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Jenny lay upon her bed, covers pulled up to her chin, eagerly awaiting Osclow’s tale. As usual, she was given a choice of three stories. A bit of an odd reaction came over the bard as the little girl chose the third tale: Love and Hatred of the Dragons. Still, this was one of the choices he himself had given her and it should have come as little surprise that an inquisitive child with a small touch of adventuring spirit would be drawn in by anything to do with the mighty scaled wyrms.
The bard spoke of a time long ago when dragons colored the sky vividly and many possessed clans to call their own. The war between the dragons and the giants had been carrying on for centuries throughout numerous locations in Faerun.
“Dragons and giants?” Jenny interrupted, a somewhat sleepy smile upon her.
“Indeed” nodded Osclow.
“What were they fighting over?”
“Who got to eat the last piece of shortcake. Wouldn’t YOU fight for such a thing?”
The little girl laughed to the bard’s jesting and somewhat goofy smile, allowing him to continue with the tale.
It was believed that the war was finally coming to an end. There are many opinions as to what brought about such a thing, but most evidence seems to point to the dragons calling a truce due to the problems they were having within their own ranks. Many wyrm clans now began to fight with each other.
“Over another piece of cake?” Jenny again interrupted with a playful smile.
“No” Osclow smirked in return “It was over who got to eat a little girl who was well-known for her interruptions of other peoples’ stories.”
Jenny pretended to be scared, pulling up the covers just below her eyes, though knowing full well the bard was merely joking. Regardless, she quieted herself once more.
There were two clans in particular who despised one another; the Ygothrik Clan composed of red dragons and the Talregos composed of dragons of gold.
“Keep in mind, there are many disputes as to how these clan names were pronounced” Osclow said with a snicker before continuing.
The battlefields of the clans typically consisted of the northern lands of Faerun and along the Sword Coast, though it is also believed they clashed in lands as far from the coast as Sembia. No one knows for certain, but legends tell of one champion being chosen from each clan to do battle with one another and finally bring an end to the struggle between them. Of the Talregos Clan was chosen Telrissia, Wielder of the Holy Flame. Of the Ygothrik Clan was chosen Sselgarith, the Soul-burner. Both champions knew each other from long ago, supposedly first meeting when they were but mere juveniles. There was a strange kinship there transcending the mere scale color and clan name they possessed. When the two came face to face high above the Evermoors, they recollected their battles beside one another against the rampaging giants. They remembered all the pleasant times they shared, the long night flights, the intelligent discussions, and the talk about their future. In the end, Telrissia could not bring herself to strike Sselgarith and bore her neck to him. While normally ruthless toward his enemies, Sselgarith was powerless against the sway this gold dragon had over his heart and could not bring himself to harm her as well. The two dragons took each other as mates and disappeared to places unknown. They knew they could never return to their clans, but were content merely by being with one another.
“What does ‘mates’ mean?” Jenny asked, muffling a yawn.
“It is basically like husband and wife.” Osclow answered.
“Awwww…” Jenny smiled, taken by the sweet thought but saying no more. The bard continued.
Their love was not to last however. The world was rather inhospitable toward the two dragon lovers and the Ygothrik and Talregos clans were not about to let go of their champions so easily. Telrissia and Sselgarith had to protect not only each other but also the clutch of eggs they had bore. The Talregos first attempted to reason with their champion, claiming nothing good could come from her union with the Soul-burner. The Ygothrik were less diplomatic and attempted to bring back their champion by force. However, there was a good reason why Sselgarith was chosen for the duel long ago. His strength among the Ygothrik was nearly equal to the clan’s eldest wyrms, and a dozen red dragons fell to his might. He would not surrender his mate or his offspring, even if it meant killing every single one of his former clansmen. Realizing, they could hold nothing back if they wished to reclaim their champions, the Ygothrik and the Talregos each sent three of some of their strongest clansmen to reclaim Telrissia and Sselgarith by force. It was not known where the great battle took place, but many followers of Tempus speak of a great battle between mighty dragons taking place in the Spine of the World. It was supposedly a battle greater than any during the war with the giants and left a whole mountain valley in ashes. When the dust had settled seven mighty dragons lay dead, only Sselgarith had survived. His mate died defending him from an attack by one of the three sent by his clan. Their clutch had been destroyed as well, supposedly by one of the three sent by the Talegos. For a century Sselgarith wept. Little by little, sorrow turned to anger, anger at the two clans, anger for the world itself. Some claim Sselgarith took his own life in a haze of rage and fury.. But there are those that claim the great wyrm is alive and well, walking amongst the mortal races in another form, invoking his dark ambitions to bring about chaos and misery in the world within those bearing his bloodline. In time he….
