Dismal and gloomy was the sky, it reminded him of ash in the way it was painted. Scoops of the lighter gray hues, folding into the unneeded dough that was the greater overcast clouds. Yesterday it had snowed so gently, fat pearl flakes that fell slowly to the earth, reminding him graciously of his one true love. Could she have been sending him a warning? A natural message of not to trek the wet lands, and that danger would soon afflict him? Even if it would be of her nature to grant him this caution, he hadn’t been paying attention, for his rich, heavy boots soon found the muddled paths and dampened walkways that lay beyond the Fire Shrine. The trails were caked with a sort of dirtied slush, trampled by frequent voyagers, wagons, and horse hooves. Only by staying within the previous prints of the former journeymen, did he avoid the wet splatter from touching his impeccable attire, or otherwise wetting the dry of his skin. The work made things slow, he quickly observed that the travelers were not of his height and had to hinder his stride in order to stay within the reaches of their tracks.

His shrine was leagues behind him now, and so was the secluded silence with it. The Ainur now ascended deep within the public forest paths, animals live within his ears, the taint of the mortal’s camp fresh under his nostrils. Today’s journey had brought him back to the frequent memories of his own, past, loan travel; when the greatest of his worries was where he would sleep that night or when his next great scheme for gold would surface. He had gotten so used to the company of his many reflections at the nature temple, so to again voyage out into the wilderness made him feel peculiarly fresh. Disdain filled him at the thought of having to find a spot to sleep, if night soon approached. And, if he had it his way, he wouldn’t have left the comforts of his grand citadel at all. But what tore him from his isolation was not the softness of a winter’s snow, nor the refreshing of survivor skills, but a more lucrative venture that would require his immediate attention.

Ever since Jupiter’s budding relationship with Xoco, the Guardian of Shadows, had began, the world seemed to open its darker doors to him. He was seeing paths that had never appeared to him before and meeting people whom he would have, otherwise, thought to avoid. But beyond their toothless facades, they held more manpower than Vaudeux could imagine. Such extents crucial for any man looking to ravish the lands of Ea. Even with the hand of shadows, he would still need to develop his repertoire past the extents of a pair of demigods, but to something that was already readily available on land. Something that would already know the lands well enough to help or hurt it, if need be. That entity came to him in form of a stocky tradesman, one balmy winter’s evening. Brief was their exchange upon the marble floors of shrine, but it was enough to convince the Ainur to depart this day and further negotiate their partnership. What the man promised was his allegiance to the Fire Guardian and his future plights, along with the backing of his valley of men. All the Maiar would have to do in return, was oblige them with his presence at their camp, a task he was more than willing to perform for such a hefty prize.

The path rounded into the wood, wafting moist scents of vegetation in abundance to his nostrils. He vaguely took the new sights into account, only to feel the stiff cold capturing the exposed flesh of his face. His broad cheeks were sunken and chapped so that a discomfort rose within him at any form of expression. Stretched beneath his feet, the steps quickly made work of the dark, mulched undergrowth. Bare, spidery trees enclosed him in a shell of limbs and roots. But his mind stretched beyond the trees and the harsh breath of winter, captivated in their own breathable space. It touched recollections so recent and so historic, but refused to truly accept them in their fullest, for Vaudeux was too worrisome to become lost in his own dark memoirs. A disturbance in the canopy tore him from his past in the form of widely stretched feathers, fluttering in a graceful wingspan. Emerald eyes turned skyward, he observed the gliding hawk, watching as it fell from its bleak abyss into the blackened fingers of the trees. Such trained movements, I must be nearing people. Thought the Ainur, eyeing the place where the bird had disappeared, opening his senses wide to embrace of any other possible signs of civilization.

He followed the wagon tracks further - embossed in the forced nature path - until he could begin to hear a faint rumble of human voice. Their cordial tones were so apparent, almost like a settling mist. As he neared, he could begin to discern scrapes of metal ware for the jolly jingles of dining, and affable laughs as stories were being shared. Through his nose came faint traces of their meal, a hearty stew perhaps, brimming to a boil over a, perceptively, aging set of embers. He followed the trail-scents to a wide clearing, walking into the midst of the travelers as if he were apart of their camp, a worker simply returning from the forest with kindling. But when the site opened up to his presence, he felt like a minute speck at the lack of attention to his presence. He too, wondered why he had traveled by foot to his contact. A man of his stature would have been better suited to the luxurious wagons of nobles, to then come parading in and ceasing all action to his sole arrival. Vaudeux stopped in his gallant stride and observed a great cobalt tent, matching the size of a modest town-house and the length of an arena in size. To his left were the tables, rows upon rows of oaken dining slabs with countless heads mulling about with their meal. He felt a pain of annoyance when none of them seemed to notice that a demigod was in their midst, and rather took to cursing his foolish form of arrival once more, when a crow-call of surprise pierced his closest ear.

“’E’s ‘ere!” Called a bumbling man, tearing out of the tent’s flaps and adorned in a suit of leather armor. Jupiter turned his uninterested gaze upon the disturbance, taking in the only jostle of the tranquility that had possessed the banqueters and their impressive niche. When the operate caught the Ainur’s fiery gaze, he slid to an immediate halt, boots crunching over loose rocks in the foliage. Only when they heard their fellow skid to stop, did the innumerable diners turn their heads to the new scene - as if they could sense commotion brewing. Vaudeux was then rapt in awareness of all the eyes that laid upon him, feeling their many hued brightness’s finally settling upon their anticipated guest. Then came the hush as they then realized who stood before them, the tales of this fantastic Maiar stretching in boisterously exciting tales from their superiors’ tongues. To them, he was a fresh sight, perhaps surprising in all of his natural and tamed beauty. So he did not cast off the curious eyes, but furtively welcomed their glances with a great masculine breath - that puffed his broad chest and wafted a sinister smoke through his full and parted lips, ever-suggesting that his temperature was far beyond the average reaches of a mortal’s - as it billowed in a cloudy mist from his great visage.

Vaudeux and his observer was locked in a silent exchange of language. While the guardian sought to pluck some type of sense from the man, he merely directed him a look of bemusement or, quiet possibly, fear. Sensing that their unprompted staring match would not lead him straight to his business for being there, Jupiter began to open his mouth when the tent folds again parted, revealing the hem of a pair of familiar robes. The stocky tradesman had reappeared. This time he was wearing a thick glove on his arm, sporting a rather sharp-angled hawk - perhaps the very one he had seen in the skies earlier - which darted it’s yellowed, moon-eyes across the clearing. “Ah! Jupiter. I welcome you to my camp. It’s a pleasure to have you in our midst,” The tradesman’s voice erupted in a gargle, suggesting that he had a rather large amount of phlegm that needed to be dislodged. Vaudeux hid his displeasure, by closing his eyes in the midst of a polite and tilted head, a gesture of acceptance or of courtesy.

The man seemed pleased, as did his gang of feasting warriors, whose rumbles slowly started to increase back to their original talkative fervor. Their leader crossed the distance between Vaudeux and his initial operate, breaking their awkward standstill and hobbling to their Ainur’s side. Welcoming the change, Jupiter then followed his potential ally across the greater part of the clearing. He soon noticed, as trivialities were soon glossed over and passing above the heads of the many, capable eavesdroppers, that they were avoiding the bulk of the tent and searching for the solitude soon lurking behind it. He followed without protest, sure that all that was required of his visit was to, perhaps, try and head some magical flame - or perhaps forge a powerful weapon for the clan. Thus, when the tradesman steered him round the next corner, he was qualmish to find himself surrounded by a menagerie of animals. The pair was greeted by several squawks and the roar of a wild cat, which the tradesman took no notice of and kept his stride to the centre of the new clearing. What he also failed to observe was the stopping of his guest, who seemed momentarily bombarded by what he was seeing.

An amalgamation of creatures were harbored in cages of varying shapes and size, in a tight horse-shoe. The area was filled with an unmistakable aroma of dung and the lashing of harsh whips, as nervous tamers did their best to cease the rattle of the more raucous beasts. His eyes fell upon a particularly large crate that was draped in tanned cloths, but was rocking sinisterly with whatever horror crept inside. “Come this way Jupiter!” Called his tradesman who, when Vaudeux looked, was absentmindedly gawking into the farthest cage whilst stroking his obedient hawk. The Ainur stripped his gaze from the cloaked coop, and welcomed the prompt to keep moving. By the time he reached the opposite cage, his perplexity was yet to be satiated while next they stared upon a dozing lioness.

“You see, it is the females that hunt for the pack Jupiter,” Came the man’s gruff, but eager, voice. Vaudeux grimaced. Had he journeyed all this way to merely be taught about exotic creatures?

He looked at his host to find that the man was ogling, absentmindedly off into the cage, still idly stroking his fierce-eyed bird. After a few moments in silence the tradesman finally seemed to sense the Ainur’s fiery gaze boring into him, and met eyes with his guest. Vaudeux was unsurprised to see him flinch, such brilliance that encompassed his gaze was a fiery match for anyone to discover. But the man quickly covered his hiccup with a stretched smile, and by departing from the sidelines of the lioness and her den to lead his guest back across the clearing. “Well I have one last thing to show you Jupiter,” Called the man as they went, his pace resembling a gait that should have belonged to a much lither man. “A creature that should interest you quite a bit.”

Vaudeux slowed when he saw that they did not head towards any cages, but rather a large gap in the trees - its innards shrouded in blackness. He found the intonation of his host interesting. A slight pique in his tones suggested a mask - a thing the Guardian was all-to familiar with - and that he wouldn't just be shown another pointless creature, but that this would be the very reason for his visit. Perhaps he would have kill this beast for the band of warriors in order to gain their respect. Whatever he was required for though, Jupiter didn’t like the feeling that rose in his stomach as he approached the cave-like mouth in the trees. Men who had been working to wrangle the surrounding animals had stopped to watch his ascent, anticipation lining their perspiring faces. They too are expectant of me. His muscles tensed at the thought, something sinister was afoot. Wordlessly he again stood at the tradesman's side, both staring into the pitch black of the forest that framed their bodies in its large black mouth.

“I asked you here today, Jupiter, in hopes that we could one day form an alliance that you would like,” Came the voice of his host once more, but, surprisingly, in a calming whisper. “But first I require one of a most humble and great service from you, as the Fire Ainur.”

Vaudeux listened with boredom. He had sensed this coming from the cusp of their first encounter, back at his shrine. If he to sacrifice his time in order to gain the followers he so deserved, then this was what he needed to do. He turned his voice back to the man, granting only the cave the pleasure of his gaze, “Go on.”

