She woke up, felt a stinging lash on her belly. But it was nothing next to the pain in her head that felt like a 'Saur had stomped on it and the numbing cold that gave the world that peculiar syrup-like quality and spun her head around, like in an ever rolling barrel on an endless river.
"Wake up, Drake. There's ore to mine." Before her was a dwarf clad in that grey, iron-like metal of theirs, brandishing a barbed whip. Reflexively, she tried to move or speak, but realized they'd fitted her with an iron muzzle and bound her legs together with iron chains. How quaint. True to her captor's word, they were in a mining tunnel of sorts. She smelled the freshly broken iron and the mammal sweat from deeper in, but the fat of weapon oil and mushroom wine too.
"I see your clan, dwarf. Shouldn't miners like you have no business wearing arms and armor?" She pressed out. "That's none of your business, lizard. You are here for crimes against dwarfkind, massed slaughter and demon worship. And, if your tone does not change, you'll stay in these mines for the rest of your stinking life." Another lash sped towards her, but she was faster. Gripping the whip flying in the air, she let the barbs dig into her scales. Muscles and pain fought strength and wrath. Her tongue flicked out for a split second as she bared her fangs in anticipation. Fear. The sweetest of smells. The dwarf, trembling with terror, yanked the whip around and blood sprayed from her hand. No matter. The rising dark wrath of her kin was greater than any torment he could cause her.
She leaned in, miming the mammal's kiss as a jet of blackish flame erupted from her maw, setting the dwarf's head on fire. The jailer screamed in agony as the fire spread to his hair and skin, flesh and blood beginning to melt off his bones. The heat turned her muzzle a searing bright yellow, an ardency which made even her growl in pain. She tore her hands free from the already brittle chains. Just in time. The rest of the guards came charging, only to find their dying colleague rolling helplessly on the ground. Pale fear and wrath spread among the warrior. The brutality of death gave them pause.
Stolen novel; please report.
In a blur, she grabbed the small jailer and threw his burning body into the approaching mob. The beast hasted backwards, seeking the narrow and low tunnels. The horrified shrieks of the wardens followed her, alongside their flying spears. One of the bolder guards lunged at her feet, pulling on her still chained feet. This fierce recklessness nearly knocked her off balance. Reflexively, she grabbed the assailant. With a tortured roar, she hoisted the dwarf up, right into the flying spears of her pursuers. Heart-stopping screams of agony echoed through the cave as the iron rods tore into the dwarf like lightning strikes. The horror of the clan brother quickly turned to rage that fueled their thundering charge. But as the battalion pressed their attack, the corned dragon did not relent. Wrapping the still hot chain around his neck, she snapped his head off in one fell motion. The resulting fountain of blood cooled her iron mask.
She tore the numerous spears off the limp and headless corpse and leaped back, some of the dwarves slipping and falling over their companion's bloody remains, their falls meeting with a well placed spear through their backs. Now they had finally reached her, but the tunnel meant they had to come in one after the other and her size meant that, weapons being equal, she had the greater reach - and their metal coifs left their heads unguarded. It was a slaughter lit only dimly by the flaming corpse left behind them. Soldiers entered - innards and body parts flew out. Around the fifth or so, the clang of metal and hastened feet signaled their retreat. But turned backs meant one thing for her once again: easy targets. Only when she was left with two spears did she stop, watching the small men run back, presumably towards the surface.
She grabbed a hammer from the side of one of the better equipped dwarf corpses and dragged herself into a nook behind a minecart, falling down on the ground as her legs quivered and tail twitched. She tore the muzzle off with her shaking, healthy hand, gasping repeatedly for air. It was not as her people had told her. She found not a merry cave filled with drink, coals, and warm forges, but a dank, miserable pit where the cold crept unto you and it's people cursed your name. "Demons take these dwarves!" She shouted. Her paws wrapped around the tiny handle of the hammer as she worked on her leg chains, trying to remember how she got into this situation in the first place.