(dwarven thoughts appear in english)
It was like Reginn wasn’t there. His mind kept wandering back to the fight with the red dragon. A fight which came so close to defeat. A fight where the dragon shrugged off every single spell Reginn threw at it. The power. The resilience.
It was a fire dragon. Perhaps it did have a spark of the fire of creation within it. Perhaps that is why none of the prayers worked.
During the journey back towards Mistmoor Reginn was in deep contemplation. Rarely speaking to anyone and not being much help if approached. The fight occupied so much of Regins’ thoughs he hardly heard what Dorna said about her dream. Because Reginn didn’t know why Moradin’s spells didn’t work on the fire dragon he didn’t know what Dorna was saying. He couldn’t put enough thoughts togeather to connect the dots. “Ég veit það ekki”, was all he could offer.
Facing that basilisk was unexpected. Regin wasn’t ready. His mind was still distant. He shouted some words and couldn’t even remember what he said after the fight.
Arriving in Mistmoor, seeing the faces of all the people. The fear in their faces when Brjánn mentioned the dragon, a thought struck Reginn. It was no small feat to face a dragon and live to tell the tale. This created a new spark of thought in Regins mind. A spark that promised to become an inferno.