_Wyvern__'s forum posts
In the world of yesterday, Romania was barely more than a country known by its past, totally forgotten in its presence. The power had fled the once-regal country, the powers of legend and lore. Romania would always be a place of pasts…but one man wanted to give it back its future. His name was Florentin Cuza. He was a man…I mean, he was a dragon man, or maybe he was just a dragon. But he was still DRACONIAN! Running armies over the countryside! Enslaving the peasants! Running armies over and enslaving the people! And all the Wi-Fi connections! WI-FI CONNECTIONS!
The military report was a little more detailed: Draconian (Florentin Cuza) was an accomplished military tactician. As the LeBeau's rose to power, Cuza took advantage of the power vacuum in his home-country. The few forces that could be mustered against him had fallen like a sandcastle faced with the rising tide. Romania became a military power, just as the militant prince had dreamed of for many long centuries. True, tensions were at first high with the LeBeau's, but Draconian was smart enough not to take them on…and as he stuck to his small country, the LeBeau's returned this respect. It would be more work than it was worth to dethrone the Dragon King.
Then, with the country secure, and with an array of weapons that would make the DMZ look like a picnic ground, Draconian turned his mind to other matters…his heir. And so Draguta Cuza was born. No one knew who her mother was, including Draguta. Draconian kept that fact a closely guarded secret. What Draguta did know: she was a foreigner, and a meta. And whoever they were, Florentin was hopelessly smitten with them.
Now, Draguta is 18 years old. Florentin is about 250. (Though most of that time doesn't count…he didn't really age for the 200 years he was trapped as a statue.) The international world is in turmoil. Draconian is uneasy. The armies are on constant patrol now, the sound of Draconian's sword ringing on steel can be heard for much of the night. Draguta remains unconcerned. She has not yet traveled, does not know the kind of might her father's country will be up against. She believes that none would dare challenge them. And what kind of might would be needed to take on TWO dragons?
Draconian is hunched over in his throne, closely watching the Urban Spaceman on a secret camera(Draconian insists on the name, no matter how many times he is told to call the Spaceman Winston…it seems unregal to call someone Winson). He is invaluable, able to gather intel from all over the world without leaving the grounds of Romania. And to make sure he is not a spy, Draconian watches him. He crushes the monitor in one taloned fist as Spaceman approached, kneeling before the throne. " We have yet to hear word of him " No expression can be read on Florentin's face, and his inflection is cold, but he is scared. "Keep watching. Go, NOW!"
Draconian gets to his feet, walks to a balcony where he can look out over the countryside. It looks peaceful from here. There are no signs of the bunkers and mines that lie beneath the rippling grass. Draguta strolls over to the balcony, then stops, startled to see her father here. Well, no matter. She ignores him, and leaps off the balcony, spreading her russet wings and gliding, the sunlight making her wings glow a blood red. Then she banks right, and is gone.
Draconian smiles slightly. His daughter is his pride and joy. Someday she will kill him and usurp the throne. That is the way of dragons. She will be a fine leader. He only hopes that she will wait until HE is gone, for if Romania goes into war against HIM, even with all their weapons, they are sure to lose. Draguna is too eager for war. She would declare war on the world. Florentin did that one, when he was young…it was a bad move. One man cannot conquer the world on his own. Though he can certainly try. Draconian turned, and went back inside.
Draguta (she called herself Wyvern…though it hadn't quite caught on yet with the members of the court), continued her flight. Bored, she was going to a meeting of the rebels. She wasn't actually much of a rebel herself, but Draguta absolutely adored turning the secret police on the real rebels. Not that anyone suspected her. They all thought she was just being a rebellious teenager. Nah. Wyvern knew the country well enough to know that if she deposed her father her life would become much less fun. She had heard the stories about her father's adventures, and his time with the Vine Syndicate, and just couldn't understand how he had given that all up to be a warlord.
Draguta landed, folding her wings. She knocked three times on the ground beneath her feet, and a door opened. Draguta entered the lair of the rebels.