Young Emera’s POV

Their village had been celebrating the festival of harvest light, the end of summer celebration beginning the months where two moons lit up the night sky, allowing the villagers to begin preparing their winter crops that required the extra light.

Emera could remember dancing on top of her father’s shoes to a lively song about a horse with trees for legs, she all but three years old and entirely too innocent to the world around her as she was soon to learn.

She recalled giggling uncontrollably as her father made faces, trying to mimic a horse as he neighed and plodded their way around the village middle. Behind her father she could see her mother dancing with her older brother as they clapped and stomped their feet in rhythm to the song. Her mother was beautiful, as always. She had long wavy blonde hair with a crown of white flowers cresting the top of her hair in a circular fashion that marked her of the river frail people.

“You call that a dance honey?” her father yelled towards her mother over the loud music, their banter eliciting giggles from their two children.

“You wish you could dance as well as us o’ husband and daughter of mine. Continue your horse play and look towards the true professionals!”

And so they danced the day away in a joyous cacophony of laughs and song, with stories and the last summer vegetables enjoyed by family and friends. Until they had to leave. Then it all went to hell.

Emera’s POV

The downtrodden villagers went through their evening tasks, their eyes roving the ever shifting shadows, always awaiting the day the shadow creatures would find and attack them again. Then again, some kept their eyes firmly on the tree line surrounding their ramshackle village, wary of more humans. All of them besides the fifteen year old Emera that is.

Emera ghosted her character, wondering briefly where this next flashback would lead. She suspected that she would soon fill her character’s shoes, literally, and was seething with anticipation. She couldn't understand why the beta testers would turn their backs on these people. From everything she had seen, they needed any little help they could get!

Emera felt as if she were watching a movie creep on by, her mind filled with possibilities of what she would do when it came time. She understood from Era’s research that her character would “die” which then would lead to Emera respawning as her. It was a little creepy, but she was glad that she wouldn't be taking over someone's life, even if they were what Era referred to as NPC’s, or non-player-controlled, if you will.

During the flashbacks, Emera had broken down crying all too much before Era decided she needed to distract her from the despair around her. It began with Era telling her about different classes from her online sources and what players had found out about them, followed by some of the fantasy-type professions she could have a go at. It all seemed incredible, from the little nuances such as the difference between alchemy and herbalism as well as the particulars between different species.

There were some really small gnome-like creatures in this game apparently.

She couldn't wait to kick one.

“Emera! No kicking the Werds! They are a agile species and will destroy you with their magic!” Era, for what seemed like the hundredth time, sighed as she explained how it is better to deal with the Werds by blasting them from afar.

Finally, the timeline slowed down as the young Emera reached the village. From the outskirts, it looked little more than a shanty town, a speck of dirt amongst the large trees surrounding it.

It was the trees that prevented the villagers from seeing the dragon before it was too late.

The only warning they got was when a stranger in a midnight black cloak rode into town on a exhausted brown and white piebald mare, his horse lathered with sweat and dirt and heaving air in relentlessly, before it collapsed in the middle of their village square.

The black cloaked stranger immediately leapt from his dying horse before he too collapsed, uttering just one word.

“Dragons,” the dying man whispered faintly, falling forward to reveal his cloak not of black silk, but scorched and torn, blackened by fire. Immediate fear reverberated throughout the gathered villagers. Those in front whispered the dying words to friends and family behind before the word was shared with all who had gathered around the dying man.

It was mere minutes after the stranger arrived that the first screams began, coalescing throughout the square as all took notice of a bright glow on the northern horizon, materializing within their eyesight as they felt a wave of heat wash over them, its warmth over such a distance a testament to the temperature of the blaze. Smoke twisted outwards, entwined with invisible tendrils of heat as the fire in the distance blossomed into an all out inferno of leaping flames that rapidly began consuming the forest as it raced towards their village.

Herds of animals scampered across the forest floor, fleeing south as fire destroyed what had been their home for over a thousand years. Dark black smoke had blanketed the sky, obstructing the animals view of the dragon until it was nearly upon them.

