The Dragon Slayer Of Greece
Potpourri was especially sweet in the Duchy of Athens, melded by gorgeous women, in the high hills lands, covered in greenery beyond the beauty described in biblical lore. Far from the antediluvian horrors of the past, the Greek country had survived and was striving for peace. Smells of summer were a memory, a memory of a vista of a Greek maiden preparing the fragrant potpourri, standing in front of manors veranda, overlooking Eden, a videlicet of the Greek vale.
Towering castle, shrouded by the mystic mists of ancient mythology, the day as cloudy as it was brilliantly sunny, and the sister manor resting on a pleasant hill rise. All was pristine, peaceful, and devoid of evil; that was till the dragon came, and brought with him the hell of fire, carnage, and unmitigated destruction. Memories of burnt flesh, scorched blood, and charred bones, mingled with the sounds of crumbling stone and fracturing foundations.
Death rocked the vale, nothing was left unscathed, from the tallest tower, to a singular blade of grass, all was bloodied or burned beyond salvation. Roaring in the sky, a twirling beast whose serpentine spine spiraled, with wings of bone and scale. Breathing a flame of blues and greens, the flying beast conjured a volcanic eruption of cascading flames that murdered men, women, and children.
Those who fled died in retreat, died later of fatal wounds, or live with grievous mutilations. Once touched by the beast’s fire, it burns ceaselessly, even beyond death the soulless corpse writhes from the pain of dragon flame.
Gore Tash, the dragon of the Holy Land had flown northward, spreading his diabolic scourge to the lands of descent Christian men. Utter devastation was wrought from the west coast of Venice along the coast to Naples. Dragon flames charred the landscape along the way, eventually ending when the heathen dragon returned to its domain in the country of Mamluk; leaving behind fields that’ll never grow again, forest that never live again, thousands of dead, and those widowed, orphaned, and displaced.
Revenge might’ve been sought by braver lords and kings, but what could they do, dragons, especially antediluvian behemoths such as Gore Tash, were invincible to even the most noble knight. Priests, paladins, and warriors even from the frigid norths could not slay such a beast; but in the Greek Duchies, theologians discovered among the ruins two important tools that may see an end to the tyranny of dragons.
First was shed dragonhide, mess-like scales that were the toughest, yet malleable substance they ever seen in nature. Able to withstand fire resting in a volcano, the scales were used to forge not only a weapon, but a man, a true soldier of Christ who would see Gore Tash slain.
The second was such a warrior, a Greek, burned beyond hope of survival, or so the monks believed as they tended his wounds. By some miracle the dragon flame hardened his skinless hide, despite being muscle, sinew, and bone, the Greek was alive, and after weeks showed no sign of succumbing to his wounds.
Theologians went to him to speak about what he underwent, in the hospice he was kept, behind lock and key, for the monks believed he had gone mad. Speaking of heresy, the Greek denounced the Church, claiming their greed brought Gore Tash, that the beasts are drawn to the wickedness of mankind, that our hearts lure them in, and that the churches hoarding of wealth from the poor and meek wrought the destruction.
“I blame them, as if they were the heretic races. The dragon came for what they blundered from the poor, by taxation and blatant theft. If I could raise a sword again, I’d strike the wickedest souls whether they wear a coif or mitre.”
At first the theologians were hesitant to use him in their experiment, but the need for justice was great, and they needed one, who not only survived blazing hellfire, but survived with holy integrity, politics aside, he was tested and found pure of conviction.
“We wish to make you vitals protected from dragon fire, and we have in our possession, a rock that we believe can be made into a weapon to slave these demons. Will you be our champion in this cause, will you be our Dragon Slayer, man from Greece.”
There wasn’t a quicker acceptance of a proposal in the history of the human race, the man from Greek accepted the role than the apostles accepted Jesus’s resurrection.
In months of agony, scorched skin, and organ pricking grafting, the many of Greece only existed in the memories of the true Dragon Slayer.
***
Richard the Fifth had marshaled his men, in his siege of Tyre, the Muslim occupiers had fortified the far walls, and the inner walls had extended in the months since they had taken the city. Briber and assassinations, had overthrew Christian rule in the domain, and the Christian Kings had returned for a Seventh Crusade, to see the Moon Worshipers put to the test.
