The Fox Hunt [ChibiAyanami]

OoC: Ok, so this is not open, yet. But if ChibiAyanami doesn't show up, or her character never gets aproved, it will be open. If that is the case, I'm open for one new participant. Oh, and PM me beforehand!
Let the fightings begin.
Using Derek, link in sig.

My heart was pumping as I went into a dive, barely dodging a beam from the battleship above. A thrilling feeling rushed to my head as I shoot through the low layer of clouds and spread my wings; I had avoided them once again. At least, the large ship would take a long time to descent, and I doubted they would risk firing blindly through the cloud cover and down upon their own kind.

I landed quickly in a rocky mountain and hid behind some rocks before I transformed into a human. It was my third encounter this week, with two more last week, and I was worried about the sudden increase in dragon hunters tailing me. I had to move carefully, or else I'd reveal my 'secret identity', my only place of peace. Sometimes, I often think of my state as a curse, but in this period, I thought of it as a blessing. I might not be alive had it not been for that ability.

The road down the mountainside was not hard, but it was certainly long, and I felt myself getting quickly tired and was tempted to transform back to a dragon real soon. But I bit my teeth together and continued, just as the huge battleship parted the clouds as it descended. It was enormous, nearly the size of a city, armed to its teeth with guns shooting who knows what. Truth is, I didn't know anything about the dragon hunters, except that they were capable of hurting, and killing me, and that their goal was to do exactly that. I continued in silence.

The town was brimming with activity from the arrival of the battleship. At the time I had arrived, the battleship had already docked at a long mast, with several small ships descending from it towards the town. The mast were in the east part of the town, and the ship had docked from the west, and as I looked up it filled the whole sky. Asking a guard hurrying past I got the directions to the nearest inn as well as a indication to who the hunters might be. The royal army, he had mentioned. I didn't even know there was a king.

The inn was a shabby set of buildings; a decaying sleeping hall, a foul smelling kitchen and a not so foul bathing house. I paid for a night and went straight to the bathing house to wash off the mountain dirt. But I was lucky: I was alone in the small bathing house, and a full tub was waiting for me, so I decided to was some of my other parts as well. After all, if I was careful, what could go wrong?

Turn out, much could go wrong. I had just shape shifted my hands and were washing off bits of dirt and stone that had covered his claws while a dragon. It might be strange that such a thing were present after a transformation, but I figured it was better to have that discomfort than to be without clothes when I transformed back to human. And just as I held my left hand up to inspect it, a young boy appeared in the doorway.

I froze with my scaly green hand in the air as the boy closed the door. He had entered backwards, almost as if fleeing from someone, and I quickly submerged my hand into the water. But by some reason, I could not shape shift in water, so I just held it so far down that he wouldn't accidentally see it. Then the boy turned, and stared wide eyed at me, or rather, at my wings. I forgot I had shape shifted my wings.

"Boy!" I said firmly and pointed at him with my scaly hand. "Come here! NOW!"

OoC: He have seen Derek's secret, so Derek has to 'get rid of the problem'...

And the air ships, think of Studio Ghibli's Castle in the Sky, Howl's moving castle or Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind. Steampunk, in short.

Ooc: -happy dance- character's finally approved! ^^

And I’m working of the assumption that this is a Japanese style bathhouse, albeit small.

Ic: Startled by the unexpected attention, the boy jumped a bit and covered himself with his bath cloth. The wash bucket he dropped in his surprise made a hollow connection with the damp bedrock floor, the bucket spinning into stasis as his own heart was climbing down from its sudden peak of adrenaline. ‘Out of one dream and into another,’ he thought, but this one didn’t seem to be of his making. In the undressing room, the hazy steam lofting in from this room calmed and disarmed him so that he let his mind wonder; never a good idea when his thoughts could so easily shift reality. When he felt he was alone and safe from the eyes of chance that may happen upon him in his entranced state, he slackened the monk like focus of his mind and just let himself be a child and daydream. He, however, was not safe with his own thoughts, and quickly righted the alerted, now nightmarish haze of warped reality caused by his slip. The prepubescent boy ran into the bathing room to escape his thoughts and get this bath over with, only to encounter the man before him.

