Dragonsreach

Dragonsreach

Prologue

All day they strike at the stone, pickaxes ringing as they free it from the earth. Others behind them haul the rough rocks to ragged wooden carts. They are wheeled away to where they are ordered. The tyber’zon people labor without rest, muscles straining under the burning sun, dust filling their lungs until the sun sinks behind the mountains and its light dies with it. Under the burning rays of the sun over the great sands of Nile’tilon, their toil never ends.

They work hard out of fear, afraid of the whips that would lash and cut their skin if they falter. Their naga masters watch over them like hawks over their prey, waiting for them to make a mistake to warrant punishment. Thousands of slaves toil in the giant quarry, moving the stone for their masters. Digging through the reddish yellow stone and hauling out of the quarry to the building sites to build structures for the naga. The east side of the quarry is bordered by a jungle that goes for miles, and the other three sides are bordered by dry desert with great dunes as far as the eye can see. There are stone paths that curl down along the walls leading to the quarry where the slaves work the stone and carry out.

Over half the tyber’zon here are starving and suffering from the lack of needed water. The tyber’zon are a race that bear features of felines. They vary in colors some have shades of brown, yellow, orange, or some even have patterns that mix the colors. Most stand about six feet tall with tails that easily drag the ground as they walk. Many of them are unnaturally thin, their skin stretched tight enough for anyone to see the bones. They walk on legs that resemble the hind legs of a cat. Hands that are similar to a human’s, but their fingers are tipped with claws. They have cat-like ears and long feline snouts. Every slave is dressed in ragged torn clothes and they are forced to wear muzzles, keeping them from opening their mouths more than what is needed to nibble their food or speak. Every single one has a brand of a snake skull on their right forearm marking them as property of their naga masters.

The naga, their masters, have the features of snakes. They walk on digitigrade legs with scales covering their bodies, also have only four toes and fingers. Their heads are elongated like those of a snake, their eyes are yellow in color. Their skin varies in color from shades of blue to shades of green. They have long sharp talons that grasp finely made spears, all of metal that has a dark blue hue to it. They wear full plate armor made of the same material as the spear. They have blue hoods to cover their heads as protection from the sun. Where the tyber’zon appear weak and frail, the naga stand strong over them. Their cruelty and dominance over their slaves etched on their menacing features.

Walking down the stone paths are three dark elves with an escort of nine orcs trailing behind them. The orcs walk behind their dark elf masters, dragging their feet. They slump along miserably under the heat, none of them used to the desert climate. They wear simple leather armor with no distinctive design and each of them carries a short sword to protect their masters. Three of them are holding big jungle leaves to shade the dark elves from the sun.

Behind them are three more orcs who are different from the others. One is pale white, with long black straight hair and his body covered in scars. The second is an older orc who is missing his right hand and a smithing hammer in its place. He also has an eyepatch over his left eye, he is bald and has a black beard that is sprinkled with a lot of gray that falls to the top of his chest. The third is the only female, her skin is tan, unlike the others. She has long black straight hair that falls halfway down her back, and she has uncharacteristically beautiful features for an orc. Her tusks are not much larger than the rest of her teeth. She stands as the servant of the female dark elf. The other six orcs have the usual gray skin and bulky builds.

Of the three dark elves one is female and the other two are males. One of the males and the female are dressed in long robes that fall to the ground covering their feet. Their fine silk robes are shades of black and purple. On the robes there are silver lines that curl around like a spider’s webbing.

The female elf carries a dagger on the right side of her belt. She has long thick white hair with soft curls that falls to her waist. Her eyes are red, and she has smooth facial features and an hourglass figure. Her figure is sculpted and poised, an effortless blend of beauty and controlled power. As she walks down into the quarry, her face bears heavy scowl. Every step seems reluctant, her crimson eyes narrowing with disdain.

The second elf holds a staff in his left hand. At the end is a stone carved black widow spider wrapping its legs around a red gem. The gem is as large as a human hand, and the shaft of the staff is black. He wears a black cloak with a hood to cover his head. The only features to be seen are his red eyes glowing through the shade of the hood and his square jaw. His robes and cloak hide his body, hiding what is underneath.

The third elf does not wear robes, but dark leather armor made to appear as dragon scales. His shoulder pieces are made with the design of a shadow dragon’s head, with horns on the sides of the head that curve back like a ram’s horns. He has two long curved finely made sabers resting on his hips. The hilts of the sabers are black, the pommels are shaped like snake heads angled downward. He also carries a small crossbow that can be held with one hand on his right hip behind the saber. The arms of this hand crossbow can collapse in making it easier to conceal. As well as the crossbow, he has a small quiver of bolts on his left hip behind the left saber. Other than these weapons he does not appear to be carrying anything else. His hair is not as long as the female dark elf. His hair is straight, falling to his shoulders.

Leading them down the stone path is another naga, guiding them to the quarry. He carries a rolled-up whip in his left hand, wears simple tan cloth pants, and a worn leather cap, nothing from the waist up. His scaly skin is a light, dusty green and he has a big scar going over his left eye, rendering the eye pale and sightless.

The naga says to the dark elves, his voice raspy as he draws out the Ss in his speech. “You ssssssee, thesssssse are the best we have to offer in our market of sssssslavessssss.”

The female dark elf stops in her tracks, scoffing at the naga’s words. “If this is the best you have, then we have wasted our time here.” The other two dark elves halt beside her.

The naga walks a few feet before realizing they had stopped. He turns to the dark elves, no anger on his face as he is simply ignoring the elf’s insults. “I assssure you that they are only one of the ssssspeciesssss that we have to do busssinesssss.”

The female dark elf just sighs, her red eyes narrow, and responds. “What about your more aquatic slaves?”

The naga says plainly. “I am ssssorry to ssssay, being creaturessss of the Underdark. No aquatic racessss would perform very well, as they come from the ocean.” He stops for a moment to motion to the cat folk with his empty hand. “There is not enough human ssslavesss to market off. The tyber’zon cat people are the only ssssurface dwellers that we have in abundance.”

The female dark elf rolls her eyes letting out another sigh. “Fine, we have come to buy your top three hundred slaves. So, show us your finest product.” She finishes by waving to him to lead the way, the gesture thick with attitude.

The naga turns around, walking away. Leading them and showing them what they are requesting. The woman and cloak figure follow behind with their orc slaves in tow. The third dark elf, however, does not follow, letting them move off without him.

He sees something that catches his eye, someone that sticks out. There he sees one tyber’zon that is different from all the others. He has seen maybe thousands of their kind this day, but none like this one that he sees. This one is the first he has seen with completely black fur and that he is happy.

This tyber’zon boy does not seem to be very old, no older than twelve to sixteen. He is built like most of the others, with short thin fur. His ears are rounded and has a long tail that is three feet. This cat folk is tall, standing at about six feet, a few inches taller than the others. Like the others he is forced to wear a muzzle and wears ragged clothes. What stands out about this cat folk is that he can see that the boy is happy. The dark elf sees that he is not working but playing in the dirt apart from the other cat folk.

The dark elf moves towards him, the tyber’zon boy does not notice the elf’s approach. As he gets closer, he can now see what the cat is drawing in the sand. He sees a simple drawing of a cat folk on a ship dressed like a pirate. It is not a very good drawing but good enough for one to know what it is. The dark elf comes to a stop right behind him, blocking his light. As his light disappears, the cat folk looks up at the elf in surprise.

What was once a joy-filled smile is now a look of fear as he stares up at the dark elf. He says to the dark elf, his voice a little raspy, but soft from his youth. His voice is muffled from the muzzle he wears. “I am sorry, I will get back to work.” The cat folk starts to rise, preparing to rejoin the other tyber’zon.

The dark elf holds his hand up motioning for him to stop and says to him, his voice is deep stern tone. “No, you won’t.”

The tyber’zon gets this confused look. “No?”

The dark elf answers the cat. “No, you will stay right here with me, and we will talk.”

The tyber’zon then asked. “Talk about what?” His fear and confusion are washed away, replaced by curiosity.

The elf replies with no delay. “First of all, who are you?”

The dark elf can see the cat filling up with excitement and along with a smile through the muzzle. “Really?” The elf nods to the question.

The tyber’zon then says. “No one has ever asked me any questions like that before.”

