DragonFire
Too easy, thought Thorn as he ducked, avoiding the oncoming staff blow from Artemis, then lunged forward and shouldered him in the stomach and forcing most of the air out of his lungs. Artemis took a deep breath and, still in midair, summoned all of his strength to grab onto the burly half-dragon's torso and flip them in a backwards somersault, grunting in effort as he did so. When his feet were facing the sky, Thorn let go of Artemis' midsection and completed the flip himself, landing on his feet and keeping his balance with the help of his wings and years of martial arts training wile Artemis twisted himself around in midair and landed on all fours in front of his sparring partner.
Artemis drew himself up to his full height before bowing to Thorn, who returned the courtesy, and saying, "I think I'll turn in now, I wasn't built to lift a half-dragon."
Thorn smiled at him and nodded before turning and walking off to find his friends. It didn't take him long to find them in the facilities courtyard, two of which were sparring as he'd been doing with Artemis.
Thorn watched the pairings in the battle-circles; facing off against one another were Gang, a mischievous gnome with a habit for borrowing things and not returning them, and Fifi, barbarian woman who rivaled Thorn in height and muscle.
Fifi swung her great-sword in a downward arc at Gang, who dashed forward under the blade but out of harm's way, as the blade struck the dirt and sent a spray of dust upward. Gang, armed with two small daggers, brought his left arm straight up to poke her in the gut with the tip of his offhand weapon. The contact wasn't hard enough to do damage or draw blood, but it was enough to get the point across that the match belonged to him.
The two were breathing rather heavily, which meant that they had probably been at this for some time, and were fatigued.
Fubecca, an elven archer from the Singing Forest, nodded and said, "Not bad, Gang, I thought she had you for a moment, there"
Fifi spoke up, in her deep, yet still feminine voice, "Eh, what can you expect with such a small target? Lucky you're so short, or I'd have your head!"
Gang laughed, "Oh? Is that why you can never get the upper hand on Trundle?"
Trundle, the child-like, but still deadly, pixie had been flying around overhead, giggling at the exchange.
Fifi chuckled, "yeah, well, she can fly! Then again..." she said, thoughtfully, "So can Thorn."
"Speaking of whom," Fubecca waved a greeting to Thorn, who trotted up to his mix-matched bunch of allies with a smile.
Trundle flew down to him and began chittering excitedly, as she often did, "Hi Thorn! Are you done sparring? Did you win? Can we get something to eat? I'm starving!"
Thorn smiled at the energetic figure in front of him and said, "yeah, I'm done, let's go get something in our stomachs. We can stop by George's." Ah, George's... Thorn thought to himself. George was the owner of the local inn in town. Since their group had decided to stay in the city, the tavern had become quite successful, courtesy of Thorn and Fifi's dietary needs. It seemed like George had to restock his wares every couple of weeks on account of the two large figures ate nearly three sides of beef between the two of them every week.
"OK." said Trundle, more calmly now.
"Ah! George's! Best mead and beef in Ferun I tell ye!" Fifi said
Thorn sent a puff of flame out his nostrils and licked his chops in agreement.
"Sounds good to me!" Gang added, happily. And with that, they walked together out of the compound and into the town below.
The group had a long history together, going on all sorts of different adventures and getting into many battles. They were a very close knit group, and each one trusted the other completely. They walked down the street to George's Tavern, reminiscing about all of the different predicaments they had found themselves in.
Inevitably, Thorn and Gang got on the subject of the exploding cart. Not too long ago, a village the group had been passing through was being raided. The raiders consisted of four goblins, and a rather large ogre pulling a small wagon full of alchemist's fire and acid flasks. Three goblins were in front of the ogre, as a kind of protective wall, with the fourth in the back, atop the wagon being pulled. While the rest of the group were handling the three goblins in front with little problems, and dodging the little bombs being thrown by the ogre, Gang had slunk around behind the cart to deal with the goblin giving orders. That was also when Thorn thought it was a good idea to spray the ogre with a torrent of dragonfire.
