Wonderful 53.

The Nomads Plains...

Helbe the elven thief reappears and looks in the direction he's been heading since leaving the others a short time ago, and in the first light of the day, he can clearly see the long sand not that faraway. There looks like to be a drop off towards it, and that's confirmed when he spots Narladene the ground pixie come up over the level of the flat plains, where she's waving frantically to him.
The young elven noble shifts again, this time going up into the air, so that he can clearly see what's happening, as he can clearly hear shouting and screaming, from what's obviously young human voices, mixed with growling bellows from what's certain to be some kind of animal.
The elven magic user reappears again, floating in the air, the elven princeling who is thirty feet off the ground, grimaces at what he sees "By the forest gods" mutters Helbe the elven thief in the royal language of his race.
In a depression in the ground that leads away to a stretch of long sands, lies a bloody body of a nomad child, while another one is injured, torn and bloody, crawling along the hard packed ground not far from the sands.
There's a third child, with long daggers in hand, backed up in a crevice in the depression, as the large creature that's attacked the trio of nomad children is trying to get at the youngster who has wedged himself deep into the crevice.
What's trying to get at him is a sand dragon. It's similar in shape to a tundra beast often called a thunder beast. Though unlike a tundra beast, the sand dragon is much bigger, and different in appearance.
The sand dragon, which like all of it's kind, dwells in what the tribal nomads call the long sands. Hardly ever coming onto the hard ground of the plains proper. Is much like it's namesake the dragons.
It's very dragon like in appearance, though very stocky compared to the much larger flying dragon. It might not be lithe and agile, mixed with strength and power like a dragon. But the sand dragon does have thick natural plates of armour like it's namesake, these are are concentrated around its upper back, and shoulders, neck and it's head, down onto it's short stubby face, that lacks the sleekness, not to mention intelligence of a flying dragon.
Though there's something that the much smaller sand dragon does have in common with a normal dragon. And that's something that Helbenthril Raendril is just about to find out.
"The fuck?" mutters the elven magic user who has just cast a control creature spell upon the sand dragon, and it completely failed.
As the elven princeling from south of the equator floats there with a slight frown upon his face, Narladene the ground pixie appears beside him and says "It's immune to direct magic" the tiny winged creature then adds "That's why they're called dragons, even though they're not related to proper dragons in anyway".
"I've just figured that out" sourly says the young elven noble from the principality of Laerel, who quickly looks at the child who is in the crevice and mostly obscured from view by the sand dragon, that's whacking it's short, stubby armoured head at the dirt walls on either side of the crevice as it tries to get at the nomad youngster.
"Damn it" mutters the elven master assassin, who shifts to the injured child. Kneeling down beside the torn and bloody nomad child, the elven masterthief heals her with a spell. After he does, the youngest grandchild of the ruling prince of Laerel, shits her away to high ground above the depression, and out of the way of the rampaging sand dragon.
As the large creature lets out a bellow of frustration, Helbenthril Raendril quickly strings his longbow, and soon has an arrow to it, the elven master archer takes quick aim, and lets the shaft fly.
"Damn" murmurs the elven princeling as the yard long shaft takes the sand dragon in the head, it lets out an annoyed grunt but it completely ignores the arrow sticking out of the side of it's armoured head.
The elven magic user who can easily penetrate full plate, steel armour at a quite a long distance with his royal elven bow, mutters "That armour is thicker than it looks" then he puts another arrow to his longbow, and shoots off the shaft, casting a couple of spells as he does so.
It mid air the yard long shaft turns into half a dozen of them, all moving way faster than the original arrow was traveling a moment ago. This time there's a bellow of anger and pain from the sand dragon as half a dozen arrows slam into it's side.
"That got it's attention" says Helbe the elven thief as the large creature, nearly thirty feet in length, turns around as it growls in anger, it lets out another bellow as six more arrows slam into it hind quarters as it spins around.
The elven masterthief shifts into the crevice, takes ahold of the frightened looking nomad child, and shifts out again, taking less time than it does to blink twice to do so. The young elven noble who is the grandson of Prince Raendril of Laerel, who has shifted up into the air, shifts again, this time to the upper ground above the depression, putting the child down next to the other, who sits there with a dazed look upon her face after being healed so recently.
Knowing that they won't be able to understand the common language, the elven master assassin says directly into their minds, stay here out of the way. Before he shifts again, up into the air, above the depression in the ground so close to the long sand.
"There's another" says Narladene the ground pixie after flying up to be beside the elven prince that she's attached to, the naturally magical creature points to the long sands where a mound of sand is moving like a slow wave of water that's steadily picking up speed. "Great" sourly murmurs Helbe the elven thief as he sees the sand dragon in question, the elven master archer in mid air, puts another half dozen arrows into the one in the depression below, this time in its right rear leg.
