Chapter Text
A large green fist slammed into the oakwood table, making both the maps laid out on it and a few of the smaller gnorcs present jump.
“SILENCE!” Gnasty roared into the room.
The angry discussion that had filled the room a second ago fell silent. All eyes were on the gnorc chieftain, whose broad shoulders quivered lightly with anger. Gnasty Gnorc was massive, even compared to other large gnorcs, and in peak physical form. His weapon of choice, a large battle hammer, rested against the wall behind him – Nobody had ever seen it more than three feet from his person.
“Quit yer yabberin’ – It’s not gonna win us the lands back!” Gnasty glared at each of the present gnorcs, most of which lowered their gaze to the stone floor, save for Gnevil, who were still climbing back to his feet.
Gnasty slowly sat back down in his throne, breathing out as he tried to calm down. He continued, in a slightly calmer tone. “The order of attacks is still not resolved. We’re running out of time.”
The generals nodded solemnly, and picked up where they left off before having dissolved into petty arguing. Gnannie spoke up as the first.
“Peace Keepers should be our main focus – the dragons there are the only military force of their nation, and will provide the biggest obstacle. I believe we all agree on this.” There were nods and murmurs of agreement all around the room. “Excellent. That leaves us at who is actually present there. I believe the chieftain himself,” she gave a respectful bow in Gnasty’s direction “should be there. You’re easily our best fighter, and we’ll probably need your strength and your leadership in the battle.”
Another voice, far shriller and thinner, was heard from the corner. “I do believe I disagree. There are certain... Limitations that require Gnasty’s presence elsewhere.”
All eyes turned to the odd creature resting in the shadows of the room. The fool had been an unexpected ally, bouncing into Gnorc Gnexus with little to no warning. Nobody had really been sure what to make of Jacques, but his expertise on magic and its works were very welcomed, since such were amongst the many things where the gnorcs’ abilities fell quite short of the dragons’. Still, his general lack of respect and tact had been a pain in the ass of quite a few, not to mention the creature’s overall creepy appearance and demeanor. Jacquez continued before he was interrupted.
“The spell needed to be cast has quite the range, but it’s not unlimited. His great gnorcness has to be located centrally in the Dragon Realms for it to work effectively.” The fool shrugged. “Otherwise, the whole operation is a bust.”
Although he could see anger bubble to the surface in the expression of Gnannie, Gnevil, and quite a few of his other underlings, Gnasty’s tone remained calm and collected.
“Jacquez has a good point. If I’m needed centrally, that means I’ll be leading the attack on Artisans. That means I need Toasty in Peace Keepers.”
The scarecrow at the other side of the long table crossed his arms and leaned back against his chair in an unhappy manner. It had been very dead-set on leading the attack on Artisans from the beginning. Gnasty sighed.
“We’ll need all the forces we can get at Peace Keepers. When we’ve succeeded, I’ll be leaving Artisans in your hands, as you wanted it.” He gave the scarecrow a slight glare. “I trust you to have the interest of the gnorcs at heart, rather than your own or your shepherds’. I understand you’ve suffered under dragon rule as well, but this war is between the gnorcs and the dragons. We appreciate your assistance and alliance,” His eyes slid to the jack-without-a-box in the corner, “from ALL of you,” His gaze returned to the scarecrow, who’d at least taken to less defiant body language. “but these lands are gnorc lands.”
The witchdoctor next to Gnannie nodded vigorously and smacked his palm onto the table. “Yo yo! The man speaks the truth! For so long those self-righteous dragons ‘ave been runnin’ us oughta our own lands! Since those fools arrived here, they’ve caused nothin’ but pain for the lovely gnorcsmen and gnorcswomen!”
Several of the gnorcs present sounded their agreement or approval with some rumbly noises or nods. Gnasty took the word before the doctor could talk himself warm.
“Indeed.” He stood from his throne, making most people present have to crane their necks, and circled around the table, hammer in hand.
