FA+
Shop
1196
Views
Views
106
Favorites
Favorites
Category
Artwork (Digital) / Fantasy
Species Western Dragon
Size 3585 x 2313
File Size 7.63 MB
Report this content
More from Clostridium
Listed in Folders
Spring, 1326
Taking the familiar paths up the hills, Logan quickly began catching up to the tail end of the militia trudging their way through the wilderness. These stragglers stared in wonder and confusion at the reappearance of the hunter.
“Hey, what is he doing here?”
“Huh.”
“Is this disgrace hoping to steal some glory as well?”
Logan ignored them all, only picking up his pace. Besides the mockery, the soldiers let him continue on unmolested.
Finally the hunter cleared the familiar last hill, and came upon a panorama of unrivaled bloodshed. Even his hunting expeditions and the chaotic battle on Mulden Hill did not appear as brutal as this fight created between Wilcox and Mera. Bodies lay scattered throughout the landscape like sowed seeds on a field. The path of destruction wound its way around the rolling hills to the rubble-covered foot of Mt Rubinox where the fighting continued unabated. Yells, screams, wafting smoke and bursts of flame easily guided Logan to the dragon. The hunter carefully worked his way through the corpse field and then scrambled up the jumble of stones to come upon the wyrm currently locked in mortal struggle with Wilcox’s troops. Based upon the bloody debris of combat, Mera had confronted the militia as they approached his home by initiating an aerial attack, scattering the troops before his flames. However, Sheriff Wilcox responded by sending individual companies around the dragon’s flank targeting the entrance of the wyrm's cave, forcing Mera to repeatedly fall back and finally land to fend off the incursions and protect his hoard.
The militia commander himself was at the forefront of the fighting, one hand trying to cleave Mera’s head by swinging his mighty falchion while the other coaxed his men on by waving his shield like a banner.
“Courage men!” He called out. “The beast can only take so many of us before it must fall before our holy might!” A small group of swordsmen and axemen who had arranged themselves around the sheriff surged forward again, trying to hack or stab at the dragon from all sides.
Mera recoiled, evading the storm of blades and fending off the renewed attacks with claws and flame, though a dozen wounds revealed his defense had not been entirely successful. A violent swipe of his tail sent two opponents flying. A blast of fire immolated another four.
Leaping past the fallen the sheriff redoubled his efforts, his falchion singing in the air. The dragon jerked backwards, ducked, and straightened, barely avoiding three successive decapitating blows.
“Foul beast! Prepare to meet your maker!” Wilcox bellowed at Mera, who snarled back in defiance.
“For Stanton!” Encouraged by their leader, a company of spearmen raised their spears into the air before charging into the fight, trying to take their quarry from behind.
With a hiss, the dragon swatted away the remaining three axemen in front of him with a bat of his forepaw, then turned, tensed up like a cat and spewed forth an arc of flame over all the incoming attackers. Wilcox dove towards the ground, causing the volley to sweep harmlessly overhead, but the spearmen were not so lucky; in an instant, a dozen unfortunate souls burst into flames, screaming and writhing as they withered into charcoal.
“Is that all you’ve got?” The sheriff laughed as he renewed his attack, slashing violently at the dragon, who danced to one side to evade the amputating blow before lunging down and attempting to bite the sheriff’s head off, only to be thwarted by Wilcox bashing him back with his shield and dealing a quick glancing slash. Mera fell back, panting heavily, bleeding from his mouth, a cut atop his left brow dripping blood into his eye below. The wyrm paused to glower, warily awaiting the next attack. The rest of the militia basically stopped fighting as well, watching in awe as their commander appeared to be dueling the dragon single-handedly - and winning.
The sheriff smiled as he wiped the sweat from his brow. “Praying to your underworld demons, dragon? Don’t worry you’ll be joining them soon enough.”
