Small WIP Collection

wip snippet 3: fantasy, action, 3rd pov

Outside of a rather ominous-looking cave stands a young man. He's practically shaking in his chainmail boots, and the rest of his armor was almost sliding off of him. A sword that was much too big clanks against his thigh as he walks over to his horse, which was tied to one of the rocks at the mouth of the cave. From its saddlebag, he grabs what is supposed to be a helmet. In actuality, it's just a metal bowl with a spoon welded at the center for a nose guard.

He stares down at the amalgamation, tears welling up in his crystal blue eyes. "You can do this, Puck," he whispers. "You can kill the dragon. You can save the princess. You weren't just sent out here to die."

His grip on the bowl tightened before he plunks it atop his fiery locks. Puck then began his trek into the dragon's lair. With each step he takes, he finds his mind wandering back to his knight training. The certain way he needs to hold his sword, the specific spot on the dragon he needs to jab. As it all came flowing back, Puck stumbles on a particularly large stone, sending him crashing into the ground.

"On your feet, Cuck!" the drill sergeant yelled.

A chorus of chuckles broke out among the other boys in the courtyard.

"You see boys, sorry saps like this end up as dragon food!" the sergeant said, laughing along with them.

"It's Puck, sir," he mumbled to the ground. He slightly jumped as he felt two large teardrops plink onto his hand.

The laughter stopped. "What'd you just say?"

Puck didn't even have a chance to respond before he was violently yanked off his feet. He was stunned into silence, now face to face with the drill sergeant.

The sergeant's eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head. "I'll teach you what happens when you talk back to me, you crying wuss!"

After being assaulted by both bad breath and spittle, Puck felt the ground coming up to meet him once again.

Puck jolts out of his vivid memory. He sprang to his feet, chainmail clanking noisily. He slaps his cheeks to get his head back in the game. I can't give up here, not after enduring all of that... he thinks.

He picks himself up and ventures deeper into the cave. The deeper he got, the hotter it became. Any fire-breathing dragon emits heat, even if it's not actively spewing flames. His stomach sinks as he realizes this meant that he definitely didn't have the wrong cave.

The short tunnel finally widens into a large cave. It was similar to a dome in shape. Various trinkets and glittering gold pieces litter the ground. The princess sits on a stone outcropping high above ground level; she is unbound, her legs dangling off the side. Upon seeing Puck, she sighs and turns her head. She didn't even call for help, he thinks confusedly.

A skylight shines directly onto the thing Puck avoided looking at: a fearsome black dragon. It appears to be asleep atop its pile of gold. Its dangerous tail is curled neatly around itself and its head rests on its crossed forearms. A silver teardrop scale glitters at the corner of its closed eye -- the thing that was rumored to help the beast read minds.

The glittering sparks a different memory in his mind. One sunny day in the comfort of his town, a knight came riding through. A rescued princess was with him on his horse, her smile just as bright to match that of her knight -- her future husband. Above the knight's head, he held a single teardrop-shaped scale. One side sparkled in the afternoon sun and the other side was dull with blood. That scale was a sign that he had killed one of the most dangerous dragons in existence.

Puck draws his sword. He hopes to channel that knight's bravery through him as he spoke.

"Fowl dragon!" he starts. He tries to keep all his fluids inside him as the dragon flicks an ear towards him. "I, Sir Puck, have come to reclaim the fair princess from your..." he looks at its claws and gulps, "rather sharp talons!"

The dragon suddenly stirs to life. Its eyelid raises, revealing a deep blue eye trained directly on him. Its tail and wings unfurl as the dragon rises to its feet. Puck's sword shakes violently as he holds it in front of him; he doesn't know if holding onto it with both hands was stabilizing it or making it shake worse.

His neck cranes up at the dragon's face. It looks back down at him and snorts out a cloud of soot. Only one of its teardrop scales twinkles down at him.

You're here for the princess? rumbles the dragon's voice.

It sounded ancient, like an old witch with thousands of years of knowledge to impart. It reverberates around Puck's mind with a power he's never experienced before. He finally drops his sword, his hands now flying up to hold his head.

His eyes were almost about to pop out of their sockets. "You can talk in minds...!" he wheezes out. "You can read minds...!"

The dragon snorts again. Tiny human, I pity you. Turn back before you meet your end, she says.

Puck snatches up his sword. He puts on his toughest face as he plants his feet in an offensive stance once again. To be continued...