Dragon Slayer
What glory could be greater than slaying a Dragon?
Atari Bed
Another kitten pic! I’m going to go through a bunch of these before we start catching up to them now that they’re older. This day I was looking for them everywhere before I found them sleeping on my spare keyboard and Atari.
…Time for this week’s story…
Dragon Slayer
Only the greatest warriors can slay dragons. Many journey to the wild lands where dragons are known to roost, but few return. Those who do return become legends. They make fortunes from selling scales, organs and meat.
The last town on the way, Death’s Grove, was underground as protection from the many magical creatures in the deep, dark forest. They sold the tools, magical objects and storage an adventurer would need to harvest any creature. Everything someone would need to live for weeks in the wilderness was readily available.
Korbull was a great warrior from the lawless lands far to the East. Learning of a fierce dragon that had killed many and where it lived, he saved himself the trouble of finding one. After a long trek through multiple kingdoms and biomes, he found the wild lands.
The hulking, beastly man entered a pub after buying supplies. Heads turned as he passed. Even where the deadliest adventures were a common sight, he was intimidating. Korbull relaxed with some drinks before departing. Not much one for people, he kept to himself and watched the crowd through his long, matted hair. After several drinks, some adventurers burst into the pub. Two warriors, a wizard, a ranger and a cleric bragged about slaying a dragon and bought a round for everyone.
The room jubilantly celebrated with them, but Korbull’s mood soured as they bragged. They described the dragon he was after and the region where he was headed. By the time he went to bed, Korbull was saddened, frustrated and afraid that his long journey was for nothing. Pointless to turn back now, it seemed most prudent to at least check.
Despite friendly, terrified strangers making polite conversation, Korbull told nobody where he was headed. He answered everyone with the same unfriendly glare and bore his teeth until they hurried away. Lumbering into the forest, he left the last remnants of society behind.
While the terrain was unfamiliar, Korbull was at home in the wilderness. He learned about the forest by studying the paths of its animals, the light in an area, and the breath of its trees. The world was alive, and he listened deeply to hear it speak.
After six days, he found signs of the recent battle. Trees were torn asunder, black stripes charred the lush green foliage, and fresh rock slides disturbed the forest’s natural flow. Most disheartening was the flattened patch of blood-stained trees where they had harvested the body.
Korbull explored the area even though the dragon he sought was dead. He traced the battle back to the source. From there he explored the area until he found the massive cave where the dragon roosted. Untouched by battle, the woods were quiet. Eyes closed, breathing slowly, he stood and listened to the wind. Then came a screech from inside.
Before his next breath his ax and shield were at the ready. Hope rekindled, heart racing, he crept into the cave. As the screening continued, he lowered his weapons, then put them away.
Korbull’s heart sank.
The group of adventurers killed the great dragon not far away. They were close enough to be a threat, and so the dragon attacked them to protect her babies. There were signs in the wood branch nest of two other bodies but no other baby dragons. The one that remained was comparable to a big dog. Lying on its back, the skinny, lethargic baby looked at him with big, sad eyes and let out a soft, whimpering screech.
Korbull would find no glory here, but he could not turn his back on a hungry baby. He carefully approached and examined the baby, which still had no teeth. He mashed up some meat and fed it, petting it while it ate. He spoke to it, promising he would make sure it grew big and strong.
He stayed with the baby, hunting and providing for them both. During the winter they huddled together when they slept. In the spring they wrestled and played in the grass. When summer came, they swam in the nearby lake.
Sometimes, magical creatures attacked, but Korbull vanquished them all. Their skulls hung in the cave like trophies and he harvested their bodies. He trained the baby, teaching it commands, eventually naming it Kuku for the cooing sound it made to ask him for pets.
A year later, he journeyed into town to make as many useful items as he could from his harvests and returned to Kuku. Rumors circulated about a beastly man living in the woods killing everything that crossed his path. The rumors grew more prominent with each yearly visit.
Five years later, the dragon was larger than a house. The rebellious dragon would hunt on its own and venture farther than Korbull liked, but he could do nothing. The time for him to leave drew close.
The day he feared finally came. Other humans found Kuku while he was hunting. Kuku returned wounded and crying, having expected the humans to be friendly. Korbull tended to his wounds and told Kuku to follow him. He tracked down the humans and mercilessly slaughtered them, but one got away.
More humans came. Korbull killed them too and set up traps. For years he hunted the hunters until a group finally got close. Where Kuku’s mother was harvested, Korbull fought a band of adventurers. They were too much for him. As he resigned himself to death, Kuku’s shadow fell over the battleground. This time, Kuku did the slaughtering.
Kuku carried Korbull back to the cave. With more than enough supplies, he recovered fully. Once healthy, Korbull set up new traps and showed Kuku how they worked.
The next time a trap put them on alert, Korbull hurried out, but Kuku stopped him. The massive dragon lowered its head. Stunned, Korbull climbed atop Kuku. Holding onto a fin on Kuku's back, they rode into battle.
Henceforth, Korbull and Kuku slaughtered trespassers together. Far away from people, they lived happily ever after.