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In the beginning there were many peoples of the earth. There were short, tall, stocky, thin, wide, pale, dark...even those who were colors one can only imagine. The world was much different in the days of the past.
Now...now it is a world ruled by fierce, vicious masters with iron fists. They grip their separate rulings with iron claws and suck the life from the world.
And few of the peoples of the earth remain. Many were wiped out - utterly destroyed by the new masters of the world in their attempts to retaliate. But some...some managed to cause harm before they disappeared forever. Some still even persist in surviving.
Dragons rule this world. Red is the greatest, the strongest - he who is Vrystill, one of the two remaining first dragons who lead their kind to bring the other peoples of the earth under their rule. He guides the others, though only so long as he remains stronger than them. Such is the way of dragons.
The strong lead; those who are weak are banished, left to die alone.
Seven other draconic races exist and rule sections of the world. Gold are second to Red with their mistress Kashtava, a behemoth mother drake. Third in the rise of power are the Blue - Slthtavill the Wise, eldest of the dragons and the other remaining first dragon. Beyond these three the power of the other four races is equal though once there was a fourth powerful one and only three of equal strength.
The Black flight once held tremendous power in their grasp with their master Terendill some twenty years ago. Terendill, however, became complacent in his rule of the Elven peoples and they took the opportunity they had been given by such a mistake. Their rebellion lasted for only a few days but in that little amount of time they slew the scion of the Blacks as well as his son, Kornill. Dragons of Red and Gold fell upon the Elven folk, all but destroyed them all except a few lucky survivors who managed to flee and hide in the forests. And the Black flight has been crippled since with its latest heir, Terendill's daughter, Talava, a child controlled by her consort Vrathill, who keeps her heavy with egg - so much so that it may soon kill her.
Of the last three flights there is little to say. A fool master, Garathill the Crippled who cannot fly and is mad from birth, rules Green. Those of the White are pacifists, lead by their mistress Meirava who is the gentlest of the dragon rulers. And last are the Brown flight, the only flightless dragon race and lurkers of the underground with their master Hrontill.
Seven draconic flights with seven different kingdoms and rules. With the peoples of the earth held tightly under their claws: feeding them, tending their young, and dying for them if need be.
And there is another price the peoples of the earth must pay.
The Dragonborn.
Beside their strength and superior size there is another power of the dragons: the power to assume the form of any living thing they wish. They can take the form of an Elf and given an Elven woman a child but there is the problem. A child born from a dragon, even in disguise, can never be the child of either parent. It will be of both and always, always half dragon.
More shattering for the mother - or, in the rare case, father - of a Dragonborn child is what happens to them. They are taken upon or even before their birth and raised by their dragon parent. The other has no right, according to draconic law, to see them.
Families and lives are broken every day by this terrible event.
Even I, favored servant and scribe of my lord Vrystill, have had my very life shattered by this crime.
Once...I had a wife. Mara. She was beautiful with a smile that could warm my heart and hair the color of fire. Perhaps that is what attracted her to him.
It was not my lord Vrystill: he abhors Dragonborn children and has killed two of his mates himself who tried to give him such. No, it was a young Red drake, fiery and with ideas of grandeur in his head, unbelieving of his lord's Dragonborn hating practices. Oh, Dragonborn are raised every day in my lord's keep, I assure you.
Vrystill only allows Dragonborn children when he commands it however. And any dragon - any! - that does not obey that order are killed within the instant of discovery.
Such is what happened to this Red drake. He broke into my home in a human guise, raping my poor Mara then returning to his lord to gloat. His blood still stains the floor in Vrystill's chamber though his corpse long ago fed my lord's hatchlings.
While he died, however, it was discovered several months later that Mara was with child. We both knew, to our horror, that it was not mine as she had not been able to bear even my touch since that terrible night. And my lord commanded me to bring her to the keep upon learning of it with a grumble in his voice - annoyance to have to deal with another Dragonborn child.
He had little to fear.
As we reached the middle of the bridge that connects my lord's keep to the citadel where the people of his capital city live, Mara paused and hugged me tightly. I returned her embrace curiously and she kissed me, scoring all thoughts from my mind as I reveled in her touch after so long without her.
Little did I realize what she plotted.
All too abruptly she pulled away from me...and spun past our guard to throw herself over the railing of the bridge. She fell without a scream - I remember that well - though there was screaming. I made myself hoarse for days and nearly went over myself as I tried to go after her, trying vainly to reach out to her falling body. The guards held me back from plunging off after her though I wish terribly every day that they had not.
Their lord's favored servant, however, must be protected.
My poor Mara couldn't stand the thought of having a child and losing it, even if it was a Dragonborn. Even if she had been raped. She adored children...and she couldn't bear it. So she made a choice and took both of them to oblivion along with every hope and dream I had for some resemblance of a normal life. It left me nothing.
I am my lord Vrystill's favored servant and scribe, Tarian Redwall. This is the record of my life.
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I see great potential here. The bridge scene REALLY grabbed my attention and I could picture it in my head perfectly like it was a movie scene, very evocative.
While I understand this is supposed to be the writing of a scribe, so it said during it, it seems too expository. I ... (
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