Of dreams and dragons.....

Malachi moans and thrashes weakly in her sleep, dreaming nightmares.

In her mind's eye, she's reliving that fateful day . . . . .

Malachi mutters something scatological as she again thinks about what a fool she's being. In the past, Carradene had been a close friend and confidant, but . . . . the man had changed in the decades that she had lost contact with him. What she had seen and heard of what Carradene had become on that island made her cringe, but she owed Carradene, and she'd be damned to not fulfill a matter of debt. It was a matter of honor. Something that only a few of her friends of dragon kind seemed to have any earthly idea what it was. Most of dragon kind were little more than forces of nature, taking and doing what they pleased, no matter who it hurt. She remembered the Olde ways, where dragonkind was supposed to be protectors and teachers. Thanks to a general corruption, the way was a fading dream. In fact, most of dragon kind had branded her a Rogue for her beliefs.

"Better a rogue dragon, than an honorless monster." mutters the dragoness sadly. Most times, people run and scream when they saw her in her true form. It didn't used to be so, but it was so now.

Winging higher, she blinks when she sees a volcano that hadn't been there in her magical glimpses of the island. Hard enough that she would have to deal with a contemporary dragon, one equal if not better in the Arte. Now this.

Spotting strange buildings, the dragoness comes in low and fast for a quick flyby to get an idea of what is up. Human looking figures with strange weapons open numerous wounds in her breast and legs. Instinctively, she dives and tries desperately to streak away from these deadly creatures.

She screams in terror that she hasn't felt in centuries as the air around her starts to explode. Several fragments of metal tear into the membranes of her wings and her tail. She's out of control!!

She finds herself falling towards the water well beyond the strange encampment, ready to make peace with her maker. She couldn't swim, and she'd sink like a stone in the rough surf.

A surprise landing on the pirate ship and her overextending herself in defending herself magically nearly proves to be the end of her. Only the miraculous intervention of a dragonslayer . . . . . a DRAGONSLAYER! . . . . . . prevents her from dying.

In her delirium, she had touched a mind that . . . . put as much value on honor and nobility as she herself had. She poured out her soul to this man, and in return in the unintentional exchange, had gotten a sense of the man's life and history. She felt . . . . something form between them.

In her delerium, she had obeyed the werefox's desperate orders and had shifted into her human form. A sharp bite was the only thing that had saved her.

A sense of strength filled her, replacing the dreaded cold . . . .draining sensation she had been feeling. It proved to be fleeting, but at least it had stopped the downward slide into oblivion.

She moans as she feels her body tingle and itch all over. She feels her feet twist and elongate into something that looks like a cross between the lower legs of a fox and human legs. Her knees pop and reverse as her legs shift to a digititred stance. She feels her tailbone lengthen and break past the skin of her rear. It grows into a large, soft, furry fox tail. Her face pushes out into a sharp muzzle filled with sharp canine teeth. Her ears grow pointed and move towards the top of her shifting skull. She grows a golden coat of fur over most of her body.

She sees herself offering help to the were-foxes, and being rejected.

She collapses, and barely is able to muster the strength to cast a spell that even a youngling only a hundred years old can manage. She causes the ship to become invisible to the naked eye of human (and others') eyes.

She remembers the werefox, Fred, carrying her from the ship, into this . . . . cave.

She comes awake with a shout, and sits bolt upright from the cave floor.

"Feeling better?" Fred asks worriedly. A pile of some type of meat sits roasting over a small fire. "Hungry?"

Malachi's mouth begins to water despite herself, and her stomach growls in hunger. However, her eyes are fixed on the young werefox in front of her. She feels her heart racing and her hands, with their black leathery pads, are sweating.

"I'm . . . feeling better," she says in a abstracted voice. "And . . . I'm famished."

She greedily devours the offered meat, not caring what it actually might be. Finally sated, she stands and again stares at Fred. Fred coughs uncomfortably, also feeling a stirring in his breast (and other places).

Fred looks into the former dragoness' golden eyes, and marvels at how . . . . divinely lovely she is! Her golden fur is perfectly matched by the glossy white fur of her chest. The white fur graces her inner thighs, chest, and the tip of her fluffy tail. Her tail is long and luxuriantly fluffy. It was nearly as long as her upper body was tall, and nearly as wide in it's body.

Fred snaps out of his stupor, coughs, and nervously laughs. The vixen blinks, coming back to herself, and also laughs nervously. She then sobers, and sits.

"Lord Fred, I'm afraid that Eye met Eye," Malachi murmurs. "I'm sorry."

"Huh?" Fred asks intelligently. Malachi sighs, seeing that Fred doesn't have any idea what she's talking about.

"When our eyes met," she explains. "Our hearts were bound to each other, psychically. It was unintentional, but . . . . ."

"We're in love?" Fred blinks, suddenly understanding. "But . . . I am in love with Alicia, I think."

"I know," the vixen says sadly. "There's nothing for it."

A uncomfortable silence follows, and then Malachi tries to change the subject.

"Maybe you can . . . .bring me up to speed on what is happening on this island?" she asks hopefully. Her face falls when she hears what happened to Malachi.

"He was . . . the only one that could cure the lycanthropy." she whispers. Malachi was the only being known that had been able to do anything with lycanthropy besides shattering it along with the effected Matrix (the basis that determines a creatures shape). She then tells a crestfallen Fred how dangerous tampering with the makeup of lycanthropy.

"So, most would be cures are worse than the disease/curse?" Fred asks in a weak voice. "Removing the curse causes the victim to shift uncontrollably into millions of different forms before falling totally to a puddle of flesh?"

"Well, maybe we can find something." Malachi temporizes. Maybe they can find a cure . . . . and maybe she'll be elected the next Pope. There were always possibilities.......

1. Soon, after an earthquake rocks the island, certain party members find out . . . . that the island isn't going to be around too much longer. Has something to do with the new volcano....

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