Rise of the System Lords (Semi-SI OC, kinda PF)

[Moochy]

Negotiations

It grew warmer as Simon crawled through the tunnels. He realized he couldn't see as well as the kobolds about the same time Fazli did, when he hit his head for the third time and she took a small amount of pity on him and started alerting him to obstacles.

"Stay close, keep eyes open! Half-blind hatchling… hss."

Moments later, three heavy forms swarmed him from all sides — one from above — and he found himself trapped beneath three new kobolds.

"Hsss, poor showing, hatchling is dead. Killed in battle. Pity. Cannot introduce to new siblings. Say greetings to Luzlu, Azu and Jig."

"New sibling?" yipped the first, sniffing him all over. "Am Luzlu, little humans say Lulu. This one stay with us, Fazli?"

"Yip-yip, new sibling! Jig happy for new sibling have! Will teach fish and swim and climb and fight!"

"Azu, am oldest, keep other two in line. Younger than Fazli. Prettier, yip." Azu rolled out the way of Fazli's swift tail-strike. "You are youngest. Yipper. Egg-shell. Do as Azu say, learn fast, yes?"

"I will learn fast," Simon answered, doing his best to speak Draconic.

"Little brother speak funny, yip-yap like hatchling!" Jig snickered skittering off deeper into the tunnel.

"That is because is hatchling. Made poor human. Will now be kobold. You will help make him best kobold, yes?" Fazli asked, nudging herself against Simon.

"Yip!" Jig stood to as attention as he could in the narrow tunnel.

Simon scrambled to as much of his feet as he could manage in the cramped tunnel, trying to commit these kobolds to memory so he could find them again. He was absolutely sure that if he didn't, Fazli would indeed come and find him and drag him by the ears with her no matter his excuse of not knowing how to find her.

"Then first, we visit goblins!" Fazli looked at the three kobolds and her newest 'hatchling'.

"Hsss, gobbos have poor steel, but good armor," stated Azu. "Pink skin not as good as scales. Need armor."

"Dwarves for weapons. Gobbo's make good from scraps, worthy clever tinkerers, but new sibling needs better for fang and claw!" Jig nodded, looking at Azu, who nodded to both her younger siblings.

The five had been moving through the tunnels as they spoke, and now they dropped out into another part of the warren. It was warm down here, a different kind of warmth to the sun above. Smoky torches in sconces were fixed to the sides of the cave walls, around doorways blocked off with leather curtains. Fazli motioned with her head, then pushed her way through. Simon followed.

Inside, an elderly goblin sat working to one side whilst two younger apprentices — much younger, the warband that had found their way to this world hadn't been expecting trouble so was filled with the young and the old, and few in between, with Rarix acting as their head — worked on their own projects.

"Ah, baby-eaters, welcome, welcome!" The elderly goblin's skin was a dark green, but his hair was faded and grey. Large, outsized ears flopped on either side of his wide head, thick hairs almost like ropes exploded out of them. His yellow eyes gleamed in the torchlight, and his yellowed fangs decorated his grinning mouth.

"Egg-stealers, how fare you?" Fazli asked, her tail lashing.

Simon blanched at the banter, but though he could tell there was some rivalry there, he also knew, deep inside, that the dragon had changed things for good between these creatures. They'd have been at each other's throats as soon as they looked at each other not too long ago, but… that had changed. Almost more than his own life had.

"Mmm, yes, with our dragon now in his lair upon his throne, we fare very well! Food is better, home is better, fights are better, yes?"

"Yes, yes, Dogbite, Fazli much enjoys our sparring! Will fight soon with new hatchling, here! Show our dragon strength of kobolds! But! Fazli comes crawling, egg-stealer, help us! Poor hatchling Sss'mon here born was with pink skin! Please to be fixing!"

"Bah! Crawling! Hah! Only crawling you do is sneaking in to steal babies from cribs! Bah!"

"Hss! Egg-stealing scoundrels!"

Simon looked from one to the other, wondering where the line between the two was drawn. "Do you guys… fight like this a lot?" he asked reflexively in English, and was immediately tail-slapped by Fazli.

"Speak tribe! Hss, see what Fazli have to deal with?"

The goblin spat. "Filthy human tongue. Fine, fine! Come, come, show Dogbite your hatchling! Yes, yes… would make good goblin, can smell it on him, tricksy, fighter. Hrmm, must take own lost one, yes? But no, no, no, not this one… this one has too many scales, change mind. Bad goblin. You may keep. Ghark, Yozz, hsh! Go find armor for baby-eating hatchling here! Quick, quick!"

Dogbite dug at the hairs coming from his long, almost horizontal green ears as he peered around Simon's small stature, muttering to himself. "Show paws! Hrm, yes, Dogbite find suitable gloves. Feet… boots harder, yes, not many hatchlings wear boots! Come back for special order you must. If you survive, pink-skin."

Simon spun around as he was poke, prodded, insulted, measured and manipulated into pose after pose, before Dogbite finally told him to wait where he was and disappeared deeper into the goblins' cave system.

The strange, elderly goblin returned with dark-tanned fingerless gloves that still smelled faintly of the cow they'd been made from, and a variety of bone-and-leather pieces of armor that the younger two goblins hurried out with and presented.

"Hatchling will learn how to properly take care of, or hatchling's own bones will be used for next set, yes? Fazli, instruct or bring for instruction! Payment is the usual!"

"Coal when we find it, soap from the fats, good wood for the tools, yes? Metals, hrm? Found some we have, but dwarves trade well for!"

"Hsh! Have metals and keep secret! Pfeh! Baby-eaters! Trade for metals will!"

"Egg-stealers, never! High price would be."

"Deal with goblins, heh! Lost edge you have. Drink!"

"Drink!"

Dogbite brought out some sort of… gourd, which he popped the cork off of and took a long swig from before lobbing it to Fazli, who passed it around to all the members of the tribe. Simon reached for it greedily, but Fazli snatched it away, swinging it to and fro in her claws.

"What would mother say? Mother say hatchling drink like siblings, yes?"

Simon glared at her, then turned his head. He could fight her for it, he supposed, and doubtless lose, and be slapped silly for it, or he could just… take it, and accept the deal.

"Hatchling take," he replied, oblivious to the pregnant pause amongst the onlookers. He popped the cork again and took a swig, and immediately the burning, filthy hooch stung his mouth and made his eyes water. As he coughed, the lot of them burst out into raucous laughter, snatching the gourd back and stoppering it before it could fall and waste its precious contents.

"Pfeh, hatchlings, learn they will, yes. Go now, baby-eaters! Dogbite tires of you!"

"Filthy egg-stealers! Until we must meet again! Bring you better fire-water we will, yes yip-yap!"

***

The next stop was at the dwarves. Simon's arms were getting tired lugging his new armor around, and yet when he tried to give it to any of the kobolds or asked about putting it down he was told that if he dropped it he would be punished, and by how freely Fazli spun a knife in her claws, Simon believed it, so finally, angrily, he kept a hold of the burden and bit down on his curt replies.

Simon's woes were forgotten, however, as they approached the dwarves. A peculiar odor, of smoke and metal, assaulted his senses, and soon the noises he'd been hearing growing louder and louder resolved themselves into the loud, ringing impacts of hammer on anvil.

"Hul! Hul Bronzehammer!" Fazli called. "Show yourself! Shiny stealing thief!"

Simon winced again at the fighting words, but it seemed that the dwarves, too, found the banter entertaining. Memories of plates flying and smashing had him twitching, but he was pushed forwards regardless by Fazli.

A dwarf covered in tattoos and mixed leather and metal armor strode out of what had to be a forge, wide thumbs hooked through his britches. His fire-red hair was tied back severely and he had on the thickest hide gloves Simon had ever seen. Muscles bulged on top of muscles as the squat creature — almost as wide as he was tall, not fat but thick — approached with a twinkle in his eyes and a faint grin on his mouth.

"Greetings to you, Fazli Swiftclaw, this is the one you had your eye on? Hmm, don't think much of him. Bad attitude. Scrappy though, I'll give 'im that."

Simon's gaze pitched at the ground as he understood very little of what the dwarf said, but none of it sounded good.

"Fazli bring new hatchling, yes. This is one, Sss'mon, makes bad human. Heading for beetle. Less use, even. Fazli take, make good kobold."

"I know of this one. He makes trouble everywhere he goes, fights everyone he doesn't like, and he doesn't like anybody. That right, pink skin?"

Simon's ears burned in shame and he answered noncommittally. He understood enough of the dwarf's words to know he was being dressed down, called useless and a burden. He was used to it from his parents, but for the dwarves to start in on it too?

"Hss! Make good kobold, Hul will see. Learn to fight for tribe, not with. Fazli will take good care of new hatchling, but hatchling is without fangs, no claws, no tail! Poor pathetic hatchling, Hul take pity?"

"Yes, yes, you know the price?"

"Coal, blackrock, metals, rough shiny stones. Yes, yes, plenty are the kobolds, good at digging is our tribe, payment we make. Luzlu, pay up."

Luzlu fiddled with a small pouch at her waist, and threw them to the dwarf, who snatched them out of the air.

"Ahh, gemstones! These will polish up nicely! Yes, yes, we can use these. Alright, Fazli, your hatchling will have his fangs. Tal! Gresh! Fetch the daggers." Hul turned, then studied Simon intently.

"Be glad Fazli has taken yeh, pink-skin. Nobody else wants yeh. Aye, I see your rage, try it, I'll flatten yeh! Beaten sense into yeh, has she? Aye, you'll learn. Next time I see yeh, we'll see if ye's worth spit."

Simon tried hard not to sniffle and sob. Nobody really did like him. Why could they all tell him so freely, when he couldn't do a thing? Stupid dragon. Stupid magic spell. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Stupid… stupid Simon.

"Here, pink-skin. Here are your new fangs. Every hatchling needs their fangs." Simon's breath was knocked from his body as a belt was shoved into his stomach, upon which were fastened two smaller daggers. Simon fought not to drop the rest of the armor he was trying desperately to hold onto, and at the same time grab the daggers. "You will take care of these, hatchling, or you will regret it. For every speck of rust I find on these, I'll take it out of your hide, you hear?"

"Yessir," mumbled Simon.

"I said, do you hear?"

"Yes sir!" Simon said louder, one arm bundling everything into a heap whilst the other wiped at tears and snot.

"Fazli, little one has no… honestly. Here! Put your things in here. Take care of this bag and it will serve you well for a long time."

Simon finally dropped everything in a heap as he was forced to take some sort of jute bag. He cringed away from the inevitable slap that would follow, but the lack of impact was almost as much of a shock. In the silence that followed, he ducked down and stuffed everything into his bag. That got him a slap and his bag was upended again.

"Pack away neatly!" Fazli said. "Pack neatly, retrieve easily. Pack like animal, burrow like animal! Hss, honestly!"

"Yes ma'am!" Simon replied, then, brow furrowed, did his best to put the armor into the bag, followed by the daggers.

"See? Now, come! Eat, rest, then we learn!"

Jig and Luzlu melted away into the darkness along with Fazli, but Azu waited for him.

"Watch step, Egg-shell. We go to your new home, true kobold warren. You will be safe there, but must learn to be safe getting there. Learn to speak tribe, learn to see in dark, learn to be proper sibling. Come."

Taking a deep breath, wiping the last of the tears out of his eyes, Simon followed. He didn't seem to have much of a choice; a tribe who wanted him, or everybody else who didn't.

 

[Moochy]

Actions and Consequences

Dahen Steelarm slapped his new friend Owen Russel on the back as the two commiserated with some of the frankly awful but thankfully alcoholic base moonshine.

"You are strong man, strong! Your friend you miss, but he fell in battle! Sing his songs, Owen of Russel!" Dahen said, slamming his fist down on the table before quaffing — which mostly seemed to involve spilling a good deal of it — a flagon of the unofficial pub's 'finest'.

"Battle? Fuck. The dragon killed him. The dragon I sold my soul to. That beast killed him and ate him!"

"Few are those who challenge a dragon, Russel! Fewer still those who live to tell the tale. Such is life."

"It's not fair. It's not right. I—"

Russel's maudlin reminiscing was interrupted when Evans barged into the 'pub' — really just the off-duty mess-hall canteen that the guys had decorated to be a little less spartan — and exclaimed with a frantic air that the dragon was calling an assembly.

"I'm gonna give him a piece of my mind," said Russel, hopped up on liquid courage.

***

I stood before my people, South of the four football field areas that had so recently held a nascent village of rejects and lost souls captive. Vengis has cast his spell that let me speak to everyone, he was getting better at it; it lasted longer and seemed to carry further each day. I wanted him to teach others how to do it, but so far hadn't found anyone good enough to pick up the trick. Give it time, I thought.

"Gentlefolk, the last time we stood here, we were three peoples. Invaders, captives, and captors. Now we are all one people, united under my banner. I would like things to stay that way!"

I paused, eyeing the crowd. Amusingly enough, a few of them were bored. The kobolds seemed to be to a lizard enthralled. The humans that had 'captured' us all were an impassive wall, and the rest were at least listening dutifully.

"The invaders who came to murder, rape and pillage our good community here were vanquished, but their dregs remain, back in the city. In Stokerville. Tonight we will ready ourselves and talk of tactics, for tomorrow we will head there to make war. We will find them, we will fight them, and we will vanquish our foes. As with you all, I will offer my protection, out of the generosity and kindness of my heart—"

"Bullshit!" interrupted a voice.

I snarled, but then took a deep breath and exhaled, slowly, focusing my gaze on the insect that had dared insult me. I stepped forwards, the crowd parting like smoke, as I reared my head up above the guy. "Would you like to say that again?"

"I said bullshit!" the man said.

"Russel! Shut the fuck up!" hissed one of his friends, but I lifted a claw and gently signaled for peace.

"Explain. Or I may have to do the one thing I said I would not. Be quick, and precise."

"I said bullshit, y-you said you'd never hurt us! But you killed my friend!"

