The grizzled fighter looked up at his patron – a dragon who for all intents and purposes could order him to cut off his own left and he would do it – and pleaded, "Lord Drakmarr, is there no where else you could use me? Isn't there a force of Coalition Invaders coming this way?"
The ancient dragon looked down upon the human, the human who had already done so much for Drakmarr and his kin. "I am indeed sorry, young one, that I cannot put you in front of those holier then though Paladins, but the council needs you to do this task."
"Lord, I have never disagreed or whined about any of the tasks set before me, and I … I do not do so now, but…," the human sighed in resignation. "As the council demands … so shall I comply."
Drakmarr stretched his wings and nodded sagely, "That is the reason we choose you. You understand how important the Bondservants are to us. Without you, we could not thrive as we have done here."
The fighter nodded slowly, and started towards the cave entrance, the weight of the task slumping his shoulders. "Oh, and Bondsman," the great wyrm called, a hint of amusement in his low, growling voice. The fighter turned in hope.
"You should consider killing a few deer before heading to the roosts, the hatchlings get a little free-spirited when they are hungry."
The fighters hopes crushed, he unslung his bow and proceeded to the forest. "Maybe I could swing by one of the druids nearby and get some sleep potions made. I am not looking forward to watching over a mixed batch of hatchlings – babysitting, indeed." The servant sighed once again. "Another day under the Ancient Ones…"