“Drenar, stuff you don’t want to shred, toss it now!” Julia shouts out. He tosses his bag with a grimace on the table, and Angela quickly gets his harness vest and dagger off and over his wings. She can see a glimmer of light at the seams of the scales on his arms and face. “Drenar, your other clothes–”
She’s just a tad too late, and he grimaces and there’s a series of ripping sounds, and his clothes now look like he's been in a battle with a hellcat. “Well, there goes my dignity,” he says with gritted teeth.
“Ladies, let’s give the kid a moment. Oh, you should probably finish that outside, about fifty percent of Awakenings lead to a low-level burst of whatever magical affinity a dragon has. In your case, either elemental plasma, or a telekinetic burst. I’d rather not be cleaning up a mess of burnt or toppled equipment.”
“Yeah, I think I need to go crawl into a corner and die now,” he manages to get out before collapsing where he stands, and shouts in pain. Julia can see his limbs lengthening again, and his face elongates into a short snout. The sound of rearranging bone and muscle sounds…squeamish. Oh man, this makes me look forward to my transformation even less.
“So, while that’s playing out…coffee, tea, anyone?” Crosomer asks politely. She and Angela turn to glare at him with as much ire as they can muster. “Did that come across as a bit…callous? There’s not much he can do, except let this play out. Seriously, you look like you both could use an espresso and a first aid kit. Let me tell you, that invention was worth the seven-hundred-year wait.”
“You are such an insensitive jerk, you know that?” Angela states icily. “He’s in pain!”
“Transformations after awakening involve far less pain, and maybe moderate discomfort at worst case,” he replies as if trying to downplay Drenar trying desperately to keep his cries of pain managed. His body mass is changing, and there are now scales across his entire body–and just like predicted before, his clothes are now a finely shredded mess. She tries not to take any details in.
“Did seven hundred years of isolation make you an insufferable jerk, or was that baked in beforehand?” Julia asks acidly. “You know that's my best friend in crippling pain right now, because of your antics.”
“It's temporary.”
“So are broken bones,” she states with a deadly tone. He shrugs lightly.
“I presume you're martially trained, and not speaking hot air, as teenagers are wont to do?”
“Want to know how much force it takes to break an arm? It's surprisingly low.” He laughs at this.
“Ah, so you have some experience with this, eh? You don't strike me as someone to dole out idle threats.” She glares at him testily, he might not be insane from seven centuries of solitary confinement, but he’s certainly a bit of a know-it-all jerk.
“No, everyone keep staring while I’m semi-naked and going through a mildly traumatizing body transformation. I’m sure it’ll be just fine,” Drenar manages to say with a strained growl. Julia does note that he’s almost fully transformed, except for the–well, there’s the tail now, with a coat of silver and blue feathers accentuating it. The tail itself is probably…half to three-quarters of the rest of his body length. Except when his chest starts to bulk out--thats' the point he shouts in pain. Julia could almost hear ribs shifting, crackling, and reforming as his chest and torso slowly grew in size to match his limb lengths. The silver light at the seams of his scales intensifies, and Crosomer grips a bench bolted on the floor.
“Um, we should probably take cover?” Angela says edgily, and eventually convinces Julia to grab onto the counter. Drenar is laughing, or crying in pain, or something in-between as the light hits a peak–
And without warning, everything is blasted outwards, and a burst of wind nearly knocks her away. Small objects and some of the closer furniture do not fare as well and are sent hurtling as hazardous debris–a piece of which almost hits Julia in the head before she ducks down, and the cheap office chair crashes into a metal cabinet. The light fades, and she peeks over the counter, bewildered by what she’s witnessing.
She is in awe.
Drenar is now a solid six meters long, sprawled out on the floor, and groaning in pain. His wings are now full size and sprawled out on the floor, and he’s scrabbling with his legs slowly, trying to test his motion with his new claws. He’s holding his head by his tapered horn with one hand, and trying to prop himself up with the other. Aside from the silver and azure patterned metallic scales, he also has feather accents of similar colors, along with a few iridescent seafoam-colored ones on his cheeks, forearms, chest, and along his tail. The scales on his chest, flanks, shins, and forearms are thicker and more prominent, forming distinct plates of slightly darker hues. He lifts his head from the floor, and spots Julia, with one piercing green eye visible with a narrow, cat-like pupil. Ooh, so pretty–
Damn it, stop admiring the dragon! It’s still just Drenar! Her look of awe is probably just telling enough to him. There’s a slight bit of relief in his facial expression. “Hey, Julia? I feel kinda...off.”
