ЪЧTale 2  Fairies & wood 18 months later. "Hello" said the air. Gael Goldpine, bedraggled, stained and delirious stared at the originating patch of air suspiciously. He'd already wasted a few hours talking to what had turned out to be a tree, and had lost his virginity to a female centaur after eating the wrong type of spotted mushroom. "Hellooo, anybody in there?" said the air again before tapping him on the nose. This caused It to materialize in front of the disheveled figure of Gael: A fairy Dragon. It circled around him examining the unkempt, chaotic looking figure that was Gael after over a year wandering the woods in a haze, its small wings flapping furiously to keep it aloft. "Do you need any help? I saw you wandering here a year and a half ago and you don't look like you've found your way anywhere since". Gael simply stared at it, his blond bearded jaw slack, fingers convulsing and eye twitching furiously. He'd wandered in a haze for a year and a half without knowing who he was or what had happened to him (In equal part due to his physical and psychological trauma) and this strange lizard like, tailed flying& thing seemed familiar somehow, horribly so. "Who, what are you"? he croaked. The Fairy dragon circled him again and spoke "I am a Dragon, a fairy dragon to be exact, Exonditel to be polite, and to be curious are you from the army camp up North? Exonditel turned to indicate the direction of North without noticing how Gael began to shake, tormented by memories of another dragon, immensely larger & less vibrant compared to this one, of a friend swallowed & entrusted subordinates tumbling in a nightmarish whirl. "Thank you very much, Ser Drake" Gael slowly said, hands inching downwards towards his blade. Exonditel began to circle around to face him "Why think nothing of I-" His words were cut off by the sword now impaled in his throat, He tried to defend himself but his weak blow merely scratched Gael's bloodstained armour as a final blow hacked the Dragon's head "cleanly" off of his neck. Gael looked down at the (now mutilated) corpse and kicked it again. His face would have been judged handsome once before the innumerable small scars etched upon it and the savage bloodlust evident in the "smile" twisting his face. 2d Lieutenant Gael Goldpine began to walk in the direction of the military camp, wiping some of the Blood off from his blade on to a few of the fresher scratches & cuts on his own flesh. He paused once on the way after hearing the weak cries that were coming from nearby, from a boulder that the deceased Exondrite had protected with his life. He heard the cries of approaching wolves & his face twisted again into a vicious caricature of a smile and he continued without looking back as the cries of the abandoned Dragon hatchlings drew the hungry wolves to their nest. 11 months later The Egg wobbled. Inside the hollowed shell the wyrmling Force dragon Korilandatrix stirred from his week long sleep. He stretched out from wingtip to tail tip instinctively. Unfortunately he had grown much after his recent growth spurt (Due to being born a premature "Runt") & despite its enlarged, shaped cavity his old egg could no longer contain him. It shattered into pieces under the pressure, leaving him on top of a pile of fragments. Koril looked sadly at the remains of his nest-egg. "My poor Egg, I suppose that its time to start gathering components for a nest & basic horde of my own like Mum's been telling me to" mused the Wyrmling wearily, droopy lidded eyes downcast. "I told you to start working on your "nest" last year did I not?" said a vie behind and above Koril's head. He started; he hated it when she sneaked up on him. "I, er, found some rocks and tower shields" he said innocently. His mother laughed hard enough to shake a tower of coins apart: "Remember your teachings, I told you that you have to gather all your components outside the cave with the absolute minimum of assistance, how else are you to forge your own horde & legacy someday? You certainly won't be getting your claws on mine anytime this millennium or he next, and gold grows underground, not by itself" "But I don't want to start searching outside he said in a petulant tone, shifting so as to hide his face from her piercing sight. "Are you still Scared because of that flea bitten banditry you wandered into?" she said with a touch of ire in her (Now no longer jovial) features. "Yes" he said in a small shamed voice as he remembered that day. He had been practicing hunting alone in the woods, and had heard voices. Curious he had slowly flown closer to eavesdrop. "Aye my faithful men, what a rich haul from those preening fools" said a gruff, deep voice. "Yes, yes so much treasure, enough for all to share, Yes?" Said a second voice weaker and submissive. Young and NaОve (Even more than he was now) he had managed to conclude that he had found a group of beings; other dragons perhaps, based on how strong the voices were compared to the small-folk called Elves. Surely such wealthy beings would help him with a contribution towards the future horde off which he so often dreamed & daydreamed? His mistake was made evident to him when he flew and landed in the camp and saw the half dozen half Orc bandits together with their Ogre captain standing out in front of the tents. He stared at them. They gaped at him. They screamed. He roared. The Ogre rallied them and they charged at him, weapons raised. He tried to turn around and fly away but the distance was too small and trees to thick. He tried to exude the potent sorcerous "aura" known as The Dragon-fear, but his own panic weakened it almost beyond effect. He felt the powerful "Thud" of the Ogre's spiked great club smashing into his neck. Now he felt anger, how dare this "speck" harm him? It, With its minute size, (Though he conveniently ignored the relative lack of a height difference) pitiful intellect and lack of natural blessings, unlike Himself. He drew anew his breathe and expelled it, feeling not mere air but the sorcerous essence that was his lifeblood spew forth, the raw pure energy that was mana & lifeblood to him & all of his kind. The Blast of energy that emerged from his mouth hit the Ogre at near point blank range and continued all but unhindered to kill a half-orc carrying the atomized head & torso of the Ogre with it. Korilandatrix blinked, looking at the bloody corpse spurting its strange coloured blood at him, distracted by his first kill in combat and rage until he felt the barbs of the remaining bandits assailing him on all sides. Their crude lades couldn't cut through his scales, but they hit him in the gaps between his small scales and the force of their blows stung him and pained him through sheer quantity. He curled into himself as all the bandits in the camp came to avenge their leaders death, emboldened by the "False, coward dragon who ain't even moving!". He felt his body's extremities begin to deaden from the blows as slowly golden haze began to settle over his vision. He felt as If everything was somehow slowing down, shrinking and going very far away. Korilandatrix the Force Dragon was suddenly very, very aware of his razor sharp claws, his long fangs, powerful smashing tail, barbed wing tips and immense strength. Everything seemed somehow simpler, as if hi intellect were regressing and instinct surging. The bandits backed away as the Dragon Roared, The Dragon Fear blossoming and reducing them to pitiful cowards as the seeds of terror were planted and fertilized in the space of a heartbeat. The Dragon lashed out, claws ripping through heavy leather & chain mail armour as if it were mere skin, and through the underlying skin as if it were naught but frictionless air. Eventually the infant wyrmling came out of his frenzy and looked around himself in disbelief at the carnage he had wrought, and the few eviscerated shreds of his attackers that had not been devoured or reduced to eviscerated shredded remains. He didn't touch their loot and felt guilty about it when retelling the tale to his mother later in the day. "Stop ruminating" snapped his mother (Back in the present day and age) "Go forth and find yourself some basic nest building materials, and something that could be called a horde, either that or go find a cave to make your own lair in, never mind nest". Her features softened slightly then took on an imperious expression "Remember who and what you are Young Dragon". Harsh words indeed from a mother, but she was too canny by far to allow her offspring to sink into ennui & procrastination, despite him being but a babe. And this time she would keep a closer scrying eye on him, even with that miserable Red in the area). Her words took their intended effect, fanning the spark of pride in young Korilandatrix's breast. The dragon Korilandatrix galloped towards the cave's entrance, out through it the cliff edge then off it. His huge form plummeted downwards, his wings held tightly to his sides to reduce wind drag or friction. He examined the objects on the approaching ground, the preserved & re-arranged skeletons of dead soldiers, all of whom bore "Keep out or be not spared" signs held in the space between their ribs, spine and lower back. When the bleached bones were a mere 18 meters distant from Koril's snout he unfurled his wings to their maximum length so that he swept over the skeletons and ground with mere inches to spare. He held his wings straight as he glided over