Spires of unliving rock scale up from the ground. Despite the distance and size upon the horizon, the shadows it casts were carried further away than predictable. Along the entirety of the vanishing point there was nothing else to look at. No forests, no clouds, no hills, nothing save for the inorganic rocks.
It is a desolate place, devoid of life or liveliness. Creatures flee before the unnatural presence the mountains emit. Birds do not fly near. Elk, moose, and deer remain far from its unliving trails of metamorphic rock and stone. Rams and mountain lions are scared to scale the sheer walls and perilous drops. Nothing lives there. It has earned its reputation and name, Titan’s Claws, the upward reaching hand of a being so large and powerful that it challenged the sky and almost won. Its corpse and carrion festered and remained for the eons, its malice and malignance spread into the land and choked out the well wishes of those that sought to live within its aura. Nothing lives there. Save for one rumored being, the Storm Dragon Myrskivangr the Hoardless. While any creature Herculean enough to even pretend to approach the Claws was worthy of fear and dread, Myrskivangr was far, far worse. Tales of how he could kill with even a glance did nothing to detract from stories of nails many yards long, fangs strong enough to rend diamonds in two, and horns capable of piercing the hide or scale of any challenger of his cliffs.
It was this dragon that a lone Kobold sought, even as he peered across lands and plains with next to no shade. Leagues and leagues of wide open air that sat stale and stagnant lied between the lone journeyman and his destination. He had stopped, frightened, afraid to continue. He watched the Titan’s Claws and, perhaps more distressingly, knew they were watching him. A challenger of the cliffs who is scared to scale and climb, afraid of falling, or even hesitant of taking one step closer could never survive there. The Kobold felt it might be best to run, flee, rethink his plan and quest.
He turned around and looked yonder towards the opposite direction. Greenery and lush lands extended into that sky. Fields of wildflowers seeded up from the fertile soil and bared their color to the world in fantastic displays. The Kobold could see the wind in the trees, branches becoming brushes that tried to paint along the blue canvas of the sky. The black dot swarms of flocks of birds which passed into the distance to never be seen by his eyes again bid him follow. They urged him to seek shelter and come towards the safety that would only be found in physical distance from those cliffs at his back. They pleaded that the Kobold go back, back to his old master, Merisylix.
The scar that adorned his left arm blazed fresh with pain. His trembling right hand squeezed it with all the strength the Kobold could muster after weeks of trekking across lands filled with life in solitude. The act only served to double the pain anew. The plains of hills and dales with grass that grew ever verdantly had been kind to the soles of his feet, but torture to his soul. The Kobold’s sole possessions, a makeshift cloak of woven leaves and a discarded walking branch that did not extend further than the top of his head, were beyond the point of use and beyond mend or repair. These would not last a trip back through land bounding with vim and verve, they were dead things.
The Kobold closed his eyes as the pain in his arm dwindled, and the short creature wished that his fear would be taken along with it. That remained, like the stagnant atmosphere behind him, still. He came to an uncertain conclusion, one he’s come to time and time again on this journey of his. He needed to continue forward, move towards the skyscraping Claws and not run in panic. There was certainty in returning to the familiar, he knew. However, that certainty was what had driven him to flee the bosom of living lands to chase rumors and hearsay. It is what impelled him to seek out Myrskivangr the Hoardless.
The Kobold turned, wrenching away his vision from lands abound with life in favor of that which lies in front. The Titan’s Claws, a land of decay, desolations, and death, greeted him. Its fangs like teeth barred in evil grin and dangerous demeanor. Much like the birds behind him, it bade him to walk forth. Unlike the birds, it was not for his safety, but to spell his doom.
……
The gray walls were hashed with cracks and faultlines and the spiderwebs of flaws shot their way up the walls. The Kobold could only shimmy along the fine ledges one step at a time. His own arms were sore and haggard from climbing, legs sore from a month of hiking. He hadn’t had water in some time and the effects of his parched throat made even breathing an irritation. The silver scaled explorer chanced a glance down. The feeling of vertigo made itself known as he quickly looked back to the wall lest he become dizzy. The Kobold’s grip on the rock face only intensified in fear. His palms were scrapped, but he found the will to take just another step to his right. A soft moaning sound of wind scurried through the air. Clouds appeared to be rolling in from the south. Dark and twisted cumulonimbus that were moving too quickly to leave the Kobold at ease. The Titan’s Claws were about to be hit with a storm and without shelter there was no way the Kobold was going to survive. Strong winds, precarious handholds, and a long fall were the least of his problems. He needed to keep moving.
