Small Things

*lazing about, not ready to wake up yet*

*hears own name...then hears John's voice*

*looks up*

0_0

!!!!! ~~~ JAAAAAAAAAHHH ~~~ !!!!!

*galumph-galumph-galumph-galumph-GALUMPH-GALUMPH-GALUMPH-GALUMPH-SCREEEEEEEEEEEEECH*

*skids to a halt, spraying everyone with sand*

!!!!! JAAAAAAAAAH !!!!!

Edited Date: 2014-07-11 04:00 am (UTC)

From:

0_o

*alarmed, but holds ground...either out of bravery, or, more likely, physical exhaustion*

Martin...you're sure that's...he's...he remembers who he is?

Edited Date: 2014-07-11 04:14 am (UTC)

From:

*to Smauglock*

GENTLY!

*to you*

Yes, we're pretty sure. He certainly remembers you!

From:

Oh...is that what he's saying? My name? I thought it was a battle cry or something.

*looks up at the towering dragon, searching for anything Sherlock-ish...the long; gangly limbs...the sharp, high cheekbones...and finally, the anxious blue eyes*

*slowly grins on one side of mouth*

*and then the other*

*snurk*

Hee hee....

BA-HAHAHAHAhahahahahahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAhahahahaha!!!

Oh my god, Sherlock, what the hell happened to you?? Jesus, mate...you piss off a wizard or what?

From:

*was not expecting this reaction at all*

*and pride is even more easily wounded as a dragon than as a human, if such a thing were even possible*

*HMPH*

*galumphs some distance away and flops down, back towards you all*

*SNORT*

From:

*still giggling*

Shit. I think I hurt his feelings.

Martin, could you...would you mind helping me go butter him up?

From:

I-I'll see what I can do.

*walks over to Smauglock*

Sherlock?

*is met with the cold ~~blooded~~ shoulder*

Aw, come on, Sherlock...

*walks around and puts hands on Smauglock's muzzle*

... don't be such a grumpy dragon. This can't be any worse than the time Simon trapped you in the airing cupboard or the time Caitlin secretly put barrettes your hair before the family photo. Or the time I accidentally gave you a split lip during the egg and spoon race, for that matter. How did that iguana end up on the course anyway?

From:

*SULKING*

*flicks ear to get rid of a buzzing fly, and tries to turn back on you*

*crap John's over that way*

*tries to turn back on him too, and flicks ear again to get rid of the fly*

*tries to turn back on both of you at once, and ends up doing a sulky rolling-around-in-the-sand dragon-dance*

*finally loses temper with the fly altogether and BELCHES a HUGE gout of flame up in the air, incinerating the fly (and indeed any other airborne organisms within several metres)*

From:

*ducks and covers face against the heat*

SHERLOCK! There is a time and a place for a sulk and this is not it. Pull yourself together. When you are ready to behave yourself, John and I will be over there.

*walks off to rejoin the group and leaves you to finish your tantrum*

From:

*sniffs sulkily at being told off*

*but then...*

*ears prick up as John says 'that's amazing' (http://small-things.livejournal.com/12691.html?thread=510099#t510099)*

8D

~~ :D *OMG JAWN IS IMPRESSED YAY* :D ~~

*leaps into the air and does several clumsy flight manoeuvers to show off, creating some mighty wind gusts for all and sundry earthbound creatures to endure*

From:

*watches Martin go*

*yawns, stretches into downward facing ~~dog~~ dragon, and scratches some furrows in the earth with talons*

Oh, my. That was a lovely rest.

Are you feeling better, captain?

From:

*watching Martin and Sherlock*

Hm? Oh, yeah. Better than yesterday, at least. It was yesterday, right? Anyway. I owe you one, all of you.

*thoughtful pause*

You know, that's the second time I've thought I was a goner. First time I was shot. Compared to yesterday...that's the hell of being a doctor, you know. I've treated lots of guys with heat exhaustion, so I knew exactly what was happening when I...when things started shutting down, and just how long I had left once they did.

*startles badly as Sherlock lets fly with a HUGE blast of fire (http://small-things.livejournal.com/12691.html?thread=509843#t509843)*

...FUCKING hell, mate! Jesus Christ, Sherlock, what the hell are you doing??

