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TOPIC | [LORE] The Tower of Drabel
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[columns][center][item=poltergeist pile][/center][nextcol][color=transparent]..[/color][nextcol][color=#7995C1][font=garamond][size=7][size=4][b]the three brothers and the desert[/b][/size][/size][/font][/color]
[size=2]written by Disillusionist
special thanks to Thoroughbred, et al.
[color=#9494A9]2,132 words[/color][/size][/columns]
[color=#2F4557][i]Where does the wealth of the desert go when it falls beneath the sand?[/i]
That’s a question many dragons have asked. The desert is a harsh place; dry it may be, but its dunes rise and fall as capriciously as waves in an ocean—and they swallow many things just as greedily, too.
There have been efforts to recover these treasures, whether out of greed or goodwill. Some seek the fortune-laden caravans that strayed from merchants’ trails. Others seek loved ones lost to nature or bandit attacks. Few of these searchers return, and of those that do, even fewer have anything to show for their efforts.
Wealth speaks, particularly if it has an air of mystery around it. It wasn’t long before dragons started spreading stories, rumors, of those treasures lying unclaimed in the desert. The expanse stretching from Dragonhome to the Wyrmwound is vast, and there could so easily be tons of wealth hidden beneath the ground.
“A city filled with lost souls, wrought from the bones of empires past,” they whispered to one another, their eyes alight with greed. “[i]That’s [/i]where all the wealth of the desert goes.”[/color]
[center][url=https://msb-lair.tumblr.com/post/145417918994/two-sized-dividers][img]https://66.media.tumblr.com/c3cd6d9e8995b90e9c0c8f6e75c6069a/tumblr_pp56c73Yn61tddvg0o2_500.png[/img][/url][/center]
[color=#2F4557]Once, there were three brothers.
They were adventurous souls who had made their way across much of Sornieth, braving its untamed wilds and incredible dangers. They had made their fortune as explorers, and spent it much too fast. Now they wanted more.
The great northern desert, with its tales of a city brimming with centuries-old wealth, lured them in. This promised to be a great undertaking, an adventure to end all adventures!
“Yes,” they said to each other, “let us go find this city. It’s a popular tale and an old one; it’s likely it exists.” They reasoned that, even if the city wasn’t as grand as the one in the stories, it would still be a valuable discovery all on its own. Proving its existence would accrue them great fame—and sometimes that’s worth more than gold.
The brothers were seasoned explorers, and they made careful preparations. They spoke with the dragons of the desert, recording sightings, information. They dipped into what remained of their vaults and purchased spells and supplies. They told no one else of their plans—they were risk-takers, certainly, but they weren’t fools.
At the end of a spring that saw the dunes bursting into flower, the brothers set out at last: The eldest in the lead, the Archer, his keen eyes picking out the safest trails. Then the middle brother, the Fighter, their supplies carried upon his broad back. And finally the Spellcaster, weaving enchantments to hide their passage and guard them from all harm.
They set out beneath the crimson cloak of dusk, leaving no footsteps on the dunes.[/color]
[center][url=https://msb-lair.tumblr.com/post/145417918994/two-sized-dividers][img]https://66.media.tumblr.com/c3cd6d9e8995b90e9c0c8f6e75c6069a/tumblr_pp56c73Yn61tddvg0o2_500.png[/img][/url][/center]
[color=#2F4557]The brothers’ journey was long and arduous. The desert was not as lifeless as it often appeared, and they had to contend with Beastclans, brigands, and monstrous plants and animals. At times the desert itself assailed them with scorching heat and freezing cold. They contended with sandstorms and boulders crashing down from high crags. Even peace was no relief—this is when the desert is at its most dangerous, for in the sudden stillness it seems to whisper, and many a dragon has gone mad trying to decipher that sibilant voice.
Yet the brothers always prevailed, and always they went on.
From time to time, they found ruins poking out of the ground. “Is it this one?” they asked each other. They would camp there, if the place was safe, and spend a few days examining their surroundings. Always they determined that these places weren’t special, no different from the weathered stones of the desert, really. And after a few nights they would leave, heading deeper among the dunes.