“According to what history we’ve managed to hold onto, the dragons arrived in our lands around a millennium ago. We don’t know where they came from or why; But we do know that they settled on our lands and treated our people as pests. We’ve been driven from our homelands, left with only the island the dragons use to dump their trash. But it’s their loss...”
The chieftain continued to the windows overlooking the armies beneath. A mass of able-bodied gnorcs, each laboring away at armor, weaponry, and ballistics, or running messages and packages back and forth, or maintaining order within the many people, as they came closer and closer to being fully prepared to change the lives and future of their children.
“We’ll be ready to pay them back very, very soon...”
Six weeks later...
A blur of blue sprinted past a vase, nearly knocking it over. When a larger purple blur zoomed past it as well, it was pushed over and rolled onto its side. Two small lights, one lime the other golden, zipped along with the blurs from above.
The group dove under a fence and through a flock of sheep who spread in all directions at the approach of the dragonlings. A nearby shepherd lifted his hand and shook it angrily.
Spyro’s claws dug into the dirt as he lunged forward and planted both hands firmly on Lloyd’s tail, making the smaller dragon fall flat on his face. “Tag!” The purple dragonling hollered as he jumped over his fallen friend, laughing. Sparx zoomed around his head, his buzzy laughter joining Spyro’s own.
Lloyd pouted in the grass as Spyro put distance between them before turning and waiting for him, tail wagging. Jingles, his own dragonfly, buzzed comfortingly in front of his head. Sighing, the younger dragon got back on his feet.
He lunged forward, hoping to catch Spyro off guard, but the other dragonling was too fast. At the time Lloyd reached the spot Spyro had taken up a few seconds ago, Spyro had already put double the distance between them, zipping back out of the paddock and back towards the castle.
Anissa jumped and lurched to the side when she saw Spyro approach her, but quickly calmed when Spyro called out. “I tagged Lloyd! He’s it!”
The burgundy dragonling nodded and instead opted to run alongside Spyro as Lloyd finally made his way back to them. “Y’know, you totally ain’t fair!” He yelled at Spyro as the older dragon danced around him effortlessly. “You don’t even give us a chance!”
Spyro’s expression soured slightly. “Melba tagged me just five minutes ago!” He retorted. “You’re just slow!”
“I only could because you wouldn’t run.” Melba joined the others, her olive scales glistening in the evening light. “You just wanted to be tagged so you could chase us.” She made no attempt to run from Lloyd, and simply sat in the grass. Anissa walked over and stood by her side as Darren poked his head out from his hiding place under the bridge.
“Melba’s right.” Anissa remarked. “You’re bigger and stronger than us and you keep using it against us.”
“And my tail hurts!” Lloyd added, although Spyro could see that his tail didn’t even have a scratch.
“I don’t have to apologize for you guys being a bunch of crybabies!” Spyro called out, angrily stomping off towards the waterfall. “You’re all just mad I’m better than you!” Lloyd pounded again, which honestly was such a low move. Spyro dodged him anyway.
After putting some distance between himself and the dragonlings, Spyro sat down and stared into the pond water. Sparx landed carefully on his shoulder, nudging his cheek gently.
“Don’t mind them Spyro,” the dragonfly said. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Spyro grumbled in response. “Why are they always like that? We’re having fun, then as soon as I’m winning, they get mad. I don’t get it!” The small dragon laid down and stared into the clear water.
Sparx buzzed sympathetically. “They’re jealous.”
“It’s not my fault I’m older than them!” Spyro snapped. “I would’ve been happy to be their age, but it’s not like I decided to just hatch early! It’s not fair!”
Dragon and dragonfly fell quiet, staring into the waterfall as if looking for answers. It was Delbin’s voice that snapped Spyro out of his sulking.
“Is the pond providing extra many answers today?”
