Spirits of the Earth

Veraxitoc stood on his mountain. He had slept here for a couple of hundred years now. Now he could show this mountain range he was boss. Adelan Thunderblack's were smaller than him, not by much, but he was ancient. Most of these dragons were newborns to him. He remembered all his old rivals, as he observed the vast cloud layer. If Ornusjalil had survived, he would very much like to play a game or two with her. She was a nice dragon, but she was Connlaothian. Not a good match. She was roughly his size though. Maybe if he got bored, he would see if he could enkindle a friendship. They could make sure no war like that of which they witnessed occurred again. Innocent and good dragons had died in that war. His friends. They didn't get to sleep a few centuries. They had moved on. To some heavenly paradise, where the gazelle ran faster, the sheep more abundant and mate's readily available. He had seen them die painful deaths, of fire, and steel. They deserved a better afterlife.

A few hours passed, and he decided he was awake enough to roam the countryside. Perhaps meet the locals. He stretched his wings, and in a great bound, leapt off the top of the mountain. It felt good to fly again. The locals had flown by and given him a friendly or respectful roar. Some had blown a challenging fire, others had seen him and turned away. He would not be in amazing rapport with them, and he expected no great party in his return. The humans wouldn't be amazed to see him. He respected them, he found them a generally peaceful race, but they got irritating when they constantly panicked at the sight of winged scales. The locals had given Dragons a bad name. Maybe they needed to be taught how to behave. Silly teenagers, they have no idea how to behave anymore, they just run wild, burning villages and stealing the best sheep, he thought to himself. He glided around, until he saw a group of dragons, five, two fighting, three females watching. Hormone driven teenagers.

A minute later, he landed next to the two dragons. They both stopped, looking at him angrily. Then they pounced at him. In seconds, he overcame them, pinning them to the floor by their necks. "Enough! You call yourselves dragons?!" The girls, two a bright pink, brood sisters, and an odd yellow one, bunched around Veraxitoc's side. The yellow seemed to lead the other two around like some sort of princess.  More teenage dragons. Just what he needed. The females took interest in him, and this irritated him. They were too young as a first, he was an aged, ancient dragon. These girls lacked the class required to interact with him. "Show some more intelligence you stupid little boys. Grow up." Veraxitoc turned and left, careful to make sure the girls got a faceful of dust as he took off.

Half an hour of flying later he came across a small town, situated in a valley between two mountains. From here he could see Adela, and the Serha plains. He was at a trading pass. This town would have massive amounts of travel in it. Time to go and see how bad the reaction from the guards would be. He flew in at a high angle, with his wings outstretched. That used to be the sign of a friendly dragon, as visible as possible, landing at the edge of town. No fire, no circling, just a straight glide down, and a gentle coo as you descended to alert the townspeople of your presence. Bugger. He'd forgotten to coo. As he landed, he tried to remember the technique. What happened was a strange croaking sound. Great, now he looked like a sickly dragon. The townspeople would rush healers over to him if they remembered the signs. If not, he was gonna see lots of guards.

And that was exactly what he got. He wouldn't kill the guards. Just bolt the horses. He saw the guards approach him, and line up in formation. "State your business dragon." Had dragons really racked up that bad a reputation? Dragon see, dragon do. Dragons of this day must have grown up hearing of their parent's ferocity and violence, dragons who had lost parents to human weapons.  Now the rapport between dragons and humans was worse than ever. Great.

"I am a friend! I am not here to hurt you." He bowed his neck and opened his mouth. If they shot him, he could defend himself. If not, he would go in peace. Killing guards was not something he felt up to. One of them would likely land a shot in his eyes. And he didn't wanna be angry on his first day awake.

Trekking into the mountains and hills of Thunderblack had been the farthest this young fae had traveled.  Normally she was content to reside in her forest, but one day who knows how many weeks ago she had taken a look at the distant mountains and found herself being drawn in to the sense of exploration.  Despite this bold move into the mountains she travelled with nothing but her clothing for comfort, nature blessed the Fae with ease dealing with problems of survival.  When needing to disappear, even a young fae could do so at a whim.  Food was no issue either, being able to enchant the sap of trees to provide the same nutrients that a full meal of meat and vegetables would provide.  Truly her kind were built to live this hedonistic wanderer's path; living without care or responsibility. 

Truly this travel into the mountainous regions bore better fruit than she had first expected.  The fae Ash'elin had discovered that humans lived clumped up together; building shelters and entire communities together.  This was quite unlike full-blooded Fae, who lived in solidarity from one another unless they were called together for something that concerned them all.

At this moment Ash'elin had been observing the small town from afar, watching what she could of the daily interactions.  A part of her wished to watch from within the town, but even a fae knew that enclosed surroundings did not belong to their kind.  Not to mention the threat of cold iron always stood ready from Human settlements.

Luckily something much bigger would attract her attention as she saw a massive elder dragon land right outside the town, meeting the human inhabitants and yet strangely not attacking.  It was a curious thing to see something so big be willing to even acknowledge people so small.  She wanted a closer look but dared not come directly just yet.  At that point she had what she felt was a clever idea; however she wondered if dragons were immortal and thus capable of seeing through illusions.  Having never spoken or seen a dragon's bones before she wasn't sure what to believe.  Of course that would not stop her as Ash'elin harnessed her inner energies to create the illusion she had planned.  Within the forest she would suddenly create a massive white dragon with scales that had the same coloring as pearl.  She wasn't sure if dragons came in that color but frankly she didn't care, hubris and a desire to make the dragon similar to herself motivated its coloring.  The dragon itself was based off the real dragon before her since other than now she had only seen them flying in the air from afar.  It would have slight differences though, appearing more slender in shape to differentiate it from a male dragon.  She assumed the females were smaller than the males; it was how it was among the fae after all.  Having finished her illusion she would clear her throat and again using her glamour magic would release a powerful dragon's roar that would surely get the attention of the guards and dragon.
She released her illusion toward the town, having it crawl slowly all while looking at the male dragon.  Hiding in the bushes Ash'elin would watch to see how the two would interact.  Using her illusionary dragon like a puppet she would boom out a voice from her false dragon as she asked the question that most intrigued her.

"Why do you give time to creatures so much smaller to you?"

It was not likely that her ruse would fool the dragon, but it did not matter either way for she simply wanted to grab his attention while Ash'elin still hid in thickness of a tree. 

The guards had begun to calm down and the captain had spoken to him, curious as to why Veraxitoc was not plundering and pillaging. He explained that he came from the Dragon Rider war and had slept until this day. The guard spoke ill of the Thunderblack breed. He mentioned of their choice to wreak havoc on the towns, and thus were untrustworthy. A few minutes of general conversation ensued and it went peacefully. Except for the new dragon. He was oblivious until it roared and spoke. He studied the dragon intently. He was no immortal but he knew it was an illusion the wrong colors to be a Nightspinner, as they always came in black with vibrant highlights. This dragon was clearly female but incorrect in anatomy.

"Show yourself sorcerer! Learn your dragon breeds before creating an illusion which is so obvious. I do applaud your creativity in approaching me however. But I must ask that you do away with the illusion and show yourself. Before I burn you out of the forest." He did not wish to burn the forest down but he would not let a sorcerer terrorise this town. Not many dragons were silvery white. The few that did have white scales were frost dragons, or skytoppers, and he knew few other breeds that did. Nightspinners were exclusively black, and albinos came in a charming crimson. He had once had a teenage crush on a crimson nightspinner. But alas she had turned his offer down. Her loss.

Ash'elin could not hold back the irritation she felt when this dragon so easily saw through her illusion; despite knowing little about dragons she still felt annoyed that her creation was apparently easy enough for the creature to detect.  Defeated she would allow her illusion to poof into nothingness leaving silence where there once were the breaths of a false dragon.  This never occurred when she manipulated humans, of course it was easy to hide an illusion behind thick plates of armor or clothing when she wished to deceive their kind.  Nevertheless a Fae did not take being wrong lightly, and their grudges could make them be willing to even face a dragon face to face.  Gritting her teeth she conceded to the beasts threat as she popped her head out of one of the thick branches of the tree.  She would crawl down the tree as if she was walking horizontal, being able to stick to the tree and defy gravity.  Landing on the floor she would rush toward the massive dragon moving on all four like wolf, her long white hair flowing behind her as she moved with top speed.

She'd stop right in front of the dragon, a tiny creature half the size of any of the guards.  She looked like any of the children living in the town only pale white skin and hair-save for her eyebrows which were black.  She'd sit still with her feet and palms both touching the ground as she looked up at the being who as of now annoyed her so.  Twisting her palm she'd suddenly cause the ground around her to erupt into a pillar as it raised her up to eye level of the dragon.  Looking at him obviously mad she would stand up and say with her hands to her hips.

"I suppose you believe yourself to be very clever and strong don't you?  But by the Fair folk should you harm my forest with malice in your heart I can return the damage ten fold back to you!"

While fae were generally considered gentle, loving creatures, they were capable of being enraged. This fae had certainly tried to make a point by trying to frighten him. But he was experienced. Wrong move. Gently, he grabbed the fae, and with his other paw, knocked the pillar of earth down, then set the fae on the floor, and sat, positioned much like a dog, over the tiny little creature. He was not fond of challenges but he was also the guardian of these lands. He would not harm any that did not harm him or other inhabitants. He would simply keep repeating this move until she gave up. Or she lost her temper. Whichever came first. She was simply just trying to compensate for something. Maybe she felt threatened. Maybes she felt offended. He wasn't interested in either issue. As long as his task was not impeded he didn't care.

