"Easy really... my name is Gee Tee and my Mantra Emporium is the stuff of legend. Surely a dragon of your knowledge and experience has heard of me?"
Puzzled humans mingled with even more puzzled dragons. Surely he couldn't have been referring to the young, silky dragon standing before them? But of course he was, and those watching didn't have the benefit of the hundreds of years of experience the master mantra maker had.
"I've heard of you, if of course you are who you say you are."
"Who else would possibly claim to be me?" Gee Tee snorted. "Grumpy, uptight, a stuck up menace to dragon society in general, as well as a cheap old phoney are just some of the nicer things that have been attributed to me over the course of time."
A smile spread out across the newcomer's face.
"I'd heard that too."
"So there it is. You now know that it's me. But you're something of a conundrum youn... I nearly said youngster. But that's not you at all, is it? Perhaps an introduction would go some way to avoid any mistrust. I have my suspicions, but I think it might be better if they all hear it from you."
Fingertips their normal selves, all hint of magic dispelled, the famed dragon in front of them reached the only decision possible.
"Most of you will know me, even if you don't fully recognise my reconstructed body. I'm STEEL... and I've been known to partake in a little laminium ball."
Stealthy gasps were let loose from everyone's mouths, apart from the humans of course, who still had little idea about what on earth was going on.
"YOU DIED!" accused one of Gee Tee's team. "Nobody could possibly have survived beneath the lava as long as you did."
Nodding his head in understanding, the brave laminium ball player thought hard about how to address the dragon's very real concerns.
"I understand your scepticism and in a lot of ways share your apprehension. I don't know the exact details of what happened, but I'll gladly tell you what I do know. Apparently after I bobbed to the surface, but a charred collection of internal organs, some of my scales bubbled up, collected by one of the quick thinking medics. While what little remained of my life was held in place by a series of powerful mantras, a group of geneticists was called in to see if there was anything they could do. Given who I was, money was no object, and so over time these free thinking, experienced individuals were able to clone brand new scales for me from those that had been saved. After a series of life threatening operations, the scales were grafted onto my newly healed skin, and then using a pattern of laminium enhanced laser therapies, it was deemed that the new me was about as good as it was going to get. I was told all this three days ago when I was brought out of the catatonic state that I'd been in ever since the match. Also, it was made clear in no uncertain terms that I would need to rest and recuperate for at least the next six months. Needless to say, that's gone straight out of the window."
"How did you survive?"
"I don't know. They tell me that what little there was left of me refused to give in and die. That's all I know. You think all this is a shock to you. Imagine being in my position, waking up in a new body that feels very much how I'd imagine one of the human's rubber gloves would. And then only a short time later, I'm fighting nagas, slaying dark dragons and then finding the domain that I love and call home is all but under attack. To say I'm still a little confused is something of an understatement. But I'm here, and I'm not running away. I want to know what the hell's going on, and would like nothing more than to get my hands on those responsible for inflicting these dastardly events."
This seemed to have the desired effect on those who had any doubt about the brave laminium ball player's story. Of which Gee Tee was not one. He'd long since made up his mind.
"So will you join us?" asked the shopkeeper.
"With a view to doing what?"
"The world needs to know what's going on. Currently no communication is possible. As far as we know, the crystal node in Fleet Street has been taken down by the enemy's force. We're going to put that right, and put them out of their misery."
"I do like the sound of that," added Steel thoughtfully.
"So what do you say?" reiterated the master mantra maker.
"Do you have room for a few more?"
This raised several eyebrows.
"You can come out now," ventured Steel. "SLOWLY!"
Creeping out of the surrounding buildings, eagerly complying with their elected leader's instruction, a dozen or more dragons made their way into the light of the scorching fire, led purposefully by the two recent additions, Jar Man and DomCon, both ready to fight, both ready to die for the cause.
"These are all who survived from the medical facility. Good doctors, nurses and healers. Handy in a fight and particularly on the kind of mission you've just told me about. I'd be happy to join forces, just as long as you're not going to throw away dragon lives needlessly. I for one value each and every one of them, and while I understand the reality of the situation we all find ourselves in, I'm keen that they, and all of your other dragons, live to see another day."
"I couldn't have put it better myself," declared Gee Tee, offering his hand out towards the famed laminium ball captain.
"Good," added Steel, shaking the proffered hand. "Let's get this show on the road."
And so with the two teams blending seamlessly into one, and Gee Tee casting the noise cancelling mantra onto the new recruits as well as introducing them to not only the other dragons but the humans as well, the ragged force filtered off into the shadows, their destination getting ever nearer.
Earth's surface. Salisbridge, England.
Tall, splendid, magnificent, that's how it looked... to nearly everyone, anyway. And just like most days, there were a lot here to admire it today. Overlooking the city and the renowned water meadows, Salisbridge Cathedral glistened in the sparkling sun against the backdrop of a brilliant, clear blue sky. Visitors from across the world milled outside in groups small and large, filling up not only the adjacent grounds but also much of the famed Close surrounding it, most holding cameras, taking pictures of loved ones on their phones, or just the structure from odd and jaunty angles, doing their best to avoid the scaffolding involved in the major repairs to the outside. These had been going on since the late 20th century, carrying on something of a tradition really, as a major restoration effort had taken place throughout the 18th and 19th centuries as well. Standing since the 12th century, with the extraordinary spire added sometime later, the spectacular place of worship has been the centrepiece of the area for many hundreds of years, throughout that time captivating all those that set eyes on it. Parents and children mingled, students lounged about on the benches and grass, as runners and cyclists weaved in and out of the tourists.
Breathless would best describe those that had never seen it in the flesh, so to speak, before. As well as the groups dotted about the grounds, a long, snaking queue meandered back from the entrance with those eager to take in the ancient delights hidden inside, some taking the tower tour all the way up to the top of Britain's tallest spire to soak up that glorious view. Others would no doubt marvel at the stunning stained glass windows, the cloisters, the north and south transepts and the world's oldest working clock. The inside truly was a work of genius and was well worth travelling thousands of miles to see.
Amongst those paying a visit today were a group who considered themselves mischief makers. A more apt description though, would have been... TERRORISTS! But not the usual sort... the magical kind. Three of them to be precise, all females, all ready to use their gifts to rain down destruction on this quiet and peaceful city. Two had queued patiently to get inside and had now split up in an effort to maximise damage to the revered minster. In dark blue jeans and a white knitted jumper, with a camera dangling from her neck, handbag slung over her shoulder, her guide book open in both hands, gradually she made her way up the nave, passing a gorgeous, modern looking font amid row after row of pews, until she reached the pulpit and seats for the choir that faced side on to the pews that were now sprinkled with people. Glancing up at the ceiling and the majestic stained glass of her surroundings, gradually she crept up the steps between the seats that would house the choir. Abruptly, her handbag slid off her shoulder, landing with something of a noise, spilling out a great deal of its contents. But not the most important object. That had been tucked away in a zipped pocket. Letting out a small gasp, she made a big deal of bending down and scrabbling around on the floor, picking up everything she'd dropped. Of course it was all subterfuge. As she hastily threw everything back in the bag, her body conveniently shielding everything she was doing, she unzipped the pocket, pulled the C4 with the duck tape already attached and swiftly placed it against the underside of one of the seats. The tiniest of red lights blinked on to say that it was armed. Her work finished, she scooped up her bag and its contents, turned around and headed back down the steps just as a tour guide arrived to see if she was okay. Expressing her thanks, she told him she was fine, and just a tad clumsy. They both chuckled before heading their separate ways, him off to rejoin the group he was showing around, whilst she sauntered towards the exit, pleased that she'd completed her part of the assignment.