Draknor: The Fiend in Iron

 A short short featuring Draknor the barbarian. 

The Fiend In Iron

The forest was calming, perhaps too calming for such a seasoned warrior as Draknor. The Dracoz stood a good seven feet tall, ducking low hanging branches as his bare clawed feet padded across the forest floor. A ragged cloak hung from the creature’s shoulders, bits of cloth and leather covered his torso and simple trousers covered his legs. The rest of his exposed body was covered in black reptilian scales, his eyes a baleful yellow and two long horns protruded straight from his draconic head. There was no mistaking Draknor for anything else.

It was well past noon as the woodland creatures called their cries. Draknor sniffed the air for anything unusual. He knew he was not far from a sizeable town, but wished to avoid it. He tended to attract attention, and he did not wish for his presence to be known. Draknor stuck to the less-traveled paths.

Humans often called his kind barbarians, the thought made Draknor snort. Humans were hardly a virtuous species to be passing judgement on his people. Once, long ago, the Dracoz ruled the continents... but that time was over.

It was upon one of these paths Draknor pulled up short as he beheld a curious sight. A young human male, armed for war it seemed. He wore loose fitting chainmail that was clearly not meant for him. Awkwardly the young man fumbled for his sword as he beheld Draknor. Draknor merely regarded him.

The young warrior, if indeed he could be considered a warrior stammered something.

Draknor huffed, “I mean you no harm, unless harm is your intent.”

“What?” The human said. “You’re not-- no, of course you’re not….”

“Hurrr,” Draknor snorted. “Best of luck with whatever you’re doing. You will most certainly need it.”

“I seek a killer!” The young man blurted.

Draknor paused, his tail thumping against the ground. “A killer?”

The young one nodded. “It stalks these woods, many have fallen to his sword. Including my brother: one of our own brave town guards. I go to avenge him.”

Draknor snorted. “You’ll go to join him, young fool.”

The youth grit his teeth seeing his manhood challenged. “I’ve trained with the town guard!” A part of the guard felt that this Dracoz was not his quarry: surely he would have engaged by now.

“So did your brother. Go home, live your life as a--” Draknor sniffed the air, “--baker, yes that’s the scent.”

“You will not deter me Dracoz!”

Draknor shook his massive head. “Then perhaps a training session is in order.”

“Very well,” the youth said, drawing a single-handed sword.

Draknor drew his greatsword with a jewel set into the pommel, and the young man gulped.

“At your leisure guardsman.” Draknor grunted.

The would-be slayer attacked, but Draknor easily parried his blows before sending his blade flying with a well-timed counter.

“You’re not ready.” Draknor growled, not even winded.

The youth hung his head in defeat, “I can’t just let me brother’s killer escape retribution.”

“Then I shall handle it, if I come across your killer I will deal with them myself.”

The youth thought for a moment and nodded. “Yes, I do believe you could.”

“Go home now,” Draknor grumbled.

After the errant baker left, Draknor resumed his journey - though a hand stayed on his greatsword, ready to draw. The day wore on the peaceful forest noises fading to the nocturnal cries of the night.

Draknor paused as he heard a sound that didn’t quite fit with the nocturnal forest sounds. Someone sobbing. The Dracoz eased his sword from the scabbard wary of a trap, or fiend of the forest.

The wanderer paused as he came to a clearing, there in the fading light he could see an armored figure with his back to him. The figure was shaking as his sobs seemed to rack his body. Draknor sucked in his breath as a suspicion of what he faced began to form in his mind.

“Ho there, fiend!” Draknor challenged, sword held at the ready. The figure turned and Draknor saw a man’s distraught face staring at him. The armor seemed to have a faint red glow about it.

“Get away! I can’t control it.”

In the man’s right hand he raised a sizable battleaxe.

“The rage! THE PAIN!” The man shouted as he strode forward.

Draknor huffed and moved his sword to block an axe swing. The dracoz disengaged and backed off from his foe.

“That armor, where did you find it?” Draknor questioned as the man snarled and swung for him again.

“A cave! Not far! Never should have put it on!”

Draknor parried the furious chops that were being aimed for him.

“Stuck for days! Can’t control it anymore! Searing pain! Kill... Kill... KILL!”

Draknor knew very well what he faced. Parrying an axe slash the dracoz closed the distance and rammed his shoulder into the armored figure. The smaller human gave ground but soon was pushing back as he tried to raise the axe.

The dracoz drove the pommel of his greatsword against the armor. There was a bright flash that sent the human flying backwards. Draknor waited in defensive posture, his shoulders slumped as he saw the man get back up.

“As I feared,” Draknor sighed.

The man charged for him with the axe again.

“I’m sorry, it’s bonded to you too closely. Only one way this can end.”

Through the rage and pain, the man seemed to recognize what Draknor was telling him.

“Do it! Before kill someone else!”

Draknor growled, and met the attack with a high slash. The blade bit deep to the neck, the one unarmoured spot and the man toppled over, the light fading from the armor.

“Th-th-thank you…” The man’s voice trailed off as he lay split open on the ground.

Draknor sighed, shutting the dead man’s eyes. With his assailant dead the hulking Dracoz once again touched gem to armor and it fell away. Grimly the draconic being gathered the scraps of metal. He followed the trail only he could sense to the darkened cave.

Bodies lay strewn about in the interior. Companions of the now-deceased armored monster, their faces still showed fear and confusion. Deeper within, Draknor found what he knew he would find. Armor, swords, axes, spears, and the now faded heraldic banners of the once proud dracoz. An arsenal from his people’s glory days. Such terrible weapons they forged, but none more fiendish than the berserker armor.

Draknor recalled those dark days, the war against the avian glarkies. It took a dracoz with a certain mindset to wish to become a berserker. A being driven by battle, a danger to friend or foe alike. But effective for striking fear into enemies. Draknor never condoned their use when he was in command.

“The sins of my people writ large.” The dracoz mumbled. “I shall seal this cave off.”

Horned head held solemnly the old dracoz set about his work.

Link to original: Character Drabbles 3 by MercenaryBlade on DeviantArt