Chronicles From the End of an Age

The Dragonslayer - 10Yrs BTA

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A man stalked through the undergrowth, taking slow and measured footsteps. The marshy ground below stuck to his boots, and insects insistently buzzed around him, trying to distract his focus from the task at hand. The wind sighed and breathed through the underbrush. Wet leaves slapped against his leather-armoured legs. A humid heat sweltered his head, drops of sweat dripping from a mop of brown hair.

On his back lay a shining round metal shield that reflected the surroundings with startling detail, with a single white stone in the middle. In his right hand, he held a spear made of the same metal and a sword on his left hip that was sheathed with a simple leather-bound hilt. His body was clad in leather armour, and a pouch occupied the other hip that swung back and forth with each step. His eyes were focused forward, every movement attentive and full of purpose.

Ahead of him the cries and sobs of a child shattered the serenity of the forest. A growl followed, terrible and dangerous, which only forced the child to cry all the more. The man began to move quicker, making less attempt to keep quiet as the noises from the kid would hide his approach. Ahead of him lay a small clearing, where the ground raised slightly out of the marsh. As he got closer the man allowed himself a better understanding of what was going on.

A group of humans occupied the middle of the clearing, a dozen or so, of varying ages. The one crying was little more than a baby, one or two years old, with his mother trying desperately to get him to be quiet. Standing over the humans were three dragons. Their dark mossy green scaly hide glittered like gems in the sunlight, and around the inner parts of their legs lay odd assortments of colour. One had a bright yellow, another red, almost pink, and the last a bright blue. Their tails were occupied by a scorpion-like tip that flicked dangerously along the ground.

Two of them were speaking in low tones with each other, their disgruntled language sounding more like unintelligible grunts and growls then anything else. The last was the one threatening the rest of the humans, teeth bared as it glared at the mother and her crying child. The man frowned as he overlooked the situation. Three acid dragons would be difficult to overcome, especially by himself. He would need to wait for a better opportunity. So, he lowered himself to the ground, hiding in the foliage as he waited, listening.

He was one of the few humans he knew that was able to understand the dragon language and managed to overhear a bit of the dragon's conversation.

"Me? Why do I have to head back?" the one with red around their legs exclaimed.

"This is a great find Juwil. We'll need help carrying them all back," the one with yellow replied with a dismissive snort.

"Yeah... but then we'll have to share. Look, there are four for each of us. I'll even take the one with the hatchling," Juwil growled.

"We can't carry four humans for more then a couple of leagues at the most. They are too heavy."

"Well, we can do short flights then..."

"That'll take days! We don't have days. What if we come across a group of fire dragons? Or light dragons? No, you are the fastest out of us three. You could make it back there by the end of the day, gather some more, and then get back here."

"But... but I'm the only one who can speak their language. How will you communicate with them?"

They both looked at their growling friend.

"I think they get the idea," the one with yellow said with a slight smirk.

Juwil looked at the humans a little nervously, "Fine! But keep an eye on them at all times. I'll get back here as quick as possible."