There was an enthusiasm at the next spew of sentences that suggested that Vaudeux was being more earnest than expected, “Well we have stumbled on a great many of beasts in our travels. Lions, Anima, creatures of the wood and of the water - but none of them has fascinated us more than the dragon,” Suddenly Jupiter's heart dropped, getting lost somewhere inside of him and his abrupt dejection. Dragons were a great deal closer to him than this man must have realized, but never pleasant or comforting to associate with. Vague flashes of his own mutilated body, wrapped in a demonic armor of sinew, hounded his thoughts. The Wyrm had lain dormant for so long, unperturbed in his subconscious, he was wary to bring about those same chaotic feelings while under a similar presence of another dragon of his being. Though, somewhere inside of him, he knew what was coming. “We happened upon one a short while ago, Jupiter. In my excitement we only managed to sedate the being, without truly beginning to tame its scaly flesh. But,” His voice grew low, Vaudeux picked up disappointment in the man’s tone. “The beast continues to ravish our cause every time it wakens, so we seek resolve.”

For a moment silence grew between the pair. To Jupiter, the story sounded incomplete, so he waited for the tradesman to continue. When naught but the chilly air could grace his ear, he turned back to the man with narrowed brows of bemusement. “And, what does this have to do with me?” Came his cool drawl to the expectant look of his host.

The man chuckled, “Why it is a fire Dragon, Jupiter!”



How long he had stood outside the forest den, he did not know. But the span was just enough to convince him that, otherwise abandoning the valley of men and their eclectic leader would be a sorry mistake down from the ladder of power. And so, he ventured into the shadows welcomed by the smell of scorched vegetation and the impression of a dragon. Entwined was the overhanging limbs, so that they couldn’t even permit the brightest of the overcast rays through their domed barriers. He looked upon the trees with magical sights that cast a tint of blue to the perpetual darkness. Though gifted his sense was, it couldn’t help but take away all the clarity that the brightness a fire could bring. Nevertheless, he peered about, determined to find the dragon as quickly as possible or, before it found him.

They were an intelligent race, and, such blessed that he was to be born with half of their blood, it did nothing to tie the broken bonds that he possessed with them. He was nothing but a half-breed, a scar upon their race. And he doubted that even the kinship of a demigod would quench their bloodiest thirst. Then came another sinking doubt. If his words would mean little to a dragon, he would likely have to resort to force, which promised injury. The forest grew silent around him. Only the crunching of branch and twig underfoot broke the quiet, and, suddenly, his breath grew loud with every exhale. From its mouth, the den didn’t look as far stretched, but Vaudeux felt like he had been walking for several moments with his careful steps before he even spotted anything remotely draconic.

It came in the form of a shed claw, abandoned and small. It must still be young. He thought with some novice, appealing to himself to retrieve the specimen from its tangle of roots. It was warm to his touch, and blacker than the night’s sea. It was heavily bowed, while its point remained sinisterly sharp; the characteristics of a newly formed being. Turning it over, the claw refracted brilliant shimmers even in the absence of the light. He noted a red sheen to its dark hue, and intricate markings upon its base. A dragon’s talon was a rarity; artifacts that he knew would sell for prices well beyond the average goods of Ondolond. Just as he squinted, to peer into the depths of the symbols, the ground quaked in result to a violent crash sounding behind him. Vaudeux wheeled around in time to avoid a shower of branches raining down from the canopy. But he was fearful, for the large maw of a dragon grew agape and, before he could even see it, he sensed the conjuring of flame.

With a flash of brilliance, the youngling spewed his defensive blaze at Jupiter, engulfing the man in a roaring inferno column that would have any mortal screaming in agony over their melting flesh. But, as the last of the flames disappeared, the man remained whole and standing as if he had just withstood an intense wind. Jupiter’s eyes grew from squinting, to their regular appearance. His skin still tickling from the touch of his element, he haughtily wiped his attire free of ash - in a daring maneuver to escape the attention of his attacker. The dragon growled, shaking his bones like a deep thunder, before again belching out another column of fire. But this time, Jupiter was ready. He held out his hand, halting the decent of his element upon his form. Unwillingly it obeyed, streaking off into the surrounding wood, but never gracing the visage of its ungracious master. The tremors came again, the youngling was becoming restless. Vaudeux smirked up at the being, This might be easier than I thought. And he was just about to open his mouth, when other thoughts breeched his conscious - ones that were not his own.

So you have tricks human, The voice was cold, too cold in the back of his mind. As do I. And before he knew it, a pain shot through his mind. It was terribly familiar, that same screaming anguish one felt to hear another dying around you. His skull was splitting. He wanting nothing more than for it to stop. He clutched his temples, hoping to stem the spread of pain splintering in his mind. It stabbed at his memories and, suddenly, a scene erupted on the insides of his eyelids. Low, scaly brows, eyes scarlet and full of unbridled hatred. His own reflection staring back at him, his inner horrors of the Wyrm baring its deadly teeth in a mocking display of what control it had over its human shell. Its terrible eyes flashed something menacing, drawing Jupiter into their endless abyss of evil. But then, he was back in the clearing, tearing himself away from the terror of his mind. And he as running, tearing back through the grove and blackened foliage, only to escape that dark place that had once captivated him so. The dragon had bested him, found his weakness in the fraction of a second of his arrival. Vaudeux couldn’t bear to handle the power of the Wyrm any longer, if only to put distance between him and the incensed vision - he departed the grove in a light jog.

Practiced as he was in facades, he feinted optimism as he departed the tree-den. He was met with expectant faces and sounds of, “Did you do it?” But Jupiter did not stall, his mind was whirling to come up with an explanation for his sudden depart while still trying to shake off the last remnants of the vision. Vaudeux slowed to a trot next to the tradesman, passing him a convincing look of confidence as he aimed his body towards the nearest trees. “The dragon, it yearns for its kin. I have to collect my bearings,” With that, he motioned again towards the lighter part of the Taurai, disappearing into the poles of winter stalks to put as much distance between himself and the zoo as possible. When his breath grew heavy, he collapsed into the quiet of his surroundings, panting out the terrors of his recollections, and hoping for a sign that would free him of the daunting task that he had to complete.

(OOC: Jup, how about 'Taming Fire'?)

As the final hours of daylight waned, and the last sliver of sun sank below the horizon, the thin layer of clouds began to thin, and between their dark and misty forms shone the light of thousands of stars, and half of the waxing moon. A few inches of white snow and ice remained upon the ground, the brightness of the moon reflecting off of it and again off of the clouds, creating a night so clear and well-lit that one could see for miles across the plains.

A path of tracks led into the Taurai Woods; not along a road, but following a hunters' trail. It had been made by men and horses, and judging by the freshness of the dung that remained upon the ground they had passed out of the woods that morning. Rièle examined the tracks carefully, counting numbers of men and horses, and gauging the relative direction in which the tracks led. Careful to allow her own footprints to blend in with those already imprinted in the ice and mud, she made her way to the edge of the trees, and climbed one of the few tall pines nearby, hiding in its densely-needled branches. Most of the other trees were birch or alder, and had lost all or most of their leaves with the winter, hence offering little opportunity for hiding. In this tree she waited, patient and still as a hunting cat, her belly pressed to the sappy bark of the branch and her eyes vigilant upon the little trail. Night fell and the moon rose high into the sky before her quarry came into view.

A train of pack-mules crested a distant hill, guided by five horsemen. They made their way at a brisk trot, clearly in a hurry, for they risked the soundness of their animals moving at such a pace on unsure footing. The icy ground crunched beneath the horses' feet, and their breath could be seen billowing from their nostrils. The horses clearly knew they were heading home to camp, for they moved eagerly, their eyes and ears focused on the trail ahead, and their masters needed to give them little encouragement to continue onward. As they slowly drew near, and passed beneath Rièle, they took no notice of their observer, and she quietly inventoried their numbers, and their cargo, which was her primary interest.

Rièle opened her mind to the tired horses as they passed under her tree. She brushed her thoughts against theirs, gently exchanging scents and images, and inquiring about the scents of the camp. She mainly received images and smells of hay, and other horses, but a few stray thoughts and memories of smells caught her attention, and she grew increasingly convinced that this caravan would lead her to the camp she sought. In affirmation of her theory, the scent of the cargo on the mules' packs reached her nostrils, and she looked closely to see carcasses of deer, sheep, and even a cow strapped across their backs. There were also bags that likely contained some smaller game, and one mule with two cages strapped to its back, each containing a live goat.

Rièle's eyes narrowed in suspicion and concern, her nature-hardened skin crinkling in thought.

She waited several minutes after the little caravan had passed, and slowly climbed down from her position in the tree. She stretched her stiff muscles, and walked a few hundred feet away from the road to a hole under a tree where she'd stashed her small pack and fighting staff. As she reached into her pack to pull out some dried meat, she also reached out her mind to Jack, her horse, who was grazing happily half a mile away. He ignored her for the most part, as his mind was far too focused on his dinner to care what she was up to, but she told him to wait for her near the forest's edge, and that she should return in the morning.

Her stomach satisfied, she replaced her pack and staff under the tree, and headed back for the hunters' trail to follow the caravan. The bright light from the moon trickled through the trees, and cast shadows from the trembling, leafless branches onto the frozen ground. Rièle stepped carefully in the slush and mud of the trail, allowing the softness of the ground to muffle her footsteps, and in no hurry to catch up to the caravan. An owl whistled its ascending trill in the darkness, echoing throughout the woods, and Rièle felt the little creatures around her become quiet, humbled in fear of the call of such a master predator.

For several hours she walked amongst the trees, her eyes cast downward on the trodden path before her, and her mind stretched open to the animals around her. Most were sleeping, and she would catch snippets of dreams of little songbirds crouched together in the branches of the trees, or irritated thoughts of squirrels as they lay within their nests, as they blinked themselves awake when they detected the smell of an approaching human. The sharp thoughts of night-hunters touched her mind as well, so incredibly focused and intent upon every sight and sound that pierced the normal swaying of the trees. She felt how they extended their senses, and interpreted the tiniest smell or movement, and mimicked them, listening closely to her own senses, in the cold and silence of the night.

It was thus that she detected the smell of the men's campfires, far away, and paused momentarily in her tracking. She considered the distance between herself and the camp, and the likelihood of guards or sentries along the trail. Knowing that she'd detected the camp early, she resolved to follow the trail for awhile longer, for her pace would be much faster along it than through the brush.

