Draconic Taxonomy

It was a warm and sunny day within the city of Douphé’Zentol. Lush mountains rolled high in the south and west; miles of tall rock-face that held magicians, sages, mysteries and most important of all, Dragons!

Their peaks glittered with verdant shades of green on blackish-browns, or brownish-blacks. It was unclear as far as the city was concerned, as was evident with the need for monthly meetings, with full blown arguments resulting every time. Aldrich always silently thanked his ancestors that his people had not needed to fight for anything truly important in years.

Douphé’Zentol lay deep in a mountain valley packed with life and natural splendor. Tall canopies provided dappled shade on pathways that bordered orchards, smelling sweetly of nectar in the breeze. Rivers both trickled and gushed through the valley, ultimately converging into the mother-vein, Douphéanti. She raged through the city itself; the banks of her river sitting high above the torrents, her soundscape half-echoing out of lacerated earth into the city like an all-present but gentle whisper.

Staring through the amber stained windows of his favorite tavern, The Hog’s Wart, Aldrich watched a weaver and her assistants bustling up the neatly cobbled path, their arms full of nets.

All roads within the city led to the center, the bustling heart where tradesmen, crafters and artists all converged to flood the city with the lifeblood of commerce.

Aldrich wasn’t any of them though; he typically conducted his business within the walls of pubs, taverns and the occasional brothel...

Warriors discussed their trade over drinks, ensconced by the gloomy, beer-stained walls of public houses; and Aldrich had business scheduled within the hour.

He sipped mead from his favorite drinking horn, relishing its sweet potency. He ran his thumb over the single Dragon’s tooth embedded neatly in the silver inlay towards the back, then waived for service.

“How can I help?” Tall, freckly, with lovely copper hair, dressed in clothes that were clearly a little old, but clean and well kept. She always served him.

“I would like some salt-beef, a freshly baked roll and vegetables, perhaps some gravy if you have it?” he asked, knowing that he would get exactly what he wanted and always did. He was regular as regular could be there at the Hog’s Wart, having a permanently rented room right upstairs. He knew each member working within the establishment, and felt a bit protective over them too.

Tall and Freckly smiled warmly at him, nodded and left to arrange his meal.

Their names though… like all names, escaped him.

Aldrich pulled his pack from under the table and started unloading his gear. He left his armor below the table, but unpacked a myriad of daggers, two swords and a set of small hand-axes, designed specifically for his hands by a friend… long dead now. He ran fingertips over the beautiful wyvern leather grips, feeling nostalgic over their perfection and the memory of his friend.

I don’t know how Yarthi did it, but these axes feel like extensions of myself!

He drained his mead then tended his weapons. It was already a weekly ritual, but put him in the Warrior frame of mind. Aldrich wanted to find work soon; he was saving for retirement and good work always helped bring the date a little closer.

His reputation was a fortunate thing as he was able to be picky about the assignments he took.

His meal arrived just as he tucked his whetstone away, it was drowning in gravy; and Tall and Freckly had brought him two rolls instead of one. He thanked her and she nodded with a smile. She had also brought two flagons of mead, with 4 more horns. He’d only told her about it in passing the night before, yet she had still seen to his needs; he slid a silver coin over in appreciation.

She left him to devour his meal in peace. It was piping hot, rich and savory; warm bread soaking the gravy deep within its airy flesh. He ate till he was full, then crammed what remained into his face and swallowed the lump down. He belched loudly, relieving some of the pressure.

It must have become his signal, because within seconds Tall and Freckly had come to collect his plate and utensils, even filling his drinking horn for him.

He sat and enjoyed the peace that comes from a full stomach, staring dreamily through the window. His peace didn’t last long though; a shadow had obscured the light beaming from the front door. He looked up at the face of the woman he had met the night before. She was short, plump, pretty and very young; dressed in flowing cuts of midnight blue with gold trims. She smiled at him. “Good to see you again, Aldrich Wornackson, what a good day to talk about going on an adventure.” She seemed to almost vibrate with excitement, her smile morphing into an outright grin as she landed on the word adventure.

So green.

Aldrich considered youth nothing more than an excess of energy without enough brains to channel it properly. He refrained from speaking and simply nodded at the seat opposite him. Her sitting down was like a cue for three more people to emerge from the shadows and take their own seats; filling waiting horns to the brim with mead.

He remained silent, merely nodded and raised his horn in a gesture of goodwill before taking a long sip.

The woman in blue and gold spoke. “Thank you for coming.” She appeared to be the youngest among them, grinning from ear to ear once more. It felt jarringly familiar, but oddly unnerving coming from someone so young… and so human. The other members present remained somber as they waited for her to continue.

“I’m Magister Lidruin from the Sorcerer’s Enclave.” The name rang an actual bell with Aldrich, which was odd… some of his new companions however varied from slack-jawed shock to outright choking their drinks through their nostrils. They obviously had more than bells ringing in their heads; he waited for someone to clear things up for him.

“If that is true, you’re the oldest Sorcerer known to exist… and…” A Halfling ventured as the woman on Aldrich’s right tried to recover her composure.

“Correct, but it is not very polite to discuss a lady’s age in public.” She giggled, her eyes glittering wildly. “I will admit though, I have not long celebrated my first millennium.”

Of Course! Not green after all…but…

Magister Lidruin, largely believed to be the most prolific and experienced Chaos Sorcerer to ever exist, the oldest human to ever exist, and also…absolutely and completely insane.

Lidruin’s reputation, a formidable one at that, revolved around the premise of: The Ends Justify the Means.

Her Ends were incredible, astounding, even wonderful, yet rested perpetually on foundations made from the buried bones of her Means.

No one ventured any further questions. Aldrich considered leaving, but decided to stay and see what curiosity had to offer.

“We’re gathered here today as you each have skills that I wish to make use of. Allow me introduce everyone. “ She cleared her throat. “As I said before I was so rudely interrupted; I’m Magister Lidruin, a Sorcerer specializing in Chaos magic.”

She continued without a breath, pointing to the woman who had so recently tried to inhale her mead. She was dressed in cotton and thick black trousers, a rugged fur coat rested on the back of her chair “This is Seline; a Scout from Athileyon. She is the best tracker on the Island.”

She moved on quickly, not even waiting for the Scout’s awkward wave at the party before pointing at the Halfling. He wore black leather that appeared to be from a Draconid, a dangerous and pestilent subspecies of draconic birds with similar, but much smaller, leathery scales. Either that or it was from a Dragon whelp....

“This is Seamus; he is a devilish little Rogue who specializes in the creation and disarming of traps. He’s also rather adept at sneaking, thieving and assassination.”

“What’s your armor made of?” Aldrich interrupted Lidruin’s flow, he couldn’t help himself. “It looks draconic, the black scales are rather small. though.”

“You have a good eye, it’s Draconid leather dyed black with green around the stitching. Dragon Armour, even though I’ve heard good things, just feels unlucky to me.”

Aldrich expelled a breath, relieved that he wasn’t sat next to anyone dumb enough to don the hide of a juvenile Dragon.

“Oh I wouldn’t say so.” Lidruin took back the conversation. “But it feels like we’re getting ahead of ourselves.” She shot Aldrich an annoyed look as she spoke.

To the Rogue’s left sat a slender and almost delicate visage of midnight beauty. Her skin was a strange shade of deep grey, as though ebony and copper rested beneath a layer of thin dust. Her hair was a vanta shade of black, seeming to absorb all light around her crown like a negative-halo, her eyes were a hungry hue of red.... Aldrich had recognized what she was the moment she sat down; a Vampire, one from the equatorial regions far to the south.

I am sure of it…

“This is Ayanda from the Epiko Forests.” Lidruin interrupted Aldrich’s thoughts “Yes, she’s a Vampire, but she prefers to be called Nosferi. Ayanda, and those similarly afflicted with immortality in her area, instead live with their people as honored and venerated members of the community.” She looked around the table, stopping with Aldrich. “She is also very hard to kill, and my invited guest.”

Aldrich had certainly partied up with stranger companions, and patiently waited for Lidruin to finish.

 “I suppose no one really needs to introduce the Hero of Red Spire?”

Eyes grew wide around the table. Aldrich drained his horn and refilled it from the flagon, he hated that title.

“Aldrich Wornackson.” The Scout breathed. “I’ve only ever heard songs about Red Spire, about how you killed the mighty red Dragon… rumor is that you claim only three Dragon kills, but that you’ve survived dozens of raids… surely you’re just being modest!”

“No, I have only killed three, and I only did so as I had no other choice… I survived the rest. The odds for success are low where Dragons are concerned.” He thumbed the Dragon tooth on his drinking horn again, and Lidruin mercifully took control of the conversation before his cryptic words could incite further questions.

“20 gold pieces each, for attending today.” She pulled open her coat, fishing out four small pouches chiming pleasantly. “I can also guarantee another 100 gold pieces each upon completion of the task at hand.”

Aldrich didn’t hesitate to take his pouch and pocketed it with practiced efficiency; prepayment was common practice for Warriors of his stature. The others followed suit a little more hesitantly.

“In addition, I offer a share of the loot, if there is any. As your employer and investor, I will take half. But the other half will be divided evenly between you as a hazard bonus.

“Hazard bonus?” The Rogue asked, eyebrows raised.

“Yes.” Lidruin flashed an unhinged look. “That leads me to why we’re here. My friends...” She paused, obviously for dramatic affect. “I hope to commission you to help me slay a Dragon!”

The table was silent for a moment, but only a moment. The Nosferi leaned in and mumbled something about how attractive the horde was, the Rogue and Scout nodded eagerly in response. The potential pay-out for a successful Dragon kill was indeed gargantuan… and a small chest would be enough for Aldrich to retire instantly… the catch was that you had to survive to claim it.

