Stormy changes

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dragonesper

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1x1 with @Snakey

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Landing at the usual location they had for her, Viatrix Pascal stretched to take off the specially made saddlebags. Dumping the clinking bags on the floor the charcoal grey dragon looked around curiously, finding it surprisingly empty for an expected visit. Usually there were some to greet her. Kids to play with. Some elderly servant sitting in the chair by the door waiting for her to show up. Anything. Where were the humans?

Huffing softly small sparks exited her nostrils and she froze. Oops. Since there was no one in the large, sparsely furnished room she didn't bother going behind the neatly placed divider. Shifting over to a more humanoid form she stretched lightly, testing out her altered limbs. 'Been much more smooth lately, nice~' Smiling lightly to herself the young dragon pulled on the tunic. The piece of clothing easily reached her knees and she tightened it loosely with an accompanying belt. She had been asked to wear more clothes by some, but... Eh.

Picking up her bags she slung them over her shoulder, compared to her actual form they seemed too heavy for her, but this wasn't the first time. And she doubted it would be the last. Exiting through the door Viatrix made her way to see the young count, he would surely be in a good mood when he saw the nice treats she had brought.
 
Jeremy winced with the groan of his crossbow being drawn, he had gotten too far just to be tipped off by a bit of creaking steel. He chanced a quick glance through the leaves of his perch to assure his mark had not been alerted, indeed the Count and his guards seemed too engrossed in whatever conversation they were having. With a sigh of relief the assassin but a bolt in the follower and waited, his heart sitting tight. Jeremy wasn't green, he had killed before and on more aware targets, but this was certainly one carried the highest profile.

The Count and his guards split off for a moment, the young nobleman motioning to be alone as he took in the gardens, in turn Jeremy raised his crossbow and with a gentle squeeze of a trigger sent the bolt sailing, ending with a fleshy thump, a scream of pain and finally the crash of a body hitting pavestones. Hysteria enveloped the courtyard and Jeremy took advantage of the chaos and fled, the thoughts of a king's bounty and a full belly filling his mind as he slipped off.

***

"Don't be a fool Tarch!" Nathaniel cried to his fellow bodyguard, the orc had already taken off, screaming murder and promising death to the would-be assassin. "Gods damn it, get back here and help him to Nadene!" Count Kristof moaned in agreeance. The bolt had struck him in the back of the thigh, unlikely to be fatal on its own, but a strange sensation was coming over him, a sort of grim calming running leaking from his leg to the rest of his body, "Nathan," he muttered through painfully clamped teeth, "I think the bolt had something on it." The guard turned his attention back to his charge to see Kristof's face growing pale and a milky substance leaking from his eyes and nose.

"Oh, damn it, Tarch-" Before Nathan could finish his demand the orc had scooped the Count from the ground and hefted him over his massive shoulder, not breaking stride as he did so. Tarch made it too the healer's quarters before Nadene was even aware of the attempt on the Count's life, and so was quite surprised when the orc unceremoniously dumped his body onto her cot with a single word, "Poison."

Though surprised, the aging witch immediately went to work on the count's wounds. "White Tears," she muttered, a light smile touching her lips, the poison was certainly potent, but also a quite common concoction, a favorite of brigands and bushwhackers. Not something a professional assassin would be found dead with. With the clatter of vials and the slamming of drawers the woman produced a jar and brush, and with the help of Tarch flipped the Count into a position where he would be more receptive of the anti-venom. She dipped the brush into the jar and smeared the compound onto Kristoph's eyes and up his nose, taking his recoil of pain as a sign the anti-venom was working.

At that point the entire population of the manor had heard of the assassination attempt and had begun crowding around the woefully small room, leaving the grounds deserted and Jeremy a chance to leave without detection.
 
Passing through the grounds Viatrix caught an unfamiliar scent. 'A guest?' Sniffing the air lightly she followed it a little before another scent caught her more immediate attention. 'Blood!' Turning quickly she ran towards the witch's room. If anyone was hurt then that would explain why no one had been around. 'Not any of the kids, not any of the kids...' The mantra repeated in her mind as she made her way, knowing the property fairly well.