After another mile's distance the smoke from the men's fires became thick in Rièle's nostrils, mixing with the scent of men and horse dung. Even the sounds of the animals in the wood diminished, and Rièle chose that moment to step quietly off of the trail into the brush. Her progress was greatly slowed, for she was alert to the possibility of encountering a scout or sentry, and was also forced to move more slowly through the thick undergrowth that she might avoid making even the smallest sound. It was about midnight when she finally caught sight of the camp's torches and fires, and she dropped onto her belly, creeping up upon the edge of the forest clearing and letting the mud and ice soak through her blouse and chill her breast. Her green eyes gleamed as they peered under a bush, and glimpsed the great silvery tent and the men dining at tables situated around it. She recognized several men from the caravan, but there were few others, presumably the majority of the camp had gone to sleep.

Rièle crept through the brush and around the clearing, her movements slow and cautious. She never allowed haste to cause herself to make a sound, or give herself away. She saw a few sentries, though most appeared relaxed, and it seemed the camp had little concern for thieves or attackers. It took her nearly an hour to traverse the circumference of the clearing, listening, observing, and counting each new face that she discerned. But as she rounded the final corner and saw the back of the tent, she froze, for she had found what she'd been looking for.

An array of cages, built of wood and iron, were set in a half-circle behind the great tent, surrounding an arena of trampled dirt. She could not see inside most of them in the darkness, but several of the shadows moved, revealing a pacing animal, and in one or two she could detect the silhouette of a deer-like beast, and a wolf.

A low growl emerged from her throat as her anger swelled, but she quickly silenced the small sound. She herself had mastered many beasts, and freely helped humans tame and partner with them, for work and pleasure. But this was not a partnership... it was a prison. The animals were controlled with whips and chains, and contained behind bars to prevent their escape. They did not accept the bond with humans freely of their own will, and instead were subjected to it solely for the enjoyment of the humans. Her blood boiled inside her veins, her teeth clenched tightly, and her head and eyes grew hot with the fire of her anger.

Rièle allowed herself several minutes for her enragement to pass, so that her mind could think. She considered the scene before her, and realized that it would be near-impossible for her, alone, to free all of the beasts. Though most of the beasts were sleeping, except for the nocturnal cats and a few of the more restless animals, there were several guards placed near the cages. Rièle doubted her ability to calm all of the beasts whose cages she'd be able to open long enough for her to free the rest. Sooner or later, a beast would slip her control and flee, and a panic would ensue that she would not be able to control. Still, she felt bound to do what she could.

An idea struck her, and she slipped back into the cover of the forest, backtracking a short ways to another side of the tent. Here the horses were picketed, and Rièle counted more than 50 of them, in three lines. There was a groom here, seeing to the horses' tack, but he seemed to be alone. Rièle slipped amongst the horses and made her way along the lines, quickly and quietly reversing the ties of the horses' leads as she went. Usually, a horse was tied with a quick-release knot, so that if he pulled back it was easy to tug on the other end of the knot and free him before he broke the lead. Rièle retied the knots so that, when the horses pulled back, they would instead easily pull themselves free. The horses were, for the most part, sleeping soundly, and they barely noticed her, or the groom.

She silently made her way back to the brush by the cages, and watched the guards carefully from a distance. Their movements were confined to one side of the half-circle, where some of the rowdier beasts were caged, and their torches were mounted here as well. Rièle decided to start from the far side of the circle from the guards, as these animals would be easier for her to command as well, and she would be able to free more of the beasts before the men realized something was wrong, or her control wavered and the beasts escaped.

The first creature was an enormous deer, with strange, thick antlers and a coat of brown and black with white zigzags across its back. Rièle closed her eyes, and concentrated as she unclasped the lock on the cage door, intent on imprinting the simplest of messages into the beast's mind. Your cage is open, but they will catch you if you flee. Wait until I touch you with my thoughts again. Stay hidden until then.

She waited for the terrified animal to calm, and accept her message, before moving onto the next cage. Sweat began pouring down her brow with effort, for she had to remain unseen by the guards, and concentrate on maintaining command of each animal, continually directing them to remain in their cages, and constantly adding more to the number she needed to command at one time. For some of the smaller animals she actually opened the cage door slightly, as they were too small and weak to move the door on their own. Several of the cages contained pairs of animals, clearly acquired so that they would mate, but they were too stressed and frightened in such a confined and cruel environment to do so. More than an hour passed, and the strain on Rièle's abilities, which were by far still growing, was pressing her to her limit. She crested the turn of the half-circle, and finally came to the first of the predators.

It was a bear. Its coat was ragged from neglect and malnutrition, and it bore scars from the beatings of its handlers. At the approach of human scent its instinct was to growl a warning, and Rièle was forced to relax her control of the other animals for a terrifying moment as she sent a command into its mind. The animal stayed silent as she opened its cage, and she used her gaze upon its eyes to ensure its obedience. You must wait. Be silent.

She passed cage after cage. A lioness, even a giant oliphaunt. Rièle's heart pounded in her ears, but she could not hear it for the division of her mind, and the concentration she maintained to continue the control of all the wild creatures she commanded. With half a thought she wondered that she might be condemning most of them to death, roaming the wilds of a foreign land, but she reflected that these free and wild creatures would prefer death to spending their lives in a cage.

Rièle was two-thirds the way around the row of cages, the voices of the guards close to her ears, when she reached the crate draped in cloth.

Carefully she parted the thick brown cloth, and found that the crate was fastened with three strong latches. She carefully began unhinging them, as she reached inside the crate with her mind, sending her command to the creature within. At first there was only a darkness of thought, as if she was communicating with nothing, but then something reached outward for her... a sentience, fueled by magic.

The final latch was broken as the enormous chimera charged the door, knocking Rièle backwards onto the ground. She did not know, or hear, the chaos that erupted, as each creature she had freed fled from their cages in panic the moment her mind's control failed. Pain filled her head, for the sentience of the beast had overwhelmed her, taking advantage of its own strength and nullifying hers, ensuring its freedom from the caged hell in which it lived by overcoming the ignorant mind that had dared assume it could command it. For several moments Rièle saw nothing, heard nothing, and when her senses returned to her she realized her mistake, and panicked.

Beasts and men and horses ran every which way throughout the camp. Predators chased prey and fear drove all, each creature heedless of each other or of what lay in its stampeding path. Part of the tent was trampled, several cages were destroyed, and Rièle smelled blood and dirt and feces upon the ground. She moved into a crouch, mindful of the scene around her, and began to plan a path back to the woods where she herself could flee the revenge the men would be sure to exact upon her.

But the backlash of her connection with the chimera had affected her more than she expected. Her vision blurred, and she felt the beasts around her: frightened, defensive, dying; until they penetrated the depths of her mind and she could not tell her own thoughts from theirs. Her ears heard the sounds of men approaching, and she growled again, crouching back and baring her teeth; beast-like in her instincts. Several soldiers surrounded her, and she was backed against a cage, and threatened with a spear, until they dared draw close enough to kick her inside one of the open doors, but not without obtaining bloody rakes along an arm and leg from her teeth and nails. The man with the spear pinned her to the cage's wall as the door was slammed shut and locked, and another man shouted something, his words ringing almost like a foreign language in Rièle's ears. "Get the tradesmaster! Hurry!"

Pandemonium. When the cries of countless animals intermingling first pierced the air, the tradesman’s mind blurred. Moments before he had sat to greet the night’s supper inside the warrior’s tent, his energy already exhausted from awaiting Jupiter’s return, when the first of the squeals greeted his ears. It could have been one of the mother hawks, ruffling feathers from a disturbance to her next, but the call was a long drawn-out scream - that chilled the blood of the tradesman at once. He placed his hand on his fleshy breast and turned to the direction of the shriek in surprise. Just before he could discern the ways of the animal, then came the thunderous roar of thousands of sounds clashing at once. There came the painful yelps of the animals, combined with the padding of hundreds of types of feet, paws, and the like, bounding around through the clearing that was near to him. Only by being separated by a single flap of tarp, he could clearly hear the breathing of his caged beasts as they ran by- notably free from their restraints.

The sentinels around him had since gotten up at the alarm, bolting out of the closest exits with whips and other devices of dominance in hand. He waited for the tamers to work their magic, hoping that the mass uncertainty and racket was merely just the work of a single escaped beast. But somewhere in his mind, perhaps from experience and the blatant use of his senses, he knew that it would be wishing too well. Then there was a shrill cat-like roar, My lioness! His small heart sank, how many of their difficultly acquired beasts would fall to this unexplained turmoil? Soon, the cries of man intermingled with the whines of the beasts so that the woods lit up in an uproar of confusion. It wasn’t long before his workers had returned to his side in the tent, professing their jumbled accounts of the events that were plaguing the pitch - the same pitch had once served as their animal prison, which was now turning into a mockery of movement. They didn’t need to bring his attention to the fray, for it was already so apparent in its chaotic resonance.

Eventually the sounds died, save for the wood clatter of the trees, which were now welcoming a collection of eclectic creatures into its midst. As the sounds of the animals expired, the voice of man grew louder until, before long, the tradesmaster himself was called into the hub. Hesitancy greeted his pace at the slit in the tent, but nevertheless, the tradesman parted through the flaps out into the clearing. And any memories of the splendor of his poaching dissipated promptly at what he saw. Most of his hand-built, laborsome cages were left in splinters. Torches were choking up dirt and broken on the ground, while the scene, as a whole, resembled those of the aftermath of a tornado. His aging expression was filled with shock, but his mind was cluttered with aimless anger. Whomever did this would pay. Whether it was the mistake of a lock, or even a small slip on part of his crew, they would pay for the error of their ways in blood. As it was a common tradition to be punished in the poachers brigade.

Noting the mass of warriors crowded around a cage, the stout tradesman huffed quickly to their sides, irritably anxious for a report on the mess. His beady eyes took in the presence of his fellows, who all seemed to bear tense muscles or be adorned in fresh wounds from the departing beasts. But, as they parted for him upon his approach, he held his twitchy gaze the longest on one and particular - one who seemed to be the very reason for his current dismay. The surrounding soldiers watched the silent exchange nervously, for the quiet seemed to drag on into the dangers of their general’s reserve. They detected the small of his fist quake at his sides, the heated beads of sweat quivering on his brow, and it was only until a brave soul from the bunch cleared his throat and motioned towards the cage, did anything happen, “It was her, sir.”

“Very well!” Proclaimed the tradesmaster quickly as if he was expecting it, his voice cracking adolescently, which the remainder of the group dared not to laugh at in fear of his dangerous, developing rage. The man peered around so irately that, all the surrounding guards could almost see him formulating a devilish punishment for their animalist intruder. They watched as his eyes bounced all around the clearing before finally settling upon one precise sight, with an expression that twisted into a brutal grin. Many turned around to see what their general had spotted, and what they found immediately sparked excited murmurs from the observing crowd. Across the clearing, past a broken and upturned cage, standing tall and ominous as it had been during twilight, was the mouth of the forest den and, inside, the vicious dragon. “Take her from my sights! And make sure she doesn’t live to tell the tale-” Piped the tradesmaster to the final chorus of his men, who cheered at the idea of sacrifice as an acceptable sentence to the woman‘s grave mistakes.

