A Hoard by Other Names - 15/11/2023 - Digs
Nov 16, 2023 14:28:35 GMT
Riah, Velania Kalugina, and 2 more like this
Post by Tom M on Nov 16, 2023 14:28:35 GMT
Digs slammed the door behind him and slumped down against it, tears streaming down his face.
Wasn’t hard to slip away from the others once they got back to Fort Ettin and he didn’t feel like discussing what had just happened.
He had dreamed of his revenge for years now. An ancient blue dragon dead at his feat for what it had done to his people, his family… but no. He wasn’t different. He wasn’t stronger than the others who had supplicated when Vodrax had first taken over his tribe. He faced a creature with the same face as his oppressor and his courage failed him. He and all the others fled. He ran away again.
The feeling of shame washed through him until he rocked back and forth on the floor, finally vomiting down his front from sheer stress.
Digs sat in silence for a few minutes before suddenly exploding in a flurry of activity, ripping the stinking vomit stained Kundari robes off himself and frenziedly fiddling with the clasps on his dragon scale armour before hurling it into the corner of his sparse inn room with his broken bed and wardrobe that was missing a door.
He didn’t deserve it.
Who was he trying to fool? He was no dragon slayer. He’d listened to some mighty paladin who thought their situation was anything like his and deluded himself with visions of being something more than the pathetic little wretch he was always destined to be and the worst part is that this wasn’t even the first time he’d done this and not learned his lesson.
That place was a living testament to everything he had experienced. Kobolds being dominated by dragons and having everything they could accomplish eroded in favour of worshipping these winged gods that saw them as nothing more than insects. Their only purpose to serve. To be devoured an honour.
He climbed up onto the bed and started unpacking his gear. He’d picked up more gold than he’d ever be able to spend on food already, he could probably even afford a nice little house somewhere. It’s not like he had expensive tastes or anything. Maybe this is as far as his adventuring career needed to go?
“I’m not what a hero looks like Zola.”
His own words echoed through his head as he paused and his eyes rested on the red dragon scale armour now slumped in the corner of the room.
Whoever made that? They were the real hero. Someone who took the fight to one of the evil fucking monsters that had ruined his life and destroyed his home and, he could only assume, won.
He slipped down off the bed and wandered over to it, almost in a trance.
If only he could know how they did it, what it took to- his hand touched the scales and suddenly he was transported. Looking through the eyes of someone fleeing a red dragon and hiding behind a rock – the vision changed suddenly to a different scene entirely, a different day entirely, the same eyes wandering through a village set alight, a dragon disappearing into the distance… again and again he watched through the eyes of someone failing over and over until they didn’t. Until that one day that they achieved their goal.
Snapping back to reality Digs stumbled backwards and fell on his tail, sitting on the floor with his legs splayed out in front of him as he stared blankly forward.
Slowly getting to his feet he retrieved the chalk from his backpack and started sketching a dragon on the wall – annotating and elaborating the diagram as he went.
What did he remember? We have the location. We have the traps already marked out – he’d need to take the smaller tunnels this time as that large one was now blocked off. Perhaps he could enter through the way they’d escaped last time? Getting there is easy. We can be in that room again.
The dragon? Milky eyes, broken wings. Unlikely that it could fly and even with dragons able to sense things directly around them that’s not going to work at infinite range. Maybe luring it outside would be the way to go? At night obviously – his eyes hurt at the thought of that desert sun.
Traps. We can use traps. A temple to Gaknulak, the god of traps himself, deserves nothing less. This dragon had defiled the temple. It continued to defile it by living there. Maybe the existing traps in the temple could be repurposed? Refocussed…
Digs hopped back onto his bed so that he could step back far enough to get a full view of his now laid out plan.
His eyes rested on the sketch of the dragon at the centre of it all as he balled his fists in anger.
“We go back and try again.”
“We start with you.” He muttered to himself as he picked up a knife and hurled it across the room, embedding itself in the dragon’s forehead.
“And then… and then we find the next one.”
Wasn’t hard to slip away from the others once they got back to Fort Ettin and he didn’t feel like discussing what had just happened.
He had dreamed of his revenge for years now. An ancient blue dragon dead at his feat for what it had done to his people, his family… but no. He wasn’t different. He wasn’t stronger than the others who had supplicated when Vodrax had first taken over his tribe. He faced a creature with the same face as his oppressor and his courage failed him. He and all the others fled. He ran away again.
The feeling of shame washed through him until he rocked back and forth on the floor, finally vomiting down his front from sheer stress.
Digs sat in silence for a few minutes before suddenly exploding in a flurry of activity, ripping the stinking vomit stained Kundari robes off himself and frenziedly fiddling with the clasps on his dragon scale armour before hurling it into the corner of his sparse inn room with his broken bed and wardrobe that was missing a door.
He didn’t deserve it.
Who was he trying to fool? He was no dragon slayer. He’d listened to some mighty paladin who thought their situation was anything like his and deluded himself with visions of being something more than the pathetic little wretch he was always destined to be and the worst part is that this wasn’t even the first time he’d done this and not learned his lesson.
That place was a living testament to everything he had experienced. Kobolds being dominated by dragons and having everything they could accomplish eroded in favour of worshipping these winged gods that saw them as nothing more than insects. Their only purpose to serve. To be devoured an honour.
He climbed up onto the bed and started unpacking his gear. He’d picked up more gold than he’d ever be able to spend on food already, he could probably even afford a nice little house somewhere. It’s not like he had expensive tastes or anything. Maybe this is as far as his adventuring career needed to go?
“I’m not what a hero looks like Zola.”
His own words echoed through his head as he paused and his eyes rested on the red dragon scale armour now slumped in the corner of the room.
Whoever made that? They were the real hero. Someone who took the fight to one of the evil fucking monsters that had ruined his life and destroyed his home and, he could only assume, won.
He slipped down off the bed and wandered over to it, almost in a trance.
If only he could know how they did it, what it took to- his hand touched the scales and suddenly he was transported. Looking through the eyes of someone fleeing a red dragon and hiding behind a rock – the vision changed suddenly to a different scene entirely, a different day entirely, the same eyes wandering through a village set alight, a dragon disappearing into the distance… again and again he watched through the eyes of someone failing over and over until they didn’t. Until that one day that they achieved their goal.
Snapping back to reality Digs stumbled backwards and fell on his tail, sitting on the floor with his legs splayed out in front of him as he stared blankly forward.
Slowly getting to his feet he retrieved the chalk from his backpack and started sketching a dragon on the wall – annotating and elaborating the diagram as he went.
What did he remember? We have the location. We have the traps already marked out – he’d need to take the smaller tunnels this time as that large one was now blocked off. Perhaps he could enter through the way they’d escaped last time? Getting there is easy. We can be in that room again.
The dragon? Milky eyes, broken wings. Unlikely that it could fly and even with dragons able to sense things directly around them that’s not going to work at infinite range. Maybe luring it outside would be the way to go? At night obviously – his eyes hurt at the thought of that desert sun.
Traps. We can use traps. A temple to Gaknulak, the god of traps himself, deserves nothing less. This dragon had defiled the temple. It continued to defile it by living there. Maybe the existing traps in the temple could be repurposed? Refocussed…
Digs hopped back onto his bed so that he could step back far enough to get a full view of his now laid out plan.
His eyes rested on the sketch of the dragon at the centre of it all as he balled his fists in anger.
“We go back and try again.”
“We start with you.” He muttered to himself as he picked up a knife and hurled it across the room, embedding itself in the dragon’s forehead.
“And then… and then we find the next one.”