Winter is near. No one had expected the attack so close to the end of the season, when every evil monstrosity is supposed to be underground, getting ready for the long sleep. The villagers are in panic, children running everywhere, death screams and cries can be heard all over the little village. The men of the village find any weapon they can come up with, bows, dull swords. They rush forward to face the hordes of monsters and giants and red dragons. They know that today they are going to die. The elder of the village, lights up the fire in the alarm tower, to warn nearby villages of their fate.

Not going to be long now.

He blamed himself, a fool for not foreseeing that this could have happened. Too late for any regrets, his only hope is that they will all be killed, and none of them will be taken slave.

Somewhere, a mile away, a dark lone figure rose to his feet, looked at how the sky was lit with warning fires, and suddenly what was left of him was a blur. A couple of minutes later, halfway to the village where the first warning fire was lit, another figure streaked from nowhere, and the two of them continued running without a word-just blurs that left a fiery trail on their wake. They stopped at the little hill looking down at the village. Three giant shadows fell on top them, before the owners landed lightly behind them. Three figures stepped down from the magnificent white dragons, and joined their comrades by their side.

Back at the village, the elder hasn't held a sword for ages and the weight of the cheap sword he is using is pushing his stamina to the limit. His people are dying one by one, and he fights harder every time he sees another one of his friends fall down. He won't die easily, he promised himself.

A mace hit him hard from behind. He winced, turned around, but another monster thrust a sword right through his back. His eyes glassy now, his hands flailing around, and he fell to his knees, looking up, not wanting to die. His eyes are betraying him now that he is near death, and he blinked. He squinted harder, then smiled, because he had nothing to worry about anymore... then blackness envelopes him.

One of the trolls, confused of seeing a smile forming in the lips of the dead man, turns around and looks up to the hills. Five lone figures stood there, with three big shadows behind them. The troll trembled, wanting to scream, but before he can even open his mouth, one of the shadows opened it's mouth, and a large fireball engulfed the troll and all the monsters near it. That day, the village of Ariakhi wept for the 30 people they lost during the attack. But they will never forget the fact that without the help of the 5 figures and the three dragons, there would not even be a village left. Without the help of the guardians.

This is the tale of the Guardians of the Dragon clan. They are here, to protect and defend those worthy.

By Fierywater

Guardian Requirements/General Info

Dragon Webmaster

Last modified: $Date: 2005-12-22 15:54 $