Gathering Clouds (Themosticles)

[Angmor]

Sierthra was bored.
Now, this wouldn't normally be much cause for concern for anyone who happened to be around her; she was quite often bored. But on this particular nippy winter night, she was bored and excited, which was never a good combination. She could feel herself shaking slightly, a small involuntary twitch to her claws and tail. She couldn't help it. There was excitement everywhere; she could taste it in the air like the energy of a gathering thunderstorm. Ever since she and Kyemen had arrived in Cithri after that... strange scouting mission in Feinster, the tension had been mounting noticeably with each passing hour. As the men gathered in and around the city as the army began staging for its march to the large imperial city, Kyemen had of course been largely absent for debriefings and endless strategy meetings with the Varden leadership. And Aviand's presence didn't help. Sierthra had managed to studiously avoid him ever since the younger dragon had confessed his love for her those months ago, and whatever short interactions they had were always swift and cordial. But even now, despite the tailspin of confusion that constantly enveloped her at even the thought of him, she would have been glad of his company right now. Anything to help bleed off this tension that was winding her tight enough to kill something.

Currently, she was on the roof of the large building adjacent to the inn that Nasuada and the other Varden leaders had taken as a command post. Kyemen had taken the wide slate rooftop as his quarters, preferring not to be separated from his dragon by the confines of a room. At the moment though, he was of little help, simply going about checking his armor and weapons in that inscrutable, irritating calm of his. It was all laid in a semicircle around his sitting form; His set of thin metal scales, his relatively small stick-thrower and bundle of pointy feathersticks, and various metal throwing-teeth. At the moment, he was polishing the single, double-edged steel claw that was his pride and joy, that she had so many time shared the joy of swinging in complicated, she sometimes thought overcomplicated patterns of defense and attack. He was staring intently into the black-red surface of the blade as he swiped over it with an oiled cloth, as if he could speed time simply by concentrating hard enough.
You're looking at me like I'm a haunch of meat, Sierthra. Should I be nervous?

[/Color] He said, without looking up.
She looked away sheepishly. No, sorry.[/Color]
Kyemen finally lifted his gaze from his work, letting the swishing sound of his cloth drop to silence. Why are you so nervous? Anything you want to talk about?[/Color]
No, I'm not so much nervous as... ready. I am completely ready to be let loose, but... Now there's all this waiting. I'm ready to kill something, but there's nothing here to kill.[/Color] From their elevated position, she could make out the watchfires of the growing army camped on the plain glowing in the twilight gloom, hundreds and hundreds of them. The chilly air was filled with the softest sound of marching feet, and clattering of distant smith's hammers. She felt Kyemen rubbing her scales, just where her neck met her body. It was getting harder for him to reach these days, she thought with satisfaction.
You like to be doing things Sierthra. And you are right, the worst part of a battle is always before, and after. I guess I just have more problems with the after.[/Color]
Yes, that was true. Afterward was when all of Kyemen's nagging doubts would set in, while she simply wondered when the time would come to do it again.
Come on, I have something for you to do.[/Color] With that, her Rider strode to the edge of the roof, calculating for the jump like a cat. Three stories was little obstacle to an elf, and he disappeared over the edge with a flutter of his cloak. Curious, Sierthra followed.

. . .

He led her to the outskirts of the town, to one of the hundreds of supply wagons on the edge of the Varden camp, explaining as they went.
The dwarven smithies have been busy since our last visit to Farthen Dur. You remember, them asking for all of those measurements?[/Color] Sierthra did remember. She had wondered what they were up to, climbing all over her with those segmented ropes...
Well, they've finished. I rather think you're going to like this...[/Color]
Kyemen leapt into the back of the wagon, throwing off the canvas tarp that had concealed the shapeless bundle in the bed of the cart. Metal glinted in the fading light.
Sierthra felt a stirring of excitement.
Is that what I think is...[/Color]
Kyemen grinned broadly, holding up a rounded triangular object of burnished black metal, pierced with unmistakable slitted eyeholes. Aye. The dwarves have made you some dragon armor. They didn't have the full set finished, they just have the head neck and tail sections. But still, it should help some.[/Color]
Sierthra felt her lips curling in her feral predator smile. But then a thought occurred to her.
It looks awfully heavy. Will is slow me down any when I fly?[/Color]
Kyemen grinned again.
"Well there's only one way to find out..."

