The Chronicles of the Dragon: The Beginning --- &RPaward
Posted: Wed Mar 03, 2021 3:24 pm
Ely edit 29 Jul 2021:
1-6 qps, depending on length and quality.
Potential +1 qp: if part of a series: x
Total: 4 qps, Eldwin too
*****************************************
The inn was dark at this time of day, yet it still held a cheerful air. Only a handful of patrons sat at the tables, most of them early risers drinking their kaf to start their day. The sun had not yet risen but a very faint glow from outside could be seen filtering in through the tinted windows. A rotund bartender idly wiped down the bar but this was just by habit. His attention was focused on the imposing figure that was standing in the corner, a small crowd gathered around him in rapt attention.
He recognized the man – tall, muscular, with an angular face. It was the piercing eyes though, that were unmistakable. The man had those eyes even as a child. It was almost unnerving to think how much those eyes could see. But it had been many years since the bartender had seen the man that now held the attention of every patron in the inn. When he was but a boy he had left and had been away for at least a decade. Why would he return now of all times? He thought to himself. His mother had died while he was away. His father was still unknown. An unmarried handmaiden, bearing a child, it was a wonder that her employer had allowed her to keep the child at all. Perhaps it was his? That was the rumor anyway.
Again the man was speaking, his deep voice echoing in the small space, unnaturally seeming to penetrate into the listeners’ very minds.
“So I ask you again – my fellow men and women of Negin Bridge – as I face you now, here where I was born, in the very shadow of Dragonmount, to hear my words. Over the last twelve years I have crossed the land far and wide. I have seen fragments of a prophecy that foretells the coming of the Dragon Reborn who will lead the armies of men into the last battle against the Dark One, sealing him away forever. It speaks of this Dragon, born to a maiden, unwed, on the slopes of the mountain you can see from this town.”
One of the listeners yelled out, “Who is this man, Varnayl? Who is this ‘Dragon Reborn’?”
The man grinned. “You shall all know him soon enough. I see the sun is now rising. If you would, follow me outside.”
With that, the crowd parted and Varnayl walked through the divide and out into the square where dawn was just breaking. As the small group of patrons poured out of the inn behind him, other passersby stopped to watch, attracted by the unusual commotion, out of place in the normally sleepy village.
As the crowd grew, Varnayl mounted the steps to a raised stone platform in the center of the square, overlooking a statue bearing the likeness of a man in armor riding atop a rearing horse, sword raised high. Varnayl raise his hand and a quiet calm fell over the crowd. He waved his hand briefly and then spoke, his voice booming, filling the town square as if it was a small room;
“Today at dawn as the sun rises over Dragonmount, I call my people to join me!”
Maybe it was a trick of the light, but as the sun rose and the first rays of light touched his head, a shimmering crown seemed to appear above his brow.
“One day soon the Last Battle will be upon us! You may not believe in the Old Stories, but I have witnessed creatures of the dark – Trollocs and even Fades – and have traveled to the blight and back. Without the Dragon Reborn, as told of in the prophecy, the world of Men will fall under the shadow of the Dark One!”
As if to punctuate this last point, Varnayl raised both hands high, looked upward, and a bolt of lightning shot down from the clear sky striking the statue of the mounted solder, tearing it in two in an explosion of dust and stone. Onlookers in the front jumped backwards, screams were heard, and a wave of fear rippled through the crowd.
“On this day, I, Varnayl Aldrnari, declare myself the Lord of the Morning, the Dragon Reborn!”
He paused for effect, as the crowd was silenced once more.
“I call on all who will follow under my banner to the Last Battle! Who will step forward to save this world from the Dark?”
At first no one stepped forward, most of the onlookers shivering with fear from what they had just seen. But then… one man stepped forward. Varnayl spotted the movement and looked at the man. “Do you wish to follow me? What is your name, sir? I have been gone a long time and do not recognize all of your faces.”
The man spoke up, quietly at first, but then with more confidence. “I am Eldwin, my Lord. I will follow you into battle and even the Blight if you demand it.”
“I will be honored to have you in my service. Come stand by me.” Eldwin strode forward and took his place beside Varnayl. Varnayl looked over the crowd again. “Anyone else? Will no one else stand together to push back the Dark? Will no one else serve under my banner in the Last Battle?”
Perhaps he was a ta’veren, subtly pulling on the pattern, affecting the minds of men, or perhaps they were convinced by the display of the One Power, but another pair of men stepped forward. Then another. Then still more, until a sizeable and growing group had separated itself from the crowd. As they gathered around Varnayl he spoke once more to the people in the square.
“For those of you who have chosen not to follow today, I will give you time. But remember this: the Last Battle will come sooner rather than later, whether we wish to fight in it or not. All will be caught in the coming tide. All will eventually face the choice to stand with me or to be swept aside! I will send my messengers far and wide. All people of the land will know of my name. If you have a change of heart, you will be able to find one of them in through which to contact me.”
With that he turned and waved his hand and a sliver of light appeared. It dilated into a gateway hanging in the air; a portal to a distant place. He stepped through, followed by his newly formed band of believers. Once the last had stepped through the portal it disappeared, leaving behind an after-image of shimmering light, until that too dissipated. Only then, as the sun raised itself fully above the horizon, did the villagers dare to take a breath and begin moving again, whispers spreading through the crowd like wildfire. A rider on a dark horse spurred his mount, heading for Tar Valon. The word must be spread.