Just as Gang had his dagger between the goblin's ribs, he was tossed into the air by an exploding cart, charred wood, and hot glass surrounded the poor gnome as he tumbled back to the dirt. He landed with a dull thud in a slightly blackened heap in front of the group. He sat up, his ears ringing, and looked each of his companions over, settling on the large silver and gold swirled scales of Thorn, his expression a mix of disbelief, pain and irritation, before falling backwards.
"I said I was sorry!" exclaimed Thorn, "Besides, it's your own fault, who climbs onto a cart filled with explosives?" he questioned the smaller figure, trying to contain his sharp-toothed smile.
"Someone who's got his eyes on goblin gold!" the gnome replied, defensively, "Which I regret to say was lost in the explosion, so it was a wasted journey!"
The others smiled and watched and watched the exchange, clearly amused, when they stepped up to the wooden sign labeled George's Tavern. The patrons sitting in the main room were used to the sight of the five companions, so they took no notice of the odd group, save the occasional newcomer who was just passing through town who, of course responded with a look of parts fear, awe and bewilderment, met with bemused glances from the regulars.
"Ah welcome back my friends! Take a seat and I'll get your usuals!" came the slightly accented voice of George, the innkeeper, who hurried back to the kitchen and started yelling orders to one of his cooks to get out the "Big Grill" as he called it.
"Thanks, George." Fubecca said, sitting down at their usual table in the back. Thorn sat to his right, Trundle, to his left. Gang sat next to Thorn, and Fifi sat next to Trundle.
An instant later, the door burst open, revealing a panic-stricken young man, panting heavily. "The village is under attack! The village is under-" he got no further, for a second later, the broad tip of a barbed arrow head was protruding between his ribs. The boy's words became a gurgled mess, as his mouth filled with blood and he fell to the floor face-first. The room was now in a state of utter panic, and Thorn dashed to the door, using his lightning fast reflexes to avoid knocking over tables and patrons and jumped over the body of the poor boy who warned them of the attack.
He took two strides out the door before he stopped dead in his tracks and dropped his jaw in shock. He didn't have time to count them all, his best guess was a few hundred. Brigands and bandits slaughtering the people of the town and taking what they pleased. It was quite a large town, to be sure, but it didn't have the defensive capabilities to withstand an attack of this caliber. His first thought was, How in the Nine Hells did we not hear them coming? Bah! It doesn't matter now, who's in charge?
He looked to his right and saw Artemis, one eye blackened, blood running down the left corner of his mouth and holding his left arm close to his body. Facing him was a rather large bandit holding a spiked wooden club. Artemis was armed with his wakizache, a short variation of the katana. Thorn drew his own katana, larger than average to be proportional with his size.
Thorn had made the unique weapon himself, and forged it using his own breath as a heat source, for he refused man-made heat to mar it's construction. The blade retained the traditional curve, yet was designed to appear like fire- the tongues of which extended slightly outward to serrate the edge -being unleashed from the handle, which was long enough for Thorn to hold in a two handed grip and was crafted with the head of a dragon- mouth open. The final time he engulfed his new blade in his own flames, he imprinted his own Chi into the weapon, turning the blade a brilliant orange. When it was finally finished, it blazed like raging flames in the night and he roared triumphantly to the stars, letting loose his own inferno. And so he named the weapon Valignatir Wiivai which translates to Burning Fury in the tongue of dragons
Thorn gripped Valignatir Wiivai tightly dashed to Artemis' aid. The bandit had his club raised for a killing blow when, faster than the eye could follow, Thorn's knee came into his field of vision and connected squarely with his face. The man slumped to the ground and Thorn turned to a surprised and relieved Artemis.
"Thorn! Where did you come from?" he exclaimed, delighted
"someone's gotta keep you alive! Now don't just stand around gawking, come on!" Thorn targeted another of the raiders and roared a blood chilling cry that any man would have mistaken for a dragon's voice, and thrust his blade between the man's ribs. He had been too surprised by the sound and sight of Thorn to defend himself, so the man's face twisted from a look of shock to one of pain, before Thorn threw his head back and brought it down on the bandit's forehead with a sickening crack, the power behind it forcing the man's limp body off of Thorn's blade.
Thorn turned to see Trundle, wielding her two daggers, dodge to the right avoiding a downward stroke from a mace, and bring her right-hand dagger into her enemy's hip. While he doubled over, she brought her free dagger between the brigand's eyes. She pulled her daggers free triumphantly, and ran over to Thorn who grabbed a shuriken off of his bandolier and hurled it at one of two foes trying to corner Fubecca, who was having a hard time holding the two of them off with his short sword. The one closest to Thorn fell to ground, a metal star protruding from his neck, while the other, briefly distracted by the sight of his counterpart being felled seemingly by nothing, ended up with Fubecca's sword embedded through his heart.
Fubecca, yanking his blade free, nodded his thanks to Thorn and then put away his sword replacing it with his powerful longbow. He then proceeded to start picking off bandits one by one with practiced, precise shots.
Thorn turned his head to see a larger bandit with a nasty scar running from the corner of his left eye down to the edge of his jaw and wielding a great-ax. Thorn swapped his sword to left claw and looked down to his right, concentrating hard on focusing his Chi into a tight, fiery ball. Blue and orange energy engulfed his his upturned claw and he drew his arm back, then flung it forward in the blink of an eye, hurling the swirling ball of dancing Chi energy towards the brute running toward him.
The ball struck him square in the chest, giving off a small explosion of Chi and causing him to stumble back both from surprise and the force behind the impact. Thorn stabbed his sword into the dirt and threw another one which caused the still stunned bandit to stumble back even further and bellow out in pain. Thorn then put his open left claw above the right one and channeled a great deal of energy into a fireball the size of his head.
Next to him, trundle had to squint from the intense heat, but at the same time wanted to go wide-eyed, like the terrified man who knew now that attacking Thorn was a mistake. She had seen him do things with his Chi, like fight unarmed with fists engulfed in the stuff, but she had never seen him throw it, or gather this much energy into his attacks.
Thorn roared loudly as he brought his arms back and thrust them forward, sending the fiery blue and orange ball of pure energy sailing to it's mark at an incredible rate. By now, the man had accepted his fate and had fallen to his knees in defeat. The fireball struck him with the force of a catapult, exploding in a glorious spectrum of fire-like orange and blue as bright as the sky. When the energy had dispersed, a ripple of heat could be felt and the smell of burnt flesh filled the air as all that was left of the once-brutish man was reduced to a shriveled, charred corpse. Thorn wrinkled his nose at the stench and growled, releasing a jet of smoke and flame from his nostrils.
Trundle went off like a gnome on a wagon full of alchemist's fire, "What in the Nine Hells was that!" she screamed, "and where in the Nine Hells did they come?" she demanded, spotting another heading their way with a bow. An arrow hissed passed her head and she threw up her dagger, catching it by the tip and hurling it at the bowman, who fell to the ground, impaled through the throat
Trundle was already drawing her short sword when Thorn spoke, "To answer the first, I've been working a new technique, you like?" he asked, a twinkle of pride in his eye
"Hells yeah, I like!" she replied, beaming.
Thorn grinned at her and said, "As for the second, I haven't the slightest, but we'd better find who ever's giving the orders so we can demoralize the rest."
"Yeah," she replied, "as if your little lights show wasn't doing that already," she smirked, gesturinng at a large group of them running as fast as their legs could carry them away from Thorn.
Thorn laughed genuinely and replied, "Still, it couldn't hurt to take out the big guy to disband them. Besides, leaders always have some nice goodies to take," he said, winking at her.
Trundle was like Gang in the way they both were attracted to shiny or otherwise valuable objects- though, Gang held who's possessions he was taking in little regard, but Trundle managed to keep him in line. Being able to shrink to the size of a lightning bug to mess with him could be useful at times.
"Right, we have to find them first, though," she said, looking around.
As if on cue, a young man, perhaps twenty-eight years old stepped out from behind a building. He was clad in pitch black leather armor with metal studs on the shoulders, gauntlets and boots. He was carrying a menacing looking mace and a black kite shield. He had a look about him that said he was used to getting his way. Thorn thought he looked like an arrogant snob.
