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[color=gold]Time:[/color] Morning
[color=gold]Location:[/color]Forest near the Sun Elf Kingdom
[color=gold]Interactions:[/color] Ayita [@13org], Soruklithbaal[@Alivefalling]
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Cade’s ears flattened back and his tail twitched nervously as the wind brought a sickening scent their way. With the smell of death so thick in the air, Cade expected a legion of undead, but the all-encompassing sound of a dragon’s roar that followed told him they were instore for something far worse. A massive shadow passed over them and Cade slung his halberd back over his back and looked up at that which had temporarily blocked the sun from them. [color=gold]“ Soruklithbaal”[/color] He whispered and his blood ran cold as he remembered the stories he’d heard of the lich’s dragon as a child. Cade had never seen a dragon before, they rarely left Daka and he was certainly not expecting the lich to send his personal beast. Based on the shadow it cast, this undead dragon was far larger than anything he’d faced before, trolls and ogres had nothing on this beast. Even as the dragon passed them by Cade knew this did not mean safety, the beast surely had their scent. Cade knew he had no chance of defeating this monster; this creature was large, undead, and could fly. If human’s truly possessed magic as great as the stories claimed then Ayita was there best chance of surviving this. 

Cade, frozen with fear and uncertainty, snapped out of it when Ayita grabbed his hand and they began to run. However, he knew that they would not be able to outrun the dragon, or the flames that would surly consume the forest as the beast tried to incinerate them. A sense of dread washed over him, to be taken out while fleeing a monster he could not truly battle was not a warrior’s death. His dread of such a tragic death was soon replaced by determination; Cadence of a Thunderstorm would not die by flame, and neither would his fellow warrior, Ayita. [color=gold]“Inori said magic would show itself in times of trauma, I can’t think of much that’s going to be more traumatic than a fire-breathing, undead, dragon.”[/color] He said quickly, as they moved deeper into the forest. [color=gold]“We can’t outrun a dragon. Tap into fear, rage, the will to survive. Whatever you can, Ayita, you have power, power even the undead fear and I know you can use it.”[/color] Cade said, desperation in his voice, as Soruklithbaal’s flames ignited the forest. 


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[color=cyan]Time:[/color] Morning
[color=cyan]Location:[/color] Camp
[color=cyan]Interactions:[/color] Torvi [@Tae]
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Bowyn sat down near the fire but with some distance between himself and Torvi. He listened to her as she talked and, although he disagreed with her every word, he could understand why she believed it. There was a time when he believed in the possibility that the world could change for the better, that there were things worth fighting for, and of noble deaths. That was all before, before he had truly seen  battle and knew the horror that warfare brought. [color=cyan]“An honor?”[/color] He repeated his tone implying a rhetorical question. [color=cyan]“What an honor it is for the young to be slaughtered. To have their potential ripped from them. How glorious it is to die, choking on one’s own blood, or to feel the cold as one bleeds to death surrounded by others but completely alone. What a magnificent fate to watch life extinguish from another’s eyes. How comforted the families and loved one’s of those who died must be; to know that even though they died in vain, covered in blood and gore, that their death, is noble. And how easy it must be to go on, for those who survive, knowing that after watching all those you’ve loved, and considered friend, die horribly, at least you can fight again.”[/color] Bowyn stared deep into the fire as he spoke, dark and biting sarcasm coating his every word. [color=cyan]“That is what battle is, the one I lived through was enough. My life has never been easy, but that is the single most horrific thing I have ever experienced.”[/color] Bowyn spoke now with a quiet and morose sincerity. He closed his eyes for moment as the grief he tried to keep buried took hold. 

[color=cyan]“Hope, and a twisted idea of honor, is what compels the young and foolish into battle, and when they die so young too few are left to speak about how truly awful it all is. Once I bought in to it all as well. I fought with others of my village, against Dark Elves, who would steal my people for Alkenroth whims. We were all naïve, none had ever truly seen battle before, and every friend I ever had died, so many lives sacrificed for nothing. I am here because another, one so much better than me, died in my place. They got no pyre, no goodbyes from family or friends, and I have no closure. I do not wish this fate for you, for anyone.”[/color] He continued, in the same soft tone. Although the thought of building a pyre and trekking back through the woods sounded exhausting, Bowyn was already physical tired and weak from the effects of the drugs leaving his system, he did not wish to add to his pile of regrets. He reflected further on the question of why he still offered to help, although he knew why it was not so easy to put it all into words. [color=cyan]“You remind me of many I have lost, and perhaps, that is worth a bit of danger, and maybe, I still have some foolishness left in me.”[/color] He admitted, annoyed with himself for continuing to indulge in such dangers. He did not want to stick with Torvi long enough to see her die, nor did he want to leave another to face death alone, but maybe he had enough fool left in him to find her other companions just as eager to risk their lives. His world certainly had no shortage of fools.