FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

This story contains M/M sex of a (sort of) non-consensual nature about half-way through, but it's mainly story. Enjoy.

~

It seemed a fair trade at first: he gave me the cloak woven from shadows with a pocket dimension sewn into the lining, it even had a Morhg (once-humanoid assassins, now undead abominations) and a small army of personally crafted undead cold-bloods (a term used for any compilation of reptiles, dragons, dinosaurs, et al); a set up that any necromancer would barter his being to attain. I couldn't believe my great fortune when the Arcane Lion offered it to me, I even agreed blindly to his terms without a second thought. That doesn't go to say that his end of the bargain was anything impossible or Hell-worthy (like giving him my entire being as mentioned earlier), but after I donned the demon-envied cloak, I soon came to suspect that this was too good to be true.

"What task do you employ me for?" I inquired of the lion. He was an Arc Blood, one with a heritage that grew stronger through death and dark magic, while I am but a lowly necromancer; it's said to be approached by one such as he denotes both terrible omen and great fortune. His golden eyes smiled behind a silver mane and black fur, trademarks of the Arc Blood, "I need you to attain some information for me," he said simply, "It is in and about a land I dare not tread upon, which is why I seek your assistance."

"It must be a land on Hell's borders to give me such token as this," I replied cynically. I knew this lion as well as a next door neighbor, and also knew that he would never ask for help unless he had absolutely no choice, "Or a land that a warm-blood - such as yourself - would have political hassle traveling through." The lion smirked, and I knew I my latter reason was his.

"I'm glad you understand. Yes, this is a society completely inhabited by cold-bloods, and since mammals are not only considered extinct, but thought to be myth by many, it would not be in my best interest to gather this information personally; namely, a certain tome I require to further my research."

"Which is why you want a lizard to attain it for you?" I smirked, knowing full well. He explained that he needed his data written in a Quantome that I'd had only dreamt of: the hard-back bindings were near impregnable, and pocket dimensions were sown on the inside covers so that tens of thousands of pages could be hidden inside, but show only very few sheets; I'd made a few, but the best of my abilities was limited to 25 for every 4 (while a high achievement, it paled in comparison to what my comrade accomplished). I was amazed at his workmanship, and in my haste I opened the book to find the single-digit sheets, but nothing else, no matter how many times I flipped them back and forth. The lion gave a hearty laugh, and I knew that he was even skilled enough to make the book show just few blank pages to anyone who shouldn't be looking through it. He tapped the spine and runes began forming across the page, and with a smile I flipped through the never-ending sheets a bit for amusement before closing it and tucking it away. He gave me a week to get well acquainted with the new equipment and the Morhg (the small undead army showed minimal free-will, so obedience was to be expected).

At week's end, he bid me a fair voyage as I pushed off on the undead wyvern from the cloak, letting my senses guide me to my destination. It took a few days crossing the ocean to find the society the lion told me of, revealing it to be a sort of Roman-esque cityscape peeking over the horizon. He'd only told me bits and pieces about the society, and a few notes in the Quantome, but beyond that it was new territory (which was why he needed me to find out information). It was midnight when I arrived, feeling it an appropriate and safe time to enter the seaport. As I landed on abandoned dock, I thought it necessary to enhance my disguise.

Transmuting was a minor yet required skill for my necromancy studies, so changing my skeletal structure to look more like a velociraptor and less than a normal swamp lizard was simple enough. I hopped from the undead wyvern as it bowed his head, then throwing my cloak over it to let it climb back into the pocket dimension. Then it struck me, with my structural changes I also needed to change my skin color to something less conspicuous as crimson and ebon; also child's play. I threw the billows of my cloak behind my shoulders, as not to appear too dark and evil, standing proud as a traveling velociraptor with tan skin with red markings, black toe sickles, and a modest crest of feathers behind my head; as a final touch I changed the cloak from a demonic black to a friendly sequoia brown.

I decided it best to start on the major notes of society when it was day, an apt time for bustling crowds and enough light to get a full glimpse of the architecture. I looked about, spotting a sign that simply said, 'INN', and headed toward it. A gentle clink of metal sounded beneath one of my toe-claws to spur my attention; with much amusement I came upon what I reasoned a piece of local currency. Holding it to the faint moonlight, I beheld a silver coin bearing a draconic profile, "Lord Tres'saklian..." read the inscription on the edge; I spat upon and wiped the monetary unit to toss it into my mouth, tasting its content and feeling its contours with my tongue. Swallowing the silver coin I continued to the inn and peaked inside, finding what one could assume the night shift, palpably bored as he stabbed a dagger between his fingers. He was a large brute, a triceratops from the looks of it, and quickly glanced up as I approached the counter before setting the knife down.

"Need a room, aye?" he spoke with what I could only guess was cordiality, despite the evident gravel in his throat. I nodded gently and dipped my talons into a pouch hanging from my belt, but only so he couldn't see the silver I forged from the sample nestled in my stomach, and placed a few freshly-minted coins onto the counter before the triceratops.

"Aye, that would be what we take," he said, turning around and retrieving a key from the array of hooks behind him. It was then I noticed his sheer lack of clothing, and what he did wear was merely a loincloth strapped round his crotch, leaving his entire backside bare save the string to tie and a crossed belt; he had a finely built frame for such scantiness, but I had expected pants (and soon felt rather over-dressed). He turned around once more to offer me the key to my room, which I took with one of my warmest-looking smiles.

"Ye look a light traveler, mind ye sit a spell and chat? Damn lonely, the night shift," he said. I tilted my head curiously and nodded, "Alright, I wasn't planning to sleep soon, anyway." At this the gruff lips on his beak-like snout curled to what I hoped a hospitable grin; he threw a thumb at 2 stools on either side a high table, to which I approached and grabbed a seat.

From another pouch he pulled out a small piece of paper and tobacco, creating for him a smoke, and then offered some to me; I politely declined and pulled out a pipe of my own (only smoking specially grown leaf). With a light and a puff he sighed softly, leaning an elbow on the table as he blew a hefty cloud of smoke into the air; myself puffing gently from my pipe.

"Ah..." he breathed contently, and then looked to me, sticking the fag between his lips and resting his now free paw in his lap, "So stranger, ye named?" I blinked, sliding the pipe to the corner of my jaw and holding it there, letting smoke exit my nostrils, "Dusk," I replied simply, then deciding to add, "Dusk Bonesmith."

"A Bonesmith, are ye? Ha! Haven't seen a bonesmith in ages, everyone uses iron nowadays," he gave another hearty guffaw. I forced a smile at his simple amusement, supposing not to tell him the real reason behind my surname; would've certainly earned a suspicious glance. "Now that my name's known," I continued after the triceratops calmed, "Perhaps I might partake of yours?"

"O' course, pardon m' rudeness, 'tis Mahnt Rockhorn," grinned the brute, holding out a leathery paw across the table as the intercontinental sign of mutual agreement. I grasped it firmly and shook, glad that my first night here I had gained an acquaintance; he shivered notably, pulling his paw away and holding it bemusedly. "Gods, ye've got the coldest grip I ever felt," he grimaced. I only grinned to step from my perch and close the gap between me and the fire's warmth, kneeling upon the stone hearth to face the icy palms at the blaze. "Ocean traveling will do that," I reasoned, looking over my shoulder at Mahnt, "They just need a bit of warming, is all." I honestly hadn't felt their drop in temperature, but assumed the rest of my body was the same way. "Are there baths in the rooms?" I asked of the inn worker.

"Aye, and maybe ye should get some hot food in ye; I've sailed the seas at night and know the cold gets harsh," he told, flicking the butt of his cigarette into the fire with impeccable accuracy, the smell of tobacco drifting out. I nodded, standing in my reply, "What's on the menu?"

"Just leftover stew, Titus, our cook, 's in bed and gets mean if woken."

"A big guy like you scared of disturbing a cook's slumber?" I challenged in playful manner.

"Only when said cook be the owner of this here inn and a size bigger longneck," smirked Mahnt. I laughed when he did, assuming that by "longneck" he meant "brachiosaur" or "brontosaur", I always got those mixed up. Making a mental note of the nomenclature thus observed, I followed the mostly-naked triceratops as he led me to the kitchen.

It seemed a very quaint room, what one might expect from a small inn, though all the utensils were evidently designed to accustom the giant of a cook that Mahnt described earlier (myself feeling a good deal smaller). He pointed to the wide but short pot sitting on the stove, pulling 2 bowls from a cupboard and using a ladle to scoop stew into them both. I could honestly say that I'd never smelt such a delicious substance in the longest time, soon recalling my normal diet of marsh critters and plants. I just about chugged the bowl the instant he handed it to me, and melted in heavenly warmth as the stew cascaded through my gullet. Almost instantly my body began to heat, myself letting out a pleasant sigh.

"Who's this?" voiced someone from the door. I looked up, setting the bowl down, as did Mahnt, gazing over to find a thick bodied stegosaur. His attire wasn't different at all from the triceratops's, except his belt was kept around his waist, as opposed to crossed over his back; of course, that fashion could be expected taking into consideration the plates running his spine. "Raze, this be Dusk, a patron and out-of-towner," he said gesturing to me as the stegosaur stood beside him, looking right to my eyes; I felt like I was being put on trial from his stare, but I did not flinch or cower. Mahnt finished his introductions, looking to me and gesturing to Raze, "Dusk, this is Raze, my beloved," smiled the night shift, his arm swung around and hugging his mate's waist, whom went from sour to sweet as he leaned into Mahnt.

Mental note: homosexual relationships openly practiced.

"Hi," I pushed out, smiling politely as I held my claws behind my back, "It's a delight to meet you."

"Why so nervous?" chuckled Raze.

"Not nervous, just very tired," I lied, plenty nervous, "Icy trek ending in a hot meal ... I'm ready to wash up then hit the bed for a long, hard rest." I gave a toothy smile and began to walk from the kitchen, then heard Raze say to Mahnt, "Mmm...maybe we should get some long, hard rest, too." They then chuckled to each other, and the sound of what I could only guess was affectionate touching; I hurried upstairs and to my room, designated with the tag of the key. It's not that males' indulging in each other's attentions bothers me; but when one's origin comes from a landscape as unforgiving as a marsh is, one learns that a mateship must be able to procreate. Suffice to say, there was no such luxury as a choice lifestyle.

It was silent and dark in the upper corridor, much to my relief, the shadow cloak reforming itself around my shoulders, my body simply returning to original shape and color (the gentle, momentary numbness made it evident); I unlocked the door and let myself in, then secured it behind me. I kept the lights off, more accustomed to the darkness and silver glow of the moons through the window. Upon scanning the room I found it plain and homey. There was another room leading beyond a door, assumed the bath, an aspect I actually looked forward too; peeking inside I was amazed to find indoor plumbing, and pointed to the hearth below the small water boiler to fire a spark and start warming the bath. Being cold blooded I wasn't able to create my own heat, so I've adapted to live off the cold and dark, but warm temperatures always felt like a little bit of heaven. I removed grimy clothes from my body and the shadow cloak, laying it all across the bed as I took the Quantome to the wooden tub in the room off to the side.

I twisted to the knob for the water, starting the flow to fill the tub, feeling the steam begin to gather. I purposefully dipped the Quantome into the water, just to make sure that the lion was as skilled as I hoped, watching the water slide right off, and no damage to the tome at all. A warm rumbling passed up through my body as I stepped into the filling basin, reaching a grasp to stop the flow. "Oh...my..." crept from my agape maw, setting the tome on a stool so I may sink beneath the surface and let my muscles relax. I sat under the water for a half-hour or more, my breathing subtle and eventually held to allow this prolonged period (a feat required for living in a swamp); at some point the water cooled to become lukewarm, signaling my emersion and begin my report of the first night here. To my surprise, I'd apparently written my mental notes down already; flipping through the sketch of the currency, a comment on their nomenclature, so on and so forth up to indoor plumbing. I smiled in amusement, realizing the lion was undoubtedly more skilled than I originally gave him credit for.

With some forced free will, I pulled the plug for the tub and let the water drain out, stepping to the bed with the tome tucked under my arm to casually toss it into the Shadow Cloak, then folding that on a chair. I stretched and yawned, lifting the covers and sliding beneath, the soft linen like a cloud around my body. I drifted off after only a few seconds of curling up with the sheets.

~

I'd awoken to the sound of hustle and bustle emanating from outside my window, the day had come and it was time for me to earn my keep of the Shadow Cloak. Kicking off the soft linen from my body I rolled out and onto the floor in a fluid motion, popping my spine and neck in numerous places as I stretched the slumber from my body. I motioned the folded Shadow Cloak to lift from the chair and wrap around my shoulders once more, instantly donning my raptor's disguise from the night prior.

Treading from the quaint inn room and into the sun-illuminated upper hallway, I found myself face-to-gut with what one could easily presume a certain "long neck" named Titus aforementioned by Mahnt. His torso resembled the shape of a barrel, plump muscle with a faded green-gray skin covered simply with a pocketed leather apron, only wide enough to cover the space between his nipples (which stood out prominently on his rounded pectorals) and long enough to brush his knees. Certainly a thick-bodied fellow, his hands looked to be ham-sized rocks with fingers, though had no real distinction between them, his forearms, and wrists; if I wasn't careful, he could smack me right back to my marshlands. I tilted my head back to gaze up at the hulk of a cook/innkeeper, and there on the tree trunk assumed a neck was his head, a scar-toting face staring back at me; while not entirely intimidated by his size, I did feel humbled that he was the deciding factor of my staying here.

"Ye be the patron who done walked in last night?" he calmly interrogated in a bass voice that shook my intestines; his one good eye scanned up and down my modestly (over)dressed body. I wasn't sure whether to think this cordial or interrogative, but I suppose an innkeeper must keep taps on all those who take up board in his accommodations.

"Aye," I began, "there was also the leftover stew I partook upon succeeding my arrival; you've my compliments, gracious innkeeper, 'twas the best I'd tasted in years." My meager attempts of flattery to the giant; I did hope he took it kindly. He just stood there, then cracked a smile, to which I thought a good sign, "Awright Bonesmith, ye c'n stay, I jus' want'd t' make sure yer on th' straight an' narrow. C'mon down fer breakfast, almost time fer th' games," he explained whilst turning to the stairs; his backside, as I already came to expect, was completely bare. 'The games...' I thought to myself, lightly rubbing my chin.

Upon reaching the downstairs, I became bluntly aware with a trend in the citizens of this city-state: they were all male. I looked over the dozen or so individuals around the lobby, and not a single female could be seen; that doesn't go to say that all had muscle-bound bodies similar to the first 3 saurs I'd seen, but there was no doubt that the inn was thick with testosterone. I sat at a table and thought over the situation, glancing over the variety of thunder lizards in the room; herbivores and carnivores, horned and not, lithe and hulking. I kept as corner-based as possible; coming to a conclusion that this was either a unisex inn, or an inn specialized for homosexuals (the latter seemed rather outlandish, but possible nonetheless). With an eavesdropping ear perked, I listened in on a few choice conversations in attempts to find out more of these "Games" the innkeeper spoke of, though only daring to pick up a few words.

"...Gladiators..."

"...Tournament..."

"...Semi-finals..."

I felt enough information was gathered to fully grasp "The Games" on a basic level, undesired to know any more of what other men spoke about. With that I slid from the inn and into the streets to begin my information gathering, only to find that stores were closing as people (mostly, if not all, men) were heading towards a towering coliseum. I heard the door of the inn open behind me, the banter from inside picking up again as the random patrons walked out. I stepped to the side and watched them herded into the street and towards the coliseum; making a mental note that "The Games" must be something of a grand, ceremonial event.

"Hello Mahnt, Raze, Titus," I spoke up, spying the triceratops and stegosaur emerging with the brachiosaur behind them; I was a bit surprised to find him now wearing chest armor and a decorated loincloth, each with - I assumed - their preferred weapon. "Good luck in the games," I pointed out, making another mental note that citizens are allowed to partake the battles. They nodded and smiled, heading off to the coliseum. I pondered attending the audience of "the Games", but realized that if everyone was lead there like sheep, then the houses would certainly be empty. Opportunity knocked for an informational ransacking of the fair denizens of this city-state. I couldn't just go into a random house and search through the kitchen junk drawer for the lion's special tome, oh no, I sought the higher-ups, namely that charming palace the coliseum was built into. An idea struck me on the timing of my arrival, that perhaps it had been planned by that devious employer of mine.

At the palace gates I ditched my disguise and returned to the black, gothic marsh lizard I knew myself to be, easily ducking past the guards as I melted into the bountiful mid-morning shadows and slipped through the bars of the gate. Sliding through the outside court was a bit more of a challenge, since I couldn't quite press as flat against the walkway as I'd hoped; luckily enough, the 2 guards that were supposed to be watching the back door were too busy sucking out each other's tonsils to notice a shadow gliding over the stone. I stood and watched the guards make-out ... shaking my head in disappointment before jumping onto a column and scaling it with ease, having spotted a window a ways up while traversing the courtyard.

I hopped onto the outer sill and perched before the locked window pane, peeking inside to make sure no one was there (it'd have been easy enough to burst in with my undead army, but something of this importance needed to be handled with grace and stealth; I could use the undead on my way out). Shreds of the Shadow Cloak reached out like tendrils and slid through the cracks of the window frame, carefully unlocking the meager barricade and letting myself inside.

I found my current position in some sort of study, by glancing about I could tell that such a tome as the lion needed would not be here; there had to be a much larger collection of books deeper in the palace. Wrapping myself in my cloak of shadows I slid on over to the door; with the severe lack of direct sunlight, I could press myself against the walls and floor completely, and pass through even the tightest of spaces (I've yet to meld through solid objects). Gliding along the corridor, I stopped when I came upon a window and heard the thunderous roar of the crowd out in the coliseum, taking a moment to look upon the festivities; a tyrannosaur with a battle axe was fighting an allosaur with a sword and shield. I watched amusedly, admiring the technique as the 2 predators stepped together in a deadly dance; metal clashed on metal, a true testament to power and grace. It came to a bit of a surprise to find that the allosaur had accidentally (I assumed it an accident, anyway) grabbed and torn off the tyrannosaur's belt, leaving him completely naked from the waist down. At that moment, I'd remembered my mission and thusly returned to the search of a higher-level library in a lower-level of the castle.

Despite being a shadow I wasn't invisible, so any movement had to be subtly and with the utmost care, as to not frighten anyone who saw a rogue shadow drifting about. Much to my disgruntlement there were few servants wandering the halls, yet they all had timed their cycles perfectly to keep me hiding in corners and behind passerby; if more were present I could weave through their legs unnoticed or travel from shadow to shadow like a stone skipping over the water; as it stood my advancements were retarded by casually-moving individuals. I felt myself going around in circles, riding as a remora on a shark while I jumped from pedestrian to pedestrian; the ones that particularly riled me were those who stepped into a dark closet, awaited by their lover (there was no point in counting how many times it happened).

I could only take this mind-numbing Mobius for so long before I threw my metaphorical arms in the air, and jumped off at the next darkened hallway I came upon to rethink my plan of action. A revelation then rang like a church bell: I needed a puppet. I smirked, having always wanted to try out the influence I had over the dead on the living (difference being the presence of will power). I waited patiently like a frog on his lily pad for a weak-minded fly to come drifting by, and wasn't disappointed when a procompsognathus (or compy, for short) came to view. Just by looking at him I could tell he was one of those half-pint scavengers that sat on the sides of an arena and dreamt of being as big and sultry as the warriors fighting. When he stepped close enough, I quickly snagged onto his shadow and whispered into his ear, adding a subtle echo to my voice to give it a convincing mystic-sounding appeal.

'I know what you dream of...' I began, enjoying the skeleton that leapt from his skin.

"Who's there?!" he shrieked, whipping around quickly to search the empty corridor in frantic breathlessness.

'Do not be afraid, I'm not going to hurt you.'

"Who are you?" he asked, looking from the corners of his eyes, frowning as he did. His trust would be simple enough to gain.

'I am but a humble spirit. Hold out your hands and I will show you my power.' He did so quickly but shakily, perhaps conceiving my notion a command rather than an offer. I reached out my alchemic skill and formed a small pile of silver coins into the shaky cup of his paws; making the silver was easy enough, the trick was to present it as magic. His eyes went wide; his jaw dropping as he stared at the shining loot, the gentle tinkle of coin was heard as he tested its validity. I don't know how much I gave him, it really didn't matter because I quickly gained his trust after he tucked the currency into a purse on his waist.

"What is it you want with me?" he asked with a lighter demeanor, my plan assuredly succeeding.

'There is a tome in this castle that I am seeking, a very special tome; it is kept inside a library locked away in the deeper sanctum. Please bring me to it, and you will be rewarded greatly.'

"But..." he began, shrinking back, "That's supposed to be a secret, any servant caught in there will be punished severely...no amount of silver is worth that."

"I do not intend to pay you in silver for this most high of risks..." I replied, baiting the hook for my puppet.

"Then what..." he began, his sentence cut off when I conjured a full length mirror before him, his scrawny, meek build staring right back. He looked on in absolute raptness as the image grew and bulged with rock-hard muscle, his height a full head taller, and to seal the deal his fashionable loincloth sagged from the increase of mass it held. He could only stare at the incredibility, licking his lips before striking a few powerful and sultry poses. When I felt that was enough fantasizing, I quickly shattered the glamour, which made him whimper and reach out at the image not there.

"What? Wait!" he cried out softly, searching the bare floor for any shards of the mirror that might've survived.

'Bring me to the secret library, and that body will truly be yours,' I enticed. He nodded quickly and jumped to his feet, speeding off down the hall before I stopped him once again, 'Be casual, should suspicion rise of my presence, then I'm afraid my power will have no effect.' At this he nodded again and regained his composure, to which I sighed to myself, quietly drifting in his shadow as he padded down the hall.

My mission felt more certain using such a method as a traveling host than shadow-hopping and relying on luck to reveal the library to me. This way also allowed my focus to rely more on figuratively reaching out into the shadows and feeling for irregularities that might imply a hidden room, as opposed to making sure that the one I was riding on didn't know I was there or no one saw me jump to another shadow. Amusing, it was, to watch the compy slipping past other servants in the single-minded goal that he'd be like a shining Adonis to them all when his duty is completed. Before too long, I spotted a large iron door guarded by stern looking, sharp-toothed musclemen covered in fully-covering armor, each wielding spears and shields; this, undeniably, was my destination.

"I cannot go any further..." whispered the compy as he hid behind a corner, peaking over at the guards and their stone-faced expressions, no visible movement seen.

'Fret not,' the servant was reassured, 'for I can. Now go and rest your head; when you awaken, you shall have your reward. I detached from him and disappeared into the shadow of a pillar. I saw him smile wide and hopeful, then scamper off like a child to a circus. I shook my head at how easy it was to manipulate him like that, had I known it were so simple, I'd've done so long ago. In any case, he would be sleeping in a matter of moments. Due to the silent incantations I'd been placing on him ever since I first made contact, his body would tone up but it would be truly noticeable only to him, and he won't remember the fine details of having ever spoken with me.

