After another grueling week of travel, Valarian and his cohort descended upon their final destination. As the dragon approached, its shadow fell across a tranquil mountain village nestled within a verdant valley. This serene hamlet was home to the catfolks, a reclusive and peaceful tribe known for their agility and keen senses. The village, constructed of wood and natural materials that blended seamlessly with the surrounding environment, exuded a calm that contrasted sharply with the group's tumultuous arrival.
The catfolks, curious and cautious, watched the skies with wide, alert eyes. Their feline instincts were unsettled by the sight of a dragon landing on a nearby mountain ridge—a place they recognized but seldom visited due to its sacred nature. Their initial confusion turned to alarm as they spotted the cloaked figures disembarking from the dragon. The realization that these strangers had landed near the hidden gate—an ancient and sacred site known only to a few—prompted swift action.
Despite their generally peaceful nature, the catfolks were not without means of defense. The village leaders quickly convened, calling forth the strongest among them to form a small defense team. Given the village's modest size and its inhabitants' typical aversion to conflict, this group was small but formidable, consisting of their swiftest and most capable warriors. They prepared for a half-day trek to the site, moving with the stealth and speed characteristic of their kind.
Meanwhile, Valarian and his followers found themselves in an ostensibly nondescript part of the mountainous landscape. A small river cascaded down the slopes, its clear waters tumbling over rocks and underbrush before pooling into a medium-sized lake that lay cradled by the surrounding hills. The natural beauty of the place was breathtaking, with lush greenery reflecting in the calm waters of the lake, which concealed more than it revealed.
Unknown to casual observers, beneath the tranquil surface of the lake was a submerged cave. The cave entrance, while invisible from above the waterline, became apparent only when one dived beneath the surface. There, embedded in the lake's bed, was a gate made of ancient stone, its presence a silent sentinel to secrets long kept from the outside world.
Valarian's group, armed with the knowledge of what lay hidden beneath the waters, made their way to the lakeside. They knew that the key to unlocking the gate—a special stone—was hidden somewhere along the river that fed into the lake. However, the exact location of this opening stone was not known to them, necessitating a thorough search.
The group split up, each member combing different sections of the riverbank. They dug through the soft soil, sifted through pebbles, and explored under roots and between crevices. The task was arduous and time-consuming, requiring patience and persistence as they meticulously searched for the stone that would grant them access to what lay beyond the submerged gate.
As the day wore on, Valarian and his group, immersed in their search for the opening stone, remained oblivious to the stealthy approach of the catfolk warriors. Positioned carefully behind cover, the catfolk observed the actions of the cloaked figures, assessing the threat before deciding on a course of action. They recognized the considerable power wielded by Valarian's team and understood the risks of direct confrontation. If they were to fall in battle here, their village would be left defenseless against any subsequent attacks.
From the shadows, the catfolks watched as Valarian's team methodically excavated the riverbank. Their keen eyes missed little, noting each movement and the dynamics within the group. It was then that Valarian sensed the presence of the hidden watchers. He casually remarked to his followers, "It's just a waste of time, they won't take action. It wouldn't be clever."
At this, one of his followers, a lizardman cloaked in dark fabrics, turned to Valarian with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Master, can I?" he asked, barely containing his eagerness.
Valarian, with a dismissive wave, responded, "You'll have to work it off."
Grinning widely, the lizardman replied, "Yes sir!" and leaped toward the direction of the catfolks with astonishing speed.
The catfolks, realizing they had been spotted and that one of the enemies was charging towards them, quickly took up defensive positions. But they were not prepared for the sheer ferocity and speed of the lizardman. Like a shadow, he darted past the frontline catfolk, his blade slicing through the air with lethal precision. The head of one catfolk warrior tumbled to the ground, severed cleanly.
A battle cry erupted from the catfolks as they charged en masse toward the lizardman, seeking to avenge their fallen comrade. However, their bravery was no match for the lizardman's prowess. He moved with a blur, dodging an onslaught of attacks effortlessly. With a counter-attack of devastating power, his sword cut through them as though they were mere butter, his strikes leaving a trail of carnage.
The fight was brutally short. The catfolks, overwhelmed by the lizardman's strength and speed, fell one by one. When the dust settled, the lizardman stood amidst the devastation, bodies without head, cut in half, all around him. His clothes splattered with the blood of his foes. Nonchalantly, he began to clean himself off as he walked back to his group.
Valarian, who had watched the skirmish with detached interest, called out to the lizardman as he approached, "Get to work. You stay up late for that."
"Aye, aye!" the lizardman responded with a salute, his tone light despite the grim scene he had just left behind.
The catfolks, those who had stayed back, watched in horror and realization. The power displayed by just one of Valarian's minions underscored the grave threat they faced. They would need to regroup and rethink their strategy, aware now more than ever of the dangerous capabilities of the intruders who sought the artifact hidden within their lands.