The Dragon has been reborn.
1-6 qps, depending on length and quality.
Potential +1 qp: if part of a series: x
Total: 4 qps, Eldwin too
*****************************************
The inn was dark at this time of day, yet it still held a cheerful air. Only a handful of patrons sat at the tables, most of them early risers drinking their kaf to start their day. The sun had not yet risen but a very faint glow from outside could be seen filtering in through the tinted windows. A rotund bartender idly wiped down the bar but this was just by habit. His attention was focused on the imposing figure that was standing in the corner, a small crowd gathered around him in rapt attention.
He recognized the man – tall, muscular, with an angular face. It was the piercing eyes though, that were unmistakable. The man had those eyes even as a child. It was almost unnerving to think how much those eyes could see. But it had been many years since the bartender had seen the man that now held the attention of every patron in the inn. When he was but a boy he had left and had been away for at least a decade. Why would he return now of all times? He thought to himself. His mother had died while he was away. His father was still unknown. An unmarried handmaiden, bearing a child, it was a wonder that her employer had allowed her to keep the child at all. Perhaps it was his? That was the rumor anyway.
Again the man was speaking, his deep voice echoing in the small space, unnaturally seeming to penetrate into the listeners’ very minds.
“So I ask you again – my fellow men and women of Negin Bridge – as I face you now, here where I was born, in the very shadow of Dragonmount, to hear my words. Over the last twelve years I have crossed the land far and wide. I have seen fragments of a prophecy that foretells the coming of the Dragon Reborn who will lead the armies of men into the last battle against the Dark One, sealing him away forever. It speaks of this Dragon, born to a maiden, unwed, on the slopes of the mountain you can see from this town.”
One of the listeners yelled out, “Who is this man, Varnayl? Who is this ‘Dragon Reborn’?”
The man grinned. “You shall all know him soon enough. I see the sun is now rising. If you would, follow me outside.”
With that, the crowd parted and Varnayl walked through the divide and out into the square where dawn was just breaking. As the small group of patrons poured out of the inn behind him, other passersby stopped to watch, attracted by the unusual commotion, out of place in the normally sleepy village.
As the crowd grew, Varnayl mounted the steps to a raised stone platform in the center of the square, overlooking a statue bearing the likeness of a man in armor riding atop a rearing horse, sword raised high. Varnayl raise his hand and a quiet calm fell over the crowd. He waved his hand briefly and then spoke, his voice booming, filling the town square as if it was a small room;
“Today at dawn as the sun rises over Dragonmount, I call my people to join me!”
Maybe it was a trick of the light, but as the sun rose and the first rays of light touched his head, a shimmering crown seemed to appear above his brow.
“One day soon the Last Battle will be upon us! You may not believe in the Old Stories, but I have witnessed creatures of the dark – Trollocs and even Fades – and have traveled to the blight and back. Without the Dragon Reborn, as told of in the prophecy, the world of Men will fall under the shadow of the Dark One!”
As if to punctuate this last point, Varnayl raised both hands high, looked upward, and a bolt of lightning shot down from the clear sky striking the statue of the mounted solder, tearing it in two in an explosion of dust and stone. Onlookers in the front jumped backwards, screams were heard, and a wave of fear rippled through the crowd.
“On this day, I, Varnayl Aldrnari, declare myself the Lord of the Morning, the Dragon Reborn!”
He paused for effect, as the crowd was silenced once more.
“I call on all who will follow under my banner to the Last Battle! Who will step forward to save this world from the Dark?”
At first no one stepped forward, most of the onlookers shivering with fear from what they had just seen. But then… one man stepped forward. Varnayl spotted the movement and looked at the man. “Do you wish to follow me? What is your name, sir? I have been gone a long time and do not recognize all of your faces.”
The man spoke up, quietly at first, but then with more confidence. “I am Eldwin, my Lord. I will follow you into battle and even the Blight if you demand it.”
“I will be honored to have you in my service. Come stand by me.” Eldwin strode forward and took his place beside Varnayl. Varnayl looked over the crowd again. “Anyone else? Will no one else stand together to push back the Dark? Will no one else serve under my banner in the Last Battle?”
Perhaps he was a ta’veren, subtly pulling on the pattern, affecting the minds of men, or perhaps they were convinced by the display of the One Power, but another pair of men stepped forward. Then another. Then still more, until a sizeable and growing group had separated itself from the crowd. As they gathered around Varnayl he spoke once more to the people in the square.
“For those of you who have chosen not to follow today, I will give you time. But remember this: the Last Battle will come sooner rather than later, whether we wish to fight in it or not. All will be caught in the coming tide. All will eventually face the choice to stand with me or to be swept aside! I will send my messengers far and wide. All people of the land will know of my name. If you have a change of heart, you will be able to find one of them in through which to contact me.”
With that he turned and waved his hand and a sliver of light appeared. It dilated into a gateway hanging in the air; a portal to a distant place. He stepped through, followed by his newly formed band of believers. Once the last had stepped through the portal it disappeared, leaving behind an after-image of shimmering light, until that too dissipated. Only then, as the sun raised itself fully above the horizon, did the villagers dare to take a breath and begin moving again, whispers spreading through the crowd like wildfire. A rider on a dark horse spurred his mount, heading for Tar Valon. The word must be spread.
The Dragon has been reborn.