“Let them taste good Christian steel!” cried out Richard, as he commanded his forces from the far fields, north of the city. Siege towers were set ablaze as they rolled in, and pitch traps were lit aflame, all the ground outside the walls looked as if hell was breaking through the soil.
“Blazes, my liege, they rather see the city burned than let it come to our hands.” the sergeant in arms spoke to the burly monarch, who pitched a black, frayed beard and started to go rigid from the dry heat.
“What is that I see? Above the smoke?” Richard was aghast, as his lips sneered at the unholy depiction, being flown over the battlements. “Not bad enough they hoist the moon and star, not its the dragon, they are damn dragon worshipers!” somewhere along the Muslim occupation, the cult of dragon worship usurped the Muslims, recruiting those that had captured the city, or slaughtered them in ritualistic sacrifice. “Pull back the men, they’ll be burned along with the rest of them.”
Richard knew from experience from ousting them from Britannica, that they worshiped the primordial destructiveness of flame. To die by fire, is a sin purging experience, and would see them and their enemy make that fatal sacrifice. Setting ablaze castles with volatile pitch and other flammable oils, they would burn themselves and invaders, as the cities and castles were set ablaze.
All his captains called the retreat, and not too soon, as pillars of flame rose, sending suffocating, black smoke into the air and clouded the sky for miles along the coast.
“Blazes!” Richard swore bitterly, “the vanguard, and all those men, burnt to a crisp!” The eruption of fire had obliterated much of his advancing forces. Front lines and several other units had been eliminated, as the city of Tyre burned; even the stone was eroding to the fury of the heat, scorching away the durability, eroding it to lumps of charred rock.
Fortunately the mass of his force was camped out of the reach of the fiery explosion, along the coast, where his ships were dropping off supplies.
“Tyres lost your majesty, the screams of the people died out before the flame started to roar.” observed the Sergeant who covered his nose and mouth. Not wanting to smell the burning bodies or the heavy pitch smoke.
“Pity, those poor souls locked in by those heathens.” Richard lamented the loss of life.
“Don’t fret too much sire, mostly Muslims in the city.” spoke a captain of the rear guard.
“Such talk, I will not have! Whether they follow the path of Christ or not, a life lost is a waste, and besmirches me that any man under my banner would talk such vile!” The righteous anger from the King humbled the captain, who remained quiet for a considerable length of time.
Taking the rest of his army to the coast, Richard the Fifth had to formulate a strategy to reclaim the Holy Land, Jerusalem from the Muslim hordes, that is if the Muslims weren’t supplanted by the dragon worshipers. Mass destruction of cities along the trail to Jerusalem, would lead to a fracturing of supply routes, and create an over reliance of ship travel; with leviathans causing many shipwrecks in the Mare Nostrum to be counted on for consistency.
Richard had too many choices, and twice the problems with dire consequences. Advisors he brought along were zealous, but spoke unwise counsel at times, due mostly to not having too much experience in desert warfare.
Compared to combat in Britannia or many parts in Europe, the heat and the unmerciful winds can lead even the most formidable force to its downfall. Sandstorms, poisoned well water, and cunning assassins that can sneak into a tent and end your life as silently as a sand blowing in the wind.
Not to mention the dragon that calls the Holy Lands his home, Gore Tash, the destroyer of Greece, the tyrant of the sands, him and his lesser kind prowl the deserts. Dragons, warfare among mankind have made warfare a desperate balance of avoiding the flying hell beasts, and vanquishing the enemy to reclaim land for Christendom.
Often lords who don’t follow the teachings of Christ would find a way to make compact with the dragons, either by incidentally seeking them out on their enemy, or deluding themselves to live as subservient slaves to the creatures. Richard in his years of crusading has encountered many lesser drakes, but only once did he bear witness to a dragon, and its rage.
Rragmyr, the grand drake of Ireland, had rampaged in Britain before, destroying the old castle, and many of its lands. Only by a miracle of faith did the dragon retreat to its lair, to hopefully rest a centuries sleep, as many are known to do, to recoup their strength, in their dens of hedonistic avarice.
