Chronicles of Draezoln

Tales of the world of Draezoln

Monthly Archives: September 2014

Chapter 1-4

Garkhen found griffon-riding to be a rather… uncomfortable experience. The saddle was clearly made for someone of Almonihah’s dimensions, rather than his own, and there was certainly no allowance for a tail. Still, he was grateful that he was in the saddle, as opposed to the bronze-scaled Ranger, who was simply laying down and holding on to the back of the saddle. He wondered why Almonihah did not simply fly with his own wings, but thought it best not to ask. 


They flew for a while, and then Zakhin’Dakh shrieked something above the roar of the wind. Almonihah grimaced as the griffon slowed. 


“’Nother Javni’Tolkhrah. Flying one,” he growled. “Zakhin’Dakh ‘ll sort ‘t out.”


After a moment the griffon shriek-roared and dove suddenly. Garkhen clutched at the saddle as the air rushed past him, and caught a brief glimpse of a bat-like monstrosity before Zakhin’Dakh plowed into it, tearing and biting. It made an odd, wailing screech, and soon was dropping to the ground.


Almonihah patted one hand on Zakhin’Dakh’s flank, saying something to which the griffon replied with an enthusiastic screech. Then he looked up at Garkhen. 


“Feel better ‘f we burned th’ corpse, but I think ‘t’s better t’ get t’ the Ranger Order faster.”


“Why is this?” Garkhen asked.


“Don’t like letting th’ animals eat something corrupted by Jivenesh,” Almonihah growled in reply.


Garkhen nodded silently in understanding. 


They flew for most of the day, stopping a few times to let Zakhin’Dakh rest, hunt, and drink. Almonihah offered nothing to Garkhen, but he was well-provisioned, so the half-blue dragon did not complain. As the sun sunk low in the sky, the Ranger spoke again to his friend, and they descended into a small valley. 


“We’ll camp here,” he said, and immediately went about taking gear off of Zakhin’Dakh, leaving Garkhen to scramble to dismount before the saddle was unbuckled from beneath him. 


He pitched his own tent while Almonihah cared for the griffon, suspecting (rightly) that he would be fending for himself in this thing. Once both of them had prepared for the night, Garkhen spoke.


“I have been setting wards for myself while I have been traveling, given the frequency of attacks by the Madness-Touched. I believe that this precaution is still necessary, yes?”


Almonihah stared suspiciously at Garkhen for a long moment, then muttered, “Go ahead.”


He watched closely as the Warder set his wards, enough so that Garkhen wondered if he actually understood anything he was doing. He did not say anything further, however, instead turning to Zakhin’Dakh and speaking a little. Then the griffon flew off to hunt again.


The two half-dragons did not speak that evening as each prepared his own meal. The silence made Garkhen uncomfortable, but he rather suspected his companion would not respond well to attempts at conversation. And so instead, he listened to the sounds of the wild mountains until Zakhin’Dakh returned. Not long after, he retired to his tent to sleep.




Awkward enough there, you two?

Chapter 1-3

A squeal-like roar heralded the beast’s appearance as it came crashing through the underbrush of a nearby grove of trees. It was a massive creature, larger than a warhorse, and looked something like a boar with the fur of a spotted jungle cat. Its face was a tangled mass of tusks, all of which pointed outwards with gleaming, honed points.


Almonihah’s bow twanged, and a glowing arrow blasted into its snout. It squeal-roared again, but did not slow. Zakhin’Dakh shriek-roared back and leaped into the air, while Garkhen struggled to get his shield and mace out while at the same time moving so as to be not in its direct path. Almonihah stepped the other way, nocking another arrow.


The Madness-Touched turned to follow Garkhen, who finally had Silverflame in hand. He inhaled, then breathed out a bolt of lightning. Again it squealed in pain, but though it stumbled slightly it still came on. Almonihah’s bowstring sang, and another arrow buried itself in its side, but still it came on. Garkhen braced himself, debating for just a moment whether he should try to leap aside, duck under, or something else.


Then Zakhin’Dakh crashed into its side, talons digging deep. The Javni’Tolkhrah squeal-roared yet again as the huge griffon’s momentum knocked it over just short of Garkhen. It struggled and kicked as Zakhin’Dakh strained to keep it pinned down. Seeing an opportunity, Garkhen moved, armor crashing as he ran in a great circle to the top of its head and brought down his mace on it. The namesake silver flames of his mace sizzled as it struck, bringing a weaker squeal from the beast. Before he could strike again, the griffon’s beak jabbed down as Zakhin’Dakh bit into its throat. After a few more moments of struggle, it lay still, dead. 


Breathing heavily more from the shock of the suddenness of it all than from exertion, the half-blue dragon looked over at Almonihah. He had another arrow nocked, but slowly lowered his bow and replaced it in his quiver.


“Clumsy,” he growled, then grudgingly added, “Worked.”


Garkhen nodded, wordlessly. “That is the largest one I have seen thus far, fortunately. I do not know if I could have slain it alone.”


The half-brzone dragon snorted. “Got that much practice, hm?”


The Warder nodded. “I have faced quite a number these past years, both alone and with a companion.”


