life
I wrote a story for a friend...
Trebron
Norbert was a dragon. Typically for his species, he was large, green, scaly, accompanied by a strong sulphur smell, and had a tendency to spout gobbets of flame when irked.
Atypically, Norbert hated maidens, goats, sacrifices, and gold.
An outcast (because who wants a non-hoarding dragon around), Norbert had nothing to do but sit around in dark caves, moping and writing bad poetry. That’s right, Norbert was an EMO dragon.
One day on Twitter (what, you don’t think emo dragons Tweet?), Norbert announced “@dragonlord K, game change & name change, now I am Trebron #emonews #gothnews #dragonlore”. This was followed by a phone call to a local knight to arrange a time to make use of his lance - Trebron had decided to start body modifications, and your average piercing studio can’t readily accommodate a 3-ton client.
Within six months, Trebron was unrecognizable. Ammonia treatments had caused the copper in his scales to turn blue for “tattoos”, he had piercings and chains running all over his head - silver chains though, he still avoided gold as part of his refusal to conform to dragon norms. His mother would hyperventilate every time he came near and had destroyed her favourite treasure chest with a fiery blast when he walked in the living cave unexpectedly one afternoon.
But Trebron was still unhappy. He thought that by challenging dragon lore, he would find a new path and be happier. This hadn’t happened. He was the same Norbert, hiding behind a sneering mask of Trebron. And he was miserable.
Then it happened. Trebron/Norbert was laying in a sunbeam in a clearing when he heard singing floating into the clearing, followed in moments by the singer herself. It was a maiden. No, it was a Maiden. All the hallmarks were there. Flowing hair? Check. White gown? Check. Magical lute (optional)? Check. Complete lack of accompanying men-at-arms for protection? Check.
The sight of the dragon sprawled in the clearing stopped her singing mid-trill. Dragon? Check. Large? Well, months in a dank cave had left him somewhat scrawny and emaciated, but still large framed. Green scales? Umm, sort of? Around the blue. Sulphur smell? Well, again, dank cave, lots of incense, leaving him a little more sandalwood, herb, and mold than sulphur, but still a bit of tradition present.
The Maiden screamed and collapsed into a faint.
A few moments later she peeked from between her lashes and found Trebron’s kohl ringed eyes focused on her, and a dejected expression on his face. She sat up and snapped “What in the Hell is wrong with you?”
“Well, I wasn’t happy, so I tried emo, then I tried goth, then I tried punk…” he sighed, singing the edge of her dress.
“OMFG,” yes, she actually said that, “you’re such a loser.”
So he ate her.
And then he felt much, much better.
Trebron
Norbert was a dragon. Typically for his species, he was large, green, scaly, accompanied by a strong sulphur smell, and had a tendency to spout gobbets of flame when irked.
Atypically, Norbert hated maidens, goats, sacrifices, and gold.
An outcast (because who wants a non-hoarding dragon around), Norbert had nothing to do but sit around in dark caves, moping and writing bad poetry. That’s right, Norbert was an EMO dragon.
One day on Twitter (what, you don’t think emo dragons Tweet?), Norbert announced “@dragonlord K, game change & name change, now I am Trebron #emonews #gothnews #dragonlore”. This was followed by a phone call to a local knight to arrange a time to make use of his lance - Trebron had decided to start body modifications, and your average piercing studio can’t readily accommodate a 3-ton client.
Within six months, Trebron was unrecognizable. Ammonia treatments had caused the copper in his scales to turn blue for “tattoos”, he had piercings and chains running all over his head - silver chains though, he still avoided gold as part of his refusal to conform to dragon norms. His mother would hyperventilate every time he came near and had destroyed her favourite treasure chest with a fiery blast when he walked in the living cave unexpectedly one afternoon.
But Trebron was still unhappy. He thought that by challenging dragon lore, he would find a new path and be happier. This hadn’t happened. He was the same Norbert, hiding behind a sneering mask of Trebron. And he was miserable.
Then it happened. Trebron/Norbert was laying in a sunbeam in a clearing when he heard singing floating into the clearing, followed in moments by the singer herself. It was a maiden. No, it was a Maiden. All the hallmarks were there. Flowing hair? Check. White gown? Check. Magical lute (optional)? Check. Complete lack of accompanying men-at-arms for protection? Check.
The sight of the dragon sprawled in the clearing stopped her singing mid-trill. Dragon? Check. Large? Well, months in a dank cave had left him somewhat scrawny and emaciated, but still large framed. Green scales? Umm, sort of? Around the blue. Sulphur smell? Well, again, dank cave, lots of incense, leaving him a little more sandalwood, herb, and mold than sulphur, but still a bit of tradition present.
The Maiden screamed and collapsed into a faint.
A few moments later she peeked from between her lashes and found Trebron’s kohl ringed eyes focused on her, and a dejected expression on his face. She sat up and snapped “What in the Hell is wrong with you?”
“Well, I wasn’t happy, so I tried emo, then I tried goth, then I tried punk…” he sighed, singing the edge of her dress.
“OMFG,” yes, she actually said that, “you’re such a loser.”
So he ate her.
And then he felt much, much better.