When the persistent dragon directed its fury at the inn, the first proper lodging Welt would have in weeks, the first haven which was not a cemetery -- here it should be said that Welt did not discriminate against the inanimate dead by any means, and was oft seen by the likes of Goffrey emerging from a hole and noting silent deference to his mute skeletal hosts before departing --  Welt decided [color=007236][i]it's enough! I shan't sleep in half-dug graves tonight![/i][/color]

Temerariously, he charged at the beast as it staggered towards the treeline from behind, almost slipping on the bloody trail left by the wound, and then with all the power his atrophied legs lent him he jumped and grabbed hold, haloing the tip of the dragon's tail, mounting as if it were a horse. It flapped around viciously but Welt wouldn't let go. He rattled and rattled in the air as if he were the tail of a giant, scaly rattlesnake, was smacked on the ground many times, roots and dirt filling his cavities; but he did not let go.