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dragon story
Very, very rough, but I thought a few might like a looksee since I was bitching so much.
Could not resist the setting I chose.
notes: dragons are and should always be badass. dragons like treasure. that second has not yet come into play, but I don't doubt it will. things I was vehemently against were dragons being thoroughly tamed and a normal part of society. No, no. Megan, being in a rage and therefore bloodthirsty mood, decided on something much more fun (and hopefully interesting). Thank you for reading these doofty 'notes'.
Rick shook his head in disbelief for what must be the millionth time.
Of all the places to received a random invite – a formal request even, not just a simple phone call, but stationary and hand delivered and everything – he would never in a million years have guessed the Tantalus.
Not even the lower levels. No, his invite had included instructions and a special card.
All the way to the top floors.
No one ever saw the demon lord in his own lair. Those with appointments saw him in the lower offices; no one was dumb enough to bother him without an appointment.
Sable Brennus was remarkably laid back for a demon, but he was still a demon.
He pulled the invite from his pocket as he reached what was clearly a reception room, holding it out as he approached the desk where some sort of abnormal answered phones and did the sort of paperwork that looked mysterious and exotic to outsiders but was really more boring than watching grass grow.
The woman didn’t even look at it, just flicked him the barest of glances, a brief but pretty smile, and mashed a button on her phone. “Mr. Brennus, Mr. Cross is here.” She smiled again, and Rick caught a hint of fangs. “Please go right in – the second door to the right.”
“Thank you,” Rick murmured, daring a smile of his own, not used to doing it – but she didn’t look horrified by the effort, her own smile brightening, so maybe he wasn’t completely out of practice.
Feeling moderately better, Rick turned and walked down the wide hallway, doing his best to relax and not gawk at the expensive paintings, vases. This one hallway cost more than his entire house. Why in the world was he being called here of all places?
He suspected he knew, at least to a degree, though he wouldn’t have thought the D-Pits the sort of the thing to interest a demon. Never mind that he’d said a hundred thousand times to anyone dumb enough to bring the subject up that he wanted no part of the D-Pits ever. Not their scene. Hadn’t been when they were young and stupid, certainly wouldn’t be now that they’d more or less matured.
At the second door on the right, Rick hesitated. Did one knock in situations like this?
The problem was solved for him when the door suddenly opened, and Rick found himself greeted by a startlingly handsome man – his clothes were old, worn, the leather jacket clearly well past its last legs, but for all that the man looked good. Early thirties? Classic blonde hair and blue eyes, slender but fit build.
Something about him was abnormal, but without Cal Rick couldn’t tell what. “Ah—I’m here to see—“
“Come on in,” the blonde man said. “I was just coming out to greet you.” He stepped aside to let Rick in. “You’re Aldrick Cross.”
“Rick, please.”
The man nodded. “I’m Chris White.” He closed the door and pointed across the office – more of a sitting room or lounge or something, nothing but sofas and chairs and a long coffee table – to a man standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. “That’s Sable.”
Yeah, Rick hadn’t needed to be told that. Even without Cal, he’d recognize a demon lord. Everyone in the territory had heard about the man – how didn’t you hear about the one that kept neighboring wolves and vamps and other problems out of the area? He was as good-looking as the rumors went, and cliché as it sounded those eyes really were the color of storm clouds.
“I’m actually the one who wanted to speak with you,” Chris said, motioning for him to sit. “Want a drink or anything?”
“No, thanks,” Rick said. “What’s this all about? Usually when someone received an invite from the demon in residence, it’s not a good thing.”
Sable chuckled and moved to on the sofa opposite the one Rick had taken. “If I dislike someone, I go get rid of them or have Christian do it. They would not be invited here.”
“That’s what I was hoping,” Rick said, hoping his abject relief didn’t show. He fought the urge to rake a hand restlessly through his hair, knowing the lightly-grayed black strands didn’t need the added help looking messy. “So what did you want?”
“I’m sure you already have a good idea,” Chris said, leaning back in the armchair he’d taken, situated between the two long sofas. He braced his elbows on the arms rests and steepled his fingers.
“Why on earth would a demon lord and his consort give two fucks – pardon my language – about the D-pits. Only reason anyone ever wants to talk to me.”
Chris shook his head. “It is and isn’t about that.”
Rick quirked one brow. “Do explain.” He might be nervous as shit about this, but damned if he’d let anyone try and fuck with Cal.
“I have been hired to find a particular dragon. For the past two months I have been looking and the only clues I can find all point to the D-Pits. Unfortunately—“
“You can’t get in,” Rick interrupted. “No dragon, and you’re abnormal though I can’t tell how – maybe that’s just the demon magic.”