Their confidence was waning when they stumbled onto a half-buried street of gray stone. Low, crumbling walls were around them, and they could still see the faint outlines of buildings. “Is it this one?” they asked each other again, though none of them believed it. The place was indistinguishable from all the other ruins they’d explored before.
Nevertheless, they decided to spend the night here and investigate. They were tired, and even these worn-down stones would give them shelter from the elements.
They settled down at the head of the street and began going through their supplies. The air grew chilly, and the moon rose, painting the dunes in silver.
Its light washed over the worn gray ruins. The wind blew, carrying with it faint but distinct whispers. [i]Hidden faces. Buried lands.[/i] The susurrus crescendoed, raising the spines on the brothers’ necks, and they stood back-to-back, staring around them in tense expectation.
They expected some terrible phantom to appear, and in a way, that happened. The moon blazed down on them, as bright as the noonday sun.
[i]And then, in an explosion of shapes and sounds, the city around them sprang to life.[/i][/color]
[center][url=https://msb-lair.tumblr.com/post/145417918994/two-sized-dividers][img]https://66.media.tumblr.com/c3cd6d9e8995b90e9c0c8f6e75c6069a/tumblr_pp56c73Yn61tddvg0o2_500.png[/img][/url][/center]
[color=#2F4557][i]An eye-blink[/i]—that was all it took. Suddenly the buildings towered around them, tall and strong and whole. Their stones gleamed silver in the fierce moonlight.
The brothers pressed closer together. “We’ve found it!” they whispered, their faces shining with excitement. “We’ve found the city where the wealth of the desert goes!”
They were whispering because suddenly, they were no longer alone.
Shapes appeared in the moonlight. They saw tattered clothes, armor, rucksacks and swords. Objects as worn and well-used as the ones they carried, or resplendent enough to have been entombed with kings. But these objects were as transparent and insubstantial as rainbows, and the dragons who bore them had lost their flesh. They were made of wispy lights and pale fire, and their raiments fluttered around them in a phantom breeze as they staggered through the city.
The brothers conferred behind a low stone wall. “We’re at the city’s edge,” they said. “We shall have to head in deeper. We’ll find the city’s heart, and inside, there’ll be empires’ worth of gold!”
They dipped their claws into their packs, bringing out sun-shielding cream, kohl, and knives. They scooped up pawfuls of gleaming white sand.
When they stumbled out from behind the wall a few minutes later, they looked very much like the phantoms that populated the city. Their eyes were ringed with kohl, and their faces smeared with pale cream and sand. Their cloaks had been shredded and covered with dust.
With a last wink at the others, each brother darted away. They headed deeper into the city to find the wealth that was surely concealed inside.[/color]
[center][url=https://msb-lair.tumblr.com/post/145417918994/two-sized-dividers][img]https://66.media.tumblr.com/c3cd6d9e8995b90e9c0c8f6e75c6069a/tumblr_pp56c73Yn61tddvg0o2_500.png[/img][/url][/center]
[color=#2F4557][i]“It’s not here,”[/i] thought the Archer, from his perch upon a high wall. He shivered as he looked down at the now-bustling city, where trails of pale fire marked each phantom’s path.
[i]“It’s not here,”[/i] thought the Fighter, as he burst out through a door. He’d been bulling his way through different buildings, but each one had been as empty as a discarded shell.
[i]“It’s not here,”[/i] thought the Spellcaster, and he dismissed his seeking enchantment. It told him there was no gold to be found, not anywhere near him, anyway.
At the end of a boulevard, the brothers met. Their faces, underneath the grime, were tight with frustration. “It’s not here!” they complained in harsh whispers.
“I’ve looked along the tops of the buildings,” said the Archer.
“I’ve gone through all the houses,” said the Fighter.
“And I’ve searched beneath the ground,” said the Spellcaster.
They bent their heads together and wondered, “Could we have made a mistake?”
It was the first brother who said, “We have only been here for a few hours; there is much of the city left to explore. I saw it from the rooftops—we have to go in deeper.”
