Gargoyle Wings and Fish Tails
Rating: High PG
Author's Notes: Thank you for the kind review, Da Dark One!

It was late in the morning when the adventurers stirred from their sleep. The six of them had camped close to the portal to Scorch, with the desolate peaks of ruined palaces shielding them from the harsh sandstorms that hit as soon as night fell. They spent the rest of the night either glancing futilely at the horizon in search of hints of where to travel, or they were telling stories of how they were going to defeat Mortigon and save the day.

Pyran smiled when the smell of bacon reached his nose. For a moment, he forgot about his surroundings and pulled part of his sleeping bag over his head.

"Mom, why is my bed full of sand?" Pyran mumbled, his eyes still shut.

"Gee, I don't know honey. Maybe it's because you're sleeping in the middle of the desert with a sleeping bag and a campfire." A female voice replied cheerfully.

Pyran's eyes shot open when he realized that that voice didn't come from any of his friends.

He quickly shot up into a sitting position and saw a yellow sea serpent with brown stripes, a bony brown ridge, and a finned tail greet him from the campfire. A frying pan filled with bacon was held in one hand, and a scimitar was held in the other hand. Pyran was one of the first up, as only Glacier and Karydor were out of their sleeping bags and helping the lion serpent make breakfast.

"Hello there. You won't mind if I visit your camp for a-"

"IT'S MORTIGON!"

Before the lion serpent could finish, Pyran charged after her with his sword outstretched and his mouth screaming a war cry. Torin, Harmony, and Calub immediately jolted from their beds and protested about the racket still half-asleep. The purple scaled draun, unable to figure out why Mortigon would show up to the camp wearing an loose robe, have only one scimitar, and be of a different gender, was immediately stopped when the guest grabbed the hilt of his sword.

"Mortigon? That's a funny way to say my name. Everyone else calls me Fishtail." The lion serpent replied casually, ignoring the sword pointing directly at her stomach. Pyran loosened his grip on the weapon and tried to hide his reddening cheeks as he considered the fact that he almost killed an innocent.

"Not my fault you look like Mortigon." Pyran muttered to the ground. Fishtail gave a hearty chuckle at the sulking dragon youth.

"Sad but true. He's my brother. I have to live with the fact that my own sibling is out killing innocents, enslaving species, and torturing dragons for the rest of my life." She said. She looked almost exactly like Mortigon in terms of looks, but she had bright blue eyes instead of fierce brown eyes, and her tail fin was in the shape of a fish tail, true to her name. She pulled out a plate from a purse hanging around her waist and plopped a piece of bacon on it.

"So I make due by having my turban thieves spy on him." Fishtail added when she handed the plate to Pyran. The son of Spyro nearly dropped his plate, and some of the others stopped their chewing.

"You're the leader of the turban thieves?"

"Not really. There are small groups of them, designated for different jobs. I'm only in charge with the thieves that steal gems and magic items, not dragon eggs. I'm not that immoral." Fishtail explained, flipping a piece of bacon high above her head as she did so. During the split second it was suspended in the air, Fishtail flicked her hand that held her scimitar and grinned when she sliced the bacon three times before it fell.

"I learn a few tricks from them, but I never steal anything that would be worth more than anything materials can bring. No babies, only valuables."

"But isn't it all the same really? Stealing is stealing, no matter what you take." Karydor said quietly.

"Even if I'm stealing stuff that will more useful in someone else's hands? I'm sure Robin Hood is considered a hero even though he stole things; he did after all make lives easier for the peasants." Fishtail replied. She reached inside her robe and pulled out a rolled up piece of yellowed parchment with a grin on her face.

"I'm sure I can give the poor what I stole from the rich. This map will save you a lot of wondering around aimlessly." With the flick of her wrist, she unrolled the parchment and indicated the many landmarks and points of interest scribbled on it. The six questing children all gazed at the map in awe, but Harmony frowned when she saw the name written in beautiful calligraphy at the top of the page.

"What's 'Lavara'?" she asked as Pyran snatched the map from the sea serpent and grinned at the fact that he was one step closer to being a hero.

