The Tale of Yolluagh and Ysabella Part 2
Written and as told by Wyrdwolf Legion
After accidentally burning down the nest of the humans, Yolluagh had returned to his hoard and settled himself down to sleep. He felt quite ashamed, for these poor creatures had done so much for him, and in return, he had quite innocently driven them back into the forest from whence they came.
After accidentally burning down the nest of the humans, Yolluagh had returned to his hoard and settled himself down to sleep. He felt quite ashamed, for these poor creatures had done so much for him, and in return, he had quite innocently driven them back into the forest from whence they came.
He was awoken the next morning by a quite insistent yet timid coughing and a very gentle tapping on his snout. Yolluagh raised his head and stretched his sinuous body and yawned, expelling the nights stored heat, before lazily opening one eye to see what had awoken him.
Before him stood a human, male, shivering despite the very recent heat. He was old by human standards, for his hair, what was left of it anyway, was white beneath the soot. He wore a scorched blue robe and in his right hand was a smoking charcoal staff. In his left hand he clutched the smouldering remains of a rope knot.
A trail of hempen ashes led to a wagon a few feet behind him bedecked with flowers, well.. wilted now, but once beautiful Yolluagh assumed. There was movement and muffled cries from the now steaming Interior.
The blistered face before him cracked in a terrified and toothless smile, and the man bowed painfully and unsteadily low before him. “Oh mighty.. umm… Dragon, hear me” the old man choked, “Eat me not, lest thou miss the words of peace I bring you”
The man’s words were strange to Yolluagh’s ears, and his voice was shaking besides. “My name is Yolluagh, “ he said. “Aah, Sir Yolluagh, we bring you an offering, nay tribute, the most beauteous gift our humble people can bestow”
“Sir?” enquired Yolluagh, puzzled. “Very well!” snapped the old man, exasperated, “Great Lord Yolluagh!” Composing himself once more, he continued, “We bring you the Jewel of our tribe, perfect to behold, and desired by all men who see her.” He intoned.
“And unsullied, if you know what I mean” he added through a cupped hand with a conspiratorial wink.
“Jewel?” enthused Yolluagh, thinking how fine a new jewel would look in his hoard. “She is the most beautiful woman to walk the world of men.” The old man stated with pride. Realisation hit Yolluagh like summer storm, and he blurted “But…but I don’t want one of your woman!”
“Oh very well!” barked the old man irritably as though this he expected. “Every summer Solstice we will send you the fairest maiden of the tribe!” then apparently defeated, he scuttled off surprisingly quickly for a part roasted man of his years, and disappeared in a swirl of blue smoke.
A voice sweet as spring, yet sharp as a jagged rock pierced the confusion in Yolluagh’s mind. “Oi… Dragon!” it said. The voluptuous Ysabella scrambled awkwardly from under the wilted flowers of the wagon, composed herself then sashayed up to him.
Jabbing his nose with a sharp fingernail to emphasise each word she told the stunned Yolluagh firmly “I’ll not be sharing my household with any other woman, thank you very much!”
