FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Chapter 3

Soon, the pair was entering the Elder village. It was a massive village, compared to what they've normally seen. When Maroc described to Aaron the size, the little cub was scared. As they approached the temple in the center of town, Maroc took note how huge it was, covering quite a bit of area, and easily forty feet high. The stone dragon was still placed in the arch, but no one bowed as they walked through the door way. The rest of the buildings were also high, two stories on some and still bigger than what Maroc usually saw. Some much commotion and movement, Aaron felt overwhelmed, even up on the dragons shoulders.

"Maroc...? Can we get out of here? I don't like this" the cub whined, holding tight.

"Of course....uh, here, there's an inn just a bit away, we'll stay there for the night, okay?" Maroc asked, looking back at Aaron, who just nodded. Through the crowd, and with Maroc being the only dragon, he could easily see the inn, called Black Night. It was a small, two stories building with curtains over all the windows, not giving much to the viewer.

As the dragon and cub reached the door, Maroc had to let Aaron down and held his hand as he opened the door, and ducking low through the small doorway. Inside was dark, and the smell of burning incense filled the room, making Maroc a little drowsy. Shaking his head, the dragon looked around for some management, seeing as the couch and pillow filled room was empty.

"Hello?" he called, closing the door and wondering if this is a bad idea. "Is anyone there?"

"Oh! Just a minute!" a voice sounded from the back of the room, too dark for the dragon to make out clearly. Soon, though, a small female wolf, scantily dressed in silk, walked up to the two, a small look of shock on her face when she saw the young cub, but turned to the dragon, smiling and bowed low, asking "How may I serve thee?"

"Um, we need a room for the night, if you'll have us." The women stood up and pouted, clearly not the answer she was hoping for. "Then you need to talk to the Mistress of the house," she then turned and called to the back, now the Maroc's eyes could see, was shrouded behind silk curtains. "Siphiaon! We have some people who want a room!" As the wolf returned to the back, another woman came forth, also barely clad in ribbons of silk, wrapped around her waist, long tail, and arms. Maroc was starting to realize what kind of place this was.

"So," she said in a soft rich voice, "You want a room?"

"Um, I'm not so sure if that's such a good idea anymore, thank you, though," Maroc said, trying to excuse himself and Aaron.

"What's wrong? Afraid I'll bite!" she laughed at this, throwing her head back. It was then that Maroc realized two things, one, is that she was a rat, black fur, red arms, legs, and tail with blue filled eyes. And two, the dragon couldn't find her mouth. "Don't you worry, if all you want is a room, that's all you get," she nodded to the cub, taking note of the dragon's mistake of coming here.

Aaron then tugged on Maroc's hand gently, "I'm tired...can we please sleep here?"

"Well.....alright, then," Maroc decided, turning to the 'Mistress', "How much for two a night?"

She pondered this, before answering, "Normally, it'd be one silver a night with perks per person, though seeing as you want none, that'd be twenty copper. But, since you have a cub, I'll make it fifteen copper."

"That's, reasonable, thank you," Maroc said, retrieving what little of his coin was left and placing it in her small, out stretched paw.

"Thank you! Now, I'll lead you to your room, follow me, and keep your eye to yourself!" she said, pointing hard at him, before turning and walking towards the back. Maroc did as he was told, but his ears heard plenty of moans and gasps as he walked towards the stairs. As the two walked up the narrow, twisting stairs, the air grew cooler. The doors down the hall were all thick oak, probably to keep out any noise. When the small girl opened one up, the bed inside was big, and covered with soft fine silk.

"Very soft, I see," Maroc said, gently guiding Aaron in with his pack.

"Yes, and very expensive," Siphiaon said, eyeing Maroc's sharp claws and blade. "Don't you dare shred anything, or I'll have you pay the damage." She said, jabbing her finger into his arm, making him wince with the force she had.

"Yes ma'am," he said quickly, rubbing his sore arm. With that, she seemed to smile, though no teeth appeared, and she walked back down the stairs.