Almonihah frowned. “Southern Rangers shouldn’t…” He trailed off with a quiet growl.


“Rangers?” Garkhen repeated. “I have heard of them, but very little.”


“I’m one. Northern, though.”


“Indeed?” Garkhen was impressed. “What has brought you here then, if I might ask?”


“You may not,” Almonihah snapped back, sarcastically mocking Garkhen’s polite tone. “Sounds like should check on th’ Southern Rangers, though…” He paused. “’nd you’re coming, Blue. Not trusting you out ‘f my sight.”


Garkhen sighed. “I agree to come,” he said, keeping his even tone. “Had I known there were some I might speak to of this matter, I would have done so earlier.”


The Ranger snorted and spoke again to the griffon in the odd, breathy language he had used before. Zakhin’Dakh ambled over to a nearby rock and knelt down. 


“Get on,” Almonihah ordered. “Faster t’ fly, ‘nd you won’t be slowing us down.”




Sorry about being a day late. I’ve just been saving an alternate Earth from an alien invasion, and that’s kept me kind of busy.

Chapter 1-2

For a moment, all was still. Garkhen was frozen, considering the arrow pointed at his snout. Almonihah was still, muscles taut as he held his bow drawn. Even Zakhin’Dakh did not move, unsure about just what his friend wanted with another dragon-person. 


Finally Garkhen spoke. “Because who I am is no more determined by the color of my scales than who you are,” he stated, calmly, his gaze focusing on the bronze half-dragon. 


Almonihah bared his teeth and growled, but said nothing. Forging ahead, Garkhen continued, “Because you do not know me, nor who I am, any more than I know you. To kill me would be cold-blooded murder.”


Zakhin’Dakh shifted, trying to look back at Almonihah, which threw off his aim. With another frustrated growl, the Ranger shook his head and slowly released the tension in his bow. He spoke to the griffon, who stepped back with an almost apologetic chirp.


Cautiously, Garkhen rose to his feet, looking sadly at his fellow half-dragon. He had only seen other half-dragons once, and this meeting simply confirmed to him how unique his species was. Though he would hardly say that a half-dwarf/half-blue dragon was of the same species as a half-human/half-bronze dragon, as this man seemed to be.


“I am called Garkhen ze’Darkhen’Sem’dor,” he stated once he was fully on his feet.


Almonihah snorted. “What kind ‘f name’s ‘Guardian of Small Dragons’?”


“The only one I have ever known,” the Warder replied, calmly. He noticed the short frill on the half-bronze dragon’s head was stiffly erect—perhaps a sign of his emotional state?


The griffon screeched with a worried tone, and Almonihah glanced down at Zakhin’Dakh’s head. Garkhen thought he saw the head-frill relax just slightly. 


“Right,” the Ranger growled. “So what were you doing?”


“Traveling between villages,” Garkhen patiently explained. “It is my habit to visit the more distant hamlets periodically and see if there are any that need my help. While it has been fairly peaceful here since the war, yet there are still occasional troubles with Javni’Tolkhrah or other creatures.”


“Hmph.” Almonihah looked the half-blue dragon up and down, suspiciously. “So…”


Suddenly Zakhin’Dakh shrieked and stood fully upright, head turned towards some nearby underbrush. Almonihah’s nostrils flared. 


“Speak ‘f Javni’Tolkhrah…” he muttered, nocking an arrow again. 




Almonihah’s body language is hard to keep track of. Not only does he have all the regular human things, he also has his head-frill and his wings, which can be fairly expressive as well. 

Book 3, Chapter 1-1

Book Three

“Almonihah is… a very private man. Even after traveling with him for these years I feel I know little of him. And yet, for all this, we have become friends. Why? I think it is, that deep beneath the hardness he wears, beats a heart as dedicated to the defense of others as my own. I have seen the danger he has braved for the sake of a child, and I have seen his anger at those who would prey upon the innocent. For all that we follow different gods, yet are many of our goals the same.”


“Do I agree with his… attitude? I do not think it right for me to judge. Until these conversations, I did not know much of his history. I suspected rather quickly that he was… wounded, perhaps, is the best way to say it, but little more.”


“Zakhin’Dakh? He is quite the contrast, is he not? While I cannot understand his speech, yet his enthusiasm, his curiosity, his simple joy in life are clear. I would consider myself his friend, yes. He is certainly capable of such relationships.” –Garkhen

Garkhen? S’pose I’ve gotten used t’ him. Good t’ have in a fight. Good person, too.” —Almonihah




Chapter 1: Unusual Alliance

“I would not say I believe in fate as such. That is to say, I do not believe our choices are made ahead of time for us, that we are simply actors following a script rather than writing our own lives. That does not mean, however, that I do not believe the gods take a hand in our lives. On the contrary, as a servant of Bahamut, I am certain that he directs my course at times. But my choices remain my own.” –Garkhen 





Apologies for the late post. It’s entirely the fault of Dungeon of the Endless.


And yes, Garkhen is much more talkative than Almonihah. If it’s not clear, the Book 3 quotes are quotes Elque must have gotten from talking to each of them about the other.