The Realms of a Fantastical Mind

She waited, looking out over the pond between bushes.  She knew it would come again, the dragon always stopped here to take a sip before going off to where ever it was that dragons fly to.  She kept herself still as the whoosh of leathery wings stirred the otherwise calm air. It was there, a small blue dragon with barely any spikes as of yet.  A male from what she could tell, the three horn crowned on his head showed her so. The small beach was wide enough for him to sit on as he lowered his head for the drink. The huntress poised herself for the pounce, waiting for the right moment.  The dragon's musk filled her nostrils, turning her stomach.  She held in her growl as she crept closer.  He moved a bit, perhaps sensing her presence, or just getting a better tongue full of water, either way, time was up. She leaped from her hiding place, aiming true for his shoulders where the spikes had not yet grown in. "What i...

The earth elemental rose up from the platform, towering over the companions.  Mavra had dashed to the opening as an opponent hovered in the archway.  Serral had broken off from his blood-blade to assit the dark elf, only to find Ladarious rushing past to break Mavra's stride with a tackle to the floor.  Now the blood-blade, Nimue` stood alone against the earth itself.  She swung her enchanted long sword and rapier with a dance of blades, chipping off chunks of the element.  She did not know whether her efforts would come to fruition but she needed to try. The foe in the door way dissapeared before Serral could attack it with the swarm of bats he had conjured.  He took a step to assist his fellow adventurers, but Mavra had all well in hand as he pushed up on the lion humanoid and with little effort Ladarious flew across the room. With the shadow-like creature gone, the companions focused on the shambli...

A short story inspired by old times at the YMCA camp and the loss of all those trees. The wind whistled with the scent of her blossoms.  The old oak always admired the colors and scents of the lovely apple tree growing up the hill off the dirt road.   He stood and observed from a distance, for more human generations than he cared to count.   Watching as the people and animals passed his way.  There was a scar of a heart with initials carved on his trunk. The scar came with the memories of childhood sweet hearts who spent their youth climbing his bows. Now the couple was wizened with age and came to him every few years to celebrate their times as children together. The younger generations spent their time under the apple tree.  She would shower them with petals in the mid spring mornings or shelter them in the hot summer sun.  The old oak was still taller than her and held more limbs to climb and linger under, but she was in an ideal place fo...