Thread: The Legend of Wyrmrock (Major Mario x Driven to drift)

Roslyn was forced to damn-near dance around the pools and streams of water that littered the cave floor the deeper she ventured. The insects were the least of her concern, although her disdain for them was evident by the occasional need to scoop them out of her way with the toe of her boot and an incredibly telling facial expression. While initially she had been incredibly grateful for the light filtering in through the cave, she was soon to wonder if it was truly a blessing or not. The true markers of the cave's primary inhabitant were a chilling sight, to put it delicately. She swallowed dryly as she stepped carefully over bones of a questionable source and was careful not to touch the walls where shadows of those past still rested. She was not squeamish by an sense of the word, but some superstitious shadow of her subconscious didn't want to take any risk in unintentionally acquiring their bad luck. Perhaps this dragon was the menace the villagers felt it was, after all. The growing, echoing sounds sent a shiver down the hunter's spine as her grip on her blade grew tighter. She was, undoubtedly, stepping ever-closer to her mark, and her concentration narrowed in on keeping her breaths quiet and steady, and quelling her accelerating pulse. She daintily crossed the cave to the opposite wall, making her ability to peer around the limestone under cover that much easier. The space was remarkable, something easily judged by the brief sweep of it she had managed before her eyes fell upon a much more important focal point the inhabitant she had been searching for in the first place. Her first preposterous thought was to be grateful that she had actually left Zane outside of the cave she had at least made one good decision, though it very well might have been her last. Her eyes landed on the dragon and widened just a fraction. The first dragon she had ever seen, and she couldn't say she had been disappointed. It was one of the most magnificent creatures she had ever had the pleasure of seeing, making it almost a shame that she was there to kill it. Copper-and-white-scaled - the shade of which almost gave her own hair a run for its money - and resting on a bed composed of an agglomeration of flora, she was very temporarily stunned into an awe-struck pause that was cleared with a shake of her head. That was it her only chance to take it all in, because from there, it was her life...or its. It was then she took a moment to analyze her surroundings and formulate a strategy. The possibilities sped through her head in a blur a shot fired from the distance was a possibility, yes...however just how tough was the beast's hide? She had run out of her strongest forged arrows long ago and had yet to acquire the income to commission more. What she had taken from Raspbrook would be nothing more than a distraction at best, or perhaps an irritation. Particularly to a sleeping dragon. So her eyes then dropped to the ground beneath her feet and the space she would have to cross to get to it his very-own minefield. She scowled and nearly groaned. The rare steel of the sword in her hand and the other daggers she was equipped with were truly her best bet, and while she was quite nimble that wouldn't make the task any less precarious and... ...a toad hopped into her line of sight, as though a taunt to the already-perilous challenge at hand. Marvelous, she thought. As if this couldn't have gotten any more difficult. Yes, she was familiar with the bastard amphibians they'd gotten her into some less-than-pleasant situations more than once. But what choice did she have? She was more ill-equipped than she had anticipated being, and it was fairly unsettling. There was, however, no feasible way she would turn tail and run. She would not have been long in her profession if her first inclination in the face of peril was to run. So, instead, she slowly, silently sheathed her sword and shook out her bare arms. With a glance up at the cave's ceiling she said a silent prayer to Sir Graham - followed, then, with an affectionate curse - before beginning the slow, dangerous trek into the dragon's den. Her progress was just that slow, but quiet, with her arms extended for added balance as she picked each step after a moment of deliberation. Thus far, she had avoided the damnable toads, but come very close to disturbing the cluttered assortment of bone and metal littered elsewhere. Her next step left room for only one foot, very steadily keeping her balance. She had made it about halfway to the dragon's bed and was carefully plotting her next step...when the blasted amphibians struck. Her right foot was more-than halfway down to the next open space when one such Screaming Meemie chose then to hop into that very place. Facing her and staring her down with soulless, black eyes. Taunting. She recoiled with a breathed curse, however her balance had already been compromised and only made worse by the sudden reflexive jerk back. The instinct to keep herself upright out-competed the need to stay silent, and her right leg found purchase on a long-discarded shield. The metal clattered against the stone causing her foot to withdraw again and send it skittering with even more of a clamor into more metal and bone, the growing cacophony echoing around the high ceilings. So much for being quiet. Roslyn whirled and planted her feet on the ground, facing the inevitably rising dragon with nothing but a sheepish grin on her face and every muscle in her body tensed to dive out of harms way.