March of the Dragons

There weren’t always Dragons in the valley. Kerider Valley had had its share of troubles in the past of course. It had experienced floods, landslides, that vegepygmy outbreak a few seasons back, and many other things that endangered the lives of its people over the years. Throughout all of those troubles, Garrik “Gar” Heartsworn had been in the position of Head Ranger, helping to keep the peace and save as many lives as possible. Mother Nature was a tough old nag, and tried to claim lives, but Gar did his damndest to let her have as few as possible.

Gar had been on the job for decades. His frame still carried the finely honed muscles of his trade, but he had more gray on his head than not, and a lot less hair overall. A good natured fellow, he’d always joke that his looks were declining in his old age, and even his hair couldn’t stand to look at his ugly mug. Looks aside, he kept his body in peak condition. Even if wasn’t quite as fast or strong as he used to be, he could still easily put his rangers through their paces, whether it be on morning runs or the practice fields.

Unfortunately, even keeping his aging body in top shape, he knew one thing for sure: He was no match for the Dragons. He’d heard of the barbarian tribes that worshiped the great mythical beasts before, but had never seen any of them up close. Rumor had it that the Dragon tribes were split into different factions, each one devoting themselves to a different species of dragon. The Fire tribe were said to be the strongest, and were adept at burning everything in their path. It was said that they danced in fire themselves, enjoying the way the flames licked across their bodies, leaving no wounds behind. The Water tribe were strong swimmers, and could move in the water as easily as on the land. According to rumors, they could even sleep underwater. Then there were the tribes of Swamp, Ice, Acid, Rock, Forest, and more.

These tribes were dangerous, and there were few reports of anyone who had run across them directly and lived to tell the tale. Fortunately, they were all very solitary and territorial, always fighting each other over land across the Great Span. The Great Span was a large expanse of uncivilized many leagues away from Kerider Valley, and never before had any of the tribes showed any interest in it. Well, now there WERE Dragons in the valley. And somehow, the tribes seemed to be united in their purpose.

Gar looked down on the procession from a discreet vantage point in the hills above the road that cut down from the Great Span into Kerider Valley. They were far from a disciplined force, and there were many fights between tribes as they marched down towards the valley. They were broken up fairly quickly by those in charge, but it was clear that whatever mysterious alliance they had come to, it was tenuous at best.

The valley folk had been issued the order to evacuate and seek refuge in their sovereign capital, but they were a stubborn bunch. Many refused to abandon their homes, and insisted on standing against the unstoppable tide before them. Gar was hardly one to talk though, as he didn’t intend to leave without at least making the Dragon tribes fight for every step they took into his valley. He might not live long enough to see the tribes repelled, but he would certainly honor his oath to protect the valley with everything he had.

One of the other things that remained sharp despite Gar’s age was his hearing. At the sound of soft boots lightly treading on the grass behind him, Gar followed his instinct to roll quickly to the side. As it happened, that instinct was well placed. As he rolled to his feet and drew his blade, he saw a man-made set of copper talons ripping from the ground he had just been laying on. The grass was veritably melting and sizzling, and it was easy to see that the copper talons were dripping with some kind of acid.

Looking beyond the claw to the person wielding it, Gar was taken aback. Standing before him with murder in her eyes was one of the Dragons. Acid tribe was a safe guess based on her dripping weapon. She was crouched down low in a stance that was ready to pounce, but it was clear that if she were to straighten up, she would have several inches over his own frame. Where Gar’s body was that of a well-rounded athlete, the warrior woman in front of him seemed like a wrestler. She had hard, thick muscles from head to toe. He swore that her neck was just about as thick as his thighs. The muscles were easy to see, too, as her attire didn’t do much to hide them. Sturdy leather covered her in places to protect modesty, but she surely wasn’t wearing anything that would restrict her movements. The light clothing also let her bright green tattoos be easily seen. He didn’t know what most of them signified, but the curved, slashing lines seemed to match up with her weapon of choice.

The warrior woman scowled at having been denied an easy kill, and spat her distaste at the ground in frustration. Gar knew better than to take his eyes off of the threat in front of him, so he wasn’t positive that the grass started to hiss where her spit landed, but he vowed to himself to be wary nonetheless.

The two began to take slow, circling steps, measuring each other up. “Normally I’d welcome a visitor to Kerider, but I don’t think you were invited,”Gar said, trying to buy some time. The woman said something back in a language Gar didn’t understand, but was clearly less than flattering. She clearly got as much information on him as she needed, because her lunge came quick and furious, combined with a battle cry that could be described the same way.

Gar twisted his footing and slid to the side, bringing his blade up to deflect the dangerous weapon. Sparks flew as the weapons slid on each other, and Gar was surprised to feel a stinging pain on his sleeve where a drop of acid fell in their exchange. Not that he was used to fighting anyone with such an unconventional weapon, but it was clear he would need to be very careful. Even blocking her attacks was a dangerous prospect. He was distracted enough by the burn that he was ill-prepared for her pivoting after the lunge, and planting her elbow hard into his chest.

Breath knocked out of him, Gar shuffled back a few steps to regain his balance, but she was on top of him even as tried to make space. She was faster than he had given her credit for. Though bulky, she didn’t seem slower for it. He started to wonder what they fed these tribespeople, but quickly dismissed the thought, as the answer would likely scare him.