Wings scaled with the green of lizards spanned nearly the entirety of the room, yet the body to which they were attached was hardly scaly at all. Emory, the younger, wasn’t too shocked by the scales. Where he was raised was peopled with humans and snake bloods alike, whose skin ranged from the hard cuticle of reptilian scales to calloused human skin of an irregular hue. But the wings were new to the boy, and he rather admired them. It wasn’t until his train of observation reached the man’s face that he saw the quickening irritation in the twitch of the man’s brow. By that face, the winged one appeared just as human as the boy, and given their current locale, just as naked.

‘Assume the guise of what you’re perceived to be. First impressions may project and illusion all their own,’ the boy instructed himself. The riling glare that said without words “do I need to repeat myself” was rapidly shifting into a move out of the tub and into a situation Emory did not come here to handle. The boy waved his hands hurriedly in front of himself and gestured in the local sign language that he was mute, deaf, and did not mean any harm. But that stunt only earned him a quirked eyebrow and cocked jaw. ‘He must not be from around here. Well, of course, not with those wings. I wonder. . . is he the cause of all this commotion with the military?’ Em’s shoulders sank slightly in his mock disappointment at failed communication. Somehow, for the boy, acting like a kid was easier than being one.

Bowl cut, brunette bangs swayed like curtains before the lithe one’s eyes as he gestured in more universal motions his previous message (hands over his ears, his mouth, then an obvious x with his arms and the like), and a little light seemed to be shed in the scaled one’s eyes. The one with a hand shoved deep in the tub was still obviously distrusting of Emory. After all, what else would a little boy who had just happened upon a dragon say to his mother when he returned home?

But the boy, who looked no older than ten, didn’t seem like any normal child. No average kid would just dip his head as if seeking permission, calmly, albeit hesitantly, approach the dragon, wet his own cloth and begin washing the meet of scale and skin that adjoined the dragon’s wings to his back.

‘Diffusion of tension by exhibition of good will, but he’s still so tense here,’ the silent one thought as he ran the well lathered cloth between the dragon’s wings and down the back. The wings twitched with an emotion or pain that the boy could not quite place, and he could soon feel a growing heat in the chest through the back of the man before him. Now it was Emory’s turn to cock his head.

‘There’s more to you than the anger you display on the surface, but right now it’s that anger, or paranoia that’s building to be a threat to me. . . You’re a curious creature, and I want to know more about you, but I can’t really do that if you maul me. So—‘ playing on the innocence of childhood problem solving, Em reasoned that the best way to cool someone down was to pour a bucket of water over his head.

But something didn’t quite add up. Tiny hands were still working slowly, diligently on the dragon’s back, so who poured the water? The man looked up to the source of the sudden cascade and saw the boy standing adjacent to him. He spun around in the tub and saw the boy again crouched behind him, the boy’s hands still sudsy with the lathered cloth. There were two of them, twins in every facet but their hair: the standing one blond and the crouching one brunette.

‘You’re not the only one that’s special here.’

At first I was enraged by the courage and the foolhardiness of the boy, but as he suddenly and unexpectedly began to wash him like he was some kind of servant, he relaxed some. But he still distrusted him very much, as the whole thing could be a trap. But what harm could one boy be? He couldn't speak, so there would be no telling the soldiers. And if he could, would anyone believe him? My wings twitched from the strange feeling of someone washing them, and I relaxed even more.

But a thought entered my mind as I let myself loose up. What if that boy were an agent, with a knife or something? My body tensed as I imagined what kind of danger I had placed myself in. Would not the hunters connect the dots, that there was a winged man in the bathhouse, when they were hunting a winged dragon? Men weren't supposed to have wings. But would he tell? Of course, I decided, he's just a kid. And wouldn't the rumors go? Either that this boy had a vision, a hallucination or that there was really something there?

I felt anger build up inside me, trying to decide what to do, when I suddenly got a cold bucket of water over my head. There were two of them, I realized. Why hadn't I seen the second one? One was already too many, and now two? The boy smiled at me. Had he won, or something? Why was he glad? There was something wrong with this situation, and I intended to fix it straight away.

In a flash, I lounged out of the water and assaulted the blonde boy, knocking him hard against the floor with my hand at his throat. A shiny talon pressed hard down, and in a second, the boy had a gaping hole under his jaw. But almost no blood came out; only the air passage had been punctuated.

