Hello TFF!! I haven't been on here for a very long time, 2 years I think. Well I recently started writing a story and I'm curious what you guys think! I've only written the first chapter and I believe I have done a pretty great job, but I need your feedback. So I've posted the story here hoping you guys would read it. Let me know what you think and thanks for the read!
Marthuux watched the sun rise over the horizon as he made his way through the forest. The sounds of the night were slowly coming to end, making way for the new hums of the morning. Owls slowly stopped hooting and birds started chirping. Under any other circumstance, Marthuux would have relaxed in the scenery, but he was in no place take his guard down. The cover of night provided some security as he made his way through the forest, but the rising sun stole that sense away. Anyone that passed could easily see him for what he was. His cloak could only hide his wings and part of his tail. In the dark, humanoids may have difficulty seeing his animal-like legs and claws. Even his horns on his head which caused his hood to stick out a bit might have been over-looked. If any humanoids saw him now, he would certainly have to make a run for it. The red scales on only a few locations of his body can’t block arrows like full grown dragons to allow him to fight.
Marthuux could not have been farther than an hour away from his destination. Somehow this thin forest was the only thing that lay between the gold dragons and the elves. If one knows where he is going, he can cross it in a long day of summer keeping a brisk pace. But then why would an elf dare to come close to dragon territory? And what would a dragon need of elfish goods? The risk of death meeting either party on the other side of the forest certainly didn’t make the idea seem any more pleasant. Marthuux tried to recall everything he knew about the elves. It was very little at best. He was told they tend to enjoy playing music and gathering knowledge more than any other humanoid race. It seemed they were more accepting than the other humanoids as well, though he wasn’t sure if it was enough to accept a half-dragon. The only thing that is known for sure is that a dragon or humanoid that dares cross the forest will be immediately run down and slaughtered. Despite the warm morning air, Marthuux shivered. He has been safe his whole life and he certainly wasn’t fit enough to run very far. Even if he could fly, it wouldn’t do him any good. He was told humans in particular are relentless in the searching and killing of dragons. The idea of running from death almost made him want to turn back. If only he had a place to run back to…
Parxinack made it very clear that he wouldn’t be welcome back at the church. After more than two decades of Parxinack fighting for him, he finally overstayed his welcome there. He knew nothing about the politics of why or even how the decision was made. All he knew was that it would be impossible for him to return. Gold dragons might be able to bear his presence, as they are more accepting of humanoids; blacks might even be able to tolerate him enough to let him live. That didn’t matter though, since almost any red dragon that saw him would kill him on sight. They would only find him as a monstrosity and a disgusting disfiguration. A dragon with skin? A human with wings? The thought would cause most dragons to spit fire. He only hoped the elves were more accepting, despite what he hadbeen taught. His teachings said that if a humanoid found a dragon, be it elf, human, or orc, a small crew of dragon-hunters would hunt them down for days, months, sometimes years. Marthuux was convinced he wouldn’t last an hour with his small wings and scrawny legs.
“If only I was a decade older. My wings might have been big enough…” He mumbled nervously to himself as he broke through the tree line into the eastern sunlight. The brightness and warmth were very uncomfortable. Most red dragons would enjoy the beams of heat a great deal, but then most red dragons don’t have to worry about predators in the desert of their home territory. There was an urge trying to pull him back into the cool forest. The comfort of the trees and the buzzing of the wildlife seem more attractive than the threat of death in front of him. But the forest was infested with thieves and bandits. Instead of gazing back into the forest, he looked out at the large fields of grass. Occasionally, he heard a fly pass by or saw a butterfly relaxing on a flower. It was such a pleasant morning that it almost calmed him enough to lower his nerves. When he combined that with the discomfort of the heat, it made him want to sleep. An odd urge to be sure, but red dragons usually sleep during the day for optimum hunting during the cool desert nights. But his human half was hardly in the mood for sleeping. It was too busy thinking that in these big open spaces, it would be impossible to hide from any humanoids that passed. Guards of the elf city of Daethen were the only ones that could help him. Hopefully, he could hide long enoughto make it close enough to the city that one of the elves will find him.
Exhaustion was hammering down hard on him now. Normally, he would have fallen asleep with the rising sun, and the long journey overnight certainly didn’t help his energy. The sleepiness stuck with him, despite the attempt to shake it out of his head.