Hand over hand, foot over foot, he climbed. The act of putting a limb to the wall became hypnotic, the only present action he could take and he needed to keep moving. The Kobold knew that if he slowed, or worse stopped, he would not begin again. That would spell disaster. The aura of the Claws was around him, mocking him for his struggles. The wind was like laughs and humor at his expense as it increased in intensity. The flapping of his coat spared his body from most of the stings of wind, but only until the rain started. The first freezing droplet landed squarely in his eye. The Kobold growled as he rubbed it, blinking away the obstruction. He needed both eyes to see, he needed to have both hands to climb, and he needed to keep moving and find somewhere to wait out the storm.
Unfortunately, the storm became a grand obstacle. More and more drops of rain hit upon him and blinded him. He couldn’t look up without more chilling droplets targeting his eyes. He couldn’t find the next foothold without looking up. And he couldn’t climb higher without finding the next foothold. The air was becoming frigid and his breath misted into the air more and more frequently. The Kobold was sore, tired, scared, and afraid. He stopped climbing.
The wind continued to howl louder and louder and he couldn’t help but hear the mockery in the noise. He told himself it was just the wind, just the mountains. They couldn’t speak and nor could they ridicule him. The Titan’s Claws were not alive anymore, there was no danger here. A burst of sawing wind immediately proved him wrong. The sheer force it imparted nearly tugged his small frame from the wall. Already bleeding fingers and claws grasped the nearly vertical wall like vices. Battling for just a little more purchase.
“I need to move.” The words may have been lost in the wind, along with the mist, but he said them. The Kobold declared before the Claws his intent and that somehow granted him the will to keep moving. He extended his right hand higher. The hand blindly sought a handhold as the rain still rendered his eyes incapable. The wall was slick with rainwater but he didn’t dare stop moving again. The brief and limited times he could look skyward and plan his next few moves also let him espy a miracle. An alcove, a concave region able to fit him was just a dozen grasps away. It wouldn’t be much, but it would be more than his nonexistent chances of remaining tethered to the wall with just his quickly fading strength.
A destination gave him clear purpose and drive and his grasps at rocks became more and more frequent despite his quickly diminishing reserves of strength. Brilliant flashes of lighting and the echoing thunder heralded the storm proper. He made his way slowly, but surely. Lightning strikes were coming much too frequently and the thunder was making him go deaf. He willed his frail body to keep moving. As he finally pulled his legs and tail into the cave, icy wind blew across the mouth and his wet scales. Windchill sapped his heat as well as his strength, but he was safe and sheltered. Sore muscles complained as he curled up into a ball and laid upon the ground. The Kobold was safe, but he was tired. Cold from the storm, hungry from his travels, scared of the Claws, and alone.
“I made it. I did it.” He whispered to himself. The smile that touched his face was the first he felt in a while, the accomplishment and reward of making it through this ordeal felt magnanimous. He was alive, he was out of the rain, he was close to the end of his journey. What the poor, exhausted Kobold couldn’t know was that he was in danger.
The Titan’s Claws were no strangers to storms, the artillery of the sky that it fought ages ago. Even in death, the two beings fought each other. An unstoppable force and an immovable object that pursue each other endlessly. Both were completely unconcerned with the casualties of their warfare, even if they had just barely secured shelter from the oncoming onslaught. The howling through the cave spirited from deeper within. The smaller cracks along the cliff face the Kobold had climbed were not erosion but thousands of battle wounds spanning centuries of conflict. Wind buffeted the wall and pierced its shell, blasting out channels of tunnels. Highways of interjoining passages concentrated the speed and magnitude of the blowing air. All to rip apart more of the remaining structure. Or to blast an unsuspecting Kobold from his resting spot.
The sole warning was a rapid increase of pitch to the howling from further inside the cave, but even if the Kobold was at peak condition he wouldn’t have been able to withstand the wave of storm air that pummeled him into nothingness. The shock of freefall woke him from the near sleep he was about to enter. The sensation of weightlessness jarred his arms to seek something physical to grab, unfortunately, all he could grasp at was unsolid air. He screamed as he fell towards certain death. The Kobold cursed not being born with wings, unlike those dragons he was running from and towards. Even as wind and water blasted him from all angles as he fell, his scar on his left arm flared in pain. The Kobold closed his eyes and waited for it all to end.