Grimly, Richard may have to tangle with such a creature again, for Gore Tash had taken his lair in the catacombs beneath Jerusalem. There Jerusalem's king Baldwin the Fourth, went to slay the beast, with his sword blessed by the Holy Father, but was not seen from again. Since then the Muslims have occupied Jerusalem, using soothing, poppy flower miasmas to lull the beast into rest, as they praised their heathen Gods.
However if the dragon cult has usurped the Islamists, then they would rouse the dragon into a frenzy, and set it loose upon the lands. Dusk was setting as Richard returned to his camp along the coast, where his ships were moored.
Greeted by his seneschal Richard heard some news that perked him up from his travel weary fatigue. “My Liege, another ship has moored here, and it brings Greek mercenaries offering to fight, for compensation.”
“Speak plainly man, they want to get paid to spill heathen blood, then they shall get it, we have enough to hire every sword we can, particularly if we can hire a hearty God fearing man from north of these blasted sands.” Richard looked at the Greek mercenaries, they were unlike any other sell swords he had come across.
They were well armed with battle worn and scorched armor and weapons, and were quite fit in body, it impressed the monarch. “Their leader has requested to speak with you, M'Lord.”
“Then I shall see him in my tent, bring me pitchers of ale, and roasted lamb, I wish to eat if I am to talk business.” Richard then retired to his tent, removing the spine wearing plate mail, and a crowned helmet. “Blasted, these plates may stop a bolt to the heart, but they may cripple me before this war gives out.”
Poison tasters sipped the ale, and showed no signs of death, and politely offered the contents to Richard, who waited patiently for the mercenary leader to arrive. Darkness had settled along the coast, along with a warm wind that howled across the water of the gulf, threatening to conjure up a sandstorm.
Lightning flashed, and just before the flash died, a terrible figure stood at the door, shrouded and having the face of the skull. Fearfully, Richard believed it was the Grim Reaper at first, but calmed when he noticed the metallic shine on the mask's surface.
“You often come in such horrific guise?” Richard asked, bemused by the skeletal mask.
“I come as needed.” spoke the Greek, he held low in his left hand a weapon, Richard’s guards were preparing to draw swords, till the labrys ax was placed on a rack nearby. In the firelight it shimmered with an emerald gleam, and had a wicked sharp edge to the blade that matched its shaft in color. A bit translucent, the ax seemed almost spectral, and made Richard nervous at what kind of spook he invited to his tent.
The seneschal announced King Richard the Fifth, and the Greek dipped his head in a respectful bow. As he dipped the back of his neck was exposed, showing horrendous burn marks that made Richard’s skin crawl.
“I thank you for your courtesy, pray sit with me, enjoy my hospitality as we discuss business.” he invited the sell sword, who took the chair opposite to Richard. “You may remove your mask, it is quite hard to savor such juicy lamb meat with a mask.” the monarch heartedly laughed. “It isn’t as if you need to put fear into me.”
Obliging the Greek removed his mask, and it was as if only the shade changed, for what was there was a fleshy skull, covered with leathery, tanned flesh, and a pair of bloodshot eyes. The men attending there were aghast, it made them sick to see such a grotesque disfigurement, that made their stomachs church.
“Heaven's man, what has caused—” Richard didn’t know how to describe it, he felt ashamed for being so disturbed by the man’s obvious face, then he remembered the rumors he heard of a Dragon Slayer that was becoming well known in eastern Europe. “—Kranio, the Greek Dragon Slayer.”
“You know any Dragon Slayers who aren’t Greek, your majesty.” Kranio mused as he found the title to be unnecessarily specific.
“I have heard of you.” Richard beamed with a thought coming to his mind. “Pray, is it true you slain at least seven drakes in your travels?”
“More.” Kranio answered not in boast, but in a matter of fact, as he ate bread and drank deeply of the ale. “I needed their hides to craft armaments for my men, they need protection as they assist me in my hunts.”
“Good show.” Richard took to eating himself, not wanting to be outpaced by the Greek, who was equally slim as a snake, yet as gnarled and bulking as a crazed grizzly. “Tell me, have you come to offer your services in dragon slaying to the crown?”
