A lengthened shadow shifted slightly, a deep sigh released made a chorus with the wind blowing into the deep cavern. Thick muscles moved slightly, moving a massive head slightly, sending the small stones that lay beneath into scraping cries. The form rose from a rest, limbs stretching as a feline would, long talons extended, causing knots to find comfort. Two scaled eyelids open, revealing orbs of swirling color, broken by deep flashes of prismatic lighning eminating from wide pupils. He had slept too long.

His head turned to look upon his colossal body. Large gashes scarred his body. Raw skin beneath missing patches of his plating of multicolored scales. Blood still drew fresh from the wounds as if they were fresh. Battle wounds from years passed, given by an celestial blooded one of righteous fury, from a weapon wrought by Kelemvor's hand.

He grimaced as his body stretched further. Every swing of that holy blade brought the pain that he still felt. His jaw tightened with the memory. Dragonkind were always hard-pressed to forget, and he was no exception.

His body rose to the height of his lair. A cloud of vapor from the chill air exited his razor-filled maw. His back tensed, spreading his prism-hued wings to the full span of the walls. He had rested long enough, indeed.

Eyesight caught glimpse of his hoard off to the side of the main cavern. It was considerably smaller and lay littered with piles of coin and many trinkets taken from tributes paid, and adventurers foolish enough to try to take it. He turned, lowering his head to the edge of his wealth, taking a mental inventory. A spot lay bare on top of a pile. Once, he knew it bore a suit of fine dragonscale armor. It was crafted of a Blue foolish enough to be slain. A fine armor, well worth it's weight in gold, given away as a gift to a woman. The same who showed him kindness and love.

"Celene.", the might prismatic thought, remembering the drow.

They were very much alike in many regards. Both of thier pasts werefilled with violence and hatred. How odd that the drow had found peace where had had only grown more so. They had lengthy conversations on the island known as Amia, every one giving him a sense of peace. Even as others rushed forth to attempt to slay him, she carried no ill. Her words only carried a tone of kindness and understanding, even as she carried his child.

He should have listened. His body carried the scars of hatred and even his mind had felt more crazed. His heart ached for a moment. His heart ached? He missed thier talks, but anything more than that would be too rediculous to think about. He had cared for her, but love? Love is meant for the mortals, not ones of his stature.

He thought for a moment longer. She gave birth to one half his blood. He had never even seen his child, Celene keeping thier child from him. Taking a gaze at his wounds again, he know understood why. He was beginning to consume himself in his rage and chaos. Celene's words began to ring even more true as he stood there in his darkened lair.

"I must return.", Tarokh decided, his voice finding strength, "I will find my child and her mother."

With a thought to give action, the prismatic turned and began his leave. Passages passed as he squeezed and negotiated them, until the fresh air again filled his lungs. His wings spread wide, and with a mighty heave, cast himself into the sky. He circled twice, before looking to the west towards the distant land he had once tried to conquer; the island where his child lived; the island of Amia.

_________________

//Holy crap! How many more times do we have to kill this NPC anyway, go go action npc respawn button.

//More to come, as soon as I get typing....about 4 more pages hand written

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* * * * * *

Imperator rose slowly, catching a strange scent in the air. Rose incense smoke surrounded him, filling the atmosphere with a calm. Disorientated, his silvery-blue eyes gazed around. He lay on large pile of cushions in a large room. It's walls were finely carved and dimly lit. The floors, beautifully set marble, filled with yellow and black streaks. Heavy carpetting dotted the floor. Robed, indescript people hustled about, taking large pots of some still smoking, foul scented salve towards a large set of doors that stood on a nearby wall. Each wore long, simple wool robes, finely woven, but with no detail save one. He immediately came to realize where he was.

He turned his head slowly, breathing deep. Through the incense he could make out another scent. The bitterness of sea air, who's salt seemed to permiate any area bearing it as a neighbor. He mouth turned slightly into a draconic smile. He was among friends.

The attack at Benwick faded to front as his smile followed. The Flight of Wyrmhold viciously attacked, pillars of flame and other dragon breaths turning walls to rubble. He remembered the cries of pain of the servants being torn asunder in attempt in espace. He had stood against a great red in the attack to draw it away, only to be defeated. He remembered little more than falling, with trees and the ground waiting to crush his weakened body. He shook the jambled thoughts from his head. They seemed like a nightmare that was just awoken from, but he knew them as otherwise.

