The False Hero

The False Hero: Chapter 8

TFH: 8, The Adventure Begins.

By Raymora Mayven

The dragon stared at his attackers, two red tinted locust with long crescent like blades held out to him. Raymora knew he didn't stand a chance against them, locust were brutal warriors, hailing from the volcanic lands of Fyriz. In that region, only the strongest survived; only the greatest of warriors or adventures would dare to travel to such a place.

A slight grim relief washed over him. This was a locust raid, something that happens all the time within Terravis. He wasn't sure what he would have thought if the dragons had actually decided to go to war. With that fear out of the way, his only problem was the two blood lusting locust that stood before him.

Shorter than he was- twice as menacing- their crimson blades shined under the light of the burning fires, tattered wings and rugged leather only added to the tough exterior they clearly presented. Each displayed a sinister smile, and a hint of interest.

"A dragon? Heh, we don't be seeing many of you 'round these lands," gawked the smaller one. The four insect wings on her back fluttered into a threatening position, somehow making her look bigger than she was.

Next to her, equally as excited stood the other locust."Ooh, I wonda what thay taste like? I heard dragon are supe' delicious." With his tone of voice, it was impossible to tell if he was joking.

His ally sneered and made some strange clicking noise with her mouth, menacingly flexing her sharp weapon weapon, which Raymora now realized was her mandibles; instead of normal swords made of steel these locusts used their own bodies instead.

Battle surrounded the narrow streetway, the cannon fire seemed to have ceased as the roaring of clashing armies took its place. With no one to help him, the dragon's options were very limited.

Sharp crimson mandibles were extended towards Raymora, the locusts eyeing their prey with hostile intent. "Hold up!." he gasped, a little more softly than he had intended. "This doesn't have to be this way, no one has to get hurt here."

One of the locusts tilted her head in confusion, then turned to her partner. "Woah, te whelp as' da fancy mark." she clicked. The one beside her nodded his head and returned her expression of confusion.

"Corret me if I be wrong, but I don't remember te boss bein' blue. Tis one' being a imposta'."

"Yea, but te boss migt wanna know bout him, may be if we show te boss, he might let us hav' eats."

Their language was a broken and distorted form of common, combined with their heavy accent Raymora wasn't sure if he had heard them right, but he knew enough to understand he was not safe. But with fear paralyzing his entire body, he had no way of escape. "I'm really sorry about this, please forgive me." he stuttered, taking a slight step forward.

Narrowing his vision so he could focus on the enemies, Raymora desperately tried to recall last night. He knew the only way he would stand a chance against them was if he managed to summon the scythe from the cave. And for the first in what felt like his entire life, he remembered the exact scene vividly.

Left foot in front, right one back and a slight turn on his body left him in the same position he was last time he summoned the blade. The lips along Raymora's snout curled into a sharp scowl and displayed his sharp fangs, trying his best to look intimidating.

A split second of silence washed over the three, shattered by the sounds of fluttering wings and footsteps storming across the soft ground. The locus rushed towards Raymora, mandibles drawn and ready for a fight.

But something was wrong. Just like before, Raymora raised his paw into the sky, but he felt nothing. There was no power, no glowing energy around him. He reached for power, but received nothing. It was impossible to hide his shock as he stared at the two Locust that were inches in front of him.