Legend of the Dragonslayer

Many ages ago, when the world was young, there was a vast kingdom ruled by a benevolent and kind ruler. The kingdom was prosperous and fair. Its people were healthy and long lived. The land grew ever more prosperous, until one day a terrible darkness crossed its eastern border. A black army, filled with Ghouls and Goblins and other ghastly things, swept across the land like a hurricane, destroying everything in its path. At the head of this dark legion was a dragon, its scales as black as the void, its fire as hot as the sun. Its power was terrible and fearful to behold, and none could resist its strength, nor pierce its armored hide.

The Horde kept burning onward, leaving a trail of barren lands and destroyed towns in its wake until it was a nights march from the kings city, the last beacon of hope for the land. As the Dragon's dark host drew ever closer to the city's white walls, the king rode forth from the gate, with six hundred riders behind him, all clad in white armor and brandishing pointed spears. The king rode at the front of his men, his armor and shield shining even in the face of the utter darkness before them. He brandished Maendaeron, the last of the ancient blades from ages past. Its blade, wrought from the purest blue-white steel, sparkled in the darkness above its golden hilt.

Though few in number, the fury and fighting strength of these men was something never before seen in the land. As they defended their precious home, droves of the Dragon's horde fell at their feet. For each warrior the dark servants of the dragon killed, another would avenge him tenfold. Within a matter of minutes, the Draconic army was in full rout, fleeing in every direction. The battle was nearly won, but that is when everything changed. The Dragon had come at last, when he saw the battle was turning. From over the horizon he came, in a ball of glowing smoke as he shot up above the battlefield. He swooped down toward the beleaguered defenders, burning everything in his path, friend and foe alike. Though the riders were some of the most skilled in the land, they could do nothing against the dragons unquenchable wrath. Soon, only the king and a few other riders were left.

The Dragon landed in front of the king, and his men rushed in front of him to protect him. The dragon lashed out and swept the men away like a horse would brush off a fly. He then turned his attention to the King. He looked the weathered man over, and opened his mouth, as if to burn him, but instead spoke. "A brave and honorable last stand, O king, but alas, fruitless in the end." The dragon then let out what almost could be described as a laugh, and stepped forward, preparing to crush the king between his jaws. The king didn't respond with any desperate mockery or arrogant boasts, but instead, lunged forward, slashing at the dragon's face. Most blades would have simply glanced off the dragons ebony scales, but the king wasn't wielding just any blade. Maendaeron cut through the scales like they were butter, leaving a long deep gash across the beasts face. The Dragon roared in fury and agony, and lashed out with his taloned claw hitting the king and crushing him against a nearby rock. He then tore Maendaeron out of the kings limp hand, and took to the air, setting the entire field of battle ablaze before flying to the deepest lake in the land and throwing the ancient blade into its darkest depths.

Watching the events of the battle unfold from the balcony of the kings citadel, the Queen's face went pale as the dragon killed the king. She rushed back into the citadel, grabbed her young son and daughter, a small pack of goods and supplies, and a couple other items. She then ran to the stables and saddled the fastest horse, then fled the castle, going into hiding to save her family and hide from the dragon's wrath.

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Twenty years had passed since the Battle of the Black Plains, as the natives of the land had come to call it, and the fall of the king. Life went on in the land, but it wasn't happy, prosperous, or peaceful as it once was. The people of the land had to pay 3/4 of their earnings and crops in taxes to their new dragon overlord. The city guards were now just as bad as the criminals they were supposed to keep in check. A new age of darkness had descended upon the land, seemingly without end or limit.

On a lakeside stretch of land that had been relatively untouched by the war two decades before, there was a small humble farm, of the kind found throughout the land. There was something special about this farm though, and it was not that it was beside a lake. What made this farm special was its inhabitants, an old woman, her daughter, and her grandson. For these residents were all that remained of the royal family of the kingdom. The old woman, was of course, the queen. She had fled with her family to this lake, as it was the last place the Dragon would ever search for them. For this was the lake that the dragon had plunged Maendaeron, the only blade to ever pierce his hide, into twenty years before.

On the shores of this lake, the royal family had found their new home, turning from royals to mere farmers, giving their crops to the dragon lord like every other citizen in the land. Over the last two decades they had turned the small plot of land they had taken shelter on so many years ago into a respectable steading, but not without loss. The Queen's son, the rightful heir to the throne of the kingdom, had been killed in the first months of their exile at the hands of bandits and thieves, leaving The Queen and her daughter to fend for themselves. Several years later, soon after the princess had her first child, her husband was killed while out fishing on the lake, leaving the family in its current state. They kept farming and eking out a living by the lake, until one day, their luck changed, for the better.

That day, the princess's son had gone down to the lake to play on the shoreline. He returned several hours later, with an odd object covered in seaweed and mud tucked under his arm. He ran up to the house and handed the object to his mother, who gingerly cleaned the item off, revealing a sword with a blue-white blade. At that moment, the Queen came around the house, carrying some laundry, and locked her eyes on the sword. She ran over and grabbed the sword, clutching it close to her like something precious. "This sword" she said to her daughter, her voice shaky "This sword is Maendaeron. This is your father's sword, and the only blade that has ever pierced the dragon's hide. We must keep it safe. At all costs. It is the kingdom's last hope to defeat its new master." With that, the Queen wrapped Maendaeron in an old piece of cloth and ran inside, placing it at the bottom of a large chest, and putting the rest of the laundry on top of it.

