Welcome to Gaia! ::

Tales of Astrodoth™

.Ω.

The Fall to Darkness


N. A. Triantaffelow

Life before The Raid was common, I was training to be a warrior, in hopes to one day travel the world, and find riches, fame, and mostly power. Those hopes were selfish, but I continued to go on with them, for motivation. My father was a Head Master Swordsman of the academy in my town, and my personal trainer, over time I became a swordsman of great skill myself, and a lower academy trainer. My two friends were Kerry and Kreg; quite a site in Blackwood Village, Kerry was an elf, and Kreg a halfling.
My town was made up of mostly humans, half-dragons, and dragons. The Siege by the green-skins was vicious, as was most of my heritage, chromatic dragons were mostly evil. Of course my town was no exception as fights were common, and unless they interfered with something the nobles were doing were rarely broken up. Along with the robberies, this is why we needed complex guards. Lately looking back at it makes me angry, and I have to hold my anger in check while writing this. I feel the need to wreak revenge, savage revenge on those responsible. Indeed I realize that I am falling into the depths of darkness, following in my heritage’s steps, and soon will not be able to write from this prospective.
Sura, my sister, was unlike me, or any of our kind, she turned to the teachings of Krimaria, the sun goddess. She continued to try to stop my decent into evil, to ease my anger and grief from that horrid event. She too felt grief like all others, but turned for help, rather than her darker emotions. My mother was a full dragon, and died in battle along side everyone of Black Scale Hold. I, my sister, my two friends, and Jarrod were the only survivors … they killed dozens that day, and my father’s body was never found, and so I keep the hope that he is still alive. My first days of travel begin soon, as I stay in the ruins of Black Scale Hold, Sura has already made it out and I acknowledge the fact that she believes me dead. Perhaps it is best that way…
But I will not die; not before I gain revenge… and bring pride back to The Hold; to my race. General Riz’yan, and the green-skins, will pay dearly with their lives and very souls; I will tear them apart.





Ark left the academy with his shoulders slightly slumped. His arms were tired from the constant swinging of the dull metal blades of the practice weapons at the academy. Snapping the two scimitars in and out to block the incoming attacks from his opponent and slashing and slicing with his own. He was training for two weapon fighting with two scimitars. His father was a Head Master Swordsman, and his skill was rubbing off on Ark, who had already learned quite a few techniques, and had begun to mix his hand to hand fighting ability with his weapons, creating a whole new set of combinations and technique branches to use. He continued to walk to the Arin manner, his posture reforming, making him up to be his natural eight feet, four inches in height and two tons in toned muscle.
Ark was still only nearing his adulthood, being only eighty years old. Passing the alleyway between the local tavern and general store, Ark noticed two young men exit and start walking after him, and he knew he was in for a fight. He took a sharp turn to the next street, and continued walking; he crossed into the next alleyway and backtracked into the previous street. He then continued walking; making sure his enemies knew he was aware of their presence. They followed farther away for many minutes, and then got the courage to walk closer to the large half-dragon. The three turned the corner to the next street, the one that the Arin manner was on. Arin manner was on the top of the small mountain in Blackwood Forest, a rare thing for black dragons to be living on.
But in truth, it was very fitting; it had many tunnels leading to a huge complex of large caves in which were filled with water and dragon-made acid pits. The top was mainly for the human population, though some dragon families, like Ark’s, chose the surface. Ark walked on, to the middle of the length of the street, which had a large set of stairs that led to the Arin compound.
He walked to the edge of it, and then turned to view the two followers. They looked at him, and walked around him, circling him. “What do you want?” Ark asked boldly. “Your money or your life! Hand the gold over” one of the thugs demanded, and three more joined them from the crowd of on-viewers. “Do you know who I am? What I am? Or are you just blind?” Ark retorted.
The thug leader growled “you’ll be blind in a second if you don’t hand over your cash!” Ark laughed, and pulled free a fine edged scimitar, inscribed with many draconic runes; it was tinted red, for decoration. What followed was another very similar scimitar, but with different runes, and was tinted blue. Burning End, and Shadow Brother; red and blue weapons famed in the town of Black Scale Hold for they were made specifically for Arkidisey Arinari; son of Head Master Xeerok Arinari, the best swordsman in the entire city. Apparently the muggers didn’t know who he was; for they fell wide eyed in awe from the swords, and took a reflexive step back, knowing this half-dragon was trained personally by Xeerok.
Ark did a leap up the stairs, clearing five, which was around three feet, only a skip for him. The dazing affects of the weapons over, the group pulled out clubs and axes, getting to their battle stance, while their large opponent lowered to a slanted crouch, the pose for a battle lunge. He did exactly that when he spun forward, blades outright in a spinning motion, like a deadly top, gliding down to the middle of the five soldiers, deflecting all their weapons wide. He instantly changed direction and knocked the weapons the other way, pulling their owners with them, and as fast as it had begun, the spinning stopped as Ark slammed the hilt onto the back of an off balance thug’s head but narrowly deflected an axe chop.
Ark followed through with a double slash, spinning while doing so, as to turn and deflect another axe and a sword attack from the side and behind. The attack pushed a man off balance and locked two others in; Ark kicked one in the stomach and then kicked again in the bent-over man’s face. Two down. The locked swordsman pulled free and swung a low chop which nicked Ark in the hip, the dragon-man roared in outrage and double stabbed the thug so fast that he didn’t have time to register the act as he was picked off the ground and slammed head first into the stone road. The next two were larger, and worked in unison to keep Ark on his heels; one was the band leader, armed with a broad sword and a punching dagger. Ark could hardly keep up with all the attacks, as stabs and slashes and chops came his way. He locked blades with the other man besides the leader and turned him so his back faced the leader, as a shield. Ark slammed his head into the other man's in rapid succession, dropping him to his knees as Ark lifted his foot and slammed the man’s shoulder out of its socket, dislocating it.
The man cried out and dropped, unconscious. The leader backed away into the crowd, but came out again with four more, as though there may be an endless band of thugs. Lucky for Ark, who from the long day of training was beginning to slow down, Kerry and Kreg emerged and joined with him, each one by his sides. “Brought some friends eh?” the thug leader asked sarcastically. “As luck would have it, yes” Ark retorted on cue, gripping his weapons tightly. Kerry waved her hands suddenly, and pointed at the leader, who was pushed five feet away onto the ground.
The other two thugs closed in on her, but Kreg was ready and tripped one, who fell flat on the ground, and stayed that way as the halfling slit his throat quite mercilessly with his iron dagger. Ark snapped a scimitar out over Kerry’s shoulder, blocking an incoming axe slash. Kerry waved her arms and shot them out at the thug with the axe, setting his arms on fire; followed by his screams of agony. The next three came in fast, one going for Kreg and the other two for Kerry; who pulled two fingers down and the poked them back out at the two, freezing their feet. The thug leader was on Kreg in seconds, slashing and stabbing with his broadsword and punching dagger, trying to find a hole in his defenses, in which he did, stabbing the dagger forward into Kreg’s hip, knocking him down.
Kreg cried out but smiled up at him anyway, or rather Ark, who slid both weapons into the leader’s back, pulling him off the ground and then twisting them blade up, letting gravity push the body to the floor; two long red lines cutting through his body. On turning to the elf, he to saw she maid quick work of the two attackers; they lay on the ground, or rather their bones; their flesh melted away by acid spells.