Spyro and Sparx snapped their heads up to look at the larger dragon. The artist was standing right behind them, smiling kindly down at the duo. “Is something bothering you two?” Delbin inquired, sitting down next to the dragonling.
“... The others got mad at me because I’m older than them.” Spyro sulked. “We were playing tag and having fun, but as soon as I start winning, they all get all angry and stuff. Like always.” He pouted at the lake. Delbin’s smile grew softer.
“Well, you do have the advantage, you have to admit. You’re four years their senior-“
Spyro interrupted him angrily. “Yeah, well it’s not like there’s anybody else here my age! I’m too childish to hang out with the second agers, but I’m too strong to play with the first agers! What am I supposed to do?!” He slapped the water in frustration.
Delbin patted his head comfortingly. “You’re doing as much as you can; You’re telling me. I’ll take it up with some of their parents – It’s not fair for them to gang up on you like that.” Delbin rubbed his chin. “I can try having a talk with Devlin too – Maybe a trip to Peace Keepers would do you good.”
Spyro looked up in surprise. “Peace Keepers?”
Delbin nodded. “Yes. Your mother was a peace keeper after all, and your temper shows it. I think... I think maybe a trip there, to your roots of sort, could maybe be good for you? Besides, you never got the chance to go with the second agers on their trip, and you’re a full dragon age now. I don’t think some one on one teaching would be unhealthy.”
Spyro stared at Delbin. Peace Keepers? They’d let him go to Peace Keepers?? Spyro had always wanted to go to Peace Keepers, and he remembered how distraught he was when he was informed he couldn’t go with the second agers, over 8 years ago. Under normal circumstances, the idea of going somewhere for the purpose of school wouldn’t seem very alluring to the young dragon, but the peace keepers taught fighting! Weapon use, battle strategies, claw-to-claw combat! Everything Spyro had ever wanted!
“Yeah! Yeah, please, do that! I’d love to go to Peace Keepers!” Spyro’s tail was wagging wildly, the previous bout with the other dragonlings forgotten. Delbin held up his hands.
“Woah! Easy there pup, I still have to clear with Devlin, not to mention Nestor! I can’t very well sneak you off to adventure under everyone’s noses!”
Spyro stomped his foot impatiently. “Why not?! Lindar does it all the-“ He snapped his jaws shut.
Delbin narrowed his eyes. “... Lindar does what now?”
“The beach!” Spyro smiled nervously. “We go to the beach sometimes, without telling dad. Just hanging around and looking at stuff.” It wasn’t really a lie; Lindar and Spyro DID sneak off to the beach every so often – just not the one in Stone Hill. Lindar had found a small island a good bit off the coast, where he and Spyro had a lot of fun chasing wild sheep and goofing off. But Delbin didn’t need to know that.
Delbin didn’t seem convinced, but let it go. As he rose to his feet, he noticed a certain dragon walking up to them.
Spyro and Delbin turned to find Nestor approaching them with his usual composed expression. “Delbin, a word, please.” The artisan keeper spoke. Delbin nodded confusedly.
“Of course. What is the matter?”
“I just received news from Peace Keepers. They believe Gnasty Gnorc may be making a move soon.”
Delbin’s eyes widened. “Gnasty Gnorc?! Now?? I thought he’d been dealt with?”
Nestor didn’t answer, but instead looked at Spyro and Sparx, who were looking up at the keeper. “Spyro, could you go ask Argus to meet with me at the castle? Thank you boy.”
“But-“
“Please Spyro.” The look in Nestor’s eyes made it clear that he would have no objections. Spyro sulkily slunk away, leaving the adults to whisper together. That was so unfair!
The dragon stomped towards Argus’ house, still grumbling under his breath. “Please go away Spyro, the adults are talking!” He sneered, fuming as he stomped across the grassy fields. “Jerks!”
The purple dragon noticed a bright green dragonling sitting in the grass, chatting with a pinkish purple dragonfly. He ran up to her, greeting her. “Hey Mariel.”