The sand dragon bellows in pain, and it clearly limps, with it's rear right leg dragging behind it as it shuffles along, looking up at it's tormentor. Then the elven magic user noticing something, quickly puts another arrow to his longbow, and quickly lets it fly after carefully watching the sand dragon down below for a few moments.
A half dozen arrows, right after one another, in a line, thud into the open mouth of the injured sand dragon, slamming into the back of it's throat.
Helbenthril Raendril who thought about shooting it in it's eyes, but gave up on that, as it has protected armoured plates for eyelids, which are closed most of the time as it's in a rage. Gets some satisfaction as the sand dragon squeals in pain, with blood issuing from it's large mouth, while shaking it's head in an agitated manner, trying to dislodge the arrows sticking in it's throat.
Just then the other sand dragon shoots out of the sand, and though they can't fly like their namesakes. This sand dragon gets nearly six feet off the ground as it's momentum sends it into the depression below the young elven noble, who lifts an eyebrow as the sand dragon that's just shot from the long sand passes less than twenty feet below him.
As he shifts up higher into the sky, the second sand dragon comes to a rather ungainly stop, after tumbling as it tried to slow down when it hit the ground. They're clearly more comfortable on and beneath the long sands, as this one gets up after stumbling around, then it lets out a bellow of pain as the elven master archer puts a half dozen arrows into it's left flank.
"Heck these things are tough" murmurs Helbe the elven thief as he quickly looks down at the first sand dragon, the one that was attacking the nomad children, and finds that it's still alive, though dragging it's right rear leg, with blood foaming from it's large mouth. The elven master assassin knows that half dozen arrows yard long arrows shot into the back of the throat would most likely kill a wyvern, but not so these.
Then as the two sand dragons growl to one another, Narladene says to the elven princeling "They're talking to one another". "I figured that" says the elven princeling from south of the equator, who as he puts another arrow to his longbow, asks "What are they saying?" as he knows that the ground pixie can understand what animals and creatures are saying.
Before she can answer the elven masterthief, the tiny winged creature notices something else, and instead says "The others".
Helbenthril Raendril looks away to his left, and sees sir Percavelle Lé Dic on his horse, galloping towards the depression in the ground at break neck speed as the sun continues to rise over the nomads plains.
The young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel isn't at all surprised that the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che is the first one to arrive. For out of the group when they're all together, only Dorc da Orc is keener to get into a fight or trouble, which is often the same thing when it comes to the ork warleader, and for the matter, the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic too.
As the elven master archer puts another half dozen arrows into the side of second sand dragon, which is trying to scramble up and around the depression in the ground, to get up onto the flat ground where the two surviving nomad children are crouching, huddling together as they look down at the pair of sand dragons below.
Sir Percavelle the knight brings his horse to a stop not far from the two children, the nobleborn paladin hauls back so hard on the reins of his chagring horse, that it's rump hits the ground as it comes to a stop.
The heavily armoured knight who has spotted the elven masterthief floating up in the air, jumps off his mount and rushes forward, he then stops and looks down into the depression to see what's below making all the noise.
The paladin, well he's actually a knight, as he doesn't know it, he's been demoted in his order due to his actions in the past, namely going on a holy quest without permission, and stealing a holy artifact from his order, that would be the shield of Saint Mar-che.
Quickly backs up, taking a pick in one hand, and a claw hammer in the other, then without pause, and without thinking, which at times he doesn't exactly do a lot of. He runs forward and leaps off the edge of the depression.
"Narille!" shouts sir Percavelle Lé Dic, as he leaps off the edge, Narille being the god that the order of knights he's a member of, worship. "Ooofff" mutters the heavily armoured knight as he lands upon the broad back of the first sand dragon that's still shaking it's head from side to side. Then it lets out a gurgled bellow when sir Percavelle sits up, lifts the visor of his full helm up, so that he can see what the hell he's doing, before he slams both hand pick, and claw hammer into the back of the injured sand dragon, further down from it's armoured plates, but along it's spine.
The sand dragon lets out blood curdling bellows as the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che repeatedly slams his weapons into the ridge of it's backbone. "Take that you evil creature of this sandy hell hole!" shouts sir Percavelle, who then mutters "Drats" when his pick gets stuck in the back of the sand dragon, and it takes a bit of effort for him to get it free.
As the heavily armoured knight attacks the first sand dragon, and the elven princeling concentrates on the second, which is getting up and around the depression in the ground. The rest of the group from south of the equator, who are riding across the nomads plains to get to the elven principality of Maladimbáh, start to arrive . . . . . .