[Razor]

Synopsis: The almond eyed hunter follows the olive dragon back to Dragon Roost, where the hunt ends.


Still leagues away, he leaves his horse and treks onto dragon territory. He has become the hunter again, as silent as a blade of grass waving in the wind. The closer he comes, the slower he moves.

High on a bluff glows the fire of The Dragon Roost. Around it are dozens upon dozens of lairs and perches, each clamoring with dragons. He is like a mouse in their home, small and insignificant, weaving through the shadows.

Creeping up the ridged bluff, his almond eyes crest the flat catching the firelight as it dances hypnotically in the silver moonlit night. Three dozen or more of the majestic beasts meander around the enormous fire pit. The dragon he stalks is there. His gaze is like that of a lion's on a gazelle.

The olive dragon converses in a noiseless language to a cobalt blue several arm lengths bigger. Around them wade languid maroons, golden wheats, earthy russets, bottomless plums. Light from the blaze illuminates their smooth, sheer hides washing the scene in colors a painter would envy.

The hunter wonders if he is the subject of their conversation, instinctively he conceals his body better. Three others listen in, deep lines etched across the smooth scales of their mauls and foreheads. In the six and a half moon cycles worth of tracking the behemoth, this is the first time in almost a cycle the dragon has come back to the roost.

After a long wordless discussion, the olive dragon moves over and curls up for a night’s sleep. The almond eyes slip down into the shadows, winding into a nook for the night.

###

Morning light streams in, broken up by a knot of roots and jagged rocks. Stirring wearily, his memory reminds him why he is in a rocky hole. Saddling up to the entrance, he watches youthful dragons, some not much larger than a man, frolic about in the warm morning air. Their parents keep a watchful eye close enough to protect.

From a bush to a tree, to a jut of rock he slinks up the bluff's side. He finds his prey has already risen and left. Back down he descends in a painstakingly slow manner with so many eyes. A finger's width or more escapes the morning before he reaches the base.

Blending into the tropical vegetation, he sifts through the outlying roost. There on the outskirts, resides the gleaming olive dragon sunning itself on a rocky perch with half a dozen others. He can’t help but admire the beast, long but slimmer than many of its counterparts; flying comes as naturally to it as song to a bird.

The man finds a good vantage point and settles in, waiting for the beast to tread into the jungle once more. After most of the morning is gone, it rises to eat, play with some of the youngsters, and drink. It lays down for a nap in the cool shadows as the jungle heats up from the tropical sun. Tirelessly the eyes watch, but for all their earnest to attack, the body stays put. Before the sun dips below the treetops, it rises to bath and then joins a mass of its kin at the center of The Dragon Roost. The orange-red heat of the fire pit stirs to life, and more dragons than the hunter can count meander within its glow.

Almond eyes take in everything with curiosity. The cobalt blue is at the center with a glazed bronze and languid maroon flanking it. In front of them is the olive, its hide shines with health. Hordes of majestic beasts encircle the four.

The cobalt blue steps forward. ‘Varden! I am Baku, high elder of this roost! I suspect you are here watching, listening. I ask you to make yourself known.’

The soundless words form in the hunter's mind. His almond eyes narrow. A trap? Possibly. Dragons are a race like any other capable of dishonesty and treachery, but this doesn't feel like a trap.

Once he is completely concealed, ‘I am present and listening!’

At the mental shout, dragons pull their young ones closer, and look about in worry and wonder. It strikes the hunter has funny that such creatures, especially in their numbers, would be afraid of him. Then he thinks of human's fear of creatures smaller than them like spiders, mice and snakes. He smiles at how sentinel beings are alike. He slinks around to a better vantage point.

‘We wish for you to show yourself. One of ours has something he would like to say to you.”

The olive steps forward. It doesn’t try finding him like the other dragons. It knows Varden will not be found, if he does not wish to be.

With careful consideration, the hunter slinks onto the flat and emerges from the shadows smeared in dirt and splotched with sweat. Light leather hangs from his shoulders and clings to his hips tattered and ripped down his legs. What is left of a shirt that used to be white clings to his chest and torso.

The outlying circle finally notices the silent figure and sweeps open. He can’t tell if they are more shocked at his sudden appearance or how he looks. Cautiously he makes his way into the center. The olive approaches.

‘You have trailed me more than six phases of the moon. Tirelessly you track me through rain, marsh, quicksand, hunger and thirst. You attack me without fear, but always with cunning, and never with underhandedness.’ The smooth low thrum of the olive’s mental voice is a soothing sound to the hunter.

Varden bows. ‘You honor me with your words; tracking you is no small feat. Your ferocity is only matched by your astuteness. Opportunities to attack are short and few. I can say with all honestly I have never matched myself against a more formidable foe.’

The olive inclines his head to accept. Baku walks up beside the olive.

‘We have called you forth to end this hunt.' Varden tenses, anxiety mixed with anticipation. ‘Vithe has come to me, and we have discussed you and your actions at length, and he has made his decision.’

The man teeters on a fine line. On one side of that line is bliss, on the other is regret and failure. He has waited so many years for these words. Will they be his victory or defeat? Baku sits quietly, drawing out the silence, but Varden is ready to pounce on him and force the words free.

‘He sees you as an equal and he will take you as his Dragoon.’

The almond eyes dance with delight, and it feels like a wind has pulled him from the ground rushing him up into the night sky. Hunger, thirst, soreness and pain leave him. They no longer matter.

Vithe moves forward, his beautiful olive hide throwing firelight off in shimmers. Varden meets him and the large claw of the dragon squeezes his arm in a shake.

The deep, throaty crows of dragons trumpet their union.

‘Tonight we celebrate!’ Baku's voice booms through the crowd.

More dragons rise up in merriment. That night Varden eats and drinks until thirst and hunger are no more. He washes for the first time in cycles and sleeps on something softer than a branch, but his work is far from over. Now he must learn to fight alongside and atop Vithe, a feat not to be underestimated.

[Nupur]

Wow Razor, I love how you’re taking the story forward. The voice of narration is perfect for a fantasy. I like your word usage and sentence framing like I mentioned earlier. It’s very different and deeply efficacious. I like how the tone varies between formal and semi-formal, giving this tale a nice edge. Sound grammar, hardly any errors, and a great theme. You’ve got it all going for you! I’m looking forward to the next part.

[Zoidberg]

A single typo in this piece, but its brilliance outshines it. The detail you used was as fluid as it was vivid.

Around them wade languid maroons, golden wheats, earthy russets, bottomless plums. Light from the blaze illuminates their smooth, sheer hides washing the scene in colors a painter would envy.

I am now going to use as many adjectives as I feel necessary to describe this sentence: vivid, brilliant, majestic, wonderous, and romantic. The entire piece and the first part shimmers with sheer excellence.

Creeping up the ridged bluff, his almond eyes crest the flat dancing with firelight.

Should there be a comma between flat and dancing?

The ending was excellent, and I hope there is still more to come.

[Jimbalaya]

Ah, now I see where you are going with this, Razor. Very cool idea, I wonder what their ultimate goal will be. I think it's going to be fun to find out. Reminiscent of Eragon, but quite different and done in you're own style. Nice.

I didn't find many errors in this one:

...again, silent as a blade of grass...

Nothing wrong with it really, but it may flow better if you put another 'as' in there. '...again, as silent as a blade of grass...'

The horde of majestic beasts encircle the four.

For the sake of verb agreement, this shold be either 'encircles' or rearranged to read 'Hordes of majestic beasts encircle the four.'

What’s left of a shirt that used to be white clings to his chest and torso.

I thought you were asking a question with this line at first. The 'What's' kind of threw me. Maybe change it to 'What was' or 'What is' actually works better, as this is written in the present tense, and eliminate the possiblility for confusion.

Baku continues to pause, drawing it out, but Varden is ready to pounce on him to wrangle the words free.

This sentence reads kind of funky. Maybe: 'Baku sits quietly, drawing out the silence, but Varden is ready to pounce on him and wrangle the words he needs to hear free of the Dragon.' or something similar.

That's pretty much it, except I echo what I said in the first enstllment, I would like to experience more details in this. Again, your poetic nature shines through in this and the descriptions are wonderfu, but short and to the point. Don't be afraid to linger on a thought and explore the options of a scene to their full potential.

Another thing, I felt that the emotions in this one were a little dry. The scene at the end of this chapter is one that should make me want to cry. Make me cry or try your damnedest to do it. I know you can do it, judging by the way this story is written, everything you need is right there under your skin, you just have to coax it out.

Nice job again, Razor. Hope to see the next chapter soon!

[RENA HANDS]

Not a real issue, but Dragoon: The hunt, it should be Dragoon: The Hunt. Just my thought.

Is it necessary to repeat that hunter has ‘almond eyes?’

I think you mean the possessive…

The man’s dance clear(s) his mind…

A bit repetitive with…teeth, shooting, maul, tail, beast, dragon, roost, olive,

I don’t think you need (‘s) here…like a lion on a gazelle. ?

Question, would the hunter, a hunter really sleeps as he ‘waits’ for his prey?

I am not certain about, ‘the man,’ he is a hunter so why not find words describing the same label. Seeker, huntsman, sniper?

What about…As the morning disappears, (or describe the sun changing its phases.) ?

K, these are my thoughts for the first and second parts; you have good imagery, decent action, but both falls short for a hunting adventure. I lost interest more than half way through the story, but wanting to know the ending, I forced myself to complete it. Might I ask, how many ‘hunting’ stories have you read? I will rate 2/5!

[Gareth84]

Awesome story, the 2nd part really makes you want to read more.

I was curious as to why the dragons were being shown in such a positive light at first, as normally they would be the 'bad guys' but the end brought it home very nicely.

Hope to see more of this.

[Peppy]

Now this is good. There was no action, but it presented something I could eat up: charcter interaction and a very small morsel of a story. This time through, you weren't hindered by small details, only on telling a story. The first part of the story, you tried too hard for imagery, but in part two, you captured the style you were trying to use in part one. It didn't seemed force this time around.

The story flowed way better. I was expecting another bumpy road while I read, but I was surprise and happy to finally read along without groaning at how you worded the story. In part two, you made a universe I want to read more about.

Hmmmmmmmmmmm...

Good job.

The olive dragon converses in a noiseless language to a cobalt blue several arm lengths bigger.

I know what you mean when you typed this up, cobalt blue dragon, but it sounds like he's talking to a colour.

Nevermind, I read the story completely. It's forgivable now and it makes perfect sense..

Stirring wearily, his memory reminds him why he is in a rocky crevasse.

I think you should use a different word. I think you're using it wrong. Look up the word and see.

...flying comes as naturally to it as song to a bird.


It doesn't seem to flow well. Maybe you should say "a song to a bird."

It strikes the hunter has funny that such creatures, especially in their numbers,

It doesn’t try and find him, just looks off into the shadows.

"and" is ruining this sentence. I'll show you why: "It doesn't try..." it doesn't try what? Hmmmmmmmm... Use a different word.

Just another comma issue:

Light leather hangs from his shoulders and clings to his hips tattered and ripped down his legs.