With a yell Wilcox charged yet again, dodging fireballs Mera threw at him, deflecting flames that came to close with his shield, then with falchion poised to strike, lowered his targe to bash aside the dragon’s claws as the wyrm reared up and slashed at the human with them.
Talons engaged with shield, and within seconds the pair were interlocked in physical struggle, the dragon’s fire and teeth and claws against the sheriff’s falchion and targe. Heels dug into the dirt. Muscles strained. Slowly, despite the dragon’s size and strength, Wilcox was overpowering it, to the cheers of the surrounding townsfolk.
“You had better beg the Heavens for mercy, for I certainly am not giving you any!”
Sheriff Wilcox was in good humor. Despite the losses, the dragon had been cornered and was being driven into the dirt. Soon it would be dead. Soon Stanton would be free from its demonic threat. Soon Wilcox would be the greatest hero in the River Triangle. Soon the town would be his. Soon Sonia would be his.
Nothing could stop him now.
“What the heck is going on over here?” An unwelcome voice suddenly called out.
The entire battlefield abruptly froze, as everyone, dragon, sheriff, deputies and militiamen stared in shock as Logan Durham walked onto the field of battle, awlpike at the ready.
“Looks like everyone’s here’s been having fun!” The hunter continued calling out as he approached Mera and Wilcox. “Perhaps it is I, the one who started this, should be the one who ends this.”
“What the hell are you doing over here, hunter?” Wilcox fumed.
Logan stopped for a second. “I guess you could say I’ve embraced my madness sir.”
“What does that mean?”
“The dragon spared my life, and I owe it that debt. I will help protect its right to exist.”
Mera looked absolutely overjoyed.
The town militia however became completely confused.
“What?”
“The hunter wants to fight us all for a demon?”
“So it’s true! The dragon corrupted him!”
Logan just smiled, addressing the assembled crowd. “Leave now! Or I’ll have to personally fight and drive every single one of you guys back to Stanton!”
For a second, Wilcox gave him a look of absolute shock. Then he called out to his deputies.
“Lane! Edward! Samuel! Burles!”
“Sir!” The quartet of deputies immediately responded in unison.
Still hacking at the wyrm, the sheriff gestured to the hunter with his chin. “Kill him!”
“Yessir!” The deputies turned their attention to the hunter.
Logan steadied himself and nodded. Straight to the point.
Lane immediately ran at the hunter, waving his flail wildly. Logan easily avoided the swings and incapacitated his assailant by a precise blow to his celiac plexus.
Edward followed up the attack with a storm of jabs using his hunting spear. Logan parried the thrusts with his own polearm, and both blades sang as metal hit metal. Back and forth the two dueled, until the deputy extended himself a little too far, and Logan used his awlpike guard to drive his opponent’s spear downward, then twirled his weapon to violently strike Edward in the head with the butt of his pole. The deputy stood stunned for a moment and then collapsed without further comment.
Logan realized why no one was shooting when Samuel finally unleashed some arrows at him-which the hunter deftly avoided- only for Mera to immediately turn and immolate the sniper in a fireball before returning to his own struggle against the sheriff.
Finally Burles came on, his maul whistling through the air and slamming upon the spot where Logan had just stood. Left, right, the hunter deftly avoided the slow, dangerous swings, then swung low himself with his polearm, sending the guard into the deputy's shin. With a cry Burles fell, hard.
“I’m certainly not going to let you guys kill me that easily!” Logan roared back at the rest of the militia, who shuffled uneasily.
“Damn this infernal hunter!” Furious, the sheriff deflected another volley of flame before pushing Mera’s head aside with his shield, then stormed over to confront Logan himself, turning back briefly to call out to his dismayed troops:
“You all can handle the dragon while I deal with this asshole!”