"Boy!" I snarled as he turned at the dark haired one. "Whom are you working for!? The hunters? ANSWER ME!"

The boy shook his head quickly and held his hands up defensively. He was not deaf, but he did not answer. I launched at him and grabbed him too by the neck and held him up. "Answer me, or I'll rip out your throat!"

Ooc: ack, I missed reading the last paragraph x_x. but I fixed my post so the first part is concurrent with your last part.

‘I don’t think aggressive paranoia begins to capture this guy’s mood.’ Emory was a touch disturbed by how quickly paranoia drove the dragon to strangle a small child to the point of death. The child dangled limply like the doll that he was in the man’s grip, but even being a doll in every way, it was still a projection of Emory’s ego and a bit of his esteem died along with the doll. With movements as silent as his lips, he stood to better assess the scene before him. Bodies bare, no weapons, but the man himself was a weapon to contend with, as evidenced by the crumpled body now lying discarded on the wet bedrock floor. With one small boy down, and the second target obvious before the dragon, Emory felt each millisecond tick a moment closer to danger. The thin skinned boy just looked up with an analytical eye to the man once again glaring him down.

‘I don’t believe that’s malice in his eye. No, rather it’s a fear.’ Emory turned his back to him, and in response to the immediate huff of outrage from behind him, he lifted his hands slowly in surrender. The scuffle of fast approaching steps skirted to a stop in mid gesture. Emory could hear the man barking demands at him: “tell me this- tell me that- who the hell are you” and such questions, but they earned him no answers.

‘If only you knew what may become of you, of me, of this world in its entirety when you ask me to speak, maybe you wouldn’t be so persistent.’

At that instant, in the dragon blood’s hot anger, the man clutched the small boy’s throat in a grasp threatening to collapse his throat. Despite the suddenness of the pain, not a word, gasp, or hitch escaped the boy. Instead, a mercurial twinge erupted in the palm of the man’s hand, and a burning sensation, not chemical nor pyretic, but more an electrical blunt of raw energy met his scaly hand. The dragon, now clutching his hand in acute pain, threw off the boy and scuttled back a pace. Dropped to his knees and rubbing the circlet of reddened flesh about his neck, Em coughed and cleared his throat, resuming breathing. It’s easier to resist collapse if you just don’t breath, ‘just like in the Wyld, the only difference this time is that I really could die.’ On that strand of thought, Em’s resolve to settle this in more direct manners strengthened. In any case, the dance of deception was over; normal little boys don’t effuse raw energy from their skin.

‘You’re so afraid, yet so convicted to keep your secret. I don’t know what it’ll take to show you that I’m not with these “hunters.” But if it takes a bit of force to calm you down and see me for what I am, then let’s have at it.’

A cool breeze rushed through the walls and ceiling of the enclosed bathhouse, calming in its nature yet foreboding in its presence. Just as soon as Em’s lips curled at the thought of stretching his own figurative wings, the door to the undressing room burst open with a gust of the same, cool breeze, bringing a flurry of rich red, broad autumn leaves, and the belongings of now the only two occupants in the entire bathhouse. Emory made to put on his clothes and extended his hand to what was apparently the dragon’s clothing and belongings. Still swinging and banging against the solid wall it was hinged to, the doorway seemed an endless billow of now frigid wind and never ending leaves, one of which smacked the man center in the face.

The dragon blooded reached with his still singeing hand to tear the leaf, seemingly attempting to bond to his skin, from off his face, only to find the fully clothed, young boy standing with his gloved palm pressed to the doorway. Unperturbed by the frosty wind, violently whipping his hair from his face, Emory looked back over his shoulder to the dragon blood thrusting his long legs through his pants. The boy’s cinnabar eyes were gleaming in their Fair vibrancy at the dragon, who had just finished dressing. He nodded his head through the open doorway in signal that they should take this battle outside.

‘Don’t mistake me for some for some frail, defenseless, boy. Come, I’ll show you that I have the strength to face you. Now do you have the strength to trust me?’

