The knight raised his Trog-Sword to the heavens as lightning forked though the sky. Now was the time. Years of training, blood, sweat and tears led to this moment. The knight's horse shifted nervously and wondered why he was here. He could be sleeping in the stable but nooo. His owner had dragged him up here to battle the Burninator, which was an obviously futile task. The horse blinked in sudden confusion. How did he get up the treacherous vertical cliff anyway?

He pondered on how he could have possibly defied the laws of gravity and physics to get to the top. The knight suddenly urged his horse into a mad gallop toward the entrance of the gaping cave. He uttered a battle cry.

"Will thou face me thy evil-doer of evil?" he cried out in his knightish dialect. The voice carried into the heart of the cave where Trogdor was in a deep slumber. The sound of the knight's voice was like a fly buzzing around someone's ear. The Wingalinged One stirred out of his sleep. A great midnight black eye opened...then another.

"Knights..." he mumbled shaking off his sleepiness. "Archers...Peasants...they're all the same." He stood up which was a very awe-inspiring thing to see. Or just a terror inspiring thing to see. His footsteps rang over the valley as he headed toward the entrance of the cave. The great green head turned lazily downward to see a speck that was a knight on his horse.

It would be fun frying them to a crisp. At least it wasn't a total lost. Trogdor didn't eat his victims. He was allergic to humans, so he became a vegetarian.

"What do you want mortal?" he grumbled, his mighty voice rolling over the countryside. The irrational knight's reply sounded like a squeak.

"I have come in the name of the Peasant Kingdom of Peasantry! I shall smote thee with thine Trog-Sword! Then thou pestilence shalt not reign upon thy land! Thee that made thy land tremble with thine burnination, thou shalt be fallen at mine own hand..."

Trogdor rubbed his now aching head angrily. All the thous and thys where making his head hurt. He usually allowed his challengers to say their piece but he made an exception with knights. He settled his beefy arm into a more comfortable position. This should be entertaining.

"Tell me knight," he began cutting off the knight's ramblings. 'Why do always talk about HOW you're going to kill me instead of actually DOING it?"

Before the knight could answer Trogdor took a deep breath; and in an instant the knight and his trusty steed where lain to burnination.

"Nice talking to ya." Trogdor mumbled before retreating back into his lair. He picked up a stick and made another tally for that week.

Knights: 34

Archers: 67

Peasants: 137

Then he sighed, sending out enough fire to burn down a whole forest. These challengers where beginning to bore him. And when he's bored we're talking some major destruction here. Each one was the same as the last one. Shouting their lives story at him then getting burninated. Rather Dashing had been the one who had gotten the furthest. But he ended up like so many of the other ones. Foolish peasant. He wasn't a second thought. Trogdor glanced out to the pitiful city of Peasantry.

Wasn't there anyone who could prove themselves as a worthy opponent? Otherwise he would heat things up around here. Really heat things up.

A/N- Yeah, so I decided to stop drooling over everyone else's HSR fanfics and actually make my own! (crowd gasps in horror) Puh-lease review!!