That night, the Princess, lay in her bed, restless with thought. Her thoughts first drifted to what was left of her family, her mother and her son. Then they drifted to the dragon, the horrible beast that would destroy them if it ever got the chance. She thought of her home

destroyed, and her family slaughtered. Finally, her thoughts drifted to the sword, Maendaeron, hidden in the chest in the next room, and how her father had wielded it twenty years ago. She took a breath, and got out of bed, then donned some traveling clothes and wrote a hasty note, which she placed where the sword should have been in the chest. With a deep breath and a sigh, she walked out of the house, locked the door behind her, then set out towards The King's City and the Dragon, Maendaeron strapped onto her back and hidden under an olive green cloak.

The next morning, the queen awoke to find her daughter missing. She frantically searched the entire premises before returning to the kitchen and slumping down into a chair. As she was about to give up all hope, a thought raced through her mind, and she went over to the chest and dug through the laundry. Instead of finding a sword as she had hoped, she instead found what she had feared, A hastily scribbled note.

"I have gone to create a better life for us all. I hope to see you again, dear mother, but if not, then farewell. I love you"

After reading the note, the Queen slumped against the wall by the chest and sat there wordlessly, in shock, for several hours before going and sending a message out to her contacts in the King's City, hoping for news.

Several days passed before a message returned to the Queen. The message stated that her daughter had arrived the day before, and that she was hiding out in a nondescript inn for the night, before leaving in the morning to do what she had come to do.

The morning after the note arrived to the Queen, the princess awoke in the small room in the inn. She pulled her traveling clothes on and hid Maendaeron carefully under her cloak so that she could still draw it if the need arose. She then walked from the inn towards the bridge that crossed from the city into the King's Citadel. She cursed when she saw how many of the dragon's guards were posted on the bridge, knowing she would never get through. So she stood nearby, and watched the bridge idly, in thought.

All the guards on the bridge saw that day was a woman idly stare at the bridge for a few moments, then walk off down a nearby alley. They never could have known that woman knew every little nook and cranny in the citadel, including a small drainage pipe exiting a few feet down from the bridge, just large enough for that woman to crawl through and enter the castle. They couldn't have known about the servants entrance to the great throne room of the king, either. The servants entrance that only the princess knew both entrances of, and thus, only the princess could use to get to the throne.

The dragon was stretched out in his throne room that day, only mildly alert, when it caught the scent of something strange in the air. A scent it hadn't smelled since the day he won the kingdom from its rightful owner. He rose from his relaxed state and looked around, but all he saw was a young woman who had entered the throne room. He was about to return to his relaxed state when he saw her reach behind her and pull a blade off her back. The Dragon smirked at her, then let out what could only be described as some sort of laugh. He was about to swat her aside like some small annoying fly, until his eyes got a closer look at the blade.

The princess inched fearfully towards the dragon, watching as he looked at her lazily.

Then she saw his eyes lock onto Maendaeron, and he let out a growl, before saying in his deep, rumbling voice, "Who are you, O little one? Who are you to wield the blade of the kings of old? You are not worthy to hold such a weapon, much less attempt to use it against such a powerful being as myself!" The Princess froze in her tracks, then sucked in a breath, mustering all her courage, and said "No, O Powerful one, I am not worthy to wield this blade. But I am the only one willing, or able to wield it, and wield it I will, and I will bring you to your end". She then started walking forward again, gripping Maendaeron tight by the hilt, toward the black serpent before her.

At the princess's words, the dragon grew furious, and stood to his full height, now fully prepared to crush this little insect. He roared and slashed out at her with one of his massive talons, which she just barely dodged. The beast let out a snarl and looked at her again. "Do you honestly think you can kill me, O little fly? Can a mouse kill a lion? Can a rabbit kill a wolf? You are nothing more than an annoyance, O diminutive flea. You can not best me!" Not wanting to burn his new home, instead of using his unquenchable breath, he lashed out again, and this time the princess swung desperately, slashing the palm of his talon.

The princess gained confidence as the sword broke through the tiny scales of armor on the beasts talon, and lunged forward, sticking the dragon in one of its front legs. "The mouse can best the lion if it outwits the lion!" She shouted at the dragon "and the rabbit can trap the wolf!" she slashed again at his other leg, leaving both of them crippled, before dodging his snapping maw.

The dragon let out a roar of agony as the princess stabbed its legs, and spun its head, trying to crush her in its jaws. The princess dove under the dragons belly, slashing at it, then

came out near the wyrm's tail. The deadly beast slashed its tail back and forth like a whip after her, no longer caring what else it destroyed in the process. The princess dodged under another swing of the tail, which with nothing to hit, continued on until it rammed into several of the stone pillars holding the roof of the throne room up, knocking them over. The princess watched this, and her eyes widened a bit. She then dodged to the other side, and the tail followed her. She dodged it again, but not without a gruesome cut on her arm. The tail then repeated in its destruction of the pillars, and a loud rumble was heard.

The dragon looked up at the sound, and his eyes widened as the roof began to fall down. He let out a growl and tried to take off, but was hampered by his many wounds. The princess, seeing the roof crack and begin to fall, began to make a run for the door, but couldn't make it before the roof caved in completely, crushing the monster under its weight.

Weeks passed and the queen heard no more news of her daughter, although news of the dragons death spread quickly. She began to lose heart, and had given up hope of ever seeing her daughter again. It had been almost a month and a half, when one day, she heard a knock at the door. She went slowly to the door, and much to her surprise and joy, found her daughter standing there, her arm bandaged in several places. She immediately hugged her, breaking down into tears, then pulled her inside, where she was reunited with her son.

With the death of the dragon, the royal family returned to the King's city, and brought a new golden age to the kingdom such as nothing that had been seen before. With the Queen ruling for many years, then her Daughter in her stead, the kingdom grew larger and more prosperous, until all the vileness of the dragon was replaced, a new throne room built, and the kingdom restored to its former glory.