The Awakening

I was dreaming of a simpler time, the time before the coming of chaos. The world was new, the air tasted fresh and sweet with a mixture of the sea breezes and the flora.

The world was a glimmering jewel, calling us to explore it. We traveled over the oceans, and the great plains, and the mountains. In my dream I was there on the cliffs or our homeland with the cold sea breeze on my face. Then over the ocean to the new world, running through the plains; the tall dry grass covering me with yellow chaff as I ran. Onto the forests of the new world, where the trees cover you in perpetual shade, and the air is thick with the forest's musty scent.

Then the great chaos incursion came, and with it came a stench the world could not rid itself of. The stench of corruption, disease, decay and death. It was at this time that the elves learned how to go to war and how to kill.

As the years go by, friends and foes appear and disappear for the elves. The victories and defeats blur over the decades and centuries, the elven population declines. The elves are still proud, agile race, master craftsmen and master magicians. But now, they seem touched by tragedy, the inexplicable decline in children dooming the race to eventually vanish.

I hear singing in my dream, an ancient song with small graceful hand movements associated with it. I realize that the singing is not in my dream, but in my bed chamber. I slowly open my eyes to see an elven warrior in my chambers.

I nod knowingly at the warrior and he bows gracefully and exits my chamber. I look about, my brethren are all asleep. The song of awakening has only affected me. I stretch my back and limbs, uncontrollably letting out a loud yawn that echoes through the chamber. I chuckle to myself knowing that no yawn could waken my chamber mates.

A few more stretches along with the cracking of a few joints, and I'm ready to go. I proceed down the hall to outside where my warrior friend awaits.

The morning sun blinded me until my eyes adjusted, after which I got a better look at my companion. I've never met him before, but his features are familiar. The sun feels good, I think I'll stretch out to gain full benefit of its warming rays.

"You're Galith's kin, are you not elf friend." I say while stretching to my full height; letting the sun warm the scales on my belly. I stretch my wings out, letting the sun warm them while the sea breeze rises up the cliff to fill them.

"Yes great Kalith-Kal. Galith was my father, and rode you during the war of the beard." Spoke the elf as he approached.

"I am Gloen, now of 50 years, and a commander in the Phoenix King's Army." The elf moved gracefully, but with purpose. Serious issues were obviously on his mind.

"A commander at the age of 50?" I spoke as I scanned the ocean for food. Sleeping for centuries builds an appetite.

"You must be very talented." He certainly had all the appearance of a seasoned warrior. Well worn armor that had been cared for, sword hung in a fast drawing position, shield hung at the ready.

"I assume our need is urgent, I'll get a quick bite and we'll be off." I then dove off the cliffs, using my wings to take me into a steep dive, I pulled level to skim across the top of the ocean. Once I arrived at the school of fish I saw, a quick scoop with my lower jaw and breakfast was had.

Beating my wings hard, I turned and flew towards the cliffs, I was soon with Gloen again. He had companions with him now, and they had a saddle for him to ride.

Gloen and I discussed the situation while his companions fixed the saddle. A mob of orcs and goblins had somehow slipped through the elven fleet to crash land on the elven shores. The mass of violent and savage greenskins was descending upon one of the elven cities, and it desperately needed help.

Saddle affixed, Gloen mounted me. It reminded me of the dream I had just had about my youth. Flying all over the world with our elven brethren. I turned my head and again spied the young elf on my back, his handsome features set in a grim look. This is what war does.

A quick hop off the cliff, along with the rhythmic beating of my wings and we were off towards the elven city.

"The orc general is riding a wyvern" Gloen shouts over the rushing air.

"No problem for a true dragon like me and a commander such as yourself" I reply grinning.

"They also have a trained manticore" He replies.

"We'll use the clouds and take them by surprise" I say, winking. Fighting one enemy at time is our best bet for success.

We fly through the patchy cloud cover on our way to the city. Soon we pass the city and the green masses are below us.

A brown blur flies past us below, its an eagle flying away from the green masses.

"ROOOOOOOAAAAAAWWWLLLL" bellows the manticore, its bestial face contorted in rage and bloodlust. Its in hot pursuit of the eagle and does not notice us in the clouds above. There are some distinct advantages o being white.

I begin to build up a powerful force in my bowels, timing its climax just right. As the manticore approaches our location, I stretch my head and neck down into its flight path. Then I open my mouth and unleash the powerful cold blast from my bowels.

The cold blast freezes the manticore, ice collects on the manticore face, hair and wings. The manticore is frozen stiff and without the beating of its wings to keep it aloft, it plummets towards the earth.

I smile at how easy it was. A loud clash of steel causes me to look up. The orc and his wyvern are above us trading blows with Gloen. Gloen's wounded, but is handling the attacks well.

I quickly dive to get away from the wyvern, there are better ways to fight them. The orc goads his wyvern into a steeper dive than mine, trying to get under me so that he can hit me from below where I cannot strike back.

I lead the orc along, letting him think that he's getting the better of me. In the air, I am supreme, and he'll find out soon enough.

The orc approaches beneath me, soon he'll be ready to strike at my underbelly where my scales are the thinnest. I quickly roll over in the air, and dive straight down. Gloen and I quickly dive past the front of the wyvern. Being a seasoned warrior, Gloen seizes the opportunity I presented him with. He lands a solid blow on the wyvern's neck, lopping its head off.

Looking above me, I could see that the wyvern's body was still beating its wings, not knowing it was dead yet. The wyvern's head landed in the stunned greenskin rider's lap; who was cursing his fate in his crude tongue.

The exciting aerial part of the battle over, Gloen and I settle into wading into ranks of greenskins and mauling them.

At the end of the day, we were tired, and covered in black-red blood of the greenskins, but the field was ours.

"Is it time for you to sleep again, oh great Kalith-Kal?" Gloen asked. he was not seated comfortably on the grass next to me, the grim look having left his features.

"No, let my brethren sleep, I'm going to stretch my wings for a while. I _could_ use a companion." I said, eyeing Gloen.

"I'll do it!" he stated excitedly.

"Good! First off to the ocean for a bath, then to your keep!" I said as Gloen scrambled to get back on.

With a bound, we were back in the air, the wind at our faces again.