It's a portion of the history in one of the provinces of a chronicle I'm writing. I have the first story almost finished. The second story is under way, and I have a few shorts on the history of the world. The world is called Zyncress, or just Z as I like to call it, home of the Dragonspear royal family, and some extremely strange races, as well as some well overused ones. But hey, you write what sells, eh? Anyways, here it is, DRAGONBANE~


Dragonbane
By: John C. Jarrell


~Zyncress, Zormatua Plains, the final hours of The Dragon War~


The sounds of battle could be heard from all directions. The sharp sounds of hard steel and iron clashing on even harder dragon scales. The blunt sounds of claws - made of the hardest materials ever known and unknown - clashing against warrior's shields - or warrior's bones. Mages and priests mumbling their divine healing spells or hell-powered chaos bolts surprisingly could be heard through the loud sword and claw fight at some points. On occasion you could also hear poison-tipped steel arrows whistling through the air, aiming at the one known weak point of the monsters: the eyes. It didn't do much to help at all, though, because when the huge red dragons lost both eyes, they just started swinging madly. The dragon's scales could protect them from even their own for the most part, but the fragile humans and elves that fought them were not so lucky.
All you could see was red. It's not an exaggeration. If you looked around, all you could see was red scales or armor, swords coated red with blood, and people - and on occasion, dragons - being slashed or ripped apart and soiling the ground with their blood. The earth had had its fill of it, though. So much blood now coated the ground that it refused to absorb any more.
Looking to the sky held no relief for those begging to escape the landscape of red. The dark sky held black and red in its clouds. Rain poured down so hard that when it struck you, you could feel sharp, stabbing pain. Nobody knew if the storm was caused by natural means, or if it was the magic of the dragons, but no one dared linger on the thought lest they hold their neck clean to be slit or clawed.
Among the red and death, there was bu tone symbol of hope moving through the lines of men. It was an elite battalion of soldiers headed by the paladin Anar. He was adorned in platinum and gold armor with the symbol of the blade etched across his shield and chestplate. He had other symbols, such as the cross, etched into his other pieces of armor as well. The six soldiers following him were adorned in the same red as all the others.
Soldiers would give shouts and praise as he quickly moved through the heavy lines. The cheering began to cease, however, as they grew closer to the front lines. Soon they had to crawl over dead bodies to reach the continuous fray. They reached the front lines and gaped in horror. The soldiers were struggling to hold the lines, and soon would break. Anar quickly unsheathed his blade made of gold and steel and charged out at the first dragon he could see. He struck, and a scale fell to the ground, revealing a weak spot in the huge dragon's pink flesh. The draogn howled at losing the red scale, which pulled attached skin off with it. The dragon swung his claws in a mighty swipe, but Anar managed to pull his shield up quick enough to block the fatal strike. He cursed under his breath. The creatures were demonically powerful. Even a single blow could break your bones, and Anar now knew it.
Anar quickly retalliated, jabbing his sword into the dragon's weak flesh. The dragon roared beastially in pain and anger and swung his claws again. Anar barely blocked the attack and fell back, his sword still sticking into the huge beast at hilt depth. Anar pulled a sword form the ground, likely belonging to a dead soldier, and slahsed out at the dragon, knocking some of the nearly impenetrable scales loose from its long tail. He cut at the revealed flesh and the dragon screamed in pain. It started to swing its claws wildly and unmercifully once more, only this time it was heading into its own ranks, cutting at the other dragons and felling six or seven - and wounding many others - before finally succumbing to the loss of blood.
Anar jumped onto a rock and yelled to the soldiers with his eyes upon the red dragon army. "Let this be a lift in morale for ye, lest yer efforts till now be for naught!"
The yells and cheers of those behind came clear to his ears, yet the moment was short lived as a soldier was thrown to the rock that Anar stood on and Anar lost his balance and fell to his hands. He quickly drew his shield to block an incoming swipe from the largest dragon he'd seen yet, but he was caught off guard by the dragon's other claw. Anar could feel his ribs breaking and his flesh tearing. His side was warm with his blood. He pulled his arm to the mortal wound and held it, preparing to embrace the cold that he knew would follow. His eyes were closed shut, but after a few moments he realized the cold wasn't coming. He slowly opened his eyes.
He was amazed by what he saw. He was in an all white room with pillars in each corner, and a white table in the center with a fountain nearby. He looked up and saw a beautiful woman with lovely white hair and a flowing white robe. She had two wings sprouted from her back. She slowly leaned over and kissed Anar on the cheek. He could feel his wounds healing, his bones reconnecting. The pain was fading away and his energy was starting to come back. He looked up to the angelic woman and she had held out to him the hilt of a blade adorned with what he first thought were gems, but they turned out to be dragon scales of many colors. She nodded at Anar and moved her hands around in a gentle motion, and then pushed down hard on his chest and he was gone.
Anar's eyes shot open. He could feel himself renewed, and he was thankful for it. He jumped to his feet and looked at the blade. He grinned as he looked it up and down. It was giving him such a warm feeling, and an overpowering confidence. His grin faded quickly, though, when he once again saw the battlefield. Though the dragons had been pushed back, they were quickly regaining land. They were pushing their way back into the human and elven lines. He pulled the sword to his side and jumped into the lines of dragons.
Anar pulled the blade down into the first dragon, and it cut straight through like a loaf of pinoppa bread. Anar gasped in surprise, but didn't let himself become too unaware of the remaining dragons around him. He quickly slashed again and took a dragon's head clean off. He stabbed out at another and went straight through, and pulled back out for another strike. A dragon was about to hit Anar, but a barrier came from nowhere and shattered the dragon's claw into shards. Anar turned and cut the dragon's head off.
After a few more kills, the dragon lines all started to focus on Anar. Anar quickly cut the arms off of one dragon, and turned quickly to slit anothers throat, and then did an upper spiral attack and cut four dragons in multiple places. A loud roar could be heard in the distance, and it was getting closer. Anar stabbed the sword into the ground and whispered three words that strangely came natural to him. The sword light on fire and the fire grew and burned the dragons around him to ashes. The creator of the roaring noise could now be seen. It was the dragon commander. The commander jumped into the dragons in front of Anar, killing a handful in the process. Anar nodded and slung the blade at the commander. The commander flung it to the side and Anar was taken aback with shock. The commander threw his claw down and the earth started to shake. Anar rushed over and picked up the blade and jumped onto the dragon's back. The commander tried to shake Anar off but he failed and Anar managed to get his blade into the commanders neck and pull it through. The dragon commander's head fell to the ground, then turned to ash and then to a black mist and dissipated in the air.
All the other dragon's followed in the process. Soon the air was filled with black mist, and all that was left in the wake of the event was the red scales that protected the dragons. Anar sighed and fell to his knees. A handful of soldiers saw him and hurried over, but Anar had already lost consciousness.