"It's Lah-vaire-rah, sweetie. That's not how you pronounce the a in the second syllable." Fishtail paused to give the woltoc an unneeded lesson in pronunciation.

"Lavara is where you are. Ever since Laigon came here and established himself as the King of Desolation, the folks have been calling this place 'The Realms of Desolation'. I think that's dragon dung, even if this place is desolate thanks to him." Fishtail hissed. The ridge that ran down her spine bristled in anger, and it was easy to spot how she was related to Mortigon.

"You mean it wasn't always this way?" Calub inquired. He let his eyes wander to the horizon, where he could spot not a single structure higher than a boulder. The landscape was utterly lifeless, and it seemed that it always was so.

"Not to say that this place was crawling with sunshine and happiness, but at least the Muu Dragons were friendly back then." The female lion serpent then sat down on the sandy ground and started to explain a brief overview of Lavara's history while at the same time dumping the bacon grease from her skillet onto the dirt.

"They say when realms fall to chaos they crumble into desolation, and that's what this place did. Many thousands of years ago, there was a war involving Gigas Crystals. Though many fought to prevent the inevitable, nothing could stop the magic of the gems to be unleashed. Every creature caught within the chaotic maelstrom perished. For many years, the realms were completely lifeless."

"But then lives did form. Dragon species began to emerge from the ground with toeless feet, mottled scales, and cunning minds. Riptocs burrowed from the ground as giant worm monsters, gnorcs sprouted wings and took to the air, and rhynocs journeyed deep into the volcanic regions on many limbs. Life was relatively different from the life we were used to, but they managed to coexist quite...easily. The gnorcs, rhynocs, and riptocs were of course murderous animals, but the Muu Dragons managed to build a great society full of scholars and great thinkers. Much different from their tribal beliefs that Laigon practically beat upon them."

"Pfft. That's a total load." Pyran said as he rolled his eyes. The others glanced back at him harshly, as Spyro's son had caused his fair share of trouble for today already. "I mean, come on! Winged gnorcs? Burrowing worm riptocs? Is the desert heat getting to your head, you old bat?"

Fishtail smiled a smile that was always associated with misbehaving children. Had Pyran been her age and called her that, she would've challenged him to a duel of honor. "Honey, I've been living in the desert since before you were born. I think if anything, the heat's getting to you, little hothead."

Pyran blushed when he heard the insult and tried to hide his reddening cheeks with the map by pretending to bury himself in the details. That's when he noticed three different markings on the paper. He recognized them as the symbols of the gnorc, riptoc, and rhynoc armies, and from the way they were arranged, Pyran could see that it was the fastest route to get to where Mortigon's palace was indicated.

As if she was reading his mind, Fishtail added, "Use that map to get to my bro's palace and give him the rude awakening he so justly deserves. You'll have to travel through the three lands of the Desolation species I've told you about, but that'll be a piece of cake for the children of the prophecy."

"Children of the prop-"

"Oh, and if you find any Muu Camps, try to look for strange looking slaves." Fishtail pretended not to hear Torin's question as she covered up her mentioning on what she knew about the six children before her. Had they've been any other group of young adults traveling through uncharted lands, Fishtail would've just stolen their unguarded provisions and been on her way. She wasn't honorable in her takings, but by doing so usually made the travelers give up and go back in Avalar where it was much safer.

Sadly, Red and Gnasty Gnorc didn't take her thievery as a warning...

"Strange looking slaves?" Glacier asked, snapping the serpent out of her thoughts. She kept up her facade of a very playful personality by chastising Glacier in a nonserious way.

"Do I hear an echo? Yes, strange looking slaves. You know, creatures with jutting jaws, purple spikes running down their spine, or an almost gnorc-like demeanor. According to the gargoyles that fly by here, they have magic that could kill a Desolation Riptoc!" Fishtail explained. She wanted to just shout out and say that two of Spyro's older villains got themselves captured by the Muu Dragons, but she knew that saying so will only get the little hothead fired up.

"Wow, it must've taken Mortigon a while to get a handle on those guys!" Calub exclaimed. His brain immediately conjured up an image of daring heroes armed with powerful magic.