"No reason to be grumpy my dear fae. I wished no ofense, I was merely defending the innocent townspeople. Please forgive my threat to the forest, I merely wished to diffuse any conflict, even if that was by an elevated threat." He thought for a minute. She smelt like a Draconis resident, not native to this forest. Why had she ventured this far into the mountains? It was unlike fae to leave their resident homes. Especially alone. "Why do you cross from Draconis forest? That is, you smell strongly of Draconis, and I assume that is your home? And are you alone, or are you with a company?" He had made sure to set her down gently, but he didn't know what being picked up felt like. His mother and father had abandoned him before he hatched, and he grew up as a predator. He had never felt what being loved was. In some senses he felt he wanted to be, but he was to find love in his own species.

Although gentle in his actions, the dragons grasp would be to quick for even the agility of a fae to escape.  His grasp was simply too massive, even if she hadn't been caught off-guard most likely she would have barely reached the tips of his claws before he tightened his grasp.  Her tower of stone would come crashing down as well as she found herself safely on the floor without any harm done.  Through this whole encounter she never felt fear of dying, that dread seemed to only appear when facing foes wielding iron.  No for an ageless creature death seemed to be a difficult to grasp concept; Ash'elin herself had never even witnessed a fae dying from physical harm. 

Having been set back down to the floor she would take a gaze at the startled guards who had taken a good many steps back after all this elemental magic had occurred.  She'd note their spears, swords and other weapons; all made from cold iron-the slightest touch upon her skin being capable of causing magical burns as if set aflame.  It was true, despite her curiosity for these mortals she hated their weaponry and how it harmed her people so.  It was almost as if the world was set up to keep the fae separate from everyone else; after all it seemed every other race used iron in their daily life.  A more experienced fae who had lived a millennium or more may have put some philosophical thought to this; and realize the threat that came from these mortal kingdoms continuing to expand their world and reduce the forests where the fae lived.  Of course Ash'elin was not such a fae, by terms of years she was little more than a child in her society and to be frank she acted as such in her daily experience.

Her arms were crossed, partially from her settling temper and part from the worry that the iron clad guards brought.  Her fears would be distracted when the dragon spoke again, she'd look to him as the creature used its sliver tongue to settle the dispute between them.  Still when he mentioned the fact that he defended the townsfolk she would mutter in an audible tone.

"They seem well enough defended..."

She'd make a quick glance back at the guards to make sure they were still a safe distance.  She didn't want to suddenly be encircled by iron wielding guards and a dragon.

He would suddenly change the topic back to her as he accurately described her homeland and asked if she travelled alone.  Looking the dragon in the eye she would respond, "Yes I am from that forest and yes I am alone.  My reason for coming here is solely to see what it was like in the mountains that always stood in the distance of my home."

She would ask slightly suspicious "And why are you here?!  You claim you are here to defend these humans, but I do not see anything that endangers them."

"The guard force seems well defended, but in an ideal world, the one we should ALL, work towards, there shouldn't have to be a guard force." He twinged slightly as a frustrated heartburn attacked his chest. He turned his head to the rubble, and shielding the fae from the splash of fire, threw out a long breath of red hot tongues. As it finished he turned to the fae again, and involuntarily coughed out a pile of smoke. So he was ill, he just hadn't felt the symptoms yet. "I only did what I did because I believed you posed an inpersuadable threat. I will not allow necromancers and demons to plague these lands." He turned and coughed again, and this time bigger piece of soot came out. Had he been ill in his sleep, and the illness had taken hold in that time? After all, it was his first day awake. If he was majhorly ill, he would feel it for the next few days. Badly. He wondered what his affliction was. Magma cough? Sky flu? It could be any number of things. "Excuse the coughing, I appear to be ill. Nothing that you or humans can catch. We should be fine here captain, go back to your town. I'm sure a drunkard took advantage of the lack of guards to hurt someone." Dragons experienced weird symptoms when they fell ill. Grumpiness. Spitefullness. Sooty coughs. Throwing up chunks of magma.

Ash'elin would find herself once again being cupped by the dragon as he suddenly released a stream of fire that sounded forced.  Despite this he would release a lesser cough of soot that would burst a cloud leaving the fae layered in the black soot.  She pouted at being made so filthy, but refrained from chastising him since she already had an assumption that perhaps this was something out of his control.  As it turned out he would admit that this hacking was some sort of dragon illness, which would immediately gain some empathy from the young girl.  Being a fae she never experienced natural illness; only disease coming from dark magic could afflict an immortal such as her.  Yet she knew of sickness through helping the creatures of her forest; coming to the aid of creatures big and small who showed injury or disease.

Shaking herself free of some of the soot she'd decide to help the dragon as best as she could.  In a softening voice she would make an offer to her sick acquaintance, "If you lay on your back dragon I will help you the best I can."  Earlier their less than perfect first impressions had left the girl more tense and rigid than usual, but as time passed she seemed to return to her more free and cheery state.  The opportunity to use her magic to help another creature always livened her mood; it was rare when she lacked the power to cure what ailed a mortal.

She would stand waiting for the dragon to accept or decline her offer, she would not force the issue if the dragon was too proud to accept help.  She could understand that sickness brought pain to mortals, but if this dragon wished to remain this way for whatever reason then she would not fault him.  She would tap her foot waiting for his response; the girl was rather impatient even for a Fae. 

Help him? Not a chance in hell. He would recover this illness on his own, no fancy fae magic could beat a good rock crunching and the right set of smoked leaves. He would not be at the mercy of anything smaller than him. Least of all a fae. He was too proud for that. Too strong for a petty cough to hold him back. If the humans could survive a cough he would thrive.

"I will be fine, no small cough is going to keep me down. Now, I believe we are unacquainted by name. I am Veraxitoc, guardian of the people of Adela. Might I ask your name?" He muffled a cough with one paw. The illness had taken hold quickly.

"Hmph, very well I will respect your decision even if I do not understand it."  She would say, her head held high with slight annoyance toward the dragon's pride.  She could not comprehend why a mortal would allow themselves to remain ill when treatment was offered to them.  Despite being prideful herself, she seemed unable to link their similar personalities together.

After that he would grant her his name which settled the situation again.  The Fae always loved to learn new people's names, though she rarely was the first to give her own.  Standing straight up and clearing her own throat she would follow after him in the ritual of introductions.  "I am Ash'elin of Draconi Forest, protector of that which I choose to care for."  This was the nature of the fae, the most important object for them was first themselves and second whatever they wished to protect.  Usually that would include their home in the forest, and whatever beings they found which interest their curiosity.  It was a wonderful gift to befriend a Fae, just like it was a curse to incur their wrath; it was no different for their younger kind like Ash'elin.

Finishing her introductions she would look toward the dragon again as she asked.  "Now that we are introduced, perhaps you can answer my first question.  Why do you choose to protect the people of this land.  If I am not mistaken do you not eat all that is smaller than you?"

So she thought he merely considered himself a predator. He saw how it was in his eyes. This fae was confused as to why he hadn't eaten her. He knew just what to do. "Well I can still eat you whole if you desire. I haven't eaten breakfast yet you know." He chuckled. "You would be a starter of course. Fae aren't very filling. Never have been. A good filling meal, need two sheep and a cow. Wonderfully filling. All it needs is a good roasting, maybe some salt. I've never tasted salt actually. Too small. Maybe there is a big chunk of it somewhere that I can eat." He remembered her question. But before he could answer another coughing fit struck him. Smoke and soot poured out of his nostrils and mouth as huge plumes of fire were doused in his throat.

"There is simply no point to terrorising what can never truly hurt me. I am no immortal but few mortal devices can even scratch my aged scales." He let a final cough out, finally clear of the taste of soot. He realised he had coated the fae in soot and dust. Oops.

 The girl would not show any intimidation toward the dragon's comments about eating her; for one she was confident in her ability to escape even an elder dragon and second she did not feel that all of his comments were just a ruse.  After all  Veraxitoc seemed on rather friendly terms with the humans of this region so she could expect that her own life was safe from his jests about eating her.  The dragon would begin coughing again, she expected him to turn away like before and the first time he would do so saving her from being layered in his soot again.

Ash'elin gave a sigh of relief that she didn't have to deal with being made filthy again, it was at that point that she heard his real answer to her question.  She seemed willing to believe his claims that it was pointless to attack other sentient beings, after all cows and sheep couldn't mobilize to hunt after dragons unlike humans.  Hearing his comments about dragon scales interested the fae, but before she could get a closer look she would find herself once again covered in a thick layer of soot and dust.  Stuck in the cloud she'd cover her mouth and nose as the cloud settled leaving her white skin completely darkened by debris.
 
Once she became visible again she found herself at the last straw with this sick dragon.  She held her breath; her cheeks puffed out as she made a angered pout.  Pointing at the dragon she'd say with sharp eyes, while stamping her foot down in rage "You will lead me to a water source Veraxitoc; I will not spend one more moment in your soot and ash!"  It certainly was an interesting sight, a soot covered fae and dragon bickering next to a human town.

As a dragon, most humans thought that very little scared him. As a big dragon, most naturally assumed he had nothing to fear. But enraged women had a way of being terrifying, even if they were fae. He began to noticeably shrink he bowed his head and lowered to the ground slightly, bowing in an odd submission to the fae. He had trouble believing he was doing it, but he was submitting to the scary, angry fairy-lady. His current eye line scanned her body over. By human or fae standards she was probably pretty, even beautiful or sexy, but not to a dragon. He blinked once in process as the fae burst out a command at him. His brain processed the request.