“No shit.” Her reflex reaction gets the better of her, and she stares at him. “Well, don’t you look handsome, all scales and feathers and toned muscles!” His face scrunches in abject horror.
“I liked you better when you only joked about flirting with me.” It’s somehow worse when even Crosomer laughs, and she feels burning embarrassment.
This is going to take some getting used to.
“Welcome to the rest of your life, Drenar. You're welcome, by the way, I figure I pulled you out of an abjectly boring life.” Julia doesn't even bother to chastise Crosomer or point out the massive pain he's inflicted, if unintentionally.
“I will need to borrow you. For sketches. Forever,” Angela beams with just a tad too much glee. “He’s a nine out of ten in my books!”
“I thought he was a solid six,” Julia counters her with a questioning look.
“Yeah, I added a few extra points for the species change.” Julia is pretty sure she does not want to read into that too much. Angela cautiously walks over to Drenar to help him up–and then realizes she has no strength to lift a half-ton dragon off the floor. Drenar sighs, and props himself up to a kneeling position.
"Ow. That was the single most painful thing I’ve ever endured, is every transformation like that?”
“Nah, you’ll be fine. The first one sucks,” Crosomer replies. “Need some pain medications? Oh right, you blew up my lab, so I'm out.” Drenar clenches his jaw tightly and narrows his eyes.
“You know who looks a little more bite-size from up here?” he asks edgily while glaring at the draconid. He tries to stand, but a shudder wracks his whole body, and he cradles his chest with his arms, pulls his wings close to his body, and grits his teeth. “You know what, on second thought, I’m gonna cut you a break. Because I’m clearly not going anywhere.” Crosomer looks at him curiously.
“Hang on. Am I missing something? Why are you a mix of Azure and Maridian?” he asks while narrowing his eyes. “And why are you not utterly unconscious? And speaking cognizantly?”
Oh great. Is this guy about to figure out that Drenar’s had a secret helper and that he’s had some advance warning? Julia thinks worriedly. “Crosomer, the boy’s been through some trauma! Look at his state! So…naked, so…injured. Maybe give him a few minutes?”
“You had to mention the lack of pants,” Angela sighs. Drenar simply scrunches himself up even more in response. “I mean hey, you did read up on draconic biology, it’s not as…um…obvious as it would be with a human form.”
“Teenagers,” Crosomer mutters under his breath. “Not much has changed in seven hundred years.”
“Still on the floor, in pain, and lacking pants, guys. I’m not saying this is my rock bottom, but this is getting pretty far down there.” It’s almost adorable how vulnerable an armor-scaled killing machine can be when embarrassed.
“Drenar, just get up. We’ll try to not notice,” Julia replies while rolling her eyes. “Besides, I’m sure Mister Bite-size here won’t try anything funny with you tromping around. How does it feel?”
He looks down at his new body, and clenches and unclenches his claws in controlled motions, then does a series of figure-eights with his wings. His expression of pain finally breaks, and he grins with a mouth of teeth that are sharper, but not threatening to her. “It feels awesome. No, more than awesome, it’s glorious! Fantastic! It transcends human expression!” He lets out a low roar of excitement. It’s still quite loud, and Crosomer winces and rubs at his ear crest a little. He does peer back at the tail, puzzled by that. “Still…processing the tail. It’s moving when I’m not thinking about it, is that normal?”
“Yeah, he’s fine,” Julia sums up. “Be happy that this giant nerd has this as one of his top three life dreams, Crosomer.” Drenar tries to finally stand up. He wobbles on his legs, but after a minute of adjustment, he spreads his clawed toes in a wide stance, and takes a few cautious steps.
“Well, new data to work from,” Crosomer muses in a slightly proud way. “Most of the subjects have been rendered unconscious by the events. You’d be the first case where that didn’t happen.”