He figured it was time to say something. “No thank you.” He waved for Tall and Freckly to come and take food orders from the table. His words had been followed by a stunned look of surprise and complete silence. Lidruin stared at him, unblinking, as though she was dissecting his mind from within his skull.

Orders taken and the audience private once more, she laid into him with a rapid succession of questions, her tone firm and unyielding

“Why?” Was how it started.

“Not worth it.”

“They are the single most lucrative venture! Explain yourself.”

“True… but you first need to Not Die. With great reward there is great risk. Most of the time, parties like ours don’t survive the endeavor. Besides, what’s this Dragon done that’s so bad?”

“She’s in a location where I would like to build; she’s also been killing my workers. Harvesting her and claiming her hoard will help excel my work, and locals will be able to access the area. More importantly though, another Dragon will be dead. They are a pestilence after all.” The table nodded in agreement, taking sips of their drinks. Aldrich rested his palm over his eyes for a moment in dismay.

Lidruin continued. “Besides, it’s rather hypocritical of a known Dragon Slayer to say such things.” She waived a hand, almost imperceptibly so, but Aldrich felt something within the air change.

“How many Dragons have you really killed?”

“Three.” He answered honestly, openly. “But for every Dragon slain… there are dozens that survived.”

“Something’s not adding up here.” The Rogue said, frowning. “You say it’s too risky, but you survived those attempts too. It is exactly why we need you. Or is all of that just a lie?”

“Aldrich doesn’t lie.” Tall and Freckly had stepped in over the Rogue’s shoulder to deposit two more flagons onto the table. “He often elects to not speak, but if you ask him a direct question, you will get the truth.” With that, she left. Aldrich smiled at her and she beamed one back in reply.

“How did you survive?” The Nosferi asked, her eyes narrowed.

“Most of the time I just talked the party out of it.” He laughed, unsure why he didn’t just keep his mouth shut. “But I’ve had to take other measures with... less receptive audiences. Usually delay tactics, enough for me to warn the Dragon somehow… but I have killed for the cause.”

“You approached them?” The Rogue asked, evidently not stunned by the murders.

“They all speak our language, and are generally considered to be sentient. I’m surprised not more people have considered trying.” Aldrich shrugged like walking up to a Dragon for a chat was just common sense. ”I’ve found the majority rather approachable, you know, for Dragons.”

“Then…” The Scout started, her voice more curious than anything else. “What about the three you have killed?”

“One was driven from its lair by a party like ours and attacked this city. Another was insane, and the last one was Red Spire... some of them are actually evil, just like us.”

“And the tooth?” Lidruin asked, pointing at the long Dragon tooth embedded neatly in the silver inlay. The party turned and waited for his reply.

“I think I’ve answered enough questions.” Aldrich rubbed his brows firmly with the tips of his fingers. “By now you understand that if I cannot convince you, I will sabotage you. And you Lidruin… are not worthy of a Dragon’s dung, let alone its killing.”

“I could have you executed for speaking to me like that.” Lidruin’s face was impassive, her tone soft.

“I’m sure you could. But do you know what’s more interesting than that?” He wanted to laugh out loud. “Dragons spawn oases wherever they go! They could found a lair under barren rock with no life around it, but before a century passes, the area will be a lush garden. And some of them are better at it than others, like the green ones… you could build a city in the wake of their oases.”

Lidruin had expected something else and actually looked perplexed, a bemused smile on her face. Aldrich took it as his cue to continue.

“Then of course, there’s another benefit to just leaving her the hell alone.” A lifetime of frustration rolled out of him. “They protect the area as they just eat any encroaching war scouts...”

She still didn’t appear to know what to say, only opting for. “Anything else?”

“Yes actually.” He was on a roll. “Don’t you think they are rather majestic? Those scales with their metallic and iridescent hues? Their size and their power and the gold that cradles them?” Aldrich felt a dreamy smile on his face, everyone was silent. “I got to study one once, he even showed me the leathery membranes of his wings and the scales along his back!” He reached over and held up his drinking horn, the fang visible to all. “That same Dragon donated this from his shed pile.”

Lidruin held her hand up and the entire tavern went still, transfixed by a holding spell.

“Well, this is interesting…” With everyone still frozen, aware but unable to act or speak, she took a small glowing stone from her pocket, resting it on the table; then took out a sheath of folded paper and dropped it in Aldrich’s breast pocket.

“When I break this stone, you will all forget I was here, and everything that happened. That note should break the spell for you later.” She picked up the stone but paused, looking directly at Aldrich.

“Yarthi was right about you.” His eyes wanted to widen. “Please check your pockets later.” She smashed the stone and the tavern burst into life. For a split second, Aldrich remembered everything… then wondered why his appointment never showed up.

His drinking companions shared their war stories whilst Aldrich spoke about how he wanted to study Dragons, and wondered if he shouldn’t just retire early.

Much later, while getting ready for bed, he pulled a small note from his breast pocket and gasped.

Dragon Friend,

Neither of us are what we seem.

Meet my companion at midnight at the next full moon to learn more.

L