Why she wanted to go to a water source, he did not know, but instinct told him she wished to wash the soot off herself. It made sense. But if she planned to heal him she would have a challenge. "Can I ask why? You can tell me as we walk. Come, this way." He turned and sneezed, a huge cloud of soot appearing in front of him. The fae would probably have killed him if she had been in front of him. But she wasn't. The soot cloud settled and he sniffled as he wiped his nose. Maybe he needed to sleep this illness off. It usually worked. If not he may try a healer.  But a dragon healer.

Her firey temper would simmer when she noticed that she was having a reaction on the dragon.  For a moment she would look with surprise at the fact that this beast seven times larger than her was submitting like a dog that had been chastised by its master.  Seeing this made it difficult for Ash'elin to remain mad; by the time Veraxitoc spoke again she had already ceased openly raging at him and was in a frigid silence.

She would look up to him and would follow as he lead them to a place with water.  His foolish question would stoke what angered she had settled slightly as she said, "Was I not clear?  I wish to be rid of this soot and ash and you know these mountains better than anyone I assume."  She'd rub her eyes roughly, the ash irritated her eyes though she did not wish to make this known to her new acquaintance.  Besides he offered to lead her to water so the momentary sting would subside once she could clear her face.  She would not catch the similarity, but the fact was both of them were rather prideful in how they handled problems.  Though the fae for the most part had to depend on wile and manipulation while a dragon could easily be independent while still having an effect on the outside world.

As they continued walking Ash'elin's anger would settled down as they moved in silence for some time.  she would feel it was necessary to show her appreciation, after all Ash'elin was not so naïve as to not realize that a dragon had no obligation to help her and that he could have easily flown away laughing at her misfortune.

Turning her head to him she'd notice one of the coughs which she heard as they traveled, at that moment she'd say, "Thank you, for doing this.  Also, I suppose I must apologies for being so cross with you-it was not an intentional action against me." 

He knew where the nearest water source was. But it was a while before he remembered that he was going the wrong way. "All I can do is apologise, and hope that such a graceful young fae accepts. An, uh, one other thing. I think we're going the wrong way." He laid down, blowing a small smoke ring as a sign his nose was clear. Or rather, blowing a lack of smoke rings. He felt the urge to snooze but instead flitted his eyes towards the sun. Ow, the sun is bright today, perhaps the goddess of the sun is having a good day, he thought to himself. Or she has a fever.

"We were going the wrong way, I remember now. If you climb on my back, I will fly us there. It will be quicker. And hopefully the dust and ash is not stuck to you. The wind should blow some away anyway. Come to think of it, I should have thought about flying earlier really. Sorry." He spoke sheepishly, realising that he was being slow, and he was also being stupid. He wasn't doing well.

Ash'elin would break into a beaming smile upon hearing Veraxitoc's reply, hearing such compliments made the fae giggle with glee before she answered with a "Hehe, of course I accept."  It would not bother her that they had been travelling in the wrong direction, she had nowhere to be and the stinging in her eyes was for the most part dealt with through applying some gentle rubbing and wiping. 

She stood quietly as she listened to the dragon's proposal to fly them to their destination.  In an instant she found herself overtaking with excitement; after all how many opportunities did anyone have to experience the feeling of flying.  Ash'elin had always held a strong interest in observing birds and other creatures in flight, and now here she stood being offered to be lifted up to the sky-a place that perhaps even the most elder fae had never experienced.  Certainly now she felt that it was worth getting a bit dirty.

She would leap up upon the dragon's back, the scales felt smooth upon her legs and arms.  Her mood would turn a complete opposite from before as said, "Ok, I'm ready!  Let's go, let's fly!"  she used her magic to allow her hands and legs to stick to the dragon's scales.  Even if he were to fly upside down the fae would not detach from his back.  There was a wide beaming smile as the girl braced herself for the take off.  She imagined this so many times in her idle dreams and now she would experience it first hand!

((Mind if I toss in some dark magic in this happy lil picture? :3 Mebbe give a dragon and a fae girl something to do, something to worry about? I have some serious necromancer muse going on...))

The thunderblacks were a home of dragons, a place where they lived and died. The spirits had led Poe here... And the dark-cloaked, hooded figure alone in the twilight strode now ever closer to the grand prize. She could almost feel the power calling to her... She could feel the spirits here... Seeking... Yearning to be free... All she needed was the time to find her way there... The chance to find...

The Tomb of Dragons.

A joyful grin spread across pale, dry lips that cracked painfully. She licked them, and realized how thirsty her body was, how hungry... Accursed husk, it wasted so much of her time with its needs, its petty insistent desires. Pain... Pain was annoying, but it was useful. Emotion too was something she could accept. But sleep? Hunger? Thirst? Addiction? Lonliness? These bridled in her, festered like a gaping wound, and she resented them to the core of her being. Weaknesses, the lot of them.

The sun-baked moors in the lowlands surrounding the Thunderblacks were giving rise to fog, and... Ahead, light. She peered into the twilight... And grunted. A town, then. It made sense, she supposed, the runoff from the mountains probably made for a decent underground river these peasants and serfs could use to nurture their crops. The fog growing around her swirled and took shapes in her presence. She stood in indecision... But perhaps those shapes had more rhyme or reason than mere random patterns of mist. Poe's presence intensified them... Made them more noticable.

"..." One said, her face ghastly as she wailed in silence, in a voice only the necromancer could hear. Poe grinned. A man's spectre wrapped himself around the hooded figure and whispered into her ear. The wind gusted and further swirled the fog that grew around Poe. She licked her lips again, and broke into an even wider grin, her yellow teeth borne to the wind an sky. From beneath the shadow of the hood... one gleaming mad eye, the pupil a pinprick in a sea of bloodshot white, was briefly visible, dancing with malign excitement. Yes... People... Yes in...deed...

The shadowed figure moved in again, and it seemed... she brought the night and the fog with her, to a little town in the foothills.

As Veraxitoc flew back over the town, he noticed many things. The final resting place of an ancient dragon, older than even him. But he doubted this dragon knew he would never wake. If a dragon was not slain by convention, but mortally wounded, they could die alone, and asleep. But dragons were too proud to even know when they are mortally wounded. He may have been a long lost warrior. Or a father doing his duty. Or a brother protecting his siblings. Or a nobody. Someone like Veraxitoc. He never had anyone to truly confide him. He had to be cold, and distant, and fair. But his head really told him to burn the world. He had ignored it so long now, but he didn't think it was worth ruining his name. Not that these humans knew his name. Or these dragons. Or his mountains. This world was his. Why not ruin a long lost reputation?

He thought as he flew, and as they passed back over the town he noticed an unnatural fog rolling in. From further in land? "Ash'elin, that fog is unnatural and dark. We shall vanquish it before we move on to the water. I hope you don't mind me doing this." He folded his wings out, extending the claws at each wing tip. In a rapid swirl of movement he spun and dove. An unnatural scream filled the air as his claws took great effect. He would sound like a demon, and hopefully scare this summoner away. He also decided to use an old mating call. No one ever knew what it was exactly, but it was feared among all but Nightspinners. He pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He felt a small twinge as the chamber in his nose opened, and he billowed out fire. The fire itself was coloured a dark crimson, from special crystals in the chamber. The noise that came out was somewhere between the sound of fire and a deathly demon scream. He protruded his claws, and swooped down before the fog, roaring at it.

There was a weight in her heart as they took off; she clenched tightly despite not needing to as they soared up hovering over the trees and mountains.  She looked all around her at the environment as she found her heart racing in excitement and fear of this great height.  The view was beautiful from up above, flying seemed to meet every expectation that she had dreamt up as she gazed at the light fog begin to thicken slowly moving toward the town.  Something about this sudden change did not feel safe, and for a moment she was glad that they would be leaving this site for whatever water source they planned to go too.  However over the sound of his beating wings Ash'elin would hear Veraxitoc say that he intended to check out this eerie fog and deal with whatever was causing this disturbance in nature. 

Although spirited and willing to fight, Ash'elin was never one to search out trouble.  That was the problem with making yourself a guardian, for mortals you shortened an already short life in dedication of something greater than themselves.  To a fae becoming a guardian had even greater risk; after all even the wisest and oldest fae did not know what becomes of fae who die of physical destruction.  They were immortal in that they were ageless, however they are not invulnerable.

Still Ash'elin would respect his code as she shouted against the air currents, "Of course, let us set down."

They would land and Veraxitoc did not stop to ask questions.  She would hear his ferocious roar and witness a real billow of fire.  Ash'elin could not do much at the time for the threat had not made itself present yet.  Still now that she was on the ground Ash'elin could feel that this fog was dark in nature; she would stay close to the dragon lest they get separated by the fog.

The sky cracked with a piercing scream, a cry from times of ancient fear. The thunderblacks were home to dragons - she counted on this, in fact. Even if she had attempted to prepare herself, even in the depths of her mania, she felt a terrible surge of fear that froze her in her tracks. Her body locked up... And there it might have ended... There the dragon would have crushed her, a hooded, dark figure in the fog - he was spot on and aimed directly for her... But she was not just some conjuror.

The ground swallowed her as flame blossomed around her, and the ancient dragon's hungry talons scored deep into soil and stone... But the briefly glimpsed figure was simply... Gone. Without a trace. In her shelter beneath the earth, the necromancer hissed at her own weakness... She would not fall for that sound again, that she could promise. Oh yes.

