Post by Knightwarrior™ on Mar 10, 2008 19:10:22 GMT -5
{I'm on chapter one right now, but here is the beginning!!!!!! EEEEEEE I'm excited,my fist work of ART! Enjoy!}
Epilogue
I am Lathlario, the last remaining dragon to have walked this earth before men have inhabited it as their own. In one age we were able to roam around the green ground with its layers of rock, water, and mountain regions, but now that men have come to be, we dragons have hid in fear of what is to become of us. I can’t say I haven’t held anything against the humans for what they have done, because I have. I know they were just trying to survive, but we were once too and yet we did it harmlessly, we left them alone, and all of that has brought us nothing but pain and now, finally, death has come singing its victory song.
For years I have believed that there might have been another dragon alive, struggling to survive in caves on top of the snowy mountains where no one but us could reach. I thought that I was not the only living dragon to have survived the massacre that brought down our numbers to the lowly one that I am.
I’ve lived in solitude for the past eight hundred years in this cave that I still have yet to call my home. My eyes are slowly dimming and my life is being sucked out of me every minute of the day, slowly turning me into a corpse made up of leathery skin and bones. I’m too weak to lift my head but I still have to eat, grabbing the rats that crawl over my form and swallowing them hastily so I don’t taste the disgusting meat that is trying to sustain me. I haven’t seen the light of day and I wonder what it looks like, and how it’s changed for there is something different about the air that I am breathing in.
I remember the world as it was when we dragons were a race of many. It was beautiful and I never was tired of watching the sunrises and sunsets that made each day the twenty four hours it was supposed to be. In the early mornings the air was a sweet crisp. We loved breathing it in deeply to wear it burned the back of our throats and our lungs. It was pure, like a newborn dragon with no hint of evil among its soft breath. The forests’ waters were crystal clear like a newly made mirror, sparkling in the sun’s cheery rays, and as the waters fell into a pool it made a soothing sound that was so peaceful you dared not make another noise in fear of scaring away the magic.
Late at night, sounds of animals winding down from their mischievous days were music to our ears; it was a lullaby that put us to sleep each and every night. We believed that each star that twinkled in the night sky was an animal come and gone, and a dragon that lived their full life. To us, those who passed on became our nightlights, our guides when we traveled, and a guardian angle to our elders that are to move onto their next life. These stars allowed us to dream of things of which we had no power over, we wished upon the falling stars that we believed were the angels come to live amongst us yet again. Still, after all this time the beliefs are still raging inside me. I dare not let them go, for they are part of the reason why I fight to stay alive.
Being the last dragon to thrive on my own is a hardship that I hope no other will have to go through. I am constantly plagued by memories such as those that I have described earlier, and they haunt me in my sleep and even when I’m awake. During these hours I am most vulnerable, anything could happen to me while I sleep. If it wasn’t for the massacre that happened eight hundred years ago we dragons would still be a race who tries in vain to make peace among those men that have made our world theirs.
In time I came to accept the possibility that I am the only dragon left; I am the only one to tell our story. This responsibility has been passed unexpectedly fast upon me. I haven’t known what to do until I sat by my fire that I had made out of dry logs and leaves and the glowing embers made out of my burning breath. Our legend will be carried upon the wind to be heard by those that believe and listen, it will be carried around the world to different villages, and different countries that think that they are the only race alive. Our sad song will finally be told, and our song is the truth.
Epilogue
I am Lathlario, the last remaining dragon to have walked this earth before men have inhabited it as their own. In one age we were able to roam around the green ground with its layers of rock, water, and mountain regions, but now that men have come to be, we dragons have hid in fear of what is to become of us. I can’t say I haven’t held anything against the humans for what they have done, because I have. I know they were just trying to survive, but we were once too and yet we did it harmlessly, we left them alone, and all of that has brought us nothing but pain and now, finally, death has come singing its victory song.
For years I have believed that there might have been another dragon alive, struggling to survive in caves on top of the snowy mountains where no one but us could reach. I thought that I was not the only living dragon to have survived the massacre that brought down our numbers to the lowly one that I am.
I’ve lived in solitude for the past eight hundred years in this cave that I still have yet to call my home. My eyes are slowly dimming and my life is being sucked out of me every minute of the day, slowly turning me into a corpse made up of leathery skin and bones. I’m too weak to lift my head but I still have to eat, grabbing the rats that crawl over my form and swallowing them hastily so I don’t taste the disgusting meat that is trying to sustain me. I haven’t seen the light of day and I wonder what it looks like, and how it’s changed for there is something different about the air that I am breathing in.
I remember the world as it was when we dragons were a race of many. It was beautiful and I never was tired of watching the sunrises and sunsets that made each day the twenty four hours it was supposed to be. In the early mornings the air was a sweet crisp. We loved breathing it in deeply to wear it burned the back of our throats and our lungs. It was pure, like a newborn dragon with no hint of evil among its soft breath. The forests’ waters were crystal clear like a newly made mirror, sparkling in the sun’s cheery rays, and as the waters fell into a pool it made a soothing sound that was so peaceful you dared not make another noise in fear of scaring away the magic.
Late at night, sounds of animals winding down from their mischievous days were music to our ears; it was a lullaby that put us to sleep each and every night. We believed that each star that twinkled in the night sky was an animal come and gone, and a dragon that lived their full life. To us, those who passed on became our nightlights, our guides when we traveled, and a guardian angle to our elders that are to move onto their next life. These stars allowed us to dream of things of which we had no power over, we wished upon the falling stars that we believed were the angels come to live amongst us yet again. Still, after all this time the beliefs are still raging inside me. I dare not let them go, for they are part of the reason why I fight to stay alive.
Being the last dragon to thrive on my own is a hardship that I hope no other will have to go through. I am constantly plagued by memories such as those that I have described earlier, and they haunt me in my sleep and even when I’m awake. During these hours I am most vulnerable, anything could happen to me while I sleep. If it wasn’t for the massacre that happened eight hundred years ago we dragons would still be a race who tries in vain to make peace among those men that have made our world theirs.
In time I came to accept the possibility that I am the only dragon left; I am the only one to tell our story. This responsibility has been passed unexpectedly fast upon me. I haven’t known what to do until I sat by my fire that I had made out of dry logs and leaves and the glowing embers made out of my burning breath. Our legend will be carried upon the wind to be heard by those that believe and listen, it will be carried around the world to different villages, and different countries that think that they are the only race alive. Our sad song will finally be told, and our song is the truth.
Good job!