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#61
Tower of Art / [Writing] Pax Draconica 2 - Ch...
Last post by Tapewolf - February 04, 2026, 06:17:28 AMChapter 15 - The Dragon and the Dragon
Falnar awoke and clambered off his hoard, stretching himself. As with most dens, he had scooped out a shallow depression so that the items would naturally roll back towards the pile, and few of them scattered much beyond the chamber in which he slept.
Once, a band of humans had breached his den. The entrance was on a high ledge on the cliff he'd made, but they had used grapples to scale up to the tunnel. He still recalled their appalled expressions when they saw the hoard, expecting a vast pile of treasure, only to find that it consisted of rubble from the excavation of his lair.
He had tried to explain, in broken Common, that a dragon couldn't easily carry masses of gold coins with their large clawed hands - it would be like a human carrying sand - but either they did not believe him or did not understand.
Even if they had found the two small chests of valuables, they would never have believed that a dragon could have so little in the way of treasure...
Falnar shuddered, remembering how he had bitten the head off the burly one. The others had fled, chased away by sheets of flame from an angry dragon's maw.
Even now, centuries later, Falnar still felt guilty about this, but the crossbow they bore would surely have killed him, and all for a heap of stones. He wasn't even sure how they had intended to steal a vast pile of coins even if he'd had one. Probably carry it in portions to the edge of the cliff and throw it down so they could later scoop it all into a cart. He had buried the warrior that night.
Shaking his head, he washed himself in the nearby waterfall, and returned to the cliff. The cultists were gone, and that worried him. They had been fawning over him, pledging undying servitude and protection, saying he was the Chosen One because of some weird birthmark and a garbled prophecy. Now they were all gone... and a single armed and armoured furre stood in the middle of his cave, looking up expectantly.
Falnar ducked back at the sight of the gun, a long, black sniper rifle.
"This gun is not for you," a voice called loudly. Sneaking a glimpse over the ledge, Falnar saw that the weapon was now lying at the newcomer's booted feet.
"Who you?" Falnar demanded cautiously. "Where is cult? Did you do the killing-thing!?"
"I have sent them away," the furre said, switching to Dracolingua. "I wish to talk to you, Falnar. I am Lord Terror, and it is time we met."
Falnar landed next to the supposed lord, eyeing the body armour suspiciously.
"Fardon said you were one of Us," he said in Dracolingua. "Why are you a furre? Why do you come dressed to kill and murder?"
"A precaution," Lord Terror replied. "I am the lord of the realm, and there are always malcontents. Indeed, the local Earl does not approve of me. Armour and weapons can help against an assassination attempt.
"Also, the Earl has still not withdrawn the bounty upon you. If any come seeking to slay you, I shall pop their heads. And when I am done here, I shall make that same threat to the Earl. If he refuses to obey me in a matter of life and death, then death shall be his reward."
Terry picked up the rifle, lifting it by the barrel so as to indicate he was not about to fire it, and holstered it to his back. He backed off a few paces, and then screwed his eyes shut. There was a flash of light, dazzling Falnar, and then Lord Terror stood before him in all his might and majesty. The armour and rifle were gone.
"Ohhh," Falnar keened, throwing back his head in a mournful wail. "It is true!"
"You do not seem happy about this," Terry pointed out, cocking his massive head slightly.
"Do not slay me, Lord! I do not want to die!"
"I am not here to intimidate you," Terry reassured him. "Dragons can be territorial, but we can also be social creatures."
"Mmmm," Falnar said mournfully.
"Ah," Terry said. "You fear that I come to take away your freedom?"
"Yes," Falnar said. "The Small Races, you can usually ignore. And if they get violent? Their leaders live for a while, then die. Problem solved. But a dragon as leader... You claim this whole realm as your territory and could hold it indefinitely! What will this mean for me...?"
"Great things," Terry reassured him. "Or so I hope. May we move to one of your tunnels? I do not wish to be seen like this if the Order should unexpectedly return."
Falnar sighed unhappily and took flight, landing on the ledge of the tunnel that led to a sparsely-decorated living area. Terry fanned his own wings and followed.
"I do not get our kind visiting," Falnar said apologetically, lighting a couple of braziers with puffs of flame. "And if you are now my master, I fear you will find it inadequate. But here we should be able to talk privately."
"This is fine," Terry said. "And you mistake me. I have ruled here for nearly three decades. Not long for a dragon, but long enough to be firmly established here. In all that time, I have not sought to enslave any dragon, have I? You have been left to your own devices."