In reply the dark elf says, now has a slight grin. “Yet I am still waiting for an answer.”

With a smile as big as he can wearing the muzzle, he throws his right cat hand up at the elf. “Hi, I am Garrus.”

The dark elf takes the cat’s hand and shakes it in greeting. “My name is Ray’tyron. Nice to meet you, Garrus.” He stops for a moment, and both share a smile. “So, Garrus, what are you doing?” Ray’tyron nodding towards the drawing in the sand.

Garrus looks at his handiwork for a moment, then back to Ray’tyron. “I was drawing me as a pirate.”

The dark elf asks him, his tone nonjudging. “Why would you want to be a pirate?”

The black-furred tyber’zon responds quickly. “Because pirates can do whatever they want.”

Ray’tyron thinks for a moment, giving the cat a curious look. He is about to speak again but is stopped when he hears the voice of the female dark elf. “What are you doing with that slave?” Her voice carried both confusion and disgust. She comes to a stop about five feet behind him, with the other dark elf and the naga who has been leading them.

Ray’tyron turns to her and speaks. “We are here to look for new slaves and I have found one.”

The woman scoffs at the reply. “Why would we want a small, pathetic creature like this one. Its size makes it weak, and it clearly has no form of concentration.” She points at the tyber’zon’s drawing, disappointment clear in her expression.

Ray’tyron turns to regard the boy but sees that Garrus has gone back to what he was doing before. He pays the dark elf woman no mind or her words. Garrus sits down on the sand and is drawing into his picture, now adding a simple version of a kraken.

Ray’tyron replies to her, his voice steady. “I see potential in him.”

The female dark elf chuckles as if he meant it as a joke. She crosses her arms over her chest and speaks smugly. “Potential, in that creature? Oh Ray’tyron, you are one of the most insufferable dark elves of our time.”

Ray’tyron ignores her and continues. “I think he has value.”

The female dark elf rolls her eyes, then her patience runs out as she says, “No, it doesn’t, and we are not taking it.”

Ray’tyron tries to argue. “Lady Delmora, hear me out.”

She cuts him off before he can say anything else, anger now in her eyes. “No, I will not! That is the end of the matter, and it will rot away here.” Delmora spins around to the naga that has been showing them around and commands. “We are done here. You have five days to have the slaves ready.”

She then quickly whirls toward the dark elf that is wearing the hood who has been silent and she says to him, “I am returning to my ship.”

The hooded figure nods in reply and mumbles something under his breath that they cannot understand. He moves his hand in a circle wiggling his fingers as they can see purple shadow drawn from the red stone of his staff. It moves to his fingers and curling around his hand in a circular motion. After a few seconds, the strand of magic parts from his fingers, forming a ring as big as him. They see a human-sized purple ring filled with shadow. He motions for them to enter it.

Lady Delmora looks to Ray’tyron, her voice commanding, “It is time to go.”

Ray’tyron looks to her then back to Garrus and kneels before him. He reaches under his chest piece and pulls out a black metal disk the size of his palm. On it there is a design of the top side of a black spider. Placing it in the hand of the cat and he says to Garrus. “This is a gift.”

Holding the disk in hand, Garrus’s eyes light up at the gift. After a few seconds he asks, “Why are you giving me this?”

The elf hesitates for a moment, delayed by Garrus’s question until he replies. “Because you remind me of someone I used to know.”

Delmora then raises her voice. “Come on, Ray’tyron! I have places to be!”

Ray’tyron stands up and says to him. “We will meet again.” As he speaks, he looks over his shoulder at Delmora, then continues with. “Keep working and everything will be fine.” With a nod to Garrus, he moves to join the other two dark elves.

Garrus watches them enter through the portal, the nine orcs following behind them. The portal closes after a moment leaving no way to follow. He continues to stare at where the portal was, intrigued by the dark elf he had just met. He looks down at the spider-marked disk he is now holding wondering why it was given to him.

The naga yells, his voice cracking like the whip he carries “Get to work!”

Without even looking at the naga, he jumps back to work, grabbing stones. He carries the stones, moving them into the nearby carts. He works hard but his mind is on the dark elf he just met, wondering if they will meet again.