Logan barely had time to prepare before Wilcox attacked him. The sheriff brutally rounded on the hunter, swinging his falchion like a gigantic mallet. Wilcox had minimal skill and no grace, but he did have speed and power, the force from each blow that Logan blocked chipping off slivers of wood from his polearm and pushing the hunter backwards. The hunter responded by attempting to jab back with his awlpike, but he could not aim or center himself and Wilcox easily parried the ripostes. Finally, the sheriff dealt a powerful strike that disarmed the hunter and threw onto his back. Wilcox towered over the hunter, sword above the sheriff’s head to deal the death blow to his opponent.
“You may have surprised me and defeated some of my men, but this victory is mine!”
Logan smirked and gestured with his chin. “Your men seem to think otherwise.”
Wilcox looked back to see mobs of his militia fleeing down the mountainside, pursued by no one.
“What the hell is going on here?” He yelled in confusion.
After all the exhaustion, struggle and bloodshed, the shock of the hunter supporting the dragon was too much. Without their commander in the lead in person, no one turned out to be willing to take on the now grinning dragon. First in small groups, then larger ones, then whole companies, the Stanton militia turned and fled like flocks of wild geese.
“The dragon has been casting black magic!”
“What other foul powers could the wyrm call forth?”
“I’m not going to be corrupted!”
“Let's get out of here!”
Sheriff Wilcox shook his first at his retreating troops. “Cowards!” He called out to Edwin and Lem nearby desperately trying to corral the fleeing men.
“Raise the standards! Rally the troops!”
Edwin, who still held the flag, desperately hoisted it up, waving it side to side, to no avail, as militia streamed back all around them. The Stanton militia was broken.
Lem called out to a few of them. “Stop men!” He grabbed one running beside him. “Stop! Don’t you love your home?”
“I do, and that’s why I’m running back to it as quickly as I can!” The militiaman brushed him aside and continued his flight. With curses, the deputies went after them, joined more slowly by the four Logan had defeated and were just now returning to action.
Wilcox turned back with cold fury. “You black-tongued son-of-a-” He blinked at the empty grass below him. Logan had taken the opportunity of the sheriff’s inattention to quickly and quietly get back to his feet, pick up his awlpike and reach the dragon, who just nodded approvingly at the hunter. Without further ado, Mera charged forward and in the blink of an eye was upon the Sheriff of Stanton, who barely had time to raise up his shield in defense as the wyrm lunged down to take a bite. For a split second the targe was caught in Mera’s maw. Parried, the dragon pulled back, lifting Wilcox up by his shield and leaving the commander dangling below; then Mera violently shook his head, freeing the block from his jaws while tossing the sheriff into the air like a rag roll.
Wilcox crashed back to the ground with a resounding thud two hundred feet away. That should have knocked any average person unconscious, and for a good minute, there was nothing but silence as the dust slowly drifted back to earth. However after a long pause, the sheriff exhaled violently, then slowly, unsteadily, covered in dirt, mud and bruises and propped up by his falchion, got back up to his feet.
Drawing a deep breath, Heratio wiped the grime from his eyes and looked back on the battlefield. All around lay the bodies of his troops, scattered among the scorched meadows and rocks. Some wounded staggered away, others brave enough to stay carried their fallen friends and comrades off. Not a single unhurt fighter remained on the field. The dragon however was still there, breathing heavily and eyes burning a hole in the sheriff but otherwise standing still. The hunter stood beside it, one reassuring hand resting on the wyrm’s shoulder, the other with awlpike at the ready. Logan gave Wilcox a look that even the sheriff understood.
Slowly the sheriff backed away from the two figures, his half bent shield raised to ward off any final attacks. None came. When he was a safe distance away, Wilcox raised his fist and shook it at both the dragon and the hunter.
“You haven’t won yet!”
Logan and Mera watched as their last opponent on the battlefield cursed them before slipping away into the darkness of the forest. Then the dragon laughed and slapped Logan on the back a little too hard, throwing the hunter back onto the ground.
“I can’t believe it! You came back!”
Logan smiled and got back to his feet, patting the dragon on the shoulder “Well I couldn’t leave a friend in need.”
