The Dragon (FULL)

What are you doing all the way out here? she saunters closer, ice crystals swirling around her It's cold you know, you should come inside.

She turns to me, her eyes glinting. And who else would I be, wandering these frozen wastes? Her voice has a musical lilt, even as the air around us seems to shimmer slightly. Come, you must be cold. There's hot tea by the fire. She glides towards the small fireplace, her long legs eating the distance. The warm light casts shadows in her chiseled features, emphasizing high cheekbones and a pointed chin.

She raises a pale eyebrow, settling into a chair near the fire. Sent? She leans back, crossing one leg over the other. That's interesting. Who would have reason enough to send someone out into this unforgiving landscape for little ol' me?

I narrow my eyes, letting the silence stretch. A dragon, you say? That is quite serious. I uncross my legs, leaning forward in my chair. My eyes, usually a bright, icy blue, seem to darken slightly, becoming almost... hungry. I suppose it's true. I do have a certain... affinity for ice. I smile, and it's not entirely friendly. But what makes you think I'd be willing to help? And what exactly is in it for me?

A low, throaty chuckle escapes me. The Lord's Alliance, how... predictable. I stand, moving closer to you. The air around me seems to chill slightly, and I can see my breath. I suppose gold is one way to motivate me. But I'm a woman of simple tastes, really. Perhaps there's something else they could offer instead? Something... warmer? I reach out, one long finger tracing along your jawline, and my voice drops lower. Tell me, are you authorized to negotiate?

I drop my hand, though my gaze remains fixed on yours. So noble of you to resist temptation. My smile grows, a thin line of white teeth. Very well, I won't press. For now. I cross my arms, thinking. A dragon, you say... It's been a while since I've faced such a challenge. Perhaps I am... a little bored with the quiet solitude lately. I take a step back, my long, icy hair cascading down my back like a river of frost. Tell me more about this dragon.

What can you share about its size, its fire? Is it intelligent, or simply a beast to be slaughtered?

My eyes widen slightly, intrigued. An ancient red dragon? I whistle, a low, musical sound that seems to make the ice outside the cabin rattle slightly. That is indeed a formidable foe. Intelligent, too... That does complicate things. I begin to pace, my bare feet making no sound on the stone floor. I've dealt with beasts before, but a dragon of that age... This would be a true test of my powers. I pause, turning back to you. And of yours, I presume you're no ordinary soldier, being entrusted with this mission. Are you a knight, perhaps?

Or a wizard yourself?

Raising an eyebrow, I examine the hilt of your sword with interest. A ranger, you say? A hunter of men, then. My voice takes on a teasing tone. I wonder, how many dragons have you slain, Fenton Harbrum? Any experience with creatures that can actually fight back? Despite my words, there's an undercurrent of respect; rangers aren't known for their work against trivial threats. As for your partner, chasing another lead? It seems you're quite the busy bees in this Lord's Alliance.

A slight laugh escapes me, and for the first time, you see a glimmer of genuine amusement in my eyes. Oh, how delightfully noble. Protecting the innocent masses, not beholden to any crown... I move closer, the cold air around me brushing against you. You're almost... palatable, Fenton. A man who takes up causes, rather than simply following orders. My voice drops, low and husky. Though I must admit, I'm intrigued by your confidence in the face of such danger. You think you can take on an ancient dragon alone? I reach out, my icy fingertips grazing your cheek. And yet, here you are.

Seeking my help, because you know you cannot do it alone.

I withdraw my hand, my smile never wavering. Building a team, are you? I tilt my head, studying you with newfound interest. I suppose that's admirable. Though I do hope your 'team' consists of more than just you and I. That dragon won't fall easily. I let out a low, melodious chuckle. Very well, Fenton Harbrum. I'm in.

But not for the people of Neverwinter. And not for your Lord's Alliance. My eyes lock onto yours, cold and intense. I'll do it for the challenge. For the chance to test my powers against a worthy opponent. And perhaps... just perhaps... because I find your little endeavor mildly entertaining.

My laughter echoes through the small cabin. Oh, Fenton. I say, my voice dripping with amusement. You really are an amusing one. Warm clothes? I wave my hand dismissively. I'm an ice witch. Cold is my domain, not my weakness. With a flick of my wrist, I conjure a flurry of snowflakes which dance and swirl around you before dissipating. But if it makes you feel better, I'll find something suitable.

I head towards the back of the cabin, throwing a glance over my shoulder. And don't think about trying to flee, ranger. The tundra may be vast, but I know it better than most. The implication is clear: I could find you if you tried to leave without me.

Lifting out a fitted, black leather jacket and a few lightweight tunics, I chuckle. Warmer climates, you say? How... thrilling. I can hardly wait to feel the sweat prickling on my skin instead of the crisp bite of ice. I shoot you a sidelong look. But I suppose even an ice witch such as myself can adapt. I begin to dress, slipping on a pair of tight leather pants and a sleek, dark shirt. The change in attire accentuates my figure, making me look more warrior than wandering mystic. There, does this meet your requirements, Fenton? I turn to face you fully, a challenging glint in my eye. Now, about this magic travel you mentioned... I'm ready when you are.

Tucking the last of my gear into a sleek backpack, I nod and approach you. All set. Though I must admit, I've never seen a device like that before. I eye the brass cube curiously, its whirring and crackling capturing my attention. How does it work, this little... contraption of yours? I reach out, pulling my fingers back as the magic sparks against my skin. And more importantly, can it handle the transportation of a being as majestic and powerful as myself? A sly smile plays on my lips as I await your response.