Kranio looked Richard the Fifth directly in the eyes, and spoke clearly about his intent. “I am here to kill Gore Tash.”
***
Valleys ran to the north and south of the towering city, despite damage to the foundations and battlements, the gleaming capital of Christendom remained standing. Poor citizenry languished in the city, trapped by the occupiers' pets, a swarm of drakes that prowled the east and west side of the city, gnawing on the bones of those sacrificed to keep them content.
Smoke from the caverns beneath the city rose up, casting a perpetual gray daylight that turned into a starless night. All the while the heat bore down from the sun above, and even hotter from the stone below, the streets underfoot sheathed with heat so great, walking barefoot would burn the soles off one’s foot.
Citadel of the city, the castle that was built northwest of the city was profaned by icons of the dragon, defacing the moon and star, and casting down all relics of God fearing people of all creeds.
“Blast those villains!” scowled Richard who watched the corruption of the city through a brass telescope Kranio provided. “Dig the trenches deep, we don’t want to be flanked in the night, and send a warning to the south encampment that there are archers poised on the battlements.” A messenger rode off to give the message from the king, as he continued to look over the city’s defenses from the hilltop his eye caught something flying overhead. “I see a bugger in flight, is it that blasted Gore Tash?”
“No.” Kranio was at his side, wearing a cloak and hood over his heavy chain raiment. “That is a lesser drake, Gore Tash is large enough to blot out the sun, and if he took to flight, we’d all be dead already.”
“Indeed, you know your beasts, I am worried of sieging a city with such a monster slumber just beneath the streets.” The King, after making plans with the Greek Dragon Slayer, set his army to march towards Jerusalem.
They were unhindered, but were dogged by riders, wearing black garb, and keeping themselves at a safe distance. Once they arrived, it was clear by refugees fleeing the city that the dragon cult had overthrown the Muslim occupiers, turning the city into a fortress of the occult. Those too weak or poor to leave, have boarded in their homes, and the larger manors and storehouses were raided and set ablaze to appease their damnable philosophy.
“My men can handle the lesser drakes on the ground and in the air, while I face Gore Tash below.”
“Don’t be a fool!” Richard gripped the dragon slayer’s shoulder. “He is a horrifically sized beast, you’ll need your men and any extra hands you can get.”
“No.” Kranio’s authority on the matter usurped the King’s insistence, and despite Richard’s courageous level-headed advice, it gave way to the Greek’s harsh certainty. “Gore Tash if surrounded will be spurred into full rage, not to mention my men although trained to fight lesser drakes will be of no assistance with the archdragon. I am prepared to face him, I was made to kill him and all of his wicked species.”
King Richard the Fifth was perplexed, he believed the ax was his real weapon, but perhaps it was something else about him, despite him not wanting to pry into the other’s business, he was compelled to ask. “What makes you so suited to slay that dragon.”
Kranio undid his belt, and lifted his raiment, and there stapled and melted into his torso was a translucent mesh of scales. “Theologians found shed dragon scales of that very same beast, they fused it to my flesh and bone, so I am akin to it, fire will not burn with lethality as it would other men.”
King Richard was astounded at what he saw, he was tempted to touch the shimmering mesh but the raiment was pulled back over it, hiding the grotesquely wonderful modification.
“If you wish to go into the lair alone, I will not stop you, I will be counting on you to hold back the beast, as my men try to breach the walls, though I see no way to do that, without seeing the entire city go up in flames.” Richard’s eyes spotted pitch traps, and incendiary stockpiles, preparing to ignite an inferno that would utterly obliterate the city, much as they did in Tyre. “These fools would see every monument, city, and castle burn to blazes, rather than let it be ruled by good Christian men.”
“They’d burn it regardless, for them it is a jihad against all humanity, Christian or not, they deem all unworthy to exist. Theirs is a death cult, one that only exists to die.” Kranio’s words terrorized Richard, a grim outlook fell upon his opinion to retake the city.
“It takes just one, one torch, one arrow set alight, and after the lake of pitch and oils they have filled all over the city will erupt. How can I fight an enemy that evokes such a dire strategy?”
