The Anguish of Being Human

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. Well, except for Jekaar, of course, but most days he didn’t feel the part.

Jekaar casually strolled down the sidewalk with the city burning around him, hands tucked deep inside the pockets of his trousers. The screams of the dying humans crying out in the mountainside city around him would have normally rallied excitement within him, but the thrill of the hunt wasn’t his to claim. Not even the dwarf attempting to put out the fire in his beard with ale could draw out a chuckle. This curse, barring him from pillaging alongside his brothers and sisters in the skies, was near torturous for him. As it turned out, there was a fate worse than death...being stuck in the form of a human.

For months, he tried to convince himself it wasn’t all that bad. Jekaar had been cursed with what appeared to be an attractive male form. He didn’t have near the musculature of men and women who had been foolish enough to try and kill him over the centuries, but his arms did fill his sleeves, which was just enough apparently to attract many of the local maidens. He found his shoulder-length blonde hair to be a nuisance, making it easier for sweat to bead into his tiny ears, but he had been told even women were envious of his flowing locks. Somehow, insulting people made them somehow more intrigued by him. He tried silence on the off chance his voice was perhaps too sultry, but that had apparently made him more mysterious, and women somehow swooned all the more. Truthfully, humans liked him for some misguided reason, but all he wanted was to be left alone until the day came when his brothers and sisters lifted his curse.

Jekaar sidestepped the falling body of a middle-aged elf, trying to keep balance in the thoroughfare of sprinting townsfolk. He couldn’t understand how these various species could survive so long with such soft and fragile skin. Even the passive shouldering of a frantic man striking him in his own shoulder would likely leave a bruise on Jekaar’s already dark skin. He made his way back to the edges of the cobblestone street, taking a moment to look around before his sensitive eyes began to sting from some nearby smoke. It wasn’t merely enough that he couldn’t see well, although perhaps still better than most humans, but his eyes would often water from coming in contact with the strangest things: plants, smoke, onions, even strong emotions from time to time. It was almost like his eyes were leaking through his nostrils as streams of mucus began to pour out. Unlike his old lungs, his human ones were not built to withstand smoke and he began coughing to the point of gagging. He quickly moved away from the remnants of a scorched linen business.

Jekaar continued on, passing by a woman pleading with him to help lift a beam from a collapsed shop off her ankle. If he was being honest, she was likely safer pinned beneath the building than she was on the run. Most of the time, dragons enjoyed the challenge of chasing down their prey. He would have told her that, but he was too afraid his insults would have accidentally wooed her, or that his waterlogged blue eyes would have been mistaken for anything other than being tainted by smoke, so he moved along without so much as a glance. He never understood why humans fought so hard to survive. One way or another, they were all going to die. Why not just stand there and accept it? Sure, there wouldn’t be a thrill to the hunt without fleeing prey, but who were these people trying to fool. Themselves, perhaps?

Although people were already screaming in fear, the guttural shouts became suddenly more terrified, which Jekaar hadn’t thought possible. Before he could ascertain why, he was completely engulfed by fire. The heat scorched his dainty skin. The screams were stifled by the inhalation of flames flash cooking the insides of newly stone-grilled humans.

This was perhaps the second worst part of the curse bestowed upon Jekaar. He couldn’t die. Although a dragon could never die from old age, this curse ensured he would continue to suffer this mortal-type form until he was granted his dragon form once more. Some might count true immortality a blessing, but feeling the white-hot flames trying to consume his flesh with no such satisfaction would make even the most skeptic mortal reconsider their stance. Jekaar used what little human strength he had to drag himself forward and out of the flaming heaps of corpses several dozen feet ahead.

The pain of cobblestone scraping against his now naked body was nothing in comparison to the fires he had escaped. When he was far enough away from the piles of burning flesh, Jekaar took a moment to rest, looking down at his dirty but unscathed form.

