And we're back, from wherever it is we were, to the Stormy duel-battle-skirmish.
Damon is getting clever and Yolvich is getting snipey.
The dragon is getting completely and utterly ticked.
As the last vestige of flame is removed from its scales, it snaps its head in the direction of Damon with nothing but contempt and hatred visibly glowing through its eyes.
He was right about it seeking to stamp out the new flames as they appeared.
Everyone was wrong about the winds dying down after the first fireball was thrown.
In what is possibly a record case of tactic whiplash, the dragon has gone from vaguely playing to becoming completely seeing-red enraged.
Yolvich is forgotten briefly (which is probably useful, if he's pulling crossbow shenanigans) and the wyrm screams into the sky, inciting more thunder and lightning to erupt from the surrounding storm.
Then it proceeds to charge straight towards Damon, a frenzied twister of air surrounding its form as it goes.
Has the fellow ever wondered what it's like to be charged by a tornado full of teeth and claws? He's about to find out.