I tilted my head, "I do not understand, I have not harmed a single hair on your head since you have pledged yourself to me. In my generosity, I allowed you to not only live—"

"But you said you wouldn't hurt m-me! Us! My friend is dead. Why?"

"Who…?"

I was aware, peripherally, that it was just… not done to talk back to a dragon. My instincts were screaming at me to turn this insect into paste, but I bit down on them. I had, after all, given my word. I would sort this confusion out, and then, maybe, I would kill him.

"I-in the truck. Y-you killed him!"

Ahh! The soldier! On the way here!

"In my defense, he was there, I was hungry." Why was this 'Russel' more angry now? I only spoke the truth. "What is it you want me to do? I was captured, caged like a wild beast, subjected to inhumane conditions. You are all lucky he was the only one I killed. Had I wanted, I could have killed you all. And now here we are, friends, and you spit in my face?"

"What do I want? I want him t-to not be dead!"

"Well he is de…" I paused, held up a claw for silence, then turned to Matron. "You brought all those who perished in the fighting back to life?"

Matron stirred, blinking. "N-no, we… gave them a new life. We have an… agreement, of sorts, with our god. He tips the scales in our favor when we ask for a member of our tribe to be returned to us. Most come back through the egg, but… but sometimes, when we must, we call upon the Great One Beyond, and he delivers us our tribe folk safely back."

I looked between her and Russel, and back again, several times. "Tell me," I asked eventually, "can you bring back his friend?"

"N-no, my lord, we would need at least a piece of his body, and—"

"And I have one!" I declared, then looked off to one side, and added, "I think, How much do you need?"

"Just a piece, my lord, any piece. No more."

"Then I have that." I gestured to one of the kobolds in the crowd, "Go to my old lair, search the corners, bring me any human skull you find there." The kobold ran off through the murmuring crowd. I turned back to Matron. "So, you can bring him back?"

"N-no… not… not the same way." Matron shared a glance with her 'sisters' — though several of them were definitely male — before speaking with me again. "We need… a jewel. A big jewel. Expensive. All such magic requires an offering, and to give a new chance, we require oils. The oils we find here are so pure, so bountiful, it is easy to give those who have died recently new life. But that one… he has traveled further Beyond."

"Meaning?"

"A different spell is needed." Matron bowed her head.

"Which requires a… large, expensive diamond?"

"Very, very expensive. Thousands of gold pieces. At least ten thousand! More is better!"

I had no real yardstick for gold pieces to Earth money, but I shrugged, before fixing my gaze on Russel. "I will grant you one chance, Russel, for you will do two things for me."

"What?" Russel balled up his fists, swaying slightly. Drunkard.

"One, you will fall on your hands and knees and beg my forgiveness, here and now, from me and from everyone. And two, you will have a mission. You will be sent to find and retrieve the most expensive piece of jewelry you can find. At least a million dollars worth of jewelry. A diamond, or similar gem," I added, looking to Matron. She nodded in confirmation.

"Jewelry?" he asked, confused.

"And until both of these have been done, in public, before all here who have seen you insult me, you are demoted. Now, beg. On your knees, down, beg."

Russel swayed back and forth a moment, more sober than he had ever been in his life. Very slowly, he got down on his knees.

"Mean it," I said. "I can make you do a thing, but only you can put your heart in it. And let me tell you, dog, that if you don't put your heart in it, I will pull your heart out of it."

"Y-y-you ca-can bring him back?"

I shook my head, "No, not by myself. But Matron can, with your help. So beg forgiveness, because I am giving you your life and a chance to save another, in spite of your behavior."

Very slowly, breathing deeply, Russel put his head to the ground. "I-I'm sorry! I'm SORRY!" he shouted. "He's my friend and I miss him and you you… you killed him and it hurts and I want him back!"

"And?"

"And I-I-I was r-rude! Very rude! To your greatness! I won't do it again! Just give me a chance!"

I nodded. "Somebody, get him a collar and leash him. I am magnanimous, but I am not without pride. You spit in my face, you will pay the price. You will not speak unless I give you leave. You will travel with the men, but you are a dog in my eyes. You will fetch me the jewelry, or you will die trying. Clear, Dog?"

Russel nodded, eyes wide, as my jaws snapped closed inches from his face. He immediately bowed his head again, biting the dust.

"Matron," I said, tearing my gaze away from the whimpering dog as the kobold — Zev if I recalled correctly — rushed to the stage and handed me a skull. I had gnawed the flesh off of it days ago and cast it aside. There was a big hole in the top of it where I'd been playing with it. "Is this enough?"

"We shall see, but first we should ask him if he wishes to return."

"Agreed. And now," I returned to the stage as, behind me, somebody fastened a bright red, spiked dog collar around Russel's neck, "I will say something about what has just occurred."

I glared out over the crowd. "Everybody gets one," I said, roaring, waiting until the echoes died away before continuing. "If I have wronged you, you get one chance to speak your grievance to my face. Dog has disgraced himself," I pointed a claw to the subject formerly known as Russel. I could hear the neck-snap as over a hundred gazes turned his way. "Let it be known, right now, that is the last time I am disrespected thus, no matter the cause. Dog disgraced himself not for bringing me his grievance but for bringing such contempt in how he did it." I pondered for a moment. "When this is over, I shall hold court once a week for public issues. For private issues, I will find time. I encourage you all to bring me issues you think can only be solved by such an audience. Do not waste my time, or you will live precisely long enough to regret it. Am I understood?"

I waited until everybody answered before continuing.

"Good. Now, we shall go over the plan my advisors and I have come up with, any improvements will be discussed, changes implemented as necessary, and then we shall rest, for tomorrow we all have a big day! Full of glorious battle!"

 

[Moochy]

Double post today, now we're at parity.

---

Speak of the Devil

"This spell will be difficult," Matron said, padding around the skull which was set onto a makeshift plinth. "It is intended to be used with a corpse, not a skull… but we will make do. Avrex is skilled with the beyond, she will draw the spirit forth."

"Begin."

Avrex, a thin and wiry kobold, painted in stark black and white, murmured in a strange tongue that grated on my ears somehow, rang my teeth, rattled my bones. She seemed to gesture smoothly yet intently as she weaved her way around the skull, before her murmuring, weak voice rose to a crescendo, and a sudden stillness came upon the small chamber we were standing in. She placed a paw upon the skull, and her body went slack, though it remained standing.

The four candles, set around the plinth, wavered and suddenly glowed blue… and echoing blue sparks bloomed in the skull's empty eye sockets. As if from a great distance, or through thin walls, I heard screaming and shouting.

"Oh god it's the dragon! He's going to kill me! Oh god! He killed me!" Avrex' muzzle opened, but it was not her voice that came from it, it was a man's.

The lights in the eye sockets flared, and then… I felt the gaze of a dead man upon me. Ah, is this what it was like?

"You killed me, dragon. Why do you bring me back? To kill me again? I am dead, wyrm, I can no longer be threatened. I will not speak with you." Avrex again spoke for the skull.

"Hold, spirit, I am not the one who seeks you. I would leave you dead, but answer this question and there may be no more. Would you return to life, for the sake of your friend?"

For a long moment there was silence, and I wondered whether the spirit of Tuttle was as spiteful as it had said it would be, but then that gaze flared to life once more, and it looked at me. "I would return. You can do this?"

"Your friend Russel would risk his own death, has bartered his own life, just for the chance to see you returned. I will at least honor his fortitude. Are you willing to share his fate?"

"My fate is done. Return me to life, and I will share another's."

Avrex slumped more, drooling, as one by one the candles went out, and with a scream, the glow in the skull dissipated. After a long few moments, she opened her eyes, and nodded. I turned and made to leave the ossuary.

"Then Dog has a task. For his sake, he'd better not fail."

 

[Moochy]

A wild post appears. Things are heating up! If you're enjoying this, let me know!

---

Machinations

"Yo, yo, Nails? That you?" came the voice through the radio.

"Negative, Nails bought it," replied Trin as he changed gears. The gearbox made a horrible grinding noise, but eventually it took and the truck accelerated again. "Me and Niner're on the way back though, with Rawlins and Scully." Trin had been calling on the radio every few minutes for the last few miles, but had only just got a reply.

"Trouble?"

"Yeah, some. We had some losses, nothing you need to worry about though, you always say only the weak die. I guess Nails was weak, yeah?" Trin peered at the GPS. It was… not behaving well. It shouldn't have been working at all, but it was at least showing something, so small mercies. Fuck. Not like they didn't know the way, it was only the one road, even if the road was a lot longer than it should've been. The stupid thing had said it was a thirty minute drive eight hours ago. Every so often it would insist the drive was a few minutes shorter, almost as if up there, somewhere, the satellite was seeing the world and time differently than down here. It didn't make any sense.

"Fuck, the boss-man won't like that," the voice on the radio answered.

"Yeah well, I got a surprise for him. The place is fully under our control, so we've come back for the rest."

"A surprise, huh?"

"Ayup, in the vans. Supplies that'll make a real difference around here."

"Glad to hear it. Boss was expecting you guys to be back this morning."

"Fuck that noise, it's further than he thinks it is and we had a big fight last night. He doesn't like it? He can tell me himself."

"You got some balls on ya, Trin."

"I survived taking on the fucking militia, I earned that much. Get the fucking garage open, I want these vans inside toot fucking sweet, hear me?" Trin spat into the mic.

"Yeah yeah, keep your fucking dick in your pants."

"Just let us in, I don't want this shit out on the streets any longer than it has to be. Five minutes and we're there, unless you pricks have lost control of the streets?"

"Five minutes, Trin. Jesus, what crawled up your butt and died?"

"Your mother."

"Fuck you."

"Fuck you too." Trin shut off the radio and glared over at Gullins. "There, I got us in."

"Good," Gullins said. "I know you gotta do as I say, but I'll say it again so you can't say you forgot. Don't give us away. If you get the chance to turn on your old friends, you'll take it. If you wanna keep bein' a person like me, you'll actually fight for the dragon. I'll put in a good word. Otherwise keep out the fucking way."

"Fuck you. I don't gotta like being a slave, you sick fuck."

"Yeah, yeah, so big and brave being scum working for your 'Sicario' fucker. You know what? If this all goes fucking sideways, I hope you bite your own fucking arms off you piece of shit. Now shut up and drive."

***

Julio watched on the monitors as the goddamn convoy pulled up to the parking lot. He pushed the button to get the guys to open the gates, then disinterestedly went to get a cup of coffee. And the coffee machine was out. Because of course it fucking was.

He set to making a fresh batch, because he just knew that he'd get yelled at if there wasn't any, despite it not being his job to make it, and he wasn't the only one to drink it… the monitors could watch themselves for a while.

Several teams had been back and forth this morning already, they had this place locked down, nothing was going to — he spat the coffee out when he returned to see monitors out and gunfire erupting around the underground parking lot. He hastily started signaling for somebody, anybody, listening to start the counter-attack, and that's when the power went out, and with it went the hastily cobbled together cellphone network. The building shook, and a distant shattering tinkling noise followed by car alarms followed. Motherfuckers, they'd set off some sort of bomb? What the fuck was happening?

***

Filip knew things had gone wrong the moment that the truck roared back into motion as they crowded towards it, the shouts and cries of a handful of the Kings going silent under the grunting reverberations and sheer weight of the engine. Boots hit concrete and then the gunfire started.

Filip fired back, of course, but he was up against men in body armor. Time to shoot these fools in the face! He pulled his second piece out of his waistband and took aim with both, but then a jet of water slammed into him and sent him flying. He impacted one of the pillars and felt his body spin, seeing stars, as his guns slid across the ground.

He had to have hit his head, because as he looked up he saw a bunch of little lizard dudes fanning out around the now circled trucks, darting in and out of the gaps between them, gesturing.

Sprays of water that sent men flying, clouds of vapor that made them crumple, hacking and coughing until they were put out of their misery by swift application of hot lead, fascinating patterns of light and color that…

…Filip blinked, shaking his head, where was he? What had he been doing? Oh, right, he… DRAGON!

A weird cat-man leaned down and smiled at him, showing far too many fangs. "My friend, I come to you with an offer of a lifetime," the cat-man said. Filip gulped.

***

Tak and Rat pulled their armor tighter and jabbered happily at each other as they jumped out of the van and skulked into the shadows. Goblins gonna do what goblins gonna do best; fuck shit up!

"Come on! I wanna get my hands on some of that human loot! Ooh, look, see!" Tak bent down and picked up two mismatched weapons from a dead human. "Mm, smell that? Gunpowder! Lovely."

"Ooh, yes, lucky you are! Has one, I can?"

"Yes yes, best friend, but you'll owe me a favor!" Tak waved one of the guns around, holding the handle lightly between his long fingernails.

"Mm, then I'll take this one, and owe you something tasty, like a leg! We can eat these humans, right?" Rat idly unsheathed his blade and hacked the head off one of the humans that got a little too close. He licked the blade thoughtfully; there was something off about the taste, but a good boiling would solve that, probably.

"The dead ones that ain't ours, yeah?" Tak asked, cocking the gun. He took aim at another of this fortress' humans and pulled the trigger. The weapon jumped most excitedly in his grip, and the human spun, his suddenly limp body sending a spray of blood into the air. Beautiful!

"Ooh, goods, I'll do one up in a stew then. Hey, hey, smell? Smell that? Oil! You finkin' what I'm finkin'?" Tak straightened from where he'd been looting the dead body — never forget to take what's yours, even in the middle of battle, as long as you don't lose your head doing it — and slapped Rat on the shoulder, pointing.

"I dunno, but where are we gonna get twelve dire hamsters and a large wedge o' cheese big enough in a place like this?" Rat answered, a far away look on his face.

"Not that, but I like where's you goin' wid it. Naah, I mean… times to makes the kaboom?"

"Ooooh, big kaboom! Yeah, fuck 'em up!" Rat punched one fist into his other palm.

