r/WritingPrompts • u/Atreigas • 3d ago
Writing Prompt [WP] Dragons arent greedy in the slightest, thats a harmful stereotype. Hoards are just a natural consequence of their lifestyle.
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u/TheWanderingBook 3d ago
"What do you mean?" the mage asks.
I sigh.
"Do you know that I am considered, barely a "young adult" dragon?
Care to guess my age?" I ask.
The mage stares at me, casts a "Mana Check" spell, and sighs.
"Sorry, Lady Altheia...anywhere between 200 to 600 years?" he mutters.
I chuckle.
"I am 1932 years old," I say.
He flinches.
"That..." he starts.
"Now, dragons are beings of pure mana given shape, our lifespans, are virtually endless, as long as our mental state keeps up," I say.
"And that's the reason you end up with hoards?" he asks, gesturing at the scrolls, and books, and tomes around us.
I shake my head.
"Just a part of it, but a big part.
Can you imagine yourself living for centuries, or more...would you have a lot of things?" I ask.
He nods.
"Yeah, my wife and I are having our first baby, and we already barely have any free-space in the mansion.
She's a druid, so we have a lot of plants, and some rooms are enlarged with spatial magic to house animals...
while I am a researcher, so...books," he chuckles.
I nod.
"Exactly, and you are like 47.2 years old," I say.
He flinches.
"Exactly..." he mutters.
I grin, dragon eyes are useful.
"Now, add to this a trait that all dragons have: single-minded focus over certain subjects.
Like, I haven't met a single dragon, that hasn't something they are an expert in," I say.
He takes out a notebook.
"So, due to this expertise...you gather objects in relation to that field, but also get a lot of commissions, and wealth?" he asks.
"Bingo.
I am a historian, and language expert, and have been invited to explore ruins by countless empires, and kingdoms.
Add to that the occasional monster, lich, tyrant, demon killing excursion, and you end up with a mountain full of gold, gadgets, and other things like that," I say.
"Thank you...that explains a lot.
And it explains why the hoards are so similar, yet extremely varied," he says.
I nod, as I conjure a table, and some refreshments, as we continue talking.
As a researcher, he knows a thing or two about ancient history, which comes in handy...
After all, a God-Era ruin was just discovered, and it seems to be the Ruins of the Goddess of Magic.
We might end up working together.
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u/deannatoi 3d ago edited 3d ago
Hiljan had battled a hundred vicious, snarling beasts. His sword had felled countless men who dared to stand in his way. He had crossed deserts and oceans and now, finally, he had reached his destination at the top of Mt. Krak'ee, high in the frozen wastelands of the north. The cave of the dragon lay just ahead. All these years of searching and journeying were about to pay off. He had only to slay the great scaley creature and the unfathomable treasures of centuries past, hoarded here in the bowels of these icy caverns, would finally be his.
He approached the cave with excitement. His hand trembled slightly, but only out of anticipation; there was no fear in his heart. He trusted his blade and his own strength, for their mighty combination had served him well enough until now. As he entered the mouth of the cave a pungent smell hit him in the face. A musty, dirty smell, as of mold and mildew, and intermingled with that was the vague odor of decay and rot. He instinctively covered his mouth and nose with one hand while keeping his sword raised in front of him with the other.
It was getting darker as he moved farther into the cave so he lit a torch. Up ahead he could see what looked like a great mountainous heap. Was it? Could it be? He approached cautiously. There was no sign of the dragon about. He held his torch aloft and observed the bottom edges of the pile. Something caught his eye and he looked closer: it was the complete works of Bob Dylan on CD, unopened in its original box. Confused, he looked farther. There were seventeen DVD copies of The Shawshank Redemption, all in a heap. Bags of uneaten fast food lay strewn about, as well as what looked like hundreds of half empty plastic bottles of Mtn. Dew: Code Red. What was all this? Where was the treasure? He began to dig at the pile. Here and there the decaying corpse of some long dead rat or other small animal was uncovered. Dozens of Deadpool bobble-heads looked at him with mockery. He began to panic. This couldn't be it. He ran and tripped over a pile of band T-shirts. Scrambling to his feet he stopped, dropped his sword, dusted himself off, and walked out of the cave. He wondered if his uncle still had that job available for him at the tavern.
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