Frantically, I started to dress as the boy seemed to go outside. I had to stop him from tell anyone, but I couldn't go out naked. But where did all those leaves come from? I had a fairly strong suspicion that this boy was not what was he appeared, which made me a little less worried that he might tell. If he was a demon or something, wouldn't he too be chased by the hunters? Or, was he one of the hunters?

The wind subsided as he exited the bathhouse. And in front of the inn, the boy stood motioning for me to come. My muscles tensed as I prepared to rush him, but a citizen passing by made me cancel my attack, and instead smile and nod at the boy. He was smart; I could not kill or attack him in the open without attracting attention to myself, which was the last thing I wanted. So, I had to get him to a deserted location where I could get him out of the way.

"So kid," I said as I walked over to him. "Let's find your mom, ok?" A nearby citizen eyed us curiously, but resumed his daily routine and disappeared out of sight. The boy seemed taken aback by my sudden change and shook his head as to say he didn't wanted to find his mother. He was obviously not deaf, but he still didn't speak anything, and he hadn't even grunted when I strangled him. Perhaps he was really mute?

I thought about it for a second, and found the situation a little better. If he was mute, then he couldn't tell on me right away. But I still didn't know if he could write, and there was bound to be someone who could sign language, so I decided to continue with my plan. I couldn't have my secret revealed, not now that the hunters were so close. I couldn't afford anything right now, so I grabbed his hand hard and walked away.

Ooc: Italicized text is written word.

Ic: ‘“Find my mom,” he says. I wouldn’t know her even if I saw her. Although, I’m sure she’s probably dead.’ The little boy thought detachedly, as he let the assumedly human man lead him to wherever he was going. This is a port town; there are the seas and near endless shopping districts for military and mariners and tourist traps for those who happened by. The closest the dragon would get to a secluded area was in the residential sector, miles from here, or a nice dark alley.

Given the man’s change in directive from outright forced silence to a more persuasive tag along, the boy decided to help the man make their guise a bit more convincing. A grown man dragging an unwilling child through the streets grabs just as many concerned glances as his claws would have caused horrified gasp. So skipping up to the pace of the man once dragging him, Emory looked up with the bright eyes and effervescent smile of a child to the man whose face was still stern and distrustful. He curled delicate fingers around the man’s calloused hand and tugged it excitedly, the sleeve of his other arm waving well past his fingertips in the direction of a flower shop they were approaching.

Through the panel less windows that seemed to comprise the entire façade of the small, homely building, no soldiers or anyone about the business of the like were to be seen. The dragon’s skeptical eye passed between shop to boy and back, but he finally relented and led the boy into the store.

“Ah, you’ve done it again Cael. Always bringing in new customers.” A hearty voice boomed from behind the service counter from a man who, by his girth and lumber jack arms alone, looked like he should be working metals in masonry instead of arranging flowers. Emory grinned and signed something to him, and the shop owner threw him a set of keys. “Take all the time you need, now,” the man said with a wink. This whole exchange had the dragon blood on edge again. He didn’t understand what was going on.

They reached a bedroom on the second floor, away from the cloyingly sweet smell of the flowers, away from the prying eyes of the townspeople, and most of all, away from whatever was making the man so edgy outside of the boy. The room was sparsely furnished with only a table, two chairs, a daybed and a night stand.

The boy released the man’s hand, as he had done countless times with the soldiers he had brought here in the past, and offered him a seat after he made a pen scribbling through the air gesture that he would be looking for writing utensils. Small hands rustled through a nightstand filled with unmentionables unbecoming of a boy his age and pulled out a pencil and writing pad. The boy began to scribble.

‘I came to this town to facilitate inter library loans between the library here and the one in my hometown. I had then planned to stay a while for research when I was harassed by some men in uniform who wanted to make me their toy for the night. That man behind the counter downstairs saved me before I had to do anything drastic. He was once in the military here, too, until he discovered how corrupt they were. His own son lost his life to the “games” the soldiers play with the children here. And ever since he told me his story and I told him of my powers, we’ve established a tag team effort to exact his revenge upon the royal forces: I would lead soldiers up here, getting them lost in their sick fantasies by my skill of illusion, and Corgil, the man downstairs, takes care of the bodies.

If these hunters that are chasing you are the same people who have the army all riled up in search of something, then I don’t think we are enemies in this.’

