[center][h2][color=1b1464]Droka
Near Whistle Hill[/color][/h2][/center]

All things considered, it had been a rather lovely evening flight for Droka. While his efforts to secure the future of dragon kind in Nihn were absolutely vital and worthy of any sacrifice, discarding his masks to be himself and take to the sky was a pleasure that he hadn't been able to embrace for a few years now. It was a small, personal thing but... often the small things were what made fighting for the big things worthwhile. 

The fact that he had been flying back into his homeland on Virtue Day was a happy coincidence; A quirk of the cosmic dice falling into place. Like flying or being in his true form, Virtue Day had been one of those small pleasures that had to be forgone for the greater picture... but he hadn't seen any harm in partaking of the festivities while the opportunity had presented itself.

Unfortunately, those plans had quickly gone out the window when it became clear that Whistle Hill village was [i]on fire and actively being attacked![/i] That sort of thing tended to ruin the festive spirit. In Droka's case, it replaced what was going to be good cheer and fellowship with his fellow dragon with an intense, so cold that it burned murderous rage. 

Having landed a short distance away in order to scout out the situation on foot, Droka made the decision [i]not[/i] to change into his human form. He was stronger in his dragon form in both magic and physical power and he fully intended to take advantage of both shortly. After all, the Masque was only breached if humans saw a magical creature turn into a human... and the Masque couldn't be broken if there were no witnesses to tell the tale. 

However, charging into a fight (even with his natural advantages, plus the element of surprise) somewhat blindly was not something that the black dragon was going to do. A better idea presented itself to him.

Hidden among the shadows of the woods surrounding the lit up Whistle Hill, Droka concentrated as he started to draw upon the shadows of the night in order to sculpt an illusion of a young, red dragon in the smoke filling sky on the opposite side of the village. It was modeled on no one he personally knew, but was based more on the stories that humans had told themselves about dragons over the years; Covered in spikes, massive fangs and claws and a look in its eye of a murderous predator that had found both prey and a challenge to its territory and was intent to dedicate all the rage that its basic, animal like brain could muster to rip and tear both to shreds.

Once his distraction was ready, it began its performance as it started to swoop down towards the burning village, letting out a massive roar that filled the air as a quick, secondary illusion was thrown towards the Nihn raiders that one of their number. The exact person was unclear, but the human mind tended to fill in the gaps by itself... and the important information the voice was conveying was [i]rather pressing[/i] and demanded imitate attention. "DRAGON INCOMING!"

Said 'dragon', as it entered the light of the village proper, turned its head to strafe some of the buildings with a burst of flame before it turned its head to start its approach of the marauders proper (a keen observer might have noticed that the buildings in question had been on fire to begin with and, after having been beset with dragon flame, didn't seem any more on fire then they were before. However, such an observer would have to completely miss the very loud, angry dragon that was flying straight at them). 

Landing on the ground with a heavy thump and a quick illusion to make it seem like the ground had shaken briefly, the red 'dragon' roared its beastly, primal challenge at the Nihn marauders from no more then ten meters away from them.