“We can only pray that it won’t come to that, and if it does, we’ll rebuild what has been lost.”
Preparing to join the war council, the Greek and King saw a lone horseman come from the city gates. Dressed in black garb, the rider sped towards the barricades of the siege camp.
“Looks as though they sent an emissary.” Richard had strong suspicions. “We shall play the courteous hosts, until treachery is revealed.”
***
Invitation was offered by the emissary in black, welcoming King Richard the Fifth and his entourage into the Sepulcher at the heart of the city. Formally a place of holy prayer had instead become a chamber of piteous avarice. A large, gaping pit lies in the center of the chamber where the dead, the living, and the priceless treasures, such as the True Cross, have been tossed down to join the growing tribute to their heretical god.
Richard, unafraid at the offer, believed it was an opportunity to view the city's defenses first hand, or at least have the Greek and his men enter under the pretense of being his entourage. Along with his advisors and vanguard, he was confident they could fight their way out, even if the drakes were set upon them; climbing onto the backs of the bravest and steadfast horses, they followed a safe path guarded for them by the riders in black.
Through some connection with the lesser drakes, the riders kept them away from their guests, yet they snarled and snapped their jaws at them from their perches on the slopes on either side of the path to the gatehouse. Opened wide, the portcullis gate was smeared with blood from the ousting of the Muslims, whose bodies were fed to the drakes or to the archdragon below, the stench of death was exhaled upon them from the jagged stone maw.
“Mercy.” cried the Seneschal “Even the godless heathens do not deserve this.” Dead and the desperate populated the cities. Those alive barricaded in their homes, trying desperately to survive on few dwindling rations, while avoiding those garbed in black. Moving around the streets as shades of death, the men in black dress, were formidably sized, unnaturally so, serpentine in movement, and their faces were covered in long, heavy hoods.
“They don’t look human.” commented the Sergeant At Arms, who saw how one wobbled as he stalked down the streets. “Their weapons aren’t like Muslims either, they are not curved nor straight, but spiraling, like a ribbon frozen in mid-twirl.”
“I say, this is a despicable place. But lower your voices, I suspect they are keeping a keen ear out for what we say.” Richard held onto the reins of his horse, anticipating an ambush from a crosswalk above, or from a darkened alley.
“These things don’t want to harm us, yet. Their master most likely wishes a bargain to secure rule over the city.” Kranio had experience dealing with those in the cult of the dragon, and from what he knew, he surmised they want legitimacy, in order to promulgate their twisted faith. All it takes is one King to acknowledge them, and they can preach in earnest their religion, that would one day challenge Christianity, just as Christianity once challenged Rome’s Pantheon.
King Richard said no more, he didn’t wish to reveal his mind too soon, but his brow betrayed his worry at such a proposal would bring, if he allowed it to proliferate. One day it may be widespread in the north, and then more cities would burn, and more people would be held hostage in their homes, awaiting intruders to take them off to sacrifice.
After riding for a while they reached the Sepulcher, where knights were left with the horses, as men in black looked on from the streets surrounding the structure. Richard along with his council, vanguard, and the dragon slayer and his men went inside, the doors were opened. Smells of boiling blood, and charred flesh filled the once sacred halls, that have been defiled with grotesque icons of dragons, smeared on the walls with bile and blood.
Drakes lulled by a miasma of poppy fumes laid about lazily, unable to even open their eyes to the haze that seemed to affect Richard and his men. Kranio sharply warned them, “breathe through these fabrics.” He and his men had their helmets lined with a potpourri infused fabric that they brought spares of just in case, giving them to Richard and his men, saving them from being lulled by the opium fumes.
“This is how they control these beasts.” Richard was astounded by the tools the desert savages have mastered to tame such wild creatures.
“We do not control them, we serve them.” responded a voice from the inner chamber of the Sepulcher. Speaking was a bizarre man, afflicted with a terrible skin blight, at first Richard thought he was spotted by plague, not till he came closer did he see, the man, who was taller than all of them, was a snake man.
“Blazes! What are you, man?!” Richard couldn’t hide his revulsion at the human, snake hybrid.
