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A blazing orange eye cracked open, blinking in the sunlight. Theryzaan the Grey, The Scar-Eyed Storm of Arkstruzian legend, was awake. Pulling back the blanket, the dragon sat up and rolled his broad shoulders, touching each limb with disinterest. In the bipedal form he wore now, people (particularly those of the female sex) would often comment on how massive he was, rising at least a good three heads above everyone else. There were times when he just did not want to think about his size, even if he did have the ability to shorten it himself.

And right now, in the darkness of the guest bedroom with the only light streaming from half-closed blinds, was one of those times. In his mind, he was just ordinary. The reality, however, was different: Theryzaan was a hero to the Invalids, having tracked down and slain the lackeys of Verdus that had deposited the poor dragons of the Island from their roosts simply for being "invalids"--unfit to live due to physical or mental deformities. The slaughter of the lackeys were imbued with the rage of the storms over the Spine that he was named after. But it did not come swiftly like them, for the lackeys had the gall to unleash their guard wolves on him. Like a pause wherein the rain stops, Theryzaan had frozen in fear. Despite being a dragon who could shift his size at will, nothing brought his heart awash with pure dread and terror like the quadruped canines that Verdus' lackeys kept as pets. One of those beasts was responsible for damaging his left eye's vision and leaving him with a permanent scar across it. Another five ripped his sire and dam to pieces, and that was obviously a very tragic and gruesome thing to watch for young Theryzaan.

But this older, wiser Theryzaan prevailed. Let no rock stand in the wind's way. That was what Fiyellian the Wise had said to him, when he had sunk into stupors of hopelessness. Fiyellian was a decrepit old wyrm, with ashen scales and eyes rheumy with cataracts. Theryzaan and the rest of the Invalids respected the old fellow, for he was a great deal wiser than all of them combined. He spoke in proverbs and helped rekindle the fires of many a lost soul on the Island, which was enough to say in a landscape bare of fauna save for the blackened gnarled skeletons of trees that dotted the island everywhere. Fiyellian's death rocked Theryzaan and the others' cores, as was to be expected with someone as wise as he. And back when the grey dragon was facing the wolves, he recited a quick prayer to Urrlo to invoke the spirit of Fiyellian and to let it carry him past this adversity that stood before him.

He did not quite remember what had happened next, as the killing of the four wolves was a blur to him and the rest as well. He felt like he was somewhere else, that an unknown force had taken over his body during its killing and dismembering of the lackeys. The carnage he spawned... it was disheartening to be reduced to the mere beast that so many that weren't dragons unknowingly framed him as. Putting their heads on spikes, gutting out their eyes, their fins, their scales... Thinking about it now just about caused Theryzaan to vomit.

I am not a beast.

I am Theryzaan the Grey, Son of Melorizaan. That is it. That is all I ever will be.

As if to distract his thoughts, a door opened. In walked a female Ganaatan, dressed in chainmail and armoured, with her chestnut fur groomed and swept back across her ursine visage. Scanning the room with hard brown eyes, she spotted Theryzaan. "Dragon, it's time for breakfast. Get dressed, my friend. Chop-chop!"

Grunting and rubbing his eyes, Theryzaan rose, grabbed and strapped on his loincloth that had been splayed on the floor like a dead eagle carcass throughout the night and rushed out the door, not even bothering to open the blinds. He had almost hit his head on the doorframe in his hurrying, as was commonplace for him being such a big dragon.

A massive wooden hall and the scents of food and a crowd awaited him. Two long tables stretched the length of it and a buffet ran between it, steaming hot with various kinds of meats and vegetables. Many people were seated at the tables. They were mostly Ganaatans of different shades of brown, though he did see some ungulates: a few Preetans were chatting with a massive Megolaaq in the farthest left corner. The poor guy had to crouch due to the sheer enormity of his antlers. Theryzaan was grateful he had only his fluted horns; he could not imagine having those things on his head.

The Ganaatan from earlier jogged up to him. "Good morning, Theryzaan."

"'Morn', Errlina." He rubbed his eyes and brow.

"Help yourself to the buffet, my friend. There is plenty to eat and drink."

And so he helped himself to it, grabbing two legs of rabbit, a stuffed poultry, a side of mutton and five pieces of duck wings for his breakfast plate. If there was one thing Theryzaan loved more than anything in the whole wide planet of Terris, it was eating. Hearing the satisfying crunch of bones in his teeth and feeling the sweet juices of meat flooding his jaws exhilarated him. He loved the sensation of having something in his mouth and that extended beyond food. Alas, that latter subject will be touched upon in another tale, for another time.