"But now you feel the time is right to try...?"
"No. But I will make my presence felt among our kind... hopefully for the better. Fardon tells me you came here fleeing Lord Thurr, correct? That is not how I wish to rule, not by fear and force. Those are my last resort."
"Why, then, do you go by 'Lord Terror', my lord?"
"It is part my traditional name in Dracolingua," Terry said. "Terror-Wing-Devour. I will admit that I like the intimidating effect it has on the Small Races. Fear of my wrath helped stabilise things after I took over, made any other would-be rulers less likely to challenge me. But I do not want to be known only for my ruthlessness and skill at removing heads.
"You see, I believe that ruling should be a two way street. You aid me, when and if I call on you to do so. You obey my laws, which are mostly what you have been doing anyway. In exchange, I will protect you, make things better for dragonkind within my realm.
"This is how things are done in Taria, where the mighty Lord Varl rules, wisely and justly and with advisors from the Small Races. To his subjects, he is their lord, their guide, and their guardian. But he is not their master."
"This is what you want to do? To have us as your underlings, yet free to live our own lives?" Falnar looked at the other dragon curiously, unsure whether to believe him or not.
"Precisely," Terry said. "Under old Lord Thurr, it was all about what you must do, and the cruel fate for those who did not carry out his will. But with Lord Varl, with me, my concern is about what you must not do. And that it is a short list.
"In Taria, in Arcaia and now in Arstrom, there are common-sense rules intended to benefit society, keep the people safe. Those who murder and steal will be punished. But only in extreme circumstances would I command you to obey my orders - only when the realm is threatened and I need your aid. Or if, like the Earl, you were to run rampant and needed to be brought in line. But I would rather avoid that."
"Why?" Falnar asked. "Why do you want all this? What is in it for you?"
"The satisfaction of being Top Dragon, for one," Terry grinned. "But there are other reasons besides. Taria has benefitted greatly from having dragons, humans and furres working together for a common cause. I want that here."
Terry hesitated. "I should probably have started with a sales pitch, told you what I hope to achieve if you will join me, and the benefits I hope it will bring you, bring us all. I have always been better at enforcing my will and seeing my plans carried out, than at selling my vision to others.
"As for what I get from all this, making Arstrom thrive will reflect well upon me if I succeed. I am a dragon, and vain enough to want that... To be adored and loved as the successful ruler of a great nation. But beside that, I want this realm to be safe for my kind."
"I want dragons to be able to live openly in Arstrom," Terry said, eyes blazing. "To live there without fear or persecution. I want peace between dragons and the Small Races. But I must first have peace between dragons. When my plan is revealed, I want to make that assurance, to be able to say that the dragons currently living in Arstrom are under my command and will cause no trouble to the Small Races unless I specifically order it. Your fealty would help greatly with that, it will not be forgotten if things go to plan."
"What of those who refuse?" Falnar asked worriedly. "Not all would agree to such things."
Terry's expression darkened. "I will not lower myself to Thurr's level by saying 'serve me or die'," he answered. "I hope that most will see the value of joining my cause on its own merit, to become part of a larger whole and help turn Arstrom into a haven for dragons and Small Races alike. Taria, Arcaia and other lands beside are proof that it can be done!
"But those who violently refute my rule, or seek to thart me in my aims? They will have to be driven out," he sighed.
"In order of preference, I would much prefer dragons to join me willingly, but I will take reluctantly at a pinch. Others, I hope will come around in due course, and I can give them time to consider. But for those who actively refuse to aid me, or seek to violently disrupt my plans... Well, I do not want to have to exile anyone, but it remains an option. And as a last resort, there is also death," he added quietly. "As the Earl is likely to demonstrate - unless he is very careful. For at the end of the day, I am still a mighty dragon and dangerous if crossed."
Falnar looked Terry over solemnly. "I think you believe what you say, that you can make this a place where we can be free," he said at last. "I would like to think you can do this. You come here, you make speeches, when you could have killed me outright if you so chose. It seems too much work to be a trap. Too much effort over a cave, when you already have a palace."
"There is one other reason," Terry said. "I am lonely. I have friends among the Small Races, but the company of other dragons would do me good. And the same can be said of you, I think."
"Are you trying to seduce me...?" Falnar raised an eyebrow.