He lashed his own blade in a wide arc to deter her from closing too quickly, then turned it into a lunge of his own. He knew better than to commit as much as she had, lest he leave himself open to her. She was clearly a predator, and was looking for a sign of weakness. She easily blocked his lunge by swinging her claw in a back-handed arc. His weapon off balance, she thrust her free hand straight for his neck. He let his body roll in the direction of his parried blade and narrowly avoided her massive hand closing around neck.

Leaning further into the momentum, he twisted around to land a slash on her leg. He didn’t have enough leverage to score a deep wound, but a satisfying red line appeared to mark his hit. Sadly, it seemed as if the warrior woman didn’t even feel it. She didn’t slow in the slightest as she returned his slash in kind. His shoulder erupted into fiery pain as the mixture of metal slicing into him followed by acid burning immediately after caused him to cry out in agony. Though the cut was shallow, just like his, the multiple blades and acid coating made the blow significantly worse.

Sensing her advantage, the Dragon began to push at her prey. Gar’s instincts were screaming at him to ignore the pain. At least she hadn’t struck his sword arm. She had the upper hand in this fight, and unless something changed soon, Gar would be looking on his beloved valley for the last time.

Gar gritted his teeth and stood his ground. The two combatants traded blows for some time. Gar became more wary of her coated blades and adapted to lunging in and out, minimizing the time he was within reach of the deadly copper weapon. The woman tried to keep close to Gar, to maximize her strength advantage, but old Gar remained light on his feet. While he was good enough to avoid any more strikes as dangerous as the one to his shoulder, he still took burn after burn from drops of acid flung into the air from their weapon impacts.

It didn’t make sense. Even if she had recently dipped the blade in acid, Gar couldn’t fathom why the weapon was still dripping those several minutes later. Perhaps the tribes really did get some kind of mystical power from their worship?

Both combatants eventually began to slow. The Dragon woman’s fierce, murderous sneer had turned into more of a feral smile. Gar imagined she was respecting his ability, and was actually enjoying the fight. Gar, on the other hand, was not enjoying himself in the slightest. It was taking all of his training and reflexes just to stay alive. His injured arm was beginning to go numb, and was throwing off his balance. His head was pounding from the mix of adrenaline and pain. The sheer itch of his multiple burn wounds was becoming too large of a distraction. His opponent was showing her injuries as well, of course, but other than one solid strike to her thigh, she seemed ready to keep going for the next hour.

Knowing he would tire well before her, Gar had no other choice than to try to end things. After a brief moment between exchanges, Gar psyched himself up for his make-or-break strike. He’d go in hard with a lunge, battle cry and all, but it would be a feint. As she moved to block his thrust, he’d leap up, bringing his sword over her block, and come down with all of his weight into her. It was his only shot.

He must have showed off the right body language, because she took up a wide-legged stance to intercept his charge. So far, so good, he thought, as he bunched his legs up under him, and launched forward, crying out at the top of his lungs, “For Kerider!!!” It was working. She moved to bat his blade aside, and he was able to jump and raise his sword before she deflected it. He reflexively tried to bring his off hand up to lend into his momentum, but for all of his fervor, it just refused to listen to him. Regardless, he did his best follow through with his reckless strike.

When the Dragon stepped forward and came inside of his strike, he knew he messed up. Her free hand came up to grab his sword arm by the wrist, and she stepped into his falling body, her shoulder thrusting hard into his stomach. All of the breath was knocked out of Gar as he tumbled back to the ground as he literally just bounced off of her. She couldn’t hold on to his wrist, but she did manage to wrench it enough for him to drop his sword as he fell.

The ground was blessedly clear of rocks, but his head striking it hard as he fell was still very disorienting. Gar was drawing deep, ragged breaths, and trying to sit up, unsuccessfully. His vision did clear long enough to see the Dragon woman stalking closer, taking her time, and relishing the coming killing blow. She licked her lips, and made a gesture towards Gar. His addled brand was wondering whether it was a “good fight, my worthy foe,’ or ‘and now, I feast!” Either way, Gar knew it was over. He’d failed in his duties and his beloved valley was about to be trampled under the feet of the Dragon horde. He refused to turn away from his fate. He watched the woman stalk closer, and just waited for the final blow to land.

She got close enough to raise her claw, now coated in both her acid and his blood. There were a few thudding sounds and the warrior’s eyes began to cross before she fell forward, just short of Gar. A half dozen arrows were sprouting from her back, each bearing bright, exotic fletching. Gar’s mouth hung open, still addled from his wounds, but even more so from the scene in front of him.

Several figures stepped out from the nearby tree line, wearing fine clothes that nonetheless seemed appropriate for traveling through forested terrain. Each one carried a long bow in hand, with blades of different types at their belts. Their long, thin faces seemed to be filled with ice as they looked upon Gar in his injured state. Their long, pointed ears told Gar that he was meeting yet another faction of people he’d only heard of, yet had never laid eyes on.

The leader of the elves put his bow over his shoulder as he approached Gar. “So, it looks like you have a Dragon problem,” he said, as he and Gar looked down into the valley, the horde looking even more daunting after the ranger’s battle.

“Yeah,” the exhausted man replied. “You could say that.”