But back to the present moment. Theryzaan's tail was waving like a snake at the anticipation of eating his breakfast. He had spotted Errlina while in line (she was deep in her own food, picking away at her own rabbit leg) and made haste. Crammed from across Errlina were her subordinates: bulky black-furred Yeltsan, the sandy Arrlora with her silver jewelry dangling from her ears and the lithe antler-less male Preetan known simply as rt (whom had a tragic backstory that is reserved for another time). It was the last of them that got up to make room for Theryzaan, with Arrlora sliding herself to widen the gap for the big dragon. He sat down, muttering pleasantries, and dove into his meal. If the scent of his meal thrilled him beforehand, then the actual mastication of it brought a heat to his body that rivalled only his own sizzling fire-breath. And this wasn't unusual for his kind, for a vast majority of adult dragons from the former Kingdom of Ignis quite enjoy the feeling of consuming their prey, to the point where it had become an official sport in the Kingdom known as harrujat.

"Famished?" The question came from Errlina, caring yet amused at the dragon's hunger.

Theryzaan nodded while ripping another morsel of meat off the bone, chewing it with a euphoric relish. Realizing that he could have been frightening the party with his unhinged way of eating, he set the bone down, gulping.

"Am... am I scaring you lot? I-I do not want to--"

Errlina reached out a lithe clawed hand, squeezing his arm. "No, you're not scaring us, Theryzaan. We have all seen how you eat before. Go on."

Nodding, the grey dragon took to his meal once more and closed up his ear-holes, stifling the group's conversation that was just starting to bubble up from the abyss of silence. At this moment, Theryzaan wanted his food and nothing more. He envisioned his days as a young hatchling hunting the aurochs that grazed in the valleys between each row of the Spine's jagged peaks. At first, he would go with his father--Melorizaan the Red, son of King Elirizaan II--and the elder would teach the youngling on the fundamentals of the hunt. But after Theryzaan had discovered his ability to shift his size at will ("an Urrlo-given trait from Yuno Himself," they had told him), he had forgone his father's approach in favour of a different tactic: slinking silently behind his prey and then, at the right moment, enlarging to the size of two fully-grown dragons stacked on top of one another. Before the prey could even perceive its doom, the enlarged Theryzaan would grasp it in his claws, beating through the skies back to home. That was the other thing that thrilled Theryzaan even presently: being enormous and towering over everything. When he had first hit puberty, he would get off on sitting in a vast forest away from prying eyes in his bipedal form and growing, his libidinous excitement building and peaking as he'd watch the trees get smaller and smaller around him. This would depress young Theryzaan quite a bit sometimes, as he would think, "Who in Urrlo's name would respect and like a person who does strange things like this?"

It turned out that lots of people gave him space, more than Theryzaan had ever imagined. The dragons on the Island of Invalids respected his privacy quite a bit. They would retreat to the Island's other side whenever Theryzaan had one of his "growing sessions", as he referred to them as. Later when he'd began to live in the Ganaatan settlement of Durrokin--a town along the border that the Ungulate Kingdom shared with Oraaq to the north that functioned as the de facto capital of the unrecognized Republic of Gaanata--Errlina and her subordinates had done the great deed of informing everyone around the town about Theryzaan and his size-shifting. Theryzaan had given eternal thanks to his new friend then, tears welling down his face in appreciation. He was seen and heard, and that was enough for the young dragon to feel unashamed of himself.

Whenever he'd trudged into the woods surrounding Durrokin to grow, the Guard would always notify Errlina of his whereabouts and she would know of what Theryzaan was doing. So Errlina and a posse of about six Guards would head in the direction of Theryzaan's growth spot. His favourite was a quiet clearing about about a mile southwest out of Durrokin, though he sometimes would pick different locations.

Once there, they would form a wide ring around Theryzaan, not daring to eye him out of respect, and with unwavering commitment, they would try to dissuade any trespassers. Thankfully, few came--and that pleased the grey dragon a whole lot. Later on, in an attempt to be more modest, Theryzaan would shift into his more natural quadruped form and lie down catlike to hide his nether regions from view while he'd grow. Sometimes it ended with him violently thrusting the ground to get a rise; others, he never needed anything to get him aroused. All the while, Errlina and her Guard--always standing statue-like--never looked at him, not even once, and he felt their appreciation for his privacy.

"Theryzaan!"

