The flames scorches the leather hood I'm pulling down to cover my face. With my spare hand I wipe the blood off of my whiskers, the blood of the dragon towards which I am charging with my drawn Dragonbane. I wasn't made for slaying dragons, I was born with my hand in someone else's pocket but it really seems I have no choice. Had I had such a choice, I doubt I would have ever even left det warm sands of Elsweyr. The thoughts of my homeland and being amongst my own kin never leaves my thoughts though my attention is needed in the present. An arrow swiftly brushes past my face and pierces its way in between the dragon's rough scales. Lydia is a better archer than she is a close combat warrior but this time I have requested she keep a distance so we at least not both are set on fire. It's far more tricky, fighting the vile creatures up here in the mountains. His heavy body slams against the ground as he lands and his tail knocks over a massive tree. Bright light shrouds me for a moment as I take use of my newly accuired mage skills, healing myself as they taught it at The College of Winterhold. I stand ready before him and take in a deep breath before I release an equally fiery roar to match his, a shout of ancient language, to tell him off, to let him know I'm the one.
- Ka'Jael 'Stormblade' Sheth
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