Fiction:The Dragon Speaker

The Crazy Preacher
Coming from the Everwinter Highlands and towards the coastal regions of eastern Talmyr, the forests grew short in height as the shrill cold of the north took over at a certain point. The road up towards the Dalmiric cities upon the northwestern coasts of had passed through the Highlands, close to the  and where the  were established, and thus saw much traffic in its time. Travelling towards Talmyr was a of wine-black fur, clad in gleaning armour of a peculiar and rare craft of meteorite metal and steel, and upon his back, a war hammer of such size that it appeared to be larger than a common man. The Kôrhusn was named Shima, and was very well known in Talmyr as a figure of a heroic nature as well as one who vagabonds would have done very well to avoid. Like most of his kind, he walked with a lumber, though his was less pronounced due to his thinner and more athletic frame compared to most bear folk of his age.

He was travelling towards a city named Daghanzand, a citadel of sorts that was built upon the marshlands that surrounded the area for many miles. Daghanzand had a strong coastal trade, and around fourteen thousand people called it their home. It was among the more peaceful cities of the, though it was not without criminal activity. Mhor had made a life for himself in the mediums of vigilantism and bounty hunting, and a particular bounty of an individual, of which Mhor caught wind was in Daghanzand, could have been a year's wages for a common merchant.

It was nearing evening in Daghanzand, which, like most cities in the Dalmiric Kingdom was always accompanied by a sheet of frost. Braziers were lit across the long walls of the city, around thirty metres tall nearing the gates, with two towers on each side. The city closed its walls upon nightfall, though Mhor had made it with some time to spare. The humid scent of the marshlands was always present in Daghanzand, and, because it was mostly cold throughout the year, hardly ever bothered any one living there or passing through. The city in itself was partially submerged in the marshlands, thus it was divided into five islands which were bridged together, as the marshes passed through like a man-made river. Mhor did not gather much attention in Daghanzand - Kôrhusn were a common sight everywhere in the Dalmiric Kingdom. It was particularly busy as dusk fell, and Mhor made his way towards a tavern that he had been to before. Thieves skulking in the shadows were always wary of attempting theft upon a Kôrhusn, and Mhor, a noticeably tall and armoured Kôrhusn was a death warrant to them, so they remained out of his way.

As parts of Daghanzand was tiered, there were steps that let up the stoneworks of the city. Passing to the left and up a flight of steps, and then left again, Mhor noticed two guards in a quarrel with a man. Or at least, he looked like a man, though Mhor's thoughts were unclear on the appearance of him. He was certainly not from the immediate region, perhaps from lands further east, though his accent suggested he was from the western continent, as it sounded somewhat Dalmiric but far more accentuated. He was a large man - average for a Dalmiric man, though what he was wearing was what caught Mhor's eye the most. He bore armour that did not appear protective, though it was covered in many pelts of furs and platted hairs that covered him from the cold. His helm, however, was striking. It appeared vaguely demonic - ram horns and tusks were bound to a metal face that covered all but ethereal blue eyes. He wondered why the guards even dared to approach him, considering the man himself appeared able enough to incapacitate them.

Their voices raised as the quarrel escalated, enough so that the guards attempted to restrain the man with their arms. One guard was flung aside like a rag doll as the man's arm raised towards the sky, whilst the other was subject to the man's fist - even though the guard was armed, the helmet was caved in upon the impact - a man without armour surely would have been killed from it. Perhaps out of blind instinct, Mhor reached for his hammer, one he named Madaghônr, which was Cascade in his language, and, the eyes of Mhor and the man briefly meeting, he swung his hammer towards the floor - the hammer in its magical properties sent a flash of light from its core, and a wave of energy throttled the man into the air and collided with the second floor of a nearby building and then hitting the floor. Other buildings nearby shook as some of the tiles on the roof fell, and the guards were sent rolling across the floor as well.

Mhor ran over to each guard, helping them to their feet as they then walked over to the man, unconscious on the floor, though twitching slightly.


 * Guard - Thank you, Kôrhusn. The Kingdom is in your debt for apprehending this man.
 * Mhor - No worries. ...What is this guy in for?
 * Guard - Apocalypse preaching. Disturbing the peace...oh. And at least eight counts of resisting arrest. We've lost him seven times and now we have him.
 * Mhor - So, what does that rack up to?
 * Guard - Excuse me?
 * Mhor - The sentence.
 * Guard - Oh. If he's lucky, eight years in prison and a fine.

Mhor nodded to the Guard, though he looked somewhat suspiciously at the man on the floor.


 * Mhor - What was he preaching?
 * Guard - He keeps saying something from the north is coming to lay waste to the Kingdom. We took it seriously the first three times, but each scouting party on both sides say that nothing is coming at all.
 * Mhor - What's his name?
 * Guard - I do not know. ...Look at me. I shouldn't be divulging information to citizens.
 * Mhor - Don't worry. I'm only passing through.

The guards dragged the man away, finding it difficult as he was of some weight, and his clothes only added on to that. Mhor kept looking at the man until the guards took him out of sight, and continued on his way. Something about the man was ominous in Mhor's eyes. He did not appear to be a man commonly associated with preachers - he certainly appeared to be a warrior, with what he wore and the way he stood. But nonetheless, he continued to the tavern and paid for a room there for the night, to plan his capture of his bounty.