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"Zone of Truth!"
The spell of forced truth cast from the thin lips of a darkly robed cleric of Tiamat, before he stepped aside for the head priestess to take control. Towering figure of a half-dragon woman, bearing a mask of five draconic heads, hiding her own face from view. Voice dripped with venom as she practically hissed at the bound figure chained to a chair. It had taken at least twenty of her finest to compound the armored dragonborn into submission. Whatever the armor the fighter had been wearing - it was certainly worth the amount of gold she must have paid. Stripped from the warrior, it lay on the table, glistening in gold with a silver dragon motif on the breastplate, an enchanted hum coming from it whenever the half-dragon approached.
A mighty sword of dragon wings with a red jewel lay in the center - and she did not care for the aura of that jewel at all. Every fiber of her draconic being said to stay well away from the jewel, the armor, even the shield that lay upon the table. The gear of the woman they had stripped. And had been torturing for hours, to no avail.
Tsk. No matter. Now. To Questions.
Cold eyes cut over the impressive stature of the dragonborn warrior. A gold, of course it HAD to be a gold. With shimmering scales and ... hair? Dragonborn did not have hair. Well. Few of the golds with purer bloodlines did. Narrowing down who she might be. Those well-formed muscles forged from years of battle and training were straining against the chains that bound her. The masked woman tsked. "The more you struggle, girl, I will return to tortures. It is best you answer my questions." She had to admit to being impressed by the constitution and strength of the woman. Most would have broken by now. Of course, her natural fire resistance helped her. They needed to get answers and keep her from resting to replenish her flame.
As the dragonborn stilled, aqua slitted eyes glaring up to the half-dragon as she sat as nobly proud in that bound chair as she might upon a throne. Near the same height, the two were almost six and a half feet tall with their horns. "Who are you?" Even the caster of zone of truth was forced by their own spell to speak true as long as they were inside its aura. Harsh sounds of clicking and hisses of draconic voices were exchanged as the two spoke, lacking lips to form human pronunciations, but were attempting. The half-dragon suddenly backhanded the dragonborn across her beautifully curved snout. "Rezmir - Priestess of the great goddess Tiamat - and I will ask the questions, girl! Who are you?"
The dragonborn's face turned by the strike, but a slow, cocky, almost menacing smirk pulled over her lips, white fangs glistening with a rumbling, draconic growl from within that overly-ample bosom straining beneath a painted on tunic. "Delmirev Snoutbreaker, Aspirant 5389726-" That was all she said.
Rezmir sucked through her teeth. "Clan and nickname, rank and serial number - so you are a soldier of the Delmirev clan?"
"That is what I just said, isn't it?" the dragonborn chuckled. "Are you slow, Rezmir of Tiamat?" That earned her another backhand, one of the many guards lining the room clenching fists. Obviously extremely loyal to the woman asking questions. "Impertinent child of Bahamut, aren't you?" Rezmir snarled.
Chuckling with a harsh rumble, the dragonborn licked blood from her gold maw. "Well, I am only sixteen in my years-"
"Sixteen?!" One of the guards, a human, actually shouted. "There is NO way, with tits like hers, that she is sixteen-"
Rezmir cut her eyes to the guard with a low, draconic growl. "You fool, she is a dragonborn -"
"How very observant," the bound woman answered swiftly, "Next you shall be telling everyone I am a GOLD dragonbo-" Another strike silenced her as the woman twitched her snout with a huff of smoke. "That's getting annoying."
Rezmir needed to test the zone of truth, and this woman was stalling. "What is sixteen years to you... draconic experiments again?"
This actually earned a snarl from the Aspirant bound in her chains. "Sixteen years of a human's growth - you add seven years to the age of a dragonborn. We age rapidly when we are born, from the time we are three of human years, we look, think and act to be ten years of age. The rapid growth stops around that time, and we age normally afterwards until we near the end of our lives, then it begins again. I have been alive for sixteen years, but in all intents and purposes of growth, I am twenty-three years of age, a fully fledged adult."
Such new information actually seemed to bring a collective sigh of relief from a few of the men standing nearby. Even with the scales, the rows of fangs that could tear flesh, the claws and three-toes of talons, the fighter still cut a fine figure of a woman.
