Thread: Dragon's mate (Psionic and I)

Today was to be a good, bright day! The town was preparing a feast in selebration of the anniversery of slaying the great monster one year ago who had been stealing their livestock. It was a monumental feat, and the warrior Talver had personally led the efforts of the other warriors to lay the trap, and had participated in the short, but vicious battle that had ensued to hack at the dragon with his sword until it moved no more. Talver was captain of the town's militia, and he had honed his body in battle to be the part. He was a man of average height, but broad-set and slightly stocky, and though he was well-muscled, he had more strength than most would estimate him for. He had a square face hardened from his years in the military, and was adorned with curly brown hair, with equally brown eyes. Talver was just in his ordinary day clothes, as he certainly wasn't expecting any trouble. He sat at the big table that had been set out in the village square as the food was being prepared--when he suddenly heard an all-too-familiar roar. He lept to his feet, cursing himself that he had left his sword at home, and whirled around just in time to see a massive grey blot hurtling towards him. Before he could do anything else, he felt himself trapped in a huge, scaley claw and lifted high into the air! Enjoying or fearing the sensation of flight for the very first time in his life wasn't on his mind though, as his instincts kicked in and he beat his fists ineffectually on the claws that had him trapped. After a long, looping flight, Talver felt the dragon goe into a dive and come up to the ground as he was tossed into a hollow in a rock cliffwall. He was winded and scraped up slightly, but he quickly jumped to his feet and raised his fists in a ready fighting stance. He knew he had no chance against a dragon alone and without his armor or weapons, and as he looked around the pit he had been dumped in, he was surprised that there was nothing he could use--no rocks he could throw or sticks he could swing. It was like it had been swept clean already. Still, it's not like his odds would have been any better if this weren't the case, and a true warrior without a weapon is a warrior still. He would die swinging. He set his gaze on the large boulder in front of him, with arms still raised, as the dragon lept into view--the...dragon? Talver's fists dropped a little, along with his jaw as he stared. It was definitely the same dragon, for it was lizardlike and grey-scaled, but it--or rather, 'she', was in the shape of a woman . Talver had only heard myths about dragons with such powers, and after killing one, he had dismissed them as nonsense! But...why in the world would she... And then she spoke, very bluntly, what she wanted. Talver stared in even greater shock than earlier, before his face snarled in disgust as he brought his fists back up again. She was half a foot taller than he was, and quite more muscled Talver was a medium build of toned muscles from swinging a sword every day, and he had sandy-brown hair and eyes. If you think I'm going to let you...you...I will never mate with you, you disgusting beast! He spat as he kept his guard up.