“We Rashaldas are stubborn like that,” Drenar brushed off the comment and stood up slowly, kept his wings and arms out, and took a deep breath while stretching lightly. As if to accentuate the point, he does a yoga pose of standing on one leg while flexing the other towards his body, trying to test the limits of his balance. Crosomer simply stares.
“Are you just…you know what, I don’t care. Do your weird twenty-first-century exercise routine. There are some explanations due when you’re done goofing off,” Crosomer snaps irritably.
“Just be thankful that I do see the merits of having a two-species origin,” Drenar said calmly while also flexing his wings, and slowly circling and pivoting them, all while balancing on one leg. He wobbled a little and had to use his tail to adjust. “I look forward to the rationale of why I shouldn’t use my telekinesis to make you into a human tube of toothpaste.”
“Yes, why indeed do we garner your interest, exactly? Dragons and drakensouls aren’t super rare.” Crosomer turns to address her remark, and stops.
“Do you have any idea how many dragons died during the ascension events?” he asks. “How many families were destroyed, and loved ones lost, when even they had disagreements on the course of action? A near genocide of a race occurred overnight. Do not treat this so lightly. I certainly don't.”
“We know. Almost two million dragons were vaporized. We’ve been reading, but we don’t know every detail yet,” Angela chimes in. “You know about us. Why? Why even be remotely interested in us at all? For all you know, Drenar isn’t even related to Alex!”
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“...There is a possibility that judgment was clouded by faded memories,” Crosomer concedes. “Well now. Who here wants to hear the great big plan?”
“Whoa, wait a second. You’re assuming we want to be part of anything you have in store for us buddy, and let me tell you, no one controls my fate but me,” Julia says forcefully.
“Oh, I think you’ll love this,” he sighs contentedly. “Now, pay attention. I don't claim to be a saint, but the end goal is making everyone’s life on earth a little better. Now, who can tell me what the Conclave is, hmm? I presume you know they don’t run on altruism and good intentions, because, you know, the government.”
“Just skip to the point,” Julia said with an eye roll. “How much do you get off on preparing speeches?”
“I usually just wing it,” he shrugs. “Look, the point is, they've been trending towards the point of no return where they’ll give up the pretense of being a messy democratic institution, and dive straight into authoritarianism. It’s been slowly spinning things backward. Things deteriorated dramatically after Zacharias took my seat. She has been in, and out of that same seat or a few other official seats in the inner senate of two dozen individuals. They really do need to put in a life term limit on account of dragons and elven,” he adds quietly.
“The plan now is more or less the same as back then, to use the device I found and offer a very gentle nudge in human history. Awaken the latent genomes so that anyone could start producing mana, along with bringing back the dragons. Everyone could be a mage. Everyone could defend themselves. Also, toss Zacharias off that throne and into prison. That unearthly bitch is lying when she says she’s human–or even elven.”
“Sounds like you’re still bitter,” Angela says with a disapproving tone. “When seeking revenge, dig two graves.”
“Oh aren’t you the sound-bit queen,” Crosomer responds with irritation. “There’s a difference between revenge and justice. Their actions led to my dismissal, persecution, and my having to take up arms to undo the injustices they perpetuated. They turned my friends against me! That one still stings. I figure evening the odds with everyone able to be a mage even on a minor scale will ensure the demise of their regime. And before you ask, no, I don’t want to lead it.”
“Seriously?” Drenar says with his mouth agape. His words still sound like they have a thick accent, and Julia’s been noting he speaks more from the throat than with tongue or lip movements. The analogy between human expression and dragons isn’t perfectly synched up. “You’ll burn it to the ground, and then peace out?”
“Well if you stopped interrupting,” Crosomer scolds, “you would have heard me discuss plans for a transition government, and then free and open elections. There are bound to be decent mages and Kin somewhere, and I’ve got a list of candidates that would lead to a more free and stable institution. But I’m not going to get ahead of myself, I still need to make the first step work, activating the device in the way I intended it, to reverse-uno the Ascension events.”
“So, you don’t have a working plan,” Julia says with a soft tsk. Crosomer nods and rubs at his arm uneasily.