Deeper into the city, where the buildings pressed closer together. Where the boulevards dwindled to alleyways, and the phantoms surged together in a single luminous throng. All the brothers were loath to hurl themselves into that mess, but the sigh of the desert called them; it whispered of gold and fame.
[i]“A few pawfuls, that’s all we need,”[/i] they assured themselves. [i]“We’ll take it, and then we’ll leave.”[/i]
They turned inwards, facing the city’s night-dark heart...and that was when they saw—
[i]—her.[/i]
They noticed her immediately, a dark shape moving through the throng. A [i]solid [/i]shape, as solid as they were. Their eyes narrowed in suspicion. [i]“A rival explorer? A robber?”[/i]
Phantoms stepped aside, clearing an avenue for her. She walked with patient deliberation: a small [url=https://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=49474613]Pearlcatcher[/url], her hide dully gleaming like the stones all around, her eyes hidden beneath a long and ragged mane. The pearl she held in one forearm, cradled against her chest, glowed like the distant moon.
The brothers exchanged wary looks. Out in these lawless lands, every stranger was automatically suspect. “Hail,” they greeted her as she approached them—but they loosened their weapons in their sheaths, and spells fluttered just on the edges of their minds.
She looked up, they thought to return their greeting. And now they fully saw her face...
...And in that instant, the brothers realized that they’d made a dreadful mistake.
The Pearlcatcher held up a paw.
[i]“Where does the wealth of the desert go...”[/i]
Such a simple motion from a frail being, but the force it generated was tremendous. It flung the three brothers in different directions. Left, right, and back up the boulevard. The phantoms stood as still as the towers now, watching as they went flying.
The brothers thudded against the walls or skidded across the stones. They were on their feet again in seconds, and they retaliated, firing arrows, hurling spears, or shooting bolts of magic. Light boiled in the center of the dead city, and for a moment their hopes soared—but quickly the light faded, and the Pearlcatcher stepped forward again.
Forward, always forward, as inexorable as death.
The brothers held their ground. They strove to destroy this specter, for they knew that if they let her go, she would pursue them, her hollow eyes taunting them in their dreams, her shadow looming over them even in the daytime. But the brothers’ attacks failed to even scratch her scales, and their spells were turned harmlessly aside. The other phantoms of the city simply stood. Neither helping nor harming the brothers, but simply watching. Waiting.
When the brothers realized this, their nerve broke. As one drake, they decided to flee. Their shredded clothing fell to the ground as they spread their wings to take flight.
But as they turned, they realized too late that escape was beyond them now. When they had entered the city, it had been a flat plane of land....
Now it was a deep cauldron, and they were at its heart, the very depths of the pit.
[i]Sinking beneath the desert sand, falling, sinking fast.[/i]
Still they tried to escape. Their great wings stroked the air. But now the phantoms moved, reaching out with pale claws; their fires burned away to show the bones lurking beneath. They dragged the brothers down, ripping away armor, weapons—and then feathers and scales...
The last the brothers saw of the outside world was the ring of towers that encircled the city. They loomed against the sky. No longer square towers—but impossibly tall and jagged teeth. And the moon, so pure and full that it blotted out the stars.[/color]
[center][url=https://msb-lair.tumblr.com/post/145417918994/two-sized-dividers][img]https://66.media.tumblr.com/c3cd6d9e8995b90e9c0c8f6e75c6069a/tumblr_pp56c73Yn61tddvg0o2_500.png[/img][/url][/center]
[color=#2F4557][i]Once, there were three brothers.[/i]
There were also fathers, mothers, sisters, lovers, children and ancestors and empires past...
All of them long vanished, beneath the desert sand.
[i]Where does the wealth of the desert go when it falls beneath the sand?[/i] —a popular question, to be certain. But perhaps wiser souls should ask—
[i]What[/i] is [i]the wealth of the desert? What does it desire to have in its grasp?[/i]
Deep in the desert is a city, like a spider upon a web. Or it might be better to think of them as a fisher, casting many lines into the void.
