The Dragon's Story

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Fantasy Realm
This is th' dragon's side o' th' story from Beowulf. Enjoy why don't ye.

Submitted: January 11, 2017

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Submitted: January 11, 2017

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Beowulf

The Dragon’s side of the story

 

It was long long ago in the ancient times of old, when I received that grand cup, that golden chalice of mine, from the fair maiden of the village of Dragoon. Back then I was worshipped as a god and the people of that town glorified me with many a praise and riches. They would give me fattened cow, sheep, and bulls the size of their housings. I was king of the ancient lands, a feared enemy of any who stood in my way. The bane of giants and titans alike. Those behemoths only had their size to compare to me but I am much stronger, wiser, smarter, and only too mighty. For if it helps those who worshipped such trash, their meat was quite tasty, roasted and raw.

Those who knew of my feats as the village people of Dragoon grew and spread out into the world I was worshipped most highly as all other deities paled in comparison to me. Of all the treasure I’ve received over the years and years of being worshipped by those good descendants of Dragoon, I cherished that one goblet the most. That was my one and only memory of the one person who truly loved me. Then one day some treacherous scum comes into my nice little tidy residing and steals my one and only prized possession.

I felt the one emotion I hadn’t felt in millenia… rage! No one has been known to escape my wrath and my wrath will be felt by all those who dare surround my villa. The nearby villages, towns, and kingdoms will all burn in my mighty raging wrath!!! Whatever thieving ruffian that took my cup had no right to do so for he shall be the very first to be subjected to my rage. Then I shall gorge on the king’s people as means of repayment for the stress and strain caused by this ordeal.

Sitting there in my den I roar a mighty roar and breathed my fiery breath upon my golden treasures until I had it as a glowing molten liquid oozing across my cave’s floor. Thus I coat myself in this heavy glamour and spread out my wings to unleash my pain upon those who have wronged me. Now I’ll set fire to their crops, housing, and town hall for their treachery and cold heartedness.

So is it that major a crime, you, the reader, ask of me? How would you feel if your one and only memory of the best time of your life was stolen right away from you? Would you just idly sit by and do nothing? No, you would hunt for the head of the scummy thief that stole your precious memory. Now how ‘bout you apply that to 100’s of thousands of years of being alive since that memory. Without further interruption, I will now continue my side of this unjust tale.

Now my treachery really begins as I smell out the thief who took my cup. I find him in a

nearby mead hall boasting about his ventures into my cavern. Then I rip into the building and

exhale a white hot flame as the treacherer brandishes my golden chalice as his own. While

he’s still screaming I swallow him whole. I left that entire place left to burn to the ground. I go

back to my den to digest my late night snack. The next day I go to wreck my havoc on the

rest of the villages and kingdom, for I’ve learned that there’s only one not to far away from

my dwellings. I fly out to the nearest fort and start destroying everything in my path only to be

suddenly attacked by a warrior whose might is greater than any I’ve known for the race of man. But he was old and surrounded by nothing more than cowards. Once they saw any sign

of struggle from their leader they all fled as far as could be, for they had no pride nor honor.

Then as this great man continued to struggle a younger warrior of his valor came to his aid.

Much to my surprise, this new foe was of much greater strength than the man I had been

struggling with. Before I realized it I was busy fighting the greatest warriors to have ever lived.

Stronger than giants, faster than demons, and as veracious as my own kind, I’ve never

battled such worthy opponents in all my years. For the older man who I’ve guessed to be this

land’s king sent off the young warrior to rescue as many of the nearby people possible. Too

bad the king was a perfect match for me. He sacrificed himself to save his people. He died a

noble death and I...I died the death of an ancient god of old. I died an honorable death and he

a noble one.


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