Poe pushed away her own fear and focused it into her hand in the darkness of her temporary womb of earth. It congealed in her hand, and she grinned insanely at the reddish brown ball of pure emotion. This would be useful... Dear me, yes. Her heart stopped racing and her hand steadied as she poured all of it into it... And the sphere of black emotion darkened to a malevolent rusty red. Mad Clarity took her once more... And she realized where she was. This was NOT dirt and rock, no...


This... Was the final remains of an ancient dragon. This... Was a dragon that had died in its sleep, and still its spirit lingered. It was horribly aware of her, too... And as she almost lovingly trailed her black, skeletal left hand down the side of one bone... She broke into another yellow-toothed grin that nearly threatened to see the top of her head come off!

It was the work of a moment to slit her right hand open with her kris knife and speak the words of the black rites...

Above, it had seemed like they had dispersed an illusion, the two courageous warriors, a dragon and fae... The fog was dispersing, and the night was absolutely quiet... But then a tree fell over with a crunch, simply collapsing under its own weight. Grass a few feet from the dragon's claws was gaining black veins at a truly alarming rate, the horrific rot spreading like wildfire that could not be seen towards the dragon's claws - black magic was at play!

The grass was crumbling to ask in moments - imaging the damage it could do to anything that touched it? Even the flies and bugs in the air immediately above the grass fell and crumbled! The stench was foul! But even that was just a side effect, as much damage as that could do... The ground started to shake. The spirit of the land was crying out in horror and agony for any who could hear it - like the Fae.

The ground ahead of them in the heart of the spreading blight of defiled earth... And then it happened again, and kept on happening! The ground billowed out into a massive shape... Made of boulders, of black earth, and of... Dragon bones. It took the shape of an ancient wyrm... And hateful green light filled its still-rotting eye sockets as it turned to face them.

The fear she'd gathered had indeed been useful... Poe drew the stolen life force of the grass and trees she'd blighted into herself and felt some of the power she'd used for her little creation... And surfaced behind it from the earth. She gestured at the dragon and his fae-guardian friend with her left arm of black bones... And said one single word.

"Vivisect." Poe said, her voice billowing black fog from her lips. The great abomination focused on them with its hateful pinpricks of light... And roared. Supernatural, magically endowed terror blasted from its lips with an unearthly wet bellow, and then... Something else flew from its maw! Not fire... But it had the shape of fire - it was made of ghostly dark green flame... And it was cold as the void, sailing towards the pair!

The fog was dark, when it began to shift, and thin, to reveal the tremendous creature that had been resurrected. It had the shape of a dragon but was undead. Easy enough to defeat, but terribly power consuming as a construct. The ground had begun to wither and die. He knew his enemy was a summoner. Using necromancy and dark magic. A less than wonderful combination in Veraxitoc's eyes.

Veraxitoc saw the flame and let out a single blast of blue fire, the heat blasting away a tunnel of fog around it. It met the green flame, and they snuffed each other. "Ash'elin, get out of the way, find cover!" He beat his wings and took a glide to the construct, talons extended, ready to grapple with the skeletal dragon.

Despite living over a hundred years, this had been the first time Ash'elin would bear witness to dark magic of this power.  True nature housed such negative energies, but when manipulated by a conjurer it created abominations like the one that would rise up from the earth.  Ash'elin's eyes widened in true fear as the rotting dragon tore out of the earth; any other creature would feel fear just from the sight but the fae was able to feel the dark energies pulsing through this tainted place as each vibration sent a chill in her body.  Right before the two dragons would clash with breaths of fire Ash'elin would catch the figure of the being responsible for all this chaos.  However due to the flames that would erupt Ash'elin found herself leaping away from Veraxitoc as the battlefield suddenly became even more densely fogged making Ash'elin lose track of the necromancer.

She never wished to experience such negative energy again, but to do that she would have to remove the being that caused such imbalance upon the earth.  Slamming her hand to the floor she would lift up the earth into a pillar of rock like she did in the past.  She rose up cutting herself out of the fog as she looked around for any sign of the necromancer.  She still failed to find the enemy even from this elevated height.

"Veraxitoc, blow this fog away with your wings so that I may find the sorcerer!"  Ash'elin shouted, feeling the source of this dark energy still within this thick fog.  She stood at the ready, knowing anything could attack her including the dragon.

The green and blue flames met in the middle, creating a thunderous boom, an explosion of sound and energy as rock-melting heat met soul-chilling frost, making sparks that poured over the dead grass and light that filled the clearing from edge to edge. And through this, the smog of the dark magic induced mist turned everything into a blinding halo. Poe shielded her eyes from this, but the eyeless dragon did not - he was fixated on the other dragon... He'd been challenged... He'd been offended! And as he bounded over the ash encrusted ground to the living dragon, he let out another pain-soaked roar of fury!

The two great monsters, one alive, one undead, met in the middle like a crashing ocean, the first's talons scoring deep into the dead dragon's stony hide while the dead dragon put the position to grand effect, lashing at Veraxitoc with talons and fangs, trying to get at the ancient dragon's softer underbelly. This wasn't a zombie exactly... It was a ghoul. Terrible hunger gripped it... And malign intelligence filled its hateful eyes!

But the necromancer was most concerned with the girl that rose high into the air on a pillar of stone! Poe grinned malevolently, and muttered a soft incantation, black energy gathering on he fingertips... Before she jutted two fingers out in her direction, a beam of dark energy lancing from the fog directly at the girl, hissing and screaming through the air with a sound like a swarm of angry bees on fire!

The undead dragon scored many wounds, but soon Veraxitoc had it by the throat. He had no idea how effective it would be, but then he heard Ash'elin's request. That request was one of  mutual advantage. The movement of Veraxitoc wings as he complied began to tug at the undead constructs throat. And the undead dragon would hopefully be defeated at this rate. He blew fire into it's neck, and clawed at it. The creature was as solid as a rock. No, it was rock. And that was irritating. But all dark magic and necromantic constructs disintegrated if their master died. And now Veraxitoc started developing his plan.

That was, before the beam of dark energy flew from the master's fingertips. The fog was beginning to clear. He saw the creature and bolt's energy. Abd the bolt's target. "Ash'elin, watch out!" Veraxitoc took his jaws away from the undead dragon briefly. Which was a big mistake.

Ash'elin's eyes darted trying to find the Necromancer through the mist and pulsations of dark energy.  It was straining to be at this site, her skin felt like it was being grazed by needles.  Fae felt the magical pressures of the world at a much more sensitive level, and this first encounter with dark energy was nauseating to her senses.  Still, she tried to keep her head straight despite all these feelings and to eliminate the source of this destructive magic.  By this point she feared even touching the corrupted floor as she saw the devastation that this magic had caused.  There was a sudden rise in the dark magic and from the mist shot a large black bolt of magic coming at her like a javelin.  She tried to leap away from the magic, but was too late as the bolt surged into her hip.

The essence of the magic infused into her body; her nerves went stiff as she fell to the floor incapable of moving more than a few painful spasms.  Ash'elin slammed into the floor from her tower, the dark magic was surging through her body creating black marks throughout her fair skin.  Strength was sapped and her breath was slowed down.  The small girl's body curled as it trembled and spasmed, the arm that she landed on was burning in pain-had she broken it?

Ash'elin's eyes were sunken and dim as she used her functioning arm to try and heal herself.  Suddenly the dark marks that plagued her body seemed to flare up as she tried to use her magic; like a leech it would burn the magic before it could be released.  In the midst of this pain the realization that her magic was taken seemed to cause the greatest pain to her soul.  A fae without their magic was a waste of immortality; an eternal hell on earth.

However at this moment she wondered if she would ever live past this battle.  For the first time she experienced her life with all the fears of death that mortals inevitably felt.  If she closed her eyes would she never awaken?  Would she die in this foreign land, never to see her forest again.  With all her might she wanted to stay awake, but the burning pain was too great to bear. 

"B..but, I don't want to die..."

Her eyes slowly went shut as she fell unconscious, scarred with black patterns from dark magic that infested her body.

((By arrangement, the next hits will be automatic. Plot devices! Hoooooo!))

The ghoul-dragon tore into the living dragon, it clawed and gouged like a cornered demon, but it didn't stand much of a chance against the genuine article - it was the work of moments for the great ancient elder to have it by the throat. The abomination flamed and screamed as it was pulled at, as it was flamed, making the stone around the bones run like water in the blue heat of the dragonfire! It was so close to being destroyed - inches from destruction in fact! The wyrm had the capacity to sever its neck and shoulders... but it was not meant to be.

The elder tore his grip away from the undead dragon's throat and... looked away. The hateful being in his grasp could not have asked for a better opportunity - and he took it, sinking all its forelimbs claws right into the elder's chest, between his ribs - the best grip he could hope for - and flamed. The damaged being could only manage one last such attack before collapsing into rubble and dust again... but it gave the living dragon everything it had, pouring all its hate, all its envy, all its bile and vicious anger into it.

The result was... catastrophic. Scales on the dragon's body blackened and fell away into ash, black spiderwebs of corruption lanced into and through the great dragon's body. As the ghoul crumbled, its claws stuck in the great dragon's breast, it left the great beast cursed and plagued, diseased with great wounds in his chest and body...

...but the undead dragon's wrath would not kill him. Oh no. The hateful thing was too twisted to kill Veraxitoc. It wanted him to live... and suffer.

As for the girl... the dark-robed figure of the necromancer strode from the fog... and gently pressed her foot onto the young fey, nudging her onto her back, where her foot planted on the cursed creature's hip, right where it would hurt most, right where her terrible spell had struck. A fey's blood... a fey's essence. Oh dear, Poe could do so much with that. She started to mutter the spell to finish the girl, to steal the last of her life force for herself, to bind her very essence...

