Welcome to Gaia! ::

Argos looked up from the ominously clawed footprints in the sand at the boy. ”Well. Heres a chance to see what you're really made of, eh Raemos?” he said cheerfully. Inside, he was nervous. Raemos was only a child. Could Argos really expect him to take on dragons? With only himself to help? Sonia would kick his a** if he let her son get eaten by dragons.

But dragons were the best test of a warrior's character and strength, and it seemed that there were at least a few – and thus far too many for Argos' comfort – near the ranch. Which meant they would need to be taken care of before they began predating on the livestock or, worse, the family.

”Dragons.” said Raemos, watching the older man intently. Raemos was in awe of how much his uncle knew about, well, everything. Lunch had consisted of stories that had made the normal fare of meat-and-vegetable sandwiches something special with their spice and flavor. Uncle Argos had been places and done things that Raemos could not have imagined in his wildest dreams. Raemos had fought dragons before, but he wasn't sure about Kiandri. Father came back from his dragon hunts scratched and battered and exhausted, and Rae knew his own skills did not come close to matching his father's. He had killed three Peisio dragons, yes, but that had been with Grrel's powerful help. And that Ysali? Well, it was the weakest of dragonkind, and it had put up a harsh fight. Raemos could remember that fight vividly – the fast, desperate dodges, the lucky strikes... he was lucky to be alive.

Kiandri were more powerful, he knew, and commanded the vast power of the storm-wrought skies, channelling lightning into their bodies and out into their foes. ”You okay, boy?” Argos asked, watching Rae. Kiandri were big game, and Raemos wasn't that old. He could send the boy back, get Mallew, and he and the other man could take care of the threat. He wanted to test the boy, not kill him. He wouldn't force Rae to fight dragons.

Raemos didn't want to run and hide, however. He wanted to show his uncle what he was made of. His common sense told him to leave it to the big boys, but he didn't want his uncle to think he was a coward. ”Yea... Yes.” said Raemos, nodding, ”Lets go.” he said, starting to follow the tracks. Argos shook his head, grinning. He remembered when he was that young. He followed along leisurely, taking in his surroundings.

It was not long before he motioned to Rae to get down. ”You see them?” he whispered, pointing to three amber shapes not too far away. Raemos nodded, drawing his sword – and, as if on second thought, the tome. He tensed. He was no longer the same inexperienced, pathetic lump that he had been that day on Serenia. Or at least he wasn't pathetic. Inexperienced, it could be argued, still held true, but he at least felt he could try. He bit back his fear at the powerful shapes and began to creep closer.

Argos watched from behind a dune, his own sword drawn. He had a feeling that he would need to rush in and perform a rescue, but he knew that look. That was a boy who wanted to do things alone, who felt he could try and take on the world. Argos wished he was that young again, but alas, he was old enough to know that there were things that would forever be beyond him.

Raemos knew that Kiandri were likely beyond him... if he fought fair with brute force. He had not had experience with other children or playground fights, but he knew that the key to a fight was not just skill but strategy. In fact, it was primarily strategy. And he had a trick up his sleeve -- one nasty trick that he was slowly mastering. He crept closer and held the tome to him. He knew the words by heart now.

”Lafhaz Gaolem!” he shouted, feeling the power rush through him and out, entangling one of the dragons in the clasping, choking mist. He charged out at them before they could react, swinging with his sword. A clawed foreleg flew away, twitching, to the sands below, disconnected from it's body as the dragons roared to face their attacker. Raemos didn't let them get a good view of him. Close up, they were huge. Huge and sparking and powerful. His spell would not last forever, especially, he knew, in this light. He was careful, moving quickly among them, using his speed to his advantage. He dodged and sliced and moved too fast for him to think about it.

He screamed the spell again as the magic faded and felt power leave his body again. He was not as empty as he had felt the first time he had used it twice in a row, but he knew he could not use it again. Still, it did its duty: the miasmic mist coiled around the dragons, holding them back as they charged towards him, trying to destroy the annoying creature in their midst. He slashed at an exposed neck, cutting deeply, and the dragon faded away, leaving the mist that had encircled it to whisper aimlessly over the sand before attaching to the remaining dragons like a slimy and sinuous snake. The dragon newly missing a foreleg hissed in rage, spitting a bolt of electricity the width of an arm at Raemos, the very air crackling and sizzling with its passage.

Raemos tried to dodge, and manged to save his legs from incineration, but his feet were not so lucky. Searing hot electricity struck his feet and jangled up his entire body. He screamed and rolled away from the smoking patch of glass, his feet red and raw from the burns. Screaming still, he pointed his sword at the dragon and did... he didnt quite know what. Something dark and nebulous, yet like the bolt the dragon had spewed, flung from his sword – no – from his body through his sword and into the dragon, searing a dark hole into its chest. It looked down, surprised, and then fell, disintegrating into the scorched sand. Raemos gasped, in pain, in awe, and in exhaustion. He felt strained, at his limit.

The third dragon bore down on him, snarling as the miasma dissolved away in the harsh sunlight. Raemos stared up at it, barely able to do much more than lift himself off his feet: his body felt like a limp noodle, every muscle fiber screaming in pain, his internal energy reserves drained like water from a bowl left in the desert heat. For a moment, Rae thought... no, knew... he was going to die.

Just then, though, he heard a loud and commanding cry. A fountain of blood spurt from the dragon's side, as his Uncle Argos charged out, slashing the dragon. As the dragon staggered back and reassessed, he grabbed Raemos, picking him up in one arm as easily as Rae would a pet silx. He ran, carrying the boy until he was sure the dragon would not follow. He knew Rae was no longer conscious, and set the boy down, heading back to retrieve the orbs and feeling very, very proud.