After a few hours of rest, Maroc and Aaron gathered their belongings and headed for the temple. As the two made their way to the door, something got in their way. An old mare stumbled and fell, and Maroc went to help her up. This being a big village, Aaron stood where the dragon left him, but was soon pushed and shoved around, calling out to Maroc. The two were separated, and Aaron had no way of finding his way back. Once, when he called out a few times, someone yelled at him loudly and Aaron got hit over the back of the head. Stumbling, he fell to the ground and had his left paw stepped on, and he cried out in pain, though no one came.

Standing as best he could, Aaron stood there, and started to cry, wondering if he'd ever see his friend again. Just then, a small furred paw took his hurt one gently, causing him to squeak loudly in surprise.

"Are....you alright..?" a feminine voice asked, one that seemed to dance, almost singing. Aaron was a little stunned at the beauty of the voice.

"Y-yes, I am...thank you...though, who are you..?" he asked, holding the soft, small hand, his only connection to the world.

"I'm..." she started, but was interrupted by shouting.

"Aaron! Where are you!?" a familiar voice called out.

"Is that you Maroc? I'm over here!" Aaron called out to him. And soon enough, the cub felt the dragon's hands around him.

"Are you alright? I'm so sorry that I lost you!" Aaron was surprised at Maroc's concern, but assured him he was alright.

"I'm fine, this, uh, girl, found me," the raccoon nodded toward the hand he still held. When Maroc looked, he was a little confused. The girl was just a little younger than Aaron, and her species was, odd. She appeared to be a red panda, but her fur and eyes, were ash gray, all except for her a tuft on her head, which retained its red hue.

"Thank you, little one, for finding my friend. May I ask what your name is?" The girl was shy, but nodded to the thanks.

"My....name is Melody, Melody Starlight." Maroc's eyes widened at her voice, such beauty that came from it. But before he could say another word, a drunken jackal was yelling at her from a ways away.

"Mel, come back home....this instant!" he screamed, the liquor being smelled from here. Sighing, the girl waved quickly at the two, and ran towards him before the dragon could stop her. When at his side, she looked down and he yelled at her, then grabbed her arm and dragged her away.

"Come on Aaron....we need to see the Elders." Maroc said, sadly, and picked up the cub, making his way toward the temple. The two were soon inside, dragons roaming the halls and waving salutations to the young blue one as he made his way to the center of the temple. Maroc was happy, smiling, finally surrounded by his own kind, after what happened...

Shaking his head, he clutched his crystal and pushed away those bad memories. He needed to find who did this, and fast. As Maroc and Aaron approached the Elders doors, two dragons that stood guard saw their approach and made their way to them.

"Greetings, may, I ask what brings you before the Elders?" asked one of them, a big, but kind looking red dragon.

"Hey, I don't recognize you...are you from another town?" the other said, looking at Maroc with a confused expression. He was a small yellow dragon, short by even Maroc's standards.

"I'm from a town in the east, led by Father Dian and Mother Maian. I come here, bringing sad news of the village, and I need to see the Elders immediately," Maroc stated, knowing that they'd at least have to hear him out.

The two dragons looked at each other, clearly worried at what may have happened, but the red one nodded and motioned for him to follow. When he, Maroc, and Aaron reached the door, he knocked three times and stated permission to enter. A voice from inside granted him permission, and he opened the door, leading the pair inside. The yellow dragon stayed behind. The Elders were on their mats, all aged and ancient looking, but surprised to see a new dragon among them.

"Who...is this, then?" asked one of them, pointing at Maroc.

"He is a dragon from the Eastern village led by Father Dian and Mother Maian. I do not know his name, but he said he had sad news of the village, and needed to see you immediately." The red dragon stated.

"Very well, Freon, you may go," said another older looking Elder. Freon nodded and tuned, leaving Maroc and Aaron with the Elders.

"So, what has happened to our sister village, then, young one? And if you don't mind, what is your name?" the same Elder asked.