“Thanks.” Ark said, sliding his scimitars into their respective scabbards. “You know you can count on us, Ark; we’re always in for a good fight.” Kreg exclaimed in his always casual, half sarcastic voice; which betrayed his behavior sometimes. “Yeah, we wouldn’t want to miss out on some fun, now would we?” Kerry joked, showing a small smile. Ark nodded and smiled “yes well, I must take leave, well fought.” The friends nodded and departed, Kreg and Kerry walking back into the crowd as Ark walked up the marble steps to Arin manner. He lay down on the black bed after hanging his scimitars on the wall, resting before having another energy draining, tiresome but exciting lesson with his father.
Hours passed as he drifted into sleep, the room getting dark as the sun went down; not that the town was lit up during the day, for the sun hardly penetrated the trees. The door shot open and the brown haired, bearded man came into the room; Ark’s father was stood six feet, six inches, but hardly neared the top of the door. For a human he was tall, and even stronger so, and famed in the city of black dragons for his amazing swordsmanship. “Time for training.” His stern words sounded out loudly, waking Ark from his slumber. Ark got up and shook off the sleepiness, getting up and strapping on his sword belt holding Burning End and Shadow Brother, and then followed his father out the door and into the sparring room, which held three seats next to the oak wood door they entered from. Only one was empty; the other two held two elegantly dressed nobles from the academy.
One was Head Master Akuru, on his left side a broadsword known as Kee’nar, his grey robes with gold trim where cut high and short for easy maneuverability under the weight of battle while also showing him off for who he was. The next was Head Mistress La’Ryn; her stern features pointed Ark’s way. She was similarly dressed, though her robes where blue with white trim and in her hand the spear Trilama. All three Head Masters sitting in front of Ark. “today is your test to see if you will be raised in the academy as a Master Swordsman” Ark’s father spoke while the other two watched. ‘Master Swordsman Arkidisey’ Ark mused to himself; the sound of it was exciting as he nodded to his father and entered the room fully, going to the right of the middle line, and backing away two steps. His father followed and mirrored his actions; going to the left and backing away two steps. On cue they drew their scimitars, and circled around, drawing closer as they did. His father struck first, his right scimitar coming in fast and high, his left being dragged up behind it, signaling a double strike, or possibly more; knowing his father, no one could be sure. Ark blocked the first, and then sidestepped to avoid the other. Ark then double stabbed, which were brought wide, his father shooting his own weapons straight for his son’s ribs. But Ark was too quick and snapped his scimitars in again, slapping his fathers’ together, and then interwove his and brought out his elbows, locking all four swords in. He then brought them all high and turned them to the side, bringing his foot up to kick. Holding tight the lock, Ark kicked forward and knocked his father back, his right sword ripped from his grasp and tossed far behind Ark, sticking into the padded floor.
“Well done…” Xeerok said, shooting out his hand as the weapon darted forward from behind Ark, who rolled sidelong. Ark almost forgot his father’s swords’ magic, they responded to his slightest thought; a literal extension of his mind. He started to mix up his moves; he came in strong and exaggerated with a right-to-left swipe, opening an attack. Ark knew it was a trick; his father often used feigns in practice to try to open Ark’s guard.
Instead Ark backed away, and circled again “I thought I trained you better, I was open and stayed that way for quite some time” Xeerok said, exchanging looks with his son. Ark scoffed at the notion, but didn’t say anything. Xeerok’s weapons came in fast and heavy, a stab to slash and rollover slash combo starting with a left-right-right and then he rolled to the left of a chop and a kick from Ark. Ark immediately kicked again, bringing it right to left across his crouched father’s face. His father fell back into a roll, taking the blow without a word, getting back to his feet lightning fast as he let go of his weapons and they floated up in front of him.
Ark’s eyes widened a bit, for he knew his father’s most deadly technique; he used only his weapons’ magic to fight, so there was no need for balance or finding the right footing, allowing him to do almost anything. His father moved away as the weapons floated toward him, changing direction. One went in fast, a left-to-right and right-to-left diagonal combo, while the other floated to his side, coming in just as fast but with harder, slower attacks, the blade spinning around, trying to cut deep into Ark’s arm. He dodged to the right and the deflected the other blade, trying to ambush him from behind. Ark spun under a side ways slash and broke into a full run to his father, rolling to the side away from a stab to the back and his fathers kick. Ark spun around his father, to get away from the pursuing scimitars and then kicked him in the back.
The kick knocked him toward the blades which predictably went up over his head, and Ark’s unintentionally as he rolled under them and hit his father in the back of the head with Shadow Brother’s hilt. The leading sword poked ark in the back and the next slashed him from the side, breaking through his leather armor and creating a gash. Ark winced in pain but he already started to regenerate. The one going for his back continued its stab but Ark tensed his muscles and dived head-long, rolling to a stand. Strike after strike rang off, the four scimitars a blur of motion as Ark moved to get closer to his father, already feeling the blades’ mind power giving out.
Ark went in so fast the strikes sounded off in almost one note, Ark continually pressing forward until he was in front of his father, and head butted him in the nose. The swords dropped to the ground and the brown bearded man got up moments later, obviously disoriented from the last blow. “Nicely done, boy, nicely done” Xeerok said proudly. La’Ryn clapped her hands, nodding in agreement, La’Ryn now not wearing a scowl, but rather a slight smile, obviously enjoying the show of swordplay. Akuru was not smiling though, but rather looking not too impressed. La’Ryn noticed this and frowned at him “he just beat Xeerok, could you do better?” It was all he needed; “Yes, I say we have a battle with me and him, the boy, to see if he gets in.” Ark felt annoyed, but more so he wanted to show off to Akuru. “Very well, Akuru” Xeerok said, waving off the disorientation “you can have your match.” The eight foot half-dragon got up and pulled free his sword, immediately charging Ark, who rolled left and sliced at Akuru’s ankle , but it was armored, only cutting his robes.
Akuru brought the broad sword down in a two handed swipe, but Ark’s blades snapped up and locked it in place. Ark twisted under the lock and tugged the blade out of the awkward angle he put it in. Akuru kicked Ark in the back and then grabbed his sword off the ground, which glowed blue now, electricity pulsating off of it. He swung in a backslash angle upward, and Ark slapped it aside with both blades, but was shocked from the electricity, realizing his couldn’t touch it, the lightning blade stung him, for electricity was the natural weakness of black dragons, as acid was their immunity.
Quite peculiar for Akuru to have it. Akuru came in hard, sword weaving, but Ark sidestepped around him and sliced Akuru’s shoulder, followed by a kick to the back of the knee and Burning End’s slap against Kee’nar, and brought more shock waves to Ark, but fell to the ground and lightly emitted more electricity. A dagger slipped out of Akuru’s left hand and deflected Shadow Brother, as it tried to go for an executing place, which would end the battle. He hooked his foot around Ark’s and tugged, tripping him flat on the ground and then got up. Akuru grabbed Kee’nar but was pushed away as ark’s foot kicked his hand, and another kicked the weapon away. The smaller half-dragon got up and kicked Akuru on the ground again, for the third time, and put his two deadly blades against Akuru’s neck.
Akuru picked Kee’nar up and put it away “very well, my test is over” the other two Head Masters nodded, and Ark found it hard to hide his smile. “By the words of the Head Master Council, you are accepted into the academy as Master Swordsman.” La’Ryn nodded to Ark, who nodded back and bowed lightly to accept the smaller human as she carved the draconic runes for ‘master’ on the base of his left horn, which jutted from the temple and eye, extending out to an inch farther than his face. Ark bowed again to the three and handed his father his sword belt to be enchanted.
All Head Masters had magical weapons. The three other Head Masters left the room and after a few moments feeling the perfectly carved rune, so did Ark. He left the compound and soon was at the border of the city and large hill, silently slipping into the swamp filled forest. He continued his trek, marking points of the large swamps on his self-made map, until he heard voices; draconic voices. Ark slipped into a hollow base of the nearby large tree, covering himself in large leaf filled branches, and curled up in a ball, tucking his legs in tightly and clasping his hands in a knot around his knees.
Ark saw through the leaves as the four green dragon scouts walked by the hollow; the swamp area hiding his scent. “…will be here, in this hollow, the archers will climb the trees for an even shooting ground and the rest will come in through the north wall, but the full force will be coming in on the west side correct?” the three others nodding approval to the leader scout as they snuck back from where they came, the last passing so close by the hollow, Ark almost unable to hold himself from leaping out and tearing out the green-skin’s throat. When he thought they had passed he left the hollow, looked about and flew back to the city, over the wall and landed on the stairs in front of the Arin compound, startling a few by-passers in the act. Once he stepped down, he swiftly ran up the steps and opened the door, spinning around it and pulling it closed with his other hand. He continued down the corridors, turning left and right, his cloak swishing back and forth behind him. Ark opened a door and entered the room, his father standing with his arms folded, the Head Enchanter, Gaz Grant, stood over a clothed stone altar in the middle of the blue lit room.
On the altar sat Burning End and Shadow Brother, the enchanter holding his head with one hand, supporting himself with the other like he often did. Ark knew what was going on so he whispered “I must speak to you outside” as he opened the door again and walked out with his father “what?” came his short reply. “Green-skins, outside the city, They were scouts, and talked about war preparations and troop placement” Ark said, staring at his father, who nodded slowly.
“Do you remember what they said exactly?” Xeerok asked, giving a skeptic look to his son. “Of course I do, father.” Ark replied, repeating the exact words, his draconic inherited memory kicking in. “…will be here, in this hollow, the archers will climb the trees for an even shooting ground and the rest will come in through the north wall, but the full force will be coming in on the west side correct?” he said almost trance like in tone.
“Aha! Done!” come Gaz’s muffled voice behind the door. “Very well, thank you son… I will alert the academy, the town guards, the militia, and our own forces, for now, try out your new blades. Each figure gave a slight bow, and departed, Ark going into the blue lit room and Xeerok was leaving from where Ark came from. “Very well Gaz… what have you done?” Ark said to the commonly known mad man. “I have made two of the best masterpieces I’ve ever made of course! Made your weapons’ names live to be truth.
Made your blades bring havoc in battle…” the man said on the verge of laughing. Although he calmed himself when looking at Ark’s bland, stern look and said dryly “Shadow Brother freezes them and Burning End burns them.” Ark then nodded, and picked up the two weapons, the red one quickly catching fire, and the blue steaming from its freezing cold blade. Though when the jagged red and the swiveling blue blades touched their scabbards both ceased the magical affects and slid into their place. “Very interesting… very nice. Thank you, Gaz.” Ark looked down to the old human, who nodded and grinned.
“You will soon develop a mental link to the weapons, much like your father, and will be able to control the magical affects; if you want them active or not.” Gaz remarked, already leaving to return to the mage’s school. The black and green dragons were natural enemies; it wasn’t surprising they try to attack. In truth, it had happened many times during the history of Blackwood Forest, and vise versa, the war between them was about to end, and Ark could feel it.