“I can’t fall asleep. I must press on. I certainly don’t want to find my head portrayed in some human’s home.” He spoke as if the words would give him more determination, when in reality it did little.
As he spoke, a building came into view. It was a quaint little green hut that seemed to be very well kept. A small field near the hut was surrounded by a surprisingly well designed white fence that held a few dozen sheep and a single horse. Not only did the building seem out of place this close to The Forbidden Forest, it also seemed more beautifully built then any draconic building he had seen outside the church windows.
How could they possibly defend their sheep against all the bandits? Bandits didn’t really have use for sheep, but Marthuux was thinking too much like a dragon and not enough like a human. A feeling urged him to avoid the building. The rumbling of his stomach and his desire for fresh meat convinced him otherwise.
The smell of the sheep was enthralling after being unable to eat for an entire day. He thought a quick bite would give him a little bit more energy to better sneak around to his destination. So Marthuux approached the house cautiously, keeping his eyes open and nose in the air for anyone that may be near. There was an odd smell coming from the house, though it didn’t smell of flesh. It seemed as though no one was home, so he slowly and quietly made his way over the elegant fence.
As if out of thin air, a voice spoke in a dialect he had never heard before, “I thought I taught intruders to leave my animals alone. But then, you are not a normal intruder, are you?” It was a smooth and confident speech that felt as though it could lift boulders or break down gates.
Marthuux turned to see what he assumed to be an elf holding a drawn bow. The description he was given of elves seemed to fit. The humanoid was taller and thinner than himself, with large pointy ears. Marthuux tried to speak as calmly and intelligently as possible, but with the current circumstances, it came out afraid and frantic. “I can guarantee that I am not. But my circumstances are dire and I am in desperate need of help” Marthuux hopedhe could convince the elf that he was heading for the house instead of the delicious meal in front of him.
Looking the half-dragon up and down, the elf took a quick moment to decide what course of action he would take. Without any warning, he loosed the arrow at Marthuux’s leg, which pierced through to the other side. Marthuux let out a deep roar of agony, not quite as loud as a normal dragon but certainly more fierce than a human. The elf seemed to care little for Marthuux’s discomfort, as he stated “If you will be needing my help, staying a while should be of little concern.” Slowly making his way towards the house, the elf continued, “Let us go inside and discuss your predicament before anyone sees you, shall we? If you hurt my sheep, I will do little to help you, so I suggest leaving them alone.”
Marthuux could not believe what just happened. His mind was racing though all the possible reasons why the elf would do this, as well as his strong fear of not surviving this encounter.
If it was for protection, he would have just killed me? If he really wants to help me, why would he shoot me? I just need to survive...There was not a single line of reasoning that made sense to him and he didn’t have any other option but to do as the elf commanded. Using the fence as leverage, the half-dragon managed to bring himself up, despite the astounding pain in his leg. Marthuux continued his way to the house, hobbling on one foot and using the fence for assistance. Doing so was very difficult, but the last thing he wanted was to upset this elf any further. The idea deepened when he got to the door and had a strange concern to keep blood off the floors of the beautiful house. Everything in the building looked so pristine and well-kept, he didn’t dare move anything out of place, let alone drip fresh blood on the wooden floors. Luckily, the elf solved his predicament for him when a cloth was presented. “Use this and do not get blood anywhere. Follow me.”
With little choice, Marthuux obeyed, shaking at the pain and fear of what was going to happen to him. He managed to put the cloth on the floor and drag his foot on top of it, while using his other foot to hobble where the elf was going with the support of various pieces of furniture. All of his concentration was being used to follow the elf, so he didn’t have the option of looking around.
“Take a seat.” The elf gestured towards a plain, wooden chair. Marthuux did as was commanded, still frightened at whatever was going to happen to him. His fear kept him from talking. Following orders was what he has known his whole life, and speaking up against this elf certainly didn’t seem like a wise plan.
The elf left for a short while and came back with what looked like a tray of tools to remove the arrow. A type of large clippers, a strong alcoholic drink, bandages, and a few other things Marthuux wasn’t sure how to describe.
