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Fall, 1326
For a few days after being kindly expelled from the Back Valley, Mera and Logan followed the ridgeline as it descended back to the foothills of the Southern Ranges. The wind-swept snowy granite peaks gradually gave way to sparse rocky moraines that turned into pine forests. And then one day, weeks after the dragon originally set out to find a new home, Meratezatgh and his hunter friend found it.
The spot was an eroded canyon on the slopes of Jurupa Mountain near a prominent rhyolite outcropping lined with steep cliff faces, boulders and woods. The runoff from the mountain formed a creek running just below, and deer and marmots and ground squirrels fled in panic as the pair approached.
Mera stopped, taking it all in.
“This actually isn’t a bad area at all.”
Logan looked at the lush forest surrounding the canyon, the trickle of a stream from a spring descending to join the creek. “It looks like there’s plenty of water and game.”
The dragon gestured at the rocks pockmarked with eroded crevices. “Yes and there should be caves around here.”
“Would this spot work for you, Mera?”
The dragon smiled. “Yes, yes I think it would.”
The two began searching for a spot to settle down and make camp, finally settling upon a large flat atop the outcropping dominated by an exposed granite boulder. As Logan began unpacking, Mera sniffed the rock.
“What’s up?”
“It’s faded, but a dragon’s been here before. Strange-” Mera stopped, suddenly raising a forepaw.
“Wait, Logan hold on. Something is-”
A roar interrupted them and suddenly a massive black dragon dived from the sky. Mera leaped aside and roared in response, while Logan quickly grabbed his pack and ran to seek shelter in the underbrush.
It would never be good to go between two feuding dragons.
Missing his tackle, the black nimbly bounded off the rock and leaped at Mera, spewing a torrent of flame. The bronze dodged this attack as well and attempted to reply with his own sheet of fire, only to be interrupted when the black dragon pounced again and this time successfully bit down upon Mera’s right horn. The two dragons tumbled through the clearing, clawing and snapping at each other. Mera nearly avoided another blast of fire to his face, and replied by smacking the black across the snout with his elbow joint. The black dragon roared in anger and returned the favor by suddenly landing a forepaw upon Mera’s neck.
Fuck.
The black dragon’s claws dug in, drawing blood. Mera went still, knowing that he was entirely at his opponent’s mercy: a single swipe and the black dragon would tear out his throat. The black dragon knew this as well, roaring in triumph and viewing his defeated rival with a smug satisfaction of his dominance.
*Pathetic! Did you really think you could take my territory from me? From Falknir Ewetuqa Poerwa of the Windy Passes?*
Mera knew better than to play games. He shook his head. Falknir smugly leaned down close to Mera’s ear.
* Maybe I should just breed you like the female that you are. Remember my name whelp. Remember it as I send you with your tail between your legs. * The black dragon raised his head to roar again, this time in laughter, before leaning back down.
*Go back to your territory bronze; this land is mine. If I ever see you up here again, you’ll be eating your own throat. Got it?*
Mera nodded.
*Good. I feel merciful today. Back off bronze, you’re not good enough to drive me out yet.*
Falknir finally released his grasp around Mera’s throat. The smaller dragon hastily got up and slowly backed away, wings drooped, tail between his legs, head bobbing low in submission. After a few hundred feet, Mera turned and fled, Falknir’s roars of laughter ringing behind him.
***
Logan found Mera an hour later licking his wounds and nursing his wounded pride under a large Ironwood tree back up at the ridgeline. The bronze dragon definitely did not look like he wanted to mention what had happened ever again. Instead, Logan gave his companion a friendly pat and sat down beside him.
“Well, I guess the road North is closed then.”
“What do I do?” The dragon looked back at Logan in concern and shame.
The hunter fell silent, playing with a twig as the two figures sat quietly together. Below them the afternoon glow hit the Great Ironwood Forest, its expanse spreading out as far as the eye can see. What had seemed so promising only five days ago now seemed to be fading with the light.
“We’ll have to go back.”
“To Mount Rubinox? What good will that do?”
“Well think about it: the Sabines have kicked us out, duregaren are being recruited, and we are too close to griffin territory; this is not the time to be in a foreign location; especially with Martin’s forces at our heels. We have learned that he will follow you straight to the underworld if need be. To return to Mount Rubinox would throw Martin off balance; he won’t be expecting that. His supplies are probably running low, and after a while trying to find us, he’ll need to turn back. We’ll also be on familiar ground, land that we know, land that we can use to fight. You seem to have recovered your strength, so we can face the colonel head on again; and if worst comes to worst you can fly off. Our trek was a valiant effort; but now it’s not worth the risk anymore.” He looked back at the dragon’s side. “You can fly again right?”
Mera flexed his wings. It had been weeks since he had tried more than short hops. The dragon’s biceps and forearm unfurled and his supraspinatus tensed, casting a powerful gust.
“Hopefully.”
“Great! Well I guess you got a nice sabbatical out of this trip.”
The Clash - Straight to Hell
Courtesy of
theroguez!