On many occasions this council has held meeting, usually a different person leading it each time; for the person with the news to bring sat in front of everyone, under the only light in the room. “I have called you here today to reveal a great threat to our very existence… the green-skins. They are attacking very soon, the attack is expected to be within a moon’s passing” Xeerok said, sitting in a large chair on a pedestal in the dark, cylindrical room lit by the one light hanging from the high ceiling. “What proof do you have of this?” the shadowy half-dragon to the left said, though Xeerok knew it was Akuru.
“My son has heard directly from a scouting party, as he was exploring the swamps, and heard they’re plans for troop placement they will attack with a main force from the west and a decoy force from the normal northern passage.” Xeerok replied firmly, clasping his hand on the end of the arm rest. Akuru nodded slowly, looking to Gaz, who sat next to him, holding his head like he often did.
“I say we take action immediately” Gaz suggested, nodding to Xeerok and Akuru, and then put his hand on his head again. “Indeed, and we must assemble a large force quite soon” Xeerok was quick to add. “I will gather the academy” Akuru announced, looking to La’Ryn, who then looked to Xeerok “I shall gather the town guard then.” Xeerok nodded, “And I my personal guard” the next council member nodded slowly “then who is left? Militia? I shall take the responsibility of this task.” The council got up, and left silently out of separate doors, Xeerok moving down the hall to the barracks, where he’d find Captain Larson, the Arin guard’s leader.