The earth behind him shook as a loud crash resonated from down the street. Jekaar lifted his head to get a good look at his old “friend,” Shadar. His distinctive ram-shaped horns made him stand out amongst other dragons. Each step the red dragon took toward Jekaar shook the ground. This was when Jekaar finally came to realize where the phrase “small as an ant” came from. Jekaar couldn’t remember having seen ants before becoming human, they were simply too small, but the phrase was still common enough that he had at least heard of them. That was how small, how insignificant, Jekaar felt staring up from the ground, kneeling in front of this 20-foot-high creature, even when it only stood on all fours. Its front fangs were possibly as long as Jekaar’s current body. Had Jekaar really ever been this imposing before? Even if it had only been a year since he was forced out of his dragon form, it was sometimes hard to remember.

Shadar sneered as he approached Jekaar, recognizing the man he helped to create. He stood over Jekaar, sitting back on his haunches, his red scales and eyes seeming to reflect off the light of the flames behind Jekaar, and his wings folding in along his scaly sides. “Brother,” Shadar started, his low voice resonating even above the collapsing structures to each side of the street. “You have served us well. The weakness in the Valley’s defenses gave us the edge we needed to overtake this city.”

Akloy Valley was one of the most influential mining cities on the continent. Therefore, this fortified mountainside city was also one of the most well-guarded in the realm. The Koreth Guard was perhaps the best trained private army in the world, and their talents were, for the most part, wasted on the defense of this city. In centuries past, dragon attacks posed no threat against the Valley. At least, not until one of their own infiltrated the city and learned its secrets.

When his brothers and sisters inevitably overtake the city, bringing human economy to a near standstill, surely this would be penance enough for them to abolish his curse. This hope was the only thing that got Jekaar through this past year living in this wretched body. That, and immortality.

“It was only a matter of time before you would have gained enough strength and support to break the defenses yourself, brother,” Jekaar said reverently. The flattery was obvious, but even so, Shadar would likely know it was difficult for any dragon to humble themselves for their own role in a victory of this scale. “I can only hope this success will gain our Father’s favor and grant me an audience with him.”

This seemed to amuse Shadar. “You would forfeit any treasures gained from the siege to stand trial before him again?” he sneered.

Jekaar nodded, looking Shadar in his large, looming eyes, so exhausted from the burden of humanity that he no longer had the patience to scheme or negotiate the point. All that remained of his once prideful soul was this beggar of a man. “If it means ending my suffering, then yes.”

Shadar’s smug grin, revealing his vicious teeth, was all Jekaar needed to see to know Shadar was willing to go to bat for him. Did Jekaar really look so desperate, kneeling there naked in the street before his brother, that it had convinced his brother there was no way Jekaar’s life could become any more menial than this?

Shadar stood up on all fours again, head and neck reaching into the air higher than any building that remained around them, standing firm amongst the fiery chaos. “You have my blessing,” Shadar finally said. “When the siege ends, I will seek out the Father, and I will vouch for you myself. This victory should win over even the most skeptical of our siblings.”

It took everything in Jekaar not to visibly react. He had waited so long to hear those exact words. He continued to kneel, looking solemnly at his brother. Perhaps in a month's time, he would be restored to his former glory. Everything he had been working towards was finally coming to fruition.

“Hey, you!”

Jekaar could scarcely hear the voice of the man walking down the street, arrogantly approaching them. He hadn’t realized how clear the streets were of civilians until the lone figure confidently strolled down the road, almost as if this were a normal day for him. Was this man perhaps mad? Or had he simply realized the inevitability of his demise?

No, this was something else. Even a man who knew death was at his doorstep showed a hint of fear in his eyes. Even the bravest of men Jekaar had fought quivered at the unsightly mass of a beast such as he or Shadar, but the man’s hands rested on his hand axes with not even the sign of a nervous twitch. The man couldn’t have been completely daft either, for his beard and long mane of hair were well kept, his clothes well-tailored to his stature. How could such a man hold the composure of a powerful beast with only the fragile body of a human?

Or rather, what fool of a man could delude himself into believing he could approach a dragon without trembling, without any break in his own resolve? It was almost like watching a salmon staring at a hook, fully believing it could drown the man holding the rod at the other end.

Shadar turned and took a few steps away from Jekaar, gracing the human with his attention. The man spoke again, his voice as unwavering as his demeanor. “Leave him alone. He’s just an innocent man; there is no reason to toy with him. If you are looking for prey,” at this point, he unlatched the hand axes at his sides, “or if you are looking for a challenge, then look no further.”

