They sat on top of the wall on the highest tower that overlooked the city, and watched as the Dragon blew a plume of white hot heat at the charging heroes below.
One reached into his fading wizard robe and pulled out a half pack of cigarettes, he removed one and offered the pack to his sitting companion, the man declined.
‘Suit yourself’ the Dwarf said
He slipped the pack back up his sleeve, placed the cigarette between his lips and lightly touched the end of it, the tip of his finger glowed red hot and he inhaled quickly as ash formed on the end of the white stick.
He slowly blew the smoke out his nose as the Dragon turned its attention to the Hero in the gold armour and the handsome features. The Dwarf watched as the dragon began to blow its flame at the hero, it turned from Red to Orange to Yellow to White, the Hero was suddenly much less handsome, and screamed as the armour he was wearing began to form puddles around his ankles… well, apart from the parts that had melted into his skin.
The Dwarf Mage cocked an eyebrow and gave a low whistle.
‘Bloody Hell, you see that?’
His friend nodded slowly.
‘It bloody cooked him alive like a hot potato in gold foil’
His friend, again, nodded slowly.
The Dwarf Mage took another drag on his dying cigarette and flicked the remainder away into the night sky and the bedlam below.
He blew the last of the smoke out of his mouth.
‘Well, this is another fine mess you’ve gotten us into, Stanley.’
Stanley Druidson, the first year Draco-Alchemist, turned and stared open mouthed at the dwarf.
‘Wha- I- Yo- You DO NOT pin this on me, Mordin MageHammer. You’re the bloody bright spark that dared me to heat up the Dragon egg in the Chrono-Crucible.’
Mordin Shrugged. ‘Didn’t think you’d actually do it. At most I thought we’d have a tasty Dragon egg omelette, not that you’d create a flying reptile of pure Hell Fire.’
They both turned back to the Hellscape in front of them, off in the distance a Tavern exploded.
Stanley looked thoughtful.
‘You know… I bet I set the bloody thing to 60 decades instead of 60 seconds.’
‘Hmm?’
‘The Chrono-Crucible, I most likely set it wrong, 60 decades is about the right time frame to hatch a youngling Dragon.’
‘Ah, don’t beat yourself up about it Stan, happens to the best of us. I once overcooked popcorn and the entire kitchen stank of the stuff.’
‘Yeah’ sighed Stanley, ‘...but I bet your popcorn didn’t belch fire, destroy half the city, and char 48-’
A scream rose above the din and fire.
‘-49 of the world's greatest heroes to ash.’
‘Well… no.’ conceded Mordin ‘But that smell did linger for weeks.’
They turned back to the flame engulfed city and watched the fire dance across the rooftops.
Stanley pulled a silver hip-flask from his pouch and took a swig. He silently passed it to his friend who readily took it and gulped down over half of its contents.
‘Ah thats the stuff...’ Mordin passes the much lighter flask back to Stanley. ‘Nothing like a bit of Ale whilst watching a bonfire.’
‘City is gonna have to remodel after this one’
‘Good,’ Hic’d Mordin ‘I was getting sick of all the Neo-Gothic Architecture. “Just coz its old don’t mean it can’t be improved” as my old Da’ used to say.’
Stanley took a swig of ale. ‘Say that a lot did he’
‘Oh aye, big fan of that one was my Da’... he usually said it after the broke one of the antiques, but still, wise words.’
Mordin smiled slightly, ale always got him a little nostalgic for the home he left behind.
A loud roar shook the two friends from their reverie and snapped them back to reality.
The sound of big leathery wings flapped in the air, and the Dragon slowly took flight.
‘Oh thank the seven Goddesses,’ Said Stanley, breathing a sigh of relief. ‘ It’s finally buggering off.’
The dragon flew over the city walls, a loud cheer rose from the still burning city.
‘Nothing like a calamity from a fire breathing flying monstrosity to bring a community together, eh?’ smiled Mordin, slapping his friend on the back.
‘Ha, I guess not’ chuckled Stanley.
The crowd continued to cheer as the Dragon began to become a speck on the horizon.
A lone voice rose up from the crowd.
‘THAT'S RIGHT, PISS OFF, YOU SCALE COVERED FLYING REPTILIAN WANKER!’
The Speck stopped.
Stanley groaned softly. ‘Ooooh, why would he do that? The bloody thing was going away...’
The speck seemed to turn in the air.
‘...didn’t he know they have really good hearing?’
The speck began to speed toward the city again, and it started to grow the features of a Dragon, wings, scales, claws and, of course, murderous intent.
It arrived above the city square and landed with a thump.
It didn’t open its mouth, but its expression spoke volumes.
‘Alright,’ it’s facial muscles seemed to express ‘Which one of you hairless sacks of uncooked meat said that?’
The crowd was motionless for a moment, then as one they pushed a small bald scrawny man in front of the beast.
The Dragon tilted its head, as if asking ‘Well?’
The scrawny man gulped ‘Um… sorry?’
The man was engulfed in flames so fast that even his scream of terror melted.
The Dragon gave a puff of satisfaction, glanced at the crowd, as if daring it to say something, and took off again.
There were no cheers.
Mordin sighed ‘And sometimes there’s nothing like a crowd sacrificing some poor sod who can’t keep his mouth shut to remind you that people are generally bastards.’
Stanley rubbed his temples. ‘All this over a bleedin’ omelette.’
The two sat silently on the tower, they watched the clean up crews begin their task of cleaning up the square.
Mordin nudged Stanley in the ribs.
‘You know what? Bugger it. Let's go for a pint.’
Stanley looked at his friend and chuckled. ‘ We can’t, mate.’
‘What, why not? We need one after watching all that.’
‘We can’t...’ Stanley gestured across the city ‘...tavern exploded.
Morden looked out at the flames again.
‘Oh yeah...’ He sat down and placed his head in his hands. ‘...bugger.’