Void dragons are as rare as mana dragons; only a small handful have ever been known to exist. The few things that have been identified as common traits between these individuals are: a thirst for knowledge and understanding that conflicts with the instinctual flavor of draconic magic, the ability to physically withstand the void between planes, use of the void in both mana based magic and what is thought to be a blessing of the void, and their near insatiable desire for the flesh of other dragons. They all have dark hued scales but the rest of the body shape has varied drastically between the individuals.
The cannibalistic desires appear to replace the bestial nature most other dragons suffer before adulthood as void dragons all claim to have had sentience during their childhoods. This desire does not appear to diminish with age but instead by how many dragons of the appropriate type have been eaten by the void dragon, though the older dragons have an easier time controlling it having stronger wills and likely already ate at least a few of any given dragon type. As the bestial nature of other dragons is to drive them to gather the nutrients to grow it should be assumed that this has a similar purpose, void dragons likely need to consume other dragons to grow even if they can subsist on lesser foods.
No test of the ability for this species to breed true has been confirmed, instead they seem to appear to be a mutation, appearing randomly throughout the clutches of the other dragon species. I suspect most void dragons die shortly after hatching due to their cannibalistic tendencies. - A Study of Dragons by Alenthros
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Adrian
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I frown at the vampire’s words.
“Yet he has a standing promise to aid me. Why give one if you can’t or won’t honor it.”
The three undead laugh before one of the men answer, “why does one bother to do anything after the first few centuries? Prestige and entertainment.”
“So, what? You want us to embarrass him? I’m not getting involved in your politics for someone like you” I say before realizing a mistake I had made during her next comment.
“Someone like me? You sha. . .” I stop listening to her words as she charges me. I should have been more careful in my wording, she mistook it as a comment about her appearance. Women are sensitive enough about that without being a deformed puss oozing monster.
Claws extend from her hands as her fangs become distended. I’m not fast enough to dodge so I release a blast of fire by warping reality as I manifest some of my draconic traits.
One of the male vampires screams and flees from the fire while the other after a fraction of a second charges at Bryan and me. The malformed woman passes through the flames and while she is now on fire claws at my arm while trying to get her fangs to connect to my jugular. I manage to hold her at bay but her strength is comparable to K’s. Claws sink into my right arm, drawing blood and I think if it were not for the resilience of draconic flesh and bone I might have lost it.
I gut the woman with the claws of my left arm but she does not react to the pain it should cause. I almost wish I hadn’t inflicted the damage though as a scent worse than the sewer around us spills forth along with a red mush that is almost like jelly made from blood aside from the chunks of her internal organs.
Light comes off of Bryans sword as he fights but I find myself too busy with my own battle to do more than just notice the changed lighting as the woman gives up on getting past my arm decides to feed on it instead. A jolt of pain and unnatural coldness spreads from her fangs along with other sensations that make no sense. Her wounds begin to rapidly close before I bathe the two of us in fire as I unleash one of my dragon’s breaths.
Light brighter than the sun’s rays leave a purple blur across my vision for a few seconds, I only catch the very bones of the undead disintegrating before the ugly thing is no more than ash.
The undead Bryan was fighting turns to flee before Bryan speaks a short phrase, I recognize it from Damû’s books. Halt Undead, I smile as the malformed vampire freezes in place.
We take a few steps forwards before Bryan speaks, “if you want to keep your sad excuse of existence you’re going to do something for us. If you try to run you’ll just end up dead so don’t be stupid.”
Bryan snaps his fingers and the vampire finishes the step he was taking before standing and looking at the two of us in fear.
“Do you know where Charles del Mon is?”
“Yes, but I’m not allowed to go there. I. . .”
“You can die now, or lead us to him and only have a chance of death.”
The malformed vampire hisses but we just look at him, he alone is no threat to us.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Fine, I’ll show you but I’m not sticking around for him to see me.”
We don’t answer but move out of the way so he can start guiding. Since he can’t be trusted and I probably should have been doing this already I alternate between pulses of energy so I can catch the echoes of the living and undead around us. I don’t find anything until several minutes later when our forced guide stops.
“He’ll be in the art gallery just down the street.”
Just as he finishes the sentence Bryan turns and tries to decapitate the undead. The vampire tries to dodge but is not quite fast enough having been caught flat footed. A flash of pale dim golden light from within the vampire leaves falling ashes.
“Is that light from your spell?” I ask not caring for the unprompted act of violence.
“No, the silver lights along my weapons are. That is something else, a death throes of some sort” he answers as I push the manhole upwards.
