RegentCorgi

United States

The world is crazy, my life is crazy... but, hey. You know who's still going strong?

Me.

Message to Readers

This is a backstory for a Dungeons and Dragons character that I have created. For those of you who don't know, DnD is a role playing game. All characters in DnD need a backstory, and, because of my character's unique race, (imaginary race of Corgian) I felt the need to give her a proper backstory. This can, however, be treated like a story, and I would greatly appreciate any feedback you have.

Freya Dryllx

June 3, 2020

FREE WRITING

1
   Freya sat before a dying hearth, her ears back against her head, her stomach rumbling as she sat before an empty bowl

   It was a nice bowl. Handcarved by her master, Joel, it was lovingly decorated with little blue flowers. People usually thought that dogs didn’t notice such things. Freya always did. 

   But now, the flowers had started to fade along with the hairs in Joel’s beard. Food was scarce, and Joel no longer cared for her the way he used to. Beyond the realm of food, his affection for her was dwindling, and she found herself starved for, of all things, love.   

   Freya realized that she could not stay with Joel, despite her love for him. She needed more than he could give her… and so she left.  

   She left what she had always known: the bubbling brook that ran beside the sun, the patch of poppies that formed the perfect napping spot. The small, disheveled cottage that sat amongst it all, so pale compared to its previous potency of life. She left it all in a desperate search for something better.  

   Anything better.   

   She wandered for days amongst the trees. Through filtered sunlight and dewey mornings. On rainy days and thunderous nights. She did not stop. She could not stop. 

   If she stopped, she would die. 

   Despite her keen senses, her prey evaded her, as it always had when she fought alone. She went hungry, wandering with a purpose but no destination. She went on like this until she couldn’t. Until her legs gave out beneath her and the ground embraced her, an old friend. 

   She knew she was dying; she was okay with that. She had lived a good life. A life of summer days frolicking through the dandelions. Of wintry nights spent cuddling by the hearth. A life of fetch in the falling leaves. A life of… well, some things are better off forgotten…  

  She looked up to the stars, for it was nighttime. Bathing in their twinkling light, light framed with the ferns that surrounded her, she came to a sense of… understanding. She did not want to die, but she understood the futility of wishing otherwise. Of hope when there certainly was none.   

   Despite her acceptance of her demise, she found herself wishing that she could have done more… seen more… lived more. She found the thought startling; she had always been content just… living. She had never before wanted more.   

   It was a strange thought. Only… it came too late. Too late indeed.   

   Freya felt exhaustion seeping into her bones, binding her to the ground and drawing her eyelids to a close. She fought it, though. She fought to see the stars, as long as she could. Their light gave her a sense of, well… that maybe, even after death, she wouldn’t be… alone.    

   She had almost given up - no, she had given up - when a creature alighted on the ground next to her. She could not tell its size, for she could only see its face. Dappled with scales glinting gold in the starlight, glowing despite the absent moon, it looked upon her with kindness. Soft brown eyes, creased at the edges, held  knowing beyond what she could comprehend.    

   Her eyes had almost drooped to a close when the creature placed its snout upon her nose. For what Freya believed was the last time, she beheld magic, for this couldn’t have been anything but. Wisps of golden wind swirled from the creature’s nostrils, illuminated by some unseen light. They swirled through the air before settling on Freya’s skin, speckling her snout with gold. Freya, satisfied with this last gift, closed her eyes, prepared to have death take her. She wanted death to take her.    

   Through darkness, she felt her body being lifted from the ground, though by what she could not begin to fathom. She felt her paws dangling in open air. She felt the wind in her fur and smelled the scent in the air. She felt… well, she was beginning to feel alive again.   

   With renewed energy, she found the strength to open her eyes. Darkness, still engulfed her, an endless stretch of, well… emptiness. But there must be something there, for she could feel that there was something there. Something grasped her around the midsection, holding her aloft in this vacuum of light. Hesitantly, she looked above her, surprised to find that it was easier than before. Looking up, she beheld something majestic. Something of pure magic.    

   She beheld a dragon.    

   Golden wings, juxtaposed against a starry sky, flapped against the void, illuminated not only by starlight but also their own innate glow. The face that had shown her such kindness now stared ahead, fixed on something Freya could not see.     Freya, as her eyes adjusted to the dark, saw the froth of deep waves spilled out mere feet beneath them. Surprisingly, they did not reflect the light of the dragon. It flew invisible to all but her.    

   Freya stared at the sea as they flew, marveling at its depth and mystery. She tried to extend her paw towards it, attempting to touch the passing waves… but something wasn’t right. No, her body did not move the way it should have. Her body did not look the way it should have. Her paw was no longer a paw.    

   She had… hands.    

   She examined her body in the dragon’s faint, ethereal glow. Her stubby legs had extended into, well… stubby limbs. Her arm, while covered in fur, looked like Joel’s. So did her hand, for that matter. Small patches, while absent of fur, donned small golden scales.    

   What was she?   

   … who was she?

________________   

   Since that fateful night under the stars, Freya has made a life for herself. A traveller, she has spent years learning to master her newfound aptitude for sorcery.  She has even crossed paths with another Corgian, Dirk. However, she has never come to know the dragon that saved her. The dragon’s name is all she has to remember that night. A hushed whisper in her mind as the beast left her side.   

   Dryllx.  
 
   She’s kept it as a surname to remember the dragon that changed everything. That changed her. The dragon that left as soon as it had come. That gave her a second chance.    

   A chance for more.    

   A chance that she has not wasted.

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