I looked upon the unfortunately well-lit hallway leading to the iron doors, and the statuesque guards' ever vigilance. With a bit of thought, I concluded that having gotten this far by stealth and trickery, the best way to get past them would be to let my Morgh deal with the obstructions. I pulled back my cloak and allowed for the undead abomination to step into the air, its stance upright and calm, hands at its sides as it awaited my instruction. I merely needed to gesture at the guards before the assassin dashed off with demonic speed, and shot forth the fanged, intestinal tendrils coiled about its bony arms; one for each guard squeezed into a weak point of the armor and injected paralyzing venom into their veins. They went limp before they even had a chance to comprehend their predicament; the Morgh caught them both by the throats and set them down quietly. It stood and faced me as I approached, then gave a courteous bow and ducked back into the cloak while I stepped over the guards' sleeping masses and entered the iron doors. I never dreamt of such incredible skill.

The inside was more what I'd envisioned a library to be, one which would hold a tome of such caliber as to have the lion expend great lengths for its retrieval. The bookcases towered 50 feet high, and numbered in the numerous dozens; I couldn't imagine how much information was stored in this vault of knowledge. To find a single book among tens of thousands would take longer than I had before the Morgh's venom wore off (no small feat), and I couldn't sense any sort flux in magic; another opportunity presented itself to my necromancy. I opened my cloak once more, in doing so set free a swarm of plague-ridden locusts into the air, spreading like a black mist through the aisles of the library, in search of the great tome, for certainly they knew what the lion sought. I padded over to the closest shelf and pulled a book from its place while waiting for the locusts to return; it was a simple piece of literature, printed on the front that it was simply filled with records of past gladiators.

'Champions...rewards...citizen and prisoner participation...in-battle sex...' I shook my head and set it back into place. This city was almost laughable in the rampant eroticism; I suppose with no real need to keep popping out hatchlings - like in the swamps - such lustful ambitions were not only permitted, but encouraged. Actually, the current lifestyle was, perhaps, a response to over-populating. Ianting that aside, I came upon another book of simple history; this explained how a previous emperor reigned and brought upon "L'Vadia" its golden age.

"So the city is named L'Vadia..., 'In that time, the peoples were growing in richness and culture', blah blah blah... 'Females', 'Separated cities', 'Time of mating'. Well, that does explain quite a lot," I thought aloud, closing the book and replacing it on the shelf. Obviously, there's a sister city populated exclusively with females, and there's a time each year when certain citizens meet and procreate. Traversing the broad aisles, my eyes tilted at the ceiling, spotting the swarm rapidly zipping down the rows before hovering just feet above me. Impressively, the locusts dropped a small book, to which I caught and examined. The bindings were indistinguishable from any other book in storage; I was almost discouraged, but remembered that the best way to hide secrets was in plain view. The plague cloud returned to the folds of the cloak; I contemplated my mission complete and wagered to spend another day or so to inspect the female city. However, my thought process was interrupted by a noise from behind before I came to any real decision.

"Impressive trick," sounded a deep, alluring voice from behind and above me. Keeping my crucial cool, I glanced over my shoulder to find a towering figure of, predictably, muscle and heft. This one seemed different though, so it warranted me a pivot and an inspection. There he was, undeniably, the emperor, "His Majesty", a sunset bronze dragon clad in silk robes from the waist down, tastefully slotted on the sides to let his thighs breath. It seemed every inch of his chiseled body was adorned with bejeweled gold, whether it was bands with chains dangling from them or muscle-forming plates; not to mention the variety of piercings and rings, like on his crown of horns, around his fingers, and in his nipples and eyebrows. I had to raise both eye ridges to this elaborate individual.

"Thank you. The emperor, I presume?" I asked calmly, as if I had bumped into him at the bar instead of in his secret library.

"Lord Tres'saklian," was his reply, acting similarly. He hardly seemed outraged by my presence or that a swarm of locusts disappeared into my cloak.

"May I call you 'Lord Tres', for short?" I mused, noting that I shouldn't be smarmy to the very last person I wanted to run into on my mission...yet there he was, and he seemed - dare I say - delighted to see me.

"And who might you be?"

"Oh...right," I replied, sweeping my arm beneath me and politely bowing before the royal dragon, "Dusk Bonesmith, necromancer. I was just on my way out, so I'll show myself the door..."

"Hold it," commanded Lord Tres, extending a leathery wing with golden adornments to block my path. It would have been simple enough to slice open the membrane of his aerial limbs, but I decided to humor him a bit more, "You have taken something of mine, and I'd very much like payment for it." I had a feeling he wouldn't want silver.

"I'm sorry, but I didn't come to L'Vadia for its culture; I'm here strictly on business..."

"My lord!" echoed an abrupt shout from the library door, for the armored thugs burst in, still looking a bit weary, "Stand back, your highness, we'll deal with...!"

"I suggest you reconstruct your disguise, Bonesmith," whispered the draconic tyrant hastily as he raised his arm to halt them, back still turned upon the soldiers. Admittedly, I was shocked that he would go so far as to pretend I wasn't an evil death-dealer, or that he even knew of my disguise, but I followed his lead and returned to the "hookclaw" mask. "Stand down, men," said Lord Tres cordially; turning to face them with an elegant sweep of his tail and wings, he held out an arm to present an earth-tone raptor, "Dusk is my guest, not an intruder." The guards look bewildered but complied, nodding and bowing; this, also, surprised me to see them up and about so quickly, considering I've seen the Morgh's venom paralyze an elephant for at least a few hours. There was something more occurring here than I originally intended, and kept strictly to the concept of friendliness.

"Dusk Bonesmith," I smiled. Tres's monstrous arm clapped my back and I nearly fell forward, he guided me past the guards and I gave no resistance.

"Yes sir, your majesty," chimed both guards, standing at rigid attention as Lord Tres'saklian tread past. They closed the iron doors of the magnificent library and locked them shut, resuming their posts as the king and I padded down the hall.

"Come, my friend," spoke the dragon, "The eagerly awaited Finals will be upon us in mere hours, and I would like to speak with you in my chambers before you join me to watch them." I did not like where this was going, but the grip on my back was enough to keep me from escaping by any stretch of imagination, and wild desperation simply was not an option. I did not even dare to use dark arts to subdue or kill him, because there was a particular void in his aura that made me awkward. Now, with the chance to see the actual beauty of the palace, I observed the ornate tapestries and floral arrangements, various paintings of old monarchs or displayed relics from past wars and tournaments. Tres kept eerily quiet the whole time on the way to his room. Finally, we came upon the majestic oaken doors of his private chambers, guards standing like statues only moving to salute their emperor while giving me little notice, much to my appreciation. The grand slabs of ornate wood clicked behind us, and a gentle whirring could be heard for an instant as it locked of its own accord.

"Now then, to business," he said in a stern voice, removing his robes and some of his more obtrusive jewelry, letting his hefty genitalia swing freely between his thighs. I grew steadily uncomfortable, but remained standing as I looked about the regal living space: large, 4-poster bed with silk sheets and curtains, expensive looking furniture, the space of the room could easily fit the whole lower floor of the Inn, a painting of a different dragon decked out in, astonishingly enough, conservative war armor hanging above the bed. All of which was impressive, to say the least, but his casualness with nudity wasn't encouraging. I then noticed the servant boys who were attending the discarded regalities, 4 raptors, all of whom were dressed similarly to the king and just as naked; they must've been at least a few years into maturity, so they weren't underage.

"Please, don't stand upon my threshold like a stranger. Relieve yourself of your cloak and join me in a light meal," his arm raised and with a clear, conductive snap of his fingers, the 4 servant boys went about quickly and quietly to ready the emperor's dining area. One of them approached me and attempted to remove my Shadow Cloak...

"My apologies, good lord," I insisted by nudging the servant away, "but this cloak is on loan from a very ... powerful ... friend, who fervently demonstrate upon me various ways of just how blurred the line between life and death can be, if I were to lend it to anyone else for whatever reason."

"Oh ho!" laughed Tres, to which he seemed utterly delighted to hear, for some reason, "How fascinating! Well then, my honored guest," he gestured, "At least join me in relaxation? Certainly your friend did not lend you those pants and shirt."

I could only look at him sprawling upon the silken pillows next to a long, low wooden table sporting an arrangement of small cooked birds, bowls of fruit and cheese, and goblets of red wine. Goodness, those servant boys are fast. "I can't argue with that, kind lord," I admitted. First, I hesitantly removed my shirt by unbuttoning it, glancing up to the emperor - whom went back and forth between watching me and being fed grapes by one of the stoic servant boys - and then pulling it off. Next, my pants; these made me blush the tiniest bit as I undid the ties and let the cloth bundle about my ankles. Lord Tres seemed more delighted to this - I don't know why, compared with any nymphomaniac in the city I had nothing to brag about. The servant boys quickly attended my discarded clothes. As a final gesture I yanked the sequoia cloak from my shoulders and whipped it around my waist, in the process my guise fell and I returned to the menacing swamp lizard; I didn't lose much muscle tone, but I was hunched over more so. The cloak acted as a covering for my legs that fell past my knees and about my waistline; this apparently disappointed Lord Tres'saklian, but he then laughed as I plopped onto a large pillow.

"Why so modest, Dusk? Even in your true form, you're very easy on the eyes," he winked and drank from his goblet after whiffing it. There were 2 boys attending him, one keeping with his food and drink, the other massaging his shoulders and neck; similarly, 2 boys began servicing me, and I realized why this draconic monarch needed 4 boys, and not just 2. I, admittedly, began to relax; the candles on the table were scented and the wine smelt of some type of sedative, even the boy's paw's on my shoulders seemed an attempt to trigger sensitive nerves to make me less resistant. This emperor knew what he was doing, but necromancy has me dealing with poisons and physiological manipulation on a scale beyond what I was experiencing currently. Actually, it felt almost enjoyable. I swug the draught and tossed grapes into my maw, munching for a moment before being poised a question I was not apt to answer.

"So tell me, Dusk," he began, "What sort of 'business' are you involved with in my humble city?"

"'Humble' isn't how I'd describe L'Vadia, but that isn't something I'm privy to explain."

"How so?" he inquired, eyes wide like a child listening to a fabulously tense story.

"Because I don't know what it is," I said simply and off-handedly, he looked put-out, "I was told to come here and attain some information about the city."

"Who, exactly, told you to come here?" he sounded a bit more cautious, now.

"A friend of mine," was my only response. If he knew a lion sent me, what an uproar it would cause.

"Another necromancer?" he grew excited once more.

"The very same who made this cloak," I boast, but just a little.

"Leave us," he ordered instantly, sitting up and motion for the boys' dismissal. They stood and walked off solemnly and immediately; "Perhaps," he continued when they were gone, "you could show me another trick, yes?" he grew excited once more, leaning forward a bit on his cushions, tail twitching uncharacteristically.

"Well..." I pondered this. True, it would be uncouth to flash about someone else's hard work as my own; then again, I could always show him some of my own training, and if I could distract him long enough to make an escape... "I suppose one trick won't hurt, but I refuse to exploit my friend's magic for entertainment, so instead I'll use some of my own teachings." His eyes lit up and his wings lightly fluttered, causing the candles to flicker. "Come, sit by me."

"Perhaps my bed would be more comfortable? It is larger," he opted, motioning to the massive sleeping area. I shrugged and stood, watching him hop to his feet and loosen his regal demeanor when he climbed onto the silken sheets; his actions were like that of an eager lover. I grabbed a candle and a finger-washing bowl from the table before following, stepping up and walking with my knees to the anxious dragon. Sitting back on my ankles while still on my knees, himself cross-legged, I set the water bowl between us.

