The man known as Scion was quick, nimble. Such was to be expected. However would his speed be enough to save him from the wrath of the Cughtagh? Perhaps it would be so, perhaps not. It would remain to be seen if his skill were as adept as his mouth.  

Thrum. 

In a moment the field had changed. The backhanded blow, the hand intended to silence the insolence had missed, but not by much. It was a true axiom; it was providence to be lucky as it was to be good. Whether or not Scion was as good as he boasted would remain to be seen. Before he could take a step to follow his prey a solitary gun shot rang out.  

The bullet raced towards Skallagrim, 755 feet per second. It would reach him, just about now.  With a deft movement the skeletal being raised the dagger at the same time he hunched his shoulders. At the same time, the roiling ball of darkness flared and expanded at such speeds that the shimmering crystalline darkness and bullet collided. The bullet ricocheted away at an oblique angle from the Dreamer. Raising his right hand, Skallagrim manipulated the electromagnetic energies around him, capturing the rapidly decelerating bullet. 

With a simply flick of his wrist the bullet whipped around and raced, with added energies back at the man who had fired it. At the last moment the bullet stopped, hovering a scant inch from the man’s forehead. The bullet vibrated angrily with ever increasing potential energy.  
Without removing his eyes from the man named Scion, the swirling nimbus of aesr flared brilliantly, casting a lavender light around them in a scintillating, strobing manner. 

His voice a static filled sound that carried enough for Scion and the guard to hear it, 

[color=a187be]“You speak freely. You speak with impudence and arrogance. It is your words that wrought this predicament. You are the reason this man will die this day. It is your words that shall determine his fate. His life or death lay with you.”[/color]  Skallagrim said as he shifted his body so that the shield faced the now armed Scion.  With a subtle movement of his hand the bullet moved closer until it pressed against the man’s forehead, vibrating with such intensity it began a friction burn where it touched.

Without looking at the man, Skallagrim spoke again, [color=a187be]“Your name.”[/color]

[b]“Peter . . . Peter Maalodoz.”[/b]

[color=a187be]“Do you have family Peter Maalodoz?”[/color]

[b]“Yes . . . yes. I have three children and six grandchildren. Please let me live. Please. I don’t want to die today.”[/b]

[color=a187be]“Death comes to all species Peter Maalodoz. Sometimes it is through old age, sometimes by our own hand and sometimes by the hands of others. Do you understand Peter?”[/color]

The man nodded slowly, a trickle of blood raced along his nose, lingered on his lips before falling to the ground.  [b]“Yes. I understand.”[/b]

His attention never wavered from Scion. However it was his response that piqued the interest of the Dreamer.

[i][color=f26522]“BE STILL!” [/color][/i]

The pulsating shield of dark energy, crackled faintly as Skallagrim shifted it, his attention brough to bear on the weapon the man had produced. Every detail of the weapon that was visible was now being stored and catalogued by the Dreamer and being dismantled in other dreams, by others who sought to understand the nature and properties of the weapon. It looked like a standard farming tool that humans had converted to a weapon. By the confidence the man wielded the weapon the Dreamers could only assume that it was more than a mere bit of wood and metal.  Stepping around the over turned lounge chair, Skallagrim moved slowly, with deliberation and grace. His movements similar to a cat stalking its prey, before he could advance further, above them the distinct whup-whup of a helicopter rotors could be heard. Shifting a fraction of his energies Skallagrim scanned the frequencies and identified the chatter from the flying machine. It was a police helicopter seeking to get a handle on the situation. A few miles back several other helicopters were coming, news copters. 

The wail of sirens filled the air as the police vehicles, firetrucks and ambulances began their arrival. 

The next few moments would determine the fate of not only Peter Maalodoz, but untold other first responders. The Dreaming Queen had been insulted, her honor called into question. For that worlds had burned before, civilizations had been extinguished saved for the dreams in the Galdhr.  Silver-blue energy raced along the chain armor of the Dreamer as he stared at the man with the weapon. 

[color=a187be]
“Now let us discuss the apology for your insolence.”[/color]