Thread: The Dragon of the Blue Moon

Prologue The tension filling the room was like a large spider waiting on every man's back with poisoned fangs poised and ready to strike. The King of Roland, Tristan Steward, sat at the large table with his lords assembled at either side of him, every man on the edge of their plushly cushioned seats in the large hall. The gleaming table dominating the room was a testament to Roland's wealth as well as the furnishings and crowned moldings and pillars that accented the walls of the palace. After years of his family ruling over this noble and majestic kingdom, he was about to lose it all. The war with Sorbold had been going on for longer than any of the men present had been alive and now it was finally coming to an end. Although for nearly 20 years, Roland had possessed the upper hand and might have even won, ever since they'd lost their secret weapon they could not stand against Sorbold's might. Now all they could hope for was that after all these years of oppressive conflict, the Emperor of Sorbold would be willing to make peace and bargain with them. It had been 10 years since Tristan's father, Reginald, had passed away and given up the throne to his son resting in peace with the knowledge that he would do what was best for their great nation. Now Tristan felt a hint of bile rise to the back of his throat to realize that after generations of his family ruling this beautiful land, he would have to accede to a higher power to stop the complete slaughter of every one of Roland's citizens. There were bloodthirsty forces in Sorbold that sought to destroy them all completely if he didn't bow to their might and power. The hall echoed with the sound of the main door to the room opening and a soldier in liveried garments stepped just inside. They're here, m'Lord. Send them in, Tristan said without hesitation, glancing uneasily at the men to his right before squaring his shoulders and holding his head high in a dignified manner. The first man that entered through the doors was of a swarthy complexion with dark hair, little whisps of gray at his temples and a pitch black square of neatly trimmed facial hair around his lips and on his chin. The clothes he wore were full of dark colors, richly embroidered and emphasizing the naturally strong frame of the man's body. It was good to know that even though they'd practically been isolated by war, Sorbold had not suffered for wealth among it's royalty. The man was in his early forties and yet his features were not aged beyond the charm of youth, his dark eyes holding a smirking menace and his easy saunter into the room flowing with wolf-like grace. The man was the Emperor of Sorbold, holding a similar position of the title King in the opposing nation. Anborn. The man his father had fighting against for years now and a very experienced warrior. On his heels followed only one other man, and the breath from all the men at the table was taken in sharply in unison as he stepped past the doorway following his liege. It was a face they all recognized and although their was a communal astonishment amongst the lords of Roland, the king was alone in feeling an aching pain of regret in his chest at sight of the man. Trygon, the Dragon. Where Anborn was a seasoned warrior with every movement articulating years of battle experience, Trygon was a beast in man's clothing. Tall and slender, every step as he approached the table was soaking with the potential for violence, a brutality in his posture and expression speaking of not only an objectification of everything living but a domination of Death itself. The environment seemed to bend and twist around him, bowing before the might of his presence, and the frenzied, bestial look in his eyes seemed to see beyond the temporal existence into a realm outside of human comprehension. Even wearing flesh and bone as he was, it was more than obvious to anyone who caught sight of the man that he was much more than human. His features which could be classified as handsome had grown taunt and severe in the time since Tristan had last seen him face-to-face. Although a smile full of spite and hatred lurked just below the surface of his twitching lips, his cheeks had grown gaunt, his chin more angular, and there was a darkness around his eyes giving him an almost feverishly haunted look. Despite that, every bone in his body exuded limitless confidence, his eyes sweeping over the room with a God-like arrogance with the tiniest hint of amusement in his face. Even so, the king of Roland, above any of his fellow countrymen, feared Trygon's wrath. What had once been friendship and comradeship between them had grown twisted and warped through betrayal and oppression and the king fully expected the Dragon to kill him for the slights he'd visited upon the man-God in their past. If that had anything to do with what Trygon planned in this meeting, he did not let on, seemingly grown at ease in the chambers that he'd been banished from not even a year ago. He'd known they'd welcome him back and just as they'd held him in awe when he'd first occupied these halls with Roland's royalty, he now held them in awe at the edge of his sword in their very own homeland. It was something he was more than happy to share with the Emperor, although Anborn was here more for the show presented by Trygon's dominance than any actual diplomacy. Both men approached the table together and sat across from the king and his loyal council and Anborn breathed a light sigh before smiling pleasantly at the nervous men facing him. It didn't get much better than this, did it? Alright, I'm here, just as you so humbly requested. In light of the current circumstances, I assume you're ready to acquiesce and admit defeat? I most graciously accept and want you to know there are no hard feelings, even after all these years of nonstop war, and endless fields of dead bodies littering both of our lands - I'm willing to negotiate a set of terms for peace. Of course, since I have the ultimate weapon, I fully expect to come out of this a lot better off than you will - and that of course means 34 of Roland will become a part of Sorbold - I'd like the western half that connects with Corbair for the trade routes and also that lovely chunk by the coast for the sea trade. He lounged back in his grandly made chair and glanced at Trygon who chuckled silently, before looking back at Tristan with a smug grin. We should probably get a scribe in here to make sure you get all this down. Idly, he scratched a slender finger at his neatly groomed beard and waited expectantly for the king's response. disclaimer I know very little about war or the nature of it. This is just a little fantasy story I made up for fun. Some characters may be inspired by internet personas but are not a strict portrayal of any real people or situations.