The general assembled his troops, now was the perfect time for an assault against the dread dragon of Somberland. Two full decades has past since the scaly green reptile had descended upon their peaceful village and demanded they pay him tribute else he’d lay their homes to waste. Tribute was paid in the form of a healthy portion of the crops they raised, and occasionally one or two of the rotund citizens would be required to act as sacrifice.
They had enjoyed the times before the dragon, when their lives were as simple farmers living in peace with nature. Just a small village of happy Gerbil folk working, playing, living their lives unbothered by the surrounding world.
It was just after the harvest festival when the dragon came. The festival day had been a riotous event: food, dancing, games. The ladies wore such pretty corn-silk made dresses, the men in nice suits. Children played games like tag and hide-n-seek.
Then the dragon came. He was much bigger than they, with a green-scaled body and wings. He brandished sharp teeth and claws as he took over the meadow and ate the remnants of their feast.
The dragon had sent the Gerbils running in fear. Finally, the Gerbil’s leader, one elder Ferbil, approached the dragon to learn the extent of his intentions. His intent was to rule them
The fearful Gerbils with food and sacrifice and no noise catered to the dragon’s demands while the dragon slept.
Hector was tired of living under the dragon’s oppression. He spoke of revolt; his words were met with healthy skepticism by most Gerbil folk.
Some, though, about 10, decided they would try. Hector was declared General of the first Gerbil army. They began stockpiling weapons such as spears, axes, swords, for the big assault.
His plan was called “Operation Suicide Race,” by the gerbils that thought he was silly.
Tonight was the night; General Hector thought his troops were ready, though he really wished he had more. He gave them a big speech, and worked his followers up; they truly believed they could take on the big monster.
Their plan was to attack while the dragon slept. Gauge out his eyes, chop away at his scales, hopefully penetrate his heart and kill the beast.
General Hector screamed, “Charge,” and they stormed forward with the full fury of twitter-patted gerbils and threw themselves lemming-like at their scaly foe. The sleeping dragon opened its mouth in a great yawn, Hector lead his men inside the mouth, hoping to work their damage internally.
They skid on the messy wetness inside and slid down the gullet and into the tummy. Their suicide race was over as the dragon let out a burp.