Blood of Dragons - The Protector

The town of Restash was small by most people's standards. Just barely wealthy enough to afford cobbled roads, yet not so much that any of the business owners had much competition with each other; there were just enough people living there to elevate it beyond a simple village. It was the quaint little town that people passed through on their journey between Aemira in the north and Steelmurk in the south, inconsequential in the grand scheme of things.

To Rek, it was an enormous hive of terrifying giants that threatened to swallow him up if he made one wrong step. Such was the way a kobold viewed the world.

Drawing the edges of the too-big cloak tighter around his slight shoulders, Rek double-checked that his hood was pulled well forward to hide his distinctive snout. His toe claws clacked across the cobblestones, and he reminded himself to keep his tail from flicking around too much. At a casual glance, with his stolen gloves and the large shapeless cloak he could pass for a gnome, albeit a suspicious looking one. It was still a better option than walking about uncovered; a kobold in a town of tall races would be shunned at best and unflinchingly slaughtered at worst.

Not for the first time, the thought of meeting his end at the point of a glory-hunting warrior's sword flashed through Rek's mind, and the memories of the previous weeks returned unbidden. He recalled how he and the others had fled from the ones who had invaded their nest; tall figures covered in metal, carrying deadly weapons and calling upon dangerous magic had stormed into their caves. Dozens had perished that day, including the red dragon Balthruzhax; Rek and the others had cowered in the hatchery with the eggs as they heard the final roar of their lord and protector, slain at the hands of the invaders. It was a bittersweet blessing that they had left after Bal fell; the dragon's scales, hide and teeth were taken as prizes as well as his hoard, leaving the remaining kobolds to mourn their loss. Without Bal, they might as well have been killed along with the rest. They were alone in the world, vulnerable to more than just adventuring parties.

This was why Rek had left the nest. His mentor, Galak the shaman had entrusted him with finding a new protector for the clan, another dragon that could give them direction and safety. The odds were slim, it was rare that any dragon would live so close to the territory of another, but Rek was hopeful, because he had proof that there was another dragon, and now after a week of travelling, one that was close by too.

Rek pulled the crudely constructed talisman from a pouch on his belt. It consisted of a gemstone embedded in a lump of melted gold, containing a drop of blood taken from Bal's corpse. Enchanted by Galak, the thick bead of liquid moved around within the gem in the direction Rek needed to go. It was dragon blood, and it sought out other dragon blood; it pointed towards the nearest dragon. Rek had followed the magical compass through hills and forests, and now that he was drawing closer, the gemstone was starting to glow.

Despite being terrified of everything that now surrounded him, Rek had to face it all, because he knew that the dragon was here, in this town.

He followed the blood drop as best he could; he had to navigate through winding streets that the compass could not account for. Rek skirted between a multitude of legs and carts, keeping his head down and trying not to panic at the sight of swords hanging from belts all around him. He picked up his pace and headed down an alley to get around a large building, when the compass suddenly reversed, pointing behind him. Rek stopped in his tracks and headed back down the alleyway, watching as the blood drop swivelled to the side. He took a few experimental steps back and forth; the compass pointed directly at the wall of the building next to him.

Rek gulped. The dragon was inside that building. He realised he should have known better than to think that it would be sitting out in the open for all to see. It would obviously keep itself hidden; he knew that the older, more powerful dragons could change their forms to disguise themselves amongst the lesser races. A glimmer of hope stabbed through his anxiety; a dragon capable of such a feat would be an even greater leader to follow than Balthruzhax had been. He then realised that such a dragon might not consider a tribe of kobolds, especially one now so reduced, to be of any worth to them, especially if it was somehow manipulating the people of this town.

Rek took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down. He had known being found unworthy of a dragon's protection was a risk from the start, but he had to try.

He skittered around to the front of the building to find the main entrance, peering up a circular sign hanging above the door. The image of a dragon-like creature was painted upon it, though it had no front legs, and a wicked looking sting at the end of its tail. Words painted in gold lettering curved around the edge of the sign; Rek had a passing knowledge of the Common language of the tall races, though reading it was a harder task than speaking it. He tried to work the letters around in his mouth.

