The Legend of the White Dragon

This story will not begin with pleasentries such as "Once upon a time" or anything of the sort, because beginnings such as that usually denote a childs fantasy or a fable woven to entertain young or impressionable minds. This is a story of a world long gone and a time long forgotten;

The tale of a land in which fear and blood held reign.

It all begins with a dream, or rather, a nightmare. When cursed with the presence of the Dragon of Ivory Scales, even once, all begins to plummet to the depths of a living Hell. Your waking hours become haunted with terror of meeting this great horror again, and your sleep is disturbed and restless, fraught with horrible visions of its dreadfully omniscient eyes, all consuming jaws, and the deadly spiked tail dripping with the most terrible of poisons. This God of Death holds its power, even when it is nowhere to be seen. This is the terrible God who haunts the cities, forests and mountains of a once quiet world. He, with his infectious venom and blood curdling roar, is the one who instills fear in the hearts of hundreds and more still.

Long and snakelike is the body of this great Dragon, his scales gleaming with an unholy light, and impregnable to even the strongest of weapons. His blood is like a poison to the soul, and if it enters your body, it consumes you. A drop of blood, or a spray of his saliva within you will slowly Infect you, turning you from a once civil being into a mutant much like him, or creating within you a miniature copy that will devour you from inside out, or, should the Dragon God so please, inflict on you the worst of deaths you could imagine. He tears away your soul with a savage swipe of his wicked claws, or a maliscious strike from his spiked tail. The poison of Death spreads quickly through you, leaving little time for a struggle or a tear.

In the Death Dragons long reign, many have fallen, and many more will continue to slip into that eternal darkness. No soul alive can recall a time before this terrible God, but his image is praised with a psychotic intensity. Blood is spilt in the vain attempt of obtaining the indulgence of the vile white beast. Smoky fires fill the dark temples as the screams of sacrifical offerings echo through their stony halls, each participant in the slaughter madly craving the hideous prowess of their so called God. Many give their souls freely, begging to be taken, and to exist forever more by the side of their decieving idol. Many have fought to obtain that privelage, naught have found that right.

The air is cold, and the skies are heavy with rain. Not a soul walks the streets on this eve, for as the sun dies in the heavens, a savage threat draws its first breath in the throbbing darkness. Night has awakened this dreadful beast, the malevolent God that has taken its residence among this innocent people. A piercing eye opens in the unbreakable darkness, its vicious, fanged grin shattering the hope of thousands. The White Dragon prowls the blackness of night once more.

Shadows sweep across darkened windows and barred doors, craving entrance into the homes of the fearful people who worship the Dragon God. The unnatural, nerve shattering silence covers the city like a blanket, smothering all trace of happiness or hope. Tonight is the Feast of the Dragon. Tonight, he will choose his precious victims from the majority, and paint the roads and walls with their crimson innocence. Not a soul is fool enough to leave the momentary safety of their home, but hide as they may, the Death Dragon will find his Feast without doubt. A maiden of virginal purity, or a child of sweet innocence will soon be pierced by the maliscious God's desire.

Silence is shattered when the screams of a young maiden pierce the heavy air of the dark hours. Her heart pounds frantically within her breast, her eyes wide and wild with fear. She has been Chosen. She is to become the White Dragons First Prey, to most ; An honorable position, to this young girl ; A fate most horrible. The village Preistess solemnly dresses the girl in a gown of white, painting on her pale flesh a swirling design in blue. After assuring that the maiden is a pure sacrifice, the Preistess sends her plunging head first into the last moments of life. This young maiden is left standing out on the streets, and within moments, her white dress is stained crimson and nothing remains of the poor girl but a lock of her brown hair.

Soon after her, a young child follows, the mark of the dragon appearing on his palm like an infection, spreading quickly up his arm. His mothers eyes gleam madly with the deadly promise as she forces her child out into the dark of the night. The young boy stands trembling, tears shining on his round cheeks, as he wails and cries for his mother to let him back inside. No response comes from inside the darkened doorway, but a shadow sweeps over head, coming hungrily toward the childs fear-laden cries. His horrified screams soon echo off the stone and clay walls of the city as well. If one were to only peer out a window at this scene, they would see the child, a flash of white, and nothing but a blood stain to mark the event.

Many more follow this, the Dragon God still hungering for more. But as dawn draws near, he shall soon be forced to return to his hiding, and wait in darkness for the next Feast. Till then, a frightening hiss splits the air as the vile beast draws in on his Final Prey. The young woman turns, her thin black hair falling haphazardly over her brilliant green eyes. Two glowing eyes stare back at her from the darkness, and a faint ray of moonlight reflects off the deadly fangs, poised to strike. Fear slices through her, blinding her momentarily and freezing her to the spot, before instinct takes over and her body melts away. Where a woman once stood now stands an animal much like a jaguar, its surprisingly green eyes watching the God of Death a moment longer before dashing away into the shadows.

White streaks out from the darkness, the unholy light from the Dragons scales casting a faint illumination into the shadows. The prospect of a chase brings a demonic grin to the deadly jaws of this so called God. The jaguars form melts away, taking on the shape of a bird, and the new creature severs the air as it tries to gain height. Fanged jaws leap out unseen, catching the side of the bird before it slips just out of reach, but the damage has already been done. The Infection will soon spread, for the White Dragons saliva has done its work on his prey.

Light begins to peek over the hills, but he still has a moment or two longer, and so he follows his Final Prey. After a few yards the bird looses strength and falls to the ground, its body growing and changing until a young woman lays in its place once more. Her now red hair and deadly pale skin seem to glow in the fading darkness, but her wide, blackened eyes are already dulling over. The poison spreads quickly and painfully, her body convulsings violently with the contamination spreading through her veins, until, just as the sun rises and the Dragon retreats to his home in Hell, the maiden lies cold and dead on an abandoned street.

A lesson to all ye who hear the tale of the Dragon of Ivory Scales:

Tempt not the insatiable God of Death, for your soul will soon be in the grasp of his claws, and your sweet blood dripping from his fangs.