Friday, December 14, 2012

Letter Fifty-One

My dear Smok,
         It has come to my attention that you have defeated Burgrath and the Infernox sisters using the same strategy I suggested. The only place you differed was in that of using poison in the water. I suspect the influence of Semithino. If you had just listened on that part of my plan, Pellicor the Mastermind might not have gotten away!
         I hear that he flew north into the Hinterlands. He will most likely become like one of those feral diseased dragons that lives out there, in time. For if he comes back into the Draconian realms, then surely he will be hunted down. Good work, Smok. I applaud your capability.
         As for my telling the absolute truth in my last letter to you, I regret to inform you that Semithino was right about that, but he missed a great detail in our fighting. That is, that he forgot to mention that in our fight after I was released from my underground prison, I did beat him back to his cave after he gave me a good number of blows. That fight (I kid you not) was very tough, and I had forgotten how lean Semithino had grown all those years. He wasn’t exactly on my top brother-in-laws list, so I didn’t visit very often, and now that I have, I must say, the dragon has lost a lot of weight! However, we gave about equal blows and in the end I came out stronger physically, unlike Semithino has led you to believe. His account of things may be hazy due to the number of punches I threw.
         I do not pretend to have a liking for Semithino, but I admire his physical condition. For an eastern dragon, mind you, he is very fit. He put up a good fight against me, and I retreated back to the West merely out of respect.
         See, I’m not as conniving as you think, Smok. Come back to my way. Mine is that of tradition and honor. Why would a western dragon follow the eastern way of life? You don’t even have any power over the elements, which means you must grow strong like a western dragon to make up for your physical deficiency. I would have beat Semithino to the very ends of the earth had he not used his pearl. You must at least try to regain a good muscular frame. Burn a few unimportant towns. Semithino never has to know. You can have fun and follow Semithino if you want! Do you really want to eat like a rabbit for the rest of your life? Or do you want to be a dragon renowned like Belligast the Boldest? It’s your choice, Smok. Just choose my side of things.
         And seriously, why doesn’t Semithino stop wicked western dragons like me if he’s got that pearl? Why don’t the eastern dragons invade and completely whip us to Bootjaw and back to make us stop our “wickedness”? I’ll tell you why, Smok.
         It’s because they are envious, and weak. Semithino, at heart, is just jealous of me, Smok. And he is also fragile. Eastern dragons’ diet make them extremely susceptible to disease, so they are too weak to come beat us up. That’s the real picture here. And that’s why it’s important for you to understand that this is an age-old conflict. Eastern dragons’ powers are waning. They can only use one element at a time with their pearls now, when they used to be able to control at least seven. They are in bad physical shape and can’t even protect their borders from rogue drakes. They’ve gotten so desperate that they’re trying to recruit dragons like you! You’re a western dragon! Why is Semithino so intent on converting you to his lifestyle? It’s because he understands that he needs some western brawn on the eastern side of this war. And if I have to kill you to do it, I won’t let the enemy take advantage of you like this. You’re being used, Smok. I am a patriotic dragon, so I’ll do what has to be done when the time comes. But will you?
         Food for thought.
         -Your serpentine uncle,

P.S. I hear that Gargazath endured the 7,839,201,462,981 Tortures of Whatsit. Now he’s back in his cell, sitting in solitary with just some chips and salsa (good for the nerves, you know), and pen and paper. He writes all day. Sometimes letters to you, other times gibberish about green butterflies, and at times poetry so beautiful it makes the guards weep. His condition must be worsening.

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