[center][b][u]Aramil Nailo[/u][/b][/center]
[center]Location: [i]Actium[/i][/center]

The old wizard shambled his way into Atrium at the precise moment a dragon whelp arose into the sky. [i]What uncanny luck...[/i] he thought ironically, knowing full well that this town would force him out if he did even the most simplest spell. However, it was interesting to see a young dragon in these parts. With a pain-wracking cough running throughout his body, Aramil continued his way further into the town, his pace quickened. Already the cries of fear and rage reached his ears, the hysteria of knowing that a dragon was within their town was enough to cause many of the folk to run past him. Nevertheless, the old wizard did not slow and he pressed on, ignoring the arrows that landed by him after their arc came to an end.

Aramil arrived just in the time, for it was merely the beginning of the garrison's assault. He heard the bootsteps of many more rushing closer into the city and he gave another cough, his right hand becoming coated in blood. [i]It has been too long,[/i] Aramil thought, his eyes drifting to his flask. Already he felt weak-kneed and exhausted, his bones aching with an otherworldly cold. The wizard shrugged the thought away and simply stood behind the current ranks. More were coming and he would need to stop this before it escalated.

The wizard tapped his staff three times onto the cobblestones, muttering an arcane syllable, causing the crystal ball atop it to come to life with a simple cantrip: an ancient dragon's bellow. Throughout this all, Aramil looked skyward towards the dragon whelp, whose dark silhouette was plastered onto the darkening clouds of a coming storm.