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[Kishio]'s Fav

Hot Fox

                  Shortly after she'd pulled some wood into a pile, Raziel had lit it with his spitfire. He sat down with her, content to spend time in the quiet of nature until the sun set and they'd sleep. In the morning, she'd make the trek to the nearest town, buy some food for both of them. For tonight, it'd be hungry bellies.
                  If it hadn't been for Tristan, she would have been able to swing something to eat that night. Oh well.

                  She'd just settled down with Raziel when she'd heard the first few hoots and hollers of what sounded like a crowd drawing near.
                  Helena scrambled to her feet, nudging Raziel to get up. He couldn't take off here, and if he blew too much spitfire to fell the trees, it would only bring more people.
                  She pulled the dagger from the sheath on her thigh, and clutched it in her palm tightly, hearing the words echo through the trees. Sinister, disgusting words.

                  Helena bit back bile that rose in her throat at the thought. She knew Raziel would set her ablaze before anything like that would happen to her.
                  Before long they showed through the trees, and ran toward her. She was not surprised to see that the man from before had joined them. That was problematic.
                  She stayed close to Raziel, eyes narrowed and calculating, bracing for impact as Raziel's snout smoked dangerously.

                  And then the unthinkable happened.
                  One of them turned on the others, turning the hills into a veritable bloodbath. Helena put a hand on Raziel's haunch, trying to push him back so they would escape unscathed... however the dragon refused to move.
                  He moved closer, and Helena hesitantly followed.

                  Spitfire formed in his mouth as the elf braced for death, and set the ground ablaze between the men and the elf, roaring loudly at the men. He charged forward, jaws snapping and nostrils smoking as he snarled and made quick work of what remained of the men.
                  Helena moved to the elf, quick to notice the pool of red at his feet. She sighed heavily, eyes flicking between Tristan and Raziel, the echo of screams of terror of the men now echoing as they ran away from Raziel's presence as they were hunted.

                  "You didn't have to do that." She muttered, kneeling beside him.
                  She might have been able to handle it. Maybe. Now someone else was bleeding for her. Helena didn't like owing people anything.
                  "Let me see." Helena demanded, and wasted no time in pushing Tristan down, working on getting through his armor to the wound. "It'll need to be sealed." She mumbled. "I could cauterize it."

Partying Prophet

Death never came, instead, Tristan was about bowled over by a great flame wall, which caused him to fall back, and drop his blade. The fight was over before it even began, and the Dark Knight was awed by the explosive power of Helena's dragon. Teeth like daggers made short work of every one of the men who almost had killed him. Sure, he had taken out a fair few of these weekend warriors, and good riddance to their disgusting kind....But the elf knew then that taking a sword against this thing only would have resulted in his own death.


Once the fight was done, the battlefield stank of coppery blood, fat and tissue. The pleasant aroma of death. The screams of fleeing peple worried him, but he doubted more would come. They would send for the army rather than risk annihilation at the hands of a slip of a girl....Oh yeah, and her pet drake. The elf felt soft hands on him, as he was moved, then forced down to the ground....Well to his back really. It was funny really, well, it would be if it didn't hurt so bad. The fact that she seemed disturbed by the fact that he did that brought a small, pained smile to his face. "Nah...I did. After hearing what those....Assholes wanted to do to you, killing them was fun. Sides....I have a thing for damsels in distress." He said, motioning up with his head to the dragon, a coy smirk crossing his thin lips.


When she spoke of burning the wound shut, he nodded reluctantly, pulling a dagger from his belt and placing it in her hand, to cut the straps holding his now ruined armor together. "I don't have much choice. If there were still people alive, I could lifedrain them. But alas....Just do it, whatever is on the bodies is yours." He said. It was kind of surprising really, that he hadn't suggested using lifedrain on her, maybe he knew how badly it would hurt her, possibly even kill her, and didn't want that. No, burning the wound shut was smart, so he closed his emerald eye, and tried to relax. He simply looked pained, but peaceful. At peace enough to let a girl he barely knew, and stole from him, to hold a knife while he had his eyes closed....

[Kishio]'s Fav

Hot Fox

                  When the dagger was given to her, Helena took it in her palm and cut the straps keeping Tristan's armor together. Then, she rose, holding the blade of the knife in the flames that remained from Raziel's line of spitfire. The metal would heat, and she would be able to cauterize the wound to keep him from losing too much blood.
                  Doing such a reckless thing like playing turncoat for her had put Tristan into a poor spot. Moreso, it put Helena into a poor spot. She hated being indebted to anyone, much less someone that had been trying to kill her dragon only moments prior.
                  What he'd said about what those men were planning on doing was despicable, but she'd been surprised that he hadn't wanted to join in. She shuddered at the thought of if he had.

