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Date Posted: 02:02:19 03/01/02 Fri
Author: Tristan
Subject: Out came the dragon and washed the spiders out
In reply to: Laurel 's message, "Hell of an epiphany" on 01:19:16 03/01/02 Fri

As soon as they stepped foot into the old temple, Tristan’s eyes fell upon the nearest statue of the wer-goddess, her beautiful stone head rearing back to reveal pointed leopard fangs. A tail twitched about her furry yet shapely legs, the limbs fashioned to look as though they were about to leap right off the pedestal. It was as if she were frozen in time, caught between her gorgeous transformation, an act only rendered splendid and beautiful to a another shapeshifter, like himself.

He had his sword out, however, before the pile of rubble collapsing from the ceiling had even hit the ground. He was too far away to have had a chance at being injured, though several others weren’t so fortunate. Naturally, his eyes picked out Marz almost on reflex, a relieved sigh escaping him when it became apparent he was okay. He was being quite the hero, too, rescuing Isobel (get off of her, get off…okay, good…) and comforting Saras before going over to investigate an alter with Jade. Tristan smiled, loving the way he swaggered when he walked, his inane self-confidence enough to make anyone feel they were safe for the moment.

The smile vanished from his face when an invisible force sent his reckless lover backward, slamming him into the far wall. Tristan winced sympathetically, and hurried toward him, though he was now far across the fifty foot expanse of the temple. Val arrived first, but Marz predictably managed to prove his good health, even if he wasn’t fooling Tristan one bit. Somehow, he and Jade managed to give the altar a second go, pushing the thing forward and to the side after flipping what must have been some sort of mechanical switch in the back.

Tristan heard the shrill cries of whatever creatures lay within, his ears able to pick up sounds far above human and sometimes even elven hearing ranges. He raised his sword as he hurried to the opening beneath the area the altar had sat—but came to a skidding halt when a flurry of giant spiders spewed out and began attacking everyone.

Immediately, sweat broke out all over his body, making the hilt of his blade slip somewhat in his white-fisted grip. He swallowed reflexively, taking a couple inadvertent steps back as the arachnids scuttled forwards and backwards, his friends doing their best to combat them. Don’t just stand there! he yelled at himself, Do something, you prissy excuse for a dragon!

Sounded like good advice, so he decided to take it. Anyone who saw him probably thought he was turning coward and running in the opposite direction when he sheathed his sword and backed up even more. Well, technically, the first part was probably right, but he definitely sure as hell wasn’t running away. When he thought he had enough space, and was sufficiently far enough away in the dark for anybody to see—he kicked himself mentally for that one, but oh well—he closed his eyes and changed.

There was plenty of room in the immense abandoned temple for his dragon-sized body, and he reared up excitedly, his head not even scraping the top. A couple people paused in battle to gape at him (probably the ones who didn’t, uh, well, actually know he was a dragon), but most were too busy fighting off the giant spiders to spare a glance. His own tail now whipping catlike behind him, he hunched low to the ground and took a deep, deep breath.

“Everybody, hit the floor!” he called out in a mental voice loud enough for everyone to hear. Human bodies (and pseudo-human bodies) flattened themselves obediently against the floor, for most hopefully recognized his voice, even if they weren’t sure why it was in their heads. The simple-minded spiders paused for a fraction of a second, momentarily confused by their opponents’ actions.

Immediately, Tristan opened his mouth and exhaled a lung full of fire, engulfing the upper bodies of the spiders. The creatures squealed horribly, their furry backs scorched and in flames as they writhed and curled upon the floor. Feeling very happy with himself, Tristan jumped forward and stomped on a couple of the burning bodies with his paws, heedless to the burning sensation that bit into the pads of his feet. The other fighters quickly finished off the remainder of the spiders, though Tristan had to be extra careful to watch his footing and not accidentally squash a friend along with a foe.

When everything that should have been dead was dead, he sat back on his haunches and snorted, never too thrilled about having to change back into a human again. With a smoky sigh, he finally fell into his smaller shape again, his face turning deep red when he noticed some people watching him. For the millionth time, he had to assure himself they were only curious, possibly awed, though not likely frightened, knowing this group. No one was going to rush forward and touch him, ask him if he could do it again, and no one was going to laugh at him and make jokes about his being only half a dragon, if that, either.

“Ouch,” he said, suddenly recognizing the sting of the burns in the palms of his hands. He held them out and stared at them, realizing how much this really sucked because he wouldn’t be able to hold a sword for a while. He sighed, hoping Marz wouldn’t freak out about him being a dragon again. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the statue of the cat goddess, biting his lip as he remembered the Jann’s words about her being outlawed. He hoped none of the newer people freaked out about his being a dragon, either!

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