"Actually, it only took him about three days to find out that they took an army into his realms, and only two hours to take care of the problem. Rather discreet, my brother is." Fishtail recalled with a sigh. Turban thieves were still stealing from that rather unfortunate battle site. Her section of the legendary Thief's Den was practically covered with signia of the gnorc army.

"You seem to know a lot about Mortigon. Why don't you come with us?" Karydor offered softly. Immediately her friends murmured similar words of agreement. Soon they were all asking for the sister of their main foe to be their guide or even a friendly companion in an unfriendly place. But Fishtail couldn't accept.

"Uh, I'd love to, but sadly, I can't. I can make it through the desert by myself." The situation began to make Fishtail Mortiklaww rather uneasy. She had told her thieves and gargoyle companions not to steal from the youths, but if she wasted too much time, they'll assume that she was killed in action and come rushing out in great numbers to bathe in these children's blood. With a hesitant wave and a cheerful smile, she rose from her feet, buried the grease she poured onto the sand, and started to head for the small camp that she set up out of view.

"Anyway, it was nice meeting you!" Fishtail called over her shoulder as she briskly jogged away from the six children. Happy farewells, apologetic in Pyran's case, floated from the campsite and greeted her. She risked another wave back to them, the broad grin on her face reflecting the exact opposite of what she was thinking.

'May the gods have mercy on their souls...'

"King Desolation wants a word with you, punk."

Airazor wrinkled his nose at the smell of someone's fetid breath breathing down on him. His head pounded, his tongue was dry, his legs felt like they were full of pins and needles, and his side felt like it was on fire. Merely opening his eyes took a lot of effort. When he found himself staring into the dewy blue depths of Muugara's eyes, he managed to regain some of his strength from adrenaline alone.

"How's the wound, weakling?" Muugara hissed.

"It's a really painful and open wound that will leave a horrible scar, fine thank you. How very kind of you to care." Airazor shot back. The Muu Dragon answered this remark by only rolling his eyes and unlocking the chains that held Airazor in place. The rhygon fell to the floor with a thump, and what made matters worse was that he landed on his feet. Daggers of pain drove themselves into his side. A tear rolled down his eye but no cry of pain would come out.

"What's the matter, weak little punk? The pain of failure too harsh for your soft body?" Muugara taunted as he saw Airazor strain against his bonds to keep the wound from opening again.

"You might want to still your tongue. My wife's a Priestess for Aurora." Airazor remarked casually. As he said so, a flash of blue lightning hit Muugara right in the back. The dragon didn't even flinch as the magic scattered harmlessly off his scales, and he gave a proud grin to Airazor.

"Her weak rhynocian gods can burn in the pits of Tiamat for all I care. Besides, from what we learned during the Great Gargoyle Enslavement, we Muu Dragons are immune to air magic and petty religions."

"As much as I love to discuss about religion, you've obviously got me untied from the wall for something. Is Laigon going to vaporize me, or maybe he's going to try to be honorable and let me choose my mode of death?" The rhygon, deciding that nothing he would do made much of a difference at this point, decided to have a rather unserious outlook on his situation. Muugara took this as a way of mocking him, as this was the first time any of his prisoners ever had this tone of voice to him.

"As much as the King of Desolation wants to fry your arse, you're being spared. Just a little talk with my lord and you can hang with your girlfriend and your hybrid spawning companions as long as you like." The Muu Dragon hissed. He jabbed his metallic glove's claws into Airazor's stomach and let a mild channel of electricity to run through. The jolt made the gray-scaled dragon hybrid go limp, but he kept his sarcastic smile on his face.

"Sounds like fun."

Without another word, Muugara dragged Airazor out of the slave caravan and onto the camp. Unlike the trip with Spyro, he didn't pause to show the rhygon the Desolation Gnorcs or the shooting grounds. Besides, the dragon wasn't in the mood to be showing a weakling any aspects to the camp. Airazor's claws left twin tracks in the sand as he leaned back while Muugara was dragging him and pretended to be a water-skier. With a growl, Muugara swatted Airazor in the snout with his tail and tossed him in Mortigon's tent.