"Theh... Loose... tie... Why... verrrrn," he murmured to himself. He wasn't sure exactly what those words meant, but if there was a dragon on it, that sign was more than just a nametag for a building. It meant that Rek's quest was almost over.

Rek inspected the door, hesitant to open it. There would be people inside, tall people, in an enclosed space. If they locked the door behind him, there would be no way out. The first priority for a kobold in an unfamiliar place was an escape route, or failing that, a hiding spot. But if everyone knew he was in there, he would not be able to hide for long.

The door suddenly swung open, causing Rek to jump in panic and flatten himself against the wall next to it. A human man staggered out of the building, his face wearing a lopsided smile and hazy eyes. He stretched his arms to the sky with a sigh, adjusted his trousers, and headed down the street. Rek took the opportunity to slip inside, still keeping himself pressed against the wall as the door swung shut.

*******

Rek gave himself a moment to catch his breath, then took stock of the room. It was a little foyer, leading into a wider room that was obscured by fine, silken curtains. An unattended podium stood to one side. The air was filled with a strong smell of incense and perfume, and a melodic harp tune could be heard over the incoherent chatter of many voices. Rek cautiously approached the curtains and poked his head through the gap in the middle.

The room was filled with a multitude of tall folk in a variety of positions; they were draped over long couches, seated on stools all around the room, on the dual staircases leading to the upper floor balcony, leaning against the walls, and everything in between. It took Rek a moment to realise that they weren't talking to each other. The cacophony of voices filling the hall was filled with enamoured sighs, heated moans and cries of pleasure. If a figure wasn't standing alone, and none were, there were clearly bits of anatomy from each engaged with another. Rek saw an elf being penetrated from behind, spooning on their couch; a human couple were on the nearest chair, the one grinding her hips into the other's lap while smothering his face with her bosom; two orcs in the corner were pressed against the wall, their movements looking to make a furrow in the brickwork as they slammed together again and again. They were only a few of the copulations that were scattered all over the room.

Rek froze, wide-eyed. He'd walked into a rut, in the most literal sense. It was like the mating sessions back at the nest: a massive group coitus that ensured the maximum amount of possible eggs. But this was different, and Rek could smell it mingling with the perfumed air. This wasn't about breeding, it was about desire, pleasure, satisfaction. It was intoxicating, and Rek could feel his heart start to beat faster, not from anxiety this time; it was actually conflicting with the fear he had been feeling just before. The main reason he was still listening to any of his survival instincts was that there was nothing in the room that he could focus his feelings upon; not a single scaled figure in sight, just bare skin and hair at best, otherwise he might have considered jumping in without a care.

"Hello, and how may I help you?" came a cheery voice behind him.

Rek almost leaped out of his cloak, but managed to keep it in place. Survival instincts or not, he had been so distracted by the scene before him, he hadn't noticed the soft-faced, matronly dwarven woman that had wandered into the foyer from a side door. She had a big, beaming smile on her face framed by curly brown hair, and wore expensive maroon robes with gold trim. Rek kept his head down and tried not to look her directly in the face lest she see what was under the hood of his cloak.

"S-sorry," he said, fiddling with his fingers. "W-was just... looking f-for-"

"First time, dearie?" said the dwarven lady. "No need to be shy, we have plenty of people who can see it that your experience is a pleasant one." She curtsied gracefully. "I am Madame Hilgya Magmarock, owner and proprietor of The Lusty Wyvern."

Lusty! thought Rek, mentally slapping himself. Out loud he said. "I-is alright. Looking for... someone... special..."

"Oh, we'll find you someone special, have no fear about that," said Madame Hilgya, still smiling widely. "We don't get many of the small folk in here, but I can assure you, we cater to all shapes, sizes and tastes. What is it you're looking for?"

"Ah... um..." Rek wondered if it would be safe to just outright ask. "Looking for... well, they... powerful... and um... rich... a-and great leader..."

"Sounds to me like you're looking to be on the other side of the exchange of cash for fun there, little one," Madame Hilgya said with a hearty laugh. "I don't know about rich, but we have one or two specialists here that deal in... "leading" as you put it."

Rek could feel his scales flushing. "N-no, not at all," he said, trying with all his might to stop the nervous twitching in his tail. "Looking... looking for..."

"Yes?" said Madame Hilgya patiently.

"...a dragon," said Rek, his hands twisting up tight.