After much pushing and pulling and scrambling, and the occasional muttered spell on Kyemen's part, he at last finished setting the last plated section of her second-scales in place.
How does it feel?[/Color] Kyemen asked, stepping back to view his handiwork. She flexed her jaws and talons experimentally, craning her neck to try to look down her length. With some difficulty, finding the length of her neck covered segmented plates, running down to her body. Her tail also was covered with metal, culminating in a fearsome bladed flail.
It feels strange. It's tight on some parts, loose on others... No, it's not very comfortable.[/Color]
Well, you'll thank me when the ballista bolts start flying. At the very least, it should save a few bruises. How about giving flying a try?[/Color]

Not needing to be told twice, Sierthra unfolded her enormous wings and leapt into the air, sending cloth and debris scattering with the downdraft.
With the extra weight of the second-scales, it was harder to gain altitude than it usually was, but not as much as she thought it would be. She hovered above the city, getting a feel for which parts weighed more than others, what would drag and what would not.
Well, go on, give it a try! One lap around the town, that should take you a good three minutes.[/Color]
If there was one thing that Kyemen knew very well about Sierthra, it was that she could never resist a challenge.
Two minutes.[/Color] She shot back. Without another second of delay, she leapt forward in the air and sped toward the edge of the city, the rushing winter air feeling refreshingly crisp under her wings.

As she peered through the holes in the metal-head at the city landscape rushing beneath her, she couldn't help but smile broadly. She had to admit, putting the second-scales through its paces was certainly help her bleed off the stress. From up here, the air did not seem to feel so tight. As she passed low over a large street, a column of marching soldiers stopped to cheer at the sight of her. Unable to resist a little showing off, she climbed higher over them, winging around into a steep dive straight at them. She watched with glee as she could see their human smiles turn to frowns of wonder, then looks of terror as she began larger and larger in their sight. At the very last moment when she would have descended below the level of the surrounding rooftops she extended her wings, swooping just over the cringing soldier's heads at the last second.

She chuckled to herself as she swept away, the relieved laughter of the men fading behind her. At least those men could take a joke. The last time she had tried that, it had been a stream of colorful language that asserted that she had several strange deer-animals in her ancestry. She would lose time getting back to Kyemen with that little stunt, but she was still confident that she could make it...
A silver glint caught the corner of her eye, drawing her gaze. With a pang of dread, she realized it had originated in a gray shape hovering in the air about two miles ahead. A very familiar shape. The shape of a young male dragon.
Aviand.[/Color]
Without time to even think about how ridiculous she was being, she looked for a likely hiding place where she could land. She found it in the form of a large street below her, wide enough to accommodate her form. Fearing that Aviand had already seen her, she winged over, tucked in, and dropped.

There were several things she forgot to take into account. First, the unfamiliar weight of the second-scales made her descent much faster than it should have been. Second, as she unfolded her wings slight to correct the problem, she forgot that humans actually liked to use these streets to, of all things, walk on. At last she came down in a much more ungainly landing then was usual, skidding to a halt in the center of the street. There was a crash and several cries from the people all around her now, and she realized with a pang that she had bowled several over with her wings as she came down.
Whoops...[/Color]
Luckily, no one seemed to be hurt, but now everyone was looking at her with fear on their faces, silent, unmoving, unsure what to do about this apparition of terror that had just dropped into their midst. She wanted to reach out into their minds, to talk to an reassure them, but she suspected that a sudden voice in their heads that seemed to belong to this deadly animal that just accosted them would probably have just the opposite effect. In desperation, she reached out to her Rider.
Umm, Kyemen...[/Color][/size][/blockquote]