Sable snickered as Chris glowered. “In part my magic, but Christian is…special.”
“Be quiet,” Chris snapped. He turned back to Rick. “As you say, I have no dragon which means they won’t let me within a hundred yards. Worse, I and my associates are all abnormal to some degree. So we can’t even get in as spectators.”
Spectator being the polite word for anyone who wanted to bet on the fights. Scum of the earth, Rick preferred. The only people he hated more were the Owners, though D-Pit lords were a damned close second.
Christ drummed his finger tips together as he spoke. “I could force the issue, as a consort, but creating that kind of stir does no one any favors and won’t guarantee I’ll get the dragon before the owner bolts with him. Anyway, I never could figure out which D-Pit exactly he’s located.”
He knew where this was going. “You want me to go in and find this dragon for you.”
“It’s a young one,” Chris said. “Barely capable of changing. Frost. Pure blood.”
Rick winced. Frost dragons were rare; they were also damned hard to beat. Few things were as formidable as a pure blood frost dragon. “Where’d they get it?”
“Kidnapped from my client,” Chris answered. “He’d only just turned fifteen. Has been missing four months now.”
“Gotcha,” Rick said, nodding in thought. He knew the D-Pits because he wanted nothing to do with them – ‘know thine enemy’ and all that. “A PB Frost? No one would waste time with the outer Pits. I’d hazard to say he’s at the Shatter Spine, the Snap Neck, or the Broken Heart. Who’s the ‘Owner’?”
Chris glowered at some unseen annoyance. “If I knew that, I wouldn’t have to drag you into this. All I hear are rumors of a young frost dragon taking the wins at fight after fight. No one is willing to cough up who owns him though.”
That was unusual, but not unheard of. Owners were usually as well known and spoken of as their dragons. To know the dragon but not the Owner was to know the weapon but not the wielder. It could mean only a couple of things – either no one knew the Owner’s identity, which had happened; some people just didn’t like it known they played in the D-Pits. Other times…the Owner was high enough up the chain no one dared say his name without express permission.
Which meant he probably used a shadow Owner to do the in-Pit work while he watched from above and covertly passed on his orders. If that was the case, and it every well could be with a PB Frost involved – and one technically too young to be thrown into the Pits – then this could get ugly fast. Rick shook his head. “Sounds like you’re in a nasty tangle. I’m sure I don’t need to explain what’s likely going down.”
“I’m sure hearing the finer points couldn’t hurt,” Chris replied, “however I do sense this is probably running deeper than any of us likes to think about. If you’re willing, though, find him and get him out.” He made a face. “If it starts to look too dangerous, just tell me where he is and I’ll say to hell with keeping things quiet.”
Rick frowned in thought. “I have to talk to Cal before I can tell you for certain, but I will be honest and say I don’t like the idea of a baby being thrown in the Pits. Not even sure how that would slipped by – even the D-Pits have that much of a standard. Never heard of a child being throw in, which makes me nervous about the Owner. I’m willing, but I have to speak with Cal. How can I get in touch?”
“Call this number,” Chris said, and pulled a business card from his pocket.
It was plain white with a band of black across the top and the words White Detective Agency above that. Below was Chris’s name, then the name Douglas, and lastly a phone number.
“Ask to speak to me or Doug.”
Rick stood up and tucked the card away in his jeans. “Will do.”
“Thank you,” Chris said.
“I haven’t agreed yet.”
“You listened. That’s more than most in your position would do.”
Rick shrugged. “Cal made me. I’ll show myself out.” He turned and strode out the door, back down the hall, waved to the secretary and then took the elevator down to the lobby.
It was cloudy but not quite raining when he hit the streets. An attendant pulled up with his motorcycle as Rick reached the bottom of the stairs. He took his keys and thanked the man, the entire situation from the invite to the conversation to having a valet take care of his bike still completely surreal. He was thirty-five. Shit like this didn’t happen to thirty-five year olds.
Now he had to go tell Cal that because he was a fucking soft touch that they might finally have to go down into the Pits they’d avoided their whole damn lives.
Could not resist the setting I chose.
notes: dragons are and should always be badass. dragons like treasure. that second has not yet come into play, but I don't doubt it will. things I was vehemently against were dragons being thoroughly tamed and a normal part of society. No, no. Megan, being in a rage and therefore bloodthirsty mood, decided on something much more fun (and hopefully interesting). Thank you for reading these doofty 'notes'.
Sword of the King
Rick shook his head in disbelief for what must be the millionth time.
Of all the places to received a random invite – a formal request even, not just a simple phone call, but stationary and hand delivered and everything – he would never in a million years have guessed the Tantalus.
Not even the lower levels. No, his invite had included instructions and a special card.
All the way to the top floors.
