xorvintaal

[xorvintaal]

baby dragons that sleep in your fireplace and roll about in the soot and the ash trying to get comfortable on burning logs, screeching loudly whenever people walk by or when more logs need to be added to its roost and not stopping until content again

baby dragons with wings that are disproportionate to their bodies until older but nonetheless stubbornly trying to pick themselves up off the ground by running and aggressively flapping and managing to only get a few feet off the ground for a few seconds before crash landing

baby dragons that haven’t been exposed to priceless things such as gems and gold pieces and instead infatuate themselves with other unusual shiny things — like silverware, brass clocks, instruments, and pots and pans

baby dragons who get cold in the winter and crawl up into their caretaker’s clothing (almost always while said clothing is being worn) and curl up as tight as possible and begin to make sounds similar to content purring as they sleep

[xorvintaal]

👀👀

Introduction Post

Hi everyone! My name’s Elliott (Eli) and use he/him pronouns. I’m new to the writeblr community so you’ll have to bear with me as I get my footing! Here are a few facts about me!

-I’m currently in middle college, simply meaning I���m working on getting my AA and high school diploma at the same time.

-I play the viola and have been for about as long as I’ve been writing. I also have two orange tabbies named Jack and Jill who I adore.

-I’ve been writing for almost eight years now. I’ve always been a major sucker for anything fiction. Though I don’t write as much as I used to, I’m hoping to use these next two months to help get back in the flow of things!

Now onto the plot!

Tiamat’s Reign Loosely based on one of my DnD parties, Xorvintaal (which you can follow here @xorvintaal), this story takes place after the last chapter. Following the final battle between Tiamat and five prophesied riders of Bahamut, the riders have been defeated and Bahamut has fled. Tiamat has taken her throne and an era of terror has fallen upon the land. But sadly, before the riders of Bahamut were slain, they were able to take Tiamat’s righthand men with them. Now alone, Tiamat knows she cannot rule without someone by her side. So after searching far and wide, she stumbles across our main characters and chooses them to stand by her. Now they must prove their loyalty to her or face something worse than death itself. 

This story will have many mature themes which include, but are not limited to, gore, violence and graphic sex. I will always tag triggers for anything I post and if you wish for me to add a specific trigger, please do not hesitate to send in an ask or dm me!

!!! Major disclaimer !!! One of the main characters, Risvin, does not belong to me. All credit to his character goes to the lovely @noceurous who has given me explicit permission to use his character and make changes so he fits this setting. Thank you for letting me use his character and I hope I can do his character justice.

[xorvintaal]

My greatest gift. Thank you so, incredibly much. Everyone looks absolutely amazing +_+

XORVINTAAL 

This is a late bday gift for @kas-voton based on his D&D campaign that you can find here

[xorvintaal]

Update

Hello! I’ve been fairly busy working on other projects and fandoms, but I’m going to be getting back into Xorvintaal very soon. I’ve mostly been working on my original novel, Blood of the Syndicate as well as a story based on the mobile game, Hogwarts Mystery. 

If you’d like to follow the projects, you can find them here and here. 

I am so going to be writing Xorvintaal as a 3.5/Pathfinder campaign for other DMs to run. If you’d like a copy, please message me. It’ll be 100% free.  

In the meantime - some new art will be coming out. It’s a gift for me that a treasured friend is creating so I figured I’d share it with you guys when it’s done since it’s themed around Xorvintaal. Here is a sneak peek. 

[xorvintaal]

Chapter 1 Excerpt

Rounding the corner, they found their master sitting cross legged on a maroon carpet, surrounded by children. In his hands, he held several cards, each with detailed illustrations of dragons. A small drake the size of a thumb, clinging on to a berry like its life depended on it. Of a wyvern, with spiny plates running down its back and breathing fire. Each of the children’s eyes were focused entirely on the Guildmaster, their expressions elated and excited. Laying beside Glaadian - the wall opened up behind them baring the room to the sky - was a gold dragon. Ahvaaxerell. He wore a pair of half-moon spectacles over his milky silver eyes, whiskers like that of a catfish dropping down below its chin as he curved his massive tail around the group of younglings, keeping them close together and paying attention.

Neither of them seemed to acknowledge their entrance.

“There are all kinds of drakes that live in our world.” Glaadian reached up, touching his hand to Ahvaaxerell’s nose.  “Drakes are not the same as true blooded dragons. While they are ‘dragons’ in the sense of the word, they lack the arcane qualities that dragons possess that allow them to bind to a mortal Rider. There are countless kinds of drakes. Fruit drakes. Shadow drakes. Guardian drakes. Some are small and tame enough to be kept as pets.” He gave a whistle. Snoozing on a desk, a young drake reminiscent to a lizard more than a dragon looked up lazily, and crawled onto Glaadian’s lap. “And others are used in war. But there are only several kinds of dragons.”

Lysander cleared his throat.

Both the guildmaster and dragon’s gazes lifted to his, gold and silver respectively and Lysander felt his eyes avert to the side under the heavy watch of his masters.  “Ah, children,” Glaadian said, his voice sweet and low. Too sweet for low for comfort. Lysander felt a knot of uncertainty growing in his stomach.  “Here we have three boys, about to graduate and become fully realized Dragon Riders. Shall we have them join us for our lesson?”

Erolith groaned beside Lysander. “I’d rather avoid reading, sir.”

Glaadian’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Oh? Then perhaps a more practical lesson is in order. Would you prefer that?”

“Anything is better than reading a book.”

“I see. Well, what do you say, children?” Excited laughter bubbled up from the children. “A practical lesson it is. Watch and learn, younglings.”

The sound of steel sliding against leather was the only warning they had. Erolith drew his wooden sword off his back and maneuvered it in front of him, Glaadian’s blade cracking against his own. Glaadian growled, pressing forward against the young apprentice, whose legs wobbled under the weight of his master.  “Tell me, Erolith,” Glaadian grunted, his gloved hand clenching the pommel of his blade as he threw Erolith backwards, the elf stumbling back a few steps, ducking as the blunt edge of Glaadian’s blade came sweeping over his head. “What stance would you use against a foe more physically powerful than you?”

“Wide arm stance,” Erolith grunted, striking forward. His sword cracked so hard against Glaadian’s that he felt the vibrations rocking up through his wrist and felt a familiar ache beginning to take root.

Lysander and Kendrick dodged to the side as the two fighters began to bring their fight closer, Ahvaaxerell wisely taking up position in front of the screaming children, wrapping his tail around the younglings as they jumped up and down excitedly.

Erolith was a good fighter, among apprentices. But Glaadian, he was masterful. Erolith’s motions were choppy and filled with hesitation, while their silver haired mentor moved with the grace and fluidity of a mountain stream, easily sidestepping one of Erolith’s attacks before coming up behind him, cracking the blunt of his sword against Erolith’s back. “What is the only cure for a wyvern’s stinger?”

“Vulbox salve,” Erolith was recovered in an instant, swinging backwards blindly towards Glaadian, and his sword caught his master’s.  

“And what weaknesses would a rider of gold possess,” Glaadian lunged forward, feinting a strike before spinning around Erolith’s frame, knocking the pommel of his sword into the elf’s gut. Erolith gasped, doubling over, crimson bangs falling into his face as he grimaced.

“What does it matter,” Erolith hissed. “I’d never fight a fellow Rider of Bahamut.”

“Wrong. You are right now.”  

He pressed forward and Erolith stepped back, before giving a shout of surprise - his left foot dangled over the chasm that dropped down along the side of the mountain, blue skies above him. He made the mistake of looking away, just for a moment. Glaadian’s gloved hand grabbed his collar, keeping Erolith held unbalanced over the edge - Erolith’s pupils dilated in terror.  “Never drop your guard, boy. Even the hearts of Bahamut’s Riders can be corrupted.” He gave Erolith a shove, and he was gone, dropped over the edge, his panicked cry echoing across the mountainside.