***
Battered and humiliated, the army limped back to Stanton again. The troops were cankerous and glum; all wanted simply to get home or get a drink. With worried expressions, townsfolk crowded beside their doorsteps and looked out their window. Without any of the silent marchers actually announcing the fact, everyone knew that the troops had been defeated again.
The dragon hadn’t attacked Stanton after the first attempt to kill it-in fact the wounded and dead would be gradually carried in by stragglers and friends over the next few days, unmolested- so this time there was little panic about the inhabitants, but there was again disgrace. Banners and flags hung limply on clotheslines and masts, the result of a lack of wind, but also a reflection of the shame the people of Stanton felt over the action as they watched the silent troops return. Where were the songs? The joyous cheers? Where were the confetti and flags that flew so proudly when the militia left? Most importantly, where was the head of the dragon, the signal that all the ills that plagued Stanton finally ceased? After all that training, all that energy, all of that sacrifice, had it all been for nothing? It appeared to be, for the wagons and stretchers only brought back the dead and wounded, with no compensation for the suffering. The army gradually dissipated, filling up homes and taverns; healers brought down the wounded, and worried friends and relatives went out searching for answers. By the time the commander of the militia came back that evening, he had no force to command.
That was just as well, for Heratio Wilcox had been humiliated by his defeat against the dragon. All of his bluster about removing the stain of defeat and ending the threat to Stanton once and for all had become only hot air. As it were, when he entered town he only found Charles waiting. The deputy stood at the gateway with arms folded, shaking his head. Wilcox brushed him aside and headed towards the Dancing Wolf, but Charles placed his hand on the sheriff’s shoulder and silently pointed to the figure beside him. In the haze of dusk, Wilcox saw a well-dressed figure, wearing the kepi of a Royal messenger, her face hidden in the dark recesses of the cap bill.
“The fight didn’t go well, so I take it.” The figure said, folding her arms.
For a second all the anger and shame of the day caught up with Wilcox and his great fists clenched ominously. Then the sheriff noticed that Charles was looking at him in disapproving horror while quickly pantomiming a line across his neck, and after a minute’s pause Wilcox collected himself.
“Things did not go according to plan-” The sheriff started.
“There were some…contumacious elements within our ranks that derailed intricate plans.” Charles cut in.
“There are traitors in our midst!” Wilcox’s usual bluster returned. “However, this is just a small matter. We just need to rally, clean house and reorganize to attack again and win!” He jabbed the courier with a finger for emphasis. “Let me tell you that I have not lost! This is just a temporary setback and the dragon is as good as dead!”
The messenger cocked her head sideways in surprise but then quickly recollected herself.
“I see. Well, it is not for you to decide anymore. The renown of your dragon has spread throughout the kingdom and has arisen the interest of your king.” The messenger pulled out a scrolled parchment, revealing the red seal of the King to Wilcox and Charles, with the former expressing shock while the latter expressed unease at the sight. The messenger then opened the document and read the message aloud:
“To all members of the communities of the Eastern Piedmont, including but not limited to the communities of Stanton, Brookshire, Hanover Courthouse and Goldsburo:
It has recently come to my attention of exploits of the so-called Stanton Dragon in this region, and the mighty but unsuccessful endeavors of the local communities to rid themselves of this creature. However, I believe this foul creature can be put to good use. As you well know, the people of Nalbin deserve a well-ordered and entertaining Spring Festival to reign in the New Year. This dragon appears to exhibit a certain vivacity that would ensure it a star position in this year’s festivity. As a result, I will expedite an end to your problems. As this message is being read, I am deploying an elite brigade from the Auxian Royal Army with the specific order of capturing the creature and bringing it back to Caldern. Due to the importance of this mission, I am henceforth ordering the immediate cessation of all local attacks against the Stanton Dragon regardless of condition or reason. Let the real soldiers take care of this.
Your Lord and Sovereign, King John Herbert Walker II, King of all Nalbin, the Northern Marches, and Hanover”
Randy Newman - You've Got a Friend in Me
From
TheDinosaurMann!