Mariel turned to look at him, smiling. “Oh hey. What’s up?” Chime gave a friendly buzz.
“Nestor is a jerk – He just butted me out of a conversation!” Spyro complained to the older dragonling. “Just as things were getting interesting too!”
“Man, that sucks!” The second-ager agreed, shaking her head. “Adults are so dumb sometimes.”
“Yeah...” Spyro blinked and looked at her with interest. “Hey Mariel? Do you know who the nasty gnorc is?”
Mariel looked confused. “A nasty gnorc? Aren’t they all nasty?”
Spyro shrugged. “Yeah, but this one sounded important. Nestor didn’t want me hearing about it at least. But I guess you don’t know either.”
“Well-“
“Spyro!”
Mariel was interrupted by Devlin’s voice. The baker walked over to the dragonlings, smile as broad and friendly as ever. “It’s time to go home boy,” Devlin told the purple dragon. “It’s getting late after all!”
Spyro nodded, but then remembered something important. “Yeah... Oh wait a minute! Mariel!” He turned to the dragonling. “Could you tell Argus that Nestor wants to speak with him at the castle, for me?”
She shrugged and nodded. “Sure.”
“Great thanks!”
Spyro bid her farewell and skipped to Devlin’s side.
“Hey dad, can I ask you a question?”
“Sure pup, what’s up?”
“Who’s the nasty gnorc?”
Gnatasha ran as fast as her orange legs could carry her, desperate to put some distance between herself and the monster hunting her down. It was no use however – Muscular wings beat against the desert air, and the green scaled dragon was upon her in a matter of moments.
The young gnorc’s feet skid across the sand as she turned a corner sharply, hoping to shake off her pursuer. But the dragon twisted its body and kept up the pace. It overtook her and slammed into the ground before her.
Gnatasha felt her blood run cold at the sight of the monster – Dragons had always seemed scary to her, but this one... Its teeth stuck out from its jaw at odd angles, and its one eye glared into her soul from the depths of hell. She turned on her heel and started running again, ignoring the burning pain in her legs – At this point she couldn’t tell if it was fatigue or if the dragon had actually lit her on fire.
Damn it, she’d already abandoned her loot, what did they want?! Wait... They. That’s right, there were two of them! Where was the other-?
Gnatasha’s line of thought was cut short as a purple dragon landed right in front of her and swung a large hammer-like weapon at her face. The gnorc never even felt the blow.
“Headshot!” Halvor cheered as the green dragon caught up. “You’re too slow, Gunnar!”
Gunnar scowled, although that might just be an effect of how his face looked. Halvor had found him sort of scary back when he was just a first ager, but now he’d come to know Gunnar as a loyal and down-to-earth dragon, who was not quite as scary as he looked. The toothy dragon shook his head as his one good eye glared at the orange pulp at their feet.
“What’s this, the sixth gem thief this month?” He asked, resting his hand on his hip. Halvor thought for a moment.
“I think it’s the seventh, actually. But we used to have the same number a week, this ain’t so bad.”
“That’s my point,” Gunnar nodded, his dark crest bouncing in the desert air. “The attacks are waning.”
The younger dragon pondered this for a moment as the duo went back to retrieve the dropped bag of stolen treasure, Gunnar dragging the felled gnorc behind him. “That’s good right? Means they’re learning to stay in their own lands, right?”
Gunnar hummed in thought. “Possibly. Or something’s bubbling under the surface. Don’t let your guard down.”
Halvor nodded. “Guard remaining in the upper formation.” He announced. Honestly, less gem thieves would be nice for a change, at least if you asked Halvor. He’d been on gem retrieval duty for a few years now, and the monotony of it was starting to irritate him. So, if the attacks would stop, Titan would have no choice but to give him a different assignment, right?