Glaadian snapped his fingers. Ahvaaxerell was uncoiled around the children in a moment, his serpentine body disappearing as he shot out of the window, diving downwards. Lysander and Kendrick were stationary in shock, watching the open wall - before Ahvaaxerell emerged from the clouds, his great wings resplendent sails in the morning light, and clutched in his talons was Erolith, shaking like a leaf.  He was dropped in the middle of the room, immediately swallowed by up by a swarm of youth as they tugged on their favourite elder apprentice, asking if he was okay and if he was hurt and if he liked flying.  

“You’re right, Erolith,” Glaadian purred, crouching down beside Erolith, resting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I quite like these practical lessons.”

“Same here,” Kendrick cackled from beside Lysander, who gave a bright nod.

Erolith scowled at both of them, before muttering an apology under his breath. Glaadian stood, waving at the children. “Off with you. The drake handler wants you little ones down in the courtyard.”

[xorvintaal]

Chapter Outline

Chapter 1 | The Last Lesson

Chapter 2 | The Choosing

Chapter 3 | Escape from the Citadel

Chapter 4 | Farshore in Flames

Chapter 5 | Aboard the Black Wyvern

Chapter 6 | The Spire

Chapter 7 | Through the Mere of Dead Men

Chapter 8 | The City of Splendors

Chapter 9 | Into Undermountain

Chapter 10 | Curse of the Card

Chapter 11 | The Red King

Chapter 12 | Skullport

Chapter 13 | The Buried Realm

Chapter 14 | City of Dark Weavings

Chapter 15 | Slave of the Illithid

Chapter 16 | Flight from Daggerford

Chapter 17 | The Athenaeum

Chapter 18  | The Verdant Prince

Chapter 19 |  Battle for Candlekeep

[xorvintaal]

Five kids ride lizards to kill an even bigger lizard.

[xorvintaal]

The first chapter will be available for my beta readers soon - in the meantime, enjoy a quick excerpt I wrote for a future chapter. 

The Red King’s men were certainly a force to be reckoned with. The wolf’s subordinates laughed drunkenly, doubling over themselves as they began to pressure Lynon into drinking. Talon in particular had the winged elf gripped by his collar, dangling the boy over the rest of the warriors who were chanting Lynon’s name, shoving a flask into his chest. Shaking his head, Lysander stepped through the red curtain and out into the balcony overlooking Skullport.

The great, glowing crystal fused into the cavernous city’s ceiling glowed a dim turquoise blue, casting its resplendence on the harbor. The ships slowly swayed in the night, and the city was silent save for the spare voice here and there. He could scarcely tell what time it was. Time, it turns out, is a thing often forgotten in the bowels of the Underdark.

Movement caught his eye as Lysander looked over. Jeddack leaned against the wooden railing, overlooking the maze of catwalks and stacked buildings that made up the subterranean port. Auburn hair fell over his face as he looked out over the darkness, brows furrowed and fingers gripping the railing so hard his knuckles were white.

Lysander released a soft breath, drifting closer to Jeddack who tensed as the young king drew near. Coming up next to the werewolf, the two gazed at the pulsating crystal before he finally broke the silence. “I didn’t abandon the kingdom,” he stated with hesitation. “Had I been given the option to stay, I would have been the king my father wanted me to be. But I didn’t have a choice in the matter.” He heard Jeddack give a sound of disgust, which he promptly ignored, straightening. “I was chosen to be a Rider, and had to leave.” He glance dover. “I didn’t know my brother would taint my kingdom in such a way.”

Jeddack’s eyes narrowed, lips curling back. “No choice,” he echoes with a dry laugh. “Tell me, Dragon Rider. While you were holed away in your tower in the sky, did you ever once try to make your way back home. Back to the people your birthright demands you protect?” Jeddack spun on Lysander, crimson cloak rippling in the faded light, eyes burning gold.

