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Draykan wasn't expecting to have a late-night visit from an ambassador from the council of dragons. Nor was he expecting to receive transport straight to their meeting place. Yet, here he is, standing on the stone tile floor of the ancient castle. Chilly winds buffet the formidable edifice. The terror of the wind is dwarfed from more formidable stares from a half-dozen anthropomorphic figures sitting in a semicircular fashion around him. Each of them is a dragon, but none of them take on their full majestic form, instead opting to be in anthropomorphic guises.

"Draykan," speaks the dragon at the head of the council. His scales are white, and his horns swept back and jagged like flash-frozen ice. He wears a coat of furs from various mighty beasts. "I am Treandalode, head of the council for this meeting. You are in my castle by our will."

Another dragon, a distinguished female with long whiskers and lithe body in an elaborate dress from the far east, speaks up. "Because you are so young, you do not know much about what it is we do here on the council. That is fine. However, what is essential is that you know the danger that comes with this Tournament that you've entered.

Draykan nods as he stands there but keeps his head held high. "Oh yeah? And what exactly should I know? And why aren't you meeting me in your true forms?"

"A dragon who cannot enter his true form has no reason to behold us in ours," says a third councilmember, a squat, rust-scaled wyrm with long cranial frills. "You have been selected by the gods. It doesn't mean that you have the right to bypass our traditions."

Draykan holds back a wince.

"Okay, but why am I here, then? Just to make fun of my disability?"

"It is the reason for your disability that we felt it necessary to speak with you," Treandelode responds, lacing his fingers together as he leans in. "Does the name 'Zelbia' mean anything to you?"

Draykan folds his arms over his chest, baring his teeth. "Yes. It's a dark deity the cultists who captured me worshipped. Also, the name of a demon that Tik Tik expelled from her mind not too long ago."

"Observe," speaks the third dragon. A flash of light reveals a magnificent tub of brass. Within the tub is liquid gold, rippling and uncovering secrets in the wealth. There, Draykan observes a demonic figure, clashing with, no, thrashing, a young woman.

"This is Zelbia," Treandelode says. "She has been brought into the Tournament by the will of some elven interloper. Suppose you are to face her in the Tournament, or indeed, represent us without fail. In that case, you'll need to unlock your full potential and defeat your own inner demons."

"I've taken care of that, no problem," Draykan says, snorting. "The programming that the cult put in my head was fucked out of me by the goddess Xasandra."

"Bah, the goddess!" snaps Treandelode, scratching claws over the council seat. "She is not one who represents this council, nor does she represent the will of mortal dragons. We grow old, and we die, but at least we keep our dignity about it. She, on the other hand, has changed into something wholly unrecognizable—something perverse."

"Tough words to say of a goddess," Draykan says, hands on his hips. "As a Knight of Love, part of my duty is to respect the will of the Divine. And really, they're allowing me to have some fun and show off my skills in the Tournament. I can't help but wonder what's going on with Xasandra and all of you."

"Playing your failures close to your chest, are you?" Treandalode says, standing, narrowing his eyes. "We know that the price she gave for healing you was the conception of a child."

"Ooof… yeah… You got me there."

"That child is going to be a menace to all of dragon kind," the female says, stroking her thumb and forefinger along a whisker. "It'll be a throwback to the days when we were nothing but terrorizing monsters and not the intelligent and benevolent benefactors that we are today. If we can secure it, we will be able to give you what you most desire—the ability to unlock your true draconic form."

"That's really it, huh? You all can just whip up my true draconic self without any issue, and you need me to clean up a 'mistake' to do it? What's going to happen to the kid, my kid?"

"We'll raise it as best as we can under proper dragon tutelage," Treandelode says, sitting back down. "Given the circumstances, it would be best if you did not have interaction with it."

"It is the embodiment of your own darkness, after all," the third council member says. "If the two of you were to bond, you'd be no better off than you were when you dumped your darkness upon the goddess."

"I see…well, then, I guess I'd better go about finding a forgotten goddess somewhere in this whole wide world. I was hoping to get some rest between rounds, but I guess that's out of the question. Thank you, council, for bringing me here." He gives them a quick bow but turns and marches out of the room.

In the hallway, there stands the two-headed red dragoness--the council's ambassador. She sighs with one head and laughs with the other. "Cooler heads prevailed in that council meeting," one says.

"The council usually butts heads with younger dragons."

"Yeah, well, it didn't feel none-too-cool in there," Draykan says, continuing down the hall.

"If you need to let off some steam, I can help you," one head says.

"No need to quest when your focus is shot," the other adds.

"Nah," Draykan responds. "I know where I need to look. Come on, we're heading back to the Tournament Nexus."

La Floresian Eternale is the most luxurious resort in all of Anteronia. In a city that is all about pleasure, this superb hotel puts many other delights to shame. Because of its beauty and style, it was granted the title of "Nexus of the Tournament of Pleasure" by the organization anel, Hanioc. As it is a Nexus, the champions are allowed to come to and from this place as their hearts desire.

Draykan had been sitting in the lobby for days. His draconic patience is being tested as he seeks any news about one champion in particular. When the portal opens, and the waft of freshly-reaped hay hits his nostrils, he realizes his time has come.

Walking out of the portal is the brunette farm gal, carrying a giant pumpkin in her arms and straw of hay in her lips. She pauses when she sees the dragon sitting there in the reading corner, his eyes fixated squarely upon her.

With a sigh, she marches over towards his resting place. She plops the pumpkin down on the ground and sits atop of the squash, crossing her arms over her chest. "Well, well, well, if'n it ain't the dragon what done have a grudge with mah goddess."

"I need to speak to Xasandra, Blair."

Blair Garten spits her straw out, keeping her eyes upon Draykan. She huffs. "Well, that ain't exactly easy, ya hear? Mah goddess has a difficult time manifestin' in the world 'cause her power waned from the lack of followers over the generations. Of course, you could always try prayin' to her and see if that doesn't go about arousin' her."

He scratches the back of his head. "Something tells me that Xasandra isn't exactly ready to take my calls."

Blair slaps her knees. "Yer damn right, she ain't! Yew scorned her love because of some misbegotten attachment to year curse!"

"I was attached, I mean…" He sighs. "Look, it's frustrating, okay? I just want to extend some peace, maybe offer a dick or two as an apology, learn exactly what she has planned with the child. I thought you were a family woman—you should know about worrying about kids, right?"

Blair sighs. "Yer right. Ah, want what's best fer mah future little-uns. Ah know it's good to care for 'em and all that."

She scratches her chin, then snaps her fingers. “Come on," she says, pushing herself up.

"Where are we going?" he asks, following her towards one of the exit portals.

"Why, shucks, we're goin' to find a temple to Xasandra. That'll get you right up in her sphere of influence!"

The magical portal shifts them from the hotel's warmth and comfort to the deep dankness of a cold and moist cave. This lonely location has only one prominent feature: the island the two now stand upon, which has a large, weathered pillar with slight feminine hints.

"Well, Dray, here we are! This is the last central temple of Xasandra. It sure is something else, ain't it? The first time ah came here, it was quite the journey. But tah get here so simply—shucks, ahm thankful for this Tournament."

Draykan looks up at the mound. "So, this is a temple to Xasandra. So, what? I sit on this slab, and she comes to me?"

"Well, first, ya need ta make yerself an offerin' ta her."

Draykan's roaring voice echoes through the darkness. "I've already given you an offering, Xasandra! What more would you take from me!?

His voice is answered by another. This one is soothing, smooth, sagacious. "My child, you have come far to see me again. Is your temper better this time?"

The two visitors turn around to see the dragon emerge from the waters. Down her green scales flow rivulets of water. With her massive dragon form, she appears much more potent than any anthromorph could be. Through her single-hued eyes, she gazes at the two mortals as the lower forms that they are.

Blair falls to the ground, prostrating herself before her goddess. Draykan, instead, stands tall, though he is dwarfed by her full draconic glory.

Draykan's eyes go down along the magnificent body of the dragoness, only to notice something. 'W… what happened to the… you know?"

Xasandra's snout turns in a small smile. "Ah, the child? It is well, living a life I've designed for it. You need not worry anymore."

"The hell I don't," Draykan says, gritting his teeth, growling, and snorting. "That is my seed and my curse that conceived that child, and I should be responsible for it… for it and every other baby I put in your oven, or anyone's oven. Hell, I'll do you two right now and raise both of those kids with respect!"

Blair blushes.

"You're much too much of a wild being for what Blair requires," Xasandra says, her draconic form disappearing and taking on the more familiar anthropomorphic one. She approaches him, her motherly hips swaying, her breasts bouncing, her scales shimmering in the scant light of the bioluminescent algae. "You're much more of a lover than you are a father. I've seen you. I've watched you." She leans in, whispering into his ear. "I know what you've done with that one from the future. You didn't even have a second thought about her, did you?"

Draykan pulls himself back. "Well, I didn't know, so,"

"But you might as well have known," Xasandra says. "If I show you one of my newest children, one who has just reached the age of maturity, could you resist the temptation to bed her? Could you be her surrogate while she learns about the world around you?"

"And then you'll give me my kid?"

"No…" Xasandra says, walking up to him, pressing a finger upon his forehead. "Something better."

Draykan falls to his knees, gasping, panting, feeling something course through his body, feeling as if he had awakened from a lifelong sleep in a single moment.

"As long as you can keep them in your pants with my chosen child," Xasandra says, "You'll have your abilities to transform into your full draconic form. How's that sound?"