He pushed his body from the ground, bringing his body to rest on his hind legs. A shot of pain brought his attention to a patch of his scales. They seemed some how different, almost more new than the others. A wound had resided there, and what ever healing was used, caused his hide to grow renewed. Whatever wound the battle may had caused, it was healed beneath his platinum sheen.

"Great Imperator.", a voice spoke, drawing the platinum from his fleeting thoughts.

His eyes turned to a simple-dressed priest bearing the symbol of Illmater about his neck. Those of the clergy had always been welcome in his company as many of the Triad or others working in the cause of Good. He nodded respectfully, directing his full attention to the man.

"Greetings, Priest.", Imperator regarded, lowering his head to an angle that wouldn't be so ungodly for the human, "I would thank you for your aid."

The cleric, slightly taken back, responded in a stuttering voice, fingers toying with the sleeves of his robes, "You...you....were brought....here by one...of the...Defenders after the...."

The priest paused. His words had to be chosen wisely. Imperator had fallen and was not aware of the fate of the place he had once called home. Reluctance took grip as the wrath of dragons, even those of metallic sort, was widely known. The healer of the Crying God looked up into Imperator's face, words not being found. His head fell remorsefully to his chest, followed by a nod from the wyrm. The meaning was known.

The former guardian of the castle stood silent. Images of the carnage wrought flooded into visualization again, this time more clear. A lump rose in his throat. All the lives of the peoples of Benwick may have been saved had he been more vigilant. Even as swift and unexpected as it was, it was his home. His delay him moving those of the castle to Kohlingen had caused them thier deaths.

"Good priest, were there any survivors?", Imperator questioned after a brief pause. He silently prayed for a miracle, knowing the news to be grim.

The priest nodded slightly, "There were some refugees that made their way here, gods be praised! The rest were left to the funeral pyre."

"What of the Defender who found me? Who was it?", Imperator stated inquisitively, "I would like to extend my gratitude."

"Lady Celene Nai'lo, my lord. It was the drow that leads the Defenders which found you. Would you like her summoned?", the cleric words rang, almost eager to be out of the uncomfortable situation.

Imperator looked down at the clergyman, noting slight mannerisms common to humans. Rocking feet and the slight shake to his voice said more than his words. He simply nodded to the priest knowingly.

"I will seek her, my good man. If you would tell Marinsbane I wish an audience with him, I would be grateful."

The Illmaterite dumbfoundedly nodded quickly, bowing deep to the might platinum. With barely a breath of hesitation, his feet turned and began their walk deeper into Purity's Refuge. If Imperator wish a talk with the Justicar of Kohlingen, then the message would reach quickly. He hurried along, the sound of his robes brushing against the stone floor slowly becoming a distant echo.

Imperator watched the man leave. His eyes closed for a moment, a respectful moment of silence for his fallen friends. The words of a prayer came from his heart to his voice as he spoke it, remembering the faces of all he had grown to know. The children and thier parents had often stopped in their everyday lives to talk and jest with him. He had grown to love the moments when the young ones would come and play about his feet, their laughter bringing a greater sense of purpose in his duty. Now, they were gone.

His hind legs felt heavy as began to move, the memories still flowing through his mind. He had been within the halls of the castle for a few generations by human standards, and had seen a couple rulers rise and fall. He had watched several of the children that he had loved as a father would his own, grow and join the ranks of the Knights, dedicating themselves to the perserverance of the castle and lord. As he drew closer to the exiting doors, his legs nearly gave way, forcing him to brace himself up against them.

He regained his balance, as he forcefully choked back tears for the fallen. Closing his eyes to try to block the scenes proved futile, as they now began to flow heavier threatening to pull him with their undertow. He had to be strong, as the survivors would draw strength from him. Through every passing year, many looked upon him with a sense of honor and dignity. He was the untiring guardian of Benwick. As he had once protected those that laughed and made merriment in the halls, he would continue to protect thier memory. The fallen of Benwick would never be forgotten.

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His composure return, catching the sight of clerical onlookers, but they all remained silent. Looks of concern and compassion pasted on their visages, they atleast knew his thoughts. None moved as the stoic wyrm passed through the doors into the night air of Kohlingen.

