange smoke myself. He hands me a drink as I sit beside him. "To Alderaan," we say as our glasses clink, and as we hear the speakers blaring ' Ich bin Ausländer, Ausländer......'

Real world stars are approximately blackbodies, emitting ALL frequencies below an upper limit. If anyone plays that part straight, that could range from reality-breaking to apocalyptic.

Kaisel

[removed]

I 1st read "free range sandwicheries" xD

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Trevenal.

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I'm sure PEPPA would love to give you a tour of their famous free-range sanctuaries :D

I love it. I wanna go visit.

Hamplanet, also known as 'The Planet of Pork' is an Earth-like world, orbiting the star Beta Virginis, 35.6 light years away.

Hamplanet has a slightly thicker atmosphere than Earth, although of similar composition. The planet's mass and radius are within 2% of Earth values: this similarity to humanity's homeworld has inspired scientific research for decades. Hamplanet is slightly closer to Beta Virginis than Earth is to Sol: as a result, it is warmer than Earth, with an average surface temperature of 25 degrees Celsius. Hamplanet's smaller oceans, lower axial tilt and slower rotation have contributed to a far more homogenous climate than Earth, with much of the planet described as muggy jungle or swampland.

Hamplanet's claim to fame is the existence of its dominant species: a medium-sized mammal that is almost genetically identical to a pig. The interstellar pork market collapsed soon after the planet's discovery, with the explosive population of Hamplanet's main species turning pork from a delicacy into a staple of space-bound human diets. The taste is described as slightly spicier than Earth pork, with a stringier, chewier texture. Hamplanet is currently a protected interstellar reserve under the jurisdiction of the PEPPA (People for the Propagation of Pig-like Animals).