SAVE POINT 38
EmeraldCity_88
Their dragon really wasn't that hard to find. These camouflage warriors weren't the first people to use the cover of a cave as a building place for a fortress. Creative, yes, but original? No. I'd definitely have to take off some points for that. There were about three million video games with the same premise for a fortress.
Solid?
I leaned my weight against the cave wall, feeling the damp rock under my palm and the sturdiness. Yes, 100% yes; this place was solid. Regardless of hopes, there was no way we could blow it into a clusterfuck rock pile. I'd have to go for another strategy in this win-the-war, take-the-names situation.
"Nice place you have here," I called over my shoulder at the man shuffling behind me.
—NOT a 'man', bad wording. He was a 'prisoner'—MY prisoner. More descriptively, he was the last remnant of the guard group in the woods—the only one my Jagwindos hadn't slaughtered. ...Not that he escaped the blood bath and gore; I didn't say that. The fur and leaves cape, that hung over his frail body, was smeared scarlet. His lower lip trembled as wrinkles sunk deep into his forehead. His eyes were scared shitless.
Good.
I needed him to look convincing.
A whole host of guards seized when they saw me waltzing towards their sanctum. Hands flew to weapons. I heard the Jagwindos behind me bristle and growl. But I wasn’t planning on fighting out here.
"We have one of your own," I gestured with a casual wave to the bound man stumbling behind me. I'd tied him to a Jagwindow—I know, brilliant. He wasn’t trying to go anywhere with that black beast snarling at him. "Open the doors," I called breezily, "I want to see your dragon."
I stared up at the intricately-carved, wood doors looming over me. They had to be the doors—the doors which opened to exactly what I wanted: scales, fire, death. I was sure of it. No one took such care with unimportant doors. These were thick. Handmade. I knew I was right.
I grabbed the prisoner's bicep even as he recoiled from me.
"I have your peep!" I shouted to the huge doors as though something behind it could hear. I thrust the prisoner forward like whatever it was behind the door could see the proof. "Open up, buttercup."
What is waking me AGAIN?!
Raged a raspy, bell-like woman's voice in my mind. The fury in it nearly tingled in my brain, but it brought a satisfied smile to my lips as I saw the game popup that accompanied it in my vision:
[Draconic Telepathy Used… +1 XP, 56/100]
Ho-ho, boy! Telepathy? I DID find a damn dragon! Go Cassandra, go Cassandra—
Enormous claws scraped at the other side of the door—
It swung open, just missing my face by a hair—swishing air there as it slammed into the cave wall behind it.
Thud.
And I stared.
Into an engorged set of blinking, yellow eyes.
Oh my God. I wanted to faint right there from pure excitement. Skipper, if you could see this—you wouldn't believe...
The beast smelled like when the gerbil cage at home got a little funky. Combine the reek of that with the smoke of a firepit and you had—whala!—essence of dragon. And the thing was big, filling the dark room behind it. I, honestly, hadn't been sure it'd be so large. I mean, who could really know what to expect when you were talking about a mythical beast...
"I have one of your guards," I started, self-importantly shaking my head to push the pompom ends of my green pigtails over my shoulders.
But, before I could blink, the dragon made a move, swiping a colossal talon, slicing—
I gaped for a second.
—A line straight through her own guard's throat.
As blood squirted. The man opened his mouth, trying to talk or shout.
But he fell to his knees.
Shuttering. Bleeding.
Till he was still again. Buh-bye leverage.
I don't care.
The beast stated blandly in my head.
My eyes widened. Most people—most rational people—would be scared. But I wasn’t 'most' people, and I certainly wasn’t 'rational'; my respect of the creature hit the ceiling as I turned from the dead body back to face her bronze snout.
"Killing the guard so I lose all power over you," I stated rapidly, inspecting the cuticles of my pinky finger, "Smart. I would have done the same."
I don't know who you are, and, frankly, I don't care.