After many turns down the corridors and then a walk outside into the barracks, Xeerok found the gruff captain, sitting at a small table, his legs folded on top of a round wooden piece of furniture, the familiar black and gold trimmed boots with large intricate grooves in the soles rested easily on the table. “’Ello Xeerok, what can I do ye for?” the smaller man spoke, not moving from his seat. “Rally the troops, all the guards in the Arin complex and bring them to the west gate.” Xeerok spoke, nodding with a grim, stern face and then leaving again. “Huh?” Larson looked surprised but already started getting up, his quick long strides leading him into the next room were all the off-duty soldiers sat down and talked around wooden tables similar to the one Larson was sitting at.
“Suit up, on the double! Xeerok wants us up at the west gate, though I don’t know why.” Larson shouted over the soldiers, who quickly hushed and then started moving for their footlockers in an orderly manner, and minutes later the black armored legion from the Arin compound marched out to the west gate, where they were the first to be.

Akuru watched as the apprentices and the swordsman gathered up their things from the weapons racks and armor lockers.
He already had Kee’nar in its scabbard and his armor donned, so he waited patiently for the others, who moved quickly but that seemed irrelevant; they were going to be late. What especially told him this was the marching footsteps of Captain Larson, Xeerok and the Arin Elite Guard. The academy’s swordsman and apprentices were finally ready and started marching, but only for a bit as they broke into a run as the first hail of arrows rained down on random spots.

“Get moving, now!” La’Ryn screamed as she ran into the fray of arrows with the large group of town guard’s thundering charge to the western wall, the black-clad soldiers taking cover right against the wall, holding their shields over their heads in a perfect square. The town guard took it as an example and put their shields over their heads, running to their brethren.
They also saw the academy and Akuru behind one of the large buildings, taking cover. Then, as if the gods themselves sent them, the red fetched and black tipped arrows of the town’s guard archers inclined with green tipped arrows of the green-skinned enemy.

(( razz but in a fantasy setting, I'll release Chapter 2 --and maybe 3-- now! thanks for the encouraging reply biggrin ))

All was silent in the city; everyone took position as the town’s militia finally showed up, but most importantly, the dragons with them. Captain Larson directed the archers to the west wall, half splitting and going to the north. Along with them came half the warriors in the guard. A third of the militia went with them, to fend off the distraction and give a facet that they didn’t know of the full force from the west. Kerry and Kreg, caught up in the guard went with the archers to the wall, though Kerry then went with the mages a few feet away, where Gaz stood. Then they began chanting in a circle, and caste their hands to the black legion of Arin troops, who glowed briefly and knew they were magically enchanted. The black legion then got into line as General Creedon road across on his horse, the wild black steed with a metal spike on its forehead, the twisted version of the unicorn.
“We here who may die today, we strong of blood and brave of heart, we black scaled terrors, who are the arch rivals of the green-skins will die honorably and without regret or fear. I expect you to make the green-skins break every one of those expectations!” Creedon yelled, trotting back and forth across the black legion of the Arin guards and the grey armored town guards. Then, the real start of the battle came as the one traditional arrow hit down beside Creedon, the general looking back and forth over his army nodding “Well? Rein death on the enemy!” Creedon screamed, waving his sword as the archers on the walls came out of the towers, shooting flaming arrows at the creeping army, who seemingly didn’t know they were expected guests. The oil pits caught on fire, and the charging soldiers were set aflame; their screams being heard over the blaze.
They ran past the fires, though hindered, and up to they gate with the siege equipment, the ladders being propped up to the walls, and the huge battering ram reading at the gates. Slam! It sounded off in slow but efficient progression. Slam! It sounded off again as the many soldiers, Black, grey, and non armored militia hit their swords and axes on their shields.
Clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang Faster and faster, as the battering ram hit the wall again. The gate swung open as the green-skin army ran into the raging black wall of soldiers screaming a war cry. The archers used the ladders to their advantage and shot as many soldiers off as they could before they got to close. Right before the first line of soldiers on the ladders got on the ladders were shoved off, and some where hit with flaming arrows, burning the warriors on them.

“Creedon, show yourself!” General Riz’yan said, riding in on his large green scaled lizard. As he spoke the words though, a metal spike attached to a black horses head jammed itself straight through the lizard’s eye and into its brain, killing it instantly. Creedon jumped off his mount, and spread his wings wide so he could pull out his claymore, Cree’gora, into his hands. The name meaning “Creedon’s Rage” in draconic.
“You’re mount is dead… like you will be Riz’yan” Creedon said with a growl, moving in slowly in a battle crouch. “Like you would have the strength or the power to kill me!” the green half-dragon said, rolling off his mount and ripping out his own axe from his back in a swift motion. Creedon came in with a vicious swipe, which was blocked with the upper handle of Riz’yan’s axe.

Ark snuck along the western wall, he was in an area where the battle spread out a little more and with the sun going down, he could probably pull off a few sneak attacks. Just then a new regiment of soldiers come through the gates, and was met by a smaller force about half its size, but it being led by La’Ryn would give it much power indeed. When they collided, Ark swooped in quickly and stabbed a soldier in the back, kicked him into the warrior in front of him, and then ducked and rolled away from an axe swipe.
“Skethn’re!” Ark laughed in draconic, “you tried to hit me off guard!” He laughed again as the human advanced. “I never get caught off guard.” Just then an arrow hit him in the left wing, piecing through the webbing and digging into the ground a few feet away. Ark growled angrily as the wound began to heal from his draconic regeneration. He backed away from the human, turning around he was able to watch as the little halfling, Kreg, stab the archer in the side, burning a hole through the half-dragon. A slow axe swipe was pushed aside as Ark’s scimitar snapped inward for its enemy’s chest, but he side pivoted at the last moment and evaded. The axe came back in an over-head swipe, and Ark threw his head back and its momentum bent his back just enough to duck under the axe, and then snapped his scimitars in, scoring two hits to the arm and the hip, one catching fire amazingly, and the hip frosted over. The human backed away and slapped at the flaming wound, which lowered to a burn as Ark came in fast.
Off went two high slashes and then two low slices in a spinning movement, followed up by a kick. The human deflected the slashes, but was caught off guard by the quick movement of Ark’s left leg, and was hit squarely in the chest, knocking him to the ground “kaetaa, skethn’re” Ark spoke again, closing in on the helpless prone enemy.

After the rest were dead, Ark met up with La’Ryn, who was seemingly unscathed, though her unit of soldiers looked in bad shape. “Hello, Master Ark” she said quite calmly, “the main force has moved closer to the center, Creedon and Riz’yan are battling there; we must keep moving.” Ark nodded, and with the squadron of about twenty soldiers, moved out to the center of the city.
Indeed they were fighting, Creedon with his huge sword and Riz’yan with his axe, and all around them, the black Arin soldiers, and the green knights of the enemy. To his hopes, the black knights had seemingly lost not one soldier, and Ark knew why; the mages enchantments had held the enemies strikes at bay. As if on cue a lightning bolt streaked through and jolted many green armored enemies; electricity also being their weakness. Scimitars suddenly in hand, Ark moved forward with the troops and La’Ryn, cutting down an unsuspecting soldier and moving to parry a spear.

