Paragon of Weaponmasters [Stubbed Book 1] - 61 - Cats in the Cradle

“Hey guys, I’ve got reinforcements coming. What's the situation?” I ask, walking towards them.

“Dragon dragons have overrun the city. Even with the people in a united front, we’re still being pushed back.” Gunner tells me.

I notice each of them have a weapon, even Jack. He's got a little raccoon-sized dagger, I could use it as a letter opener.

“Stop lookin’ at my sword and go whoop dragon tail!” He shouts and waves it at me.

“Not ass?” I ask.

Jack looks around the room at all of the unnamed NPCs, the back to me, eyebrow arched.

“Right.” I shrug. “I’m going to fight to the portal, then retake the city.”

“We have your back.” The Black Blade announces from the entryway.

“When the hell did you get here? How?” I wonder.

Neither he or any of the other giants respond.

I give my friends a worried look, then depart with the giants. The mud roads have been filled with gravel and sand, making them much more stable. No more sinking, sucking steps. The buildings themselves still need work, but any repairs needed have been made.

Earlgor really did fulfill his promises to the people. The whole lower district looks less run-down. It’s suspiciously empty, as we near the upper district, the sound of dragons breathing fire is intermixed with crossbow fire. I can see them trying to break into the Honorlord’s keep, but I should get my reinforcements first.

“Can you stay at a safe distance and flank them?” I ask.

“We’re weaponmasters.” Black Blade answers. “They’ll never know we were here.”

That sounds more like a rogue, but I’m not going to question it. Instead, I leave them to it and ride over to the city portal. I turn a corner around one of the clay structures, and come face-to-face with a wall of red scales. I manage to brake in time, narrowly avoiding cashing into it. Looking to the left , it gets higher and higher as far as I can see. To the right, it shrinks until tapering off completely.

Following it to the end, I discover it’s the tail of the primordial dragon that assaulted the city. The damn thing is asleep, and its body has crushed most of the district. The stonehenge-esque portal array is still intact, but the dragon’s head is right next to it.

I dismount, and tip-toe towards it. Every crunch of the gravel under foot sets me on edge. I don’t know how good this monster’s hearing is, but it’s bigger than the previous two biggest dragons I knew of combined. I do not want to wake it, a particularly forceful exhalation from its nostril could probably kill me.

Managing to cross the portal without alerting the dragon, I find the room empty. My kids must still be helping Talindra. Outside, things almost seem to be back to normal. Elves and beastpeople wander the streets, cleaning up what’s left of the sand. They notice me, and stop what they’re doing to come shake my hand and give me their thanks.

I, of course, am very humble about it, and don’t let being called ‘hero’ two dozen times go to my head. I’m definitely not standing just a bit taller as I walk to the throne.

There are long lines of citizens queued up to speak with one of my many children, all seated at a long table. The scene reminds me of organized disaster relief, which is suppose it is. The people heap more gratitude on me as I cut the line, if my head gets any bigger I’m going to start selling tickets to tour inside.

The middle of the table sinks into the floor as Talindra walks through to embrace me, and lay a kiss on my lips.

“Your children are all a great help. You should be proud.” she tells me after pulling away.

“I can’t take any credit except for the tusks and the color green.” I tell her.

She laughs, and it’s like she’s kissing me again. I would do anything to hear that sound again, and again, over and over, for the rest of my life.

“Can you spare my group of four?” I ask.

“Of course.” She turns to them, all seated in a row, and nods. They stand and four elves take their places.

I sneak one more kiss before we take our leave, dipping Talindra like we’re ballroom dancing. I hear a few ‘whoop!’s in the line, and groans from my children. The look of surprise on her face as I stand her back up makes it all worth it.

“Come back soon.” she whispers so that only I can hear.

“Yes maa’m.” I respond.

My adventuring kids and I depart, find our way to the portal room, and I stop dead. All of the excitement almost made me forget about the god damned dragon.

“The primordial dragon of red scales or fire is on the other side. Like, right there.” I point about ten feet behind the portal.

“What do we do?” Oorrcca asks.

“Stay quiet and get the hell away from it as fast as possible.” I tell him and his siblings.

I go through first, stepping away from the portal to let them through and to keep an eye on the dragon. The four of them appear one after the other, completely silent as instructed. They all make it most of the way out of the district as I spot a huge, shining figure on top of one of the nearly collapsed buildings.

Stolen novel; please report.

Panopticon smirks viciously as they push the load-bearing piece of ruin holding the rest up. It collapses, loud enough to wake the dead. Naturally, the dragon stirs, and its four-story eye opens to stare at me. I feel like an ant under a magnifying glass, any minute now it’s going to burn me to ash.

Its huge eyelid flutters, and it falls back to sleep. Now I just feel like an idiot.

Then it exhales a stream of air from its nostril, hot enough to air-fry me.

You’ve died.

On revival, I curse the dragon, and the fact that I can’t communicate with my kids through text or voice chat. My racing heart only calms when I see them, healthy and whole, on the safe side of the massive tail.

“It got me.” I inform them.

“We know, it looked like it hurt.” Oorrcca tells me.

“It did, a lot more than usual actually.” I rub my new skin, recalling the feeling of it peeling off like crispy chicken. I can tell I’m not remembering it clearly, my mind is already protecting me from the trauma, but it’s different than how it’s been since I woke up in the game. It feels… natural. Has the Monitor been suppressing trauma and inflicting it on its whim?

“Father?” Halanaestra gets my attention. “We lost you for a second. Where did you go?”

