((Permission granted by the other Tolkien players on the active roster. Smaug has several noteworthy
abilities including "Dragon-spell", which he can use if someone looks into his eyes. Characters are free to react or not at your discretion. Unless he's trying to exert his will upon someone it probably isn't a great concern.))Outside one of the
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"And where, pray, have you read about me?" he asked. "Have you a master?"
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Dark smoke curled from the dragon's nostrils. "If none trouble me, Lady, then none shall I trouble in turn."
It was a shade of the truth.
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He'd inferred that was the purpose of this castle, and though learning magic certainly hadn't been his original intent, he did think it an interesting prospect now. They would willingly impart their secrets to a dragon?
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"How do you intent to eat while within the castle, Sir Dragon?"
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And food wasn't quite a concern at the moment.
"What manner of creature are you?" For he couldn't place Silmeria's scent.
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She felt she could have defeated the dragon should it have answered otherwise, but the lack of armor did not do her any favors. Particularly, she realized thoughtfully, in the area of recognition; that feathered helmet of her's does have quite a silhouette.
"I am a valkyrie, once a Chooser of the Slain for Odin. It is not typical for me to move within the plane of living mortals."
But then again, not much of Silmeria was typical.
"What are you searching for at this school of magic?"
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"The answer is in the question," he said. "Don't all who come here seek magic?"
He hadn't been, at least not at first. But he was quickly warming to the idea and now his answer wasn't wholly a lie.
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"HWÆT," he bellowed at Smaug. "WHO FATHERED YOU, DRAGON?"
For once, he didn't give the creature an introduction to himself straight off, which was unusual for the man who generally shouted I AM BEOWULF at all and sundry.
He didn't want to give the dragon any ideas.
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At the bellowing, Smaug drew himself up so that he was sitting taller, wings slightly unfurled to either side of him. He regarded Beowulf with half-lidded eyes. What nonsense was this?
"He who fathered my race was known as Glaurung in the tongue of the Elves." He doubted the name would carry any significance in this place one way or another, so there was no harm in giving it. "Who asks?"
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"Fucking Targaryens," he muttered.
The Targaryens had been the royal dynasty that once ruled Westeros with aid from the dragons they commanded. But each successive generation of dragons grew up weaker, likely due to the same inbreeding that sapped the Targaryen strength, and the last had died long before Jaime personally put an end to the last Targaryen king.
"All right," called the Kingslayer up to the dragon whose head appeared to be wedged in a window. "What the fuck is going on here?"
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"I might ask the same," he replied, dark smoke trailing his words and dispersing as it rose.
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"I take it you're no toy of Daenerys," he said.
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