• Chapter 2


    He stared down on the city with pity-filled eyes, and glanced again at the beast dragon terrorizing the town. And where was Gembrid when you actual wanted him around? Meddling in the affairs on the easterns.... The beast swung a giant, horridly disfigured arm toward a building and sent it flying into another building.
    "This is why I hate the city..." he said through terse lips. "So many ways to destroy it."
    Fowl liquid dripped from the beast's lips as it's (he? she?) crimson eyes met his. Oh... of course. It let out a roar that jiggled it's grotesquely thick neck, and it labored toward him.
    "Wonderful," he said, pulling out his spirit weapon. "Zo Zo..." he whispered to the blade and it flickered into life, emitting a light purple glow. It was shaped like a long, wide rapier, and if you looked closely, it was slightly transparent.
    He held it in front of him and once again cursed Gembrid as the creature's fowl stench reached his nose. It's body moved like gelatin over bone, and when it took a step it was as if it's entire body would slip off. He shuddered.
    Why had this Nightling chosen now to arrive? These type usually stayed in hiding underground. Or in their caves. They hardly came out in daylight. He gripped his blade with moderate force, and let his blood trickle down to the handle. Leaning in, he readied for the first strike, already calculating where it would land him.
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    Jonathan stared around himself in wonder. His skin sent glimmers over the rocks incasing him. He had been sure the dragon had meant to eat him. No--wait, Elandor, Elandor was about to eat him. It was a strange feeling, thinking of the dragon as a being, but that's just what it was. And it wasn't going to eat him, it had just wanted to talk to him. A few other possibilities had run through his mind--a spell, torture, revenge on the vampires, or even simply dropping him from an impossibly high elevation. Any one would have done just fine. But, no--it had only come to a small talk about the 'why?'. He felt a little uncomfortable with the encasement, but it would have been rude to punch through the wall, so he just sat and waited for the dragon to return; he had nothing but time to ponder the dragon's request.
    How funny. Elandor. Somehow he always forgot to think it's -- his name. He'd always thought dragons were mindless hunters. Mindless hunters with nothing on their minds but prey. Survival. To his surprise, the dr -- Elandor had been quite civil, articulate, and. . . kind. It disturbed him. He shivered.
    A war. He exhaled. Never before had he even thought over the possibility of a war. The easterns were so uncivilized. Why should he help them? He didn't like them. He didn't know them. And, as far as he knew, the hollow toothed and his kind were on sour terms. Resting only on an unstable truce. The Western werewolves were at ease with his kind. Why couldn't the moonlit and the hollow toothed act the same? A growl rumbled in his chest. And--if he would be so idiotic--what if he accepted? Would a message be sent to his people telling them their prince was okay? Not that he ever thought himself much of a prince. He couldn't even kill a moonlit. Did he want to help the hollow toothed? Did he want to risk the lives of his people? Did he even care? He arched an eyebrow at a purpleish-blue stone. Because he knew the answer to the last one.
    Of course he cared. His kind-heartedness wouldn't allow him to be creul. If the hollow toothed asked it, he would most likely concede. A hiss escaped his lips. Repulsive as the thought sounded, Elandor had made another request. The prince of the hollow toothed--a boy younger than he!--was being held captive. He was supposed to save and help the boy train. Looked like he would never get out of his stupid training mission. He sighed as the beat of wings interrupted his thoughts. The dr--Elandor had arrived. He had finally returned. Rising, he once again thought over the questions. Already knowing his answers.
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    Loan stared in shock at the scene he was part of. Lord Gembrid stood behind him, eyeing the Warden menacingly, and the Warden, who was by far the most frightening man Loan had ever met, was kneeling on the ground. Loan shivered.
    "I-I'm sorry, My Lord, I meant no disrespect," The warden stammered. The warden stammered? Loan shivered again. He felt no comfort in Gembrid's hand that now came to rest on his shoulder. Any man scarier than the warden didn't seem like good company. Even if he was a king. It was disturbing to see the efect he had on warden Jong, "But, sir, what are you doing? The boy... he is our pri--"
    "If you say prisoner I will rip your mouth from your face," He seemed pretty serious about it too. His snarl filled the room. He took a few deep breathes to calm himself, and continued. "You have no right to keep him here. I doubt he was even part of the war." He looked away, and even Loan could tell he was lying.
    "But..." All eyes in the room darted to Loan, and he shut up. It was enough that he'd caused this, he didn't want to say anything to make his position worse.
    "Well..." Said Gembrid, tightening his grip on Loan's shoulder, "we'll be off," And he jumped back, out of the cell and into the air, pulling Loan with him. He wondered idly while they flew where they were going. The Warden's protests grew quieter and quieter as they lept away. He shivered. Anywhere would be better than back there.
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    END - Chapter 2