Chapter 3: Oh, Yeah, He's a Werewolf.Mature

(Originally posted by me on Mon Mar 15, 2010)

Conrad immediately regained his wits and sprinted over to where his rifle was. He speedily grasped and took aim with it, taking only a few short seconds to fire, as the dragon was a humongous target and was not easy to miss when it was staying in one spot. Conrad fired a couple of rounds, but quickly stopped when he realized that the shots were doing nothing to is whatsoever, except for mildly annoying it.
He then took aim at Ulritch and fired some rounds at him, but that proved to be unsuccessful as well; he used his halberd to block the bullets so expertly that it almost defied his own attitude. While Conrad hated to admit it, he wasn't much help in this fight.
Click, who was incredibly wasted off his ass at this time, almost took no notice of the dangerous newcomers until he chose to randomly look up. This was a very bad thing. Click smirked, stood up, and staggered on over to the both of them, much to the crowds' delight.
Click held up his hand to silence the roaring people, and nearly toppled over, then called out to Ulritch, his speech very slurred, "Hey, you big bastard! Why don't you go ahead and run home to yer mommy 'fore you get beat up by the Great Click~!" He finished by turning around to face a section of the people, giving off a wheezing laugh and jabbed his thumb at the direction of the dragon and Draconis, as if he had said something hysterical. One second later, he was sent flying across the hall by the dragon's tail, being knocked unconscious after hitting the wall.
Kara and Karkid immediately hurried themselves over to where he landed, since they knew better than to attack the dragon and its master.
Now Aria was left. She readied herself in a battle stance, reached for her daggers and... only found one. She kept on trying to feel around for the second one, but her hand only found its holder. When she snuck a look down, much to her surprise, she found that the other dagger's twin wasn't there. She was incredibly confused by this sudden development when she remembered that her other dagger was crushed by the Dark Lord, Earandel. Okay, she had one, but that wasn't going to stop her.
Ulritch directed his attention back to Aria and sighed, "You honestly aren't going to try to attack me that thing, are you?"
Aria retorted, "It's better than doing nothing."
Ulritch paused, then facepalmed himself out of exasperation. "If you had done nothing, then we wouldn't even be in this situation, little girl. Fine, if you want a fight, I'll give you one. Though it's not going to end well for you."
Aria didn't budge. Draconis made his final decision.
"Well, can't say it was nice knowing you, but, goodbye."
Flames rushed out of the dragon's mouth before engulfing the area where Aria used to be. When the fire subsided, all that was left was a big, black, scorched spot. Many of the civilians gasped at this; they thought that she was burned to nothing, until somebody yelled, "Look! Over there!"
Ulritch already knew that he had missed Aria, or rather, she had dodged the oncoming flames, and was now more to the center of the area.
"Hmm... that was almost impressive," allowed the dragon keeper. "Alright, no more games. Time to end this, I'm starting to get a headache."
However, a shape moved in between the two of them, a tall figure that Aria had almost forgotten about. It was the man that she had met before. He stood boldly in front of Draconis and his dragon, defiantly. He was carrying a huge executioner's axe that also seemed to be mixed with a halberd.
Ulritch sighed. "Another one? Why don't you people learn that anybody who opposes me will die? Am I going to have to start giving them pain?"
The mysterious man waited a couple of seconds, then coldly inquired, "... Tell me... the chills of solitude.... Have you ever felt them...?"
Ulritch raised an eyebrow,
Then something out of a horror novel happened. The man crossed his arms in front of him, bent his knees, as if trying to gain energy. His muscles rippled, and he immediately grew about a foot in size, ripping his formal wear off, sans the pants, which were more like short shorts now. You could see many scars protruding across his chest and arms. His facial features changed into that of a wolf's but his skin only got slick, perhaps waxy, and a stump of a tail came out of his tail bone. It was very clear who this man was. He was Charles Hamlington, a werewolf that was very wanted in many places in Relanisia. All of a sudden the axe didn't seem too huge.
Actually, even that was wrong. Charles grasped the axe-halberd mix and held it out. Instantly it grew until it was about two feet taller than him. It was a very frightening sight.
And as if that wasn't scary enough, he held onto it with one hand while brandishing a whip from out of his shorts. Many people from the crowd almost started cowering in fear.
The guards were most uncertain as what to do next. Attempt to kill the dragon and the third in Xeranad's command, attempt to kill the wanted werewolf that seemed to be helping them, or do nothing? Do nothing won out.
Charles and Draconis stared off at each other for around a minute while an eerie silence hushed though the onlookers. Then, Ulritch said, "Go for it."
This seemed to be meant for the dragon, because no sooner than when the words left his mouth it started spewing flames at the werewolf. Much to everybody's surprise, he didn't get roasted. In fact, he was keeping the dragon's flames at bay with his own fire breath!
It didn't stop there either. As soon as the dragon stopped breathing fire on Charles, he started using his axe as a wheel and sped off towards his opponents, breathing ice so that he almost looked like a disk of ice, also leaving a trail of it behind him has he went along, and when he was in reach of them, while they tried to evade the attack, he jumped off of the weapon and used his whip, breathing ice on it, and slashed at the dragon's eye. The temperature on the whip was much, much colder than zero degrees. Needless to say, the dragon got blinded by the slashing frostbite in that eye.
It reared up on its hind legs and bellowed in pain, knocking out another portion of the ceiling. Luckily, none of the civilians were there anymore; they had taken the beginning of the battle to their advantage and fled.
"Now, will you so kindly back off before you end up like all others who trespass on my lands?" the werewolf inquired. "Besides, you are now unarmed, dragon master." In confirmation, Charles held up Ulritch's halberd, which seemed almost puny in his hands.

The End

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