The grasp around his torso and immediate change in direction of his momentum was too much for his body to sustain. Rhythmic thumps drummed against his ears and he no longer felt daggers of rain on his body. His last thought was why he was still having thoughts before he passed out.
……
The world was black when he woke up. The Kobold’s eyes ached as he blinked them. A mess of memories that returned reminded him of his predicament. The silver scaled creature was falling and now he’s awake. And that didn’t make any sense to him.
The cave, which he noticed as his eyes readjusted, was not familiar to him. For one, it was warm and dry. Sounds of the storm raging outside continued as he looked for any distinguishing marks on where he was. The Kobold found none. He turned to get his feet under him.
The ground below him rumbled and stirred. The shock of being upon shifting rock did not sit well with him. His sore and aching legs were not capable of keeping him upright so it wasn’t long before he fell to his knees. Channeled grooves of the floor felt unnatural, unlike the stone and rocks he had climbed all day yesterday. Each segment was too uniform and the gold filigree patterning that coursed across the surface was not a random design.
The Kobold finally understood what he was sitting upon. It was dragonscale. The recognition sent tremors along his frame. He tracked the pattern across the hide. Rivulets of precious auger lines arced and swirled as he looked. His eyes followed them off into the cave. The winding scaled flank he was laying upon trailed into the longest of tails. It would have taken the small statured creature a minute or more to walk along its length. The tip flicked casually in the semi-darkness.
The Kobold breathed slowly, the massive presence of a dragon radiated from behind him. Without turning, he could feel eyes on him. The sharp iris that could kill with a look. His scar stung, but he dared not move to grab it. Like prey, he froze. Only by some miracle could he breathe. He thought about running. Wide eyes flicked left and right searching for the exit. None was found among the walls. The Kobold felt trapped. He didn't know what to do.
“It seems you are awake.” The speech rumbled the air, vibrating about the entire chamber. “You were quite frigid, shivering quite violently. But it seems like you are still chilled. Perhaps my flank was not nearly as warm as I wished.”
The Kobold gulped, and also realizing he was trembling. All he could think was to not turn and avoid those eyes. It was folly to wish he hadn't been spotted, not when he had been directly addressed.
“Who- who are you?” His voice was timid. The sound couldn't have traveled far.
“Me? You journey deep into my territory, scale the walls of my home, find yourself in my abode and choose to demand from me my name before surrendering your own. Tell me. Are you brave or foolish?” The words froze him more than the wind or rain ever did.
“I'm scared…” It was an honest response, born from the fear of the dragon behind him and fear of not answering promptly.
“Hmm, I had not considered that. It seems I have misjudged, perhaps you simply do not know. I am Myrskivangr, Caller of Everstorm. Ruler of the Tall Peaks of Titan’s Claws. King of the Dark Sky. And.. Frightener of Kobolds, it seems.” A light chuckle accented that last one. “Tell me though, Silver One. What name do you go by?”
Myrskivangr! The dragon the Kobold had been searching for. The dragon he has been hoping to find ever since abandoning his old Master. But that was beyond obvious. All the rumors pointed to the dragon ruler of this land being Myrskivangr. But finally they met. And the Kobold was currently keeling on his thigh.
“Oh Great Lord Myrskivangr! I, I, I’m so sorry. Forgive me for laying upon you. Please, I beg your mercy!” He scrambled off the way, whatever way removed himself from atop the powerful dragon quickest. The Kobold jumped to the ground and landed hard. Sore legs gave out as he fell upon them. He hissed in pain and embarrassment, his introduction to the great dragon foiled by his weaknesses. All he could do was bow deeply and hope that he wouldn’t be punished too harshly. He gritted through the pain. At least, while he felt pain he was alive.
“An odd title, repeat it please. I do not believe I heard you clearly.” The towering Myrskivangr responded and shot another wave of terror through the silver Kobold’s form.
“Please, I apologize. It was not your mistake but mine. I foolishly failed to follow your orders. I, my name- I'm called Revislok.” His head remained low. “Just Revislok.”
“Hmmm…” Stones scraped and shrieked as the dragon shifted. Revislok dared not glance. Fatal eyes were staring his way and, as meager as it was, he wanted to keep his life. “Well Revislok Just Revislok, why are you here? What brings a silver scaled Two Foot so far from the Lands of Ice and Snow?”
