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The whimpering young maiden sat chained to a post not fifty meters from the gloomy mouth of the cave. Lune Franke's chartreuse dress was ragged and soaked, the wind and rain from the past two days had seen to that; her auburn hair, normally so meticulously clean, was a matted mess that covered most of her face, shoulders and back. From a distance, it might even seem she was naught but dress and hair, her pale, ripe skin covered in modesty despite the shame she felt. She had been left as tribute to appease the being inside the cavern, but the dragon had not even bothered to come out, except to scare off those who were sacrificing her. She thought at first that it had wanted to eat her in peace, undisturbed, but it seemed the creature had barely noticed her. Two days of the deafening silence of nature as few creatures were lacking the basic survival instincts to avoid a dragon's lair. Now her stomach growled incessantly. She had enough to drink due to the rain, but she wished that the dragon would just come out and eat her, if only to ease her hunger. She trembled in fear her life, but she no longer feared the dragon as before. It would be a quick death, if legend was true. Starvation, on the other hand, was a painful and long demise.

There was a noise further down the path, and she mustered the strength to lift her drooping head up enough to see through her bangs of hair. At first she thought that it was one of the people who had left her to die, come to check on her, but no one from her village rode a black stallion. It was considered bad luck. The rider appeared to be inebriated, slumped over and swaying on the horse's saddle. Most likely a strange wanderer, the person didn't seem to be carrying anything of value, or if they did, it was hidden in the small pack hanging from the side of their horse. No showy garments or flairs adorned them, their cloak patched in several places, even more torn and tattered than Lune's dress. The horse stopped about thirty meters from her post, and the person slumped off the side they were leaning toward, falling to the ground with the hard thump of impact following.

The stranger lay there for a minute or two, and Lune swore she could hear the woman snoring. The only reason she knew it was a woman was that when a slight breeze opened the cloak, Lune could see that the stranger's stomach and the curves were definitely far too feminine for any man. As Lune eyed the black stallion, she could see that it's saddle was improperly fastened, but that the saddle's buckle had several runic engravings in it. Was the woman a sorcerer, or did she steal the saddle and horse from a wizard perhaps? She looked back to the woman, only to find her standing and stretching, the hood of her cloak thrown back. If she had thought the woman was odd before, Lune now found her absolutely bizarre. The woman's hair was shaggy, looking to have been haphazardly cut with a dull pair of scissors. It was covered with black dye, although azure roots were showing, and like her face, streaked the varied blood and other fluids of many creatures. Hopefully none humanoid, but Lune couldn't tell. The woman's ears exhibited several piercings that most would shy away from, as did her eyebrows and nose. When she yawned, two in her tongue were visible as well. Stranger still, her ears were pointed and long, longer than an elf, and had several cuts in the outer edges, long old. Her eyes were covered by a pair of thick black leather and red-lense goggles with silver trim, with the left lens was cracked slightly. Her teeth seemed unnaturally sharp, and her lips ashen gray. The stranger's porcelain face had a prominent rune tattoo on her right cheek, hanging just below the goggle frame. Lune blushed as she realized that despite how the woman seemed to be highly unladylike, and though her figure was mostly concealed underneath the cloak, she still felt jealous and captivated by her, almost as if a spell had been cast on her. She seemed, on appearance at least, to be living her life by her own choices, her own set of rules. If she ever came to Lune's village looking like that, she would most likely shock half the population into heart attacks. If she got out of this mess, Lune decided she'd like to see that. Her blushing nearly made her faint, from the amount of blood flowing to her cheeks, and when she looked back up, the woman had moved again. Lune looked around and saw her walking towards the dragon's cave. Lune's throat hurt, parched and dry, but still she tried to warn the stranger.
“Don't go in there... Dragon...” She rasped, and the figure turned around, grinning.
“Heh. That's why I'm here, so just sit back. I'll be back shortly.” Lune watched on in horror as the woman walked into the shadows and disappeared. She looked over at the stallion, standing serenely, waiting, and then she allowed herself to pass out.

Clare Fortier walked calmly in the dark, damp tunnel, her eyes alert as she held her torch behind her. With it in front of her, like most adventurers mistakenly do, her eyes could see clearly in the light, but the sharp contrast of the flame itself would make it harder to see things lurking in the shadows. As she walked, she hummed an old song, a ballad about the might of the dragons. Sarcasm was always her greatest weapon, but in this case, the dragon in question might not have heard of her, and the tune could also serve to placate him. Old Elaizar had been stealing gold and livestock from the local lands for a few decades, and every time a powerful enough warrior was defeated by him, he would relocate to another cave, but still raid the populous, with twice the violence. They had given in to lore and superstition, chaining a maiden to a post for him to devour. Like most dragons, Elaizar probably couldn't care less about her. He preferred to eat animals and sentients that put up a decent fight or ran terrified. Adrenaline and sweat were preferred by Wrenix dragons. Very few dragons were actually a problem for humans and the other races, but Wrenix were by far the most dangerous. Their tails were agile with a hard armored shell with spiked ridges, their crests filled with horns and they could break boulders with a headbutt. Their underbellies were softer than their encrusted backs, but it was like comparing forged steel to a diamond. It didn't matter that their bellies were softer, they were still too hard for most conventional weaponry available in the lands they terrorized. Their snout was long, as was their neck, and they could thrust and manipulate it like a swan or a snake, their foot long teeth gnashing up their prey. While Wrenix Dragons couldn't breath fire like their more famous Aduron cousins, the Great Red Dragons, they were able to spit an acidic goo that would melt rock and steel with little difficult. All in all, it was as if nature had made Wrenix to be invincible.

Clare knew better than to let that fear guide her. She was more learned than most adventurers and dragon-slayers, and she knew several ways to kill a wide variety of monsters, including Wrenix dragons. Old Elaizar would be difficult though, since he had lived long enough to see almost every fighting style used against him, and he was still alive. Then again, she had faced down nearly as many monsters as he faced worth opponents. She rounded a curve in the tunnel and found herself at a fork. Sniffing the air, she took the left path. Sulfur always clung to Aduron Dragons because of their firey breath, but it also followed Wrenix Dragons because of their spit. Her memory proved true as usual, because as she came to the end of the path, human skulls shattered on the ground in front of her. About seventy meters away, Old Elaizar lay, picking his teeth with a broadsword. His massive body towered over her and his treasure, her torchlight reflecting lightly off of his gray, tan and green scales. His eyes were a deep shade of blue, muddled with flecks of green and red, and it shifted in the light, back and forth into slits, the hue changing as well. He sniffed the air suddenly, and looked down at her for a moment, then resumed his hygienics. Clare looked up at him for a while, then surveyed his lair. Quite a few torches and pools of oil lay ablaze in the darkness, their light filling up vast amounts of the cavern, but still leaving much of it shrouded, showing how large it truly was. He had amassed quite a fortune in the sixty-eight years since he had first come to the region. Here lay visible enough gold, gems and jewels to feed the region for nearly ten years, and this was most likely only his least favorite stash, the rest being kept further on in the cavern in case any thief might dare attempt to steal it whilst he slept. Looking down at the ground around her, she found a small boulder and sat on it, waiting patiently, something that was not her strong suit. After putting her torch into one of the eyes of the broken skull, she pulled out a small loaf of stale bread and chewed on it.