Dark hands grabbed and tugged, yanked and pushed, perhaps to give back all the hurt they had received from claw and fang to the woman, who had produced the ruckus in the first place. They moved her roughly to the edge of the space in the trees, before they all stood - looming behind her, jeering at her back as they watched her walk into her death -into the dragon’s den.


Vaudeux had just found his breath, doubled over in an indiscernible part of the Taurai Woods. Though it was needed, the icy piercing of the air was not welcomed in his pumping lungs, whom they stabbed with tiny needles of the arctic. It was times like these when Jupiter hated being so susceptible to the cold. So he bent into himself, folding at his waist and covering his limbs, childlike in his mannerisms by trying to escape the winter. But it was to little avail, no matter how he curled into his own heat, the chill still seemed to find him. Then the fatigue came too, reminding the Ainur just how far he had ran in his haste to depart camp. And in those dry spurs of his taste buds and lightness of his head, he was also reminded on his task back at the clearing.

Damnit, Jupiter thought, resting his brow on the sleeve of his forearm. He rolled his head in from left to right, just to bask in the feeling of his garments on his skin, of which left him impressing his sentiments of his mission with visual unrest. You need this Jupiter, you must go back. He told himself, but unconvincingly. He would have liked to keep running into the darkening wood, to escape the horrors of his past in order to further dissipate the plague of his mind from returning. Dragons were the spark to his mad fire and the Wyrm was his folly. The mind of the Wyrm inside of him was so perceptive as always, sniffing out the blood in recognition and likeness for its kin. Vaudeux was sure it would like to be with it’s own race, but his past encounters with the like would remain stubborn otherwise. Abomination… Would both sides of the pendulum say. Both, of scale and flesh, cursing the creation Jupiter had become. And countless times he had to remind himself of this, and stay the man he was born to be by bottling up the dangerous creature within. Thusly, he locked away the burning eyes of his subconscious and resolved to stand.

Limbs tickling with the rushing blood, as he unbent from his curled position, the Fire Guardian stood into a new night. The trunks were dyed with shades of grey and black, and only the poles adopting shafts of the full moonlight were visible to his blinking gaze. He tried to clean his mind of thought, but the still of his surroundings did nothing to bait him otherwise. Jupiter was back inside the forest den, inhaling the powerfully magical fires of the young dragon - hopeless to all control over the wild beast. In frustration the half-breed dug his fingers into his temples, rubbing smooth circles into them with his numb digits to try and provoke solutions to come to him. How could the great Jupiter play victim to a young dragon? Surely he was more powerful, clever, and governing, but did he possess the tools to calm the raging beast? But it came clear to him in a revelation: He would still have to try. If he ever wanted the tradesman’s alliance, he would have to do this concerted task. So, Vaudeux lowered his hands and peered around the forest once more, searching for the answers into the darkened wood.

But the motionless foliage stared back, granting him no benefit to his searching glances. Mentally cursing the plant life, Jupiter was just ready to turn back when a figure - streaking through the trees - stole his attention. He turned, just in time, to see the tail-end of a jungle cat pouncing through the undergrowth with speeds that suggested it was fearfully fleeing a larger predator. Vaudeux took a step back and a crack of a branch underfoot resounded throughout the clearing. Jupiter froze, the cat stopped, and the Ainur was first to notice the qualities of the fleeing beast with it‘s dangerous gaze. It was the lioness, and she held Vaudeux in her sights fleetingly before darting back though the wood. He knew a lion in Taurai was a rare if not non-existent sight, so he grew worrisome. Something back at the camp was awry.

Without a second thought, Vaudeux was plunging back into the forest and back towards the tradesman’s camp. His journey was shorter than expected, and soon found himself on the outskirts of the clearing looking up at the great blue tent. The Fire Guardian bypassed the obstacle and headed towards the caged animals when he first noticed a change in scene. A trail of splinters and various tracks, embedded in the path, led him to the devastation. Where a neat arrangement of cages once were, was a sight of nothing of the like. His eyes traveled to the half-broken prisons and the blood staining the ground, filling his mind with wonder on just what had plagued the once-orderly site. He didn’t have long to drink in the mess however, before a guard emerged from the rubble and spotted the handsome Ainur. They exchanged glances before the warrior turned and announced the return of their savior. From behind the rubble came the familiar bounce of the stout tradesman, who then peered over the tops of a destroyed cage to pass a genial smile at Vaudeux.

He had come from the direction of the dragon’s den, which left Jupiter to wonder if he had been standing their all night in anticipation of the guardian’s return. Even so, the Ainur moved forward to meet the man amid the wreckage and to the calls of,

“Jupiter! I was getting worried you might not return,” He paused as if expecting some type of explanation, but when the man was close enough to see Vaudeux’s stony face, he continued affably, “Have you gotten things sorted out?”

Jupiter nodded and they started towards the mouth in jointed pace, while trying to avoid the debris underfoot. Feeling perturbed as he stepped over a piece of tarp with a splatter of blood, he decided to ask, “Have a disturbance in my absence?”

The tradesman sounded grave, “Ah, unfortunately the stealthiest of the righteous found us during supper. But we took care of her-” There was an unnecessary pause as they stopped outside of the great black mouth of the tree den. The eyes of many guards were drinking in the image of Vaudeux Jupiter, just as the tradesmaster continued with a forced tint of worry, “I hope you don’t mind the probable sight of gore upon your entrance Jupiter.”

Vaudeux peered into the opening, a deadly silence greeting his ears, so that even the most minute of breaths could have been heard. But no trace of worry happened on his façade, but instead appeared satisfied with a dimpled half-smirk. Perhaps a snack was all the young dragon would need before succumbing to the powers of Jupiter. Keeping that in mind, the half-breed flashed the tradesman a pair of confident irises and responded, “No, not at all.” Before disappearing into the black of the trees, leaving all but the crunching steps of his departure from their midst.

Inside, the Ainur faced the same sights as earlier that day, but the shadows appeared to him sinisterly - mocking nightmarish figures between the gaps in the trees, or the other copious amount of shadows that decorated the burrow. But he kept forth through the foliage, determined to strike quickly before wasting any efficiency he might have against the dragon. It was in the midst of the dimness did he stop, spying the feminine figure that had been thrown into the den amongst the thatches of weed. A woman? Vaudeux thought in disbelief. A woman caused all that chaos? But, what was more remarkable, was that she was still alive. Perhaps the dragon was playing the same game with her as it had with him earlier, preferring to stalk its prey into a false sense of security or fear. He couldn’t have guessed how long she was in here, but he could fathom that they hadn’t much time left. So, he held his voice steady, a deep drawl to accent the tense air,

“Madame?”

Lights from the tradesmen's torches sent long shadows streaming and flickering into the cage, inside which the sharp point of a hunting spear kept Rièle pinned against the far wall. She could make out shapes and shadows outside the thick steel bars, some near and others far, moving about and changing the patterns of the shadows that fell upon her. Cries of beasts pierced the night, some still in their cages, some subjecting to the whips of the tamers, and some now hunting the men who had once hunted them. Most, Rièle believed, had escaped; fled into the darkness of the wood, untrackable and irretrievable from the shelter of the wild.

She pushed herself as far as she could against the wall of the cage, the thick wood scraping and splintering against her back. The bottom of the cage was slick with dung and urine, and the filth soaked into her breeches and caused her hands and feet to slip out from under her. Human voices could be heard nearby; shouting, whispering, talking about her. The gleam of their eyes was reflected in the torchlight as they gazed upon her, like a caged animal, for now that she was in their power they had nothing to fear from her. Her own eyes glared back, animal-like, daring them to conquer her, a free being, one who understood more than they about the life they tried to hold in cages. Thoughts of beasts still rampaged through her mind, painfully and overwhelmingly causing Rièle's own feelings and behaviors to reflect their own; frightened, and angry, and thirsty for blood. As the spear pressed itself into her chest a growl escaped her throat, and Rièle's teeth bared in warning to the men who stood close to her cage.

And then the blade of the spear jabbed hard into her shoulder, drawing blood and bringing a snarl to her lips. The men outside her cage grew quiet, and stepped aside to allow the passage of another man. From the deference of the men around the cage, this was their leader. Rièle met his eyes, her own gleaming with the uncontained hate and fury of the minds of the beasts who raged around them. The tradesmaster looked upon her with a deep rage and hatred, one characteristic only of humans when something threatened their pride and power. The leader spoke to his men, but in Rièle's current state his words were foreign to her ears. There was a tumult of response from the tradesmen, and Rièle could not escape the thought that they had decided to kill her.

Arms reached into the cage, and Rièle thrashed and screamed, and tasted blood of the men whose skin she broke with her teeth and nails. A chain was wrapped around her, and she was pulled unwillingly from the enclosed stench and iron prison of the cage out into the open. Men's hands grabbed her, and she fought each one, kicking and punching any human enemy that came within reach, and tearing tender skin against the pinching chain around her breast. They grabbed her hair, and pulled out several chunks from her scalp as she fought against them. Boots collided with her sides, and fists with her face, and she felt a painful crack as a leather boot impacted her ribs. Breathing then became painful, and she paused in her fighting with a whimper, allowing the men to drag her by the chain and lead her at a walk toward wherever she was to be killed.

The world was a blur before her. Between the pain from her wounds and the confusion of her mind she knew little, except that she was going to die. In the few moments of clarity she managed to grasp between her walk between the cage and the dragon's lair she fought the men, but each time they quickly and mercilessly subdued her. Before long she stood before a strange, dark tunnel in the trees, and the chain was released from around her waist and whips were set against her back. She limped wearily away from the men's shouts and jeers, into the unknown darkness.

Rièle passed into the darkness of the lair, and once she was far enough within that she was no longer visible to the cruel tradesmen, nor they to her, she set her back against the trunk of a tree and sunk down onto the ground. Her hands were trembling, not from cold but from fear. She had lost her sense of self when the raging turmoil of the beasts had taken over her mind, and after the beating of the tradesmen was now weak and nearly helpless. Now she was surrounded by a darkness that contained an unknown, unseen threat, and she found herself terrified of what was about to happen. She sensed that an enemy she had little hope of fighting inhabited this den, and the fear that rampaged through her mind imagined it a nightmare; with teeth, and claws, and without reason in its mind.

