A stance was taken, her scale-covered feet separated wide. She pushed her chest forward and stood straight, allowing a long inhale to completely fill her lungs. The making of a furious sound rumbled within her, and Mattervon felt it. Villagers took cover behind walls and wagons, but still peeked around them to observe the dragon, ever anxious of what she would produce. Eager to terrorize this audience, Yvedawn glanced once more at the people, the roar at the tip of her tongue.

But she hesitated, a red shade warming her cheeks. Suddenly, shyness had crept upon her, and all of Mattervon’s attention was inflicting her with self-doubt. The breath had already been taken, she could inhale no more, but the expectations of a village-toppling shout were slipping from her reach.

Yvedawn tensed up, then unleashed what she had: “R-Ra… Rawww...rr…rrk!” Far from deafening, this sound was a whine, a cough at best. There was no billow of wind or glass-shattering shockwave. No eruption of fire, no screams of horror. The hype behind her roar was for a dud, and the expectant crowd found themselves with no reason to run -- was she going to try that again?

Yverdawn shuddered, glaring at a few specific villagers, but even that couldn’t scare them. Her blush spread further over her face, a sign of embarrassment that others were picking up on. Quickly, she pushed out another attempt: “G-Gaa… arrrr…!” It was slightly bolder, and her claws were displayed for additional impact, yet the volume was too lacking to make a single villager shiver.

Instead, there was a laugh. Yvedawn’s ears picked up the sound, and she immediately pivoted to face the mocker. If nothing else, the lone man that had broken into chuckles did silence himself immediately under the shadow of the dragon. “Th-That was an exercise…!” she spat. “My real roar is… brewing! H-Here it is…” Yvedawn stood straight again and took another inhale, but when she did, a stumble of coughs escaped her. Yet another roar failed to be executed.

In turn, there was a better bout of laughter from where the man stood. Even his family was laughing, albeit nervously, at the strange display of intimidation. The dragon that had terrified them moments ago was now a comical sight to behold, and that attitude was gradually prevailing among the other villagers.

Before Yvedawn could direct her ire at the laughers, she heard others opposite of them cooing. “It sounded like a baby cow,” a woman commented, and another giggled, “I was expecting something ferocious, but that was just sort of silly.” “Is she going to destroy Mattervon, or…?”

“Hey! Th-This is…!” Yvedawn growled. “That’s… very rude! I-I am a dragon! Do not mock me!” But reacting in such a flustered way only drew out more jokes and insults. Others had joined in on the teasing, intentionally or not, and so Yvedawn’s dignity continued to unravel. The humiliation caused her to grow dizzy, and so she wished to go elsewhere to escape the laughing villagers. This was all reminding her of Daemon and how he ridiculed her, and so she clumsily began walking away, distancing herself from this shame--

--and into another embarrassing matter. As she paced backwards meekly, her foot ran into a blacksmith’s workshop. A knick to her was a pounding force against the front wall, busting down its door and scattering tools, but the building proved sturdy enough to unbalance Yvedawn over this misstep. Her weight shifted too far over the blacksmith’s as she turned too hurriedly, and with a gasp, she was suddenly on the descent.

Ker-krash! Yvedawn fell and spilled over onto the other street, devastating the humble blacksmith’s. Her legs plowed through the roof while her torso blocked the road, dividing an unsuspecting crowd into two. It was a graceless pose to be caught in, especially so for the noble dragon, but there was no more condescending comments from the community. They trembled at how destructive this eccentric beast could be without even trying, backing away while her legs rolled through the remains of the blacksmith’s. Her face rose above the roofs as she slowly pushed herself up, her cheeks a deep red and her lips firmly pouted.

Dots of tears and sharp sniffles expressed how close to breaking Yvedawn was. This is why I never leave the cave, she reminded herself grimly, but she had caught wind of something delightful. Her sniffling had captured the scent of roasted meat, baked bread, and strong alcohol. The smell of a festive dinner was at first a distraction from all the humiliating circumstances, but then it acted as a clue. Her nose flickered in the direction of what was right beneath her now; a tavern, just like the one Daemon said he would retire to.

An explosion outside rocked the table of riches, dispersing the gold and silver coins off its edges and onto the floor where Grayson and Trea had leapt to their feet. Other patrons had bounced from their seats as well, with no one sure if staying inside was better than fleeing. Those that flocked to the windows were speechless, but the duo guild leaders had an accurate suspicion of what awaited them.

