The dragon stares down at them, pacing back and forth quite like a cat. It's head tilts, looking at each of them in turn, and when it finally settles down, it has a sharp and predatory grin across its face.
"Well then, little thieves," it says. "Why have you come to me?"
"Great dragon," Fjord says, stepping forward, "we are not here to steal from you, but to humbly ask your help. Amongst your collection is an artifact of great power that we were hoping to ensure the safety of."
"And is it's safety so ensured?" the dragon asks, it's smile still just as sharp.
"We beat the bad guys here, so, yes," Beau says. She does a better job than Fjord at not getting intimidated, staring into the dragon's face. "And we're hoping to take advantage of that. They're trying to use it to free the Chained Oblivion, but we think we might be able to set up a counter ritual with that piece, and some other pieces we're still tracking down."
The dragon leans back, looking over them all once more. "Take it," the dragon says, calmly. "A gift. To the adventurers brave enough - and arrogant enough - to take on Tharizdun itself." It smiles.
They stare at each other in surprise. "Uh, thanks," Fjord says, regaining his manners. "Thank you. For placing this trust. In us."
"Are you actually a wizard or just a dragon?" Nott blurts out, suddenly. "They said you were a really powerful wizard. That you might be able to-”
The dragon leans in close at her, and it is glaringly apparent that if it wanted, it would hardly be a problem for it to swallow her whole, even more so as it opens its mouth to speak. “I am a wizard, little goblin,” the dragon said. “One who has been studying the arcane for a very long time.”
“Do you know how to change someone’s body?” Nott asks. “Permanently?”
The dragon pulls back, and turns, tilting its head to stare upwards at the open air for a few moments. “Just your body?” it asks. “No changes to your mind?”
“I don’t want to be a goblin anymore,” she says, and her eyes are bright and eager. “I want to be a halfling again.”
“Yes, I believe that can be done,” the dragon says.
“Permanently?” Nott asks.
“It cannot be dispelled,” the dragon says. “This is a boon, enhanced and manipulated by magic, not a spell. And unlike my good will, it will cost you.”
“Anything,” Nott says.
“We don’t have anything quite worth your admiration,” Fjord interjects. “But we are adventurers, so if you have some item you’d like us to acquire for you-”
“No, you have something worth my attention right here,” The dragons says, and suddenly, its eyes have focused on the two clerics. It’s eyes are wide and penetrating, as if it’s staring through their souls. “The artifacts I have are gifts, what I hoard is. . . experiences. To have something no other being ever has, or ever will again.”
Jester breathes in, and stares at the dragon before her, the very large dragon. She looks over to Nott, then back to the dragon, and breathes in a somewhat choking breath. “I- I can-” she stumbles out.
“You don’t have to do this,” Beau says, quickly. “Right, Nott?” Those words are laced with venom, and a glare tossed in the rogue’s direction.
“Right,” Nott says, although her voice is only half-hearted. She doesn’t take her eyes off of the dragon.
“Would you- would you be like that?” Jester asks.
“Not necessarily,” the dragon says, and in a fluid motion, it transforms. A humanoid figure now stands before her, dressed in fine, noble-looking clothes, with long braided hair the same steel-gray color as the scales had been, and cold blue eyes. The smile is small, close lipped, and yet somehow just as disconcerting all the same.
“Jester,” Caleb starts to say, lips pressed tight.
“No,” she cuts him off. “I, I can do this. I mean, my momma does this all the time, basically, so-” her voice is shaking, just a little bit, despite how much she tries to tamper it down. “It’s not that big a deal. Really.”
“Oh!” Caduceus says, eyes going wide in realization. “Oh. oh.” He stares at Jester, at her discomfort, and at the dragon, which, even in human form, still stares at them both with that same sharp focus. “I accept.”
“Caduceus, no,” Jester says, turning around to face him. “You don’t have to do this - I can - I can-”
“It’s alright,” Caduceus says, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t mind.” He smiles at her, warmly, and she collapses into a tight hug around him.