Gunnar snapped him out of his thoughts. “Boris and Trondo from the northern sector reported fewer but more aggressive attacks, just last week,” The elder stated. “Several other guards and gem retrievers have reported anything from bolder attempts at swiping treasure, to direct attacks on dragonlings. Nobody’s gotten seriously hurt so far, but it’s still troubling.”
Halvor had to agree. Attacks on dragonlings? He knew the gnorcs weren’t fond of the dragons, but assaulting children were a little much.
“Any plans for how we’re dealing with it?” He asked as the duo retrieved the gem bag from the ground and took off to fly back to the vault. Gunnar shrugged.
“Titan will let us know if he decides on something.” He said. “But for now, let’s go see if the kitchen in Dry Canyon is still open. I’m starving!”
As the two dragons took off towards the general direction of home, they unknowingly passed over a small blue figure curled up in the shadows. Norynq looked up as the large shadows disappeared in the horizon, staying put for a few minutes to make sure they didn’t return.
When she felt the coast was clear, she moved forward, silently, and carefully, feeling the rough sand under her webbed feet.
She hated the desert. It was warm, dry, and difficult to traverse, and despite the protective effects of her enchanted robes, the thief could still feel herself slowly dehydrating. Amphibians had no business here.
Nonetheless she pressed on persistently, moving towards the hidden cave near her. She’d been sent here specifically for this, and if her superiors had this much faith in her, she would not disappoint.
Indeed, as she had been briefed, the hidden, well-guarded cave had a breach – a small tunnel in the eastern cliffside led directly into the large cavern within. Norynq had to fight back the urge to cackle at the sight before her.
The cavern was richly decorated in sprawling, wondrous colors, in paintings and pictures of heroes and warriors long lost, of war scenes and dragons sparring with one another or fighting back gnorcs or blue, green, and purple clad figures. In the middle of the room, in a circular nest on the floor, sat a bundle of eggs. They rested peacefully against one another, fairies zipping back and forth over each.
Norynq did a quick count and determined there to be around 23 so far – More were indubitably expected to arrive during the next 4 years before the next dragon age, where the valuable eggs would hatch into the next generation of dragons.
The thief smiled under her concealing cloak, pulling out her quill and parchment, and quickly sat down to scribble.
‘Good Master Xeervu...’
“Wait, so his name is Nasty?”
“Gnasty, yes. With a silent ‘g’. All gnorcs start their name with a silent ‘g’.”
Spyro laughed. “Man, his parents must’ve hated him!”
Devlin glanced at the dragonling, chuckling lightly. “It’s a pretty terrible name, yes. But so are most gnorc names, really.”
“What’s his deal anyway? I heard Nestor say he’s making a move soon. What does that mean?”
Despite Devlin’s best efforts, Spyro could see the quick wave of concern that flash across his face before the dragon managed to reclaim control of his facial muscles. “It’s nothing, really. It’s nothing to be worried about. Gnasty Gnorc is a name that resurfaces every now and then, but other than that, nothing. Just a name, really.”
Spyro squinted suspiciously at his father. Why was everyone trying to keep something from him? Man, he wished someone would just tell him-
“What are we sulking about this time?”
Devlin and Spyro looked up to see a certain blue and wild-haired dragon approach them. Spyro smiled broadly and jumped forward. “Lindar!”
The clockmaker bended down and picked the dragonling off the ground to give him a hug. “Hey there, runt. Why’re we glaring at Devs?” He squinted and glared exaggeratedly at Devlin, who shook his head exasperatedly. “Not enough cake? Too many chores? Taking over the world again?” Lindar inquired.
Spyro laughed from Lindar’s arms. “He’s just giving vague answers.” He said, looking up with some hope. “Hey Lindar, who’s Gnasty Gnorc?”
Devlin opened his mouth to protest, but Lindar was faster. “Gnasty? You mean the gnorc chieftain?” Spyro nodded eagerly at this new information, so Lindar continued. “He’s just some nobody who was banished to the Dragon Junkyard with the rest of ‘em. Let’s see what do I know...” He poked his chin a few times as he pretended to think hard. “He’s a simple, stupid creature, is full of hot air, oh yeah, and the most important thing!”