Osclow stopped. Jenny was fast asleep. How she could fall asleep before the bard even came to the more pleasant parts of the story were a mystery to him. He only hoped it was due to her weariness, and not a lack of talent for storytelling on his part. Oh well. Chapter 2 could take place another night, the bard thought to himself with a smirk.
The bard spoke of a time long ago when dragons colored the sky vividly and many possessed clans to call their own. The war between the dragons and the giants had been carrying on for centuries throughout numerous locations in Faerun.
“Dragons and giants?” Jenny interrupted, a somewhat sleepy smile upon her.
“Indeed” nodded Osclow.
“What were they fighting over?”
“Who got to eat the last piece of shortcake. Wouldn’t YOU fight for such a thing?”
The little girl laughed to the bard’s jesting and somewhat goofy smile, allowing him to continue with the tale.
It was believed that the war was finally coming to an end. There are many opinions as to what brought about such a thing, but most evidence seems to point to the dragons calling a truce due to the problems they were having within their own ranks. Many wyrm clans now began to fight with each other.
“Over another piece of cake?” Jenny again interrupted with a playful smile.
“No” Osclow smirked in return “It was over who got to eat a little girl who was well-known for her interruptions of other peoples’ stories.”
Jenny pretended to be scared, pulling up the covers just below her eyes, though knowing full well the bard was merely joking. Regardless, she quieted herself once more.
There were two clans in particular who despised one another; the Ygothrik Clan composed of red dragons and the Talregos composed of dragons of gold.
“Keep in mind, there are many disputes as to how these clan names were pronounced” Osclow said with a snicker before continuing.
The battlefields of the clans typically consisted of the northern lands of Faerun and along the Sword Coast, though it is also believed they clashed in lands as far from the coast as Sembia. No one knows for certain, but legends tell of one champion being chosen from each clan to do battle with one another and finally bring an end to the struggle between them. Of the Talregos Clan was chosen Telrissia, Wielder of the Holy Flame. Of the Ygothrik Clan was chosen Sselgarith, the Soul-burner. Both champions knew each other from long ago, supposedly first meeting when they were but mere juveniles. There was a strange kinship there transcending the mere scale color and clan name they possessed. When the two came face to face high above the Evermoors, they recollected their battles beside one another against the rampaging giants. They remembered all the pleasant times they shared, the long night flights, the intelligent discussions, and the talk about their future. In the end, Telrissia could not bring herself to strike Sselgarith and bore her neck to him. While normally ruthless toward his enemies, Sselgarith was powerless against the sway this gold dragon had over his heart and could not bring himself to harm her as well. The two dragons took each other as mates and disappeared to places unknown. They knew they could never return to their clans, but were content merely by being with one another.
“What does ‘mates’ mean?” Jenny asked, muffling a yawn.
“It is basically like husband and wife.” Osclow answered.
“Awwww…” Jenny smiled, taken by the sweet thought but saying no more. The bard continued.
Their love was not to last however. The world was rather inhospitable toward the two dragon lovers and the Ygothrik and Talregos clans were not about to let go of their champions so easily. Telrissia and Sselgarith had to protect not only each other but also the clutch of eggs they had bore. The Talregos first attempted to reason with their champion, claiming nothing good could come from her union with the Soul-burner. The Ygothrik were less diplomatic and attempted to bring back their champion by force. However, there was a good reason why Sselgarith was chosen for the duel long ago. His strength among the Ygothrik was nearly equal to the clan’s eldest wyrms, and a dozen red dragons fell to his might. He would not surrender his mate or his offspring, even if it meant killing every single one of his former clansmen. Realizing, they could hold nothing back if they wished to reclaim their champions, the Ygothrik and the Talregos each sent three of some of their strongest clansmen to reclaim Telrissia and Sselgarith by force. It was not known where the great battle took place, but many followers of Tempus speak of a great battle between mighty dragons taking place in the Spine of the World. It was supposedly a battle greater than any during the war with the giants and left a whole mountain valley in ashes. When the dust had settled seven mighty dragons lay dead, only Sselgarith had survived. His mate died defending him from an attack by one of the three sent by his clan. Their clutch had been destroyed as well, supposedly by one of the three sent by the Talegos. For a century Sselgarith wept. Little by little, sorrow turned to anger, anger at the two clans, anger for the world itself. Some claim Sselgarith took his own life in a haze of rage and fury.. But there are those that claim the great wyrm is alive and well, walking amongst the mortal races in another form, invoking his dark ambitions to bring about chaos and misery in the world within those bearing his bloodline. In time he….
Osclow stopped. Jenny was fast asleep. How she could fall asleep before the bard even came to the more pleasant parts of the story were a mystery to him. He only hoped it was due to her weariness, and not a lack of talent for storytelling on his part. Oh well. Chapter 2 could take place another night, the bard thought to himself with a smirk.