“I am what God has made me.” the serpent man, twirled around a scepter of skull and bone, with rubies in the skull. “I am Ali Thaaban, King of Jerusalem.”
“And who has proclaimed you as such.” Richard challenged preparing to draw his sword to fight the menace to mankind.
“The Great Gore Tash, Dragon God of the Holy Lands, his blood, his fire, has made us, the true faithful, the stewards of his flame! Did you not witness our offering, our power in Tyre, I know you have.” the serpent man, helped his scepter threateningly towards Richard.
Green scales shimmered like jade stones in the fires and filtered, brown sunlight through the holes in the domed ceiling.
“I’ve seen you waste life, even your own, it was—”
“Necessary.” Ali Thaaban interrupted Richard. “All according to God's will, we will burn what man has built to cinders and ash. For it is God's desire that we destroy the Babels we have spread to every inch of God’s creations.”
“You believe God sent the dragons to purge man of his creations?” Kranio's skepticism was heavy in his tone of voice.
“God has always done that, from the deluge, to destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, God has always destroyed man's work.”
“Only those unworthy, only those that have become deplorable cesspools of corruption. In your worship of death and destruction, you have allowed the holy city to become a Sodom, a place of evil that should be cleansed.” Kranio was inflamed at the blasphemy he heard, and anticipated a fight, as he rested his ax over his shoulder.
“It will be, when Gore Tash sees fit.”
“Or till you light the pitch you filled under the city.” Richard pointed out. “You have rigged this elaborate deathtrap, but why invite me here? I doubt it is to discuss a peaceful surrender of the city.”
Ali Thaaban filled the chamber with his pained, groaning laughter, before he tossed his scepter into the pit that was crudely dug through the foundation of the structure, to the dragon’s lair below.
“I have hoped to have you drink the blood of our God, but this interloper—” the serpent man pointed at the Greek, with a curled, clawed finger, “—dispelled by miasma, it would’ve made it so much easier…no matter we’ll make you one of us Richard, then you’ll help us spread our faith in Gore Tash to Britain.”
Weapons drawn, Richard, Kranio, and their men, fought the black garbed men, who once we cut into by cold steel, revealed they were also serpent men, who despite their height, fell swiftly to sharpened blades, and skull cracking mass. Richard was surrounded by his vanguard, as the Greek’s men helped keep the serpents away with spears, the knights outside were grimly overwhelmed and slaughtered by the horde waiting outside.
“Quick bar the doors!” Richard’s commands were obeyed, and swiftly two stone pillars collapsed over the gates once they were shut tight. Drakes who still slept from the miasma were killed in their sleep, to prevent them from being roused to attack.
“Arrogant infidels!” the self proclaimed King of Jerusalem bellowed. “To me Crowvix, to me now!” The call carried with it a sinister summoning curse, a black conjuring that was once buried during the deluge, but has resurfaced when the dragons scoured the Earth once again; as the primordial filled the chamber with its cringe inducing screech as it spiraled down to Ali Thaaban’s side. “Torch them Crowvix!” the command was carried by the black power, and the wyvern obeyed, its crimson scaled brightened as it filled its throat with fire, which it spewed at King Richard’s men, three were set ablaze, and died slowly, as the fire melted their armor, and blistered their skin.
Before another devastating attack like that could occur, Kranio separated himself from the defense ring around Richard, getting the flying beast's attention. Before it could exhale more flaming death, he reached into his pockets and pulled out a pouch of spices and herbs. Mixed expertly, he threw it at the wyvern, who snapped it up in its jaws as if it were raw meat tossed to it, to feed its ravenous appetite.
Not till it ingested it, did everyone realize it was a berserker poultice, a rage inducing concoction that sent the wyvern into madness, before Ali Thaaban could calm the beast, it snapped its jaws around the serpent king, causing blood and organs to explode from his abdomen. Dying in a quiet, guttural sigh, the wyvern started to foam at the mouth, with the serpent man still inside, its movements became more erratic, and before Kranio could anticipate its moves, he was knocked over by its tail into the abyss of the pit.
