The Weary Warriors: Histories of Resignation and Rally

Chapter 3: One Dwarfs Trash

110 Fe 05

Drakeling! Såksël saw a conspicuously lonesome duck flying overhead, presumably unaware it had already been spotted. Shortly thereafter Asmël screamed, for an alligator waded up to the stockpiles. Or at least it probably looked like an alligator from above. Down on the ground, it more closely resembled a caricature of a scaled dog. Såksël saw right through the disguise and let the rest of us know what was happening.

I almost feel sorry for the deceptive little creature. It had likely never seen an alligator ward off approaching threats, and clearly had no idea how to react to Såksëls approach. In a panic, it twisted to an exotic kind of wildcat, hissed, then sprinted away. Except it wasn't used to that form either, and crashed head-first against the fence.

Asmëls fright had shattered at this display of mischievous ineptitude. He yelled some rude words and took furious strides towards the dazed invader. Of course, that struck terror even deeper into its heart. With a whirl, it became a burning sack.

Tosirid got excited and wanted to look at this spectacle up-close, but Amöst held her back. He also watched Asmël intensely, ready to act. Despite his claims to consider no-one a friend, Amöst sure cares much for our safety.

Spade in hand, Asmël swung at the blazing bag. However, it was still a drak, and dodged the attack, leaving Asmël off-balance. Then it scuttled under his feet as he inadvertently plunged into the morass face-first.

Eyes on the prize, the uninvited guest shifted to a tiny dragon and scrambled towards our stocks. Its quest was once again interrupted by Såksël, who had been stretching in anticipation and ready to protect our hoard all along. As the two danced around the perimeter, Tosirid followed them around eagerly. She isn't normally drawn to turmoil. I believe she just wanted to get a better look at the drakeling.

Angrier than before, Asmël called out for us to "knock that smug half-baked magpie out of the sky" and started throwing sticks like javelins. The scaled target evaded every projectile, until it almost crashed into Ustir. She had kept her distance thus far, and was clearly unhappy about the breeze in her hair. A barrel lid served her as improvised shield as she began dashing away from the perceived threat.

By then, Amöst interrupted the barrage of wood, but Asmël still had firey rage in his eyes as he charged towards the persistent thief. He collided with Tosirid, neither watching their step. Meanwhile, Ustir found herself close to the stockpiles, and in the flightpath of the drakeling. In a mutual panic, the faux dragon curled to a hedgehog and the troll launched it away sideways, where its spiny back hit Såksël. More annoyed than scared, the latter slapped our determined visitor down.

It tried to take flight, but noticed Asmëls approach and turned to a cauldron. Either it was thoroughly confused by then, or specifically wanted to slide onto his head. Intentions aside, this was effective at blinding and confusing the gnome. Amöst came to help, but took a wild swing to the left cheek. There was an uninterrupted stream of profanities accompaning the scene.

When the improvised helm came off, it flattened to a giant earthworm and landed in Tosirids arms. Then it hopped off as a big toad and earned another cry from Ustir, who kicked the thing straight at Såksël. She batted it away expertly, though it was shielded by a tortoise shell.

At last, the drakeling reverted to its waterfowl form and fled entirely. Our parting gift was a parade consisting of a steaming-red gnome, a sparkle-eyed troll, a furrowed-brow heinzel, and a tear-soaked troll.

Čogon and I stood by the entire time and simply enjoyed the show.