With what small resolve of will was left to her, Rièle placed her head in her hands and concentrated on herself, her own thoughts and feelings, loves and fears. Her mind slowly, gradually, gathered itself, and the thoughts of the beasts faded from her consciousness, sifting away thought by thought until naught was left except herself; whole and true. Rièle still sensed the beasts, their thoughts and presence all around her, as some were recaptured by the traders, and others exacted revenge upon their captors. But her mind relaxed, and she felt a vast relief in the freedom of thought she had regained, and a small confidence in her growing strength of mind.

But who, or what, inhabited this cave? What terror did these men fear, that they were so certain would end her life? It had not approached her in the long minutes it had taken her to clear her head, though she was little more than helpless prey. Tentatively, and remembering her mistake with the chimera, she opened her mind, allowing any thoughts of beasts within the den to reach out to her, should they choose to do so.

A soft sense of laughter brushed against her open mind. Rièle remained curious, and took no efforts to guard herself, and soon a cold, harsh voice spoke to her, mind to mind. That is an interesting gift, little beastmaiden. I wonder, what would have happened to those traders, should you have had the knowledge of how to wield it properly?

Rièle was shocked at voice that had spoken to her mind. The only other being whose words she'd ever heard had been a deity, in human form. No animal had ever sent her more than feelings, or images. But she sensed a power in this being, a strength of will that surpassed her own, and decided to tread carefully with her own words in response. Who are you?

Again she heard laughter, and a cold voice edged with sarcasm. You do not know? You are young, and do not even comprehend the talents that you have. Completely useless. You smell of blood, human, fresh and red and flowing. I have not eaten since they trapped me in this place. Perhaps I should do as they intend, and feast upon your broken body.

Trapped? she thought. For several moments Rièle wondered to herself, for she sensed the stillness of the beast, and that it was waiting patiently nearby. It seemed more interested in her response, than in eating her, and she wondered what sort of beast this could possibly be, and what reason it could have for sparing her. Warily and painfully she stood, and felt the walls of the lair with her hands. They were solid and continuous, composed of plant and tree. She could see nothing in the darkness, but she felt her surroundings, and took in the smells around her. Something had recently burned the vegetation, and the beast must have been in the trap for some time, for its dung littered the floor. It was a strange place, and she wondered at its creation, and how the beast could have been coerced to enter such a trap, with only one entrance. Frantically, and yet as calmly as she could, she searched the tiny list of skills she had for one that would help them escape from such a prison. She could think of none.

I would help you escape. she thought. I know not the means, but my talents and my mind extend beyond these walls, where yours do not, Here Rièle was guessing, but she thought she must be right, for why else would the beast have spared her for this long? Lend me your aid, and together we will find the means.

Perhaps, said the beast. But once we are free, I will flee, leaving you alone. Those men will come, and you will not escape them in that state, not alone. You will be killed, or worse.

It doesn't matter, Rièle thought back, without hesitation. We will have a chance.

The beast grunted, disbelieving. Why would you even bother freeing me, human, if I chose to spare you? How do I know you won't just wait for the opportunity to make your own escape?

I freed them, Rièle thought, referring to the beasts outside.

The dragon was silent for several moments. Hmm. Perhaps. But, I think not. Even if your intentions are true, you must earn the right to command one such as I, young one. I would not take orders from one so weak and inexperienced. You are too young to play your part.

Rièle panicked, seeing little means of arguing for her life against such logic. Wait! she thought frantically. You will die in here, or trying to escape. Or they will find some way to put you in a cage, like the others. If there's some chance I can get you out, let me live!

There is no other way. You can command lesser beasts, but you cannot command me. Your small strength means nothing to me... it is best I end you now.

Rièle sensed the beast stirring nearby, somewhere above her head, and panicked. She moved to walk back toward the entrance, thinking that perhaps she could try to slip past the guards. But she found the entrance blocked by a dozen armed men, ready to beat her back inside should she emerge. Frozen, and terrified, Rièle searched her thoughts for a way to appeal to the beast.

A footstep sounded in the darkness, and Rièle sensed a hesitation in the beast. She whirled to face this new foe, placing her back against the wall, and crouching in a defensive pose. She longed for a dagger, or other weapon, but she had no means of defending herself and was in too much pain to move with any speed. The figure moved closer in the darkness, and though she could not see him she could hear his slow approach. Her mind raced, and she knew her only hope was to gain the protection of the beast trapped within the cave.

But if I cannot command him... she thought to herself. Suddenly a thought came to her, a crazy thought, but one that might save her life, at least for a few moments. She opened her mind again, reaching out to the beast in the darkness. Then... command me. If I cannot command you... Command me! she all but shouted to the beast's mind.

His response was only silence.

The footstep drew closer, and Rièle's heart began racing in fear. She heard a human voice speak out. "Madame?"

Suddenly uncertain, she froze. Her suspicions tensed with the hair on the back of her neck as she considered this new foe, for her instincts told her not to trust him. Whatever man had entered this lair must be an alley of the traders, that was certain. But what could he want from her? She had never been addressed so formally as 'madame' in her life, not by anyone. What purpose did such a man have here? Frightened, moreso of the man than she had been of the beast, Rièle took a step to her left, and tried to move away from him. Her sense of balance wavered, and her head grew light, and Rièle realized that the soft, wet substance running down her cheek was blood from a wound on her head. She fell, gracelessly, but caught herself on her hands before she hit the ground. Panting, blood pounding in her ears and sweat beading down her face and neck, she could only fear which enemy would destroy her first; the beast, or the man.

Even in the vague of night, glossy crimson sparkled. Copious was it’s flow, rendered in a thread down the side of the woman’s face. Vaudeux stopped in alarm, in wonder at how she still survived. Had the dragon already struck her? Could she have endured as much? Curiosity filled him as he looked to the wooded heavens, in search for the hidden beast within their entwining limbs, whom could have commited such acts. But the darkness had settled, so that not even the magical quality of his irises could decode the settled black. Somewhere though, he knew, that the Dragon was lurking. And that even in the dim, it might be looking directly back at him, observing what it deemed a future victim who peered up so longingly into the treetops.

Jupiter shuddered. As if he felt the icy stare fixated on his own for a breath, and then tore his gaze in exchange for the clearing, back to the righteous ranger at his feet. He was quick to detect in her body language, the quivers and orbital aversion, in sensing a fear. Were these the signs of an abashed woman frightened of another attack? For that moment he was pensive, Or perhaps she fears my image. What I could do. The thought was satisfying as it was distasteful. He surely didn’t have business with this woman, she would merely be another soul tacked on his repertoire corkboard if he was to finish what the tradesman started. She was just existing. There. No use came out of her presence, which also proved to tear him away from his more concerning task of taming the crafty beast. Then he grew worrisome. Crafty was a short term, not nearly fulfilling enough to describe the cunning of the monster that had previously deceived him. The worry that another mind plaguing attack would surface, if he again tried to convict the fire prowess of the dragon to his own accord, grew larger.

It was then, apprehension captivated the Ainur, to seize control. It was with this, he hesitated. All the time he had squandered in the forest had not given him a single shred of insight. Now he was left back to the first steps of his initial visit, where another encounter with the den-beast would likely mirror the first. It would prove to be an unending loop of failure, between man and monster. Only two sets of wits to battle for dominance. Jupiter had no other options, and he could only foresee such a repetitive situation in the near future. Or perhaps physically harm the dragon, which wasn’t an accepted alternative. It was when he started retracing the paces of his last experience when he realized just how different the situation was than before. Fully, he was not out of options, for he was not a lone man against animal. His striking face turned towards the woman, I have another with me.

His sole mind could conjure only solutions unclear, but perhaps the woman would prove to be more than just a being to fill space or a weakening audience to his preemptive failure. Vaudeux’s eyes flashed and he feigned worry for her form. It was the start to a greater plot in his attempt to suede her to his aid, a handsome façade and a convincing speech - for he would first need to gain her trust before he could receive her hand. He started with what was apparent, sinisterly apparent even in the velvet of his tone,

“They want to kill you,” Said Jupiter smoothly pacing in her direction, then leaning down to her level, despite the quivers of departure that she might apply to his approach. And he continued, desperate for anything to aid his cause - which remained mysteriously absent from his countenance. “Which seems to be a harder task then they thought. I, on the other hand, wish nothing of the sort.”

He passed her a dimpled half-grin, hoping the attractiveness of his antics would reach her first. “I know the tradesman and their camp well and I can aid you, the only survivor this fortress has known,” His voice lowered to a private whisper, warrying of the dangerous, lurking eyes overhead. “But first we must destroy the danger that surrounds us. You must know of the one that I speak. He, too, has outwitted me. Though, together, he shant stand a chance.

"So help me and I, in return, shall help you."

Green orbs sparkled. A glister of yearning, a glister of strength, and perhaps one of unique truth to sparkle handsomely unto the battered woman of the wild.

Rièle pressed herself against the wall of the lair as the man drew closer, his dark figure silhouetted by shadow and lit by the glint of his green and piercing eyes. The confidence and bulk of his form threatened ominously, and she felt so small and feeble, bloodied and weakened sitting on the forest floor beneath him. The beast within the lair emanated a calm patience, and an impression formed within her mind of a pair of bright, orange eyes split by slits of sable and gazing downward from the green foliage in the trees above. The pressure of the two contrasting pairs of eyes made her shiver, orange and green, judging her and deciding her fate while she was trapped between them. She felt their strength, and knew she must subject to their control, that she must choose a side in their battle or die by their wrath.

“They want to kill you,” said the man, as he crouched down beside her. He approached her calmly, with confidence, and his expression revealed a kindness and sincere concern that made her hesitate beneath his gaze, as she found herself wanting to believe his words. “Which seems to be a harder task then they thought. I, on the other hand, wish nothing of the sort.”

Rièle's eyes grew wide with tears, for this man's face, even shadowed by the darkness of the lair, was so open and sincere that her heart longed to trust him, longed to open itself to his words and settle beneath the blanket of his protection. She was exhausted, and her mind and body wished for little besides rest, and respite from the pain the traders had caused her. But for the presence of the beast she would have done it, would have allowed herself to trust this stranger and deny any consequences that might befall her.

But it was not to be. Well done, little beastmaiden, spoke the voice of the beast inside her head, ominous and cruel in its satisfaction with her usefulness. Rièle winced in added pain as the dragon pressed his thoughts through her mental walls without her leave, but, knowing she had no choice, she submitted to his Will. And now, the first test of your resolve. Gain his trust, and offer him your help. If you do not succeed, my fire will destroy you, for only his protection can save you from it.