the ground for as long as he could before flapping them, causing him to rise higher & higher until he all but touched the very clouds. He reveled in the joy & speed of flight, going in circles, performing loop de loops, performing spins and maneuvers as he savored the height, the wind on his sleek body, the air pure & clean, free from all else (Including grisly ground bound ruminations). Eventually he spun around one last time through a flock of migrating birds ("Sparrows" he noted idly as they scattered in his wake) and began to fly towards the green sea that was the forest. He flew over treetops, eyes searching for dead trees, quarries, abandoned housing, signs of former settlement (Such as camps), Indeed anything that could serve as a ready source of raw material for his nest or provide a potential source of barter or Treasure. There! Smoke from a campfire, faint but real. He flew towards it whilst activating a gift from his progenitor: An invisibility ring mounted on his tail. So invisible to visual or olfactory detection he flew closer, making sure not to land due to the noise & vibrations a beast of his size would make (In the chance that the fire had not been abandoned). Fizil Browhorn kicked the Broken wagon's axle. "I don't think that will help anymore than it did last time dear" said his Wife Gelda Browhorn from where she sat by the cooking fire loading a crossbow. The middle aged Gnome sighed and laid down his hook-hammer. "Are the children asleep?" "All of them except for Tassil, and he's keeping a sharp eye out from the wagon's observation post" replied Gelda. Fizil turned around to spy his first born son manning the wagon's heavily fortified observatory deck, complete with his own custom built smokepowder cannon (His best work as a former priest-inventor of Gond). Tassil spotted him through the viewing slits and waved. Fizil forced a smile to his face and waved back before turning back to his wife, his expression grim. "We're going to have to make a choice, either we spend the day here and carve out a new Axle, or" "Take the one from the cargo cart" finished his wife, "You know we can hardly afford to write the camp off as a customer or this entire trip as a loss". He smashed his fists together "I know that dammit, but there's bandits, wolves & worse in these infernal woods an I canna' risk endangering you and the children". He came close and hugged her fiercely. She reprociated the act, and embraced him, accidentally loosing a bolt from her crossbow as she did so. The Bolt shot up, the startled eyes of the Gnomes following its path as it flew over the campfire. Then their eyes widened in terror as they saw It. The Black smoke from their campfire did not go straight up (For there was no wind) but instead wreathed a huge form directly above the campfire: A shape in the form of a Dragon! Korilandatrix was listening to the plight of the small folk family and had been feeling a fair degree of sympathy for the unfortunate Gnomes. The Crossbow bolt smashing into his underside (And smashing into splinters) was a "bolt out of the blue", he was even more surprised when the pair of Gnomes actually seemed to see him despite his invisibility and being in the air. Above the campfire. In the Smoke. 'I'm an idiot' he groaned then began to flap his wings, circling around with the intent of returning later to see if he could recover the soon to be abandoned supply wagon, only to find himself face to face with the young Ta Korilandatrix Tassil Browhorn and his smoke-powder powered rock blaster. Koril then found himself Head to skull with a boulder fired from near point-blank range straight at his head. Fizil gaped as he saw the boulder shatter against the Strange looking Dragon's skull, then the beast slowly crash into the ground, extinguishing the campfire under its immense bulk. Gelda turned to face Fizil, stark terror plastered over her face. "What& What do we do now? K-k-k-kill it?" Fizil marshaled himself and thought hard and long (While trying to keep from shaking in terror). "No. It didn't try to harm us when it could, and it certainly isn't a foul Chromatic Wyrm, in fact I've never heard of a beastie like this, it could be an Albino Silver for all we know under all that soot. Help me tie it down with the heavy chains, I have a plan to save us, the cargo and the family business" Gelda began the work, trying to calm down and distance the terror of what else might be drawn to her family from her thoughts. Koril slowly came to, His vision a discoloured blur. Instinctively, He tried to rise off the ground and stretch his wings but he found himself unable to move even his tail. He tried to whip his long neck around to see what was holding him but he found himself unable to move even that nor capable of opening his mouth. His eyes darted from side to side; fury & fear intermingled within his diamond like pupils. "Greetings, oh most honoured & magnificent Wyrm" said a voice from near his head. The miserable old gnome had come up and was standing in front of his nose! He growled slightly but the chains binding him held him tight. The gnome had backed away a pace before recomposing himself (deliberately ignoring the drops of sweat that trickled down his face as he did so, as Koril smelt each and every drop). "Awesome and noble Dragon, I apologize from the depths of my soul for your iniquitous treatment, but I feared your awesome and righteous wrath. I beg your forgiveness for my family's earlier panic driven acts, but how could we witness a terrifying grand Lord of creation such as yourself without succumbing to panic at your fearsome aura and presence. I had to do something to prevent your initial righteous wrath from blasting me away like a twig in a firestorm, for how else could I hope to survive in your grand presence oh most beautiful of dragons?" Koril was indeed a Dragon, and like all dragons & gods (Especially young and foolhardy drakes) Flattery, praise and worship were an intoxicating brew of meat and nectar to him. Fizil carefully noted the preening in the Dragon's face, and then swallowed nervously choking down the bile in his mouth before continuing his carefully pre-planned speech: "I shall of course remove your bindings, but first I have an extremely profitable long term business proposal for you. First things first, I'm sure that a calculating genius such as yourself can restrain his wrath while I remove the enchanted bindings restraining your noble snout and graceful neck, and again I but beg that you withhold your awesome and righteous wrath oh might Wyrm". Koril listened and was intrigued by the Gnomes talk and flattered that the "smally" understood his position relative to him on the grand scheme of things (Such as the food chain) despite the humiliating fluke of a chance that had placed the dragon lower than a mere gnome. He also noted that the strange exploding Rock-blaster was still aimed at his head, so lulling the gnomes guard would serve a double purpose. So the Dragon Korilandatrix did not bite the gnome in half or reduce him to a fine mist of blood after the triple bound chains had been removed from his head & neck. Fizil on the other hand concentrated on praying to Gond, Bahamut, Tiamat, Garl Glitter gold and every other deity he could think of as he undid the chains. Korilandatrix stretched his head from side to side before raising his neck so as to observe the Gnome from on high feeling a grudging respect for the gnome who had followed the letter of his words and not unchained the rest of the dragon's form. "Elucidate your offer, Gnome" Fizil stared into the hypnotic diamond orbs of the dragon before shaking his head to break contact and merely staring at the Dragons teeth as they swayed above him; he wiped his sweat drenched brow with a silk kerchief (though he ignored his damp shirt & leggings) then replied: "My name O great & honourable Dragon is Fizil Browhorn, a humble traveling merchant. My cargo wagon that you can see here is loaded with goods of value though only to a local army camp. However the second wagon used to transport my family and I has unfortunately suffered a break down in its primary locomotive axle. My proposed deal is not something as mundane as your assistance in escaping this bandit infested forest, but is a long term strategic business arrangement & partnership. With your mastery of the skies, strength, speed, wisdom and magic allied to my own experience and business savy not to mention customer base we could corner the trading markets for this entire region of Cormyr in a mere decade or two, a span that's less than an eye blink to an immortal Dragon such as yourself." Korilandatrix thought the idea over while the gnome gave the basics of what he [Koril could provide as part of the partnership. Being a glorified Pegasus was more than slightly demeaning (He supposed), but a commercial Empire? Owning a sizable portion of A business monopoly established throught the land? Not even his great mother had that (As far as he at knew least), also who knew how far he could push this trading commerce with the experience and base to be gleamed from this Fizil allied to his own brilliant draconic intellect? "An interesting proposal, Gnome" He yawned purposefully, licking his long tongue as he did so "What would the profit sharing arrangement be?" Fizil felt a weak grin rise to his lips for the first time in hours. "Shall we say 7.5 to you on the net profits of each trip and 15 from this first joint venture"? Koril laughed a bellowing guffaw that blew away Fizil's small white hat. "At such a rate I might as well keep all the goods from this caravan for myself and leave you here for the Trolls. 