“Caduceus,” Nott says, staring at him with more than a bit of shock. “I didn’t think you would-” she frowns, somewhat worried, and it almost masks the way she’s practically vibrating with anticipation.
The dragon walks over, then, and presses a hand against Nott’s forehead. There is a flash of blinding light, and when it fades, she’s been transformed. Her skin is a light brown, her hair darker, but the face and proportions are unchanged, save the loss of the goblinoid features.
“I’ve given you some small aspect of my own shapechanging abilities,” the dragon explains. “You can only transform into other halflings, but it should be enough to fix the details.” It steps back, leaving Nott staring at her hands. “I will return your friend to you when I have finished taking my payment.”
“Caduceus,” Beau says, warily.
“Go,” he tells her. “I agreed to this. And it’s always a good idea to follow through on your promises.”
He unwraps himself from Jester, taking a few steps back, and suddenly walls of stone are rising from the floor. On one side is the Mighty Nein, with more than a fair share of panic spreading across their faces, and on the other, he is alone, save for the dragon, still keeping its eyes on him.
“They’re unharmed,” it assures him. “Merely being guided out of my lair so that they can avoid any distractions.” It steps closer. “What’s your name, little one?”
“Caduceus Clay,” he says. “What should I call you?”
“For you, I think, I will be called Ushakal,” the dragon says. “I’m glad it was you, who accepted,” it continues, “because I can feel the depth of what you do not know.” It runs its hand down Caduceus’ cheek, finger brushing against his lips. “Are you frightened, little one?”
He’s not scared. This creature doesn’t mean to hurt him, or to hurt any of his friends, he can read that clearly enough across his face. He isn’t offering up anything that he particularly cares about. And yet, despite all that, he can feel the sinking feeling of dread, curled within his stomach.
If the dragon expects any response to come in words, it doesn’t wait. Instead, it leans in, and kisses him on the lips.
It’s short, soft, the gentle pressing of lips against his. He’s not sure what he expected, from kissing, if it would be disgusting or monumentous, but it feels not significantly different from the thumb that had rested there before, now sitting against his cheek.
Ushakal pulls back, stares at him with careful eyes, drinking in the sight. Whether it pleases or disappoints him, Caduceus can’t say. He can’t read the dragon at all, not more than it wants him to, and that’s perhaps the most disconcerting part about the whole experience, because he always has some idea, not this blank unknown staring back at him with
He tries his best to keep that gaze as Ushakal kisses him again. There’s a press of a tongue, a shift in the hand on his cheek, a change in their position, and his mouth opens in response. The second kiss has force behind it, and it’s a strange and new sensation, matching in many ways with more like he’d expected.
Caduceus doesn’t know exactly how long it lasts, but he knows Ushakal pulls away to take a breath, that he doesn’t quite think to do the same, and the third kiss has a devouring hunger that makes him reconsider saying the second had ever had any force behind it at all.
The hand on his cheek is now firmly gripping his hair, and it hurts, but he can’t really think about it because it’s only one of the many things that’s overwhelming him. He shuts his eyes and tries to focus, although that doesn’t really help, almost makes things more intense, but at least he can’t see the dragon’s eyes.
He’s not sure what happens, exactly, but when the dragon releases the kiss for a third time, the only thing keeping Caduceus upright is the hand still entwined in his hair and the other on his shoulder pressing him back into a wall. He blinks, and takes a moment to regain his balance.
“If this is how reactive you are when I kiss you,” Ushakal remarks, smiling, “I can’t wait to see how sensitive you’ll be to the rest. Can you walk, treasure?”
“I can,” Caduceus says, and after a deep breath to center himself, all the trembling is gone.
“Good.” The dragon offers its arm, and it takes a few moments for Caduceus to realize what it expects, but it clicks, soon enough, and he lets Ushakal guide him through the maze-like house.