"My name is Maroc, and my village has been slaughtered." The dragon stated flatly, causing many of the twelve Elders to gasp in shock. So, Maroc, with Aaron's help, told them the story. Of how he awoke, with no memory of the night before, of how he collected the blood, and how the creature slaughtered the entire town. After this painful telling, Maroc and Aaron had both sat down, saddened at the loss of their old lives. One Elder though, noticed something.

"You say....Aaron...that he made sure to cut every one? Are you sure?" he asked, stroking his long gray beard.

"Y-yes....everyone, sometimes more than once..." the raccoon said, sadly.

"Then, whoever it was, may have been trying something else entirely," he stated.

"What, what do you mean, wise one?" asked Maroc, confused at what he meant.

"This, attacker, was trying to summon a demon into this world, and biased on the carnage, a rather powerful one at that. You said you collected the blood of everyone there, yes?"

"I...I did, it's in a vial, here," Maroc told him, pulling out the crystal and taking it from around his neck. When the Elder motioned for him to hand it over, Maroc did so. As soon as the vial touched the Elders skin, he cried out, convulsing. His hand clutched tightly to the crystal as he screamed in pain. The other Elders were so shocked, by the time he dropped it they had no idea what had happened. The two dragons that stood outside the door barged in, weapons drawn and ready to attack Maroc and Aaron.

"No, wait!" one of the Elders said, stopping them. "It was not them, thank you for your alertness, but we are fine." The two, not convinced, looked concernedly at the Elder on the floor.

"Permission to sit in the rest of the meeting, Elders," Freon asked, putting his mace on his belt. The elders nodded at this, and Freon and the other dragon helped the fallen Elder to his quarters. When they returned, the rest of the Elders addressed Maroc.

"We believe this blood contains the memories of the murdered, and with them, we can determine who did this, and why." Maroc nodded. The Elders circled around the fallen pendent, not daring to move it. They began chanting and weaving their hands in the air. After a while, the room grew dark, and a red light shown from the pendent. It grew, and became a circle in the air, and began to show images to the company present.

At first, it was an open field, but it then switched to inside a home. It then was a dragon cleaning his weapon in the dusk. He suddenly raised it at an oncoming blade, but that memory ended there. The next view was of a child, since the view was so low. The next thing it saw was a blade protruding from its chest, dripping blood. After a few more gruesome scenes, they found an Elder. He was talking, but what he said couldn't be made out. But who he was talking to, was obvious, it was Maroc, with his blood stained katana and torn armor. His eyes glowed red with bloodlust, the being that was Maroc, seemed so corrupt, so evil, it seemed to want to fill this very room with his presence.

When the dragon saw this, he was speechless. He watched in horror as he, this, evil Maroc, grinned, and stabbed the Elder, draining his life essence through the blade_. This was why they turned to dust_, he thought. They were gone, dead inside... The Elders ended the spell then, and turned with sad, fearful eyes to Maroc.

"We sensed the demonic taint on you, and your companion Aaron. You have killed them all...." One of them said.

"But that can't be true! There's no way I'd do that, and then come you!" Maroc exclaimed, fearful of his life. He tried to explain his innocence, but it only seemed to finalize their decision. Within seconds, Freon, and his smaller companion quickly tried to restrain Maroc. Upon realizing what they intended, the blue dragon pulled against them, screaming at all present. Yanking away from the two, he grabbed his blade.

"I'm innocent! I didn't..!"

"You...it was you I saw....who stabbed my mom..." When Maroc heard this tiny voice, he stopped, looking at Aaron in disbelief.

"Aaron, you know I didn't do that, I wouldn't..."

"No!" Aaron screamed at the dragon, "You....you killed them....you killed them all! And I trusted you!! You whoreson I'll rip out your eyes!!!" the small raccoon actually leapt towards Maroc. Landing on Maroc's chest, he actually stumbled backwards when Aaron started to claw at his eyes, small claws scraping his scales, little needle teeth bared. Freon quickly grabbed the cub, pulling, with some effort, away from the blue dragon. Maroc, stunned, quickly felt as if countless chains wrapped around him, dragging him to the ground hard. Looking as best as he could, Maroc saw the yellow dragon, while weary, had cast a strong restraint spell on him. And then, he felt pain on his head, and everything went black.

The first thing the blue dragon was aware of was the throbbing pain between his gray eyes. Groaning, he tried to hold his head, but then realized he couldn't reach it, something restraining his arm. Soon, the grogginess fading, he looked, noticing he was suspended a good five feet off the ground. Chains and shackles were strapped around his wrists and ankles, attached to the walls and floor. A large band of iron was around his waist, four chains pulled tight and anchored to the floor, as well as weights chained to it, weighing Maroc down and restricting his movements even more. His wings, he felt, were bound tightly in numerous leather straps quite painfully making it impossible to move much at all. His maw was put in a strange leather and iron muzzle, the contraption allowed him to move his lips and jaw slightly, but with an iron cap with small holes for his nose. He soon realized it was to restrain a dragon's breath of fire. The dragon's tail, though, was free, but Maroc couldn't get much reach on it, the rest of his body being restricted. There were two chains from the roof attached to a feeble leather harness that relived some of the pressure from all the restraints, but it was meant to keep the prisoner alive, not comfortable. Much to Maroc's embarrassment, the harness and restraints was all he wore providing no modesty.

A loud screeching of old metal moving wasn't difficult for his ear fins to pick up. It came from his right, and Maroc turned his head to try and see what or who it was. Walking in was more than the dragon expected; it was Aaron. With him, was one of the Elders, and two heavily armored dragons carrying long poles. Maroc wanted, so badly, to tell the young cub this was all a mistake, that there was something wrong, anything, but he said nothing.

"Why..." Aaron whispered, the pain so clean in his voice it brought tears to Maroc's eyes. "Why did you lie to me, the Elders say you've corrupted me with black magic....and, to save my soul..." he stopped, but Maroc knew what the Elders planned. A ritual to attempt to expunge the dark stain, it was only meant for the most desperate, and rarely worked. When it did succeed, it usually ruined one's mind.

"Don't..." Maroc started to say, but as soon as he spoke, one of the dragons stepped forward and cracked his pole across Maroc's muzzle, breaking a few bones. Crying out in pain, the wounded blue dragon spat blood out of his mouth and onto the metal plate, forcing him to inhale the sick smell of blood iron.

"We will keep you here," the Elder told Maroc, "We will study you, and figure out how to properly treat you, and expose of you." The blue dragon's eyes widened, not wanting to believe what he was hearing; he was raised with the Elders ways, since he was a hatchling. He took an oath; he almost gave his life on more than one occasion. How could they just throw him away, use him?! Maroc jerked in anger, pulling hard against the chains, crying out in rage at the traitorous Elder. Aaron was scared, and backed away from the startling noises, hiding behind the stern Elder as the dragon guards stepped close to the captive. The guards placed their poles against Maroc's chest, forcing some of his movement and jerking to be wasted. As Maroc yelled as best he could, the Elder shook his head, took the cubs paw, and left the room. Before the guards left, the cracked their prisoner over the head a few times till Maroc blacked out.

How long has it been..? Maroc wondered, he started counting, but being in a locked, windowless room made it near impossible to know how much time had passed. The problem was exaggerated when an Elder and guards would come in at random times, probing him with magic rituals, or leeching him for any and all fluids; blood, tears, everything. When they obtained any, they used some in rituals that pained his body, and once, summoned a weaker demon. This at first caused the guards to quickly kill it, and they in turn almost killed Maroc, believing he summoned it. Luckily the Elder stopped them, this in turn reveled that the corruption in the blue dragon was great enough to pull lesser beings from the other side. It went on like this for Gods know how long.