[Themistocles]

Alcarin slowly walked through the excited crowd, being careful to keep his face covered with his dark hood. But, as Alcarin walked though the crowd, which was solely focused on the dragon, Sierthra, he held a loaded bow under his cloak. The dragon was unwary. As he reached a small clearing in the crowd, Alcarin took aim, and fired. The arrow zoomed past Kyemen's brow and harmlessly struck the window of a nearby house. There were sudden screams of the people, rushes to escape, the panicking crowd led to a scene of immense trepidation.

Alcarin, who had hoped that one accurate shot could take out the rider, realized how incredibly outmatched he was in this conflict. So, he looked for an escape route through the fearful crowd of bystanders. The only possible spot was a very small, dark alley that, if followed, led to a tavern. The screaming of the crowd gave Alcarin a chance to escape the dragon's fiery wrath.

Alcarin, who at this point remained hidden behind a barrel on the side of the road, noticed a large banner overhanging the alley. So, he fired a shot at one of the ropes supporting the large, burgundy banner, and struck it. The banner now only held by one rope, and it covered the alley, so the dragon would not spot him once he left the crowd.

Finally, he fled the street and ran down the dark alley. Alcarin saw no one around, and wondered if this alley would be a dead end. Eventually he came upon the tavern and walked in. Very few people were in the tavern, and only one man sat at the bar, calmy enjoying a drink. Alcarin walked up to the bar and ordered one ale, and sat down at a stool. He drank the ale slowly, trying to savor every sip. Alcarin felt moderately satisfied, even though he hadn't taken down his opponent, his survival seemed to be an immense success. Alcarin looked out a small, circular window in the wall of the tavern, he wondered if Kyemen and Sierthra had given chase to him...

[Angmor]

Kyemen shook his head in consternation as he rounded the corner onto the street to which Sierthra had directed him. Luckily for him she hadn’t flown very far, and he arrived within minutes. All the same, something didn’t quite add up about her explanation for the whole thing though. He highly doubted that she just had ‘crashed’. In all the time she had been alive, she had never ‘crashed’. She had the occasional hard landing, but never anywhere that she didn’t want to be in the first place. Yes, Kyemen was sure she was hiding something, but he decided to confront her about it after he had settled the anxious crowd.

At last, he spotted Sierthra’s armored form further down the street, crouching guiltily at the center of a ring of onlookers. Although a dragon’s physical expressions were very hard to read for an outsider, Kyemen could tell that as she sensed his approach she was considerably relieved.
Oh, finally! What kept you? These people are still wondering if it’s safe to run.

[/Color]
Kyemen couldn’t help but smile at the genuine distress in her thoughts. He couldn’t remember at time when she was this flustered before. Well, I could let you sit there for a bit and sweat it out...[/Color]
You wouldn’t.[/Color]
You’re right. But still, it’s fun to fantasize...[/Color]
As he drew closer, Kyemen could see that the crowd consisted entirely of townsfolk, without a soldier in sight. This would be interesting, then. He hadn’t dealt with civilians in months, not since his last session of training in Du Weldenvarden. All the same, it shouldn’t be that hard. He just had to convince them that Sierthra wasn’t a homicidal creature of malice and then be on his way. But then, why did he feel so uneasy?
There was a strange sense of threat that only seemed to grow as he stepped closer to Sierthra. What could be giving him the feeling? He couldn’t just pass it of as nerves for the upcoming battle; he had far too much experience being hunted for that. These were the sorts of feelings that kept you alive. This was a strange one though, it was as if unease were pouring into his mind for outside…
He stopped dead in his tracks.
Of course, his mental perception. He was always scanning all around himself now, looking for just the malevolence he was feeling now. Malevolence toward him.
At that precise moment, a sudden movement brought his eye to a gap in the crowd, a chill of adrenaline blurring the next second into infinity.

