Okay. This was what was once intended to be part of the first chapter of my book. There are many parts to this scrapped chapter, and this is one of them. I got rid of it because Jack was forgotten in the rest of the storyline.
Actually, The Dragon Bandit was at first intended to be only one chapter, and that was it. It was only the encouragement of my friends that made me add more to it. ^^ I know that there are spelling and grammar errors! Just note that I didn't really edit this because this was a (piece of a) scrapped chapter. More will come.
The tale being told began a time long ago, when chivalry and evil were at war, when technology and magic were constantly at battle. The wind howled a sorrowful dirge of misery as a thunderstorm approached on the horizon. To the nearby village, it was a bad—no, a terrible omen.
The village that is spoken of really wasn’t large at all, by any means. Even by village standards, it was small. The people barely had enough to get by with; just enough crops, just enough livestock, and hardly any money to spare. The sad part was that it was the wealthiest village for miles; therefore, they were easily targets for ruthless bandits.
Bandits plagued the countryside and most cities for as long as anyone could remember. These bandits were not to be described as normal under any circumstances, for they were anything but normal. They were not the usual, cruel bandits that would, for an example, ambush and plunder a traveling caravan. They were more, for lack of a better term, more advanced, more organized. Most groups of ruffians preferred to be scarce and secretive, while this group didn’t care at all. No one tried to stop them. The only names they were known by were ones such as Leonine, the Black Death, Armageddon Snow, and Pyre Sword. These nicknames, whenever mentioned, struck fear into the hearts of those who hear them. Their real names were unknown.
However, the antagonist that was feared the most was seen more often than the other thieves. His name, given to him by the villages he plundered, was Pitch Dragon. His armor was as black as pitch, and the armor’s sheen was like light reflecting from a dragon’s scales.
It so happened that the thunderstorm did bring about a bad omen. The omen took the form of a seemingly solitary horseman atop a cliff overlooking the village. As the rain began to fall at a drizzle, the horseman clad in black armor observed the target village. The apparition gave a smug grin behind his helmet; as always, the plan was simple. Enter the village, raid it of what riches it had, then leave. No thing else was left after that than to return to the guild headquarters. It was solely for that reason that no one would stop the horseman—or the score of thieves behind him. No one ever tried to stop them when they came. As a rabbit facing a wolf, they were powerless to do anything.
Another figure on a horse cantered up to him. The other rider was wearing a large cloak, its hood pulled low over his face. The cloak seemed to fit him extremely loosely so no part of him could be seen.
“Hello, Smythe,” said the rider in black armor, his helmet disguising his voice and giving him deep, bass tones.
“You’re looking particularly ominous today,” Smythe answered. His voice was smooth and slightly deep with an accent.
“Thank you. Are you ready for this day’s looting?”
He sighed. “As ready as a skeleton like me can be, Silastrix.”
“You sound reluctant.”
“That’s only because I hope Coil knows what he’s doing, giving us the order to plunder so soon. We’d just raided this village not but a week ago.”
“Perhaps Mortal Coil is confident they’ve gotten more wealth to seize.”
“You know that Amyranth had always made a better leader than Coil is being right now.”
“The Guild of the Black Rose required someone to take Amyranth’s place. Amyranth had driven himself to insanity, so therefore he was no longer fit to be in a position of authority.”
“I realize that, Silastrix. But despite the fact that he would talk to himself like a madman, he always did have good plans.”
Silastrix turned his attention back to the unwary village. “Leader or not, this village is our target, and our men are getting impatient.”
“Fine, fine. Just wanted you to know that I don’t think Coil has his head on right.” Without another word, Silastrix spurred his black mare into a gallop, and the group of thieves followed suit. Smythe hesitated for a moment, watching their quarry, then rode down to follow the team.
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