                  Drawing the dagger out from the flames when it was red hot, she brought it back to Tristan, kneeling beside him once more.
                  She prepped the blade, hovering it above his side. "This will hurt." She stated. "And I'm not a damsel." Helena added, pressing the hot knife into his side.
                  The sound and smell of burning, sizzling flesh became more potent as the metal seared the wound shut. It wouldn't be pretty, but he'd live. Most likely. If he didn't allow it to get infected, anyway.

                  Once it was sealed, Helena jammed the blade of the dagger into the earth to allow it to cool. Her hands were smeared with his blood now, though Helena paid little to no mind to the red stains and rubbed her palms on her leggings.
                  "Raziel should be back soon." Helena spoke, looking around, tucking her hair behind her ear. "If you ask nicely he might give you one of his scales to help with the healing."

Partying Prophet

The elf screamed as the hot blade was pressed to his fair skin, and indeed took a moment to regain composure. Once his breathing calmed, he naturally tried sitting up, which brought a stab of pain, and his hand went to clutch his lithe side, now marred by the ugly burnt wound. "s**t....Remind me next time to not get hit...Not with you around." He said, rising shakily to his feet with a loud groan, almost stumbling right over, which would have been bad. Six feet of elf, even without armor, would have hurt hitting poor Helena. Moving slow, so as not to fall into the flames still going, his eyes caght sight of his greatsword. The flames had engulfed, and melted the blade, making it un-usable. Crouching down, Tristan picked up the remnant of the hilt, with some metal still attached.


"I was calling the dragon a damsel....And it seems he did a number on my sword." The injured elf said balefully, tossing the hilt over to Helena. "Least the gemstones in it will fetch us a few gold, maybe. That sword cost me ten aurochs. Not a lot of good it did me, I got....Well almost killed by an idiot with a sharp stick." He said, sighing as he went about looting the mangled corpses that weren't too burnt up, coming back with five aurochs, a decent sum. The elf sat down, letting out a little yelp as the motion jarred his wound, his hand instinctively covering it again.


"I guess master was right....I'm not meant for a sword. He said my technique was unrefined, better suited to an axe or polearm. I chose the sword because well....You see a warrior with a big sword and he commands respect. Guess having a real weapon helps too though." The one eyed elf said with a laugh, laying back in the grass, and looking up. "Soo what's your story? I know you and I will likely part ways soon, but it's not every day you meet a dragon girl." The elf said, holding his hand up in the air, almost lazily. Oddly enough, when he said a few words, a strange, red smoke drifted to his fingertips, the bodies disintigrating until they were nothing but bleached bones, the smoke seeming to be some sort of essence he was leeching off them. A bit of the pain seemed to leave from his face as he absorbed the residual life force in the corpses.

[Kishio]'s Fav

Hot Fox

                  The scream that Tristan let out was.. oddly satisfying, actually. Helena felt it was recompense for getting her thrown into jail. Even if he'd managed to win some of her favor back by tossing her the coin she'd stolen from him, she was still rubbed the wrong way by his landing her in a cell in the first place.

                  She said nothing, however, and watched as the stubborn man tried getting to his feet. A poor idea, considering his state. Well, if he was so bent on dying, Helena wouldn't stop him.

                  Standing, she looked over the field of bodies, musing the question to herself whether it was worth looting them or not. Tristan seemed to think so.
                  He threw a hilt of a sword at her, and it hit her before she fumbled to catch it. Her mind was elsewhere, on Raziel, tentatively looking out for him rather than paying attention to the elf.
                  "Us?" Helena raised a brow. Since when did her troupe include a battered, bawdy, boisterous elf? He'd attract far too much attention for what she had in mind.

                  She held the hilt in her palm, allowing the comment about her dragon to slide from her back. If Raziel was a damsel, she didn't know what she was. A helpless infant, maybe.
                  "Some would call that compensation." She muttered, when Tristan told her about his sword, and the price he'd paid for wanting to command respect, not heeding his Master's advice.
                  Her eyes carefully scaled the elf up and down, staring at him when he'd asked for her story. She gave an involuntary, bittersweet smile. How times had changed since the beginning of her story. It wasn't like she could even tell him if she wanted to. He wouldn't believe her, and even if he did, she'd be in more trouble than if he didn't, and thought her a nutter.