"Please close the curtains," I instructed setting the candle into the water bowl so that the wax remained above the surface. My hands held out, I lowered my eyes and grinned, sensing a great deal of death in the city; my fingers directed the subtle smoke to orbit its source, forming in the air an arcane circle. The emperor looked solemn, but rapt.

"The air of L'Vadia is thick with past turmoil," I began, reading the runes and what they had to say. Certainly, my eyes would be glowing gently. "You ... are the emperor who brought the 'Golden Age'," I said; having gone into a trance, I only spoke what I suddenly knew, "You've lived in this prospering time for many generations, after your father, a great warlord, acting as a bringer of happiness and prosperity. This land was hard fought for, and the people flourished ... but the resources were limited, and could not sustain its citizens..." I felt the retrieved tome vibrating in the cloak, wanting to get out; Lord Tres'saklian looked frightened, but certain he wanted to continue. Needless to say, this was all thrilling for me.

"You had to make a dire choice: break the treaty with your past enemies and invade their land or attempt another option. The Senate refused the option of war, since your father labored his entire reign to defend the city, but the over-population could not be ignored. You were struck with a dream, one where 2 sibling cities each held half of the populace. One for the men and one for the women. Your beloved queen rules over L'Gadia, and you've both had many decades of happiness ... but the road was hard..." The book managed to writhe itself from its confines, as if pulled by another force, and lifted into the air, surrounded by the now extensive web of smoke-runes around the both of us. The pages flew open, soft screams echoed when it happened; the lion will be most pleased, I know he will.

"Many died in a rebellion, all of them opposed to the separated cities. Those who opposed the idea but supported you were made unable to breed and now live in the neutral zone, to care for the children who are born until such time they are to return to one of the cities. This tome ... is a roster of all those who fell in the bloodshed, of children who followed their parents in the revolt, or passed from anguish." I looked upon the emperor's face, his features almost hanging from his skull and once proud frame was slumped and shaking. Tears cascaded down his cheeks and into his lap, gripping the sheets with white knuckles and his tail curled pitifully around his legs. Gentle sobs were heard as he bit his lip and snorted for air. Images were seen in the smoke, much to my elated surprise, for the incantation supported itself, and I acting as mere translator. Bodies of families, faces of sorrow and grief formed in the now incumbent smoke, creating within the king's curtained bed space a massive throng of forlorn souls, and at the lead was one familiar soul, one I'd seen hanging on the wall just outside the silken boundaries. Tres glanced up to his father, sniffing pathetically.

"I'm sorry..." was all he managed to choke, keeping his hands in his lap and his wings around his body with unparalleled remorse; the expression on the older dragon hadn't changed, but seemed to grimace eternally. I felt something dribble onto my upper lip, and while relieved that it wasn't an embarrassing trail of snot I was mortified to find that blood spilt from my nose.

~

I heard a water drop in the distance. I felt a damp coolness on my forehead. Behind my eyes I felt pain of a railroad spike driven into my skull, but it was dull and fading. The last I remembered was the towering smoke figure of the previous emperor, and then, the best I could figure, my brain gave out. I was channeling hundreds of souls through the dark end of the elements of fire and water, and I only knew how to properly utilize water. It was a personal best for me. That damp coolness caressed my cheek and neck, and despite my efforts, I could not pushed it away or ask it to stop.

"Dusk?" came the deep voice of Tres. To hear him speak was ... pleasing? His musk was faint, but present, and it ... made me feel safe? A smile crept over my lips in spite of me, and my body writhed enough to arch my chest and legs, invoking a faint chill across my apparently naked form. Where was the Cloak? The lion's going to kill me, if I'm lucky!

But lions don't exist; they're just a fairy tale for whelps; mere myth, nothing more.

Well, no worries, then.

"Dusk, you're alright," spoke the deep voice again. I opened my eyes to find the handsome face of my ... beloved? ... Lord Tres'saklian, smiling in that special way he did, the kind of smile that only a ... gorgeous? ... dragon like him could accomplish. I erected my chest and gazed upon my own body, tan-skin with charming red markings; it certainly didn't feel or look like a disguise of any kind. Looking back to Tres, his muzzle touched to mine, and my heart melted with the deep kiss we shared. I was clay in his skilled paws, undeniably. I blushed and closed my eyes, trilling softly as I accepted that glorious tongue into my maw; I reached and grasped his neck to passionately embrace. I could feel my loins stir with excitement and anticipation, and the musk from his own ascending arousal filled my nostrils as only he could. He chose me for his lover recently; of course, it was an incredible event, and I accepted. He took me to his royal chambers for some intimacy before the finals. Oh, how my heart raced!

The bed shifted as Tres climbed atop and over me, gradually parting, but I suckled on his tongue before he could pull away. Straddling my lithe body, his royal scepter stood half-hard and already challenging my own phallus; I knew what he wanted, because I wanted the same. I curled up and got on my knees to lean forward, paws eagerly feeling over his godly build, tongue bathing his chiseled features, kisses planted anywhere and everywhere. His diaphragm rumbled to signal my accomplishment. I licked to trace through each individual muscle of his abdomen while my naughty graspers held his waist, gliding around to feel up that powerful rump. I glanced skyward to gauge his reaction when my fingers and palms lay upon his bountiful backside, and his response was not just a playful smirk, but his powerful buttocks flexed, also. I shivered and trilled just thinking about those hips pounding against me.

For the sake of time, I grabbed a hold of that draconic endowment and shoved it into my mouth, wrapping my lips fervently about its veined girth and plunging the fat tip into my throat. The tongue in my maw lashed and coiled against the throbbing flesh, exciting it to spray my gullet with warm pre; I swallowed and gulped until my nose touched to his musky crotch, and my chin to his hefty orbs. I was amazed I could engulf the entire length, considering the sheer size and bulk of it, while still breathing semi-comfortably. I quickly mixed my slickening saliva with his warm fluids to lubricate the rock-hard erection after pulling off, getting a string of the clear substance on my chin in the process. Licking my lips, I grinned up to my sexy lord and turned around with legs spread and tail hiked up, showing him my virgin pucker with heightened ... eagerness?

I felt cold air on my anus and willed to lower my oddly raised tail, but it wouldn't comply. I must've fallen over and struck my head or some such to be in a precarious situation as I was. The strangest thing, though, was that I practically had a veil around my head, or that my thought process had been rerouted. Thinking again on that unfavorable breeze across my haunches and surprising aroused genitalia, I realized the lack of Shadow Cloak in my possession and grew fearful for my very being if the lion-

Lions don't exist.

What? Of course lions exist.

Lions are just a fairy tail for whelps.

Bullocks, I saw a lion recently!

Lions are mere myth.

I see, it's growing clearer, now. And then I felt quite clearly something large, hard, hot, and pulsating push against my back entrance. 'I say, cease your invasion, you are not welcome there!' was what I thought, but for some reason the words came out as, "Oh, my lord, don't stop!" Incredible, it was simply incredible that I no longer had control over my own voice, or body for that matter. Memory of the séance returned gradually, specifically the time immediately following it, and Tres's paw on my forehead; he spoke in some incoherent language, except for a few key words I could decipher while in my brain-liquefied daze: 'forget' and 'mine'.

Mixtures of pain and pleasure shot through me with the single, strong motion of his hips, burying into my once anus his larger-than-expected penis. A part of my mind cried in pain, the other moaned in ecstasy; whoever or whatever I shared my head with quickly chaffed me. The pain didn't stop, so with every ounce of my energy I managed to 'position' that controlled part of my mind 'between' me and the involuntary sensations spurred from Tres's mounting...

I clenched and massaged that powerful manhood driving through me, making sure to keep every inch nice and tight. I felt some fluid dripping down my thighs and full orbs, which were smacked with each hilt; I would grind and thrust my body back against Tres's lustful plowing. I wanted this bliss to last forever, but my dear emperor had his duties, and only had a limited time. I bit my lower lip and held tight to a pillow, suddenly shrieking out with explosive desire as my orgasm racked my body. I clenched my toes and squeezed all the more around my lover's cock, feeling him slam my butt again and again; finally, his climax came, and my body trembled as he roared in dominance and pleasure. The hot rush of dragon-seed flooded through my bowels exquisitely, filling me up and trickling out my tight pucker. I panted, suddenly slumping into the puddle of our mess; his warm tongue caressed my neck and I shivered, suckling his shaft with my ass as he pulled out. I grunted and gasped, a sudden void was felt but the happiness Tres gave me was enough to compensate. A trill escaped my lips as a rope of cum splattered my buns and tail, "Ooooh, my lord," I moaned, blushing brightly to his manliness...

That was all I could take. I 'sat' off 'to the side' of my mind, 'watching' with disgust at how much of a slut this Tres made me. As soon as the dragon had his back turned - to be cleaned off by his little boy slaves - I 'grabbed' the pseudo-consciousness and 'killed' it; no one enters the mind of a necromancer uninvited without severe consequences. Unfortunately, I couldn't just let a 'dead' consciousness drift around in my mind, and if I held onto the diabolical enchantment, it would only poison me. Of course, if Tres could invade someone's head, he certainly could determine which 'me' was acting. I pondered if it were possible to make a 'puppet' of the implanted consciousness, and if I could, whether Tres would buy my farce. To attain such a 'puppet', I would need some type of physical anchor that I could hide on my person, and with a wonderful revelation, I remembered the coin in my stomach, and bound the 'dead' consciousness to it. Reading my own mind, I stepped from the bed and was cleaned off by the stoic slave boys, and even given a bowl to squat over; my ass hurt like a hot jagged poker was thrust in and twisted before yanked out, luckily a soothing balm was spread over the swollen red anus. "Come, love, the games await," was all I caught him say; there was plenty more, but between re-conquering my own mind and the sting of my posterior, I couldn't keep up with it all.

He was garbed in his slotted lower robes and array of golden adornments, glistening like some idol at a temple, just as before. I had a single loincloth - albeit, elaborate - that barely hid my genitals, along with some bracelets and a choker. I wore less cloth than I would dry my face with, but the 'puppet' considered it fancy dress. The Shadow Cloak, I suddenly remembered, was not in my possession, and I had to retrieve it or else the lion...

Lions don't exist.

I stopped dead in my tracks mentally, and it was all I could manage to keep pace with Tres without suspicion. The tyrant dragon's influence spread further than I could've imagined, and a like flash of light I had a stark revelation: since Tres lived for many decades, and has seen his Golden Age through numerous generations, he's had to live with the deaths of all the rebels and his own father all this time, but that's not all. Among the saurians was a large family of beasts, some plain, some striped, some spotted, but they were the last ones of their kind on the continent, and even helped the old king fight in the war. After the war, they were among the infantry that rebelled against Tres'saklian; I know this, because amidst the grand cloud of smoke during the séance, I saw the beasts even though I didn't recognize them at first. But why would the lion...

Lions are just a fairy tale for whelps.

And what about tigers?

Tigers are mere myth.

I stepped into the bright sunlight, pushing my thoughts behind me for the time being, squinting gently but aglow all the same as I tread behind Tres. Thunderous applause was heard when the emperor stepped into his private box, quickly attended to with wine and fruit by his servants. I took a seat in a small chair beside him, evidently for his guest or current lover. Down on the field, there stood the allosaur from before, his sword chipped and shield battered, but no worse for the wear, his opponent stood as Titus, wielding daggers on chains; both hardly wore rags and solitary plates of armor. Tres lifted a paw, and the fighters struck at each other furiously; despite the perhaps numerous bouts from this morning until now, both still looked at the top of their game. Not seconds as the fight began a servant approached the lord himself and whispered into his ear, invoking the dragon and growl low and annoyed. The servant cowered in profuse apology as Tres leant to look upon the kneeling guard at the entrance of his box. Sweat was seen trickling from his helm as the emperor approached the soldier, his eyes intently glued to the floor directly in front of him, which was soon filled by large dragon hindpaws. The guard lifted the visor of his helm and grasped his lord's foot, kissing each toe as a man dying of thirst would kiss a dewy rock, though I couldn't see his face, for it was blocked by the robes and legs.

