Somewhere in the rifts of time, a castle was besieged. Not by a man, nor goblin horde, or even the mightiest of giants. No...

"Where is it! Henry, damnit, you were supposed to be lookout!"

Henry held his pole arm steady, searching the skies for the terror that had fallen upon them. "You did not fair much better, Johnathon.

"You try being calm with that...that thing.."

That thing...as they called it was blue, darkened stripes ran the length of the beast's spine and wing sails beat to gain momentum.

Wheeling around, an icy blast hit the castle. toying with the men. the dragon was purposely missing. If only to drive the men further out into the open.

"Where are the ballistas?! We sent for them not hours ago.." The ballistas. They never showed. Nor did the men who were supposed to bring forth the machines of war.

Instead, the men slumbered, in the cold embrace of death. Many frozen still with looks of terror upon their faces.

The clouds blotted out the sun, though enough of a shadow fell across the castle walls. Pole arms stuck upright as the pair of men spotted the beast. By then it was much too late.

Henry screamed as jaws snapped themselves shut upon his arm. Legs kicking at anything as the ground was falling away below.

Johnathon sent his pole arm sailing, like a javelin. It drove into the beast's leg, though the force behind it had not been strong enough to do any real damage.

A minor nuisance, that would be dealt with once she had fed.



Henry did not know how long he had been in the air, his arm throbbing from where the creature bit down. His own pole arm was lost to him, but soon the ground rushed up to meet him.

He'd been dropped. Still alive, he was gaining his bearings. Fingers dug into the soil and mud. Water trickled off in the distance. The air felt much cooler, cold. Or maybe that was the breath he felt on the back of his neck.

Soon the world had faded away into darkness.