Let's make a story!

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This topic contains 3 replies, has 3 voices, and was last updated by  afstewart 3 months ago.

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    At last year’s cyber con, some of us went about creating a story. The premise is easy enough. 1 person starts with a short paragraph. Then another adds and another until we have a story. Sometimes the styles compliment, and other times it’s like oil and toothpaste. But, it’s always fun. When the con begins, I’ll put a title and a paragraph up and then we get to go to town.

    So there we are and you can guess where we are going. But I’m warning you, not 1 word, sentence, simile or anything about any “Mother of Dragons”!


    Devorah Fox

    Sounds like fun!



    As promised, here we go. I’ve started it off and as you can see, it’s about a dragon…or is it?


    The Golden Armor


    The stench of burnt flesh spread quickly. Villagers made their way to the site as hastily as they dared, still mindful of what caused this carnage. They stood in awe at the devastation before them, keeping a wary eye to the skies.

    “The worm came alright,” said one man.

    “Heavens protect us,” muttered a woman. “Lord knows the Baron can’t do it.”

    While the people milled about looking for any survivors, a procession of knights made their way to the scene. The Captain of the guard was a surly man of about 40, haggard from too many campaigns and weary from too little rest. He quietly dismounted while his men went about their work.

    “The gold is gone Sir,” said a young recruit, too cheerful for the Captain. “There are tracks to the west, but they stop abruptly.”

    “Of course they do boy!” he snapped angrily. “You understand we’re dealing with a dragon here, right?”

    “Y-y-yes Sir,” he said. “I was just trying to…”

    “Don’t try to do anything boy, just go do your job and get these people out of here unless they have something of value to offer the investigation.”

    For the last three years, every incident looked the same. Bodies strew about, burnt beyond recognition. Wagons toppled and always the gold missing. The people claimed it was a dragon doing the killing, but he never believed in them.

    Slowly he made his way to the west, following the tattered ground. He bent to inspect one of the footprints of the beast and was surprised by a partial man’s footprint hidden by the larger, clawed foot. He supposed it could have been one of the caravan guards fleeing, but where was the body? He continued towards the next track and sighed as they stopped there.

    “What the hell are you?” he mumbled.

    Behind him, the villagers dispersed amid grumblings and a wave of justified anger towards Baron Farral Eversley. If he was a good leader, he would have ended this after the first attack they reasoned. Now, this being the fourteenth such incident, they were angry and disillusioned.

    “The people have gone Sir,” said the young recruit. “What else would you have me do Sir?”

    “Get me a body count. I want every person in this caravan accounted for.”



    The cheerful young recruit, Gavin, scurried off to obey his commander, rounding up the caravan survivors for a head count.  Worry churned in his guts until a voice sounded in his head.

    “One got away, but I found him. He was tasty.”

    Gavin smiled. He could always count on his dragon. Farbrung was efficient. And he was willing to split the gold. A few more robberies and they could both disappear with their spoils.

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