It was around my 80th imperial year when I had grown quite a bit. I was still far from my final measurements but sizably larger than a typical deer which had been our family’s primary source of nutrition for the past 8 decades. Our intelligence had grown significantly faster than our physical body, though maturity was still a level away.

The daily routine was always the same: wake up, go outside, go play, go hunt, go eat, go drink, go sleep, go practice flying. It was certainly peaceful as we had no predators nor potential threats in the Carldon Valley. Animals, disease, not even falls could inflict any considerable harm to us, so we roamed around the territory with very little care.

In hindsight, we were naive to the possible dangers which the world held in its infinite scale and vastness. We ignored the heeds from our parents and sat idling our lives away in the Valley for the better part of a century; it was not until The Horde.

“The Horde? By that, I presume that you are referring to the ancient event which occurred during the 1000s,”

“Indeed; it was a terrible event which swept across the continent,”

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“I have heard from many druids and sages throughout my journey about this tragedy, but I had not expected you to have been old enough to experience this yourself.”

“I am old, Impatient Knight,” chuckled the Lizard.

On a hot summer morning during Iunius, I was awoken by a slight tremor beneath my paws. The reverberations of the ground shook our cave too, letting small rocks and debris to come loose from the ceiling. I picked myself up and walked over towards the mouth of our cave, still groggy from my sudden arousal when I saw something in the distance. I squinted towards the source of the disruption: beasts. Not just one or two, but thousands, no, perhaps millions. They were all charging through the valley floor and the lips of the canyon, covering the plains above in a blanket of dulled colours which seemed to all mould and fuse into one conglomeration by the thick screen of dirt and dust. They trampled and tarnished the ground beneath them, pounding the soft-soil rock-hard whilst leaving a silty mess of crushed rocks, soils and remains.

As The Horde rapidly approached, it demolished the small forest beneath its feet, treading over the vegetation with its shear collective body mass. The wave of beasts ran past our cave with the subsequent creatures causing further environmental damage to the wildlife and the rock formations around it.

The Horde took the entire morning to pass, and in its wake, left a barren wasteland behind it…

“Of course, as you probably know from the tale, The Horde was stopped by the 3 Warriors of Cornwall, right before it reached London.”

“The tales of the 3 Warriors still linger to this day,”

“Quite remarkable; I had once met those three on one of my journeys long ago, a while after the Norsemen invaded. A very eccentric group may I add.”