The shout threw him out of his memories like a sheep slipping away from his grasp. With a start, he realized that the table was smaller, his loincloth was torn and... Oh, by Urrlo, not again!

He shrunk himself back down--inching downward from the beam he'd bumped while he was in his reverie--and readjusted his loincloth, embarrassment flooding into him. He apologized and ran to his room, ducking the doorframe as he passed it. Slamming the door behind himself, he checked his pulse. It was going like a hammer in his chest and skull, and Theryzaan was breathing heavy.

He had grown and accidentally exposed himself in public--and it wasn't the first time that had happened. The last time he'd made that mistake, he was arrested by the Guard and stayed in the town's only jail overnight, with Errlina retrieving him the following morning.

Theryzaan groaned. That was about four months ago. But now it had just happened, again. He slid down to sit with his knees drawn up to his chest, his tail curling around his right ankle in fear. His whole body was trembling. Are... are they going to arrest me?

Theryzaan broke down in sobs, flexing his earholes shut, his frontal spikes quivering with fear. He was so scared. Terrified, even. He didn't want to go to jail again.

Thuds sounded. He opened his raw eyes and ears; someone was knocking on the door: two raps of the knuckle.

"Theryzaan. Open up."

He rose and opened the door. It was Errlina.

"Let's have a talk, Theryzaan. Shut that door," she instructed, passing him by. He obeyed, pushing it in with a creaking sound. He looked down at his ruined loincloth, the rips in the purple fabric showing his grey hard member underneath. "Should I change, or--?"

"If you want to," the ursine general offered, sitting on his bed.

Theryzaan trudged to his bag he had kept stashed in the far corner of his room ever since he'd first moved to Durrokin a year ago. He pried it wide: inside waited a dozen loincloths of varying hues, their ropes yet to be tied around his waist. Drawing out an orange one laced with white embroideries, he ripped off the ruined loincloth and hurled it with a growl. It hit the wall and crumpled there as if it was sad to be abandoned by its former wearer. Theryzaan didn't care. He just wanted to fasten a clean one on, so he did that.

The dragon took a shuddering breath, looking back at Errlina. "I'm ready."

She patted the bed and the dragon took a seat beside her. His weight creaked the bed a little bit. He hunched his massive shoulders and fidgeted with the star-shaped club of his tail, picking at the bony edges with his claw. Mundanity ruled over his thoughts: the forthcoming need of lunch (he could go into the town's market to get that), the flights he took daily to exercise his wings, the--

A paw pad brushed his hand, the fingers squeezing his scales. "I know you have trouble holding it in."

Errlina was staring at him with a warm air of care, her brown eyes crinkling her fur, evoking the wisdom of a Ganaatan woman far older than her.

Theryzaan gulped, then nodded. "Yes... I do."

"And you told me once that you have never had a romantic courtship?"

Theryzaan shook his head, picking at his claws. He stopped, consciously aware of his habit. He would make them bleed again for the third time this month if he kept going.

"Well, my friend..." She trailed off... and the air was filled with silence. "I have faith in you."

"In me?" Theryzaan pointed at himself. He had heard Errlina say these exact words before but--in his overly naive and humble nature--never truly believed them. He wasn't very confident in himself, quite frankly; something that had been lacking in him since his youngling days. For all the pomp and nicknames bestowed and respect those who opposed the rule of Verdus I gave him back in his homeland, Theryzaan never thought of himself as a hero. As far as he was concerned, he was just a normal dragon doing normal dragon things (aside from the size-shifting, of course).

"Yes, my friend," Errlina replied, "and you are a special fellow. Despite what you might think, tons of people care about you and love you for who you are." She wagged a clawed finger. "Do not think otherwise."

"Even--" Theryzaan choked on his breath, coughing into his arm. Vexatious memories were seeping into his thoughts, making his heart race. "Even if I'm a pervert?"

"You are not a pervert, Theryzaan. You have issues, yes," the bear-woman admitted, "but the Guard and I understand them now. It's alright; life ain't always light upon a warm stone. You know that."

The dragon nodded, understanding the Ganaatan idiom she used. She squeezed his broad shoulder. "Why don't you go fly somewhere? Stretch those huge muscles of yours."

Theryzaan stood up, his resolve growing firm. Rotating his left arm as if he was flexing his wings in quadruped form, he drew in a breath... and let it out as he relaxed the limb.

"I am going to do what you suggested," the dragon said, and then he walked out of his room, remembering to duck as he crossed the doorway. Errlina smirked. He was a special guy, that was for sure.

---

Later on top of a cliff a few miles south of Durrokin, Theryzaan unfurled into his natural form (I forgot how good it feels to be back on four feet, he thought) and prepared for takeoff, flexing his dark grey and orange tipped wings and bouncing lightly on his forequarters amidst the cliff he'd found. Stretching his long neck, he sniffed the air: A little draft coming in from the west, he remarked, flicking his tail. It won't hurt my flight too much.

The dragon furled his wings and made his way back down the cliff, ambling towards the point where the rock just met the edge of the forest. Finding purchase on the slightly muddy floor, he trotted to the branch where he had placed his loincloth bag. It was still there, hanging by its rope on the branch. Theryzaan let out a sigh and gulped. He hated to leave his stuff there, but he had no choice in the matter. It was either that or carry it clumsily in his claws while in flight--and Theryzaan didn't want to do that, so leave it on the branch he did, charging back up the cliff with force. At the cliff's top he bounded off and opened his wings, gliding at first. He aimed upwards and started flapping hard, shutting his ears. Soon he was aloft, riding the soft wind above the trees, his wings lightly scuppering the breeze. His mind was calm. Errlina, after all, was right: he really needed this.

While circling the copse around the cliff, Theryzaan ran through a thought: he wanted to repeat this flight near dawn. He had a sudden idea for a hymn he wanted to sing and he craved for inspiration. Restlessness quickly made its home in the dragon then. Theryzaan alighted onto the cliff and rushed through the woods, his idea unfolding in his mind like a flower blooming in spring.

After suppering with Errlina and her comrades in the now-mostly empty guard hall--"The Guards have gone for their shifts," she told him when he'd inquired as such--Theryzaan set out for the western shores. The shores were rocky and torpid and were therefore no place for a tourist to be, yet Theryzaan wanted to head there, for he had a plan in mind.

It took him around three hours' flight to reach there--and along the way he did stop to snare a wild boar and to relieve himself. By the end, the dragon's muscles were burning as much as the fire-breath he'd used to cook his meal earlier on. He alighted on one of the many cliffs that hung over the rocks below, his frame and wings hurting and spent, and his heart booming in his chest. Rain pattered on his wings and the sky here was blanketed by shades of grey. Finding contentment with his present surroundings, Theryzaan laid down and curled up to sleep, shielding his body with a wing.

---

He forced himself to awake. Many hours had passed and Theryzaan had an inkling that dawn was on the way: dawn, the muse for his hymn. Reinvigorated, the dragon rose up and unfurled his wings. Surely dawn must be on its way, he thought over and over, the mantra enveloping his entire consciousness. He had to be right; the shifting of the energies, the feeling of nature awakening--it truly felt to him that, at any moment, the great big fireball known as Urrlo--that exalted being and Son of Yuno that so many from his homeland worshipped with fervency and adoration--might awaken and stretch His claws of light across the land, greeting it with the grace of nature.

Theryzaan, miraculously, was correct. The sun started to peek over the edge of the horizon, which gave the dragon a low cry of joy. In answer to its rise, Theryzaan leapt off the cliff, leaving behind furrows of dirt in his excitement and belatedly snapped his wings open, avoiding death. His heart pounding and full of joy, the grey dragon gained in altitude until the cliffs were no more than the size of miniature models.

That didn't matter, though. What mattered was that the light of dawn was casting an orange sheen on Theryzaan's otherwise-dull scales and wings and that his claws were, somehow, sharpening. His visage started to well up with tears... and from there, a song was born.

---

Many a day later, Theryzaan sat with Errlina in the courtyard of the Guard Hall. For the moment they were alone, seated on a bench within the verdant gardens of berry bushes and oak trees with bee nests bulging from their branches, with not a Guard nor a Guide to be seen.

"The other day, I had an idea for a hymn," he told her, "and I flew to the cliffs of the coast to nap."

Errlina quirked her eyebrows. "Why did you do such a thing?"

"To prepare for dawn. I wanted to make a song out of it."

The bear smiled. "Oh... okay. Sing it to me." She closed her eyes, expectant.

Theryzaan's confidence faced a sudden shakiness. "Oh, I don't think my voice is very good--"

"Just sing it."

Theryzaan shifted his body and readjusted his tail, sighing. Then he began, his thin reedy singing voice cutting the air.

In dawn, my talons sharpen anew

With the rays of Urrlo piercing through,

I find the strength to light the flame

That ignites the spirit within.

This inner purpose I now reclaim

And reshape to harbour my guiding flame:

A blade, welded by my very fire--

Sharp and deadly and virulent to the touch!

Of its name I know not,

But from I it will begot

A kinship between sword and dragon.

A stillness filled the air, punctuated by the trills of linnets and other birds.

Then Errlina broke it. "Is that it?"

Theryzaan nodded firmly, scuffing his cheek-horns. "You like it?"

"Yeah! I..." Errlina chuckled. "I didn't expect your voice to sound like that."

Theryzaan cringed, his scales pricking up and his shoulders hunching. His heart battering, he took a deep breath and said, "My sire and dam loathed my voice. They--" His throat tightened. "They... they scolded me for it. Told me if I ever sung again, they would not accept me as part of their family anymore." He was trembling now, breathing hard and blinking back tears.

Errlina, of course, took to this revelation kindly. She threaded her fingers between the dragon's and gave him her sympathies. "Your voice is great, Theryzaan," she told him. "Never let other people dictate how you feel about anything." She let go. "I assume you never sung again."

Theryzaan shook his head, tears running down his face.

"Rrrr..." She bit her lip, reeling back her anger. "Well, like I just said, I think you are good."

"Really? You do not find me too nasally or--"

"Nay. Just fine, my friend."

The two fell silent, listening to the birds and scenting the fresh honey that was being created by the bees, flavourful sweet stuff that was considered a delicacy amongst the Ganaatans, often being used in grand feasts and widely thought to be connected to a longer life expectancy. Theryzaan had tried it himself and he had gagged on it, calling it the utterly foulest flaming thing he'd ever tasted in his whole life. Dragons' tongues do not do quite as well with overly sweet foods as other carnivorous peoples of Terris do, being that they react more strongly to bitter and more rich flavours like red wine and the aurochs they often hunt. Theryzaan was no different.

Heavy booming steps shook the ground, disturbing the peace and causing clouds of linnets to flee from the trees. A murmuring of a crowd accompanied the booming steps, followed by the revealing of the source of the racket: an impossibly large sandy Nei'hotai, black-maned, in a quadruped form, as massive as the grand building behind the dragon and the bear. The equine towered over even the oaks, the beast's wide and great withers and back hosting a slew of people, including an Efreeti'i who was working as a Guide. The monstrous horse gave a snort and a flick of the ear, and it was at that point that Theryzaan, spellbound and aroused by the beast's size, noticed the navy-blue symbol branded into the space directly above the hoof. To him it resembled the soot-hued markings that snaked around his arms (that, of course, doubled as his forequarters whenever he was in his natural form). Amidst the carnal tension, Theryzaan gulped.

Errlina patted his claw, squeezing it and holding it with both of her's.

"Let's go inside, Theryzaan."

The pair got up and walked back inside, Errlina patting Theryzaan's shoulder as they went past the doors, leaving the tourists and the Nei'hotai to gaze upon an empty courtyard.

---

Back in the guest bedroom, Errlina and Theryzaan discussed the morality of the dragon's carnal fixations on extreme size. Theryzaan had washed and changed into yet another clean loincloth, this time green in colour.

"Again, I truly do not think your... thing for being bigger is as harmful as you're making it out to be," said the Ganaatan.

"Okay," answered Theryzaan.

"You should embrace being big."

"Oh..." A smile spread across the dragon's muzzle. He looked down at his claws, suddenly full of power. "You mean--?"

As if reading his mind, Errlina nodded, a smile breaking on her own muzzle.

"Have fun with it, my friend! Be as big as a mountain. Grow even further than that, if you want."

A feeling of power welled over Theryzaan now, a feeling of living more confidently in his scales. For then onwards, any time he would choose to be titan-sized, he decided, he would enjoy it shamelessly and without much regard for how people around him thought of his towering presence. He emitted rumbling chuckles as he made for the door, thinking of the dirty things he'd do to his enemies while being oversized.

"And Theryzaan?"

The dragon stopped at the door, a claw on its frame, looking back over his shoulder.

"Yeah?"

Errlina clasped her paws together. "Great singing today. You should very much consider refining it into a proper hymn."

The grey dragon scuffed the back of his neck in timidity. "I-I'll... I'll think about it."

And then Theryzaan ducked through and left the room to Errlina's devices. The ursine-lady sighed. She had given the dragon confidence and that was all she really wanted for him: to be as comfortable as possible without fears of appearing unsavoury to others.

And she really hoped that, in her own way, she had sharpened Theryzaan's talons anew, just as prominently as his hymn-in-progress had proclaimed.

--And so ends this Tale of Theryzaan.-- ?