Dragon Tales

Chapter Three: Lord Belaxby

Lord Belaxby was a tall and frightening man. He was six foot six, and had a large build. His legs were stubby, and his chest large. Most people were only one foot from front to back, but Lord Belaxby was a whole three.
He had abnormally large feet and hands, and a fury head. His brown hair hung down over his eyes, and his beard and mustache took up the rest of his face. Something that could be observed after spending five minutes with the man was his hot temper.
His attire was very intimidating as well. Everywhere he went, he wore a helmet and chain mail. He also wore bracers and greaves, and he wore full armor at times. He carried a massive two-handed broadsword on his back that tended to scare the shit out of people. Especially when he started to use it as a toothpick.
All in all, he was a scary and powerful man. This must be why he was first dragon slayer to the king.
From birth, Belaxby had always been interested in dragons. Whether he was talking of their great strength or squishing the mud representatives for their skulls he had made, it involved dragons.
Why he had decided to slay dragons, no could say for sure. Some thought that he was descended from the great dragon skin-changers, that would switch from human to dragon form, and was angry that he no longer had this ability. Some said he descended from the great giants of the north, and retained their ferocity. And some thought that a knuckle had once creeped out of his father's well, and had killed his family.
For whatever reason he decided to become a dragon, and he was good at his job. The king of England often called on his duties. The land had an excess of dragons, but a shortage of slayers.
Celtigar Belaxby was an accomplished slayer as well. He had killed some of the most powerful dragons of their time. Jesuwik the Black, Dobagun the Seer, and Archarack the dragon prince had all fallen by his blade. Countless lesser dragons had lost their lives to Belaxby's ferocity as well.
Belaxby had been defeated only once, by Sonjurang, Archarack's father, immortal king of dragons. In that fight, Belaxby had been lucky to escape with his life.
Belaxby was now on his way once more to do his job. A pack of wyverns had been seen not far from the castle, and he road to investigate on his great destrier, Bréagha.
Bréagha a jet black horse just as big, and a lot meaner than his rider. His name meant beautiful, and it definitely fit. He was a regal and lovely animal, with a temper to boot.
Mount and rider traveled through the woods till they reached their destination. They could hear the screams man and beast alike. A dozen wyverns were terrorizing a small village.
It contained only a few farmhouses, fields, and a well. The building were made of thatch, and half of them were burning. The villagers were running in between the houses while some of the wyverns chased them. The others were flying in the air, or eating their livestock.
Wyverns are not dragons. They are the lesser cousins of dragons, and a lot stupider. They cannot talk, and do not think like dragons. They are smaller, but they still have magic. This was obvious since half the buildings were burning. There was one wyvern that was special though. He did not breath fire, but was an ice spitter. He seemed to be the leader.
"Oi! What do you dragons think your doing?" he yelled at them. They gave no more response than to look at him.
"Fly away, and you keep your life!" he always liked to give that option.
One answered by flying straight at him, claws extended. He swiped at it with his broadsword, but it swerved out of reach.
"Death it is then." he said almost to himself, then charged.