The ground shook as the huge creature readjusted itself, turning away from me and coiling in a tight ball, its scales bristling in the limited light.
"You already said that," I said, stepping forward—dangerously close; I could feel the risk of it jumping in my heart, but I liked it. Sometimes, I wondered if something was wrong with me… "You already said you don't care—"
And it's true!
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The dragon bellowed.
Guards, this one is obnoxious. Take her away—
My nose wrinkled up; I did it on purpose. It was the face Skipper always said I made when I didn't get my way, "Aw, and here I thought they said dragons were fun, not boring," I started—
Her huge lizard head whipped around, suddenly hissing. All the guards that had moved forward to grab me leapt back and out of the way as her fiery eyes leveled with mine.
No one's ever called me ‘boring’, girl who looks like a child.
"I'm 35 thank you very much," I spouted back, placing two, rather-entitled hands on my hips, "And, if we're talking about looks, don't take this the wrong way or anything, but you look fucking depressed."
I wasn’t wrong and the thing knew it; anyone could read body language. What would probably be the grandest beast of them all was sulking in a tiny ball, looking like my kitten, Pierogi, when it was about to thunderstorm. Piles of bones littered the room like someone hadn't taken out their trash in at least two weeks, and it smelled ripe. The flies buzzing around the carcasses weren't the only ones noticing. The dragon's eyes narrowed, flashing to where my gaze had already raked over her metaphorical dirty laundry.
A rim of smoke hissed out through her slitted nostrils.
How can I NOT take that the wrong way.
She snarled. It didn't seem like much of a question.
And she was right. It was probably impossible with her attitude. She needed to work on it. Mantras. Positivity. Meditation. Did dragon's meditate? I shrugged, "You're not a black dragon, but you would be considered emo where I come from. What knight in shining armor stole your princess?"
The dragon gnashed its teeth. I saw fury flash across its eyes. Sherlock, I did believe we were getting somewhere.
He wasn't a knight, he was a fraud.
The creature growled.
"Same shit, different suit," I muttered, "I mean, what's got your tail in a knot? Why the fuck are you so boring?" I snapped my gum at her.
Boring, for me, was dangerous. I was about to turn on my heel and go in search of an entertaining dragon when a girl skittered across the doorway. She was thin—awkward and willowy at the same time—and clearly much younger than me which made her even the same age as—
I froze—paused mid-chew as the girl scampered out of view.
'Cause she looked just like—
No, it couldn't be—
"Wait!" I shouted, but I'd gotten my bearings back too slowly; she'd disappeared from view. My gaze snapped up to the dragon. "That girl—" I stuttered, feeling both in a rush and like someone’d cut my tongue out at the same time, "She works for you?"
The dragon let out a weathered sigh, nodding.
Girl who scrubs the floors, girl who looks like a child wants to meet you.
She called, her ears wilting with disinterest.
"Yes, Commandress?" And the girl ducked back into view, the pads of her feet making hollow sounds on the rock floor. She was shy. I could tell. She hurriedly gathered her stringy, white-blonde hair over one shoulder, trying to avoid looking at me. But it was crazy—the resemblance was uncanny even with her hair that long.
She looked like Skipper. She looked exactly like my little sister before the radiation treatment.
My heart seized. I forgot how to breathe, just for that moment. 'Cause this place was more than fun and magical; I saw that now. This place was a dream come true. Tears welled up in my eyes, and, believe me, I was NOT the crying type.
I opened my mouth to try to tell the girl why I was staring at her like this, "Oh my gosh, you look just like my baby sister."
"My name's Ammat—"
"Don't talk," I hushed her quickly. God, she'd almost spoiled it. She'd almost messed it all up. Skipper had gone to college in Australia and picked up the Aussie accent. I wouldn't have this girl start jabbering and bulldoze the likeness. Somehow, God heard my prayer. I was in my dark apartment in the chat room at the exact right time and, now, I was here. In this game that I was going to destroy from the sheer joy of it, but now...there was Skipper.
