Rotgoriel slammed his hands, his fleshy, useless hands down onto the table before him. A bowl jumped and clattered, and he yelled his rage into empty air.
Only for a time.
All he could do now was hope that the invader who had taken his body at a really, really inopportune moment could handle the fight. All he could do was hope the idiot wouldn’t get him killed again.
That was the worst part of it, really. He had no control. He was at the mercy of someone he’d never met and who clearly didn’t care about him. And worst of all? The invader wasn’t a dragon!
For a minute, Rotgoriel thought about killing his invader’s body, to see how he liked it.
But that seemed like a drastic measure. He didn’t know how the afterlife worked on this side of things. It might also strand him here, and the thought was horrific. Besides, once he fulfilled the Icon’s quest it would be a moot point. He could confront the invader through eldritch magic and settle this territorial struggle once and for all.
In the meantime...
He rose and was surprised to find that he wobbled a bit. And that there were fresh aches in his arms, his side, his legs. True, he’d left the body in a bad state the last time he was here, but it had been run through more trouble. Bandages covered the most irritated wound, one that throbbed on his arm. Good, at least his invader had the sense to mend his weak flesh.
Also the sense to feed, since his belly seemed to be full. Rotgoriel sniffed, smelled food in the air, and followed his nose back to the bowl. Empty, save for flecks of meat and fat and red paste that wasn’t blood when he licked it. Something savory, but he couldn’t put his claw on just what it was. He licked the bowl clean, nonetheless.
Then he went roaming. This clearly wasn’t the place the black uniformed humans had put him. The floor was soft and furry; everything was tidy and clean, and there were cloth coverings over clear parts of the walls. Just like the treasures he’d found before, the fabric was so very, very fine.
The ancestors had spent much time singing to him of all the treasures he could find in the world, and he’d always enjoyed seeing their memories of tapestries and robes and other textiles. Just the idea that the stuff was valuable and flexible, something you could wrap yourself in whenever you wanted a hug... it was a simple joy, when he thought about it. No less valid, though.
He was midway through his explorations, when the door at the front of the lair clicked open. Rotgoriel put down the bowl full of plant he’d picked up and watched a human in a blue suit walk in and set down a leather box.
“I hope you don’t mind that I came back early,” the human said. “The dryer’s set to notify me after it’s done. Once I got the message, I figured you’d be decent again.”
Rotgoriel nodded and smiled. It worked on LivingDeadGrrl, so it would probably work here. He hoped so anyway, because he had no clue who this person was, or what to say to him.
“Did you eat?”
“I did,” Rotgoriel nodded. “The red stuff was good.”
The human shot him a confused look, then moved into the kitchen. The bowl went into a hollow spot on a counter, and Rotgoriel watched with amazement as the man rotated a metal thingy and made it squirt water.
After the bowl was rinsed, he left the water running, settled into a chair at the table, and patted an empty one next to him. The rattling of water on metal filled the air in a most distracting fashion, and Rotgoriel settled into the indicated chair and waited.
The man made a rattling noise somewhere in his nose and throat, somewhere between a snuffle, a cough, and a roar. “All right,” he said, his eyes never leaving Rotgoriel’s. “We can speak freely now. What’s the emergency?”
Rotgoriel blinked. “There’s an emergency?”
“You went to a lot of trouble to get here and talk to me about one, so I’m assuming there is.” The human put his hands on the table. “Tell me about it. I’m listening.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Rotgoriel confessed. “I...” he stalled.
For a moment he debated flipping the table and going for the man’s throat. But the idea was met by a wash of revulsion.
He liked this human, and he didn’t know why.
Perhaps... perhaps because while his mind was his own, it wasn’t his original brain? That this brain had memories and obvious ties to this man?
Rotgoriel knew that he was still a dragon. If he needed to, if he wanted to, he could throat this man. The thought mollified him, and he decided that so long as he still had the option to defy his weak human brain, he didn’t have to kill the man.
So instead Rotgoriel answered him. “I am not in control of my life. And I do not know how long I have to keep on living like this.”
“That’s the emergency?”
