A sudden, distant hurricane-like sound shattered the quiet of the night and shook Erembour Ashwalker to his core. Adrenaline started pumping and his heartbeat pounded against his chest as anger took hold of him in response to the air-splitting noise. But the oft-stoic ranger from the wilds also felt something he had never felt before: fear.
“Dragon,” was the first thought to enter his mind.
It was the only explanation for the sound since there was no visible sign of an actual hurricane at the base of the mountain he had only just started scouting. A tanned, calloused hand wiped away the sweat that quickly appeared on his brow. Flicking his wrist, dislodging droplets of sweat onto the stony ground, he reached for three black-feathered arrows from his quiver and set the first to his longbow; the other two arrows laying across the bow and string; ready to quickly be strung and fired in quick succession.
It was a moonless night but his black eyes, the color inherited from his human father, were able to penetrate a short distance away due to his mother’s Elven heritage. However, the unnatural mists that surrounded Shadow Mountain made it difficult to see farther than 20 feet in front of him. His position was horrible with flat ground and nothing to use as cover within 300 feet. As he tried to locate the source of the noise, there was no use trying to split the arrow. He was in trouble. This was not what he had planned. His purpose for being here was to investigate the mountain, locate his enemy, and then observe the dragon’s patterns, along with the fortress filled with his Dragonkin descendants, for a while before he could do anything else.
WHOOSH!
Slightly-pointed ears twitched as they heard the sound of something large passing overhead, but Erembour’s eyes still couldn’t pierce the gray barrier that provided an extra layer of protection for the dragon hunting him. Closing his eyes, Erembour listened to the movements of his airborne enemy.
“You smell of the Moonmight clan,” a voice said. It was soft spoken, but still boomed all around Erembour as it continued in a puzzled tone, “And yet, not wholly Moonmight. But also, human?”
As the dragon spoke, he recognized the voice. It was THE dragon he had come to this mountain to find. To kill.
Suddenly there was a shift in the sound of the dragon’s flight, Erembour could hear that this dangerous foe was banking and turning around for another pass. Body tensed, bow aimed up into the sky in the direction from which the dragon would come from, he waited. He would have to make sure he led his shots to even have a chance of hitting his target.
WHOO-thwump-thwump-thwump-SH
At the start of the dragon’s third passing, Erembour quickly let loose the three arrows in just one-and-a-half seconds; each in quick succession. The slight sound of his arrows striking something hard could be heard. However, no new noises were discerned from his flying foe except that it was banking again but, rather than flying overhead once more, it was descending as the sound of the beast cutting through the air got louder and closer.
This time, Erembour grabbed five arrows out of the quiver on his back and set them to the bow so that he could fire them in quick succession once more. The first arrow strung while his left hand held the other four arrows at the length for where the string would return, allowing him to quickly knock another arrow. Unfortunately, the arrows he carried were made for hunting normal game and not designed to hurt, let alone kill, a dragon.
He would have to aim for the eyes. If he could not kill it, perhaps he could blind an eye and escape into the forest that was a ways off before the dragon tried anything further.
In seconds, a gigantic black form slammed into the ground revealing a shadow dragon. Black as the void between the stars, with purple-glowing eyes, Erobus was one of the mightiest dragons in the world of Ishara. Large wings spread out to either side and it stood about 30 feet high. Erebus towered over the ranger and the look he gave Erembour was one of…amusement.
There was no time to think, only react. With a snarl, face contorted with hate and fury, Erembour let loose his volley of arrows. Five arrows fired in quick succession towards the dragon which simply opened its mouth and let loose a cone of dark purple shadows that raced towards the ranger.
There was no time to dodge and nowhere close that he could take cover.
“EROBUS,” he roared with all of his might.
His vocal chords felt like they were being shredded by the drawn out roar of the dragon’s name which he filled with every ounce of hatred and anger he could muster. His hand reached for the black dragon scale amulet hanging from his neck; filled with the ashes of his parents while his left eye, which had two, gray vertical lines tattooed over it, squinted to try and see the dragon through the oncoming attack. He couldn’t believe that this was how it all ended…in failure.
The name he roared changed to a cry of pain as the roiling stream of void energy engulfed him; siphoning his strength and life force away and, within seconds, the ranger ceased to exist.
So ended the life of Erembour Ashwalker.
Author’s Note: This story is, as explained in previous posts, inspired by my first D&D session which is still happening at the moment. My plan, when I have the time, is to try and write out the progression of our group’s game nights from the viewpoint of my character. Constructive criticism is always welcome.
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