... and stopped, mid-incantation. The fog had rolled in, and... shapes were visible in it, screaming, visible to all, but audible only to her. There was a tenuous moment then, as the black bones of the necromancer's hand remained pointed at her, the summoner's manic yellow toothed grin frozen... and then the grin faded considerably into a little smirk, her arm dropping. If the girl was still conscious, she'd have seen the glint of golden yellow flames in those pinprick eyes, soaked in madness and steeped and villainy. Something... else was in that mad gaze... something horrible, worse than all the events so far combined.

Something... greater than the lust for power and the glee in sadistic pleasure. Something that could overrule... even madness.

Faith.

Whatever her reasons, the necromancer removed her foot from the young fey's wound... and turned away into the fog which rolled in again. She strode into it...

And then she was gone, leaving the two cursed and blighted, and the land where they'd fought in shambles. The fog melted away in moments.

((Do a character thingy for Poe please, I'd like to know more about her?))

Veraxitoc felt the curse pouring into his veins. And his whole body felt like it was burning to nothing. The black magic construct had cursed him and now he was angry. Coupled with this illness, he wanted to die. He felt all the negatives amplify, and then he remembered Ash'elin. She had been hit by that bolt, and most likely cursed too! He tried to think of a way to help her. How was it that some of the dragons he had fought had withstood so much? The solution was not clear.

He thought of Ash'elin, an innocent fae who he had dragged into this. It was his job to put right any damage. She was there, on her pillar of stone, injured and suffering. Veraxitoc wanted to take the pain in her place, but didn't remember how. He had a duty to care for her. He tried to cast a simple healing spell. Draconic magic was slightly different from most magics in that it was powered by a dragon's immortal soul. But his magic was gone. If his magic was gone, Ash'elin's would be too. How did he help here though. He thought about what all great and damage resistant dragons had in common. Magic was out of the question, but what else did they share? Maratoc had a rider. Nerosse did too. They all had riders.

He had always objected to having a rider. But if this bond was the way to protect and help Ash'elin, his moral obligation was to do it. Summoning his voice over the strain of his agony, he called out. "Ash'elin, I can help relieve some of the pain, but you must trust me for it. What I will do is bond us as rider and dragon. I will be able to take your pain for you. But I need your consent! Will you do it?" The bond was simple to initiate, but difficult to remove. He knew it could be done, but not of how. He would find out soon enough, as he knew that Connlaothian Mordecai's kept a record of dragon rider information, and how to unbond dragon and rider. He would visit Ornusjalil while in Connlaoth, as he knew she had slept there. But first was to solve this issue.

The nightmarish sleep Ash'elin held seemed to last as long as death itself.  Her eyes fluttered open slowly as even the dim sky agitated her sensitive body.  As she regained consciousness the costs of heroics would return to her; Ash'elin's teeth clenched tight as she felt as if her blood was boiling from within.  The pain was still actively present, from the physical wounds and more importantly from the curse that now tainted her body.  Silent and still laying on the floor she would wave her working hand over the barren dirt and like before it failed to respond to her manipulation.  It was true, her magic was gone-possibly all of it.  The loss of her magic was something that hurt more than any damaged arm could ever cause, she despaired in her heart and did not wish to even try and move from this spot. 

Her feelings were empty of joy as she heard her dragon companion call out to her.  It seemed they both survived becoming another soul for a necromancer's collection, but left in a cursed state where life no longer seemed worth living. 

She was conscious enough at this point to hear the offer Veraxitoc gave.  Even now when at his weakest he was more concerned about her well being than his own.  She wondered if this is the self-sacrifice that came from being a guardian; after all she did not fight this battle out of concern for its people.  She fought because her friend felt this town of humans was important and so she was willing to help protect what was precious to him.

She pushed off her body and found the energy to sit herself on her back.  Her face was now forced to look at the dragon, both of them drained, injured, and blighted by dark magic.  Her face was marked with black splotches that stained her skin, these marks covered the rest of her body thoroughly as the dark magic festered in her.  At this point she regretted having turned around, she could not bear to be seen so pathetically weak; with tears streaming down she'd shake her head no.  In the strongest voice she could muster she said choking back tears.

"No Veraxitoc, you have a kind heart-fitting for a guardian.  However if I survive these wounds then what pain remains is solely my punishment to bear.  A testament to my own worthlessness."

It pained her to admit this, her kind always gave self-praise for being ever-living and immortals, but they were not immortals as this event had now proven.  Fae died like all the rest, and those who lived longer did so by never leaving their forest homes.  The smart ones stayed away from the outside world, for all of its dangers could kill these false immortals.  Iron was common place, mortal magics superior in their lethality.  Strangely enough she might of figured out something only the most pragmatic person would realize.  The Fae did not keep out of mortal society out of superiority, but because they were not built to live outside of nature.  Naivety made them the fool to other's plans, weakness to iron made them slaves to all mortals, and their immortality made the Fae fearful of ever venturing out of their safe haven lest they lose this gift that belonged solely to their race and the gods.

At this realization Ash'elin felt sicker than ever, all pride in her people felt severed as she rolled herself again so that she laid face to the ground.  At this point she could no longer control herself as she openly cried at these turn of events.  Blighted and her spirits crushed what purpose did her continued existence bring?

The town was in an uproar - alarms, normally reserved for dragon attacks, were sounding, blaring into the night as the ground seemed to steam faintly, the taint of necrotic magic screaming into the abyss of the nighttime air, proclaiming the crimes of the night to moon and star. The dragon's town had been protected - their deeds that night were seen, and even now people rushed into the night, coming with lanterns and torches to see what had happened. Warriors and peasants, priests and farmers, all came... And witnessed what had been done.

They regarded the great dragon guardedly... And moved to the girl as she wept on the ground, broken and locked in despair. An elderly woman - a priestess in white robes, knealt in the blackened earth and scooped up the young fey in her arms, paling at the state of her body. Others - another priest and several (most of the town's supply of) guards approached the wounded, accursed dragon with caution and dread.

What ha been done had been witnessed - they knew their guardian. But did he know them?

"What has been done to you, child?" The old priestess asked the tiny figure in her arms, eyes wide with horror at the scope of the terrible magic that soaked her body to the bone, that sustained her even as it fed upon her. "Oh, child..."

The men with halberds and armor approached the dragon with ultimate distrust... But the priest, a man in his forties, was not so cautious, and approached Veraxitoc openly, eyes big as saucers and body shaking as he said "You fought to save us, didn't you?" He asked, fear and awe in his voice. "A voice told me in my head of what you've done as I slept - Noble dragon, what may we do?" He asked. The guards gritted their teeth, exchanging glances. They could not believe any of this!

"How may we help you, and the fey?"

==============

This was another place, hundreds of miles away, but a breath apart. For an extradimensional demiplane, one might have thought whoever made it would have made it seem more... Magical, more unreal, but for all the world, the place looked like nothing more extraordinary than... Someone's living room. In fact, that was what it was.

Bookcases lined most walls, and in front of a fireplace was several chairs. The fire crackled... But all the chairs were empty. In one corner, there was a desk, and that was sprawled with books, scrolls, and vials in racks, but in the center, in front of the person who sat behind that desk, who presumably owned it, was a crystal ball.

In it was displayed the face of an elven maiden with silver hair and glowing skin.

"What then?" She asked, her face suffused with concern. The figure behind the crystal ball sat back and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"I don't know." She said flatly. "I really don't, Ornusjalil, she just showed up out of nowhere, walks into the thunderblacks as bold as you like, and..." She faltered, and sighed shakily.

"Gods, what can we do?" The shadowy figure continued. "Who can plan for that sort of thing?" She finished, half to herself. "Do you remember anything? About her? About the cult? Anything at all?"

Ornusjalil looked crestfallen. "No... I just felt the magic... She's hunting for the tomb of dragons, I bet my life on it." From a dragon, that was no idle phrase. It made the woman peering into the crystal ball look up. "I shudder to think what she wants it for..."

"... I wish this really had been a dream. Thank you for confirming it for me though..." She said, and sighed.

"Dyan... We need to stop her. I know you're busy with other things... But think of the death this could bring... I hate Adela, but it doesn't deserve... This." The Silver Lady soothed. Her voice was ever smoothe and calming, but there was an edge to it.

Dyan nodded. "I think... I think I can do something for your old nemesis and the girl..."

The elfmaid looked surprised, eyes big! "But... That's--!"

"Necromantic blight. I know..." The woman responded, peering again into the crystal ball. It was apparent she hadn't been getting much sleep. "I'll telepo--" she began, but Ornusjalil cut her off with a stern glare.

"No, you won't. You're just like your great grandmother, you tamper with dark magic and poke an prod... And I don't approve, but even if you really can help them, Dyan, I will fetch them personally... The spell wards and wild magic there will stop you from teleporting in." She said, her tone cold and level.

"I will retrieve them myself, and bring them to you." She said, the vision fading in Dyan's crystal ball.

"Make preparations, girl." And the ball went dark. Dyan was left in the flickering light of the fire in her living room, startled by the ancient dragoness's stern words. But there was no question of her obedience. She stood.

===============

The pond Ornusjalil, the Silver Lady had used to communicate with her late friend's great granddaughter stayed dark for some time as the old dragoness sat there, kneeling and shaking. Magic. That had been the start of her problems, and would it now be the finish too? Could she really trust the girl to do the right thing? And how would Veraxitoc react to his old great enemy riding into his lands, fit as a fiddle and bold as brass, while he was crippled and weak?