The first thing that hit Airazor was the smell. Rotting flesh and fetid trophies of victories won hung in the tent. The gray rhygon quickly wrapped his hands around his nostrils to keep the smell from penetrating more than necessary. Mortigon had hung decapitated heads, skins that were still wet, skulls caked with blood, and various other trinkets to prove his power. Buzzing insects droned in Airazor's ears. Apparently, Mortigon liked his tent to resemble a rotting corpse from the inside.

The rhygon immediately forgot about the tent when he noticed the owner. Mortigon was wearing his cloak, but what gartered the most attention was his double-bladed scimitar. Now that Avalar's main source of elemental energy was in the wrong realm, it buzzed and crackled like a severed power wire. Airazor knew that Mortigon was holding the most lethal magic ever seen.

"Sit down, Wart." Mortigon commanded.

Airazor had heard that tone of voice used by Changeling so many times that it was almost difficult to fight the impulse to immediately obey. The gray rhygon instead folded his arms across his chest and managed a glare at Mortigon. He wasn't a slave anymore, and he certainly wasn't going to take orders from a maniac.

"The name's Airazor now, Mr. High and Mighty. You call me Wart, I'll have to call you Laigon." Airazor stated. Immediately, Mortigon reacted. His eyes blazed with a hidden fire as he sprang to his feet.

"Don't you dare say that name to me!" He leapt into the air and swung his blade at Airazor. The split second that the gray dragon thought that his time has come and he was going to be gutted by another crazed stealer of the Gigas Crystals, a two-fingered hand grabbed his wings and pulled him backwards. Airazor landed on his back and was staring up at Muugara confronting his master. A brief flicker of compassion passed through the rhygon.

"My liege, you mustn't gut the bait before the prey wanders into the trap." Muugara instantly replied. He looked down, saw the blade inches from his belly, and shivered when he realized how close he was from getting gutted by his own boss. Mortigon put the blade away, but he uttered no apologetic word to his lackey.

Airazor rose to a sitting position. "Wait, what does he mean by that? Are you saying that we're-"

"-An old-fashioned way to reel in six children to their doom? Why, yes it is." Mortigon stated happily, as if it was an elaborate joke. He then flaunted his power by slicing nearby horseflies in two with his weapon. Muugara had to duck as the blade whizzed by his head and nearly sliced his ears in two. "Course, the world will be more than happy to be rid of them. They soil the very soil with their hybrid heritage; a mockery of life itself!"

Airazor shivered as Mortigon adopted a very low hissing voice and lowered himself on his knees so that they were eye to eye. He brought his beaked snout so close to his that they nearly touched. "I'll be extremely pleased when I see them fail and I can spit on their very corpses."

Their brown eyes met. Airazor narrowed his at Mortigon. Such empty threats would've influenced him back during The War of the Gigas, but not anymore.

"You monster." Airazor said, more as a statement than as an exclamation.

"Monster? I'm afraid I'm much more powerful than a monster, Wart." Mortigon replied, rising to his feet. The air crackled with the magic of the six Gigas Crystals imbedded in his two blades. Airazor remembered the story Spyro told him in the caravan about the flock of doves being vaporized by a single blast from Mortigon; from the looks of it, the sea serpent was going to have a lot of fun using the same magic on Karydor and the others.

"Demon, then. The word I was looking for is DEMON!" As soon as the rhygon said the last word, he leapt to his feet and let his emotions get the better of him. Fueled by rage, Airazor aimed a punch at Mortigon. His fist connected with Mortigon's chest, but the reptilian foe didn't even so much as back up another step. Airazor immediately realized what a terrible mistake he made and tried to back away from the serpent.

The King of Desolation was swifter. With a sadistic grin on his face, Mortigon aimed his gem-covered blade at Airazor's stomach and shot him with a blast of magic energy. The force of the blast sent the gray-scaled dragon hybrid skidding across the dirt floor. Airazor howled in agony as he felt fire travel through his veins. His skin started to itch, like something was growing on top of it...

'No! Anything but that!' Airazor whimpered in his mind as he felt the magic of the Gigas recreate the very thing that Changeling caused to him; mutations that turned him from a handsome rhygon into a horrible monster. And then suddenly, the pain faded. Airazor scrambled to his feet and checked his body for any warts. It was all just an illusion, a very painful demonstration of what might come.