Fill: Treasure, Caduceus/Other, non-con whump, 1/3
"Well then, little thieves," it says. "Why have you come to me?"
"Great dragon," Fjord says, stepping forward, "we are not here to steal from you, but to humbly ask your help. Amongst your collection is an artifact of great power that we were hoping to ensure the safety of."
"And is it's safety so ensured?" the dragon asks, it's smile still just as sharp.
"We beat the bad guys here, so, yes," Beau says. She does a better job than Fjord at not getting intimidated, staring into the dragon's face. "And we're hoping to take advantage of that. They're trying to use it to free the Chained Oblivion, but we think we might be able to set up a counter ritual with that piece, and some other pieces we're still tracking down."
The dragon leans back, looking over them all once more. "Take it," the dragon says, calmly. "A gift. To the adventurers brave enough - and arrogant enough - to take on Tharizdun itself." It smiles.
They stare at each other in surprise. "Uh, thanks," Fjord says, regaining his manners. "Thank you. For placing this trust. In us."
"Are you actually a wizard or just a dragon?" Nott blurts out, suddenly. "They said you were a really powerful wizard. That you might be able to-”
The dragon leans in close at her, and it is glaringly apparent that if it wanted, it would hardly be a problem for it to swallow her whole, even more so as it opens its mouth to speak. “I am a wizard, little goblin,” the dragon said. “One who has been studying the arcane for a very long time.”
“Do you know how to change someone’s body?” Nott asks. “Permanently?”
The dragon pulls back, and turns, tilting its head to stare upwards at the open air for a few moments. “Just your body?” it asks. “No changes to your mind?”
“I don’t want to be a goblin anymore,” she says, and her eyes are bright and eager. “I want to be a halfling again.”
“Yes, I believe that can be done,” the dragon says.
“Permanently?” Nott asks.
“It cannot be dispelled,” the dragon says. “This is a boon, enhanced and manipulated by magic, not a spell. And unlike my good will, it will cost you.”
“Anything,” Nott says.
“We don’t have anything quite worth your admiration,” Fjord interjects. “But we are adventurers, so if you have some item you’d like us to acquire for you-”
“No, you have something worth my attention right here,” The dragons says, and suddenly, its eyes have focused on the two clerics. It’s eyes are wide and penetrating, as if it’s staring through their souls. “The artifacts I have are gifts, what I hoard is. . . experiences. To have something no other being ever has, or ever will again.”
Jester breathes in, and stares at the dragon before her, the very large dragon. She looks over to Nott, then back to the dragon, and breathes in a somewhat choking breath. “I- I can-” she stumbles out.
“You don’t have to do this,” Beau says, quickly. “Right, Nott?” Those words are laced with venom, and a glare tossed in the rogue’s direction.
“Right,” Nott says, although her voice is only half-hearted. She doesn’t take her eyes off of the dragon.
“Would you- would you be like that?” Jester asks.
“Not necessarily,” the dragon says, and in a fluid motion, it transforms. A humanoid figure now stands before her, dressed in fine, noble-looking clothes, with long braided hair the same steel-gray color as the scales had been, and cold blue eyes. The smile is small, close lipped, and yet somehow just as disconcerting all the same.
“Jester,” Caleb starts to say, lips pressed tight.
“No,” she cuts him off. “I, I can do this. I mean, my momma does this all the time, basically, so-” her voice is shaking, just a little bit, despite how much she tries to tamper it down. “It’s not that big a deal. Really.”
“Oh!” Caduceus says, eyes going wide in realization. “Oh. oh.” He stares at Jester, at her discomfort, and at the dragon, which, even in human form, still stares at them both with that same sharp focus. “I accept.”
“Caduceus, no,” Jester says, turning around to face him. “You don’t have to do this - I can - I can-”
“It’s alright,” Caduceus says, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t mind.” He smiles at her, warmly, and she collapses into a tight hug around him.