The war was still so vivid in her mind... How many times they had fought, how much they'd both lost, how much bad blood there had been... And he was going to have to trust... her? bloody hell this was a mess. But... Could she live in a world where necromancy corrupted everything, where undead dragons terrorized, or worse?

She stood. No. She could not.

The elfmaid took a running start at the precipice of a great valley and leapt into the gorge, but she never struck the water and rocks below - silver wings carried an old creature into the night sky, roaring wind describing her wide, sweeping arc as she made her way to the ancient adelan south, towards the mountains she'd clashed over many years ago - the Thunderblacks.

The priest had been a gentle soul. But a dark poison had taken hold in his mind. He had no self control and all he could do was mentally protest as instinct took over. He got up, growling, and snarling at the guards and townspeople. He roared, but saw the priestess holding Ash'elin. Another long lost instinct took over. He charged the priestess, looking to protect the fae. In a split second he had trampled several townspeople, and reached Ash'elin. In a blind fit of protection, he grabbed Ash'elin in one paw, and then ate the priestess whole, cooking her in bouts of flame as she went down. He turned to the guards running at him. More threats to his prize. Their iron and steel was nothing compared to his flames. Row and file fell before Veraxitoc's primal fury, his breath melting sword, flesh and armour. Horses and men slaughtered in mere seconds. He had proved his power now. The fool of a priest who had approached him, claiming false gods and beings more powerful than dragons. A blasphemer. He strode towards the priest, now in a state of fear. In another swift movement, he bit the priest in half, and roasted the other half. A false prophet.

A minute later they were flying, and swiftly moving around. He needed somewhere to stay. Somewhere that a tyrant dragon could display his trophy. "Ash'elin, are you alive? I can't have a dead trophy." His voice had changed. This curse had corrupted him, and he couldn't think straight. He protested from the corner of his mind that was morally right. He was weak with guilt and remorse. He had killed innocents, those who had families and children. Wives would mourn over this. Children would be orphaned. He had no doubt the priest had heard a voice. But now he had slaughtered the priest and priestess in a rage of so called blasphemy. He was a blasphemer in their gods' eyes. How could he atone for the deaths of these innocents? An honourable death seemed logical. Find the dark sorcerer who had cursed him and fight them until he died of his wounds. Or he could be a coward and sleep for the next few years.

The corrupted half of him saw an abandoned fort and swooped down, utilising the sounds he could make with his talons. He made all manner of terrifying roars and screeches as he dove down, his paw gripping firmly around the fae in his grip. He landed and he cast a spell. He knew not what this spell would do, but then he saw. Wonderfully simple, but bad for him anyway. He had fixed the tower of this fort, and watched as the fae travelled up to her new prison. He had changed the very fundamentals of this mountain. Now the castle collapsed more, an ancient dragon rider fortress, turned into this beasts fortress of death. Leaving the fae in this reconstructed tower, he took off again, placing another small spell on the window, making it amplify sound. The whole mountain range would hear her calling for help.

And he would slaughter all that came to help her. This corruption was ruining him, as a person and his reputation. Maybe he should just become this tyrant for a while. Everyone remembered tyrants. No one remembered him as a guardian. Veraxitoc the terrible. It sounded right in his mind, and some of his purity even agreed that he deserved something. He had a clean slate with this era. Why not fill it with ruin and despair? He could start with the Thunderblacks, then he could make Ornusjalil pay. But pay for what? He needed a reason to make her suffer. What had she done to him?

To make a greater effect, as he flew, he blew out red fire and made terrible screeches howl through the valley. None of his kind were left. None that he knew. They wouldn't hear the calls.

The commotion of the town would be clear in Ash'elin's ear; sorrow was the emotion most expressed as she heard the muttering of these townsfolk as they came to the scene of the battle.  None of this would phase her, and even when she felt a pair of wrinkled old arms cradle her she could not find solace.  Ash'elin wasn't sure what would happen next, the town seemed frightened but willing to help them.  Her sunken eyes focused upon the face of the old woman, here was the face of someone who was under the control of time-with a finite lifetime and responsibilities as a priestess to these townsfolk.  Their was a friendliness to her wrinkled face and seeing the concern she held would cause Ash'elin to flash a weak smile; feeling for a moment that perhaps life was not yet over even in this moment of total devastation. 

This peace would quickly end though as suddenly Veraxitoc charged to her location trampling guards and farmers alike.  Ash'elin found herself grasped from the motherly priestess and would bear witness as the dragon did the unexpected and cooked the old woman and eating her whole.  Any bit of peace that she was able to gather would die with that death as another clergy was violently devoured and the guards broken into a route.  Why would he do this?  Was she right to suspect that Veraxitoc's claims of honor and protection of the weak were lies?  Witnessing this renewed bloodshed shell shocked the girl; while in the air she'd hear the dragon's claim-his voice more terrifying to match his new persona. 

So she was to become his trophy?  In her lifetime she had heard of the quirks of dragons to capture maidens from older fae from her tribe.  She guessed a fae made the perfect maiden for a dragon to possess; ageless for a long living dragon to always possess like a living ornament.  She would not respond to his open claim of making her a trophy; the thought of all the dead in the town was still too fresh in her mind.  Gathering her strength she forced out with teary eyes,

"You did not have to kill them!  I did not suspect the Veraxitoc I met was actually a monster!"

She knew speaking in such a manner could easily lead to her death, but she did not care-there was deep seated betrayal in this sudden change in Veraxitoc's personality.  If she was to be this brute's decoration then she wanted him to feel her hatred.  Wiping her eyes she tried to hide her face as they flew off deeper into the Thunderblack Mountains.  Her body still was in deep pain and soon the realization that she was to be this monster's prisoner began to seep in.  She panicked as she looked around, there was no escape from the sky and it wasn't as if she had the strength to run even if she could leave his grip.

She became tense as the sound of claws tearing through rock rang in her ears, even in this state her curiosity was peeked as she looked up and saw the creation of a high tower through a mix of magic and dragon's strength.  Ash'elin would be forced into the sole window of the tower, she rolled into the roughly made building scratching her knees and elbows in the landing.  With heavy breathing she finally forced herself up as she crawled to the window and looked out to the endless mountains.  Further away the dragon was using the same abilities to reconstruct a old fortress to better fit his massive body.  She couldn't believe that this was her fate, crippled as the trophy of a dragon. 

She tested out her magic one final time, ordinarily unless the window was enchanted with a barrier she would have easily been able to climb down the tall tower.  However all her magic was inert, even her ability to climb through all surfaces.  The fact that she could have easily escaped this place had she not been blighted seemed to increase her feeling of self-loathing.  She slammed her fist onto rocky bottom of the window as she shouted a cry of fury into the emptiness of the Thunderblacks.  To her surprise her voice would echo beyond what she expected; ringing through the rocky mountains and no doubt being heard from the town and beyond.  Ash'elin covered her mouth with her working hand, embarrassed at having showing off such anger to the outside world.  Immediately after this she would remember that Veraxitoc was out there and no doubt heard her shout.  Her heart skipped as she found the darkest corner of the tower and curled up in fear.  If he wished the dragon could cook her alive in the tower, but still she felt that keeping out of sight would leave her safe from his wrath.

The mountain was in terrible torment and the town's bells as Ornusjalil arrived there were in full swing. Most of the populace had been killed... And it did no take the dragoness circlin overhea long at all to work out... Just what happened. She could see the carnage, she could feel the blight... And she knew her ancient rival had lost his mind. This... Used to be his place. This town had been his... What had the necromancer done to him? What did the bitch do to her great enemy!

The ancient dragoness alighted lightly on the ancient field, and spread her wings wide, the four great sky sails spreading high and wide. And then...

It rained.

It came down in buckets, the great silver creature glowing with the simple power of her true abilities. Veraxitoc had spent his time sleeping distant... She'd spent it in the embrace of the land, in the love of the people she protected. Small lives had left an impression on her... And she found now, as raindrops struck the ash blackened earth, the blighted ground, the pain of loss, the terriblesadness... And anger within her breast.

The fires in the town were snuffed. The glassed earth cooled and hardened... And a gurgling form, all that was left of the priest, watched with his one remaining eye as the Silver Lady wept silently, as rain roared around him. He extended mangled hand... And she leaned down to him. He touched over her nose... And she knew it was he she'd warned. Seeing the devastation on his body... The wounded guards rising... The blight washing away in the magical rain...  She wept, and held the man's shattered form in her grasp.

No. The curse did not do this to her ancient enemy, her great rival... No, he did this. The darkness in his heart did this. The cry she heard on the wind was unmistakable.

It was a challenge.

He had claimed this place as his territory. He would ravage this countryside. He would be a great destroyer in the old ways. The sound of his cry didn't fill her with the same despair it soaked into the townsfolk. In her... A levee broke. Something went click, and the old rage pounded in her again. Ornusjalil rose, glaring around her, the temperature plummeting. Her dagger gaze alighted on a surviving guard, and she spoke.

"Where is he." She said, her voice a calm river of liquid fire.

"Where is that bastard... I will make him pay for this." She said. The man blinked, even as Ornusjalil set the priest down, the man frozen, his arms folded peacefully over his chest. The soldier pointed, and the Silver Lady rose, galloping a few steps before rising into the air.

=========

Dyan had left her books and her crystal ball behind. Visions came and went, but she knew what was happening from the moment the twisted dragon had cast that black spell. And she knew much of the ancient friend of her family. There would not be much time before Ornusjalil got to the ruined fort, and with the girl in need of rescue... She couldn't let her face the monster alone.

