The trees immediately began to blur and he blinked away a feeling of lightheadedness, as he opened his hand and shut his mind closed from his magicka.
Well, casting a healing spell was right out. He sighed internally, looking at Farengar, debating setting aside his pride and asking for help. He wrinkled his nose. In the Summerset Isle, asking a mer for help with magic was disgracefully weak. Whiterun wasn’t that far. He could easily stop in Breezehome and make himself several healing potions.
Dragonsreach came into view between the trees as they rounded a bend. The path they walked wound around the base of a mountain. Therion had traveled this way many times, and looked over at a familiar cave, a landmark which always signaled his journey was halfway over. Trees, mossy rocks, flowers, and butterflies dotted the path in each direction. The mer looked around, appreciating the picturesque morning. As he gazed up into the sky, he felt a small chill along his spine; a sense of foreboding which usually preceded one thing. He froze in place, wondering if he had slighted any of the eight Divines recently, as he held his breath and listened.
An earsplitting, bestial roar erupted over the trees, followed by the sound of rushing air.
Farengar’s head eagerly snapped up, excitedly looking around.
Therion merely sighed in exasperation. Reaching behind his back, he pulled his bow free and nocked an arrow, silently hoping the beast would pass by overhead without noticing them.
He heard the words, “YOL TOOR SHUL!” and was already leaping to the side on the first syllable. A wall of hot, bright flame came down where he had just been, leaving a long trail of black, smoking ash across the path, tinged with fire.
The deafening thrashing of air returned as the creature landed, shaking the ground with its massive body, causing stones and dirt to spray in all directions.
Farengar shielded his eyes, and as the dust settled, he slowly stared up in awe.
A dragon.
A real dragon.
He had never imagined how incredibly large they would look in real life. The gigantic, bronze dragon growled, so low he could feel it reverberate in his chest. Dense, black smoke billowed from its ferocious looking maw in a steady stream. With a sweep of its tattered, spade tail, it turned and stalked toward him, it’s sharp talons digging into the earth with each resounding step. Farengar stared up into its yellow, compound eyes. Transfixed, forgetting to breath, rooted in place by fascination and terror.
A wave of force knocked him back into the grass as the dragon snapped its massive jaws shut on thin air, narrowly missing the wizard. Three arrows sank into the dragon’s neck, all in a row. The beast threw its head back and let loose a shrill cry, as more arrows sailed past its thrashing body, several hitting their mark. Flapping its leathery wings, it began to lift off the ground.
Therion rolled beneath the elder dragon as it began its ascent, the tip of its wing brushing his back as he passed below. Dashing forward at a run, he stopped to hoist the staggered mage onto his shoulder, shouting “Wuld Nah Kest!”
The dragon shouted more words which became smoldering red flame, but they harmlessly struck a stone as Therion ran at an inhuman pace, using his whirlwind sprint to dive through the trees.
He darted into the nearby cave, not caring what he might encounter as he ran inside, dropping Farengar beside him, as he fell to a knee, still clutching his bow with a nocked arrow in his right hand.
“What,” Therion shouted at Farengar, his words punctuated by panting breaths, “is wrong with you?! Are you completely-” his words were drowned out by a vehement roar from the cave’s entrance, where the dragon breathed wild gouts of flame from too far a distance to do anything more than raise the ambient temperature.
Therion glared back at it with the annoyed look of one who had just been rudely interrupted mid-sentence. With a casual snap of his bowstring, he delivered an arrow to the center of the dragon’s brow, causing it to roar in pain and surprise.
Re: Fire and Potions - 32/?
Well, casting a healing spell was right out. He sighed internally, looking at Farengar, debating setting aside his pride and asking for help. He wrinkled his nose. In the Summerset Isle, asking a mer for help with magic was disgracefully weak. Whiterun wasn’t that far. He could easily stop in Breezehome and make himself several healing potions.
Dragonsreach came into view between the trees as they rounded a bend. The path they walked wound around the base of a mountain. Therion had traveled this way many times, and looked over at a familiar cave, a landmark which always signaled his journey was halfway over. Trees, mossy rocks, flowers, and butterflies dotted the path in each direction. The mer looked around, appreciating the picturesque morning. As he gazed up into the sky, he felt a small chill along his spine; a sense of foreboding which usually preceded one thing. He froze in place, wondering if he had slighted any of the eight Divines recently, as he held his breath and listened.
An earsplitting, bestial roar erupted over the trees, followed by the sound of rushing air.
Farengar’s head eagerly snapped up, excitedly looking around.
Therion merely sighed in exasperation. Reaching behind his back, he pulled his bow free and nocked an arrow, silently hoping the beast would pass by overhead without noticing them.
He heard the words, “YOL TOOR SHUL!” and was already leaping to the side on the first syllable. A wall of hot, bright flame came down where he had just been, leaving a long trail of black, smoking ash across the path, tinged with fire.
The deafening thrashing of air returned as the creature landed, shaking the ground with its massive body, causing stones and dirt to spray in all directions.
Farengar shielded his eyes, and as the dust settled, he slowly stared up in awe.
A dragon.
A real dragon.
He had never imagined how incredibly large they would look in real life. The gigantic, bronze dragon growled, so low he could feel it reverberate in his chest. Dense, black smoke billowed from its ferocious looking maw in a steady stream. With a sweep of its tattered, spade tail, it turned and stalked toward him, it’s sharp talons digging into the earth with each resounding step. Farengar stared up into its yellow, compound eyes. Transfixed, forgetting to breath, rooted in place by fascination and terror.
A wave of force knocked him back into the grass as the dragon snapped its massive jaws shut on thin air, narrowly missing the wizard. Three arrows sank into the dragon’s neck, all in a row. The beast threw its head back and let loose a shrill cry, as more arrows sailed past its thrashing body, several hitting their mark. Flapping its leathery wings, it began to lift off the ground.
Therion rolled beneath the elder dragon as it began its ascent, the tip of its wing brushing his back as he passed below. Dashing forward at a run, he stopped to hoist the staggered mage onto his shoulder, shouting “Wuld Nah Kest!”
The dragon shouted more words which became smoldering red flame, but they harmlessly struck a stone as Therion ran at an inhuman pace, using his whirlwind sprint to dive through the trees.
He darted into the nearby cave, not caring what he might encounter as he ran inside, dropping Farengar beside him, as he fell to a knee, still clutching his bow with a nocked arrow in his right hand.
“What,” Therion shouted at Farengar, his words punctuated by panting breaths, “is wrong with you?! Are you completely-” his words were drowned out by a vehement roar from the cave’s entrance, where the dragon breathed wild gouts of flame from too far a distance to do anything more than raise the ambient temperature.
Therion glared back at it with the annoyed look of one who had just been rudely interrupted mid-sentence. With a casual snap of his bowstring, he delivered an arrow to the center of the dragon’s brow, causing it to roar in pain and surprise.