Taking the familiar paths up the hills, Logan quickly began catching up to the tail end of the militia trudging their way through the wilderness. These stragglers stared in wonder and confusion at the reappearance of the hunter.
“Hey, what is he doing here?”
“Huh.”
“Is this disgrace hoping to steal some glory as well?”
Logan ignored them all, only picking up his pace. Besides the mockery, the soldiers let him continue on unmolested.
Finally the hunter cleared the familiar last hill, and came upon a panorama of unrivaled bloodshed. Even his hunting expeditions and the chaotic battle on Mulden Hill did not appear as brutal as this fight created between Wilcox and Mera. Bodies lay scattered throughout the landscape like sowed seeds on a field. The path of destruction wound its way around the rolling hills to the rubble-covered foot of Mt Rubinox where the fighting continued unabated. Yells, screams, wafting smoke and bursts of flame easily guided Logan to the dragon. The hunter carefully worked his way through the corpse field and then scrambled up the jumble of stones to come upon the wyrm currently locked in mortal struggle with Wilcox’s troops. Based upon the bloody debris of combat, Mera had confronted the militia as they approached his home by initiating an aerial attack, scattering the troops before his flames. However, Sheriff Wilcox responded by sending individual companies around the dragon’s flank targeting the entrance of the wyrm's cave, forcing Mera to repeatedly fall back and finally land to fend off the incursions and protect his hoard.
The militia commander himself was at the forefront of the fighting, one hand trying to cleave Mera’s head by swinging his mighty falchion while the other coaxed his men on by waving his shield like a banner.
“Courage men!” He called out. “The beast can only take so many of us before it must fall before our holy might!” A small group of swordsmen and axemen who had arranged themselves around the sheriff surged forward again, trying to hack or stab at the dragon from all sides.
Mera recoiled, evading the storm of blades and fending off the renewed attacks with claws and flame, though a dozen wounds revealed his defense had not been entirely successful. A violent swipe of his tail sent two opponents flying. A blast of fire immolated another four.
Leaping past the fallen the sheriff redoubled his efforts, his falchion singing in the air. The dragon jerked backwards, ducked, and straightened, barely avoiding three successive decapitating blows.
“Foul beast! Prepare to meet your maker!” Wilcox bellowed at Mera, who snarled back in defiance.
“For Stanton!” Encouraged by their leader, a company of spearmen raised their spears into the air before charging into the fight, trying to take their quarry from behind.
With a hiss, the dragon swatted away the remaining three axemen in front of him with a bat of his forepaw, then turned, tensed up like a cat and spewed forth an arc of flame over all the incoming attackers. Wilcox dove towards the ground, causing the volley to sweep harmlessly overhead, but the spearmen were not so lucky; in an instant, a dozen unfortunate souls burst into flames, screaming and writhing as they withered into charcoal.
“Is that all you’ve got?” The sheriff laughed as he renewed his attack, slashing violently at the dragon, who danced to one side to evade the amputating blow before lunging down and attempting to bite the sheriff’s head off, only to be thwarted by Wilcox bashing him back with his shield and dealing a quick glancing slash. Mera fell back, panting heavily, bleeding from his mouth, a cut atop his left brow dripping blood into his eye below. The wyrm paused to glower, warily awaiting the next attack. The rest of the militia basically stopped fighting as well, watching in awe as their commander appeared to be dueling the dragon single-handedly - and winning.
The sheriff smiled as he wiped the sweat from his brow. “Praying to your underworld demons, dragon? Don’t worry you’ll be joining them soon enough.”
With a yell Wilcox charged yet again, dodging fireballs Mera threw at him, deflecting flames that came to close with his shield, then with falchion poised to strike, lowered his targe to bash aside the dragon’s claws as the wyrm reared up and slashed at the human with them.
