FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Description: Determined to make things right for everyone, Sithrik, Spittor, and Razzek enact a plan that shall see Vartan's rule crumble to its deserved end.

Razzek and all other characters in this story belong to me, Siranor

Spittor the sexy drake belongs to spittor

***The basilisk's victim 5: Acceptance***

As they licked, growled, and nibbled at each other, Razzek, with the grace of a seasoned predator, strode towards them, his striped scaled hide catching the moonlight in a shimmering dance. His slitted eyes, full like the moons that presided over them, shone bright with delight as he observed the pair indulge with rubs and grabs into their ever-deepening affections.

"I must say... the sight of you two entwined is quite the spectacle," he quipped, his sly grin revealing the sharp contours of his many sharp teeth. "But, as much as I'd enjoy another display of your leaky love, I do fear we have a rather prickly situation to unravel, don't we? One that is neither as filling nor as pleasing as the barbs on that one's cock." He pointed at Sithrik, who barely registered his words.

With his purple scales subtly bristling, Spittor shifted his weight. "Circumstances deny us what we want most," he licked Sithrik's forehead as he attempted to pry himself apart.

"Must we?" the basilisk insisted.

They both seemed to know the answer. Within but a few breaths, warmth gave way to night's chilly embrace.

As he rolled over, Spittor could feel the sands sink between his plates, a stark contrast to the smooth textures of his belly plates. He glanced at Razzek, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly. Although he felt a surge of discomfort at the jibe, the seriousness of Razzek's words wasn't lost on him. The oppressive shadow of Vartan's rule loomed large in his mind, one wrong they had to correct.

"I shall let the eldest guide our steps." Spittor declared.

With emerald scales glistening softly in the pale light, Sithrik rose to his fours. "Indeed, we stand at a crossroads," he said, his voice low and resonant, echoing the depth of his thoughts. His tail, adorned with spikes kept neatly tucked against the tapered tip, coiled reflexively, betraying his unease. "How could the three of us undo decades of misery no one stood up against?"

Leaning in, Razzek's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "Never underestimate the few, frilled one....I've been thinking...what if we sneak in? Blend with the shadows? A silent operation could uproot Vartan's reign without attracting unwanted attention."

He scrutinized their expressions, seeking a hint of agreement.

Spittor, however, recoiled slightly. "Sneak in? When our hides play off the moon's light like a wet vent's spread walls? A most risky play, Razzek. Should they see us, they will rise the alarm and block us out of the town. We need to find another way...a safer way."

His eyes flicked between Razzek and Sithrik, seeking some form of reassurance or dissent.

The basilisk considered the proposal from his seated position, drawing lines with his tail, his frills gently undulating in the night's breeze. "Anthros are indeed resourceful," he mused. "And stealth might be our ally in this endeavor. I believe Razzek's path might be the best we can tread." His gaze, steady and piercing, seemed to see beyond the immediate peril, envisioning a path less trodden but potentially fruitful.

Sensing the merit in Sithrik's calm reasoning, Spittor gave a reluctant nod. His long, sinuous neck bent slightly as he acquiesced. "Alright, but what exactly do you propose we do once we're in?" He directed the question to Razzek, whose unpredictable nature was as much a source of concern as it was a strategic advantage.

The reptilian stood tall at that, rubbing a wrist in contemplation "Assassination," he stated bluntly. "It's the quickest way to end Vartan's hold on the people. With the snake gone, the birds are free to fly wherever they desire!"

Spittor's eyes widened. "Assassination? That's a far cry from sneaking in! And how do you propose we 'sneak in' past his guards, patrols, and whoever else stands in our way?"

Razzek's grin widened. "With a little help from Caeli and other trackers like me," he said. "We have allies who despise Vartan as much as we do. They just need a little nudge, to do what is required." His chest puffed out slightly, a mark of confidence in their collective strength.

Sithrik, however, shook his head, the rows of frills atop his head flattening in disapproval. "No," he said firmly, "Killing Vartan would only serve to vilify us further."

Both Razzek and Spittor turned towards the basilisk, eyes latched with curiosity and doubt. "Then what? We ask Vartan to nicely step aside for us?" Spittor clawed at the sand. "I met the man. Talked with the man...yet all I heard was the beast clawing its way out."

Sithrik's golden gaze flashed brilliantly. Without warning, a wave of paralysis swept over Spittor and Razzek, rendering them both completely immobile.

Frozen in place, Spittor struggled to even close his eyes properly. He could only watch, helplessly, as Sithrik moved around them with a grace that belied his size.