The boy turned the paper over to the sitting, practically perching and still ready for anything, dragon blood on the day bed. The bobbed brunette stepped back a bit to give the man a moment to digest what he’d just given him.

Surprised, I found the boy willingly following me as I dragged him with me. I had at least expected him to strut against my will, or cry, but as he even smiled at me, I had no idea what to think. And when he gestured that he wanted to visit a small shop we passed, I were to confused mentally to refuse.

The shop turned out to be a flower shop, with a owner of a strong build and a accent I had never heard before. But he obviously knew him, and since I could not make a commotion, I smiled wavering at the owner and followed the boy upstairs. My thoughts were racing to catch up with the new situations.

But as we entered what seemed to be his room, some of my tension disappeared. Here I could easily plan how to kill and dispose the boy, and probably the owner, but as the boy turned to fetch writing utilities I subdued a urge to slash him open at the spot. I was still unsure about him, which was to his benefit.

So I waited till he came back with his writing pad and scribbled something down. Reading slowly his handwriting, things slowly fell in place, with one thing being mostly reassuring; he was not a dragon hunter.

"What exactly are your 'powers'?" I asked with a lifted brow. He responded by lifting a finger, and soon the whole room was filled with soldiers with swords drawn, and spears pointed at me. My whole body tensed as I was sure the boy had betrayed me, just as the soldiers turned into a bunch of cats, and then disappeared in thin air. I looked around the room, trying to find where the cats had gone, but there were none at all. I turned in disbelief and looked at the boy with amazement in my gaze.

"Was that real?" I asked with a dumb stare. The boy shook his head, and lifted a finger again to still me; and I tensed in await of what new trick it might produce. In front of me, a sword came in view, and as the boy gestured, I bowed down and picked it up. It certainly felt very real, and as I swept my thumb over it I got a very real cut.

"What's your name boy?" I asked as I put away the sword on the table. The boy returned to his writing pad and quickly showed it to me. Emory, I tried to remember. "Emory, eh.. Em it is then," I proposed, to which the boy, Emory, shrugged and gestured a 'If you wish'.

"So Em, what you saw today," I started, but paused as I tried to figure how I should say it. "What you saw, you won't tell anyone? Right?" The boy shook his head vigorously and gestured 'never'.

"Yes, you better not," I responded and grumbled. I was about to turn and leave when I saw the time of the day. Night was already upon us, and the thought to go back to the inn, which was actually a pretty long way, seemed not like a good idea. If I were stopped by any guards they would probably ask why I was out so late, and where I slept, where I came from. And when I would then tell them I came from Ambvrria, they would ask why a foreigner as I were so far from my land. So I excused myself and went down to the owner of the shop, whom I met as he was on the way up the stairs and asked him for a room, which he gave me, although I could tell he was a bit bewildered to meet me alive and sensible...

Ooc: Yay! We’re not trying to kill each other anymore!

Besides the various devices Emory kept in the night stand to tempt the soldiers and protect himself, there was also the few belongings that he had brought with him, simple things like hygiene products and a pair of pajamas. The bobbed boy changed into the long, flannel shirt and pants which seemed to be in need of fitting; the truth was that the boy just liked the feel of floppy sleeves and pant legs.

Emory heard the jungle of keys and the footsteps of the dragon blood ascending the stair case but not returning to the boy’s room. A mop like brow peaked through the doorway of the boy’s room, watching the dragon twirl the keys on the metal circlet. Emory giggled silently to himself as he realized the room to which those keys belonged. This was a small flower shop, after all, not an inn. What little space that wasn’t used for utility storage had already been turned into “the dragnet” as Emory liked to think of it. The man turned a corner and out of Emory’s line of sight.

‘3…2…1… he reaches the broom closet, wonders what the hell, and- oh, he’s a quick one,’ Emory thought as the man came back to the boy’s room with a broom and a rather flustered visage.

“Not funny, Em.”

‘Not my problem,’ the boy, who looked ever smaller in such large, loose clothes, shrugged and pushed the door open revealing the daybed, pulled out into a convertible bed.

“That’s nice and all, kid, but where do I sleep?”