After what seemed like an eternity, the dragon tossed aside the sword and looked down at her again.
“Well, child, you certainly aren't a typical adventurer, now are you? Didn't attack me as soon as you entered. No. You waited like a good little girl, didn't even interrupt me, like most of the idiots who came.” He growled, his voice deep and guttural. His eyes narrowed slightly, and he moved his head around in the air, looking at her from several directions. “I can smell magic all over you, but you aren't even bothering to carry a sword or crossbow. Either you're very arrogant, or very foolish.”
“I don't mean to offend, Lord Elaizar, but I am neither. I am here on a mission, and I don't need such tools for it. If need be, I'll defend myself, but why ruin such a pleasant conversation so quickly?” Clare said, slowly and precisely, in the dragon tongue. Her throat and jaw hurt to do so, but it had it's desired effect. Elaizar's head moved back in shock, and the ridges around his eyes hardened further in suspicion as he leaned forwards again.
“Drake-speak from a mammal. Very accented, but still an effort. I'd congratulate you, but I doubt that you're here for pleasantries. State your business.”
“I am here on behalf of the human rulers of the region with a request for negotiations. Certainly you would like to be undisturbed, as would they. They sent me to see what would be an agreeable arrangement for both parties, and have informed me what they would be willing to surrender to you.” Clare reached into one of her bags, and Elaizar's neck tensed back slightly, preparing for her to attempt to trick him. Instead, she pulled out a small scroll and held it out for him. When he didn't extend a claw to take it, she set it down on the ground in front of her.
“Negotiations, hmmm? Now, what could the humans offer me that I do not already have? Riches? Food? Freedom of movement? And end to occasional half-wit adventurers who only serve to give me a break from the monotony of life?” Elaizar sneered, his lips curling back to show his glistening teeth and drool. His eyes were a pale blue now with barely a hint of the green or red flecks, cold and uncaring.
“All of the land and forest from this cave to the eastern shores of Lake Ciret. A tribute of eight livestock and a hundred dram of gold per week. The occasional criminal to be released for you to dispense your own justice upon. And a twenty meter high outer wall constructed around your lands to keep out interlopers and adventurers.” Clare clenched her jaw after reciting the terms. He would most likely not agree to them, even if the humans were actually willing to uphold their end of the bargain. In truth, they planned to have several wizards simultaneously place wards on the wall to contain the dragon. It seemed like a good plan to them, and they would have tried it already, except Elaizar wouldn't stay put long enough to create the wards. Any time a wizard or mage tried to fight him, they found he would not only use terrain and his ability to fly to his advantage, but he knew enough about magic to be able to know when to feint and cause the spell-caster to misfire. Since few spell were powerful enough to kill a dragon, it was hard to prepare them in advance, let alone prepare them on the spot. A few had been able to survive the encounter, but none who did were ever willing to make the attempt again. Hence, they needed to trick him in order to get their trap far enough along to be able to spring it before he realized what was happening. Clare, however, thought their plan was stupid, but she didn't insult her employers on the spot. Elaizar would undoubtedly be able to smell the magic emanating from their wizards, just as he smelled it coming from her. He might not be able to tell exactly what they were doing right away, but he would be able to either flee or attack enough of them to make the plan fail. And when he realized they had tricked him, he would strike the human rulers and their mages with a vengeance. Elaizar did seem to be mulling it over though.

One of his clawed hands was lifting treasure out of one of the piles and letting it sift back down to the ground, repeating the process several times before he spoke.
“What is in it for you as negotiator? And who are you, anyways? Obviously you know who I am, but that comes as no surprise.”
“My name is of no consequence to the negotiations, but seeing as I do know who Lord Elaizar is, it would be fitting if he knew who I was as well. My name is Clare. My fee will be paid by the human rulers after negotiations are settled. I have received a modest sum as down payment, forty dram of gold, here with me now.” In truth, she had been paid four hundred dram up front. Dragons could sense when a person was lying, and while she had kept part of the truth from him, she hadn't lied. She had forty dram of it with her, as she said. Also, she would be paid by the human rulers whether Elaizar agreed to the negotiations, or if she were somehow able to defeat him on her own and bring back proof. If the Wrenix dragon was willing to accept the agreement, she would be paid another four hundred dram, but she had a feeling that they would soon put her within Elaizar's territory as a criminal, confusing and preoccupying him while they sprung their trap. She had no intention of staying around, should he agree to the negotiations. Even if the village elders were willing to pay her fee without tricking her, Elaizar would know she had helped them trick him, and he would certainly seek her out after devouring the rest of them. She wouldn't flee, but she wouldn't be able to be as mobile, being hindered by all that weight. On the other hand, if he didn't agree to the negotiations, she would have to kill him, as per her contract, and would be paid handsomely if she succeeded. Six hundred dram of gold, plus she could take all she could carry on a single horse from the lair. She would, of course, take that before bringing in the proof, since otherwise they would undoubtedly try to rush their own people over there as they delayed her, taking the best of the treasure away before she could return for it. There was also the matter of the maiden outside the entrance, who was no doubt in need of sustenance.

Elaizar's eyes gleamed in the light, as he continued to sift through his treasures with one monstrous hand, his lips curled back to show a viciously ominous grin.
“Very well, I accept the terms of this negotiation.” After the shocking decision Clare had to try to keep her face from giving away anything.
What in the world is he up to? She thought, and rose from her rocky seat slowly. He had to know it was a trap. It was too obvious. They were willing to give up more than they would be afford to do for more than a few years at best. Certainly Elaizar wrecked havoc, but he took very little in comparison to what he had the power to do. They knew it, he knew it. So why was he willing to agree to it? She extended her arm, as she had before, and like before, he made no effort to shake it.
“I shall let my employers know as soon as I return back to them. Is there anything you would like me to add?” Once again, the Wrenix seemed to be debating something, as he continued in silence to sift his treasure. Then, his lips curled again, ever so slightly, in a sly and worrying manner she recognized.
“There is one more thing, but I think I can tell them myself, after I'm done with you, Miss Fortier.” He said and proceeded to throw the pile at her. With a quick roll to the side, she dodged it and drew out a small spiked sphere from one of the pockets within her cloak. She threw it expertly, and the grenade exploded just half a meter in front of his eyes, sending shrapnel into one before he had a chance to close it. With a deafening roar, he clawed at his face, tearing off scales in the process of removing the enchanted shards of metal which burned at the touch. Clare used his distraction to cover some of the distance between them, drawing out even more of the grenades while she was at it. She quickly threw them at Elaizar's underbelly as she grabbed a shield she had spotted, sliding across his piles of gold on it, ducking as he blindly tried to hit her with his tail. Again, he thrashed about, removing the burning shrapnel as the magic runes on them tried to spread their spells like viruses, conflicting with each other, wrecking massive damage to his anatomy, as well as bringing him excruciating pain. This time an arm managed to backhand her as it tore off more of the metal. She crashed into one of the cavern walls, breaking one of her wrists in the process. She grit her teeth as her body's natural magic flowed through her and healed it. Thankfully, she was able to hold it still long enough that it healed properly, instead of needing to be re-broken like when this usually happened. The Wrenix glared at her and barred it's teeth, readying itself to lob some of it's acidic spit at her.

