The Box (Part XVIII)

His thoughts grew calm as the dragon reared itself up before him. It’s cunning eyes regarded him beneath the scaled ridges of its brow-line.  Even as the dragon was deciding how it would best enjoy the morsel before it, he was mentally summoning all of his energy for a preemptive strike.

This creature was an ancient Red and he could feel the power emanating from its core.  It was unlike anything he could have ever dreamed of, which terrified and excited him at the same time. If only he could convince it to spare him!  If only it would listen!

His hands began a subtle dance at his sides as they warmed up the spell his mouth and veins would soon unleash.

The spell was something he had created especially for this moment.  Much like the Ward vs. Red Dragon’s breath, it was something that would give him enough of an edge as to hopefully gain the upper hand.

Malifgorranaka spread its wings outward in such a way that if it were a man, he would think that it were preparing to hug him.  His entire field of vision became a sea of red as the dragon god surrounded him with its body, and the as he began the first incantations to the spell, it lowered its head before him.

His eyes widened as he was suddenly face to face with teeth that were nearly as long as he was tall.  The wyrm’s breath stank of decomposing flesh, but even when he noticed the fleshy remnants of an arm lodged between two of the ivory spears he did not falter.


Even as he sliced the veins in his right arm, thus releasing the last component of the spell, was the dragon countering with magic of its own.  He watched helplessly as his five reddish-green arrows were snuffed back out of existence.

From across the cavern, another set of eyes watched as the battle between sorcerer and dragon unfolded.

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