Great flames were lighting up the forest around the tiny shack in the middle of quite literally nowhere. The leader of the raiders, Fir, had it on good authority that a shaman lived here. His source, Esif, stood next to him. [b]“Come out!”[/b] Fir yelled towards the shack, as his men holding torches surrounded the shack. Soon the darkness had to flee into the trees their long shadows. But the Shaman did not come out.

[b]“He could be…preparing a spell.”[/b] Esif noted, a little afraid. She may have become one of the raiders, but she hadn’t felt like one of them yet. Still, despite her inexperience, Fir took note of her comment and gave a nod to one of the Hands. Who moved quickly towards the door with an axe in hand. He tried to kick the door open, but the latch held.

From within the old shaman warned: [b]“Begone foul demons! I have peered in your hearts! The god of fire slumbers! He is powerless to help you! Begone! Begone and I may forgive you. If you do not, a cursed existence awaits you all!”[/b]

Fir just scoffed at the remarks. As if the shaman had no idea what he was talking about. Fir raised his hand for all his raiders to see. Then clenched it. With bundles of wood and twigs, they stormed the walls. Soon the shack looked more like a massive bonfire was being prepared. Though the door was left exposed. The tinder caught flame from the torches, which in turn ignited the wood. Great flames began to lick against the walls as smoke crawled through them. The flames grew higher and Esif saw how the smoke rose from the roof. Soon a coughing old man fell out of his house with only a staff in one hand. None of the Hands wasted a minute before throwing hooks at him and pulling him closer to them. In the act he lost his elegantly carved staff. Though a Hand was quick to pick it up.

[b]“You fools! Do you not know who I am! A thousand curses upon you! May your spawn never see the light of day.”[/b] The old shaman tried to spat towards the raider’s leader. It barely reached his feet. He was less than impressed. He just moved his brazier-staff to his other hand. Revealing the woman standing next to him. [b]“Esif!”[/b] the old shaman exclaimed. [b]“Little girl.. what are you doing with these…”[/b] but then he noticed the torch in her hand. [b]“No… you wouldn’t.”[/b]

The Hands let the man fall down to his knees. Fir opened his mouth, ready to speak. But it was Esif who spoke: [b]“Yes. I have.”[/b] She took a step forward and passed Fir. She now stood before the old shaman. She could see the confusion and that one burning question: why? What could she possibly offer as an answer? She tried to be strong. But now that she was confronted with the question, she could barely answer it. Fir put a hand on her shoulder. [b]“You don’t have to answer to him.”[/b] He said as he stepped forward once more. He then turned to the shaman. [b]“You do. Magic. I know you possess it. I know you revere the goddess. Hand over everything you know and your death will be swift.”[/b]

The shaman just laughed like a maniac. Which just made the raid leader let out a weary sigh. He reached out with an opened hand and caught the thrown shaman staff in it. With it, he lifted the chin of the Shaman. [b]“You will regret not telling me.”[/b] Then the man was dragged back to his house. The wood was burning fiercely against the walls. It wouldn’t take much more until the whole thing was set ablaze. When the shaman realized what was going to happen, he tried to plant his legs into the dirt. Another Hand walked up to him and broke his leg with one fell sweep of his hammer. Fir gave the stolen staff to Esif and turned around to see how the shaman was locked inside his own house. [b]“Oh Ragnagedon! God of Fire! Accept this sacrifice! A worshipper of your false sister! See that not even magic stands against your followers!”[/b] he preached, then turned to his followers. [b]“We move north!”[/b]

[b]“What’s up north?”[/b] asked Esif.