Rezmir circled around the woman, the five-headed mask giving nothing away of the half-dragon's facial expressions as the purple robes hid most of her draconic features. "Still, so very young for an Officer rank in the army of the clan Delmirev. How did you come about such a rank?"
A wry grin passed over the golden dragonborn's maw. No need to fight the zone of truth on this question. "As your so called elite forces found out - " she gestured towards a few of the guards with broken noses, "I'm a heavy-hitter. Joined the ranks when I was three - er, ten years of age, earlier than most due to... lacking peers my age to train with. I joined the older ranks rather than the younger."
Giving a raised brow beneath her mask, Rezmir was beginning to slowly put things together. "Lack of peers... lets see, sixteen years... Oh..." A sickening smile formed beneath the mask. "You must have been hatched right around the Great Cleanse -"
Now that did evoke a reaction of rage in the young draconic appearing woman, smoke huffing through her flared nostrils. "Do not you dare speak of the Lost Ones-"
"Remind me again, girl, what happened that day? How many of those unhatched never saw the sun?" It was a cruel question, meant to make the girl emotional, to pry out more information later.
Snarling, the dragonborn did not even fight it. "... Your cult of Tiamat sent the cursed white dragon to destroy the Temple of Sacred Fire. Where our hatchlings were kept for safety... I was unhatched yet, but the dead... beyond the counting." She would not cry for them. Not yet. Her brothers and sisters, those she would have fought beside.
"Do you know what happened to those souls of the unhatched?" the robed devoted of Tiamat asked, pressing for the fighter to break.
"... Yes." Her aqua slitted eyes raised with fire behind them. "Their souls were rendered as sacrifice unto Tiamat's power. They ceased to exist."
"Very good, girl. You are beginning to show promise for information. Especially for someone who was not even alive the day it happened- Why is that?" Rezmir pondered aloud, circling the gold woman.
"I simply have intimate knowledge of the events... being the only survivor," Snoutbreaker snorted upon the robed figure.
"Impossible! No one could survive- no one WOULD survive without us knowing!" Rezmir spoke, earning a low cackle from the gold. "Seems Tiamat neglects to tell her precious little piss-ons everything."
Hissing through serated teeth, the half-dragon clutched at the woman's golden hair. "Again. WHO are you?!" she demanded, her eyes falling upon small lines of ever so slight discoloration between the scales of the captive's hair line and further back. The line ran all down her body on either side in randomly waved patterns. What in the name of Tiamat-
"Delmirev Snoutbreaker, Aspirant-" she was smacked before she could finish.
"You seem to be so very far from home in Tymanther here upon the Sword Coast. What are you doing here?" Rezmir asked of the beaten woman.
The dragonborn huffed, fighting the spell, but letting some truth slip out. "Slaying dragons and filthy cultists mostly. Originally was sent to see to a Clan Armory debt being paid, and one thing lead to another. You save one dwarven Master and slay one cult and kill your first dragon, people begin to expect it from you. That last White Dragon had a goodly sizeable hoard for my vaults, and his hide made for a fine set of scale armor for my squire -"
Rezmir's eyes widened beneath the mask, a growling rumble coming from her. "So it was you who killed the Great Glazhael the Cloudchaser?!"
Shaking her head with a laugh, the fighter's muscles flexed. "Great? My five year old ward dealt the death blow with a measly little wand of magic missiles-"
A roaring outcry from the gold was suddenly stifled by her own willpower as the priestess knocked her staff against the woman's horns, almost breaking them. One of the robed figures with only a singular mask stepped forward to calm the half-dragon. "If she is dead, my lady, we cannot use her-" The five-headed mask turned with a sharp look and huffed, gathering herself before looking back to the dragonborn... who was smirking. "My grandmother hits harder than you-" Never-mind the fact her grandmother was a barbarian.
Rezmir sucked through her teeth. "How many... dragons have you slain..."
"Hmm... half-dragon scum like your General Cyanwrath included? Well to be fair, it was my squire who slaughtered your pathetic excuse for a General." the warrior smirked in her arrogance, seeming to shake off the pain and to only poke and prod at her captors' furies. "At least a dozen by now. I should thank you for bringing them enmasse. Their hide and bones, their blood and organs have filled my coffers to brimming."
