17 I'm Not Finished

Destorianaxe was preparing to get comfortable when the elf strode over and smacked her on the leg. Opening a lazy eye again, she looked at the elf with a rather dead pan stare and huffed, "I asked what evil is, you told me, I'm not evil so no need to continue..."

Talian gave a mirthless laugh, "Oh no you don't, I'm not finished at all, having heard about one side of the coin you should, naturally, hear of it's opposite." The elf was glaring at her, his arms crossed over his slender chest with a foot tapping impatiently as he stared down the wyrmling.

Destorianaxe sighed rolling her eyes, she was good, she didn't need a long winded sermon to realize that, she just had to be herself didn't she? She was not evil thus it stood to reason she was the opposite right? It was a rather simple understanding nothing that needed the elf to elaborate to the ends of time. All she wanted to do was lay down and heal, but Talian seemed determined now that he had hit his stride.

"On the opposite side of the spectrum of thought to be good dragons are the metallic. Most notable are the Platinum and Golds, the two larger breeds. Sadly I can't elaborate on their breath weapons as most of the metallic find it rather... uncivilized... to use such in public. We elves were host to a lovely silver dragon some three centuries ago, darling woman, she rid us of a large orc infestation but was forever after apologizing about the damage she had wrought to the area. She was quite embarrassed though we were just glad the greenskins were gone..." Talians voice rolled forth steady and easy, unlike his talk on chromatics he seemed in far better spirits discussing the metallic. While Destorianaxe learned of her cousins more personable natures alot of what Talian talked of was how they helped his people.

lt seemed to her at least, that metallics loved being around humanoid races. Where chromatics were vastly more inclined to solitary life, metallics were almost instinctively drawn to populations to where they could "save the day". The more she listened, the more the image of nosey dragons formed in her mind. While Talian was clear enough to never mention compensation, she herself could well imagine for their "help" they likely sought benefits behind the scenes. In her mind she could not picture a dragon, any dragon, helping just because. Even herself, while DG had asked her to be mindful of the kobolds she only did so because it benefitted her. Were they completely incapable of giving her anything, she knew herself, she'd likely seek a lair away from them.

As Talian droned on Destorianaxe felt her attention waver. While learning that metallic dragons shared similar numerical distinctions equal to her own kind, these dragons didn't seem that interesting to her. She perked up a bit when he shifted to mutations that seemed to associate with both sides. These alien dragons were outsiders from outside this world and had scales neither chromatic nor metallic, rather their scales took on the likeness of gemstones. These outsiders were somewhat larger than the native variations but were fewer in populace. For even an elf to see a single gemstone dragon in their thousand years of life was still a miracle in itself.

Talian had little information on them as these rare encounters were usually in conflict with the existing bloodlines so was not often conductive to research, the most one usually saw was the carcass if it fought a metallic, the chromatics tended to covet the gem like body and make off with it. This confused her a bit but it likely tied back to that compulsion she was suppose to develop when she grew up, right this moment she could only imagine alien dragon flesh must be considered a rare food but her own view was rather skewed.

As Talian finally started to wind down she looked wearily at the elf, "You seem to have obscene knowledge of us supposed evil dragons yet very little on the good dragons, why the difference?"

Talian looked a touch embarrassed at the question but spoke up all the same, "Chromatics are a well known trouble to most civilized lands. Every few years a new one gets it into its head to be the overlord of a region. Thing is, those young bloods fail to take in the existing powers. If its not an older chromatic to drive them off, its a metallic. In the rare case a young dragon does find a stretch of land to lord over, the civilized inhabitants usually hire adventurers or a slayer to deal with the problem. Researchers, mages and historians pay good coin for any materials said individuals happen across."

Destorianaxe lifted her head looking at the elf, "Am I currently in such a situation?"

Talian shook his head, "There's mostly barbarian tribes in the area. There's a dwarven trading post to the east but as long as you give it a wide berth the stout folk of the northern mountains should let you be."

"Dwarven?"

Talian rolled his eyes, there was a certain joy passing on ones knowledge to the next generation but at a certain point. With each explanation the elf found that he would stumble across another deep mire of ignorance. The dragon knew nothing. Other than what she had learnt from himself she seemed to have next to no knowledge of the world into which she had been born. Sighing and rubbing his face to compose himself, Talian glanced at her, "Dwarves are like humans, shorter and more sturdy. Most tend to have beards and shaggy hair. They have a kingdom to the north east, its hidden deep inside the mountain range, only a few of my people have been there, they're not the most inviting of kingdoms."

