Downtime
retrospectively (2)
Brev
It was the fourteenth day of Felarod, Molin, between jobs, had slept of a
hangover at Illyra's family home. Lying in his cot he nervously fingered the
ring on his left thumb, whilst he knew what it was, Tharla having identified
its purpose during their stay at Kest-I-Mond's tower, he had as yet not overcome
his tribal aversion to the sorcerous arts. Whilst he was capable of performing
some small spells, such tasks were really for others, however the appeal of
taking the form of another creature was a strong pull.
Noting that the house was quiet he slowly started to concentrate on the ring & the image of a creature once seen in a painting on the wall of a dimly lit inn back in the slums of High Medurim. Several minutes later Molin turned to the window & toothily grinned at the reflection staring back at him. As he stretched his arms/wings & curled his toes/talons into & through the floorboards he considered how magnificent he looked & how much better it would be if he were not the size of such a puny little man who had shaped him.
Molin concentrated, he could feel his own emotions mingling with those of the creature who's shape he now held, he knew he wasn't a real dragon but, well he sure looked good.
As Molin the dragon lumbered across the room, his talons gouged a pretty mess in the timbers, Illyra's sister unnoticed & disturbed by the noise, climbed the stairs to be confronted by a demon & was soon quickly running back down the stairs screaming about a baby-eating monster in the attic.
Hearing raised voices from below Molin had panicked &, ignoring the sensible action of changing back, he had taken the shortest route out, splintering the frame, he had bludgeoned his way through the window. Flapping madly he'd narrowly avoided hitting the the cobbles below & quickly found himself lurching above the rooftops & then the city walls.
On the walls below Synalon's soldiers assumed that they were about to be overrun & murdered by the Dark Ones so they had hastily fired bows, thrown spears & commenced loading ballista's.
Amongst the panic in the streets below Tharla & her companions stood & stared, surely this lumbering creature was not one of the near mythical lizard warriors. As Illyra looked on, suspicion grew in her mind that all was not as it seemed. Stepping into an alley she directed a mind speech conjuration towards the creature & was not surprised but shocked to touch the mind of Molin busily trying to remember to keep flapping his arms.
Warning him of the activity atop the walls she broke contact with Molin & headed in search of the others.
Exhilarated, Molin pounded the air, riding the warm current rising from the city below, to late however he saw the deadly bundle of spears arcing up towards him from the upturned wall ballista. Swerving he'd almost cleared the deadly cluster but one had penetrated his scaled body lodging in his left shoulder/wing. As more missiles arced towards him, he lurched over the city walls & the range of the ballista. A mile or so beyond the walls his faltering flight ended as he plummeted towards the ground.
Blood splattered, he'd crashed to the ground in a shower of dirt & dragged himself into the lee of a rock-strewn outcrop. Desperately he'd clawed at the spear protruding from his bloody shoulder & the ring from his thumb, finally collapsing into unconscious as the cries of both soldier & civilian could be heard spreading out from the city gates in search of the lone invader.
Kilite, having been located & alerted by Illyra of Molin's predicament headed to the gate & playing the part of mad priest attempted to distract those of the townsfolk & militia issuing forth, regrettably mad priests are obviously two a penny & few had paid him more than scant attention.
Tharla, showing more practical sense, drove at breakneck speed through the gates with Illyra clinging for dear life to her wildly swinging sled, the occasional unfortunate that hadn't cleared out of her path quick enough to avoid the teeth of her slavering sled hounds getting a nip for their trouble. Speeding in the direction in which Illyra had last seen Molin heading their search fortunately found the naked & bleeding body of Molin before the searching populace had. Hastily Molin had been bundled onto the sled & covered with a cloak before turning to head back to the city. At the last minute Tharla had spotted a gleam in the dirt & recovered Molin's discarded ring.
As Brasso finishes relating the tale, Molin rubs his still aching shoulder ruefully. Kilite smiles as would be expected for such a witty tale but cannot help his gaze falling back to Illyra, despite his concern regarding her psychic vampirism he has continued to cooperate in their attempts to translate the Jorean text concerning the staff of H'ajorcy, maybe she would not be so full of herself if she new the translation for the controlling word he had given her was in fact a lie, only he new the correct power word.
Tharla, weary of the smoky atmosphere, scratched at the new tattoo she had chosen as a focus for her newly acquired mind speech.
Brasso, pleased with his telling of Molin's misfortune, scratched his arse & farted, shit it smelt bad, but hell, it sure beat talking about Illyra's bloody family.