The sibilant voice echoed loudly in her mind, and Rièle winced at the pain of it, the pain of another's Will pressed upon her, and of the command itself, and the thought that she must deceive another being. Her physical pain was so evident that it must have appeared to the man as if her wounds were causing her reactions, and she thought she must seem so weak and pathetic, slumped on the ground before him. With obvious effort she schooled her expressions, and met his bright green eyes with her own, showing him what strength she still had within her.

The man smiled at her, his charm apparent on his handsome face; it was clear he was trying his best to make her feel at ease, and she returned his smile with a soft expression of appreciation. His voice then spoke in a soft and private whisper, as if to keep his words from the beast listening above them, or the tradesmen standing outside. “I know the tradesman and their camp well and I can aid you, the only survivor this fortress has known. But first we must destroy the danger that surrounds us. You must know of the one that I speak. He, too, has outwitted me. Though, together, he shant stand a chance."

Rièle's face betrayed a knowing recognition as the man mentioned the beast within the lair. She looked into the darkness, toward where she sensed the beast lay, watching. Her thoughts searched for a logic behind this, but her tired, battered body weighed down her ability to think like a lead chain wrapped around her mind. If this man wanted to destroy the dragon, the he was surely an ally of the tradesmen, as she had suspected. But what had given him the impression that she could possibly help him? Did he know of the powers that she held? Perhaps this was some further ploy of the tradesmen, to use her for their own purpose before they ended her life. But she could not be sure of that... there were so many possibilities, and nothing truly made sense.

Moments passed slowly. As Rièle sat between beast and man, encompassed by their overlapping Wills, she felt a strangeness diffusing through her unique awareness of the minds of beasts. It was as if a similarity existed between the two beings, for the same streak of instinct and eager malevolence coursed through them both; as a sentience in the one, and a shadow in the other. She looked into the man's sparkling green eyes, so handsome, so human, speaking to her of trust and assurance, and wondered what lay beneath. She began doubting her own senses and wondering at the strangeness of this place, or perhaps of this beast that she faced, and at what was truly going on between these two who vied for her alliance. As the impression receded, it left imprinted on her mind's eye an image of heat and flame, bright orange and burning to her eyes, causing her to blink within the dark.

Fire... and fire?

"So help me and I, in return, shall help you."

Rièle hesitated but a short moment. She had little choice. Whether she allied with the stranger, or the beast, she knew she must gain the trust and protection of the man who stood before her. Tentatively, and ever so slowly, she reached out a hand to him, still trembling from fear after the pain inflicted on her by the tradesmen. She took his hand, wincing a little at his touch and grasping his fingers weakly, and resigned herself to revealing her purpose to the stranger.

With a calm control she reached out with her mind to the creatures around her, few though they were within the scorched abode of the trapped dragon. Still, some small beasts had taken shelter from the heat and flame in the crevices of the trees, and made their way in and out of the shelter of the lair through tiny openings in the canopy. Within moments a bat fluttered down from the overhanging branches, and landed upon Rièle's outstretched hand, clinging upside-down as it would upon the bark of a tree. She held it there for several moments before commanding it to return to its hiding place, and met the eyes of her companion, having shown him who and what she truly was.

"I can hear him," she whispered, her voice soft and barely audible. "Inside my head, he speaks to me. He was coming for me, to kill me, but he stopped when you approached. Please... there must be some reason why he fears you... I can do so little against one so powerful. I-"

But Rièle's pleading sentence was cut off as the air in the lair suddenly gusted inward, pulled by a powerful force. An orange light flared from the back of the lair, and a wave of flame and heat rolled toward them in a torrent as the dragon unleashed his fiery breath upon his enemies. Rièle screamed, and dove into the stranger's chest, wrapping her arms around him, sure that she was about to die.

Beneath the feinted sincerity of his gaze, he watched and marveled at his own witticism. How every syllable seemed to touch the woman, greater than before. As he only watched her eyes, he could feel the faint ache for his presence, that perhaps he offered all that she longed under the weight of her wounds. And yet, expressions would disappear with the pain - just as the woman furrowed with the anguish from an invisible, internal battle. Yet Vaudeux was patient as his words flowed, impacting her more than he could have dreamt in watching her fleeing demeanor change before his gaze. He even allowed a trace of worry afflict his countenance at the woman’s adverted attention, just to remain searching over her and the language of her limbs. It was apparent that she struggled with more than what met his eye, and yet did not cry in woe nor profess her despair. Instead, she lifted her hand for Jupiter to take gradually, showing just how much resolve remained in her battered body.

Palm for palm, Vaudeux lifted her tenderly to her feet like he would a child, wary in causing her more harm than was already evident. The woman’s body felt cold to the touch, despite her quickened pulse. It radiated through his hands, until he could feel the feverish drum-beat next to his own. It was a power and strength unlike any he had ever come in contact with and yet it was still oddly familiar. Unknowingly he tightened his grip, bodily attracted to the feeling, despite its peculiar pulsation. It only pulsed harder, once the woman found her voice. He looked up to the sounds of descending flutters from a blackened bat.

It attached itself awkwardly to her hand, and hung as natural as jewelry. To the hums of its master, the bat peered around, before folding its wings tightly into its body. Wings which were flayed from the wild, and with age. The creature acted trained under the fingers its human, but was truly a beast of the wood. Jupiter watched the display, astounded by the skill of the woman and her mammal adornment. And gradually his mental smirk returned, he had chosen right in assuming this woman was a power to be reckoned with. After all, who else could survive the dragon for so long without her prowess. But the tentativeness of her tone spoke more than her display, and her fear struck him - though soft as it was, it tensed his every nerve. He spoke to her too and yet she still withstands the pain… The strength that thrived in Ea, never ceased to amaze him. His eyes returned to hers, midway between soaking in her speech or commanding her to again breech the subconscious of the young dragon.

It was doubtless to the Ainur that he could now succeed. He had to succeed. He would abuse his every resource if need be, and that included the woman. If not only to distract the being whilst he tamed it, but to mentally lash back. For a moment his gaze held her in her worth, astonished realization of her gift now shimmering in the emerald of his orbs. But before his lips could formulate a plan of their combined effort, a sudden heat halted the very air that fueled him. It touched Vaudeux even before it appeared. Like a cloudy burden plaguing the back of his mind, a fire was conjured in harm against its sole master: The magical fire of the raging dragonling. The blaze blew forcefully in their direction and Jupiter could only feel the heat approach.

Luckily, the woman spotted it first and pressed her body against his own. At once, her touch brought up the untried barriers that Vaudeux unknowingly guarded. They sprang from his body like a force of light, shielding the entwined bodies in a cloak of warmth. Normally the flame wouldn’t dare near the flesh of it’s Maiar, but the shell that formed warded off the combustion further. Threateningly the attack came, so Jupiter coaxed the instinctive protection further like pushing out an expanding sheild. Placidly he moved his hands, embracing the woman and pressing his digits firmly into her soft tissue. The invisible bubble of protection only grew greater with the connection. The stream of fire inverted into a bright half-dome upon contact, and then raged by, touching only the parched atmosphere from which it was birthed. Next, Vaudeux acted quickly, wary of the angered state that the predator feasted in when his breath weapon was inefficient.

He crouched, taking his forced help with him. Carrying her easily over the twisted brush and blackened foliage, they moved under the cover a hill crest so that they could be visible by reach of only a few dragonly paces. There he positioned them low, catching the woman’s gaze at once while anxiously breathing, “Quickly, can’t you seal away our thoughts? As you can tell, I’m not as fearful of his physical attacks as I am his mental.” In the fray, he added his signature dimpled grin, obviously partaking in his quick spurt of heroism and the dragon’s idiotically sporadic assaults.

The stranger's touch was warm. Rièle felt an intense heat upon his skin as she was enveloped in his embrace, one that seemed to emanate from his source of life and pulse with the rhythm of his heart. She felt it soak into her bones, warming her and soothing her, and as this energy passed into her very marrow she was able to perceive the duality of the stranger's soul. Something bestial lay within him, something that she, as a beastmaster, could sense and glean the nature of. It looked back at her quiet eyes with the same orange eyes as the beast that hid within the lair, and seemed to lean control upon the man's life force, shaping his soul into a blade for its own purpose. And yet the warmth that came from the stranger's heart was true, and inherent to his own self. She bathed in it, and began to understand him for what he was; two souls in one, a man pressured by the will of one suppressed within himself.

As Rièle lay within the blanket of his protection she knew with certainty that she could not be harmed by the fire of the beast. She felt small within the stranger's arms, and even smaller beside the power that he wielded, for the fire of the beast within him was fueled by the submission of his body and soul. She closed her eyes and held him tightly as the shield rose around them, allowing herself to drown in the flow of flames, at once so beautiful, and powerful, and deadly. As the stranger pressed his hands against her it was as though his self... his true, untainted self, was reaching for her, beneath a surface she could not penetrate, and that he either could not, or willed not to separate himself from the suffusion of the flames and power that surrounded him. Rièle's own power seemed strangely attracted to his, as if there was a connection between them, a familiarity at the basest of levels that she could not place. The connection seemed to fuel them both, as Rièle felt her own manna pulse and glow within her at his closeness, and sensed the same reaction in her protector.

The flames of the beast raged around them, and Rièle was unharmed by their wrath. She felt herself being lifted by the stranger, and again felt small and helpless in his arms as she allowed him to carry her injured form to a more sheltered location within the lair. He set her softly down beside him, and his deep and brilliant eyes met hers as he, in turn, requested her protection.

Rièle's eyes could only imbue thanks, both for her life and for his company. The stranger's smile reassured her, for while she believed her life was spared for a short time, she knew she must deceive him in order to live... and despised herself for it. Inwardly she began to panic, and she sensed a growing tension, as if a great battle was about to take place, or a great deal of power was to be unleashed. She thought of whether she could truly betray this man, who wielded such a strange and dangerous power and raged a battle of his own within himself.

Well done, little servant, the beast's thoughts pierced suddenly into her mind like moving knives, so powerful and vehement was his will. Rièle relaxed her mental barriers to lessen the pain, giving the beast a freer rein within her thoughts but lessening her own discomfort as he forced his thoughts upon her. She recalled the stranger's request, and knew that she had no ability to deter this beast from ravaging his mind, let alone her own. While she had the ability to fight the pressure of the beast's will she had not yet developed the skill or the strength to counter the power of the creature... and she could not command a beast with a sentient mind.

The hidden beast perceived the words of the stranger, and the emotions Rièle felt from him were amused, and pleased. He trusts you, and means to employ your powers against me, he spoke inside her mind. You will act as though you are keeping my thoughts from his mind, and I will play along with the illusion. He and I will fight. While he is distracted you will use your ability to conceive a means of freeing me. Fear not your deception of a man so powerful, for he is weak against the power of my will, and I will delve into his unprotected mind as before and kill him before I escape. But remember, should you fail, I will kill you both.