Revislok had expected that question. He had been contemplating it for the entire duration of his journey. The prepared words and arguments and speeches he dreamed up in his head evaporated from his mouth.
“I’m, I’m looking for another master. My… former master, Merisylix the Bright, he released me from his service and I’ve come to beseech you. Please let me in yours.” It was hard to mention his former lord but it was not something he could avoid. Lying would discredit him. Myrskivangr did not respond immediately and Revislok felt the soft wisps of hot breath blow his way. Revislok continued. “I’ll do anything you ask. I’m a hard worker. I’ll clean your lair, I’ll clean your scales. I’ll do anything, no task too demeaning.”
“So you are asking for employment? From me?”
“Yes.” The cave fell silent as Revislok’s answer rested in the air. The silver Kobold tried to keep calm as his plea stood. Many more words of adoration and desperation sat on his lips but they were kept down. Any further words would just erode his position and request.
“Hmm. Peculiar. Is the floor so soft as to remain low upon it? Or is this a custom of your home lands?”
“Oh, this?” Revislok hadn’t expected such a question. “I, I was showing my reverence. Bowing myself before your majesty. I am not one of consequence to stand before you.” Myrskivanger snorted. Warmer air blew across his back. Revislok asked himself if he had made a mistake. “Please! If there is another way or mean, a way you would prefer, simply tell me. I will not hesitate.”
“Perhaps you should hesitate…” The words confused the Kobold more. He knelt upon the ground and attempted to consider what, if anything, he was being asked. “Stand up, Kobold!”
“But I… Lord Myrskivangr, I would not dare disobey you. But certainly one such as I cannot stand in your presence. I am not worthy.” Another snort.
“Revislok Just Revislok asks for employment. Says he will perform any task. I give him a task. He does not perform it. What am I to make of that?” The accusation made Revislok cringe. His own incompetence was made clear. His scar ached.
“Wait! Please! I was a fool for doubting you, forgive me. I am not of sound mind. My travels have left me weary and confused. If you bid me to stand, I will stand.” Despite the determination in his heart and words, his body kept from moving just a moment more. The incomprehensible intersection of a dragon that wishes him to stand before him. Merisylix would have never allowed that. Weary limbs moved and pushed his body up off the floor. He kept his eyes down as he stood. The cold stone receded further away in his gaze. The constant temptation to look upon the frightening dragon was immense, but tales and rumors rolled about his head and stilled his eyes.
“You are shivering.” He was, unable to control his instincts that urged him to flee. Revislok still had no idea where the exit was and there was no fleeing the dangerous being in front of him. “Do not move.” The Kobold was adamant he wouldn’t disobey that command. More shifting and scraping sounded from ahead of him. Lumbering paws and foot falls made their way forward. Claw scratches upon the floor made him gulp. Waves of hot air moved more and more over his frame. Myrskivangr stepped towards him.
His heart pumped faster and faster. The coursing adrenaline stirred his limbs. Survival instincts were consuming his draining willpower. Every sense screamed that he was in danger and should be fleeing in panicked frenzy. Yet Revislok remained still just as he was told.
The air began to heat up around him. The output of a titanous dragon serving more than any puny campfire or even the sun could. The Kobold found some comfort in the warmth, a drop before the glacier of fear.
Two paws appeared in his vision as he stood. They were greater than his body and certainly belonged to a grand and powerful dragon. However, their size was not nearly what should have been found on the dragon he woke up upon. Myrskivangr’s tail was many yards long, these paws were only twice his size, if that. He couldn’t make sense of the proportions.
“Why do you not look up? Are the stones more intriguing than I, the one you have sought out?” The words were spoken above his head. There was humor in them. The paws continued to stalk around him to his back. He followed them as they left one side of his vision and returned the other. More evidence of inconsistent size grazed his vision as once more he looked upon Myrskivangr’s tail. The slithering appendage dragged across the floor. Large but not massive. Revislok questioned his own memories. Was that tail so large before when he viewed it or was it just a trick of his debilitated mind, he did not know. He recalled that he was asked a question and he hurried to answer.
“I- Tales of your strength and presence stretch beyond even the land I hail from. I am concerned that I would faint or worse if I do not divert my eyes.” The dragon rumbled behind him.
“Tales are only worth the rears of those who spread them? What do they say of me, Revislok Just Revislok? What tales have you heard?” The Kobold felt the ground vibrate as the dragon’s large form rested behind him. To each side Revislok saw claws and nails, holding him hemmed in. The large tail that should be longer wrapped around to complete the ring. He was trapped, but at least the proximity burned the chill from the air. The storm’s wails still continued from somewhere beyond the cave of stone.
“They tell of your strength, mightier than any beast that walks across the ground or flies in the air.”
“Hmm. Continue.” He did.
“They tell of your aura which would paralyze even the wind and halt the breeze, how your breaths could start tornadoes and your wings could spark typhoons.”
“Anything else?”
“They talk of your eyes which can rend all inferior beings such as I in two. How one's heart will stop if they catch even the smallest glimpse.”
“Ahh, is that why, Revislok Just Revislok? Is that the reason your eyes seek the stones instead of my form?” The Kobold could only nod in agreement. “Then hear me Revislok Just Revislok, that is only a fabrication. I hold no such power in my eyes. Rather tame, my visage is.”
“My Lord Mryskivangr. I do not mean to doubt you or your words. But I fear you are mistaken. I can only scarcely hold my feet to the ground. Should I look upon you, it will spell doom for me.” Revislok gripped his scar. Twice now he had defied and denied the Storm Dragon’s words. His disobedient nature was already scraping through.
“Then it would be doom of your own doing, I cannot claim responsibility for it.”
“My apologies.”
“Pray tell me, Revislok Just Revislok. How do you intend to serve me if you cannot look upon me?”
“I, I, I’d find a way. I assure you. I will do anything.”
“Even look at me?” The contradiction confused him. It was a strong argument to his claim and Revislok hadn’t contemplated it until now. His confusion silenced him for a time. And in the quiet he noticed he wasn’t shivering anymore. The Kobold was still afraid but the air had warmed him sufficiently. He counted himself lucky that Myrskivangr hadn’t simply tore him asunder yet. “How odd. One such as you with the will to challenge the Titan’s Claws, to scale its face as you did, brave its storm, but cannot bear turning to look me in the face. What possessed you so, Revislok Just Revislok? Dozens of dragons make their dens between here the far Icescapes. Ones with legends far less imposing than my own. With territories far less treacherous than my own. Yet you sought me out. Why?”
The Kobold gathered his thoughts. His scar ached fiercely. Memories of how he received it welled up and burned him from the inside. The lies and stories he crafted along the path to get here were sent up in smoke.
“I hate dragons!” Revislok hissed. “They are arrogant, prideful, tyrannical. They are like sloths in all things save for one. Bragging to other dragons of their wealth and power! They slaughter and battle for the most miniscule gain in value, to grow their hoards. I hate them!” The Kobold’s teeth clenched in frustration born from years of servitude. “I hate how they treat us Kobolds. Enslaving our kind for their lazy purposes. To care for the hoards they so cherish. Blood money, that's all it is. They see worth solely in gold and jewels. And all the while we are left to rot and starve away.” Myrskivangr did not interrupt his tirade. And all he could see of the imposing figure were his four paws and tail.
“Yes, I passed- No, snuck through land after land of dragons. Hiding from detection of those foul beasts and their Kobolds. They don't deserve to be called anything else! Creatures, uncaring monsters. Every one of them.” He breathed deeply, bitter thoughts swarmed about his head and hands.
“But our kind has no means of sustaining ourselves. We, born of the clay and fires of dragons, are brought to life to serve until death. We serve no other purpose than the wills of our masters. And I couldn't take it! I polished coin after coin. Jewels bigger than my head. Goblets that would never hold drink. Wanton waste. I held wealth in my hands to sustain my kin and I for years. And yet I was given nothing!” He shook his head.
“No, that is incorrect. I was given something. A life that was not my own. To a dragon that thought us less than dirt. Merisylix had no mercy for anyone that dared mar his precious hoard of ill-gotten wealth. And I knew this, I knew this to be true. But as I held that ruby. I only saw the blood spilt for it. How many dragons had owned this rock? How many Kobolds had polished it till their fingers bled? How many more would until it didn't matter anymore?” Revislok remembered the fury that gripped him as he recalled the day. The rock that was only about as big as his head. It was completely smooth. The years of being handled had worn all edges from its form. It had been round and boring.
“So I dashed it to the ground. It shattered. The other Kobolds were stunned and I had no doubts what would happen next. One of them would tell Merisylix, in an attempt to curry favor with him. I would be punished, harshly. So I ran. I ran from his domain towards the nearest one. That of the dragon, Zwigraler. He and my former master had been at odds over territory for years. I had believed that being there would deter Merisylix from pursuit. I was wrong.” His scar ached more.
“I was found. I was attacked. It was only by luck that Zwigraler was patrolling and engaged my former master. Giving me opportunity to run. I ran. I’ve been running ever since. Passing through war torn lands of dragon after dragon. Despising ever submitting myself before one of them again. And I hoped I would never do so for the rest of my days.” He paused and claimed his breath. Only the sound of the wind was heard throughout the chamber. Revislok wondered what Myrskivangr thought. And he immediately concluded that he did not care. He continued.
“But I'm a Kobold. I have no means to sustain myself without the power of a dragon. Only contact with dragonscale can provide me sustenance. And I,” His voice wavered. This was more words he’s spoken in days. “I don't want to die. So I need a dragon, but I can't go back. I can't serve another creature who desires only physical wealth. I refuse! So I sought the one dragon I heard of. The only dragon I have ever heard of that does not maintain a hoard. The great and powerful Myrskivangr the Hoardless who lives atop the Titan’s Claws in solitude and hunts any who dares enter his domain. That’s why I am here! That's the only reason I have come to this forsaken land. To keep my own miserable life or lose it trying to reach here.” He felt amazing. The most powerful he has ever been during his life. The intoxicating emotion of spelling out the struggles of his life and his detest of dragons was cathartic. No longer was the Kobold hiding his innermost thoughts anymore. He just sizzled as the embers of his rage cooked out. But now he was awaiting Myrskivangr’s response.
And that time loomed ahead of him. Revislok removed the hand from his scar. The painful reminder of his final confrontation with his former master. It wouldn't heal completely without the power of dragons, and it was all he could do to keep the wound from festering. He wanted to turn but the fear of dying was his strongest intrinsic motivation to remain looking forward.
The Kobold stood before the dragon he pursued. Time marched on for moments into the future. It was only filled with silence between the two creatures. Only the sounds of large breaths and the strikes of hot wind upon his back reminded him that Myrskivangr was lying behind him. Revislok became frightened as time went on. The shadow of presence upon his senses affirmed his existence, but no more. The air was heavy with the lack of interaction. The Kobold wanted to turn. To find himself acknowledged by another being, after days and weeks alone in the wastes. He even turned his head slightly. More of the dragon’s flank came to view from aside him. Rivulets of gold poured across his black scales which shined like obsidian rock. The tributaries started about his spine and poured down his hide.
It made Revislok angry. They were reminders of the hoards of dragons he so loathed and abhorred. He spun his head forward and left the dragon to its silent musings.
“Your tale is one of hurt, Silvered One. I can see in your countenance the weight that is born upon your shoulders. Your fear of me is not founded in stories or yarns, I see it upon your arm. And the blood I smell on your hands.” Revislok looked down to his palms. The scars and wounds of climbing the Claws were also slow to heal, but it seems his slumber upon Myrskivangr was enough to begin the recovery. He had no qualm that if he looked upon the soles of his feet that he would find similar.
“It is as you say, I gather no gold nor jewels. I have found no use for such trinkets and trivialities. As such, what need do I have for one such as you?” Revislok ground his teeth together. He felt cheated by this nightly creature. Days and days of stalking across the land and fearing attack at all moments of the night from dastardly creatures that he could not hope to run from. He had finally reached his destination yet the foul beast sought to stymie his time further.
“I told you before, Lord Myrskivangr. I’ll do anything. It matters not. No task is too base for me. Anything you ask of me, I will do. Please!” Revislok hung his head in shame. Shame that he needed to prove his value to this being that had no equal. He simply desired the strength to stand tall and in the face of everything. And to do that, he needed to be. He needed dragonscale.
“Perhaps a test then Silver one. Pass and I shall let you lend yourself to my aid, fail and I shall ask you to leave. Do you abide by these terms?” A chance was all Revislok needed, just an opportunity! He almost turned towards his desired master. Myrskivangr shifted behind him. The dragon’s limbs turned and scoured across the cave floor even further behind the Kobold.