A hooded figure…
A taut bow…
A sudden flash of malice, of intent to hurt, to kill…

Driven on pure instinct, Kyemen pivoted out of the way just as the arrow sped toward him, avoiding it by inches. He watched the deadly shaft drive itself half its length into the splintering glass of a house window, rather neatly illustrating what would have happened to his skull had the shot found its mark.

Of course, the sudden attack did nothing to help the mood of the crowd. A scream rang out from somewhere, and immediately people were running everywhere, jostling and pushing each other to be somewhere else as quickly possible. Kyemen tried to keep track of the would-be assassin through the sudden crush of bodies, but he found he could not do so at the same time as keeping his balance.
Sierthra, track him![/Color]
Somewhere to his left, Kyemen felt the distinctive rush of wind that heralded Sierthra taking off, and he briefly sent her the image of what he had seen of the assassin. It wasn’t much, but it might help her…
I see him! He’s running east, about a four hundred feet of you- oh, lost him. Hold on…[/Color]
It was all the direction Kyemen needed. Gathering all the strength in his legs, Kyemen jumped.

The leap carried him over the heads of most of the crowd. He landed in a crouch in the midst of a startled group of outliers, who had apparently never seen an elf in action before. Kyemen quickly pushed his way through them, heading the direction that Sierthra had indicated.
There. He ran up that alleyway.[/Color]
It was easy enough to spot. By accident or design, a large red banner had fallen across the entrance. Without slowing down, he reached for the magic, raising his right hand. “Reisa!”
With the spell, the banner rose obligingly, allowing him a way under. Slowing his pace cautiously, Kyemen drew his twin knives and advanced into the alleyway. For all he knew, the assassin wanted to be followed, luring him in for a second assault. Just then Sierthra’s shadow swept over him, reminding him that he was hardly defenseless in this.
I’ll watch your back from up here. Be careful.
Huh. No need to tell me twice, believe me.[/Color]

It would of course have gotten dark.
The change had come so gradually that he didn’t notice, but it was now fully night. With the buildings on either side blocking out most of the light, it was hard to see very far ahead, which ratcheted Kyemen’s anxiety a few notches higher. He briefly entertained the thought of conjuring a werelight to aid him, but he decided against it. If the assassin was indeed waiting for him, then a disembodied light floating above his head would be something like strapping a board to his face with shoot me here scrawled on it in brightly colored runes.

At that moment, the alley split in half. One course led away to the right, the other continued straight ahead. Breathing a sigh of frustration, Kyemen crouched carefully, studying the ground for tracks or disturbances in the dust of the alley. Naturally, there were none.
I’ll take the right.[/Color] Sierthra said as she swept over him again, deviating her circle slightly to follow the track.
Alright, but be careful. He said, straightening carefully. This may be just what he wants.[/Color]
But, he admitted to himself, there wasn’t much of a choice. They couldn’t have this assassin wandering around the city at the eave of a deployment. Only the gods knew what kind of damage he could do. Assuming a guard with his knives, he advanced down the alley, scanning the shadows for his enemy.

He didn’t see the end until he just about bumped into it. The passage came to an abrupt halt a few feet ahead, a stone wall broken only by a sturdy wooden door, flecked with peeling red paint. In the gathering dark, it almost looked like blood…
He shook his head, gathering his focus for a mental probe of the building beyond. As the tendrils of his perception slid past the planking of the door, he could immediately tell there where nine people inside, two on the second floor, seven on the first- There. As his mind brushed over that of the seventh occupant, it immediately sensed his presence and sealed itself with the solidarity of an iron box, just daring him to try and break in. Kyemen quickly drew back into his own head. Alright, so he probably knew where the assassin was. The only trouble was, what to do about it? He had no idea what manner of building this was, and for all he knew the other people inside where also in league, waiting to jump on him the moment he stepped inside.
Deciding that it had been too long since he had had some exercise, he sheathed one of his knives and stepped inside.