"Forgive me, my lord," I heard him say between kisses, "I never took my eyes of the cloak, not for an instant, my lord, until it burst into flame!"

"'Burst into flame'?" asked Tres with agreeable skepticism, and though I only showed intent curiosity, I cheered for my employer on the inside, "Did any of the lanterns catch it?"

"No, my lord, any blaze was kept 50 feet at least from the cloak, but always casting light upon it from every angle. Please, my lord, forgive your servant," he pled.

"And what of the ashes?"

"There is none, my lord! The door flew off its hinges and struck me, and then a blusterous gale swept up the ashes and took them."

"How long ago did this happen?"

"Not seconds after I was locked inside with the cloak. I'd have come sooner, my lord, but the door flew right back into the doorway and I had to break it down to escape. Please forgive your servant, my lord."

"I see. Dusk," he turned to me and I jumped, admittedly, "Go and inspect the room with this guard, I would go myself but I have a duty to my people to oversee this tournament." He pivoted away from the soldier as I rose from my seat, meeting him halfway; he tugged from his finger one of the many rings, though this one was unique. "With this signet ring, you'll have access to any door in the kingdom. Now, find my cloak and do not return without it or information pertaining" he ordered. I was fairly certain that Tres fooled himself into thinking I was his loyal little sex toy, and the sheer size of the ring had me wear it on my thumb. When I approached the groveling male, I noticed that he, like the emperor, was draconic, but deep forest green; his demeanor flipped back to stalwart as he replaced his visor, he nodded towards the hallway, to which I followed. One of the oddest aspects of the dragon's armor was how it so completely covered his body, either protected with plate or chainmail; even his tail did not show any red through the series of customized iron plate and chainmail. He almost looked like a walking metal doll, one with swords hanging from each hip; the major difference, however, was his lack of wings.

All that sounded during the journey was the dragon's armor clanging against the carpeted stone, and all the guards along the way remained dead silent when I showed them the ring on my thumb. I glanced up at him and then to the floor, then back up to him again before speaking, "You're a dragon, I noticed," I said as nonchalantly as possible, "Haven't seen many dragons around here." He didn't respond in any manner. After what seemed the length of the palace, I came upon a door at the end of a long hallway with only the occasional slot in the wall for a window, and the odd torch betwixt them. The iron door I observed was obviously torn from its hinges, as the guard related, and then torn from its hinges a second time to lie pitifully on the floor. Something I did notice were dents on both sides of the door, so either the door was put on the backwards the second time or someone was trying to get in. Looking upon the slotted windows, I concluded that any gale had to have been conjured to even get into the hallway.

The draconic guard stood like a statue with arms crossed over his plated chest, and though practically invisible, I could feel his eyes drilling into the back of my head. Glancing over my shoulder I addressed him, "Good sir, is that your helm imprinted on both sides of the door?"

"Yes," he replied gruffly, "One when it struck me and the second when I broke it down."

"When did it strike you?"

"After the cloak burst into flame, but before the bluster," he reported with a tone concise and sharp; not even his tail moved, so it felt like I was talking to an empty suit of armor. But his eyes, they gleamed behind his helm, and in them was a soul that differed from the rest of the city, though I couldn't say why. I stepped into the room, over the bent door, in which time I examined the hinges in the door jam. "The lord doesn't believe your tale, you know," I commented, my true mannerism showing through, but just a bit. This dragon did not have wings, which were a key appendage to not only use magic, but detect it on a basic level, so I deemed myself sage. He remained silent as I crouched on the door, examined the bottom hinge, leaning forward and lightly licking the melted iron. "But you're right," I grinned over my shoulder to him, judging his reaction, "There was magic at work here."

"How-!" he spat, his pose jostled with loud clanging of his armor, having lost his stone-faced grace as he stepped forward. With a cough he put his paws on his hips, the tip of his tail twitching, "How do you figure, Master Dusk?"

"It would appear that the door was not only locked, but fused into place, that's why you couldn't just open it. And as you might know, iron doesn't fuse quickly without intense, spontaneous heat, like a firecracker. That in mind, your claims of the cloak's spontaneously combustion and disappearing into thin air becomes plausible."

"That's grand," his shoulders slumped and an armored paw held his chest, perhaps a sigh of relief, "But I doubt it will sit well with Lord Tres'saklian that his cloak is gone because of magic."

"Oh, but it hasn't left, good sir," I replied, grinning wide as I approached the draconic guard. How clever of my employer, how bloody brilliant. He stood rigid, though leaned back on his tail when I was meager inches away; my paw lay on his armored chest, and within its plates I could sense the ashes of the cloak hiding, each little bit a piece of the pocket dimension sown into its fragmented folds. I borrowed some magic from the cloak, and threw the dragon from his own iron case; the back opened up like a hatch, and out fell the jade fellow, eyes wide in surprise as rolled and hopped to his paws, his face in utter bewilderment. Staggering, he looked down to his undergarments, his cheeks blushing. When he attempted to speak out against my actions, he shut up instantly; maw gaped when a thick cloud of ash flew up from the iron plating. "The Cloak was just hidden in your armor. Now, stand still or this will hurt immensely," I instructed, the ashes forming into their proper form around my shoulders and down my back, my marshy form returning. I looked upon the naked dragon and pushed the set of iron back onto his body, metal clasps clanging as it attached to his frame once more. He staggered and held his head, looking at his arms and down his body, and while I couldn't see his face, I could tell that he was completely dumbfounded.

I hugged the beautiful Shadow Cloak about me, feeling its magic against my body once more. Looking to the guard, I approached far enough for him to draw a sword, his stance unwavering as he threatened to cut me asunder, "Not another step, vile monster." Whatever prior befuddling was long gone negated obviously by his still potent dragon blood.

"'Vile monster'? My good sir, I'm hurt," I reasoned, putting my paws in the air to show no ill-will, "I've only been here 2 days and already I'm accused of despicability. I speak fact: I am not half the monster as your lord, Tres'saklian."

"S-silence!" he ordered, though he could not cover the chord I struck, "Despite his past ... transgressions, he is still my lord, and I will stand by him," the dragon vowed despite the lack of belief even he had in such words; his loyalty certainly showed merit.

"Don't lie to yourself, good sir, you've seen grotesque happenings with Lord Tres'saklian and have kept silent, I can see it in your eyes and in your heart, for the Cloak has told me so." I thanked the plague locusts for this, even though the dimensional portal between here and there was broken, some influence still seeped through, "And I did not need the Cloak to know that Tres'saklian is your father as well as your lord."

The guard staggered once more, and almost dropped his sword, "I said be silent!" he bellowed. He pared for battle, glaring with such extremity through his visor that I even feared for my well being; despite it all, he did not step once towards me.

"Talk to me, son of Tres'saklian, tell me what you long to be let known. I can help."

"How...?" his sword lowered, heavy with the darkness he carried throughout his life, for by some twist of fortune he seemed to trust me.

"I need to find your brothers," I replied, lowering my hands and stepping forward, "please, take me to them."

"Do you know about them after reading my heart?" he asked, sheathing his sword in a fluid motion, his words were heft with sorrow.

"No, I used common sense: your father's been alive for a very long time, and I doubt that he didn't rut his mate on multiple occasions in his life. So either his sons are being held somewhere, or they are dead, because you're the only other dragon I've seen, and the only other dragon I've smelt."

"Very well, necromancer, I will bring you to their tombs perchance you would find assistance there," he said solemnly. "My name is Ianghes'set, by the way, but you can call me 'Ian'."

"Alright, 'Ian'," I replied, "I need a favor of you, before I am to attend the tombs. Please acquire for me a large slab of meat and bone from the kitchen, about 90lbs or so should suffice."

"I shall, but I would like to know 'why'."

"For a very simple reason," I smirked, adjusting the ring on my thumb, "I'm going to make a doppelganger to fool Tres'saklian, and I'll need the meat and bone for that. Please be quick, Ian, your lord will want to hear a report soon."

"I'll be back in a matter of minutes," and took off like a flash, which surprised me despite his heavy armor, and the minimal clanging that sounded when he ran. I turned once more and looked over the fallen door, stepping over it and into the holding cell. There were 12 lanterns set in a circle, and one larger 13th hanging from the ceiling right about a pedestal; I had only seen this arrangement once before. While it certainly had a holy intent in its conception, the particular set up before me had dark and sinister attributes, namely the dark steel casing of the brilliant lanterns and the obsidian pedestal. I had no doubt about Tres's intentions: he wanted to corrupt the Shadow Cloak further for his own ideals. I tossed about the irony of a dark cloak darkened further, but remembered that my employer explained that his undead creations were a special exception to the school of necromancy. On the circular floor, crudely drawn runes sat lifeless and pathetic, drawn with some type of cheap chalk instead of crushed bone or painted with blood. The runes were even drawn sloppily and for the wrong element, I didn't need to study them to know that these were an umbrella-class sealing runes gathered from a quick glance in a novice's textbook. 'I'd be insulted if it wasn't so laughable.' Silent clinking sounded from behind; I looked over my shoulder and delighted to find Ian and the prepared carcass of some type of livestock. "Excellent," I noted, "Thank you, Ian, now please, toss it into the air..."

His brow quirked, for his visor was up, and flung the raw, bloody flesh from its wrappings over the door. His face grew pale and he lurched back, falling right on his buttocks when numerous undead abominations launched their greedy claws and gnashing fangs from the folds of my cloak, latching onto and dragging the gory carcass into its depths. Ian was breathing hard, lip quivering and holding up a paw to protect fruitlessly.

"Wha-? Wha-?" he gulped, regaining his composure and climbing shakily to his feet, "I see why you had me throw it."

"They've grown hungry, and are hard to control while," I explained. Their famished, savage cries echoed through my head all the time I got the cloak back, but now turned into a subtle murmur of satisfaction.

"H-hungry ... are they not dead? How can they draw nourishment with rotting flesh?"

"Because they were given new life; I asked my employer how he conjured the living undead, but he - unfortunately - did not answer. All he replied was that it worked, and I needn't know more."

"Hold," he suddenly realized, "I thought you said you needed that carcass to make a double, and yet you ... feed it to your undead."

"Indeed I did, Ian, because as they digest the meat, I will draw from it the needed attributes from their very bodies to create a golem," I grinned, awaiting for the process to finish within the cloak.

"And how would you control it?" he pondered; I grew to like this fellow more and more, for he showed great aptitude for cleverness.

"I won't control it, but rather input into it part of my consciousness that's been severed from my mind. During my time here, I was put into a coma in the presence of your father, and I'm certain that he managed to alter part of my mind for his own ambitions."

"My lord..." he said to himself with a harsh grimace, lowering his head in disgrace as he balled his paws into fists. More and more, he grew hatred for Tres'saklian, and while not my intention it certainly seemed advantageous. I let out a soft sigh, smiling when I threw open the folds of the cloak once more, and like a hundred fine wires pulled through my body, I conjured the golem. Doubling over, I gasped for air, cringing as every golden band that was once on my own body - including the ring - left a smoldering welt.

"Ha-aaah!" I groaned, almost blinding from the stinging pain, tears trickling down my cheeks.

"Necromancer!" shouted Ian, his paw on my back and voice seemed distant; with all my willpower I retained consciousness, blinking and shaking to stand.

