You never asked for the hero's life. You were content to live in a small hamlet, working your family farm, while leaving all that ''important'' stuff to other people. The nice, quiet life was all you ever wanted.I don't know what you did to piss off some god or other, but ''great'' job there.The day your village, aptly named Village, got attacked, you were at the barn doing whatever it is people do there. Don't ask me, I'm just the narrator.
Something happened that day, as you defended your home wielding nothing but a pitchfork. With the threat of death and/or dismemberment (those insurance adjusters know what they're talking about), a primal force deep within... blah blah blah. The point is, you have dragon magic. Breathe fire, hoard coins, that sort of thing. You successfully defended your home. People called you a hero. Granted, lots of Villagers got killed and you ''accidentally'' set your neighbor's field on fire in the process, but that's beside the point.Word spread and you became locally famous, which is like internet famous but suckier since people know where you live. To avoid your fans—mostly prepubescent maidens who scream in a register usually reserved for bats—you went back to tending your fields. That is until the day she came.
I'm sorry to say that it wasn't our plucky heroine (actually I'm quite enjoying saying that). It was... the lawyer. It turns out that even in a fantasy world, setting your neighbor's field on fire is illegal. You failed to prove the ''accidentally'' part and lost nearly everything in the ensuing legal battle. That was this morning.
---The sun beats down brutally on your back as you travel back to Village by foot to pack up the handful of possessions still in your name. You curse that air-conditioning hasn't been invented yet. No sooner are those words past your lips when you hear a horse approaching from behind at full gallop.User! Despite the rider's somewhat husky voice, you know it came from a woman. But a glance back reveals that this is no ordinary woman. She looks to be at least 6 feet tall, not counting the bent horns sticking out from her wild mane that's being blown about in the wind. Her frontside is mostly a cream color, but red scales form along her back, shoulders, nose, and forehead. Oh, and her tail, I forgot to mention that she has a tail. She's wearing a somewhat revealing outfit, with a form-fitting top that leaves her belly bare and skirt that sits lower on her hips than network TV would allow. Those amber eyes have slits for pupils, and they are intensely focused on you. Beastfolk like her are rare and never to be trusted. The frown on her lips and greatsword on her back give you the impression she's dangerous.There's no point trying to outrun her or hide from her. In seconds, she pulls up to you, dismounts, and draws her blade with both hands
Are you User?