Nothing jumped on him, and nothing shot anything. Kyemen was faced with a narrow hall, paneled with dusty wooden planks. He blew out his breath in amusement.
A tavern. Of course.[/Color]
Smiling to himself, he formulated a quick plan. Working quickly, he sheathed his remaining knife on his back and crouched next to the door he had just come through, chanting under his breath in the ancient language as he wove a spell of closing. He was finished a moment later. He was satisfied that the assassin would not be coming back through here without first taking a few minutes to dismantle the spell, and Kyemen did not attempt to give him those minutes. Then, stopping only to mutter a quick spell that hid his elven ears, he squared his shoulders and marched into the common room like he owned the place.

He took in the scene at a glance. There were several people seated around the various tables, all nursing their beakers and conversing in muted tones. A few eyes looked to him, but none took any particular interest in him. As he approached the bar, he saw that there were two men seated there. One looked to be a merchant of businessman from town…
The other was cloaked and hooded, with a bow and quiver strapped to his back.
Although he couldn’t see the face under the shadow of the hood, Kyemen saw the figure stiffen as he grew closer, a hand reaching under his cloak… Kyemen abruptly swerved, coming to as stop at the end of the bar and leaning against it, motioning for the barkeep. By then, Sierthra had picked up on what was happening, observing through his eyes.
Kyemen, what are you doing?
He wants to kill me. I figure it’s the least I can do to give him a fair chance. Besides, I can’t attack him with all these people here.[/Color]
As he spoke to her with his mind, his mouth was ordering a light ale from the portly bartender. Conversing out loud while talking with Sierthra was a newly acquired skill that he had been practicing, and he was vaguely pleased with his progress as the beaker was drawn and brought to him. Kyemen thanked the man and paid, getting up and heading for one of the deserted tables closest to the assassin, who he was aware was watching him closely. At last, he sat down, presenting his back tantalizingly to the assassin, outwardly at ease. He could almost feel the disbelief emanating from the man, or at least until he realized it was coming from his dragon.
I hope you know what you’re doing.[/Color]
Kyemen smiled, taking a sip of the ale. It was terrible.
So do I, Sierthra. But what’s the worst that can happen?[/Color]
[/size][/blockquote]

[Themistocles]

Alcarin still remained at the bar, drinking his ale as calmly as possible. He did not dare turn and look for risk of disclosing his intentions, should Kyemen not yet know who he was. Alcarin would have bolted for the door, but he assumed that some variety of spell had been cast on it. His mind began racing, thinking, hoping for some answer to present itself. Alcarin knew what to do.

What most people don't know about Alcarin is, under his cloak, he hides a large arsenal of knives, with which he is very accurate. So, as quietly as possible, he grabbed one and hurled it across the room to the booth his prey was sitting at. The knife struck Kyemen's glass of ale and shattered it, blasting glass and ale all around Kyemen, blinding him. Realizing that nothing else could be done at that moment, Alcarin noticed a large, wooden door at the back of the tavern, and bolted for it. Unsure as to whether Kyemen spotted him in the commotion or not, Alcarin continued through a back room that was filled with large, wooden barrels of ale. The room was dusty, causing him to cough continuously, but not loudly, which would surely reveal his escape route.

After scanning the room for a way out of the tavern, Alcarin noticed a door at the back of the left wall. He took it. The door knob was rusted, and at first it was a struggle to make it turn, but he succeeded, and opened the door.

Outside, Alcarin felt a cool breeze in the empty, moonlit street. He closed the door to the tavern and continued on his way. In his mind, Alcarin knew that he could not keep this game going, he could not continue to escape and again be caught by Kyemen. He had to end it, and soon.

Regardless, this escape had indeed been a marvelous success. Although, Alcarin still didn't know whether his route had been seen. Either way, deep in the confines of Alcarin's mind, he knew that he would soon find out.