Throwing lightning bolt after lightning bolt, Kerry shocked and dropped troop after troop, and saw Ark, fighting with a spear holding green-skin. Another of the enemies flew up to the wall, and landed in front of her and the other mages, axe in hand, and then he screamed in utter horror, as pain shot up his spine, his legs buckled and he fell to his knees, a hole burning through his stomach from the red crystal dagger Kreg held on to. “You never cease to amaze me…” Kerry said, turning back to the troops below while Kreg scurried off down the stairs into the fray again, his small form obviously an advantage in the chaotic battlefield.

Suddenly unexpectedly, and horrifically, a colossal plasma dragon came into few of everyone, the green-skins cheering on as it roared loudly at its enemies. The black dragons took flight, circling the larger dragon and firing their lines of acid at it. Ark’s mother was with them, for he watched the plasma dragon hit her to the ground and swiping at the others.
Finally when the smaller dragons had been temporarily battered away, it led fly its own breath weapon, a giant acidic storm cloud with electricity brimming on its edges. Everything exploded in a split second, Kerry flew off the wall into the wilderness, Kreg was similarly but more easily shot outward, and luckily, Ark had moved far enough away to be flung into the air, but was electrocuted as he hit the wall unconscious, and more than a few bodies hit the wall above him and dropped on top of him. He awoke almost a day later, for it was starting to get dark again he realized, and didn’t have much strength to get up, so he drifted back to sleep.
The sun shined bright this time, and he heard weeping, Kerry and Kreg he noticed when he opened his eyes and they started to walk away. Sudden strength restored to him, Ark pushed Captain Larson, poor Captain Larson, and a few others off of him, and got up out of the bloody mess picking up his scimitars and putting them away. The two looked back wide eyed as if they thought he’d risen as an undead, but closer inspection revealed he was alive and seemingly unharmed.

Ark coughed up blood and spit it out, walking to the large crater in the middle of the clearing that used to be the center of town, he noticed the green-skin bodies from the blast, and were littered among the bodies of black armored soldiers. He turned around and squinted his eyes from the sun and held his arms up and out wide, looking around “did anyone else live? Where is Creedon? Xeerok, La’Ryn, Akuru? Tell me someone lived besides us!” He yelled clenching his fists angrily, “Gaz, Jarrod… Larson… damn it!” Ark yelled again as he thought over the casualties and then looked up “Sura?”
The two looked at each other and then him “well… we found Jarrod, Larson, La’Ryn, and Akuru… and… Creedon. Sura we are not sure of, we did not find her or your father… but your mother…” Kreg let the sentence drop. Ark looked around, dumbfounded and utterly rage filled at the damned green-skins and their bringing of the damned plasma dragon. “Gaz was not found, but his robes… He must have disintegrated into energy” Kerry looked saddened when saying so, Gaz, even mad, was a great mentor and magical leader.
From another pile of bodies, bloodied Jarrod broke free, standing up and looking around horrified, his blue and green robes ripped to shreds. He then looked to Kerry, Kreg, and Ark for answers, but they just stood their starring back, just as dumbfounded as he. He walked up to them slowly, without a word and looked at them all. “Are we the only ones? My father… where is he?” He looked at Ark, and then past him, to his dead father and ran full speed to him, shaking him. “Damn it! Green-skin bastards! Sons’ of whores!” Jarrod looked back at them, tears in his eyes, gritting him teeth and holding back curses. “What are we to do now?” he asked to Ark, as if he had the answers.
“…We need to get ready for travel… so go to the market place with satchels and backpacks for food and water… I’ll gather some other things” he turned to Kerry “I need you to get Gaz’s location stones, I believe he had about six… get any other things that can be useful such as his spell-book, scrolls, magic items, notes, books, anything. That goes for everyone.” He said walking away to his manner, and then he ran and jumped to fly, but his wings didn’t work yet, and he just landed, angered and cursing.

He entered the compound, which was the only building not broken, for almost everyone and everything else had died out from the plasma dragon. He ran into his room and ripped open his chest, took out his large black backpack of holding, which was a small inter-dimensional space meant to hold tremendously more than the bag showed.
Ark pulled out his grey soft leather journal and stuffed it in a smaller pocket, which had ink wells and pens in it already. Ark then took out his dark grey hooded, heavy layered cloak with his family insignia on it and folded it up, placing it in the main space and then took out his fine black wood and bone composite bow and put it in with the cloak. After that he took out his most favored and treasured item; his black, magnificently engraved, masterly crafted studded leather armor with shadow dragon blood as the studs.
It had been a gift from his father, who told him the blood was from an ancestor; Zarbusianzi, one of the most powerful shadow dragons to be from Blackwood. Ark looked at it for a few minutes, feeling it intricate engravings, and knew it would be one of his most needed items in this world. He put it in the pack with the cloak and the bow. In the second largest pocket he tossed in a small vile of healing liquid, poisons, hundreds of arrows of different kinds, and then finally his extremely rare black mithral helmet which had two openings for his horns, and small spikes running down the top to the back of his head, along with three longer spikes at the chin.
He put the marveled mask into the biggest pouch with most of his things, and then grabbed a few more books, including his town’s book of legends, his town’s history, and a blank book almost identical to his journal. Shortly after searching out his father’s room, he left the manner to get to the rendezvous point where they all met up.

.Ω.

Chapter Three: Scavengers

Jarrod kneeled there, over his father, filled with anger and grief, not believing any of what was happening, Kerry and Kreg had already left, insisting they needed to get food and supplies from the market. But Jarrod hardly registered their words; his father was dead, after all. Besides from being a warrior, Jarrod had a very rare ability to shape-shift, truth be told he wasn’t full human, but rather half human, half shape-shifter. His mother was actually an outsider or being from another plane of existence.
She took leave after giving birth to Jarrod, back to her home plane; Jarrod never knew his mother and his father didn’t speak much of her except that she was wonderful or magnificent. So Jarrod shifted into a wolf and started digging a rectangular hole in the ground, determined to have his father buried.