Once again, she dove out of the way, this time in the opposite direction, which worked in her favor, as he had aimed slightly off to the side where she had last rolled. The acid melted treasure and rock alike, creating multi-colored smoke in the process. He certainly had more experience than her when it came to fighting humans. But then again, she wasn't just another human adventurer, as he said. As she rose from the ground, she quickly pulled out a chakram from her cloak, and threw at Elaizar as he prepared to launch another mouth of spit at her. It went into his gullet and promptly exploded, tearing out the bottom of his jaw, preventing him from being able to spit or speak properly. He lashed out his tail at her as he clutched his mouth in pain, and the tip of it barely missed her as it caused the rock wall to explode outward from the shock, creating cracks up the entire surface. Thankfully, it held, since the rock in that direction was at least fifty meters thick. Clare brushed some rock dust off of her clothing and pulled a sword out of the treasure, the same one he had been picking his teeth with. Her eyes began to glow behind the goggles as she cast a simple spell and drove the entire blade through the thickest part of the tail's armored tip, holding it fast into the ground. As he roared in pain and tried to free himself she jumped on top of the tail itself, slowly walking up the dragon's back, brimming with confidence. Finally, she found herself behind it's crest and leaned against it.
“Elaizar, you've had a long good run, but you've finally met your match. I was hired to get you to agree to the negotiations, which you obviously suspected were a trap, but if you had simply attacked my employers instead, it never would have come to this. Now, since you tried to kill me, the other side of my contract came into play: If you didn't agree to the negotiations, I'd kill you. Obviously you thought you had heard as much about me as I had of you, but you were wrong, weren't you Laiz?” Clare scoffed, kicking the ridge of his crest and pulling out yet another tool of the trade from her cloak. “This, Laiz, is the end. Or, rather, your end. This here is Susan. Misleadingly named, Susan here is a weapon you've probably not seen before. It's called a gun. Now, I know the quaint people of this valley might not get out much and you evidently don't so much either, but most of the world has moved on from crossbows and swords to more deadly nasty things. What good does a sword do against someone with a crossbow who can shoot them before they get in range, right? Well, Susan here fires faster, hits harder, and reloads faster than any crossbow you've ever seen. She's is an auto-revolver, capable of taking ammunition ranging from three-twenty-seven to fifty caliber, but I'm sure that doesn't mean much to you, now does it? To put it simply, it, along with the custom bullets I buy and make, are more than capable of putting a hole through even your thick skull at point blank range. Any last requests?” Clare grinned as she walked across his face to look him in the eyes as she loaded up the gun with a single bullet.

For the first time in his existence, Elaizar was afraid, and though he didn't understand all of what she had said, he knew that he was doomed. Even as pain seared through him, he spoke, uttering two single questions.
“Who are you? What are you?” Clare pushed up her goggles for the first time since entering the valley nearly a week ago. As the ancient dragon stared into her eyes, he realized that the moment they had set sight on him he had been doomed. Her sclera were black, and her pupils were purple, tinged with flecks of blue and red, her black pupils thin slits, with two circles on either side near the bottom. They were something he had never seen before, but he could tell instantly that it was the eye of a predator, and far more cold than his. They showed no remorse now, no hint of the mockery in her voice or expressions. They were cold and empty voids, drawing him in, unflinching, drilling into his very soul. They looked on him as if he were beneath her effort, and he didn't even notice her putting the gun back together, nor pulling the trigger, nor did he feel anything as the bullet entered his good eye and it's spell activated, accelerating it much faster than normally possible as it went through his brain and exited the other side of his skull.

Lune Franke awoke to see the woman coming back out of the cavern, covered in dark blood. She was carrying a blood saturated large sack with one hand, and it was obvious, even in Lune's incoherent state, that the blood was not hers. The woman had practically bathed in the dragons blood, and by reasoning she knew the sack contained the dragon's heart. How the woman had survived, let alone take down a dragon that had been terrorizing her valley for longer than she had been alive was a mystery to her. The woman tied the sack to her horse's saddle, and once again, the beast didn't even seem disturbed by the smell of blood. After making sure that it was secure, the woman turned and looked at Lune. She reached into her cloak and pulled out a silver flask. After taking a swig of it, she put it back. She wiped her mouth and spat out a little blood, then proceeded to reach deeper into her cloak, this time pulling out a canteen. She walked over to Lune and held it out for her to take. Lune tried to thank her, but as her voice began to rasp, the woman put a finger to her lips, silencing her. She sat down next to her, making a motion for her to drink, and Lune began to guzzle it all. She choked on it as she was drinking too fast, and the woman sighed, taking it from her loose grip. Once Lune stopped choking, she offered it again. This time Lune was able to utter a soft thank you before she took it. The woman nodded and looked out, down at the path. The sun was setting in the distance, and there weren't any inns around for nearly fifty kilometers. The woman muttered something unintelligible and got up, walking over to her steed and taking the horse's reigns in her right hand. At first Lune was afraid the hunter was just going to leave her there, and though she was grateful for her rescue, and for the water, she knew she wouldn't survive long enough to make it back into town without more nutrition. Her stomach growled in agreement, and she winced slightly at the sound. The woman walked her steed back to Lune and helped her stand up. She reached into her mysterious cloak again, this time pulling out a bag filled with some powder, which she pinched and spread on the chains attached to the shackles on Lune's wrists. She made a pouring motion, and Lune mimicked with the bottle, confused. As the water hit the powder, it combined and melted the chain from her shackles. The shackles themselves were still there, but weakened enough that even someone in Lune's condition could break them, which she did. The woman extended her arm and held out her hand for Lune accepted it. With a single tug, Lune found herself being flipped up into the air, and onto the dark horse. She fell against it, much like the woman had been when she arrived, and passed out again.