"This," Sithrik spoke, his voice echoing around them, "is a demonstration of the power we possess. A power that can incapacitate without harm." He walked around their immobile forms, his steps silent and measured.

Razzek's tense throat managed to emit muffled grunt. His eyes, wide and expressive, flickered between respect for Sithrik's towards the basilisk's greatest weapon, as well as annoyance at being rendered helpless.

Sithrik noted their reactions. He continued to walk around them with authority softened by concern. "We can use my gift to subdue Vartan and incapacitate whoever poses a threat to us. Imagine, bringing that overseer to deserved end without bloodshed." He paced gracefully around Spittor, the smooth movement of his emerald scales almost hypnotic. Leaning down, he offered a gentle nudge against the drake's shoulder, reassuring him.

As the paralyzing effect began to diminish, Spittor shook his head, trying to shake off the lingering daze. He could feel the warmth of Sithrik's body against him, a comforting presence in the midst of their fraught plan.

Regaining his mobility, Razzek stretched out, his scales creating a soft rustle like leaves in a gentle breeze. "A bold strategy," he conceded with a hint of admiration, his earlier irritation fading in light of Sithrik's ingenious plan. "I've no qualms with it, having been pierced by its depth!"

Finding his voice, Spittor added, "It's a plan that spares those undeserving of our claws and ensures focus on those who do. I have nothing but praise towards the frilled mind that conceived it." His heart pounded with excitement as he padded over to the basilisk. He nuzzled him, he got licked in return, and thus, began to feel invigorated by the daring nature of their undertaking.

Sithrik's frills fluttered softly as he slowly pulled apart from his fellow drake. "We must consider every detail," he began again on a contemplative tone. "The guards on the walls will be our first obstacle. We'll need to neutralize them swiftly." As he spoke, he circled the pair, occasionally extending his long neck to nuzzle against Spittor's cheek or lightly brush his snout against Razzek's side.

He continued, "Once inside, if the masses prove hostile, we must be prepared to pacify without harm. Our presence alone will be alarming; we need to be the calming breeze that shall soothe heated tempers." Sithrik's gaze softened as he looked at his friends, his tongue flicking out to tenderly lick Spittor's snout.

"Fellow drake... your knowledge of anthro customs will be invaluable in swaying the crowd. Razzek, your agility and stealth will uncover where Vartan's secret lies. The wellspring he squeezes for every drop of water." He paced thoughtfully, his tail gently sweeping against their legs in a rhythmic motion, reinforcing their unity.

"The essence of our plan lies in restraint and precision. We strike with purpose, not force." As he finished, he stood beside them, a pillar of strength, yet one that inspired as well as it awed.

Razzek, with a predator's grace, leaned in close. "And what of my shadows, if not to strike from their depths?" His voice carried the playful, menacing undertone reminiscent of a warrior teasing his fate.

Sithrik looked down thoughtfully. His massive paws gently brushed the ground, the soft rustle of leaves underfoot mingling with the sounds of the night. "It is not in death, but in life that your skills will find true purpose," he mused, his deep voice resonant with a warrior's wisdom. "The enslaved, they toil in Vartan's hidden caverns. You will find them, liberate them. Their freedom will speak louder than any blade against Vartan's loyalists. He must see. The people...must see."

Razzek's emerald eyes shone with a newfound determination. "The waterdeep Caverns... whispered tales, but where they lie, a mystery well kept." He flexed his claws, "I shall find them nonetheless, and strike shackle from limbs!"

"Their liberation will be our triumph. The hearts of the people will turn with the sight of their kin freed from chains." His breath, warm and steady, brushed against Razzek's scales. "Bring them to Vartan. He must...see them..." the basilisk repeated, as if that phrase held a great, hidden meaning.

"We shall ensure he does...and does that well..." Spittor agreed.

As the night drew on, they huddled close for rest. Sithrik, the largest, lay on his side, his emerald body a protective barrier against the chill of the night. His frills, soft and colorful, fluttered gently with each breath he took, a soft canvas on a creature that bore no other apparent weaknesses.

Up near the front, Razzek nestled against Sithrik's belly, his head resting against the warm scales. The rhythm of Sithrik's breathing was a soothing lullaby, the scent of the forest and earth mingling with the unique musk of the basilisk.

Spittor, seeking warmth, spooned against Razzek's back, his long, sinuous body fitting perfectly against the curves of his friend. His snout nuzzled into the nape of Razzik's neck, inhaling the familiar scent of his scales.

Their paws and claws, each unique in form and grip, entwined gently, while the softness of their underbellies contrasted with the hardened scales of their backs. They all fell asleep, one by one, to the tranquil sounds of the oasis.

Tomorrow came swiftly, like a warm desert wind. As the first light of dawn painted the sky in hues of violet and blue, the trio walked carefully towards the walls rising ahead of them, their figures etched against the awakening settlement of Shara'Hazad. Sithrik, verdant and majestic, moved with a silent grace that belied his size. His golden eyes glowed with an otherworldly luminescence, scanning the city walls. Focusing intently on the patrolling guards, he unleashed his paralyzing gaze, rendering them motionless, their bodies slumping silently against the cold stones of the ramparts as soon as they gazed upon his form.

Razzek and Spittor trailed behind, their forms sleek and fluid as they navigated the now-exposed entrance. The streets, typically a cacophony of voices and clatter, lay eerily quiet in the early morning chill.

The first inhabitants of Shara'Hazad began to stir, however. Some left their homes, while others paused from their early routine with gasps and murmurs, their eyes fixed in disbelief at the sight of the unlikely trio. A drake, a basilisk, and a reptilian side by side...truly a sight that sparked a rather tumultuous wave of emotions. Their whispers ascended to grunts and speech, rising like a brewing storm, turning into shouts as the crowd's unease transformed into hostility.

A jagged rock, hurled with force, sailed perilously close to Spittor's head. He jerked back instinctively, a growl rumbling in his throat.

"We'll handle their ire. Do what must be done, Razzek!"

The sand-colored reptilian nodded quickly and threw himself at the chaos. He weaved through the shifting crowd, his tail flailing behind him as he sought to blend himself within the crowd of anthros and humans in search of his own objective.

In the midst of the growing tumult, the two drakes pressed on, a ship amidst the stormy sea. Spittor ducked his head, protecting him from projectiles, while Razzek showed the barest hint of teeth at the contact with rocks and stones, his calm demeanor absorbing the verbal barrages and narrowly missed projectiles with stoic resolve. He too, understood men. He too, lived with them, once upon a time. And so he saw their fear, he felt their ire, and did the best thing a beast could when pressed upon by stick. Nothing.

Their journey through the city still proved a test of mental endurance more than a physical one as they quickly faced a barrage of curses and accusations. The hostility escalated the closer they approached Vartan's abode in the growing sea of unease, thick with tension and anger.

"They're getting too frisky," Spittor snarled as some denizens rushed over with makeshift weapon to bash against their scales.

"Endure," the basilisk growled back, headbutting an ornery coyote that aimed to swipe his blade at the basilisk's timely tucked frills.

Spittor too began to shake and swap them off. "How long? They'll...never relent..."

"Rrrrhhhh..." Confronted by the particularly aggressive segment of the crowd, Sithrik closed his eyes, then opened them back, their sudden glow captivating the audience for one, breathless moment. As if time itself stopped, the figures in front of him stood still, frozen mid-motion, their expressions locked in both surprise and delight alike. The crowd recoiled in horror, their fear of the basilisk morphing into tangible hatred as they struggled to revive their immobilized kin from whatever curse took hold of them.

While Sithrik bargained with them, Spittor led the way to Vartan's residence, navigating the familiar paths he treaded before with a heavy heart. The chants and curses of the crowd echoed in his ears, a stark reminder of the divide between them.

Upon reaching Vartan's stronghold, they found it fortified, barricaded against the outside world. Vartan's henchmen stood guard, weapons at the ready, their eyes filled with defiance.

"We ain't gonna let you beasts inside!" one of several burly men snarled, his cudgel clutched tight.

A younger, spindly one dressed in more rags than gear averted his gaze, turning towards his closest ally. "Don' look at him or we'll freeze! Freeze like the rest of the lot!"

He earned a slap, along with a distinguished brand of vocal ire. "Tis no threat if you look down, fool. Haven't ya heard the tales? You look, you freeze," he slapped the moaning youth again. "All we gotta do is pluck its eyes out. Now be a man an' get you's sword!"

Spittor's scales bristled with anger at the sight of the readying rogues, his own claws itching for a fight. "I'll break them if they dare lay a finger on you!" he pressed himself against the basilisk's side, hissing his ire.

Sithrik, however, placed a gentle nuzzle against Spittor's snout, a calming touch in the face of the rising tensions. "Violence is a path we tread only when all others are closed," he said, a rumble of resolve. "Should it come to that, I will bear the burden."

The standoff continued for some time, neither side making a move. The crowd, a whirlwind of fear, anger, and confusion, watched with bated breath, too scared to take any side until one made its move.