~One of the days following the end of The Dragon War, Borleau Castle~

The throne room of the castle was ornate. Colums up the center, and a red carpet laid out to the throne. Anar was kneeled before the king who sat upon his throne with blade at hand. He looked over the large crowd of soldiers and other paladins. The king stood and walked over to the Lord Paladin Anar and notioned for him to stand, and then he spoke. "My dearest Anar, you've done all the people of the kingdom the greatest deed. Whatever power gave you the right to do so, we give praise to them, but also to you for having the courage and endurance to embrace their task and follow through with it. In such cases as these, it is customary to raise the rank of the hero within the kingdom. It would seem, though, that with your current title of Lord Paladin you could only be of a higher rank by being in my seat."
The people in the crowd started to talk among each other. The King sighed and notioned for them to quiet down, then spoke again. "Alas, the title is mine to keep. But I will, in the absence of a better rank, give you a title that no other has ever obtained. You will now be known as Dragonbane!" The crowd broke into cheering and Anar looked back to them with a smile on his face.

~In the following days, Anar became power hungry. He convinced his son to join him in an assassination attempt on the king. They succeded but were found out. Anar's son was brutally murdered, and Anar became the king. The thoughts of what he'd gotten his son into haunted him for his short time as king, and he killed himself by jumping from the ramparts of Borleau Castle. He had no other known heirs. Thus ended the legend of the Dragonbane.~