by SJ Longtaile
The tale of a great warrior's mistake.
|Dragon Hands was a legendary assassin said to be in service of the western lords whose strength and skill was unmatched. The tattoos on his hands depicting twin dragons are what gave him his infamous name, but they were not merely decorative or simply symbolic. The twin dragons mark him as the host of a demon dragon’s curse.
The tale tells of a young warrior, confident and reckless in equal measures, who believed himself a match for a demon and challenged one such creature to a duel.
The demon laughed at him, for this creature was not just any demon, it was the strongest and most powerful in the land, and this warrior, a mere mortal, was nothing to it, less than a fly.
So the warrior challenged it again, this time he offered a wager, the kind no demon could resist.
“If I am less than a fly, then you should have no problem defeating me,” he said,”Fight me; if you win, I will give you my body and soul, you may do with them what you like. But if I win, you grant me your power.”
The demon was intrigued by the foolish mortal who thought himself a match for a great demon such as itself, and, if the demon felt inclined to be honest, it might have said it was amused by the mortal.
“Very well,” the demon agreed,”I win, you give me your body and soul, in the unlikely event you happen to win; I will lend you my power as needed.”
The warrior was overjoyed, more so than any sane person ought to be at the prospect of facing a demon in combat, so much so, that he completely overlooked the slight change the demon made to the agreement. With that, he charged, bold, and foolishly forward.
The battle between the warrior and the demon was grand to say the least, and the demon was pleasantly surprised at the fight the mortal warrior offered. They waged long and hard, for many days and nights, neither giving up.
Until, one night, the demon paused, only for a moment, but it was long enough. The warrior found the demon’s weak spot and struck with all his might.
The demon fell, uttering with the last of its breath,”Congratulations, mortal. You have beaten me, I will lend you my power when you need it.”
It was only then that the warrior realized what the demon had done. The demon would lend the warrior its power, but for it to do that, it had to be with him at all times.
The demon dragon attached itself to the warrior, coursing through his body, branding his skin with its mark, and lodging itself in his very bones, where it will lay in wait for the day he finally succumbs to death and it will devour his soul.