No one ever saw the demon lord in his own lair. Those with appointments saw him in the lower offices; no one was dumb enough to bother him without an appointment.
Sable Brennus was remarkably laid back for a demon, but he was still a demon.
He pulled the invite from his pocket as he reached what was clearly a reception room, holding it out as he approached the desk where some sort of abnormal answered phones and did the sort of paperwork that looked mysterious and exotic to outsiders but was really more boring than watching grass grow.
The woman didn’t even look at it, just flicked him the barest of glances, a brief but pretty smile, and mashed a button on her phone. “Mr. Brennus, Mr. Cross is here.” She smiled again, and Rick caught a hint of fangs. “Please go right in – the second door to the right.”
“Thank you,” Rick murmured, daring a smile of his own, not used to doing it – but she didn’t look horrified by the effort, her own smile brightening, so maybe he wasn’t completely out of practice.
Feeling moderately better, Rick turned and walked down the wide hallway, doing his best to relax and not gawk at the expensive paintings, vases. This one hallway cost more than his entire house. Why in the world was he being called here of all places?
He suspected he knew, at least to a degree, though he wouldn’t have thought the D-Pits the sort of the thing to interest a demon. Never mind that he’d said a hundred thousand times to anyone dumb enough to bring the subject up that he wanted no part of the D-Pits ever. Not their scene. Hadn’t been when they were young and stupid, certainly wouldn’t be now that they’d more or less matured.
At the second door on the right, Rick hesitated. Did one knock in situations like this?
The problem was solved for him when the door suddenly opened, and Rick found himself greeted by a startlingly handsome man – his clothes were old, worn, the leather jacket clearly well past its last legs, but for all that the man looked good. Early thirties? Classic blonde hair and blue eyes, slender but fit build.
Something about him was abnormal, but without Cal Rick couldn’t tell what. “Ah—I’m here to see—“
“Come on in,” the blonde man said. “I was just coming out to greet you.” He stepped aside to let Rick in. “You’re Aldrick Cross.”
“Rick, please.”
The man nodded. “I’m Chris White.” He closed the door and pointed across the office – more of a sitting room or lounge or something, nothing but sofas and chairs and a long coffee table – to a man standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. “That’s Sable.”
Yeah, Rick hadn’t needed to be told that. Even without Cal, he’d recognize a demon lord. Everyone in the territory had heard about the man – how didn’t you hear about the one that kept neighboring wolves and vamps and other problems out of the area? He was as good-looking as the rumors went, and cliché as it sounded those eyes really were the color of storm clouds.
“I’m actually the one who wanted to speak with you,” Chris said, motioning for him to sit. “Want a drink or anything?”
“No, thanks,” Rick said. “What’s this all about? Usually when someone received an invite from the demon in residence, it’s not a good thing.”
Sable chuckled and moved to on the sofa opposite the one Rick had taken. “If I dislike someone, I go get rid of them or have Christian do it. They would not be invited here.”
“That’s what I was hoping,” Rick said, hoping his abject relief didn’t show. He fought the urge to rake a hand restlessly through his hair, knowing the lightly-grayed black strands didn’t need the added help looking messy. “So what did you want?”
“I’m sure you already have a good idea,” Chris said, leaning back in the armchair he’d taken, situated between the two long sofas. He braced his elbows on the arms rests and steepled his fingers.
“Why on earth would a demon lord and his consort give two fucks – pardon my language – about the D-pits. Only reason anyone ever wants to talk to me.”
Chris shook his head. “It is and isn’t about that.”
Rick quirked one brow. “Do explain.” He might be nervous as shit about this, but damned if he’d let anyone try and fuck with Cal.
“I have been hired to find a particular dragon. For the past two months I have been looking and the only clues I can find all point to the D-Pits. Unfortunately—“
“You can’t get in,” Rick interrupted. “No dragon, and you’re abnormal though I can’t tell how – maybe that’s just the demon magic.”
Sable snickered as Chris glowered. “In part my magic, but Christian is…special.”
“Be quiet,” Chris snapped. He turned back to Rick. “As you say, I have no dragon which means they won’t let me within a hundred yards. Worse, I and my associates are all abnormal to some degree. So we can’t even get in as spectators.”
Spectator being the polite word for anyone who wanted to bet on the fights. Scum of the earth, Rick preferred. The only people he hated more were the Owners, though D-Pit lords were a damned close second.
Christ drummed his finger tips together as he spoke. “I could force the issue, as a consort, but creating that kind of stir does no one any favors and won’t guarantee I’ll get the dragon before the owner bolts with him. Anyway, I never could figure out which D-Pit exactly he’s located.”
He knew where this was going. “You want me to go in and find this dragon for you.”