Destorianaxe frowned recalling the human tribe she had first seen, were they dwarves? To be truthful, flying in the sky everything below looked small. Glancing aside at the elf, "Do all races grow beards, humans and dwarves seem to have them? Can we expect you to become shaggy at some point?"

Taluan coughed and vigorously shook his head, "Other than the crowns of our heads, elves are mostly hairless. Usually only if there's been crossbreeding with one of the lesser lived races do one of us grown hair of that sort."

Destorianaxe nodded lightly, the chieftains daughter had not been as shaggy as the others which had made her look all that more appealing to eat. Perhaps elves would be much the same? Looking at Talian carefully the elf looked back warily, "I am not sure I approve of you looking at me like that."

"Do the different races taste different?"

Talian balked at that question. Do we taste different?! Does on ask the deer if they taste different than the boar? Shaking his head in exasperation he rubbed a hand over his face, "Destorianaxe, I wouldn't ask that of others, its not really a proper question unless you're talking with cannibals."

"Cannibals?"

"Those that eat of their own kind, it's a rare occurrence amongst civilized peoples. Mostly tribals or extreme fringe elements indulge, most notably in situations where food is limited to their fellows during say famines." Talian felt himself trail off as Destorianaxe laid her head back down silently and curled up on herself away from the elf. Something he had said apparently agitated her. Glancing to the kobold, Stares at Skies Vast gave a helpless shrug, "Is rare for tribe to eat own, forest have much tastier things than each other."

Destorianaxe frowned as the two continued to discuss the topic, the more Talian had described it, the more the image of her sister clutchmate laying on that distant cave floor crystallized, those glassy eyes still filled with accusation if not life. She may not have made the decision to start the slaughter but she did partake in it, so the foul deed she had committed had indeed a name out here, cannibalism. A shudder coursed down her spine her once self assured thoughts of her good nature taking a critical hit as the memory flooding back through her mind.

Despite Talian's attempts to rouse the dragon, Destorianaxe remained curled up refusing to budge. At first it was the memories and being unable to meet their questioning gazes. Soon enough though sleep claimed her and the nightmares started. It would be easy to forget just how young she was, while fairly large, roughly the height of a large stallion, she was by no means even considered a child. Destorianaxe was still in her early wyrmling years, for most black dragons these years are stolen by the cold reality of their sires nature. Had she not been spirited away and remained at the tender mercies of her father and mother, questions of morality would never have occurred. Why would it? Being beaten into a ruthless machine of survival either to suppress her brother or ultimately become a subdued schemer like her mother, neither route questioned their path. There was only tomorrow, surviving for another day, getting stronger so hopefully, one day in the future, slaying those above you and starting your own clutch, twisted by the dark teachings you needed to survive.

This is why Destorianaxe was now so tormented. Between the lecture of DG, the teachings of Talian and getting to know the weak Stares at Skies Vast, her perspective on life had been changed. A black dragons bloodline carries much knowledge in it, but the key trigger to bring these ancestral teachings out of the shadows was the ever present threat of death, of being violently torn apart by what she could only call blood kin if not family. That anger, fear, and ambition is what ignited ancestral draconic memories. For chromatics anyways.

But Destorianaxe lacked two thirds of the three currently. While she still remembered the humiliation of her early days, the anger at the situation had bled itself out now that she was not under the thumbs of her sires or brother. While the world is still a great unknown, the fear she feels is more loneliness than oppression. The more she began to learn the more she feared that she herself was intrinsically evil, that her blood itself was corrupt. A far different fear than what her sires would gave taught her, that the world was out to destroy her, to devour her essence or press it beneath a stronger dragon.

As for ambition... this is the only one that really stayed true with her. While the ambition of getting revenge on her tormentors was not the focus, her draconic blood pushed her to get stronger, to be more than what she remembered. The more she learned, the more Destorianaxe came to realize her family was less than even beasts, she wanted to be more than that, to be better than what her sires had become. She felt frustration that she could not be stronger right now, but such are true for any child who wants the world the moment they learn of it.

Only in time would her desires be realized.

And that annoyed her.