"You mustn't use actions like that in the presence of the King of Desolation. Or else you'll end up just like the days you were working with Changeling, covered in marring warts and being beaten senseless every hour on the hour of which your master pleases. And, now that I have the power of the Gigas at my hand, I can do more than just mutate your looks. Try shape shifting of the most painful variety, where you feel your very bones grind against one another as you become something else."

Mortigon was pleased in the way Airazor paled at the thought.

"I own the Gigas Crystals, and the Holders have to listen to me."

"What about Mell and Nazza? Last time I've checked, they aren't holders." Airazor added. He was going to mention Scorch's name, but he knew that he shouldn't add another prisoner onto Mortigon's list. Even if Mell and Nazza were here on accident, switching them with Scorch was not going to solve anything.

"'Come unto us six hybrid babes.' the prophecy says. I'm afraid those two little monsters are in for the ride." Mortigon replied. He remembered Nazza with anger, remembering the way the wolf had betrayed his former master Changeling back in the Mystic Mountains. When the prophecy was fulfilled, Nazza will be among the first to execute...

"Prophecy? What are you dragging us into?"

"Simple, Wart. A prophecy written back in the time when these Muu Dragons were peaceful scholars states of a time when six hybrid babes will come save their parents. Their very appearance in my world-"

"Not your world. You stole it from the Muu Dragons and made them your faithful slaves!" Airazor cut in. He felt another blast of magic run through his veins immediately. The pain faded much faster than it did when Mortigon was giving a demonstration, but Airazor felt that something about him was amiss. Something on his head itched, but when he reached up to scratch it, he froze in shock. There was a bumpy growth on his head that he never wanted to feel again.

'Warts.'

"Nah ah ah, Wart. Words like that can change a man. Besides, it's not like you can understand the prophecy..." And with that, Mortigon began to sing a verse of the prophecy just to prove himself right and Airazor wrong. The tone was almost like a final hymn sung at a funeral. Airazor felt the rhythm pump through his veins, and even Muugara ceased his chattering to listen.

"Of the blood that runs through veins,
And makes the spirit stronger.
There are times when purebloods fall,
And desolation lasts even longer.
Bring unto us six hybrid babes,
And have them quest in lands forsaken.
It's their time to prove their worth,
In The Realms of Desolation."

"...So, are you telling me that a ballad of hybrids is what's making you target our children? Why now and not when they were younger?" Airazor replied. His hand was still on his head, feeling the strange warts that Mortigon had given him through the magic of the Gigas Crystals.

"The signs didn't appear until the month before I stole the Gigas Crystals. Two leaders of the gnorcs meeting their downfall upon the dirt of Desolation. Twenty years of imprisonment from a fallen leader. The death of the last Muu Dragon priestess. It all adds up, Wart!" Mortigon exclaimed, his voice rising to an insane pitch. His emotions were getting the better of him, and soon he was shaking Airazor by the shoulders as he added his final expression. Airazor couldn't stand to look into those eyes, which were dilated with excitement and filled with a crazy spark. It chilled him to the bone.

"The stars themselves see my rise to power! I will become the Ruler of Desolation! I will become stronger than Changeling! I WILL BE THE MOST POWERFUL RULER TO HAVE EVER LIVED!"

Mortigon was seized by a bout of maniacal laughter. The gray rhygon couldn't stand it. The ruler of these desolate lands scarred by war and wrongly used magic was a complete nutcase with extremely potent magic that surrounded him in bloodthirsty monsters and rotting corpses.

But this monster had also managed to make a plan so cunning that not even Spyro had a chance of escaping. For all he knew, the six darling children that Airazor knew since their births were going to die at his hands. Tears flowed from his eyes in an unstopping flood as he sobbed unknowingly on Muugara's shoulder.

"Come on, punk. We should leave." Muugara replied. Airazor immediately shot up from his pillow of tears to look at the ruthless Muu Dragon and expected him to cause more pain to him. Instead, the dragon was relatively sedated and seemed to show another emotion besides crazy devotion to Mortigon. With a dejected groan, Muugara grabbed Airazor's chains and started to half-heartedly drag him back to the slave caravan.

