Violence Is Not the Answer... Is It? (Amator)

[Black Alchemyst]

The skies over the Kilanthro Mountains were clear, crisp and cold. A figure strode through the evergreen trees, silent as a ghost.

Sirushar exhaled. A white cloud exploded from his mouth and dissipated into the air. It was cold, but not cold enough to snow yet. The human-formed dragon prayed that it wouldn't snow before he got to this town he'd heard about. He'd hate to get stuck in these woods all night. There could be wild animals or bandits about.

He grinned wryly, his face shadowed by his hood. You're a Silverfang, he reminded himself, No mortal creature can give you cause to fear. He had spent too much time in his human form, too long learning to think like a human.

The man laid a hand on the hilt of his katana. Even as a human, you're stronger than most, he thought.

[Klezmer Gryphon]

The cold wasn't anything new to him. Having lived in the mountains for several millennia, he was no stranger to it. Still, cold punched him in the face as he walked out of his house that afternoon... And he punched right back. He wasn't going to let a little inclement weather get the better of him just because he was getting older.

With a sigh, Amator sat on his porch and watched the clouds roll. It wasn't even winter yet and it already felt like it was going to snow. Something just didn't feel right about the day...

[Black Alchemyst]

The man saw smoke over the trees, and began to hear the sounds of a village echoing in the distance. Finally, he thought. He should reach the town within the next two hours. Suddenly, his pointed ears perked up. Movement in the trees. He heard twigs snap and the hand on his katana's hilt tightened.

Three humans appeared out of the brush in front of him, brandishing crude, rusty weapons. The dragon glanced behind him. Two more blocked his retreat. "What's this then?" The balding man with a squashed nose asked nobody in particular. Syr thought it was safe to assume he was the leader of the little band. "Greetings, traveller," Baldy said. "We be tax collectors in these parts, and that means you gotsta pay our toll, see?"

Sirushar grinned amiably. "My apologies, good sir," He said, flashing his fangs, "But I have no coin to give." He raised both arms to show that he was empty-handed. "I'm afraid I'll have to owe you."