No Dragons in Avalar: the Alchemist
Disclaimer: Spyro the Dragon and all associated characters and settings are, like it or not, property of Sierra. The AU "No Dragons in Avalar" is the brainchild of Razzek Mecotl.
This is fanfiction based on fanfiction.
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Fracture Hills, Avalar. It had rained nonstop ever since the takeover. The once lively hills were now eerily quiet, without even the snorts of the pigbears to take away from the rainfall's persistent pitter-patter. Any faun, satyr, or Earthshaper who had enough common sense sought shelter, especially the latter group. Being made out of soil and stone was anything but healthy in weather like this.
But somewhere in a lava valley, a small figure floated through the air, mumbling oaths about the inconvenient precipitation. It continued through the rain until it reached a small, house-like structure. There was already someone there, a short and intense Breeze Builder with scorched feathers and a chipped beak. A veteran.
"Whoever y'are, I ain't payin' yer way," he growled, casting an annoyed glance at the tiny intruder.
"Oh, don't worry, I wouldn't DREAM of it," the other shot back.
Grunting, the Breeze Builder reached down and pried off part of the floor. A deep shaft stared back at the two, with a single ladder to carry them down. Well, the Breeze Builder, anyway. Once the visitors were down the shaft, they found themselves in a torch-lit tunnel. They found a large wooden door at the end of the subterranean route, which was a surprisingly easy task to open.
On the other side, a young faun in a dark red minidress sat listlessly behind a counter, filling her nails and watching a wall-mounted clock. The visitors came forward, with the Breeze Builder motioning for the other to stay behind him.
The faun looked up from her filing. "Welcome to Daydream Nation, sir," she announced in a bored tone, "we do not accept gems as payment, so please provide an alternative currency."
The badly burnt pelican dropped a stack of gold coins onto the counter, his eyes never breaking contact with the faun's face. In turn, she gathered the customer's payment and continued her overused, memorized speech: "Thank you sir, a bedside assistant will be with you shortly."
Daydream Nation's most recent customer trudged over to a bench to wait for this service as his companion approached the counter. The clerk briefly glanced at the new arrival before shaking her head dismissively.
"Sorry, small fry, you don't meet the size requirement," she sighed, "Heck, you'd be lucky to even—"
"I'm not here for the service," the fairy interrupted, "I need to speak with your boss."
The faun looked back at the reject, but before she could give her cynical reply, a spark of recognition lit up her face. "Omigosh, Zoe! You're alive!" the faun squealed.
Zoe unsuccessfully tried to quiet the girl as the angry pelican rolled his eyes, jumped out of his seat, and stormed through a translucent curtain separating the reception from the conveniently labeled "smoking room."
"Um, shouldn't you be worried about that guy, Spinner?" queried Zoe.
"Nah, Perry's, like, a regular here, he won't hurt anyone, he's really quite a gentleman," Spinner prattled, "Now, how about you? I haven't seen you in forever! We've gotta lot of catching up to do, girl!"
"Yeah, that's going to have to wait," the fairy replied, "I need to speak with the Alchemist, Spinner. It's urgent."
"Oh. Sorry, he, like, doesn't wanna be disturbed right now, but I could pencil you in to meet with him later. Now, where've you been?"
Spinner was not helping out much. So, sacrificing manners for pragmatism, Zoe took the initiative to fly right into the smoking room. Ignoring Spinner's protests, the little fairy searched the place for any sign of her target. She saw plenty of Autumn Plains Realm residents, from Breeze Builder to Bone Builder (even the occasional Earthshaper), but no elderly satyr.
Besides obvious enemies lying side by side, what was particularly peculiar about this room were the devices beside them. They weren't quite air tanks, seeing as they had an attachment that held a yellowish liquid over an open flame. The resulting vapor was funneled through the tank and into a breathing mask. The customers seemed to enter a trance from this gas, becoming oblivious to everything but their respective devices. Maroon-uniformed attendants milled about, refilling trays and helping customers to and from their beds. The air stank, but no one cared.
