There are many myths about the azure dragon, Melodeia. The oldest legend is of the city Melkarii's founding. As the tale goes, the founders were gathered around the Feastfire at their first day's end. They rested after a hard day of flattening earth, laying foundations and dreaming of the future. It was then she appeared hovering above them.

No more concerned for the pull of the ground than a cloud in the sky, she gazed upon them all. Her thunderous voice rang out as she warned them, their new home shall forever prosper so long as her forest remains untouched, but on the very day their woodcutters break its sanctity, calamity would befall the settlement.

It is largely thanks to this ancient myth that the wealthy business man, Garble, would become one of the most hated people overnight. News travelled fast after his proclamation. He declared he would construct a mighty lumbermill to harvest the unique trees of the forest. He told the people he would bring even greater prosperity to Melkarii with the amazing iron lumber. His eyes practically gleamed with the potential money he would make.

To those protesting he must not anger the dragon, he scoffed, after all, he was a man of fact and business, and he would not be caged by myth. No mere superstition would stop his new lumbermill’s construction. With that he straightened his top hat and retired to his mansion. Though oddly, no one has seen hide nor hair of him since then.

But this is not the only legend of the dragon Melodeia. No one is sure where the rumour begun, but many now tell: anyone who braves the forest of Karii, survives the strange magical beasts within and finds their way past the fleshing eating plants, will find the azure dragon’s home. The same story tells, that if you can make her laugh, she will forgive your intrusion and grant you a wish.

Whether true or merely a drunk tale turned popular, there are those brave enough, greedy enough or desperate enough to try. Very few return. Fewer still make claim to have made it all the way to the dragon’s home.

Yet strangely all of those who have returned have soon found great luck or terrible misfortune. Stranger still, when asked of what they saw, their retellings always trail off. Their memories of the journey like the last wisps of a fading dream, slipping away no matter how desperately they try to hold onto them.

Perhaps such tales are best left unexplored. But then again, that is no way to be granted a wish.


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Art done by  sigmaquack :)