The Hunter

There weren't always dragons in the valley. They were driven far to the north hundreds of years ago at the end of the battle of Angelos, when the last two servants of God perished in the final battle. The dragons were weakened from the conflict and settled in the northern lands far away from their enemies. Waiting for a time they eventually regained a measure of their former strength and again began to encroach on the lands given to humans. Climbing the mountains and swooping into the valley they brought great ruin and destruction on the people who had largely forgotten them and passed them into legend. No, there weren't always dragons here in this valley, but if this hunter has his way, this one will be the last.

The hunter appeared to be a man in his forties, covered in scale armor fashioned from his previous kills; he stood tall, over six feet, in the midst of the valley. Long brown hair and beard with wisps of gray cover a multitude of scars and the armor that hides still more. The left arm in particular is practically invisible with a long sleeve covering almost the whole length. In the few breaks of the coverage though the left arm reveals pitted scars. On his waist is a leather bag tied tight to his belt and on his left hand he wears a faded blue glove. The palm of the glove is burned but not all the way through and it is still strong. In his right hand he holds his weapon, a great spear.

He looks up into the sky, he can hear his partner in the endeavor over the wind from the coming store. A scream piercing the evening not often heard in these lands anymore. Humans were not the only creatures that held the dragons in disdain and the hunter’s partner had his own score to settle with the fell worms of fire. He found him on the rocks at the steps of the valley, only a fledgling but he knew when he saw him he was one of the counselors descendants. “The keepers of the wind,” they were once known and no one wields its power with greater strength. The hunter named him Swift, for he could move through the air with such speed, great booms could be heard as even sound could not catch him. Dragon’s hated them longer than humans for in addition to the war they were jealous of their grace and speed in the air.

Swift’s role was to serve as bait, he was nimble and fast and adept at his role. Dragons would chase him for miles in blind rage though they could never catch him. This rage was used against the foul beasts many times by the pair. You would think the dragons would learn, but as of yet only one had lived long enough to potentially share the strategy with the others. There are fewer of them now, years ago Swift and the hunter could take three to five dragons a season, but this season this one would be the first. The rain spattered up in the hunter's face as he began to see the flame of the dragon on the horizon. He reached into his bag of holding and grabbed the end of his chain. Pulling it out he clipped it to his weapon. To the observer it appeared to be a great spear. It was a full head higher than the hunter and swelled strangely as it moved toward the hilt. On it were wind runes that made it incredibly light for its size. In the hands of the hunter it could be thrown miles.

He readied his spear in his right hand and ran out some of the chain with his left to give it some travel. Swift broke through the cloud bank flying just below them and the dragon was hot on his tail. The huge eagle dodged left and right but kept the dragon on course. The hunter smiled, Swift got better at this every year, he could easily outrun the dragon, but toyed with the beast increasing its frustration and capturing more of its focus. The hunter lined up his spear taking a few running steps forward and flung it with all his might into the air. As it flew he let the chain pass through his gloved left hand. The chain rolled out of the infinite bag, the chain had a finite length of course, but it was more than long enough. The spear struck just under the dragon's left wing, cutting through it like a hot knife through butter. The hunter grabbed the chain and it snapped tight. The spears curved protrusions opened revealing the function of the odd shape. Fully opened the spear became an anchor, both in shape and function. The wind runes pulled apart and deactivated, under the opened claws of the spear the revealed neck was covered in earth runes. The spear was light as a feather, but the anchor was as heavy as a mountain. The opened hook struck the back of the dragon and the immense weight dragged it down. Swift turned hard and even in the increasing rain you could make him out spiraling down following their quarry all the way to the ground.

The throw was near perfect, the dragon would land less than five meters from where he stood. It hit the ground with an enormous crash sending a plume of mud and ash into the air. The dragon would no longer be able to fly but it was far from finished. The hunter yanked on the chain and the spear snapped shut. The dragon let out a cry of shock and pain as part of the lower wing ripped free and the spear returned to the hunter's hand. The dragon squared off to the hunter, it was deep purple in color, with sapphire eyes. “Saphira,” the hunter said, meeting her gaze of hate. “You are the one,” she uttered in deep guttural tones. “I am,” the hunter said, his face grim. She let out a loud cry and runes lit on her flanks building to her throat. Fire spewed forth in a great wave. The hunter put forth his gloved left hand, runes appeared on its palm just before he was engulfed in flame. The dragon continued to blow death forward as great plumes of steam erupted from the spot where the hunter stood. The fire in the runes subsided and the great dragon closed its maws.

Where the hunter once stood was a great sheet of ice, like a shield in shape, but the hunter was gone. He rushed from the side but the dragon sensing the threat at the last second leapt swinging its tail. The hunter jumped the tail, the spear just missing the dragon's neck. The dragon made to jump again, this time trying to back away from the hunter. In the same moment the spear opened again and Swift with his mighty wings, lit with runes of wind, pummeled the dragon back down. Her neck fell in the crease of the anchor and the hunter snapped it back closed, pinching it around the dragon's neck. The hunter used the leverage to run under the dragon's neck twisting it over to an extreme angle. There was a loud pop and the dragon slumped. The hunter released the dragon's neck and closed the spear. He walked to the dragon's head as she breathed heavily. Swift landed to his left and the two of them stood for a moment in the beating rain. Steam erupted from the runes on the dragons sides as the flame in them slowly died. Her eyes began to glaze but still retained some clarity. “One of my kind will be your end,” she said softly, the hunter knelt before her and leaned in close to her ear. “One of you kind, already was my end,” he said coldly.

Even in the rain the corpse would burn itself up in a matter of hours and there was still a lot of work to be done. Swift nestled the hunter with his head affectionately and the hunter told him to go fetch dinner. The great eagle lifted off in search of an unsuspecting deer in the nearby forest. But before the hunter set to work the rain broke unexpectedly. He could sense a great power approaching. He moved to higher ground to get a lay of the land. From the opposing valley a party of twelve exited the opposing forest. As they approached the Hunter sighed in relief. He knew that dopey blue hat anywhere, so he decided to wait for them at the dragon.

“Hello old friend,” Andrew said, greeting the hunter. Ten of the group were royal guards from the southern nation Allund. The eleventh was a woman wearing a worn but regal white and gray robe. Her hair fell about her shoulders in braids and she appeared to be in her late twenties. The last man was Andrew, the greatest sorcerer of the age. Andrew sat on his old horse Dennon, and his amber robe paired with his blue short hat gave him an eccentric appearance. He dismounted his horse taking his long wooden staff for support and the others followed suit. “Hello master,” the hunter exclaimed as he stood before the Dragons' smoldering form, “what brings you to the far north?” “I escort the royal princess, who has an urgent request for you on behalf of her father the king. The princess bowed but before she could speak the hunter raised his hand. “I have much work to finish before it can no longer be done,” the hunter said. He pointed to the opposing hillside. “On the other side is my camp,” he explained looking back at Andrew. “Swift will be there with dinner soon Andrew and if you prepare it for me we can discuss your purpose then.” Andrew smiled, “good I have missed Swift and look forward to seeing him again.” “And he you,” the hunter said and turned back to his work. “Roberto,” Andrew said, calling the hunter by his name, he had not heard someone call him by his birth name for some time. Roberto turned, “don't be too long,” the man said smiling. Roberto wondered what the old man was up to and set to work. There was a shift in the wind through the valley, things were changing, and the hunter wondered what might be coming next.