“Yes, Lord Myrskivangr! I thank you for your magnanimity! I will prove myself a willing servant. Just bid me. What is my task?” An excitement that he had not known for a while yet. An opportunity to gain employment and secure his livelihood was exactly what he needed! He’d do it. He crossed miles and miles of loneliness. Climbed the peaks. He made it to that cave. He was blown into the air. That last recollection gave him pause. He remembered distinctly that he was thrown drastically into the aether, however, he was at present before his goal. The missing link between those two facts was beyond his recollection.
“Very well. Hear me, Revislok Just Revislok, the lord you wish to serve offers you this task. I wish you strength and will to face it.” Revislok nodded to the open cave. “Turn and face me.” The Kobold’s eyes widened to their maximum. The cave grew cold as he stood exposed to the humid air. The heat provided by the dragon abated with the distance between him and Myrskivangr. “Do this and I shall grant you all you seek, all you desire.” The words were steeped in careful composure. They didn’t sound like they came from the same being as before. The creature that lords over lands of decay such as the Titan’s Claws would not sound so worried. And that was more than enough to spark a different sort of fear in the Kobold, a sensation that was foreign to him. Concern for a dragon should he fail his given duty. The emotion was immediately squashed.
To turn and face the Storm Dragon would invoke his demise. But to not challenge the front of his desired master would surely invite his doom. Crossroads between two undesirable outcomes sat before the small Kobold. He had postured before how he would do anything and was now being confronted by the totality of what that meant. He thought of his options. To turn and die or to be turned away and die. He could beg for another task but there wasn’t the faintest hope in his mind that Myrskivangr would allow him such leniency. And he spiraled between both outcomes.
He found himself looking at his hands again. The silver scales thinned about his palm and were even missing entirely where his climb had worn them away. Cuts and scrapes sat upon each digit. The sting of flexing his fingers reminded him of everything he went through to get here. All the hardships of traveling across the lands alone came to mind. Revislok wanted to believe it wasn’t for nothing. He needed to.
“I braved many days of hardships to arrive here. If I braved death too many times to not do so again, it would be just pointless, would it not?” He asked aloud to the cave. Myrskivangr didn’t answer. The Kobold breathed in what may be his last breath and turned.
Golden eyes stared back from the gloom of danger. They shined like the coins that filled his old master’s hoard. They blinked at him. He blinked at them. Revislok shook his head and opened his eyes once more to ensure that they were working properly. Because what sat before him couldn’t have been the gigantic dragon from before.
A dragon no taller than him stood a few feet away. The rivers of gold sprang forth from his eyes and across his scales. Spiraling horns grew from his head. Folded wings curled about his back. The same tail he saw before but was now no longer than his arm span. For all purposes this thing looked like a dragon, but it couldn’t have been the same one from before. Revislok shook his head in confusion again.
“Confusion is written plainly on your face.” The black dragon before him spoke. The voice was just the same as the one before. The very same one he’s been conversing with all this time. “But I assure you, Revislok Just Revislok. It is still me.”
“I, what?”
“As I said, it is I, Myrskivangr! Your new lord.” The dragon shook its head pleasantly.
“What in the fine hells is this!?” Revislok yelled, the shock pushed the dragon back with his ferocity. “You were giant. You dwarfed me! You stood many passes tall and long and now you are no bigger than a hatchling. What is this!?.” As he shouted the dragon coward even further back and shrank, quite literally, away. He now only stood half as tall as the Kobold.
“I apologize, I had not meant any harm or distress. I had only desired you to see me as an equal.”
“An equal! AN EQUAL! What kind of dragon are you? What dragon grows and shinks as you do? What dragon seeks to be on par with a Kobold? Distress? I am beyond distress. Where is the terror? The fear and awe-striking Myrskivangr the Lord of the Titan’s Claws. Where’s the lord I have been speaking to.”
“As I said. I am him. I shall prove it now.” The dragon grew before the Kobold’s eyes back to full stature and even beyond. The rate had the effect of knocking Revislok to the floor in surprise. Before him stood a full grown and properly sized dragon and it did not stop. The dragon that called itself Mryskivangr towered above the smaller being. He was too confused by the sudden and perplexing nature to feel fear after what he just witnessed. “Do you see?” The dragon asked him. “Do you believe me now?”
The Kobold could not but shake his head and look away. Surely this was a dream, the Kobold thought. A dragon that could grow and shrink at will. A dragon that desired to stand as equal to a smaller creature. This was so utterly unfathomable to the silver scaled one.