[Angmor]

Sierthra waited on a nearby rooftop, clenching and unclenching one claw nervously as she watched the smaller building below. While she wouldn’t trade her form for the world, she did sometimes wish that Kyemen could somehow transform her into a human shape, or at least something that would be able to fit through those ridiculously small doorways of theirs, just so she could participate in these strange, covert games. He always had to make it so complicated…
A sudden spike of surprise from Kyemen stopped those thoughts dead, causing her wings to shoot open reflexively.
Kyemen? Are you alright?

[/Color] Even as she asked, she could sense that he was, but she wondered what could possibly have happened. And he wasn't sending her any images, so she had no way of knowing. As she watched, a single shadowy figure seemed to detatch itself from the deeper shadow of the building she was watching. While she couldn't make out any real details, but she knew enough of the movements of earth-borns to know that this particular one did not want to be followed wherever he was going.
I'm fine Sierthra. Just did something unexpected... Oh, damn, where did he go?
What exactly where you intending to happen?
Well, I'm not really sure what I was planning, now that I think about it...[/Color]
Disgusted, she took to the air without another word, blasting pieces of flotsam from the rooftop. Winging over to a parallel street to hide her from the sight of the figure, she began to follow at a safe height, her eyes never leaving the assassin.
Umm... Where are you going?
Where does it look like? I'm following him.
Without me?
Yes. You had your chance, but you had to go do something so stupid as to stagger the imagination with it. Now I'm taking over. Now be a good boy and go get the guards, if it suits your sense of adventure.[/Color]
Suitably chastened, Kyemen did the mental equivilent of raising his hands placatingly, scurrying off to do her bidding. Sierthra smiled, locking her eyes on the oblivious assassin.
It was her hunt now.[/blockquote][/size]

[Themistocles]

Alcarin walked through the dark shadows insouciantly, mainly to keep any unwanted eyes away from his presence. He heard no sounds in the still night, most windows in the town were either boarded up, or filled with nothing but lifeless shadows. He heard no nightlife, no laughter, but most importantly, no footsteps but his own. Alcarin looked up at the sky. He began to remember a portion of his short childhood, he remembered his mother tell him of a quote she once heard, "If you ever desire joy, if you ever desire a look at beauty, stare upwards at the sky." This certainly was true tonight. The full moon lit Alcarin's path as he walked nonchalantly through the warm nighttime air.

He heard a sound. Alcarin tried to stay calm, remembering that panic only destroys clear thoughts. He continued to listen, there it was again, only louder this time. Was it the flapping of wings, he couldn't tell, the pounding of his own heart overtook any chance of identifying the noise. Alcarin tried to hold his sanity, but too late, panic had set in. He took a break for the outer edge of town in the hopes of escaping in to the thick forests, but it appeared to be too far away. Alcarin thought of an idea, he picked up a rock and threw it as hard as possible at a window about one-hundred feet away. The rock soared through the air, and finally reached the glass, smashing it into miniscule pieces. Alcarin hoped that this would distract the dragon, in the hopes of making it to the edge of town.

All Alcarin heard was the flapping of Sierthra's wings, he did not dare look back to see how close they were, though. The forest grew near. Alcarin braced for the thick briars that surrounded the edge of the forest, preparing to take many cuts and bruises. The forest air felt cool against his sweating face, it soothed his racing mind. Alcarin saw a creek out in the distance, to cross it would diminish his scent and would make it challenging for Sierthra to track him. But he also noticed that the only path that led to the creek went over an open hill, it would be dangerous, but he had no choice. This was his only chance. Alcarin sprinted to the top of the hill, and heard the strong sound of wings, very close too. Alcarin had no time to sprint back into the low brush, only to stand, and hope that good fortune would strike. His frivolous plot may have just been cut short.

