Content Warning

Greetings and Salutations.
Because my stories have bite, they can contain content that isn't suitable for work or children. Not a lot of truly graphic sex or violence, but there are some questionable or heated posts. F-bombs are not uncommon, so watch your footing.

Friday, April 2, 2010

Morgan Chronicles

Yeah, I know, it's short.  I've been tied up at work with new responsabilities, and tied up at home putting together promo stuff for the upcoming RT conference.  Bleaurgh!

But, I still got something together, at least.


The scent of blood grew strong, overwhelming.  The dragon lay still, not even in her death throes.  The humans remained silent, some checking on their fallen comrade, some spreading into the halls.

Their first victim wasn't even cold, and they were looking for more.  ~They treat you like vermin.~  Outrage colored everything.

~As we treated them~  A gout of flame filled the hall, dark orange, clinging to everything it touched.  One of the hunters screamed, caught in the full force of a dragon breath.  He fell quickly, armor not protecting him from the high heat of dragon flame.

Men fell back, trying to dodge the attack.  Some did, most didn't.  Everyone in the hall was lapped at by flames.  None of them died as quickly as the first man, and a couple tried to put out the flames.

Those in the dead dragon's lair attempted to fall back to the balcony.  Retreating and regrouping seemed like a good idea.

But other members of the khaldera had already thought of that.  Men stepped onto the balcony, and a rush of wings filled the air.  We followed outside to watch a dragon strafe the balcony, bowling humans over the edges.  A second dragon followed close by, laying a path of fire across the door.  If any more humans wanted out, they'd have to risk fiery death.

Since this memory was being shared by Rhaelgyr, certain aspects became draconic.  I didn't know how many humans there were, only that they still moved.  I tried counting them, but something wouldn't let me focus enough to do so.  ~How many attacked?~ I asked.

~I don't know.  Dragons don't think in exact numbers usually.~

Shouts grew, and a large warrior jumped through the flames and onto the balcony.  He brandished a double-headed axe, armored in thick plates.  The fire wouldn't take hold, and he stalked blodly to the center of the platform.  Looking to the sky, he roared out a challenge.

And was answered.