After countless rituals and just plain beatings, many of Maroc's bones were broken and healed wrong, if at all. Though, one day he found out how long he was in there, when Aaron paid him a visit one day. Though, the raccoon that walked in wasn't the one he remembered. The fur that walked in was a good five feet tall, almost full grown. He wore long, red, relaxed silk robes, similar to the Elders, and what seemed a green amulet embedded and chained with gold chains to his forehead. The amulet, Maroc noticed, was shaped like a dragon eye with runes on its border. In his paws he carried his father's sword.

"You...you're the most evil being I'll ever know," Aaron said, though he seemed to be talking to someone else, not even turning his head to the wounded dragon. "You've ruined everything, killed my mother, and even tried to turn me into some corrupted being" he spat out the word corrupted, as if it was pure poison. His voice though, it was cold, steeled, as if he had forgotten how to feel. Maroc closed his eyes, not wanting to believe that he had done this, and that the cub he knew was forever gone.

"I've been trained by the Elders, and have completed all my rituals, and buy showing such dedication, they have given me sight," Aaron turned, facing Maroc, showing his ears pierced with the tradition six earrings of iron, three on the right ear for combat, strength, honor, and loyalty. And three on the left for magic, truth, devotion, and empathy. Each were awarded for each level one mastered, and very few achieved the seventh tier of enlightened, if one were to make it, they would become an Elder. Maroc's combat rings were removed from his right ear fin soon after he was imprisoned, his left being empty, having never received magic training.

"They are sending me to other villages, to help the peace. But, before I go..." The raccoon drew the sword from the scabbard, admired it for a time, and then in one swing sliced it across Maroc's chest and belly, drawing a loud groan of pain, his broken jaw stretching against the stained muzzle. The gash was shallow, but bled steadily. Aaron watched the dragon suffer, and after a while smiled and stabbed the dragon through the middle, causing Maroc to scream, tears running in pain as the raccoon slowly pushed the blade deeper in him, twisting it slowly.

"Burn, you bastard," Aaron said quietly. He let go of the sword, clasped his paws together and muttered quietly. Then, Aaron's sword burst into flames and crawled up Maroc's body quickly. When the blue dragon realized what was happening, he jerked as much as he could in his restraints before the pain just caused him to convulse. His scales resisted the flame, but his blood burned, his organs soon caught fire, when the unnatural fire reached his lungs, he screamed and spewed fire with every breath. His entire body screamed pain, and deep down Maroc knew Aaron planned to kill him. He jerked, screamed and yelled, even shattered most of his bones in his wrists, ankles and wings in a frivolous attempt to break free from the shackles. In his last exhale of fiery breath, he wondered if this was what it was like to breath fire...

All of the sudden, everything was cold. He opened his eyes, and could see nothing but black. He tried to look at his hand, but then was unsure if he even had a hand. What was he, but a thought? Suddenly, a pin prick of light appeared far away, painfully bright. Soon, it grew, coming closer. Close enough Maroc could see out of it.

That is my name....Maroc..? Maroc looked through this light, and saw something interesting. It was a blind raccoon. What was his name? Was he important to me?

No, he wants nothing but to hurt you. You need not know his name. The raccoon took a few steps back from them, it seemed scared.

Are you sure? Why does he want that? The fur looked scared, odd; there was nothing scary about a thought.

Ah, but a thought can be anything, it can become a sword, and a sword can cause much pain. The light looked down, and it looked at a flaming sword impaled through a blue scaled belly. Suddenly Maroc felt much pain, was he a thought at all then? Did he used to be something?

_Did I used to be that, the raccoon? No, you said he wants to hurt me, and that means I cannot him, or the sword. Did I used to be the one the sword is in?_Maroc started to remember, he does have hands, and right now they clutched his belly in pain.

You still are the one burning; I stepped in to save you. The raccoon was definitely scared, as he had backed himself against the wall, fear written on his face.

That is a good thing, yes? The red flames, Maroc noticed, seemed to have darkened, turned black.

For me, I do need you. And I suppose it is good for you as well. The view of the light seemed rise, higher than one would think. The now smaller raccoon followed the growth.

Did he do this to us? A black scaled arm seemed to come around, pick up the raccoon, and fling him across the room. Soon the light turned to a door and pushed it down with frightening ease.

That he did, and he enjoyed it. I will take you to safety, little one. There appeared to be some guards, weak ones. Obstacles, they easily were pushed aside as we made our way down the hall.

Very well, and thank you, my name is Maroc, yours? Soon, they pushed away all the small ones, and reached the temple doors. They pushed them open and lept to the sky, flying far and fast.

My name? Do you not know? Oh little one, my name is Drakeson, and you shall remember me...

With a gasp, Maroc woke, a sense of de ja vue coming over him as his back was against a tree. In front of him was a road which forked at the tree; the road trailed to the giant village he and Aaron were in not too long ago, to the right the road continued on, to the left it turned sharply toward hills. Or, was it, long ago..? It came back to him in that second, everything, that night with John, the possessed tiger, the demon taking control of him and summoning a new and powerful body through the young dragons' fire soul; and then, Aaron, trying to kill him...

"D...Drakeson...!" Maroc jolted, a cold fire on his chest, looking down, his body was still bare, his bones still broken and shackles still on his ankles and wrists, but the crystal, the one he made as a memento, and the one that damned him. But how, how did it come back to him? It burned as he clutched it tightly. He looked around, confused, and soon saw a hare couple in plain home spun clothes and with a peddle cart nearby, the male running toward him. The closer he got, the colder and heavier the crystal became. The dragon scrambled, scared of this being, of what the crystal was telling him, pulling with all he could frantically trying to increase distance between them.

"Sir!" he called as he ran, "Sir, are you okay?! What's wro-", when his sentence was cut off, Maroc looked over his shoulder, seeing the hare fly towards him. Jerking, Maroc just barely managed to move out of the way. When he landed next to him, the dragon saw a huge hole where his chest used to be. Soon, a loud shriek was heard that quickly ended as soon as it started. Sitting up, Maroc saw the female holding her throat, blood spewing out of it faster than any one fur could hope to stop, and soon, she collapsed in a pool of her blood. It was then, near the female hare's body, Maroc saw a huge black dragon. His scales were as dark as night, his wings, though webbed, were torn in many places and red as blood, it was like they were bleeding. He had a long, thick muscular tail ending in spikes that matched his rippling muscle mass of a body. He had empty ear holes and horns that curved down from his skull to the corners of his jaw. When he turned and looked at Maroc, his black eyes were soulless, the red slits smiling evilly. His draconic face had numerous sharp scales on his snout and chin, with matching scales on his eye ridges. Drakeson smiled, baring his sharp fangs, and raised his bloody right hand and waved at Maroc. Staring, unable to believe this, Maroc stayed there, as the black one walked calmly toward him.

"Oh, look at you Maroc, so frail, thin..." the black dragon said when he was close to Maroc, his voice a mixture of teasing and...caring. Maroc then looked at himself, realizing how frail he was, he had no muscle tone and could easily see any bone in relief against his scales. His chest had two cuts matching what Aaron had done to him, but surprisingly seemed burned shut. Sadly and too much pain, many of his bones where still broken, including his jaw.

"What....are you..." Maroc struggled to say, each word painful as he struggled to stand, unable to lift his wings so they hung off of him, useless. When he got to his feet, it wasn't long before he lost his balance and started to fall, until Drakeson reached out and grabbed his left arm, keeping Maroc up right.

"Don't... you..." Maroc tried to say, protesting to the blood covered claw on his arm

"What little one? Save you? Do you wish to fall..?" Drakeson let go of Maroc's arm, the blue dragon jerked and cried out, not wanting to fall, but was caught again by Drakeson.

"See little one? I'll always catch you, you do not want to fall," he told the frail little dragon, pulling him close to his chest.

"C-cold..." Maroc whispered, the black dragon gave off an aura of cold, but Maroc didn't pull away, he didn't want to fall...