It casts one out now. See how he makes his way...
“Gather round, young ’uns and old, time for a merry tale! Or perhaps you’d prefer one to make your bones shiver—are you brave enough to listen until the very end?”
The dragon is a stranger, but that’s not unusual; nomads are always passing through these lands. His clothes are ripped and travel-stained, almost completely concealing his body. From deep within his cowl, his smile shines cheerfully.
[i]But his eyes, how dark they are...[/i]
There is a fisher somewhere in the desert’s sandy ocean who is always casting her lines. Warriors, traders, and wanderers—some of them from empires past.
Each line is a dragon, and each dragon carries a lure. But the lure is not wealth, for what need does a desert have for crowns and jewels and gold? There is no wealth to be found in that wilderness. The lure is only words—
“Where does the wealth of the desert go when it falls beneath the sand?”[/color]
[right][font=Copperplate Gothic Light][color=#7995C1][size=5][b]~ The End[/b][/color][/size][/font][/right]
[size=2][color=#9494A9][b]Credits:[/b] This story was originally written for Riot of Rot's [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/forums/qnc/2759235][i]Community Choice Writers' Fest (2019)[/i][/url], where it won first prize in the Prose category. Special thanks to [i]Thoroughbred[/i] for hosting the event and to everyone who voted![/color][/size]
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the three brothers and the desert written by Disillusionist special thanks to Thoroughbred, et al. 2,132 words |
That’s a question many dragons have asked. The desert is a harsh place; dry it may be, but its dunes rise and fall as capriciously as waves in an ocean—and they swallow many things just as greedily, too.
There have been efforts to recover these treasures, whether out of greed or goodwill. Some seek the fortune-laden caravans that strayed from merchants’ trails. Others seek loved ones lost to nature or bandit attacks. Few of these searchers return, and of those that do, even fewer have anything to show for their efforts.
Wealth speaks, particularly if it has an air of mystery around it. It wasn’t long before dragons started spreading stories, rumors, of those treasures lying unclaimed in the desert. The expanse stretching from Dragonhome to the Wyrmwound is vast, and there could so easily be tons of wealth hidden beneath the ground.
“A city filled with lost souls, wrought from the bones of empires past,” they whispered to one another, their eyes alight with greed. “That’s where all the wealth of the desert goes.”
Once, there were three brothers.
They were adventurous souls who had made their way across much of Sornieth, braving its untamed wilds and incredible dangers. They had made their fortune as explorers, and spent it much too fast. Now they wanted more.
The great northern desert, with its tales of a city brimming with centuries-old wealth, lured them in. This promised to be a great undertaking, an adventure to end all adventures!
“Yes,” they said to each other, “let us go find this city. It’s a popular tale and an old one; it’s likely it exists.” They reasoned that, even if the city wasn’t as grand as the one in the stories, it would still be a valuable discovery all on its own. Proving its existence would accrue them great fame—and sometimes that’s worth more than gold.
The brothers were seasoned explorers, and they made careful preparations. They spoke with the dragons of the desert, recording sightings, information. They dipped into what remained of their vaults and purchased spells and supplies. They told no one else of their plans—they were risk-takers, certainly, but they weren’t fools.
At the end of a spring that saw the dunes bursting into flower, the brothers set out at last: The eldest in the lead, the Archer, his keen eyes picking out the safest trails. Then the middle brother, the Fighter, their supplies carried upon his broad back. And finally the Spellcaster, weaving enchantments to hide their passage and guard them from all harm.
They set out beneath the crimson cloak of dusk, leaving no footsteps on the dunes.
The brothers’ journey was long and arduous. The desert was not as lifeless as it often appeared, and they had to contend with Beastclans, brigands, and monstrous plants and animals. At times the desert itself assailed them with scorching heat and freezing cold. They contended with sandstorms and boulders crashing down from high crags. Even peace was no relief—this is when the desert is at its most dangerous, for in the sudden stillness it seems to whisper, and many a dragon has gone mad trying to decipher that sibilant voice.