“I still can’t believe any of this…” Kreg muttered every few seconds while he and his elf friend scavenged through the market place for food, water, and a few utensils. “I mean where in the Nine Hells did that plasma dragon come from?” Kreg said looking up at Kerry. “Probably from their town” she said dryly while looking through fruit vender. Kreg shook his head and continued searching, looking for water and finally found some in the back room inside some barrels. Taking out a few water skins he had taken from another shop, he filled them up on by one, about seven of them.
He also found three bottles of “Black Scale Brew”; the town’s very own drink. Kreg knew how to make the alcoholic beverage, and knew how to make it well; he made it sometimes for this very store, but doubted that this was his making.
A while later, he and Kerry entered the Mage’s School and shuffled through it room by room, Kerry found many scrolls, notes, enchantments, wands, a few rods and then when looking through Gaz’s room, his personal arsenal of scrolls, his wands, his rod, his staff; which should have been with him she thought curiously. Then finally, seeing on his desk neatly placed, Gaz’s spell book, along with an empty glass of wine. On the spell book was a note that read; to many years of your obedient training, to many years of great accomplishments and show of potential, I leave to you, Kerry Ender, my staff and my spell book, may they serve you well in this time of need. A toast to you Kerry; Farewell, I will be watching.
The note almost made Kerry fall over in astonishment, realizing just how knowledgeable the great Gaz was, and the first thing that ever made her think of Gaz as being sane. Though if he was insane, She’d realize now that it was from knowing so much; to think, he knew what was going to happen, and knew that he couldn’t do anything to stop it. She held up the spell book, a tear running down his cheek and put it in her pack with the location stones.

Kreg found some scrolls and weaker wands from the apprentices’ rooms. He also found gems and broaches, non-magical but worth lots of gold nonetheless, though nothing extremely important. When going into the priest’s part of the magic school though, he found small bottles of holy water, designed to be able to shatter easily or to be poured. He found holy symbols of all sorts made of ivory, and the blocks of ivory to make them.
These had more of a creative and sentimental value, but he took a few cubes of ivory and a carving knife anyway. Moving on to the high priest’s quarters, which was walled with elegant oak and floored with black marble. The ceiling, as he looked up to it, was made of stained glass, each piece disconnected by a strip of medal, and likely backed with stone. He found the priest’s stone holy symbol of Jarakna, the god of the moon; the priest’s gathering of scrolls and finally, looking in the closet, a wooden crate. Opening this crate was tough, he didn’t want to break its contents, for he knew it was glass and the crate was seemingly nailed shut. Kreg looked about for something to use, and looked again at the stone circle on a chain, backed my metal, it could play the part of a crowbar… hopefully.
Kreg grabbed the moon god’s symbol and tucked it in the nailed crate’s top and started to ply it open. Pop went the lid and wide went Kreg’s eyes as he looked upon the dozens and dozens of glass bottles of healing liquids and antidotes and more of the clear holy water Kreg found earlier. He pulled bottle after bottle after bottle out of the crate and into the pack he had, he took special care to wrap them in any cloth he had and then took the sheets from the bed for more. When all the bottles in the crate were in he looked around, nodding, quite satisfied with his findings and left.

Jarrod had finally finished his father’s burial in front of the west wall, and had used a piece of the rubble from the wall as a tomb stone, carving letters into it by shifting his finger into a claw, soon after he ran to his house to get his own things; his axes and new robes.
When getting to his house, Jarrod opened the door to his room, opened the foot locket and pulled out his two mithral axes, he’d lost his better pare of dragon fanged axes, and still hoped to find them, but these would do for now; he put the axes down on the floor and moved for a new green and blue robe. He ripped off the tatters of the old one and threw the new one over his head, pulling it over him. He then picked up the axes and put them in the loop-holes on either which side. Looking around, making sure he’d gotten everything, Jarrod went out in search for his other axes.

Luckily for Jarrod, he’d taken the axes because a green-skin still lived, probably taking a healing potion. Weapons in hand, or rather Jarrod’s weapons, the green-skin charged the almost all bald except for his monk braid human. Jarrod pushed the bottom of the axe head upward and then gripped the handles, getting into battle stance. The great half-dragon swiped the mithral axes aside, and sent his in for a double chop.
Jarrod side stepped the dragon bone axe and chopped for his enemy’s leg with his own axe. The axe cut deep in, the dragon unable to block it from the angle it came at. The larger form of the dragon hunched to its side, though hindered it got up again in full rage, swinging both axes wildly, sweeping blows Jarrod ducked and rolled under, evading each swipe, one going so low, side to side, that Jarrod had to dive back, and the dragon knew this was it’s opening. He brought the axes up over his head, about to chop down when a huge green hand clasped around it chest, crushing the strength and life from it. “Cowards! Let me go!” The dragon roared angrily, the air spewing out of his lungs, and his bones cracking as he screamed in agony.
Kerry continued tightening her hand into a fist slowly, while the dragon ahead compressed and collapsed. The dragon-man dropped to the ground in a heavy clunk as Jarrod got up, brushing himself off and picking up the dragon bone axes. “Thank you, Kerry” was his short reply “but that spell was not one I’d ever seen you cast, where did you get it?” Jarrod said, waiting for his own reply. “…From a friend” Kerry said nodding, not hinting that Gaz gave her his spell book, or the staff she held in her hand. Ark and Kreg joined up with them next, the halfling having a stuffed bag on his back.
“Is everyone ready? We’ll not be returning soon, if ever…” Ark said, now wearing his black studded armor, his dark grey cloak over it, and his helmet tucked under his arm; he looked like a living shadow, Kerry, Kreg, and even Jarrod, who didn’t know the other three very well thought. “Yes, I believe we’ve gotten everything we can carry” nodded Kerry. Truth be told, they could’ve gotten a wagon from the market place as well, though all of the horses were dead or dieing from the battle. “Then lets get moving, we’ve got a long while to get to another town… and I believe the green-skin’s will send a sweeping party soon enough.
With that, the seven foot tall half-dragon looked down at his friends, looked to the sky and had to squint his eyes from the sun like he usually had to, and looked down at his dark mithral mask. The helmet rose to face him in his hands, its spiked features jutting out at him, and he turned it about, fitting it on his head; the very same mask that would one day be known as the symbol of pure evil.

The group of four set out, Ark going up to the eastern wall, his wings now working, and started turning the large handled wheel, his huge muscles straining to pull open the iron gate. The huge, thick door lurched and opened slowly, the motion making it easier and easier to pull. When the door was open, Ark leaped over the front of the wall and hovered down to the ground where his companions waited.

