Hero's Prophecy knelt before the small creature, so he may be able to look upon it better. All the other townsfolk shifted, and a feeling of unease settled in their stomachs. The lizard tensed up like a wound up spring, stiff as rubber, as it awaited the answer of the blue bear.

"I will try my best, little one," Hero's Prophecy answered simply. Silence was suspended in the air, as if the crowd had been holding their breaths.

Hero took out his blade, raised it up high, and shouted, "I, Hero's Prophecy, swear to protect, and fight for what is right. I shall protect Townston, and all that is innocent, and helpless in the world."

The crowd then broke into cheer. Some broke into tears. Hats of all shapes and colors flew in the air, and scarves of various length and patterns were wildly waved. If the the din was made solid, it would be akin to a barrage of arrows.

Suddenly, the cheers froze to a sullen silence as a green figure came at the back of the crowd. All eyes turned to see the newcomer, the party killer, as they walked towards the front, to Hero's Prophecy. The people parted to let the strange man through. The little lizard hid behind Hero's leg, peeping out to see the oncoming man. The colors seemed to drain from the very stones that made the place.

Each inch of their body was clad in broad green scales. Wicked black claws adorned their fingertips, while their feet wielded similarly wicked claws the size of trowels. Their limbs were thick as boughs, and their body was stout like that of a tree trunk with firm muscle. They possessed the head of a crocodile with a mouth filled with yellowed fangs, and amber eyes that shimmered like having flames behind the lens. A singular bronze-colored antler grew at the left of his head. A tapering thorny tail tipped with a blood-red rose bud trailed behind them.

All stared at this strange individual as they slowly but surely walked ever closer to the Hero. Necklaces of teeth of various vague predatory animals hanged on their neck. On their shoulder was an off-white sash that looked suspiciously like canvas, and in their hand was a staff made of twisted wood with its head resembling spindly fingers from which hanged a white coconut shell filled with rice, and an iron lantern housing an ethereal orb of fire.

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"M-Moly the Shaman," Stripe announced, but the green hunk did not even bat an eye at him, but did growl in response.

The shaman stood very close to Hero. Moly investigated every decimeter of Hero, much to his discomfort. Their fiery amber eyes soon met with the passionate ruby eyes of Hero. They squinted as if trying to spot some clue from behind the skin and material shell, and straight into the eternal soul.

"Is he the one, Moly? The one the prophecy spoke about?" Metaphor asked.

The shaman closed their eyes, and sighed. "I don't know, but he's certainly the right shape and color," Moly said, and rubbed their chin in speculation. "If only I never forget my glasses."

"You misplaced your glasses, your hallowedness? Where did you last find it?" Stripe spoke.

"Oh no. I actually have it right here. I had tea n' toast with our good friend, Raptor, this morning, and so I put it away," Moly replied with light tone, and then reached into their sash. "Huh. That's odd. Where did it go?"

"Looking for this, big show?" An electronic voice boomed as a pair of round spectacles appeared high up in the air. The source of the shrill voice was indistinct, but it clearly came from something large and tall. A flood of terror befell upon the townsfolk, and most ran into the safety of the buildings for cover. Those that were brave enough to stay in the fray wielded their dulling claws, cast iron pans, and stiff golf clubs.

With the sudden appearance of danger, Stripe huddled close to Metaphor who had her grimoire readied for the moment. Hero unsheated his claymore, and Moly held their staff with their two hands, ready to blast a spell or two.

"Show yourself, fiend," Moly roared in demand.

"My my. Feisty ain't cha?" The invisible beast remarked. "And as you wished me to do so, I will make myself seen."

A giant shadow suddenly appeared, and shrouded the entire square as a dragon of steel and flesh flashed into sight. The great beast looked down upon the crowd with malign intent like they were tasty mice. Those whose bladder didn't survive the dose fright retreated far into the background.

Even in the face of a great frightful beast, our heroes remained brave. Hero held his sword steadily, ready to strike. Moly held their staff like their life depended on it. Metaphor whetted her mind so that her spells may be sharp. And Stripe... whose courage wavered easily against creatures of great size, cowered behind Metaphor.