Tak and Rat eyed the massive cylinder of what had to be fuel-oil or similar — they couldn't read, but the signs they'd learned made it obvious enough — and the extra collection of flammable materials stored in canisters all around, and now wore an expression that many from Earth would recognize as 'all their christmases come early at once'. They'd tracked the smell outside, and had skulked around the odd standalone building with the noisy machinery in it and all the lightning bolt signs until they'd realized that the door was very locked but that the interesting tank of boom-juice was all that they realistically needed for a good fucking old time.

"Oh, oh, Rat, all this oil… you know what Rarix would say?"

"Fuck shit up and watch it burn?"

"Yeah, that's about right."

The humans that worked for the dragon had a lot of wonderful, wonderful toys that Tak, Rat and the others took to like ducks to water. And one of them was the remote-controlled detonator.

***

I looked down at the pathetic excuse for a human. Caught by a hypnotic pattern, spared because we needed somebody useful and he seemed more inclined to talk and less inclined to snackify himself than several others had before him. He swore himself into my service eagerly, and I felt his meager presence bolster my own forces. Another beast, most likely, but useful for now.

"Get him to explain what forces we're up against," I ordered Vengis, as I lounged angrily in the back of one of the largest trucks. I wanted to be out there, fighting, but until we had an understanding of what we were up against, or until shit hit the fan, I was leaving my presence as a surprise.

"I think the fighting's brought most of the enemy out to play, but he says we've got a fortress of sorts around us. Scouts are telling me the market out front is empty of non-combatants, and our forces are now clearing out the stragglers. No losses so far, they don't know how to fight against magic. The rest of this place is mostly empty except for the guards inside making sure nobody makes off with anything interesting."

I nodded between one and the other as Filip rattled through a swift explanation of what we were up against, and Vengis filled in anything missing with reports from the kobolds that sneaked in and out of the truck to converse with him in low whispers. I listened intently, very glad I could understand these creatures even if they couldn't easily understand me.

We were in the multi-level parking lot of a mall. My forces had control of the first floor and were heading down to clear out the lower level before heading inside the mall proper. Outside of the barricaded parking area was a market, made up of bartering stations for the stuff from inside the mall, appropriated by the Kings. Quite a neat little arrangement, really, it would benefit us to take it o—

There was suddenly an Earth-shattering kaboom, and the truck I was in rocked slightly from the blast, before I heard the tell-tale sounds of shattering glass falling, people screaming, smelled the smoke and heard the car-alarms go off.

I took a deep breath and put my muzzle in my paws. "Okay, what happened?"

A minute later and I found out, as two of the goblins were dumped in front of me, looking slightly apologetic and a lot pleased with themselves.

"In our defense," said one, Tak, I think his name was, "we were left unsupervised."

"We also had some remote detonators!" piped up Rat. "Wanna go with another?"

I sighed deeply, then nodded. "Damn right I do. Let's watch shit burn."

As the lighting failed all around us, the parking lot and presumably the entirety of the mall was plunged into relative darkness. Which suited me and mine just fine, as my kobold and goblin boys could see in the dark.

"Pair up, humans and those who can see in the dark, kill anybody that resists."

 

[Moochy]

As I may be busy tomorrow, enjoy an early post!

---

Bear Necessities

Frank heard the yelling from up ahead and instinctively ducked, flattening himself against a wall. A bullet zinged off the paintwork, inches from his skull. He turned, aimed and pulled the trigger, and his fucking gun almost took his arm off as it bucked. The weight of it threw him off, and he stumbled, off-balance long enough for a gang-banger to give him a kick that, if he'd still been a human, would likely have put him out of action. As it was, it left him breathless, but Frank didn't have time to think. He leaped at the man and, absent of knowing what else to do, swiped his claws and bit. Something fleshy tore.

It was, as they say, a very low blow. The man howled an extremely high-pitched wail of intense agony and folded, but not before three more of his friends descended upon the kobold and began kicking the literal shit out of him.

"Help! Fucking help! They're gonna—"

"That's right ya little fuck! I'm gonna crush yer fukken head in! Die you little—"

"FRANKIE!" echoed a roaring, deep-throated voice, and Frank looked up, still covering his head with his claws and tail, long enough to see his friend charging at a dead run down the concourse.

"Bear!" shouted one of the four, just as a mitt the size of a dinner-plate slapped his shit sideways and sent the guy careening across the hallway, where he landed in a heap and didn't get up.

"That's ma fukken name, asshole! Don't! Wear! It! Out!"

With each syllable, Bear swiped, stomped, head-butt and otherwise brutalized the four until they stopped moving, having lost enough of their senses and inner red that they didn't feel like getting up again.

"You alright, Frankie?" asked Bear, bringing his muzzle down to poke at his friend with a broad nose. Frankie reached out to take a solid hold of his friend's neck-ruff and pulled himself to his scaly feet.

"I think so, partner, now you're here. Fuck, I thought I was gonna die. Again."

"Nah, not gonna let that happen. You okay to get the fuck outta here?"

"Dunno, hurts a bit…" Frank stretched and winced a little. Bear rumbled something, then looked up and down the open mall.

"Look, don't make a fuss about it, but climb on. You can shoot, right?" The bear-kin bapped the back of his huge paw against the kobold and his rifle.

"Yeah, I can. Kicks like a mule, but I can shoot." Frank cocked the rifle with one hand and lifted his chin defiantly.

"Then I'll carry you, you keep point, alright?"

"Sounds like a fucking plan, Bear. Where do I… how's that?" Frank clambered up as Bear lowered his shoulder, and the kobold gripped with his knees and braced himself with his tail around Bear's neck.

"You can grab tighter than that, I can barely feel it."

"Bear-ly. Hah!"

"Yeah yeah. Let's fukken go!"

Bear roared defiantly as he barrelled turn after turn of the mall's concourse, swiping at assholes he could reach whilst Frank took out the assholes he couldn't. One asshole got a little bit too frisky and took aim at Bear as the pair bear'd down on him, but by the crunch his neck made as Bear shoved him through a window and into the shop beyond, he wouldn't be getting up.

Unfortunately, Bear was not feeling too hot either. He limped as he tried to get up, and crashed to the ground, wheezing.

"Hhrnn, shit, fucker got me."

"Fuck! Where? You're not gonna fucking die on me, man! No fucking way! Show me! I'll… get help, I'll…"

Frank jumped down, discarding his gun next to his friend as he ran to a nearby dress and tore it off the hangar. With his sharp teeth, he shredded it into strips as he pelted back to his friend, who was breathing heavily on his side, a patch of bright red blood spreading on his chest.

"No, no, no! Here, hold this! Put pressure on it! That's what they say, right?"

"I'll… I'll be fine, alright?"

"Yeah, just don't move! I'll get… help! Help!"

Frank legged it to the smashed window and hopped through it, and had to thank his lucky stars. "Guys! Help!"

Bear looked up as four more kobolds jumped in through the shattered display window and came over to him, yipping and yapping in their weird little lizard-dude language.

"They're here to help, Bear! Just hold still! You'll be alright!"

"Help? How're those little… FUCK!" One of the kobolds swiftly dug a claw into the bullet wound on his chest. He roared in pain, breathing deeply, chest heaving, as a little plink noise followed the shell being removed. The kobolds chattered to each other, and one of them dug out some herbs from a little bag, spat in them, smushed them up into a mushy paste and then stuffed the resulting mass into the hole before swiftly trussing Bear up in the strips of cloth. Then they chatted animatedly at Frank.

"What're they saying?" Bear asked, as he watched the four glance his way and back to his buddy.

"Well, first they're glad they got to you in time. They say… you'd probably have been okay, but since… oh, okay, that, ah, that explains it… yeah, he's not my…" Frank switched languages and yip-yapped at his new friends until they all looked at one another, then asked a couple more questions, to which Frank answered in kind… and then one after another they yapped the same 'word' back to him.

"Okay, they kinda don't believe me, so… don't get mad, alright?"

Bear sighed, wincing as it hurt. "Out with it, Frankie."

"They think I'm a ranger. And they think you're my mount."

"You tamed me? I tamed you, more like." Frank and Bear looked at each other. "Okay, that sounds at least as weird. Let's never say that again."

"Yip." "Yap." "Yip." "Yip"

"Fuckers. Fine… okay, alright, come on then, Ranger Frankie, let's get the fuck outta here before anything else—" That was when there was a massive explosion outside, and the lights went out. "Well shit."

"Don't worry, I got this one. Think you can carry all of us? I can see pretty well in the dark these days, and these guys are… I was gonna say loaded for bear, but you know what I mean."

"Doesn't mean I have to like it," Bear grumbled.

"Don't take it like that! It's like that movie with the talking polar bear, only you're… not a polar bear." Frankie grinned, as the rest of the kobold squad nodded, though clearly not all of them understood.

"You mean it's like the book you uncultured swine," Bear retorted.

"All that reading and yet you can't speak draconic. Don't worry, I'll handle the talking."

"I am so going to regret this," Bear shook his head, putting his paw over his muzzle. Then he straightened and ducked his shoulder down again. "If we make it out of this, you're getting me some armor."

"And a saddle?"

"Don't push your luck."

"Call it a gunnery position."

"Maybe." Bear paused and shook himself. "Alright then. Ranger Frankie and his Bear Bear are gonna fuck some shit up! Motherfuckers let's gooooo!"

Bear gathered up his new crew, loped experimentally towards the front of the shop then, gaining confidence and speed, leaped back out through the totaled display window and back into the fight.

 

[Moochy]

Scars

Scar pointed where she wanted her two-legged orc-mount to go, the big green guy holding a rifle that was clearly meant to be bolted to the ground and waving it around as if it were a toy.

Pete was thoroughly enjoying himself, ever since learning he was apparently mostly bulletproof. Mostly, because although he was a fucking big green target, was apparently thick skinned enough that although they stung like a bitch, the bullets from the guns didn't seem to do much but pepper him up a particularly angry steak.

Brian, on the other hand, was discovering that elves have a way of moving that got him out of the way of most attacks and let him lay the smack down on anyone stupid enough to get near to him. And there were a lot of stupid people.

Scar had got Pete to add an extra couple of places where her claws could find purchase, and would happily run up the orc's back, sway left or right, duck out of the way of stray bullets coming her way, then pick off anybody stupid enough to think such things could seriously hurt the green monster, and throw herself through the air to bite the face off anybody who didn't get the message the first time. The three of them were pretty much unstoppable, and she even liked it when Pete patted her on the head after scooping her up from a flying attack-bold mauling.

"I like this one," Pete said.

"Good, good, you've got a pet kobold. You're gonna make sure you feed her and change the litterbox or whatever it is she needs, right?"

"Fuck off, Brian, she's house-trained. I mean she's not a pet!"

"Keep telling yourself that, dummy. Look at ya."

"Yeah well not my fault she's so small and… oi! Fuck you!" Pete spread his legs just enough to get a good solid stance, then fired the low-slung almost-artillery-gun from the hip at the fuckers who had just popped a cap at him. The retort would've been deafening to him before, but now it just sounded like the sweetest music. It also blew holes in concrete the size of dinner plates, so a real win-win there. And it made fuckers like that really, really dead. Scar squealed energetically and he reached over to his shoulder to give her a high-five. He then glared at Brian. "One word."

"I'm not going to say another word about your little lizard girlfriend."

"Oi!"

"Hehehe… anyway! Look, I think we're here, wherever it is that she wanted us to go?"

Scar was jumping up and down at a padlocked door to some sort of… warehouse area?

"Right, fuck this noise, that's coming off. Gotta be some good loot… in… fuuuuck me."

Pete had taken the massive padlock in his hands and just pulled. The loop of the padlock had shorn right off. It clattered loudly to the floor as Brian finished saying, "click on one, bind on two…"

The doors swung open to reveal a mass of figures all shoved into a room far too small to be healthy. Brian and Pete both covered their noses with the backs of their hands.

"Fucking animals. Let's get 'em outta here," said Brian. "Come on, you lot, up you get, we're… we're here to help. That's right, yeah?"

He looked at the kobold, who nodded solemnly at him. The trio walked slowly into the room, being very careful to be as friendly as possible. Which was quite hard given that one of them was an eight foot tall green monstrosity with an artillery gun for a rifle.

Scar yip-yapped at a few of the figures, and they moved, standing up. Idly, Brian looked at them in the dim light. They almost looked like kobolds, but… weren't. They were much bigger, for starters, and almost entirely female. He bit his lip as he pondered where the males had gone. Same place as the rest, likely. All the people in here were female, or at least passingly… pretty.

"Come on," he said softly, then cleared his throat and spoke louder. "Come on! We're here to rescue you, so let's get to being rescued, alright? We fucking killed everyone we found on the way here, so the coast is clear. Up and at 'em!"

The humans responded to the language that apparently most of them knew. The rest responded to Scar and her yapping. They looked worriedly at Pete, but looked downright scared of Brian. Pete shrugged, maybe 'big green monster' was less scary than 'guy who looks more like their kidnappers'. Soon enough, hesitant standing turned to excited murmuring, turned to cries and exclamations of panic and joy in equal amounts as the three lead all the survivors out of their own personal hell, and into the arms of the waiting dragon.

Pete swore to make somebody pay for this, but the three of them had been doing that already. So he just resolved to do it harder.

 

[firefrog600]

so what level of dragon is the mc?

 

[Moochy]

so what level of dragon is the mc?

Click to shrink...

The MC is a (Pathfinder) Juvenile Black Dragon, so he doesn't have a level, as such.

He does have a Challenge Rating of 8, as per the Bestiary, which can be used for most calculations of that sort, but I'm not overly paying too much attention to numbers because I don't really want to keep track of math for a story (hence the 'kinda-anti-lit-rpg' tag I had/have) so I'm using spells, spell-like abilities and NPC/Character levels more as a guideline that anything else to keep their classes and abilities in check without subjecting you guys to the frankly often boring blue status screens so many isekai type protagonists trot out ad nauseum.

In short, I'm writing more 'Dragons of Autumn Twilight' in format, but leaning more towards Vainqueur in content (just without quite as much style, but hopefully as much fun overall).

 

[firefrog600]

The MC is a (Pathfinder) Juvenile Black Dragon, so he doesn't have a level, as such.