                  Raziel's presence approached from the trees, then, and Helena realized she'd been tensed only when the black drake came forward, snout still blaring smoke, a large red tongue licking his chops. Chewing the last of his meal, Raziel flashed a set of teeth unlike anything else. Two rows of huge, razor-sharp teeth gnashed the remnants of a leg, armor, clothes, bones and all, like it was as soft as a cloud.
                  The drake moved to Helena, and she opened her arms for his head, giving him a brief caress before letting him go. He nudged her softly, and sat down beside her, wrapping his tail around her protectively.
                  "What's there to tell?" She asked rhetorically. "The past hardly matters."

Partying Prophet

Awe lit on the elf's face as the drake burned in, and Tristan hesitated to answer for a moment, sliding to his feet, a good bit steadier now, his boots taking him back over to the dead men, his hands clasping around the best weapon any of them had, it seemed to be a standard, two handed infantry axe, which replaced his sword on his back. Likely it wouldn't be his permanent weapon, though the suspicion was there that the dark knight felt strange without a weapon.


His emerald green eye fixed first on the dragon, and then on Helena. "I say us as in...Part of the money we have is yours to take. After all, your dragon did most of the work." He said, sitting upon the ground, examining a poorly made sword, the blade cracked and bent, as though it had been used to drive nails in. The elf's face showed annoyance, and he chucked the piece of metal into a small fire still burning. "Your past is your past....I never saw a point in those who act as though it chains them down. I'm sure it's fare more interesting than a young elf, who's been training his whole life to be a mediocre dark knight." He said with a small smile. Truth be told, with a proper weapon and a better head on his shoulder the elf would likely grow quite strong.


"Although, I know enough not to ask. I'd rather not deal with the advances of a hungry dagon anyway. I myself need to get into town....Ok not that town but probably Caradin...Got damsels to rescue and beasts to slay. Y'know, knight stuff." The one eyed elf flashed a grin, clearly full of s**t, seeing as he was wounded, and probably wouldn't make it down the hill, so he sat, and pulled out his axe, looking it over. "My thing is....IF you have a dragon, you could take out royal wagons, brimming with loot? Why steal from a valiant knight of the shadows? Unless you picked me purely because you wanted me to follow you." He said with a coy, smartass smirk, a brave thing to say to someone with a pet murder lizard...

[Kishio]'s Fav

Hot Fox

                  Helena sat down, leaning over Raziel's thick tail, pursing her lips as the elf let the issue about her past drop, claiming he didn't want to become Raziel's next meal.
                  If that had been her plan, or Raziel's end goal, he'd already be digesting in the beast's stomach. For some reason, Raziel had spared Tristan from that. It wasn't like Helena was going to argue with him. She trusted Raziel's judgment, even if she wasn't sure what he saw in the idiot elf to save.

                  Then, he asked why she'd chosen to rob him, of all people, instead of royal carriages, insinuating she wanted him to follow her.
                  "I learned my lesson the first time I tried robbing a royal caravan." She ran her fingertips over Raziel's scales. "Solitary idiots are easier to run from than armed guards. But I tried it for... old times' sake." She smiled bitterly again, then looked at Tristan. "I almost got caught." Thankfully, she'd been able to get away mostly unharmed.
                  Helena pulled the collar of her tunic away from her left shoulder and showed off a particularly angry looking scar. "One of the knights hunted me down and ran my shoulder through. He had me cornered, if I hadn't known him from a previous life, I'd be dead."
                  She let her tunic go and tugged it back into the correct spot. "I don't want to try my luck again."

Partying Prophet

The elf nodded along as the dragon girl continued her story, green eye gazing up at the formerly rent flesh of her shoulder. His face held a look, if not just for a second, as if he felt bad for her and her misfortune. Though he laughed when she called him a solitary idiot. He took to his feet, seemingly changing his mind about giving her the discarded hilt, which he slipped back into pouch on the side of his belt.


"With a living, fire breathing siege engine, I wouldn't run. Granted....I'm just a third level dark knight...." He said, picking up the axe, seemingly examining the blade as he stood. It was obvious the elf was hurting, though he hadn't bled through any of the makeshift bandages on his midsection, even when he attempted a swing with the mid-weight axe. IT certainly looked better than the sword, but his movements were still far too graceful, not brutal enough. With a scowl he cast the axe into a tree, where it stuck fast.


"I think I've wasted enough of your time, however, I wish you well, Helena." He said abruptly, as if there was somewhere he needed to be. Without a weapon, save the dagger in his belt, the elf made his way off into the woodline, knowing Helena, she probably thought he was signing his own death warrant.


