He heard the noise come closer, the rhythmic pounding of excited footfalls. Feet thudding briskly against the floor with enthusiasm that only children could ever wish to harness.

“Grandpa! Grandpa” they yelled.

“Aye, aye. Calm down children. Your grandpa is too old and slow now to be going anywhere, you can be patient.” He chuckled and tousled the youngest’s hair. “What has gotten into you all to greet a common man like me with such a welcome fit for a king?”

The youngest and middle children, both boys and both in the spitting image of himself, (although he would never tell their mother that for fear that she would lock them in the basement rather then have them inherit his sense of adventure along with his looks) deferred to their older sister. Now a world weary 12 years old, she had seen almost all that there had to be seen in the world, at least in her brothers opinions. She would handle the talking.

“Mother says the blizzard is still too dangerous for us to play in,” she was trying to emulate the diplomats she would see during errands to the heart of the city, her posture was stiff and regal. “We were wondering if mayhap you could tell us a story to pass the time.”

Her attempts to seem aloof and uninterested were thwarted by her brothers, who at this point had been quiet for the longest period of time since they were born. “A story! A story!” They nearly climbed over each other in order to be the first to sit closest to their grandfather, “We want a story!” Their sister let out an exasperated breath and crossed her arms.

“Of course, of course!” He said with a laugh, “And what kind of story would you little goblins want from your dear old granddad?”

There was no hesitation, and they spoke in unison- “Dragons!”

“Dragons you say? Hmm.” He sat still, letting the gears in his brain push against each other until his memory was whirring along, “I have just the one.”

“Let me tell you about Ego Draconis.”

The sunlight glinted off their armor and turned them into a pair shining beacons riding across the land. As the two knights approached the imposing walls of the city, they pulled their horses short of the shadows. They wouldn’t admit it, but they both reveled in their regal imagery. Knights were kind of full of themselves like that.

“Oh damn it, this was the town you were talking about?” said the noble Hero Protagonist as he took off his helmet and began to put it in the leather pack draped across his horse. “If I would have known that I would have made us find somewhere else.”

His loyal sidekick, Stephenson, glanced over at him quizzically. “You saw the maps, Hero. How did you not know this was our destination?”

Protagonist reached back into his bag and pulled out a handful of worn papers, “You mean these maps? These are useless. They are blank parchment that give us no real hint where we have to go.” He kicked the sides of his horse and pointed it towards the gates. “I only carry them around for emergencies.”

Stephenson rolled his eyes at his compatriots crude humor. “What do you have against this town after all?”

Hero looked back with an eyebrow raised. He was happy he removed his helmet so Stephenson could see the brunt of his condescension. “Depending on numerous factors, it is sometimes a very silly place.”

Before he could elaborate, a voice boomed from directly in front of them at the closed gates, “Halt sir knights! What brings you to the town of Ego Draconis?”

Both knights were startled, they saw nobody in front of them. They both dismounted from their horses in a well rehearsed tandem and began to look around. Stephenson noticed the guard first and pointed Protagonist towards him.

“Er, excuse me guard,” said Stephenson, “Why are you standing way over there with your back to us?”

“What on earth are you talking about?” The leather armor clad guard spoke without turning around, “Do you rave? I am standing right in front of you.”

Another raised eyebrow, the two knights turned around… only to see the guard suddenly standing in front of them. They both let out a startled breath. “Lord and savior, how did you do that,” Stephenson asked.

The guard just stared at him, seemingly puzzled by the question. “Did what, sir knight?”

Stephenson looked like he wanted to ask more questions, but his partner held out his hand as a signal not to bother. “Stephenson my friend, as I said. Tis a strange place.”

He addressed the guard again, this time placing his arm across his chest and bowing in the customary fashion, “We have been sent at request of the king. Your town has requested our aid.”

The guard nodded awkwardly. “Oh of course, our leader, the Wizard, had mentioned this. Plus I can read your mind and knew that the minute I saw you. Come with me please.” He turned on his heel as the gates opened by themselves. He walked with stiff and over exaggerated movements. The knights followed him warily. Stephenson found it very jarring that the guard tacked on his ability to read minds so casually and in a way that had very little to do with anything at hand.

As they walked into the small town, the first thing that struck them as odd was how dated the architecture was. Everything in Ego Draconis seemed to be a few years behind of what they had grown accustomed to in the capital. It was at this point that Stephenson noticed the strange movements of the people inside the town’s walls. They walked with a stiff, deliberate motion. Even the people busying themselves with such important tasks as sawing wood or slapping mud against other mud did it in a very awkward way.

He was so busy contemplating these aesthetic oddities that he almost ran into the back of Protagonist. They had stopped in front of a large and odd looking building. It was obviously supposed to give them the idea that someone important resided within its four, or more, walls- it was hard to tell where the house ended and the rock face behind it started.

The guard knocked on the door. Actually, calling it knocking is a bit of an insult to what the guard actually did. It was a rhythmic and precise sound, almost musical and only loosely related to what most would call knocking. Stephenson raised a finger to comment but was interrupted as the door swung open. There was a whirlwind of movement that looked to be made up of fabric and beard.