Grayson claimed his blade from off the table on his way to the door, shoving aside anyone in his way. Whether he was going to kill the dragon or Daemon, Trea couldn’t immediately tell. “This was precisely what I knew would occur!” he growled. “Damn that Daemon! Where is he?! Will he not participate in his own battle?!”

Trea hurried after Grayson with her bow in hand. “What would he do?!” she bewilderedly asked. “This is a dragon, Grayson! We need Thrakk and Ljós, not--”

“Daemon!” Blasted through the thatchwork of the roof was the name, half-sung by Yvedawn’s voice. As tavern patrons gawked up above them, a claw pierced through the roof and tore open a hole. Within the new window was a curious smile, peering in at the dozens trapped inside the building but on the hunt for only one among them. “Daemon~ Is that your smell hidden in here?” Her smirk widened, a flash reflected in her eyes once they were upon a certain table. “Aha, I see that my treasures have been taken here at least. Certainly they did not come here to drink alone~”

“Th-This is… th-the dragon…?” Grayson stuttered, baffled at what attacked the tavern. The image of a woman was not what he anticipated from the mythical beast, yet it spread further across the roof as Yvedawn ripped more into the building. He gripped his sword, ready for a battle he couldn’t fathom a plan for, but Trea and her bow were aimed and ready.

“Begone, dragon!” Trea yelled. An arrow was unleashed, striking Yvedawn’s claw and snapping against the armor-like scales. “You will not be permitted to harm Daemon nor these innocent people!” Another arrow was prepared, but Yvedawn had countered more swiftly. Her claw charged at Trea before she could even flinch, and so she was captured within Yvedawn’s fist, unable to struggle free.

“No! Trea!” Grayson dashed to where Trea was clutched, his weapon overhead for a vertical swing. The sword sliced down, but Yvedawn withdrew her arm along with her prize -- Grayson’s sword missed and chopped right through a table, splashing away drinks and food. He glared up at the dragon, but the sight of his fiance trapped in the giant’s hand ailed him with grief. “Trea!!”

“Do I require permission to locate my own possessions?” Yvedawn asked, smugly staring at the woman straining in her grip. “If you know where Daemon is, then do tell and I will happily be on my way!”

Though Trea had no answer, she wouldn’t need to. Yvedawn smelled past her and into the tavern, filtering through the varied scents until she could lock down Daemon’s. Her nostrils lead her to a series of barrels where all but one had been tipped over in the commotion. Most peculiar about this lone barrel was how it shivered where it stood, exactly how a rookie adventurer would be quaking in his boots.

Yvedawn retrieved the barrel into her other claw, feeling the man inside quivering within. She peeked in, smiled, then tightened her grip. The container splintered and fell apart in the net of fingers, the debris trickling out until only Daemon remained. He was coiled into himself, arms over his head and knees buckled tight. He opened one eye to look at Yvedawn, but immediately flinched back into cowering.

“Daemon~! Finally, we can leave this malicious place together,” Yvedawn sighed, bringing her prize past the broken roof. She could resist no longer and nuzzled him into her cheek, humming gently into him while he pushed back against her. “Did your guild enjoy my treasure~? Did you tell your friends about me~?”

“Aha… I-I did tell them, y-yes,” Daemon stuttered, catching a glimpse of Grayson below. The fury in the guild leader’s glare was worse than Yvedawn ever appeared. “In truth, I believe my problem is that I returned with too much...”

“Well, their opinion does not matter,” Yvedawn declared, rising away from the tavern and onto her feet. Once she was distant from them did the crowd of patrons flood out the doors. Most fled while others withdrew far enough to watch, but one warrior raced outside to meet the dragon. Grayson stood bravely before Yvedawn, even if he was low under her vision.

“Dragon!! Release both of them this instant!” Grayson shouted, angling his sword threateningly. “Have you any awareness of what woman you have taken into your claw?! I will march to the world’s end to rescue her if need be! No mercy will be spared towards you, beast! Heed this warning!”

Yvedawn raised a brow downwards, insulted by the words slung her way by something so diminutive to her. The glint in Grayson’s armor and the weight of his steel, however, proved to Yvedawn that this was no hogwash mercenary. “Might you be the leader of Daemon’s guild?” she wondered, also considering Trea’s position in all this. She grinned wickedly, and put the archer in the same grasp as Daemon. “If you are indeed inseparable, then I will keep you united~ as additional treasures to join my collection!”

A serpent-like hand approached Grayson after Yvedawn knelt closer to his level. Grayson swung his sword at the claw, but all that power failed to connect. Yvedawn’s hand rushed forward as Grayson was still recovering from his miss, and with only that much effort, the warrior was subdued. Sharp fingers grappled his body, nullifying any use for his blade and making escape impossible. Despite being a hefty adult in a near-full suit of armor, Grayson was lifted off the village road like scrap.