“Waterdeep is my home, of course I tried to return to it,” Lysander growled.

“Really?” Lysander stilled. He could see the faint glow in the man’s eyes. His nails digging into the wooden railing. “Or were you so lost in your dragons and fantasy world that you’ve forgotten about us.”

“All I wanted to do was return home,” Lysander shouted. He could distinctly hear the voices from inside cut off. “I didn’t forget my people just because I was in the Citadel.” His fist curled with frustration. “I never had the opportunity to come home, Jeddack. I wrote, but I never received a reply, Sephiran must have been tampering with my mail and-”

“And you never thought there was something wrong?!” Jeddack’s fist was suddenly against Lysander’s chest, balling the boy’s shirt into his fingers. He glowered down at Lysander, eyes tinted red as moisture gathered at the corners of his eye. “We needed you. Our lives went to hell when your father died, and my family and I-” he caught himself, the words dying in his throat as he grimaced, pushing himself of Lysander.

The two recovered, Lysander straightening his collar and watching Jeddack warily as the Red King collected himself, nails dragging across the wooden railing. “...you weren’t there,” he hissed lowly. “And your people suffered because of it.”

“Well I’m here now.” Lysander stepped forward. Winds blowing in through the crevice in the cave billowed their cloaks as Lysander approached the man. “I’m sorry for the suffering you’ve had to endure. There is no amount of apologies that I can say to the families who have been harmed in the shadow of my brother.” A touch of sadness entered his voice as he rested his hand on Jeddack’s shoulder, the other tensing as though burned. “I will change the Kingdom back to how it used to be. Restore everything to how my father would have wanted it...in the meantime, you should rest. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

He turned to stride back into the Crow’s Nest, when a snarl tore through the silence behind him. “It’s too late for that now.”

Lysander twisted around just in time to see Jeddack stumbling backwards, grabbing at his arm as if trying to halt himself. “Jeddack!” Lysander said, stepping forward.

“Stay away from me,” Jeddack roared, dropping to a knee. He gave a sharp cry of pain, red fur bursting from his back and skin, shredding through his clothes. And the Red King sent his gaze upwards, amber eyes burning brilliant gold as the werewolf snarled, pupils dilated as he lunged at Lysander.

[xorvintaal]

Requesting Beta Readers

Hello! Like any author, I’m going to be needing some beta readers to comb through my story as the updates come in and give me feedback. In return, I’ll be giving YOUR OC some time in the spotlight as extras. Thank you everyone for your support, please message me if you’d like the link to the story to beta read. 

[xorvintaal]

https://www.deviantart.com/hlwar

[xorvintaal]

The Main Cast of Xorvintaal

https://www.deviantart.com/hlwar

From Left to Right:

Erolith: Erolith’s family is a prestigious, noble elven family that frequently does dealing with demons. He is the half brother of Risvin, and his father Jhaeros is a powerful demon binder. Erolith was next in line to become the patriarch of his family - bored of life, and bored of ruling. That all changed when he helped his half brother, Risvin escape from his family’s rule. Among the common folk, Erolith developed a love for peasants and looking after the young and so began his righteous path to good. However - he is easily influenced. It only took just a small amount of time away from the dark impact of his family to turn to the path of good. And it wouldn’t take much to return him to the path of darkness. He rides the gold dragon, Chrysos.  

Lynon: Lynon belonged to a small tribe of winged elves at the foot of the mountains - until they were all but wiped out by the dragons of Tiamat. He and only a few others were able to escape to the last sanctuary of the winged elves where he lived his life as a black sheep, until he was chosen by the Dragon Riders and taken to Bahamut’s Citadel. Lynon is aloof, quiet and highly attentive, with a vehemous hatred towards dark dragonkind. Despite his serious nature, he has a whimsical and mischievious side to him that often blossoms in the companionship of his friend Kendrick.  He rides the smallest of the dragons, Kobrea.  

