Bloodbat
The Never Ending Quest - Episode 18583
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Fred fires and the bolt shoots through the air straight to its target.
But then a most awful thing happens. The flight of the bolt comes to a
dead stop as a new dark form enters its trajectory. With a THUD, THWWK,
SPLAT, the new dark form fell from the sky, dead. With a WH? GRRR! &^$#!?
the Dragon began to crawl towards the dead thing. With a HUH? WHAT? CRAP!
Fred inched away from his tree and back up to the hole from which he
emerged.
~~what was that?~~ thought Fred as he tried not to make any quick movements. ~~the bolt should've flown to the Dragon's head, made a few dents, confused the hell out of it giving me enough time to run through the thicker trees, get under the monster with my axe, and gut it.~~ But something had come between the bolt and the wyrm. Something Fred could only guess at. He had reached the hole that led back into the Southern Caves and he waited there wondering what exactly was going on down below. Dragons are a mystical beast. Some are intelligent, others are simply animals. This one was more animal than not. It's life was structured more to instinct than to thought. Eating, defecating, and sleeping were its mainstay of activity. Procreating occurred only when its inner fires burned hot enough. As to magic, magic was to the Dragon as was fire, as were shiny things, as was the lure of human flesh. It didn't think about magic, it simply lived it, instinctively. The Dragon had been out this night, rummaging for the shiny things on this side of its den. Not long before a group of human females had come up this way, the wyrm had smelled them out and did what it naturally did: it breathed and whispered and conjured and spit. In the end, the humans were dead - some burned, others twisted. The burned ones tasted like crisp marshmellows to the Dragon's tastebuds while the twisted ones were less crunchy. The ones that resembled the lesser beasts the Dragon had taken to its pens. The darkness was now being dispelled by the rising full moon. It squatted next to a dead animal. Its fur was matted in blood, its leathery wings crumpled under its corpse. The Dragon recognized it for the bat it was, one of the hundreds that lived inside its den. There was a stick protruding out of the bats body. The Dragon wondered how it got there, the bats were good fliers, not prone to accidents. Instinctively the Dragon shivered, it began churning the burning oils within its vessels and cavities. The Dragon could not smell any danger, but that did not mean there wasn't any.
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7/23/2002 8:00:29 AM
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