“There have been some setbacks. Before I was usurped, I hesitated to activate the runes on the device. I was concerned that a lack of proper translations could have dire consequences. Turns out, I was right. While I was sitting and waiting on trial after my little rebellion ended, Volkir Menrayas attempted to pick up where I left off to try to find a new home for dragons, away from human history. It went badly.”
“The Ascension events were also started by the device?” Julia asks warily. Crosomer nods after a second.
“Correct. Of course, I didn’t know how badly it would go, since I was otherwise occupied for about seven hundred years. Volkir used half of the mana crystals in circulation at two dozen sites across the world, all synched up to the device to activate a planar gate. Except, he just blasted a hole into the Aether–the world between worlds, or the Stranded Lands, as some call it–and vaporized them. My mentor really screwed up, big time. And I got the blame. Somehow.”
“You destabilized the entire mage world, jackass! Of course you got the blame, they would never have gone down the path if you hadn’t been burning the place to the ground over a grudge!” Drenar snaps. Crosomer gives him an annoyed look but continues walking. “So how’d you get the device back?”
“I saved a backdoor key to the covert sites the Conclave pretends don’t exist, where they research how to oppress and marginalize kin more effectively. Or build arcane weapons. They didn’t even change the locks, imagine that. I had the device brought here to Mount Syren to tinker and to get the process right this time, without fighting a war and away from prying eyes. The runes are the key, but I don't have them all translated--and my memory went a tad bad. But I did have some journals elsewhere. And Volkir's notes might be of help.”
“So you’re just gonna do this again. Just zap a couple million dragons back into existence, and supercharge people to become mages–or, well, more of them.” Julia sounds contemptuous, and she’s got a lot of reasons why. “What if your experiment just killed us? What if it kills everyone? Could you even dare to take that risk?!”
“There was some misplaced confidence the first time. I did check the math the second time, you know,” he replied unapologetically.
“Where was the check the first time?” She demanded.
“Immediately scrutinized by upstart youth who thought they knew more than the seven hundred-year-old arcanist,” he states deadpan. She glares at him, and he doesn’t flinch.
“Hey Julia, the glare only works on me. And it’s been losing its effect for years.” She really wants to put Drenar in a headlock now, but his neck is now decidedly out of reach. And for once, she can't hold a candle to his implied draconic strength. Drenar gives his sternest expression to Crosomer. “Let me tell you as an objective outsider and outside your echo chamber, this will end badly for you, and you know it."
“I think you underestimate my actual resources, and my chances,” Crosomer counters with a smile.
“Maybe. I'll go by what I know and can infer.” Drenar habitually goes to adjust glasses that aren't there and rubs the bridge of his snout instead, his cheek feathers lightly ruffled. “Now, I saw your lab setup. It's competent, if a little improvised, but if this is your top-tier talent, you don’t have a prayer of a chance. This mine operation was probably a cost investment of low millions, maybe tens of millions of US currency, give or take. Do you want to take down an entire conclave of millions of mages with the backing of SAF? That’s gonna cost a lot of bodies, asymmetrical warfare, and billions of dollars.”
“Oh?” he smiles for the first time. “Well, you’re right on two of those. Care to guess which two?” Julia is taking notes mentally–where is their funding coming from? The Talons have the underground criminal enterprise down, but how much money could they possibly have? Personnel? Resources? Influences within the Conclave, the little that she knew about it? He’s got the right idea. Drill for info. Let him give us the answer he wants to give us by boasting about it.
She’s got her attack plan now.
“This mine wasn’t bought by run-of-the-mill funding, Drenar. It was an investment, and there were likely more solvent funds available. You tossed away millions, then probably a lot more than that for the mining of those–what were they, mana crystals?” Julia hits the target dead-center, and he nods. “Used that for funding. I don’t know how well they scale on the other side of the Veil, but it’s got to be a lot. But you had initial capital to toss away for the upfront greasing of the skids That suggests billions in reserve. And I think you do that on more than special ‘services’ the Talons provide.”
“Correct. I try to ignore some of the…recent trends of the organization. But that’s not to say, we don’t have funding from legitimate sources and people who want us to succeed.” He’s still teasing out hints. Alright. Let’s see what else I can get out of you.
“So how do we go from a ragtag bunch of rebels to knocking down the Conclave, if they’re as bad as you claim?" Angela demands.
