Wyvern Woods

Wyvern Woods

HeyThereItsDaVinc

Reads 13
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Parts 1

Ongoing6m

Last published Mon, Jul 1, 2019

adventure divination dragons fantasy forest

Humans lived in divided towns, far from each other. They rarely left for the other towns, as very few humans managed to survive a night in the woods separating them. The only proof they truly had of the other societies was a few brave merchants, and some very social nymphs. Why didn't humans go into the woods? Fear of the wyverns. The wyverns conquered the forests, nothing dared to question their rule. This is the tale of the town closest to the heart of the wyverns' society, Polistia. Due to its location, Polistia was the annual victim to the Night of Scales. The Night of Scales occurs on a day foreseen by both human and wyvern diviners, on that decided night, the human baby born that day is taken into the woods by a wyvern, never to be seen again. Each race had their own reason for participating, humans did it to keep the wyverns at bay, and wyverns did it in search for their own sort of messiah, the mythical Wyvernborn. Polistia was a happy town all and all, despite the yearly tragedy. This was likely due to residents, especially those of the generation that were just becoming adults. How could a town that should be suffering be so joyful? It was easy, with the help of a talented young mage with the blood of a nymph, twins with incredible gifts for divination, a merchant and their pack of wolves, a craftsman who radiated love and joy, and a mysterious bard whose music was matched only by her cooking. But once a girl who all assumed to be dead reappeared one day, the town's harmony fell apart at the seams.

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The Sky Between Us

The land was divided by an invisible boundary no soul dared to cross. To the north lay the rugged mountains of the Draconis Dominion, where blackened peaks reached toward storm-lit skies. It was a land of fire and stone, ruled by dragons-mighty warriors whose breath scorched the battlefield and whose talons could carve through the thickest armor. Their scales were deep shades of onyx, crimson, and midnight blue, their eyes sharp as blades. They lived by the law of strength, where the weak perished, and the strong thrived. To the south stretched the shimmering plains of Celestara, a land kissed by moonlight and veiled in silver mist. Here, wyverns reigned-beings of magic, whose songs could weave illusions and whose wings carried the whispers of forgotten spells. Unlike their dragon counterparts, wyverns had only two legs, their lithe forms gliding effortlessly between the stars. Their scales gleamed in hues of pearl, gold, and frost, as though they had been sculpted from the heavens themselves. Power among them was not measured in brute strength, but in wisdom, cunning, and the mastery of the arcane. A war had separated them centuries ago, a conflict so brutal that neither side spoke of it anymore-only that to set foot on the other's land was to invite death. No one remembered what had started it, only that the hatred had never faded. The sky itself seemed to split in two, an unseen force keeping dragons and wyverns from ever meeting. But history was written in lies, and time had buried the truth beneath layers of bitterness.

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