For a few days after being kindly expelled from the Back Valley, Mera and Logan followed the ridgeline as it descended back to the foothills of the Southern Ranges. The wind-swept snowy granite peaks gradually gave way to sparse rocky moraines that turned into pine forests. And then one day, weeks after the dragon originally set out to find a new home, Meratezatgh and his hunter friend found it.
The spot was an eroded canyon on the slopes of Jurupa Mountain near a prominent rhyolite outcropping lined with steep cliff faces, boulders and woods. The runoff from the mountain formed a creek running just below, and deer and marmots and ground squirrels fled in panic as the pair approached.
Mera stopped, taking it all in.
“This actually isn’t a bad area at all.”
Logan looked at the lush forest surrounding the canyon, the trickle of a stream from a spring descending to join the creek. “It looks like there’s plenty of water and game.”
The dragon gestured at the rocks pockmarked with eroded crevices. “Yes and there should be caves around here.”
“Would this spot work for you, Mera?”
The dragon smiled. “Yes, yes I think it would.”
The two began searching for a spot to settle down and make camp, finally settling upon a large flat atop the outcropping dominated by an exposed granite boulder. As Logan began unpacking, Mera sniffed the rock.
“What’s up?”
“It’s faded, but a dragon’s been here before. Strange-” Mera stopped, suddenly raising a forepaw.
“Wait, Logan hold on. Something is-”
A roar interrupted them and suddenly a massive black dragon dived from the sky. Mera leaped aside and roared in response, while Logan quickly grabbed his pack and ran to seek shelter in the underbrush.
It would never be good to go between two feuding dragons.
Missing his tackle, the black nimbly bounded off the rock and leaped at Mera, spewing a torrent of flame. The bronze dodged this attack as well and attempted to reply with his own sheet of fire, only to be interrupted when the black dragon pounced again and this time successfully bit down upon Mera’s right horn. The two dragons tumbled through the clearing, clawing and snapping at each other. Mera nearly avoided another blast of fire to his face, and replied by smacking the black across the snout with his elbow joint. The black dragon roared in anger and returned the favor by suddenly landing a forepaw upon Mera’s neck.
Fuck.
The black dragon’s claws dug in, drawing blood. Mera went still, knowing that he was entirely at his opponent’s mercy: a single swipe and the black dragon would tear out his throat. The black dragon knew this as well, roaring in triumph and viewing his defeated rival with a smug satisfaction of his dominance.
*Pathetic! Did you really think you could take my territory from me? From Falknir Ewetuqa Poerwa of the Windy Passes?*
Mera knew better than to play games. He shook his head. Falknir smugly leaned down close to Mera’s ear.
* Maybe I should just breed you like the female that you are. Remember my name whelp. Remember it as I send you with your tail between your legs. * The black dragon raised his head to roar again, this time in laughter, before leaning back down.
*Go back to your territory bronze; this land is mine. If I ever see you up here again, you’ll be eating your own throat. Got it?*
Mera nodded.
*Good. I feel merciful today. Back off bronze, you’re not good enough to drive me out yet.*
Falknir finally released his grasp around Mera’s throat. The smaller dragon hastily got up and slowly backed away, wings drooped, tail between his legs, head bobbing low in submission. After a few hundred feet, Mera turned and fled, Falknir’s roars of laughter ringing behind him.
***
Logan found Mera an hour later licking his wounds and nursing his wounded pride under a large Ironwood tree back up at the ridgeline. The bronze dragon definitely did not look like he wanted to mention what had happened ever again. Instead, Logan gave his companion a friendly pat and sat down beside him.
“Well, I guess the road North is closed then.”
“What do I do?” The dragon looked back at Logan in concern and shame.
The hunter fell silent, playing with a twig as the two figures sat quietly together. Below them the afternoon glow hit the Great Ironwood Forest, its expanse spreading out as far as the eye can see. What had seemed so promising only five days ago now seemed to be fading with the light.
“We’ll have to go back.”
“To Mount Rubinox? What good will that do?”
“Well think about it: the Sabines have kicked us out, duregaren are being recruited, and we are too close to griffin territory; this is not the time to be in a foreign location; especially with Martin’s forces at our heels. We have learned that he will follow you straight to the underworld if need be. To return to Mount Rubinox would throw Martin off balance; he won’t be expecting that. His supplies are probably running low, and after a while trying to find us, he’ll need to turn back. We’ll also be on familiar ground, land that we know, land that we can use to fight. You seem to have recovered your strength, so we can face the colonel head on again; and if worst comes to worst you can fly off. Our trek was a valiant effort; but now it’s not worth the risk anymore.” He looked back at the dragon’s side. “You can fly again right?”
Mera flexed his wings. It had been weeks since he had tried more than short hops. The dragon’s biceps and forearm unfurled and his supraspinatus tensed, casting a powerful gust.
“Hopefully.”
“Great! Well I guess you got a nice sabbatical out of this trip.”
The Clash - Straight to Hell
Courtesy of
theroguez!
Category Artwork (Digital) / Fantasy
Species Western Dragon
Size 1280 x 918px
File Size 181.5 kB
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