“I cannot go into too many details,” the displaced dragon told him. “I do not know what will get back to my enemy if I speak too freely.”
That won a faint smile. “I understand. Trust is hard, here, in this place. You’re taught from birth to trust only God, and those who speak for him.” The man’s eyes flickered away from Rotgoriel’s gaze. “I won’t ask you to trust me. I’ve failed you once already. You’ve suffered enough from that. Everything since then is my way of trying to make things right. To help get you to a place where you have control, where you can trust people without fear... at least more than you can here.”
“Is that why you sent him... sent me on to—” Rotgoriel shut up. He wasn’t sure how much this human was involved with Rotgoriel’s invader. But what else could he be talking about?
“Are you asking why I sent you the dev kit? Honestly, I would have done it even without ulterior motives,” the man said, spreading his hands. “You’re skilled. You’ve got a hell of a future ahead of you. You could be the next Bill Gates, or Steve Jobs, or Jacobi Jameson. Never doubt you’re that good.”
Rotgoriel nodded and smiled.
The man searched his face, and his own jaw set into a grimace. “I won’t deny it’s my half-assed attempt at an apology, though. I’m sorry. I’m sorry about your mother.”
Up until now, Rotgoriel had been thinking he was managing the conversation pretty well. Up to this point, he was certain he could stall and prevaricate and keep this human ignorant of the truth.
But the unexpected mention of his mother... that hit him like a physical blow. He gasped, and pushed himself up from the table, despite the pain screaming in his legs. “You! You... how dare you,” he whispered. “You did that, didn’t you! You set them upon her!”
“No!” the human barked, face tightening. “I didn’t. I don’t know who did, and that worries me. I’ve narrowed the suspect list down to two people, but I have no way of knowing. Regardless...” he sighed, and met Rotgoriel’s eyes again. “Neither of them know that I’ve contacted you. Nor that I’m trying to help you.”
“And how are you trying to help me?” Rotgoriel snarled. “What you’ve done to me... what you’re doing now, how is that helping me?”
Then, before he could react, the man reached out and and folded him into his arms.
Rotgoriel stared over his shoulder.
Then he burst into tears and hugged the man back for all he was worth.
“I’m sorry,” the man said. But Rotgoriel barely listened, he was finally being hugged.
Hugging was so, so much better than he’d ever imagined. It was warm and steady and gave you something to hold, someone to hold that cared about you. Hugging was something he’d really, really looked forward to in the egg, and that he’d thought beyond his reach forever when his mother had died. Dragons didn’t hug unless they were parent and child, anything else was undignified.
This... this was almost worth being a human for.
“I’m sorry,” the man repeated. “I mishandled things. They took your mother. I’m going to spend the rest of my life regretting that mistake.”
“I just want my mother!” Rotgoriel sobbed. “I just... all I’ve got now is revenge, and I don’t care about that; it’s just what I’m supposed to do, and I’m too young, and no one’s really on my side, and this is hard!”
“I know. I know.” The man hugged him tighter. “We ask so much of you. This damned country asks so much. Tells you how to act, tells you not to show emotion when you get beaten, threatens you if you make noise about it. They tell you what to believe, and what to do, and if you doubt or make a mistake then you pay for it forever. It’s stupid, and it can’t last, and you are all so, so very young.”
By now Rotgoriel had quieted, and the man released him. To his surprise, Rotgoriel saw that his own eyes were wet.
“Better?” the man asked.
“Better,” Rotgoriel said, even though his voice was unsteady. That had been an un-dragonlike display of weakness. He’d have to watch that in the future. Hanging around humans for so long was starting to rub off on him.
The man sighed and grabbed a box of thin cloth from the counter, gave him a handful. Rotgoriel stared at it, then when the man grabbed one piece and wiped his face, Rotgoriel copied him. It seemed a waste of cloth... but then, this was the cheap stuff.
“How can you help me?” Rotgoriel asked.
“That depends on your emergency,” the man replied. “You still haven’t told me what’s going on.”
“I’m not sure I can,” Rotgoriel confessed. “It’s bizarre, and I don’t know why it’s happening.”
