September 3

Loot Boxes – A short story

I wanted to write something over the weekend and I asked for suggestions from forum-goers on Fur Affinity. A user named Bedlams asked for a story about his Dragon, Bedlams, so I gladly obliged.

Loot Boxes

A shadow of a great dragon could be seen gliding over the forests and plains surrounding his mountain. The beasts and humans living nearby cowering from the passing darkness, the birds falling silent. The mighty serpent began his descend, toward the flat plateau at the mouth of his lair. As he landed with a bellow of his massive wings a brief storm of dust accompanied the loud thud of his feet making contact with the rocky ground. In his hand, a curious object. An orb, emanating a bright purple light. It seemed mesmerizing and mysterious, and seemed to resonate with an unknown power.

With a loud hiss and grunt Bedlams crawled into his lair, barely fitting through the mouth of the entrance. He passed through the natural defenses of the cave with surprising ease for his size. Pools of acid for less cautious adventurers, smaller monsters that felt somewhat safe living with a dragon, and a few magical traps Bedlams himself has prepared.

Deeper and deeper that serpent went, the orb lighting his way, though the dragon could see in the dark very well already. Through a maze of passages Bedlams finally reached the heart of his lair, his hoard. Countless golden bars, coins and artifacts filled the vault. So much gold has Bedlams gathered over the century of his life that it piled along the walls into small hills. Fey lights that kept the room illuminated had their sparks reflected off the coins, making it appear as if the whole cave was made of gold.

The Dragon sat in the center of the vault and studied the orb. This rare artifact, taken from the depths of an unnamed dungeon did indeed hold a great secret. It could turn into any object imaginable. Its power was so unpredictable, so great, that finding a single one of these orbs was, to a mere mortal, always worth the risk of death.

Bedlam’s green eyes began to shine brighter as he spoke in an ancient arcane tongue. The orb’s purple light turned to white, as if it were about to explode from within. It trembled in his grasp as the spell took root and the light became blinding, even searing to the eyes. Suddenly one could hear a loud bang, an explosion, as the orb’s raw magic finally took form.

The great drake rubbed his eyes, even he could not resist such powerful magic, and he looked down to the form the orb has taken.

It was a sword, a magnificent golden sword, with a great red ruby embedded in its pommel. The edge of its blade crackled with fire, while the handguard, that had the shape of two dragon heads, seemed to be alive. The blade appeared capable of bestowing upon its bearer power and knowledge few could match. This artifact, this weapon, could very well be capable of defeating any foe. Its bearer would be chosen by the gods themselves to become a champion of the world.

“Feh, I hate loot boxes.” hissed Bedlams, as he cast the artifact away. The weapon landed in a pile of identical weapons in his vault and the great dragon left his lair anew to go for another dungeon run.


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Posted September 3, 2017 by ABielski in category "Short Story

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