Bad Exposition

An endless abyss; absolute nothingness. When Xiranth thought she'd awoken, this was the sight she found before her. Furthermore, an expanse of rocky platforms littering the skies, levitating, mildly befuddled her, but she realised the logic in it didn't matter. Again, she was proof something like logic didn't exist.

"Your path is a long one, young dragon."

Xiranth tried to twist her head in the direction of the ragged voice, but she couldn't locate its owner. It came from nowhere at all, but it echoed around her at the same time, reverberating. Yet that wasn't what she was surprised by.

Had they seriously just called her young?

She was about to go off her head, maybe tear them to bits if she could find them, but she kept herself composed. "Who are you, whatever you are?"

The tone seemed to think for a moment before speaking up. "You may simply call me the Chronicler."

Strange titles aside, she was still confused. Where was she? If this was the realm of the Ancestors, perhaps she was better off not meeting her end. Plus, this narrator, the voice from nowhere, unnerved her slightly. They felt... powerful. Not to mention how irritated she already was by them, of course. But maybe they were a good target to bash.

"I must ask you something, offer you a proposition. I believe you want what I am about to say."

Xiranth peered into the nothingness, just to make her feel like she was speaking to at least something. It felt a little less awkward. "No, I don't. You'd have no idea what I want, and I doubt any of you Ancestors want to deal with me. I've got plans for you..."

"I am no Ancestor, young one," they exclaimed. "I am, however, a dragon, just as you are yourself. If I was one of the Ancestors, I'd probably ignore someone of the likes of you. Slaying the Ancestors? An unachievable goal."

"I bet you a gold piece I can find the Ancestors, narrator." She smirked back.

There was silence for a minute or two. The Chronicler's ancient tone came forth eventually, however. "...Deal. But that's not why I'm here, not to gamble with you. I have to ask you something, Xiranth. It is of the utmost importance."

They knew her name without her telling them it. That was a sure-fire way to know if an old person was wise. But if they were so wise, why did they have to ask her things?

"Nah. I'm fine."

"Please?"

"Nope."

"Pretty please?"

Xiranth glared daggers into the skies, sighing. "Fine... Only if you show yourself," she added with her signature smirk.

"That is simply an impossibility, young dragon," the Chronicler explained. "I can only speak to you via your dreams; I can't materialise wherever you please."

"Sure you can." Xiranth winked. "Nothing's impossible when I'm around!"

The voice exhaled. Xiranth's gleeful grin continued to widen. "I guess I can attempt it... HRGHHHHHHH!"

The Chronicler popped into existence, an elderly dragon of blue scales. He resembled someone she'd seen in tomes and stories, another dragon by the name of Ignitus, Guardian of Fire, but this obviously wasn't him. The Guardian of Fire wasn't allowed to have blue scales.

"Huh. I can do that." The Chronicler frowned. "We have gotten off track, however, Xira-"

"Hey, you wanna play blackjack?" she interrupted him, pulling a deck of playing cards out of thin air.

"We are running out of time..."

"Oh, a single game couldn't hurt."

Again, the Chronicler sighed. "If this is what it takes for me to be able to ask you a favour, I guess I have no choice."

The two played a game of blackjack. It ended up being multiple games, and it was fun... Xiranth won every time because she cheated somehow, but that was unknown to the old dragon. He stroked his wispy white beard several times, confused.

"You are incredibly fortunate, young dragon. But now, onto what I have to tell y-

"Hey, you wanna go to an amusement park? I can summon one in this dream, don't worry." Xiranth chuckled quietly to herself; she was totally annoying him.

"Xiranth, I really must talk to you, so if you would please listen..."

"Please listen to me."

"No! I already said no!" The Chronicler had finally snapped, and she was to blame. What was new? "I came to speak with you privately, not to satisfy you. You are almost as bad as Cynder..."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine, Mister Grouchy... What do you need to tell me?"

The Chronicler buried his head in his paws for a moment, rubbing his cyan orbs. When he focused them on her again, they carried a new sense of wisdom. "Listen closely, for this is the only chance I'll get."

By now, you must know about Gigus. You fought him before, witnessed his power. I come to tell you about him, and to ask you something of great importance.

Gigus is a corrupt, reckless spirit – a spirit hell-bent on turning the world to ruin. He wants nothing more than to conquer it, and make it a living hell for everyone else. And he's much too powerful now for anybody ordinary to stop him.

He was a mistake accidentally created by the Ancestors, a flaw of the creation of this world's magic – its fuel. Heavy magic sustains our planet; it keeps it from going up in flames. Without the influence of our Ancestors, we'd all be nothing more than carcasses, if that. We may not have even come to be – to exist.

In an effort to stop that from happening, they blessed us with powers beyond our imagination. Us dragons keep our world from being reduced to the hellfire it was once destined for. We don't notice it, but every second each and every dragon's power is being sapped to fuel the planet. The amount is rather small, though.

Some of this elemental energy given to us slipped through the cracks, however – or in this case, the claws of the Ancestors.

Gigus, the restless spirit, drained the energy from our world's core for centuries, building up the immense power he now holds today. He only needed to be released by somebody; a dragon willing to mix a special brew.

When your friend, Shade, empowered him with battery acid (even if that doesn't seem to make any sense whatsoever), she practically doomed our planet. An immortal being such as himself isn't going down easily, maybe not at all. That's why I ask for your assistance. You and only you have the abilities necessary to put him down for good.

I know the idea of murder is frightening, and hopefully not one you are used to, but you are our only chance, Xiranth. The journey will be a strenuous one, and he's probably already built up an empire by this point, preparing to devastate the Dragon Realms and its surrounding countries. With your help, though, we can put an end to this.

So, I ask you this. Take Gigus down... and then maybe I'll take you up on that amusement park offer...

"Woah, that's a lot of exposition there, buddy." Xiranth frowned. "You really know how to play old wise guy."

The Chronicler shook his head. "That is besides the point. I need your help. What do you say, Xiranth?"

The dragoness pondered it for a moment. World saving, of course, didn't appeal to her at all. But if it meant Gigus was still alive, and that she would get to fight him again... It seemed as if she was being granted an offer she just couldn't refuse. And showing the Chronicler an amusement park? The icing on the cake.

"Yeah, I'll do it," she said, " but where is he exactly?"

"Boyzitbig. But the journey is a long one and you'll need-"

"'Kay, thanks. Bye."

Xiranth flopped over on the ground, waiting patiently for herself to wake up. Sure enough, she did relatively quickly, completely ignoring the Chronicler's final words. They were probably full of useless information, anyway. Probably.

One thing was for absolute certain, though. She was going spirit hunting.

This battle was going to be awesome...