After doing that one final act, the wyvern died as its heart exploded in its chest from the strain of its rage, and Richard and his men, along with the Greek dragon slayer disciples were left to fight off the dragon cult’s jihad.
***
Gore Tash slumbered deep under the Holy City, his teeth stained black from the rotted blood, and his eyes were perpetually open, even as he slumbered due to the opium fumes from the burning incense that the serpent men continuously kept lit. If he chose he could break the spell that held him in such a docile state, but he was well fed, his hoard of gold fed his avarice, and if the need arose he could always fly out and destroy more of man’s lands.
That was till he smelt something, something very familiar, old prey. It aroused the giant behemoth, whose serpentine body twitched, and writhed, crushing serpent men underneath his weight, as they tried to bleed him for their ritual.
Lifting his massive head, covered in dense, blood stained fur, that grew over his layers of scales, the dragon could hear something as well as smell something. The jangling of his hoard, but not the pleasing sound of it being added to, no it was being robbed.
A barking hiss came from the Arche Dragon, as his ear folded back like an angry cat, and his mass of fangs spat out acidic mucus. Rising up in his anger, Gore Tash purposefully crushed his self-proclaimed worshipers under his paws, and trotted off to investigate the intruder, who dared to disturb his pile of wealth.
Snapping his jaws in anticipation the fire grew in his guts, and his eyes lit up, sending a beam of heated light that burned anything it touched. Growling loudly, the dragon came to his pile of gold, silver, and precious things, and swiped at it, causing an avalanche of wealth to spread over the cavern floor.
“Wrath and greed!” he spat. Gore Tash spoke only in the seven deadly sins, to convey his state of mind, a limited but effective way to communicate his self-centered motivations. The ground shook as the dragon pounded at the treasure, hoping to feel a moist pop that would signify that an intruder was crushed under his power. “Wrath and greed. Wrath, wrath—” the dragon kept speaking the sins, growing more impatient as thrashing his hoard did not uncover the intruder, but the intruder’s scent was still present, and he could hear him moving about, carefully. “—wrath, wrath, wrath!” Gore Tash was enraged by the stealth of the trespasser, for what fool would dare enter his den, and then successfully elude his retribution.
Unsatisfied with the progress of the hunt, and the hearing of the trespasser’s movements echoing in the cavern was annoying him greatly, so to end it swiftly, Gore Tash inhaled and pulled from his guts, a corrosive bile that would ignite into fire and magma at the moment he choose to release it, all he needed to know, is the general area of the trespasser.
‘By the gems? No. The rocks. Not anymore.’ Slowly, he turned around, and noticed his cave turned upward, onto a steady slope. ‘There!’ flame reached even the ceiling of the cavern, and the pit in the Sepulcher became a bright crimson, as if the gates of hell were opened.
Not even the treasure horde was unscathed as it was melted, and reduced down to near non-existence. The dragon displaced his greed, he was primarily a creature of hatred, violence, and rage, he continued his frenzied rampage in the world above, destroying the city above his lair, before turning every neighboring land into a lifeless wasteland.
In the aftermath of his breath, the caverns were covered in layers of blue and green flames, nothing wasn’t smoldering, not even Kranio who clung to a stalactite over the dragon’s head. Raiment and clothes burnt off of him his flesh, shimmered with green and blue light, he was spared death by the dragon flame, due to the scales grafted to his body. Absorbing the lethal scorching heat of the flames, Kranio was naked, except for his torso graft, but he was armed with his ax; a weapon he named Lovetaker, in honor of the beast he intended to slay.
“For Nikolaos!” he cried in righteous fury, letting go of the rock, he held his weapon in both hands, aiming his ax at the forehead, right between the eyes of the fearsome monster.
Looking up, Gore Tash didn’t realize the fatal strike till it tore through his thick hide, burned away in unfathomable emerald heat, and the blade had strength to it, so powerful it parted his scales, as Moses parted the sea. Blood, thick dragon flesh, and eventually bones and brain matter were cloven in two, and the archdragon couldn’t even let out a final defeated cry, but a weak, kitten-like whimper as the fire burst from his guts; no longer contained by his anger field willpower, the fire that was his greatest weapon, consumed the body of the dragon.