Shadar’s bellowing laugh likely could be heard a mile away, even amongst the burning rubble and tumbling stone. As he settled down, the nearly 600-year-old dragon said between chuckles, “Truly! I have not been this entertained by a human for nearly a decade.” Shadar recomposed himself, his head leveling to the ground to show the man just how small he was in comparison to his toothy grin. Even with his head resting on the ground, Shadar had to look down to stare at the man. “If a painful death is what you desire, I will happily grant you this wish.”

The man raised an eyebrow, a smirk running across his unflinching face. “You know what? A painful death does seem to be in the cards today. Thank you.”

The man lurched forward with incredible speed, aiming his axes at the snout of the dragon. Shadar lifted his head out of reach nonchalantly, toying with his food. Jekaar had not felt this envious for quite some time. It had been decades since he had played with humans like this. Normally, what appeared to be an intense battle for a human only took a fraction of the energy for a dragon to overcome the meager advances. Perhaps, when he regained the might of his true form, Jekaar would go and enslave some humans for sport, show them how insignificant their lives truly were.

Suddenly, the ground shook as a giant 2-story mass of rock exploded from the street, the vibrations being so violent that Jekaar slumped to his side even with the 20-foot distance. The stones, somehow taking a large humanoid form, jumped at Shadar and caught his neck in a grapple, pinning him to the ground. A startled Shadar reached out, trying to dig into the rough exterior of the stone creature, his claws finally beginning to carve into its abdomen.

The man struck at Shadar’s head, his hand axes striking true even through the scales and thick skin. Shadar, finding more amusement at this point, turned his head, piercing the side of the man with his horns. The man took a few steps back, placing a hand on his own torso, trying to stop the bleeding. Jekaar rolled his eyes, even though he was impressed the man didn’t seem too phased by the strike. Perhaps the shock, the inescapable coming of death, was finally going to break his psyche.

That is, until Jekaar watched in horror as the man’s side began healing instantaneously.

Jekaar could feel the blood draining from his head as his skin paled. His eyes followed the man’s as they turned up toward the roof of a still standing two-story building. His gaze rested on an elven mime, moving his hands in an odd manner, reminiscent of a spell caster.

No. This had to be a coincidence. Jekaar had heard of a legendary group that was notorious for having slain his brothers and sisters of different clans around the globe. Last he had heard, this party was on the east coast. Yes, this must just be a coincidence. The happenstance that this specific group of adventurers would be in this city thousands of miles from the coast on this exact date was far too unlikely. Besides, there were only three of....

The fourth and final member, a gnome wearing a belt far too big for his size across his torso, began to scale up the side of Shadar. Jekaar saw the exact moment Shadar came to the same realization as he. The signs were too clear to ignore anymore. For the first time in his life, Jekaar saw fear in his brother’s eyes. His breathing hastened until, finally, Shadar drew in a deep breath, preparing to unleash his fire attack. If he was going to die, he would at least take out their leader, solidifying Shadar’s legacy as one of a hero slayer, perhaps even a martyr.

It would have worked, too, were it not for the stone giant’s knee slamming into the dragon’s neck, stopping the air from escaping as she held her knee in place. Shadar ignored the man striking the top of his head, trying to instead grab at the slender gnome running up his back, but the small figure dodged between his raking fingers as the gnome began to pull an impressively long chain out of a bag far too small to carry it. The gnome threw the length of the chain around the massive neck and, with the help of the man, caught the other end of the chain, holding one end in each hand.

Jekaar watched in horror as the gnome began to pull the chain with an inhuman strength that could only be explained away by having magical enhancements. Shadar unfurled his wings in an attempt to take off, but the stone giant stepped on his left wing before he could escape to the sky. With Shadar’s wing held to the ground, the stone figure no longer worried about pinning Shadar’s neck and it began to beat the dragon, both fists repeatedly slamming into his ribs.