The Hall of Defenders stood dark, windows revealing no inner movement. No sliver of light escaped the smooth glass surface, only reflecting the light from the stars and the full moon. The door stood shut but unbarred, being kept company by the holy man known as Simond.

Simond was a middle-aged man who's once light hair had turned grey with the passing of him. His posture remained as straight and strong as he was within his youth, with his head held high as if in pride of his stature. He had crusaded against the undead threat posed by Earl Mansfield and the dark tome, the Necronomicon, for many years. Even as his own body grew weaker, his spirit grew more strong. While some would view his strength as arrogance, he was always willing to offer kind words to all visitors of the city.

"Greetings, Imperator.", Simond said, bowing deep to the company of the dragon. "It's good to see you well."

Imperator returned the bow with a respectful one of his own. Even though thier homes had varied as long as they knew of each other, they both fought for the same cause. They were brothers-in-arms in deed, and a mutual respect existed. Quite often, the greater good had bridged many gaps, including those between men and dragonkind.

"Good eve, Simond.", Imperator responded almost hushed. If the Hall was not empty, he did not wish to disturb the peace of those resting within. He drew closer to Simond, noticing an almost awe on the holy man's face. Imperator lowered his body slightly, taking a more passive stance. Simond released an almost audible sigh of relief, relaxing.

"Have you seen Lady Nai'lo?", Imperator questioned, breaking the almost uncomfortable silence with his inquiry, continuing with a light laugh, "The Hall is darkened, but we both know of instinct of drow."

Even thought she was a quite capable warrior of justice and truth, she had often been pushed away by her bloodline. Instead of taking it to heart, she instead began using it to assist the city. Taking nightly guard duties, she was able to better guard the streets, the lengthened folds of night being revealed with her keen eyesight.

"Lady Nai'lo left before nightfall", Simond answered, drawing attention to the silvery full moon in the heavens, "as she does whenever the moon is full."

Imperator nodded. Although a drow, he knew she followed the teachings of Eilistraee. The eve she would be dancing at the Shrine. He had witnessed the ritual before, watching her with blade in hand, joyously celebrating the moonlight and hope of peace. It was one of the most magnificent, most beautiful of the things he had ever seen. It had been years ago, and it brought a feeling of content that she still held true to faith. Imperator stood to full height, extending his wings.

"I must speak with her, so I will take my leave. Be safe, Simond. We will talk again soon, as I'm sure there is much we have to speak on.", Imperator stated, beginning to extend and relax his wings. He began to rise into the night air, keeping the winds from his flight from disturbing the city too much. Simond nodded in farewell as the wyrm turned and departed into the sky.

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The silvery light filled the shrine, removing all shoadows that my have existed. The air seemed to glitter with jewels floating in the light mist of the wooded haven. The sound of the waterfall lightly bubbling in the small pond beneath it gave a methodic relaxation to the environment. A light breeze flowed through the grove, moving the grass and reeds in a dance.
The Ladystones stood basking in the holy moonlight with three forms moving within their company. The slender female forms danced, two with swords, one with a small harp. Their steps light and graceful, bodies moving in unison. The voice of the smallest carrying a melody that would rival that of the gods. Their faces showing an alleviation and joy, all twirling and reveling in the ritual.

Celene Nai'lo looked at her sister dancing. She was young, even by surfacer standards. she had never known her, as Tonie'wein was still a child when she had left Chad Nesad. Over the last five years, she had grown from a headstrong, but jovial girl, into a beautiful young lady. Her skill with the harp was nearly legendary, her voice becoming even more beautiful with each passing tenday. Their frames were nearly identical, subtle curvatious frames, slender and well-toned. Although Tonie stood barely a handspan shorter than her older sister, her heart was just as big.

She continued to dance, staring at the third for just a moment. There stood her daughter, the child of her and the hope and love she felt for one of chaos. Her body was similar to that of her mother's, except her skin being covered in almost translucent scales. In the moonlight, glistenings of rainbow reflections shined off her body. Her wings sparkled likewise, thier surface almost prismatic with a darker hue of her drow blood. She was a gift to both Celene and Tarokh, and a symbol of the love they had once felt, even if in passing. Raised by the paladin, Silina was kept from her father's rampaging, and threat that she posed to others of half-draconic descent. Even though her heart bore all the love and kindness of her mother, the other half of her parentage granted her the strength of the dragons, which often made her more arrogant. She was raised tto follow the Lady of the Dance, taking the doctrine to lead her path. She was Celene's only child, and the greatest treasure she would ever possess.