Yet the brothers always prevailed, and always they went on.
From time to time, they found ruins poking out of the ground. “Is it this one?” they asked each other. They would camp there, if the place was safe, and spend a few days examining their surroundings. Always they determined that these places weren’t special, no different from the weathered stones of the desert, really. And after a few nights they would leave, heading deeper among the dunes.
Their confidence was waning when they stumbled onto a half-buried street of gray stone. Low, crumbling walls were around them, and they could still see the faint outlines of buildings. “Is it this one?” they asked each other again, though none of them believed it. The place was indistinguishable from all the other ruins they’d explored before.
Nevertheless, they decided to spend the night here and investigate. They were tired, and even these worn-down stones would give them shelter from the elements.
They settled down at the head of the street and began going through their supplies. The air grew chilly, and the moon rose, painting the dunes in silver.
Its light washed over the worn gray ruins. The wind blew, carrying with it faint but distinct whispers. Hidden faces. Buried lands. The susurrus crescendoed, raising the spines on the brothers’ necks, and they stood back-to-back, staring around them in tense expectation.
They expected some terrible phantom to appear, and in a way, that happened. The moon blazed down on them, as bright as the noonday sun.
And then, in an explosion of shapes and sounds, the city around them sprang to life.
An eye-blink—that was all it took. Suddenly the buildings towered around them, tall and strong and whole. Their stones gleamed silver in the fierce moonlight.
The brothers pressed closer together. “We’ve found it!” they whispered, their faces shining with excitement. “We’ve found the city where the wealth of the desert goes!”
They were whispering because suddenly, they were no longer alone.
Shapes appeared in the moonlight. They saw tattered clothes, armor, rucksacks and swords. Objects as worn and well-used as the ones they carried, or resplendent enough to have been entombed with kings. But these objects were as transparent and insubstantial as rainbows, and the dragons who bore them had lost their flesh. They were made of wispy lights and pale fire, and their raiments fluttered around them in a phantom breeze as they staggered through the city.
The brothers conferred behind a low stone wall. “We’re at the city’s edge,” they said. “We shall have to head in deeper. We’ll find the city’s heart, and inside, there’ll be empires’ worth of gold!”
They dipped their claws into their packs, bringing out sun-shielding cream, kohl, and knives. They scooped up pawfuls of gleaming white sand.
When they stumbled out from behind the wall a few minutes later, they looked very much like the phantoms that populated the city. Their eyes were ringed with kohl, and their faces smeared with pale cream and sand. Their cloaks had been shredded and covered with dust.
With a last wink at the others, each brother darted away. They headed deeper into the city to find the wealth that was surely concealed inside.
“It’s not here,” thought the Archer, from his perch upon a high wall. He shivered as he looked down at the now-bustling city, where trails of pale fire marked each phantom’s path.
“It’s not here,” thought the Fighter, as he burst out through a door. He’d been bulling his way through different buildings, but each one had been as empty as a discarded shell.
“It’s not here,” thought the Spellcaster, and he dismissed his seeking enchantment. It told him there was no gold to be found, not anywhere near him, anyway.
At the end of a boulevard, the brothers met. Their faces, underneath the grime, were tight with frustration. “It’s not here!” they complained in harsh whispers.
“I’ve looked along the tops of the buildings,” said the Archer.
“I’ve gone through all the houses,” said the Fighter.
“And I’ve searched beneath the ground,” said the Spellcaster.
They bent their heads together and wondered, “Could we have made a mistake?”
It was the first brother who said, “We have only been here for a few hours; there is much of the city left to explore. I saw it from the rooftops—we have to go in deeper.”
Deeper into the city, where the buildings pressed closer together. Where the boulevards dwindled to alleyways, and the phantoms surged together in a single luminous throng. All the brothers were loath to hurl themselves into that mess, but the sigh of the desert called them; it whispered of gold and fame.
“A few pawfuls, that’s all we need,” they assured themselves. “We’ll take it, and then we’ll leave.”
They turned inwards, facing the city’s night-dark heart...and that was when they saw—
—her.
