Chapter #1Realm of your choice!! by: Bmao   Rules of Realm Traveling.
1. Blend in with the environment
2. Make sure your dragon is hidden unless they are commonly seen
3. Keep your wings hidden at all times
4. Do not use your powers, or modern technology unless your, or your dragon's survival is threatened
5. If your cover is blown, invent a story that explains why you are the way you are
6. Preserve the integrety of the world
7. Return the warriors to their world once they are not needed anymore
Yup, those were the rules, you thought to yourself. You threw yourself on your bed, staring at the rocky ceiling your dragon weyr. Not that I'd ever care to follow them
The decision to have a dragoner travel to another realm was one born out of desperation. Draconia was losing the war, losing rather badly in fact. The reasons, as you saw it, were obvious. Draconia had modern technology, that much was true, but its doctrines were medieval. You had seen riders charge machine gun nests with a sword, or command their dragons to challenge fighter aircraft. You'd pointed it out to Lord Alucand and his ancient cronies again and again, only to be told to stay in your place.
Thus, it came as a shock when you and your faithful green dragon Drakreanor had been chosen by the enigmatic Moderator for this mission, and more so that the council actually agreed to it, rather than a more 'responsible' and 'incorruptible' dragoner. Perhaps they were frightened of the moderator's powers? Or maybe they despised you that much that they would jeopardize Draconia just for their intrigues? Or was it because the moderator was himself desperate or out of his mind, and truly had nobody else to send? If so, that in itself explained just how desperate your adopted nation's situation was.
As for how you had gained the power to traverse between realms in the first place; that was a rather...complicated situation. During one of the endless battles, you had been captured by the Malthinae, only to be rescued by a man who simply called himself 'The Moderator'. You had not expected to see him again, until he had come through the portal to preach his 'prophesy', that you were to be the one that would be given the power to traverse the realms.
The mission itself was quite vague; you were to somehow 'convince' the protagonists of these mysterious books to fight the Malthinae, yet the Moderator had not said how exactly Gil was to do that.
Whatever the case, tonight was the last you and your dragon would spend in Angelos weyr.
You rolled to the side, catching the gaze of your faithful dragon, Drakreanor. With a powerful, muscular frame more than fourteen feet tall, twice as long, and a wingspan triple that, he was more than capable of causing even the bravest and the most fanatical to quail before his wrath.
His fiery breath could incinerate both man and machine and from his head, sharp horns that could pierce concrete bunkers. Neither bullet nor grenade could pierce those shiny green scales, which he always kept flawless for his numerous suitors. Most importantly however, he was a friend who would not hesitate to protect you if it cost him his life, and one you could share your every concern and worry.
Currently, you were sorting through the various worlds you could travel through. The first one you read was one called 'The Dragonriders of Pern'. It was a realm rather similar to your own, in which it was populated by dragons and their riders, bonded telepathically.
If we work our way up the ranks and gain a position of influence we'll have a chance of recruting them. Better off is that there would not be a big adjustment factor for them when they arrive in our realm.. said Drak.
Well, at least we'll blend in somewhat Drak comments, smiling indolently. Unconvinced, you stretch out your dragonwings, miniatures of Drak's. You feel your hand over its membranous structure; it was a physical characteristic that permanently defined one who had bonded to a dragon. That is so not blending in.
Disgruntled, you stare at the novel you held in your hand; "The Dragonriders of Pern", and toss it across the floor.
"They're only good at fighting thread, and one of the problems is that they have the same sort of corrupt beauracracy that Draconia has as well..." you said.
Don't you think you're being a bit cynical? Drakreanor responds angling his head toward the book. You frowned.
As if the Pernese would ever take the word of a green dragon seriously, not when they perferred bronze. But you knew full well that Drak was larger, more powerful, faster, more intelligent, not to mention more virile as any ancient bronze dragon.
Drak let out a satisfied grunt at your thought, he always enjoyed being flattered.
Well, would you rather have us teleport to 'Middle Earth' instead? Drak reasons, using his tail to push another book across the floor and laying it down in front of you. You raised your eyebrow, picking up a book titled 'Lord of the Rings'. Oh, that book....
You remembered how there were already so many different freakish creatures like 'hobbits' (which you noticed were opposite of the overwhemingly tall, overwhemingly cruel Mylandians), orcs, elves, humans, even talking trees for hells sake. (Which Drak would of course burn down the first chance he got)
You reckoned that the 'Fellowship' would be more prepared for combat than your ancestors. Besides, you really took a liking to that Aragorn dude.
However, the technology gap was a big problem. You just hoped Legolas wouldn't try to shoot down a chopper with arrows. Or the dwarf Gimli would charge a machinegun nest.
"Also, think about this...Imagine, what would happen to Middle Earth itself if we introduced modern weaponry? There'd be absolute chaos!!" you cry to yourself.
Yup, absolute chaos... If there was one thing you were good at, it was creating that. Indeed, the elders wings grew a little grayer and frailer every time they were enlightened by your presence.
Giljaras...don't you dare try that Drak warned, his eyes flashing menacingly.
Moving on, you pick up another book, titled "Harry Potter". Drak's eyes open widely.
They've got lots of magic in this place, which will be good for you. Yet I'd probably have to be away from you for long periods of time. Drak informed with cryptic foreshadowing. The thought of being away from Drak scared you, since dragoners were telepathically connected to their dragons.
If the weyrleaders had hoped taking him away would sedate you, they were wrong; it only fueled a new degree of insanity conjured from the depths of your madness.
"Yet I don't want to have to stay at Hogwarts for seven years and go through puberty again to wait for the 'wizards' grow up!!"
However, one of the reasons you were even considering this realm was that the Malthinae had discovered a way to neutralize most of Draconia's magic corps, and minimized the effect of the actual spells against them as well; obtaining these foreign magics from the Harry Potter realm might be able to turn the table...
"Maybe I could try to get in as a transfer student as a 7th year. I know I should be trying to get into Gryffindor, but I have this strange feeling I'll be trashed in Slytherin instead" you throw your hands up in exasperation. Slytherin was where they put all the evil kids and fascists. You were forced to agree with the weyrleaders when they said you were crazy, but definitely not evil.
You could already see yourself snap at Snape in Potions class, or punch out that sneer faced kid at broomstick practise. You figured that was the only worthwhile activity you could possibly initiate at Hogwarts.
Well, at least Hermione was kind of hot...
"Gil!! You have a girlfriend!!" Drak grunts, picking at your thought. "Like, you wouldn't do the same!!" you retort, throwing your arms up in exasperation. Drak froze, his eyes shifting as if he didn't know what you were talking about. You knew full well that if Terra ever eased her hypervigilance, Drak would not hesitate to create a harem of the most gorgeous females in the land, obedient to his every commmand. As for girlfriends, heck what was a girlfriend really here? One of the strangest things about the weyr was that marital bonds were the exception rather than the norm. You were a dumb kid, and there were these beautiful females...and well...it went on from there.
Man, we're both terrible...
Indignant, you kick all the books across the cave floor, wishing they never existed. "Sorry Gil, but we're going to have to pick somewhere" Drak said, laying down on his belly. You didn't respond, nor did you have a response for him. No matter where you went, it meant leaving yours behind.
Tired, you lay down next to Drak and reveled in his ever-present, ever-comforting carress.
"At least we'll be going together..." you mutter, closing your eyes.
Somewhere away from home.... | Members who added to this interactive story also contributed to these: |
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