What a sad state of affairs. She fastened her cloak and her robes, binding a scarf about her arm, then set off. The red-robed wizardess was human only for a few bounding steps before her sleeves pushed back an feathered fiery wings unfurled, carrying her into the night from the village of La'marri. In the thunderlight on the horizon, the glint of her wings was briefly visible before sparks of magic appeared around her, and the young mage was gone.

======

Ornusjalil alighted on a craggy peak not a mile from Veraxitoc's new sinister fort and roared out over the storm that even then was rolling in in her wake, pounding the mountains with freezing rain as she issued her cry of primal challenge. The meaning was clear as it shook the very foundation of the fortress - Ornusjalil was beyond furious... And she wasn't here to talk.

One of them would die tonight. Lightning flashed, revealing Ornusjalil was alive and in top condition... Much more than could be said of Veraxitoc this night. He had always been more adept at magic though... And she at combat, so perhaps the difference wasn't so clear... But in all their long decades as enemies, he would have never, ever seen her... This angry.

As the poison tormented and ravaged his mind, he saw through his eyes, the silhouette of a great silver dragon, with four wings. Ornusjalil. He saw that ancient hag. He was nearly as old as she was. And now he would kill her. He had killed two riders and dragons, deemed the strongest of their races, in mere minutes. He could kill legions of thunderblacks. No reason he shouldn't kill her. He hated her guts, her wretched sympathy. Her damned self glory. In his head, these accusations were baseless, just a mere excuse to try and kill her. If he died today, he would die content that people would remember this.

He ruffled his scales, and the tips of them tucked in, his scales trapping the water and making him near invisible in the raining night. [colour=purple]"You dare try and take my trophy? My prize? Die, pathetic worm!"[/color] His voice shook the ground as the black magic enhanced his voice. He muttered an otherwise unintelligible spell, and teleported, silently into the sky. In seconds he was behind Ornusjalil, claws going, mouth open, fire in his throat. He latched on to her, biting, pulling, breathing fire and ripping into her form.

Curled up in the corner she awaited the moment where a raging inferno would blaze in from the window, ending this enslaved existence before it began.  However after a while she would hear the wing beats of her captor and would lift her head to see what was happening.  She would see that something had gained the attention of the tyrant dragon as she watched him fly away in a horrid temper.  In the distance thick dark clouds were seen in the direction Veraxitoc traveled.  She wondered if the rain would reach her new towered prison as she sat on the edge of the window and passively stared into the mountain range that seemed to go on forever.  There was a sense of hopelessness as she believed that this small entrapment would be her new home forever, and even if she somehow were to escape what would she do then?  No longer did she feel a sense of joy out of her immortality, having learned the truth that she was no different from the mortals-frail, weak, and easily manipulated.  She sighed feeling alone in this foreign wilderness.

Ornusjalil reared as her opponent responded to her challenge in kind, and she felt the black magic tainting him. If she had been of a rational mind herself, if something didn't poison every sensation and fill her with an undying flame of rage, she might have reflected that something was affecting his mind as well as her own - making her hateful, wrathful, more than she normally was. Some part of her knew something was wrong, that there was some foul thing in the air, some taint on the wind, but the rest of her did not want to listen! She was practically bathing in her own fury. When her great ancient foe rose and called upon his tainted power to teleport, some portion of self preservation made her move on instinct.

Veraxitoc was a larger dragon than she, and much older than she, but she was stronger than he, faster than he, and certainly in better health in this moment. That said, the weight of his form and the black magic currently giving him mad power more than made up for the differences between them. The two great scaled beasts collided in a thunderous crash that started a landside down the side of the mountain and rent the air.

The male's talons scored along her belly plates and scraped her deeply, her talons tore at his diseased flanks and raked against him as she kicked, slicing him open many times. His fangs rent at her shoulder, blessedly failing to get a strong grip - though they did part a couple scales from her flesh, provoking a scream of pain and fury from the great female. She knew the flame was coming - and being the clever old warrior she was she knew enough to bring her shoulder in under his maw and drive it directly into her foe's throat, pinching off the larger dragon's windpipe. It wouldn't last, it wouldn't incapacitate him for very long at all, but maybe it might buy her a moment to retaliate and get her bearings. It certainly bought her salvation from his flames, and she took it without hesitation.

Her foreclaws and hind claws planted in the larger dragon and, with a beat of her wings four great, powerful wings, she threw him off of her bodily, and landed on the sliding hillside while boulders crashed past them, circling her ancient foe as the clouds made to catch up with their mistress, lightning screaming across the sky and earthing itself near them, briefly reflecting in the mercury gleam of her iridescent silver scales and the rivulets of crimson that ran from a dozen wounds.

This was the calm before the storm - both dragons were more than capable of killing the other... and both had scored numerous hits on the other already, even in only one clashing. She'd fared slightly the worse, he'd gotten the jump on her, but that wouldn't happen twice. In all their ancient battles, he needed magic to fight her properly - she was a real handful in a melee, especially in the air - that was her home, and it would be folly to fight her there now, especially with the storm pouring into the battle, roaring rain and screaming bolts of lightning tearing into the mountain around them. Fighting on his terms, with magic on his side... and now,

=========================

It was into this that a smaller figure made its way in. Dyan's heart sank as she saw the two gigantic dragons duking it out on the mountain side. She had not much time... not much time at all. Gods this was sloppy... but the harpy alighted upon the windowsill of the great tower, where she knew the dryad to be. The girl was not readily appearant... could Veraxitoc have moved her? She called into the room from her spot on the window - or.. almost did. She got one syllable off before she noticed the amplification.

"He-" and stopped. It was the work of a moment for the sorceress to work out what had happened, and revert to a human shape once more. Brilliant fiery orange feathers receded, her birdlike hindlegs fused quickly into wrapped human feet, and she stood straight. A quickly muttered spell broke the enchantment on the window, and she looked around the room curiously.

"Hello...? Miss fey?" she asked, feeling a berk. How did one address a fairfolk? "My name is Dyan... I'm here to help you, miss!" she said, as she reached her hands and started to make an aegis sigil on the window. The dragon might well work out what she was doing... and he was a fire dragon. Best to be prepared.

As they stood in the landslide they had created, Veraxitoc felt twinging, and felt his wounds trying to heal. The black magic was corrupting him through, and now he wanted to kill, eagerly. Any part of the old Veraxitoc was hidden away, locked up without a hope of salvation. Veraxitoc waited as the black magic healed him to fight again. Once the wounds were healed, he teleported, placing a mound of dirt where he once was, and himself under Ornusjalil. A clever piece of trickery, but she would know now anyway.

He rose from the earth, sending all his talons into her underbelly, taking hits in kind to those he delivered. He doubted she knew healing magics, and he felt he had the advantage of this blessing. But then he felt his magic-induced strain ease slightly. Someone had broken the amplification spell. Dropping the fight to save his trophy, the immortal fae, he flew back to his tower, just in time to see the Harpy disappear. He teleported once to cover a distance then left his body to recover the energy lost.

The dark magic made him take the form of a blacksmith. Attractive as a human, he still despised the form. He broke down door after door in his prison tower, sprinting until he reached the top.

The roars of the two dragons boomed in the mountain range as Ash'elin laid afraid in the prison made for her.  She had hidden herself in the dark corner once again, finding the freedom that mocked her at the window to be sickening.  Her body still burned in pain, as she sat curled up she pondered if it would ever dull away. 

There was a rattle of rock on the outside of her tower and Ash'elin would look up from her tightly bound curl to see what it was.  The spell would enhance the half-word that the being made causing a ringing in Ash'elin's already sensitive ears.  She was partially afraid, on one hand she had no idea who this was and on the other she knew her captor would viciously maul anyone who tried to help her get out of this tower.  She would catch the sight of a female form with bird-like attributes.  She gave out a soft voice of concern, one similar to the old priestess that had lifted her up before she was slaughtered.

The creature claimed she was here to help as she broke the enchantment to the door and made herself seen as a human woman.  Ash'elin slowly broke out of her shell as she crawled out of the darkness revealing her blighted skin and dulled features.

In a soft whisper out of fear of the enchantment she would reply, "I am Ash'elin..."  she looked down for a moment not knowing what to think of this stranger who came to rescue her.  She'd step up closer as she continued, "You will set me free from this dragon's keep?" 

Before she could get an answer there was a loud noise from the floor of the tower.  Ash'elin put her ear to the floor of her prison as she heard door after door be torn down; no doubt from her captor.  Ash'elin gripped to the harpy's thigh as she said in a begging voice, "You must run, leave here now!"  She could not bear to see another person be torn apart or burned alive by Veraxitoc; not for her now destroyed existence.

The sound was coming closer as Ash'elin shoved the woman not wanting more blood for her sake.  It broke her heart to shoo away possibly the only hope for salvation, but she lacked hope that anyone could set her free before Veraxitoc got a hold of them.  If she were of more calm mind she may have wondered how a dragon so large could fit in the stairways of this tower [not knowing of his human form], but right now she was in a panic as she tried to think of what to do when that last door was busted open.

The Silver Lady's brow flickered as she saw the wounds of her foe begin to close, to seal. What the devil...? She was certain he couldn't do that before... And it was there that she noticed the way she was reacting in and of herself! Good grief this magic was intoxicating - as in, it created toxin! She could see the black tendrils of corruption in her mind... And she didn't like it.

