Siege Cliché

Xiranth set down the book she was once immersed in, now finished. To pass the time, she'd often pick up a good fantasy novel, one that would hopefully surpass her usually high expectations going into a story. This time, however, she didn't care if it was any good. She was only trying to get rid of her prior thoughts with a book, something else to think about. And now she was done.

She exhaled, looking out towards the sky from her balcony. The dragoness loved gazing upon the horizon, watching the sun set, the bird's migrating across the world at that time of year. They were more likeable than the oddballs living beneath her spire – the sounds they made were charming compared to the drunken burps and giggles covering her street. That tavern had always been busy...

A faint object in the sky caught her attention; she narrowed her eyes. It looked like the sun, yet that would've meant there were two hanging in the sky. And unlike the other, this one wasn't setting. In fact, it appeared to be approaching her, rather slowly, but moving towards her nonetheless. But who was she to pay it any mind? It was probably some strange cloud passing overhead.

She closed her eyes, sipping from a goblet of champagne beside her, relaxing. She pulled a pair of shades (swag) over her eyes, leaned her head back, and quickly dozed off, left to dream about her feelings.


Screams cut her blissful slumber off. Her eyes widened, her goblet being knocked over in bewilderment. She wondered what all the panic was about, and as she looked to the sky, she saw why.

Why, oh why was the sky full of skavenger ships?

Did she even care? Not really.

If it wasn't for the clearly explosive barrel heading straight for her favourite bench, however, she would've let the city deal with its foes. But her bench was being threatened, the spot she used to relax, the place she used for nibbling on apples.

"Oh, no you don't..."

Sunglasses still on, she blasted off, accidentally leaving her house in shambles through the force of her taking off. She wasn't one to mind, though – she'd just forcibly take one from someone else. The problem was in the skavenger ships.

She grabbed that barrel, and with no effort whatsoever, returned it to its sender. One shot was enough to detonate the other explosives on board; the battleship was turned to but a splinter in mere seconds.

Xiranth then halted herself directly in front of one, high in the sky. She gazed upon the crew on board, all staring back at her. And then they cracked up. Hysterical laughter that seemed contagious, somehow spreading across the entire armada. They weren't concerned? Had sky piracy reduced their brains to nothing?

"You destroyed a singular ship," one called out above the racket, still chuckling. "Good job. Fly home, buddy, unless you want to be shot out of the sky!"

Xiranth only laughed back.

Using her immense speed, Xiranth grabbed the tip of the ship's foremast and launched it at another, obliterating several in the process. The laughter quickly died as the hounds realised what she'd just done. A smile curled her maw.

She barged into ship, piercing through as if she was a golden bullet. Several were destroyed by her flying prowess, and her element made short work of more. Good thing this fleet was almost endless, because she never wanted the fun to end. And there were thankfully no dragons trying to steal her fun; they were panicking on the streets, dashing about like lunatics, most likely trying to avoid the falling ship debris.

This continued for quite a while; she was having the time of her life. Flinging skavenger ships back and forth was about as entertaining as one might think. She did have to end her spree eventually, though. Peering towards the city, she noticed things weren't looking too good. In spite of her efforts to control the situation, the hounds had inflicted massive damage by the looks of things.

With a few beams of pure energy, she eliminated the rest of the fleet; she dusted off her paws and quickly soared back down to the city.

The level of destruction on Warfang was devastating. The city had been sliced in two – her doing, of course – and most of the buildings were in ruin, worthless heaps of stone, save a few. And the corpses... Xiranth would've vomited at the sight of so many mutilated bodies, but her stomach was made of steel. Probably literally.

She didn't exactly care, though. She didn't give a damn about much, excluding a few things. At least her bench was safe. That was all that mattered.

A moment later, she found herself on the city floor, gazing upon her surroundings. The sight to behold was much worse than she'd originally found. Warfang's streets were splattered burgundy, covered in rock and shattered bone, and the air was ash-laden, difficult to breathe for someone not Xiranth. The only place having not been ravaged by the sudden siege was her bench, but there did lay a creature atop it, surprisingly intact. She frowned before pacing over.

It turned out said creature was a mole, and not just any mole. This mole was the one that'd stolen her apple all those times. At first, she was tempted to remove him herself, send him to the heavens physically, but she realised his little, broken body was still moving, still breathing. Somehow, miraculously, he'd survived, despite the predicament. Xiranth found herself feeling a little sorry for the poor thing.

What was wrong with her? Was she developing... actual feelings?

Xiranth stopped herself for a moment, gazing down on him once more, and she found that she really did feel that way. Surprising to her, of course. She actually felt the need to assist him.

Picking up the wretched thing in her paws (and almost deciding to drop him because of his rank, smoky stench), she took off, moving slowly. For whatever reason, this mole felt just a little too important to leave alone, dying.

For whatever reason, she found herself caring a little. For the first time in her life. Maybe his actions had grown on her. Even if he liked thieving from her and calling her the wrong thing for reactions, something about him was different to every other denizen of Warfang.

He had guts. She decided she liked that.

Xiranth knew just the place to take him.