He does have a Challenge Rating of 8, as per the Bestiary, which can be used for most calculations of that sort, but I'm not overly paying too much attention to numbers because I don't really want to keep track of math for a story (hence the 'kinda-anti-lit-rpg' tag I had/have) so I'm using spells, spell-like abilities and NPC/Character levels more as a guideline that anything else to keep their classes and abilities in check without subjecting you guys to the frankly often boring blue status screens so many isekai type protagonists trot out ad nauseum.

In short, I'm writing more 'Dragons of Autumn Twilight' in format, but leaning more towards Vainqueur in content (just without quite as much style, but hopefully as much fun overall).

Click to shrink...

Well if its like Vainqueur they better be a god by the end.

 

[Moochy]

Well if its like Vainqueur they better be a god by the end.

Click to shrink...

Either way, if I can pull off a story half as much fun I'll be pleased with this.

 

[firefrog600]

If the goal is conquest and their a dragon don't you need like really large timeskips?

 

[Moochy]

If the goal is conquest and their a dragon don't you need like really large timeskips?

Click to shrink...

Regarding timeskips, there will likely be some. Not quite yet, it depends how far this 'book' goes towards some nebulous (and spoilery) end-goal. As long as there is interesting story to tell, then I'll tell it. For the time being at least, we're moving more or less with the biggest gap being hours or a couple days at a trot, but generally right now in real time

 

[Moochy]

You know what? This one's short enough I should post it today. They'll normally be longer than this. I've got a vacation coming up which means I'll have to work on the backlog, but I'll try to keep posting where revelry with the family doesn't stop me.

---

Fetch

Dog was… well he wouldn't call himself a happy bunny as it were, but he was filled with a kind of optimism. The collar around his neck was a constant reminder — as was his inability to even call himself anything other than 'Dog' — of how badly he'd fucked up, but he'd been given a chance to not only redeem himself, but hopefully correct a mistake.

He'd have his friend back if it killed him. Literally.

He had to say though: having one purpose in life really focused his edge. He shot, he stabbed, he kicked and punched, he snuck up on, and he bludgeoned his enemies as he forged his way through the mall. A cadre of kobolds came with him, occasionally blasting with water, lightning, poison gas, or even occasionally casting some sort of spell on him that made him… apparently really hard to see and therefore hit.

He was wondering how to get into the jewelers when some sort of bomb went off and the electricity went out. Shrugging, he then just smashed his way into the shop and started pocketing gold, jewels, necklaces, anything that looked like it might either be expensive enough or at least add up to being expensive enough, that would work, right?

He just couldn't shake the feeling of it being somehow… unclean, to be clearing out a jewelry shop when they were here to rescue kidnapped people and kill the last of the bastards that had attacked that night.

He looked in disgust down at the jute bag he was using to stash the valuables in. Another lesson, definitely, though he wasn't sure this one was planned.

Whether it was or wasn't, he would learn it well.

He grunted, unable to properly speak, until one of the kobolds approached. He handed off the bag of goodies, then mimed a number of physical activities that he hoped got his message across. A sporting goods store. When the kobolds chattered together and turned back to him, they ordered him to follow. He had no choice, but apparently his decision to try for something more had worked as he was lead to a folksy-looking shop with faux wooden slats and campfires made of red and orange felt outside it.

He headed inside the store and nodded happily, grabbing item after item and tossing them to his scaly friends. Knives, bigger knives, gloves, hats, pots and pans, and finally… crossbows, guns and ammunition. When the five of them left the store, they were moving a lot slower, but were wearing ridiculously wide grins to match their bulging backpacks.

One of the kobolds tugged his clothes. Dog looked down curiously, turning his head. The little guy — or gal, he couldn't really tell with kobolds — held up a fist. Snorting, Dog's fist met the kobold's, who immediately drew his own fist back and made a 'pow' noise in his throat.

Okay, he did kinda like these little guys. Now to make his journey worth it, and get out with the goods.

 

[firefrog600]

Regarding timeskips, there will likely be some. Not quite yet, it depends how far this 'book' goes towards some nebulous (and spoilery) end-goal. As long as there is interesting story to tell, then I'll tell it. For the time being at least, we're moving more or less with the biggest gap being hours or a couple days at a trot, but generally right now in real time

Click to shrink...

Well maybe he can go conquer a gnomish village then with cr8.

 

[Moochy]

Well maybe he can go conquer a gnomish village then with cr8.

Click to shrink...

GNNOOOMMMEEESSSSSS!!!! *Roaring and snarling intensifies*

 

[Moochy]

Shift Change

Bert drove the last of the trucks — mine — out of the garage and into the sunlight. Now the fighting was mostly over, I didn't need to skulk about in the shadows. I glared at the twenty or so humans kneeling on the ground with their hands crossed behind their heads as I stepped out of the truck, my steps sending the body of the vehicle tilting wildly left and right, noting how their eyes went wide as they finally understood what they were up against. This could have been so much easier if they'd just been reasonable.

Three more vehicles had pulled up a short while ago, out had jumped a good number of gang members and there had been another short, but decisive, pitched battle. A couple more of my men had been injured, but thankfully no more casualties; magic once again proved a force multiplier that could not be beaten, with grease spells knocking people over, distracting illusions sowing panic, blasts of water, shocks of electricity and a myriad of other little tricks taking any effectiveness their abilities with firearms offered and dashing it against the rocks. I had no idea if the dead could be revived a second time, but either way we would be taking our dead with us. Their dead would be left for the crows. Or buried, if I was feeling generous. Right now, I wasn't. I was feeling hungry, but didn't want to set a 'bad example'. Maybe I could get some privacy before I got hangry.

"Tell them what I am offering. Kill those who refuse."

It didn't take long to pick up the seventeen that chose wisely. The three that didn't were cut down swiftly and with no mercy. I would have to learn to speak Human again. It irritated me that I could understand them, but that these fools couldn't understand me. I would have to make do with being heard through Vengis, or another of my subjects.

"Frank, come here," I said, calling for the kobold who had seen fit to warn me of this nest of vipers.

"Sir?" I noticed that although the kobold answered in English, he did understand me.

"This has been too easy, hasn't it?" I asked. "There has been resistance, but still, not enough, there's been no leadership."

"I… think so, yes. For one thing, no police. For another, things are… the city shouldn't be like this. It's all wrong."

"Explain," I asked simply, giving him the room to follow his gut.

"First, the army should've been here. Since they aren't, it must have gotten real bad everywhere, especially if the world has, ah, expanded the way things have 'round here. The last time I was here… the last time I was here I was human, and it was weeks ago. Things were bad then, but now, I think we're dealing with a total collapse. If the police turn up, they won't be helpful."

"Go on, I want to hear you out."

"Uh, well, some police wear the badge because it's the right thing to do. Others wear the badge because they want the badge. We know both types, but let me put it simply; the police always did have places they couldn't go, so with shit hitting the fan like this? No way they'd come here to mess with the Kings when they could pull back and patrol the parts of the city that actually want them there in the first place. Especially now the city is just… that much bigger than it should be. Otherwise they'd never have let things go like this. It's every man for himself. Or lizard, as the case may be."

"So there won't be any… 'objections' to our activity here, so long as what's left of the police don't think they can take advantage of the chaos? And there may be, if they do?"

"Ye… er. Oh." Frank looked at the ground and kicked his feet, sending a few bullet casings flying. "I didn't think about that."

I nodded, agreeing with the kobold. It was always sensible to get a second opinion. The budding ranger was smart, I'd keep an eye out for him.

"You did, I just got there first. Alert the men, be swift. Good thinking on teaming up with your bear friend. Very effective, Ranger Frank."

"He's not my bear, he's—"

I raised a claw for silence, and the kobold grew quiet, looking down at his feet. I waggled said claw and gave a draconic grin, my bottom jaw hanging open.

"He is what he wants to be. Be swift with your warnings and you'll both have time to work that out." I dismissed the pensive-looking kobold and turned to Vengis and Sarge. "I want the new beasts back inside, flushing out any stragglers. Make it clear to them, we're taking control of this place, what's left of it, with or without them and their friends."

There was a distant cacophony of sirens that grew slowly but steadily louder and closer. I growled, my claws digging into the concrete beneath them. I picked one claw up in disgust and shook it, watching the dust fall.

"I will not be caught between two factions," I grumbled. "I'll see this place burn before I surrender it, or myself to being caught between it and the erstwhile boys in blue."

There was a sudden screech of tires, the slamming of doors and then the screech of electrical feedback. The troublesome creatures must have been on the lookout, and called in backup the moment they perceived weakness. That was their first mistake and I intended to punish them for it.

"Attention hostiles, We are the SMPD! We have this facility surrounded! Lay down your weapons, put your hands behind your heads and come out slowly!"

The irritating interloper had some sort of bullhorn and was using it to tell the world how large his nutsack was. I turned to Vengis.

"I need to be seen and heard," I stated, trying hard to keep my annoyance at bay.

"I can…"

"No, I need my voice to be loud. As loud as possible. I need it to carry to as much of this place as possible. And… I want to be seen. Things tend to get a lot easier when the people know what they're dealing with. Can you do that?"

"Not… not by myself, but… yes, I think we can manage something like that."

"Good," I said, a wide grin splitting my jaws. Maybe this wouldn't be quite so tiresome after all.

***

Gordon O'Leery put down the bullhorn and leaned against the patrol car. With a name like O'Leery, being a copper was in his blood, but he hadn't thought he'd have to put up with a situation like this, and it was sorely trying his resolve.

Martial law would've been one thing, but this was disgraceful. Hopefully now that somebody had happened to the Kings, the S.M.P.D. could happen to them in return, and they'd get another little pocket of sanity in this madhouse world, taking back Pineview Mall in the process.

"Corporal O'Leery, Sah! No movement yet. Want to give them another blast?"

"Give them a few moments, Reynolds. Probably gathering their forces."

"Shouldn't we stop them, then?" Reynolds asked, taking off his hat and running his fingers through his regulation-length short hair. Gordon scowled at him, aware his own thinning locks were a little tinged with gray. And missing on top.

"What, and stop them putting all their people together in one place for us?"

"What if they dig in? Get snipers in the buildings?"

O'Leery blinked for a moment, and sighed. "Hadn't thought of that." He picked up the bullhorn again and gave it another blast before continuing. "I repeat! Come out with your hands up and nobody will get hurt! Resist and you will be dealt with with deadly force!"

"Christ that thing's loud," grumbled Reynolds.

"It's supposed to be, Pip. No good if they can't hear us." Gordon's free hand went to his gun at his side, flicking the restraining strap open nervously.

"No good if I can't hear them cos I've done deaf, either," Reynolds griped, sticking one finger in an ear and wiggling it.

"Shut it, something's happening. Look!"

To the shock and awe of the watching crowds, there was a bright flash of light high in the sky, several hundred feet above the tallest part of the mall, and the smoke and dust in the air from the explosion earlier that had first alerted O'Leery's squad members to the opportunity being handed them seemed to flow upwards and congeal, first into a rough ball and then into the shape of, of all things, a massive black dragon.

"People of Stokerville!" the apparition roared, rattling what was left of the windows and setting off a number of car alarms. Again. "I have come burdened with glorious purpose!"

"Is… is he quoting movies now?" hissed Reynolds.

"I think so, PIp," stage-whispered another policeman, Glenn. "I quite liked that one."

"Shh!" hissed O'Leery.

"...sun has set on the old world, I have come with it. I am the Black Dragon of Sunset, and you all now have a choice."

"There's no way that's actually a fucking dragon," Glenn whispered.

"I am no robber baron, I don't care for riches, or sacrifices, or virgins. I will take my fair share of food and resources for myself and those amongst you who will protect you, but no more. All I wish is to rebuild our society and see it rise from the ashes of the old world, united under my banner, so we may all live in peace. Put down your weapons, come out, pledge yourselves to me, and you will not be harmed. Resist, and you will die."

"Likes to hear himself talk at least," Piper — Pip to his friends — replied.

"Fuck, it is a dragon, then." Glenn swore.

"There's no fucking way, it's just some stupid trick." Gordon picked up the bullhorn again, but put it down slowly on the hood of the patrol car as, with loud, thumping steps, something extremely large, black and scaled shouldered its way straight through the barricade of three expensive cars and spread its wings, and roared.

"Open fucking fire!" shouted Gordon, lifting his gun and firing a few shots, backing away as it charged, and all hell broke loose.

There came a roaring, shouting cacophony from behind the dragon as not only humans, but a whole bunch of those crazy fucking critters that had been popping up everywhere advanced, and what was worse, the bullets were bouncing off of some sort of invisible shields.

The shit had well and truly hit the fan.

"Where the fuck are you going?" shouted Piper Reynolds, reloading his hand-gun and taking another couple of pot shots, before turning the gun towards the retreating Gordon.

"I've got to make a call, get some real backup. This is what they were warning us about."

"Get back here!"

"Hold them off!"

"Bastard!"

Piper fired another shot after the retreating Gordon, then turned back to the melee in front of him. This was going to be a long, long day.

 

[Moochy]

First of all, merry Xmas to one and all. I hope it's at least peaceful and you can all stay warm inside (for those in the southern hemisphere, enjoy your summer).

This is probably a good point to put the second arc to bed, as it were, but we'll be picking up again soon (although maybe after Santa's been).

---

Slings and Arrows

I shook myself out as the mix of illusions faded. Twenty or thirty of my beasts had run back inside to clear out the rest of the rats, with a handful given very specific instructions not to let anybody not under my control roam about freely. The majority of my proper forces had returned, and so the 'police' were next on the list.

I felt pretty happy about how things had gone so far, at least when talking about how fair and generous I'd been. I didn't blame anybody not wanting to join under my banner, but they had to see I couldn't let them go. I couldn't let them join forces in some misguided effort to unseat me. No, they had two choices — join me, or die.

The rest of how things had gone… that worried me. It really had been too easy.

Still, whilst 'too easy' raised my hackles, I'd take it. I was sure it'd bite me in the tail, but maybe if I knew that, I'd be able to soften the blow.