Emory promptly handed over a piece of paper. ‘You can sleep with me or we can both sleep on the floor. And no, I’m not trying to bed you. But I think it would be appropriate if first we first thought up a plan for taking down this royal military. As for information such as base schematics, troop count, even down to names of commanding officers, we have at ready access thanks to the former royal military sergeant Corgil, that nice man downstairs who gave you those keys. I propose we go early in the morning, well before dawn and the transition between night watch and the morning crew. The night crew will be on it’s last legs before dawn, and the morning crew will not yet be situated. As for exactly how we go about attacking them, well, battle tactics aren’t my expertise, but perhaps we should stole aboard one of there ships and break out an attack once they cast out to sea? They will be stranded on one vessel whereas we could fly back to land or to the next ship they may send to pursue us. I’m assuming with those wings of yours, you can fly right?’

As the dragon was reading over Em’s statement, the tired little boy trudged his way over to the bed. Whatever the dragon had to say, Emory would listen in the state somewhere between consciousness and sleep as it was the habit of the young boy to sleep when sleep beckoned.

OoC: Fox hunt, many hounds chase the fox, who tries to outsmart, or outlast them... At least, that's what I had in mind.
Oh, and here's a map of the world we're in. We're in Ermoly, in the kingdom of Doras.

Derek did not like the idea of sleeping in the same room with that boy, but neither did sleeping in a broom closet seem like a pleasant idea. But he'd be sleeping at the floor anyway, which was not too uncommon for him. The wood was softer than rock, anyway, so he choose to sleep in the closet, where it was pitch black.

"We'll talk more tomorrow. We shouldn't be over-hasty," he said and went back to his room.

[It is pitch black. You are likely to be eaten by a Grue]

The morning came with a loud knocking on the small door, a small yell came as a reply as Derek banged his head against the roof as he stood up.

"I need my closet, and your night's rental is up!" the owner yelled through the door. 'He'd not yell if he knew whom I was,' Derek thought as he opened the door and blinked in the bright light. His eyes returned from the orange cat-like pupil to a normal colored, circle shaped one as he went down the stairs to the flower shop.

"He's early up," the boy said as Derek came downstairs, which caused him to look up.

"You can speak?" he said, regaining his suspiciousness, but the boy only looked silently at him with a 'You've gone mad' look, reminding him that he was a mute with his sign language.

"Forget it. I just thought...," he said and looked outside. The sun had just skimmed the Kerns and cast long shadows on the paved street outside. A good day to hunt hunters.

"I've thought about your proposal tonight," he started, and looked around for any unwanted 'visitors' before continuing. "And I'm not sure attacking is the best idea. Hopefully, they don't know I can change into this, and hopefully, they won't ever know. And I don't like the idea of a possibly revelation."

"But I can't escape either. I'm not even allowed to be here as a human." He rubbed his temple. "It was stupid to come."

"But," he continued, "it would not hurt to learn some about these hunters... I think I'll lurk some around near the air-ships, to see what gossip can teach me."

Ooc: Entirely to much npc action in this one. Italizised text is written word. I've been forgetting that the past couple of post.

The boy, still draped in his floppy pajamas, trudged over to the burly, lumberjack of a man and sleepily tugged on his arm to call the man off the dragon. Tension between allies first thing in the morning was not the best way to build strong bonds.

“Well, he’s occupying my broom closet, and I need my supplies!” Corgil, the flower shop owner, barked. Emory just sort of sighed, slipped past him, climbed over the more than miffed dragon and retrieved a pot of home brewed fertilizer, a watering can, and a rather frilly, red apron typical of the area housewives. The boy and his too long sleeves handed the pile to Corgil, and the hairy armed, husky man received it and set to strapping on the apron.

“Sorry about that, I’m just a bit short tempered in the mornings when I feel I’m behind schedule,” said the man who was now the very picture of gregariousness. With his white laced apron and watering can painted with all the scatter shot precision of his belated, seven year old son, he seemed the model, domesticated man. “If you’d like, I can cook you both some breakfast after I’m done with the plants. How do pancakes sound?”

The boy, now rather exasperated himself, took a small fistful of the man’s pants and, contrary to the boy’s size, began dragging the man back down the hall. He signed with his free hand over his shoulder: ‘Thanks, Cor, but no thanks. We’ll be leaving for the docks soon, so breakfast will have to wait.

