Dargon 2.7: Frontline
"
Is that…?"
"
Yes."
"
And they're…?"
"
Yes."
"
Y-You're going to–"
"
Yes." You snap at the juvenile beside you, popping open your maw and taking out the sword,
"Are there any other obvious questions that I might need to answer, child?"
Blessed silence. At least, for a few seconds, before Mestina pipes up with another one of her mind-numbing questions once again.
"How are you going to–"
"
Watch. And learn." You growl out, before jumping down the outcrop of rock that the two of you were standing upon, using your claws to slow down your descent as you command the sword to resize itself to fulfill your needs, growing until it now feels comfortable in your grip.
'
My, my. What a curious soul.'
'
Without the power and skills to back it up. She'll get herself killed.'
'
Hm. Someone's getting protective.'
The sword didn't believe you. That was fine. It can believe whatever they want, but training someone who was injured was just asking for future problems. You've had enough on your plate,
especially with these idiotic goblins who hadn't gotten through their idiotic skulls that they couldn't feasibly do anything against you.
Time and time and time again, just as you've cut a slice of life for yourself, some other forces decided that it would be a good idea to mess with you. That ends here.
'
May we be drenched in the blood of goblins by the time that we're done.'
You'll oblige by the sword's request. Just this once.
The roar that escapes your maw blasted apart the nearest trees around you into splinters, causing the ground to shake and split from the earth-shattering statement. Parts of the forest surrounding your (soon to be) floating and flying lair explode, either from traps that were disrupted by your opening announcement, or from overeager or paranoid goblins prematurely triggering them.
And that was all the warning that you were going to give these goblin
scum.
Your wings surge forward. A thunderous
crack echoes through the air as you shoot towards the little fortress that the goblins had built right outside the main tunnel leading into your lair, a comet with the colors of the sky against the greenery of the earth. Dust crumbles under your footsteps. Trees snap under the weight of your advance.
With the speed that you were currently going at, any traps that the goblins had set that might have the capacity to harm you weren't fast enough to keep up with your pace. If you were a lumbering dragon for sure, then some would've hit. But then that would mean that they would have stronger scales (and even redundant ones) to compensate, which would ensure that by all intents and purposes…
Traps aren't going to work for a dragon. It's either they're too tough, fast, or intelligent to fall for it. And you certainly fit the latter two categories.
In a few moments, you reach the base of the goblins' fortress, your momentum at its peak. You grit your teeth, lock up all your muscles, and close your eyes even if you wanted to see the faces of these goblin
scum as they watch you break through their wall with no repercussions.
'
Oh dear.'
Almost no repercussions.
You crash through the fortress's walls, feeling the impact of each and every single cannon, goblin, wood, metal, and stone upon your scales. Your whole body
aches in pain, but you relish in it. The pain just makes sure that your senses are more attuned the moment you open your eyes once more, and–
–Thirty four enemies. None wielding melee weapons. All seem to be wielding some type of metallic rod, with around fourteen of those contraptions pointed towards you. All are priority targets. All needed to be eliminated immediately.
And so, you do. With claw, maw, and blade, you reap through the courtyard in a hurricane of death, reaping goblin after goblin in mere instants. All the while, the blade sang to you in between cleaving goblin flesh, informing you of information that you weren't privy to, but might prove useful in later engagements.
Right after you finish slaughtering the rest of the goblins by the wall.
'
Guns. These goblins are wielding guns. How the hell did they…?' The blade wonders, continuing to babble after you glare at it for but an instant. I the meantime, your tail lashes out alongside your sword, felling a foundation of the fortress wall and killing hundreds more goblins in the meantime.
'Alchemical weapons. It was nothing more than prototypes in the Great Forge back then, but its testing was never completed due to the city falling into chaos and ruin. To think that these goblins could manufacture such weapons is…'
Not exactly that difficult. Alchemists were a dime a dozen in this place. One per village was the norm, more if it were towns, cities, or the capitals of kingdoms. There was no doubt that anyone who would be willing to have these 'guns' would've probably have them a long time ago if it weren't for the fact that bickering nobles with far too much dargs up their asses instead of sense existed.
Still, you make sure to nab one of these 'guns' and take them to your Momma when you have the time. No doubt she'd find it interesting… for all but a few seconds before she fully understands the alchemical make-up of the thing and gives you a 30-page long list on how to make it without any accidents.
'
Focus. We are in the middle of battle.'
You disagree. The courtyard lies in ruins, its defenders dead, and the fortress walls broken. Any goblins who were outside would still take time to return, even at their fastest pace, leaving you with quite a bit of time to head into the mountain's depths, find the ones who instigated this rebellion, and exterminate them before taking control of the goblin army once more. Or maybe just exterminate them all and recruit some new individuals to build your lair instead.
Well, that doesn't matter. At least, for the moment. You were within the fortress now, and you quickly resize your sword into something much smaller before sending it off towards the warrens to hunt for the rest of the goblins that managed to squirrel themselves into the no doubt numerous tunnels that they've dug up since your stay in your Grandmomma's lair.
'
Heads up mate, I'm still a bit rusty in this department.'
Up ahead, there was stillness. A few seconds ago, it was the sight of guards in full plate, wielding a bigger version of those 'guns' that your blade had mentioned a while back. Now, it was a silent hallway, filled to the brim with half-activated traps and corpses of goblins sticking out of the polished stone walls. Of course, there was the requisite blood and viscera, but you ignore all that.
Instead, you barge through the 'heavy' metal doors, and come face to face with the remaining leaders of the goblin army, who were in the middle of ducking under cover.
One particularly brave (and suicidal) member of that number rises up, hands flickering with lightning, but another member drags them back down and redirects the discharge out into the rocky ceiling, causing nothing more than a patina of black cover the spot where the lightning landed.
Then of course, your entire soon-to-be floating and flying lair begins shaking.
As much as you want to
say that you have time, you don't know what that shaking was supposed to mean. And so, you come to a snap decision–
[] –to murder the rest of the goblin leaders, sending the goblins into disarray. There is no time, and perhaps murdering them all would stop the shaking. If not, then you could quickly stage an escape. But it would be a few seconds wasted, and a few seconds might be the difference between life and death.
[x] –to blast a hole through the rock, and quickly fly through. Escape was more important in this situation, to assess things outside a place where thousands of tons of rock could crush you in an instant. After that… maybe you'll blast this mountain to dust, and start over once again.
QM Note: So, I'll be starting a poll about getting little side-stories posted up. It'll be up as soon as this update goes live. It's gonna end once the update after this is posted, so there's only a limited amount of time 
