06-02-2011, 09:20 AM
Pyotr very clearly imagined himself; the way his hair curled, someitmes loosely and sometimes in tight ringlets, the thin, fox-like face, small body, the scar on his right thigh, the very outfit he was wearing... he pictured everything to the tiniest detail and held the image in his mind, then aimed his wand toward a spot right before the dragon and whispered, "Frabrica Luminarium."
Suddenly, a replica of of Pyotr stood before the dragon, but it was essentially a magically-made hologram; it wasn't solid in the least. The dragon roared its fury at the replica and flamed it... only to get even more upset to see that somehow "Pyotr" wasn't effected at all. Pyotr continued to use his replica to taunt the dragon, doing things he himself couldn't, like cartwheels.
Meanwhile, the real Pyotr crept from one large rock to another, steadily closer to the nest. When he got close enough to the nest, Pyotr made his replica taunt the dragon until it followed the replica away from the nest. It wasn't that far, granted, but it was far enough; though he was short of breath and sweating from the sheer concentration of maintaining that spell and directing it with his mind, Pyotr dashed for the nest as though his life depended on it.
In a flash, Pyotr scooped up the egg and tucked it under his arm like a rugby ball and kept running, his legs blurring, until he was quite a distance away. The Pyotr-replica had long since faded, and the Fireball was roaring and flaming its fury, trying to find where he'd gone.
The adrenaline rush began to fade, and, for the first time, Pyotr noticed that he had a nice gash in his arm. He stared at it in a dazed sort of way, as if he couldn't for the life of him figure out what it was.