Skipper was here.
And she looked like before.
And I would not waste the chance to have her, here, next to me—not when I'd been reduced to talking to her grave for five years.
I blinked up at the dragon, trying my most charming smile on for size.
"We're friends now," I piped quickly, "I want the girl. I'll do a flat trade. Name your price."
The dragon's lips curled back in warning.
The girl's not for sale.
"Then, I'll just take her," I quipped, pursing my lips, "Easy, no trade. Nothing in it for you. I once stole a whole TV from Best Buy, and no one even noticed—walked it straight out the door. I'm pretty great at it. Plus, I have an army of Jagwindos waiting just outside and an army of fantasy nerds who would love to come back something up if it has to do with swords—"
That got her. Her ears perked.
You have an army?
"Two, but I guess you're not being technical..." I ranted, attempting to sound casual.
But the dragon was hooked now. Her large claws dug into the floor, pulling her forward.
I need an army to get revenge.
She told me, her voice a mess of clanging bells in my head.
Most of mine deserted after our defeat at the last fight. They didn't like that we were burning towns—
"Cowards," I spat, rolling my eyes.
My thoughts exactly.
The creature continued.
I want revenge on the dragons who wouldn't join me. I hear they're trapped by their own people, now, in the Dragon's Sea Town—
"Sold," I blurted out.
The beat raised an eyebrow. ...Must I do ALL the explaining?
"I'll help you get your revenge," I said slowly, "but you give me the girl, fair and square." I crossed my arms over my chest for affect as the corresponding text appeared between us in the air.
[Proposed Trade: EMERALDCITY_88, UNIDENTIFIED Will Help COMMANDRESS, DRAGON Get Revenge. In Return, COMMANDRESS, DRAGON Will Surender AMMAT, SERVANT]
[Will You Accept the Trade?]
[Yes] [No]
This system thing was trip-tastic. But the words barely hovered in the air for a minute before the bronze dragon nodded.
[System Alert: Trade Accepted]
[System Reward: Way To Make Bargaining With A Dragon Look Easy +25 XP, 81/100]
[System Reward: Uh, Okay, You Just Made A Trade With An Extremely Powerful Dragon. Some Of That Power Just Rubbed Off On You, +15 Baddie Points, 40]
I grinned at my newfound stats, just a little smug.
"Looks like our goals are—how do they say?—aligned," I said, nearly trembling on the inside from my excitement, "Shake on it?" I extended a tiny, white hand. When the beast just stared at me, I explained, “It’s how humans show they’re not going to flake on the deal.”
Better.
She rumbled.
And neon letters floated between us.
[System Alert: Covenant Sealed]
Acceptable. I smiled, and I grabbed the sticky, blonde girl by the bicep. She was mine now. Skipper was all mine again.
"Do you have any scissors around here by chance?" I asked, picking up a strand of the girl's white-blonde hair.
The dragon grinned savagely.
Who needs scissors when you have claws?
"Oh, right," I let out a breath with a short laugh, "In that case, do you think you could chop it off around chin-length?" I gestured with two fingers where I wanted the girl's hair cut.
The dragon brought up a claw.
The girl shrieked.
And, just like that—efficient son of a bitch—three inches of blonde hair fell to the rock floor.
I looked into the girl's terrified eyes, holding her by both shoulders at arm's length. "Congratulations, you've been promoted. You're my sister now. Your name is Skipper, and you love dragons—"
"I—"
"Shhh," I plastered a quick finger to her thin lips before she could get anything further out. "You don't talk. I do." I corrected her swiftly. "Let's get ready to invade a town. We're going to have so much fun, Skipper." I giggled into her face.
The real Skipper would have giggled back. The girl wasn't exactly the same, but I got it. You couldn't always have back what was taken from you.
You could only take back what belonged to you. And that was exactly what I was doing.