Fey stood atop Ashjaw, gritting his teeth as he watched the mighty dragon inhale deeply, its throat swelling with an ominous glow. Flames danced in the depths of its maw, preparing to be unleashed in a single, devastating blast.
His mind raced, analyzing every possible means of escape, every conceivable way to avoid the fiery doom about to befall him. Yet, no solution presented itself. He was an aggressive swordsman, one who had always relied on overwhelming force rather than defensive tactics. Blocking such an attack was beyond his skill.
There was nothing left to do but hope.
Damn… I haven't… I'm not done yet…
