ASHES GAME

Content with the taciturn company Draconic Presence continues the ride in silence. Contemplating the meaning of the particular omen. He kept his counsel not wanted to pester the peace of his companion. He could almost hear the chiding of his young ward, back when he had tutored the Prince. How would the young man have enjoyed the sport of turning back the Wyvern.

A pang of deep sadness moved him as he remembered these things. He felt old, even as he was immortal, he felt old in his bones.

The duck's passage brought comfort. Now was a time to let go of sadness. The scenic tranquility of the rice paddy and homestead. He wondered by what means they kept the wyvern at bay. But having his own means he didn't think too deeply.

He looked for signs that the owners of the homestead were aware of their approach.

"They Must have fled the Wyvern. I cannot blame them that. Though perhaps a search of the area will bear fruit?"

The Cleric looked over to Lassara seeking her input while telegraphing his intent.

Draconic Presence raised his censer. He slowly twirled the brass tube, kindling the incense within. "Azlkruti." He intoned monotonously as he made slowly, directly, to the largest abode he saw.

"Azis praszati."

The sense of something awful having occurred here clawed at the back of The Sacred Man's mind. He blessed the ground which his mount strode.

"The Wyvern..."

Draconic Presence sussed the reality of the situation he could plainly see, no need for divinations here. The Savarhap, literally riding beast. An enormous flightless bird, strode up the rubble nimbly and rested atop the pile.

Draconic Presence dismounted and massaged the Savarhap under its ear. Pulling a bit of berbage from his belt he fed the bird. Shook his censer over the rubble and made a path for himself to the other side of the wall.

Blood, everywhere. The wyvern had definitely killed and eaten several people here. "Ugh..." Shaking more incense from the censer he muttered a prayer for the departed. "Forever the worst assignments."

Draconic presence took a hearty draught from the gourd he carried. His gift from the Prince of Cats. A gourd which produced a sweet liquor, preserving Draconic Presences age, fortifying his constitution, it only needed blood to function, which was fortunate. Since recieving it, he had done battle daily. He rolled the gourds skin in the blood and climbed back up to mount the Savarhap.

"We will have to kill it, Lassara, penance and all." Draconic Presence sneered this, he was not the most pious man, but he was a strong believer. "Good Karma." He said after a moments consideration. Besides, he loved fighting it was fun, and brought a smile to his face.

"If we meet any one at the temple way station, we should consider enlisting them."

"He comes first."

Draconic Presence pat the iron vessel as if he could reassure it. Departing the site at Lassara's suggestion.

"He will always come first."

The cleric said with almost worshipful reverence.

"Though perhaps in this death we humans will come to deserve his eminence before his reincarnation."

Draconic Presence recalled that last conversation. A chill running down his spine at the Prince's declaration. He pushed that feeling down deep.

Draconic Presence faces the thickest wave of the wolves. Taking a deep breath. He focuses on his internal alchemies. Intoning, building a mighty roar, channeling the ferocity of the dragon. Though merely human, the cleric had mastered studies of the dragons. This extended to their speech.

"Aatankah!"

"Terror" which would afflict the Savarahp as well as the wolves. But Draconic Presence would not harm a wolf unless in dire straits.

The ground moves beneath Draconic Presence, or at least what seemed to be ground, as stones shift, shudder, rise and reassemble themselves. They quickly coalesce into a large humanoid form that becomes increasingly well-defined as more stones rise from the muck and mire, attaching themselves and almost instantly melding seamlessly into the whole. A faint sheen of bluish-white electricity plays over the construct's surface, as it suddenly lurches and heaves to its full height, its eyes glowing with a light like well-tended embers. Its right hand reflexively opens and extends and a massive glaive of ancient design rips itself from the muddy soil and into the creature's granite grip.

Recognizing the imminent threat of the wolves, it instinctively drops into a defensive posture, the blade of the glaive swinging in a wide low arc to keep the beasts at bay.

"Whoa!"

The Cleric sprung away from the moving stones and began to ready himself for a fight. He was stunned, and a bit shocked by having landed on the automaton. He came down hard, using his censer to steady himself. The brass rang, singing, as it was more a religious implement than a weapon.

"Hey not the wolves!"

Draconic Presence said and continued to back away from both the wolves and what he began to recognize was some form of artifact from the previous empire. He would have loved to stay and study it. But he had something more important. So he started to run after his Savahrap.

"Shit, where'd Lassara go?"