"What was that about the Muu Dragon priestess?" Airazor tried to see if he could ask the right question as he looked at Muugara. His expression was as if carved by stone, but he saw a brief flicker of sadness in his eyes when the priestess was brought up again.

"She was murdered very brutally. It involved the last level of my training to be Mortigon's second in commander. In order to be accepted, I had to-" Muugara froze when he realized whom he was talking to. Instantly the insanity to obey Mortigon returned and he punched Airazor right in the chest. The gray rhygon wheezed in pain.

Airazor let himself be chained to the wall, but instead of watching Muugara with wariness, he watched him with pity. Something about this situation didn't seem right to the rhygon. Prophecies, bad omens, two villains caught in the maelstrom, Muugara and a priestess.

The thoughts ran through his head so much that it tired him out. With a sigh, Airazor fell to sleep, ignoring the painful itching his new warts were giving him.

'He may think he's got the upper hand...but we'll find a way...'

In the lands of Lavara, as Fishtail had named the lands of desolation, gargoyles were a source of great information. Being winged creatures with hard, almost rocky, skin, the gargoyles were among the only creatures besides the Desolation Gnorcs that could fly through the lands without getting killed. They were loyal, could speak in many languages, and were able to travel vast distances in a small amount of time. Mortigon, seeing their usefulness, had ordered that every last gargoyle be enslaved by the Muu Dragons so that they could deliver important messages at any time.

However, sometimes, a gargoyle was not always useful.

"Okay, the bean has the wagon bread as a grave." Kannica repeated to herself as she flapped her wings hesitantly before the dragon standing in front of her. She was a relatively small gargoyle, draconic in build, but she was quite well known throughout her entire population as one giant screw-up. There was always a new way to slack off on her job for the King of Desolation, be it getting distracted by shiny things, forgetting the message, or screwing it up all together.

"No, no, no! It's 'The Queen has the Dragon Red as a slave'! Can't you ever send a message correctly?" The Muu Dragon shouted to her face.

"I would if you could motivate me more. Maybe a few cuts in the profit will do-" Kannica was cut off when the dragon slapped her with the back of his hand. The blow sent the little gargoyle reeling, as she was only the height of the dragon's knee and was standing on a post set in the ground in order to be eye level with her instructor. She fell to the dirt floor with a plop, and she was kicked aside by the dragon's toeless feet.

"If you weren't so useful in translating those barbaric gnorcs, I'd slice you up and serve you to the slaves, gargoyle." The Muu Dragon hissed. "Now get out of my sight!"

Kannica had no trouble in obeying his orders. With an angry flap of her wings, the little draconic gargoyle flapped to another section of the camp. She took enough time to steal a meal from one of the slaves before landing on top of a green statue of a Muu Dragon. She slurped her soup up, taking out all of her frustration on the leftovers floating in the liquid.

"These Muu Dragons are all the same! Never letting me have any of the shinies. I mean, look at this statue!" Kannica complained to herself. She tapped a foot on top of the statue's nose, breaking off a part of the horn adorned on top. "It's almost as if some creature came along and froze some Muu Dragon into an emerald statue. Course, the chances of a Muu Dragon having that kind of power is rather-"

Her voice was cut off by a rather horrible scream. Kannica stopped herself and watched as the leader of the camp came stomping into view. Brandimuu was Muugara's younger brother, and it showed. The dragon looked almost identical to Mortigon's right hand dragon, with the exception of buffer muscles in the arm and leg areas and scars littering his entire body. Sometimes Kannica wondered whether or not Brandimuu had more scars than scales on his body.

And dragging behind him and hooked to rather strong chains was a gnorc. The sight was rather uncommon to Kannica, as all the gnorcs she was familiar with had wings, wolf-like snouts, and a thirst for blood. This one, while rather strongly built, seemed more human-like with arms that were designed for grasping things, and not for flight, and legs that were much more powerful than the spindly little things The Desolation Gnorcs had. He was wearing only tattered rags around his waist; his chest was marred with scars, bruises, cuts, wounds, and infections. Kannica noticed his face, though crinkled up with pain, showed no sign of servitude from the monster towing him.

The little gargoyle caught only the final part of probably a large argument between them, and judging by the look of some of the fresher wounds, the gnorc had to pay for his misdeed.

"...A useless slave with no hopes of escape whatsoever. You hear me, punk? If you were anything but a gnorc that can speak the Universal Language, I'd gut you right here and now!" Brandimuu shouted, which looked quite humorous with the fact that he was only one third the gnorc's height. The creature chained up, despite its larger height and bigger body mass, had no choice but to comply with the dragon.

"Yes, Brandimuu. I will never disobey you again." The gnorc said in mock obedience, blood flowing from a cut on his lip.

"It's Brandimuu SIR!" The slave driver then jabbed his pink wrist claws into the open wound on the gnorc slave's chest. He immediately fell to his knees, a scream of pure agony tearing itself from his throat. Kannica couldn't help but shiver, but she was pretty glad that she wasn't the target of the torture for once.

"Yes Brandimuu sir. I will never disobey you again." The slave hissed in pain. With a smile, Brandimuu patted him on the back, but the dragon made sure to pat a spot that had a tender bruise on it. The slave pretended not to feel a thing, even though he had to bite his lip to keep from crying out in pain.

"Good. You're making progress, punk. And I don't want you turning any of my troops into those crazy green statues. I need my troops alive, not as some giant sparkly emeralds!" When Brandimuu said those words, Kannica's ears perked up. She had thought that the very eye-appealing statue she was perched on was a relic stolen from some poor family of rebels. The rest of her meaty broth forgotten, the little gargoyle quietly followed Brandimuu as he dragged his slave to his post.

"Now, I don't want your sorry hide to leave the safety of my camp, so I'm binding you nice and tight..." Brandimuu muttered as he took the chains that were wrapped around a steel post and wrapped them around the wrists, ankles and neck of his slave. The linked chains, while broken and rusty, were actually pretty strong. Like his brother Muugara, Brandimuu was skilled in inventing new ways to torture people. One of his first inventions happen to be barbed chains, which were as strong as magically-reinforced steel and dug deep into the slave's skin if they struggled. They were also prone to infecting the wounds with specially coated rust that Brandimuu also patented.

Kannica couldn't help but feel elated when Brandimuu left the beaten green gnorc to sit dejected in the worn-out tent. The chains around his wrists were so tight that the broken links in the chains dug into his skin, leaving giant gashes. Infected cuts surrounded the creature's hands, and Kannica felt a rather minor pain of grief when she found that she couldn't even count how many gashes, bruises, and scars that littered his body. Checking to make sure that Brandimuu wasn't within hearing range, she flapped towards the slave and called for his attention.

"Hey, gnorc!"

He lifted his head and blinked his eyes at the little gargoyle sitting on the post that kept him sitting here, as if Kannica was but a figment of his imagination. When he saw that she didn't disappear when he blinked his eyes, he groaned.

"Ah, great. Another gargoyle. Look, if you're going to brag about how much better off you have than me-"

"No, no, no. I come here to strike a deal with you." Kannica immediately replied. She knew exactly how rude the gargoyles could be with chained up slaves, especially since she usually was the one insulting them above anyone else.

"I can give you anything you want, Mister...Mister..."

"It's Gnasty Gnorc. Course, I wonder how much value my name has here..." the slave replied. The name rang a bell, and suddenly she knew just why Brandimuu was proud of this slave. He was able to catch the Gnasty Gnorc, scourge of all dragons and leader of the gnorcs from the dragon realms. Sure, Brandimuu was risking some of his men when his shiny new pet was able to unleash his spells of crystallization, but as long as he bought him rank...

"Ah, yes. Gnasty. No wonder you can talk with something other than those grunts and growls that your army spoke. Too bad they're all dead. Eaten alive by The Queen's troops!" Kannica mused. She immediately realized that those were the wrong words to say, as the gnorc shivered and had to close his eyes tight to block out the memories of that fateful day.