Shooting out of the smoke, a dark ruby red dragon roared an ear piercing screech as it descended upon beasts, its tail jerked rhythmically, using it to spear the prey as it fled the forest fires. Within seconds, the dragon’s tail was clean of meat, all of it residing in its large stomach. The dragon’s eyes roved over the land for its next meal before settling its sight on their small village in the midst of the forest fire.

With a large downward beat of its wings, the dragon swept up into the sky, lost to sight within the smoke as it traversed the skies over what was soon to be known as the Amber forest.

Even from the distance between the villagers and the dragon, the great beast appeared several times greater than their largest homestead in their small village.

The younger Emera was swept up into her father’s arms, who appeared from behind her as both Emera’s stared stupidly into the distance. Confusion and fear denied the younger Emera the use of her legs, which shook violently. The sounds of the village were replaced by screams of terror that plagued their people all too often.

Emera briefly wondered what sick and twisted AI came up with this storyline.

The young Emera’s father had eyes scanning relentlessly toward the skies as other villagers did the same, muttering prayers to land and sky.

A keening roar began in Emera’s ears as she saw the villager’s doom while she ghosted above father and daughter.

With resignation in his blue eyes, the father had scanned the swarming crowd for his wife and son. Pushing his way through the crowd had them together before the first jet of fire blasted its way through the gathered crowd. The father ushered all of them towards the riverbanks, his long strides and strong frame all but shoving those too stupid to stop praying and start running..

It was a stampede of rushing bodies as villagers took to the idea of escaping via the river. Those too slow got caught in the undercurrent of feet and were promptly trampled to death before the dragon even had its chance at them. The father’s bulk was the only reason they had lived so long, but the crowd was getting more and more aggressive as the dragon blasted yet another arc of fire into the assembled mass.

It was only luck that they reached the river in time.

As the first villagers leapt into the raging currents, the dark ruby red dragon appeared from above amidst the smoke blanketed sky, roaring its rage at the villagers below for attempting to escape.

The mother was the first to leap with the brother, clutching his hand with a death-grip, as they plummeted towards the river.

They could hear a faint splash down below, a relieved sigh escaped the father's lips as he made ready to take the leap down into the icy cold waters below. Time slowed, the father crouched as his legs tensed in sudden alarm. Above Emera, she could feel a faint rush of air, before something contacted the father's side.

Emera could still recall the surprise on his face, before pain exploded in his features as they were flung far away from the river edge. The young Emera was still cradled within her father's arms as he used his body to twist within the air, his back impacting against the ground as they slid twenty feet across rock strewn earth.

They came to a stop four feet from a large oak tree, its leaves ablaze as the young Emera poked her head around her father’s quickly weakening arms.

“Father?” Emera spoke, the silence unnerving her as she looked around. She could hear no more screams or shouting, not a word whispered or shared. She was alone as her father’s last remaining breath left him.

Emera saw the younger character shaking the father’s arms loose before shaking him, calling his name relentlessly without a response.

Emera felt tears slowly stream down her face as they became an all out torrent.

In front of her ghost form the oak tree swayed, it's fire brightening momentarily before dimming once more. It happened again, this time she could smell it as a large exhale of warmed breath smelling of meat and offal overtook her senses in a gust of wind that seemed to envelop her, making it hard to breath. In front of her was a large shadow, cast by numerous trees still lit by the dragon’s fire. The shadow slowly grew bigger.

Emera screamed for the younger Emera to run away, to flee before the dragon got her too.

The younger girl could only turn slowly in fear, mimicking the ghost above her as they backed up quickly towards the oak tree behind them as they both looked up into a great menacing set of black pitless eyes.

Both Emeras whimpered in fear, the younger one falling to her knees as they gave way, the dragon staring all the while at her before it slowly dipped its head down and began to eat.

All the younger Emera could do was sit there, helpless, powerless, afraid to even move as the dragon began at the father’s feet, all the while it seemingly stared into both sets of their eyes with a cold, calculating look.