The three danced onward, the trio's movements becoming as a breeze. Slow grace with their showing of love to he daughter of Corellon Larethian and the Spider Queen, Lolth, lead their steps, joy embrace, gracing their hearts. There were others on the island that left Lolth's webs, choosing a life of peace over one of lies and deceit. They were all known to them, as they would come and join in the dance. They all were a sort of family, just as Celene was with the Defenders.

Something was amiss. Tonie'wein stopped, her song and dance coming to an abrupt pause. She gazed around, sweat beading on her face. Celene and Silina followed suit, bringing the ritual to a halt.

"Umm...", Tonie started, an almost fear to her voice, "Cellie?"

"Tonie?", Celene answered, tightening the grip on her Sword of the Moon's Dance. Something felt not right, and from the look of it, all three knew it.

"Mommy? What's...", Silina started, stopping abruptly. There was something here, and she felt it. Her draconic eyes scanned around, making note of all that surronded them. It was then she noticed it. An almost creeping shadow by the edge of the Shrine, slipping closer, engulfing the moon's glow. A figure stood in the midst, carrying a vicious-looking blade glowing a deep crimson. It's body was covered in a pitch-colored armor, concelatin gits true from in a dark shell. It drew closer still, and an almost dread fell over the small family.

"Isn't this quaint?", the figure spoke, its voice almost a ghastly whisper, "The three elusive Nai'los, unarmored and vulnerable."

Celene's peaceful eyes narrowed. She knew him. Hunter had been attacking both Kohlingen and Cordor for must of the last year, raising an army of undeath to lead the assault. She stepped forward to within a few paces of the spectre-like form.

"Tonie, take Silina home.", Celene said in her normal cool tone. Her knuckles still grasping the hilt of her holy sword, she stared into the hellfire burning behind Hunter's eyeslits.

"No!", Silina blurted out as Tonie took her arm, pulling lightly away, "Mommy, I won't leave you! I can take him!"

"Sil, go with your aunt. I will be along shortly.", Cel tried to comfort. She knew her sword would do little good to pierce Hunter's armor, but she had to insure her family's escape. She shot Tonie and Silina a look, making their steps make haste towards the forest's haven.

Hunter laughed, watching the two leave. Celene's steps kept herself between the being and her two loved ones. Her sword stayed horizontal before her, promoting a defense, even as her armor rested on its rack in her chambers. She silently invoked her faith in the Dark Maiden, feeling a bit of the divine flow through her and the hands grasping at her sword.

"How utterly delightful! A knight sacrificing herself for others.", Hunter antagonized, "It's no matter, though, after I feast on your soul, their's will be the next to sate my hunger."

"Over my dead body, Hunter.", Celene shot back, "You have slain many, and by my hand, justice awaits you!"

Hunter laughed again, taking a step, narrowing the distance between them to barely a blade's length. His sword blazed with hunger as he stared almost through her. She stood, undaunted, keeping her blessed steel steady.

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* * * * *

The prismatic soared high through the night air. Far beneath him, the Sword Coast stretched to the the north and south, its greenery changing into the lapping waves. In the distance, he could make out the small island of Amia. Drawing his breath, he could taste the salty air. He beat his wings harder in the surrounding air, picking up speed. The glow of the homefires of Cordor burned against the night. A feeling of anxiousness ached in his stomach. Long had he waited for the moment to see his heir.

Drawing closer yet, he saw a darkness from the island's center, darkening out even the nocturnal folds. While the dim glow customary from the Shrine of Eilistraee still welcomed all within its small grove, some didn't quite fit right. The silvery illumination was dimmed, and cut off midway through. Curiousity beset him, he veered his path.

* * * * *

"What do you want, Hunter?", Celene's words spoken simply, "Surely, you aren't here to share in our dance."

"My good paladin", Hunter oozed, sarcasm dripping from those words like poison in a wound, "It has come to my attention that you have been rather troublesome with your Defenders. Everytime I pay a simple visit to one of your cities here, you and your pests are there. I have come to tell you to leave it. Pledge yourself to stay from my way, and you may walk out of your precious holy ground."