The female sacrifice lay on the ground, stirred in her sleep, mumbling to herself and Clare smirked. Most people found they had difficulty sleeping around her. Nightmares, they said, not related to her, but to demons. Though none were willing to admit it, they always seemed to shy away from her later on in the day, as if finally realizing there was something wrong with her. This woman didn't for some reason. It wasn't just that she had been so close to starvation, to death. It was something else. Clare had meet with multiple warriors and soldiers, heroes and villains, all who faced death on a regular basis, but they too started having nightmares. Some took a little longer to let it affect how they acted around her, but if they were in the same building as her when she slept, they always had nightmares. With this one exception. She had slept for nearly three hours now without kicking or screaming, not perspiring like most, and even smiling lightly from time to time. Certainly she would be tired, but who wouldn't after an ordeal such as hers? Perhaps it was something above the cave itself, or something in it. Dragons hoarding treasures were rare, but those that did sometimes hoarded not only gold, but magical items as well. Maybe one of them was allowing the sacrifice this rare rest. Perhaps it was the cave, as it wasn't a man-made structure. She had no way of knowing.

Clare poked a chunk of hearty dragon meat with a small dagger, still fresh from her kill, and saw that it was finally ready. Dragon meat, although difficult to cook, was one of the most delicious dishes one would ever have, with its savory juices and naturally smoky flavor, it didn't need any herbs or spices. It did, unfortunately, not keep very well without a lot of salt, which in turn lessened the flavor. Freezing would work as well, but most dragon types tended to stay far enough away from more civilized regions that the technology didn't exist in close enough proximity to their lairs. And here she was, cooking up the gizzard of Old Elaizar. The woman finally leaned up and groggily opened her eyes.
“Mmm?” She muttered, and rubbed her eyes. The quilt Clare had draped over her fell down onto her lap, and she looked down at the ornate fabric, gold thread intermixing with royal blue and deep scarlet. She gasped and looked around her, taking in the sight of all the treasure, and, in the distance, the Wrenix's carcass. Eventually her eyes settled on Clare and she blushed. “Thank you. You saved my life.” Clare was chewing on a piece of meat and nodded. Lune got up and walked over, sitting down opposite her at the fire, setting the quilt to the side. Clare handed her a sliver plate, inlaid with gold, and after Lune had taken it, she dropped a piece of dragon meat onto it with one of her knives, handing a fork and knife to her, also silver, but encrusted with rubies. She sniffed the meat once and sighed deeply before cutting it into smaller pieces and eating them slowly, enjoying the flavor. Clare grinned, once again showing off her sharp teeth.
“Pretty tasty, isn't he?” Lune almost gagged out of shock, and then nodded as she caught her breath. The hunter had taken off her cloak, and draped it casually over an old throne behind her, allowing Lune to finally make out more of the woman's form. She was pale, her skin porcelain, not light enough for people to worry about her being a vampire, but definitely fair enough for her to be a doll, were it not for her demeanor. Her forearms were mostly covered by gauntlets made of black leather and silver, with more runic carvings in them, as well as a few small gems. Her hands themselves had further runic tattoos, as did her shoulders. Her chest was covered by a brown leather vest, and it accentuated her figure, showing off her curves, while still letting more skin be displayed than was proper. Underneath her vest there was also a white strip of cloth that kept her breasts bound to her skin, presumably to better her balance, but it was cut low enough to show off her cleavage. Her legs were covered with leather breeches, of all things, which had multiple full pockets all over them, and they neatly covered up the tops of her boots, both of which were black with red stitching. Her stomach also had a runic tattoo, and Lune guessed that there were even more hidden underneath her clothing, though she blushed when she thought of that. There were also many soft pink scars on her body, which seemed to get lighter by the minute.
“Thank you. Again.”
“Don't mention it. You probably won't be welcomed back in the village, just to let you know. Most sacrifices are supposed to be dead, not walking around.” The hunter said and shoved yet another piece of meat into her mouth with her hand, her chin covered in the juices of the other parts consumed. Lune sat in silence, eating for a while before looking up at her again.
“It doesn't matter anyways, I suppose. If I hadn't been chosen, I would have been forced to marry one of my father's business partners, a toad of a man. I owe you gratitude for that as well, hunter.” Clare guffawed and snorted. She extended her free hand.
“Clare Fortier, at your service. Monster hunter. Obviously.” Lune took her hand and shook it with one of her own.
“Lune Franke.”

After they had ate their fill, the two women put some more of the meat, now salted, into sacks to keep for the journey tomorrow. When they were done, Lune cleaned her arms off in a small pool of water they found in one corner of the lair. Clare did the same, but she did so begrudgingly almost, not particularly caring about the stains the blood would leave on her hands so much as she cared about keeping the water source clean. It turned out, however, that that small pool was next to a much larger one, hidden from view until they had approached it. An odd bend in the floor of the cavern had made it look like the wall was closer than it was. Once finished with their cleansing, Clare began to feel along the walls of the cave, pressing softly on it, and eventually they came to a section with a boulder that appeared to have been rolled into place, a crack behind it large enough that Elaizar could have narrowly managed to squeeze himself into. As Clare began to scale its surface up to the crack, Lune frowned.
“What are you doing?” She asked in confusion. Clare had reached the crack now, and was pulling something out of one of her pants pockets.
“Dragon's collect all sorts of treasures and keep them in their lairs. As you can clearly see, Old Elaizar was no exception. A little know fact, however, is that most dragons keep their favorite stash hidden, away from where they sleep. Mostly to keep thieves out, and also to keep people like me from finding it after they're dead. They're kinda stingy about their stuff. If they can't enjoy it, they don't want anyone to.” She pulled yet another object out of a pant pocket and flipped it open. A small flame ignited, and she held it against the other object, too far away for Lune to recognize, but she could see a second flame start, sparking as it traveled. Clare pushed off of the huge stone and landed on her feet, rolling as she did so. She rose quickly ending up in front of Lune, but she threw them both down, with her body shielding the recovering woman. Suddenly a thunderous explosion occurred, and the stone broke apart, most of it flying backwards in the direction of the cut, but some fragments launching themselves all over the cavern. A few came dangerously close to hitting the two, and Clare rolled them to the side repeatedly, throwing spells at the projectiles. Eventually the barrage ended, and dust hung in the air, thick as fog.

Clare pushed herself up off of Lune and tossed something into the densest portion of it. A small whirlwind started, and most of the dust was sucked up into a small sphere with runes adorned on it. When it had finished, Clare dusted herself off as well, and closed the device, putting it back into one of her many pockets. Lune dusted herself off as well, and stood amazed at the devastation she had just seen. Clare, on the other hand, was nonchalant, and started walking towards the new cavern. She was almost halfway there when she turned back.
“Well, are you coming or what?” Lune gulped, then nodded as she strode to join her. The new cavern was, in fact, another tunnel, and it curved around, going deeper and deeper into the earth, spiraling downwards, back underneath the former cavern they had been in. As they rounded one last bend, Lune gasped. Here was an even larger horde, filled to the brim, easily three times the size of the first chamber. Clare grinned wildly and began to walk into it, throwing two bags back at Lune. “Take your pick Lune.”

