Fable
Ouroboros. Runner-Up in Christopher Paolini's Fantasy Fiction Challenge.
1. The last thing Leander could have possibly anticipated was the burden of a human — and a human child, no less. When he left the Old Gates in search of the priestess in the valley, he only meant to bring her magic back into the Otherworld, not find a child at his feet. The deities were becoming restless and hungry, and if magic wasn’t readily available the only option would be to harvest souls. For centuries, Leander was successful in maintaining peace at the Old Gates, and he had no interest in a child imprinting on him. Especially during such a turbulent time.
By Kaitlin Oster3 years ago in Fiction
The Sigil of the Dragon. Runner-Up in Christopher Paolini's Fantasy Fiction Challenge.
The mist clung to the ground, set to disappear as soon as the sun warmed the world again. In these early hours, only the slightest stains of pink and blue streaked across the sky, though the legendary canopy of the Hornhook Forest blotted this out. These twisted branches reached for the heavens, longing to get out, but none ever did. Navigating these lands was enough to drive one mad.
By Zack Duncan3 years ago in Fiction
The Marvelous Rendell and Bob
Rendell was an enormous maroon colored talking dragon with blue, red and yellow spotted eyes and enormous jagged green and red colored scales. Rendell lived deep within a cave with many tunnels and a small stream running down the center of its largest stony path. This not only gave the cave its wonderful petrichor smell, but the water pooled up at the end of the corridor making a convenient bath. The pooled water was usually warm from natural steam vents beneath, but sometimes rose to boiling temperatures. The steam caused water to bead up and eventually grow stalactites and stalagmites. The cave’s complicated burrows were an unsolvable maze to humans, keeping Rendell safe. Rendell had been living there long enough to know where every passageway led.
By Alex H Mittelman 3 years ago in Fiction
Of Dragoons and Noordith
The first memory of every Dragoon is how they die. It has been the curse of the Dragoon clan since the fall hundreds of years ago, and the meaning of such incantation lost to time. When Derolth received his ominous foresight, and his wings were clipped as is tradition, the final fire of the clan was lit.
By D.D. Schneider3 years ago in Fiction
Banoom
Banoom dragged her tail through the fallen leaves on the malt path, the autumn foliage now past peak color, her breath visible in the air above her snout. Cambria woods – especially the malt path – was her favorite place on Yirrth, a retreat from awkward interactions with family ‘friends,’ volunteers, or the Charitable Order of Gnomes. A place to avoid whomever she was appointed to stay with that week.
By D.P. Martin3 years ago in Fiction