*a slow smile actually begins to replace the shock...to you*

Is that...can all of your lot do that? That's amazing.

From:

No, not all of us. Only certain varieties. I, for instance, cannot.

*proudly*

However, I do poses the Divine Wind.

From:

*interested*

Oh yeah? What's that, then?

*privately hoping it's not a side effect of having the curry at the Buddha's Delight takeaway*

*as Sherlock shows off*

...Shit! Mind you, he does make it look like fun, doesn't he?

*as Martin arrives*

Wow. Well that was about the ballsiest thing I've ever seen. *off his confused look* Mate, you just told a fucking dragon to mind his manners. Doesn't get much more hardcore than that.

Edited Date: 2014-07-23 06:22 pm (UTC)

From:

I should not like to give a demonstration this close to camp, but the Divine Wind is... a sonic roar capable of great destruction.

I would be happy to give you a demonstration some time.

*smiles a dragon-y smile*

From:

Sonic, eh? Sounds pretty high-tech. Yeah, I'd be well up for that, cheers.

Not that I hope we run into any enemies that need smiting any time soon. Still don't feel up to much, battle-wise.

*shifts uncomfortably, moving arms gingerly to test sore spots on torso where guards administered the ordered beating*

From:

O-oh. I suppose I forgot he was a dragon. My aunt, his mum, told him off a few times while when we were kids and I guess I just remembered what she said to him.

*watches Smauglock's maneuvers*

From what Loki told me, he's improved greatly.

From:

He has.

From:

*startles*

CHRIST! Do you have to sneak up on people?

From:

*mischievous grin*

From:

sybil-t-psychic.livejournal.com

Oh, Mister Loki! There you are. Wonderful.

I was wondering...we've promised the injured prisoners some medical help, and if Doctor Watson feels up to it, I wonder if you might spirit him back to where we left them and assist him? Most of their injuries looked fairly minor.

I'd go myself, but I fear I've rather overtaxed my wand these last few hours. Best give it a rest for a bit.

From:

I doubt a portal would be in our best interest given recent events, but I will escort him if you wish. I think the Portkey would be the best option.

*to John*

Soldier, do you feel up to treating some minor injuries?

From:

*wry smile*

What, you mean besides my own?

*testing ribs gingerly*

Yeah, let me at 'em. To say those bastards viewed their work force as expendable is an understatment. It's been nagging at me since I got here; what I could do with just a basic first aid kit.

From:

*quickly retrieves the Portkey boot and hands it to you*

Hold this.

*gathers up all the supplies we have that might be of use to John while he treats the wounded*

Let us be off.

*touches the boot in your hands and... nothing happens*

*looks puzzled then touches it again; no go*

*takes it from you and gives it a shake*

Sybil, is there a trick to this?

From:

sybil-t-psychic.livejournal.com

*frowns and examines the boot in your hands*

It should still work. I believe I did the spell correctly...though mind you, it's been a few years since my O.W.L.'s...

*touches one corner of the boot - which seems to be the missing ingredient, as the boot suddenly responds to the hand that (somewhat inexpertly) cast the spell on it*

Oooooooh!!!

*yelps as the three of us disappear in a whirl*

From:

*blinks*

Well. Maybe that's for the best. That Doctor Watson fellow didn't look too chipper; perhaps he can give better aid to the prisoners with two people helping him rather than one.

I rather wish it hadn't been the only two people in our camp with magical abilities, though. Even with Noxs gone and the guards scattered, I'd feel much more comfortable with at least one person about who's handy with a spell.

Mind you, I suppose we do still have both dragons.

From:

*pauses in the middle of showing off just in time to see John disappear*

!!!!! ~~~ JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!! ~~~!!!!!!

*lands clumsily and galumphs over to the spot where he vanished, clawing at the sand like a dog searching for a bone*

Edited Date: 2014-07-24 07:37 pm (UTC)

From:

Calm down, my good dragon! He has only gone to help the other prisoners. I am certain he will be back soon!

*twitches tail nervously despite calm manner*

*to Bilbo, sotto voce*

I don't suppose they said when they would return?