“What is it?” Spyro asked, tail wagging excitedly.
“Well... It’s a bit of a secret...” Lindar leaned down to Spyro and stage whispered. “He is ugly!”
Spyro broke into laughter as Devlin groaned. “No seriously,” Lindar went on, “He’s uglier than Argus’ dating history!”
“Lindar!” Devlin tried, but to no avail. The clockmaker laughed with Spyro, throwing him into the air and catching him before putting him back on the ground. “Relax, Devs, it’s not like it matters. Gnasty Gnorc has been more of a poor attempt at the bogey-man since-“
Lindar was interrupted by a scream that made Spyro’s blood run cold.
Eyes wide and no longer laughing, Lindar turned his head towards the sound.
“Did you-?”
“The waterfront!” Devlin exclaimed as more screams rose in the distance. “Spyro stay- Oh for the love of- Spyro!”
But the purple dragonling had already broken into a sprint, closely followed by Sparx. Lindar took to the skies, and Devlin ran on foot.
Spyro knew that first voice – It was Darren. Spyro had snuck up on and startled the younger dragonling enough times to recognize his screams, but this sounded different. Less spooked and more genuinely scared. Either way he didn’t like it.
“Spyro, wait-!” Devlin desperately tried to keep up with his runaway pup, but truth be told, the baker had maybe been a little too fond of his own craft... Damn it, he’d have to lose weight, didn’t he?
Spyro reached the waterfront right as Lindar landed. Dragonlings, dragonflies, and adult dragons were running to and from the place is completely disarray and confusion. Spyro recognized Melba, Lloyd, Darren, and several other dragonlings in the mix. But then the ships right outside the Balloonist’s dock caught his attention.
They were huge, each large enough to hold several adult dragons, and ugly as hell. It looked like they’d been strapped together from several pieces of scrap metal and some driftwood. The sails were torn and patched, and what seemed to be hundreds of oars stuck out from the sides.
“Oh my- Spyro, look! Gnorcs!” Sparx exclaimed.
It was then that Spyro noticed the hundreds of green, orange, and purple creatures climbing over the railing on the ships and descending into the waters, where they swam to the shores. The Artisans shores.
Spyro’s eyes went wide when a gnorc, clad in shining golden armor and wielding a large battle hammer, both with curved spikes, hopped off the ship and landed mightily in the waters below. Spyro didn’t even have to ask; There was no doubt this was Gnasty Gnorc.
The beefy looking gnorc waddled through the waters and stepped onto land just as Devlin caught up with the dragonling. Spyro heard him make a sharp gasp and felt the baker’s hands on his sides before being picked off the ground. Spyro wriggled in his arms, trying to keep his eyes on the scene. “Hey, no!”
“Shh!” Devlin replied as he tried to move away from the chaos. But Spyro squirmed until Devlin dropped him on the ground, and ran back to the commotion. “I wanna see this!”
Sparx buzzed and headbutted his chin, getting Spyro’s attention. “Look, Nestor and Delbin are here!”
Indeed, Nestor and Delbin were pushing their way to the shores, although most dragons moved out of the way as soon as they recognized the Keeper – Nestor was by no means an intimidating figure, but he held authority, and he held respect. Spyro noticed that quite a few dragons stopped panicking as Nestor made his way to the gnorcs, stopping to simply watch and see how things panned out – Even Devlin calmed and stopped trying to scoop Spyro back into his arms, although Spyro could tell he was still in for a serious scolding for running away.
Dragons and dragonflies watched as Nestor came face to face with the gnorc chieftain – A shiver went down Spyro’s spine as he realized just how big Gnasty was – Most gnorcs were only slightly taller than a third-age dragonling, but the chieftain was rivalling Nestor in height!
