Dragoness
Grey rocks glistened, slick with rain and growing algae, even the usually vibrant hues seemed drab amongst the plain atmosphere. Mavira slipped along the jagged edges, clasping on to steep slopes and rough edges of newly broken stones. She tried to focus her mind upon something other than her environment which was simply a product of personal angst of a needy king whom could only console himself with senseless destruction, the scorched fragments still held the bitter stench of gun smoke and cannon powder. Her feet stung, the unpadded soles, moving swiftly and silently throughout the rocky graveyard.
The cliff loomed before her, a rocky slide towards imminent death should her feet slip from a carefully maneuver position. A human’s quick wit would be of no use in such surroundings, for only mother nature and dictated gravity could control their outcome, even the smooth air currents had long since strayed from this barren land. Mavira stretched long wings uneasily, leathery skin cleverly clad in small resistant scales which glimmered faintly in the cloudy morning, thick claws gripped firmly to the rocky ledges as she sat to wait for her newest rival.
His presence filled her nostrils first, the pungent stench of corrupted flesh and decaying morality, it seemed to radiate within her thoughts. Then his figure rose above the ground, thick scales showering to the granite floor, long bloody scratches freely spilling crimson on bits of algae. Glimmering teeth shone in the cloudy weather, sharp daggers stained with the flesh of man and lavish wines, his claws were chipped from many merciless battles.
On his head was a polished gold crown, gleaming with rare jewels, the only unharmed trinket to touch his dying body. His wings flew open, sending a current of warm air rushing at Mavira, the leathery folds were ripped and torn from their last encounter. He set a foot forward menacingly, large talons cracking the thick rocks and sending stone shards flying at his opponent.
"Rodru, where is your worthless battalion? Still licking their wounds?"
Rodru snarled, lunging forward with a throaty battle cry, slamming his spiked tail before Mavira rocky spikes driving deep into her exposed shoulder. She barely moved, deep eyes concentrated on his throat, it thrummed slowly in sync with his heartbeat. Without hesitation she lunged, sinking sharp fangs into the tender flesh, his scream echoing throughout the barren wasteland.
Finally Mavira released him, the dragon sunk to the ground with one last gurgled cry, his dark eyes forever closing. She stepped away, wiping the warm blood from her mouth, smiling sadistically.
"Goodnight fair king, may the very arms of hell embrace thee."
Grey rocks glistened, slick with rain and growing algae, even the usually vibrant hues seemed drab amongst the plain atmosphere. Mavira slipped along the jagged edges, clasping on to steep slopes and rough edges of newly broken stones. She tried to focus her mind upon something other than her environment which was simply a product of personal angst of a needy king whom could only console himself with senseless destruction, the scorched fragments still held the bitter stench of gun smoke and cannon powder. Her feet stung, the unpadded soles, moving swiftly and silently throughout the rocky graveyard.
The cliff loomed before her, a rocky slide towards imminent death should her feet slip from a carefully maneuver position. A human’s quick wit would be of no use in such surroundings, for only mother nature and dictated gravity could control their outcome, even the smooth air currents had long since strayed from this barren land. Mavira stretched long wings uneasily, leathery skin cleverly clad in small resistant scales which glimmered faintly in the cloudy morning, thick claws gripped firmly to the rocky ledges as she sat to wait for her newest rival.
His presence filled her nostrils first, the pungent stench of corrupted flesh and decaying morality, it seemed to radiate within her thoughts. Then his figure rose above the ground, thick scales showering to the granite floor, long bloody scratches freely spilling crimson on bits of algae. Glimmering teeth shone in the cloudy weather, sharp daggers stained with the flesh of man and lavish wines, his claws were chipped from many merciless battles.
On his head was a polished gold crown, gleaming with rare jewels, the only unharmed trinket to touch his dying body. His wings flew open, sending a current of warm air rushing at Mavira, the leathery folds were ripped and torn from their last encounter. He set a foot forward menacingly, large talons cracking the thick rocks and sending stone shards flying at his opponent.
"Rodru, where is your worthless battalion? Still licking their wounds?"
Rodru snarled, lunging forward with a throaty battle cry, slamming his spiked tail before Mavira rocky spikes driving deep into her exposed shoulder. She barely moved, deep eyes concentrated on his throat, it thrummed slowly in sync with his heartbeat. Without hesitation she lunged, sinking sharp fangs into the tender flesh, his scream echoing throughout the barren wasteland.
Finally Mavira released him, the dragon sunk to the ground with one last gurgled cry, his dark eyes forever closing. She stepped away, wiping the warm blood from her mouth, smiling sadistically.
"Goodnight fair king, may the very arms of hell embrace thee."
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