He was asleep, tucked in his usual corner of the garden when it began. A scream and a roar, both, and the earth-shuddering explosion. One moment he was in the depths of a dream, the next he was wide awake in a nightmare.

Twisting out of his bedroll, Maxwell scrabbled back from the burning brush around him, kicking dirt toward the flames. He grabbed for his boots with one hand, his bow and quiver with the other. He dragged all three on items on as quickly as he could, even as his head was swiveling, trying to determine just what was happening.

He'd never seen a possession. Didn't immediately believe that the tower of bone and muscle and rage tearing it's way through the stonework and into the castle had even once been a person.

He gaped at it for a moment - long enough for it break through and for others to move in on it - then the heat of a growing fire caught his attention again. He stamped on it before it could catch to the fabric of his pants. Then without another thought he was heading for the well at the center of the garden.

"We need to get these fires out!" he called to anyone nearby who might be able to help. "Before we lose everything!"