Talons engaged with shield, and within seconds the pair were interlocked in physical struggle, the dragon’s fire and teeth and claws against the sheriff’s falchion and targe. Heels dug into the dirt. Muscles strained. Slowly, despite the dragon’s size and strength, Wilcox was overpowering it, to the cheers of the surrounding townsfolk.
“You had better beg the Heavens for mercy, for I certainly am not giving you any!”
Sheriff Wilcox was in good humor. Despite the losses, the dragon had been cornered and was being driven into the dirt. Soon it would be dead. Soon Stanton would be free from its demonic threat. Soon Wilcox would be the greatest hero in the River Triangle. Soon the town would be his. Soon Sonia would be his.
Nothing could stop him now.
“What the heck is going on over here?” An unwelcome voice suddenly called out.
The entire battlefield abruptly froze, as everyone, dragon, sheriff, deputies and militiamen stared in shock as Logan Durham walked onto the field of battle, awlpike at the ready.
“Looks like everyone’s here’s been having fun!” The hunter continued calling out as he approached Mera and Wilcox. “Perhaps it is I, the one who started this, should be the one who ends this.”
“What the hell are you doing over here, hunter?” Wilcox fumed.
Logan stopped for a second. “I guess you could say I’ve embraced my madness sir.”
“What does that mean?”
“The dragon spared my life, and I owe it that debt. I will help protect its right to exist.”
Mera looked absolutely overjoyed.
The town militia however became completely confused.
“What?”
“The hunter wants to fight us all for a demon?”
“So it’s true! The dragon corrupted him!”
Logan just smiled, addressing the assembled crowd. “Leave now! Or I’ll have to personally fight and drive every single one of you guys back to Stanton!”
For a second, Wilcox gave him a look of absolute shock. Then he called out to his deputies.
“Lane! Edward! Samuel! Burles!”
“Sir!” The quartet of deputies immediately responded in unison.
Still hacking at the wyrm, the sheriff gestured to the hunter with his chin. “Kill him!”
“Yessir!” The deputies turned their attention to the hunter.
Logan steadied himself and nodded. Straight to the point.
Lane immediately ran at the hunter, waving his flail wildly. Logan easily avoided the swings and incapacitated his assailant by a precise blow to his celiac plexus.
Edward followed up the attack with a storm of jabs using his hunting spear. Logan parried the thrusts with his own polearm, and both blades sang as metal hit metal. Back and forth the two dueled, until the deputy extended himself a little too far, and Logan used his awlpike guard to drive his opponent’s spear downward, then twirled his weapon to violently strike Edward in the head with the butt of his pole. The deputy stood stunned for a moment and then collapsed without further comment.
Logan realized why no one was shooting when Samuel finally unleashed some arrows at him-which the hunter deftly avoided- only for Mera to immediately turn and immolate the sniper in a fireball before returning to his own struggle against the sheriff.
Finally Burles came on, his maul whistling through the air and slamming upon the spot where Logan had just stood. Left, right, the hunter deftly avoided the slow, dangerous swings, then swung low himself with his polearm, sending the guard into the deputy's shin. With a cry Burles fell, hard.
“I’m certainly not going to let you guys kill me that easily!” Logan roared back at the rest of the militia, who shuffled uneasily.
“Damn this infernal hunter!” Furious, the sheriff deflected another volley of flame before pushing Mera’s head aside with his shield, then stormed over to confront Logan himself, turning back briefly to call out to his dismayed troops:
“You all can handle the dragon while I deal with this asshole!”
Logan barely had time to prepare before Wilcox attacked him. The sheriff brutally rounded on the hunter, swinging his falchion like a gigantic mallet. Wilcox had minimal skill and no grace, but he did have speed and power, the force from each blow that Logan blocked chipping off slivers of wood from his polearm and pushing the hunter backwards. The hunter responded by attempting to jab back with his awlpike, but he could not aim or center himself and Wilcox easily parried the ripostes. Finally, the sheriff dealt a powerful strike that disarmed the hunter and threw onto his back. Wilcox towered over the hunter, sword above the sheriff’s head to deal the death blow to his opponent.
