[center][b][u]Ambushed[/u][/b][/center]

Legendary. It was not a word to be taken lightly, especially in a world of Monster Hunters. Anything that could gain that title in a land where savage monsters could destroy kingdoms overnight would have to stand high above the rest of their brethren to be recognized as such. Legendary meant that the monster was a tyrant, ruling over all others with qualities that let it stand above the rest whether it be overwhelming power, keen intellect, frightening speed, or any combination of the above and even other qualities forgotten through the passage of time. In this case, the legend was all too real... and much closer than anyone would think. 

In this case, the Dragon was so dangerous and elusive that no one knew what it quite looked like until it struck- and then there were no survivors to relate relevant information back of that horrible encounter. The King of the Mountain had chosen to step down from its throne to investigate its territory, and had found many individuals. On some instinctual level, it found that the tiny and soft two-legs were dangerous somehow, despite lacking fangs, claws, or even toughened hides. Yet the feeling persisted, egging on the King to destroy the usurpers while they were unwary and fighting among themselves. It was a powerful beast, but quite intelligent too. It was also rather close to its goal, and taking down any threats before it could assume its true power would be ideal. Thus, the tyrant struck now rather than later, so as to kill two birds with one stone: destroy possible threats to growth and possible food for said growth.

A fell wind began wafting in from higher up on the mountain as the ruler performed its preemptive strike. Concentrated blasts of miasma rained down like hail, impacting the ground and turning the place into a field of darkness as the contagions contained within writhed maliciously in the form of dark vapors. From the skies dropped a dark form, looking almost wholly alien from anyone's expectations of what a dragon should be. It was long and catlike, lacking eyes as its face was adorned with black carapace. What looked like a fur cape billowed about its shoulders, tipped with great points. Said cape was casting purple pollen about with its every movement, choking the formerly fresh air with its malicious byproduct. Crashing into the ground with enough force to shake the area, the fur broke apart with a cracking sound to reveal itself as wings, with great claws that smashed the ground near it, taking up a lot of space in the now much more crowded battlefield as it roared a challenge to the kingslayers. And then all hell broke loose as it shot a salvo of enormous high speed balls of poison everywhere. 

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