"Do not tempt me," Terry smirked. "Fardon was right, that you are handsome, if a little underfed. But I did not speak of that. To be sure, I do not have time right now. I will have to return to my palace soon. But as I bade Sir Fardon tell you, my dragon-porches are open, should you wish to visit. Quarters can be built for you there if you wish to stay. Assuming of course, that you do not seek to challenge me for the lordship of the realm," he added.
"I think..." Falnar began slowly.
"I do not need an answer from you now," Terry said. "I have put my proposal to you, and I understand you will need time to consider it. But it would grieve me to think that you spend all your time alone in a cave, hiding from that bastard of an Earl."
"I shall serve you, Lord Terror," Falnar said. "If you can keep the Small Ones from trying to slay me, that is worth calling another my lord."
"Please," the white dragon said, grinning widely. "Call me 'Terry'."
Falnar awoke and clambered off his hoard, stretching himself. As with most dens, he had scooped out a shallow depression so that the items would naturally roll back towards the pile, and few of them scattered much beyond the chamber in which he slept.
Once, a band of humans had breached his den. The entrance was on a high ledge on the cliff he'd made, but they had used grapples to scale up to the tunnel. He still recalled their appalled expressions when they saw the hoard, expecting a vast pile of treasure, only to find that it consisted of rubble from the excavation of his lair.
He had tried to explain, in broken Common, that a dragon couldn't easily carry masses of gold coins with their large clawed hands - it would be like a human carrying sand - but either they did not believe him or did not understand.
Even if they had found the two small chests of valuables, they would never have believed that a dragon could have so little in the way of treasure...
Falnar shuddered, remembering how he had bitten the head off the burly one. The others had fled, chased away by sheets of flame from an angry dragon's maw.
Even now, centuries later, Falnar still felt guilty about this, but the crossbow they bore would surely have killed him, and all for a heap of stones. He wasn't even sure how they had intended to steal a vast pile of coins even if he'd had one. Probably carry it in portions to the edge of the cliff and throw it down so they could later scoop it all into a cart. He had buried the warrior that night.
Shaking his head, he washed himself in the nearby waterfall, and returned to the cliff. The cultists were gone, and that worried him. They had been fawning over him, pledging undying servitude and protection, saying he was the Chosen One because of some weird birthmark and a garbled prophecy. Now they were all gone... and a single armed and armoured furre stood in the middle of his cave, looking up expectantly.
Falnar ducked back at the sight of the gun, a long, black sniper rifle.
"This gun is not for you," a voice called loudly. Sneaking a glimpse over the ledge, Falnar saw that the weapon was now lying at the newcomer's booted feet.
"Who you?" Falnar demanded cautiously. "Where is cult? Did you do the killing-thing!?"
"I have sent them away," the furre said, switching to Dracolingua. "I wish to talk to you, Falnar. I am Lord Terror, and it is time we met."
* * *
Falnar landed next to the supposed lord, eyeing the body armour suspiciously.
"Fardon said you were one of Us," he said in Dracolingua. "Why are you a furre? Why do you come dressed to kill and murder?"
"A precaution," Lord Terror replied. "I am the lord of the realm, and there are always malcontents. Indeed, the local Earl does not approve of me. Armour and weapons can help against an assassination attempt.
"Also, the Earl has still not withdrawn the bounty upon you. If any come seeking to slay you, I shall pop their heads. And when I am done here, I shall make that same threat to the Earl. If he refuses to obey me in a matter of life and death, then death shall be his reward."
Terry picked up the rifle, lifting it by the barrel so as to indicate he was not about to fire it, and holstered it to his back. He backed off a few paces, and then screwed his eyes shut. There was a flash of light, dazzling Falnar, and then Lord Terror stood before him in all his might and majesty. The armour and rifle were gone.
"Ohhh," Falnar keened, throwing back his head in a mournful wail. "It is true!"
"You do not seem happy about this," Terry pointed out, cocking his massive head slightly.
"Do not slay me, Lord! I do not want to die!"
"I am not here to intimidate you," Terry reassured him. "Dragons can be territorial, but we can also be social creatures."
"Mmmm," Falnar said mournfully.
"Ah," Terry said. "You fear that I come to take away your freedom?"
"Yes," Falnar said. "The Small Races, you can usually ignore. And if they get violent? Their leaders live for a while, then die. Problem solved. But a dragon as leader... You claim this whole realm as your territory and could hold it indefinitely! What will this mean for me...?"
"Great things," Terry reassured him. "Or so I hope. May we move to one of your tunnels? I do not wish to be seen like this if the Order should unexpectedly return."