Description
The whimpering young maiden sat chained to a post not fifty meters from the gloomy mouth of the cave. Lune Franke's chartreuse dress was ragged and soaked, the wind and rain from the past two days had seen to that; her auburn hair, normally so meticulously clean, was a matted mess that covered most of her face, shoulders and back. From a distance, it might even seem she was naught but dress and hair, her pale, ripe skin covered in modesty despite the shame she felt. She had been left as tribute to appease the being inside the cavern, but the dragon had not even bothered to come out, except to scare off those who were sacrificing her. She thought at first that it had wanted to eat her in peace, undisturbed, but it seemed the creature had barely noticed her. Two days of the deafening silence of nature as few creatures were lacking the basic survival instincts to avoid a dragon's lair. Now her stomach growled incessantly. She had enough to drink due to the rain, but she wished that the dragon would just come out and eat her, if only to ease her hunger. She trembled in fear her life, but she no longer feared the dragon as before. It would be a quick death, if legend was true. Starvation, on the other hand, was a painful and long demise.

There was a noise further down the path, and she mustered the strength to lift her drooping head up enough to see through her bangs of hair. At first she thought that it was one of the people who had left her to die, come to check on her, but no one from her village rode a black stallion. It was considered bad luck. The rider appeared to be inebriated, slumped over and swaying on the horse's saddle. Most likely a strange wanderer, the person didn't seem to be carrying anything of value, or if they did, it was hidden in the small pack hanging from the side of their horse. No showy garments or flairs adorned them, their cloak patched in several places, even more torn and tattered than Lune's dress. The horse stopped about thirty meters from her post, and the person slumped off the side they were leaning toward, falling to the ground with the hard thump of impact following.

The stranger lay there for a minute or two, and Lune swore she could hear the woman snoring. The only reason she knew it was a woman was that when a slight breeze opened the cloak, Lune could see that the stranger's stomach and the curves were definitely far too feminine for any man. As Lune eyed the black stallion, she could see that it's saddle was improperly fastened, but that the saddle's buckle had several runic engravings in it. Was the woman a sorcerer, or did she steal the saddle and horse from a wizard perhaps? She looked back to the woman, only to find her standing and stretching, the hood of her cloak thrown back. If she had thought the woman was odd before, Lune now found her absolutely bizarre. The woman's hair was shaggy, looking to have been haphazardly cut with a dull pair of scissors. It was covered with black dye, although azure roots were showing, and like her face, streaked the varied blood and other fluids of many creatures. Hopefully none humanoid, but Lune couldn't tell. The woman's ears exhibited several piercings that most would shy away from, as did her eyebrows and nose. When she yawned, two in her tongue were visible as well. Stranger still, her ears were pointed and long, longer than an elf, and had several cuts in the outer edges, long old. Her eyes were covered by a pair of thick black leather and red-lense goggles with silver trim, with the left lens was cracked slightly. Her teeth seemed unnaturally sharp, and her lips ashen gray. The stranger's porcelain face had a prominent rune tattoo on her right cheek, hanging just below the goggle frame. Lune blushed as she realized that despite how the woman seemed to be highly unladylike, and though her figure was mostly concealed underneath the cloak, she still felt jealous and captivated by her, almost as if a spell had been cast on her. She seemed, on appearance at least, to be living her life by her own choices, her own set of rules. If she ever came to Lune's village looking like that, she would most likely shock half the population into heart attacks. If she got out of this mess, Lune decided she'd like to see that. Her blushing nearly made her faint, from the amount of blood flowing to her cheeks, and when she looked back up, the woman had moved again. Lune looked around and saw her walking towards the dragon's cave. Lune's throat hurt, parched and dry, but still she tried to warn the stranger.
“Don't go in there... Dragon...” She rasped, and the figure turned around, grinning.
“Heh. That's why I'm here, so just sit back. I'll be back shortly.” Lune watched on in horror as the woman walked into the shadows and disappeared. She looked over at the stallion, standing serenely, waiting, and then she allowed herself to pass out.

Clare Fortier walked calmly in the dark, damp tunnel, her eyes alert as she held her torch behind her. With it in front of her, like most adventurers mistakenly do, her eyes could see clearly in the light, but the sharp contrast of the flame itself would make it harder to see things lurking in the shadows. As she walked, she hummed an old song, a ballad about the might of the dragons. Sarcasm was always her greatest weapon, but in this case, the dragon in question might not have heard of her, and the tune could also serve to placate him. Old Elaizar had been stealing gold and livestock from the local lands for a few decades, and every time a powerful enough warrior was defeated by him, he would relocate to another cave, but still raid the populous, with twice the violence. They had given in to lore and superstition, chaining a maiden to a post for him to devour. Like most dragons, Elaizar probably couldn't care less about her. He preferred to eat animals and sentients that put up a decent fight or ran terrified. Adrenaline and sweat were preferred by Wrenix dragons. Very few dragons were actually a problem for humans and the other races, but Wrenix were by far the most dangerous. Their tails were agile with a hard armored shell with spiked ridges, their crests filled with horns and they could break boulders with a headbutt. Their underbellies were softer than their encrusted backs, but it was like comparing forged steel to a diamond. It didn't matter that their bellies were softer, they were still too hard for most conventional weaponry available in the lands they terrorized. Their snout was long, as was their neck, and they could thrust and manipulate it like a swan or a snake, their foot long teeth gnashing up their prey. While Wrenix Dragons couldn't breath fire like their more famous Aduron cousins, the Great Red Dragons, they were able to spit an acidic goo that would melt rock and steel with little difficult. All in all, it was as if nature had made Wrenix to be invincible.

Clare knew better than to let that fear guide her. She was more learned than most adventurers and dragon-slayers, and she knew several ways to kill a wide variety of monsters, including Wrenix dragons. Old Elaizar would be difficult though, since he had lived long enough to see almost every fighting style used against him, and he was still alive. Then again, she had faced down nearly as many monsters as he faced worth opponents. She rounded a curve in the tunnel and found herself at a fork. Sniffing the air, she took the left path. Sulfur always clung to Aduron Dragons because of their firey breath, but it also followed Wrenix Dragons because of their spit. Her memory proved true as usual, because as she came to the end of the path, human skulls shattered on the ground in front of her. About seventy meters away, Old Elaizar lay, picking his teeth with a broadsword. His massive body towered over her and his treasure, her torchlight reflecting lightly off of his gray, tan and green scales. His eyes were a deep shade of blue, muddled with flecks of green and red, and it shifted in the light, back and forth into slits, the hue changing as well. He sniffed the air suddenly, and looked down at her for a moment, then resumed his hygienics. Clare looked up at him for a while, then surveyed his lair. Quite a few torches and pools of oil lay ablaze in the darkness, their light filling up vast amounts of the cavern, but still leaving much of it shrouded, showing how large it truly was. He had amassed quite a fortune in the sixty-eight years since he had first come to the region. Here lay visible enough gold, gems and jewels to feed the region for nearly ten years, and this was most likely only his least favorite stash, the rest being kept further on in the cavern in case any thief might dare attempt to steal it whilst he slept. Looking down at the ground around her, she found a small boulder and sat on it, waiting patiently, something that was not her strong suit. After putting her torch into one of the eyes of the broken skull, she pulled out a small loaf of stale bread and chewed on it.

After what seemed like an eternity, the dragon tossed aside the sword and looked down at her again.
“Well, child, you certainly aren't a typical adventurer, now are you? Didn't attack me as soon as you entered. No. You waited like a good little girl, didn't even interrupt me, like most of the idiots who came.” He growled, his voice deep and guttural. His eyes narrowed slightly, and he moved his head around in the air, looking at her from several directions. “I can smell magic all over you, but you aren't even bothering to carry a sword or crossbow. Either you're very arrogant, or very foolish.”
“I don't mean to offend, Lord Elaizar, but I am neither. I am here on a mission, and I don't need such tools for it. If need be, I'll defend myself, but why ruin such a pleasant conversation so quickly?” Clare said, slowly and precisely, in the dragon tongue. Her throat and jaw hurt to do so, but it had it's desired effect. Elaizar's head moved back in shock, and the ridges around his eyes hardened further in suspicion as he leaned forwards again.
“Drake-speak from a mammal. Very accented, but still an effort. I'd congratulate you, but I doubt that you're here for pleasantries. State your business.”
“I am here on behalf of the human rulers of the region with a request for negotiations. Certainly you would like to be undisturbed, as would they. They sent me to see what would be an agreeable arrangement for both parties, and have informed me what they would be willing to surrender to you.” Clare reached into one of her bags, and Elaizar's neck tensed back slightly, preparing for her to attempt to trick him. Instead, she pulled out a small scroll and held it out for him. When he didn't extend a claw to take it, she set it down on the ground in front of her.
“Negotiations, hmmm? Now, what could the humans offer me that I do not already have? Riches? Food? Freedom of movement? And end to occasional half-wit adventurers who only serve to give me a break from the monotony of life?” Elaizar sneered, his lips curling back to show his glistening teeth and drool. His eyes were a pale blue now with barely a hint of the green or red flecks, cold and uncaring.
“All of the land and forest from this cave to the eastern shores of Lake Ciret. A tribute of eight livestock and a hundred dram of gold per week. The occasional criminal to be released for you to dispense your own justice upon. And a twenty meter high outer wall constructed around your lands to keep out interlopers and adventurers.” Clare clenched her jaw after reciting the terms. He would most likely not agree to them, even if the humans were actually willing to uphold their end of the bargain. In truth, they planned to have several wizards simultaneously place wards on the wall to contain the dragon. It seemed like a good plan to them, and they would have tried it already, except Elaizar wouldn't stay put long enough to create the wards. Any time a wizard or mage tried to fight him, they found he would not only use terrain and his ability to fly to his advantage, but he knew enough about magic to be able to know when to feint and cause the spell-caster to misfire. Since few spell were powerful enough to kill a dragon, it was hard to prepare them in advance, let alone prepare them on the spot. A few had been able to survive the encounter, but none who did were ever willing to make the attempt again. Hence, they needed to trick him in order to get their trap far enough along to be able to spring it before he realized what was happening. Clare, however, thought their plan was stupid, but she didn't insult her employers on the spot. Elaizar would undoubtedly be able to smell the magic emanating from their wizards, just as he smelled it coming from her. He might not be able to tell exactly what they were doing right away, but he would be able to either flee or attack enough of them to make the plan fail. And when he realized they had tricked him, he would strike the human rulers and their mages with a vengeance. Elaizar did seem to be mulling it over though.

One of his clawed hands was lifting treasure out of one of the piles and letting it sift back down to the ground, repeating the process several times before he spoke.
“What is in it for you as negotiator? And who are you, anyways? Obviously you know who I am, but that comes as no surprise.”
“My name is of no consequence to the negotiations, but seeing as I do know who Lord Elaizar is, it would be fitting if he knew who I was as well. My name is Clare. My fee will be paid by the human rulers after negotiations are settled. I have received a modest sum as down payment, forty dram of gold, here with me now.” In truth, she had been paid four hundred dram up front. Dragons could sense when a person was lying, and while she had kept part of the truth from him, she hadn't lied. She had forty dram of it with her, as she said. Also, she would be paid by the human rulers whether Elaizar agreed to the negotiations, or if she were somehow able to defeat him on her own and bring back proof. If the Wrenix dragon was willing to accept the agreement, she would be paid another four hundred dram, but she had a feeling that they would soon put her within Elaizar's territory as a criminal, confusing and preoccupying him while they sprung their trap. She had no intention of staying around, should he agree to the negotiations. Even if the village elders were willing to pay her fee without tricking her, Elaizar would know she had helped them trick him, and he would certainly seek her out after devouring the rest of them. She wouldn't flee, but she wouldn't be able to be as mobile, being hindered by all that weight. On the other hand, if he didn't agree to the negotiations, she would have to kill him, as per her contract, and would be paid handsomely if she succeeded. Six hundred dram of gold, plus she could take all she could carry on a single horse from the lair. She would, of course, take that before bringing in the proof, since otherwise they would undoubtedly try to rush their own people over there as they delayed her, taking the best of the treasure away before she could return for it. There was also the matter of the maiden outside the entrance, who was no doubt in need of sustenance.

Elaizar's eyes gleamed in the light, as he continued to sift through his treasures with one monstrous hand, his lips curled back to show a viciously ominous grin.
“Very well, I accept the terms of this negotiation.” After the shocking decision Clare had to try to keep her face from giving away anything.
What in the world is he up to? She thought, and rose from her rocky seat slowly. He had to know it was a trap. It was too obvious. They were willing to give up more than they would be afford to do for more than a few years at best. Certainly Elaizar wrecked havoc, but he took very little in comparison to what he had the power to do. They knew it, he knew it. So why was he willing to agree to it? She extended her arm, as she had before, and like before, he made no effort to shake it.
“I shall let my employers know as soon as I return back to them. Is there anything you would like me to add?” Once again, the Wrenix seemed to be debating something, as he continued in silence to sift his treasure. Then, his lips curled again, ever so slightly, in a sly and worrying manner she recognized.
“There is one more thing, but I think I can tell them myself, after I'm done with you, Miss Fortier.” He said and proceeded to throw the pile at her. With a quick roll to the side, she dodged it and drew out a small spiked sphere from one of the pockets within her cloak. She threw it expertly, and the grenade exploded just half a meter in front of his eyes, sending shrapnel into one before he had a chance to close it. With a deafening roar, he clawed at his face, tearing off scales in the process of removing the enchanted shards of metal which burned at the touch. Clare used his distraction to cover some of the distance between them, drawing out even more of the grenades while she was at it. She quickly threw them at Elaizar's underbelly as she grabbed a shield she had spotted, sliding across his piles of gold on it, ducking as he blindly tried to hit her with his tail. Again, he thrashed about, removing the burning shrapnel as the magic runes on them tried to spread their spells like viruses, conflicting with each other, wrecking massive damage to his anatomy, as well as bringing him excruciating pain. This time an arm managed to backhand her as it tore off more of the metal. She crashed into one of the cavern walls, breaking one of her wrists in the process. She grit her teeth as her body's natural magic flowed through her and healed it. Thankfully, she was able to hold it still long enough that it healed properly, instead of needing to be re-broken like when this usually happened. The Wrenix glared at her and barred it's teeth, readying itself to lob some of it's acidic spit at her.

