You are a tiny baby dragon hatchling who's wounded and writhed on the ground, in the dungeon. The orcs had surrounded you while you're life was in danger.

You squealed and hissed in vain as you tried to scare away the orcs, but they were really huge and the 4 of them had surrounded you. Given that you were still a new born dragon, you were helpless.

An orc decided to strike you with its club, but it's attack was blocked by magic.

Lagertha: "Shield."

The voice of a silver haired woman echoed, holding a glowing staff, her green cloak fluttering while her purple eyes glowed brightly with magic.