I thought it might be interesting to showcase a version of something I wrote nearly ten years ago. I do intend to re-write it as I'm going to put this at a 5/10 for quality. also important to note is that this was before even 4th edition I think... oh man that puts this more than 13 years ago... anyway...
I found this in my old files and thought it was interesting as an example of how a little time and a rewrite can make something you created a little more polished.
Just note: I'm actually not a fan of this story, I think it's a bit tropey and derivative, I didn't even have the spacing right in a format sense, the paragraphs aren't good and so many other errors I see. But there are some things I like about it, I guess. Regardless here is the original, I hope to have a modern re-write some time soon.
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Warning: The following story contains violent and bloody imagery. If you have other concerns you believe I should issue a warning for, please put them in the comments below.
*** The coppery-sweet smell of blood was thick as the soldier blocked another heavy swing from one of the beasts. His muscles burned as he lunged forward and scored a slash along the beast’s scaly flank, sending a spray of brackish blood across the already stained ground.
There wasn’t time to follow up with a killing blow as the creature kicked him hard in the chest, knocking his shield away and sending him reeling backwards as he strained for breath. There were bodies everywhere and the soldier knew at any minute he could trip and land sprawled on the bare ground; an easy target for a bloodthirsty enemy. He had to do something now or another slash like the last one would have his guts spilling out.
Struggling to recover his breath, the soldier planted his foot and threw himself bodily at the creature, ducking underneath the two handed chop it launched his way. The beast grunted and fell backwards, tripping on the body of another fallen fighter. The soldier grinned as he waited for the impact.
As the two bodies slammed onto the blood-soaked dirt, the soldier’s sword was wrenched out of his hand by the beast’s body as it crushed the blade under it and pinned the soldier’s hand. The soldier knew then it would be over in a moment, without a weapon and with his shield long gone the creature’s claws and teeth would tear him apart.
A blur in his periphery had the soldier tensing for his final breath. But the blow never came; instead the creature beneath him spasmed and shook momentarily before becoming still. A quick movement had his hand free and he stood to see another soldier trying to pull his spear out of the beast’s chest.
The soldier nodded his thanks to his comrade, a man in the armor of the Calarian First Infantry. He himself hailed from a small town on the western slopes of the Earthwall Mountains; near enough to the capital but he wasn’t nearly as well trained as the career soldiers in the service of King Arnbriar. The soldier found he was slightly jealous of the steel scale armor; his own leathers were not nearly as effective at turning away the heavy blows from the beasts’ jagged blades.
It didn’t matter right now; right now he needed his sword and set to rolling the huge body off of it. The infantryman had already turned back to his unit, the group of them setting off towards the heaviest areas of fighting. The soldier did not follow; he had to find the rest of his unit; if any of them were left.
Turning, he took stock of the small clearing amidst the battle he currently found himself in. Hundreds of men and beasts lay dead or dying, spears and broken swords and shields scattered amongst the bodies. The amalgam of carnage and destruction brought heaviness to the soldier’s heart.
Beyond the bodies were the battle standards of the human and dwarven divisions holding the center line against the draconic forces that marched on the capital. It was only a matter of time now until the civilians had been evacuated to safety. Once that happened the horns would sound the retreat and all of the fighters out here could head back and make their own escape.
None of the warriors out here thought they had a chance; they sought only to delay the inevitable slaughter of innocents that these so-called Draconians would bring to the city. The soldier remained simply for a chance to send some of these foul beasts to Kolkana’s gates; there they would be judged for the murder of his wife and children. It was an anger that burned hotter and hotter as he watched a massive red dragon swoop low and loose a gout of flame that decimated several squads of soldiers.
Following the dragon’s course were bolts of energy from the wizards near the rear command post; trailing shots that never seemed to quite catch up with the demonic creature. If luck was with them, they would take a second down in writhing agony as they had earlier in the battle. The soldier smiled maliciously at the memory of the dragon twitching as tendrils of arcane energies had slowly disintegrated the dragon’s flesh.
His thoughts were interrupted by a shout nearby, drawing his attention to the sky. From a bank of clouds came half a dozen smallish dragons, diving fast towards the clearing he stood in. Thinking quickly he sheathed his sword and scrambled for the nearest spear. Out in the open, the only option was fight; if he ran, the fliers, as they were called, would simply scoop him up and drop him from a hundred feet in the air. A sword blade he could deflect, an arrow he could dodge but the thought of falling towards certain death with nothing to do but watch as the ground rushed up to meet him was terrifying.
So he would stand and plant the spear in the ground beneath his foot and brace it in the hopes he could at least count one more Draconian death as his own, another minor victory to herald his own trek to the wayafter.
Time seemed to slow as he waited for the flier to swoop down and silence the pain that had wound its way into his muscles and around his heart. He watched the creature’s wings pump hard one last time before folding tight against its flanks. The beast’s mouth opened to reveal lines of jagged teeth still bloody from its last meal. The soldier thought briefly of whether or not death would hurt but was interrupted by the heavy slam of the creature as it smashed into him and crushed him into the ground.
A burst of pain in his left arm told him the limb was broken and useless before his mind had cleared from the impact. The body on him wasn’t moving, which was a good sign. Unfortunately, it also meant he was still alive. Determined not to suffocate beneath the lifeless flier, the soldier pushed the weight away, grinding his teeth against the pain in his arm. The sound of battle around him told him the fight had shifted.
The men around him now were clad in gleaming plate mail and were ripping holes in the Draconian lines through sheer force of arms. The soldier was in awe, never had he seen such ferocity. What few Draconians yet lived after the charge were quickly put to the sword by the infantrymen who followed them closely.
Each of the plate mailed men wore tabards emblazoned with a fist holding a sword. They were Paladins of Oron of the Order of the Blade, men and women whose deeds were legends. If they were here, the battle must be turning. The soldier’s spirits were boosted by the sight of the valorous warriors. The sound of booted feet coming from his flank brought him spinning around to face a woman wearing robes holding her empty hands out calmly. He lowered his weapon and allowed the woman to touch him, the warmth of her magic flowing to his many wounds and clearing the blurriness of his vision.
The priestess smiled warmly and moved away quickly, stopping to place hands on one of the fallen paladins. The soldier watched as the paladin stirred and rose, lifting his sword once more and striding back into the fray.
Flexing his arm, the soldier found it was still in pain but functional once more. Scanning the ground quickly, he picked up a shield and drew his sword, moving to follow the paladins. A sight in the sky stopped him; the massive red dragon was banking towards the line of holy warriors as it dropped handfuls of men back to the earth. In a flash of brilliant fire, the ground erupted in front of him in a wall of heat and flame. Screams silenced quickly as the men and women of Oron’s holy order were roasted inside their armor.
Horror replaced the soldier’s former hope as the dragon landed amidst the conflagration and crushed a still standing paladin, horrendously crunching bones and blood alike before tossing the body aside and turning to face the lone soldier who still stood, shaken and terrified, mere paces away.
Preternaturally fast, the creature surged forward and swatted the soldier’s feeble slash aside, sending the sword far off to the side. A second movement had the dragon’s face fill his entire field of vision. Words formed in his head, unbidden by teeth and tongue.
Go to your king. Stop for nothing. Tell him the armies of Sevanthriss will raze his pathetic city to the ground around him. The malevolence spoken within the soldier’s mind turned his stomach and brought bile to his mouth. Tell him there is no escape. There will be no quarter. The mortals of this world will know only fear until my master comes for them.
The soldier tried to nod but succeeded only in twitching slightly as the fear wormed its way into every inch of his body, tightening his muscles and loosening his bowels. The dragon’s mouth curled into a disgusted smirk.
I for one would prefer to simply kill every last one of you but my master has seen fit to subjugate you all. So run, rodent, run back to your hole amidst the trappings of civilizations past and hasten to your king. Deliver my message that he may take the honorable path and end his life or join with my master and be delivered from the fate of his charges.
A blur of red flashed before the soldier’s eyes and the dragon was gone, spiraling back into the sky, trailed again by bolts of magic that sought to make light of the dragon’s pronouncement. It was then he knew how futile the battle truly was. He doubted anywhere would be safe, for anyone.
A flicker of light beside him turned his stunned gaze to see a man in orange robes striding out of a doorway that seemed cut from the air itself. The man bore the symbol of a royal wizard, a symbol held on a chain around his neck that shook as the wizard placed hands on the soldier’s shoulders. The mage spoke quickly but the soldier heard not a word.
He raised his eyes to meet the wizard’s gaze and spoke simply.
“I have a message for the king.”