Once upon a time, there was a dragon.
She was weak, for a dragon. Her bat-like wings were fragile and clumsy. Her black claws were dull and brittle. Her fiery breath was small and weak. Her spiked tail was thin and frail. Her curved horns were short and stubby. She had large eyes that were the color of dusty amber, but they could not see as well and as far as those of her brothers and sisters. She had scales that were dark red like blood and rust, but they weren't as strong and durable as those of her fellow dragons. She had gleaming white fangs, but they weren't as large and sharp as those of her brethen.
She lived in a cave on a mountain, carved into the stone by water that had long since flown down into the valleys. Down there, it formed a lake, large and clear and fresh. That lake had attracted humans and they had build a settlement there.
The dragon didn't care much for these humans. Every once in a while, she flew over to the settlement and snatched a horse or a cow and had it for dinner, but other than that, she left them alone. The humans left her alone as well, for they were scared of her.
Then, one day, a knight came into town. He wore heavy, battered armor and carried a curved sword in his hand. On his chest, he proudly bore the insignia of the king himself. That meant that he was a royal knight; a strong and fearsome warrior, and the townspeople welcomed him into their town. They took him to the pub and gave him a pint of ale, a hearty meal and a warm fire to sit at and while he ate, he told them how he had fought a fierce dragon up north. It had been green, green like venom and acid, with razorsharp claws that were as long as the arm of an adult man. But he had fought proudly and he had been victorious.
The townfolk was in awe. They listened to his story, admired his courage and his strenght and in the morning, they bid him farewell and continued with their lives.
A few weeks passed. Then, just as the leaves began to fall, a mage came into town. She wore a long, tattered robe in white and blue with silver ornaments all over and wielded a large wooden staff with a gemstone embedded in it. She was old, her hair white and curly, but braided into an intricate hairdo with a large, bird-shaped clasp keeping it in place. That meant that she was one of the Grand Mages, the strongest mages in the world, and the townspeople welcomed her into their town.
They took her to the pub and gave her a cup of tea, a tasty meal and a warm fire to sit at and while she ate, she told them how she had fought a cunning dragon. It had been blue, dark blue like the sky before a thunderstorm, with venomous fangs that could kill instantly. But she had fought carefully and she had been victorious.
The townsfolk was in awe. They listened to her story, admired her wisdom and her skill and in the morning, they bid her farewell and continued with their lives.
Again, weeks went by, until the leaves had all fallen and winter was coming close. In the last warm night, an elf came into town. He wore a green tunic with leaves embroidered on the chest and carried a wooden bow, decorated with intricate carvings. He wore a small crown on his head, made from gold wire and dried flowers. That meant he was an elvish prince, a person of much importance and value, and the townspeople welcomed him into their town.
They took him to the pub and gave him a glass of wine, a lavish meal and a warm fire to sit at and while he ate, he told them how he had fought a dangerous dragon. It had been yellow, yellow like sickness and bile, with two heads that spew a neverending stream of fire. But he had fought relentlessly and he had been victorious.
The townfolk was in awe. They listened to his story, admired his determination and his swiftness and in the morning, they bid him farewell and continued with their lives.
The next time the dragon flew over their town to steal a horse, the people laughed at her.
"What kind of dragon are you?!", they mocked her. "And to think that we were scared of you! Your claws aren't nearly the size of a grown man's arm! Your fangs don't hold a drop of venom! You only have one head and that one can barely roast a hog! So many fearsome dragons, but you are nothing compared to them! You are so weak!"
The dragon heard that, but she said nothing. She took her horse back to her cave, ate her meal.
Then she spread her fragile, clumsy wings and flew back down into town, landed right in the center of the townsquare and crushed all that was underneath her. She raised her dull, brittle claws, slammed them down and the streets cracked and tore like it was nothing. She inhaled deeply and spewed her small, weak flames and torched the temple and the pub, the forge and the stables. She lifted her thin, frail tail and knocked down the town walls with one swipe of it. She slammed her short, stubby horns into the towers and they collapsed on the spot.
The townspeople tried to fight. But no matter how fast they were, her amber eyes saw them coming. No matter how strong they struck, her red scales let nothing through. No matter how armored they were, her white fangs crushed them without trouble.
It only took minutes to destroy what had taken years to build. As the few survivours looked at her with terror in their eyes, she smiled at them, her bloody teeth gleaming in the sunlight.
“You forgot something important, little humans”, she said softly as they trembled and sobbed, “It is true. I am weak, for a dragon.
But I am still a dragon.”
stormborns
pixelskylines
kaledo-art
vaporwave
areudirty