#dreaming

And the dragon snarls...slowing, only by a bit, but in a battle like this, that can mean everything

Brekke is still gripped in its teeth, and she grunts, "Twenty-six horses...on a red hill...first they champ and they stamp, and...then they stand still." She shapes the glamour of the bunk into a fuddle of a hideous toothache in every tooth in the dragon's mouth.

And that's a lot of teeth, even with the damage done to the mouth... the dragon is startled and drops the troll from a height even a giant might respect

Brekke tries to managed a mid-air hopscotch, unable to do more than conjugate bounce in Old Norse on her way down for a bunk.

Good enough, and she redirects, she is now swerving near a great talon

"Speaker!" If the axe is not in her hand, she calls it to her.

Oh it is...and it shines and yes, speaks "The creature heals even now, and is about to breath at the mountain... his wards are down"

Brekke strikes hard at the beast's talon, feeding another Holly Strike through the weapon's blade, hoping to distract it.

The flames tinged with poisoned air still burn the leg of the Mountain, but had she not struck SKallstryke hard, it would caught him square on. Still, it is a horrid thing to hear an old giant scream in pain

Arthek draws more of the heat to himself with magic

Brekke hurls Speaker, sending the blade to dance and strike at an open wound while she tries to reach Emmit to cast a HeatherBalm on him.

The heatherbalm saves the leg, while Gram, in Arthek's hand, does wonders....tearing and freeing more troll souls

"Look after yourself there, Storm... Doesn't matter if I go down, long as the dragon does."

"You are not quitting yet, Mountain. We need your help still."

"Who said anything about quitting?" A sturborn scowl, then "Now go help the Hearth...Shatter Scale" She feels magic as she is nick named

Her eyes widen as she realizes what he has done. A nod, and she is gone from his side, grabbing up the Dragonlance from where it has fallen.

And Stormwake is there...spared the worst by his barding, the great fae steed's eyes flash angry for the wounds he has taken, and the burns that did damage his mane. He wants a rematch

She mounts up quickly, and the two charge Skallstryke, Brekke aiming the Dragonlance at the first gap that looks likely.

The dragonlance is a weapon dreamed to slay evil dragons! Emmit is one of the most powerful shamans the trolls have! And Brekke is a warrior of legend! Stormwake moves like his name sake! And the lance breaks open the scales, aided by the power of a name and... oh, the rest is pure troll skill and might! As Skallstryke gasps... and his heart is pierced by the lance! THe lance shatters in it's breast, and the dragon gasps and heaves! "no..."

"Yes! " Arthek joins in, piercing the spine!

Another Hollystrike, quickly, following the path of the Lance!

the Dragon dies.... falling to the ground a great scaley mess as souls flee, a lodge worth!

Emmit grins, "Well son of a ..."

Skallstryke breaks out of his corpse, like a snake coming out of a molt, restored and whole "You just cost me a lodge worth of souls!" And breathes fire

Brekke sits atop Stormwake, breathing hard as the horse's flanks heave.

Taken off-guard, she spurs the horse hard and wheels him away from the gout of flame.

Too late she relaizes the blast was not just against her, but Speaker! Her old friend is knocked far from her hand, and lands, "The lance, is gone! Now I will melt this wretched thing... I Have more lives ,than you have BANE weapons, children of Dana. Your goddess mother will NEVER greet you at the end of the wheel, you will burn in my blood feeding my power forever! And near you, your children will burn along with you as the lodges they were left in provide no haven! FOREVER!"

And the wyrm keeps breathing on the weapon, which is already growing white hot

"NO!" Brekke, weaponless, stares at the battleaxe surrounded by flame. He is whole, and we are not. One weapon gone, another... She shakes her head and pulls from a cord around her neck a tooth-shaped dagger, long and white and sharp. "Great Wolf! It is time! My people are in need!" And she stabs the dagger into her hand, drawing her own blood as she was told to do.

It is an ugly gash, there is no time for grace or artistry.

But in the distance, she hears a voice, " I hear, O alpha of Rivervale" And the Great wolf manifests "How may I aid thee?"

She points to the dragon. "We fight! To protect our Lodges, our peoples! But we struggle. Help us!"

"This is not your concern, young pup!" SKallstryke says even as he tries to melt Speaker... "Turn, turn and continue on as a child's silly dream of friendship with nature... you are not ready to war with a nightmarea s old as I"

Brekke quickly sings a verse of a sea chanty used to haul ropes, and pulls at Speaker with a Gimmix.

"I am older than I look, Oh Skullcracker... and strong again thanks to those spring dreams. I have had names older still....but I am Wolfenoot now, and that is enough!" Wolfenot leaps onto the back of the dragon and snags both wings in its jaws, breaking the fire stream as it tosses the dragon about like a husky taking on an alligator.. .so different are the dreams that clash! And the Dragon screams again... as Wolfenoot actually mangles one wing beyond easy repair , souls rise up, but rather htan heal the wing, they fly into Wolfenoot's nostrils, and he breathes them out pure. A rainbow bridge shines over the great wolf

"No, the souls are mine to use to.... how?!" The dragon has lost a wing, perhaps forever "The souls were mine!"

"Not those souls..." Wolfenoote gives a bloodyfanged grin, "Those souls were great friends to dogs ... and I claimed them... they are going to visit the loyal ones .... beyond your reach!"

Whatever Brekke was expecting, it wasn't that...but suddenly her heart fills with hope!

And Speaker, freed and flies to her hand, her grim hand which takes the heat quite well. Arthek is apllying a balm and regaining his might and Emmit whoops in a language Brekke doesn't speak.

Then Wolfenoote starts to fade, "Alas, this is not a time of wolves or hounds, and I have done what I can, Packleader of the Vale and River. May your hunt yield meat."

She bellows her own battlecry, and doesn't hesitate to charge the dragon again, unwilling to waste the advantage bought by Wolfenoot's intervention.

Speaker, still blazing hot, whirls in her hand as she readies to strike with all the might she can muster.

"Uneven, Unbalanced, Unkempt... unworthy to rule by your limb loss.. unworthy to win" The chant might be insulting to one such as Brekke, but it is not directed her.. Emmit foul fortunes the dragon!

Arthek gestures at the blood Brekke has dropped, and suddenly... there are three more of her...effigies to confuse the dragon!