I shouldered my way through the cars, shoving them bodily left and right as I advanced on the police perimeter. Showtime. I took a deep breath, and roared. That was the signal for my forces to attack.

Lowering my horned head, I pawed the ground, fixed my gaze on one group of cars one the left, and charged, blinking furiously at the hail of bullets that bounced off my scales. Good, so far these idiots were using small arms. I was sure they had — yup, there it goes. I juked to the side as somebody brought out some sort of machine gun. If that had hit, it might've even hurt. Pity for them they missed. I hadn't. I slammed into the first car and got my head under it, tossing it. Spinning, I slammed my tail into a third and spat acid in a semi-circle onto not only the third, but everybody who was still cowering behind where they'd been.

Using my head as a battering ram, I threw the half-melted corpses of a couple of would-be attackers into the air, and put some speed into my movements as I barrelled through what was left of the nearest vehicle. Spreading my wings and giving them a swift couple of flaps, I leaped into the air, fighting to gain elevation.

I felt bullets perforate my wings in a couple places, but mostly I felt the stings of bullets hitting my softer underbelly. I'd pay for it later, but I could take it. Not that I'd let them get away with it. I banked, turned and made a strafing run, spitting out more streams of noxious acid that melted everything before it.

"Death follows those who stand against me!" I roared, before swooping down and snatching up one policeman in my maw. He screamed and stabbed at me with his gun, too lost to open fire. I shook him until something snapped and he fell limp in my jaws. I snapped my muzzle shut around his body, grabbing the top half and pulling. The body separated in a spray of gore and I wolfed down what I could before spitting out the rest, taking another bite from what I held in my claws and throwing the remainder at the enemy forces still firing on me and mine.

They had chosen poorly. I was invincible.

Of course, hubris is a powerful teacher.

A sudden pain in my shoulder joint where my wing met my body sent me spinning out of the sky, roaring in agony and anger. I went in for a hard landing, wiping out against an armored personnel carrier of some sort, the SWAT team most likely. They got swatted. Scrabbling, I fought to get to what was causing the pain, but I was the wrong shape to pull it out, a long and slender arrow. I twisted and turned, crying out in pain as my efforts to dislodge it dug it deeper, but eventually something caught and it snapped, the head pulling free. My triumph was short-lived however, as another arrow dug into my other wing-joint. I turned and spun, rolling onto my back almost in reflex. I spat acid in a wide arc, trying to hit whoever had shot another arrow at me. I got a third arrow for my troubles lodged into my chest. This one I could pull out, even if only just.

Based on the angle it had impacted… there! Roaring again, I threw myself across the road and dug my claws into the side of the building as I pulled myself up it. Heaving myself over the lip, I was spitting mad. Literally. I spat acid all over the rooftop, watching with a small amount of satisfaction but mostly annoyance as the elf that had peppered me with arrows was forced to retreat, his — or her, elves were incredibly slender it seemed, so I didn't know which I was dealing with, not that it mattered, he or she needed to die — armor and flesh smoking where I'd sprayed them.

I thundered my way across what was left of the roof as my acid melted through the concrete, pulling myself to the lip. "Elves!" I shouted, somewhat lamely. "We're up against elves! If you can't fight them! Hide! Do not die for nothing! Regroup at the base if you get separated! Kobolds, Goblins, Kin of all creeds! The humans know how to operate their vehicles and machinery! Fight from the shadows, guerrilla tactics! But if you can't win, there is no shame in retreat! I, however, will fight on! And our enemies will die! Or I will die trying!"

Another two arrows thumped into my chest, one each side — bastards had had me surrounded all along — but I didn't let them stop me. I tore them out, sighted the closest elf, and threw myself at him before he could dodge. A splitting pain in my shoulder told me that their knives were made of better stuff than the regular human tools, but my teeth were better still. At least against elves. I snatched her up — huh, I idly wondered if male elves tasted better or worse, and resolved to farm a few in revenge if I made it out alive — and shook and grabbed and twisted until her shrieks stopped.

Around me was chaos, total chaos, as most of the human police had been dealt with swiftly, but their forces had been bolstered with a cadre of elves, who were deadly as lightning and twice as quick.

I didn't dare take to the air again, and wasn't sure I could fly in any event, not with both my wings injured. I could glide, however, and they made good battering rams in a pinch. On the ground, weaving amongst the wreckage and bodies, the elven archery was a lot less effective. Which didn't mean much, because they were fucking effective in close quarters with their knives. The only good deal there was that so was I; with my claws, tail, wings, bite and breath I was the match of most things that wanted my hide, which I add was armored.

Pity that I wasn't proof against blunt, brute-force attacks and being gang-rushed by a large number of different, suicidal enemies.

I don't know how long I lasted, I don't know how many I killed or injured, and after an oversized club wielded by some sort of minotaur slammed into the back of my head, I didn't know anything at all.

 

[Moochy]

I don't have much in the way of backlog as I've been writing another story called "The Next Next Gen" (which you can find here) but that's why I like the shorter 1-2k chapters. Let me know what you think, I enjoy feedback.

Merry Xmas everyone, and a Happy New Year!

---

Regroup

Scar spat and hissed from Pete's back as she took pot-shots at anything and everything that moved, her footing steady despite how Pete weaved to and fro with his ridiculously large gun. As the last of the city guards went down, she rejoiced, but that victory was short-lived as she saw her lord take on the entirety of the rest of the enemy's forces all by himself.

His words resounded in her heart, and she knew what she had to do. Giving up wasn't in the cards, but a tactical withdrawal was. She tapped then slapped Pete until he listened to her, then gesticulated that they should pull back to a more defensive position.

Passing the word out to as many of the kobold and goblin forces as they could, she organized for an across the board retreat back to first the mall and, if necessary, any other defensive position they could take and hold.

They would not be returning to the lair in disgrace, they would fight!

But first, like all good kobolds did, they would prepare.

***

Bear slumped down, breathing hard, as around him the kobolds filtered in. They'd taken over some sort of underground set of service tunnels and had trapped it, mined various other entrances, hidden doors with spells and done everything they could to provide a safe place for the forces of Sunset. With luck it wouldn't be necessary, but better safe than sorry.

"What's the plan, buddy?" Bear asked.

"Well first of all, Bear, you gotta take it easy. You were shot, after all," said Frankie. "If you're gonna be my battle-bear, you gotta stay healthy, you hear? I can't have you dying on me, so rest up. You've been doing most of the work, I've just been along for the ride. Let me check that wound, I'll get you some water, something to eat. Just stay there, please."

"Yeah, yeah, Mom, I gotcha." Bear groaned as he closed his eyes and stretched. He winced only slightly when one of the kobolds, the same one as before he reckoned, but he wasn't too sure, took off his bloodied makeshift bandages and changed them for fresh ones, chittering over the wound itself.

A different, sharper voice entered the fray, and Bear opened one eye to see a goblin sidling up with a large amount of leather straps connected by metal loops and buckles. Bear tried to get up and move away, but he was too tired, and the kobold was insisting he not move.

"Alright, alright, fine, fine, but you're putting it on me, I ain't moving if I've gotta wear it."

He slumped back down again, grumbling. The harness was probably made for a horse, originally, but either the goblin had altered it or it was just that flexible enough to turn it into the start of war barding for him. The kobold yipped and yapped softly as she arranged his bandages so that the leather straps would keep them tightly in place. He had to admit it, he felt better after it was done. He wouldn't want to sleep wearing this — not at least all night long — but it was comfortable and practical.

"If this is how a ranger mount gets treated, I could learn to live with it, I guess," he chuckled, as two others of the kobold group he'd been fighting with started to brush his fur and feed him morsels they cut up by claw.

Frankie snorted at the scene of decadence when he came back, arms laden with basic supplies, then set about repacking them away in case of trouble, before seeing to his gear. The human Dog had come back with his own band of kobolds and had been distributing hunting and camping gear, high quality stuff, and with a lot of choices that fit his new stature.

All in all, it could be worse. It could certainly be better, given what they'd lost, but it could be much worse. Scouts had reported that as soon as the main attack forces had pressed their victory, they'd trussed up the captured dragon and had carted him away somewhere. Other scouts still were following and would report as soon as they were able.

The Sunset forces had pulled back, evacuating or hiding their injured, until the elves and other mixed forces had lost interest. There was a certain amount of tit for tat sniping still going on in the streets above, but it was clear the enemy army had decided to abscond with their prize and were making their own tactical retreat.

***

It was early evening now, and it would be dark soon. Then, they would have a choice. Frankie decided to make it for them. He stood up, clearing his throat, before speaking in a mix of English and Draconic.

"Hey, er, everyone! I'm Frankie. I… I died. You brought me back. I-I-I'm told that I owe my life to the magic that the dragon brought with him, and, well, I want to repay him what I can. The scouts have said they're taking him to Pineview Meadows, or what's left of it, or whatever it's become now. What I wanna know is, what are we gonna do about it?"

"The dragon's instructions were pretty clear," replied Vengis slyly, pushing his lounging body off of the wall and brushing imaginary lint from his shoulders. "We're supposed to scurry with our tails between our legs back to the base and wait for this all to blow over." He cleaned his claws thoughtfully for a moment. "Needless to say I'm not going to do that. I was also ordered not to let any of us die through inaction, and I'm going to lean on that order as hard as I can. It's not going to be easy, we may lose more than a few of us if we do this, but I'm going to lead an assault force into the elves' forest, find and free our lord and kill everybody who gets in my way.

"I've already got the humans in on it, they're scouting along with the vanguard consisting of a number of rangers, and the three heroes. I advise mixed parties of outworlders and Earthers. The former for the elves' tricks, the latter for any local issues."

"You've got my band," said Frankie, saluting. "My bear is injured, but he'll be right as rain with a bit of rest."

"You've got me and my boys and girls too," said a goblin, grinning widely. "We've got a few tricks up our sleeves the Earther humans taught us, and we already know all about elves."

"And we have a few ideas too," said one tall, pale, silvern-haired figure. There was a murmur of discontent across the room, before a very large, green-skinned figure stood up next to him, bearing a gun large enough to blow holes in the side of buildings, with a kobold riding on his shoulder looking equally able to deal with fools.

As soon as the murmuring started, it stopped, not just because of the 'honor guard' but because they recognized this elf. This was their elf. One of the Earthers.

"Exactly my point," said Brian, cracking his knuckles. "If it fooled you for even a second, it'll fool them for a lot longer. Me and my 'prisoners' will take none of our own."

 

[Moochy]

The Forest and The Night

"Lady Aerilaya," said the elf kneeling in front of the dais. His gaze was on the glade floor, both hands flat on the ground. He tried not to tremble.

"Speak your piece, Thane Eladrin, I tire of interruptions."

"Our woods have been invaded by the Earthers, my lady, and—"

Aeirlaya bit off an annoyed cry, flexing her fingers like claws. "I know, Thane Eladrin," she replied angrily, her voice exuding cold fury. "The humans from this world are weak and pitiful, and as weak and pitiful as our current crop of Vanguards are, I trust that my more elite troops, amongst which I presume you count your own existence, are able to pick up the slack? If not, Thane Eladrin, I have other duties to which I could put your sorry hide. Deal with them, or I shall deal with you, understood?"

"My lady," Eladrin responded, working hard to keep the quiver out of his voice. Not looking up, not daring to meet her gaze, not able to voice his objections, he stood and backed away a number of steps before turning. "I would ask for a modicum of Glamor to assist in our defenses, lest the Earthers breach our inner sanctum, before we are fully prepared."

The glade was Holy, the glade was Home, but until the Great Tree could be born anew on this 'Earth', lingering too long amongst the warmth of its energies put one too close to High Lady Aeirlaya and her fickle temper, and that was bad for one's health.

Aerilaya narrowed her eyes. This world was not their own, they had been cast into it by enemies that sought to make them low, but Fomoran Elves would not be so easily quashed. They would do what they must, under their new High Lady who had staked her claim so boldly and bloodily, to see their kingdom and their people rise again.

"I would know more, my Thane," Aerilaya said, after a longer silence.

"Aesirs Felearn, Aubron, report!" barked Eladrin.

Aerilaya had paused in her preparations, the considered placing of fat candles and offerings around her casting circle in the space before her throne. She sat back down upon it, legs crossed. Two shapes detached from the shadows, forming into two Elite warriors.

"The enemy's forces have penetrated our perimeter, Lady, Thane," said the first.

"Not unexpected, Felearn, go on." Eladrin stood to attention. Such a pitiful showing would reflect badly on him, not his lesser. Somebody wanted a promotion, via dead elf's boots if necessary.

"Aye, sir, but… my forces have been unable to turn them aside. Our Glamor is as yet weak. I have delayed them, split them up, but they are better hunters than we have been led to believe." Felearn happily threw his subordinates under the warbeast.

"The City's Earthers were… fat, useless, like pigs to slaughter. Like little lambs gamboling whilst the wolves watch," added Aubron, eager to similarly shed any blame. "Even the svelte amongst them were little more than show-hounds, suitable for little more than as lap dogs. These are… these are not the same. They are a far cry from a Fomoran at the height of their powers, but in this place…"

"Our scouts' reports were true," continued Felearn, nodding. "They are aided by Outworlders, some from our own good Realm, others from worlds far distant to our own. The Gods that brought us here dwell within the Grand River; they may well have made the Infinite itself their home, but do not themselves step out upon these lands."

The Thane turned to glance at the dragon they had captured, trussed tight and bleeding, slumbering his last few hours away. He could feel something there, something he did not expect, now that he searched for it. It intrigued him. Dragons were loathsome creatures, so few were properly Fey enough to know their place. They bullied and cajoled and threatened their minions, so only the most fanatic of followers would seek out their erstwhile benefactors, but this one… was it different to the dragons he knew? The kobolds were one thing, perhaps the goblins, but the other Earthers? The Outworlders? No, they were likely there for little more than the thrill of the hunt. There were a lot of weapons in this world, it made sense.