The beast's last thoughts were imprinted within Rièle with a deadly and sinister edge that she left her with no doubt that the beast would do as he threatened. She felt trapped, her mind pressured and suffocating under the weight of his will, and she found that she could only murmur a thought of humble and timid assent to the beast's command. To her human companion she appeared afraid, but she nodded, appearing to agree with his plan. The connection between them pulsed stronger than ever, and she felt such sympathy for this man, with some strange bestial instinct pressing itself upon his will and life force. It was like the wolves, for herself, or perhaps this sentient beast trapped within the cave; she felt a connection with them, but feared to lose herself when confronted by their will. What would it be like to have such a force bound within oneself?

Rièle knew that she could not let this man die from her deception, but also knew that it was her duty to help the dragon escape. With an intense resolve, she focused on her goals and set her mind to work, thinking of a way to save them both. She leaned back and made herself as small as possible, crouching behind the little shelter where her companion had placed her. She closed her eyes and called up her own abilities, sending her thoughts outward into the wood and seeking the minds of those who would aid her.

Vaudeux’s dimples stretched wider across his striking face, confident and trusting in the woman’s abilities to protect her savior. It was as though he could feel his mind close behind an invisible force, and whether it was the lack of fire blazing through the air or the effects of this wild sense Jupiter did not know, but lapped up the vague security like milk. He jumped from the protection their root cove and went level with the young dragon, the smirk of confidence unmoving from his façade as he approached the beast. Then he went about his tasks as if he was just arriving into the den, arriving with an unsurpassed knowledge and skill to defeat the cunning creature. Full of false barriers and the unexplainable will seizing control, he faced the dragon in all its fuming intensity.

It’s nostrils were still wide, opening up to its own scents of charred foliage or - more likely - to detect if he had seared flesh. Vaudeux watched its expression as he approached, detecting a sense of fear widening from the night slits encircled with orange. A brisk winter’s wind swept through the air, rocking the exteriors of the den and brushing through numerous tight openings betwixt the thick brush. For a moment, as the air stroked its way through his locks and the rest of the heated atmosphere, he immediatly thought it to be the prying powers of the dragon, again trying to bury its influence against Jupiter’s damaged mind. So as soon as the wind fled, the Guardian acted swiftly. Bearing a flexible arm, and all the panic of a breech in his subconscious, he swung up his appendage drawing in his reserve and all the knots of invisible fire it took for his conflagration. Foolish it seemed to fight fire with fire, yet Vaudeux was clever and he knew how to wield it. He knew that his particular bout would suffice. From within his retreating grasp, firmed a handle made of sun colored blaze and, spouting from it, came a crimson cord. It lashed outwardly like a long, wild tail and thinned into the air to mimic a vine in shape and a snake with its movement.

He brought the fire whip round over his head, giving its end enough trail from behind. Paces forward, it was his turn to stalk the dragon. Yet the beast held Vaudeux mechanically within its cat-like slits, like it had seen the sight before: Whip and beast, master and captive. It too began to pace, but slowly its scaly footfalls crossed through the brush - inverted from Jupiter’s and just as threatening. For tense moments they walked. Only the constant flickering tune of a Maiar’s creation to meld in with the scuffs of their tracking paces, while the rest hung on silently, breaths held for the crack or the roar or any sign of significance for the taut face-off. It was the young dragon who’s patience proved to be the shortest. He made a motion, a bluff, baring teeth that were daggers and the hum of thunder in a snarl. Jupiter, fooled only fleetingly, made a flogging motion in the beast’s direction, yet did not release the full wrath of his weapon.

Promptly the dragonling recoiled, but seemed to be fueling its own rage as it continually growled, sending generous tendrils of salvia spitting across the blackened ground. The semi-circle in which they walked was becoming tighter and tighter, two heats closing in, each waiting for the precise moment to strike. Vaudeux had become aware of every scale on the being, each muscle twitching to release its wrath upon the human in front of him. Jupiter was empathic, only from whence his eyes were the Wyrm’s. Only when the rage had finally taken him, and the feast for gore overwhelming. It was all-too tempting to grasp the power and strength he had behind the bulk of such a monster. Yet, he had also been in similar circumstance. Facing a dragon who loathed him for what he was. Faced to save his life, or be burnt into the earth with the full might of a grown lizard. Nearly he had faltered, or otherwise swallowed whole in the beginning. But now he had something that he had not in the past to fight the beast. He had fire.

Both circled once in death-stare, with the dragon’s head acting like a tight spring in its nature, waiting to be freed. With teeth bared the beast let out a guttural moan, and Vaudeux could sense a primal language of action in its body. His digits squeezed the handle of his whip. Suddenly, there was movement as the den exploded with it. As the dragon surged forward, the Ainur weaved and crested his arm through the air in retailiation. From out of the dim came a bright cord, whose lengthy spine encompassed the extent of their space, overwhelming capturing the hard flesh of its target. It sang through the air and snapped stridently over its red scales. The beast tried to rip a chunk from its attacker and was denied, out of pure, scorching pain. The whip wrapped itself around the dragon’s leg, tying an escapable knot and pinning the creature’s limb to the spot.

Jupiter pulled back on his weapon, to the thunderous protest of the young dragon. Smooth and warm was its electricity that flowed through him, in absolute control over the simple conjuration. He towed and it tightened. And ever-slowly, it began to burn through the beast’s armor of scales to its tender crimson underbelly. Just as the Ainur began to watch his own tactics with wide-eyed amazement, the dragon seemed to give up trying to sink its teeth into him but dart away, dragging its tamer with it. Vaudeux’s feet lifted off the ground with the dragon’s pure strength and was then dragged, unceremoniously through the rooted turf. His legs caught most of the damage, kicking up charred leafage that burst out from their delicate forms into flying, black ash after his body. After a moment’s ease, he found his feet and, hoisted by the joined effort of arms on his weapon, to the ground once more. His feet discovered the earth, heels sinking deep within the ruined soil and palms pressed hard on his fire whip - to send another generous wave of heat through its searing cord. Already the dragon seemed to have enough. And even before its counter came, Jupiter knew that his mind barriers had crashed.

The cry that escaped his handsome lips clashed horrifically with his smooth façade. A scream of pain, quick and provoking the man to his knees. He closed his lids, as his head filled with a great outward pressure so that his very eyes felt like they wanted to escape from it. Whatever pulsed inside of him, was far too big for its shell. The forced influence pressured itself further and met another pair of eyes deep within the crevices of Vaudeux’s mind. Through their will alone, the pain from the attack stopped, yet a whole different sort of agony was brought forth - taking charge. Jupiter’s muscles tensed, everything rigid and painful. He moaned as his skin bubbled, growing red and taking a whole new shape across his limbs. Even his shoulders sought to grow bigger, to bust the hems of the human’s sleek attire. He could only shake, out of fear and adrenaline, of trying to halt his own aching process. And before the shock of the dragonling and other shaken eyes, the man was transforming…

Unwillingly.

Power, heat, and flame surged through the cave, and Rièle trembled as she felt the fire rage all around her, the intensity of the might behind it threatening to burn even the souls of those who wielded it. She looked down to find her limbs trembling, as her instincts rebelled within the cage of pain that encompassed her mind, reacting to the knife's edge upon which she knew her life now lay. It was so much for her at once; so frightening, that a voice inside her head grew steadily louder, speaking of the ease of curling into a ball, and doing nothing, allowing this battle to play itself out, and accepting her own inevitable death at the hands of the victor, or of the tradesmen.

But Rièle called forth the power of her Will, and schooled her fears to a small whisper, concentrating on the task she had to do. Somehow, she had to find a way to save them both. To free the dragon, and save the stranger from the beast's incomprehensible wrath once the dragon chose to breach the barriers of his mind. Her thoughts scryed the minds of creatures who inhabited the surrounding forest, scattered and chaotic like cottonwood seeds upon a gusting wind, driven by fright and unfamiliarity and the turmoil of the night. She could not calm the beasts with her distant pleas or thoughts, and so she sought amongst them for clarity, and willingness. Most of the intelligent beasts were too nervous of the tradesmen to hear her request. The wisdom of this was evident, however it left Rièle with few allies of power substantial enough to aid her. Only the herd-beasts listened to her call, and these were of little use against fifty armed tradesman, a near-impregnable lair, and a fire dragon.

Patiently she searched, the minds of the beasts responding to the calm and firmness of her mental voice. As she concentrated, the tumult of the battle shook the place where she hid, and pressed itself upon her as a storm of heat and fire. Though her eyes were closed, and she saw none of it, her mind's eye matched the sounds of fury detected by her ears to images within her imagination. The crack of the whip; the cry of the beast; intermittent footfalls, and growls of rage and fury. She soon felt the press of time upon her, the need for her to act rising with the heat inside the lair. Sweat and dirt gathered upon Rièle's brow, running down in salty streaks along her face, and mixing with the blood that gathered upon her chin and neck. With each animal's mind she touched her heart leapt, hoping that this one could help her, but each deer, or horse, or hare was ill-equipped, even gathered en masse, for the task that she required.

A thunderous roar resounded throughout the lair, one so forceful and tremendous that the ensuing vibrations pierced Rièle's skull and rattled her mind to insensible focus. She covered her ears, and as the sound tapered off she judged that a severe blow had been dealt to the dragon. To her relief the blow had not been fatal and occupants of the cave continued with their fight. Though, after such a painful sound, Rièle feared the approach and interest of the tradesmen, for though they would not dare enter the cave until the fighting had ended they surely would be keen to learn the victor of the battle.

Then, as if by a miracle, Rièle came upon one of the mind of one of the creatures she had released from the cages. The beast, though free, was distraught, for it was alone without its herd in this unfamiliar wood, and had no basis for survival, or element of comfort to diminish its unrest. Rièle opened her mind to the creature, providing with her own presence the herd-companionship and direction for which the creature longed. It drank her influence as if quenching a thirst, and moved forward at her direction.

Rièle opened her eyes. The resulting break in her concentration brought the focus of her mind to her own reality, and she realized how thin and hot the air in the enclosed lair had become. With difficulty she drew breath, placing her sleeve over her mouth to filter the heat and ash that threatened to enter her lungs. She could not see the stranger or the dragon, for the battle had drawn them deeper into the lair, but she needed to find them; to somehow ensure that both of them survived until the help she'd called arrived.

