“A Cave Dragon? This is too much.” Shorast continued to curse his luck under his breath. He even considered bolting up the stairs before the fell beast saw him. He could make it. He could get to the surface where this monster would be completely blinded by the sunlight. But he knew it was too late. He knew it heard him, and that flight was no longer an option. Best to find good ground and be ready for the worst.
It was one thing when the miners breached the cavern in absolutely the wrong spot, landing their helpless selves in the middle of a group of Cave Ogres. Sure, they needed the militia then. But a Cave Dragon? These are the last 14 living Dwarfs of the once proud and once mighty Infallible Armor. Why in Etur's name were they risking themselves to collect bodies of dead Ogres? And a Cave Dragon? Really?
Shorast readied himself, firmly planting his bronze boots into the soft cave moss. He checked his shield one last time as the huge beast slithered between two equally huge pillars of stone. “Why isn't Iteb here? He's He's the one with the Axe, damnit.” His shield would hold. It would have to hold. It was his only protection. It was his only weapon. Besides, there were none better in all of the Infallible Armor at shield-bashing than Shorast. Few to choose from, but none better.
And the Dragon readied itself, sensing it's next meal. Once this great beast had roamed the skies. Once it was a great and fearsome creature. Now it was just fearsome. A millennia in the caves had bleached its color, taken its wings, and left it nearly blind. But it could see well enough to make out the bronzed snack in front of it. With lightning quick reflexes it jumped straight at Shorast.
The first moments of the battle were a blur. Shorast dodged some attacks and blocked others, but held his ground. A few jabs with his shield here, and few punches there, and he could sense the Dragon's pain. After several failed passes and fresh bruises it pulled back, rearing up on its hind legs. It loosed a tremendous roar, and tried to draw forth long quenched fires. And that was when the mighty beast snapped, failed by its once dominating, once certain ability. Pure rage ran through its body. It wanted, no it needed, to punish something for this. It MUST inflct pain on this insignificant creature for revealing the weaknesses age had inflicted upon it.
It lunged angrily. Just what Shorast was waiting for. He turned his shield upright into the diving beast, wedged it against the ground and into the Dragon's chest, wounding its mighty heart. Shorast was then taken by a frenzy all his own. He jumped onto the Dragon. He bashed at it with his shield. He kicked it. He punched it. He swore at it. Anything to take it down. Anything to kill it. Anything to get out of this stinking cave. The fury of 80 years of a failing civilization emptied through this mighty dwarf's body. And then Shorast did the unthinkable.
He bit it.
Throughout all the threads and scrolls of history many great warriors have done battle with dragons. Many have tried to beat them, and many have failed. But the scholars of old and the wisest of the young agree on one thing: None have ever attempted to bite a dragon. Until this day the dragons were in control of the biting business.
The bite on its foot caught the Dragon by surprise, and further enraged it. It pulled itself free from the bothersome little creature and again turned to attack. But it was too little, and too late. The glistening little morsel continued to bash, to pound, to kick. It didn't relent until the once proud and once mighty Dragon was writhing in pain and on the edge of consciousness. Then a simple jab at the head, and the beast's world went dark. The timeless beast was no more.
Shorast was instantly celebrated throughout the halls of MistyVale for his valour. A party was thrown at the newly built and active ampi-well. Passing merchants were regaled with his story. Bards in far away towns sang of his fearlessness. Warriors came to study his ways, hoping to one day equal his great feat. But as for his greatest secret, the terrible knowledge he used to turn the tables on the Dragon.... That skill he taught only to his squadmates.
All hail Captain Shorast Kikrostiseth! Guardian of MistyVale! Legendary Biter of Dragons!
(Well, novice biter, at least....)
[Edit, after-thoughts: This only goes to show there is no part of this game that isn't completely fux'rd and insane. And apparently more than a bit weird.]
[Double Edit: This is a perfect example of why I shouldn't drink (lots and lots of) coffee. I wake up with a pseudo-hangover and find I posted this kind of insanity....]
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Topic: [Story] Biting The Dragon (Read 789 times)