[color=9e0b0f][h1][center]Ythreïn Methreon[/center][/h1][/color]
[b]5 hours before…[/b]
From a distance, Ythreïn had seen the caravan coming on the road. Such an easy target he thought. His dragon mount, Scythia, was growing restless underneath him. The dragon was as big as a horse, yet her wings were yet too small to fly up into the air. She could breathe fire though. Just like Numerius and Argon. But both of them were far younger than she was. Hatchlings they were, and still not bigger than a large hound. Ythreïn and his followers felt their hearts starting to beat harder in anticipation. Their burning blood pushed through their veins with anticipation. Even at this nightly hour, the Cult of Sol’Tuin was ready for slaughter.

The raid, or massacre, lasted far too short for Ythreïn. On the back of Scythia he stormed with a wild fury into the caravan. The dragon jumped on top of the first caravan. In blind bloodlust she tried to bite something inside of it. Ythreïn jumped off her back as a guard came at him. The poor man was yelling a unconvincing battle cry as he wet his breeches. One thrust of Valermos through the man’s wide open mouth was more than enough to stop him. Scythia screeched behind him as she threw one half of a women up into the air. With her long neck she again went inside the caravan. Seconds later she threw a crying babe into the air. With her flaming breath she burned the baby as it was still in the air, catched the burned remains and swallowed it whole.

Numerius and Argon were also enjoying their meals. They had surrounded a guard, desperately trying to fend them off. Argon, the emerald scaled dragon, had enough and unleashed its torrent of flames upon the poor man. The guard collapsed crying as the flames consumed him. Numerius, the sapphire blue dragon, saw his chance and ripped off the man’s arm in one savage bite. He simply walked away, proud with his price. Argon threw the man on his back and clawed at him stomach. Guts began to flow out. But Argon liked his prey burned. Even on the inside. He pushed his head inside a wide gap, and started roasting the man from inside.

Ythreïn slashed away in almost reckless abandon. Laughing in joy. All around him, his cult slaughtered the guards and soon the peasants too. The carts quickly caught fire. The horses were either eaten, set on fire, killed by a blade or any combination of those options. Pausing his slaughter for a moment, Ythreïn saw a bloody trail run from the caravan a bit further down the road. Following it, he swiftly found the source. A man crawling on the ground. His legs were clearly broken. As if the man felt the sting of Ythreïn’s gaze, he turned on his back. “I beg you, my lord…I beg of you…Let me live.” The man begged for his life. With hot tears running down his cheek. “I beg of you! Mercy!” the man cried out, now more frantic. Yet the Knight of Dragons lifted his sword, pointing it at the man. But instead of thrusting it, he kept it still. The runes on it began to glow a fierce red. Golden flames ignited from the handle, and spread down the blade. [color=9e0b0f]“Eat, Valermos.”[/color] The hush voice of Ythreïn said. The golden flames threw themselves from the blade into the man. Like the breath of a dragon. The man cried in anguish for a second, but then his life force fled his body. Yet the flames pushed harder. Melting it and the stone road behind it. Fusing it together. 
[hr]
[b]Present time…[/b]
Ythreïn stepped forward. His red plate armor in stark difference with his lord. He drew Valermos from his scabbard, and planted it before him. As he knelt on his left knee and bowed his head. [color=9e0b0f]“Ythreïn Methreon. Knight of Dragons. I swear my allegiance to you, our Lord, Nyarlathotep.”[/color] He said, in his usual formal, hushed voice.