Next was the torso, the dragon’s maw aquiver with delight as it took in the sight of the young girl and heard her cries. It could taste the fear that radiated off of the youngling, it's meal all the more enjoyable with this child as entertainment as it bathed in the heady, tantalizing aroma of fear.

Emera knew not what such a creature feared, for if she had, she would not have nearly pissed herself when the second dragon dove from the night sky.

That made her question if ghost’s could even piss?

Who was she kidding. She would still have nearly pissed herself with the appearance of another dragon.

Those reptilian beasts were scary.

A long, hollow cry of despair echoed over the burning forest canopy, the sound seemed to caress the trees and soil, the very life of all that lived. The sound was of a mother weeping, for it had lost many, many children that day. That was a sound of a mother who was angry.

Out of the smoke covered sky emerged a brilliant azure dragon, golden scaled across wing and underbelly with storm gray accents adorning tip of wing and tail.

What Emera assumed was surprise crossed the crimson dragon’s blood coated face, before it deftly severed the father’s torso from its head, eyeing both Emera’s one last time, its eyes drinking in her cowering form as its maw nudged the father’s severed head so it rolled ever so slowly towards the younger one’s feet, one last memento of their confrontation as it nimbly shifted its body, turning towards its new threat, satisfied that the youngling would remember this night for the rest of her days. The crimson dragon enjoyed that thought immensely.

Emera watched in a daze as the father’s head rolled down the blackened earth before resting beside her character’s outstretched foot. Half lidded eyes stared up at her, its mouth gaping wide in horror as blood coated nearly every pore on his once fatherly face. She recalled staring at the father’s head, numb to the battle overhead as the dragons twirled in what one would assume a dance from far away, but in reality was far more deadly to all within a five mile radius.

Azure and crimson twirled around each other, maws mashing against hide and scale, searching for purchase on the smooth surfaces, ichor streamed from an already vast array of wounds from both dragons as their battle grew in intensity. Roars were exchanged, sound for sound, wings matched beat for beat as they kept themselves aloft, their fight a torrent of gnashing teeth and piercing talon.

Younger Emera’s POV

It felt like hours, the bleak gray of the second moon erupted into the pale hues of the morning star. Emera could remember everything. How the world had gone mad when all was sane, when doom rained from the sky in the form of fire and scaly beasts. She held no sway over her fate, so as dragons played and fires swayed, she simply just sat there, blankly staring at her father’s decapitated head.

From high above, a shuddering death rattle escaped a dragon’s maw. Emera’s gaze swept the skies, locking her gaze upon the dark speck of dragon that fell. And fell. The speck was blue.

Wind and dirt stormed its way across the surrounding countryside, the azure dragon the epicentre of a large crater that spanned the breadth of a large meadow. With the wind and dirt came the words that were heard around Terramore.

“I have fallen my brothersss and ssisstersss. Rissssee from your sssssleep. Agriusss hass essscaped!”

That was when the burning branch fell on top of her.

Emera’s POV

Emera watched with mute horror as the branch fell onto the girl below her, killing her as it landed. She wondered briefly at the sadistic tendencies of the AI who made this world. As if the river frail people didn’t have enough bad luck, they had a branch fall on the girl?

If this was the luck of all the river frail, she could understand why the beta testers didn’t want to play this race. What if the luck carried over? What if this curse of theirs carried over into their gameplay? It was all she could do to not rage at the AI controlling this world. The NPC’s seemed so life-like that it felt as if she had just watched hundreds of people get burnt alive by a dragon. She could literally smell the burning hairr, hear the sizzle of charcoaled skin, hear the whispers of the fire that still raged around her.

She started crying again for the loss of so much. She couldn’t understand how a game could be this realistic, but it was.

“Shh Emera, it’s okay. Watch what happens next. With every player’s backstory, they see the first dragon’s death. You just happened to have a front row-seat. There should be an angel coming along to introduce you to the world while resurrecting you.”

Immediately after she said that, an angel appeared in front of her. Broad wings spanned far to the sides of its body, dimly reminding her of the dragon’s wings, before it spoke.