From:

*shrugs*

Whenever they've finished treating all the prisoners, I imagine. Though I do wish they'd given us some idea of how many there were. That way we might be able to better estimate when to start worrying if they don't return.

*uncomfortable pause; clears throat*

Well then. In the meantime, I suppose we'd best prepare for the journey ahead. Have we enough provisions? Water? Oh yes, and we'll have to retrieve our motor bicycles. Don't want to leave those behind.

*glances at Archie*

Is there some...*gestures uncertainly*...contrivance in your harness that could ease the voyage somewhat for our two invalids?

From:

*looks at harness*

Unfortunately, I am without my belly netting. That would make things considerably easier for everyone. Or not. Some people become sea sick.

*looks out at the landscape and catches sight of the river*

Since there is a river, might not there be fish? If there are fish, there might be fishing nets. If you could find a good, sturdy fishing net, you could certainly attach that to my harness. I would suggest carrying them in my claws, but would be uncomfortable for a long journey.

From:

ollie-omen.livejournal.com

*overhears*

There's nets and tarps and things underneath the prison; down in the tunnels near the reservoir. The blast shouldn't have reached the store rooms; I'll go and fetch them.

*leaves on the net-gathering errand*

From:

*watches Oliver go*

Ah, good then. Now that's sorted...*studies your harness*...would the ride perhaps be gentler near your neck or chest? I'm just thinking of mothers with new babies. Back home in the Shire, we tote our little ones about in a sort of pouch that drapes around in front. Perhaps if Mr Oliver can find enough netting, we could rig up a similar sort of cradle-sling?

Oh, and have you and Mr Sherlock eaten and drunk quite enough? Here I am thinking of provisions for us passengers who'll be doing little more than enjoying the ride, and completely forgetting our transport!

From:

I dare say that should work rather well, especially since there are so few of you. And I am certain you will make better passengers than forty soldiers preparing for battle.

I should like to pack some meat to take along if Sherlock is up to roasting some of those lizard creatures. And of course we should have one last drink just before we depart.

*turns to where Smauglock is still scrabbling around in the dirt*

If you are quite finished, Sherlock, perhaps we should do a little hunting? That way we can be ready to leave when your Captain Watson returns.

From:

*snaps head up*

*food for Jawn?*

*IS MIGHTY HUNTER AND WILL GET FOOD FOR JAWN*

Jah!

*stands at the ready*

From:

*to Bilbo*

We will be back shortly, Master Baggins.

*to Smauglock*

Come along, then!

*leaps into the air and soars off toward the river valley*

From:

*waves as you both flap away, sheliding eyes from the morning sun*

*quietly, under breath*

...And there goes the last of our protection. I do hope they're not gone too long.

*claps hands together and turns round to face Martin*

Well then! Looks like we'd better get things organised for when they return. Best to get an early start on any journey, I've always found.

From:

*grabs John's arm to steady him as we reappear in the cells*

Well... that was... unexpected.

*guides John to a throne-like chair which starts shrieking "NEIN! NEIN! NEIN!" as soon as John sits*

*loudly, over the shrieks* Perhaps not that one. *pulls over a plain, wooden chair as a replacement*

From:

*hops up quickly from the yelping chair, as though stuck with a pin*

Beg pardon, I'm sure.

*sits in the wooden chair*

Ah, that's better. Just right. Why do I feel like I'm depriving a baby bear somewhere of his rightful furniture?

*rubs face tiredly at your and Sybil's expectant gaze, then pinches bridge of nose and concentrates*

Okay. Right. Start sorting all the patients by injury: burns; contusions; fractures; exposure; malnutrition. Most serious first, of course. And let's get an inventory of our supplies so we know what we've got to work with.

From:

Yes, sir.

*sidles off to find some of the wounded*

From:

sybil-t-psychic.livejournal.com

This way, dear boy.

*leads you to where we left the prisoners waiting, and helps you sort them into groups and take stock of our supplies*

From:

*takes a deep, tired breath...then smiles, watching you depart*

*quietly, to self*

I just gave the god of mischief his marching orders. I don't know whether to feel chuffed or terrified.

*prepares for the patients to start arriving*

From:

*returns supporting a young woman with a bloody cloth wrapped around her leg*

Patient number one, Doctor.

From: