Categories > Original > Fantasy > Pangaea

journey to the east

by Randog 0 reviews

Pangaea is a land divided into four, the north, south, east and west. each of these countries have names, people, and creatures. Evil is once again stirring, threatenning to dominate and it is up t...

Category: Fantasy - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Action/Adventure - Warnings: [?] - Published: 2006-07-08 - Updated: 2006-07-09 - 1513 words

Rain fell from the murky sky and the water soaked into the ground. Lightening cracked the atmosphere as thunder bellowed. Rivers were given new strength and raced along in torrents, turning over rocks and carrying debris. Waiting out the storm in the hollow of a Bekaburro Tree sat Aellia, curled into a ball to try and stay warm. Beneath her feet was moss, and when she lent let back her head rested on the soft inner tissue of the tree. Her feet and arms were bare and she was clothed in a pale green tattered dress. Her mood matched the downpour; in the bright flash of thunder onlookers would see tears streaming down her pale cheeks.
Aellia was not a girl. She had pointed ears and delicate hands and feet. She had angled cheek bones and long brown hair. She was skilled in the ways of magic and knew more about enchanted objects then anyone of her age. When she willed it Aellia could sprout lacey wings, similar to those of a cicada and fly. Aellia was a Celtic Fairy.
Six months ago she had found a silver chain in the Golden Woods of Antheor. On the end of it was a symbol unfamiliar to her. Intrigued by its uniqueness she not only studied the chain but wore it. Each day she wore it the bluer the symbol became. Around this time Aellia was failing in her magical techniques. She had trouble casting spells and charms, but did not link it to wearing the chain. On the eve before Aellia lost her ability she discovered the meaning of the symbol. It was two hooks, vertically opposite attached to a small circle in the middle. With a shiver running up her spine, she read the line on a scroll that would still haunt her to the day she obtained her powers again.
The sector's stanz; Used in absorbing life energy. Only one forged into the hands of Lord Uzukia
Lord Uzukia was a dark sorcerer living on an island off the coast of Pangaea. Immortal as he was, he could only fall by grief or the blade of a sword. His magic protected him, and allowed him to and throw out his arm and reach the one goal; to bring down the kings and queens of Pangaea and take their land by force.
By using the necklace, Lord Uzukia would absorb the fairy's magic into his staff and become a little more powerful every time. Fate had it Aellia was the first to fall.
Fairies sense each other through magic. They feel a warm glow in their blood when they are near by, and their magic is widely known just as their wings are. To have a fairy without the gift of spell weaving is like going out to a fancy ball with no clothes on. It is simply not proper and unheard of.
Her kin had sensed her to be like an enemy, an outsider amongst their ranks. When she explained what had happened they saw her as bringing danger to their people. Without question they banished her from their canopy, to spend the night on the ground out in the untamed wood.
Without a firm leg to stand on, or any allies to turn to, Aellia pulled her knees close to her chest and cried herself to sleep


In the harsh Rocky Mountains of Ethormad there stood a stone clearing atop of a mountain. Long ago, the clearing was used as an offering to the gods. Now it was bare and still. Isolated was its location, and many caves and tunnels were in the area; perfect for a nesting place for a dragon.
A rider sat on a rock that was apiece to the stone circle. Beside his leather boots was a bucket with his latest hunting. Standing up he took the wooden handle and walked over to his friend; Baldric
Flamel Wolfgang stroked his large nose. Baldric was a large scaly dark green dragon. Long tail, horns on his head and small weak front legs and large powerful muscles his hind legs. He could fly, and breathe fire as all dragons could; but Baldric had the mind of a puppy.
Flamel scratched him in between the burgundy eyes. Baldric purred as he moved his head down and kicked his back leg like most mongrels do when they get an itch. Laughing, Flamel stroked his snout. He had found him when he was a hatchling, and had trained him and taught him along with four others of different colours, but Baldric stayed with him. Whenever Flamel needed him, the emerald dragon would be there. If it had not been for him, Flamel wouldn't have gotten out of many situations alive. And if he had left him, then Baldric's skin would be the boots of a rich man. They owed each other nothing
Flamel had large brown eyes and thick hair that hid half of his eyebrows, and a royal blue jacket with a thick belt going around it held a sword. He had knee high leather boots with straps and on his back was a quiver and bow with the essential sleeping bag and supplies.
Flamel was not born in Pangaea, nor had any Pangaean blood in him. He came from a land across the sea called Solera. Solera was taken over by the Urubane inhabitants. Few of them were left. It is said they have Elvin blood in Soleran veins, for their senses are sharper then any man or magic weaver. They were blessed with long life, for pure-blood Solerans could walk the lands of Pangaea for more then twelve generations of men.
Taking a limp rabbit out of a bucket, he threw it into the air. Baldric jumped up and caught it in his mouth with a straight set of sharp teeth. His landing made the ground tremor.
Flamel tripped over his own feet and landed on his bottom. Laughing, he was helped up with the green dragon's tail pushing him up on his back.
"Come now, we must put aside this foolishness" Flamel said seriously "we have so far to travel in so little time" he cast aside the bucket and walked aside the large lizard
Baldric lowered himself so his rider could climb onto his back. Unfolding his mighty wings he beat them until they were air born.
Flamel loved flying. It was one of the only joys he had about traveling. To sore towards a blazing sunset or sunrise, to fly above the mighty mountains and swim in the air, to view the land like none had ever seen. The thrill of diving and surfing in the air currants made him forget the past troubles he had had.
Flamel's brown eyes peered down to the tops of trees below them. From above, the trees looked like a sea of puffy green clouds tinged with yellow all packed tightly together. The clouds of green and gold went on for miles, stretching to the outmost corners of the west; the Golden Woods of Antheor
In the distance he could see storm clouds. It was going to be a rough ride. Flying over the clouds meant going to a higher altitude almost impossible for him to breath. They would have to bear the storm.
The wind picked up slowly, and soon started to roar in his ears and sting his face. His eyes watered and were reduced to slits. If there was lightning in the storm then they would have to land, for lightening always struck the highest point; in this case, them
Flamel gripped the dragon with his knees. His knuckles were white and his fingers purple. Constantly the wind was trying to knock him off Baldric's back. Soon the rain came and pelted his back like a thousand bullets, soaking his clothes and sticking to his skin. Flamel's brown hair looked black in the wetness and stuck to his face. He could not stand much more of this.
"We have to land!" he shouted over the wind, but his words were drowned by a loud clap of thunder. Pulling Baldric's neck mane, he shouted again. "Land! We must land!"
Baldric beat his wings, climbing in altitude. Flamel smacked his scaly neck "Land! Down!"
The green dragon pulled into a shallow dive. They were heading for the cover of the trees.
Suddenly, without warning a shot of lightening cracked the sky, striking tha green dragon's tail and blinding the pair in white light. Baldric let out a roar of pain that would burst the ear drums, and Flamel felt a small shock of electricity vibrate through him. Baldric's wings failed and his fell down towards the woods of Antheor, tumbling tail over wings.
Flamel lost his grip and became separated from his winged lizard. With the dragon's roar still echoing in his ears he fell limply towards the ground, with nothing he could do to try and break his fall. The last thing he remembered has being walloped by branches and the sound of boughs breaking...then peaceful blackness.
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