Madame Hilgya looked perplexed for a second, then laughed again. "Well, that's certainly one of the more... interesting requests I've ever had around here. Quite ambitious for your first time, there." She looked down at Rek, her smile becoming more sympathetic. "I don't know what to tell you, but I don't have a dragon on my staff, although I do have a lady from the Southern Kingdoms who we call "The Hydra"..."

"But dragon is here!" blurted Rek. "Know it is! Was lead here, was..." Rek stopped himself; he didn't want to mention the compass talisman. "Travelled long way, need to find dragon, know it is here."

Madame Hilgya's look turned bemused. "Look, I know this place has a wyvern on the sign, but that's just for brand name recognition. I certainly don't know about a..." She stopped, struck by a sudden thought. "Actually, now that you mention it, I might know who you're talking about."

Rek looked up hopefully. "You do?" He quickly remembered to duck his head back down before she noticed his snout.

"Yes. She doesn't work for me, but she's in here quite a lot. A mercenary, one of a kind she is. Doesn't have the best reputation about town, but she pays well."

"Can see her?" said Rek. The sooner he found the dragon, the quicker he could get out of this place; the moans from the other room were starting to make him uncomfortable.

"Well, she's currently taking some time in a private room with one of my boys," said Madame Hilgya. "But you're welcome to wait for her in the main hall, if you'd like. I can take your cloak -"

"No!" said Rek, sharply, bundling the cloak closer to his chest.

Madame Hilgya blinked in surprise. "It's alright, I can just hang it up in -"

"MAGMAROCK!"

The shouted name reverberated down from the upper floor, and everyone in the main hall paused mid-copulation to look up to the top of the stairs. Madame Hilgya swept into the room through the curtains, Rek trailing behind her and following their gaze. His eyes widened even further as he saw the angry individual marching down the stairs.

Her arms and legs rippled with muscle; not lithe and toned, but chiselled and solid. She was at least three times his size, tall even for a human, but she was clearly not all human herself. Sweeping, bony horns protruded backwards from her mane of rich auburn hair, and more bone-like formations emerged from her shoulder blades, like vestigial wings. Beyond her elbows and knees, her olive tanned skin gave way to red, armour-like scales. Her hands and feet were reptilian, sporting wicked black claws. One of those hands was clutching a sheet around her body, which while mostly obscured, was clearly well-developed and curvy with a generous bosom and hips, as well as a long, scaly tail trailing out behind her. Her other hand was clutching a fistful of hair, attached to a semi-conscious orcish man whose limbs clattered on the stairs as she dragged him across the floor. Her eyes blazed with an almost tangible orange flame as she approached Madame Hilgya, her lips pulling back to reveal a set of sharp fangs amongst her teeth.

Rek's jaw dropped open.

Madame Hilgya simply smiled her matronly smile. "Oh no, Altha. Again?"

"You told me you had given him enough of your concoction to "make him last a week." Your exact words!" snarled the massive woman. "It's been three hours and he's already worn out! What in all the Hells am I paying for you to put in that stuff if it doesn't work?"

"I'm so sorry you're unsatisfied with our services, Altha dear," said Madame Hilgya, completely unfazed by the intimidating Altha looming above her. "Feel free to take part in the contents of the bar to the value of your payment. Minus the fee for the bed that I'm sure you've broken again, of course."

Altha snorted, releasing the orc's hair. His head hit the floor with a thud, accompanied by burbles that may have been pleasure or pain, or both. Altha did not even glance at him, stomping off to a door across the room, slamming it behind her. After another moment of silence, the other patrons went back to their coupling, a few amused noises murmuring through them.

Madame Hilgya crouched down and patted the orc's face gently. "I told you to take the potion before going to see her, silly boy. You just had to try and show off, didn't you?" She turned back to Rek, who was frozen on the spot. "Well, there's your dragon, little man. You still want to try your luck with that?"

Rek shook himself, gathering his cloak around him again. "Y-yes, must speak with her. Thank you, thank you, goodbye." He skittered across the room, taking care not to step on the fingers of a younger dwarven lady who was on all fours, taking it from behind by a human man only half as broad as her.

Madame Hilgya watched him go, her smile unwavering as she sighed, "Hopefully there won't be too much to clean up..."

