The Chronicles of Edar: RotD

((will keep adding more))

Chapter 1: The Beginning
The sun was high in the sky, dancing between the leaves onto the thawing, March floor of the wood. A breeze blew into the face of the hunter, Zephyr, causing his raven black hair to be the only moving part of the adolescents’ body. He was still, his chest barely moving as he eyed his prize. A doe mixed in a collection of a herd of about twenty red deer. She was injured, a sprained ankle it seemed to Zeph, but had managed to keep up with the herd. He carefully pulled his longbow of its holster on his back and then readied an arrow. He almost had a perfect shot, but there was another deer in his way, a healthier one. Like the carnivores of the forest, he respected the rule of letting the healthy live and just taking what will be taken sooner or later, a weak or sickly animal.

"Come on, move," He whispered under his breath. The wind was still in his favor, not alerting the herd of his presence. He smiled as the grazing deer that blocked his arrow began to graze forward, almost opening the shot, as if it'd heard him. He held the bow, ready to release and hit his mark, when he heard it.

On top of the trees, the roar of a mighty wind heading behind him. The gust almost knocked Zephyr forward and his scent was blow toward the deer. Immediately, they all raised their heads they ran in the opposite direction. He sighed as the wind subsided, lowering his bow. What was that? Wind like that was rare except for a storm, but the sky was clear, few clouds, none gray. He stepped out into the clearing where the deer were grazing, looking up at the sky for answers when another wind blew around him, then another not twenty seconds later. Over head a most spectacular sight flew right above the young hunters head. A dragon! Its scales were white, tinted with blue like an iced river, so it must have been an Ictus dragon – A dragon who could breathe an icey cold wind as well as manipulated ice itself. They were not too common and a spectacle to behold. Upon her back Zephyr could see a speck of silver and purple. He gaped. Any rider who wore purple and silver plate armor must have been from the DrakenGaurde, the highest riders out there. The Gaurde had been formed to protect the civilians of Sh’ale from enemies and were originally war riders, but now, the protected people from the horror of the Ill-fated. There were even rumors brought by travelers that the DrakenGaurde was only being upheld so the king may launch an assault of the mysterious Eastern Continent.

He watched as it flew over, forgetting to breath in his awe. He'd gone to Rith's small archives before with his father and adored the books and scrolls that told tales about the dragons. Seeing them as a penned drawing never compared to seeing them in real life. The riders Academy was in Verthica, the mountain province, far from Zeph and his dreams of becoming one. He could hear another gust, another wing beat and suddenly another dragon emerged, and emerald green dragon with black tipped spikes that looked like thorns. At the tip of his tail was a sharp and dangerous venom coated spike. An Acidus dragon. Upon his back sat another rider in purple and silver plate. As he passed, Zephyr actually began to worry. What were two of the DrakenGaurde doing near the Itmen wood or Rith? Had something happened?

He had only left that morning, traveling possibly one or two miles in. If he ran, he would leave the wood within minutes. And so he did, running swiftly trough Itmen's trees, roots and bushes. He'd made no camp and didn't plan on staying, so he had nothing to bring, making it easier. His house was a mile out of Rith, if something had happened, his parents would know, so that would be his first stop. Zephyr burst out of the wood, stopping to catch his breath as he scanned the valley laid before him. It was a horror laid out before him. The village was safe and sound; save those screaming for help, but it was his house, his own home that was engulfed in dark purple flames, a battle splayed over his whole farm. An Ill-fated dragon – or Dargrui – was there, screeching and biting at the two DrakenGaurde over head. Dargrui were sad dragons, those who’d lost their riders and contracted the mental illness Warui. It caused them to turn into mindless beasts full of anarchy and they were the biggest threat in Sh’ale, for they attacked randomly.

Zephyr was afraid to come nearer as the battle continued. The Dargrui was flailing and batting uselessly at the riders in the air, its wing obviously eaten away from the Acidus’ deadly venom, and on of it’s arm was in the same state, gruesomely melted off. It spurt dark purple flames at it’s assailants, screeching a painfully loud shriek in fury, its pupil less white eyes rolling in angry madness. The Ictus dragon inhaled, releasing a fog of cold wind, freezing the Dargruis’ wing to the ground. It spewed more of its vile flame in response, tearing away its wing from the ice. With an angry shriek it pulled harder, managing to pull his wing joint out of its socket, the leathery webbed limb hanging limp in the iced ground. By now, Zephyr was running toward the house, praying something, anything would be left in the ashes. The Acidus spat more of its corroding venom, the jet splaying all over the Dargruis’ neck. With a whimpering shriek, the beast fell to the ground, its black chest heaving in exhaustion.

Zephyr came to a stop, sweat dripping down his face. He was as close to the Dargrui as he could be, the ash of his home crunching beneath his feet. He could see every triangular shaped black scale that ran own the massive beasts body, he could see it’s ribs protruding slightly as it heaved as if it was emaciated. The Dargrui had a withering mane of purple feathers running partially down its neck and the same colored feathers on the end of its tail. It wasn’t just any Dargrui, this dragon had once been a proud Acerbus dragon, one of the two rarest species of dragons. Zephyr wondered how such a rare beast could have succumbed to Warui, how it could’ve lost its rider. Suddenly, the exhausted beast turned its massive neck, not even bothering to raise it off the ground to stare at Zeph. Zeph stumbled backwards as the Dargruis white, pupiless eyes bore into his own. The Acidus dragon landed and began to approach, but the Ictus dragon landed and cut him off. The Dargruis hot and heavy breath blew Zephyrs hair around. It smelt vile and rotten, like a week old animal carcass. With a bellow that sounded like it belonged to an elk rather than a dragon, the Dargrui raised its head slightly before it came crashing down, its eyes devoid of all life.