"Ow ... oh ... ooh ... The pain is ... subsiding," I insisted to the dragon, patting his arm and hoisting myself up with his support. I looked upon the expressionless raptor, eyes void of any emotion, as a living doll, and so was it incomplete. I gave another lurch, this time on purpose, and wretched from my stomach the silver coin I swallowed on my first night here and tied that pesky spare consciousness to. Ian watched curiously as I held the currency between index, middle and thumb; with a snap of my free paw, the doll opened it maw for me to toss in the silver bit. My paw pressed against his smooth stomach, and unlocked the seal on the raptor's mind; as he was waking up, I stepped behind Ian and melded into his shadow, as if walking through a curtain. "When he comes to," I instructed to the dragon guard, throwing some ashes over the floor of the hallway, "Just pretend that the cloak has lost its power, and try to gather up some of the ashes I spread." He nodded silently.

The doll's eyes lit up when the spell finally took hold, his body loosening and swaying on the spot. Shaking his head, the raptor looked about, crouched on the door, and then looks behind him, past the dragon, "Looks to me that the door was welded in place, definitely the work of magic. Also, it would seem that the ashes have scattered out over the hallway, but they're hard to see..." he used both paws to comb through the long carpet, bringing up a small pile of ash. "Let's return to Lord Tres'saklian, there's nothing more, here," he concluded, clapping his paws as he stood. His eyes then travelled over Ian's body, and I could see a lustful, bashful glint shimmering in his gaze; I suddenly yearned to strike him. Returning to Tres's viewing box, both Ian and the raptor bowed respectfully to the dragon emperor; the finals were over and the post-tournament entertainment was performing on the center field, all I knew or cared about it was that the audience enjoyed loudly. The raptor gave his report solemnly and returned the signet to Tres.

"I see," he began, placing the ring back on his finger as he turned to one of his servant boys, "Inform the housekeepers to take the utmost caution in cleaning the far-western hallway, and to collect every speck of ash they find. Thank you, my dear Dusk, for correcting the guard's mistake; please, join me in offering the reward to this year's winner. You," he frowned to Ian, "retrieve a pot and fill it with silver," he ordered, "inform the treasury that a champion has been chosen". I was elated that Tres couldn't recognize that 'I' no longer stood before him as an obedient sex-slave, but I began to sympathize for the belittled draconic son.

"Yes, my lord," he knelt and practically kissed the ground, and then stood and turned. Ian ran gracefully, and even though I hid in his shadow, I could barely hear the clatter of his armor. With a turn of a corner and a length of a hall, the dragon was hardly panting when he arrived at a grand oaken door, rapping upon it quickly to attain the attention of someone on the other side. An elderly snake-like saurian answered the door, and welcomed the guard in with a somber expression.

"Ahh, Ian, the trophy was just dried and delivered," he hissed as he spoke, pulling over a beautifully crafted pot with the tip of his immensely long tail, "scoop up what the Lord requires, and bring it to me." He had the normal torso but no legs, instead bearing a thick, extensive and agile tail, and a long neck; he didn't wear jewelry, but instead just simple leather strapping around his torso and arms, with a length of cloth over where his crotch would be, had he legs. "There's a good boy," he said, measuring the weight of silver and pot, and making a note on a scroll, "You're always so generous, Ian," he smiled, dismissing the dragon when he finished, "no one ever fills the pot quite like you. By the way," he continued, right when Ian and I were almost out he door, "Who is your cloaked friend?" His question wasn't the least bit accusing, but rather curious, I ascertained; still, if I had hair on the back of my neck, it would have stood on end. "I would like to meet him, when Lord Tres'saklian dismisses you. You never had many friends, as I remember..." His head bowed to continue calculating. Ian quickly stepped back into the hallway, hoisting the heavy silver pot onto his shoulder, "He could see you," he whispered.

"He could see me. Good chance he has a bit of clairvoyance, the elderly tend to, as do the vision impaired. I wouldn't fret over the old snake, I didn't sense any maliciousness." Once again, the draconic knight amazed me in sheer athletic ability, running back to the emperor's box with only the faintest panting. Tres sat with his grand chair facing the doorway, the raptor-doll on his right, Ian on his left, his chest puffed out as 2 other guards led a scarred longneck into the emperor's presence, no other than Titus himself, walking with a bit of a limp and the aid of Raze, Mahnt standing just behind.

"A spectacular battle, Titus, I believe this is the 5th tournament you've gained championship," he grinned, clapping his paws twice. The innkeeper smiled as he could, kneeling with the stegosaur and triceratops on either side of him.

"Your words are too kind to me, your majesty," he replied.

"Please, old friend, you need not discard your gaze before me, you and your companions are guests."

The 3 of them stood, Titus once more leaning on a cane, for there was a freshly bandaged gash in his thigh, one of a few across his frame, his clothes long since discarded in unabashed nakedness.

"Titus, Mahnt, Raze, it's good to see you, again," chimed the fake raptor. The 3 looked to the voice and the 2 lovers grinned, while the innkeeper just smirked.

"Dusk! I didn't know you were a guest of the emperor!" elated Mahnt; more pleasantries were thrown about, the raptor rising from his chair and greeting his 'friends', much to my apathy. Tres then snapped his fingers to beckon his servant boys retrieve more cushions, for he sought to eat with the newfound friends of his sex-slave. Ian remained standing, like he was made of stone. When everyone had sat down and began to feast when the servants brought plates of hot bird and rich wine. The group sitting against the cushions provided. At least that's what I assumed to happen, because when the Ian helped bring the table, he then was dismissed.

"Finally," I sighed, as the draconic knight was out of sight and sound of the jovial group, treading quickly down the empty, darkening hallway, "No, let's go to the tombs, I feel my welcome here is becoming worn."

"No," he said simply, returning to where, I recognized, the treasury lay, "Old Man Gu told me to introduce you to him, and so I shall."

"And why would you do this?" I asked, knowing there was little I could do to actually stop him, since I still needed him to bring me to his dead brothers.

"He was my only friend as a whelp, and I trust him with my life." He stepped assuredly and determinedly, and in that time I wish I could have read his mind. Finally reaching the treasury, Ian rapped on the door once more to be greeted by the worn yet awake face of the old snake, who let him in without a word and locked the door behind. "Ian, how good to see you, again," he hissed, gesturing the dragon to a low table in a room just off the antechamber to the main treasury. Old Man Gu obviously lived in that side room, acting as full-time watchman over the royal silver. Sitting patiently upon the table was a pot of tea, multiple cushions placed around it.

"Dusk, you can show yourself," Ian told me. I was hesitant, of course, but soon I stepped from behind the curtain of his shadow, pulling back my hood and looking to the old snake.

"Good evening, Gu," I greeted, bowing lightly before accepting the spot his motion offered, him resting upon the coils of his tail; Ian removed his helmet and let out a sigh of relief as he sat. He poured himself some hot tea and took a sip; I was anxious, wondering about this old reptile and what he intended for me.

"Dusk..." he hissed, "I'm glad to see that you've befriended Ian, he's always been lonely, ever since he was little..."

"Yes, I was curious about that," I commented, looking to Ian, then back to Gu, "I would think that the son of the emperor wouldn't be so ostracized. Tres hardly looks at him, much less address him by name," I reached off and knocked on his shoulder pad, "plus, being covered up in all this armor, it almost looks like he's meant to be forgotten." Silence feel between them both as Ian poured his tea; I eventually poured me own, for it smelt nice enough and warmth would be pleasant to have in my belly again.

"Too true, Dusk," hissed Gu softly, "Lord Tres'saklian sired many sons, over the past one hundred and sixty years. As you should know, dragons live a very long time, but only a dragon in his prime may rule L'vadia, a span of about twenty or thirty years. Lord Tres'saklian has outlived many of his sons but hardly aged a day during his reign, even though each of his sons tragically passed when they were almost of age for emperorship. All, except for Ianghes'set, who miraculously survived into adulthood, but has been shunned by his father and hidden behind the armor you see."

"That's very suspicious," I commented, sipping and melting from the tea in my cup, the warmth and taste even better than Titus's stew. "How much of Tres's reign have you born witness, Gu?"

"Oh ... most of it, I was but a whelp when my father kept me inside the treasury; there would be smoke beyond the door, from the civil war, you see, but my father would not let me go outside for any reason at all, and so I stayed in here and counted silver coins," he smiled meekly but with pride, setting his cup down, "and that's how I became the royal treasurer."

"Good for you. Pray tell, Gu, what do you know about this civil war?" I prodded, now becoming interested.

"Oh, not a lot, I was in here all the time, you see."

"Yes, I gathered that much, but do you know if there were - oh, I don't know - lions that fought in it?"

"Lions don't exist...?" reasoned the old snake, but sounded unsure.

"They're ... just ... a myth ..." Ian said slowly, hesitantly.

"I know, I know, they're just a whelp's faerie tale, I've heard the mantra. Tell you what, how about I make us some more tea while you two ponder over that, hmm?" They both looked bewildered, Ian painfully so. Reaching into a pouch, I pulled out the leaf I often smoked, and put some into the still brewing teapot, and when I was sure that it had sufficiently perked, I poured some to them both. "My personal blend; go on, drink up, works wonders for the mind." I grinned and watched aptly, sipping some myself. It was like a brilliant lantern was lit up inside both of their minds after drinking the special tea; this was not the lion's leaf, oh no, this was my own concoction, one of my greatest prides.

"Yes, lions ..." started Gu, rubbing his chin in thought, "Lord Jehois'sa (may he rest in peace), Tres'saklian's father, did incorporate a large family of lions and tigers, one of the few remaining clans on this continent after the Great War. During the civil war, as I recall, they all were slain along with the opposition to Tres'saklian's new order; Lord Jehois'sa had retired after his many battles, so he made to return and fight his own son as a rebel ... Wait, just a moment, please." He arose from his coils and slithered into his bedroom, the tip of his tail sticking out of the doorway as shuffling could be heard within. He returned with a familiar looking tome, though this one slightly different. I practically dropped my glass when I saw it.

"Is that a roster of all those who were slain in the civil war?" I inquired, rising up to my knees and leaning over the table. I suddenly realized the tome I was sent to acquire was no longer on my person, and found relief as soon as panic when I saw that Gu had - somehow - attained it. "Why, yes, it is," he replied, coiling up his tail once more when a sudden crash caught both our attentions. There was Ian, clenching his paws and hunching over the table, his mug clattering on the floor when he let out a blood-curling scream of pain. He threw his head back and began clawing at his back, kicking himself away from the table and thrashing about on the ground, practically tearing off his chest-armor. He panted and heaved, throwing off the chest and back plates, talons tearing through the chainmail to leave his torso mostly naked. It was then I saw 2 bloody scars on his back, right where his wings should be but obviously hacked off. It suddenly made sense: Tres retarded Ian's magical awareness to keep him dumb and obedient, and wholly indistinguishable from some of the other elite guards. Curled into a ball with knees and face against the ground, he let out low, painful growls as the scars on his back shone and grew.

Making to rise, I was beaten in speed by the lightning reflexes of the old snake, already wrapping a single coil around the agonized dragon, his paws grasping Ian's head and rubbing his neck, himself hissing very softly. Ian calmed for the most part, but the wings sprouting from his back like saplings spread and expanded, covered in fine mucus, the faint sound of bone and flesh reconfiguring almost sickened if I hadn't been accustomed to it. An accumulative sigh filled the room as Ian panted and heaved, sweat beaded on his brow and back as he slumped against Gu's body, grunting some when his wings fully formed. They had a faint green color, but as blood circulated through them they became a prouder, royal jade, like the rest of his scales. Sitting up, Ian wiped tears from his eyes and cheeks with the cloth of the palms of his gauntlets, slumping a bit with glazed eyes. "I ... see it all, now ..."

He looked over to me, frowning a bit then straightening his face. I stood and approached, kneeling beside him - and in a movement I wouldn't have guessed - the flat of his paw struck me across the face and nearly snapped my neck. Being of frail species and profession, I crumpled onto the ground beside him, feeling my cheek swell and my limbs twitch. Utterly helpless I lay while I felt his armored limbs pick me up and embrace me, holding my battered face against his massive chest, quite like sticking my head into a potent, gelatinous bog, but meatier. "That's for everything, Dusk," he said, smiling softly. I guess that was quite a lot of pain to go through, but he was still grateful. Personally, I could've gone without any recognition of my endeavors. Gu gave me a some ice wrapped in cotton to put on my cheek, and both Ian and I sat listening to the old snake continue.

"I found this lying in the antechamber earlier today - must've been late morning - the deliverer was one of the smaller servants who looked like he belonged in armor, rather than servant's garbs," Gu explained; I remembered the compy whom led me to the secret library, wondering if the lion had a finger in this occurrence, "He had a dazed look in his eyes, like he was sleep walking. I didn't ask what the tome was for or what was in it, so I stored it away first in the treasury, but thought I should store it in my personal cache, because I had a dream some weeks ago about a mysterious book. I was younger in my dream, acting as quartermaster for Lord Jehois'sa's troops in the Great War, and during battle the lord gave me an old, tattered book, telling me that I should not give it to anyone. Imagine my surprise when the small servant handed me this, and identical tome as the one in my dream! And then, about a week ago, Lord Jehois'sa came to me again, asking for the book he gave me to hold onto; of course, I offered it to him, but he was wasn't really there, only a ghostly, tired looking image of himself. He didn't accept the tome, instead a figure in a black cloak did." Both he and Ian looked at me, to which I shrugged and chalked up the fine coincidence to the lion's doing.

"I suppose I'll just be taking that tome, then," I offered, reaching out my paw to the snake, who gladly obliged. Practically expecting a trick on behalf of the older reptile, but he sat and smiled as I pocketed the book, looking from Gu to Ian, neither showing opposition to my actions. "Now then," said Ian, sitting back in his coils, "Just last night I had yet another dream, though I cannot reason its meaning ..." he began solemnly, "12 stars shone brilliantly around the sun, and as if keeping time, one star would grow dark and fall away from the sun, which got brighter and brighter. Until it reached the twelfth star, which seemed to resist the sun's brilliance, and thus made it grow darker; a smaller, thirteenth star appeared immediately after the twelfth. That's when my dream ends. I can only guess that the sun could represent Lord Tres'saklian, since the sun is often representative of a king or emperor; the 13 stars I cannot fathom ..."

"It could mean something that Lord Tres'saklian has 13 of?"

"Hmm ... I wonder," Gu pondered, counting off on his fingers, "Elghes'set, Stroghes'set, Weizghes'set ..."

"Suelghes'set, Mnysghes'set ... Those are the names on the tombs of my brothers, twelve tombs will eleven brothers," recalled Ian, his face going blank, "Then that means that the 13 stars ..."

"Of course!" I spat, slamming my own cup against the table, admitting to myself - and by proximity, Ian and Gu - that I was utterly taken back, "How could I have been so blind; that's why he's lived for so long, it's because he's been draining the life force of his own sons!" A similar reaction struck the others, Ian springing to his feet, brilliant wings flared only to cause him to sit once more, holding his head at the sudden rush of blood from the new appendages. "But ... why haven't I been affected?" he asked me, but I only shook my head in shameful ignorance.

"Are there any other living sons beside Ian?" I inquired of them.

"Only Pirghes'set, but he's kept under lock and key, like a precious glass flower," said the old snake, "Lord Tres'saklian solely visits him, even I am not privy. It's strange, though, usually a boy is kept in the neutral zone until his balls drop, and then is brought to L'Vadia, but Pirghes'set has been here since before his hatching."

"He's the thirteenth son, and I can only deduce that Tres hastily brought him so he could drain him as soon as possible," I looked to the green dragon, "Please bring me to Pirghes'set, then I could diagnose his infliction."

"As I've said before," softly hissed Gu, "the lord solely visits him while others are not even allowed near, even I am barred."

"Then we shall have Tres visit him for us," I smirked, rubbing my chin in a simply devious plan, one that even amazes myself. I looked to Ian and his dumbfounded expression, the dragon standing and making to argue.

"Fool of a lizard! Numerous attempts it's been when I would request to see my brother, and not once did my father allow such a request."

"Oh? So the 'kind' lord actually acknowledged your plea?" I inquired quirking a brow in the process.

"Well, yes, but his conditions were incredible," Ian growled, raising a fist and glowering to the ceiling, and from the look in his eyes I could tell that he shouldered something tremendous, "He required my very spirit as payment ..."

"Do tell."

"If he said to fight in his arena, I would battle his entire army at once," he spoke, arms now at his sides and head bowed, like preparing for a powerful monologue, "If he said to read every tome and scroll in his library, I would recite them back to him. If he said to swim the ocean, I would do so 10 times over! But he did not ask of me such noble or impressive feats ..."

"Get on with it, then," I cheeked, leaning back on my arms.

"He told me to submit and present to him. To discard my armor and raise tail like a female in heat!" his face grew fierce, and I began to realize just what kind of sorcery Tres implements, "When he finally gave me this horrible offer after numerous fruitless prior attempts, I knew that my father had a black heart; it was also then that he restrained me and hacked off my wings. While he could not turn me into an empty sex doll, I did become as a golem, locked away inside my armor and made to haunt the palace halls."

"Ian, Gu, I believe I know what dark magic is taking place ..." but I could not finish my thought, for I experiences the feeling of a white hot railroad spike suddenly drive through my forehead, causing blood to shoot from my eyes and nose...

-

There was Dusk, having collapsed at the tea table with blood oozing from nostrils and tear ducts, and while not dead, he treaded awfully close. Ian arose to attend the reptilian necromancer, but was interrupted by a sinister voice at the doorway to the antechamber.

"Ian, my son, I see your wings have returned," scowled Tres, attention brought to his presence and the bloody raptor hanging lifeless from the claws puncturing the back of his head. Tossed to the ground, the fake-Dusk lay as a rag doll for Tres to walk past, no longer adorned in beautiful gold or silk and looking strangely old. Both Ian and Gu arose to find their lord approaching, a smug and wrathful smirk on his weathered-bronze face, "I guess there's no point hiding it," he began; his bewitching glance paralyzing them both, "My son, come here so I can breed you, like a good boy," he growled, muscles tensing with every step he took. His eyes left Gu to focus entirely on the green dragon, who felt his paws reaching for the clasps of his armor. The old snake blinked to his sense and sprung with incredible speed at the devious wyrm, his powerful tail coiling around the still muscled frame and bringing them both to the floor. It was obvious enough that Gu didn't put much thought into his actions, but had enough reasoning not to bite into his lord's jugular. "Run, Ian!" he hissed, struggling with the aging Tres using all his strength.

After a split second to regain awareness, Ian looked from his father and mentor on the floor and then to the twitching necromancer sprawled over the cushions and table. His quick feet snatched up Dusk and leapt over the wrestling old reptiles, darting past the discarded fake-raptor to disappear out the door. Slamming the portal behind him, he drove a few nearby display lances between the stones just an inch away from the door, so to keep it from opening. 'The tombs ...' he thought, dashing off towards the sacred resting grounds of his late brethren, only stopping when he heard a faint voice.

"Ian..."

-

By some miracle I was not dead yet, and even though Tres used my own construct to create a vicious magical backlash, I could still speak. I saw through bloody, blurry eyes the distraught face of Ian, my paw feebly grasping his chest, "Ian ... take the ... Shadow ... Cloak." The words felt the hardest to say, if not just because my internal organs shutting down one by own, but in the thought I would be betraying the precious Cloak given to me by the lion...

-

The green dragon crouched, hearing thunder crashing outside in a disastrous rainstorm, unlike he'd ever seen before. He cupped Dusk's head, hearing the strained words and shook his own, "No, Dusk, you're going to use it, right?" he insisted, but the lizard could only smirk smugly as the life faded from his blood-spilled eyes as a deathly sigh wafted from his lips. The mighty draconic heart broke, for his first real friend had died the very day they met, and until that moment he never realized how special the dark lizard was to him. Setting the necromancer upon the floor, for he felt the cloak tremble, Ian stepped back and watched as those diabolic tendrils, claws, and fangs greedily shoot from the folds of the ebon cloak and engulf Dusk; that was the first Ian had ever seen Dusk look so peaceful, in the instant before he was swallowed up, that is. The cloak lay dead on the floor, leaving Ian alone in the storm-wrapped hallway leading to the tombs, tears trickling down his jade cheeks for the first time in what felt an eternity.

"Oh, stop blubbering, you big baby," came a gruff but friendly voice. Ian's eyes opened and glanced upward, spotting the strangest creature ever seen in his life. It, for one, had hair all over his decidedly masculine body, hair as black as Dusk's scales, and around his neck and head was even longer hair that looked like the wavy rays of a silver sun. His face was also oddly shaped, nothing like he'd seen before. "What, never seen a lion before?" smirked the saber-toothed stranger, only getting a gentle shake of the dragon's head in response. "Either way, there's work to be done, the time for mourning will be later. Come, come, dragon, up with you," he insisted, grasping Ian's arm and urging him to stand. The 'lion' stood maybe a head shorter than Ian and wore what could be recognized as the Shadow Cloak around his waist to cover his nethers.

"Who ...? Where did you come from?"

"I'm Dusk's employer, you can call me Card. I made my way here the instant I discovered Dusk had died. Had to leave all my stuff behind to do so, but I digress. We need to get to the tombs and fast, before daddy-dearest decides to wreak havoc," the lion said in a quick tone, then snapping his fingers to bring Ian back to reality. "Sometime soon, preferably, I can explain all you want at a later time, but now we have unfinished business." Ian couldn't believe that this lion existed, especially having just mentioned information he couldn't know unless he was with them in Gu's antechamber. It was in that moment that Dusk's passing deemed ephemeral, perhaps just a necromantic trick, and gave Ian his second wind.

"This way," he said suddenly, wiping his tears and remembering the task at hand. Ian ran through the dark and deserted hallway with grace and speed unlike before, in the sense that he was a bit clumsier. The wings were a new experience he hadn't noticed during the initial adrenaline rush. Card ran alongside quieter than a mouse, keeping up step for step with the large dragon; "Oh, good, a storm, this'll make our job easier," he grinned, finally stepping out of the palace and into the torrential downpour. Ian wasn't fazed by the intense cascade of water, but Card looked simply ridiculous with his fur clinging so close to his body, his silver mane like a heavy veil. His paws pulled the drenched locks aside and then tied them back so he could better see the surrounding graves; "Where are your brothers?" he yelled over the thunder, being then directed to a secluded part of the cemetery. As the pair approached the circle of elaborate grave markers, each with their own life-sized statue of a proud draconic prince, Card rushed into the center to find the resting place of the great Lord Jehois'sa, his marker standing upright with a sword pointed regally towards heaven.

An ear-splitting roar shattered the deafening rainfall, causing both to pivot and face the near-dead looking Lord Tres'saklian, Old Man Gu's severed head still lodging its fangs into the dark dragon's shoulder. "His body reflects his soul," noted Card in a loud voice to Ian, "Occupy him, if you'd be so kind, I'll need a few moments to prepare!"

"What are you going to do?" Ian shouted back, drawing both swords from their holsters at his waist and facing his charging, monstrous father.

