Restarting King of the Hill

[Pendragon]

The Dragon open the dimensional window and gazes down on the God-forsaken piece of property known as "the hill" It is covered with ruins of various shrines, crumbling mansions, and deserted castles. Wild creatures of all types haunt the ruins. The Dragon decides to clear the mess away, and uses his near nova fire to purify the hill. A single golden statue stands there now of a burned set of armor. The Dragon grins as he carves the epitaph with a razor claw. "Sometimes the Dragon wins!" Dragon's hill, although he closes the dimensional window and goes back to sleep on his golden hoard, said to have come from the Lost Dutchman Mine in Arizona's Superstition Mountains...

The Dragon remains alert. Pendragon's hill!:mad5:

[NikolaiI]

Only a dragon can challenge a dragon. Many years have passed since I met and tamed a majestic, blue dragon from the ancient realm of Cathereal. Not a pet, but a friend and partner, sometimes a wisdom guide in dark times, it is much safer to have a dragon at your side... It always clears my head to ride above the world, yet below the heavens. It was in this way that I spent my evenings through the long, interminable boredom while the rift was thought to be lost to dimension-travelers. And yet, one night I felt the familiar, undulating ripple that invariably accompanies a being using the portal. Sure enough, after a few days of searching, we chanced upon the place where it had been.

After opening the portal, we saw the graveyard of once-foolish knights and adventurers, now either sleeping, or resting motionlessly, with all appearances of sleep. My eyes deceive me - they have now become part of the landscape. A distant cave overhangs the water, and the laid-about charnel was less of an imposition on adventuring travelers than the boulder run. However, both are quite irrelevant to an aerial battle, all set to take place.

Dragons are more like cats than any other creature, although the comparison is small at that. For while much of a cat's intelligence lies slumbering dormant, a dragon's full powers are well-established by the two hundred and fiftieth year. These two dragons were both well in their prime, it was clear to all with knowledge. It would be a beautiful battle.

Pendragon was a spectacular view to behold. Pied, the general tint was red, although a deep russet undercoated the creature. Else-where the King had golden, and even speckled bands of silver along parts of the tail, although these are too small to see except from up close. Overall, this one was a picture of seamless beauty, entrancing as it is dangerous. . It must be understood that the spell-binding nature of this fearless fighter is one of its most powerful weapons. It is only for sport that they mask this hypnotic magic of their appearance, and play with the defenseless and unwitted slayers-to-be.

Pendragon was famed through many empires for his powers, elusiveness and might in battle. It was for this reason alone that I coveted his prize, for the hill itself, with its commensurate powers, contained no great interest for me. Deftly I had prepared for this fight for many lifetimes.

On the peak of the hill, the King was as motionless as the charnel surrounding him. He had not moved, but with all the intensity of his race he eyed us, drinking our movements and absorbing all the information we gave away. For our part, we mentally gauged the King as well, and we felt his prime weakness was the one ever-recurring amongst victors of such a tremendous quality: many decades since a truly equal battle, one worthy of such a master.

We were both glad when battle enjoined, for there is nothing more spectacular, nothing more glorious for a dragon than battle. There is no feeling like it - when every part of his being is engaged, only then does a dragon feel completely and fully alive. All the sleeping parts are awakened; for it takes almost no effort to roast a mortal, but to face with another dragon, the whole of one's self is engaged.

Once it began, it lasted for many days, for a dragon's regenerative powers are almost as great as their talons, fire, and fangs' capacity to inflict pain. I would recount more of the details of the battle, but to do so would impart valuable secrets of strategy, which I may later use to defend my life. We value life very greatly, so it would make no sense to endanger it in this way. . .

In the end, the King began to wane first, and after another day of fighting, ultimately ceded the hill. Though the battle is fierce, and certainly lethal; there is no wish to lessen the numbers of such a rare and magnificent race as dragons, and so my friend and I allow the defeated King to depart in peace.

And yet, our goal completed, there is nothing of value for me here any longer, and so after the King of the Hill has left completely, my companion and I abandon the hill, leaving it empty and vacant for the next enthusiastic occupant. . . We will instead travel and wander the expanses of forgotten dimensions, and perhaps later return, if there is ever another challenging fight to which we are called. Like Musashi, or Mila, we will travel on for ages upon ages, until that distant time.

The hill remains desolate, and yet the powers it bestows continue to beckon all who would possess its lofty throne... And many battles are yet to be had.

[papayahed]

Papaya walks up the abandoned hill, plants her flag, mixes herself a margarita, puts on her favorite 80's bands, pulls out a good book, and makes herself comfy. I'll measure for curtains tomorrow.

Take your best shot punks.

[Pendragon]

The music awakens The Dragon. He opens the dimensional window. Ah, it's just Grover! The Dragon waves, knocks back a six-pack of petrol and goes back to sleep.

Still old Grover's hill!

[Pendragon]

Sleepily, the Dragon opens the dimensional window and stares down at it. There has been no action for seventeen days, the last time that he checked. Anger builds inside him and flames that reach nova heat completely obliterate the hill. He then slams an iron signs that cannot be removed due to binding spells and sheer weight down where the hill used to be.

NO TRESPASSING! VIOLATORS WILL BE INCINERATED!

Grumbling, he closes the window and goes back to sleep.


Nobody's damn hill!

:mad5::mad5::mad5::mad5: