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His New Hoard Chapter 5: A World of Blades Sponsored by Skywing937 By Draconicon

The multi-verse was cruel, not just in its apathy towards those that lived in it but also in its layout, something that Draconicon hadn't realized when he was flung from the Dragon Realms all the way down to Hell. On that journey, he had fallen towards the far end of the multi-verse, through the space between different realities, all the way to the 'bottom' of the whole thing. He'd expected to do something similar when leaving.

It turned out that as you left Hell, one was no longer simply flying. They were being launched up. And being launched up meant that you were coming for the underside of the universe that you had aimed for.

Draconicon hadn't known this, and if the angel knew, he hadn't said anything. As a result, they landed with much more of a bang this time around.

When the dust settled, the black dragon was barely conscious. They had landed - well, more accurately, emerged - well outside of any settlements, thankfully. Around them were trees aplenty, the heat of a jungle settling on his scales. Draconicon groaned under his breath, slowly forcing himself to sit up at the edge of the crater their travel path had created.

"Ow...oh, ow, that hurts..."

He wasn't sure if there was anything broken, but he was bruised. Bruised and battered to a degree that falling through Jaceb's bone house hadn't done to him. The dragon winced as he pulled his arm up, brushing the worst of the dirt, wood, and worse off of him, even as the heat started him sweating and making it cling.

Note to self. You can end up flying through the underside of a reality. That's worth knowing...

Shaking his head, he fumbled about until he found the flesh-bag that Jaceb had put himself in. Tapping it here and there, it felt like the skeleton was most of the way towards being reassembled, though it didn't quite feel like the full regeneration had happened yet. Probably would need at least a couple more hours.

As for the angel, there was no clear sign of him at first. The crater edge, which spanned a circled about a hundred feet in diameter, was empty save for him and the bag. As the dragon tried and failed to stand up, though, he spotted something on the other side. He reached out, extending a bit of his magic.

His magic didn't appear.

Draconicon blinked, staring down at his hand. He could feel the magic inside of him, feel the pool of power that was just waiting to be used. Diminished from the journey, yes, but levitating an object was easy. It should have taken barely anything.

He tried again, pushing more consciously with his power. Again, nothing.

"...Well...That's not good."

The black dragon pushed down the panic that threatened to surge up. Without the power of the ice Hell around him, that was a lot harder than it used to be. He forced himself to take several deep breaths, wincing at the way that it forced his lungs against his ribs, and eventually managed to quell it.

Fact. We are in a different world. Fact. Magic either doesn't work here, or it doesn't work the same way. Fact. The angel is gone, and I have no idea where he is. Fact...no. Possibility. We are currently alone.

Just telling himself that flat-out helped a bit. Not much, but a bit.

The dragon looked around for any loose bits of wood that were long enough to use for support, and eventually found a broken branch. It wasn't much, barely long enough to use as a crutch, but it was better than nothing. He grabbed it, sunk the thicker end into the ground, and climbed up it as best he could.

When he was on his feet, he could see a bit better. On the far side of the crater, there was something written in the earth. Maybe a message from the angel, maybe something from someone that had wandered by, maybe something that had been etched in the ground long ago. Whatever it was, it was more than he had right now.

The dragon limped along, grunting every time he had to take a step. No broken bones; he would have felt that considering how sore, stiff, and sensitive everything else was, but the bruises everywhere were bad enough. He felt like he was on the verge of collapsing every time he felt the impact of his steps through his body, but he forced himself to keep walking.

Eventually, he managed to circle around the crater, watching as the center started to seal itself back up. Good thing, too; the last thing they needed was to leave a hole in this reality that led down to Hell, or even the spaces between worlds.

He didn't want to think about the debris that would leave between this universe and Hell.

Shaking his head, he looked down at the mark on the ground. It was definitely writing, and recent, possibly drawn by a finger or the butt of the angel's spear. He knelt down, squinting to make it out.

Considering it was written in Draconic, it was probably the angel that had written it out. He doubted that this universe would have the same alphabet as his own. He dragged a finger under the words, tracing it out.

"I leave you here. I cannot continue to fulfill my end of the bargain, not when you choose to keep that thing alive. The necromancer should count himself lucky; I would have killed him while you slept were it not for the thing that lives in the woods around here," he muttered as he read it out loud. "I doubt we will meet again. Pray that we don't; I will have to kill you if I find you once more.

"...Well, good riddance to you, too."

Shaking his head, the dragon sat down with a small thump, groaning under his breath as he got settled on a nearby rock. The heat in the air was not nearly as hot as the fire Hell, but it was a hell of a lot worse than ice, or even his own home universe. He panted softly, fighting the urge to cast a spell that would cool him. Without knowing how magic here worked - or if it worked at all - he was better suited saving his strength rather than riling himself up with frustration.