Just as the stench was starting to overpower her, Zoe noticed a door out of the corner of her eye, the only one that wasn't labeled "Reception" or "Emergency Exit" (there were quite a few of those). After flying toward it and giving the knob a quick zap with her wand, it swung open and the fairy fluttered in. The room behind the door resembled a combination study and bedroom. A wizened old satyr in a maroon tunic limped over to the open door, pushing it shut with a modified oath. Turning around, he nearly choked on his gasp at the sight of his uninvited guest.
"Zoe! What are you DOING here?" he whispered in a harsh tone.
"Good evening, sir," Zoe whispered back, curtsying slightly, "I don't have much time, but there's a lot to cover. As you might have realized, the recent weather isn't natural. The truth is—"
"—It's artificially created by his 'Omnipotence' King Ripto as a means to keep the Earthshapers in check," the Alchemist sighed, "Yes, we've figured that out, Zoe, news travels fast. How does my little operation figure into this?"
"Y-your operation?" Zoe looked quizzical. "Oh, this has nothing to do with your business, sir. You see, shortly after Ripto seized power, I rallied a few survivors to form an opposition. We're still too small to do anything significant, but I knew that you had certain skills—"
"You want me to join a rebellion, is that it?" the Alchemist interjected, a sense of dread creeping into his tone. He tapped his manacle-like collar, "Even if I did join, don't you think this would give you problems?"
"Come on, even Ripto isn't that paranoid," Zoe deadpanned, folding her tiny arms, "You know what? This attitude isn't you at all. I think you're soured up about something. You rarely put up with ANYTHING foreign."
The Alchemist's weary expression slowly turned into a scowl. "Me? Soured up? Whatever gave you THAT impression, child?" he growled sarcastically, "Why, our entire homeland might have been conquered in less than a week by a power-mad lizard and two abysmally stupid dinosaurs, and he might have put collars on almost all of us out of some delusion of grandeur AND managed to turn one of our most prized natural resources into spying mechanisms, but NO, of course I'M not soured up!" Once he'd finished his exposition-heavy rant, the elderly satyr turned away from his guest and eased himself into a nearby chair.
Zoe clearly had her work cut out for her. She had to get the old man's hopes up somehow. The rebel fairy cleared her throat and continued her pitch, "Look, I know you're upset, but just hear me out, okay? Sure, the rebellion's still small, and we're not that strong yet, but we're not alone."
"Really," the Alchemist interjected, sounding increasingly apathetic, "How many strong are you? Perhaps Hunter also made it out alive? A timid cheetah and a handful of fairies hardly constitute a resistance."
"At least Hunter's putting up a fight," Zoe retorted, "Tell you what, I'm clearly wasting my time here. If you're just gonna spend the rest of your life pumping Avalar's warriors full of hallucinogens, then I guess there's no point in coming here anymore."
With a sigh and a shake of the head, the Alchemist muttered, "What else can I do, child? These boys and girls don't have anything else to look forward to. The least I can do is give them an escape. I know it's a waste of my talents, but the best thing I have going."
At this, the young fairy's expression softened. She had forgotten how satyrs and fairies had different life spans. Zoe might have still been in her youth, but for all either of them knew, the Alchemist could die as soon as next week. He had reached old age only to see everything he loved about Avalar get stripped away. The visitor turned her host's words over in her mind for a few minutes before replying.
"Well, if you ever change your mind," she whispered, fluttering in front of the old satyr's face, "just call my name."
She received no response. Nonetheless, Zoe gave him a quick peck on the forehead before flying back to the door, zapping it open again.
"Good luck, Alistair," said Zoe, all smiles. The door closed behind her as she left.
Alistair the Alchemist sat in silence for a while. It felt like centuries since he'd last heard his own name. An involuntary smile spread across his face as he mumbled a single word:
"Someday…"
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Author's Note: There's still a lot I don't know about NDiA, so I apologize in advance if I got anything wrong. Also, did you spot the pop music reference?