Once again, she dove out of the way, this time in the opposite direction, which worked in her favor, as he had aimed slightly off to the side where she had last rolled. The acid melted treasure and rock alike, creating multi-colored smoke in the process. He certainly had more experience than her when it came to fighting humans. But then again, she wasn't just another human adventurer, as he said. As she rose from the ground, she quickly pulled out a chakram from her cloak, and threw at Elaizar as he prepared to launch another mouth of spit at her. It went into his gullet and promptly exploded, tearing out the bottom of his jaw, preventing him from being able to spit or speak properly. He lashed out his tail at her as he clutched his mouth in pain, and the tip of it barely missed her as it caused the rock wall to explode outward from the shock, creating cracks up the entire surface. Thankfully, it held, since the rock in that direction was at least fifty meters thick. Clare brushed some rock dust off of her clothing and pulled a sword out of the treasure, the same one he had been picking his teeth with. Her eyes began to glow behind the goggles as she cast a simple spell and drove the entire blade through the thickest part of the tail's armored tip, holding it fast into the ground. As he roared in pain and tried to free himself she jumped on top of the tail itself, slowly walking up the dragon's back, brimming with confidence. Finally, she found herself behind it's crest and leaned against it.
“Elaizar, you've had a long good run, but you've finally met your match. I was hired to get you to agree to the negotiations, which you obviously suspected were a trap, but if you had simply attacked my employers instead, it never would have come to this. Now, since you tried to kill me, the other side of my contract came into play: If you didn't agree to the negotiations, I'd kill you. Obviously you thought you had heard as much about me as I had of you, but you were wrong, weren't you Laiz?” Clare scoffed, kicking the ridge of his crest and pulling out yet another tool of the trade from her cloak. “This, Laiz, is the end. Or, rather, your end. This here is Susan. Misleadingly named, Susan here is a weapon you've probably not seen before. It's called a gun. Now, I know the quaint people of this valley might not get out much and you evidently don't so much either, but most of the world has moved on from crossbows and swords to more deadly nasty things. What good does a sword do against someone with a crossbow who can shoot them before they get in range, right? Well, Susan here fires faster, hits harder, and reloads faster than any crossbow you've ever seen. She's is an auto-revolver, capable of taking ammunition ranging from three-twenty-seven to fifty caliber, but I'm sure that doesn't mean much to you, now does it? To put it simply, it, along with the custom bullets I buy and make, are more than capable of putting a hole through even your thick skull at point blank range. Any last requests?” Clare grinned as she walked across his face to look him in the eyes as she loaded up the gun with a single bullet.

For the first time in his existence, Elaizar was afraid, and though he didn't understand all of what she had said, he knew that he was doomed. Even as pain seared through him, he spoke, uttering two single questions.
“Who are you? What are you?” Clare pushed up her goggles for the first time since entering the valley nearly a week ago. As the ancient dragon stared into her eyes, he realized that the moment they had set sight on him he had been doomed. Her sclera were black, and her pupils were purple, tinged with flecks of blue and red, her black pupils thin slits, with two circles on either side near the bottom. They were something he had never seen before, but he could tell instantly that it was the eye of a predator, and far more cold than his. They showed no remorse now, no hint of the mockery in her voice or expressions. They were cold and empty voids, drawing him in, unflinching, drilling into his very soul. They looked on him as if he were beneath her effort, and he didn't even notice her putting the gun back together, nor pulling the trigger, nor did he feel anything as the bullet entered his good eye and it's spell activated, accelerating it much faster than normally possible as it went through his brain and exited the other side of his skull.

Lune Franke awoke to see the woman coming back out of the cavern, covered in dark blood. She was carrying a blood saturated large sack with one hand, and it was obvious, even in Lune's incoherent state, that the blood was not hers. The woman had practically bathed in the dragons blood, and by reasoning she knew the sack contained the dragon's heart. How the woman had survived, let alone take down a dragon that had been terrorizing her valley for longer than she had been alive was a mystery to her. The woman tied the sack to her horse's saddle, and once again, the beast didn't even seem disturbed by the smell of blood. After making sure that it was secure, the woman turned and looked at Lune. She reached into her cloak and pulled out a silver flask. After taking a swig of it, she put it back. She wiped her mouth and spat out a little blood, then proceeded to reach deeper into her cloak, this time pulling out a canteen. She walked over to Lune and held it out for her to take. Lune tried to thank her, but as her voice began to rasp, the woman put a finger to her lips, silencing her. She sat down next to her, making a motion for her to drink, and Lune began to guzzle it all. She choked on it as she was drinking too fast, and the woman sighed, taking it from her loose grip. Once Lune stopped choking, she offered it again. This time Lune was able to utter a soft thank you before she took it. The woman nodded and looked out, down at the path. The sun was setting in the distance, and there weren't any inns around for nearly fifty kilometers. The woman muttered something unintelligible and got up, walking over to her steed and taking the horse's reigns in her right hand. At first Lune was afraid the hunter was just going to leave her there, and though she was grateful for her rescue, and for the water, she knew she wouldn't survive long enough to make it back into town without more nutrition. Her stomach growled in agreement, and she winced slightly at the sound. The woman walked her steed back to Lune and helped her stand up. She reached into her mysterious cloak again, this time pulling out a bag filled with some powder, which she pinched and spread on the chains attached to the shackles on Lune's wrists. She made a pouring motion, and Lune mimicked with the bottle, confused. As the water hit the powder, it combined and melted the chain from her shackles. The shackles themselves were still there, but weakened enough that even someone in Lune's condition could break them, which she did. The woman extended her arm and held out her hand for Lune accepted it. With a single tug, Lune found herself being flipped up into the air, and onto the dark horse. She fell against it, much like the woman had been when she arrived, and passed out again.