Fir just smiled at her: [b]“Gods.”[/b]
[hr]
Ystra, the strange word kept echoing through her mind. It was the only word she could form. Everything else, every thought she had, was just images and primal needs. She felt a need to eat, to hunt, to kill. Constantly. Ystra was the most developed though she ever had and now she took it as what she was. Ystra. The Verzakian Dragon had fled her homeland. Some chose to stay. Perfectly happy to be nourished by the fire god’s essence in his own realm. While constantly running the risk of being discovered and killed by their creator. Most siblings chose to flee. But as soon as they had passed the desert, the very sight of the others enraged her. They seemed to feel the same way. A fight broke out in the skies of the pass leading into the forest. Most Verzakians’ left it behind them. Others met their untimely demise there. But as they reached a strange jungle, they felt a strong, warding power. Something akin to their own lord yet very, very different. None of the dragons dared to enter the jungle. Instead, they spread west and east. Some tried to go further north. Not Ystra, she had made her lair in the mountains east.

Further north there was a lake and a forest, her favorite hunting ground. She was roaming it now. Killing boars and deer. For now she knew a measure of peace, at least the most amount of peace any Verzakian Dragon could feel, as she slowly ate the bloody flesh. But her meal was soon to be disturbed by a stick flying out of one of the bushes. The wooden javelin just cracked upon her scaled skin. But it didn’t go unnoticed. Ystra turned towards the bush and spewed a jet of flame into it. From the flaming foliage, a man ran entirely engulfed in fire. His screams of pain sounded like the most beautiful song Ystra had ever heard. Other humans jumped out of their hiding spots. Some tried to attack her, others ran. Ystra was surprised. What were these things doing? Some tried to hit her with stone weapons. She felt that, but it only enraged her. One she ate whole. His flesh tasted sweeter than the youngest fawn the dragon had ever eaten. These things were so appetizing! And they were throwing themselves so readily at her. With a swipe she send one of the hairless apes flying through the air. Until he hit a tree with an audible snap. Others ran or tried to throw more sticks at her. One nearly hit her in the eye. That enraged her. More fire was blown around, more backs were rend open. Blood poured and trees burned around her. But the fire didn’t bother her. She was born from molten rock. Soon the human hunters ran for their lives. With Ystra close behind them. Uprooting trees and crushing all manner of bushes under her. And behind her the ravenous flames of Ragnagedon raged.

A terrible hunger drove her through the forest. Leaving a trail of destruction behind her. The essence inside her, that was normally so painful, was now making her feel strong. The hunters left the woods and ran into a meadow. A bit further she saw the source of her food. A camp, two rows of tents around a single fire. Inside it were numerous people. The whole sight excited her. She unfurled her wings and took the air. The hunters she passed below her didn’t matter anymore.

The people around the tent didn’t know what they saw. A black dot in the sky was approaching, while their hunters came running for the village. What was chasing them? Then, a loud roar traveled over the meadow. It answered everyone’s question. People began to scream and cry as Ystra approached. Women took their children, men their spears. Groups tried to run but the dragon was upon them. With her breathe she burned the grass and ground before them. Walls of fire blocked their escape. Pillars of smoke began to rise up as javelins were thrown up into the air. Chaos and fearful screams reigned. The meadow became thick with smoke. From within it, one could barely see anything. Other than large blasts of fire through the thick smog.

For the humans below her, the world was set ablaze. The black air killed some. But Ystra, burning and swooping down killed more. She drove her prey closer and closer together. The warriors foolishly believed they could stand a chance that way. It did not matter, Ystra flew down through the thick smoke. Once close to the ground she flew through the fire as if it was nothing, finally landing in the middle of it and right before the last group of people. The warriors stood firm. But the mothers and children within were crying. Out of all the commotion, Ystra could hear one word pounding in her skull. “Hayim.” They kept repeating. Ystra couldn’t understand human speech but Hayim she did understand. It hurt her skull and fed her painful flame. It had to stop. Ystra finally charged for the group, fully intend to finish the painful clamoring.

When the dragon was done a large column of smoke rose up towards the sky. Ystra took towards the skies once again. In the distance, she saw another pillar, and then another. It looked like her siblings had found their feasts as well.



[hider=Summary]The Old Shaman of Esif’s older tribe was captured and killed in a big bonfire. Then Fir, the leader, led them up north. Ystra, a Verzakian Dragon, slaughtered a whole tribe. Once in the air she noticed her pillar of smoke was not the only one.

Short version: Humanity is going to need divine help soon...[/hider]