Feasting on the carcass of Gore Tash, the formerly stomach encased flame burst forth, devouring that was him, as his mind was wasted away into nothingness. Leaving behind the charred, brittle skeleton of the formally proud beast, whose bones will forever haunt the caverns beneath Jerusalem. Fire no longer bound by the Dragon’s will dissipated into the atmosphere, leaving only the damage it wrecked upon its former master, the cavern, and the treasure hoard.
None of the relics taken by the cult seemed to survive, but as he searched for an exit to the maze of caverns, Kranio found something, wrapped in cloth of ancient age, he undid the covers to find the True Cross! Recovered, the relic of all relics of the Holy City would be returned, and King Richard would be glad to have it back in the hold of Christians. Carrying it over his shoulder, as Jesus did with his own cross, Kranio tore some of the cloth to form a sling to carry Lovetaker, as he headed back to the world above, leaving the cave to be haunted by the ghost of a dragon.
***
By miracle, grit, and manpower Richard’s entourage fought off the snake men, who thought they’d finish the infidels to their bizarre cult. However one man escaped, taking a horse he rode out, evading the snake men, he left through the gates which were nearly closed over him, to alert the King’s army of their majesty’s peril.
Worried that this would rouse the crusaders to attack, they planned to set the city alight, and burn away the invading force just as they marched over the pitch traps. Planning to doom them and all in the city, in a genocide of fire, they anticipated a glorious tribute to Gore Tash.
Unable to win by numbers or strategy, the heathens prepared to set the pitch alight, as the columns of the crusader’s marched into the kill zone. Before the torch could be dropped however something changed in the air, the oppressive smoke that rose into the sky softened, and dissipated into storm clouds. Then as if by divine intervention, rain poured down, dousing their flames, and washing away the pitch from the traps, and the underground lake that would’ve seen the city and its occupants perish in a pillar of flame.
Crestfallen, the snake men tried to retreat, but the crusaders, facing no real opposition on the walls, slaughtered the drakes with good Christian steel, and captured the gatehouses. Running and hiding, the snake men were cornered in packs, in dark alleys, and in ruined dwellings, and slaughtered unmercifully. They prayed for Gore Tash to awaken, to smite the infidels, but Gore Tash was dead, and they died cursing their killers in vain.
When the rain ceased and the clouds lifted, the sky was shining a whole new light upon Jerusalem, and the people rejoiced, spared a wicked death, they embraced the crusaders. King Richard the Fifth emerged from the Sepulcher drenched in heathen blood, most of his men survived, and so did the Greeks men, who awaited their master’s return.
Later, as the city was secured, Richard sent out a search party for the dragon slayer, and by chance he was found, north of the city, naked. Clothed, he was taken before King Richard the Fifth in the throne room of the city, where he was presented with the True Cross. The prized relic recovered was joyous news, that was outmatched only by news that Gore Tash was slain.
“This will be a day of remembrance, the day the Holy City is retaken, the Cross recovered, and Gore Tash, the menace of mankind utterly destroyed!” Richard bellowed a proclamation of celebration, once the dead were buried in proper graves, the crusaders would rejoice their triumph. During the night of the celebration however, as King Richard and his men cheerily drank ale, so heavily that even the poison tasters got drunk, they didn’t realize that the guest of honor had slipped out in the night.
Taking his ax and his men, he spirited himself away, leaving the King feeling hungover and jilted that his comrade had left without a parting word. “I could’ve made him a prince.” Richard sullenly told his advisors. “But he is already a King, a King of his fate, destined to fight the enemies of man wherever they terrorize the innocent and righteous. I shall have a monument built for him in the city, to honor what he has done for all of Christendom and the crown of Britain.”
Upon that oath Richard saw a statue built, honoring Kranio, the Dragon Slayer of Greece. It was a thirty foot statue of the most sublime stonework, with the likeness of a Greek hero of myth. With a handsome nose, a proud smile, and eyes flaring with masculine beauty.
One day Kranio would return to Jerusalem and stand under that statue and wonder who that man was, that deserved such an ostentatious idol of himself for all to gawk at in wonder.