"Come with me, I'll heal you, I'll take care of you, all you have to do is ask me," Drakeson wrapped his arms around Maroc, holding his head in his palm. Maroc closed his eyes and opened his broken mouth to ask Drakeson to please, save him, take the pain away, and make him forget about that night. That night, that he murdered all those people, and blinded Aaron.

"N-no..!" Maroc screamed in both pain and protest, pushing as hard as he could, pulling away from Drakeson and slamming hard onto the ground "No! Get away from me!"

"You...you would deny my offer of a helping hand?" Drakeson's voice suddenly grew dark, seething with anger. "Do you think you will survive on your own?! That someone will help you?! You are no different than me!" Drakeson seemed to grow, his scales becoming darker, and eyes burning like hellfire coals. He rose off the ground, coming closer to Maroc as the blue dragon cowered from the demon.

"See the darkness, seething in your soul!" Drakeson then raised his right arm, positioning it over the scared and confused Maroc. "And witness, the corruption in your blood!" Suddenly, Maroc felt cold, and watched in horror as his scales turned a deep dark red, demonic flames leaping all over his body. Drakeson then closed his hand into a fist, and all that demonic power rushed into Maroc's crystal, returning the blue dragon to his fragile and weakened state.

"What....did you do to...?" Maroc gasped, collapsing and just lying there, to worn out to talk anymore. Drakeson walked up to him, and sat next to the small dragon, returned to his normal, less than terrifying appearance.

"Why I choose you, you already had demonic power sealed away. Sadly, I coming through you have only ripped open the well in you. I have done what I can to restrict your demonic power." Maroc looked down at his body, not wanting to believe what was inside him.

"Come, take my hand, I'll protect you little one," Drakeson stood and offered his hand. "Others will only persecute and try and kill you, come with me," Maroc hesitated, bur slowly, took the black dragons hand. Drakeson smiled softly and helped the small blue dragon up to his feet and then picked him up, cradling him. Drakeson opened his torn blood red wings wide, and jumped into the air, higher than any dragon could normally do without carrying a load. After a couple hard pushes with his wings, they gained plenty of height and glided far and fast. The peacefulness of flight soon put Maroc to sleep.

When Maroc awoke, he was in a dark room, well furbished with soft pillows and couches, chairs and rugs. Most were red, others were black, and they matched the long curtains that divided the otherwise open room. Where one could see the walls, you'd notice is was a dark earth color, either mud packed or a mud brick building. Maroc's body was as before, bare, but had a few, very warm red robes on him. He was lying on a long couch, and when he sat himself up he noticed, while still frail, he had a little more meat in between his scales and bones, and his color was starting to return. As Maroc was inspecting his arms and self, a thought crossed his mind. Gods I have to stop passing out and waking up in strange places.

There was a sound of a door opening and then closing somewhere else in the apparently vast building, seeing how far away the sound was. Accompanied by the sound of paw steps on the dirt floor, soon a figure walked by some curtains, and then into view. It was the black dragon, Drakeson, who came into view and leaned against a pole that was hidden behind the curtains, smiling at Maroc.

"You're finally awake, Maroc," he said with a nod and a smile, causing Maroc to nod slightly. The blue dragon drew his knees up to his chin and wrapped his tail around his ankles in some attempt at comfort. Drakeson himself was actually wearing clothes for the first time Maroc has ever seen him. He wore tight fitting leather armor with straps and metal buckle adding some protection and keeping the armor tight. Underneath the armor was a short sleeve tunic, showing off his black scaly muscled biceps. On his waist he had a leather kilt studded and tipped with steel. On his legs, were tight cloth pants and solid steel bracers on his legs, and fingerless gloved braces on his wrists and forearms.