"Please never mention the events of that day again..." Gnasty Gnorc said, letting no emotion leak into his voice. Knowing that saying anything that Brandimuu could perceive as a plan of escape would cause him great pain, the gnorc then replied in the gnorcian language of grunts of growls. The Muu Dragons couldn't learn a single word of the gnorcs' language, the main reason why gargoyles were so useful. "Would it also make any difference if I asked if you could help me...relocate myself?"

"It'll cost you." Kannica replied simply, indicating that she could understand. Gnasty Gnorc heart sank and soon he momentarily forgot secrecy as he shouted to her in the language that he felt more comfortable talking.

"Listen, gargoyle. I'm chained to a post! My armor and my club are in a separate tent! I can't exactly buy you a brand new car when rusty chains are digging into my flesh and crazed dragons are beating me senseless every day!" Gnasty Gnorc shouted. "Unless..."

"Unless what? You have shinies?" Kannica interrupted.

"Not yet, but I can make shinies. Out of living things, even. I'm sure you want to see some Muu Dragons turned into statues..." Gnasty explained. The little gargoyle smiled when she heard him verify his magic abilities, but she pretended to be unaware of his talents.

"Ah, so you can make statues out of emeralds! Interesting. Course, there's always the chance that you're lying and that Brandimuu is just being an idiot as usual."

"Hey, if I'm lying, then you can...do whatever you gargoyles do to kill liars. Yeah. You probably know some potent magic to protect that tiny little potato-shaped body from death." Gnasty Gnorc replied as he once again switched back to the Universal Language, shrugging his scarred shoulders as he said so. He didn't expect Kannica to immediately bristle at the insult and shout profanities at him.

"I have you know, jackass, that I use the element of wind to kill people who try to scam me!"

"Such language. Rather surprising to hear from someone who can fit into the palm of my hand." Gnasty said, grinning for the first time in quite a while as he said so. This gargoyle may be shifty in character, but she provided him with a good source of entertainment.

"Yeah, yeah. You're not one to talk about size. Anyways, we have a deal; you make me six statues-"

"Two."

"Four."

"Three."

"...Three in a half?"

"When I say three, I mean three."

"-Three statues made of shiny emerald..." Kannica finally arrived at a number that they both found reasonable. She switched to the gnorcian language when she heard a Muu Dragon walk past. "...and I find some travelers ready to spring you free."

"Wait a minute! Can't you free me instead? Why do we need to drag some helpless travelers into this when you can cast magic with 'the element of wind'? I don't want anyone else getting enslaved by these monsters" Gnasty replied, sounding very weird as he did so. The language of the gnorcs, being a tongue that was formed by creatures that favored war and violence, seemed rather awkward when the speaker talked about the safety of others.

"Are you kidding me? I can't kill Muu Dragons with my magic! The Muu Dragons are immune to gargoyle magic, and if I unlock you from your chains and you go charging in there, they'll beat you senseless and chain you in a way that you can't even twitch without having a barb dig into you." Kannica growled back. Her jaw hurt from the many sounds she had to form in her mouth and the language in Kannica's ears sounded like a bunch of boars trying to speak to a pack of wolves, but she knew that secrecy didn't always equal comfort.

"Okay. Find heroes who have magic, free me, and you'll get three statues. Now quick, I think Brandimuu's shift is over..."

With a flap of her wings, Kannica soared through a hole in the tent's animal hide and headed towards of the portal to Avalar, the one place where travelers always end up crawling out from. She looked down at the camp just in time to see the sunlight glint off the emerald statue that was still sitting in the middle of the camp.

'Path to riches, here I come!'

End of Chapter 3

A lot less collecting in TRoD and a lot more helping others. Man, it just reeks of Spyro...like it's supposed to. Sorry for the utter lack of one setting, be it the heroes or the enslaved. This was more like a trinity of explaining three different settings. Red was going to appear in this, but the scene made more sense for Chapter 4...

Gnasty Gnorc based off of AHT Gnasty, with a few pinches of my "Corruption" for spice. Geez, I can't keep characters IC.

"Dragon dung" seems like an apt form of negative exclamation to be used in the Dragon Realms to me.