“Permanent, good change has to come from the heart, kid. It takes time to show people who the real monsters are, and what the Conclave have become–a reflection of themselves. It takes years. Decades to deprogram the indifferent sneer the Conclave has implanted in too many. Two million dragons, with an unparalleled wealth of knowledge, and unmatched strength, is the kind of revolutionary change of calculus that breaks systems of control."
“But at the cost of how many lives?” Angela asks quietly, arms crossed and fingers tapping gently. “No. Show me that the system is hopelessly broken first. Show me you won’t stand for people like that ‘Val’ that's been mentioned. Or Davos Renshrak. Your minions seemed to speak of him with an unparalleled terror.”
“I don’t normally stand for butchers and killers. But when you’re strapped for options, sometimes, your ideal goal isn’t achievable. Then you have to do what is necessary, and you try to… mitigate the collateral damage.”
He can’t even look her in the eye when he utters that short but telling phrase. “See, I really could use people like you who have spent a hot five minutes on this side of the Veil, and already know something is amiss.”
“Yeah. Something is amiss, the black-clad stormtroopers who tried to make us into freaking human pincushions,” Angela snarls. Julia isn’t entirely sure she isn’t prematurely Awakening by that deep-seated growl. Crosomer grunts in response.
“I’ll give you that one, Val’s men are a bit on the ruthless side. My other associate and I lean more towards persuasion and free kittens with the men and women under our command.”
“Really?”
“No, actually.” She did want a free kitten, because this experience is going to require something adorable and fluffy to destress. “I still miss my Glacian viper–wonder what happened to her after I was imprisoned.” Julia swears he’s saying that to throw them off-balance. “Now, let’s see…hmm…where was I going with this? Ah yes. The reason we are here. The part that I hate to do, but it’s necessary.
“We must fight.”
Everyone stares at him blankly. “You are aware of how much ass-kicking we did with minimal training and bare-bones armaments on your stormtroopers, right?” Julia wonders if she should throw in a mocking laugh, just to drive the point home.
“Oh, I am. And the point I’m trying to make is, you three, and your friends, you’ll be the tip of the spear, so to speak.”
“Or we could just go home, call it a day, say we’re even-stevens? You know, because, dragon here,” Drenar suggests unsubtly while his feathers bristle. Fluffy feathers do not preclude him from looking utterly deadly when he’s in the right mood.
Crosomer glances at him and sighs. “Oh don’t worry, you’re next. Take a nap, will you? I need about ten minutes.” Drenar looks at him with contempt.
“I might regret saying this, but you realize how dumb it is to bully a dragon, right?”
“You’re barely standing upright–which is outright impressive considering almost everyone else would be unconscious, not even including a running battle through a collapsing mine. Oh, by the way, you’re right in the field of effect.” Crosomer taps a small, rod-like device still sitting on his belt. The floor lights up underneath Drenar, and he’d already leaped sideways, but it’s too late. A blast of blue-white light surges forth, and lassoes him with dozens of bright white energy threads, causing him to topple and they ensnare him further, wrapping around all his limbs and his body. He’s pinned to the ground, shouting angrily. Crosomer bows down and glances at him with smugness, while Julia and Angela stare in shock. “See? You really should have been paying attention to the runes overlaid on the floor. Karkov’s lasso is a great spell for immobilizing even dragons.”
“Bitch please, energy ropes aren’t going to stop me, and I’m not gonna fall for that one twice,” he snarls. Crosomer taps him on the snout almost for comic effect, and Drenar gives him a death glare. “Hey, no boop on the snoot. That’s reserved for the ladies, thank you!”
“Oh, I’ll have to remember that one. Now, let’s see, I need a combat assessment because King had incomplete data…ten minutes should do it.” Crosomer puts his hand up, and the longsword on the table vibrates in place. Much to Julia’s shock, the weapon moves with a force all of its own, and the sheathed weapon flies to Crosomer’s outstretched hand, and he grabs it with lightning precision. "Don't take it personally. I do need to see how you'll hold up against a true opponent.” He tenses and takes a readied stance. Julia glances at Angela, then at Drenar, and makes her assessment.
They’re not prepared for this fight. Crosomer has been planning this from the beginning.
And they are going to lose.