In a cavern of unknown depth, in the fetid breath of the massive dragon wearing a cheshire grin, a lone warrior parlays with it, the anathema, slayer of comrades who lie nearby in a heap. The dragon’s leftovers. The camera looks down on the scene from a high angle, showing the dimension of the deep cavern. The dragon is 1/3 of the frame, curling it’s tail loosely around the pile of bodies. It has two great wings, a hunting-feline countenance in its crouched posture, and spikes running along the ridge of it’s back from the four wickedly curved horns on its head down to the two long thorns at the tip of its tail. It’s four ember-glowing eyes curve in amusement at the lone survivor as blood drips from it’s fangs and claws. The lone warrior is perhaps 1/20th the size of the beast, and stands squarely before it’s maw in a fog of green vapor exhaled from the dragon’s nostrils, holding a spear in one hand with the other outstretched, palm up, towards the dragon. The heap of dead hoarded by the dragon dwarfs the survivor, it’s pinnacle 2-3 times taller, and sits about ten paces away in a pool of blood growing around it. The shadow of one of the fallens’ arms, locked in an reaching position since death, casts a shadow that stretches towards the survivor.
Cruel Optimism
#rkgk #dragon