By Dakota the Dragonslayer
Hello, there. Dakota here. I suppose you’re all wondering if ‘the Dragonslayer’ is actually my last name. Alas, it is not, though wouldn’t that be legendary?*
I wouldn’t say dragonslaying is a hobby, more like a harebrained idea. And, you know, I had the foolish idea of trying to take a dragon’s gold. And I tripped over a dragon’s nest when I wasn’t ready. All in all a lot of fun.
I’ve been a wandering warrior for quite a while, probably since age thirteen. What happened before thirteen is none of anyone’s business except mine. But that’s another story for another day.
The point is I do not appreciate being bossed around in any way, shape, or form. It simply is not in my nature. I do, however, enjoy being loud, being obnoxious, and fighting. The perfect candidate to be a second to the rebellion leader. Unfortunately, being loud and obnoxious also results in being mistaken for the real rebellion leader. While this was amusing enough at first, before the end of the day, I had up to 9,000 gold pieces on my head. I managed to escape the authorities for a while, but eventually my time was up.
While I was out wandering, minding my own business (“For once.” As my cousin Savine would say), I was approached and asked of my intentions. When it turned out I did not have the ‘proper paperwork’ for wandering, merely a reason to stop the ‘rebel leader’ without worrying the loyalists, I was beaten and apprehended by the authorities.
They dragged me back to Falton in chains, denied me a trial, and threw me in the stocks. To starve. To suffer from thirst and cold. To be tortured with “Let It Go” and “Do you Want to Build a Snowman?” It was a wretched experience. Probably one that I will repeat because I am an impulsive idiot.
Nonetheless, the rebellion was a success. It was glorious. I survived it, though our rebels did suffer some werewolf-related casualties.
Oh well.
Win some, lose some.
*My last name is Grendel. Like the monster from Beowulf. It’s not a total loss.
-Dakota the Dragonslayer