Wednesday, May 31, 2017

The Dragon and the Truenamer

Khazzusdirth the Red
The dragon was startled to hear it’s truename for the first time in physical existance, the utterance had a familiarity to it. Unfettered sound across miles, forests and hills the syllables of naming were true and well spoken. Normally the Dragon loathed leaving the comforts Myth Drannor provided but Khazzusdirth the Red was unable to resist, unable to do anything but heel to the naming.

In short time Khazzusdirth passed countless green landscapes, bodies of blue water, and through two furious thunderstorms before finally appearing before the Truenamer on a hill in Daggerdale. The dragon could not have known this hill would be where it would perish this night. 

The Truenamer had a curt look to him, utilitarian but with a strong will capable of channeling a god. His speech was articulate, carefully enunciating each word and infinite syllable. Impeccable style for an individual of his race Khazzusdirth mused, one that wordlessly commanded respect. Khazzusdirth hated the man with such intensity the dragon would swear on a pile of golden treasure his draconic eyes burned with orange hellfire.

The Truenamer examined Khazzusdirth with a critical eye; the act of perusal was an insult on the highest order to the dragon. As far as Khazzusdirth new, red dragons were the pinnacle of form, ferocity; a perfect instrument of death.

A brisk southern wind raced up the green hill upon which the dragon and Truenamer stood tossing back the rusty hood of the Truenamer revealing a human of unknown age with a thin mustache and several burn scars. This pleased the dragon to see.

“To the north of here is a walled town of hucksters, hedonists, and heretics. And like so many cities before it too drunk on itself to survive- Kellet must fall.” The Truenamer paused for dramatic effect. “There you will find the Crypt of Heroes where you and I will focus our might.” The Truenamer said without further theatrics speaking fastidiously.
Malyk the Truenamer
“To what end?” Khazzusdirth asked with real curiosity hoping there was something in it for him in addition to his freedom from this lowly servitude.

“I believe the Crypt of Heroes in Kellet contains the bodily remains of Daggerdale’s iconic heroes. The Mage of Black Switch, Foildan the Prince of Thieves, Lathander’s First Templar… and Bardolf Brightblade, the dwarf crafter of legend. The crypt is protected however by the White Necromancer, a mantle and position passed down from generation to generation in Kellet.”

“And for me?” the greedy Khazzusdirth asked.

“You get to live.” Said the Truenamer also known as Malyk said with such coldness, the great red dragon shivered with a chill. “and should that fail, your bones will rise again to serve me. Either way,” Malyk smiled. “the life you once knew is over.” 

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