They walked down the path for the better part of the day; the morning blue sky turning orange, soon to turn red, and then black; the nights were darkest in the swamps. They set up a small fire and bedrolls on the road when the black sky did roll in; everyone was staring intently into the fire, much resembling the fires that burned within each of them, except for Kreg, who was more disbelieving than angry. Kerry was sadder than anyone, not knowing of Gaz’s extreme knowledge until he was dead. Kreg was the first to go to bed after the silent dinner of rice and corn, the rogue enjoyed sleep and food very much, but wasn’t necessarily lazy.
Ark went to sleep last, dropping to his back and throwing the blanket over him solemnly. Not bothering to take off his mask, though he did remove his armor. In the morning Ark got his armor back on, shaking off the dizziness of sleep and grabbed a wooden bowl full of roasted boar meat and rice. Later that day, after a few more hours of walking, they saw the mountains to the south, but besides that, there were just fields and fields of graze land, so far away they made out a road. With a sigh the dark figure, Ark, walked forward saying “we have a long way to go I fear…” Ark said obviously.
“We do? I thought I saw something within four miles of here.” Kreg said sarcastically, a drowsy look painted on his face as he followed suit. Kerry shook her head at her friend’s sarcasm, trotting up beside him and Jarrod followed behind out-of-place.

Ten long days later—long days full of walking—the refugees of Black Scale Hold arrived outside of the large city of Amersh, crowded streets and smoking chimneys, full of—to Ark—helpless townsfolk, people who’d have no say in their fate if their life were threatened. Ark wasn’t far from the point, at least for him and his companions, though they didn’t think in such a way. “I don’t think a seven foot, eight inch tall half-dragon would look too normal in the streets of a human village” Kreg pointed out the obvious problem.
Or so he thought it was a problem, but not to the stubborn half-dragon. “Lets go” Ark said solemnly, seeming as if he’d not even heard the little halfling. “But—” the halfling tried to protest, but was just nudged forward by the gentle prod of Kerry’s staff. Giving a long sigh, Kreg moved on after Ark, and the general formation of “dragon, halfling, elf, and human” continued.
Oh how the people looked in utter fear at the black and dark grey giant that walked into town, the guards stared intently at him, and villagers backed out of the group’s way, all wanting nothing to do with him. They all saw the horns, and knew them not to be made of steel, indeed, a black dragon had walked into their city, and one, like all the rest, that didn’t look friendly. Kreg figured the only reason they weren’t being surrounded by guards was the fact that they were all too dumbfounded to do the slightest thing.

“What? A dragon you say…? Nonsense!” the district mayor said, looking at the guard who’d run into his office and speaking utter nonsense to him. But his expression did indeed change when the guard pointed out the window behind him, and upon turning to look, did indeed see the horned, black enshrouded seven foot giant. He turned back in utter shock, not saying anything and just looked into space. “What do we do? Astrodoth’s cities are indeed free, and it’d likely take at least half the guard to even take him down, let alone drag him out.” The mayor nodded, seeing his only real option “just make sure he’s watched closely by every guard in this district.”
The guard nodded, pivoting on his heels and walking away, helmet under arm. Indeed, the mayor had a half-dragon in his district, and indeed he was nervous. This was going to be a long day.

The blue bearded dwarf, who sat on a nearby slab of ice next to the huge blue glacier, huffed with exhaustion, though he didn’t sweat, he couldn’t sweat in the extreme cold of Ice Talon Valley. Besides, the sleeveless tunic allowed for the cold breeze—at least that’s what it was to the snow dwarf—to wash over the stout bearded man, who rested his pick axe over his shoulder. “O’ ye’re slackin’ again are ye?” came the thick Dwarvish accent of the blue bearded dwarf’s friend, Malgrim Steelbender. “I just be takin’ a break, ye dern fool” Ruggus Glacierface shot back with the same accent thick in his voice.
They both laughed as Ruggus stood up and they walked back inside, many dwarves grunting, picking away at the inside of the blue glacier. All were blue bearded and skin tinted the color of the glacier they picked away at. All except for Malgrim, he was a steel dwarf, and had silvered brown hair, the color of steel streaking through the brown. His eyes were mixed between grey and silver, another trait of his race.
Ruggus took his pick and jammed it into the ice, took it out, and continued to follow that order, making a circle of cracks on the ice and then gave a mighty roar, stabbing the pick deep into the top of the circle and corded his muscles, his huge arms prying the slab of blue ice from the wall. Another dwarf then came in and quickly collected the slab, putting it into a wheel barrel and rolling out of the cave. This was the regular procedure of the snow dwarves, collectors and the miners, each shifting every so often. All of the dwarf’s life would change very soon, whether he knew it or not.

The day was getting dark by the time Ark had scouted out the whole district and mapped it out roughly. He had found a nice inn at the corner of the district, and had rented out two rooms. The placement of the inn was important to Ark for he knew he’d been watched by the city guard all day, and it would be easy enough to sneak down the many alleyways in the area. This was just the way Ark thought, looking into the future, thinking things out before they might happen.
He and Jarrod shared a room, the bed was so very small to the half-dragon, and he had to curl up on the bed to fit his legs in. Thinking back, Ark smirked at the face of the innkeeper who had seen him walk in, quite a sight and quite a look of fear he had. Hovering over to another building the large half-dragon slipped down the side of the building and down the alleyway, slipping into the inn he had rented the rooms. And every moment he knew he was being watched.

Late at night, the mayor thought about the half-dragon that was in his town, and thought of what to do. Then he remembered his grandfather telling him about a shadow dragon encrypted in a huge magical chamber under the city, legendary Zarbusianzi. The name made him shiver to the core. Considering that this was a black half-dragon, he could have come from only one nearby town; Black Scale Hold. Considering that shadow dragons were advanced forms of black dragons, and this one just so happened to come from the same place, then Ark would likely want to free his brethren.
Yes, Mayor Jul Kernan thought, he could tell the half-dragon about his ancestor, but only if he left. But was it really worth it? Was it worth having a smaller, less powerful dragon out of the way, but having a worse problem tenfold created? Hardly; Jul wasn’t even sure the half-dragon would even cause trouble, though he knew it would. Beside for the fact that half the district was coming to him with complaints everyday, though it hardly mattered to him how much they whined, he couldn’t make Ark leave forcefully or legally. So he’d wait, yes, Jul would wait for the dragon to do something bad, which would undoubtedly happen, and then kick him out, hoping it wouldn’t come to violence. Jul smiled, he wouldn’t even have to tell the scaled beast about Zarbusianzi.