“But you’ll get sick if you don’t eat your breakfast!” the bearded mother hen scolded, at which the boy yanked the man’s pants down a notch lower on his hips. The little one playfully shoved the man in the direction of the stairs, and left Corgill with the very obvious sign of “get to work” by his finger firmly pointed in down the stairs. The man quirked a smile and curtsied, always enjoying what had become a game of house between them. “Good luck, kid. Don’t go getting yourself killed.”

When Emory returned to the closet, he found the dragon had righted himself and was now standing, arms crossed, before the broom closet. The boy, with pajamas longer than he ever thought his limbs would grow naturally, mimicked the blank man’s crossed arms and impatient scowl. The boy unfurled one of his arms from his stance, flailed and flapped it around a bit, and a memo pad plopped onto the floor beside him. Tiny hands began scribbling.

“Corgil informed me that a general and lieutenant are off on a conveyance mission to Deldras. With my skills, we could very easily pose as them and infiltrate there base. To my knowledge, all privates and commanders wear dog tags, so we shouldn’t have any problem with the names of our subordinates and superiors, but faking relations beyond the casual and information privy only to our counterparts’ eyes (such as a report for the expedition they were sent on) may be a bit more difficult to fake convincingly. However, for the mean time it will give us a way into their ranks that will draw very little attention. We can start on that as soon as you enlighten me to a few things about yourself, Mr. Dragon.

‘How about telling me just why these hunters are after you. You know my story here, but I’d like to know just why I should be helping you. And a name may help. You know mine, after all.’

"Deldras?" Derek said and shuddered. "I should have known..." He had heard of several Dragons taking refuge in the Teln Mountains, close to Deldras. Although he didn't know many of those Dragons he could not let them be hunted down. And, he thought as he absentminded finished reading the note, it might have been my home if things had not turned out as they did. Gritting his teeth he handed the note back to Em, who only looked at him as if waiting for him to speak.

"Oh, about me," he said as Em pointed on the piece of paper. "I'm Derek, or at least that's what you can call me. And that's about all I think you need to know. And for the hunters, I'm a dragon in Tiamat's name!" He started to walk away. "But I'll play your game. Are you sure it will work?" Em nodded and left for his room. "Then we should be quick about it. I'll wait for you outside."

---

As Derek exited the shop his eyes became the ones of a dragon. He looked up at the airship floating above the city. As he stood the enormous shadow blocked out the sun. Further down in the city, at the airship ramp the soldiers were moving like ants, moving cargo up and down, or patrolling the area. He looked down as two smaller one-man air scooters passed over the rooftops. Security had been increased tenfold as the large battleship had arrived.

"Sure about this?" he asked Em as the boy came outside. He did not like the idea of taking on another human body as he already had done that.

OoC: I was thinking that after we got into the base, their scanners pick up a dragon just above, but no one is seen. And then the real officers arrive, and we have to escape.

Em nodded confidently as he exited the shop which somehow caused Derek to worry even more. The fact that they were going to enter the 'lair' of his enemies, something which required him to fully trust a young boy, had started to manifest itself. He started to worry and as two patrolling guards came around the corner he was only a moment away from transforming back to a Dragon to try to escape. Only the fact that Em now was grabbing his shirt and dragging him along kept him on the ground.

Derek looked down as the two guards passed, not daring to make eye contact. He was afraid that they might see whom he was if he did. But the guards passed without even a glance at either him or Emory.

"Perhaps we should drop this?" Derek tried as they approached the military camp, but Em only shook his head and made a lot of signs with his hands, leaving Derek clueless. "You know I don't understand those," he snapped angrily and looked away. A moment later, Em reached him a small note with scribbling on it. If we can sneak into the base, we can perhaps find a way to stop them.

"From hunting me? How?" Derek almost shouted but quickly lowered his voice to a whisper in fear of being overheard in the back alley they stood in. "They are only one of many. I don't even know why they are hunting me." He paused and bit his lip. "Well, perhaps we can find out about that, then..." Emroy only smiled and put his finger to his lips, signaling him to be quiet. A moment later, only two officers stood in the alley.

"But," the man who was Derek said. "What are you going to do if you can't speak, and someone asks you something?"

OoC: Going to continue this story until you choose to join back...