That earned her a punch to the gut, making the dragonborn spit up a bit of blood. Rezmir was fuming, and looking now to the weapons and armor on the table - beyond expensive, especially a belt of storm giant's strength, the lightning javelins, a ring of warmth, a greater ring of protection... a flying cloak made from dragon wings, a set of hide boots, goggles of night-vision, a helm of dread, a dagger of poison,... the warrior had been outfitted to slay. And they were continuing to pull things from her Bag of Holding. "Is that how you bought your arms and armament? With the blood of Tiamat's children?!"
A scoff was the only sound from the woman. "I'm an Adventurer - rewards come to me where they may as I deserve them."
Rezmir realized then she would have to be specific. "This armor is... unique. I cannot touch it - where did you get it? Why can I not touch it?"
Aqua eyes gave a roll, but she did not fight the spell. "My armor was named Dragonguard by the ancient ghostly spirit of a dwarven forge master who created it. It is resistant to all forms of dragon attacks from draconic beings - including your Fear. And before you ask, no, I did not steal it, it was gifted to me by the maker himself for setting him free." A slow grin came upon her face at that.
"And what of your sword? How did you come across such a thing? I have never seen its make before-"
"Ah, Talon. He's a few hundred years old, a family relic you might say," she responded, looking fondly upon the sword. It had served her well, and would continue to do so.
Rezmir was growing impatient of the vague answers. "You name your little toys, how quaint. What is the jewel there?" A moment of silence passed before Rezmir demanded again. "I asked - what is the jewel upon the hilt of Talon?"
"... A ruby." It was the truth, after all.
Rezmir wanted to scream. "Impertinent bitch of Bahamut - what does the ruby do!? Where did you find it?!"
The bound dragonborn gritted her rows of sharp fangs, resisting the urge to speak by the zone of truth. At least that's what it appeared to be. "Found it... in a dragon-slayers tomb ... on her melted sword - imbedded in a giant green dragon-"
Rezmir's eyes widened. That tomb... "A Dragon-Slayer's sword - " Seemed that whoever this woman was, was forging herself to be the next legendary Dragon-Slayer. "And this strange wrist-guard, what does it do?"
"... It guards?" the golden dragonborn posed, almost laughing at the fury of Rezmir. "Its something commonly worn by my clan-" she stated, not untrue.
Picking up the altered Dread Helm, (seemingly a Roman helm in design) she studied the way it had been customized to fit over a snout and sets of horns. "Quite a customized piece, where did you get it? Does it also repel dragons?"
"That? Heh, doesn't repel dragons, but... I did take it from one's treasure hoard," the dragonborn smirked. "A dwarven smith outfitted it for my regal self-"
Rezmir scoffed and tossed the helm back upon the table. "Is it the same ancient dwarven spirit who forged your armor?"
Not expecting that question, the dragonborn blinked. "Technically I have to answer yes, but also no."
Questioning eyes roamed over the woman. "Explain. ... What do you mean?" Of course, zone of truth required questions to be asked, not commands given.
Smirking, the dragonborn shook her long golden hair, the beauty of it shimmering in the light. "I do not entirely understand the magic of it, I'm just a warrior of Bahamut after all. Ancient dwarf spirit merged himself or his knowledge into a living dwarf, as far as I know."
Useful. Very useful. They could use a forge master who could create such fine magical weapons in their ranks. "And where might we find this forge master dwarf?"
"... Do I look like a travel guide?" the dragonborn huffed with grunt as her horns were struck again. "Ugh, last I heard, he ran off with a nereid, have not seen him since. She might have drowned him from kisses for all I know," she shook her battered face in remark.
Tsking at the answer, Rezmir moved on to another item. "This... wine bottle... it is putrid in its odor. What is in here?"
Giving a small huff of laughter, the bound woman cast eyes over the wine bottle. "Spicy wine. A druid I know slaved over that. Go on. Take a drink, my blessing."
"Hmph... " Rezmir popped the cork and immediately returned it to its place, dry-retching from the odor within. "That- that is Wyvern Venom!" Anyone recognized that scent when they spent any amount of time around the creatures. The only question was - "How did you come by so much of it?!" The wine bottle was nearly full!
Laughter rang from a draconic maw, the dragonborn shaking her head at these idiots who held her captive. "Interesting story actually - my companions and I raided a cave. We killed a male wyvern and was gutting him for his parts when his mate showed up. Heavy with eggs. Knocked her out with a single blow, so we decided to sell her to Neverwinter since she was mostly unharmed. Druid milked her venom for a week."