“This is going to hurt. Although, based on your heritage I would hope you can handle a little pain.” The elf cut off the arrow head as close to Marthuux’s leg as possible. Marthuux flinched at a painful jolt in his leg, as a chunk of the arrow flew away. He noticed how small the arrowhead was when it landed on the floor while the elf grabbed another tool. Based on the arrow’s size, it was clear the elf was never planning on using lethal force.
“Hold very still,” the elf said, but Marthuux wasn’t really sure how that would be possible with what the elf was about to do. The elf clasped the remaining portion of the arrow with the new tool and pulled it out with a quick and powerful motion. The arrow slid out in a great rush of agony and blood, causing Marthuux to roar once again.
For the first time, the elf spoke in a welcoming tone, as if suddenly Marthuux was no longer a threat. “As I am taking care of your wound, I find myself very curious about how you came to be on my farm. It isn’t very often an elf has the pleasure of meeting a half-dragon, let alone have them stumble on their property. What is your name?” He poured alcohol in the wound and bandaged it as he spoke.
Marthuux was in complete shock. Hunger, anger, fear, exhaustion, and pain were all pulling him in different directions. He just wanted to fall asleep and wake up in the church where he had always started his evenings. Marthuux did not answer the elf’s question. Rather, he asked question of his own in a very unsteady and unsure voice, “What are you going to do to me?”
The elf’s eyes opened wide in amazement. “It seems the little I have learned of dragons is incorrect. I would hardly think one would give up so easily, especially an individual with red dragon blood such as you. All I plan on doing to you is healing you and gathering a little information. Others call me Thannor. I know it may seem difficult to believe, but I mean you no further harm.”
Marthuux tried to fight the fear inside his gut. Thannor was definitely correct about the courage he should have. Marthuux paused for a moment, saying nothing. He investigated the smells and sights of the room. It appeared they were in a dining room of some sort, though he couldn’t be certain due to his little knowledge of elves. Small, ornate pottery littered the cozy room he was in. There was a very powerful smell that reminded him a great deal of summer, perhaps coming from the material burning in the corner. The scent was intoxicating and relaxing, easing him to a state that was no longer panicked and the fear truly passed. Thannor had finished the bandages and looked up in his seat, seeming to expect a response.
“My name is Marthuux,” he told him reluctantly
“Pardon me if I do not say that correctly in the future. The deep throat growl near the end will be difficult for me to duplicate. Why do you seek my help Marthuux?”
Thannor was right; his name was butchered and bland the way Thannor pronounced it. “I have been removed from my home among the dragons. It seems their tolerance ran out after two decades. I was told to go to the city of Daethen and give a guard this note.” Marthuux reluctantly pulled the sealed note from a pocket in his tunic. A gold wax stamp showed a standing dragon with wings spread in battle stance, the emblem of the gold dragons. “I beg you not to open it. I was told my protection would be lost if I gave it to anyone other than a guard of Daethen.”
Thannor took the note and examined it in detail without breaking the seal. “The paper of this note is incredible quality, especially for dragon craftsmanship. I have not seen this seal before, but I would imagine it would signify some sort of importance.” Thannor thought for a moment, giving a mumble that was not discernable. Suddenly, he handed the note back to Marthuux and started speaking in an official tone. “Very well, when you are healed I shall bring a guard of Daethen here to take you into custody. Since you were trespassing on my property, I refuse to be flexible with their arrival time. You will also answer any question that I have with the utmost honesty. You may leave anytime you wish, though I know not how others of my kind will accept your presence. Do you accept my proposal?”
Marthuux was greatly confused. This seemed more like charity than a deal. Would Thannor refuse to feed me as I healed? Would he punish me whenever I does something wrong?
Marthuux spoke as cautiously as he knew how. “Your terms seem very loose. Though I will be honest, I have little talent for diplomacy. I have no way to maintain my well-being here. I have brought no food or water. I would assume such things would not be included to maintain the balance of the deal.”
“Nonsense. I would properly feed you as you require.”
Marthuux thought hard, trying to find a reason against the deal, but he came up with nothing. “Very well. I accept your deal.” Marthuux turned his body and presented his tail as he finished his sentence. After all, that was the proper way to make a transaction official.
Topic: Started writing recently, I'd like to know how TFF feels about it! (Read 1087 times)