As she re-focused her mind on commanding the beast she moved slowly and painfully towards the battle, carefully placing her feet and taking care not to step within the firey attacks being wrought by the beast and the stranger. Soon enough she located them, and a tense anxiety entered her chest as she crouched to watch them. The man wielded a whip of flames, that somehow in their gaseous form stretched and moved as he willed, wrapping around the tail of the dragon and holding it in a grasp of heat and pain. The dragon, however, was unyielding, and had dragged the stranger painfully through the harsh roots and rocks of the lair floor. Both were bloodied and in pain, and yet both were so adamant with thoughts of exacting death upon the other that Rièle wondered whether any outside force could stop them.

And then, as Rièle watched, her worst fears became reality. The dragon panicked, fearing for its life, and she felt his mind reach out to breach the stranger's feeble mental barriers. With merciless evil the beast ravaged the thoughts of the man, bringing forth such pain and suffering from the depths of the stranger's mind that Rièle was astonished at how he had suppressed it. She had no power to stop the dragon, and knew that any attempt to interfere would only bring her own death. With tears in her eyes she watched, remembering her own suffering against the mind of the Master, and hoped that this man's will was stronger than her own, and that he could endure for these terrible moments before aid arrived.

But as she watched the stranger scream in utmost pain, she felt the presence of a bestial mind, even greater and more terrible than that of the dragon, emerge from nothingness somewhere within the lair. The impression within her mind told her it was close, and terrible, and anxiously she stood, her searching eyes glaring into the flame-lit darkness, trying to find this new danger that she knew was nearly upon them. But nowhere could she see or hear such a creature.

The screams of the stranger pulled her eyes back to his suffering form, and her breath caught as she looked upon his body. His torso bulged and writhed as if some strange creature was trying to break free of its shell from within him. His body expanded, fire licking across the exposed and newly-growing skin, and Rièle caught the gleam of scales in the intermittent light of the flames. Fear engulfed her at the sight of such an unfamiliar terror, as she realized that the beast she sensed was in fact the one she knew to be suppressed within him.

The dragon seemed uncertain as to a course of action. He clearly wanted to finish off his incapacitated prey with a swift snap of his jaws, but hesitated at the strange sight of the man transforming to a beast, and at the sense of great and terrible power emanating from his body. That small moment was the last that Rièle needed.

With a resounding crash the confines of the lair shook, and an explosive crack emanated from the walls as the entire lair seemed to come down upon them. Rièle dove under a shelter of roots and winced as light and air suddenly and forcefully entered the smoky, ash-filled lair. When the tumult ceased and she looked up, the forelegs of a mighty oliphaunt were extracting themselves from a giant hole ten feet across, and large enough for even a dragon to pass through. The beast had felled an ancient tree, and its enormous trunk now lay between the dragon and the man, separating them.

She quickly sent a thought of warning to the olphaunt's mind, hoping it would flee before it was recaptured, and leapt up and into a limping run toward the dragon and the man. As the dragon was still recovering from shock she placed herself in the space between them, and looked back toward the entrance to the tunnel to see the tradesmen running into the lair, weapons in hand.

Again, the dragon hesitated. It clambered up upon the fallen trunk and stared down at Rièle, who stood between him and the still-transforming man in a useless gesture of protection. "I have fulfilled our bargain," she shouted over the clamor. "Would you stay, and kill us both?" Rièle stared at him with fierce, defiant eyes, knowing he feared the wrath of the transforming man, and the weapons of the approaching tradesmen. The beast lingered for as long as he dared, his knowing expression communicating to Rièle that he could easily snatch her in his jaws and end her life, and give this emerging power in the stranger's body an honorable fight. But when he had remained long enough that his pride was sated, the dragon looked upward and out through the hole, and climbed into the blue and yellow light, where he took flight above them.

Rièle half-fell to the ground, her head and sides aching in pain. She leaned over the stranger, her mind reaching out to the thoughts of the beast within him. The creature's mind grew stronger and stronger, and she dared to touch it with her own. It felt to her mind as flames to her skin, hot and sharp and painful, but it was also confused and disoriented; some strange melding of man and beast that was unsure of its body or identity, and was simply reaching out for power. Rièle again winced in pain, for the beast's mind writhed and thrashed against her own, but in her delving she had found one thing of use: A name.

Jupiter... she thought, trying to reach the mind of the man through that of the beast. Jupiter! The dragon has fled! Jupiter! Rièle looked to the approaching tradesmen, and despaired in her weakness. They're going to kill me... she thought to herself, but she no longer had the strength to run.

The man shook. Tremors wreaked his bulging form, half between chaos and command. Shudders melded in with the surrounding quakes of destruction, for as the den collapsed around him Vaudeux was wrought within his own mind - forcibly torn to his own lack of control. His body bent, grew, but he willed to stop it, to halt the reckless force that yearned for bloody release. Years ago he could not have held out for such length, in pressuring the beast from its desire to emerge, and rather had to succumb to the uncontrolled pressure like it was vomit. But now, Jupiter had something he did not in the past, he had his own essence - a blazing spirit that could quail any force, one that had blenched his bestial counter-part for a length. A very calmed length. For it'was the presence of fire that unnerved the beast. And with this essence he only just stopped the Wyrm from regaining control, but -as always- he could not stop its coming rage.

Fire rippled up the exposed appendages of the Maiar. Flesh bubbling, the outcry of another roar brought with it, a chorus of choked human tones and the rage of the dragon within. The pain was eye-clenching, but winthin the blackness of his lids, resided the harsh voice of his subconscious. It growled to his attention, Weak man! You see what your kin do to you and yet you suffer! End your suffering now and release me. Vaudeux thrashed violently and the ripping of cloth sounded as his swelling muscles burst through hems of black silk. No! You’re causing me more pain, always you have. Within his plagued mind, the beast chuckled venomously, Have I not always saved you from failure? Stop this now and you will have your success.

Pieces of entwined branch rained down overhead, parting from their long-grown place from the walls of the den, to create a chasm open to the flowing night airs. Though none of their prickly arms touched the squirming Maiar, who seemed guarded by field of sheer, unwieldy power. He lit the area like a torch, white-yellow crusted with pulsating orange. Beautiful colors highlighted a terrible image of morphing and unmorphing, the colors shone the destruction of the fortress, and displayed the leaving of its long held captive. Yet no amount of vibrancy could return Jupiter's vision back to the present, for while the Wyrm attempted to capture his body, it already had his mind. It forced images over the senses of the Ainur like shrouds. Vaudeux watched himself nearly slain by dragon, but was saved by Wyrm force. And there the memories plunged deeper, recollections of young life replayed. Battery to victory, rage to rampage. Those horrific moments recurring swiftly and relentlessly before his mind's eye - instead of the den, instead of the woman.

The promise of success again tempted him beyond all else, before a final remembrance sparked his resolve. Back before he knew the true extent of his curse, when his blood was still a mystery, when he was considered and named nothing more than an animal. The Wyrm, from the beginning, had only brought him misfortune. Tearing his life in two. He mentally relived the horrors of his treatment as a child, under the scornful hand of his father, and the verbal lashings to his afflicted son… No! The images stopped, as did his movement. He was as frozen as a statue, and the Wyrm’s influence began to cool for it was shocked by Vaudeux’s sudden, displayed resolve. No?! You cannot deny me, you will see- The pain was again mounting, this time bones shifted into place. When the hurt came, Vaudeux had given up all sense of purpose. A purpose rather than mindlessly deny a force more powerful than he- and cause more agony than he could have ever dreamt. A moment came when he was mere breaths from giving in, sheerly out of yearning for release. He sought one last internal battle, but was again overcome with his own transforming self, heightened by the crawl his own mind taxed upon it. His moan was pain-filled and drawn long through the broken den. All substance in time and sequence was lost within his madness and was as deep as the roots of the surrounding oaks. He felt as if it would never end, until the present happened on him like a frantic whisper in his ear.

Jupiter! It cried through the mantle of chaos that was his mind, and faintly he heard the voice through the shield that threatened to close him in his own conscious. Tones which were only just familiar, but of which he instantly harkened - at the call of his own name. Suddenly his voice wasn’t as small against that of the Wyrm’s, and his own sense of self began to resurface from the wave of hurt until, finally, the pain ceased altogether. There he was left, head bowed and still, knees dug within the earth, skin returning bronze and firm. He shrunk and yet his breath coursed through his body with the adrenaline of a beast, viewing dangerously in its steadfast rise and fall on a wide-set shoulders. There was a moment of stillness, where even the approaching tradesman seemed to respect, awaiting the moment when they would see the face of their beloved Ainur. What would he seem like after his moment of control gone awry? Had his face changed like his skin previous? What new horrors would the rise of the fiery man bring upon his next exchange?

Except, he did not stand to greet his employers, but slowly upturned his head, in the direction of the voice that had drug him from his inner turmoils. The voice of the woman at his side. In that glance he peered with eyes that were blazing, but which became soft, anxious, and green once more. Vaudeux stood, watching her with a sense of expressional awe - curious of her power, of her knowledge of him. Yet he did not peer long before the steps of men drew his attention away. Particularly a new voice that rang through the air, sharp and tainted with angered shock.

“Jupiter! The dragon escaped!” It was the tradesmaster, blustering in all his frantic stoutness to the Ainur’s side. Vaudeux merely blinked at him in stoic knowing, so the man pressed on - even more flustered. “How can this be? I thought you - of all people - would succeed! And you-” His sentence was cut short, and pitched to the point of shrieking, as he noticed the woman whom he had thought he disposed of in the lair. “You’re supposed to be dead! Ah! We’ll take care of that.” He motioned towards his hovering help, who rushed in to grab her, the woman that was capable of escaping death. At that moment it was unexpected, even to himself, that Jupiter stepped in before the coming fray.

“No.” He commanded mindlessly, the only word he was able to manage as he grabbed out and found the forearm of the closest, reaching males. The Ainur wrung and twisted to the pain-filled protests of his victim, who quavered to a knee at once. The other approaching man suffered a similar fate as, he too, attempted for the woman’s arm. And before the shock of the tradesmaster, his guards fell with nothing but a touching ease from his former ally. It was when Vaudeux turned on him next, did he wake from his horror-invoked trance in fear for his safety. The man bumbled away, seeking the shelter of the masses of his brutes that lined the entrance of the den. The command to retaliate was lost in the flurry that filled the cave next, as the rush of bodies made their way, streaming like a river, towards Vaudeux. When he saw the men, thirst for gore impressed on their faces, coming at him - all sense of loss and failure escaped from his mind as a pure value for his own skin exceeded him.

His eyes found the woman and his feet found the root-strewn turf. Towards the newly-opened chasm he ran, but not without the extra load that was the woman of the wild. And, with half-carrying they went, with the stampede of poachers on their tail, for paces and paces through the punctured brush.