Kendrick: Kendrick, the youngest of his companions, is a young mage in training. He’s inquisitive, highly curious and infinitely intelligent, exercising his mind with riddles and tomes. His father was a great and powerful warrior, who ended up abandoning he and his mother in favor for a life of adventure. A few years later, slavers raided their humble sea-side shore home and captured Kendrick and his mother, the latter being sold and Kendrick given to a mage who took on Kendrick as his apprentice. It was during his time training with the wizard captain that he was found by the Riders of Bahamut, and taken to the Citadel. He rides the water loving dragon of bronze, Nerissa.  

Lysander: Lysander is heir to the throne.  He and his twin brother, Sephiran never had qualms as children. The’d been told from a young age that Lysander was destined for the throne. They were best friends - until word arrived that Lysander was to be a dragon rider, and was forced to give up the throne he was destined for in order to pursue being a dragon rider. Burned by the jealousy that his brother not only was chosen to be king, but a dragon rider as well as the grief of losing his brother, Sephiran sank into despair. He murdered their father, and took the throne for himself while Lysander studies at the Citadel of Bahamut. He’s calm, and collected - a natural leader, with a deep and burning love for his people. He will do anything to return his brother to the side of good - but not at the cost of the world. If it means a choice between choosing his brother, and his mission, Lysander will do what he must.  He rides the dragon of brass, Aethelwynne. 

Risvin: Risvin, from the time he was born, was a dog of war. The product of forced breeding between elves and demons, Risvin from the time he was young was forced into the Blood Wars - the battle between devils and demons. He was a cold blooded killer. Until he was saved by his brother. Away from the watchful eye of their shared father, Erolith stole his brother away into the world of the common folk, where they were found by the riders of Bahamut. Risvin is aloof, cold and with a temper to match that of his demonic heritage. The very blood that runs through his veins is something that sickens him to the core, and it is a part of him that he wishes to quench with an iron fist. Despite his heritage, he tries his best to be what his friends need him to be. A defender. He’s the rider of the proud dragon of silver - Fray.  

[xorvintaal]

https://www.deviantart.com/hlwar

[xorvintaal]

https://www.deviantart.com/hlwar

[xorvintaal]

https://www.deviantart.com/hlwar

[xorvintaal]

I won a contest hosted by BrassDragon on Deviant Art and decided to have Seph and his dragon Rux drawn! Her artwork is gorgeous, and should definitely be looked into. https://www.deviantart.com/brassdragon

[xorvintaal]

Xorvintaal Excerpt

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yFnnNijn_OI Avatar always provides the best insprational music. 

“Come on, Thrane!” Lysander shouted, pressing his knees into the wyvern’s sides. The dragon gave a roar, splitting through the violence of steel against steel as the creature snapped out its wings, taking off into the sky.  The rain was an icy downpour, sleet cutting into Lysander’s cheeks as he rose higher and higher above the fighting. Sparing a glance downwards, he could see a thin layer of snow covering Candlekeep’s grounds, stained red with blood and bodies.  

He wound the wyvern’s reins around his hands as he grated his teeth, squinting against the blizzard as he flew towards the Star Tower - the tallest turret of Candlekeep.  Lysander could see the massive black sphere steadily rising above the Star Tower’s summit - the onyx orb sparking as the mages concentrated their arcana across its surface.  

It’s grown. The sphere had tripled in size, and growing with every passing second.  Freezing pain was shooting through his fingers as they charged through the blizzard and Lysander urged the wyvern forward, slicing through the sleet and snow that descended from the stormy sky in an icy torrent.  

Five mages were surrounding the orb, their black cloaks billowing in the wind as they focused their energy into the artifact.  He could see violet streaks of magic webbing across its surface as it expanded...and he could see Sephiran. Lysander’s heart dropped into his stomach, nearly falling from Thrane’s saddle.  

