Civil war racked the lands of Kazaldor. Kings men were fighting against the peasants of the land, in what would appear to be a simple, one sided war. However, the despotic king had more than one set of enemies, and soon even the land began to revolt against its tyrannical ruler. Legends had reawakened. Legends were being forged.
Former General of the Kings Army, James Reilly led a different kind of regiment to what he was used to. A major fight with his fellow generals had resulted in him having his rank ripped from him and being ejected from the Guard, his name now worth less than mud, his family’s reputation in tatters. Given the choice between death and dishonour, Reilly chose the latter. He couldn’t change anything if he was dead. Compared to the glittering armour and fluttering banners of the Kings Royal Mounted Guard, his men looked like nothing more than a ramshackle array of peasants and vagrants. Which they were. But Reilly knew more than anyone that these men would continue to fight until their last breath and would give up their lives for their friends and family. To Reilly, this was more important than any measure of skill or ability.
Reilly wheeled on his horse, turning to address his men. “Today, we fight for all that is right. Today, we fight for those who sit at home, awaiting your return. Let us make sure that they don’t wait any longer!” Reilly roared, knowing that his men, those who had followed him across this land, defeating foes that many believed invincible, would be right behind him. Suddenly, a bestial scream unheard for many a generation echoed across the battlefield. Reilly, eyes fixated on the approaching enemy infantry, saw a gigantic winged shadow fall over the battlefield ‘Dragons’ Reilly thought.
The column of cavalry pulled up, halting their charge before they could reach the foe, many horses and men deserting, as they saw the legend reborn swoop upon the Kings men. A searing blast of fire engulfed the enemy as screams of pain filled Reilly’s ears. Reilly watched on as the once thought to be extinct dragon reaped a bloody toll, leaving little more than rags and bloodied fragments of armour in its wake. The beast’s wings unfolded, pumping hard as the dragon lifted itself of the ground then, with a primeval bellow, flew towards Caldor, the main city of Kazaldor and the seat of the king. Reilly smiled and kicked his horse into action, following the winged monster on its charge to the throne.
The smell of blood filled Ragnarok’s nostrils as the dragon flew towards the city, knowing that the rebel followed him. Too long had he lain in rest, watching his lands slowly fall under the cruel rule of this arrogant king. Ragnarok felt the wind under his wings as he swooped towards the capital’s gates, pulverizing the ancient wooden door as he slammed through them. He roared as he charged forward, knocking men over and cleaving his way through the city as he ran towards the palace, intent on finishing this dispute in the one way he knew how-claw and fire.
Reilly reached the city gates, the once sturdy doors little more then kindle as his warhorse walked through the gate. The dragon’s path was evident, as bodies and ruined buildings littered the path towards the palace. Reilly galloped forward, only as a thud rocked the earth. Reilly watched as a red dragon emerged from behind the palace, and with a beat of its wings, stormed towards him. Reilly steadied himself, prepared to meet his fate.
Ragnarok saw the traitor fly out from behind the palace, realising it was about to reach the man. Ragnarok dived, and with a monstrous thud, collided with the oath-breaker. With a terrifying scream, Ragnarok snapped his jaws on the red dragon’s neck, going for the killing blow. However, the blood traitor squirmed out of his death grip, and wheeled around in mid air engulfing Ragnarok in flame. Pain engulfed Ragnarok’s body as his scales absorbed the worst of the flames. With a growl, Ragnarok swung his claw, connecting with the defector’s face.
Reilly galloped forward, grateful for the dragon’s help, eager to finish this once and for all. He reached the open palace doors and dismounted, unsheathing his sword. Reilly cautiously prowled into the building, sword at the ready, prepared to take back his land. Suddenly the very earth beneath his feet shook violently, nearly knocking Reilly off his feet.
Ragnarok grappled with the traitor as they both slammed into the ground, their weight cracking the earth. He stumbled to his feet, as the red dragon did the same. Ragnarok tensed his legs, leaping forwards throwing all his weight towards his foe. Ragnarok tore into his weakened foe, a bloodthirsty roar of triumph tearing through the city.
Reilly’s heard the roar of a dragon as he steeled himself, preparing for battle. Suddenly, he heard the scraping of a sword behind him. Reilly whipped around, barely managing to block the blow of the tyrannic king. Reilly quickly turned the king’s blade off his own, leaving him defenceless. With a flick of his sword, finally, Reilly had set the land, and its people, free.