Rain fell heavy, making the usual dry grass of Enedwaith turn wet and muddy. Thunderous booms filled the air as white veins shot down from the clouds, making the dark night disappear with each flash. Wind rolled over the plains like waves, making trees bend downwards as if they were trying to take cover from the barrage of rain drops. The small circle of trees gave enough cover to Pren, Gwennol and Ffion, an ancient derudh and the mentor of Gwennol.
The two derudh sat talking, leathers and furs wrapped tightly around them to cover them from the rain. They spoke of spirits and how they were feeling as the war went on. Something that Pren did not understand well, looking up to the flashing sky before he pushed himself up without saying a word, heading over to a small rock where he took up a wet rag and washed down his arms. Cleaning each tattoo well, though his eyes stop on the dragon tattoo, thinking about the Dragon-Clan and their banner. A red dragon in flight. Starting to think of the tales told around the campfire of why the ferocious beast is such a colour.
Many many centuries ago, when great drakes still flew in the skies, there was a great red dragon that roamed the skies of Dunland and Enedwaith, resting in the highest peaks of the cold mountains. Every night when the sun went down, it sprayed its firey breath into the sky to make the colours that can be seen.
It was like this for many years and the dragon only killed a handful of oxen to feed himself a month. It then changed when a great white dragon, with a breath as cold as death came down from the North in seek of treasures. It came into Dunland and killed many in its path, freezing parts of the fertile lands and making them barren and cold. The red dragon did not take kindly to someone else taking from his “claimed” lands.
Fire filled the sky as the great drake soared towards the peak where the white-dragon had made his home and there they fought! Sharp claws dug into the hard scales of each other, sharp teeth clamped for each others limbs whilst fire flew into the sky. Thunderous roars were let out from both as they fought on and on. Down below in the valley, where a village of dunlendings lived peacefully, the pained cries of the white-dragon filled the air. Causing women to miscarry, animals to perish and plants to wilt away. These battles went on and on, every night these dragons would meet to fight and every night more and more died from the shrieks.
The Brenin grew furious as his people wasted away, and soon he went to ask advice from one of his most trusted men, asking him what to do to get rid of this problem to his people. After many hours, the two men finally had a plan. They were to dig a pit in the centre of the town, fill it with mead and cover it with furs and leathers.
Once they had finished this task, they waited until night came. As they dragons met to fight, the smell of sweet mead filled their large noses and they flew down to the village where they reached under the furs and drank up all the mead. Now sleepy and disorientated, they fell down into the now empty pit and were covered by the furs and leathers. All the villagers came out and wrapped up the dragons in the cloth, furs and leather and soon they were carried off still in their drunken slumber up into the mountains, where the entrance to a large cave in the mountain with a pool. They were placed in there and the entrance was sealed shut tight.
For many centuries, they stayed in the cave and fought every night though the pained shrieks never could be heard. Once, a Brenin of the group of dunlendings that would become the dragon-clan moved to the valley by the mountain where the dragons were kept, and started to build himself a great hall. Though every night, the earth shook violently and the foundations would fall; no matter how many times they built it up, it would always tumble down. The Brenin demanded a blood sacrifce, in an attempt to calm the Hunstman; whom was thought to be the one making the ground shake. A young boy, named Merlyn was brought to him and placed on the pillar and in his final moments, he said he knew why the foundations fell!
"There is a cave, in that cave is a pool. And in that cave, two great dragons fight and fight though none ever win! Too cramped in the small cave to do great damage to each other!”, he spoke wisely though young. “If you let them free, the shaking will stop, I promise!”. The Brenin went through with this plan, and gathered a group of men to dig the entrance of the cave up and they did so with speed as the rock was not strong there.
A dark tunnel led down underground, until the men came up the underground pool and two stirring dragons. There they took their chance and scrambled out of the tunnel, breaking the entrance of the cave with their powerful bodies as they left. Now once in the air again, their battle continued! Fire was thrown outwards, and sharp claws swiped towards each other as they danced about in the air. Redness appearing on the white dragon, as its scales and flesh were cut open.
The battle raged on, until eventually both dragons landed on the grassy plains below. The red drake opened its mouth, letting out a bellowing roar before it sprang its neck outwards! The sharp sword like teeth digging into the thick throat of the white-drake, it thrashing back though a sharper bite from the red-drake made it slump to the ground. Raising its head once again, the firey drake let out another thunderous roar before it flapped its large wings and took off to the sky. Peace came to the lands after that, the red dragon roamed and still does to these days.
Pren's thoughts were disturbed as his name was called, beckoned to the fire by Gwennol and Ffion as the talk of the wedding had begun though Pren kept thinking about the large drakes every time the thunder boomed and lightning flashed.
((NOTE: This is a myth, and as most myths are it is made up to give a reason to why something is there. In this case, it is why the dragon-clan use red dragons to represent them and also why Draigoch's Lair is where it is!))
