Jhasato urged his horse through the thick undergrowth - Vezhof how he hated trees - scanning for any sign of his prey. Normally, he wasn't the most astute tracker. Normally, he wasn't stalking such a massive creature, holding such massive heat within, that it left a distinct trail of snapped branches and withered leaves in its wake.
A deep rumbling growl rippled through the steamy air. To its credit, his horse merely paused, ears pinned, before yielding to its master's touch, moving towards the source of the sound. Within moments, the beast was upon them, great leathery wings bludgeoning the treetops as monstrous fangs snapped an arrow's length from Jhasato's head. He wheeled his horse about, guiding it with his knees and nocking an arrow into his bow in a single fluid motion, turning to launch the projectile at the pursuing dragon. The gears mounted at either nocking point whirred into action, propelling the arrow between the thick scales. He still felt...almost dirty, using the unfamiliar technology, but it was scarcely the strangest thing about this world.
His boldness earned him a burst of searing flame across his back, the acrid stink of burning hair and leather assaulting his nose. He drove his mount into a wide circle, firing two more arrows in quick succession. The dragon roared in defiance, leveling a small copse of trees with a lash of its barbed tail. But a glint of red-black caught the sunlight: his arrows were finding their mark.
The dance of death continued as the sun passed its zenith, neither combatant yielding despite their growing weariness. Bloodied and battered, the great beast attempted to take flight. The Dothraki unsheathed the great curved arakh on his back and swung, shearing the leathery membrane of a wing from its body. The dragon fell, turned, and roared. Lunged for its opponent and, though it missed him with its fangs, knocked him from his horse with its massive head. The horse bolted, and Jhasato swung upright from where he clung to the saddle. Another fierce slash of his blade this time found the soft flesh beneath the beast's jaw. Bathed in the sudden arterial spray, Jhasato pulled the horse to a halt as the dragon fell behind him, turning to survey his kill. With a triumphant whoop, he leapt from the saddle, blade held ready for the task at hand.
The sun was already casting long shadows when Jhasato sat back on his heels, leaving a bloody streak as he mopped the sweat from his brow. Large cuts of meat lay heaped atop the tattered remains of a wing; several large hides were bundled in a nearby stack. "<What do you think? Can you carry all this?>" he asked the horse with a laugh. The horse simply looked up from its grazing, nickered, and went back to its dinner.
Night was beginning to fall by the time Jhasato trudged the familiar streets of Everdale beside his horse, both of them laden with meat and hides, coated with blood and dust and nearly a solid dull rust color...until a colorful splash of purple and blue launched itself at his face. "Oh! You got them? Thank you! I was beginning to wonder, you took so long..." Jhasato merely grunted, quietly unloading the horse and himself. Nova, the resident sylph, chattered away, bobbing excitedly in the air one moment and perching on his blood-crusted shoulder the next. At this distance, it was much easier to distinguish her features, tiny and perfect. She looked less like an insect, more like a woman. "...will make the best armor ever!" She paused, looking him over as if for the first time. "You stink. Go bathe."
In another world, none but his khal would dare command him so boldly. In another world, insects were not befriended, but trampled underhoof as the warriors rode to battle. In this world, he headed silently to the bath house, a grin just visible beneath his beard.
A deep rumbling growl rippled through the steamy air. To its credit, his horse merely paused, ears pinned, before yielding to its master's touch, moving towards the source of the sound. Within moments, the beast was upon them, great leathery wings bludgeoning the treetops as monstrous fangs snapped an arrow's length from Jhasato's head. He wheeled his horse about, guiding it with his knees and nocking an arrow into his bow in a single fluid motion, turning to launch the projectile at the pursuing dragon. The gears mounted at either nocking point whirred into action, propelling the arrow between the thick scales. He still felt...almost dirty, using the unfamiliar technology, but it was scarcely the strangest thing about this world.
His boldness earned him a burst of searing flame across his back, the acrid stink of burning hair and leather assaulting his nose. He drove his mount into a wide circle, firing two more arrows in quick succession. The dragon roared in defiance, leveling a small copse of trees with a lash of its barbed tail. But a glint of red-black caught the sunlight: his arrows were finding their mark.
The dance of death continued as the sun passed its zenith, neither combatant yielding despite their growing weariness. Bloodied and battered, the great beast attempted to take flight. The Dothraki unsheathed the great curved arakh on his back and swung, shearing the leathery membrane of a wing from its body. The dragon fell, turned, and roared. Lunged for its opponent and, though it missed him with its fangs, knocked him from his horse with its massive head. The horse bolted, and Jhasato swung upright from where he clung to the saddle. Another fierce slash of his blade this time found the soft flesh beneath the beast's jaw. Bathed in the sudden arterial spray, Jhasato pulled the horse to a halt as the dragon fell behind him, turning to survey his kill. With a triumphant whoop, he leapt from the saddle, blade held ready for the task at hand.
The sun was already casting long shadows when Jhasato sat back on his heels, leaving a bloody streak as he mopped the sweat from his brow. Large cuts of meat lay heaped atop the tattered remains of a wing; several large hides were bundled in a nearby stack. "<What do you think? Can you carry all this?>" he asked the horse with a laugh. The horse simply looked up from its grazing, nickered, and went back to its dinner.
Night was beginning to fall by the time Jhasato trudged the familiar streets of Everdale beside his horse, both of them laden with meat and hides, coated with blood and dust and nearly a solid dull rust color...until a colorful splash of purple and blue launched itself at his face. "Oh! You got them? Thank you! I was beginning to wonder, you took so long..." Jhasato merely grunted, quietly unloading the horse and himself. Nova, the resident sylph, chattered away, bobbing excitedly in the air one moment and perching on his blood-crusted shoulder the next. At this distance, it was much easier to distinguish her features, tiny and perfect. She looked less like an insect, more like a woman. "...will make the best armor ever!" She paused, looking him over as if for the first time. "You stink. Go bathe."
In another world, none but his khal would dare command him so boldly. In another world, insects were not befriended, but trampled underhoof as the warriors rode to battle. In this world, he headed silently to the bath house, a grin just visible beneath his beard.
![[Image: Raewyn-Signiture.jpg]](https://i.ibb.co/T1hxSd2/Raewyn-Signiture.jpg)