“Caduceus,” Nott says, staring at him with more than a bit of shock. “I didn’t think you would-” she frowns, somewhat worried, and it almost masks the way she’s practically vibrating with anticipation.
The dragon walks over, then, and presses a hand against Nott’s forehead. There is a flash of blinding light, and when it fades, she’s been transformed. Her skin is a light brown, her hair darker, but the face and proportions are unchanged, save the loss of the goblinoid features.
“I’ve given you some small aspect of my own shapechanging abilities,” the dragon explains. “You can only transform into other halflings, but it should be enough to fix the details.” It steps back, leaving Nott staring at her hands. “I will return your friend to you when I have finished taking my payment.”
“Caduceus,” Beau says, warily.
“Go,” he tells her. “I agreed to this. And it’s always a good idea to follow through on your promises.”
He unwraps himself from Jester, taking a few steps back, and suddenly walls of stone are rising from the floor. On one side is the Mighty Nein, with more than a fair share of panic spreading across their faces, and on the other, he is alone, save for the dragon, still keeping its eyes on him.
“They’re unharmed,” it assures him. “Merely being guided out of my lair so that they can avoid any distractions.” It steps closer. “What’s your name, little one?”
“Caduceus Clay,” he says. “What should I call you?”
“For you, I think, I will be called Ushakal,” the dragon says. “I’m glad it was you, who accepted,” it continues, “because I can feel the depth of what you do not know.” It runs its hand down Caduceus’ cheek, finger brushing against his lips. “Are you frightened, little one?”
He’s not scared. This creature doesn’t mean to hurt him, or to hurt any of his friends, he can read that clearly enough across his face. He isn’t offering up anything that he particularly cares about. And yet, despite all that, he can feel the sinking feeling of dread, curled within his stomach.
If the dragon expects any response to come in words, it doesn’t wait. Instead, it leans in, and kisses him on the lips.
It’s short, soft, the gentle pressing of lips against his. He’s not sure what he expected, from kissing, if it would be disgusting or monumentous, but it feels not significantly different from the thumb that had rested there before, now sitting against his cheek.
Ushakal pulls back, stares at him with careful eyes, drinking in the sight. Whether it pleases or disappoints him, Caduceus can’t say. He can’t read the dragon at all, not more than it wants him to, and that’s perhaps the most disconcerting part about the whole experience, because he always has some idea, not this blank unknown staring back at him with
He tries his best to keep that gaze as Ushakal kisses him again. There’s a press of a tongue, a shift in the hand on his cheek, a change in their position, and his mouth opens in response. The second kiss has force behind it, and it’s a strange and new sensation, matching in many ways with more like he’d expected.
Caduceus doesn’t know exactly how long it lasts, but he knows Ushakal pulls away to take a breath, that he doesn’t quite think to do the same, and the third kiss has a devouring hunger that makes him reconsider saying the second had ever had any force behind it at all.
The hand on his cheek is now firmly gripping his hair, and it hurts, but he can’t really think about it because it’s only one of the many things that’s overwhelming him. He shuts his eyes and tries to focus, although that doesn’t really help, almost makes things more intense, but at least he can’t see the dragon’s eyes.
He’s not sure what happens, exactly, but when the dragon releases the kiss for a third time, the only thing keeping Caduceus upright is the hand still entwined in his hair and the other on his shoulder pressing him back into a wall. He blinks, and takes a moment to regain his balance.
“If this is how reactive you are when I kiss you,” Ushakal remarks, smiling, “I can’t wait to see how sensitive you’ll be to the rest. Can you walk, treasure?”
“I can,” Caduceus says, and after a deep breath to center himself, all the trembling is gone.
“Good.” The dragon offers its arm, and it takes a few moments for Caduceus to realize what it expects, but it clicks, soon enough, and he lets Ushakal guide him through the maze-like house.