Hours later, the ragged elf made it to a town called Carim, on the outskirts of the realm. Trading away the hilt of his sword, he managed to make two Aurochs, and deciding he would need more coin, he took up a healer, spending a few silver to take most of his injury away. Then, the better part of a week was spent, doing odd jobs and using his magic to run off bandits and the like. Finally he had enough money to re-out fit himself, though this time, he took his master's words into consideration....Well, perhaps more Helena's, than his masters.



Scale Armor replaced his old hauberk, it seemed a bit basic, if not handsome on him. With the remainder of his gold, he purchased a weapon. Not nearly as flashy or fancy as his former greatsword, he bought a rather simple war scythe, which rested upon his back. The blade was well forged, and came to a sharp point. The weapon just felt....Good in his hands. Better infact, than his exquisite greatsword. Finally, at his hips went two war picks. The weapons barely cost him anything, as so few people bought, or knew how to use the stubby picks.


Satisfied with his new armament, and near broke, the elf set out for the tavern, bought himself a few rounds, then settled in for the night. Penniless, and for some reason, the dragon rider was still on his mind. It was strange really...Morning soon came, however, and he found himself drawn to the road towards Bel Coranth, something told him there would be things going on there that would be important. His hunch was right when he saw smoke, and burning wagons on the horizon. Once more, his thoughts went to the dragon rider, though below, he saw what looked like mounted warriors attacking the gates, his pace quickened, and he sincerely hoped Helena was nowhere close...Though for the life of him he couldn't understand why....


((I figured a bit of timeskipping would be prudent, since we were kinda stuck on that hill lmao))

[Kishio]'s Fav

Hot Fox

                  When Tristan had gone, Helena simply shrugged. She was okay, and so was Raziel. That was all that mattered, and if the elf wanted to enjoy the pain of movement, so be it. She had money in her pocket and her health, still. She wasn't about to sit around and tell a grown man what to do and what not to do.

                  He was gone then, as quick as he'd come, blowing out of the scene like he'd come in to it. Helena turned to Raziel and shrugged, settling down for sleep. The line of fire still crackled in the background, far from being able to be stamped out.

                  For the night, Raziel and Helena spent it coiled together, feeding off each other's heat and comfort. The morning came quickly, and Helena rose with the sun, haunted by the dreams of her past. It was not a savory thing, to remember those days. Damn that elf for having reawakened those long forgotten thoughts.

                  Her stomach growled loudly as she woke, the sound rousing Raziel. The drake's large head lifted and nudged Helena as she stood.
                  "Yes, we need to go into town. For food and supplies." She patted the lump in her tunic. "Let's go then. Before it gets too late and someone sees you."

                  It hadn't taken long at all for Helena and Raziel to arrive just outside of the town. Raziel would stay there, hidden amongst the trees until it was time to go again. This time, Helena had her sights set on the mountains, somewhere that didn't merit meeting other people, save for unfortunate explorers.
                  She made her way into town, following the road, intent on filling her belly and perhaps even purchasing a new weapon.

Partying Prophet

The elven dark knight forced a scowl from sticking too long to his face as he moved, his lithe armored form stopping in the shade of a large roadside tree, green eye fixed upon the battle ahead of him. It seemed a wagon train was under assault from mounted bandits, who circled and ebbed like a small dust devil of hooves and blades, trying to intimidate the drivers of the carts. The fire seemed to be coming from one wagon, a grain hauler that spit and burned like no other, the fresh wheat grain going up like lantern oil.


It pained him, but Tristan wasn't quite well enough to duck into the fighting, and this merchant convoy seemed doomed. That was, until something emerged from the back of the trail wagon. It was something, a mix between a deadly axe blade, and a lithe spearpoint, attached to a solid wooden haft. The thing holding it slowly, lazily uncurled himself from the cargo wagon, and Tristan's eyes widened. a man, clad in heavy plate armor now stood defiantly in front of the riders, who had wheeled their horces to mass in front of him.


Metal, exquisite in craft covered him head to toe, with a heavy plate guard on his left, shield arm and a blue tabard. The golden artwork on his chest depicred dragons and glory, and in his hand he clutched a halberd with the axe head he had seen earlier. In his left was clutched a silver shield with the image of a tree, with a spear lying against it, and a serpent eating it's own tail wrapping around all. A Dragoon?!


This man, lept into action quite literally, calling on his powers, which Tris remembered had something to do with drinking dragon's blood. His legs propelled him into the air, high above the battlefield, and with a motion came crashing down the knight, his halberd flaring down, and cleaving both rider, and horse in two, the blade slamming the ground as it passed through the two. Clearly outclassed, the remaining bandit's decided to run for the hills, unfortunately, this led them right in Tristan's direction...He cringed, and prepared for an ambush...

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