They noticed her immediately, a dark shape moving through the throng. A solid shape, as solid as they were. Their eyes narrowed in suspicion. “A rival explorer? A robber?”
Phantoms stepped aside, clearing an avenue for her. She walked with patient deliberation: a small Pearlcatcher, her hide dully gleaming like the stones all around, her eyes hidden beneath a long and ragged mane. The pearl she held in one forearm, cradled against her chest, glowed like the distant moon.
The brothers exchanged wary looks. Out in these lawless lands, every stranger was automatically suspect. “Hail,” they greeted her as she approached them—but they loosened their weapons in their sheaths, and spells fluttered just on the edges of their minds.
She looked up, they thought to return their greeting. And now they fully saw her face...
...And in that instant, the brothers realized that they’d made a dreadful mistake.
The Pearlcatcher held up a paw.
“Where does the wealth of the desert go...”
Such a simple motion from a frail being, but the force it generated was tremendous. It flung the three brothers in different directions. Left, right, and back up the boulevard. The phantoms stood as still as the towers now, watching as they went flying.
The brothers thudded against the walls or skidded across the stones. They were on their feet again in seconds, and they retaliated, firing arrows, hurling spears, or shooting bolts of magic. Light boiled in the center of the dead city, and for a moment their hopes soared—but quickly the light faded, and the Pearlcatcher stepped forward again.
Forward, always forward, as inexorable as death.
The brothers held their ground. They strove to destroy this specter, for they knew that if they let her go, she would pursue them, her hollow eyes taunting them in their dreams, her shadow looming over them even in the daytime. But the brothers’ attacks failed to even scratch her scales, and their spells were turned harmlessly aside. The other phantoms of the city simply stood. Neither helping nor harming the brothers, but simply watching. Waiting.
When the brothers realized this, their nerve broke. As one drake, they decided to flee. Their shredded clothing fell to the ground as they spread their wings to take flight.
But as they turned, they realized too late that escape was beyond them now. When they had entered the city, it had been a flat plane of land....
Now it was a deep cauldron, and they were at its heart, the very depths of the pit.
Sinking beneath the desert sand, falling, sinking fast.
Still they tried to escape. Their great wings stroked the air. But now the phantoms moved, reaching out with pale claws; their fires burned away to show the bones lurking beneath. They dragged the brothers down, ripping away armor, weapons—and then feathers and scales...
The last the brothers saw of the outside world was the ring of towers that encircled the city. They loomed against the sky. No longer square towers—but impossibly tall and jagged teeth. And the moon, so pure and full that it blotted out the stars.
Once, there were three brothers.
There were also fathers, mothers, sisters, lovers, children and ancestors and empires past...
All of them long vanished, beneath the desert sand.
Where does the wealth of the desert go when it falls beneath the sand? —a popular question, to be certain. But perhaps wiser souls should ask—
What is the wealth of the desert? What does it desire to have in its grasp?
Deep in the desert is a city, like a spider upon a web. Or it might be better to think of them as a fisher, casting many lines into the void.
It casts one out now. See how he makes his way...
“Gather round, young ’uns and old, time for a merry tale! Or perhaps you’d prefer one to make your bones shiver—are you brave enough to listen until the very end?”
The dragon is a stranger, but that’s not unusual; nomads are always passing through these lands. His clothes are ripped and travel-stained, almost completely concealing his body. From deep within his cowl, his smile shines cheerfully.
But his eyes, how dark they are...
There is a fisher somewhere in the desert’s sandy ocean who is always casting her lines. Warriors, traders, and wanderers—some of them from empires past.
Each line is a dragon, and each dragon carries a lure. But the lure is not wealth, for what need does a desert have for crowns and jewels and gold? There is no wealth to be found in that wilderness. The lure is only words—
“Where does the wealth of the desert go when it falls beneath the sand?”
~ The End
Credits: This story was originally written for Riot of Rot's Community Choice Writers' Fest (2019), where it won first prize in the Prose category. Special thanks to Thoroughbred for hosting the event and to everyone who voted!
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