Falnar sighed unhappily and took flight, landing on the ledge of the tunnel that led to a sparsely-decorated living area. Terry fanned his own wings and followed.
"I do not get our kind visiting," Falnar said apologetically, lighting a couple of braziers with puffs of flame. "And if you are now my master, I fear you will find it inadequate. But here we should be able to talk privately."
"This is fine," Terry said. "And you mistake me. I have ruled here for nearly three decades. Not long for a dragon, but long enough to be firmly established here. In all that time, I have not sought to enslave any dragon, have I? You have been left to your own devices."
"But now you feel the time is right to try...?"
"No. But I will make my presence felt among our kind... hopefully for the better. Fardon tells me you came here fleeing Lord Thurr, correct? That is not how I wish to rule, not by fear and force. Those are my last resort."
"Why, then, do you go by 'Lord Terror', my lord?"
"It is part my traditional name in Dracolingua," Terry said. "Terror-Wing-Devour. I will admit that I like the intimidating effect it has on the Small Races. Fear of my wrath helped stabilise things after I took over, made any other would-be rulers less likely to challenge me. But I do not want to be known only for my ruthlessness and skill at removing heads.
"You see, I believe that ruling should be a two way street. You aid me, when and if I call on you to do so. You obey my laws, which are mostly what you have been doing anyway. In exchange, I will protect you, make things better for dragonkind within my realm.
"This is how things are done in Taria, where the mighty Lord Varl rules, wisely and justly and with advisors from the Small Races. To his subjects, he is their lord, their guide, and their guardian. But he is not their master."
"This is what you want to do? To have us as your underlings, yet free to live our own lives?" Falnar looked at the other dragon curiously, unsure whether to believe him or not.
"Precisely," Terry said. "Under old Lord Thurr, it was all about what you must do, and the cruel fate for those who did not carry out his will. But with Lord Varl, with me, my concern is about what you must not do. And that it is a short list.
"In Taria, in Arcaia and now in Arstrom, there are common-sense rules intended to benefit society, keep the people safe. Those who murder and steal will be punished. But only in extreme circumstances would I command you to obey my orders - only when the realm is threatened and I need your aid. Or if, like the Earl, you were to run rampant and needed to be brought in line. But I would rather avoid that."
"Why?" Falnar asked. "Why do you want all this? What is in it for you?"
"The satisfaction of being Top Dragon, for one," Terry grinned. "But there are other reasons besides. Taria has benefitted greatly from having dragons, humans and furres working together for a common cause. I want that here."
Terry hesitated. "I should probably have started with a sales pitch, told you what I hope to achieve if you will join me, and the benefits I hope it will bring you, bring us all. I have always been better at enforcing my will and seeing my plans carried out, than at selling my vision to others.
"As for what I get from all this, making Arstrom thrive will reflect well upon me if I succeed. I am a dragon, and vain enough to want that... To be adored and loved as the successful ruler of a great nation. But beside that, I want this realm to be safe for my kind."
"I want dragons to be able to live openly in Arstrom," Terry said, eyes blazing. "To live there without fear or persecution. I want peace between dragons and the Small Races. But I must first have peace between dragons. When my plan is revealed, I want to make that assurance, to be able to say that the dragons currently living in Arstrom are under my command and will cause no trouble to the Small Races unless I specifically order it. Your fealty would help greatly with that, it will not be forgotten if things go to plan."
"What of those who refuse?" Falnar asked worriedly. "Not all would agree to such things."
Terry's expression darkened. "I will not lower myself to Thurr's level by saying 'serve me or die'," he answered. "I hope that most will see the value of joining my cause on its own merit, to become part of a larger whole and help turn Arstrom into a haven for dragons and Small Races alike. Taria, Arcaia and other lands beside are proof that it can be done!
"But those who violently refute my rule, or seek to thart me in my aims? They will have to be driven out," he sighed.
"In order of preference, I would much prefer dragons to join me willingly, but I will take reluctantly at a pinch. Others, I hope will come around in due course, and I can give them time to consider. But for those who actively refuse to aid me, or seek to violently disrupt my plans... Well, I do not want to have to exile anyone, but it remains an option. And as a last resort, there is also death," he added quietly. "As the Earl is likely to demonstrate - unless he is very careful. For at the end of the day, I am still a mighty dragon and dangerous if crossed."
