“Where I come from,” a voice spoke, loud and confident. Although... As Masquerade flicked her ears, she could just detect something behind that bravado: a hint of nervousness, “it is traditional in stories for the dragons to be killed with a sword, or perhaps a lance.” Ferix turned to the source of the voice, holding his jaw were several of his fangs were knocked loose and a trickle of blood flowed from his mouth. There was a figure seated on the stands, fidgeting in the darkness of the smoke.