The Dragon Stalker

[Draruto]

Dusk pressed its way onto the horizon, a thin slice of dark navy and burnt siena heralding its arrival. The night shown starless, the stars blotted out by the blood moon. She stretched out slowly, ascending gracefully in the night sky. Caliban Nyte was up just before the darkness. He had yet another rotten brawl in the city the other night. And if the blaring magic symbol was anything to consider, tonight was heading for one of those hell on wheels kind of night. Since the evening he bonded with the black war dragon, his life has been nothing but one fight after another.

But he wouldn't change much, just being solitary and hunted are what he could do without. Sliding into his hooded duster, he shouldered the duffle bag and left the cave he held up in for the day. Returning to the city, Caliban went about refilling his duffle's food supply. Once that task was complete he paused as a bruiser from the night before saw him. 'SHIT!' he thought. As the winter night burnt his lungs, he ran from the bruiser and a group of wyvern stalkers that joined in.

Skidding around a corner, he aimed for the open outer gate. Taking a second to center his inherited magic, Caliban sent a messege to his war dragon, 'Serpentera, once I exit the city we depart for the Great Wyvern Plains.' Feeling her acknowledge his messege, he finally reached the gate. Pausing to catch his breath from the run, he drew up hood. Continuing on through the gates, Caliban wove through the crowd of slower moving people. Heading towards the only area large enough, with in two miles of the city, for his war dragon to swoop in and pick him up. 'Frelling idiots don't know when to leave enough alone.' he thought.

Upon reaching the area he heard his dragon's wing beats. Glancing back he growled softly and tightened his duffle's strap. Reaching up into time to grasp the chain that hung from the rudimentary saddle, as the war dragon swooped in low and fast. Snorting in annoyance as his chasers screamed up, Caliban pulled himself up into the saddle. He felt the war dragon adjust towards his specified destination. Attaching his duffle onto the saddle, he tugged a Jionese assassin's mask over his face and glanced the blood moon. "Idiots on the prowl for trouble." Caliban states numbly. 'Long night ahead of me and no respite in sight.' he mused, settling in for a long ride.

As time ticked by, he became so lost in his own thoughts that never heard or felt the shadow fall in behind him and his dragon.