Changes - from Valkoth's Tales
Horizons CS Edit:
We really want to encourage everyone to make sure their email address is updated. We're still seeing a few bounce backs when we send out emails to players - which means people won't receive news, plot reclamations, or subscription expiration notices. Which means when we do plot reclamations there's going to be some very, very unhappy people - and that's not fun - especially if someone has already bought a plot that went up for auction and we're caught in the middle.
We were going to refrain from posting this story on the forums - providing just a bit more incentive for people to ensure their email address is correct, but it's unreasonable for us to think that it wouldn't be posted. We want to maintain open forums as much as possible and having Léon take care of things is not a direction we want to head in.
Here's the announcement we made about this email and checking your inbox:
http://community.istaria.com/forum/s...ad.php?t=17605
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http://support.istaria.com/support-c...mod_id=2&id=29
And now, back to the original post about Valkoth's Tale:
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- Changes -
“The sky is burning,” Valkoth thought to himself. “At least some things
remain as they should be.”
The ancient dragon sat motionless, perched at the edge of a sheer drop,
high above the city of Dralk. Far below him, pools of lava – the Blood of
Drulkar – boiled and churned, sending burning embers soaring and dancing on
shimmering columns of superheated air. The updrafts soon met cooler winds,
laden with ash and acrid smoke from the depths of the Char. That union
birthed a turbulent, sulphurous haze which blanketed the land, bathing it
in the reflected glow of molten stone.
Normally, Valkoth found the peaceful vista soothing. His vantage point
allowed him an unsurpassed view of the entire city of Dralk, including the
area surrounding the portal and landing pad. It was a small area, only a
few dragonlengths across, but now it teemed with activity. The Gifted were
assembling for war, and the city resounded with the clamor of battle
preparations. In the center of the tumult stood two hatchlings, near to
bursting with excitement and anticipation. Valkoth knew both hatchlings
well, as he had guided and directed them along the arduous Rite of Passage
himself. Scarcely an hour ago, he had examined their Phylacteries and
pronounced them ready to face their final challenge: the undead abomination
known as the Shadow Dragon. Victory would earn adulthood, and prove their
right to be known as True Lunus.
True Lunus… Valkoth shook his head slowly. The Lunus path was to
subjugate naka, not stand next to them in battle! And yet, these
hatchlings – who he himself had mentored! – would be facing the greatest
trial of the Lunus path with bipeds by their side!
One of the hatchlings turned to look at the arrival pad as a newcomer
faded into existence. Rock crumbled to powder under Valkoth's talons as
insult was heaped on outrage. Not just another naka, but a gnome!
Seething, Valkoth watched the two hatchlings greet the diminutive biped
warmly. As they did, a Helian ancient called the war party to order before
stepping through the portal. One by one, the hatchlings and their
companions followed.
“They grow up so fast these days...” intoned a familiar voice. Startled,
Valkoth leapt sideways and turned, talons poised to strike. After a
moment, he lowered his claws and sat down again.
“My apologies, Semeneth. I did not hear you arrive. I was…
preoccupied.”
Semeneth sat down as well, smiling slightly. “You were brooding.” He
paused for a moment, gazing out at the city below them. “Nobody expects
you to agree with V'tieru's decision, least of all myself and V'tieru. You
are fulfilling your oath and your duty, as the General knew you would when
he entrusted you with carrying on his legacy. I honor you for doing so, as
you well know.”
Valkoth snorted, sending smoke rings racing from his nostrils. The
violent updraft sent them soaring skyward before ripping them asunder.
“Oh, please, stick to gloating! Save the sweet talk for all the
dragonesses sunning themselves outside your lair.” Semeneth glared for a
moment, then began to chuckle. Despite his best efforts to look affronted,
Valkoth began to smirk and soon found himself laughing as well.
The laughter faded and the two old friends were quiet for a time, gazing
out at the city. Finally, Valkoth sighed deeply. “My oath and my duty.
I'm not sure what that means anymore. Daily I seek Drulkar's guidance and
study the General's words, but the world changes so much… This naka peace
treaty binds us and suffocates the old ways. Our traditions are lost. We
should rule these creatures! Instead, we sit with them and are made wat…
made to forget who we are.”
Semeneth's eyes narrowed a moment, but he kept his tone forcibly light.
“’Waterblood’? I thought that calling long forgotten, old friend.”
Valkoth nodded apologetically. “As did I. It seems my tongue is still
faster then my brain. Please forgive me.” Semeneth nodded, but remained
silent. After a moment, Valkoth continued. “You see what these changes
have done to me. I must be of fire. I must speak for the old ways. I
must keep our people strong and proud. Yet all around me, I see us being
brought down, diminished, even made bearers of burdens for those who should
serve us! I speak out against it and call for the old ways to be honored,
but even I can see that doing so makes me look like some single-minded,
hidebound old fool.”
“So you look the same as you always do?” Valkoth's tail caught Semeneth
smartly across the thigh, but there was no force to the blow. Semeneth
chuckled, but when he spoke again there was no joviality to his voice.
“The world today is not the one that the Founders knew. In their day, the
bipeds were a threat, and one which had to be dealt with. They never
dreamed of a day when our choices would be to join forces or die. You
signed the peace treaty for the same reason I did: so that the Children of
Drulkar might live. Politics, old friend, is secondary to survival.”
Valkoth was silent for a time before he stood. “Still the pragmatist
after all these years? I suppose that, if you haven't changed by now, you
never will. Our identity as a people is not a matter of politics, nor is
it subject to accommodation. Our identity is our survival. We and the
naka have a common enemy, but nothing more. We will fight standing next to
them, but we will never join them.”
Semeneth grinned broadly and struck the ground with his fist. “There you
go! That's the old Valkoth!”
Valkoth nodded slowly, gazing up at the burning, turbulent sky. “The old
Valkoth, indeed. At least some things remain as they should be.”
_________________
We hope you've enjoyed the latest chapter in Chronicles of Istaria:
Valkoth's Tale.
Originally Posted by Takora Drakan
I wish we had more like it.