Shadar’s eyes began to bulge, unable to take in any breath, and he began to pull at the chain with his claws. The human reacted to this, shifting to hack at Shadar’s long fingers to loosen his grip. When the mime began to shower down magical bolts of energy through a bout of graceful interpretive dancing, Shadar began to thrash about on the city streets, trying anything to shake them off or crush them. This group, however, was too well practiced, too experienced in their harrowing brutality, that they easily dodged or took the beating and let it fuel them all the more.

In his last moments, Shadar turned his head, his eyes piercing Jekaar’s soul with a look of betrayal. How could he just kneel there, watching his brother take the beating? Perhaps if he had known the Century Slayers were in town, if he had just done a bit more research, he could have prevented all this and delayed the attack. Jekaar wanted to do something, anything, to help his brother. But what was there that he could do? He was only human.

Jekaar wasn’t sure when exactly his brother’s life came to an end. His dead eyes remained open, gazing at Jekaar. He couldn’t tell how much time passed before he broke out of his shock to witness the Slayers celebrating their masochistic feat. Did they not realize what they had just done? The centuries of knowledge and experience that had vanished all within a few minutes? No. How could they? Their minds were too small to wrap around such concepts.

As they laughed over the corpse of the benevolent being, the mime floated down from the building, acting as if climbing down an invisible rope to slow his descent, and the stone creature reverted back into the form of a half-orc woman. The man, coming out of his gleeful slaughter state, finally took notice of Jekaar. Jekaar visibly recoiled as the man stepped forward, but the man quickly dropped his bloody hand axes and lifted his blood-soaked hands as an apparent sign of peace. “No, it’s okay, we’re here to save you,” he said in his thick western drawl.

The woman blushed when she saw Jekaar immodestly kneeling and turned away. “Um, Shen, can you, uh-”

“I’m on it,” Shen said. He wiped his bloody hands on his pant legs and pulled out a cloak from his pack. He walked to Jekaar and wrapped the cloak around him, trying to cover his nakedness. Jekaar continued to kneel, motionless. “The shock will pass soon. When we took down our first dragon, it took us nearly an hour to process everything. You’re going to be just fine now. We saved you.”

Finally, Jekaar looked up at Shen. Is that what they really thought? That they had saved him?

No. Now, he would never get his dreadful curse lifted. The Father would never forgive this oversight. Because of them, he would live out the rest of his days in anguish as nothing but a man.

“Shen,” the gnome said while approaching, “we really should get going. There are more dragons out there, more people like him who need our help.”

“No!” Jekaar shouted, surprising even himself. The Slayers all stared, stunned, then waited for an explanation. Jekaar had to maintain his cover as a human if he wanted to escape these murderers. “Aren’t you all exhausted? Do you really have the energy to take on another dragon?”

The Slayers all looked at each other, nodding in agreement. “Yeah,” they all said one by one, shrugging as if murdering his brother had come at no expense.

“Then you would just leave me here, alone, almost naked in the street?” Jekaar asked, trying to act as weak as he felt kneeling before them.

At this, Shen pulled out a pair of trousers and the gnome an adamantine short sword, a rare metal worth a small fortune. “Here,” the gnome said, handing the sheathed weapon carefully to Jekaar. “You can use this to pry out scales and cut the dragon’s hide. It’ll be worth enough of a fortune you should be able to rebuild a new home when the ash settles, maybe even start a small business or something, too. We’ve got plenty for ourselves, so don't feel like you have to save any for us.”

A wave of nausea washed over Jekaar as he imagined his brothers and sisters being flayed like a deer to be worn or sold. His paling face must have been noticeable as Shen chimed in. “Anyway, you’ll be safer here than with us. I think the dragons have moved on to a different part of the city.”

“Good luck, though!” the gnome said, starting to jog off in the direction of screams and crashing in the distance. The others followed in suit with Shen retrieving his hand axes, leaving Jekaar alone to stare at his brother’s corpse, the road to his salvation now left to rot on the streets of this filthy human city.

It was only when his knees began to ache against the cobblestone that Jekaar found the strength to move. After nearly an hour of moping, mourning the loss of his ascension, he finally understood what he had to do. There was only one way to redeem himself from this, only one way to regain the favor of the Father.

Jekaar had to kill the Century Slayers.