Robert
He stood on the miniature hill among the rolling plains with dry, ochre yellow grass strewn across. His plate armour glinted in the sunshine. Beside him stood Alicia, green leather armour wrapped around her, with two vicious daggers unsheathed. They were racing, trying to escape the judging world, when they heard a bone-jarring roar from the clouded sky behind.
Robert, without looking back, unsheathed his mighty great-sword. A blood-red dragon flew above and beyond them. It abruptly spun around, roaring, and landed on the grass, cutting it to shreds. It spoke bellowing, "Return! This is your last chance."
Alicia smirked and replied, "Return! Before we slay you, a slave to the will of Rulerstead." This touched the dragon's actively suppressed hate of Rulerstead. The dragon had been warned, Alicia was a mind-flayer, ripping one to pieces with one's own vulnerabilities.
The dragon muttered, "Enough talk! You are a weed that must be annihilated for the good of Cobardon." With that the dragon flapped its wings and came whizzing towards them, nostrils ready to roast Robert and Alicia to ash.
Alicia retrieved eight daggers from her pockets, which she held between her fingers. She spun around, arms outstretched, and with all her body's momentum let the blades fly. They all whirled, cutting through the air to find home on the dragon's impervious scales. The daggers bit into the leather but the dragon didn't even give a moan of pain rather it just kept zooming towards them. The dragon took in a deep breath and let out a river of fire.
Robert raised his blade above his head and brought it down, going down on one knee, as the blade pierced the ground beneath. The flame split in two, as it battled around the invisible, triangular wall of force conjured by Robert. Alicia let four daggers fly, whistling through the air. Two hit the dragon's vital bone joints — which enabled his flight, the other two hit crucial arteries which supplied all the blood the dragon's wings needed. The arteries split open, spraying blood on the yellow canvas beneath. The dragon stumbled and flapped its wings desperately, yet futilely. It crashed onto the ground, eroding the soil for meters.
Robert pulled out the tranquil, gleaming sword from the ground and rushed forward at the amused, staring dragon. It took another deep whiff and was about to breathe out fire when two daggers flew past Robert's head, above his shoulders; one crossed above his left shoulder, another above his right. The blades struck the dragon's nostril, disrupting its breathing. The dragon, in excruciating pain, moaned and raised its head above the ground, exposing its collar.
Robert saw the opening and with all his might, dealt a deadly blow on the chink in the dragon's natural armour. The glinting edge of the blade tore into the flesh and penetrated deep enough to cut open the dragon's windpipe. The dragon made a strange, pained noise. Robert wondered, maybe this is how dragons gasp?
Without wasting a moment, he and Alicia began hacking on the skin, using The Dagger of Time, below which was supposed to be the dragon's heart. They had to be quick, The Dagger of Time aiding that. An once-in-a-lifetime opportunity had stumbled upon them and they weren't going to miss it! Not at all with their life's end so near.
Time stopped until they had cut a hole and lifted the dagger off the flesh. Robert stuck his arm against the gore and blood and flesh. He felt some slippery solid and he greedily pulled it out. It was marvellous - a dragon's heart, still beating! He gutted it maliciously and let the blood fall on the parched soil, moistening it with death.
Nothing happened!
Suddenly, they both heard a rumbling noise from beneath. The earth split and out materialised a god. Flames and ash erupted from the rut in the crust. Above it all towered the God of Death himself. The god's face was of a cunning jackal, its ebony ears pointing up. Niuba (God of Death) was wreathed in shining, black armour with occasional gold linings tracing the plate mail. On the armour's centre was a spirit encompassing sphere, which glowed.
The ground shook when it opened its mouth. The god bellowed, "Speak, foolish mortals who call on death himself." Alicia mouthed, quaveringly, "Our demise is sealed by fate ... and when the hour comes our souls shall have to pass through your gates. We ask that you return one of us and we shall do what your will is."
"You deal with powers beyond your imaginations. It is a blunder to make such a deal. Yet, I shall give you what you ask for when you will return to my gates once again, you shall mourn more and your life shall be filled with more horror. You will fail me and I shall brutally punish you. This is your fate as I now intervene."
Alicia laughed maniacally, "History is witness that whenever you intervene, it isn't just one's life that is filled with sorrow but all of Cobardon's. We desire wreckage and famine on this unjust, cruel world!"
Niuba completed, before disappearing, " ... and you shall have it!"
"It is close." "It is." All talk broke and sank into the devouring yet comfortable silence.
Water danced and fell in beats from the rock overhead, covering the cavern mouth. The stream of flowing, glimmering water had gaps from which moonlight shafts trickled into the cave where they sat silent as stones; their sleepy eyes, wide open, gaping with awe at the natural wonder.
A night angle fluttered onto the precipice which became a spiky, treacherous fall moistened by the waterfall. The night angle burst into a soft, melodious chant. Occasionally, the drops broke with a tpkk on the bleak rocks. The couple hummed together at the organic tune.
Zhwooph! From the voids in the waterfall through which moonlight poured came an arrow — relentless and unforgiving. The arrow whizzed through the air and pierced the boy's throat and sprouted out the back of his neck, tipped with his vocal box. Silent assassination. The next arrow hit the base of the first arrow, driving it through and clean, and so did the next, and so did the next... Alicia sobbed at the horrid sight till she ran out of tears, but the enemy didn't run out of arrows. The ground was blooded as her only hope sat lifelessly perched in a pool of blood. Suddenly, the arrows ceased, something sliced the air.
Her traumatised face leaned on the grim rocks, her neck's skin freckled and maroon, but that was where she ended, beheaded.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Demzan
Demzan smirked at the carcass; wiped his slick, ruby red blade against his weathered cloak. He retrieved the broad great-sword and tilted it at such an angle so that moonlight glided and slipped over it, lighting the blade with an eerie silver glow. He howled at the moon and his nails turned to claws, his hair thickened, his eyes turned an angry red and he dropped to four legs and howled again. Another howl, far below, answered the werewolf's call.
ns 15.158.61.51da2
