Dargon 4.5: Checklist
You are a dragon, and in your long, long life you had never done an execution. Battling? Yes. Killing? Been there, done that. Humiliation? Oh, you've been on the sending and receiving end of such a thing. But executions? With you as the headsman?
You had never done such a thing. And frankly, the opportunity makes you grin.
It was a great dishonor to be executed. A spit in the face of the draconic life. A death of pomp and circumstance, of being able to affect
nothing as you were dragged in chains to your final doom. It was a dragon's worst nightmare,
far worse than being ridden as a mount. At least
some dragons
chose to put themselves under servitude, to carry the yoke of a saddle and ferrying around… lesser beings.
Executions? You had no choice. And you were made into an absolute laughing stock before the blade falls, the last reminder of the world being that of jeering crowds and absolute helplessness.
Naturally, the inverse was true. To be an executioner… few had the opportunity. Even fewer can say that they were the headsman of the Legendary Dragon Kiryu herself.
An'thani shivers in your grip, the halberd's shaft weighing you down as you give it a cursory twirl. The air parts in its wake,
screaming in terror as metal cuts through weightless air, and you hold the blade up to your face and stare at your reflection head-on.
Golden eyes stare back from a blade that was the color of ice, and you let out a shallow breath at the sight.
With another breath, you brandish the halberd with a flourish, an elegant dance that ends at the tip of the blade right underneath the idiotic juvenile's heart.
"
Any last words?"
"Don–!"
You push. And find that An'thani cleaves through the moron's scales as easy as a hot knife through butter. The little juvenile chokes out their last words, golden ichor dripping down from their maw as they wheeze through their last breaths. Utterly pathetic. They didn't even have the temerity to spit in your face in one last act of defiance.
For that, you flick your halberd upwards, parting their neck from their body. You grab the head, whirling around to present it to your Grandmomma in one smooth move, and you bow with a flourish, twirling An'thani once more.
"
Good riddance." Your Grandmomma breathes, after she was done cackling at the sight.
"Ah, the sight of their mewling faces always makes me smile. The only good thing that they could give me after years and years of leeching off my domain."
You blink, meeting your Grandmomma's smiling eyes a second later.
"You aren't going to use any of it?"
"
Executions happen in my domain occur every year." Your Grandmomma yawns,
"Usually the whelps that embarrassed themselves by attacking the villages in my territory thinking that they'd make a good offering."
"
We have no use for this carcass, however?"
"
Dear", your Grandmomma chides,
"Tell me again the myriad of ways you could use a dragon's corpse?"
There was an ironskin potion made by grounding up dragon scales along with reagents, dragon claws and bones could be used as magical conduits or weapons and armor, or how the blood could be used to transmute materials into gold… and one can't certainly forget as to how dragon meat is one of the most delicious things in the world…
You'd rather forget how you came to know that last bit…
"
Those were all for mortals, though." You pipe up.
"We have no use for them–"
"
Really? After I had just tasked you and your merry little band of intrepid goblins to execute those dragons that I found wanting?"
You raise a claw. And slowly lower it down, as your brows morph into a thoughtful expression.
"
Yes, the goblins would most certainly like such a thing." You muse,
"It would also give them a better chance against future trials and tribulations–"
"
My dwarves are low on supplies made by butchering a dragon." Your Grandmomma pipes up, and you gave her a flat glare before you could school it into a more neutral expression. Not that it worked – judging by the grin on your Grandmomma's face, she saw your face just fine.
"What will it be, dear?"
You turn towards the headless corpse of the moron that you had just executed, watching as golden ichor spurts from its neck and flows down its scales. You let out a sigh, cradling An'thani by your shoulders… and come to a decision.
[] [BUTCHER] Give it to your Grandmomma's dwarves. Maybe they can make something good out of it… though there's no doubt that it would make your goblins a little bit prissy about being denied by such an opportunity.
[] [BUTCHER] Give it to your goblins. They certainly need it, what with the troubles that would no doubt lay ahead, but it would make your Grandmomma just the tiniest bit annoyed. And you're not sure that you could afford such a thing.
[] [BUTCHER] Split it halfway. A compromise always satisfies no one, but at the very least it should avoid tense relations between your Grandmomma's dwarves and your goblins.
Your Grandmomma nods, sending a smile in response.
"Come to me if you are ready. In the meantime, I'll be catching up on some sleep."
She snaps her fingers, and then she was gone, a drifting cloud of snow in her place. You sigh, turning towards the headless dragon corpse with a haggard weight on your shoulders… before you spot a particular individual by the edge of your lair, waving his staff around while calling out to you.
"Ma'takka! Ma'takka! Ma'takka!"
… Well not
you per se, but the title that you held. Still, Gar was never one to call you up for idle chit-chats
(even if you sorely wanted to), so you quickly fly over and land on your lair, relishing the feeling of your feet touching ground once more.
"
Karr?" You ask, and Gar quickly replies to your question, babbling along this matter and that at a pace that would've made him all but unintelligible. Lucky for him, you're a dragon. And so while your subordinate was still busy being excited about the changed state of the beating heart of your lair, you picked him up and flew down to where the aetheric engine sat.
And it had certainly… changed. You knew that it would've happened eventually, given what you've read of aetheric engines, but you certainly didn't expect it to happen so fast. Relatively speaking.
Was it because of your presence? That was a consistent thing that you've read upon in the books. Mostly footnotes from some of the other dragons that had aetheric engines in their hoard, but… well, it's safe to say that you could also corroborate to their investigations.
You stare at the beating heart of your lair, finding the fiddly bits of machinery controlling its various mechanisms simply
gone. Instead, what lies at its heart is a crystalline sphere, multi-colored facets covering its surface, and it seems to perk up at your presence.
It doesn't move from its spot, but you certainly
feel its attention on you. A small, hungry little thing that's eager to follow your every command… like a puppy. A puppy that was a reservoir full of energy, ready to unleash it on your enemies.
And judging by how the other goblins seem to cower in its wake, it certainly saw your lackeys as enemies. Which was concerning, especially when it unleashed a tendril of energy towards you, trying to see if you have any food.
Dragon hearts at that. What a picky little philosopher's stone.
Still, you couldn't exactly cater to its desires right now. The dragon that you've so cleanly executed had been nothing more than a juvenile, which meant that you could only spare so much parts. Which meant budgeting.
And as good as a philosopher's stone sounded, you hadn't really read much about that topic in general. You dozed off when it came to that part, anyway. Of course, you could always sneak off to your Momma's library… but you'll have to table that for another time.
You need to prepare.
(Choose one. Pick two if you chose to keep the dragon's carcass with the goblins.)
[] [PREP] Guns, ballistae, harpoons, and chains. All important tools for lesser mortals when one tries to go dragon-hunting. Stocking up on them should prove invaluable, if you want the goblins to actually pull their weight in this. And if they were made out of dragonbone…? It would certainly make things a bit easier.
[] [PREP] Weaving plates out of dragon bones is a difficult and time-consuming task. It certainly makes for good protection though. One that you could put up in the more important parts of your lair, to keep it safe from all sorts of harm. Floating lairs doesn't necessarily mean that they're invincible, after all.
[] [PREP] You have a philosopher's stone. An… oddity of nature to be sure, what with it being an aetheric engine exposed to a dragon for a long amount of time. The one in your lair is odder than most, however – philosopher's stones take centuries to form. Yours took a few decades. Trying to poke at its mysteries might prove useful in the long run.
[] [PREP] Write-in.
