Son of Tarnaq
1 Published Story
Son of Tarnaq's Book and Story
The Wrath Of The Dragon Duke
Modern I have conquered nations, subdued entire populations.
Everyone from the Eastern plains to the Northern colonies fear me.
But they don't know me.
My name is Lloyd Bishop, and I am the Dragon Duke, The greatest enforcer of the kingdom of Tekka.
15 years ago, I watched from the closet, where I witnessed my entire family be gunned down in the city of Hilburg.
My father and uncle, shot by a man with a dragon tattoo on his arm, who then burned down our home.
I managed to escape, but I died from smoke poisoning.
My life would be saved by a young girl, Lisa Francis, who brought me back to life and showed me the way out of the city.
That was a decade ago. I left everything behind that day, my 3 childhood friends, and Lisa, a girl I didn't even know yet.
In the time since, everything has changed, I was now more powerful than ever before, but the rage of my family's murder hadn't been quelled.
And now I have returned to this city that took everything from me, and my mission is clear.
Reconnect with my childhood friends, repay the girl who saved my life.
But most importantly, I will show those responsible for my parent's death...
THE WRATH OF THE DRAGON DUKE! You might like
Ex-Wife, Please Have Some Self-Respect
Fritz Heaney I was driving through a rainstorm in upstate New York, pushing my old Volvo to the limit just to pick up a Dior gown for my wife, Catarina. She needed it for a gala tonight, where she planned to spend the evening standing next to the man she actually loved, Atticus Deleon.
The truck hit me head-on, crossing the center line and sending my car rolling down an embankment in a shriek of twisted metal and shattered glass. As the steering column crushed my chest, my brain didn't see a white light; it was pried open by a digital tsunami, flooding my mind with the "Quantum Archive"-billions of data points on surgery, high-frequency trading, and combat.
I woke up in the ICU with three broken ribs and a concussion, but the only thing waiting for me was a screaming voicemail from my wife's assistant.
"Jorden, where the hell are you? Catarina has been waiting for thirty minutes! You are so incompetent it's actually impressive."
There was no "Are you okay?" or "Are you alive?"-only fury over a ruined dress and a missing tie. While I was being resuscitated, my wife was on Instagram, singing "Endless Love" with Atticus and laughing at my "tantrum." She even called the family lawyer to freeze my credit cards, wanting to make sure I couldn't even buy a coffee without her permission.
For three years, I had been the "useful husband," the doormat who apologized whenever she stepped on my toes. But the accident had overwritten my desperation with cold, hard logic, and I realized I had almost died for a woman who viewed me as a liability with a negative return on investment.
When Catarina finally stormed into my hospital room to demand an apology for ruining her night, I didn't look at her with the usual puppy-dog eyes. I looked at her with ice in my veins and handed her a manila envelope I had drafted myself.
"Sign the divorce papers, Ms. Evans. I'm done being your canary."