“What is the meaning of this, Gnorc?” Nestor demanded, voice even but angry. “You’re not welcome on our shores!”
Gnasty Gnorc tilted his head gently, looking over the gathered dragons and dragonflies. Spyro subconsciously took a step back as the gnorc’s eyes washed over him. He felt Sparx buzz uncomfortably behind his horn.
“Your shores?” Gnasty’s voice was rough and loud, carrying well across the beach and surrounding field. And yet, it was not quite as deep as Spyro had expected. Heck, Lindar’s voice was deeper! Gnasty turned his gaze back to Nestor. “Your shores? These are not your shores – They never were. My people settled here millennia before your kind put your claws into our lands and drove us from our homes. So, you do not,” He empathized his words by leaning slightly into Nestor’s face, “get to tell us we aren’t welcome on our own shores!”
To Nestor’s credit, the green dragon remained unfazed with the threatening behavior of the gnorc. He stood his ground firmly, although a slight scowl spread across his face.
“The actions and claimed injustices of the past is neither the fault or responsibility of the living dragons.” Nestor’s voice carried as well as Gnasty’s, as both dragons and gnorcs listened carefully to their leading figures. “Furthermore, you weren’t banished for the purpose of taking your presumed lands, but because you threatened my people and our young – Leave.”
“Not responsible? Not responsible?! Your ancestors took our lands and our homes and our wealth, but because you were born here, it’s somehow okay for you to just not care about it, or the consequences that followed?!” Gnasty’s booming voice was riling up the other gnorcs, and Spyro could hear angry yelling and muttering from both the boats and the group of gnorcs gathered on the coast. “We’ve been surviving off scraps throughout-“
Nestor interrupted the gnorc. “Enough! If your situation was as dire as you describe, you could have come to us peacefully for help. Instead, you march up with war ships and soldiers, causing chaos in my lands, and yell in my face. Begone! I do not wish to harm you, but if you insist on hostility, I will defend my people!”
Shocked gasps and fearful whispers spread amongst the artisans. Spyro’s eyes widened. He’d never truly seen Nestor angry before, and here the keeper was, threatening the gnorc chieftain with violence! The artisans were no fighters – Heck, Spyro had seen some of his neighbors defeated by trying to move their own equipment! Did Nestor actually stand a chance against the seemingly well-trained gnorc?
“Lindar, no!”
Devlin’s desperate whisper caught Spyro’s attention. As he turned his head, he noticed a familiar blue figure pushing his way towards the front, eliciting some cries from the other dragons as Lindar elbowed his way through. Spyro took a step back, and moved to stand a little closer to Devlin – He wasn’t scared, like, at all. But like, maybe Devlin was? So Spyro stood protectively near him.
“Are you threatening me, dragon?” Gnasty Gnorc took a step forward, getting within inches of Nestor’s face. It was getting difficult to properly see the keeper’s expression from his spot, but Spyro could tell Nestor was getting dangerously close to losing his temper.
“Final warning, Gnorc. Take your men and leave these shores, now.”
Gnasty’s lips pulled back in a snarl, revealing a set of crooked, ugly teeth. He lifted his free hand and jabbed a finger into Nestor’s chest, opening his mouth to say something, but-
“Now, now, gentlemen and gnorcs, let’s try to keep the pretense of civility!”
All eyes were now on Lindar, as the chuckling clockmaker made it to Delbin, who held and arm out to stop him. It didn’t stop the blue dragon however, who continued. "Look, hundreds of years have passed, and both our ancestors are long gone - Yours more so than ours, but y'know." The last part was coughed into his hand, but Spyro could hear several small gasps of shock from the dragons and see the anger rise in the gnorcs' eyes. He felt a lump build in his throat.
Nestor growled lightly under his breath as he glared at Lindar. The clockmaker hadn’t known how to keep his yap shut since he learned to speak, and now was neither the time or the place... But just as Nestor opened his mouth to send Lindar away, he sensed something behind him.