The man shook his head. “Stubborn. We’re at risk here, and you’re playing coy? Seriously, Richard, this isn’t the time to—” The man’s voice had slowly been rising, but he seemed to catch himself. “I’m sorry. I know it’s tough for you. Ruth is in the camps, now. Your mother’s out of our reach. That’s what you came here to tell me, isn’t it?”
Rotgoriel paused.
His mother’s name was not Ruth.
A gnawing suspicion chewed its way up into his mind. “My mother. My human mother. That’s who you’re talking about.”
The man blinked. “You’re acting strange, Rich. You have been since I got here. Wait... Was I wrong about her being in the camps? Do you have good news on that front?”
Rotgoriel opened his mouth, and words flickered in his mind.
Incoming Message >> Dylan Royal
All right boy, what’s your fucking emergency?
“Someone is writing in my head,” Rotgoriel said instead. “What is this?”
“Writing in your... are you talking about an email?” the man asked.
“I don’t know. It’s asking about my emergency.”
Incoming Message >> Dylan Royal
This ain’t funny. Answer me right the hell now, boy.
“It keeps calling me boy. I find it annoying,” Rotgoriel told the man.
“Boy? It’s your father! It has to be. Tell him... shit.” The man pinched the bridge of his nose. “Just lie to him. Tell him you went for a walk or something.”
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“I have a father?” Rich asked, blankly.
He’d never considered the possibility. In dragon society, only one parent raised the child; the other was irrelevant. How did humans do it? The stranger he was with had already mentioned he had a mother, so what did he need a father for?
Incoming Message >> Dylan Royal
Rich. Answer now. Or I’m gonna assume some bad shit.
“How do I tell him things?” Rich asked.
Now the man was looking at him with confusion. “You message him back. Obviously. Rich, what’s going on with you?”
“How do I do that?”
“What do you mean how do you do—” the man snapped his mouth shut. When he opened it again, his voice was trembling. “Are you trying to tell me something? Oh God, you’re compromised, aren’t you?”
Incoming Message >> Dylan Royal
Fuck it. I’m turning on your tracker chip and borrowing Lou’s truck. You can tell me about your emergency in person.
“I don’t know,” Rotgoriel admitted. “What’s a tracker chip?”
The man didn’t reply. He bolted for the door, grabbing his leather box on the way out. He threw it open—
—and stopped cold, staring at a bald man in a black suit. He wore spectacles like Geebo’s and had a fat face.
Rotgoriel’s host simply stood still, staring at the stranger. His body language shifted, like prey surprised by a predator.
“Mister Frederick Tassle. Information technology educator. That’s you, I presume?” the bald man said in a soft voice.
“It is,” the man— Frederick, replied.
“Go on in and have a seat. It’s over.”
Rotgoriel watched in fascination as Frederick walked back into the room, sat in his chair, and sunk his face into his hands.
The bald man sneered at Rotgoriel as he entered, then took a seat as well. “Just one more person to wait for right now. Your father, judging by the messages we intercepted.”
Rotgoriel nodded. “Evidently.”
The bald man’s smile flickered. “I don’t think I like your tone.”
“That makes two of us. You’re rather smug,” Rotgoriel told him. He’d tried to be careful and watch his words with Frederick, and that hadn’t worked. So he saw no reason to mince around with the other predator in the room.
“That was a neat trick with the river. I didn’t think you had the courage, to be honest,” the bald man said as he folded his fingers together, making an arch with his hands. “But we had watchers in place before we let you out of jail. We wanted to see who you’d run to, and you didn’t disappoint.”
“Jail?” Frederick looked up from his hands and stared at Rotgoriel. “Richard, what have you done?”
“It’s far too late to pretend ignorance, Mister Tassle. In any case, it’s out of your hands now.” The bald man reached into his pocket and sat a silver disc on the table.
He was very surprised when Rotgoriel grabbed it.
“What are you playing at, Royal?” The bald man narrowed his eyes.
“What is this?” Rich asked, turning it over and over in his hands.
“It’s a visual suppressor,” Frederick answered. “It prevents Echo recordings, and stops most modern cameras from seeing things properly.”
