***
...It's so sunny, the light almost hurts your eyes! You smile at the warm, beautiful day, the wind blowing through your hair. Looking back, you call to your friend - a boy of about ten years - halfway across the field, "Hey, Allyn! I found this neat new spot for us to check out! I hear there's a dragon who lives there!"
The other boy looks at you with an expression of worry, the wind whipping his long, blonde hair around his chubby face, "I dunno, Kai, I don't like the sound of that... What if we wake him up?" You laugh and push your chest out.
"I'm not afraid of any ol' lizard! We can fight him off and take his treasure! Come on!" The thought of gold illuminates your best pal's expression, neither of your families can really afford much beyond the essentials. At least the fertile fields of Endaria never allowed you to go hungry.
"Okay! Maybe we can sneak some of his treasure so we wont have to fight'im... I don't like the thought of killing an innocent dragon just because we want his treasure..." The flax-haired boy catches up to you as you come to the edge where the field meets the forest.
You grin, "Nah, if we have to, we'll just fight'im till he runs. No killing." Allyn looks relieved. You're about to say something else when the winds begin to pick up and clouds fill the afternoon sky. "Allyn! Get to the trees! NOW!" Bolts of lightning streak across the sky as you head for the cover of the trees, but the forest seems to retreat from you, pulling further and further away. Nothing but muddy clay and burnt wagons lie before you.
Turning to find Allyn, you trip and fall face first into the mud. The concussive blasts of cast electricity echo all around as you push yourself to your feet, wiping mud from your eyes. Your armor feels heavy as you scan for your friends, "Jarroh! Fassner! Allyn! To me!" A couple other men clad in the heavy leather armor of your light infantry regiment form up with you.
"Nothing is going to win us this day..." You look at each of them, "Go home. Find your families and take them somewhere safe. Endaria is lost..." You push them to turn their backs on the bloody gorge and hurry them away, noticing someone missing, you call out to one of the men, "Where's Allyn?" Jarroh turns to you and points back toward the battlefield where the fighting is thickest, before turning away and retreating home.
You've never run so fast in your life, you can feel yourself become the wind as you fly through the mud and debris to where your best friend was last seen. A bolt of magic energy strikes you down, the blinding flash and searing pain causes your vision to flicker and your ears to buzz. You get up again and see a familiar, blonde-haired figure lying in the mud near you. "Allyn!" You stumble to his body, your legs not working correctly anymore.
You roll Allyn on to his back, a crossbow bolt in his gut. You try to get his armor off so you can treat the injury, but your little claws can't manage the straps. You hiss in frustration as you keep trying to help your quickly fading friend, "Come on! Pleassse, don't do thisss to me! We can make it out! Pleasssse!" Your tongue doesn't feel like it fits in your mouth anymore.
You try dragging Allyn away to find cover, the clash of arms and armor making its way closer to your position. You desperately scrabble in the mud, your taloned feet unable to get any purchase in the soft clay. Then you hear it.
The soft *chink-chink* of chain-mail slapping against plate armor. You look up to see the form of a heavily-armored Ruskovin soldier, slowly making his way to you. You drop Allyn and fumble for his sword. You try to lift it, but your claws can't quite get a good hold on the soft leather grip. You look up, the soldier is upon you.
He easily knocks the sword out of your grasp and grabs you around the neck to hoist you up to his eye-level. He opens his visor and you find yourself staring into the beady eyes of Lord Sologuard. Your mouth hangs open in shock as he starts to speak, "I knew you were just some worthless Skald-bitch, I never should have trusted you with this task. You couldn't even defend your country from a ragged conglomeration of ill-equipped Rusks!" The cruel face of the trade master twists into a sadistic grin, "For this disappointment and for your desertion of the battlefield, I sentence you... To death." You can feel the cold steel of his sword pierce your scaly hide and thrust into your gut. You scream -
***
"Gyaah!" You spring up from your cot, panting and heart racing. A chill runs up your spine as an uncontrollable shiver wracks your small body. You instinctively go to wipe your brow, but your claws just graze across dry, if slightly oily, scales. You guess Skalds don't sweat like humans do.
Slowly, you begin to calm down. You find that wrapping your tail around your waist and stroking the mane of feathers that run down your spine makes you feel much better. What have I become? You ask yourself, What mess of contradictions have I been turned into? You look over at your sleeping comrade, Allyn has barely stirred since his head hit the pillow. You truly envy him, he's been putting up with almost as much as you and he can still have a decent night's sleep. You wonder if it has something to do with his attunement to the arcane. What does he dream of...?
You lay your head on your pillow, one of your horns has pierced the damned thing. You take a breath and try to get some more rest...