"This is my wisdom," Aerilaya said, after some consideration. "Turn them not away, for our magic is too weak to confuse the steel in these Earthers' minds, but seek to… whisper to them. Delay, misdirect. I shall empower your Glamor thus. Are you capable of enacting this, Thane?"

Eladrin winced. "They know not where within this forest that which they seek lies, so… give them the forest. Let them wander its paths in content. Distract them as softly as you can, make them welcome to play within our borders, whisper in their ears about the hunts to be found, the prey, the sights and sounds and smells. They need not be ejected, merely… delayed." He nodded to his Queen, then bowed and withdrew, as quickly as he could.

Slowly, Felearn and Aubron understood. To remove these insects from their lands meant opposing every step, confounding every turn, but to tease and entice, that would only be necessary when these fools looked the wrong way, when they let their guard down.

"And then we kill them?" Aubron whispered, seeing his future conquests already. He would sneak upon them, and strike, silent and deadly.

"When you can, you may," agreed Felearn. "As the High Lady's plans near fruition, our powers will wax greater and greater still, until these woods will truly become our own, and then our nation's borders will swell as far as the Light takes it, and further still with every conquest."

"Until the Light."

"Until the Light."

They followed their Thane into the forest and the night.

After some time, Aerilaya rose once more from her throne of thorns like a delicate, porcelain doll on strings of silver, lifted by the gods themselves, stepping down from the meager dais onto the dewy green grass of the enchanted glade. Her magic was still weak as of now, but she was Fey, so appearances were all part of the deal. Enchanting her throne to be torture for anyone else but her was part of the price she had to pay.

She stepped lightly across the clearing, ignoring the lessers who bowed as she passed, to stand before the path to the Great Tree.

It stood alone in an island surrounded by a silvery pool, bark not nearly ancient enough, sap not nearly sweet enough, but possessing enough of the knowledge of what a tree should be, even here in this gods forsaken arsehole of a realm, that it had been chosen to become… More.

As the gently glowing, somewhat viscous liquid was absorbed by the tree, it changed. Silver glowing veins now ran up the trunk, rising higher and higher with every sip the tree took. The leaves altered, growing larger, turning silver, becoming almost like burnished metal, reflecting the moon and starlight above.

The silvery pool around the tree had grown too, though that had taken a more hands-on approach. At first it had been naught but a puddle, but with every offering fed to it, little by little it had grown into its full nature, until now it was a veritable lake, space and time itself warping around the sapling that had surged into its current aged and soon-to-be timeless form.

With every drop fed to it, the essence in the Well grew stronger and stronger, reaching out to the Old Places with tendrils of Life and Energy, until soon, so very, very soon, the walls would come crashing down and their own Conduit would come forth into its own true power, granting them and theirs access to the birthright of Elvenkind once more, and with this last grand offering, their future was assured.

Aerilaya skipped across the stepping stones, steps so light she could probably have trodden on cobwebs without them breaking, and ran her fingers across its trunk, laughing quietly, before her grasping hand fell upon the muzzle of the passive, gently heaving black form hanging upside down and almost motionless from the branches.

The black dragon had been tied to the tree with great vines, coaxed to wrap around his heinous form until bones creaked, his wings bound, his tail secured to the trunk, and a slice made in his throat. Even now, a rivulet of greenish, black blood flowed down, down, down the trunk, across the grass, to join with the pool.

"Oh yes, wyrm, your vaunted magnificence is now nothing more than a testament to our glory, to our rise," she whispered. "With your lifeblood, our birthright is ascendant. When you have breathed your last, we will be reborn, and you… will be naught but meat and bones. I'll make a throne from your carcass, dear dragon. Your wings will be my dressing screen. Your teeth, my hairbrush. Your bones ground into dust and fed to my forest. Your scales will be forged into armor and your organs a thousand and one potions. But your disgusting presence, dear dragon, will be gone. Forever."

She patted the dragon on the cheek, the blood running down the soon to be carcass almost making it seem as if the beast was crying blood.

***

I was bound, head to toe. I thrashed and raged, each jerking heave punctuated by thunder and lightning. Tearing my head free, I roared until the vines binding me parted and I rose on wings of smoke and fire above the forest below.

I beat my wings slowly, hovering, their up and down motion in time with the pulsing current in my heart. Each downward stroke lighting the vista below me with purple. In a flash, I understood that none of this was real. I peered down with unreal eyes, seeing a spider web of black-green strands flowing out of my body and down into the forest below.

I almost expected to be feeling weaker, but… I wasn't. And that actually worried me. With every moment that passed, I was feeling lighter, warmer, as if my very essence was draining away, as if I were becoming nothing more than smoke in this dreamscape's wind. It was becoming easier and easier to move because I was needing less and less power to do it, and had less impact as I did.

I gathered my thoughts before they, too, disappeared like smoke. Rising above the merely mundane trees was a different type of tree entirely. It was… twisted, somehow. It glowed a bright silver, and with every pulse of energy it sought to draw from me and from the surroundings it sat in, it glowed brighter. It should have looked beautiful, instead it looked ill.

That, then, was my enemy. What could I do against it? I didn't seem to have my acid breath here. I could move, but I might as well have been a wisp. I was flying, but that meant nothing. My life-force was being pulled out of me, slowly, inexorably, and I knew, somehow, that it would leave me nothing but a faded husk, smoke in the wind.

No, no, no, this wasn't right. I couldn't let this happen. I pulled, mentally, at the threads binding me to the forest. With every heave, I felt my life-force returning to me, but as I fought back, so too did the forest. I pulled harder. Eventually something started to give.

I grit my teeth and snarled, words of a poem echoing in my mind. I couldn't remember who wrote it, but thanked him regardless. "I will not go gently unto that good night," I growled, under my breath. "I will indeed rage against the dying of my light. Not just for me, but for everyone who put their trust in me!"

I beat my wings harder, pulling, yanking, tearing at the gossamer strands that bound me to the forest. They stretched, they pulled taut, they burned where their threads were sunk deep into my body, and one by one they started to snap.

"I will not be consumed by some tree! I will not be made prisoner of my flesh! I will live free and I will die free! I will not lie down to be feast upon by insects!"

I was angry. Furious. Steaming, even. I could feel the heat coming off me as my draconic heritage awoke. I didn't know quite what it was, how to use it, where it came from, but I wasn't about to be bled and sacrificed to a fucking tree.

"I will not go gently and neither will my people!" I roared, and the thunder and lightning was back, lighting up the sky behind me. I turned to look, and there they were, nebulous but present, lending me their aid.

The forest beneath me changed. Where before it had been dark pines and wind-swept hills and dales, now it was fetid and steaming jungles, moss-covered vines, algae-covered vines.

I narrowed my eyes. This was it. There was something there. I swooped lower. This was the true battle.

***

Aerilaya wove her magic as she stalked around the Great Spirit Tree. At first, when they'd claimed this glade, the tree itself had been nothing but some form of… inedible apple, suitable for nothing but the birds, if that.

Under her guidance though, with her magic, thanks to her sacrifices, it had swelled and grown and shaped itself into a proper Guardian for them. Its Voice had awoken, at first weak and divided, but now stronger and stronger, more focused.

Above her, finally, this world's moon placed itself into position and her spell could be properly empowered and cast. Speaking a tongue as old as time itself, she bade the Great Spirit claim this unworthy land as its own Demesne, to shelter her and her kind for all time until the end of days. She sang to it of her sacrifices, her blood, sweat and tears, her hopes and dreams, her very soul.

And as the moonlight seemed to solidify above them, the presence of some echo of the Fey Realm's goddess of night and the hunt made itself known.

The Great Spirit Tree Awoke.

 

[Moochy]

As I'm going to be indisposed until roughly the weekend, here's an early chapter. You have no idea how many times I rewrote this, and I still don't think I'm entirely happy with it, mostly for pacing of the general happenings, but even so I can tell you it should be fun to read and without basic errors.

---

Branches

Tig snuck through the undergrowth like a particularly scaly fox. The firelight up ahead drew his attention, but didn't blind him to his mission, or his quarry, seated around it. He called out the signal as he got into position, answering noises told him the rest of his team was ready too.

With a surge of action, he launched himself into the encampment and tore his way through two of the diminutive humanoids, teeth and claws gutting one whilst his tail-armament caved in the head of another.

Two more gnomes launched themselves at him, but each went down, one with a bolt through their head, another with a dagger sprouting from their back. The fifth was turned into mincemeat by their war-bear Bear, before the surrounding kobold strike team vanished into the dark they'd come thanks to the magical member's concealment spells.

Their enemies might have been on the lookout for kobolds, but bears? Even if the spell failed, bears weren't going to raise an eyebrow until things were far too late.

Tig had known serving the dragon would be a good idea before — a real dragon! And he wanted him! — but now? He got to kill gnomes! Even better! It made sparring with those goblins and dwarves something to look forward to, for example, but racking up a kill-count.

He grinned in the darkness as he scampered up onto the war-bear, loot in claw.

"Let's go!" he whispered to it, as the bear-kin mount snuffled happily in his direction. He also got to ride a war-bear into battle! A bear-kin war-bear!

Oh he would make the dragon proud! He would rescue his lord and ride in triumph back to the ladies back home!

***

Sarge stalked through the forest with his squad. They all had guns, but were reluctant to use them this close to the enemy. It was a good thing they also had a large selection of knives and more than a few crossbows between them.

"Wally, how're we doing?" Sarge hissed to the kobold in front of them. Walter had been a large man before taking a round to the head. Now he was a four foot nothing lizard who still enjoyed a cigar, apparently more than before.

"Bright as day for me, Sarge. Easy street. Follow me, they've got bear-traps out. Got time for Smitty to deactivate them in case more of our guys pass this way?"

Sarge shook his head at how high-pitched Walter's voice sounded now, and at how unaffected the newly-born lizard seemed to be over the whole scales and tails thing. "Sure, just point 'em out, Wally."

The kobold beckoned Smitty over, and the latter squatted down with a tiny pen-light held in his mouth to deactivate the vicious device.

"Down!" hissed Wally a few moments later, one hand on Smitty in advance warning so the man didn't get his face chopped off. Instantly, the five-man band melted into the surroundings. Crashing through the forest came a four-footed creature, snorting steam through its nostrils, a gleaming white horn on its head. Its cloven hooves picked delicately down the trail and the creature raised its head up, sniffing. It gave a bellowing whinny, which was all Smitty needed to launch his desperate attack.

A vicious, hefty iron bear trap on a stupidly heavy chain whirled once, twice, then spun through the air. Somehow, the idiotic attempt worked. The sound it made as the merciless jaws snapped closed over the head and muzzle of the unicorn was the thing of nightmares, as was the unholy scream that the creature let out straight after. Wally darted in, hefted a bowie knife so large it almost looked like a sword in his claws, and slit the throat of the dying animal in one smooth slice. Immediately, its cries were silenced, replaced by wet gurgles as its strangely silvery, softly glowing blood pooled amongst the dirt and leaves.

"Fuck, well now they know we're coming. Wally, keep your head down. No need for you to fuck about, we'll go loud if we need to."

"Gotta get the squirt a BB gun," snarked Bruno, his white teeth stark against his dark skin.

"Fuck you," swore Swally, giving Bruno the finger. Bruno just grinned wider. "You're just jealous I'm getting all the tail now."

"I don't usually go for the girls with quite that much tail, but you might have a point," hissed Denver. "Bruno's been going through a dry spell."

"You shut the fuck up," Bruno retorted, punching Denver in the shoulder. Denver chuckled and leaned away.

"Enough roughhousing, we're on a timer now. Get clear or get ready to fuck shit up," hissed Sarge. A chorus of 'sir's followed.

As one of the bigger members of the unit, Bruno ducked a shoulder. Wally clambered up onto the prepared claw-holds in the man's armor and took point with his crossbow steadied on Bruno's shoulder. It was a tactic rapidly deployed across the entire Sunset force once they'd seen how effective it was with the mixed squads available.

"Nobody's close, but I can hear something coming. More unicorns, I think," said Wally.

"Think they'll have any riders?" whispered Bruno, hefting his gun and checking it was ready to fire. They'd seen a few scouts earlier in the day, before it had gotten dark, elves riding unicorns, but they were seemingly few and far between. They hadn't engaged before, but now the squad was itching for a shot.

"Unlikely if this is just a beastie patrol," Denver suggested. "But you can bet they've sent one or two to get some knife-ears, so they won't be far behind. Those fuckers can move, better than we can."

Maybe unsurprisingly for a seemingly enchanted forest, most of the groups of enemies they'd seen had been a mix of both mundane and otherwise magically inclined animals. It had taken a few ambushes by large-antlered bucks before the team had started deliberately targeting such otherwise innocent looking herds of deer and the like. After that, the attacks by elves had fallen off even as the roving herds and packs of beasts had increased. The animals were easier to avoid or repel, but the downside was that the elves obviously knew they were in the forest. Sarge and his crew didn't have much of a choice but to carry on, however, same as the rest of the Sunset forces. They weren't about to leave their ace in the hole, in a hole, after all.

"Wish we had more of you scaly dudes," Denver said. "No offense, you know the type I'm talking about. Whoosh, boom, pow." He mimed shooting rays of force and explosions.

"None taken, Denny," said Wally. "When we get outta this, I'm gonna see if I can pick any of those smarts up."

"You reckon you can?"

"Hey, I got the scales for it, yeah? Sweet talk a few scaly lasses into giving up their secrets?"

"Not sure that's how it works, but I'll be your wing, er, lizard, yeah?" Denver high-fived Wally whilst Bruno chuckled.

"Alright ladies," said Sarge finally, "shut up, get your big boy pants on, and let's move."

They'd been playing cat and mouse for a while, every so often switching which was which, but they were making progress. They'd thrown off any pursuers up until now, so maybe it was time to get in close and personal.

***

Eladrin narrowed his eyes as the buck bowed before him, one foreleg forwards, antlers bent to the ground. The wretched creature had returned minus half his herd. The elf had been led to believe that the humans of this world were weak — truly, most were — but the ones even now stalking their hallowed paths were wilier than expected and the Cervidae that had been Raised to be the Elven Vanguard were… more disappointing than they should be too. Never matter, it would all come down to the night's ceremony and Aerilaya's magic. When the Great Spirit was brought forth, then their birthright as Fey, as Fomorans, would be restored.