“I apologize.” The dragon started, its size once again collapsing into a smaller creature. It did not go to the extreme as before and halted at twice his size. “I did not expect such an adverse reaction. I am profoundly sorry for my actions.” The dragon bowed in contrition.
“You… apologize?” Revislok questioned. The dragon just nodded. “A dragon that grows and shrinks. Seeks to meet Kobolds as equals. And apologizes. I ask again. What kind of dragon are you?”
“One who has accepted you now as his subject, should you still desire as such.” The dragon said.
“Desire. All I desire is an explanation. What manner of magic is this?”
“I… I do not know. I simply can. I do not have any meaningful explanation beyond that.”
“Surely you jest. How could you not know?”
“Hold your tongue, Revislok Just Revislok! I can no more explain my abilities to fly than the manner of my magic.” Myrskivangr thrust out his wings to full extent in emphasis. The leathery folds and membrane thrusting through the air. “I simply can!” The wings retracted back. The dragon sighed and looked down. “There is nothing more I can say on that.”
“Stop calling me that! I am Revislok. Not Revislok Just Revislok! Revislok. Once only!” Myrskivangr blinked.
“So you are Revislok Not Re-”
“Stop!” The dragon did. “Revislok.”
“Revislok.” The dragon repeated. The Kobold nodded. “Ah, ‘Just Revislok’, I see my mistake now. Thousand pardons.”
“And again you are apologizing. To me, a Kobold. What manner of play is this?”
“Pray tell, Silvered One, what offense do you receive in my apology?” The Kobold laughed aloud incredulously.
“Offense? It’s an offense to all my time spent among your kind. No other dragon such as you would dare disgrace themselves as to admit they were wrong. To a lowly Kobold like I, no less.”
“It is I that bears the bulk of offense here, Revislok. You are shocked by my power, my apologies, and apparently my generosity at treating you as an equal. What manner should I treat you that would calm you effectively? This argument serves neither party any purpose.”
The accusation floored the small Kobold. This dragon surely could not be offended by him, he thought. The possibilities of being so esteemed in the eyes of a great beast such as Myrskivangr was beyond any reality he imagined. It hurt his head to think about. His paws pinched the bridge of his snout to stem the tide of incongruent thoughts.
“I, perhaps, have further misjudged your existence and history, Revislok. Would you only be satisfied if I was cruel and corrupt as the dragons you so despise?” His words were softer and kinder than before. Foot falls slowly made their way towards him where he sat on the ground.
“No,” Revislok answered honestly. “That would not satisfy me. I don’t know what would satisfy me. How am I to feel, Myrskivangr? How am I to be with a dragon who carries himself so nobly? As such when every other I have ever seen only ever held me in contempt. I have no words for how I feel.” The footfalls stepped close to him, but he kept his eyes shut.
“Great powers swirl within my being, skills and magics that I cannot name or recall when I received them, I am as I am and as you say. I am a dragon who rules the Titan’s Claws and holds no hoard. Beings flee before me, life runs from this place. I am the lord of these lands. But for all that, Revislok, I cannot answer your questions. The ways of the heart and mind are beyond my reach.” A small paw alighted on his leg. Diffusing power and dragon magic coursed in and through Revislok. “But you are not. You are here within my domain now. I cannot begin to tell you how much that means to me either. You are my subject now, Revislok. I will do all I can to grant your desires and wishes. I will employ all powers that I have for you.”
Revislok sighed through his nose. The situation, which was already so odd, continued to become odder. “That is the exact opposite, my lord. It is I that should vowing to do anything for you.”
“I have only one desire right now that you can fulfill.”
“Name it, Great One. With what powers exist within my body, it will be done.”
“Look at me again, Revislok. It has been too many seasons and moons since someone last saw me.” Revislok laughed, both at the absurdity and the simplicity of the request. The paw did not leave his leg. The dragonscale that he had needed for ages was already provided to him. What motivation was there for more, he thought.
He opened his eyes and turned to the dragon no bigger than his torso. The shining black scales and rivers of gold that coursed across his form shined back at him. Eyes shining like coins in the dark of the cave. Trailing echoes of thunder and howls of storm wind continued in the world beyond. Two creatures stared back at one another.
“Is there anything else I can do for you, my lord?”
“No. No, this is fine for now.”