"Pay a simple visit, Hunter?", Celene's drow side beginning to surface lightly in the statement, "You spread your death plague to the innocents leaving a battlefield of undeath! You want me to stay from your path, fiend? No. I will not and nor will any one."

Hunter laughed. Sparks of static chill ran up Celene's spine. Silence reigned for a moment as the two stood staring into each other. Hunter took a step back, take a breath's time regarding the drow. His words broke the silence.

"So be it."

* * * * *

Tarokh circled the Shrine. Gazing down, he saw the two figures standing in the muffled moonlight. A naked drow and some enigmatic figure unknown to him were all that stood in the circle of trees. The three words echoes in his ears, turning his glide to a hover, backdropped by the moon. He looked down, works of arcanic power resonating from beneath him .

* * * * *

Hunter began to chant word of some forgotten lore. His hands circled in the shape of a sphere, dark energies forming in the path. It's volume taking shape, growing in intensity, forming a deep violet orb, craclking with bolts of inner strength. Before the paladin could react, he pulled the orb to his chest, forcing it towards the defenseless female with merely a force of will.

Celene's heart felike it had skipped a beat. Her body stiffened as she tried to fight it off, some how knowing it be in vain. She felt her legs give way, dropping her slender body to the ground. Her steady breathing stopped, as her heart slowed. After a agonizing moment, there was only darkness.

Tarokh's eyes narrowed. His blood boiled, watching his mate fall. A deep growl rumbled in his throat as he heard the dark armored figure begin to laugh. His wings slowed, becoming stronger, beating hard against the air. His eyes shot bolts of bright electric-like light from the pupils to behind his scaled lids. His talons closed tightly, wings beating ever harder, forcing the tops of the trees to sway heavily.

Hunter looked up, seeing the wyrm above him, hovering like a snake ready for a strike. The two bright eyes nearly burned holes through him as he gazed into them. Was he capable of fear, he would've run, and he knew it. Instead, the shadowborn took a step back, taking a defensive pose.

Tarokh did not move. Howvering for a moment, he tossed a quick glance to the Defender's still body. His rage nearly swallowed him. Letting out a nerve shattering, agonized roar, he shifted his body towards Hunter.

* * * * *

Imperator heard something. A mixed andger and sorrowful cry of one of his own kind shot through the still air. He saw a dimly lit draconic shape floating above Eilistraee's Shrine. A moment of recognition, and he knew who it was.

"Tarokh has returned?", he thought to himself for a second, "But why? After all these years...."

The prismatic held no love for Imperator. As he tried to dominate the island, many of their cousins had fallen. His anger and hatred of wyrmkind was legendary. Any that stood in his way were lain to rest beneath him. All except for the platinum. Tarokh's anger was never able to overcome Imperator's peace. Not only dragons were slain in the chaotic onslaught, but others were known to have been victims to his talons. He only reveled in the destruction, continuing to spread it, unchecked by all.

Imperator began to pick up speed towards his old foe, just as Tarokh disappeared beneath the treeline.

* * * * *

Hunter did not make any motion to move as the ragefilled wyrm turned into a dive, scintillating eyes burning with severe hatred. Many had tried to kill him in the past, everyone of them failing. He felt the rush of the charge, bracing himself even before impact. He would kill the insignificant dragon, then change him into one of his undying slaves. He laughed to himself, even as the primastic's hot breath was upon him. It was then he wished to know fear.

_________________

Tarokh's dive bore down closer to the dark armored shape. His mind became clouded, seeing nothing but a blur surrounding Hunter. His eyes keen and sharp on his target, adjusting his descent for even the slightest of breaths. As the distance closed, his teeth became visible in the glistening light, and his talons flexed tightly.

"Celene!", Tarokh roared getting ever closer. Coming within a few paces, he dropped one of his wings, cutting the other to a steep angle, turning his body into a near corkscrew spin.