His brother stood upon the edge of the tower, looking out over the conflict with narrowed eyes. The scar that wound down his face seemed deeper than the last Lysander saw him, his eyes sunken in and skin pasty.  He looked...almost tired.

The exhaustion faded from his features as soon as he spotted Lysander, rising up through the storm and his face contorted into a humorless grin. “Lysander!” he called over the wind, his red cloak rippling like a bloody tongue against the pallid gale.  One of the mages stepped forward to strike the dragon rider down, lightning flickering between their fingers before Sephiran puts out a hand, stopping them.  “Come, enjoy the show! We’re nearing the finale.”

The wyvern lowered down enough for Lysander to jump off, landing nimbly upon the tower’s peak, and the beast pulled away to join the fight below.  From here, he could no longer hear the sounds of battle. Just the roar of the blizzard, and the crackling arcana emanating from the Sphere of Annihilation which separated them.  

Sephiran stepped around the mages slowly, as though he were enjoying a leisurely stroll through the castle courtyard before he comes to Lysander’s side. Neither brother says a word, as they look down from the tower and upon the battlefield.  The ground was painted scarlet, and from here the soldiers looked like ants as they shed each other’s blood.

“Look at it, Lysander,” Sephiran murmurs, never taking his dark eyes off the fray. “What do you see?”

Lysander frowned, turning his cerulean gaze back to the fighting. “Chaos.”

Sephiran nodded. “It is the consequence of our conflict,” he murmured lowly, the words nearly ripped from his lips by the wind. “The endless struggle between Bahamut and Tiamat.”  The edge of his lip pulled upwards into a smile. “Red and white. There’s something awfully aesthetic about blood on snow, don’t you think?”

“You need to stop this, Sephiran,” Lysander growled, daring to move closer to his brother. Sephiran’s eyes shot over with a scowl, but otherwise remained still. “It’s complete madness! You’re going to wipe out as many who serve you as you will your enemy. Our people.  They clash and spill each other’s blood. By the time this war ends, our land will be a kingdom of corpses. We need to stop this, and settle our differences without dragging our subjects down with us.”

“No,” Sephiran’s snarl was thick as he spun around on Lysander, eyes flashing. His boot is planted up on the battlements as he gestures down towards the bloody battlefield. “This is the only way. For thousands of years, this has been the only way.” A wave of emotions pass over his features. “And it’s too late to change now.”

“It doesn’t have to be.” Lysander makes his way around his brother to face him, as though shielding the other from the carnage below. “Tiamat has trapped you, Sephiran. She has you wound around her finger.” Lysander’s hand reaches out, clasping his brother’s shoulder. “And you’re letting her...why?”

Sephiran’s lips pull back into a snarl, snatching Lysander’s wrist and tears it away.  “The days of us prancing about in castle gardens are over, Lysander,” he growls. “You need to face reality. We have both been chosen to write the fates of this realm. And I will not let you stand in my way.” He whips his head towards the mages, which had grown completely still during the conflict of the princes. “I didn’t tell you to stop. Continue the ritual!”

Another surge of power coursed through the mage’s fingers, connecting with the orb. It crackled and shook, expanding as it began to rise slowly into the sky.  Lysander took a step forward - before he heard the distinct sound of steel scraping across leather and Sephiran’s blade is suddenly in his hand - the malevolent red channel that flows through the blade seeming to glow like fading embers.  

“Sephrain, please,” Lysander begged, resting his hand on the pommel of his sword. “Stand aside. Let us end our conflict here. Stand with Bahamut, he will accept-”

“Enough!” Sephiran’s unhinged cry was nearly ripped away by the storm, raising his blade. The tip pointed towards Lysander’s throat, and the Prince of Waterdeep’s eyes flared, rimmed with red. “There is no other way,” he whispers. “Draw your sword, brother. This ends now.”

[xorvintaal]

My greatest gift.