Dread Fort Perilous - Legion X "Infortunatus"

Heroics: The Old City

From within the enchanted walls of the Old City, Mighty Solore is addressing a gathering of Bylite rebels and daring adventurers from across the United Kingdoms of Dawn, who have arrived to help in the fight against the Empire of Trataris.

'Doom approaches,' said the mighty dragon wreathed in scales of ice and blue flame, perched on the stone roof of a partially demolished house. A vast crowd of freedom fighters were settled in a haphazard circle in the decrepit streets around her. 'In my dreams, the Enemy rises.'

'Eh. Whatever. You've been saying the same thing for months, Solore, and nothing has happened. In fact, since the Legions have retreated, the only things we've been fighting are the hogs digging up our vegetable yards.'

The Champion of Beldore sat on the flat side of his great hammer, and flicked the long locks of golden hair out of his bearded face. He fiddled with his magenta headband, like he had been doing for hours already. 'If you're going to tell us stories, can't you at least come up with something new for a change? I came here to fight for the Dawn, not sit around in a circle with this crowd of peasants who can't swing a blade.'

'It's you who can't swing a blade, Champion,' said an olive-skinned Akrosi woman in dark leathers. 'You only ever wave around that great useless hammer. What are you going to do, play whack-a-mole with the orcs? Their thick heads won't feel a thing.'

'Bladeweaver, you think your needle of a sword will do better?' The Beldoran huffed a laugh. 'A goblin the size of a newborn can parry that.'

The little humans erupted into a frenzy of shouting and petty name-calling, and Mighty Solore suppressed an inward groan. It was always the same with those volatile creatures. The moment they ran out of wars to fight, they turned on each other like a swarm of hungry tadpoles. It was a miracle of the Gods that the United Kingdoms of Dawn had lasted this long in their charge. She limbered her neck. It seemed that she had to discipline them. 'ENOUGH,' Solore roared, and raised her powerful wings.

A thousand eyes locked onto her.

'Around us, the Kingdom of Byle is suffering under the Empire's rule. We sit in the remains of a once grand city, reduced to rubble and crumbling walls. And in the wake of this tragedy, you turn on each other like wild wolves. You call yourselves the saviours of this realm? You are nothing but a horde of blind ants, never seeing the true scope of this world. Again, I tell you: Doom approaches! Have you done anything to prepare?'

'I have made a catapult,' said a Bylite in meagre peasant clothes. 'So that we can get rid of the enemy, and the hogs, in the same shot. Two fish in the bucket, aye?'

There was a round of applause, and much laughter.

'For Northmount!' Another yelled, fist high, before descending into a fit of giggles.

Mighty Solore rolled her eyes inwards, and let out an exasperated stream of billowing white smoke.

'The traps need repairing,' she said. 'And none of your trap makers have done a thing since the Enemy has retreated. All they've done is drink ale and mead.'

'- Not true! I've drunk fine wines too!'

'The rebuilding of the walls has ceased, and they are starting to crumble.'

'- The walls are tall. They will crumble for a thousand years, and still stand.'

'The blessings on the walls need tending to.'

'- The Gods are kind, they'll let us sleep a little more.'

'The pegasi need their stables cleaned, and their wings oiled. Where are the beast keepers?'

'- Gone swimming in the lake, probably. Last I checked they were having a competition of eel racing, with reins and stirrups and everything.'

'Have none of you done a single thing?'

Her question fell on deaf ears. The human swarm was as a writhing sea of folly, ignorant in the depths of their inactivity and conceit.

'The Enemy is not a jest,' she said. 'They are Doom, relentless and unending. By doing nothing, you have already yielded to defeat.'

'Dumb dragon,' said a heavily accented Hongese voice. 'You big, you slow. Time is fast, for you. We small, we fast. Time is slow for us! Lots of months is a long time. We see no Enemy. When is Enemy? When we all will be dead?'

There was a round of mockery and laughter from the circle. They are a lost cause, the dragon thought, burying her head in her great clawed hands. I have warned them, repeatedly, and yet still they do not listen.