Friday, April 19, 2013

Book Two Letter Five

My dear Smok,

          It has come to my attention that I have been to that secret war council!

          First off, it was the worst day of my life. They blindfolded me and made me chew some dragon’s tail while we traveled! It was disgusting, tasted like Yovian.

          Anyway, once we got to that dark cave and they un-blindfolded me, I saw that the other dragons had already arrived. They set out a torch so that I could see the dark shapes in the water but couldn’t see the other dragons. Apparently the other dragons couldn’t make it but were with us in spirit in the waters of the cave. It was called “Ripweed,” communicating through water. I don’t know why they called it that; probably because the guy next to me had an ugly stupid reflection who looked like he was on seven different class A drugs.

          Anyway, the one talking with me was very nice. He seemed to adore every single word of mine, mouthing it all with me. Come to think of it, it got a little tiresome at one point. But the only problem was that he didn’t respond to me! I asked about it, and the dragons who had brought me there said it was because he had been muted by an old war wound but listened and carried out plans very effectively. I believed them, for about three seconds before I saw that his ears looked exactly like mine, and he was mimicking everything I did and said, and his claws were curved the same way as mine, and his muscles moved like mine, and his tail swished from side to side like mine. Jellifications, I had it! He was my reflection! I was being cheated by these people all along!

          But then I saw it. My reflection didn’t show me properly. If you’re on the opposite side you’re supposed to be facing the other way. Your right is their left, their left is your right, your back is their tail, their claw is your tongue, their olfactory sensors are your—anyway, you get the point. But this one, their tail was on the same left as my tail was. So it couldn’t have been my reflection at all!

          Ha ha, I figured it out and was not mistaken, Smok. I am a genius of the highest intellect. The dragon across from me on the other side of the water, however...

          Anyway, we had a fulfilling war council except for the dragon next to me. He had the intellect of a half-frozen wooly mammoth. There’s one disqualifying factor about mammoths—they’re dead! Their bodies are there, but their brains no longer function!

          This guy was idiotic! He was a spitting image of your uncle Trubodox! I really mean it. Same size, same shape, same way he reasoned through things. Of course, he couldn’t have been Trubodox. It was a dark cave, after all, and I couldn’t see him. But anyway, it wasn’t him. I know it. If he was there, we’d all be dead listening to his stupidity. This guy, I was only half-dead. So of course it wasn’t Trubodox but it sure was like him.

          Well, anyway, we had a conflict going out of the cave, and I got mad and flame-broiled him to cinders before the others pulled us apart and led us back to our respective caves.

          When I got home, immediately my drake butler Xunt informed me that I had mail. It turned out that it was from my dear friend Rexrei Wythwave (the only one to best me in the fire-breathing contest at the convention, and DEFINITELY NOT the only one to best you, you sniveling rotten potato) and he wanted my opinion on whether he should move farther west to Higard or stay in his coastal region.

          I promptly wrote a very, very long letter telling him in a roundabout way that it really was up to him and I had no opinion. However, I told him that the human population in Higard was bigger and more feisty, which would constitute more fun for a skilled dragon such as himself. Anyway, I’ve yet to hear back from him on that point.

          According to Rexrei Wythwave’s stats, I believe he will actually be remembered as one of the greats, as long as he just makes a few dominating moves to secure a province and boot out the dragons living there to terrorize completely alone. His fire-breathing ratio is spectacular, his size is enormous, probably even bigger than your uncle Trubodox, and his white-silver scales create quite the scare to humans. He is a fierce fighter; he once fought off Skrill the Screamer, even, and Skrill fled into exile in the wastelands far to the North, just like Pellicor did when you smoked out those rogue dragons in Frostuay.

          Anyway, that’s just a bit of prattle. I heard you’re keeping a diary now; very good practice, good for posterity and your writing skills.

          -Your serpentine uncle,


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