That said, he needed to figure out the rules soon, or whatever 'thing' the angel was talking about in the trees might end up getting him, too.

But why did it spare me and Jaceb, then?

He didn't know, and he doubted that there'd be an easy opportunity to learn, either. Draconicon grimaced as he stretched out his legs, feeling everything aching again. Travel wasn't looking like it would be easy, either.

Either I learn how to make my magic work again, which will let me both find out where I need to go and even do a bit of healing...or I pick a random direction and start walking.

Much as he didn't want to start spitting curses from frustration, he knew which of the two was the better option. He sighed, wincing as he forced his legs close in a meditative lotus position, then closed his eyes.

The magic inside of him was still there. He'd already confirmed that, which meant that he had something to work with. Draconicon sunk himself into it, pulling the power out from his core and letting it saturate the inside of his skull. His head 'tingled', for lack of a better word, and when he opened his eyes, the effects were instantaneous.

Don't do this for too long, he reminded himself. Magic was a force that loved to mutate what it found, loved to change what it came in contact with. That was its danger and its power. Leaving it in his head and in his eyes could lead to effects that he most definitely didn't want.

The world had changed, though. What had been green, brown, blue, vibrant colors that were splashed all around and bursting with light had become muted, softer and less glaring to the eye. The brilliance of the entire world became focused, pulled tight to different places.

At first, he wondered if it was related to the ley lines that he had read about in. The Dragon Realms had many theories of how different sorts of magic would work, and it was the first location-based style that he could think of. However, it wasn't quite right for that. Ley lines would have channels of it, even in the distance, rivers of power that he could follow and feel.

No, this was different. It was more like a series of focuses. He turned this way and that, keeping the movements of his head slow and steady so that the new colors and points of brightness didn't fade or blur.

Eventually, he was able to make out four different points near him. The nearest one came from the top of a ruined building a few hundred feet off. It was a slow-rising thing, like a triangle in shape, but with a flattened, cut-off top. Holes were broken in the stonework here and there, but the ruin still stood tall enough to dominate the landscape.

The other three points were much further off, too far for him to make out just what they were attached to, and upon closer inspection, one of them was more of a hoard of different, smaller points collected into one larger one.

So, that was something. He knew where the magic of the world was. He just...didn't know how to access it.

Experimentally, the dragon reached out towards the large, flat-topped pyramid closest to him. He willed his magic to the tip of his finger and pointed it at the energy field at the top. This time, he felt a sort of answering tingle, like the two ends of a lightning bolt.

Please don't make a lightning bolt.

The dragon released his power, and it surged invisibly through the air, connecting to that point -

Who presents themselves before the Winged Serpent, King of the Sky and the Lord of the -

Draconicon immediately cut the link, wincing again at the echoes that pulsed through his head. It was not a pleasant sort of feeling, either, particularly as he knew what that sort of voice meant.

There were other theories in the Dragon Realm about power gained from the outside, where a person would call upon great beings and channel that energy to cast their version of spells. The energy always came from something else, and would not be allowed to be cast if it contrasted with what the being in question believed should be done.

In effect, he was in a universe where gods controlled the magic. Which could be a big problem for him.

He needed to study it more, and hope that there was a loophole that he could exploit. Taking another look at Jaceb's bag and making sure that the mole was still in a safe spot - he was, hidden in the curling roots of a nearby tree - the dragon closed his eyes again and set to experimenting.

After four hours of false starts and further shouting in his head, Draconicon had managed a breakthrough.

It was cheating, of course, but it was better than dealing with a deific intermediary. The black dragon opened his eyes, unfolded his legs -

"Owwwwwwwwwwww..."

And promptly collapsed on his face. Grumbling under his breath as the pins and needles of long-asleep limbs refused to leave him alone, the black dragon put his arms out and started crawling along the earth. He grumbled every time that he felt a rock dragging under his belly, and hated the feeling of the earth and dust clinging to his damp scales.

But the smile on his face refused to go away. He'd figured it out.

"Alright, Jaceb, come here..."

It was all part of a ricochet system. Once he'd realized that he didn't need to plead with the deific figures for power, it was just a matter of how to connect his internal energies with the world around him. The answer, once he reconfigured the problem, was simple. He just needed to direct his energy at the nearest magic point and 'bounce' it off, essentially hijacking the god-transmitter to make his spell do what he wanted.

Of course, it cost a lot more energy to do it that way. Getting someone else to transmit the spell meant that a long-distance casting would be much easier if he was closer to the source than he was to the place he wanted to cast a spell on, but the amount of energy he needed to exert to reach the source in the first place and then hijack the energy field was more than triple what he'd need for casting a spell normally.

Still, at least he knew that he could, now. He gestured towards the bag, his power bounced from him to the ruin, and then it bounced from there to the bag, sending the floatation spell after it.

The bag lifted off the ground and floated to his side, following along until the dragon could pull himself upright. He groaned as he leaned against a tree, shaking his head as he forced himself to think about what their next step should be.

Find a town. Find people. Then we can figure out what we do next.

As he worked on putting together a spell of scrying, he couldn't help but remember what the angel had written again.

The thing in the woods. What was it? What did it want?

And was it watching them now?

Well...it wouldn't be that hard to find out.

As he connected to the ruin again, he altered the scrying spell to look around the jungle near them. The spell let him look around with more than just eyes. It looked around for signs of life, for signs of movement, for -

Ah...there you are.

There was someone in the holes of the ruin, someone that was peering out and watching him from on high. He wasn't sure how they were able to see him from so far off, but if they were even slightly devoted to that god, he supposed that they might be doing what he was doing.

No sooner did his power start to rest on them, seeing them, than there was a...a flicker, for lack of a better word. Not only did they draw back into shadow, but his ability to sense them was suddenly cut off. The black dragon blinked, then shook his head.

If they wanted to hide, he'd let them. Better to be getting on his way, anyway. There was a village a few miles out, one that seemed to be dedicated to this temple. They had a snake statue with wings in the middle of the village, at any rate.

He pulled himself out of the spell, cut himself a pair of branches for crutches, and started walking along, the necromancer's bag floating beside him.

The village was about as rough as one could imagine, though that wasn't terribly surprising after what he had seen during his scry. It was a settlement at the edge of a kingdom, which meant that the people would either be incredibly close-knit rural, or they would be a collection of criminals, or both.

Seeing it and the knives that started to come out as he walked up to the gate and the palisade around it, the dragon guessed that it was mostly criminals.

"Just passing through for the night, thanks," he said, holding up one hand to wave.

"What're you, then?" one of the 'guards' - and he used the term loosely - said, waving his knife at the bag. "Ain't normal for someone to have their luggage following 'em."

"I'm a wizard."

"Wizards ain't liked much here..."

"..."

Bit of information that would have been useful to know, thank you, the dragon thought to himself. He reached for the bag, and it dropped into his hand.

"Fine. No more magic, no more problem."

The knife-waving weasel glared at him, and the black dragon just stared back. As usual, the weasel couldn't hold a staring contest with him. His white eyes tended to make people look away rather than keep staring. It was something about the emptiness, he imagined.

"So, can I come in for the night or not?"

"Depends. Got money?"

"How much are you looking for?"

"How much you got?"

"Depends on whether you want money or magic money."

"..."

"Not so bothered about a wizard now, are you?" he asked with a small chuckle.

The weasel looked over his shoulder, staring up at the statue of the winged snake. There was a moment's hesitation, then the weasel turned back to him.

"Ten copper for the snake, two gold for me, and we're good."

"I think I can make that work."

"Before you get in. Same when you leave."

"I can do that."

The dragon stepped away from the village, going back to the cover of the jungle trees. He had every suspicion that the weasel would be following him back, but he didn't mind people seeing him work his magic. They were free to watch. It would only bolster his reputation, in the end.

He shook the bag a bit, listening as a few bones jumbled against each other, and some fleshy bits did the same. Probably another hour, and Jaceb would be right as rain.

The shadow of the necromancer poked its head out of the bag as he did the shaking, glaring at him.

"Sorry," the dragon muttered. "Almost done, though."

The shadow-head nodded, ducking back into the sack. He shook his head. At least there was someone to look after the mole when he couldn't look after himself.

But for now, he needed money.

The old snake temple was still the closest source of power, though at this distance it was getting harder and harder to connect to it. He strained himself, missing with his connection a couple of times as he failed to aim quite right, but eventually he got it.

Creation magic was...complicated. It was less creating something out of nothing and more transmuting things on an incredibly tiny level, something that merely looked like creation to those that were not paying attention to the way that it was done. Some mages even believed that they had created something until someone else watched them do it.

But it was different from transmutation in that it did not require the full raw materials that were being changed to be present. It was not an assembly magic. It was making things. It just needed at least a little bit of substance to start with.

Wishing that he had a piece of the angel's armor to work with, he settled for one of the rocks by the side of the road. He laid it down on the ground, then set to work.

First, he shattered it to pieces, using his magic to break it apart and then keep breaking it down. There were bits and pieces of metal in it, left over from who knew how long ago. Not much, not nearly enough to be worth anything on their own, but to someone like him, it was exactly enough.

His eyes flared with energy as he pulled his power into his head again, letting him see the truth of what was before him. He divided the powdered rock between the different bits and pieces that he needed, from the raw rock on one side to the tiny bits that could become copper to the greater bits that would become gold. He left it in three piles, and then set to work.

The third pile slowly coalesced into a golden light, which then solidified as he forced it together. Two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight gold coins slowly grew out of it, forming a small pile that he quickly pocketed inside of his robe. The copper grew quicker, as there was more to work with, and soon he had nearly a hundred coins of that. More than he could easily fit, so he left some of it out.

Never hurt to make the bribe a little better. Gain a little good will.

As for the rock powder, he knew better than to waste it. He reached out, pulling his power through it, and turned it into a paste, a paste that he gently applied to his neck, over his chest, along his thighs and armpits. He dragged it over his stomach, too, and along any other vital areas.

It wasn't the same as wearing metal, he supposed, but it was better to supplement his scales against harm if he could. If they thought he was protected by nothing but his robe and scales, then at least the rapidly hardening rock paste would give him something else to keep him safe.

Can't be too careful...

Severing his connection with the far-off temple as he felt something trying to intrude on it, the dragon turned around and found the weasel guard poking his head around a tree. He smiled at the smaller male, getting to his feet and holding out two pieces of gold.

"Two gold for you, as discussed. And five copper extra."

"You weren't kidding..."

"I don't joke around about money."

"Guess not. Come on, then."

The weasel turned around, gesturing for the dragon to follow. Grabbing the mole's bag in hand, he did as he was requested, following him through the gate and into the town proper.

It wasn't much of a town, and was mostly a series of storehouses, pubs, and brothels. No shops, no stores, and only one inn. The houses themselves were made of bits of wood panels that were slapped together, some of the wood still green and raw rather than treated for proper construction, but he supposed that was part of the way of life out here.

The inn, perhaps appropriately called The Stained Dagger, was stuffed to the rafters with people. Mostly rodents, though with some canines and some felines in the corners of the room. The dragon was the only reptile there.

Might have been the reason they were as suspicious as they were, he thought, shaking his head as the weasel led him to the innkeeper. The rat in question looked up at him, then at the weasel.

"We taking in outsiders, now?"

"He's got the money to pay," the guard said.

"Better. One silver or twenty coppers, dragon."

"Perhaps a gold would do better?"

The room went silent at the mention of gold. The dragon pulled one out of his pocket, putting it on the counter. It disappeared faster than it had appeared, almost making him question whether it had even been there in the first place.

Just like that, the rat's disposition turned around, a smile that revealed a few cracked teeth and a bit of hand-washing that eventually produced a key following up the payment.

"And I hope that you enjoy our best room, sir, our very best room. You gonna want some company with that? Plenty of fine whores in the town, all who'd like the business."

"I'll call down if I need anything."

"Right, fine enough, sir, fine enough."

Taking his bag up the stairs by the bar, the black dragon made his way to the room at the end of the hall. The heavy iron key opened it easily enough, and it was...

Well, it was a dump, quite frankly. There was a large enough bed, he supposed, but he could see hay sticking out from the excuse of a mattress that it had, and there were lumps that he imagined were intended to be pillows. They looked more like bricks. He looked around the corner, checking for bugs, and was glad to find that that particular accessory had apparently been left out.

If this is the best room, then I would hate to see the worst...

Shaking his head, he walked over to it, setting the bag down. Jaceb's voice finally came through, a soft grunt that was barely audible through the shuffling of the bag. He pulled at the tie at the top, opening it up.

The mole's head poked out, one hand that was half-skeletal, half-fleshed pulling his glasses back onto his muzzle.

"W-where are w-we?"

"I don't know yet. Not Hell, though, so that has to be a step up."

"W-we...w-we g-got out?"

"By the skin of our teeth."

"Thank heavens..."

The mole slumped down in the bag, and he wondered just how much of the necromancer's body had actually regenerated for him to slide down quite that much. He imagined that he still needed time, though, and as much as he'd like conversation, he wanted to make sure that Jaceb was okay more.

"You want to go back to sleep? Rest up a bit?"

"For a b-bit...Are...are w-we g-going to b-b-be okay?"

"I think so. The angel's gone, and I don't think we'll have a problem as long as we don't do anything stupid."

"Okay...I'll...I'll s-sleep for a b-bit."

The mole slipped back down in the bag, and the dragon tied the top of it shut once more. He hoped that he wouldn't need to call Jaceb back out anytime soon, but he wasn't ruling it out as a possibility.

As he put the bag under the bed, he walked over to the window that the room had, looking out over the rest of the town. He glanced at the statue in the distance, taking a look at it with normal eyes rather than the magical vision he'd been using.

It wasn't much, though it was clearly something that had been made with magic. The work was rough, the shape barely shown in any level of detail. Here and there, there were bits that looked better than the rest, places where the feathers looked well-textured, where the eyes were a bit more clear, but the majority of it was rough as could be, as if it was a first attempt at something by someone that had never held a chisel before.

But there were no signs of wear.

Not one part of the stone had been scratched or worn down by the weather. Even something that had been put up recently would have shown some sort of mark, some sort of change from being installed and kept in this humidity. The fact that it was still as sharp and blocky and jagged and...well, green - a color that he hadn't expected for a rock - told him that it wasn't entirely natural.

And considering that it was meant to represent the god that he had been stealing magical transmissions from, he hoped that it wasn't something that could come to life. That was a theory that he didn't want to see proven.

Knock, knock.

Shaking his head, the dragon walked to the door and opened it. A mouse stood on the other side, one dressed in pink silks that were tented in the front. Wide-bottomed, small-dicked, and quite feminine in appearance, the rodent was obviously a whore.

"Mmm, I hear that there's a rich man in town."

"One that isn't interested in company right now."

"Come on...it wouldn't be that bad. Do you have a thing against men?"

"No, more the dagger that you're starting to pull from behind your back."

"..."

For a moment, the mouse merely looked surprised. Then his face twisted as he tried to attack, anyway.

Clang-crack!

The dagger broke as it hit one of the stone plates that the dragon had spread over his sides, the blade cracking along the middle and the point hitting the floor. The rodent gasped, backpedaling, and Draconicon shook his head.

"I'm not really interested in what you're selling. Better luck with some of the other clients."

"...Monster..."

"Nah. Just a dragon."

He shut the door, shaking his head as he pushed his robe to the side. The stone had cracked where it had been stabbed, the hardened paste probably useless now. But still, it had served its purpose, and it would start spreading a small reputation about him being hard to kill among the populace.

Small victories. Maybe people will be a little less likely to try that again.

He sat, then laid down on his bed, closing his eyes. There were a great many things to consider now, a great many possibilities that would need to be thought through.

There was no way that he was staying here, either in the village or in this universe. He was still a long way away from home, and now that he was free of Hell, he was stuck with this journey across existence. If he stopped for too long, then all he did was paint a target on his back, telling the dragons where to strike next, where to find him.

Before he could leave, though, he needed to figure out how to properly use his magic again. He'd found a workaround, but that wouldn't be anywhere near sufficient to actually get him off this universe. If he was going to go flying into the next world, he needed a far greater source of power than he was getting by bouncing it off of a god's temple.

And there had to be a way to use his power without submitting to a god in the first place. That was one option he literally could not take.

And while I figure that out, I need a way to make money...a way to keep me and Jaceb safe...

His magic was not as strong as he needed it to be in this world. This was a place of blades and fists, a world of steel and muscle. He had neither, and he'd need to get it.

Knock, knock.

"Not in the mood for a whore."

Knock, knock.

...That's not a whore.

Click.

No, that's a thief.

He sat up as the door opened, a German Shepherd walking in. As soon as she stepped through the door, he recognized her.

"You were the one at the temple."

"...Good eye," she said after a moment's hesitation. "You're the wizard?"

"I'm thinking you already know that I am."

"I do."

"And you followed me anyway?"

"If I thought you were dangerous to me, I'd have killed you while you were unconscious."

"Why didn't you, then? Most people here don't like wizards."

"That's my business."

She looked back at the door, then back at him. The leather armor she wore seemed to twist, and he noticed that there was a slight hole in the back of it, a hole that revealed steel beneath the leather.

It was only there for a moment, but it was enough to confuse him.

"You aren't from here," she said.

"...I'm not a demon, if you're worried about that."

"Not what I'm worried about."

"Then what are you worried about? Why are you here?"

"...I have a problem that only a wizard can fix. And if you can, I'd be very...grateful."

"...And if I can't?"

The German Shepherd opened her mouth, only to suddenly...shift. It was the same feeling of flickering that he'd felt at the temple, almost like someone had stepped back and someone else had stepped forward in the same place. No more gray-furred German Shepherd, but rather a Doberman with his hand on the hilt of a sword.

"Then you might be very dead," he finished.

The End