Falnar looked Terry over solemnly. "I think you believe what you say, that you can make this a place where we can be free," he said at last. "I would like to think you can do this. You come here, you make speeches, when you could have killed me outright if you so chose. It seems too much work to be a trap. Too much effort over a cave, when you already have a palace."
"There is one other reason," Terry said. "I am lonely. I have friends among the Small Races, but the company of other dragons would do me good. And the same can be said of you, I think."
"Are you trying to seduce me...?" Falnar raised an eyebrow.
"Do not tempt me," Terry smirked. "Fardon was right, that you are handsome, if a little underfed. But I did not speak of that. To be sure, I do not have time right now. I will have to return to my palace soon. But as I bade Sir Fardon tell you, my dragon-porches are open, should you wish to visit. Quarters can be built for you there if you wish to stay. Assuming of course, that you do not seek to challenge me for the lordship of the realm," he added.
"I think..." Falnar began slowly.
"I do not need an answer from you now," Terry said. "I have put my proposal to you, and I understand you will need time to consider it. But it would grieve me to think that you spend all your time alone in a cave, hiding from that bastard of an Earl."
"I shall serve you, Lord Terror," Falnar said. "If you can keep the Small Ones from trying to slay me, that is worth calling another my lord."
"Please," the white dragon said, grinning widely. "Call me 'Terry'."
#62
DHS Comix / 2026-04-02 - I’m Not The Chose...
Last post by ProfesseurRenard - February 03, 2026, 07:32:26 PMInteresting gambit with the prophecy. I wonder if their friendship will ever recover.
#63
DHS Comix / Re: Ace 2.1.26 welcoming comit...
Last post by ProfesseurRenard - February 03, 2026, 07:22:04 PMExcellent screenshots.
#64
DHS Comix / Ace 2.1.26 welcoming comittee
Last post by Anders71 - February 03, 2026, 06:29:15 AMAcer and Terry are looking very mischievous today. Wonder what they're up to
Oh no
Oh no
#65
Jayhawk HQ / Re: [Xer 2 Chapter 3]
Last post by ProfesseurRenard - February 02, 2026, 06:43:17 PMQuote from: Starcat5 on February 02, 2026, 10:28:23 AM03-09 - Quirk and Xerian talk brains
And thus our fluffy friend discovers that his new friends are NOT cyborgs.
I really miss the 'applaud' button.
#66
Jayhawk HQ / Re: [Xer 2 Chapter 3]
Last post by Starcat5 - February 02, 2026, 10:28:23 AM03-09 - Quirk and Xerian talk brains
And thus our fluffy friend discovers that his new friends are NOT cyborgs.
And thus our fluffy friend discovers that his new friends are NOT cyborgs.
#67
Tower of Art / Re: [Writing] Pax Draconica 2 ...
Last post by Tapewolf - February 02, 2026, 05:29:41 AMQuote from: ProfesseurRenard on February 02, 2026, 02:22:39 AMA swear jar. I find it rather amusing for a Bishop of all people being fined for foul language.To be fair, the fine was for insulting the overlord, something which doesn't usually end well for the person saying it. Swearing is less of a problem.
Fun fact: We had a blue pig money bank in the office once, which we used as a swear jar for a while until people started running out of change and couldn't pay it.
#68
Tower of Art / Re: [Writing] Pax Draconica 2 ...
Last post by ProfesseurRenard - February 02, 2026, 02:22:39 AMA swear jar. I find it rather amusing for a Bishop of all people being fined for foul language.
#69
Jayhawk HQ / Re: [I.G.C. Chapter 05]
Last post by ProfesseurRenard - February 01, 2026, 11:53:37 AMQuote from: Starcat5 on January 30, 2026, 07:27:35 PM05-08 - Wrong kind of head in the basket
Executing an executioner's axe. That is a new one.
Indeed. Now I'm curious what beheading a guillotine would look like...
#70
Tower of Art / Re: [Writing] Pax Draconica 2 ...
Last post by Tapewolf - January 31, 2026, 06:45:36 AMQuote from: Starcat5 on January 31, 2026, 01:03:16 AMAre we sure Terry here isn't part Cubi?
That is to say he isn't, but he and Lord Daryil would get along like fire and gasoline.
Indeed. There is, in fact, a picture of Daryil and Terry getting along exceptionally well, but I'm not posting that here. (And no, it's not canon, sadly)
When I was writing the first story I was worried that I might end up writing "Project Future With Dragons". I think I have avoided that somewhat, but Terry and Daryil definitely have a lot of common ground.