The Duel of Dragons

On a branch of a tall maple tree sat a small bluebird and hummed its own tune. The leaves around the bird looked like they were longing of the summer's warmth. The tunes of its song seemed to flow in tact with the small ebb beside the tree.   Alaerth looked up at the bluebird and wondered why the song seemed so sad. What could the bird possibly have of worries? Did it call out for its children that had left its nest so soon? Or was it trying to cheer itself up for the upcoming winter?   Not that it really mattered anyway. Bluebirds were not intelligent creatures and Alaerth knew it. He remembered back to his youth when him and Uraka challenged each other to catch as many bluebirds and managed to each capture the exact the amount. Bloody Uraka.   Alaerth was still convinced that he cheated and stole one of his bluebirds to even the score. He blew out of his nose as if the largest sigh wouldn't be enough to express his unsatisfaction. The bluebird was surprised by the sudden gust of wind and flew off into the horizon in a mad dash. Alaerth blinked as it flew away and stood up from the grass in the meadow. A voice suddenly spoke up behind him.   "Even now you can't seem to keep track of your bluebirds"   Alaerth didn't even have to turn around to know that Uraka was grinning like a wyrmling experiencing his first dive into a hoard of gold.   "You cheated Uraka. That last bluebird was mine and you knew it."   "We agreed that the bluebirds had to be alive to count. It's not my fault that it chose to dive into my mouth before we finished counting."   A small tremble and another gust of wind left Alaerth as he sighed deeply. It was impossible to agree on anything with his brother.   "So are you still up for a small brawl?" asked Alaerth as he finally turned in the direction of his stupid brother.   "Always."   "Good."   "But how do we decide who starts?"   "How about a small competition like we did as wyrmlings?"   "Catch the bluebird?"   No response was needed. In an instance, both dragons had left the meadow. They flew as fast as their wings could carry after a small bluebird the size of one of their smallest teeth.   ---   Uraka knew that Alaerth had cheated. No way was the bluebird he caught the same as the one from the meadow. He looked down on the hill below him. Legions of kobolds and dragonborn clashed in formations all across the hill. Battlemages and archers skirmished across their friends and foes with deadly magic and piercing arrows. Groups of young dragons flew in tight formation across the battlefield and blasted the ranks of soldiers with fire, ice, poisonous gas and lightning. Drake cavalry dueled on both flanks for supremacy. At the back of each line stood mighty war machines crafted by the dwarves for substantial amounts of gold that launched gnomish mixes of powder and fire across the battlefield.   From Uraka's position it was clear that his center line of infantry was being pushed back. It would seem to a casual onlooker that Uraka's forces were close to breaking even though he had the numerical advantage still. Any farm boy would say that each dragonborn soldier was at least worth 2 kobold soldiers in terms of strength. However kobolds were crafty and Uraka's eyes shined as bright as gems as he watched.   A winged kobold flew up to him. Uraka couldn't remember its name. Not that it mattered. It was as replaceable as any kobold soldier in the rest of his army. Although this kobold surely was one of his [Captains] or [Officers]. Uraka yawned a little as the minion closed the distance and began shouting warnings about the center of his army. Uraka looked at the minion and frowned.   "Just do the thing." He said while waving his claws dismissively. The minion nodded and blew the jagged horn as loud as it could.   Uraka smiled as his trap were sprung. His enemy had pushed too far into his center and was suddenly flanked by Uraka's elite units called the 'Dragonshields'. A few of his last drake cavalry reserves rushed above the hill and crashed into the rear of the enemy. They were surrounded. Then Uraka saw movement in the clouds above. His smile faded as he saw Alaerth dive past him. His brother made a strafe above Uraka's troops blasting them with bolts of frost sending them scattering out of his path. The trap was collapsing as soldiers suddenly found gaps in the lines and pulled out through them. Uraka's blood boiled as he roared and dove after his brother. Such injustice could not be left unanswered.   ---   On a hillside north of the Whitering Hills stood two dragons surrounded by corpses of kobolds and dragonborn. They were bloodied and wounded, but they fought on as if they were savage wild wyverns. The moon shined upon their scales as they circled each other as ice and poisonous gas intermixed around them. Another burst of ice and yet another cloud of gas. Claws scratching scales and roars howling into the night. The duel had been going on for at least 4 hours and the wounds on both dragons reflected that this was no simple brawl between brothers. Still they fought on as the moon shined a light upon the battlefield.   Their armies were exhausted and had retreated back into their respective camps on opposite sides of the hill. Too many had died and the remaining dragonborn and kobolds were too tired to keep fighting for the day. They knew that another day would mean another fight, but they had grown weary and needed to rest. Thousands had died on this day and another thousands would likely die the next. The battle had continued for almost three days, but no end seemed to be on the horizon. They knew that they would march back and forwards until a decisive blow could be made against the opposing forces. Some soldiers had tried to flee, but captains and officers had killed any that tried. Some wondered whether such a fate was better than what waited them next. But in their hearts they all knew that betraying their dragons was to abandon their hope for an afterlife. To the soldiers this was a fight of demigods who walked among them and promised them riches and glory. Such was the life of the soldiers of the Dragonian Empire.   ---   Archmage Sildarin the Bald was sitting in his quarters finishing his latest thesis - 'The Dragonic Pantheon And All The Deities' - when he heard a mighty crash that shook the streets of Quzhou. When he and his pointy ears emerged on the balcony he witnessed the chaos brought about by two dragons that fought above the city. Gas crept up the streets and many elves were either already dead or dying by the poisonous fumes. Sildarin watched as the old castle crumbled around him - brought down by ruin and ice. Only the university seemed to be holding up due to the efforts of brave mages - both students and professors - who cast wards of protection as fast as they could.   Sildarin must have known the dire situation that the two dragons had introduced to the city. Townsfolk later said that they saw him flying through the air casting spell after spell after the dragons. It wasn't enough. Especially after another dozen dragons appeared from almost all sides of the city and joined the reckless brawl between the first two dragons. The largest of the two had scales of silver and fought quite defensively while the other was green and struck with such ferocity and wildness that more destruction was done on the buildings below than upon the silver dragon.   After the pack of dragons had moved their fighting out of the city, the Archmage was found in the rubble of the old castle protecting his thesis from frost and gas. The entire library was nothing more than charcoal and cinders when his body was found. However it seemed that his end came about by a fire breath more deadly than the average adult dragon. The local mages concluded that another dragon must had surprised him after he want back after his work. In the power struggle that followed, a council of elven mages appeared as the defacto rulers of Quzhou. Only the university seemed to have survived the deadly onslaught in a condition that was sustainable. Such began the Magocracy of Quzhou. By the hands of two dragons that brawled through an elven city and toppled a nation by sheer accident.   ---   Sitting upon the mighty Throne of Diamonds sat an old queen and stared out upon the ancient city of Myarthor. She saw the fires below and wondered how it could have come to this. Had she not tried everything in her power to keep her subjects satisfied? The court had always been unruly, but did it really take so little for everything to come crumbling down? She had heard the fighting in the distance before she had heard that Alaerth had been killed by Iyliam and how Uraka thereafter had killed Iyliam. Thus it escalated until hundreds of dragons were fighting all across Iromar as old grudges was lit anew and the young fought to make names of themselves. Great armies clashed and fought in forests, deserts, plains and cities all across her empire. Her guard wavered as she moved down from her thrown and morphed back into her true form. An ancient gold dragon appeared in the middle of the hallroom as the queen disappeared. She look at her guards and nodded. They knew their purpose. The eggs had to be protected. But she would fly out from her halls and rain fire upon those who sought to kill her children. Even if they had been the ones that had started it all.