“Yes, and it’s not the only safeguard I’ve got,” the bald man wiggled his hand at Rotgoriel. “Give it back. Breaking it just means that we end this farce early... and painfully.”
Rotgoriel considered beating the bald man to a pulp. That had clearly been a threat, and there was only one way to keep inferiors in their place once they challenged you. Besides, he looked soft.
But... the trinket in his hands didn’t feel like proper silver. It wasn’t a valuable metal, and Rotgoriel was wounded already. A physical contest wasn’t a sure thing, especially in a torn up, flabby human body.
The bald man took it back, and his eyes never left Rich’s. “There’s something different about you. Maybe it’s the lack of glasses.”
Rotgoriel stared, silent.
The bald man’s lips twisted.“I don’t like the way you’re looking at me.”
“That makes two of us,” Rotgoriel said. He watched the bald man scowl.
But at least he seemed disinclined to run his mouth any further. So, they waited, and stared at each other.
Some while later, metal slammed on metal outside. Not quite a sword on a shield, something weightier.
“Boy!” a harsh voice called. “You in there? Boy!”
“Is this really necessary?” Frederick asked.
“Come in, Mister Royal!” the bald man called. “Let’s not waste any more time.”
A large lump of a human waddled in through the front door, glaring around in obvious fury. He wore a stupid hat and stained heavy clothing, and his face was a mask of sweat. His eyes fixed on Rotgoriel, then danced around between the other two men, as he took the measure of the situation. “The fuck is this?”
“Trouble, Mister Royal,” the bald man chirped. “And you’re in it.” He looked Mister Royal up and down. “Calm down and take a seat. We have quite a lot of questions for you.”
“I... no. No!” Mister Royal shouted.
Both Frederick and the bald man rocked backward in surprise. “No?” the bald man asked. “Do you know who I am? What I am?”
“No! You took Ruth; you ain’t taking no more from me!” the large man snarled and fumbled beneath his clothes.
“Hold on, bad idea,” said Frederick, half rising.
“You can’t seriously be thinking of doing that,” the bald man said. “That would be the most idiotic—”
“Second Amendment rights, asshole!” The large man jerked a small metal device from his clothing and pointed it at the bald man. He held it like it was a weapon. “You both sit your asses down! Boy, get over here! I got a full tank of gas. We’re getting the fuck out of here!”
“Mister Royal, please let me assure you that you’re making a huge mistake,” Frederick said, and words rolled past Rotgoriel’s sight.
Incoming Message>>Frederick Tassle
Richard, help me talk him down. He’s dead if we don’t.
“Talk him down? How?” Rotgoriel asked.
Frederick stared at him, imploring mutely.
The bald man shook his head. “Mister Royal, this is your last chance,” he said, and he sounded bored. “Put the gun down.”
“Or what, you’ll shoot me? Hell no! I got the drop on you, you four-eyed fucktard! I’m taking my son, and I’m gonna...”
Rotgoriel never found out what he was going to do.
Everything shifted, and he was a dragon again, in a black void with green pillars, staring at the bound ancient.
Rotgoriel heaved a huge sigh of relief. “If you did something to trigger that, I thank you. That was not pleasant.”
The ancient did not answer. The ancient was trembling, eyes open wide, blazing as if with internal fire.
“Elder? Is something amiss?”
But it wasn’t the elder that answered him.
Defaulting to localgod.exe
Searching...
Searching...
Running Intervention.god
ERROR! No .god files found!
ERROR! Out of boundaries!
Expanding invocation...
Accessing hidden files....
Failsafe found!
Incoming Message>>Konol
>>54 68 61 6e 6b 20 79 6f 75
“What is this?” Rotgoriel stared at the nonsense numbers and letters.
>>46 6f 72 20 74 68 65 20 66 69 72 73 74 20 74 69 6d 65 20 69 6e 20 6d 69 6c 6c 65 6e 6e 69 61 20 49 20 68 61 76 65 20 68 6f 70 65 20 61 67 61 69 6e
“Is this your doing, great one?” Rotgoriel raised his eyes.
The ancient looked smug.
“What must I do here?
