Chapter 1: Call to Adventure
Fifteen years later……
Standing against the tide of an advancing army with a massive castle at their back, stood a girl leading an army of her own. She stood head and shoulders above the rest of her party, wielding nothing but a shining broadsword in her right hand and a stalwart shield in her left. The sword was an artifact of a forgotten age, for only it could hope to compare to the splendor of the one wielding it. The shield had been exquisitely crafted by a master smith, and although it wasn’t as fancy as the massive broadsword, it had been decorated with the visage of a roaring dragon, looking so lifelike as though it would fly right off of the metal that kept it prisoner. She wore no armor for she was covered in her own. Black scales as dark as the night covered most of her body while her gauntleted arms and greaved legs looked as though they’d been drenched in blood. Golden eyes ringed with twilight purple looked out over the battlefield as she addressed her army. “Today we fight. Today we stand against the tide of darkness and bring forth the light. We stand against tyranny and hold fast to the light of reason, against the tide of madness with the spark of intelligence, and against fear with boundless courage. This is where we rise. We are the sword and shield of our Queen, crafted and honed through countless battles. We will not fall, for it is the dawn of a new day, of a new age. Let this be our battle cry! FOR THE QUEEN!!!!!”
A resounding cheer came from the assembled knight of the army, “FOR THE QUEEN!!!!!!!!” Each warrior assembled drew their swords in unison and the mages and archers that made up their artillery prepared their spells and drew their enchanted bows. Turning her head in response to the flickers of magic in the air, the commander saw that the mages’ spells were almost complete. “On my mark……” she started as the advancing army thundered ever closer. “Hold……” The army was quickly nearing the foot of the hill that the castle was perched on. “NOW!!!!!” At her signal, a torrent of spells ripped forth. Some shot great bolts of lighting from the sky, attracted to the metal plate of the army below. Others shot forth high pressure jets of water that bisected an entire platoon of enemy soldiers. A great wave of fire swept over those that remained, melting their armor to their bodies. With a rumbling of the ground, an earthquake brought forth massive walls that encircled the enemy army: they were trapped. With their morale shaken, the defenders advanced upon their helpless foes.
It was at this point that the commander started to channel her own magic, the reason she had not done so earlier was to not alert the advancing enemy of her might. Now, however, it was too late. The sheer density of her magic forced many of the shaken soldiers to their knees. They had made a terrible mistake. Their only chance to make it out alive was to kill her before she completed her spell. They never had the chance; any spell they brought forth almost immediately dissipated under the sheer might of the commander’s gathering mana. And as the defenders started engaging the enemy, her spell finally completed and the gathering magic seemed to disappear.
She sheathed her sword in the scabbard built into her shield and attached the shield to her back. Like a match being struck, a torrent of dense mana erupted from her body. Her short muzzle started to lengthen and her pointed ears started to grow frills. She dropped to all fours as her arms quickly grew as long as her digitigrade legs. Her short tail quickly lengthened to monstrous proportions and was quickly tipped with wicked barbs. A set of straight black horns erupted from her scalp along with a ridge of spines that trailed down her lengthening back. Her weapons and clothes seemed to melt into her growing body as a pair of magnificent wings erupted from her shoulder blades as she grew to the size of a small house. Standing at 20 foot tall and over 40 feet long, she dominated the battlefield with her presence, her piercing golden eyes freezing the advancing enemy army in fear. With all of the spirit she could muster, she threw her head back and let loose an ear splitting roar, its thunderous shockwave felt for miles. This was HER battlefield and all would know her name, for she was the great, the grand, the mighty, the glorious—---
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“Tour, it’s time to get up. You don’t want to be late to your special day, do you?”
Her eyes shot open and the dream faded into memory, like the morning dew outside struck by the light of dawn. “Uggghhh,” she muttered to herself as she rubbed her bleary eyes with a scale covered, paw-like hand, “I shouldn’t have stayed up so late reading great grandpa’s diary.” Tangled in her sheets and still half asleep, she rolled out of bed and hit the floor. Landing on her tailbone, she jolted to her feet with a yelp, the tangled sheets sliding off of her fur covered body. Tucking her tail between her legs, she started massaging her butt in an attempt to alleviate the pain. Unfortunately, she had forgotten the reason she had been rudely awakened in the first place.
“Tour, you better be almost done. If you aren’t down by the time I’m done making breakfast, you aren’t getting any.”
With the threat of going hungry until the end of her naming day ceremony sometime in the late afternoon, she lurched forward to drag the sheets off of the floor. Quickly making her bed, the sheets looking semi-presentable, she made her way over to her open closet. Scouring the shelves and drawers within, she pulled out a pair of grey undergarments and a dark blue one piece dress, knowing she’d have to take it off later during her ceremony. Tour quickly pulled on the skintight shorts, taking care not to cut the material on her scaly feet and gently threading her short stubby tail through the hole in the back. She then pulled her bra over her head, the elastic cross straps of the fabric sitting snugly across her back, and fitted it comfortably over her four breasts, a remnant of her canine ancestry.
After throwing on her knee length dress, she checked herself over in the mirror next to her closet to make sure she was presentable. Standing at 4’ 8”, she was on the tall side for a female kobold, her height complimenting her lithe figure and lean muscle gained from helping her mother in the forge. The blue of her unembroidered dress complimented the cobalt black of her fur. Tilting her muzzled face left and right, she admired her unadorned ears for the last time; today was the day she would finally get her own set of earrings, after all. She grinned, showing off her elongated canines and spun in front of the mirror, admiring the way her dress fluttered around her. It was the last time she’d be wearing one for a while, for tomorrow was the start of her grand advent—-
“TOUR, get down here NOW or I’m feeding your breakfast to the pyrebacks!”