The dragon hadn't exactly considered how he was going to get all of this stuff back to Monoceros.

He'd spent the last few days rooting around Polaris, gathering gemstones here and there--a couple might have been "eggs" of a sort, another was the chrysalis of a smaller being. He only had two feet, though, and a (admittedly large-jawed) mouth. Dread had, at least, stashed a large number of the crystals and scraps up on a high ledge, reachable only by the air--but now he was nosing and clawing at the very edge of the Dam's crumbled ruins. He could see the Golems in the distance, shuffling here and there, and he'd warily kept his own: he wasn't sure if they were hostile, and all else aside, he didn't particularly feel like picking a fight with rocks.

He hadn't found much, though; and even now, flipping a few small slabs and shards of stone away, he saw nothing that sparked his interest. There was no shine of color, no glint of translucent light, and so the dragon--his scales dully shining, here and there, in the Spire's distant light--kept shoving through the piles. He wing-walked to and fro, his tail slowly swaying out behind him, wholly absorbed in his task.

@Howl

Meanwhile, the sneak thief was doing what he did best - okay, well, second best - prowling through the caves looking for useless, but hopefully priceless, trinkets and treasures.

Howl absolutely did not, either, have an efficient method of carrying things around. He was just one somewhat average-sized creature with a set of hands and hand-feet. The prehensile tail could be a little helpful, but not very much. There wasn't much strength there for lugging around anything worthwhile. So, with his perfect memory and total clarity of mind, the sticky-fingered lad wound up with a cache in Polaris.

It's more likely than not that he'll forget about it by next week. Oh, well! He was living his best life.

That is, until he meandered towards the crystalline river and rubble of the dam that once held it at bay. Mismatched eyes went wide, ears flattening, at the sight of an old - ah, what was the best word to describe such a fellow? Friend? Rival? Fire-breathing murder machine? That was on the money.

Howl dropped onto all fours, tail lashing as he skittered behind a rock. They were both away from home - and this cave was open with fairly flat terrain. Nooks and crannies ran all over. If it came to a firefight, the hybrid could simply flee with his fur intact, this time. But, he was having an impetuous streak. His fingers began to feel along the stones and pebbles, sifting through them at lightning-pace. Unable to restrain himself when he came upon a choice gift, he hoo-hoo-hah!ed. The sound carried easily toward Dread, though Howl supposed it would only alert the dragon to his position.

So, with all the confidence in the world, he whirled about, tensed to run, and hollered, "aye, Draggin - Ah've gots sumn'n fer yah if yah'll lis'n fer a sec'nd!" He puttered forwards a few steps, and hurled the goodie towards Dread's feet. It was a nice Howl-fist-sized chunk of fool's gold, each polished cuboid facet glimmering in the light. "Dun' take it t' lightleh now, Draggin! Ah've got an offah. Lettin' bygones be gones!"

If one were to even take a glance at Howl's posture, they'd find that he was fully prepared to bolt on the spot.

@Dread

Dread spun sharply at the strange hooting call, head coming up and snapping this way and that as his ember eyes searched the darker shadows.

When the piece of gold, or near-gold, clattered to a halt at his feet he inspected it at once, again this way and that. A long-taloned hind foot then stepped greedily forth to claim it, claws carefully closing over it and withdrawing it beneath his weight.

Dread looked up. There was a creature, speaking--and he thought he recognized it, though it took a moment for it to click. His eyes widened with memory, and rage: this was the creature that had stolen from him! The one he'd thought he'd killed! Disappointment and frustration flickered through him; his satisfaction at incinerating the creature had suddenly, all these cycles later, been torn away.

But... it had tossed him a shiny, and what's more, it was speaking. He puzzled, for a moment, over its thick and chewy words. Whatever Howl's bizarre accent was, though, it left the dragon shaking his head in irritated confusion, like a dog with fleas in its ears, as if to shake the sheer weirdness out.

"WHAT?" he demanded. "WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?! I REMEMBER YOU. BUT I DO NOT KNOW YOUR WORDS! -DID I NOT KILL YOU!?" He huffed, staring at the distant primate, smoke twining up now from his nostrils.

@Howl

Step one - getting his gift accepted - had gone off without a hitch. It was almost immediately swept beneath the hoarder, though he already started to huff and puff with smoke twirling through the air with every movement of the head. Howl stood further on his fingers and toes, ready to skedaddle-skedoodle the hell outta here.

Pointedly, the sneak-thief cleared his throat. Not a single soul in these caves knew what a proper English-speaking fella sounded like, and Draggin was just proof of it. Mistah and Missus, even. "Yeah! But Ah'm bettah now!" So far, so good, even with the excessive, slow drawl on each word spoken. "I was sayin' - Mistah Draggin, Ah've got a deal for yah! Are yah list'n'n?"

@Dread

Dread shook himself, dog-like, in irritation. It was the monkey's voice: it grated on him, its foolish accent seeming to ring and screech in his ears. He hated it.

His spines rattled as he did so, and when he stopped they continued to clatter quietly for a moment more. He then narrowed his eyes in a sort of grimace, facing Howl. ...He still sort of wished the monkey was dead; he wasn't quite sure how one recovered from death. None of the things I eat ever come back. If I kill this again, I will eat it! he decided.

But, aloud--if reluctantly--he simply spoke to the thing, rather than any tearing or fire or eating.

"TELL ME, THEN," he boomed, and waited--ember eyes lingering on Howl with unconcealed suspicion.

@Howl

Hook, line, and sinker!

Now, this was going better than could ever be predicted. Howl's hands finally went palms-flat, shifting through the pebbly floor as he sat down. Many spirited gestures were in order for his speech.

"Ah'm thinkin' to mahself in me death, y'know - Ah'm a thief and that fellow, thas' a Mistah Draggin if Ah've ever seen one. Ah'll bet Ah can cut a helluva deal with'm." Now, none of these prior thoughts had ever occured until a minute ago. Upon pushing out of his stone, Howl's first cognizant thoughts were to get away from the big bad dragon hoarding all of the good stuff to himself.

But, salesman Howl was talking and moving on autopilot. Before he knew it, he was up and dancing towards Dread - dead-set on cupping the dragon's snout to continue talking out of his ass, "what say we make a good 'ol fashin'd deal, Mistah Draggin? Ah'll be doin' a whole lotta sticky fingerin' and thieve-ah-ree for yah - and yah'll let the past be the past, eh? 'n be supplyin' me some protection."

@Dread

He was puzzled at most of what Howl was saying--because he didn't understand the vast majority. The slurring drawl was unlike anything he'd heard, and his suspicion only rose--to dangerous levels--as the primate sauntered toward him.

He inhaled, intending to blast out a burst of warning flame, but he was rushed--his eyes and his attention fixed on the ever-closer monkey--and instead he inhaled a cloud of his own internally-burning embers.

What resulted was likely confusing to view, to say the least: the black dragon suddenly reared back with a pained roar, and began thrashing and lashing, whirling back on himself. His tail whipped through the air, dangerously close overhead to where Howl had been slipping closer, and slammed with a shattering crack into a boulder; his claws raked at the stone as he twisted rapidly, snakelike, this way and that. Another roar escaped him, coughing this time, and smoke billowed from hanging-open jaws. He was facing away, then forward, then up, his wings half-spread and mantling, his neck arched down and fangs glinting in the Spire's light.

When at last the agony subsided, he turned, anger and pain burning in him (with an unfortunate level of literal-ness) and glared at Howl--or at least, where he'd been, assuming he hadn't bolted at the display. It certainly could have seemed, without the context of having inhaled his own flames, that the dragon had simply thrown a sudden, violent tantrum.

There was strain in his voice as he spoke.

"SPEAK PLAINLY! I DO NOT UNDERSTAND YOU. AND MY NAME IS DREAD." He hissed and shook himself, his eyes squeezing briefly shut.

Damn that had hurt.

@Howl

Ah, maybe he was pushin' his luck a bit - Draggin was rearing back to spit a gout of flame and the sneak-thief sure didn't want to be in the way of it. Without a moment's hesitation, Howl scrammed towards the cover of a boulder, which was almost immediately slammed by a massive tail. Oh, he was in for it now, wasn't he? Adrenaline ran wild through his veins as he clutched at the stone. His brain screamed that he take back his oh-so-precious gift (from beneath the dragon, no less) and properly make his exit. His brain also screamed to keep pushing the deal. Third time was the charm, eh?

Once the Draggin - Dread - hissed out a command to speak even plainer than he already was, Howl pulled himself abreast and onto the stone. It was shaping up to be quite a nice pedestal. Clearing his throat rather dramatically, he grumbled, "a'ight, a'ight, a'ight, Dread." His lips moved oddly for a second, silently mouthing words and trying to rearrange into what he somewhat remembered of a standard Gembound accent.

It was a little bastardized, but hopefully his spirited gestures would be helpful enough. "How about we make - a good 'ol fashioned deal, Mistah Dread? We can let the past be the past, eh? Ah'll steal whatevah ya want for yah - and yah can provide a bitta protection." Howl grimaced into his hand. Ugh, every word sounded and felt wrong when he was trying to be understandable.

@Dread

Dread shook himself, blinking away the pain, and turned to face Howl. Or-... where Howl had run off to.

He blinked, peering around,

"I will not EAT you if you do not STEAL from me. FIND ME SHINIES," he agreed, with a growl to his voice--mostly born of resentment of his own backfired flame. "BUT DO NOT STEAL." He was thinking, here, specifically of Asimona. The last thing he wanted was for the stupid monkey to steal shinies from a friend-dragon, and upset her, and cause problems! ...Anyway, he'd given her some of her shinies. "IF YOU STEAL FROM MY FRIENDS, I WILL KILL YOU, AND BURN YOU, AND EAT YOU." It was not entirely clear in which order he would do this, and he did not think to list his "friends."

Oh, well.

"I WILL HEAR YOU FROM MY DEN IN MONOCEROS," he added, in a growl.

And then he leaned forward, smoke pluming up from his nostrils as he craned his neck toward Howl. "What is your name?" he demanded. He couldn't remember if the creature had given it, or not, but now he was interested, and so now, he asked.

@Howl

Now, now, now, big fella. Here's where the plan started to take shape, form up, et cetera, et cetera. Howl's tail flicked to and fro, mismatched eyes lighting up in the core-light with such a glee. It'd he hard to not steal from the big dragon's hoard (he was yet unaware of the complete destruction of the path leading up to it) but the sneak-thief was thinking, for one, he could manage it. He could keep his hands to himself if it meant not being incinerated into a chrysalis a second time.

The hybrid plodded forward on all fours, then offered a paw. "A'ight, Mistah Dread, you've gotcha'self a deal! Ah'll leave ya shinies and treasures under ya den in Monoceros, eh?" Seemed fair enough to not steal from friends - he was imagining equally big, stinky dragons - "shake on it?" Howl glanced at any of Dread's limbs. None of them were hands. "Ah, nevahmind, I getcha." His hand fell back to earth.

"Ah'm Howl Quickclaw and I'll be the greatest shiny-hunter known to the caves!" The sneak-thief puffed his chest out, brushing some nonexistent dust off it.

@Dread