>>59 6f 75 20 68 61 76 65 20 6d 75 63 68 20 74 6f 20 64 6f 20 62 75 74 20 6e 6f 20 6d 6f 72 65 20 74 6f 20 64 6f 20 68 65 72 65
Rotgoriel shook his head. “Please! I do not understand!”
>>46 65 61 72 20 6e 6f 74 20 79 6f 75 20 77 69 6c 6c
The ancient turned its head slightly, just slightly, closing its eyes and looking away from Rotgoriel.
“You dismiss me?” Rotgoriel asked.
But it was not Konol who answered.
Congratulations, by engaging in divine contact with three different gods, you have unlocked the Cleric job!
You cannot become a Cleric at this time, all adventuring slots are full!
Seek out your guild to forget an existing job!
“You want me to become a Cleric? Dragons do not worship gods! We slew our gods long ago—”
Realization crashed in like a thunderbolt.
Carefully, bravely, he studied the ancient once more.
Those weren’t white markings on its black scales.
Those were stars. Some flickered, some glowed, and as he watched a comet sped by, rippling in the void of what he’d assumed to be black scales.
“You’re a god. You’re one of our gods,” Rotgoriel whispered.
And now Konol looked at him once more. “Choose your place of rebirth,” he spoke, and his voice boomed with an energy and vitality that Rotgoriel hadn’t heard from him before.
“And I swore to free you,” Rotgoriel breathed.
Was it his imagination, or did Konol’s eyes flicker?
Rotgoriel looked away. “The human invader... the twice named are the only ones who can resurrect. I needed to be one of them in order to see you. To see you and return.”
“Choose your place of rebirth.”
Rotgoriel licked his lips, and for a second, for a second even though he lacked imagination, he saw the scope of it. Saw just how his entire life had been shaped to this purpose, and he wondered how much of it was the work of the god before him.
But only a second. He had work, he remembered. He needed to confront the human who slaved half of his waking moments, and...
And what, precisely?
End things? End him?
What if he was part of Konol’s design, too? He had to be.
Rotgoriel had to think on this. But he couldn’t do it here, and if he waited too long, it would be a moot point anyway.
Without any more hesitation he pointed to the Village of the Yellow Eaters, and instantly he was there, staring at the afternoon sun, and casting his gaze around the village and its few survivors, who were going about their day.
There was no sign of LivingDeadGrrl, or his golden treasure, or Geebo. Irritating!
He was about to start off back to the caves, when a message halted him in his tracks.
Incoming Message >>LivingDeadGrrl
We got away! Heading back to the village at top speed with a grumpy djinn. Hang tight, we’ll try to beat them there!
Well! His favorite human was more effective than he’d dared hope!
Contented, Rotgoriel settled in to rest.
Soon, they’d be here. Soon, this would all be settled.
One way or the other.
RUTGER'S CHARACTER SHEET
Spoiler: Spoiler
Name: Rutger Royal
Age: 1 Day
Jobs:
Cultist 1, High Dragon Hatchling 5
Attributes Pools Defenses
Strength: 181 Constitution: 178 Hit Points: 359 Armor: 90
Intelligence: 42 Wisdom: 40 Sanity: 82 Mental Fortitude: 90
Dexterity: 14 Agility: 39 Stamina: 53 Endurance: 0
Charisma: 37 Willpower: 176 Moxie: 203 Cool: 90
Perception: 176 Luck: 34 Fortune: 210 Fate: 5
General Skills
Brawling – Level 13
Dodge – Level 12
Fly – Level 14
Ride – Level 1
Stealth – Level 2
Swim – Level 2
High Dragon Hatchling Skills
Burninate – Level 10
Chomp – Level 8
Draconic Tongue – Level N/A
Dragonseye – Level 15
Flameborn – Level N/A
Hoarder – Level 1
Limited Equipment – Level N/A
No Thumbs – Level N/A
Scaly Wings – Level N/A
Slow to Age – Level N/A
Tail Slap – Level 1
Cultist Skills
Unlocked Jobs
Cleric, Conjuror, Fire Elementalist, Grifter, Knight
Gear: