Stronghold City Draft

Chapter 5

The little red chupacabra, carrying a satchel full of several shiny objects from Anarchy's hoard led Anarchy through the desert until it got to what looked like a tent made from animal side. "Here it is, my lord." Anarchy sniffed the tent. It had a reptilian smell. A saurian lived here, all right. He tapped the fabric flap that served as a door, and the saurian came out.

Of course, Anarchy had seen saurians in the dragon city walking around from afar, but he had never seen one up close. Of course, the saurians that lived outside the dragon city were very different. When Anarchy was still a pup, his mother had warned him and his siblings to never, ever speak to a saurian. "Saurians are scavengers, a lot like vultures," she'd say. "They'll catch a little puppy like you and cook you over a fire for their meal." The saurian standing in front of him was scaly and brown with a whitish belly and stood about six feet tall, with a long tail tipped with a fin trailing behind him. He stood completely upright on his hind legs, and had a long neck. His snout was long and beaked, and he had a few sharp little teeth sticking out of his upper jaw. He had big grayish eyes, and a muted orange frill hanging off the side of his head. "So you're the chupacabra lord," he said. "Please, come in."

Anarchy stepped inside the saurian's tent, followed by his servant with the satchel, who promptly set its load in the corner. Inside, there was a chest, presumably with the saurian's riches, several large crates full of wood, bones, and other materials, and a furry tan and brown sleeping bag. Anarchy sniffed the sleeping bag and growled. The furry hide had belonged to a chupacabra. "Relax. I purchased that sleeping bag from another saurian merchant a long time ago. Ezekiel, I believe his name was. Chupacabra hunter. I have no other associations with him, there's no need to worry. Although, your friend here has a very pretty color of fur," said the saurian, stroking Anarchy's guide. "I would pay handsomely for a coat of this color." The small chupacabra whimpered. "Do not touch my subject," commanded Anarchy, and the saurian immediately stopped petting it. "So, about the leg," said Anarchy, impatiently. "Yes, yes, the leg," said the saurian. "Of course, nothing in life is free other than the air you breathe and your own thoughts and self. A service like this requires pay. If you have something you can give me in return, I'll get onto making your new leg." The saurian's eyes fell onto Anarchy's skittish servant. "If you don't have any fancy trinkets to give me, I could always take this instead. Imagine how lovely this fur would look on me. Ooh, or, maybe I could keep it as a pet. Imagine, my own chupacabra that could hunt for me." The saurian picked up the chupacabra off the ground. It shivered in his scaly arms, its clawed legs hanging limp. "Put that down," snapped Anarchy. "I brought some objects to trade to you," He dragged the satchel over from the corner. The saurian's eyes glittered and he opened it to take a look. "Ooohh," said the saurian, mesmerized. The saurian rooted through the bag of treasures. He pulled out a copper watch and a pair of silver rings. "It's a deal," he said, slipping the rings onto his extra-long middle fingers.

The saurian opened one of his large wooden boxes and pulled out several animal bones. "Bone is the perfect material for your leg," the saurian explained. "Wood will get soft and rot if it gets damp. Stone is too heavy and hard to carve. Meanwhile, bone is hard and light." The saurian used Anarchy's good leg to determine how long the new leg should be, and what bones he should use. He used a roll of black dragon-made stuff to connect some of the bones together. Anarchy watched him work for a good 15 minutes, fascinated. In the end. The saurian had what looked like a skeletal leg, complete with toes made from sharp splinters of bone. "If you apply enough force onto the leg, it will collapse down, so you can still sit. All you have to do is bend it up again if you want to stand," explained the saurian. "But how do I get the leg on me?" asked Anarchy. The saurian took some fabric and the roll of black sticky stuff. He wrapped the fabric around the stump of Anarchy's leg, and then used the roll of black stuff to attack the leg to the stump. Anarchy gritted his teeth; the black stuff was pulling at his fur. After a few wrap-arounds of the black stuff, the leg was secure, and Anarchy walked around a bit to get used to it. It didn't bend like a real leg did, which made walking a bit tricky, but it was possible to get around. And of course, now Anarchy would stand on his two back legs with his forepaws hanging in the air, balancing with his tail. "Thank you," he told the saurian. Anarchy gestured to his servant, who grabbed the satchel. Both chupacabras turned to leave the tent.

As Anarchy was on his way back to the burrow, he was nearly bowled over by a chupacabra running up to him as fast as it could. It was in terrible shape. Its foreleg hung limply off the side of its body by a few tendons, and there were great claw marks cleaved into its side. Half of its tail had been torn off. Panic burned in its wild yellow eyes. Its mangy chest heaved up and down as it panted. Behind it, there was a crimson trail of blood in the sand where it had come from. Struggling to regain its breath, it spoke. "M-manticore... in the burrow. Bl-blood everywhere. Come. Quick." Its yellow eyes rolled back in its head, and it collapsed to the ground, dead.