Stopping on the edge of the crowd she breathed out while still rushed, pupils of her yellow eyes dilated and heart beating rapidly. Counting the number of kids she saw she couldn't decide for sure if the one hurt was a child. "Who's hurt?!" Calling out loudly to the crowd she didn't hold back, more important now was that the little hatchlings were okay.
 
"The Count!" Came the response from multiple people in the crowd, each one clambering over the other, "He's been shot!" as if in punctuation a cry of pain came from within the witch's quarters followed by a creative litany of curses that only could have been thought up by the Count himself. This only riled up the crowd more, who pushed harder to see what was happening.

"BACK!" came a ruinous roar from within the room, the hulking form of Tarch taking up the entire entrance, "Get back to you's business! Kristof is Okay, will be out and walkin' soon!" the orc's booming voice cascaded over the crowd, who for the most part took the hint and scattered back to their own workings. A few particularly nosey individuals still loitered, but they were quickly dismissed by a snarl from the great brute. The way sufficiently cleared Tarch finally managed to lay eyes on the dragon his expression shifting, "Oh, uh sorry Miss Pascal I not sure if the Count is re-"

"Let her in!" the voice of the Count rang from the room, "I can still talk and I'm not going to let some bushwhacking bastard stop me from entertaining a guest. You can enter at your pleasure Viatrix."
 
Good, the hatchlings were okay. The relief was only short-lived as she realized it was the Count that had been hurt. Forcing herself to calm down she remembered the unfamiliar scent not far from where she had smelled blood. Gathering her thoughts well she waited for the crowd to dwindle before sharing what she had learned. After listening to Kristof's invite she spoke softly to the guardsmen before moving on inside. "I smelled someone unfamiliar near the gardens, it grew stronger in that direction." Pointing towards where one of the smaller entrances were she hoped the young Count didn't hear her that well to catch what she had said.
 
Gods damn it. What was once an ample opportunity to escape turned into a harbinger of failure, if the chatter of the various servants and guards was to be believed the Count had survived. Clearly the young assassin had underestimated the loyalty of his staff, or at least their ability to react. More troubling was the arrival of a visitor, human in form, but distinctly not. A shapeshifter. A dragon. Jeremy had heard about the Jung's apparent connection to the creatures, but he would have never guessed they would just have one wandering the manor so casually.

Fuck

He briefly entertained the thought of putting a bolt between her eyes, but with all of his knowledge of dragons he was unsure if that would even kill her. He didn't need an angry dragon on his ass in addition to all of the failures of the day. No, he had done all he could, it was time to leave. Even if the thought of returning to his employer with news of failure terrified him.

***

Tarch narrowed his beady eyes at the dragoness as she explained what she had smelled, almost immediately the orc started walking off towards the garden only to pulled back by Nathaniel, "what are you doing?" he whispered angrily, "I need you to stay here, with Kristof. I'll gather the guards and search our little menace." Tarch looked out towards the garden with a hateful stare, eventually shrugging in silent agreeance.

"What are you going on about?" Questioned Kristof?

"I'm just going to make sure the manor is secure sir. Don't worry, Tarch will stay with you in case the bastard comes back."

"Very well." Kristof's mumbled, more annoyed than anything. His condition had improved considerably in a short time, a real tribute to the healing skills of Nadene. Nathaniel took off, gathering every able man on his way to the garden.

***

Fuck. Fuck! FUCK!

They were onto to him, the damn dragon must have tipped off the guard. Bitch. Jeremy dived into a low bush, barely resisting the urge to swat away the swarms of biting insects that latched onto him as he did so. The vision from the bush was poor, both a boon and a curse as it afforded him enough cover to avoid the sight of one patrol, though he could only tell by the sound of heavy footfalls and the chinking of armor.
 
Smiling at the guardsmen Viatrix reconfirmed how much she liked the guardsmen around Kristof. They could be serious and all about action, but that worked out great concerning the protection of the young Count. Watching them leave she smiled, feeling calmer already.

Entering the medical room she cheerfully greeted Nadene. "Hey Nadene, I have those herbs you asked about." Nodding light to Tarch the young dragoness brought over a chair to the bed Kristof occupied and sat down next to him. "It's good that you're alive." Lifting the saddlebags off her shoulder she placed them on her lap, the contents clinking softly within.
 
"Damned right it's good I'm alive," Kristof remarked as he pushed himself up and swung his legs over the cot, Nadene wincing as he did so. The woman looked as if she was going to say something, but decided to remain silent and roll her eyes. "I have to apologize for all the chaos," The Count continued, "I generally like to keep the goings-on in my estate as boring as possible; Keeps away intriguists and others who like to pry into the business of others. When something as 'mundane' as an assassination attempt happens it just riles everyone up." he lightly snickered at his own 'joke', "Anyways, I don't think you came here just to enjoy my company. What is that you have there?"

***

The immediate threat seemed to have passed, the heavy footfalls of footmen fading as they fruitlessly searched the garden. After a few minutes the would-be assassin thought himself safe, at least for the moment. The rustle of leaves and a sudden shaft of light shattered that perceived safety however, looking up Jeremy spotted a very puzzled looking man, his leather gloves and curved pruning knife marking him out as gardener. They stared at each other in silence for a long moment, Jeremy the first to act as he lashed out with his fist, striking the gardener with a blow to the gut that doubled him over to the ground. Not without a loud moan of pain however, the assassin finding himself suddenly the center of attention.

"It's him!" Came a cry from a guard and Jeremy turned to run, only to come crashing down on the pavestones. He looked behind him to find the leather-clad hand of the gardener wrapped around ankle, with an angry gardener attached looking to put his pruning knife to violent use. Luckily for Jeremy he would be spared death-by-gardener, unluckily it was only because a heavy boot came crashing on his head first.

"Get him to Count Jung!," he heard through ringing ears as he was lifted from the ground, "He'll know what to do with 'im."
 
"Boring as possible is always boring." Quipping back lightly Viatrix opened the first bag while smiling cheerfully. "At least the little hatchlings appreciate some good fun." Pulling out some sealed cloth bags, each in a different color with a tag on each of them, she set them on the foot of Kristof's bed, the next was a bottle that contained a purplish liquid the other male could recognize as a fruit drink of a non-alcoholid sort and the last thing was a small and plain box.
Opening the other bag the source of sound was revealed as two gem-embedded bangles got taken out and quickly followed by a bag of crystals. "As for all this? Different things and all that, plus those crystals you were waiting for. Thought I could bring a few along since I was dropping by."
 
"Good fun," Kristof chuckled, "You could call it that, yes." he examined the spread the dragon had brought, taking particular interest in the purple drink, if only because he didn't really know what it was. Before he could ask a rustling came from outside the room, the stomping of boots accompanied by inaudible chatter. Nathaniel marched in accompanied by three other men, including two guards and an unfamiliar man held between them. He was fairly small and notably thin, his clothes common in quality, but not in the style of the county. He had also looked beaten to near death, his eyes black and puffy and nose broken. Barely conscious, the man still managed to express a moment of anger when spotting the count, though it paled in comparison to the daggers shot when his head panned toward Viatrix.

"Kristof, we believe this to be your assassin," Nathaniel stated, stepping back to give the Count a better view of his attacker, "A crossbow was found beside him in the garden and he seems to be carrying substances which we believe are poisons." As if on queue a guard through a pouch of some sort towards Nadene who only nodded after a quick inspection.

"Knowing this, what do want us to do with him?"

Kristof met eyes with the assassin and with a wave beckoned him brought closer, "You don't seem like an assassin fit for a Count, it's almost an insult to me that of all the cut throats through out all the kingdoms the one that comes for me is a boy with poisons barely fit for a serf. It's for your own good that you tell me who sent you." The man met Kristof only with a stare, the feint whistling of his broken nose the only thing breaking the otherwise perfect silence. The count met the silence with own, eventually shrugging, "Very well then, you're of no use to me." He turned to Viatrix and gave a knowing wink.

"My guest here on the other hand, well, she's just famished and I'm sure she'd appreciate an easy meal," the man's head perked up and his brows raised what little they could in alarm, but he still said nothing.

"What do you say Viatrix? He's only one or two bites at best, hells, I'm sure you could swallow him whole if you wanted, but it's certainly better than nothing."
 
Recognizing the scent she lightly studied the bloodied male, a little irked by the level of anger aimed at her when the almost-assassin glared at her. 'What's his deal?' Watching the scene and very tempted to pull a trick on the unreasonably angry man she playfully grimaced before smiling sweetly back to Kristof. "At least dunk him in water first. I have enough manners to not eat a dirt-laden and probably lice-ridden ball of stench at least," picking up her bottle of purple liquid she added lightly, "though it's a good thing I brought juice. I can have it with my lunch, the one mouthful it is." 'As if I'd eat a human.'
 
The man's eyes flashed open, at least as far as they could open, "Wawt ish wrong wit' you?" The man cried, spitting blood as he did so. The Count just shrugged, "I just like to accommodate for my guests, she's hungry and you're without accommodation. What better way to kill two birds than to have you room in her belly?" The assassin stared and started bubbering unintelligibly, though Kristof could make out a few curse words and a plead here and there. "She's right though, you're all gross and bloody. Hardly fit for a friend I say, I'll have my staff clean you up and deposit you in the cells until you're needed." Tarch and the two guards seemed almost as disturbed as the assassin and just stood until Nathaniel spoke up, "You heard him! Get this wretch out of here and clean him up!" The guards saluted and dragged the still-bubbering man out, Nathaniel following. Tarch remained, looking between Kristof and Viatrix with worried eyes.

"You go too." The Count commanded, "I'd like just a bit of privacy if you don't mind."

"Okay." Tarch spoke simply, a hint of confusion in his voice. He left, gently closing the door behind him. Leaving only Viatrix, Nadene and Kristof.

The Count turned to Viatrix, "You know, I was hoping you'd go full dragon to really sell the threat, but it seemed to work regardless. It should make questioning a bit easier." He shifted his body and tested his shot leg, recoiling back onto the cot in pain as he put weight on it. This earned him another scowl from Nadene, "Do you want to destroy your leg?"

"Hardly, I just don't want to sit and do nothing any longer."

The witch rolled her eyes and started searching through her cupboards again.

"Anyways, where did we leave off again?" Kristof finally returned to form and searched the room for clues, laying eyes on the packages, he knew what was in all of them, excepting one small box, "What's that you have there?"
 
Sighing softly Viatrix placed the bottle back with the assorted items and picked up the box. "It's a nice little thing, but I'm not sure if I want to show you if you don't help me clear that misunderstanding we just created. Your guards are going to think I'll munch you up if I get peckish." Sulking a little she carefully cradled the box to her humble chest, never having bothered shifting that much to appropriate a humanoid form. "I like stag and deer, and really love fowls, you know?"
 
"Are you asking me to dinner?" Kristof said with a hand to his chest and feigned surprise in his voice, "I guess it's only appropriate, I can't leave you hungry after your help. I'm sure I'm can get the butchers to put together a dragon sized meal. Nadene had finally found what she was looking for, a bandage rubbed with some sort of herbal extract and she had taken the liberty of forcibly lifting the Count's leg and tightly wrapping it around his wound, "There, just make sure not to put much weight on it for now, unless you plan on having a limp for the rest of your life." She offered him a walking stick but Kristof refused with an outward palm, instead drawing a feather from a pouch on his belt and muttering an incantation, the end of which dissolved the feather and lifted him a few inches off the cot. Nadene rolled her eyes, "That works too I guess."

"As for my guards, I'm sure they were just playing along. If not, well, they're probably just not too keen on seeing a man eaten alive, even if it is just some low-life." He paused, a quick bite of thought entering his mind, "Accept for Tarch, Tarch probably thinks you're going to eat me." He sighed, "I'll talk to him about that here... Before that though, would you mind joining me to the butchery? I'll make sure you'll get the choicest cuts."
 
"You better," quickly gathering the things she left behind the fruit drink and promised herbs for Nadene, not even bothering to specify what he had to do. Slinging the saddle bags over her shoulder she kept the small box neatly in her hand, "the thought of even eating a human is just... Urgh." Shivering lightly she gave him a light glare before easily defaulting to a relaxed smile. "And you're going to like this neat thing~" Lightly shaking the box her smile was full of mischief as it gave no sounds whatsoever. The thing that was inside had been carefully put in, something Viatrix knew as she had made sure to get it wrapped in a piece of wool before even putting it in the box.
 
"It's probably not that much different than eating anything else really," The count said said with a shrug, "Of course if it offends you so I'll not bring it up any longer, it's no more than a bit of applied fantasy anyway." He eyed the box Viatrix held, visually captivated, but not saying anything, instead drifted towards the door to open it. He recoiled in surprise to see Tarch's massive form blocking the way, a worried look softening his otherwise intimidating presence. The orc looked between Viatrix and Kristof again, "You okay?"

"Yes Tarch, I'm fine. The leg will heal." This did not seem to fully reassure the orc, who still sent worried glances towards the dragon. Kristof sighed, "No Tarch, she's not going to eat me. She's not going to eat anyone. Now will you please stand out of the way and let us through please?"

Tarch did not look completely convinced, but moved regardless, "She too small anyways."

"There's a host of other reasons, but that's certainly one of them." He stopped to think for a second before continuing, "Come with us Tarch, see for yourself."
 
'Too small?' A little irked by the dismissing comment Viatrix reminded herself that it was her humanoid form he was looking at, not her true form. She was a healthy size for her age, not a tiny shrimp that still relied on her parents' protection. '... Too tempting to mess around and shift into my real form... But I'll rip the tunic. Stupid human clothing.' Sighing softly she found her smile once more and addressed Tarch. "We're going out to eat- Ah, right. The little thing." Deftly untying the string that held the small box closed she began to unwrap the thing she had brought as a surprise. 'Kristof do like his magical stuff~'
 
Worry returned to Tarch's face as Viatrix mentioned eating, causing Kristof to roll his eyes, "We're just going to give Wayne a visit, he's going to get us something nice and distinctly not human. That's all Tarch." The comment seemed to nip that bit of worry in the bud and Kristof returned his attention to the dragon and her little box.

***

The cold stone floor of the prison did few favors to Jeremy, his body nearly naked and soaking wet thanks to the forced bath given to him by the guards. The uncomfortable accommodations did little to interfere with the swirling hate that filled his mind. The Count had proven to be just as bad as the Closed Council said he was, a craven, brutal man more interested in the affairs of his draconic allies than the kingdom as a whole. A man driven mad by the power and wealth of the mana crystals, just like his father before him. Still, that hatred was almost childish compared to the loathing he felt for his dragon friend. Without a doubt it was her that sensed his presence and had the guard's set upon him like hounds to a hare. Not only that, the Count would have her eat him as punishment. What a fate was that, possibly worse than whatever the Closed Council would do to him should he return with word of failure.

'Possibly.'

He pushed himself from the floor and tried to stand, his legs pained greatly in the attempt and collapsed, leaving him to squat on his haunches like a dog. 'So this is how it ends?'
 
Ignoring the unreasonable worry of Tarch she focused on removing the lid, with it off there wasn't much to see but a glimt of red in a lump of wool. Carefully removing the object she held it up while grinning brightly. "Tada!" The little thing didn't seem as interesting as she made it seem to anyone with no knowledge of magic. It was a red scale with small sigils carefully etched in on both sides, a hole pierced through on the top letting it be attached on a plain leather string. Still, any experienced mage would know that those sigils amplified elemental magic and why it was interesting on the scale. It was the scale of a fire dragon. "Interesting little toy, don't you think?" Lightly waving the scale she grinned, knowing these scales rarely left draconic hands.
 
Kristof examined the scale with a raised brow, uncertain on how to react at that moment, "Where did you get this?" He asked, almost transfixed by the thing as Viatrix waved it, "I mean, unless you've changed colors since last I saw your true form you must of taken it from a fellow dragon." Not that he really cared, but it was curious regardless.
 
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