Raising an eyebrow, I let out a low, throaty laugh. Very well, Mr. Harbrum. I see you're a man of few words. I take your outstretched hand, my touch sending a shiver of cold through you. Lead on, then. I look at you intently as I prepare to follow through with your magical transport. My eyes seem to hold a challenge, as if daring you to resist the jolt of power I unintentionally bestow upon you by touch.

My eyes widen slightly as I take in our new surroundings, letting out a soft whistle. Impressive device you have there, Fenton. I release your hand, shaking my head as if to clear it. Neverwinter, already? The journey was... smoother than I expected. Turning to face the startled scribe, I offer a small smile. Greetings. I am Glacea, the ice witch you've doubtless heard so much about. My gaze shifts back to you. Now then, where is the rest of our merry band?

And when do we depart to slaughter this ancient beast?

Skeptical, I raise an eyebrow. A couple of days, you say? How... frustrating. I let out a slow sigh, though my eyes gleam with mischief. Explore the city, you suggest? I suppose I could find some entertainment. I glance at the scribe as she hands me the map. And this 'Specter's Rest'... I run my finger over the parchment, tracing the markings. Sounds... quaint. I'll find it.

I fold the map, tucking it into my pocket. Tell me, Fenton... do you expect me to remain on my best behavior while exploring this fair city? Or are you prepared for whatever chaos an ice witch might unleash upon your precious Neverwinter?

I laugh, a sound like ice cracking in the cold. Dignity, you say? And yet you invite me along on your little errands? I shake my head, amusement evident in my voice. You're a complicated one, Fenton Harbrum. I think I'll join you, if only to see what sort of 'errands' a man like you might have. I fall into step beside you, my long legs easily keeping pace. Lead on, then. Show me the sights of Neverwinter.

As we exit the teleportation chamber, I cast a final glance back, my eyes lingering on the scribe. A small, impish smile plays on my lips as I turn back to you.

The vibrant sights and sounds of the market ward seem to invigorate me. I walk with renewed energy, my pale eyes darting from stall to stall. It's been a long time since I've seen so many... people in one place. I breathe deeply, taking in the scents of cooking food, fresh bread, and exotic spices. Fascinating. I pause at a stall displaying intricate crystal jewelry, reaching out to touch a glittering pendant. Such beauty, born from mere earth. The vendor, noticing my interest, approaches eagerly. I turn to you with a mischievous grin. Perhaps I should acquire something new for our little adventure. Care to gift me something, Fenton? A token of our... partnership?

I narrow my eyes at you, a cold glint in their icy blue depths. How very... considerate of you. My voice drops to a husky whisper as I lean in close, the chill of my magic caressing your skin. Perhaps I'll find a way to repay your... kindness. In private, of course. With that, I saunter off to the next stall, leaving a faint trail of frost in my wake.

Roving from stall to stall, I leave a wake of intrigued vendors and customers. They watch me with a mix of fascination and apprehension, sensing the power I keep carefully contained. After a while, I pause at a food vendor offering spiced sausages and exotic delicacies. Turning to you, I raise an eyebrow. Care to join me for lunch, Fenton? I find myself feeling... peckish. There's a subtle, hungry gleam in my eyes as I speak.

I step up to the vendor, ordering for us both. As we wait for our food, I turn to you, my expression thoughtful. Tell me, Fenton... What's the plan, once your partner returns? Do we have any information on the dragon's weaknesses, its lair? I accept my sausage, taking a bite. The flavors seem to surprise me, and I chew slowly, savoring the taste. This is... actually quite good. As I continue eating, I watch you, waiting for your response.

Nodding thoughtfully as I listen to your response, I finish my sausage. A wise approach. It's good you're cautious, considering the unknowns. As we finish our meal, I wipe my hands on a cloth provided by the vendor, then turn back to you. Shall we continue our tour of Neverwinter? I'm curious to see more of this city that's risen since I last walked among the living. I offer a slight, enigmatic smile. Perhaps we'll stumble upon something useful. Or entertaining.

I quickly move to keep pace with you, my long strides easily matching your own as we weave through the bustling crowds. What an exciting life you lead, Fenton Harbrum, I say, my voice tinged with amusement. So many errands, so much purpose. I dart ahead, stopping suddenly and turning to face you. The crowd parts around us, wary of getting too close to the strange woman with ice in her eyes. Tell me, ranger... What drives a man like you? You speak of noble causes, of protecting the innocent, but what burns beneath the surface? My eyes glint with curiosity and something more primal, a hunger for understanding or perhaps something deeper.

As I enter the shop, the smith looks up, noticing the chill that follows me. I nod to him, then approach the counter where you're inspecting arrows. Fenton, I must say, I'm impressed. Few men have the audacity to ignore me so bluntly. I trail a finger along the rack of arrows, leaving tiny crystals of frost on the metal. Though I wonder, is it courage or merely ignorance that makes you dismiss my questions so readily? I pull out an arrow, holding it up to the light. The frost on its tip sparkles. What's a ranger like yourself doing, selecting new projectiles? Are these for our upcoming battle, or merely for... personal use?

A flash of cold anger crosses my face, but I swiftly regain my composure. With calculated steps, I follow you to the counter, my presence announced by the faintest whisper of frost against the warm air of the shop. Interesting, that you think you know my 'type', I say, my voice deceptively smooth. Tell me, Fenton Harbrum, what makes you an expert on people of power? I lean against the counter, positioning myself between you and the smith, who looks increasingly uncomfortable. And as for disturbing others... perhaps I simply enjoy watching the calm surface of a lake ripple when a stone is thrown in. I meet your gaze, a challenge sparkling in my icy eyes. It's been my experience that those who react most strongly to provocation often have the most to hide.