Viridius.pdf

The Story

VIRIDIUS

by Lanse Tryon

T he drums

low, plodding, ominous. A hoary

reptilian head appeared through

the trees, then a long spiked

neck, then a scaly body, vast

beyond reason. With deliberate

footfalls that rumbled through

the earth, the beast approached

the bound captives. It snorted a

heady miasma of decaying flesh,

making its victims reflexively

retch, and the great dragon rent

the ground with a tri-clawed foot

that could cover a troll.

The shaman bowed low before

the mighty dragon, whom men

know in myth as Viridius.

Viridius advanced with a huge

toothy grin. The screams of the

captives came to an abrupt and

bloody halt.

Thus it has been for years beyond

measure. This time however,

someone escaped.

crashed in the Woodspike

forest on the border of

Anhur. The shaman

stepped forward

and lit several

bronze braziers,

accompanied by the shrieking

tootles of wild pipes. The

leaping flames revealed the ivory

tusks and dark skin of the black

orc shaman as he stood in the

starlit clearing before his

followers.

"Nokh Tu'Rekh, I call you

forth now!" he

bellowed, arms

outstretched. "Receive

our offering, remember

our covenant, and

permit us to live

another season!" The

orcs all faded into the

trees, revealing a knot

of bound men of Anhur,

dwarves and quite a

few elves.

A giant winged shadow

blotted out the stars,

passing overhead with

a whisper. The

drumming began

again:

Brand Redhorn ran in fear for his

life. For days he eluded the black

orcs, eventually happening upon

a party of elven scouts. "We are

sorry, but we have problems of

our own and cannot spare the

men to chase a myth," they told

him, but wished him well.

Discouraged, Brand finally

returned to his own people.

Brand told his story in Anhur and

to his relief, they listened. He

told them the orcs of Kargir had

moved into the Woodspike.

Worse, they were offering living

sacrifices to a monster on the

elves' very doorstep.

After much discussion,

they finally agreed that

the dragon must

be slain.

For a month they

planned the

quest. On the new

moon, Brand Redhorn and a

large force returned to the

western edge of the Woodspike,

even to the sacred Flute River

and down to the Erlondil River.

Finally they arrived during the

full moon in the clearing where

Brand Redhorn had seen the

dragon.

No sooner had they entered the

bone-strewn clearing when a

massive shadow passed over

the moon with a whisper. The

shadow passed behind the trees

and all was silent for a moment.

With a mighty roar that panicked

and bolted the horses, Viridius

shot over the clearing at treetop

level. As he flew he breathed a

jet of green gas at the warriors.

Many of them fell to the ground,

choking and gagging on their

own green vomit. Those few

archers that managed to shoot

saw their arrows bounce off his

armored belly, and he was gone

over the treetops.

Brand hid in the trees as the

captain screamed orders. "Take

cover! Take cover! Archers,

make ready to volley! Pikemen

form ranks!" The archers

scrambled for the eaves of the

forest.

In a heartbeat, Viridius shot

back over the trees, furled his

wings, and dove for the captain.

The captain threw himself to the

ground just in time, the dragon's

tri-clawed forefoot scoring the

ground inches from his head.

The dragon reared on its hind

legs again and roared, his

outstretched wings nearly fifty

yards across as he raised a

foreclaw to strike the captain

again.

The air suddenly filled with the

shriek of arrows as all the

archers let fly. Though most

shafts broke against his scales,

several found the softer skin of

his wings. The dragon's roar of

wrath changed to pain, and his

tail felled several trees as he

lashed it about.

"Charge, you fools!" screamed

the captain at the pikemen.

Viridius came back down on all

fours and raked his claws

across the captain, cutting him

to ribbons. The pikemen ran

forward with a cry, but faltered

in the face of the dragon's

daunting glare. Viridius leaped

into their midst, crushing many

as he landed. Seizing man after

man in his claws, he reared up

and dashed them to the ground

as the air filled once more with

arrows.

The last pikeman fell, blood

soaking from his broken body

into the earth. Viridius roared

again, and once more breathed

a jet of choking green gas into

the eaves of the clearing. The

archers stopped firing, unable to

breathe. Brand Redhorn pulled

farther into the underbrush,

praying to Aurellius for

deliverance as man after man

succumbed to the gas.

Viridius stopped breathing the

gas as the last gagging cough

rattled to silence. He reared up

to his full awesome height and

roared his victory to the

heavens.

The gas found Brand as the

echoes died away, and he

coughed quietly. Like a striking

snake, Viridius was on him and

snatched him up. The dragon

questioned Brand in a voice too

terrible to describe, and the

craven wretch told him

everything.

Viridius roared again, and the

message in the echo was clear:

"This shall not go unpunished."

The great dragon sped skyward

with Brand still clutched in his

claws. Flying west towards the

beleaguered Anhurian

strongholds, he cast Brand

Redhorn to his death on a rocky

slope.

Now three villages have been

found destroyed, with nobody

left to tell how. Each village

was covered with tri-clawed

prints the size of a man. All

three are in a straight line to the

strongholds on the Bay of Honor.

Yet, Anhur has one hope

remaining. The countryside is

lush, and full of good hunting.

Perhaps Viridius will eat his fill

and forget the insult before he

reaches Prince Nicholas and the

surviving Anhurians.

From the ancient records of the

Chroniclers of Bellarian:

" ...few indeed are those who have

ventured to his domain and returned

alive, for Viridius is proud and

selfish, suffering none to approach.

Those who saw the dragon and lived

have never been the same

afterward. He is gigantic, with

scales of adamantine, proof against

any arrow. His wings when

outstretched are larger than the

sails of a great oceangoing man-o-

war, and his body is of like vastness.

Older than myth, he has prowled the

forests, devouring all who crossed his

path for ages without reckoning. His

depredations were such that men

eventually deserted that land, and so

he wandered farther into the

Woodspike. He breached the great

Orc fortress Urgo'mesh and devoured

all within, for none could withstand

him, or even strike a blow fit to

pierce his armor.

Now he sleeps complacent in the

forest of the Woodspike, worshipped

by those savages such as now live

there, and grows fat upon their

sacrifices. I fear for the land if

they are ever interrupted.. ."

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