It was slightly stuck, no doubt from lack of maintenance or maybe something was on top of it since I heard something hit the concrete above us. It slides to the side and I start climbing up the ladder, as long as not too much of a scene is made I shouldn’t have to deal with whether or not what my dad told me was true about my problems with the government here.
I look around and don’t see anyone on the streets which seems odd and notice road block on its side next to me. One of the wooden legs must have been resting on the manhole cover. I finish exiting the sewer and keep watch as Bryan does the same.
Just as we reach the art gallery a door opens and a man in an almost gaudy flower-patterned suit opens the door. I see his tongue touch the tips of his two canines before greeting us.
“I am afraid the gallery is closed for a private event. It will be open at noon tomorrow.”
“Is Charles del Mon attending this private event?” I ask.
“I am not permitted to give the names of our esteemed guests at this time. It is a private event after all.”
“That’s a yes then” Bryan comments.
“I am afraid I will have to call the police if you do not immediately vacate the premises” the man says, a almost unnoticeable glint of light appearing in his eyes during the later half of his sentence and I truly consider doing just for an instant before Bryan speaks.
“No, if this is a private event for vampires you wouldn’t want the extra attention that would cause. Would you like to guide us in or have a disturbance? And don’t try that trick again it won’t work.”
I feel anger from the attempted mental manipulation. This has been a rather difficult favor to cash in on and I haven’t even gotten to talk with the man who owns me it yet.
The door guard frowns for the slightest of seconds before giving a smile I’ve noticed on others before, he's planning something.
“Very well then follow me” he says as he turns to guide us.
The gallery itself is empty and I find myself strangely disappointed in both the lack of opportunity to examine the pieces and the quality of what pieces I did see in this small no name gallery as he leads us to the back.
Once we enter a room that I assumed would normally be used to store pieces not on display I am greeted by two sights. One is the paintings that adorn the walls of this room, the detail and realism of works if it were not for the frames I would have thought them portals to another place. I can’t even tell what tools were used to make them. Castles, people and places no doubt lost to the ages remaining only in the memories of immortals like the creatures that are the second thing I noticed.
A dozen fanged men and women shouting tips to a man with a spork dissecting and torturing another in a chair. Blood spattered through out the room up to a few inches shy of the godly masterpieces, there are other corpses on the stage each more mangled than the previous.
The torturer shakes in fear as he follows the commands of the monsters around him. A few of those monsters turn to us, “So soon? Our Pablo hasn’t finished” says a man in an even more ornate version of the suit the doorman is in.
“Apologies sire, these men saw through our masks and demanded to attend our salon” the doorman answers in absolute subservience.
“Really now, it is so rare that our special guests are so willing. While I appreciate your eye's appraisal of my art what is your reason for barging in? You did not come here to be an actor on this stage of base art I take it.”
“I wanted to talk to Charles del Mon about his childe, I think that was the term the messenger used.”
Almost every one of the vampires laughed, some I could tell we’re at my expense but others were at the expense of the only vampire other than the one I was talking to.
“So, you are the mortal that freed the childe of my childe. Charles owes you, but can you really collect what you are owed mage?”
The room turns silent, several of the vampires dressed in old fashions seem scared over that last word even as the younger scoff.
“Is that a challenge? An appeal for me to offer you better entertainment than the crude spectacle of an unskilled torturer to scared to do much of anything?”
What little information that ugly woman gave me proves to be at least slightly helpful as whoever it is that stands before me smiles.
“Yes, why shouldn’t I allow my guests to tear you and your guard to pieces. You smell delicious and you wouldn’t have been sent here if you weren’t considered expendable.”
“You’re forgetting a possibility, that I am perfectly capable of defending myself even now. Like this” I say and snap my fingers as I twist reality. A pulse of energy to disrupt the negative energy matrices that hold the vampires to their undeath. Not enough to truly harm them but enough to make my point, and increase my favoritism of necromancy and death magic.
All of the undead in the room stagger for a second as they get ahold of themselves, except for the one in charge. The echo of his energy is dozens of times stronger than the others here. The younger vampires spit up blood and cry out in pain, something they probably haven’t felt since their rebirth as a vampire.
“Well played mage. Even if you may not be able to harm me with that trick I can’t go and have most of my court meet final death as I watch now can I?
I'd be laughed at for at least a century over it. You stand before Mateus Maximus, Methuselah of my own coven, childe of the line of Mormo and Duke of this city. Name your boon both for the childe of my childe and the blood you spilt ending the necromancers of the fools who dabble in arts that should be left to the dead.”
The very room chills as Mateus declares some of his titles and while I don’t understand them all I know they mean a great deal in his society.
“Information on House Ravnos and some minor resources that would be beneath your notice” I answer.