Dragons Generations

Set Sail

As days passed, rumors spread like wildfire across all the kingdoms, stirring up unrest and discontent among the citizens. The news of the royals' hunt for Eldric, the dangerous individual responsible for the fall of Yarcal kingdom, sent shockwaves throughout the lands. In order to do that, all kingdoms had to ally with each other, a move that did not sit well with many of their subjects.

In a bustling marketplace in the heart of Saint Hope, a Helogan citizen walked outside of a bakery, holding a bags of bread in his hands as he walked by he saw groups of people gathered together. As the citizen approached the gathering, he saw two knight guards standing beside the priest. The crowd was gathered around them, listening to the priest as he spoke passionately to the people.

"Have we forgotten the bloodshed inflicted upon us by these barbarians?!" the priest cried out, his voice ringing with fervor. "Our former king, Eldric, understood the true threat posed by these outsiders! It is time for us to rise up and reclaim what is rightfully ours!" The crowd erupted into cheers and applause, swept up in the priest's impassioned rhetoric. They cried out for vengeance and justice, their fervent prayers filling the air with a sense of righteous fury.

Drakon observed the scene from a distance, his disdain for the fervent worshippers evident in his icy gaze. To him, these people were nothing but pawns in a larger game of power and control. As the crowd chanted and prayed fervently, he felt a surge of contempt for their blind devotion. 'Fools.' he thought to himself; he knows the true nature of the so-called goddess they worshipped so much. Just seeing these people makes him want to destroy Helogan's Kingdom, but no, not yet. He has to familiarize himself with this new world and relearn how to use his power but, most importantly, to find a vessel so we can continue to live on; this body he is currently in is so weak to him.

But amidst his disdain, a voice whispered in his mind, a voice he recognized as that of Alexandra, the sacrificial vessel that had brought him back to life. Her sweet, whispered voice spoke in his head. As she whispered, he narrowed his eyes. She spoke about a strong cable woman who is perfect as a vessel to host his spirit, Eleanor Fotheeth, whose strength and determination made her the perfect vessel for his revenge.

She spoke about how powerful she is, how skilled she is with a sword, and how no matter what situation she is in, she always gets up with determination, fights back, and never acts all high and mighty. 'Yes, that's exactly who I need.' He thought. Now the real question is, 'Where do I find this Eleanor Fotheeth?' he thought to himself; the angelic voice described what she looked like and what she wore, and after that, she stopped talking. That was enough for him to go on. Now, he needs to make his move to find this person.

Meanwhile, Eleanor and her companions made their way towards the docks by horseback. As they drew closer, they dismounted and proceeded on foot towards the harbor. Along the way, they came across an old sea captain who looked like he had seen better days. His long brown beard was unkempt, and his clothes were frayed and stained with sand and alcohol. The captain sat on a small crate, clutching a bottle of ale in his left hand.

Eleanor approached this clearly drunk man. "Is this the captain Eleanor trusts so much?" Zander said, clearly judging the man's look. "Gods, I hope not. A guy who looks like that can't be a captain of a ship," Aurelie said.

Aryn: "Looks can be deceiving." Aryn said with a neutral voice, Nova nodded in agreement.

"Captain Bulluck." Eleanor said as she stood in front of the old man, the old man who is named Bulluck took a large gulp from the bottle before whipping his mouth.

"Ah, Lady Elly!" Captain Bulluck exclaimed, his voice slightly slurred from the effects of the ale. He squinted at Eleanor, trying to focus his bleary gaze on her. "Last time I saw you, you was in a wheelchair and older like me."