Dragonfall

Falling to Elderia was a memorable experience, to say the least. My **** and indeed my entire previous life are hardly worth mentioning, but my soul being burned into the form of a Great Dragon by the Ur-Wyrm, himself. The Father of All Dragons had plucked my soul, of all the souls, from... wherever it was, and formed me into the once-a-millennium phenomenon known throughout all of Elderia.

As I fell, and wisdom filled me, I began to envision my form and function. The images formed almost without conscious thought, but I was content with the process and its result. Coming from a world devoid of magic, I felt the allure of such power. Spending most of my time alone or otherwise **** or eager for physical companionship, it seemed only fitting that my Dragon self would be Horny, and Hoard beautiful women like prizes.

I admit I grew indulgent in fantasy as the allure of great power clouded the more virtuous parts of my mind. I wasn't some random mortal; I was a Great Dragon. What use did I have of virtue or ethical quandary. I wanted power and I wanted pleasure. If either could serve to bring me more of the other, then so much the better.

Then the voices started. So many voices. ****, angry, bitter, or forlorn, they chittered in my mind like the rustling of leaves in a windy grove. I knew I was approaching the world soon, and as I grew closer, the voices became clearer. They were wishes. Wishes of those countless mortals who gazed up at me as I hurtled towards their world. It would be so simple to grant those wishes. To just...

The first wish granted was almost by accident. A human woman, bitter and full of hate for her own kind whose entire wish was to serve me, to be of value to me. I knew her at once to be a fervent devotee of The Chaos Dragon, as surely as I knew that the Ur-Wyrm cared nothing for her or her wishes. But I was flattered by the intensity of her desire to serve me, so I granted her wish. Yolfi of Kaldgrim, your wish is heard and shall be granted. Serve me well.

I had the power to take from her anything I desired, as a price for fulfilling her wish. But hers was a simple wish: to serve. So as my price I took her loyalty, devotion, and friendship. It felt inherently coercive, to own her in such a way, but even as I made it happen, my attention drifted elsewhere. To voices speaking from much closer to the land rushing towards me.

Another human female. Her wish came with the **** of a shout as a series of wishes barraged my senses in a single breath. I understood in an instant. A brat. Vane, selfish, spoiled, inane. Useless. But she was wealthy and well connected. A noble. That did carry certain advantages. Knowing my Companions would be eternally youthful in any event, I chose her wish to be an amazing singer and granted it. Ilithyia of Andor, your wish is heard and shall be granted; the voice of angels is yours. Come now, attend me.

The Ur-embers within me were nearly gone. The Scaled One's transformative breath all but spent. Then I heard her wish and knew she would be my final Companion. I was close to the ground now; I could almost feel her soul. Half-dragon, child of my brethren. She'd made what life she could for herself in Andor, a land that would despise her for her heritage if ever they learned the truth of it. But she was clever and shrewd, and used all tools available to her. I sensed her resolve in her wish to command proper magic. Azralynn of Andor, half-mortal daughter of my kin. I have heard your wish. Come. Become my vassal and receive your birthright.

All Ur-embers depleted, the cacophony of whispers vanished from my mind. I could grant no more wishes. It was all well and good, for that's when they began to beseech me. Gods, demons, spirits. Powerful beings. But they spoke to me respectfully. Not fervently, reverently, or full of hope as had the wishers. They spoke to me as, well, not as an equal. But they recognized me as someone. They offered bargains, deals, contracts, and... friendship?

It was Pact magic. Perhaps the oldest and most powerful sort of magic. The stuff of gods. I would be a fool to ignore such potential friends, allies, or partners. One stood out among all the rest, and I admit the pink-skinned temptress by his side caught my attention at least as much as he did. The conversation between us occurred in an instant. Malgoroth, I accept your boons and will perform the tasks you ask. And when you ascend I will claim your kingdom, as you say.

And then I hit the ground. Elderia, I was arrived.

But then, in the quiet moments before my egg opened to birth me into the world, I heard him. All the other gods had gone away, now that I was so closely pacted to Malgoroth. But Shokunin didn't care. It didn't matter to him if I aided the ascension of a demon king, or drove a god-slaying dagger through the heart of a divine avatar. In fact he applauded me for my boldness. I wasn't interested in killing the Spirit King and he didn't press the matter, sensing I was to hatch any moment. All he wanted was... my egg.

The entirety of my Dragonite Egg, the rarest and most valuable material in the world. It could have been the seed to sown to reap a glorious empire in my name. The bargain I made would be still.

You may have my Egg, Shokunin, but grant me a Mark of Ownership so that nothing that is mine can again be taken from me.

I emerged from my egg, which vanished from around me as I set my first foot on Andoran soil. In the absence of the egg I could see it. Burned into the dirt and stone and grass around my landing site. My Mark of Owenership, crafted by the mad creator and sewn into the very fabric of Elderian magic, itself. My Mark had become a law of reality. An inviolable truth. Surely that was a fair trade for a lump of metal.

I smiled. A Great Dragon is born.

It was time to lay claim to that which was mine.