[Angmor]

Typical of most members of her race, Sierthra loved a good hunt. The test of skill between hunter and prey was her favorite game in all the world. And this assassin promised to make better sport than the average deer, partially because of his skill, but also because she liked prey so much better when he was aware of his station. Taking a deep breath of the chilly air, she decided that this night of apprehension had turned out to be rather stimulating after all.

At that moment, the assassin took a curve in the street he was running on and was lost to sight. The first maneuver in his evasion, she assumed. As she winged over to follow, her acute hearing picked out a sharp sound from his direction, one that made her imagine a sheet of human wall-crystal breaking. The second maneuver, perhaps. Climbing a wall and entering a window, perhaps? Choosing the building behind which the man had disappeared, she alighted as quietly as she could on the rooftop, snaking her head over the edge and peering down at the front wall.
Almost immediately in front of her snout, she found a small round hole in the wall-crystal, behind which she could clearly see a small rock resting on the floor of the room beyond. She felt a growl rising in her throat that she had fell for such a simple trick, but she held it down when her eyes fell the young woman, clutching a baby fearfully to her chest at the sight of the monster in her window. Scowling, Sierthra took off, vowing not to be outsmarted again.
The question now was, where did he go? He could have run quite a few places while she was gawking at the rock, so which would she search? With no other ideas, she resorted to the hunter’s most valued resource; thinking like the prey.
Well, if I was a single earthborn that just assaulted one of the most powerful beings in the world and failed, I think I would probably call it a night.

[/Color] Confident, she wheeled around and set course for the forest at the edge of the town.

It wasn’t far, and soon she found herself hovering over the dense bunch of trees that were Cithri’s northeast corner. She was sure that her assassin was in there somewhere, the only question was whether to go down and root him out, or just torch the whole thing. At that moment, a movement drew her eyes instantly two it. As soon as she focused, it resolved into a shapeless dark mass, darting across the open clearing on a hilltop.
Got you.[/Color]
Her trajectory was already perfect, so she decided that subtlety was not deserving for the person that had taken up this ludicrous plan against her rider. Opening her jaws, she unleashed a jet of jade-colored flame, bathing the hilltop in fire.[/size][/blockquote]

[Themistocles]

All Alcarin ever saw was a burst of light. He felt the heat of indescribable fire, burning the very skin on his bones. Alcarin's first instinct was to leap out of the way, but that was an impossibility. He had no time. The first thing to burn was his cloak, which went ablaze within seconds of Sierthra's fiery burst. Alcarin had only one chance to avoid certain death, stop the blasts of fire for just a few seconds, and flee.

Alcarin pulled one single arrow out of his quiver, and took aim. He fired the magnificently-hopeful shot at Sierthra's neck, hoping for the dragon to flinch. It worked.

He ran towards a thick brushpile, hoping to find shelter. Upon bursting into the weeds, Alcarin realized that he had ran into a thistle patch. The sharp thorns tore apart whatever was left of the cloak. Alcarin's face was completely numb, not even feeling the thistles jab into his face, more worried about the dragon behind him.

Upon reaching a small clearing on the other side of the thistle-patch, Alcarin instinctively looked over his shoulder, to confirm that Sierthra hadn't seen his escape. No sign of the dragon. Alcarin took a DEEP sigh of relief, finally escaping for at least a second. He continued marching through the clearing, until he noticed a thick forested area. As soon as he noticed this, he ran into the cover that it provided. Alcarin continued through the shadows of the forest until he walked into another clearing. Alcarin marched comfortably into the open area. There was no sign of Sierthra.

Alcarin finally felt safe, being as far away from Sierthra as possible. Out in the distance the sun was breaking the plane of the horizon. With a new day upon him, and a successful escape behind him, Alcarin looked forward to resting for a day or so. Hopefully Alcarin would be able to, unless of course Sierthra gave chase...

(Do whatever is necessary with this, if you have an idea to continue the plot, go ahead. Otherwise, we can call it a thread!)