“Demon! You…! Release us, you!” Grayson grunted and yelled, but his desperation was Yvedawn’s amusement. Her giggling mocked his struggles, but he refused to give in. This was unlike Trea and Daemon, both of whom acknowledged how fruitless any fighting would be.

Yvedawn brought her latest capture near to her face, a mocking breath huffed onto him. “Why do you struggle when celebrations are in order? You have been given the honor to be company for the great dragon Yvedawn — eternally! Your dangerous and reckless life as a sword-swinger are no more. You will find life as my companion much more peaceful~”

“I don’t want peace!” Grayson argued, and he spat at her — a flick of saliva, marked at the tip of her nose. Yvedawn withdrew him from such proximity, her taunting grin now a grimace of frustration. “I want my fiance, I want my guild, and I want nothing to do with you! Take your damned treasure back but leave us out of this!”

Yvedawn began walking away from the damaged tavern, dispersing the crowds that had circled around the scene. Her smile had returned, “I will be taking my treasure indeed, Guild Leader! Hohoho~”

Their options had been exhausted. Trea maintained a certain level of coolness, in contrast to Grayson’s fury and Daemon’s uselessness. As Yvedawn turned to face the rolling hills that traveled far back to her lair, Trea desperately searched for an answer. Down below, there happened to be that possibility of rescue, as a hulking figure shoved her way through a cluster of panicked villagers. “Thrakk is here!” Trea exclaimed to the others. She unwedged an arm from Yvedawn’s grip and waved down, “Thrakk! Stop her!”

Thrakk had in fact arrived, dumbfounded by the event unfolding before her eyes. She powered through the crowd, shoving aside two bystanders off their feet in her one-track effort to reach her troubled guildmates. “Dammit! This isn’t good,” she growled. “I was busy finding Ljós, but I could have been ripping the tail off a dragon this entire time!” And with that, a fiery smile was sparked as she lunged after Yvedawn.

The pair of wings began to flap, building up their pace. Yvedawn lowered her profile and strained herself to put more thrust behind her wings. They were quite small, proportionally speaking, making it miraculous she could ever obtain flight. With enough effort, actual gusts of wind were being thrown at her feet. It felt right to fly, and at no better time — her long attempt at takeoff was earning the teasing of villagers all over again.

Yvedawn hopped into the air with all of her tremendous mass, and rather than crash back down, she remained afloat. More thrust was pushed into her wings so that she could ascend higher, fluttering precariously over one cottage. Dust was whipped up as she hovered over Mattervon just enough to surpass their roofs. Her long tail dragged behind, exactly as Thrakk had hoped for.

Before it could slip away, Thrakk had charged through the billows of dust in a dash for the tail. She clutched it in a dive, both hands tightly pressed into the scale-covered flesh. She jumped to her feet and rooted herself to the cobblestone path, pulling back on the beast with terrible strength. She whined and groaned, her displayed muscles bulging with pressure. Yvedawn continued forward, and Thrakk stood her ground; the tail between them grew tense as the distance between them grew wider, until—

“Whoops!” Thrakk was pulled forward along with the tail, and smacked directly into a stone wall. The tail continued up the wall of the house, and still Thrakk held on, even as her body was ripped past the thatch roof and dragged across it. Yvedawn proceed with her flight unimpeded, while Thrakk clung on still — whipping into one last wall before Yvedawn ascended higher above the village.

Thrakk shook away the blows, reaffirming her unletting grip on the tail. She winced against the chilling wind of air, only then glancing down. “Whoaaa! Hey, th-this is high up!” she yelled, then deciding to wrap her legs around Yvedawn’s tail for extra security. The last house of Mattervon was flown over, and still the ground fell more and more distant. She glared up above, “Hey! Trea! I tried!”

“I see that, Thrakk!” Trea yelled down from Yvedawn’s fist. She groaned, resisting the urge to complain aloud. “Just… hold on to her! Don’t let go!”

Yvedawn continued forward, disregarding the warrior on her tail in favor of concentrating on her flight. She was already panting, but stretches of rolling hills were passing underneath the dragon and her collection. It was not long before the terrain grew rocky, culminating into a peak. Yvedawn could smile as she neared her dwelling, finally returning home and with more than she anticipated. Of the three adventurers she had claimed, it was Daemon at the center of her attention, but so too did he feel the weight of Trea and Grayson’s glares pointed onto him.