And the decision seems to be to jolt them out of their senses, to reveal them how puny they are when standing shoulder to shoulder with the nature’s very own fury and to crush their egos which are powerful than their athletic muscles. The Dragon raises his head a little, opened his mouth to reveal the wildly uneven, hundreds of sharp, stained red and yellow teeth – nah daggers – which would have devoured hundreds of humans at once just by merely placing its toothy jaw on them. The froth building in his mouth signaled to the warrior of what the Dragon thought of him – a nice, juicy piece of lump; nothing more, nothing less. As the man-creature looked at the dark abyss revealed by the agape mouth of the dragon, the warrior wondered for a while about remnants of how many villages, how many of his countrymen could be found beyond that abyss. The gleaming teeth of the dragon, gnashed together as the dragon let out a noise from its nostril which sounded something like neighing of hundreds of wild horses together. Good thing that the man-creature had a headgear which shielded his pale face, death seeing eyes and the quivering lip from the furious, preying eyes of the Dragon; Dragons prey on the fear of the feeble, detest it; They devour the carrier of weak willed soul and see it as their duty to wipe out the land of such limp creatures.
The man-creature tried to firm his grip on his war-skythe but his strong wrists had lost their power as the Dragon’s sweltering breath grazed his neck. Dragon’s breath smelled of all those things which the warrior didn’t want to think of at this point – it smelled of blood, not of one but of an army battalion of thousands of stronger warriors; it smelled of the razing fire in its belly which would turned hundreds of villages to ashes in a matter of two deep breaths. The warrior considered whether the being standing in front of him had the pride, the ego which said to the other species that see I am the most majestic, most powerful creature in the whole multiverse. The warrior wasn’t sure but the thought that the Dragon drew back a little, as haughtily as it could, one step at a time total five steps in all. It gave its wing a slight flutter, as if brushing off the tainted weak breaths of the warrior it must have gathered from standing so close to him and looked away towards the group of warriors standing nearby.
“Am I not good enough for him?” the warrior wondered. He got his answer, not in the way he expected.
A roar, as if hundreds of simultaneous thunderclaps, echoed through the land where they stood. It was a if a minor earthquake had hit the land; after all, it was the Dragon, the most savage beast in the history speaking –
“Who is your Master?”
There was a slight rustle and clicking of the panoplies as the suited warriors looked around to search for what the Dragon asked for. Nobody knew what they were looking yet as their master, if alive, was a thousand miles away in the valley of Sminvalia. Yet they were hoping for an answer from someone; someone who was brave enough to proclaim himself as their master for now.
Dragon dragged its fiery claw into the muddy ground below. He was sensing it was worthless to talk to the bunch of pushovers encircling him. Perhaps they would be of more use in the empty chambers of his belly. His eyes twinkled. He craned his neck a little, fluttered his majestic wings and then raised his monster paw to turn the flimsy mob into a pulp.
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