30 net profits & 55 on this first venture as a sign of good faith on your behalf" Fizil's grin had vanished. "Honored, venerable, wealthy Wyrm, I am but a poor and humble gnome with a large & hungry family to feed. 15 & 21" Koril was feeling magnanimous towards the amusing little gnome. "On net profits per trip 20 & 30 from this first haul, with our future joint ventures being sustained by your descendants continuing and upholding our arrangement. That or no deal" Koril emphasized this by deliberately licking his long white fangs . Fizil scratched the fading brown hair on his forehead then nodded. "I accept, may I now know the name of my new, wise & most majestic business partner?" While he spoke Gelda discreetly removed the remaining chains off the dragon's main body, wings & tail (While muttering terrified prayers to Garl Glittergold and Chauntea). Once she had done so the Force Dragon Korilandatrix arose, his wings sending the chains flying away in a whirlwind of dust and ash as he rose to his full height overshadowing the Gnomes as a Redwood pine would a mushroom bush. "I am the Wyrm Korilandatrix. However we have One last dilemma ahead of us, 'partner', how can I trust you not to escape with the full profits from this first venture into far away lands hoping to escape your arrangement?" PWOOMPF& BAMF "I can answer that. Hello my Son" Koril blinked and looked up behind him, neck strained as a huge shape blotted out the sun. "Hello, mother" said the Wyrmling. Fizil, Gelda and the rest of the small eyes staring out of the closed wagon could do naught but gape at the colossal towering figure of the monstrous yet beauteous She-dragon as she stood tall above him. Such was her size that she overshadowed her progeny as a mountain would an Oak and casing a shadow over the entire camp site. Her legs were thicker than tree stumps; her eyes were the colour of purest white gold, her scales a million perfect diamonds and her form an artist's dream of strength, proportion and restrained power. They did not however notice the jagged claw wounds on her back or burns on her side, newly healed through magic though they were. She spoke again, each word rolling forth and holding their absolute attention: "As I was saying before my young son interrupted me I have a simple spell that will solve this mockery of the prisoners' dilemma. I shall cast a magical contract of loyalty upon you and your family here Gnome. The spell which will be bonded to you by your very blood and that of your descendants will turn the head of your family and breaker of the vow into a living monster, with a skin of rot, bones made out of swamp gas, a snake for a tongue and constant horrifying pain as your companion should you foolishly attempt to renege on your word ." Fizil barely managed to nod his head weakly, thankful at the least that the monstrous adult She-drake had not been more sadistic with her assurances. "At least only the head of the family will suffer if the worse comes to the worst, there's nothing in there against retiring and passing on the position of family 'Patriarch' and if she's bothering with that then we're not going to be eaten" Fizil Browhorn, head of the Browhorn clan of gnomes spoke. "I accept". He attempted to mask his terror with a superficial veneer of greed and long term vision but was quite unsuccessful due to the Dragons smelling his fear. (Not that the oath-caster minded). The Quarter master himself ran up to greet Fizil as his wagon rolled into the army camp. "At last you're here, the camp Commander's been furious about the delay, we even had to delay an execution since we couldn't spare anything for a last meal" "Who's the unfortunate fellow?" Said Fizil as he began to unlock the supplywagon's side. "Oh, Him, a bloody traitorous backstabber called Fithel Pearslip thats who. He left his whole squad to rot after betraying them to a horrible monster. He almost got away with it, and in fact he would have too if not for the fact that his former commander, Lieutenant Gael Goldpine (You remember him right? He used to be your liason above me) came back a short while ago after escaping capture at the hands of a troop of Ogre & Orc bandits that he managed to escape from after destroying their camp and killing their leader himself singlehandedly!". Fizil was barely listening to the tale of "heroism" still in shock at his "Flight" out of the forest. 'At least the children loved it' he mused as he began to help unpack the goods. End tale the Second.