The tranquil interlude was not long, perhaps no more than an hour's passage or so, before the fierce cry of the invaders' most notable power shook the very foundation of the keep. The stones wished to shudder from its booming echo, one that carried through every hall and every room, dulled only by distance. This did little to change the hackles it raised upon all ears that heard it. It seemed no longer content to be ignored or harassed by the defiants below it, the same that had been rebuking its armies by huddling ever tighter; there existed almost no doubt in the minds of the many that had sealed the port off again that their enemy had spread knowledge of their failure to take the citadel from within. What chances were it that only now the dragon sought to throw its lot in so directly?

In the time before this outcome, over the course of that same hour prior, the aspirant of the divine world untamed had been content to rest himself in a number of elements of his person; the soothing of song and the crackle of calm flames, it was enough to draw off his mind for what it could. Brannor's visual observations during this were no less distracted in the faint swirl of smoke, keeping a sense of amused watchfulness as the stranger cast a number of reagents into the fire and poured over a book full of writings - ones the warden recognized in word from time to time, but not in meaning. Certainly no common script by any standard, it was unusual with their familiarity to him and how the slender, greyed finger of the man traced the yellowed pages in his readings. From all these efforts combined, a sooted raven arose to its master's beck and joined the company as it fluttered to life.

Were it not for his conscious between the waking and dreaming worlds, Brannor might have had more comprehension, but it was at this point all information had become blurred together in one figurative stroke. Its winding stream of actual and imagined mysticisms was broken by words, ones that were unalike all else that had transpired. Different in their pointedness and unsettling omen. 

Reality, or so what it appeared now to be, returned with the recoil of all things present.

At ready the man had returned to his leathered feet, brandishing the great blade that had rested idly across his lap before the haze lifted completely. Despite its heft and weight, the way it hung in but one hand spoke volumes about its bearer and the identity the two shared together. Realization setting in that against a dragon that could take to wing, let alone breath fire or some other terrible force, the sword was the lesser of his two options. It was in response to this Brannor quickly slung the weapon and drew up his tarnished bow in its stead and rested a knocked arrow between his gloves' fingers.

His bestial eyes pierced the dim and cloudy, incense laden air, scouring only to confirm to him what his mind well knew as they looked over all those present; that the keep outside was under siege at last, the threat there rather than here.

[i]“To gaze back upon one’s days in satisfaction is to live twice.”[/i] The old man huddling himself spoke first before sending out his servant, urging both on their way to retaliate in their own fashion; a trance falling upon him after, continuing in word as the bird in place of the man, [i]“Quickly now. We must not tarry!”[/i]

There would be time later for questioning and reflection on what all had just transpired, but all the huntsman could do was call out for the halfling as they started down the halls, avoiding the few escaping figures that rushed past and into any room that would welcome them, "Parum, with me!"

Undoubtedly the rest of the cadre were elsewhere, not far Brannor hoped. There were many things the predator within him could kill, but a dragon was no minor contender.

[@Hekazu][@Ryonara][@Phoenix][@Lucius Cypher][@Gordian Nought]