The female sacrifice lay on the ground, stirred in her sleep, mumbling to herself and Clare smirked. Most people found they had difficulty sleeping around her. Nightmares, they said, not related to her, but to demons. Though none were willing to admit it, they always seemed to shy away from her later on in the day, as if finally realizing there was something wrong with her. This woman didn't for some reason. It wasn't just that she had been so close to starvation, to death. It was something else. Clare had meet with multiple warriors and soldiers, heroes and villains, all who faced death on a regular basis, but they too started having nightmares. Some took a little longer to let it affect how they acted around her, but if they were in the same building as her when she slept, they always had nightmares. With this one exception. She had slept for nearly three hours now without kicking or screaming, not perspiring like most, and even smiling lightly from time to time. Certainly she would be tired, but who wouldn't after an ordeal such as hers? Perhaps it was something above the cave itself, or something in it. Dragons hoarding treasures were rare, but those that did sometimes hoarded not only gold, but magical items as well. Maybe one of them was allowing the sacrifice this rare rest. Perhaps it was the cave, as it wasn't a man-made structure. She had no way of knowing.

Clare poked a chunk of hearty dragon meat with a small dagger, still fresh from her kill, and saw that it was finally ready. Dragon meat, although difficult to cook, was one of the most delicious dishes one would ever have, with its savory juices and naturally smoky flavor, it didn't need any herbs or spices. It did, unfortunately, not keep very well without a lot of salt, which in turn lessened the flavor. Freezing would work as well, but most dragon types tended to stay far enough away from more civilized regions that the technology didn't exist in close enough proximity to their lairs. And here she was, cooking up the gizzard of Old Elaizar. The woman finally leaned up and groggily opened her eyes.
“Mmm?” She muttered, and rubbed her eyes. The quilt Clare had draped over her fell down onto her lap, and she looked down at the ornate fabric, gold thread intermixing with royal blue and deep scarlet. She gasped and looked around her, taking in the sight of all the treasure, and, in the distance, the Wrenix's carcass. Eventually her eyes settled on Clare and she blushed. “Thank you. You saved my life.” Clare was chewing on a piece of meat and nodded. Lune got up and walked over, sitting down opposite her at the fire, setting the quilt to the side. Clare handed her a sliver plate, inlaid with gold, and after Lune had taken it, she dropped a piece of dragon meat onto it with one of her knives, handing a fork and knife to her, also silver, but encrusted with rubies. She sniffed the meat once and sighed deeply before cutting it into smaller pieces and eating them slowly, enjoying the flavor. Clare grinned, once again showing off her sharp teeth.
“Pretty tasty, isn't he?” Lune almost gagged out of shock, and then nodded as she caught her breath. The hunter had taken off her cloak, and draped it casually over an old throne behind her, allowing Lune to finally make out more of the woman's form. She was pale, her skin porcelain, not light enough for people to worry about her being a vampire, but definitely fair enough for her to be a doll, were it not for her demeanor. Her forearms were mostly covered by gauntlets made of black leather and silver, with more runic carvings in them, as well as a few small gems. Her hands themselves had further runic tattoos, as did her shoulders. Her chest was covered by a brown leather vest, and it accentuated her figure, showing off her curves, while still letting more skin be displayed than was proper. Underneath her vest there was also a white strip of cloth that kept her breasts bound to her skin, presumably to better her balance, but it was cut low enough to show off her cleavage. Her legs were covered with leather breeches, of all things, which had multiple full pockets all over them, and they neatly covered up the tops of her boots, both of which were black with red stitching. Her stomach also had a runic tattoo, and Lune guessed that there were even more hidden underneath her clothing, though she blushed when she thought of that. There were also many soft pink scars on her body, which seemed to get lighter by the minute.
“Thank you. Again.”
“Don't mention it. You probably won't be welcomed back in the village, just to let you know. Most sacrifices are supposed to be dead, not walking around.” The hunter said and shoved yet another piece of meat into her mouth with her hand, her chin covered in the juices of the other parts consumed. Lune sat in silence, eating for a while before looking up at her again.
“It doesn't matter anyways, I suppose. If I hadn't been chosen, I would have been forced to marry one of my father's business partners, a toad of a man. I owe you gratitude for that as well, hunter.” Clare guffawed and snorted. She extended her free hand.
“Clare Fortier, at your service. Monster hunter. Obviously.” Lune took her hand and shook it with one of her own.
“Lune Franke.”

After they had ate their fill, the two women put some more of the meat, now salted, into sacks to keep for the journey tomorrow. When they were done, Lune cleaned her arms off in a small pool of water they found in one corner of the lair. Clare did the same, but she did so begrudgingly almost, not particularly caring about the stains the blood would leave on her hands so much as she cared about keeping the water source clean. It turned out, however, that that small pool was next to a much larger one, hidden from view until they had approached it. An odd bend in the floor of the cavern had made it look like the wall was closer than it was. Once finished with their cleansing, Clare began to feel along the walls of the cave, pressing softly on it, and eventually they came to a section with a boulder that appeared to have been rolled into place, a crack behind it large enough that Elaizar could have narrowly managed to squeeze himself into. As Clare began to scale its surface up to the crack, Lune frowned.
“What are you doing?” She asked in confusion. Clare had reached the crack now, and was pulling something out of one of her pants pockets.
“Dragon's collect all sorts of treasures and keep them in their lairs. As you can clearly see, Old Elaizar was no exception. A little know fact, however, is that most dragons keep their favorite stash hidden, away from where they sleep. Mostly to keep thieves out, and also to keep people like me from finding it after they're dead. They're kinda stingy about their stuff. If they can't enjoy it, they don't want anyone to.” She pulled yet another object out of a pant pocket and flipped it open. A small flame ignited, and she held it against the other object, too far away for Lune to recognize, but she could see a second flame start, sparking as it traveled. Clare pushed off of the huge stone and landed on her feet, rolling as she did so. She rose quickly ending up in front of Lune, but she threw them both down, with her body shielding the recovering woman. Suddenly a thunderous explosion occurred, and the stone broke apart, most of it flying backwards in the direction of the cut, but some fragments launching themselves all over the cavern. A few came dangerously close to hitting the two, and Clare rolled them to the side repeatedly, throwing spells at the projectiles. Eventually the barrage ended, and dust hung in the air, thick as fog.

Clare pushed herself up off of Lune and tossed something into the densest portion of it. A small whirlwind started, and most of the dust was sucked up into a small sphere with runes adorned on it. When it had finished, Clare dusted herself off as well, and closed the device, putting it back into one of her many pockets. Lune dusted herself off as well, and stood amazed at the devastation she had just seen. Clare, on the other hand, was nonchalant, and started walking towards the new cavern. She was almost halfway there when she turned back.
“Well, are you coming or what?” Lune gulped, then nodded as she strode to join her. The new cavern was, in fact, another tunnel, and it curved around, going deeper and deeper into the earth, spiraling downwards, back underneath the former cavern they had been in. As they rounded one last bend, Lune gasped. Here was an even larger horde, filled to the brim, easily three times the size of the first chamber. Clare grinned wildly and began to walk into it, throwing two bags back at Lune. “Take your pick Lune.”