The first thing Tristan felt was headache. Lots of headache. Then noise agitating the headache. Metallic tasting water expelled from his lungs into the ropes binding him back. Then the world spun.
This was most certainly not helping the headache.
Now he was staring at wooden planks. Wooden planks as a drowned chorus met his ears.
Oh, that was right. He got caught.
With a few cusses to himself he looks to the fishlike people carrying the log he was tied to. Their minds broken long ago, their bulging eyes witnessed too much as their open jaws, crammed with fangs, loosed a churning and burbling cry.
Now, Tristan wouldn't call it a mistake to come to the wetland outskirts of Little Boat. Little Boat itself already the middle of nowhere, the outskirts even deeper into the middle of nowhere. It wouldn't be accurate to say he was off the map. It would be accurate to say he was off the map, rolled off the table, and dragged behind a wall by a mouse.
The world stopped moving. Finally. If the rain coming down could stop that'd also make things pleasant. He wouldn't even mind the hulking fishman keeping a spear to his gut.
Sat upon a rickety bridge, the ramshackle village steeped in bogwater lay strewn about. A horde of them stood below, raising torches and spears as a fishman with muddier scales tried to shout them down, waving around a-
That's right, the wooden staff/crab skewer/Sir Elwin's medallion. Sir Elwin the two-headed wolf. One of those things was relevant to his presence here. He couldn't help but notice the sizable bones surfacing in the shallow bogwater. Lets see, if Sir Elwyn was over six feet tall, his femur should be, foot and a half? Oh, there it is.
The one with the staff seemed to be going on about something. He wiggled his shoulders. With the right lean he might be able to get an arm free. Maybe if he agitated the guard he could survive one stab to the gut in exchange for the ropes binding his arms and body to the log from being pierced.
He raised his brow at the guard, "what are you doing tonight, tall dark and fishy? I'm involved with someone but we don't really consider ourselves exclusive per say-"
Punch in the jaw. Not great. There's a lot of fire. Fire can be useful-
With a loud crunch a great red dragon landed on one of the rickety buildings, a few human shaped skulls rolling out of the rubble. The dragon's claw struck the ground as it roared, heat shimmering around its jaws.
Perfect.
Mass chaos and panic ensued, the dragon loosed its fire into the sky-
-catching the top of the log on fire.
Not perfect.
Tristan worked at the bindings, dipping shoulder to shoulder as he worked his way up. Spears clacked off scales as its tail swept through the mob and into the supports to the bridge. With a half second to curse Tristan pulled his arms free and felt the sudden drop of the log, shielding his face as it tumbled into the shallow water below.
The sounds of the chaos were muffled as he was held just below the water. He opened his eyes and forced them to stay open, the occasional brightness of fire illuminating his surroundings in beats. He reached out for a fragment of femur and jammed it into the knot holding the ropes together. It wedged in the drenched knot without a budge. He pushed again and found a loophole, drawing it just enough to loosen the ropes as he pushed out of the water, choking on muck.
"Thanks Sir Elwin-" he coughed as he tossed the fragment aside. Up ahead the dragon was ensnared in seaweed, the claws of the impaled crab clacking as the fish held it high.
Pulling himself up a scaffold, he held his balance as it swayed, cracking apart as the charred supports rattled.
"Heads up!" he shouted as he leapt off the scaffold, plummeted down and threw a hardly aimed punch at the back of his head knocking him down. Tristan recovered the staff only to be grabbed by the fish who snapped fanged jaws at him. He held the staff by the jewel-encrusted medallion and cracked it over the fish's head knocking him out cold and freeing the medallion.
The dragon fought off the seaweed making an increasingly agitated roar, and charged towards him at full tilt, fire red hot in its throat. Palming the amulet, he swore to himself again as he was tackled by the dragon. Pinned to its chest, her words came aggressive as it leapt clear over the ruined bridge and into the lake.
"Hold your breath."
Water filled his senses unpleasantly and he felt the sensation of speed as she barreled through the water, and in moments felt the rush of her surfacing as he fell onto the sandy shore of her cavern, his lungs feeling the need to expel water for the third time that night.
The dragon shook herself off, steam rising from her scales. Jaws parted, smoke fell from them as she panted hard from the exertion. The muscles in her body showed as she dug her claws into the sand, tail wipping as she turned to Tristan with a furious glare.
"I don't know if you're really that stupid or really that ballsy, just how many times could you have been killed there! Maybe I should've just finally let it happen!-"
Tristan held up the medallion as he caught his breath. She paused.
"..you know I don't hoard gold."
"I know."
He held it out to her, and she took it in two delicate claws. The sigil of the two headed wolf gleamed in the moonlight.
Conflict contorted the dragon's snout as she couldn't help but admire the trinket.
"He helped me out of a bind back there. Probably the only good thing he's ever done for you."
"May he rot in his choice of hells." She growled, glancing at white scars lancing her flank. Her body shook as she let out a huff.
"Fine. I'm not mad anymore. I'm just annoyed." She shook out her wings, stretching and arching her back as she stalked closer.
"And worked up. It's your fault, you fix it."
Tristan backed up as she strode closer. "Fix it? You don't want to start with some drinks, maybe a roast or a dessert afterwards?"
She trapped his foot beneath her claw as her snout leaned in close, her smoky scent overwhelming as she hissed at him. "I already had a roast."