“You may have surprised me and defeated some of my men, but this victory is mine!”
Logan smirked and gestured with his chin. “Your men seem to think otherwise.”
Wilcox looked back to see mobs of his militia fleeing down the mountainside, pursued by no one.
“What the hell is going on here?” He yelled in confusion.
After all the exhaustion, struggle and bloodshed, the shock of the hunter supporting the dragon was too much. Without their commander in the lead in person, no one turned out to be willing to take on the now grinning dragon. First in small groups, then larger ones, then whole companies, the Stanton militia turned and fled like flocks of wild geese.
“The dragon has been casting black magic!”
“What other foul powers could the wyrm call forth?”
“I’m not going to be corrupted!”
“Let's get out of here!”
Sheriff Wilcox shook his first at his retreating troops. “Cowards!” He called out to Edwin and Lem nearby desperately trying to corral the fleeing men.
“Raise the standards! Rally the troops!”
Edwin, who still held the flag, desperately hoisted it up, waving it side to side, to no avail, as militia streamed back all around them. The Stanton militia was broken.
Lem called out to a few of them. “Stop men!” He grabbed one running beside him. “Stop! Don’t you love your home?”
“I do, and that’s why I’m running back to it as quickly as I can!” The militiaman brushed him aside and continued his flight. With curses, the deputies went after them, joined more slowly by the four Logan had defeated and were just now returning to action.
Wilcox turned back with cold fury. “You black-tongued son-of-a-” He blinked at the empty grass below him. Logan had taken the opportunity of the sheriff’s inattention to quickly and quietly get back to his feet, pick up his awlpike and reach the dragon, who just nodded approvingly at the hunter. Without further ado, Mera charged forward and in the blink of an eye was upon the Sheriff of Stanton, who barely had time to raise up his shield in defense as the wyrm lunged down to take a bite. For a split second the targe was caught in Mera’s maw. Parried, the dragon pulled back, lifting Wilcox up by his shield and leaving the commander dangling below; then Mera violently shook his head, freeing the block from his jaws while tossing the sheriff into the air like a rag roll.
Wilcox crashed back to the ground with a resounding thud two hundred feet away. That should have knocked any average person unconscious, and for a good minute, there was nothing but silence as the dust slowly drifted back to earth. However after a long pause, the sheriff exhaled violently, then slowly, unsteadily, covered in dirt, mud and bruises and propped up by his falchion, got back up to his feet.
Drawing a deep breath, Heratio wiped the grime from his eyes and looked back on the battlefield. All around lay the bodies of his troops, scattered among the scorched meadows and rocks. Some wounded staggered away, others brave enough to stay carried their fallen friends and comrades off. Not a single unhurt fighter remained on the field. The dragon however was still there, breathing heavily and eyes burning a hole in the sheriff but otherwise standing still. The hunter stood beside it, one reassuring hand resting on the wyrm’s shoulder, the other with awlpike at the ready. Logan gave Wilcox a look that even the sheriff understood.
Slowly the sheriff backed away from the two figures, his half bent shield raised to ward off any final attacks. None came. When he was a safe distance away, Wilcox raised his fist and shook it at both the dragon and the hunter.
“You haven’t won yet!”
Logan and Mera watched as their last opponent on the battlefield cursed them before slipping away into the darkness of the forest. Then the dragon laughed and slapped Logan on the back a little too hard, throwing the hunter back onto the ground.
“I can’t believe it! You came back!”
Logan smiled and got back to his feet, patting the dragon on the shoulder “Well I couldn’t leave a friend in need.”
***
Battered and humiliated, the army limped back to Stanton again. The troops were cankerous and glum; all wanted simply to get home or get a drink. With worried expressions, townsfolk crowded beside their doorsteps and looked out their window. Without any of the silent marchers actually announcing the fact, everyone knew that the troops had been defeated again.