“Welcome to Terramore. You just witnessed your backstory along with the first dragon’s death. It has been five years in our world since the dragon’s death and a lot has changed since then. First of all, true magic has returned to the world, guided by the azure dragon’s death, bringing forward a long list of changes to the entire landscape of the world. Secondly, the dragon’s have risen from their slumber, both good and evil, and have been spotted now and then by various people.” It seemed to frown briefly as it looked around the carnage.

“Usually, adventurers end up disappearing for five years at the end of their backstory, usually within a secluded temple or an abandoned hut in the forest, their families either dead, moved away, or lost until they complete a future quest line. Whatever best suits their purpose anyways. But your return will be different as you belong to a race with nearly no-one left. The humans would most likely enslave you, although they have been getting along better with the elves ever since the dragons returned to the world. The elves in turn, would probably kill you owing to what they deem bad luck when in fact it was just a series of misfortunate events.” The angel seemed to ponder for a moment as he thought of a solution.

“You could go to the lizard-people, but that would be a strange occurrence. Nor would it be suitable for you to go to the dwarves. Hmm, where to put you?” The angel seemed truly stumped.

“Era, you never told me there were lizard people!” Emera said within her mind, thoughts scattering as she tried to picture what they would look like.

“You never asked.” Era replied. Emera could almost hear the smile on her face before she sent her a picture of one of them.

She nearly screamed, but decided the Angel wouldn’t approve of her yelling while he was deciding. The angel spoke quietly to itself one more time.

“Hmm, no other race lives near her except… hmm, would she? I could change her route through the forest to here, but I don’t believe it would do any good. It’s worth a try at least.” The angel finally whispered his last words before his voice grew stronger.

“Emera, your character will have been in a potion-induced coma for five years. You will have been put that way by someone who lives within this forest. She will have found you as your character is now, stuck under a tree branch barely alive instead of dead like the character is now. In the five years of this world that has passed since the beta, your character will have been healing from the burns she was inflicted with by the care and attention of the person you will be staying with. The past will then officially be over for you, and you will be able to explore Terramore and make your own choices from that point forwards. How does this sound?”

Emera thought it over for a second before agreeing, seeing how it would have been difficult any other way for the Angel to resurrect her character.

“Now that that’s settled, you should pick a name now, something that is different from your real life self, seeing as it could be easy for others online to find you as it is now.” The Angel’s eyes focused on the surrounding area while she considered the question.

Emera had never really participated in any multiplayer games, so she never really considered a possible name for her character. All this time, she had referred to the character she was to be as a younger version of herself. Emera liked her name, never really having any problems with it like she had with her legs. It has always been apart of her and she wouldn’t change it for anything.

Era was the one who gave her the suggestion.

“How about Emyria. It is close enough to Emera and it still nearly sounds the same.”

Emera thought it over briefly before agreeing. She told the Angel her desired name and he agreed too that it was different enough from her real name.

Finally, it was time to part from the Angel as he told her the person who would find her was coming towards them and would stumble upon her unconcious characters body any second.

“That reminds me. Who will be looking after me?” Emera asked the Angel.

The Angel darted its eyes away, looking a tad guilty as he told her.

“Oh, she’s a nice old woman, getting up there in years. You know how it is. White hair, green skin, large ears. The works ya know? Frail old thing she is.” The Angel wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“Did you just say green skin?” Emera nearly shouted.

Just then, a bush rustled and out came…

“You’re sending me off to live with a TROLL?” This time, Emera did shout. Luckily, the troll couldn’t hear her as it came snooping towards the fallen branch.

The Angel smiled briefly before he snapped his fingers.

Emera felt a pulling sensation as her ghost form was sucked into the body of her character. A wave of pain assailed her briefly before something liquid tricked into her mouth, inducing her character into a five year sleep.

The past blurred around her, and when it stabilized, she knew that officially, she was within the world of Terramore, no time in real life having passed between the transition as her instance of the game caught up with the rest of the players.

It was a hell of a wake up call to find a troll standing over you though.

Achievement Earned! Meet a Troll!

+10 Experience