“Just thinking about how many times I've died.” I say, and watch their faces twist in worry. “Sorry, that was morbid.”

“I’m sure Imizael would love to hear it, but we have a brother to save.” Naexi gets me back on track.

Without another word, we sprint towards the keep. The group of raider dragons have turned their full attention to the swarm of swords buzzing around their heads. I notice on our approach the giants bodies lie in a heap, no more damaged than before but outwardly dead.

“Let’s keep our distance and pick them off as they come” I tell my group, we all use our longest ranged abilities.

I send all but one of my weapons to join the swarm, Naexi attempts to throw daggers but needs to get closer, Reluvethel lends his water to Oorrcca’s firehose-like spell, and Halanaestra summons a devastating moonbeam on the crowd, charring them before they have a chance to move.

With the dragons well and truly distracted and moving away, the upper deck opens to reveal my son, Earlgor, and several Honorguard. He sends his hammer-brother in with the other weapons, and his people shoot crossbow bolts down into the enemy forces.

Much like the fight with the sand dragons, a struggle becomes a massacre. Red dragon corpses litter the street as we make our way to the huge, reinforced doors of the keep. Earlgor bursts through the doors, making it all the way down to the ground floor before we arrive. I put out my hand to shake, and he embraces me instead.

“Father, it’s been too long.” he tells me, chin resting on my shoulder.

“It has.” I agree, remembering that for him it’s been years. It’s so strange for me, like I was cryogenically frozen during the cutscene, and it went on for much longer than I thought.

He pulls away, and sheaths his hammer as it flies into his grip.

“Thank you for your timely arrival. Hagdiun was worried we’d been outnumbered!” he laughs, patting the head of the hammer.

“Really?” I ask, remembering him as a stoic and fearless warrior.

“No. He hates it when I say that, though.” Earlgor smiles.

I just stare at him for a moment. Who is this guy, and what did he do with quiet, unerringly respectful Earlgor? It’s a huge improvement, don’t get me wrong, it’s just strange to hear him laugh. I think it’s the very first time I’ve heard it. His smile makes me smile too.

“Come in, meet your grandson.” he tells me, returning to his keep.

Inside is packed with orcs huddled together, avoiding the chaos outside. As I enter, they salute with their fist to their shoulder, those with armor clang loudly. We cross the threshold of the inner sanctum, and I behold the many changes inside.

There used to be long tables lined up across the room, all leading toward the throne. Now the room is filled with workstations and meeting tables, all staffed by serious looking orcs. From what I can see as we’re moving, the papers on their desks and pinned to the boards are logistics related, sourcing and deploying supplies to orcish territory.

Where there was once a throne is a round table with ten evenly spaced seats. An effort was clearly made to make them of similar heights, but the needs of different species prevailed in that regard.

Earlgor moves to the seat in between a Cyclops and his very pregnant wife. A small boy with green-white vitiligo skin stands next to her, hands behind his back.

“Earlblod, introduce yourself.” Earlgor tells the boy. I guess we’re continuing the orcish junior thing.

“Hello sir, it is a pleasure to meet you.” he tells me with a squeaky voice. I notice his heterocromia when he makes eye contact, one blue, one green.

“So well mannered.” I observe. “Like father, like son.”

Earlblod beams at the compliment.

“Now allow me to introduce everyone.” Earlgor gestures to the ready-to-burst princess. “You already know Rosalie, but it’s worth reintroducing her as my wife.”

With one hand on her stomach, she uses the other to wave.

“Hello again, Paragon.” she says.

“Hello, another on the way?” I ask.

“Mmhmm.” She rubs her baby bump. “The seer already told me the gender.”

“But it’s a secret.” Earlgor says, rolling his eyes. Clearly he’s not in on the secret. “This is Tunrox, representative of the people of the labyrinth.”

The cyclops nods to me, and I return the gesture. He’s as pink as any other cyclops, but he looks hardened. Like a haggard veteran, clean shaven.

“And from Cumbergoine, Khilseith Ravaxisys.” Earlgor motions to an elf.

He’s pale, white hair on white skin. Reminds me a lot of Legolas. He also nods, but more subtly.

“I’m sure our goblin representative needs no introduction.” Earlgor smiles at Jack.

“Promotion?” I ask him.

“Hell no. Now I’ve got responsibilities. This is a huge downgrade from scrapper.” he complains.

The assembled ambassadors chuckle. Clearly his attitude entertains them.

“Thath’tuzath is here from the Dark Towers.” Earlgor directs my attention to a towering demoness, with bulging muscles creating tears in her otherwise immaculate business suit. She winks at me, but I don’t find myself head over heels. Something is shifting in my mind…

“Sizouze is here from the Palace Among the Clouds.” next to the demoness is a figure from a race I’ve yet to encounter. They look like a genderless statue draped in golden cloth.

They nod, but it seems friendlier than the others.

“Smenkivec, halfling dignitary.” The short man glares at me, along with the dwarf next to him. “Fornorli Lavajaw.”

“And our newest member, Shahuo.” a tall man with golden hair and sun-kissed skin smiles knowingly at me.

“Who’re you here for?” I ask, noting that my son didn’t mention it.

“Everyone” Shahuo answers in a vaguely familiar voice. He does not elaborate. Earlgor shrugs when I turn to him for answers.

“May we get on with it?” the dwarf requests.

“Of course.” Earlgor takes his seat. “Father, I hope you don’t mind standing.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I move between him and his wife, take a few steps back, and whip out my beach chair. The hateful look on the short ones faces only deepens as I ruin the aesthetic of their very important meeting.