*******

Rek slunk into the drinking area, taking care not to let the door slam and draw any more attention. It was a modest little room, with only one table and a few stools by the bar, one of which was currently occupied by Altha. She was still wrapped in her bedsheet and currently taking a long pull directly from a bottle, much to the chagrin of the elf behind the counter.

The barkeep looked over at Rek with an inquisitive eyebrow. "What will be your pleasure... sir?"

"N-nothing," said Rek, tugging at his hood and keeping his eyes on the floor. "Just here to talk to..." he gulped, "...to lady."

Altha put down the bottle and wiped her lips with the back of her hand. "What's that?"

Rek fidgeted with his gloves. "N-need to t-t-talk to you, p-please."

She looked down at him for the first time, squinting curiously. "What do you want?"

"B-been on long journey, t-travelled far to f-find you," said Rek. "Need your help."

Altha cocked her head, her hair tumbling off her shoulders. "I don't help people unless gold is involved. Cough up some cash, and I'll kill whatever you want."

"Can get gold! Will give all gold to you, for being protector," said Rek.

"Bodyguard work, huh? You look like you need it," said Altha. "But I need cash up front, thirty gold pieces minimum, especially if you need me to travel."

Rek scratched at the floor, embarrassed. "D-don't have gold. Was all taken, nothing left."

Altha sniffed. "Sorry to hear that, but unless I get paid, it's not my problem. Find someone else willing to work for free." She turned back to the bar and picked up her bottle again.

Rek deflated. "Can't. Had to find you. You only one who can help. Need... dragon."

Altha slammed the bottle down onto the countertop, the glass shattering in her fist. The barkeep opened his mouth, but the large woman growled at him, a deep unnerving sound that no normal human throat could have produced. "Haevethad, go take a break. I need a private conversation with this little squit."

"Madame Hilgya won't appreciate you wrecking the bar as well," said the elf as he headed to the door. "Try not to make too big of a mess, or she might not give you another chance."

"Whatever," Altha muttered as Haevethad slipped out. She stood, her clawed feet scratching into the wooden floor as she drew herself up to her full height, looming over Rek and glaring down at him. "You trying to send a message or something, runt?"

Rek curled up into a ball, mewling pitifully. "P-please... need help... need dragon..."

Altha reached down, grabbed Rek by the front of his cloak and lifted him effortlessly with one hand. "You think you're the first one to try and intimidate me? To scare me into leaving town? I don't care who you work for or how big your friends are, you don't scare me, and I'm not going anywhere! How many pieces should I send you back in to make myself clear?!" She punctuated her point with a hard shake of her arm.

The sudden motion threw back the hood of the cloak, revealing Rek's face; his diminutive draconic features were fully exposed, distorted in terror. "P-please don't hurt! Please don't kill! Please please please!"

Altha blinked in surprise. "A kobold? Since when do any of the local mobs hire kobolds?"

"Not! Came far! Need dragon! Please don't kill!" sobbed Rek, covering his face with his hands, trying to curl up into a ball again in mid-air.

"Oh gods," muttered Altha. "Look, calm down alright? Don't cry, for the love of..." She set him down as gently as she could; Rek immediately drew up his knees and started rocking back and forth, openly weeping. Altha glanced around, leaned across the counter and retrieved a bottle from the back shelf. She pulled the cork with her teeth and knelt down, offering the bottle to Rek. "Here, just... have some of this and stop crying!" she said in a tone that tried and failed to be calming.

Despite this, Rek snatched the bottle in both hands and began to chug down. The strong liquor nearly made him choke; a spray of alcohol mingled with mucus erupted from his already streaming nostrils as he hacked up onto the floor, prompting a disgusted look from Altha. What little of the drink Rek was able to swallow took effect almost immediately, and the shaking in his body began to slow down, as did his sobbing.

"You better now?" said Altha, and Rek nodded meekly. "Good, then. So..." Altha coughed. "So, you're really not from around here?"

Rek shook his head. Altha sighed. "I see. It's just... I've had so many people try to run me out of this town because I'm..." She looked at her clawed hand pensively. "Anyway, I thought you were just another messenger boy trying to deliver some passive-aggressive threat and..." She coughed again. "So, what's this about needing a dragon?"