Entering the Chronoscape

If he was being honest, Astarote was curious just how the boy planned to go about things. In the time he had been staying with Alistair St. James he had learned more than a bit about how the family worked. It was impossible not to, if one had functioning eyes - or ears- and an inkling of how old blood and old nobility worked. He was all too familiar with both, and all that was left to be determined was just how the boy would take things. St. James was not a charity, nor would it ever be one, and though he had certainly paid his room and board in his stay he knew there would be a reimbursement. Alistair however wasn't as crude as many such folk, even in his own bloodline from what he had seen. Which left the question of just what a 'private talk' with the boy would entail exactly. The prospects looked good, initially, if he was honest. A horse had been tacked for them each and Rose seemed intent to join them, not that he imagined the dragoness would ever be ridden as such. He nodded to her and waited for the boy to mount before claiming his own seat. Not a bad horse, and one of a few in the stables as opposed to dragons too large for the Lady to allow inside. The chestnut was steady for all he could see working him. Never flinched even having hay bales dropped nearby or when pushed to work.

He hadn't ridden for pleasure since arriving, so the prospect was anything but unappealing. The route they took was lush, the forest swiftly closing in and cutting sound off from the city. Replacing voices and labor with birdsong and the innocent skittering of creatures burying their prizes for winter. He had let himself relax, waiting for the boy to begin, but his senses pricked suddenly as the skittering went quiet. Sitting up farther, and frowning when the birdsong followed. Only the slightest whisper of wind in the leaves was left, and all at once he was off his saddle and on top of the boy. Snarling as an arrow took a chunk of his hair with it.

There was only so much he could do to gentle their landing, and he grunted as Rose stood, hooves flashing, and then her horns flashed fit to blind. A shriek as Luci dove, neither fully aware what was happening, but he pushed the boy when he moved. "Stay!" he snarled, no hint of the warmth his tone usually carried even as he shoved himself up. He had no idea who they were, but when the first lunged a blade was in his hands. The unfortunate fell in pieces and the dragons were suddenly focused on the same threat he had already detected.

"Keep your boy safe, Rose." he advised, bodily shielding both as his eyes darkened. Glaring at the forces he sensed in the treeline and baring his fangs at them, "I think we can reevaluate debts and repayment... momentarily... Alistair?" it was almost a smirk, but the shadow in his eyes chilled the levity, and the glare he sent at their foes made the strangers pause. It gave the soldier time to take stock of them, and choose his targets. A dozen options played out in a heartbeat, and by two he had cut down half mentally. A blink and he moved, acting on the same faster than thought. Muscle memory tore their leader clean in half, and the one to his left was decapitated in the return stroke. A twist and his blade was through another, ducking a gun - higher tech than he had seen thus far, and he claimed the weapon as he moved. Felt wings behind him as Luci and her companion took their own blood for the threat.

A boot pinned a youngster down, breaths deeper, but not winded despite the carnage. Crouching to lift their unfortunate choice, careful not to throttle the rogue as he kicked and twisted. "Silence!" the word hit with enough force even those behind him froze. Astarote didn't smirk, blood spotted him faintly, but he had mostly avoided the spray. His target wasn't so lucky, and he growled to keep the youngster's focus. "You are going to go back to whomever hired you." he asserted, a little shake to keep his captive off balance and retain his focus. "You are going to go back, and you are going to tell the imbicile exactly what you saw today. Is that clear?" he asked. The terrified nod earned a hint of a smile, and he let the scrabbling feet touch down again. The soil boggy, but it was better than being throttled by your lapels. "You will tell them what happened here, and you will tell them precicely how foolish it is to attack a St. James or their allies, is that understood?" more nodding, and the acrid tang of fear sharpened with piss. He closed his senses against it, and shoved the ragtag mess away from him. Granting the youth a moment to garner some balance before he turned back, "I said GO!" the Voivode roared, and birds vacated the trees around them as his messenger clawed the ground and took off. Practically on all fours for several meters before managing to get upright and dive into the brush. For a moment he stood, silent in the chaos and refuse. Studying it. A necromancer couldn't have revived what was left there, bits and pieces littered about. Tendons and muscle severed just so, ensuring they wouldn't work properly even if their owners had lived. A long moment passed, as his eyes faded from burnished steel back to the soft stormcloud grey, smoky and billowing as he wiped a hand off and offered it to the boy. "Someone needs to hire considerably better mercenaries, it would seem?" he offered, the half smile and nonchalance back as fast as they had disappeared. No one harmed those who called Lochesh friends, and certainly not with impunity. It would be intriguing to see where such led, but for now he cleaned the boy up and moved to retrieve his mount.

Astarote glanced up as Sleipnr appeared, fury incarnate, "I would send your little friend after, one is best to leave a survivor to tell their tales to foes; but they also serve as excellent track for the same." he offered, unphased by the stallion's fury. He would be doing the same when his host was safely back home, but for now the dragon may as well start the hunt for them. He certainly had more right to the fool's blood than they did, he had simply been a bit closer. A bit faster. Moments, and it was all over, and yet only just begun. "Do you feel up to riding?" he asked the nobleman, unconsciously checking everyone for injury; though he was confident none had been badly harmed, at least.