"I'm figuring that out as we speak!" grinned the lion, stepping into the ring of posing marble statues. Ian paid little heed to the lion's remark, simply bracing himself to fight the unrecognizable abomination dashing towards him. When they collided, Ian's body almost buckled, having to withstand the fury and outrage of his father's derangement; his swords plunged into the blood-red dragon's chest, Tres's paws grabbing Ian's shoulders to push him back. The green dragon dug his talons into the wet stone, leaning forward and straining each muscle his body would give him to keep his father at bay. A flash of black and silver leapt over both dragons and landed on Tres's back, though he was hardly noticed until a painful shriek sounded in the cemetery. Ian looked up as Tres reared; Card grabbed Gu's severed head and channeled his necromantic influence directly into the very flesh and bone, forcing the venom sacs to pump once more. Tres's eye sockets were barren, he truly looked like a demon as he was thrown to the ground by Ian's blades.

"He's not dead!" Ian shouted, watching Tres writhe and crawl to his legs, shaking but still as angry as ever.

"Of course not, he's spent the past century and a half accruing dark magic, he won't go down that easily," laughed Card.

"Then what -?" he began to shout, but was soon taken aside by the lion as thunderous stomping sounded from behind. Ian watched in disbelief as the marble statues of his brothers and grandfather arose from their places and tackled Tres, who actually managed to fend off a few of them, but was restrained when all 11 dragon princes secured him, each stabbing into his body and limbs an iron long sword from their grave. The demonic lord was forced to kneel when the statue of Lord Jehois'sa stepped forward with a beautiful marble and sword; Tres's ribcage was exposed as the sharp stone was driven through his heart and out his back. The grandfather lord hoisted his wayward son high into the air, and with the numerous lengths of iron sticking out his body, Tres was struck again and again by furious bolts of lightning.

At long last, the charred body of Tres'saklian was hardly distinguishable from a burnt tree trunk, and as it fell to the ground outside the stone-floored area it was stomped to ash by the marble princes, and pushed into the saturated graveyard dirt. As the marble statues returned to their grave markers, Card and Ian walked back to the palace to dry, picking up Gu's discarded head along the way. When they reached a dry room, Card threw a fireball at a hearth and made to dry off, Ian remaining silent while stroking Gu's head.

"Oh, don't look so glum, dragon," Card commented, "He lived a long, healthy life and shall be remembered as a hero," he smiled, tossing the shadow cloak onto the ground and shaking blankets of water from his fur. Ian lifted his heavy snout to look upon the lion, but reeled back when the black beast spontaneously combusted in a brilliant blaze. The pyre dissolved as soon as it set, leaving a gentle smoldering across the lion's unburned body, and the carpet at his feet untouched; Ian couldn't help but snort in an attempt to hinder his laughter, seeing Card all puffed from the instant-drying.

"My heart is weighed for many reasons," he replied as Card smoothed out his fur nearby. The dragon began removing his own soaked armor, unable to recall clearly the last time he was allowed such an act, outside of Dusk 'throwing' him from his suit earlier that day. His body grew cold, after removing the armor and chain mail, curling up some before he felt a warm paw on his shoulder. His cold-blood suddenly shot up with heat from the lion, a little bit at first, but when Card embraced the jade knight his blood grew warm once more. Ian blushed despite his intentions, but settled as the lion sat beside him, "So, what's on your mind?" asked the ebon beast.

"My very life turned inside out in a day: my father fucked his sons to drain their life, he's probably enchanted the whole city from what I've seen he could do, killed the person I knew from my childhood and my first true friend, and then met his end at the swords of the marble statues of my brothers and grandfather," he next looked to Card, "And you're a mythical beast, yet you're sitting there and talking with me as if it's the most normal act in the world."

"Firstly," the lion began comfortingly, "your father was a good man, until he snapped after killing his own father during that bloody civil war. Secondly, he was dabbling in amateur necromancy in a futile attempt to bring Jehois'sa's soul back so he could find some absolution, but he could only have access to the palace's library and magical supplies as emperor, so we come to the third point that he needed to retain his prime, and thus began the years of spirit-thievery. Eventually, he forgot his reasons and just kept extending his own life, turning his heart blacker and blacker each time, until forming the monster you saw. As for Dusk, he's the happiest he's ever been."

"Really, but how?" inquired Ian, truly bewildered.

"He's in the process of becoming a lich, an undead warlock, perhaps the most ideal and powerful medium for necromancy. I'll tell him to visit you when he's ready."

"I'm glad," he sighed, leaning back a bit onto his arms, and then looked to the lion once more, "What happens now?"

"Beg pardon?"

"What happens to the kingdom? Its emperor is dead, and anyone who remembers the old days is passed. Obviously, warm-bloods exist, so for the past many decades every citizen has been taught falsehoods and lies; I can't imagine what else has been untrue."

"Well, it's not important for us furred beasties to be known, but I'll leave that up to you to decide the fate of our existence amongst your people. Speaking of which, the Senate will take a few days, I'm sure, to mourn the loss of Tres and inaugurate you into kinghood, so utilize that time to figure out for yourself what needs done. Study the annals of your history for the truth, I'm certain that even Tres's guilty conscience kept those records from the furnace."

"I understand. A new age presents itself to L'Vadia, and I shall ensure its prosperity," he vowed, sitting up and glowing with a determined aura.

"One suggestion," Card added, holding up a single finger to demonstrate, "Don't disrupt the culture too quickly about the whole separation of genders; however, it couldn't hurt to refine the rules a bit. You might not know it, but there is some discrimination - regrettably, harsh - occurring amongst the people of both cities for related reasons."

"I ... I understand," he replied, a bit taken back, "One more thing, lion, Dusk mentioned you as his employer; for what reason did you dispatch him?" he pivoted and faced the black and white beast.

"Ahh, here we come to the substance of my presence here. You see, for some time I've been travelling my home continent searching for very special souls, such souls that have been born with a particular gene that reacts especially with dark magic. It's a very rare attribute and only present in 1 person of - oh - about 100 million. One such person happened to live in this city at some point around 160 years ago."

"During the Civil War? But there must've been tens of thousands killed in that war, how could you find such a person?"

"Well, my search narrowed sufficiently when I discovered that the gene lay dormant inside one particular young boy: a saber-toothed lion. Unfortunately, all the reconnaissance I attained only showed me how impossible it would be to enter this realm. You see, ever since the Civil War, Tres wanted to keep the existence of warm-bloods a vital secret, so he enchanted the very city to consider such creatures mythical. A magical person, such as myself, couldn't step foot amongst this powerful aura."

"Dusk's tea ..."

"You're quite clever, Ian; yes, necromancers smoke and drink tea of an especially grown leaf that enhances one's own mystical attributes while protecting them from the influence of others. When you and Gu drank this tea, you both were then freed from Tres's hex and allowed me some a gap to teleport here. However, I couldn't yet without some lengthy incantations, and when Dusk passed it made my entry all the easier."

"I see. Something else - so long as I'm inquiring and you don't mind," Ian said, gaining a gesture to continue from the lion, "On 2 separate occasions I've been privy to the terrifying power and raw might of necromancy, including the monsters it can produce. Why not just invade the city or palace with these abominations? Surely not even my father's army could withstand such an assault."

"A fourth point of my visit. Clever and astute, you'll be a grand emperor. I would not dare lay siege on L'Vadia as part of my contract with the late Lord Jehois'sa. While I could simply call upon the carcass of a leviathan or thunderbird and simply take what I need by sheer force, I agreed to help Lord Jehois'sa exact justice upon his son. Even though he brought a 'golden age', he still took many lives of not only his people, but his sons, as well, all to serve himself. And now, your grandfather and brothers may rest in peace."

"And of my father ...?"

"His judgment is pending, I imagine," Card said solemnly, "We necromancers are not arbiters of justice, merely tools of Death."

"Card ... would you like to stay the night? I'd be very grateful if you did," offered Ian.

"Well, I guess it couldn't hurt. It'll be easier to construct Dusk's lich-form in this atmosphere."

-

My spine popped and joints groaned, I 'opened' my eyes and found that the pain in my forehead long since gone. The last image I recognized was Ian's pathetically sobbing face, and the touch of his paws on my head and back. He honestly wept for my parting, and all I could consider was smacking him upside the head; he should know that death to a necromancer is merely a transition. Light broke through the darkness of my sight, and I could see through metal frames individuals, and hear upon the waves in the air voices conversing.

"Good morning," I spoke in an oddly echoing tone. I willed to take a step forward and found the length of my leg had changed since I last remember.

"Good morning, indeed," replied a disturbingly familiar voice. I scanned through the holes in what I guessed some type of mask that the lion, my employer, was standing before me. What to say! I didn't know if I failed or succeeded, or when he got here, or how he got here, or why he could even be there greeting me. I continued scanning, spotting a green dragon in conservatively regal robes of purple and gold with blue markings.

"Ian?" I asked of the kingly looking dragon, whom smiled and nodded, he must've been only a head taller than I, as opposed to the 2 heads I remembered. "I would appreciate some explanation," I commented in the kindest tone I could, looking down my body of decayed flesh and fused armor. What a sight I must've been to behold, considering I did not hear my pulse in the normal sense of the term; it was more like a constant whisper.

"As I ran from the treasury, you died in my arms. Card," he gestured to the lion - I knew of his name but never dared speak it, "suddenly appeared and together, we vanquished my father. In the past 2 days, I've been appointed vice-emperor and Card constructed you a body from the fake-raptor you made and my armor. And I must say, Dusk, you're quite a sight to behold." He gestured to a full length mirror, and I was able to look upon my lich-form in all its glory. It was bigger than my living body, for one, and had a meaty torso with a few joints of metal, and the limbs mostly made of the armor. My face was covered in a specially designed mask that looked of a dragon, and the raptor's feathers stood out the back rather elegantly. I even had some wing-armor additions with a cape fabric were the membrane would be. The tail had metal plating along its length and a retractable blade at the tip; the raptor's toe-claws stuck out from the greaves and were tastefully gothic. As a final touch, various belt straps and chains held the armor together, and some wrapped around my flesh for aesthetic reasons. If I hadn't been the one in the armor, I would've certain found it terrifying.

"I love it, thank you," I turned carefully to the lion, Card, and knelt in deepest respect. He was adorned in boots, ceremonial loincloth, robe, and cloak. A paw touched my shoulder to lift my eyes, his smile was almost brilliant; I recognized the Quantome and the roster tucked under his arm. "And thank you, Dusk, for your hard work," he replied, "I've made the Shadow Cloak into your wings, but have removed my own creations from it, save for a few. You are no longer under my employment, Dusk Bonesmith, and I wish you great fortune in your unlife."

"Dusk," said Ian, and I looked to him, "I would be most gracious if you became the royal advisor."

"I," wasn't expecting that at all, but knew I could not deny such an offer, "accept, your Majesty," and knelt towards him. At that point a smaller dragon came to my attention.

"Actually, I am only vice-emperor, Pirghes'set is the true ruler," Ian admitted.

The dragon before me was young and beautiful, and it was at that moment I realized the exact reason why Tres kept his youngest locked away: it was a daughter. Like all cold-bloods, dragons are not truly gender-decided until late in incubation, and even after hatching, with the right influence, their gender could change. Obviously, Tres brought his youngest son too soon to the palace and threw off his hormonal balance, forcing the whelp to become female out of 'necessity'; I'm sure the dragon lord's magic must've added insult to injury. I remained knelt in Ian's direction, though I would certainly be gaping at Pirghes'set if I had a visible mouth. I stood and pivoted, and with both knees and palms I bowed my most sincere and respectful before the new emperor.

"Your majesty," spoke the confident voice of a loyal servant, masking the whimper of the one sudden regret I had for dejecting my warm body so soon.