Razzek, meanwhile, had reached the depths of the city, where the entrance to the waterdeep Caverns lay hidden, slinking through wetness and murk. The slaves, their bodies bent from labor looked up at him with eyes void of hope.

"The guards...they've gone...but they'll come back! They always come back!"

"Not today, they won't." Razzek patted the broken man's shoulder. "Out now. All of you! Quickly, quickly! The work is over!"

With whispered words of freedom and promises of a new dawn, Razzek began to lead them out of their dark prison. Their emergence into the light of day felt almost like a rebirth. A journey from the depths of monotony to the possibility of hope that, today...perhaps things could be different.

As they made their way back to Vartan's stronghold, the freed slaves' reunion with their families allowed tears, laughter, and disbelief to wash through the tension. Embraces were shared, bonds reaffirmed, and soon, a circle of justice around Vartan's residence began to form as the former slaves stood up against their oppressor.

For two days and nights, the chant for justice reverberated through the streets of Shara'Hazad. The voices of the freed and their kin melded into a relentless call for accountability, never yielding, never pausing, never loosening its grip.

On the third day, as the sun reached its zenith, casting a harsh light over the tense gathering, Vartan emerged. The door to his stronghold creaked open, revealing a man whose appearance truly matched his fallen state. His once regal attire hung loosely on his diminished frame, the fabric stained and tattered. His hair, once meticulously groomed, now lay unkempt, strands falling over a face etched with lines of stress and sleepless nights. His eyes, which had once glinted with cunning and authority, now darted about with a hunted, desperate look...seeing naught but traitors and conspirators.

The crowd fell silent at the sight of him, their anticipation choking the still air. Vartan stepped forward, lacking his former confidence now that he lost control of his workforce. As he locked eyes with Sithrik, a flicker of his old fire sparked within him.

"You! How dare you defile our homes with your monstrous presence!" He spat and raged, voice laced with venom, pierced the silence deep. "You, the beast that lurks in the dark, dare tand before us in daylight?"

His attention then swept through the crowd, eyes wild like those of a beast. "And you...ALL OF YOU!" he spat, hard. "How weak, gullible, and thoughtless are you...to have allowed your homes to be defiled by the presence of that... that BEAST!" Vartan clenched his fists and stomped the ground, rising dust all around him.

"KILL IT!" He commanded. "KILL THE MONSTER WHERE IT STANDS!" His words sliced through the crowd like a blade, reminding them of the years of oppression and fear they had endured under his rule.

The crowd's protests, once loud and resolute, began to wane, their voices dimming under the weight of Vartan's presence. The oppressive air that had choked them for years seemed to descend upon them once again, stifling their newfound courage under miasmas of doubt.

Sithrik, however, remained unmoved. He stepped forward, his emerald frame seemingly casting a shadow of its own over Vartan. His golden eyes studied the man before him, taking in every detail, every scent, every sign of weakness that hung upon his breath.

"Settlers of this small, forgotten settlement. People...of Shara'Hazad," Sithrik began, deep and resonant, "I stand before you, not as a monster, but as a being wrongfully accused. These freed slaves," he gestured towards the former captives with his nimble tail, "are but few of the victims of Vartan's tyranny. Have you not bowed before this man's ambitions? Have you not toiled for his benefit more than your own? Have you never...wondered if the man you heed is the very root of your hardships?"

He paused, allowing his words to sink in. "As you dwell upon what Vartan brought you, ask yourselves this one thing. Has anyone here truly perished at the tips of my claws?"

The crowd fell silent, their eyes shifting uneasily. No voice rose to affirm Vartan's claims, no evidence presented itself. The lies that had been fed to them for years hung on trembling lips and unsure stares until one began to speak. Then another. Soon, the whole crowd started discussing the basilisk's factual deeds as Vartan's lies became exposed in the light of truth.

Cornered and desperate by the very crowd he once ruled, Vartan lashed out in defense. "Self-righteous beast! You hoarded the largest oasis, keeping its bounty for yourself!" His voice rose to a fevered pitch. "One. Single. Creature. Living in excess! While we suffered the heat of the relentless sun! Why should you...YOU live an easy life while we parch here and DIE?"

Sithrik shook his head, a sad acknowledgment of Vartan's refusal to understand the concept of a territory, a home. "The oasis was never mine to hoard," he countered calmly. "It was, and always has been, a part of this land, free for all who respect its bounty. It was your fear of my imagined deeds that infested these people with the insidious seed of a most misplaced doubt. You, that made my oasis seem like the cradle of death itself. You, who armed scared men and sent them to hunt me."

Vartan, driven to the edge, turned to his remaining thugs. "I had enough of this serpent's false tongue! Bash the basilisk's head in! I shall see his scales bent and his frills ripped apart until we all see the putrid core that lays at its heart!!"

The thugs hesitated, their resolve wavering under the gaze of the crowd. After all...what could a few men do against so many?

It was then that the people found their voice again. Shouts of protest rose from the assembly, a chorus of defiance against Vartan's final command.

"We will not bend down. Not again. Never again!" one voice cried out.

"You've fattened yourself on our labor, Vartan! And-and you stink of greed!" another joined in.

"I stink? I STINK??" The burly man's beard frothed with spilled saliva. "There's no scent more foul than the reek of you lot when...when you piss yourselves in the sun. Complaining, always complaining about how tough this his, how low the labor bends you! We suffer because we must! Our lives are hard. Always been hard! But we found a way, didn't we? We settled. We endured. We survived. Because that's...what....we....DO!"

"But at what cost?"

"We wither of thirst, we starve of hunger, so you can look big and round!"

"Heathen!"

"LIAR!"

The crowd surged forward, passing around the two drakes as if they were kin, forming a barrier between Sithrik and Vartan's men, who too, took a few steps back. The oppressor, once mighty and feared, now stood alone, his power crumbling before the will of the people he had once subjugated.

"Paaahhhh...It comes to this...the sheep against the wolf!" Vartan frothed as he stood in the center of the gathering, isolated, but not completely powerless. His face, flush with anger, scanned the sea of faces surrounding him, searching for a semblance of support. But his closest advisors, those who had once basked in his shadow, traded places and allegiances alike, vanishing into the crowd, leaving him to face his reckoning alone.

Clearing his throat, Vartan dusted himself off, as if shaking the very emotions that turned him into a ripe tomato of a man moments before. Taking a few deep breaths, he lowered his voice, attempting to wield the charisma that had once defined him. "People of Shara'Hazad...I speak to you again as a man...not a leader. A man of the crowd. A part of the many. Understand who I am. What...I am...for everything I did, I did for the greater good of this settlement."

The sun started to look upon the crowd, casting stark shadows across the gathering as the heat of the day started to make its fangs known. The people's faces, marred by fear and oppression, reflected skepticism and anger. Some did look. Some, did listen.

But never with the same slouched shoulders, bent heads, and servile attitude they once did.

Vartan's voice grew louder, more insistent. "I sought order amidst the chaos, progress where no sane man would dare to! Without a firm hand, lassitude would have consumed us! Where would we be, if we did what we wanted? Hmm? We would've lounged with our bellies in the sun, like a beast, while the sun bakes our homes and robs our hard earned water? WE built this settlement. WE made it into our home! You, you, and you. All of us. WE, THE PEOPLE!" He gestured wildly, his movements erratic, betraying the cracks in his façade.

Sithrik, standing a head taller than the rest, watched silently, his golden eyes unblinking. The crowd's murmurs grew louder, a tide of discontent rising against Vartan's claims.

"Yes, progress has a cost. But when does it not?!" Vartan's voice cracked "I had to prioritize the many over the few, and I made difficult choices for that, mhmm, sacrifices for the good of us all!"

Though he tried his best... Vartan's words, once capable of swaying the masses, now fell on mostly deaf ears.

"And what of the discord sewn between your people, Vartan?" Sithrik finally spoke, his voice laden with authority. "What of the cost of this treachery you forged? Blaming me, a lone creature, for your lack of foresight. You milked this land for its bounty, and when it had no more to give, you had your men dig deep. Their work. Their hands. Not yours."

Vartan faltered, his eyes flickering with barely restrained spite. "It was necessary! A necessary evil for stability! Without me, they would've gone out into the desert to wither like your own fockin' frills, beast! Even if they survived out there, cradled into comfort by beasts like you, they'd be men no longer. Nothing but savages, sucking on the cock of a beast, begging for scraps! We do NOT beg. We toil, we work, we EARN!"

The crowd recoiled at his words. Some stepped forward to lay their own opinions, ire, and losses alike.

Confronted with the deaths of many he was not even aware of, Vartan stood still, and laughed. A laughter tinged with bitterness. An ire echoed across the gathering, a jarring sound against the backdrop of the tense crowd.

"Yes, you incompetent wretches, I killed! I KILLED! But my actions were not those of a madman, but a visionary! I found ways to get you moving when all of you would've stood still! Why, why, why? I sought to build, to conquer! To etch a legacy into the very heart of this desert, to be remembered as more than a mere footnote in history's vast pages! More than a fleeting, weak man!!"

His eyes scanned the crowd again. "You call for justice, for retribution, but fail to see the necessity of my actions. Who among you would have stepped forward to make the hard choices? To take the burden of leadership?"

The crowd's unrest grew, their voices a tempest of anger and disbelief.

"You needed me!" Vartan continued, his voice rising above the cacophony of his once-followers. "In a world where the weak perish, I was the strength you required. Not the leader you wanted, perhaps, but the one who secured your survival!"

His gaze turned scornful as he addressed the increasingly hostile people. "Baaahhh...bunch of scared pups, all of you, waiting for a command, a direction. Without me, you would have been swallowed by the sands!"

The crowd's murmurs turned into a roar of disapproval. Faces that once looked upon Vartan with fear now glared with scornful defiance.

"And you, Ssss-Sithrik or whatever they name you," Vartan spat, pointing an accusing finger at the basilisk, "your vile presence, your seed of deceit, has infested these weak minds. You turned them against me...made them think they have strength where none stands! I propped them up to stand against beasts like you, while you...you'd have them grovel at your feet and kiss your Focken claws!"

The basilisk remained silent. His golden eyes reflected both the wisdom of years, as well as the weariness of one who has seen too much strife. Too many men like Vartan.

"You are nothing but sheep! Sheep in need of a shepherd! And I was that shepherd!" Vartan's voice cracked, his body trembling with a mix of rage and fear. "I was yours...and you were mine. ALL OF YOU ARE MINE!"

The air around them seemed to vibrate with the intensity of his emotions, the sun beating down mercilessly, casting long, dark shadows across the settlement.

Tired of their leader's charade, the people encroached upon the lone man. They grabbed at him. Reflected his spite right back. Some tried to reason, others, to argue.

But reason, empathy, care, had left Vartan from the moment he lost control of his sheep. As final act of defiance, Vartan cursed them all, his words laced with venom. "Cursed be this settlement! Cursed be all of you, blinded by the lies of a beast!" He spat at the ground, his saliva mingling with the dust of Shara'Hazad. "May my sweat slither into the foundation of these buldings and crumble them all! The stink of my sun beaten body, choke you all!"

"And you, Sssssithrikkkkk, may your days be as dryyyy and loneeeely as mine! May you live in misery to see the ruin you have brought upon us all!"

Vartan's curse flowed like the rapids meeting a rock, his venomous snarl cast down by the basilisk's composed gaze. It hung in the air, thick with bitterness, tempting those into the sin of rage.

But not all had the same tolerance as one who lived more than most. With faces contorted in anger and lips trembling with bitter resolve, the crowd answered back with a ferocity that mirrored the intensity of Vartan's own festering hatred.

"May your thirst for power leave you as parched as the desert!" shouted one voice from the crowd.

"Let the sands swallow you whole, as you tried to swallow our freedom!" another cried out, their voice laced with scorn.

The suggestions for the man's punishment grew more grisly, more inventive with each passing moment. "Bury him in the sands he so dearly hoarded!"

"Chain him to the barren rocks so that the sun be his judge!"

As the cries for justice reached a crescendo, a lone voice, clear and resolute, cut through the tumult. "Death by thirst! Let him feel the agony he imposed upon us all!"

"DEATH BY THIRST! DEATH BY THIRST!" The chant picked up momentum while the crowd rallyed around that one singular decision. Their voices merged into a single, thunderous demand, the settlement echoing with those three poignant words.

While his own people demanded his downfall, Sithrik navigated through the parting sea of people. He pawsed a few steps before the man, who still glared at him with impotent fury nestled within his teary, bloodshot eyes.

"Vartan....you sought to be a figure of greatness. A name etched in the tomes and memories of those you commanded. The means you employed, brutish and cruel, reaped an inevitable result a wise leader would have sought to prevent. You...did not, for you are neither wise, nor the leader you believed yourself all this time. Look at you now, a shadow of a man, brought low by his own hubris."

Walking even closer, Sithrik delighted in the fear, the weakness, the lack of bite present in the man's recoiling steps. "Leave..." he garbled out. "Just...leave me to my own demise then...beast."

"I could. I should. Yet your fate is theirs to decide...not mine."

Vartan's eyes flickered with a glimmer of realization that dawned amidst his anger. "You... you think me defeated, BEAST?" he spat, yet his voice lacked its former conviction. "I will prove you wrong. One day, should I live, I shall prove all of you wretches wrong..."

"I doubt anything will materialize from these empty words. True strength, Vartan, lies not in subjugation and fear, but in the compassion we all have for one another, despite the species." His gaze swept over the crowd, then settled back on the defeated ruler. "You could have been a leader, a guardian. A true man of the people. Instead, you chose the path of a self indulging tyrant."

The crowd boomed with adoration at the basilisk's words, delivered like arrows into the former leader's sunk form. Their chants of death by thirst still rang for a while, then slowly fell silent, their attention captured by Sithrik's loud roar.

Turning to face the people, Sithrik addressed them with a solemnity that commanded nothing but respect. "We shall see him choke on his own aspirations, but not by torture, nor by death. We must be better than this. Better than the man we condemn. Better than the hatred that festers within us."

Anthros and humans alike seemed to heed the basilisk's wisdom. In the warmth of the sun, with frills golden as the leaves during autumn, Sithrik stood like an imposing guardian. A gentle kind of beast that seemed to soothe the air of hostility permeating the crowd around him.

"Let us not repay cruelty with cruelty, but rise above it. Let us show this man that we are more than what he made us to be. Let us choose a path he never would have granted one like me, were I to stand in his place."

Claps of hands, thunders of approval, and cheerful fists thrown into the air answered the basilisk's judgment. While there were some that turned sour in the lack of pain inflicted upon their abuser, the crowd's sense of kind justice ultimately prevailed over harsh retribution.

Vartan, now utterly alone, his dreams of glory shattered beneath his feet, looked around at the faces that had once feared him. "Who will follow me now...?" he mumbled as he began to walk the path laid out to him by the very people he once ruled over, voice a mere whisper lost in the wind.

Deafening silence surrounded him. None looked, none spoke, none rose a hand to his aid as he stumbled towards the gates.

Vartan's departure from Shara'Hazad truly was a somber procession of one. His silhouette, once formidable and imposing, now appeared diminished, shrinking against the vast desert backdrop. The once opulent fabrics of his attire hung in tattered disarray, swaying listlessly with each dejected step. His solitude stood fully complete, marked only by the hollow echo of his footsteps, a lonely drumbeat fading into the unforgiving wilderness he often besmirched in terror and darkness.

Back within the city walls, a whirlpool of uncertainty churned among the people now that the seed of discord had been plucked from their midst. Whispers swirled through the crowd like eddies of doubt. Some even feared what would come as their gazes flickered toward Sithrik.

In the midst of this brewing, Sithrik found solace in a secluded alcove, surrounded by the few he trusted: Razzek, and Spittor. Caeli joined them too at Razzek's request, for she was a creature of the winds, one that could navigate the heavy winds, thick with unspoken questions. Who would lead now?

Who had the knowledge to see the settlement restored, and the wisdom to know the difference between leading and commanding? The very thing that led Vartan so very far astray?

Razzek spoke first. "You belong to the wilds, Sithrik. Much as you may think you are ready to lead this lot, will never truly feel at peace here, trapped within the confines of man-made walls."

Spittor too agreed, "It is not for us to lead, but to follow. And I... I shall follow closely by your side." He rubbed lovingly against the slightly larger drake, nuzzling him with adoration. "If you remember what we promised at the oasis, know that my pledge still stands. Our journey together is merely starting. There's much to see, to learn, to enjoy!"

A consensus was thus reached. Sithrik and Spittor would venture forth into new adventures, leaving Shara'Hazad in the capable hands of those who had always stirred it towards the better climates.

"You keep that drake out of trouble," Razzek paced towards Spittor. He embraced him tight, and slowly rubbed his way along the purple drake's plated shoulder. "He's got quite the fearsome reputation now. Eating children, cutting grown men in half...slaying the undertails of those sent to bring him to justice..."

Spittor growled with delight, pressing the reptilian even closer with one of his might forepaws. "I'll do my best, but you know how I have this allure on all who bear scales...so much so that even your mighty intellect yielded easily before more pressing temptations."

Their eyes met in a silent appreciation for what they share. And the many things they still could, should their paths cross again.

With a final bump of their heads, they parted ways, though not before Razzek had the chance to say his own farewell to the basilisk.

Sithrik's warmth radiated once he left the alcove. He turned to face the crowd, confident in the good he'd done, yet still apprehensive by the many years divide between the them. The people of Shara'Hazad, however, could find it in their hearts to forgive, even after all the pain they had suffered. Their initial hesitance giving way to gratitude, they approached him one by one, offering warmth and thanks with touch and word alike.

A young jackal cub reached out a tentative hand to touch the basilisk's scales. Sithrik lowered his head to facilitate the contact, allowing the little one to explore everything to his heart's delight.

One by one, others followed, their hands filling Sithrik's saddlebags with offerings ; simple tokens of appreciation and farewell. A piece of bread here, a small pouch of seeds there, a woven bracelet...made by their hands, worked for by the sweat of their brows.

In spite of the many years he'd lived, the basilisk found himself unable to fully soak in such downpour after such a long drought of strife. He even found himself paralyzed like the victims he froze with his stare, unable to move, to speak, to do anything once, from a single voice in the crowd, a soft chant began.

"Savior, Guardian, Friend."

"Savior. Guardian. FRIEND!"

The words, simple yet heart-touching, spread through the gathering like a gentle breeze, a cascade of gratefulness and respect no monster could ever expect.

They chanted on and on, their voices growing in strength and number.

With a heart drumming with joy, Sithrik looked upon the faces around him. No longer faces of fear, but of respect, of acknowledgment. The chant swelled into a hurricane of gratefulness and approval, enveloping him in a wave of shared humanity.

As the chant reached its crescendo, Sithrik turned to Spittor, seeking shelter at his side. "Never have I expected the people to...welcome me into their own. To accept me after..."

"After your imagined doings?" the purple-scaled drake gently bumped his head against Sithrik's. "Vartan pulled all the strings. He made you into something you never were to begin with so why...feel guilty about it?"

"I could have acted earlier. Instead, I festered in my territory, enjoying a bounty of water while these people-"

"They will find their own way now, Sithrik. As will we. You remember what I said about a new chapter unfolding in your life? Let us start writing it!"

The basilisk bowed his head ikn acknowledgement. Together, they walked towards the gates of Shara'Hazad with the chant of the people still following them. The open road lay ahead, a path of endless possibilities for two adventurous drakes.

As the city's walls became increasingly smaller behind them, Spittor found himself thrown off his legs by a force he barely learned how to deal with.

"Grrr...five minutes away from a settlement full of prying eyes and you're already...starting to get hot under your scales?"

With his slightly larger form enveloping the drake in a playful embrace, the basilisk began licking gleefylly at Spittor's neck. "Let them see, hear, even indulge if they wish," he rumbled teasingly. "I've had enough of hiding, enough of strife. Now, I share only affection with the world... and with you, my beloved drake."

Caught off guard by the basilisk's sincerity, Spittor growled out in joy, his own mirth entwining with Sithrik's deep growls in the same manner as their tails.

"I hardly believe they will even see anything under all those...frills of yours." He licked Sithrik's snout affectionately as he eagerly sought the basilisk's member with the narrow opening of his undertail. Once he got what he wanted, a shudder of bliss stiffened his muscles, freezing the breath in his throat. He remembered well how his first time with the basilisk started, entrapped in the same unyielding web. Yet this time, the paralysis was of his own making. He chose to surrender himself to Sithrik...just as the basilisk chose to claim him with slower, more considerate thrusts.

"You've grown soft, old lizard," he teased as the droplets of his own arousal started feeding the parched sands underfoot. "Are a few days with a fellow drake all it takes to mellow you down?"

A warm growl served as his answer...and a thrust so deep his eyes sunk in the back of his head. Sharp fangs soon took control of his nape, forcing the drake to fully surrender to the onrush of bliss that started to overwhelm him.

It might've been somewhat silly for the inhabitants of Shara'Hazad to witness the noisy coupling of those two drakes so close to the gaze of the walls that kept their kin away for decades, yet true freedom -the ability to do what one wanted, when they wanted- rarely discriminated between planned decisions and foolishness.

Perhaps this choice could've been questioned by anthros as well as men...yet for two drakes, the freedom to display their affection openly under the warmth of the sun, with no shadows to seclude them nor fear or retribution to weigh down their hearts, truly served to mark the first step in an adventure where they could soar like dragons upon the infinite skies of possibilities.

***Want to support me create more stories?***

A) Throw a few coins in my donation here https://ko-fi.com/siranor0720

B) Commission me! You can find my prices here https://www.furaffinity.net/journal/10013421/

**C) There are also two story+art YCHs available where you can hire my dragon for a night...or more :3

A. Fluffy Siranor x your character (m/m anal fluffy love) https://www.furaffinity.net/view/53310379/

B. Fluffy Siranor x your character that comes with an already packaged present xD ( M/M dom sub dubcon bondage mating dragon in heat) https://www.furaffinity.net/view/54942197/**