As the farmers and other people went about their daily routine, all grateful that the wrath of the dragons had not descended upon them as of late, they probably assumed that everything would continue this way for a while longer. It had been a generation since the last time a draconid of any kind had made itself known.
Of course, they were not fools enough to assume that there were no such beings anywhere nearby, and as a matter of habit (and an instinct to survive) they had always left offerings at a makeshift shrine out beyond the city limits, making damn sure to leave upon it anything even remotely valuable and also to avoid paying attention to it.
Every time one of these offerings were made, the offering would ‘vanish’ soon after, and the city would more than likely be given a short reprieve before another offering was needed in order to avoid attack by an army of greedy dragon-blooded beings. Things were good, quiet, peaceful, and completely uneventful.
Well, that was until the local crazy old lady who claimed to be a fortune teller began screaming at the top of her lungs and trying desperately to make people run from the city.
Now, while it could certainly be said that the people of this city were a superstitious lot, they had avoided certain doom up until now by habitually making offerings to the dragons and their lesser kin, so most of the residents assumed that these ramblings were only telling them that they needed to up the scale and grandeur the offerings from now on.
But the next offering wasn’t due for another few days, always, so they could, in their own minds, afford to take their time. No doubt their newer offerings would tax them a bit, but they could and would adapt and overcome, just as they always had.
And so, rather tragically, they ignored the ranting old woman and locked her up, kicking and screaming, in the city jail, stuffing a rag into her mouth to make sure that they would no longer need to hear her. As a result, the day passed, and with it, the last chance that the city’s residents had of surviving what was to come for even a few hours longer once it did come.
…
“Lovely day we’re having, eh?”
A single sentence shifted the attention of the man who heard them away from his work for a brief moment before he resumed his duties.
“Uh, ye, I asked you if you thought the day was nice…. You gonna answer?” The man ignored the person asking the question. He had much more important things on his mind than worrying about the weather or what have you. This obviously annoyed the person who asked him that question, and they walked off in a huff.
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“Fools… all of them are fools…” he grumbled as he continued to work. He was nearly done, and if his calculations were correct, he would have made a masterpiece unlike any that he had ever heard of before. Everyone feared and respected the dragons, but nobody had any hope of being one, but if his potion was completed in a way that satisfied his ambitions, then anyone could transcend their status as a member of the Races and become not merely a Kobold or Lizardman, but an actual, honest to Gods DRAGON.
And not merely for a few hours, or even for merely a day or two. No, if his calculations were right, this potion would upend the societal structure of this place forever, granting the body and form of a dragon to anyone who drank it, and it would grant such things permanently.
He was about to put one last finishing touch on his potion, an act that required precision and detail that only the most precise of implements could hope to achieve, when a shudder rocked his laboratory and sent his hard work flying across the room, spilling its contents and erasing five generations of work in a single moment.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” he screamed as he fell to his knees and began to claw at his long, greasy, utterly unkempt white hair. “WHO?!” He roared as he shot to his feet and tried to run to the door. “WHO DARES ERASE MY FAMILY’S WORK?!”
He flung open the door and stormed outside and looked over his lab and immediately began yelling profanities at everyone nearby.
“HOW DARE YOU LET YOUR HOUSE FALL ON MY PRECIOUS LAB?! AND YOU! YOUR STORE HAS CAUGHT MY LAB ON FIRE! AND YOUR IDIOT CARRIAGE HAS JUST PLOWED INTO MY BACK DOOR! WHAT THE EVER-LOVING HELL IS WRONG WITH ALL OF YOU!?”
As he fumed, he failed to notice that the people around him were not paying any attention to him, instead either cowering in fear and shock or running for their lives like a bunch of cockroaches after someone turned on the lights in a poorly kept apartment. Likewise, he failed to notice that the entire city was ablaze and caught in a massive firestorm, all while a massive dragon with diamond-like scales strafed from above and unleashed breath attacks of various kinds.
He fumed for a while longer before the heat got to him. He clicked his tongue and spat more curses as he muttered in annoyance at the absurdly unseasonable temperatures. Finally, with his fury spent, he stormed back into his lab and began to try and help his own future descendants complete his family’s great work.
“Damn fires and screaming people…” he grumbled. “And damn that dumb dragon flying around… torching the city like it owns the damn pla-…”
He paused and the reality of the situation set in.
“Oh. Oh fu-.”
He never got to finish his sentence as a wave of elemental death washed him and his lab both from the world of the living.
Or so he thought.
“Wait… why can’t I move?” he tried to ask, but he found that his whole body, including his lungs, were unresponsive, almost as though he had been paralyzed in place. However, despite not being able to breathe and his body screaming at him to do so, he quickly realized that he was unable to do anything aside from think.
He could still see and hear what was going on around him, as well as smell the desolation that was transpiring in the city, but he could not even move from his position or even die. As minutes passed, his mind began to enter panic mode as the lungs told his brain that he was going to die of a lack of air if he kept his breath out for even a half-minute longer.
And yet, he could not breathe, let alone die.
“Oh, oh sweet Gods…” his mind screamed as internal pain and psychological horror consumed him. “Oh, no… Not like this… no, no, no… the pain is… I can’t… someone… anyone…. Help me!”