Hunter stood adamant. A large tree-sized, scaled flesh hunk struck him square in the chest plate as Tarokh's tail followed his death spin. The force threw Hunter from his feet, into the air slightly, landing him in underbrush in the forest a few feet back. He stood slowly, taking cover behind a tree bringing his blade to his chest. His adversary had speed and power, even if it was to no effect. He glanced down at his breastplate revealing no injury to it. While even the hardiest of mortals would have had their chest caved in with a force that profound, Hunter was uninjured. He was hardly mortal, after all. Pulling himself into the shadows, the next strike would end the mighty beast.

The sight of the fallen drow and Tarokh moving to stand over her slightly smoking corpse enraged Imperator. With a vicious roar, he charged down at the prismatic. Imperator landed heavily, dropping from his landing to all fours. His extened body quarter-circled Tarokh, his silvery-blue eyes staring at the slowly turning dragon.

"One would think you knew you're not welcome, Tarokh.", Imperator proclaimed, watching his adversary turn into his gaze, "and murdering another will not make that pass."

Tarokh turned to his flank where Imperator stretched. His jaw tightened, razor sharp teeth bared in an angered sneer. He took a step back over the fallen body of Celene, keeping her corpse between his thick legs. His tail thrashed violently to both sides, kicking up some littering branches behind him. A growl rumbled in his throat. His swirling, chaotic eyes gave a quick look around him, ending back on the platinum before him.

Imperator kept his gaze on Tarokh. His behavior struck him as being odd. It was almost as if he was protecting the felled paladin from some unseen threat. He gave a quick scan around, giving Tarokh an opening.

The prismatic lunged, throwing all his mass into the lax wyrm before him. He felt Imperator's weight shift as the force of the blow tumbled him to his back. Tarokh lashed down at him, talons and teeth tearing against the reflective scales.

The force almost winded the platinum. Before he could even mount a defense, the prismatic was on him. He could feel the hatred emanating from the wyrm under his swipes and lashes. Imperator tried to remain clam. He kicked up with his hind legs, feeling the combined weight of both of them resting on his spine. With great strength, he kicked the being of chaos from him. A ground shaking thud followed as a ton of Tarokh hit the ground, belly up. Simutaneously, both rolled to their feel, staring at each other like two wolves fighting over game.

Tarokh roared in anger, feeling it build within him. His frustration apparent, talons uprooting claw-fulls of earth, squeezing each to cause it to rush out over his knuckles. The two great wyrms stared at each other. Tarokh took a step to his right, sizing up his foe. Both were nearly identical in size, girth and strength, and both were of the same age. Imperator followed his stride, keeping equal distance from the chaotic wyrm.

Hunter laughed to himself. The two dragons slowly circled each other, ignorant to his standing nearby. The shadows engulfed his body, shifting him slightly into its realm. He was little more than that which encased him now. The body of his victim still lay where he felled it. Glancing back at the dragons, they appeared occupied. Reaching into a small side sheath on his belt, he drew forth a slender curved knife. It's blade bore markings speaking in the same language the Necronomicon was scribed in. It's hilt was cast from cold iron, while the blade was carved from petrified bone. Grasping the athame within his gauntlet, he stepped from the shadows, advancing on the nearly dead body of the paladin.

They circled each other slowly, feinting with their fangs and talons, neither giving any chance at an attack. Twice Tarokh had struck out against Imperator, twice being tossed aside like a hatchling. His anger was growing with his frustrations. His opponent's eyes, cool and calm, infuriated him even more.

He paced furiously, taking a few steps each direction. He felt crazed, staring at Imperator standing perfectly still, waiting for his next mistake. It was a silent mockery, and Tarokh knew it.

"Fool!", Tarokh spat at his opponent, as if trying to break Imperator's placidity, "I will tear your head from the length of your spine! You are no different from all the others I have hunted in the name of sport...In the name of the kill!"

"No, Tarokh.", Imperator stated with his customary coolness, "Your slay..."

Tarokh cut him off. Swiftly lunging, Tarokh bullrushed into the platinum's massive chest, sinding the wall of scales and muscle falling and sliding back, leaving a deep trench from his back dragging into the ground. Tarokh lept on top of the fallen platinum, bringing his maw downward towards Imperator's throat. A shot of pain stopped him inches from it's mark.

Imperator raised a claw, catching Tarokh's potentially lethal bite from his neck. His talons found a weak spot between two gashed scales, tenderly piercing the hide beneath. He could feel Tarokh's enraged beat beneath his fingertips. He stopped as Tarokh did the same.

"Slaying of the only one....", Imperator continued, again being cut short again with the sight of Hunter advancing on Celene's body, "Celene!"

Tarokh pulled his head from the lightened tense grip of Imperator. His neck shot around seeing as the prone platinum had. His body spun over the dragon, making a beeline for the darkcloaked figure.

"Coward!", Tarokh raged, shaking the boughs of the surrounding trees, his scintillating orbs glowing with their almost electric display. The figure gave a moment to stop, watching the large reptillian form charging at him. Whether good sense or one of preservation, he backpedaled, keeping his eyes on the prismatic taking a stance over the fallen paladin. Tarokh glared down at him. Neither saw Imperator stand.

"At last we meet, Hunter.", Imperator stated, regaining his coolness if only slightly. He moved to the right side of Tarokh. Giving him a glance, they both locked their vision back at the athame weilder.

Hunter stood silent as the night. His baleful hellfire glowing eyes passed between the two and the body of his victim. His helm turned in regards back to the two opponents staying silent.

"This is no concern of your's dragon." Hunter hissed, his hand tightening around the athame's hilt, "Neither of you."

Tarokh lowered himself over Celene's body, bringing his belly within inches of it. His heaving chest almost smothered the lithe frame, and he knew any lower, he would surely crush her.

"You are mistake, Hunter.", Imperator said, still maintaining a calmness to his tone, "This elf does concern both of us. If you wish her, they you'll have to go through both of us."

Tarokh nodded, his eyes burning a storm that would rival any natural one. His back arched slightly, setting ready to pounce. The tip of his tail twitched in irritation. The shadow of Imperator partially covering him, he stayed.

Silence reigned a moment, the air grew tense. The two dragons stood casting their shadows over their fallen friend and mate. Within moments, it broke with laughter. Maniacal laughter from Hunter. He began to utter words of power.

Imperator took a step forward as the invocation took form. Celene's body became encased in a while haze. The smoke arose from around her, and floated lazily through both the wyrms. It coagulated in front of Hunter. The warlord extended his gauntlet, palm up, willing the haze to it. It responded, turning to a spherical mist, absorbing itself into his armor. More laughter rang as Imperator and Tarokh looked on with expression of rage.

"My will be done.", Hunter spoke flatly as the last of the wisp vanished, "The soul of the unborn and it's mother is mine."

Imperator's eyes narrowed dangerously. His talons clenched tight, drawing blood from his own hands. His jaw lowered slightly, reveal his rows of sharp fangs. Taking another step forward, he swatted a hand back to the prismatic.

"Get her out of here. Bring her to Purity's Refuge in Kohlingen. She will be safe there.", Imperator near-hissed, "Hunter will fall this night."

Tarokh turned towards Imperator, staring with mouth ajar. Rather than arguing, he scooped up Celene's body within his arms. He regarded Imperator, still staring spears through Hunter. In all his time he had seen Imperator, not once had he ever even raised his voice. Hunter shot him a mocking look, sheathing his athame, and drawing his vicious blade. Imperator took another step towards the dark clad figure, shooting a look at Tarokh. The prismatic shifted his eyes towards Hunter, and took flight.

* * * * *

Tonie and Silina had barely reached the western gates to Kohlingen when a hard wind overtook them. Just above the cliffs, a large draconic shape blotched out the stars. It flew hastily over them, heading right over the city. The alarm bell rang loudly. Tonie and Silina looked at each other, worry and fear on their faces.

The horizon grew slightly lighter.

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Imperator stood in the midst of the Shrin, the Ladystones still illuminated with silvery glow. His blood fumed as he felt anger seething within him. His hands clenched and released, his talons stained with his own blood. Hunter did nothing but stand there as if waitin. His crimson glowing sword in hand. Anxiousness lay unresolved in the air.

"Hunter, your actions have caused pain and death to all of this island.", Imperator challenged, "I give you the chance to now yeild."

"Yeild to you?", Hunter laughed, "There are many may give that consideration to. You are not one, wyrmling. fighting me will only be your own death."

"So be it.", Imperator responded. His feet pounded against the ground, leadinghim to Hunter. Anger boiled in his veins as he lashed at Hunter with one of his strong hands. The scaled claw struck him, to no effect. Hunter recoiled with a counterstrike against Imperator's extended limb, his burning blade penetrating the scaled plating. Imperator struck repeatedly, his hard blows being absorbed by Hunter's armor, rippling it's surface like water being disturbed by a dropped pebble.

Twice again, Hunter's blade struck home. It's vile energy crackled, turning Imperator's hide into open gashes and boiled blood. The open wounds bled profusely, dotting the green grasses with deep crimson splotches. Somewhere a bird chirped it's morning call, and Hunter stepped back from the wounded Imperator.

"You hav lost this round, platinum.", he hissed, "You will not have the benefit of the dawn when next we meet."

Imperator gazed to the sky. The morning rays showed, turning the dark navy nocturnal folds into a showing of gold and orange. He turned his face back to Hunter, watching as his night-hued armor of the fiend slowly faded into the shadows. He knew Hunter's words were true. He had not been victorious. Celene, his dear friend, and Tarokh, his often rival, had atleast made their retreat. Those thoughts held him fast as day rolled in. He stood there, nursing his wounds. What had brought Tarokh back? Even more confusing, why would he stand over the one who he all but forsaken, the one that could have given him peace? Deep in thought, he took flight. His eyes focused on Kohlingen. There, his answers would come.

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Tarokh wasted no time. Seeing the wall beneath him, he pulled the drow's body closer to his. He turned his glide into a near dive. He felt her labored breathing against his chest. Her skin, once so warm and tender, now was cold and clammy. He gave her a quick look as the cobblestones drew cloers. Her eyes closed, as if sleeping, but her face was barely peaceful. The muscles beneath her fine cut features were tense, almost giving a look twisted in pain. Tarokh narrowed his scaled eyelids, and lowered his feet to the meet the street.

Brazen bells tolled. Tarokh whirled his head a phalanx of guards came rushing. Their weapons drawn, they all directed themselves towards the chaotic dragon. In another time, he would have fallen on them like a rabid beast, tearing into their armor, turning the plates and underlying chainmail into scraps of mangled steel. He would have left them laying in a pool of each other's life escense, the destroyed smithworks glistening in the pool beneath the sun. Not this day. There were more important things to take care of.

"Lower your steel.", Tarokh commanded, lowering himself slightly, poising himself on three of his limbs, still holding the drow in one, tightly held against his body, "Imperator has sent me with your leader, Defenders."

With that, Tarokh revealed his sheltered bundle. The guards locked their gazes with a mix of surprise and shock. Hushed words spoken amongst them raised to a dull roar. They stared to each other, unknowing on what to do. A man pushed his way through the crowd, double bladed axe in hand. Looking to the prismatic, then to the still body, he regarded Tarokh.

"I am Simond, priest of Kohlingen and the Defenders, great wyrm.", Simond announced to their unusual visitor, "What news do you bear?"

"I have brought your Defender's leader.", he proclaimed, lowering Celene towards Simond, "She fell victim to one of Hunter's assaults. She breathes, but otherwise is still."

Simond stepped forward, motioning for a pair of guards to do the same. Taking the body, he passed her to the two guards.

"Bring Lady Nai'lo to the Refuge.", Simond stated calmly, "Call for priests to aid her. I will be in shortly."

Simond turned to Tarokh. Words spoken and stories heard told of his dishonorable ambitions. This wyrm had been a destroyer and conqueror in the past, but now nearly peaceful, watching the guards carry the wounded Celene into the Refuge. Simond turned likewise, watching them disappear into the building's depths.

"Will she be alright?", Tarokh asked, voice showing a hint of concern.

The sky grew lighter, as they stood in silence. The guards left, returning to their posts and barracks. Thoughts left unsaid ran rampant in both their minds. Looking at each other in signs of almost distrust, but respect they both just waited for the other to speak.

"I will attend to her myself, Tarokh.", Simond proclaimed, turning towards the Refuge. "Would you care to know of how she recovers?"

Tarokh nodded silently. Simond bowed deeply, beginning his walk across the street to the stone building. Tarokh stood there, turning his sight to the silent walls where Celene, his love, lay silent and near to death. He felt something well up inside him. It was not quite a feeling of helplessness, nor one of anger. It was something possibly alien to him. finding the correct word for the emotion took a moment as it burned inside him. Sorrow was it's name.

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