"I've brought you some food and wine," Drakeson said, lifting an hand and gesturing to someone behind him, bringing forth a small mouse carrying a large bronze platter laid down with assorted meats, fruits and a few greens, as well as a large wineskin and expensive looking goblet. The mouse set the platter on a small table that could barley take it. Maroc looked over the food with wide, hungry eyes, but before he could thank the mouse, it turned around and left the two dragons. Drakeson stood and grabbed a wooden chair and brought it close to the table, putting it in between Maroc and him before he sat down and crossed his leg over his knee.

"Well? Aren't you going to eat? You need to regain your strength, eh?" Drakeson eyed Maroc, waiting for him to tentatively reach down and pick up a pieced of hot sliced meat. Using his claws, Maroc carefully tilted his head back and dropped the food in his maw. Chewing once, his fangs quickly shredded the meat, before he swallowed. After a taste of food, Maroc quickly started eating, his empty belly grumbling in pleasure.

"Good?" Drakeson asked, Maroc merely nodded in reply, tossing his head back and dropping chunks of meat down his gullet.

"Well then keep eating, and don't forget to drink," Drakeson nodded to the goblet and wine skin. "I'll be back later, and we'll talk then, alright?" He stood, drawing a pause from Maroc as the black dragon turned and let him with his food. Maroc sighed, feeling a little glutinous, but soon resumed eating. He periodically took sips of the wine, it being quite sweet, unlike the bitter wine he was used too. After some time Maroc soon ate all of the food that was available, and drank about half of the wine, with a full belly and more than a buzz, the blue dragon curled up, tucking in his wings, tail and legs close and soon fell into a deep sleep.

Maroc felt warm as woke, still groggy and not sure if he wanted to wake or go back to sleep. Before he could decide, Maroc grew warmer, almost uncomfortably so. So, tossing and turning he eventually reached up to take off his red robes, reaching up only to find his robes were gone. Patting his body, starting to wake, he realized his body was bare, hot, and...

Soon, Maroc tried to fully wake, but it was like a cloud of fog was resting in his head. He tried to push him away, off of him, but to no avail. Struggle as he might he couldn't force the body off of his. What was happening to him was Drakeson had his hand around Maroc's throat, and a knife in the blue dragons arm, drawing blood slowly, surely, but painfully.

"Good little boy, bleed that black blood for me," Drakeson licked his lips and forced the knife deeper into his arm, the blood rushing out and into a pan below. The demon wrapped a clawed paw around Maroc's wrist, pressing his thumb against his vein. With Drakeson's other hand he pushed against the knife, twisting it hard, forcing it through him drawing a cry of pain from the blue one. After forcing open another vein, Drakeson let go of Maroc's neck and his wrist. He then watched the blue dragon bleed, almost filling up the pan below, then, taking a claw, he drew it across his arm, attempting to draw out his own blood. Maroc, crying now, tried to crawl away from the dragon, but being so weak he doubted he could even pull very hard against the strong demon. Soon, Drakeson's claw broke through the tough scales and he started to bleed, first into the pan, then, pulling out the knife with a short spurt of blood, on the wound. The blood burned on Maroc, causing much more pain than one would think, and eventually Maroc's bleeding stopped.

It went on like this into the night, until, finally, Drakeson came close to cutting Maroc's bloody body too much. When Drakeson was satisfied, he snapped his fingers, bright spark lighting up the room from the demons fingers and disorienting Maroc in his pain drunken state. Maroc cried with renewed vigor, as he heard someone come in and removed the pan that contained a large amount of both of their blood. Drakeson, smirking as Maroc curled up in the fetal position, got up after a while and made his way to a chair, watching his tortured captive writher in pain.

"My blood is almost acidic, if you haven't noticed yet," the demon pulled out a pipe from one of the drawers from a nearby table, and snapped his fingers, lighting it. After a few puffs from it, he spoke again, "It'll burn your wounds shut in no time eh? Then we can go again in a few months! Sleep well little one, you'll need it." Drakeson stood, patted Maroc on the shoulder, and walked out of sight. Maroc cried himself to sleep that night, and many nights to come. All he could think was, was this better, or worse than the alternative...?