The dragon hadn’t attacked Stanton after the first attempt to kill it-in fact the wounded and dead would be gradually carried in by stragglers and friends over the next few days, unmolested- so this time there was little panic about the inhabitants, but there was again disgrace. Banners and flags hung limply on clotheslines and masts, the result of a lack of wind, but also a reflection of the shame the people of Stanton felt over the action as they watched the silent troops return. Where were the songs? The joyous cheers? Where were the confetti and flags that flew so proudly when the militia left? Most importantly, where was the head of the dragon, the signal that all the ills that plagued Stanton finally ceased? After all that training, all that energy, all of that sacrifice, had it all been for nothing? It appeared to be, for the wagons and stretchers only brought back the dead and wounded, with no compensation for the suffering. The army gradually dissipated, filling up homes and taverns; healers brought down the wounded, and worried friends and relatives went out searching for answers. By the time the commander of the militia came back that evening, he had no force to command.
That was just as well, for Heratio Wilcox had been humiliated by his defeat against the dragon. All of his bluster about removing the stain of defeat and ending the threat to Stanton once and for all had become only hot air. As it were, when he entered town he only found Charles waiting. The deputy stood at the gateway with arms folded, shaking his head. Wilcox brushed him aside and headed towards the Dancing Wolf, but Charles placed his hand on the sheriff’s shoulder and silently pointed to the figure beside him. In the haze of dusk, Wilcox saw a well-dressed figure, wearing the kepi of a Royal messenger, her face hidden in the dark recesses of the cap bill.
“The fight didn’t go well, so I take it.” The figure said, folding her arms.
For a second all the anger and shame of the day caught up with Wilcox and his great fists clenched ominously. Then the sheriff noticed that Charles was looking at him in disapproving horror while quickly pantomiming a line across his neck, and after a minute’s pause Wilcox collected himself.
“Things did not go according to plan-” The sheriff started.
“There were some…contumacious elements within our ranks that derailed intricate plans.” Charles cut in.
“There are traitors in our midst!” Wilcox’s usual bluster returned. “However, this is just a small matter. We just need to rally, clean house and reorganize to attack again and win!” He jabbed the courier with a finger for emphasis. “Let me tell you that I have not lost! This is just a temporary setback and the dragon is as good as dead!”
The messenger cocked her head sideways in surprise but then quickly recollected herself.
“I see. Well, it is not for you to decide anymore. The renown of your dragon has spread throughout the kingdom and has arisen the interest of your king.” The messenger pulled out a scrolled parchment, revealing the red seal of the King to Wilcox and Charles, with the former expressing shock while the latter expressed unease at the sight. The messenger then opened the document and read the message aloud:
“To all members of the communities of the Eastern Piedmont, including but not limited to the communities of Stanton, Brookshire, Hanover Courthouse and Goldsburo:
It has recently come to my attention of exploits of the so-called Stanton Dragon in this region, and the mighty but unsuccessful endeavors of the local communities to rid themselves of this creature. However, I believe this foul creature can be put to good use. As you well know, the people of Nalbin deserve a well-ordered and entertaining Spring Festival to reign in the New Year. This dragon appears to exhibit a certain vivacity that would ensure it a star position in this year’s festivity. As a result, I will expedite an end to your problems. As this message is being read, I am deploying an elite brigade from the Auxian Royal Army with the specific order of capturing the creature and bringing it back to Caldern. Due to the importance of this mission, I am henceforth ordering the immediate cessation of all local attacks against the Stanton Dragon regardless of condition or reason. Let the real soldiers take care of this.
Your Lord and Sovereign, King John Herbert Walker II, King of all Nalbin, the Northern Marches, and Hanover”
Randy Newman - You've Got a Friend in Me
From
TheDinosaurMann!
Category Artwork (Digital) / Fantasy
Species Western Dragon
Size 3585 x 2313px
File Size 7.63 MB
Comments