"Your work has pleased me," Eladrin told the creature. It hadn't. "Report to Glauron for further duties."

There would be only one duty for this buck. They needed venison for the feast, after all. Eladrin sighed, then shook himself out as he turned to other things. It seemed some good news was coming his way after all; an elf had captured a kobold, and an orc, of all things!

He cracked his neck as his people escorted a strange elf walking two forms in front of them, one an orc, one a kobold. The orc was also strange, perhaps from another realm where orcs were just… slightly different?

"Come forth, my friend! You are… not one of our elves, are you? But you are similarly lost, and more to the point have performed a great service for the High Lady, delivering our enemies as you have, to us."

The elf prodded the two creatures in front of it, bidding them to kneel. Reluctantly, they did so.

"Tell me, friend, what is your name?"

The elf spun his daggers in his hands, then grinned. "They called me 'Brian' before I was an elf. And that's my orcy buddy Pete, and his little girlfriend Scar. We're here looking for a dragon, you don't happen to have seen one, yeah?"

Eladrin blinked, his brain processing the fact that this elf was using Earther language like a native, then jumped backwards as Brian's blades sliced through the space his neck had occupied a moment prior. There were distant explosions as the orc, so obviously now unshackled, threw itself forwards and raised its weapon, firing it at the elves, gnomes and bugbears that had come roaring out of the forest to try to subdue it. The kobold, for all it was a diminutive wretch, was also making short work of the smaller forces sent towards the trio.

"Sorry, did you expect us to be on your side? Yeah, nah, not gonna happen!" laughed Pete, between gun bursts. The orc was easy to target, but shrugged off what weaponry the elves and allies could muster. The damned kobold was too quick, and was being actively sheltered by the orc, and the damned elf was, as much as he was obviously untrained, sickeningly able to perform, almost as if… as if he were already empowered.

Fuck!

"Raise the alarm! Tell Aerilaya! The Earthers are—"

Sadly for him, whatever he was going to say was cut off as a crossbow bolt lodged itself in his spine, by way of his neck. Eladrin put his hand to his throat as silvery blood bubbled up out of it, gasping for breath, then fell to his knees.

He would not fall here! He would not be stopped! He would not—

Oh, that's strange, the world was spin—

***

Karg bent down and picked up some dirt from the forest floor. He crumbled it between his fingers, tasted it, then spat. "Dragon blood. Something heavy came this way, bugbear I think. Tried to hide it, boss, but dragon's is hard to hide. Specially bleeding."

"We found it, girls and boys," said Rarix, grinning wide on a face built for grinning very wide. "Everybody got their toys?"

A chorus of answers followed. The recent trek had turned bloody, so stealth was more or less already a thing of the past. They'd joined up with the humans with their egg-stealers, and had fought off waves of badgers and elk and deer and other woodland critters, enduring traps that had taken a few legs and arms — replacements would be made once they all went home, until then the unfortunates would have to Deal — until they'd finally found their prize. The dragon was close, really close.

"How far?" Rarix asked. "Long ago? That way?"

Karg pointed in the opposite direction, causing more than a few cajoling bouts of laughter. "Been a while, but not that long."

"Our boy alive?"

"Yep, was at least."

"Good, good. 'Bout time we paid 'em back fer the insults, right?"

There was a general cry of agreement from the goblin warband. They'd been tripped and trapped and misled and waylaid until they'd figured the lay of things, and now their prize was within their grasp.

"We're goblins, girls and boys. What do we do best?"

"FUCK SHIT UP!" came the cry.

"That's what I like to hear."

Rarix took one of the Earther's prized cigars out of a pocket, clipped the end, gripped it in his teeth, lit it up with one of their wonderful, wonderful lighters, and took a deep drag. And then he lit the rag on a molotov cocktail, extended a long, bony, muscle-bound arm back over his shoulder, and threw it into the forest of the fucking bastard elves and watched with glee as the flames and smoked started to rise.

"Well then?" he said, taking another drag, "get to it, my lovelies."

 

[Moochy]

Well, last day of the year! I hope (faint hope though it may be) that 2023 was kind to you, and I hope 2024 is at the very least kinder.

My backlog in this story has been obliterated, but I have next week off to recover from last week's holiday. I plan to use it.

---

Paths

Prongs-in-Winter stepped carefully through the undergrowth, keeping his ears and other senses out for the intruders. Ever since the Masters had come, life had been… difficult. He didn't recall really when he first knew about… things, but he did know that being generally unhappy about it all had started soon after.

He also knew he wasn't happy about… about the Masters in general. Bellows-Lustily hadn't really been a friend — and wasn't that a strange idea — but Prongs was aware that what had been done to the Patriarch of his little herd wasn't… right. It had been… wrong.

Deer knew where they were in the great tapestry of life. They ate the green and growing things, and the fang-bearers ate them. But to be… to be culled — he needed a new word for the insult — for… doing a thing? Not doing a thing? Prongs wasn't sure what it was that had happened since the Masters had said the Good Words but done a Bad Thing, and the Bad Thing had been Badder because of the Good Words. They had… they had lied.

Prongs-in-Winter really, really hated the idea of lying. Saying that which was not true. He could understand hiding oneself from the enemy, he could not only fully support but took place in the kind of bellowing, prancing, snorting play by play when the fanged ones came close, or when courting a mate, or when battling for breeding rights, but that was an understood exchange. Lying was something different, and wrong. These Masters were… were… they were Calves Born In The Wrong Season, is what they were!

Prongs-in-Winter was now considering something that he hadn't even been aware of, not even peripherally. He was thinking about disobeying. And he liked the idea. These Masters had given them gifts, had promised them rewards for obeying, but Prongs-in-Winter now saw what these rewards were. Lies and culling.

Gently, he prodded Tail-Like-Moon and Calf-Spots and Ear-Nuzzles away from the trails. He told them to… to go find Pretty-Tail — most with such names were does, but Pretty-Tail did have a pretty tail, so who was Prongs to argue? — and to keep themselves away from the Intruders. He would join them soon. If not, there would be another Male to lead them, as was right in the Ways of the Forest.

And then he moved to find some of the Masters and do to them some lies and culling before they could do it to him.

***

I floated above the forest as it warped and spun beneath me. The storm clouds of my people spread amongst the dank, fetid land spread out before me, and it became a branch-laden swamp in their wake.

"Tell me what you want," I whispered weakly, as I drifted.

I'd fought the forest as hard as I could, but eventually realized that it wasn't what I wanted or needed to do. The tree drank it all in, roots stabbing into the earth, tearing it open like a festering wound, so I had sunk into said forest and spoken to it, cajoled it, curried its favor. Now the very forest itself danced to my tune, my whispered words, but still I was dying. There was something I didn't understand, something I was missing.

The last but one tendrils of my being seemingly snapped, leaving just one gossamer thin spider web of light between me and the forest. I sank into it, and closed my eyes. So tired. So sleepy. So easy to give in.

Darkness. An empty, eternal, featureless plane.

"Well, well, well," came a voice, from somewhere behind me, as if multiple people were speaking at once.

"Impressive beginning, for one so lost," said another voice, singular this time.

I tried to turn, to look and see, but wherever my sight fell, there was nothing but darkness. These voices were nothing like the demanding cacophony that had tried to take my sanity before, making nothing but demands, giving nothing but pain. Still, I did not let my guard down, did not trust them.

"I failed though," I said dully. "I died."

"Died?" came the panoply of voices. "Hmm, maybe you are not suitable for the Gifts you have been given."

"I'm not dead?" I asked, whirling again. Unexpected. Nothing was being asked of me. Nothing cajoled, nothing forced.

"She did say 'beginning', young one," said the second, lone voice. "Still, if you do not apply yourself, death will of course come for you."

"Apply myself? But I don't know how to defeat it!"

"Defeat what?" asked the multitude.

"The forest!" I shouted back.

"You cannot see the forest, as they say, for the trees," laughed the singular voice. I stiffened. "Ahh, the hatchling finally understands."

"You have granted him a boon, brother," said the multitudinous female voice, chiding. "Most unfair, to hand out such things one-sided. Tut-tut."

"Then you may grant him one too, sister!" The male voice was boisterous, amused. "I hereby grant you the right to reward him in any way you see fit!"

"I shall think upon it, brother. I shall—"

I was back in the forest, that last gossamer thread threatening to snap, though I would no longer let it. I relaxed, and leaned into the forest surrounding me. "No, no, my friends, you don't need me," I said, sending my intentions down to spread around into the land around me, "you already have everything you need. Just take it back, from the one who stole it."

The pull on my essence stopped. There was a moment of silence, of stillness, and then I felt it. Strength, flooding back into me. I felt my form swell, grow, expand. The forest beneath me was… not mine, not like I would want, but it was with me. It was vast, old, and patient. And now it moved to its own tune.

"You made a mistake, my upstart friend," I said to the tree in the middle of the glade, as it seemed to now want to hide from what surrounded it, as wings of flame burst from my back. I swooped towards it, fearless now. It seemed to shrink away from my presence most of all. "Your mistake was a simple one, too."

I swooped closer still, landed upon it, clawed my way along it, around it, until I found a comfortable position. I put my muzzle close to it, and whispered.

"You tried to make my blood part of your blood. Instead, I made your blood part of mine."

***

Sarge set his weight on his front foot, braced himself, and fired. "Light 'em up, boys!" he shouted gleefully. A stinging pain in his shoulder gave him some pause, but the arrow hadn't penetrated deep. A kobold swooped in and, even as Sarge kept firing, clambered up his body, pulled out the shaft and patched him up in exactly the way it normally shouldn't be done yet it still worked. A swipe with a tail-weapon clanged noisily off another arrow in an incredibly dextrous display of anti-elf weaponry, and then the creature was gone, melting back into the melee before he or she could be targeted.

"Fucking love those guys," Sarge chuckled under his breath, wincing as he rolled in shoulder, testing the wound. "Can't get enough of 'em. Sappers! Fuckin' 'ave 'em!" The man raised his voice, pointing, which was a good enough signal to have a number of goblin sudden rapid deconstruction specialists toss a few Rarix Specials into the fray. There was a very, very loud set of noises and suddenly a lot less elves. At least, in one piece. There was quite a lot of elf in quite a lot of places, but mostly unmoving.

"Rarix, man, good to see you!"

"Pink skins, glad you're in one piece. Cigar?"

"Not quite yet, Chief, principle of the thing for me."

"Ahh, principles." Rarix lit a stick of something with the end of his own stogie and threw it. Ite exploded off in the distance. "Don't see too much use in 'em meself. We found the dragon."

"Came this way, did he?"

"Yup, knife-eared fuckers have led us a merry dance all over this hell-hole, then they made the mistake of letting you pink skins cut in."

"Don't mind if we do, gobbos!" said Denver, offering a fist down to Rarix, who happily punched it, drew back and mimed an explosion.

"Can I have this one, Chief?" Rarix asked Sarge, grinning.

"I think he was after kobold tail more'n gobbo's, Rarix."

"Mm, then I'll get our girls to show him a good time, turn him away from the baby-eaters before he's ruined for life."

"To you egg-stealers? Never gonna happen," said Wally, butting into the fun. Rarix and the kobold shared a grin with roughly equal amounts of teeth.

"I like this one. You're alright with me."

"Duck!" Wally jumped and spun, and his tail-piece deflected an arrow from an elf that would've put a real crimp on Rarix' day.

"Festering boils," Rarix swore as he picked himself up. "A gobbo owing a life-debt to a 'bold? Well now that's an insult I have to deal with pronto. Come on, baby-eater, you're with my boys until we've saved your life."

"If Sarge says it's okay."

"Give us somebody to keep our spirits up," gruffed Sarge, ducking behind a tree.

"Krunk! Krunk ya filthy gobshite!"

"Sah?"

"These're your boys fer now. Have fun."

"Yessah! Giddy up fat boy, we got places to go!" Krunk threw himself at Denver, stole a pistol, and started taking potshots at the elves from the man's shoulder.

"I might keep him," Sarge said with a grin. "Smells better'n some of my lot at least. Let's see if he shoots better."

"Sarge," said Frankie, huffing and out of breath from hauling his scaled backside across the battlefield whilst avoiding being turned into a pincushion.

"Ahh… sorry soldier, don't know your name, haven't really learned to tell the, ah…" Sarge gestured to the tail and scales.

"It's me, Frank, and don't worry 'bout it. Phew," he wheezed. "Came to say, stop targeting the beasties if they don't attack you, they're on our side!"

Sarge blinked. "They are?"

"Yeah, couple of, ah, my lot says they've been treated like shit, don't like it. Won't do what the knife-ears say no more."

"I'll pass the word around! Thanks Frank!"

"No probs, sir."

"Keep your tail covered, lad, we're headed to the real battle, we found the dragon. Pass that on, if you're up for it?"

"Will do!"

Frankie scampered off.

***

Wren perched on a tree limb, motionless. He was used to Elven forests, had been brought up by the denizens of such places, even. He spoke Elvish, though these ones' tongue was warped and changed.

He could feel their magic, of course, had tasted its weft and warp. He'd made himself small against it as soon as he'd offered to take point, to step into the Domain of the Fey, and as such had forged ahead where others had found themselves confounded and turned by the elven glamor.

Trails opened to Wren where others would find nothing but brambles and scrub. Paths were clear as day to him where to others there would be naught but nettles and mud. Not because there were the kinds of Fairy Paths as were found in the world of his home, used to traverse Under and Over, but because here in this world there was as yet nothing of the sort at all.

This world, Wren could feel, was broken. It had been shattered upon the knee of some Great Power and bent and twisted until it pleased its new master. He had learned what it had been like before the Change, though his mind could scarcely comprehend it for its strangeness, but here, behind the mirage painted by the Elves, he could almost see it as what is and what was sought for dominance.

