Land of Salvania

  Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Ritter stepped outside wearing a fresh tabard, and most of the grime from his days of confinement was scraped off his face and hands. His kidnapper walked beside him. Both were smiling. Wellorg, the massive dragon queen sniffed the air and stiffened. The bandits' twenty dragons surrounded her, bowing and cooing their greetings to the green and black queen. A few of the larger blue dragons were starting to posture and nip each other to showoff their worth as possible mates. If she stayed around any longer, they would start fighting in earnest. "Like I said, she is huge, powerful, and more dangerous than you'll ever know," Ritter said, still smiling. "She will happily slaughter everyone - man and dragon - you see here if this goes sideways." "You're just trying to save your own skin," Morgan, his captor-turned-reluctant-ally, said. "You bet I am," Ritter said. "Just do what I said,

  Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Wellorg felt Droth's spirit before she ever smelled him. He felt like a lonely wolf call in the night, full of sadness and purpose. He felt like the consort she never had, so unlike the dozens of other man-kin she had been knighted to over the swirl of centuries. She stirred in her rocky nest, opening one red eye to watch the steep pathway up her mountain. Maybe she would fly down to meet him, snatch him up in gentle talons and feel his tiny spirit flame up with bright fear and excitement. No, that would not do. She would not come running to him after this long apart. Still, her black heart beat just a little faster when she saw Droth walking up the path. He waved and she snorted, sending a fine mist of acid to sizzle the nearby moss. "My lady," Droth said with a short bow. "You are lovely, as usual." "I greet you, Sir Droth." There. That would set the tone. Cold and distant until he had groveled sufficiently. He

  Tengweerfanda drifted on silent wings as the battle raged below. She kept a sharp eye on Ritter, one of the few warriors who had joined this ridiculous errand. "We must do this, Teng," Ritter had said as she perched on his shoulder on the march out to meet the foe. "Even if we lose, we will not let the outpost be overrun without a fight. The townspeople may join us yet." "Men are fools," she had replied. Her opinion was not improving as she watched the heavy troops of Jirrah lose ground a little at a time. Even though they inflicted frightful damage on the enemy, nothing seemed to stem the tide of beasts emerging in seemingly endless waves from the Dreamwood. Teng saw a shape - it was Ritter! - stumble back from the ragged lines of his comrades. He gulped some water from his leather wineskin and tightened a strap on his bracer. Wiping his brow, he charged back in. For a moment, she lost him among the claws and fur of the enemy. Then she spotted hi

  The old sergeant went out each night around midnight and held a lonely vigil with his lamp and sword. The rumors said that he started years ago after a squad had been scattered in battle, taking days to stumble back to the outpost in ones and twos. Most were injured. Some did not outlive the week. Night after night, he had been the first friendly face they saw, a steady voice in minds still hearing the screams of battle. Some did not return. But still he went outside the gate and waited, as devoted as a mother hen or a sailor's wife. After enough time had passed, and the old sergeant showed no signs of ending his vigil, the real reason faded from memory. It seemed that none left at the outpost remembered that the man's son was one of those who did not return. More about the Order of Jirrah here:  https://www.allianceatlantalarp.com/order-of-jirrah /// Copyright