“It’s a young one,” Chris said. “Barely capable of changing. Frost. Pure blood.”
Rick winced. Frost dragons were rare; they were also damned hard to beat. Few things were as formidable as a pure blood frost dragon. “Where’d they get it?”
“Kidnapped from my client,” Chris answered. “He’d only just turned fifteen. Has been missing four months now.”
“Gotcha,” Rick said, nodding in thought. He knew the D-Pits because he wanted nothing to do with them – ‘know thine enemy’ and all that. “A PB Frost? No one would waste time with the outer Pits. I’d hazard to say he’s at the Shatter Spine, the Snap Neck, or the Broken Heart. Who’s the ‘Owner’?”
Chris glowered at some unseen annoyance. “If I knew that, I wouldn’t have to drag you into this. All I hear are rumors of a young frost dragon taking the wins at fight after fight. No one is willing to cough up who owns him though.”
That was unusual, but not unheard of. Owners were usually as well known and spoken of as their dragons. To know the dragon but not the Owner was to know the weapon but not the wielder. It could mean only a couple of things – either no one knew the Owner’s identity, which had happened; some people just didn’t like it known they played in the D-Pits. Other times…the Owner was high enough up the chain no one dared say his name without express permission.
Which meant he probably used a shadow Owner to do the in-Pit work while he watched from above and covertly passed on his orders. If that was the case, and it every well could be with a PB Frost involved – and one technically too young to be thrown into the Pits – then this could get ugly fast. Rick shook his head. “Sounds like you’re in a nasty tangle. I’m sure I don’t need to explain what’s likely going down.”
“I’m sure hearing the finer points couldn’t hurt,” Chris replied, “however I do sense this is probably running deeper than any of us likes to think about. If you’re willing, though, find him and get him out.” He made a face. “If it starts to look too dangerous, just tell me where he is and I’ll say to hell with keeping things quiet.”
Rick frowned in thought. “I have to talk to Cal before I can tell you for certain, but I will be honest and say I don’t like the idea of a baby being thrown in the Pits. Not even sure how that would slipped by – even the D-Pits have that much of a standard. Never heard of a child being throw in, which makes me nervous about the Owner. I’m willing, but I have to speak with Cal. How can I get in touch?”
“Call this number,” Chris said, and pulled a business card from his pocket.
It was plain white with a band of black across the top and the words White Detective Agency above that. Below was Chris’s name, then the name Douglas, and lastly a phone number.
“Ask to speak to me or Doug.”
Rick stood up and tucked the card away in his jeans. “Will do.”
“Thank you,” Chris said.
“I haven’t agreed yet.”
“You listened. That’s more than most in your position would do.”
Rick shrugged. “Cal made me. I’ll show myself out.” He turned and strode out the door, back down the hall, waved to the secretary and then took the elevator down to the lobby.
It was cloudy but not quite raining when he hit the streets. An attendant pulled up with his motorcycle as Rick reached the bottom of the stairs. He took his keys and thanked the man, the entire situation from the invite to the conversation to having a valet take care of his bike still completely surreal. He was thirty-five. Shit like this didn’t happen to thirty-five year olds.
Now he had to go tell Cal that because he was a fucking soft touch that they might finally have to go down into the Pits they’d avoided their whole damn lives.
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Suspicions as to Cal's a dragon, or something like that...
Can't wait to see the finished product!
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Ehhh. It's not working DwtD quite, more I'm just borrwing the verse for the dragon story.
He is, no real secret there.
^__^ Thankee for reading.
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^__^ Will be typing more as soon as I get off LJ. Thankee for reading it.
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*_________*
I can't wait to see what Cal is like, cause I love Rick already. (Heehee! And Sable and Chris are still adorable as all get out. XD!)
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Speaking of puppy eyes - PRIDE!!!!
<<333
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♥
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You probably won't like my dragon fic. It has nice, urbane dragons.
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I can't wait to me Cal! And the poor baby dragon. *flails* Poor baby Dragon!!!
D-Pits suck. I hope the whole system gets brought down while they are rescuing the Frost, but I won't hold my breath.
Happy writing!!
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did the sort of paperwork that looked mysterious and exotic to outsiders but was really more boring than watching grass grow.
^________________^
..... I forgot to take notes. Too busy bouncing over DwtD-verse dragons. ^^;;
Yay dragons! Yay DwtD! Curious about lossa stuff, but I will be patient insofar as fsking headache will let me. x.x
*glomps you*
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'Sides, you have a better implementation for it, anyway. ^_^
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Dragons. This could get very interesting.
Wait.. Sable.. Chris..yeah interesting.
Chris is in a good mood, he told Sable to "be quiet" not to "shut it". *smile*