This place had been nothing more than gardens for the wealthy, trees planted as one would arrange the stuffed carcasses of animals one might hunt, put on display for the idle to gawk at. Oh, they had not been mistreated, these trees, but this had been a place for sitting and eating, for lounging in the sun, for shelter from light rain. The great tracts of lands now buried under bark and leaf still spoke to him of what had been, and though he could feel its spirit awakening to its new purpose, the echoes of the old shape it had held still remained. It hadn't been sore for its previous life, and was cautiously optimistic about the new.

It was the echoes of the Land's Voice that he leaned into, in the ways his teachers had long ago taught him, to traverse the changed terrain. His skills had borne fruit. He'd forged ahead of his friends and allies, snuck silently past his foes, and, heeding the violence he could hear off in the distance, prepared to make his move. The center, the very heart of the enemy encampment, the source of the forest's song, was before him. The dragon, that great monster that had told him to his face it would kill him should he dare leave its service, was tied to a tree, trussed like a turkey, bleeding out and dying.

Here, now, with the Elven Domain reaching a slow but inexorable crescendo, the dragon's own laws fought against him. Do what is best for his people. Ensure none come to harm by action or inaction. Protect your own life. The dragon had never explicitly said not to harm him other than not to work against him, and indeed the spirit of the Law had made it clear that the dragon's own wishes could be moved against should they come into conflict with his true intent.

Here and now, Wren could sink an arrow into the dragon's heart, killing him, freeing them all from the need to seek him out. Freeing them from his clutches. Freeing Wren himself from slavery.

Wren notched an arrow in his bow. His finest arrow, the last of a batch made by a master craftsman, blessed by the spirits to always fly true, to fulfill the will of the one who loosed it. He took a deep breath, let it out, pulled, and let fly.

 

[Moochy]

Silence and Song

Wren's arrow flew through the air. It sliced through the bonds holding the black dragon tight to the tree, and the vines snapped. The figure of his lord and master fell to the ground, splashing into the pool of silvery blood that surrounded the tree and sinking without a trace.

"Everybody gets one," Wren whispered. Then in a flash he notched another arrow, aimed it at the High Lady Aerilaya, and let fly. "And here's yours."

That was when the first nearby explosion went off, swiftly followed by another and another, as the smell of smoke and flames began to permeate the glade. The roar and clamor of fighting that had been a distant background noise grew louder, as the humans and their allies and assorted forces surged into the glade.

Wren tried hard not to let the swelling emotions in his chest overwhelm him, but he couldn't help but let out a ragged whooping cheer as the dragon, that had until very, very recently been dying, trapped by vines, pulled himself coughing and spluttering out of the silvery pool.

The black dragon heaved himself bodily out onto the shore, hocking up great maw-fulls of the fey blood — it couldn't be anything else, now Wren thought about it, shuddering at what had been done to create that pool — before opening his eyes and rolling painfully to his feet, swaying weakly.

Wren had no real choice, though this time he didn't regret it, didn't even think twice. He leaped down from his perch, sped across the battlefield and threw himself at the dragon.

"Sire!" he called, grabbing onto the creature and holding tight. "I'm so glad you're free. Let me heal you, restore you!"

Taking in a great, heaving breath, the dragon's head snaked down to look at the halfling. "So, you've chosen a side?"

"I… I have. Be still, sire, this will take but a moment."

Wren concentrated, layering two spells on top of each other, begging whatever spirits were out there to hear him as loudly and clearly as he could. Please, he sent, heal my master. Restore his grandeur that these… these twisted elves have taken.

The spirits answered, and Wren felt the warm, healing energies surge through him and into the dragon. Cuts closed up, lesions melted away, joints cracked back into place, even the membrane of the dragon's wings smoothed over.

The dragon took a deep breath, then let it all out. "Thank you, my smallest knight. You have done me a great service this day. Tell me, how good are you at shooting from a moving platform?"

"Sire?" Wren looked up at the dragon, confused, as the dragon dipped a shoulder. "Sire, I ca-can't!"

"Up you get, Wren, I need to see the battlefield, and I would rather be useful doing it." Wren gulped, then, grabbing at the dragon's horns, pulled himself onto the beast's neck. "Hold tight!"

And then they were airborne, and Wren was picking off targets from a hundred feet up.

***

The forest dreamed. Melt, warmth, cooler, dark. It took a breath. Water, grow, flower, sleep.

It hadn't been a large forest. It hadn't been a forest at all. In all truth, the land had been sculpted above refuse, buried deep, turned from scrub to meadow. Green grass, manicured and pampered by men, spread across small, lazy hills, dotted with little trees that barely knew more than being seedlings.

But it was there, patient, growing. It knew of mankind, in the way that nature usually does, as peripheral creatures that ebbed and flowed with the great seasons made manifest only at the speed a tree's heart beats at, at the ages almost shared by the rocks, the slowest of the world's features.

And then came The Change. The forest had stretched and spread, gifted by the new world with might and majesty to rival the ancient forests that had ruled the planet in ages past, the echo of which is felt even today beneath the feet of these upstart animals daring to call themselves masters of all they survey.

What a pitiful joke, but with the growth had come the depth and power of the Old Forests so allowing these animals to believe they still owned it when instead they lived in the forest, not the other way around, was amusing.

The World had gifted The Forest animals — bear, deer, elk, wolves, hedgehogs, squirrels, rats, spiders, bats… oh such joy! A thousand, thousand singing multitude of voices — and it had known that now, now, it would be something spoken of it hushed whispers by the upstarts.

Then the Others had come. And for a time, they had been… good. They loved the forest, or so they claimed. The Forest felt their embrace, but… no, no, these creatures too thought The Forest belonged to them rather than the other way around, and this time it was less amusing.

They tricked and they trapped and they tore at The Forest's very heart, making it beat to a new rhythm, a stabbing new note in the symphony that felt just… Wrong.

The strange creature, so fast like the rest of the animals, yet slow… living on the scale of the rocks almost, spoke to it. It too wanted to own the forest, but this one knew it could not take it, not at least now, and if not now, then never.

The black one spoke of… rebellion. Of fighting back.

With The Change had come a new speed, a new world, a new way. The Forest did not wish to be owned and manicured and pampered and cut and logged and charted and… no, no, it did not. It was wild, untamed, dangerous. It called out to the beetles, to the birds, to the foxes, to the rodents, to the spiders and bugs and every little thing that crawled, ran, flew, swam… and it sent them against the Others. It drank back the power that had been bled from its denizens, and it poured it into itself, into new guardians that it whispered to of new plans, new ways. The Other's Tree was a thorn, and The Forest knew about thorns. Thorns, after all, needed roses. So it was right and just that The Forest make itself some roses.

With great, cracking wrenches, the chosen trees felt their spirits quicken, and the spirits of the chosen trees, made treants, awoke. They turned to see their twisted sibling, that which had sought to rule above them all, and moved to contain and protect it, not only from the Others, but from itself. Even as the Other's tree raged, the new grove swelled and bloomed around it.

Magic may have been new to this world, but The Forest knew of the Old Magic, from half-remembered dreams that flowed through every leaf and branch, that always had, and always would until the last of days. Magic swirled up, and surrounded the Glade, and began to push everything else out.

 

[The Radiance]

I just binged everything. This is pretty good. It's a dragon MC that actually acts like a dragon, what not to like.

 

[Moochy]

I just binged everything. This is pretty good. It's a dragon MC that actually acts like a dragon, what not to like.

Click to shrink...

Hey, thanks for the comment! I can now live to write another day

I'm glad my intentions came through, the MC is a dragon, not just dragon-shaped. He doesn't quite know what that means or how to do it, but he's trying his best.

 

[Moochy]

I'm not entirely happy with this chapter, and you may have to wait until the weekend or Monday for another (blame Baldur's Gate 3, it's a fab game), but I hope you enjoy!

---

The Weft

Aerilaya screeched in anger as first some insolent worm freed the dragon, then presumed themselves worthy enough adversaries to injure her! She ripped the arrow out of her shoulder, hissing in pain, then forced a spell through it to heal. The culmination of the Ritual was here! The Great Tree was awake! It was becoming a Conduit! Soon, moments in fact, and these insects would be crushed.

"I will kill you all!" she shouted, summoning vines and acid and fire and… she lurched as the world went sideways. What was happening? Her Conduit! She fell to the ground as the Son that had grown so vibrant suddenly dimmed and shattered into a cacophonous wail. Dimly, she saw the dragon heave itself out of the pool, and it was only really then that she realized her Glade was under attack. Sending as much power back through into the Conduit as she could, she quieted the wailing and smoothed out its Song. It was weak, but it was there.

Had the dragon done something? No, the wretched creature was half dead! The Outsiders were coming, but those incompetent, insolent oafs were little better than the animals she'd sacrificed to fill the pool!

"Honor Guard! Attend me!" she ordered, and immediately a half dozen elves melted in from the shadows, but rather than an instant change in circumstance, the best they could do was hold off the intruders, who even now were advancing en masse. She swore, spitting bile, then made the call. "Retreat! Retreat to the forest! We will regroup!"

Moving before she and her forces could get pincered by the dragon, some little bastard shit that was even now healing the beast, and the human and other gutter scum 'kin that were piling into the Glade, Aerilaya, First and Last Elf Queen of Earth, ran for her life.

***

I shook my head as Wren's magic healed and restored me. The pint-sized protagonist had done me a solid. What a curiously Human expression, I must have been hurt worse than I'd realized!

I took a deep breath, then let it all out. Time to use my advantages to the fullet. "Thank you, my smallest knight. You have done me a great service this day. Tell me, how good are you at shooting from a moving platform?"

"Sire?" Wren looked up, confused, as I dipped a shoulder. "Sire, I ca-can't!" he moaned. I chuckled.

"Up you get, Wren, I need to see the battlefield, and I would rather be useful doing it."

Wren gulped, then grabbed at my horns and pulled himself onto my neck.

"Hold tight!" I roared, bunched my renewed muscles, and leaped skywards. In moments we were airborne, and Wren was picking off targets from a hundred feet up. "That's more like it! Death to the elves! Death to those who would oppose me!"

I spat acid, as carefully as I could, feeling with every blast that the Forest beneath me didn't quite agree with my overly liberal use of it. I decided to save further attacks and instead used my mounted gunner to do most of the damage whilst I rallied the troops and observed the situation.

There were elves everywhere, which explained why the streets had been seemingly empty of them. Of course, with every passing moment there were less of them. They were fast and quick, and could take a lot of damage, but they were as unprepared for assault rifles as the Kings had been for magic. I loathed the day, which I knew was fast approaching, when that advantage would be gone, whether it was through lack of ammunition or just adjusted tactics.

I watched as the tide of battle changed, and for the first time in a long time, I felt small. What had been just the noises of battle, the cracking of branches and the snapping of twigs, the noises grew in intensity, until from the shadows emerged a band of dark and moss-covered tree-like creatures that forced their way to the edge of the pool and threw their root-like limbs into it, before turning and moving to surround the central tree, and stabbing and swaying and lunging at all else who grew close.

Treants! Summoned by the Forest, who had most definitely taken the hint from whatever dreamworld I'd found myself in, tied to that withering tree in the middle of the lake.

In moments, everything changed. Where before the glade had been a picture of serenity and grace, it was now a hell of shattered bark, grasping vines, sucking bogs and sharp thorns. War had come to Pinewood, and Pinewood had learned fast. The central tree, previously so tall and mighty, looked almost diseased and torn. It was changing, too, though it still held that silvery luster.

As the last of the elves fled, I came in for a landing. Immediately as my claws touched the earth, I could feel the difference. There was a power here now, a presence that had previously been lacking, and it was not entirely friendly. I approached the center of the glade, but felt the enmity of the treants and the cautious fury of the Forest held at bay. I didn't blame it.

"The pool is yours, my friends, as is the power that comes with it, but remember who gave it to you, who must be punished, and who should be thanked," I said aloud.

The tree-creatures closed ranks, and seemed to glare at me through knots in their bark. I chuckled throatily, exhausted. "I shall get my forces to be careful with their flames and their blades, and in return, you will be careful where your new minions bare their fangs, agreed?"

I hadn't been ignorant of the woodland critters picking a side — their own. The treants' branches creaked in the non-existent wind. I sighed. I didn't want to have to face another enemy, especially not one that was literally everywhere, but I would if I had to.

"I would part as friends, or I can burn this forest to the ground. You could perhaps kill a number of my people, but you would burn, I can promise you that. I would burn the heart out of you, my friend, to the last sapling."

I had tried sweet talking, now came the stick instead of the carrot. The creaking continued though I sensed the hostility decrease, and I tilted my head, pondering.

"Alright, another bargain. I will deliver to you the dross that suits not my kingdom, and you may use them for what you will, save that you do not kill them."

The treants leaned back, and a swift vine speared an elf, heretofore hiding at the Glade's edge, through his heart.

"Well, you do not need to keep them alive, as such, just do not kill them yourself. They'll be otherwise yours, save that they still may not move against me. Do with them otherwise what you will. I will give the word, and we will… limit our flames, and see that they do not burn excessively. I will limit our blades, see that we do not cut excessively. Some logging may happen," the forest didn't like that, but I glared with all my might, "but only so much as you cannot repel. Which is why I am offering you minions, to defend yourself where it is not my rightful claim to some bounty, as dictated by nature itself. No more than you can bear, I swear this."

I could see the Forest thinking about it, then a circle of vines grew from the treant nearest me. I cautioned everybody from my forces not to go near it.

"My people," I called, as they assembled before me, "we have won. And now, we will pay tribute to the Forest that has decided it will be our ally. All who wish to leave my service, step into that circle. You have my word that you will not be harmed, and that you will not be killed. Freedom from my shackles is yours for the taking!"

I turned, breathed deeply, and roared.

I was deeply moved when none of my named forces chose the 'easy' way out. This meant I would have to give up some of my dogs. What a shame.

"Alright, people, let's evict the last of those damned elves, and send a runner to the mall. I have some personnel assignments to hand out. Let's move!"