“Yes, yes. What is it guard?” His eyes finally seemed to digest the business of the guard being closely accompanied by two knights, “Oh! The knights from the king! Not a second too soon! It is a pleasure to meet you, my name is Wizard. We have much to discuss! I can read your minds you know.”

At least, that is what the knights think they heard. He spoke in such a hurry it sounded more like every word was actually fastened to the ones before and after it.

“Well, er, that is what we are here for,” said Stephenson.

The wizard clapped his hands together, “There is a great evil threatening not only our town, but this entire world! The king has sent you to us to combat that evil!”

Stephenson was visibly excited, “Great, I’ve been looking forward to doing some vanquishing since we left.” His partner didn’t share his excitement, instead looking like someone who has a job that involves watching other shoes drop waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“But first (“Here we go,” muttered Hero) you will need to kill all the rats that infest this town and bring me three hundred rat tails for my potions!”

Hero raised his hand to his face and began to massage the bridge of his nose in the international sign of ‘you have got to be kidding me.’ “And, I’m just making assumptions here, after that we will probably need to rescue some farmers daughter before any of you give us any information on how to thwart the more important and incredibly evil enemy of the world who, as we speak, is probably doing something productively destructive?”

Wizard stared at Protagonist hard enough to set sheep on fire standing behind him. Not literally, because the town values the lives of its sheep and Not Even Doom Music could make flaming sheep humorous. “No, there are no kidnapped daughters in this town,” he said.

He paused for a few seconds, if the silence was too awkward for the guard he showed no notice of it, “Farmer Johnson is down in the valley and I hear a rumor goblins may have taken his wife,” said the guard. Wizard slammed the door with great authority.

Stephenson seemed particularly dumbfounded by the exchange, Hero swatted him on the back and the sound of metal on metal snapped him back to reality. “Well friend,” Hero said while drawing his sword, “I guess we are about to get very acquainted with this towns rats.” Stephenson tried to voice a complaint, but Hero was already bravely charging into battle.

Minutes turned to hours, hours into days, days into years, and years back into hours inexplicably. Both knights felt like they had been chopping up large rats for the majority of their adult lives. Their only breaks were to ask townspeople about where to find more rats, at which point they were asked to collect herbs, goblin hearts, and whether or not they could mediate a dispute between landowners. They weren’t very qualified in real estate law but they made their best shot at it, choosing the person who wanted to use his land as an orphanage as opposed to the person who wanted to extra land to kick kittens and babies. Each time they went back to the grind and began to slaughter more rats.

“You know, it just occurred to me that there is a better way to accomplish this,” said the generically bearded wizard with his comically generic blue robe, appearing apparently out of thin air.

Hero spoke through one of the largest yawns in recorded history, “Yeah? And what would that be?”

Almost on cue, a warm wind began to whip through the town. The knights armor grew dim as a shadow passed in front of the sun. Hero, Stephenson, and Wizard looked up towards the object and saw what it truly was. A dragon. An ass kicking, fire breathing dragon. It’s armor was tenfold shields, and it is possible that it’s teeth are swords. If one were too also hazard a guess as to what its claws, tail, wings, and breath were the answer would probably be spears, a thunderbolt, a hurricane, and death- in that particular order. It was truly the perfect being.

Stephenson yelled over the noise of the dragon’s flapping wings, “Where the hell did that come from?”

The wizard laughed, “Oh that? You have to fight it. I’m going to show you guys how to turn into one of them so you can fight dragons and do exciting things.”

Stephenson and Protagonist were slack jawed with surprise, before they could even react the wizard made a complicated gesture with his hands that vaguely resembled air quotes. Almost instantly the pair of knights were turned into enormous, ass kicking dragons. They launched themselves into the air, seemingly trying to reach the sun before they set out to take on the true enemy. And also maybe fight some gigantic flying fortresses and other interesting things.

“I guess the last 12 hours of excruciatingly tedious boredom are worth it now aren’t they!” Wizard shouted as loud as he could.

Neither of the heroes could answer. They were far too busy having fun being awesome dragons.

There was silence from the children. “Grandpa,” said the oldest. “I liked the one you told us last month with that witch lady and her dragon mom in it better.”

“Yeah,” exclaimed the youngest, “Even that one you told us about the island and the lizard people was better than that!”

Grandfather shrugged, “It wasn’t terrible at all. Probably about a 6 out of 10.”

The children were getting ready to riot when their mothers voice reached their ears, “The snow has stopped, if you want to go outside come put on a few layers of clothes!” In a flash they bounded back up the stairs, already forgetting stories of tacked on mind reading, strange visual problems, and hours of dullness. The grandfather was nonplussed, not every tale was going to be perfect. If someone just wanted to hear a story this was a fine one. As long as they could look past its weaknesses, and not compare it to other better stories he has told in the past, there was plenty of enjoyment to be found. Especially after you get to be a dragon.

Grandfather slapped his forehead. He had forgotten to tell the children one very important thing. He straightened his back, stood at the edge of the stairs, and called to the children before they got out the door, “The 360 version sucks though!”

• New Left 4 Dead 2 details emerge from the swamp
• Crysis 2 coming to Xbox 360, PS3 and PC
• Left 4 Dead Survival pack releases April 21
• Fallout 3 DLC releases January 27, patch out now
• Prey 2 Officially Announced
• Bioshock PC DRM “Scaled Back”