"You are quite the nuisance aren't you, Lizardboy?", the mysterious man taunted with a cruel, yet surprisingly deep, voice
Definitely arrogant, thought Thorn. Thorn raised an eyebrow, or scalebrow, and smirked at him. That was when Fifi showed up, with Gang and Fubecca close behind. Fubecca had long since run out of arrows and was sporting his short sword and a dagger again. Gang had abandoned his daggers picked up two bloodstained short swords he picked up off of a dead bandit. Fifi was still using her massive greatsword, which was now heavily coated with blood and gore. The group was all together now and facing the mysterious figure in black.
"The names Rooke," said the stranger "I just thought you should know before I kill you." he said smirking. The main body of Rooke's forces were now forming a tight circle around them.
From what Thorn could gather, the rest of the defenders had barricaded themselves in the training hall do they wouldn't suffer as many casualties, which meant that they he and his friends were the only thing standing between the town and annihilation.
"What do you think you're doing here?" Fifi spat, "what gives you the right to come here and start taking the lives of those who have done nothing to you?"
Rooke smiled at her, "Taking what I please, to answer the first question. As for the second, well, the answer is quite simple, really; I do it because it pleases me, I need no permission or right," he spat the word, " and then, of course, who doesn't like gold? I'm sure I can find a few valuable trinkets in a place like this." He said nonchalantly. "And now," he continued, "you're all I have left to entertain myself with, for the moment. I think I'll have some fun with you," he finished, grinning.
"You seem eager to die," Fubecca said evenly. "I say we comply with him. What do you think, Thorn?"
"I think if he has half a brain he'll surrender." Thorn replied simply.
Rooke laughed, "Are you girls done? I'm getting bored..."
Thorn turned his head to look at his companions, took a deep breath and winked. They all took the signal and hit the dirt while he roared, spewing white-hot flames at the bandits surrounding them, turning three-hundred-sixty degrees, making sure he hit all of them. Most of the gathered bandits fell dead in blackened, smoking heaps, and those who hadn't fallen to the flames had either fled in terror or fallen to the weapons of Thorn's companions. Rooke, however, had not gone down so easily, throwing up his shield at the last instant. Thorn watched as the black metal of the shield began to glow. Gah! It's enchanted! Why are the leaders never easy? He thought scowling at the the irritating bandit. I bet that mace is magic, too. Can't have one without the other with these kinds of people. He thought.
Rooke chuckled, sensing his thoughts. "you like it? A little souvenir from a young mage," he lowered his tone, menacingly, "Obviously he didn't know how to use it properly."
Thorn growled. And lunged at him, but he didn't strike with his sword. Instead, he spun around and whipped his tail, catching the edge of the shield and, continuing the spin, faced Rooke again, intent to run him through. However, Rooke brought down his mace and drove Thorns blade into the dirt before it could hit it's mark. Without missing a beat, Thorn looked at the ground and butted the crown of his head into Rooke's chest, knocking him flat on his back.
Rooke attempted to roll out of the way, but a clawed foot pinning his arm to the ground stopped him. Thorn then stabbed his sword through Rooke's leather sleeve, pinning his his other arm like a tent stake.
As the rest of the enemy had been dealt with, Gang chuckled and trotted up to them, smiling, before yanking Rooke's coin purse from the dazed and confused brigand's belt. Gang walked away beaming as he counted the glimmering gold and silver coins in the soft leather pouch.
Thorn grinned at his friends, each of which had come out unscathed and were now recovering weapons, reclaiming items stolen from villagers they knew and recovering other such material posessions that a group such as theirs may require in the future.
Thorn lowered his still grinning face down to look Rooke, who had long since lost his confidence and now appeared terrified, in the eye and said, "I think the warden would like to have a word with you."
With that, he beckoned to Fifi, who took Rooke's mace and shield up in her arms and went to have Trundle determine what the enchantments were and wether they would be useful to her in combat.
Thorn then hauled Rooke up by his collar and began to drag the poor, defeated little man to the training hall, where most of the remaining villagers and guard would be waiting to give their guest a nice warm welcome.