Thankfully for Ark, Kreg was to greedy a halfling to not steal from the mayor in every town he entered. Even later that night, Kreg snuck through the mayor’s building like a shadow on the wall, slipping by guards and any other obstacles until he came upon his hopes; the mayor’s office. He entered by picking the lock, which was fairly easy, and then searched through the large wooden desk, finding quills and ink wells. Then upon looking in a small compartment he found under the desk, there lay a black book.
A book that would prove very useful. The little halfling skimmed through the journal, brushing pages by with his little stubby hands. Finally getting to the last entry, which was fairly new, he read the mayor’s whole plan; getting Ark kicked out, and not having to tell him about Zarbusianzi, whoever that was to Kreg. Then it struck him, how lucky he’d been to pick this night, and how big of a coincidence it was. “Well, in you go” Kreg smirked, casually tucking the black book in his brown bag.
“Stop right there criminal scum!” came the most horrifying noise Kreg could ever hear at that time. “Oh come on! You come every single time at the very last second!” Kreg said, looking about frantically, and seeing the window, which dropped very far to the ground, but had other sills poking out of the wall under this one. How Kreg hated his greediness at these times. “How’d you find me out anyway?” Kreg said, inching closer to the window. “You left the door open and the torches lit” the guard said dryly.
That struck Kreg like a boulder to the head. “Damn my stupidity” Kreg said under his breath, though when thinking about it, almost laughed. The guard ran at the little halfling, and out he went, into the night, free falling, screaming, and finally grabbing a window sill, nearly ripping his little arm off in the process. He then let go again, falling to the next sill, and the next after that, sleeping people in each room. He didn’t notice there was still twenty feet from the ground when he let go of the last window, and tried grabbing at the supposedly upcoming passage, though there was none there.
How he screamed as he hit the stone ground seconds later, luckily landing his head on his bag with the book in it. The little halfling limped away from the building quietly laughing at the lucky events and how they had played themselves out, but whimpered every step at the same time, having nearly broken his legs. Indeed, things had played out quite to his and his friend’s liking, though he couldn’t imagine how well.

Much of the district was awake and alarmed when Ark woke up angrily, everyone talking as if it were day. Kreg came into the room frantically limping and looking about. Ark rolled his eyes and shook his head, grabbing the halfling with one hand and pulled him onto the bed. “What’d you do this time?” a quite amused Ark said, looking down to his friend, who by this time realizing he was safe, broke into hysterical laughter. “I stole the mayor’s book” Kreg laughed “and got caught… because I left the door open with the torches lit!” he laughed louder, holding up the black journal and jumping down onto the floor. He presented it to Ark and pointedly pressed “look at the last entry” Kreg wasn’t laughing anymore, more so a very serious look on his face.
The half-dragon beast can only last so long before committing a crime, and when he does, out he goes! I don’t even want to try to execute him if he has the appropriate charges, he’d be too much of a hassle. But the good news is I don’t have to tell him anything about the blasted dragon under our own damned feet! Ark nodded, laughing slightly and then looked for a place to hide it. He took Shadow Brother and nicked the wood around the nails in the floorboards away. He then replaced it into its scabbard and pulled out the nails, tossing them to the floor beside it.
Being next to the wall, the floorboard was above the beams in the ceiling of the common room below, and the very same beam would hold the journal from prying eyes. The clever half-dragon refitted the nails and pulled his back pack to the spot, along with Kreg’s. “I think the mayor needs a nice visit from his dragon friend” Ark said with a toothy grin to Kreg.

All three; Kreg, Ark, and Jarrod laughed at the halfling’s story, but Kerry, being more disciplined, held back her laughter, only passing smiles to her friends, quietly sipping at her Black Scale Brew. Finally had the city died down from the commotion and the mayor probably deep in thinking, they all casually drank away a bottle of The Brew, Ark going to bed for the rest of the day before he got up for his venture to the mayor’s office.
It was nearly eleven o’clock when Ark rolled out of the small bed and put on his armor and weapon belt. He stalked out of the inn, everyone fast asleep and slowly climbed up the side of a low building. He jumped over alleyways and onto higher buildings, only flapping his wings to gain that extra jump height every time he needed it. He looked down at the few figures returning home from their late jobs, pedestrians all. Finally reaching the mayor’s building, he jumped of the structure he was on and used his wings as a wind cutter, flapping them every now and then to keep in the air. Ark rose higher and higher, finally landing on the roof of the towering building, looking down to the large sill of the mayor’s office.
The lights were on, and that made Ark shine a toothy grin. The large half-dragon crawled to his knees and grabbed the lip of the roof with his hands as he swung his legs off the edge, which easily touched the window sill. As he’d thought, the mayor was deep into thinking; so deep in fact, that he had fallen asleep.
Better for Ark.
He slipped into the room and snuck right past the mayor, dousing the torches and locking the door. “Who’s there?” the mayor asked frantically, hearing the torches sizzling and the click of the door’s lock. “Arkidisey Arinari” Ark rolled his full name off his tong, using a very, very thick draconic accent, and exaggerated the hisses.
The mayor jumped and tried to scream, but Ark being right next to him when he had spoken, he didn’t get to say or do anything before being snatched out of his seat and a great leather armored arm clasped around his neck, preventing speech. The half-dragon had him hanging three feet in the air when he started shuffling through things on the desk, and lit a candle for the mayor’s, suddenly a familiar black tome appeared on the man’s desk. “I-I don’t know what you want, let go of me you scaly—” was all he could say before Ark’s arm clasped around tighter again. “Zarbusianzi. Tell me of him, would you?” Ark calmly said, so calm and sustained a tone made the mayor shiver. “I don’t know what you mean! I swear!” the mayor tried to reason, but was put down in the chair and tied tightly by a thick rope. “Tell me now, or I’ll break you in half; I’m not sure about your culture but in mine that’s not too good for your health” Ark calmly threatened again, being more forceful and opening the book to the last entry. It was particularly unlike Ark, even if he was a half-dragon, to be this forceful but something about the air around him made him want to embrace his anger and impatience for the human.
Seeing the page, the mayor shifted uneasily in the chair, gritting his teeth angrily and fearfully. Then all color drained from his face as an all too finely edged swerving bladed blue scimitar was drawn into the seven eight tall half-dragon’s right hand. “Shadow Brother. A beauty isn’t it?” Ark asked the man, who was still white from the frosting blade of Shadow Brother. “Tell me…” Ark bade, pulling forth an even more frightening blade, Burning End, which quickly caught fire. “Ok! Ok! I’ll tell you about your scaly ancestor!”
The man shouted, shivering and trying to move away from the weapons. Ark sheathed them and waited for more. “My grandfather told me about a shadow dragon entombed under this very district of the city.” The mayor tried to finish, but Ark knew there was more and suddenly had a scimitar at the man’s throat. “Fine, there’s a secret passage in the wall behind you” Jul said dryly, finally giving up any chance in resisting, looking behind the half-dragon.
Ark turned and looked at it as he walked over to the wall. Right next to the designated spot was an ever so slightly crack with an extremely faint small, very small print of the name “Jul”, and he nodded as he pushed it inward, a large stone door sliding open. “Now, let me go—” was what the small man said before being hit in the face with the hilt of a scimitar.