Crimson Dragon
Kilandra Cotten
23 Mar 2009 19:15:04 EST
Some time ago…
Taerlstratar looked intently into the shining orb he held with refined grace between two of his foreclaws. Despite being an immense creature his ability to move every muscle in his body with poise was unsurpassed, and holding the twelve inch orb eloquently was as simple a task as breathing.
To himself he thought, “The Shadowlords will be the ones to do it, they are going back home. And I will go back as well; its past time to take my true place in the lands now called Britannia. Curse Mondain, foul little human. Perhaps, it’s time to kill them all.”
While pondering the destruction of every human in existence, the orb changed its scene, shifting from showing an image of the works of the Shadowlords, to some of the younger looking Crimson dragons. Taerlstratar peered a bit closer into the orb, his large cat like pupils moving as if by command – fluxing out and then in slightly to get the best view possible from the small scrying orb. “The young ones… they too have a purpose for me.”
Taerlstratar knew all too well the bloodlust that lingered in the hearts of the young Crimson brood; he also knew the lack of wisdom and restraint that came without years of knowledge and experience. Make no mistake however; the young ones were not simply mindless killing instruments. Young Crimsons were still smarter than any human, gargoyle, or elf back home. They simply desired the very thing that was their birthright – to rule the lesser species.
The brood was too big now – a new home was needed, new conquests, new terrain – out of this endless void where Mondain had trapped them. Taerlstratar moved his massive wings out to their full length, a full hundred and fifty feet by human standards, stretching himself out a bit before returning the orb to its pedestal and collecting his legs underneath him.
There was work to be done.
Kilandra Cotten
23 Mar 2009 19:15:04 EST
Some time ago…
Taerlstratar looked intently into the shining orb he held with refined grace between two of his foreclaws. Despite being an immense creature his ability to move every muscle in his body with poise was unsurpassed, and holding the twelve inch orb eloquently was as simple a task as breathing.
To himself he thought, “The Shadowlords will be the ones to do it, they are going back home. And I will go back as well; its past time to take my true place in the lands now called Britannia. Curse Mondain, foul little human. Perhaps, it’s time to kill them all.”
While pondering the destruction of every human in existence, the orb changed its scene, shifting from showing an image of the works of the Shadowlords, to some of the younger looking Crimson dragons. Taerlstratar peered a bit closer into the orb, his large cat like pupils moving as if by command – fluxing out and then in slightly to get the best view possible from the small scrying orb. “The young ones… they too have a purpose for me.”
Taerlstratar knew all too well the bloodlust that lingered in the hearts of the young Crimson brood; he also knew the lack of wisdom and restraint that came without years of knowledge and experience. Make no mistake however; the young ones were not simply mindless killing instruments. Young Crimsons were still smarter than any human, gargoyle, or elf back home. They simply desired the very thing that was their birthright – to rule the lesser species.
The brood was too big now – a new home was needed, new conquests, new terrain – out of this endless void where Mondain had trapped them. Taerlstratar moved his massive wings out to their full length, a full hundred and fifty feet by human standards, stretching himself out a bit before returning the orb to its pedestal and collecting his legs underneath him.
There was work to be done.