Now that she was aware of it, her mind turned against it, driving her eyes into the realm of the magical eye, into the boundaries of true sight. The world distorted a minute, wavered and then... Grew sharper, colors intensifying. It was then that she saw the black spiritual mist that surrounded her, that surrounded them both. Now that she did, she didn't need to breathe it in... And a deliberate exhale saw it surge out of her lungs into the sky around them. Oh yes... And her ancient rival had taken a deep strike from the necromancer? She could see the black spiderwebs of the blight on him, she could see...

Ornusjalil's eyes narrowed as she focused on the ancient foe, and she could see... An undead spirit riding him! The dragon that had been raised had been twisted by dark magic, she could see, and its nightmarish form was juxtaposed over his own, it's hateful eyes flickering in Veraxitoc's own. She flared her wings, and began to shine in the darkness of this true reality, and roared, making the air shiver and quake around them, boulders bouncing off her sturdy body harmlessly and clattering down the mountainside. Her foe would attack her soon....

So it was that when Veraxitoc rose from the earth beneath her, after teleporting himself, that she saw it coming... And was ready. His claws scored deep into her sides, dealing her terrible injuries, but she clawed not at him... But at the spirit dragon that rode him. Her claws dang through Veraxitoc's form without harming him further, but tore the dark dragon spirit possessing him right out of his body, and left her to deal with the horrid thing as she bled terribly, her blood steaming in the frozen rain.

In the muzzy way of the dying, Ornusjalil tore at the evil spirit, ripping it asunder and then... Collapsed into the freezing rain, panting, her task completed. She couldn't heal herself.... But she could stop herself from dying. Her foe wouldn't notice the effects if her deed right away - but it was done. The black power had released him, and he now had only to lose the blight to be truly free. She smiled... And froze over, her body encasing itself in crystalline frost hard as steel. The rain... Became snow in an instant, and frost covered the frozen peaks in moments that chased.

============

Dyan smiled at the girl, and patted her reassuringly as she tried to push her away. "It's alright... We're here to help you and your friend. The black magic affected his mind... It wasn't him that did any of this. I can pull the blight out... I can free you from it, miss... You and your friend, see?" She said soothingly in schoolteacher harmonics, gently piloting the fey girl to a seat of stone, where she set her down gently. The girl got a good look at her face as the mysterious shapeshifter drew back her hood.

Dyan had the look of... Well, a young schoolteacher, with glasses and a soft face, the kind you'd see behind a desk and think nothing of it, who taught children and saw to it they learned the meaning of sharing and similar. (In fact, this was dead accurate!) from her voluminous cloak, still dripping with rain, she drew out... A crystal. It was odd, in its way, made naturally... But it was natural necromancy, a stone made of crystallized life energy. The teacher muttered a soft spell, and brushed her hands across it... Then pressed it into the girl's hand as it began to glow.

The stone began to turn black, began to cloud with something that swirled and drew the taint out of the fey maiden's body, very gently... But with a sort of hard insistence, as the teacher held the girl's hands over it. It wasn't exactly pleasant... It felt sickly, but the teacher wouldn't let the girl let go or drop the crystal, even as she muttered more magic, the necromancy she was using turned to a purpose in polar opposite to the misused magic the conjuror had used to taint her. Death did not belong in living tissue. Death was drawn into the stone, the blight sucked free, carefully untangled from her system, from her soul, freeing the Fey's spirit, body, and magic all in one go.

By the time Veraxitoc got to the top of the stairs, it was too late. The girl was free... And while she was still injured in the hip, it was a natural wound now. She smiled at the girl... And stood, turning to the dragon in human form.

"Now then." She said, and held out her hand to the side. There was a ripping sound as air was rent and a pocket dimension was opened, then a flash of grayish light came forth as a... Staff came to Dyan's hand suddenly, even as she enacted the verbal and somatic components of a spell, the air hardening around her.

"Will you let me pull the Blight out of you? Or do I need to subdue you, dragon? You are not yourself."

Veraxitoc hadn't heard Ornusjalil behind him but he wasn't bothered. Someone was messing with the tower. And the little fae girl couldn't do that. Whoever was stealing his trophy was as good as dead in his eyes. They would be chow, a small snack for him. He felt the corruption become easier to fight as he climbed.

It was fading.

He reached the top and it was now a fight mentally for control. His human form didn't break the last door down by charging but merely tumbled through the door in fits of agony as the blight desperately tried to maintain control. "Get it out of me mage! Now!"

In his mind, the battle being fought was not between a light and dark, but instead he saw the battle as two mighty waves crashing together, two armies warring, two wolves challenging each other. His vivid imagination showed the struggle in his mind in many forms. It was a war of attrition, no winner possible without intervention. He needed the mage.

"Help me fight it mage. Please!"

The sound of footsteps seemed to continue up, though if Ash'elin had payed it more heed she would have noticed that the force moving up the tower seemed to be slowing down.  She found herself clutching tightly onto the cloth of this woman's thigh as her reassuring voice claimed that she could help both Ash'elin and Veraxitoc.  The woman seemed adamant to state that her help was offered to both of them as friends, at this point the fae had felt thoroughly betrayed and was having trouble being able to place all the death and evil purely on the fault of this dark magic. 

A crystal would appear in front of the girl; it's presence radiating a much more gentle magic than that which festered inside her.  Her hand was coaxed to crystal and suddenly there was a surge of energy that spread through her body as she felt a rejuvenating blast flow through her purging all the dark magic that had spread through her body.  It was a difficult experience as she clenched harder to the woman, but soon enough it was over and Ash'elin would collapse to her knees.  She panted as her breath strengthened and she found the mind-breaking pain had finally subsided.  She looked up to her savior and would notice how the crystal had turned a dark black color, realizing that it had absorbed what energy laid in her just moments ago. 

Looking toward this woman with tearful eyes she would hug her tightly, ignoring the sounds of her captor for the moment as she uttered a quiet.  "Thank you..."

However the sound of the door opening would strike the tinge of fear back into her as she released her grip around Dyan and scurried to the far off wall of the tower.  A mix of this fear and a bit of anger bubbled up when she saw this humanoid figure.  She could hear the words Dyan gave the man and came to learn that this was Veraxitoc in another form.  She grit her teeth seeing him even in this weakened and troubled state.  Part of her wished to do harm to the dragon, if they were alone at this moment she would have gladly turned this stone fortress against him and send a spiked pillar into his damaged body.  However the presence of Dyan kept her from extracting any emotional outburst.  The mage's words kept her quiet as she watched the scene unfold, but she swore to lash out upon Veraxitoc if he made any attack on the woman who had set her free from that curse.

The mage nodded to the girl, keeping her eyes on the dragon turned blacksmith. "Do me a favor, please, miss." she began, and brought her staff around a bit , dipping her head as a spell formed itself in her head.

"Go and see if you can help the dragoness outside - she is a friend of mine, and I fear the worst. Go." and with that schoolteacher-ey command floating in the air, called the spell out and sent the girl out of the tower with it, teleporting her safely to the mountainside and outside the tower. That just left her and the dragon to fight off the darkness of the curse he'd been afflicted with. With crystal in hand, she moved quickly to his side, took his hand with viper quickness, and placed the gem into it, spell already flowing from her lips. The influence of the dark dragon faded quite quickly, the curse of the undeath that had afflicted him flowing rapidly from his body and into the crystal with a sensation like somebody had put a string through his spinal column, laced it through his boots, and pulled it out his nose, and was gently, very gently tugging at it.

The gem clouded... very quickly. Another was produced, and exchanged in his palm for the now black one. That one managed to get to a hearty grey color before at last the flow of necrotic magic stopped off, and he was left clean, her eyes still watching his to see signs of movement. The mysterious mage nodded at him, and said

"Better?"

Veraxitoc could feel it recede. He didn't notice it, but there was far too much blight to get rid of. There would always be some left. And as soon as the blight was over, Veraxitoc felt a sudden change in size. He was a dragon again.

"Better, thank you, where is Ornusjalil? The blight, it made me fight her...." Veraxitoc began to worry. He couldn't have killed her, she was far to strong just to die like that.

The girl would hear the command and would nod to acknowledge that she would help this dragon friend of her savior.  Before she could exit on her own she'd find a mystic energy would surround her as it created a teleportation out of her rocky prison.  Ash'elin would give a sigh of relief to be freed from that horrid place; standing at the mountain's side she'd take one more look at her tower hoping to never find herself locked away like that again. 

At that point she'd search out this other dragon that was apparently located around this area.  Soon enough she'd see what she suspected was the dragoness that she was asked to help.  The creature seemed to be locked in a casing of crystals, it was a beautiful sight to behold-though she suspected this was some method of healing that the dragon had created. 

Ash'elin would walk up to the crystalized form as she pressed her hand against the jagged outcropping.  The life energy of the dragoness seemed stable in this coma state, but faint at the same time.  It felt good to have her senses returned; to be able to feel the presence of life and death and all other manner of mystical energies.

The Fae was slightly fearful of tampering with this new dragon, after all she had just been made the living trophy of one dragon-what if this one had the same idea?!  Nevertheless her savior had asked her to perform this favor and thus the Fae had little choice in the matter.  She began climbing the back of this massive dragon until she reached the area that should have been her neck.  At that point Ash'elin would set her hands down into the crystal as she began a soft chant to activate her life magics.  Pulses of healing energies would flow into the crystal cast and would hopefully stimulate a faster healing for the dragon frozen in the rock.  All her fears would be wiped from her mind as she focused at the task at hand.  With any luck she would have the power to help free the woman's friend.