Lindar kept going, despite several attempts at shushing him, and Delbin trying to push him back. “We can find a more... Intelligent way of settling this than fighting. I know it might be new to you, but hey. Live and learn, right?” Lindar gave Gnasty a smarmy smile. It was not returned.
Nestor turned in time to see the mighty battle hammer in Gnasty’s left hand glow ever so slightly... He felt his wings tense and his frills stand on end as he noticed the magical energy gathering around them, getting thicker as the seconds passed by. Gnasty’s dark eyes were getting a light green glow to them.
“I mean, really, you can’t expect us to just move out, we’ve lived here for a millennium.” Lindar was all but being carried away by Delbin. The stronger red dragon looked visibly frustrated, struggling to get the taller one to back off. But the laughing clockmaker continued relentlessly. “Besides, haven’t you already settled in well where you are now? Why would you want to move roots anyway, that seems like a waste of-“
Nestor felt his heart leap as some of the nearby gnorcs suddenly reached into their pouches and threw a variety of fabrics, dusts, and herbs towards the leaders standing in the middle. Gnasty’s hammer glowed brightly.
“Lindar, for the love of the ancestors, shut your-“
Gnasty drew a deep breath, then threw his arm forward, pointing the hammer directly at Lindar’s face with a gluttural roar. A blinding ray of green light blew out, narrowly missing Nestor and Delbin, and struck the clockmaker right between the eyes. When Nestor could see again, Lindar was gone and in his place stood a green crystal statue, shaped similarly to their ancestors’ quadruped form.
There were a few moments of silence, but Nestor could’ve sworn they were eternities... Every dragon and gnorc stared at the statue that was once Lindar, mouths agape and eyes wide. Then Gnasty turned his hammer and pointed it at Nestor. It flashed again before the keeper could recover from his shock.
All hell broke loose. Dragons, young and old, screamed and scattered, all trying to avoid the sphere of green light gathering around the gnorc chieftain and the second green statue. Rays of green light spread out and struck the dragons at random, turning them to crystal one by one. Spyro screamed as Devlin threw his arm over a dragonling and was struck. The small purple dragon leapt forward towards his petrified father, but Sparx flew in front of him and rammed into his head. “Run!”
And Spyro ran. He had no choice. The gnorcs were leaping from their positions, running past the statues, and chasing down the panic-stricken dragonlings. Spyro saw Melba get caught and being dragged back towards the ships. He could hear Lloyd cry out in fear somewhere behind him. A few second- and third-agers were pushing past the other dragonlings, knocking several of them over and leaving them behind. Sparx blinked several times in front of his eyes, and Spyro let instinct take the wheel and followed. The duo zigzagged between statues and dragonlings and gnorcs as the sphere of green light grew rapidly, engulfing and petrifying the fleeing dragons one by one. Spyro heard Gnasty’s voice behind them.
“Get every last statue and dragonling to the ship! Leave none behind!”
In the midst of the chaos, Sparx managed to notice a small cave in the rock face. Spyro was strong and fast, but there were simply too many gnorcs to keep running. The dragonfly changed direction, and he and his dragonling companion dove behind the boulders.
Spyro panted for breath as he stared into the green fields of his home. Screams and cries for help or of anger felt the air, and dragonlings of all ages were running for their lives as the gnorcs hunted them down. Spyro could see no more adult dragons anywhere, and realized the green sphere had passed over them.
He looked back towards the statues near the beach, and saw them being hauled onto the waiting ships by strong-looking gnorcs. Gnasty was climbing up a ladder on the side of the ship he had come from.
The small dragonling’s eyes skipped between each statue. Where was his dad? Where was Lindar, or Nestor?
... He couldn’t tell them apart. They were completely identical. Spyro’s vision started swimming.
The last thing he saw before blacking out was a dragonling, tied up and still, being thrown aboard a smaller boat.