That was almost an impossible story to believe. Another robed figure held up a red blade with a blooming rose upon the end, though immediately dropped it, burning at the touch. "And what tale is attached with this abominable device?"
"Hmm? Oh, the Blade of Thorns - a gift from an Ifrit we freed from his prison," came the ridiculous answer, but it was true.
"Ifrits do not give GIFTS!" one of the robed figures insisted, looking back to the blood-red blade. "Not unless they are cursed in some form."
Chuckling a bit, the muscled warrior rolled her shoulders. "Well, this one had a particular liking for my cat - and we fed him barbequed jerky, he rather enjoyed that."
".... Is that a euphemism?" one of the robed figures asked, clearly looking over the young dragonborn female. She was a woman after all, a fine one at that, and an Ifrit, while a magical being, was a man, and a man locked up for some time -
"What? Ew, no!" Snoutbreaker snorted, smoke coming from her flaring nostrils. "I mean I have a cat, a feline, that the ifrit took a liking to. He liked his sass, go figure."
Silence followed that statement. "... Who are you?"
"Delmirev Snoutbreaker, Aspirant 5389726-" Her head snapped to the side from another backhand across the maw. "And again... growing really annoying there-"
"As are you-" Rezmir added as another robed figure picked up a belt that looked to be of storm-giant strength. "Where... did you get this?"
Sitting up a little straighter to peer upon the belt, the golden dragonborn cracked a grin. "Oh, a gift to me from one of your former allies, a Cloud Giant I do believe. Blagothkus I think his name was -"
"BLAGOTHKUS?!" a collective screech from around the room coupled with aghast whispers and angry murmurs. "Not a chance! Why would Blagothkus betray us?!"
There was almost a maniacal smirk upon the golden dragonborn's feminine snout, lips curled back in revealing rows of teeth. "Perhaps because someone told him you were planning to summon Tiamat in a bid for world domination and dominion over the giants? An enemy of my enemy is-"
Rezmir silenced the prisoner with her staff across her maw. "Silence you arrogant child - You lie."
"How can I when you cast a zone of truth upon me?!" the struck woman laughed, shaking her head to dull the pain away. She didn't know how much longer she could keep this up.
A moment of silence passed as Rezmir contemplated what to do with this troublesome warrior. Why did so many of her stories sound familiar - "-Priestess-" one of the guards interrupted. "WHAT?!" Rezmir snapped, the five-headed draconic mask whipping around in time to witness the guards pulling a heavy and large saddle from the bag of holding belonging to the warrior woman. They plopped it upon the table, wood groaning from the weight. "What... is this?"
The dragonborn looked incredulous at the Priestess. "... A horse saddle, imbecile-" The sudden sting of the half-dragon's strike was well worth it just for the look on her face.
"Obviously, a horse saddle, but for what?" Rezmir was quickly losing patience.
"... My warhorse, acid-breath-" came response from the dragonborn. Rezmir snorted behind the five-headed draconic mask peering down at the golden warrior. "OBVIOUSLY. But I saw you not sat astride a warhorse on approach - why do you carry his saddle?"
Not even fighting the zone of truth, the bound woman chuckled. "Because a horse needs a saddle to be ridden - you know, you're a rather cranky bitch and hung up on the saddle business - you trying to see if I'll take you for a ride in my saddle, Rezmir?"
A small snort of laughter escaped the rather laxed lips of guard. The rage that followed only broadened the woman's smirk, as Rezmir struck out, not at the captive, but at the guard who dared to make a sound of humor at the jabbing remark. Because she had to kill something useless, and couldn't kill the so called heroine before it was time.
It took a few moments for the half-dragon to collect herself, sliding the dead guard off the tip of her spear. She would revive him later if she saw fit to do so. "You test my patience, Bitch of Bahamut."
The warrior did not even flinch at the man's death, seemingly that controlled, or that unbothered by it. "You know, Cryovein said the same thing before I hacked off his head-" she smirked, cracking her neck.
That fact brought some whispers, Rezmir shaking. "... it was you who slaughtered the white dragon Cryovein?!"
"I just said that -" the dragonborn rolled her aqua eyes, looking around to the other robed figures. "- is she partially deaf?"
"Insolent girl! What proof do you have that you have slain Cryovein?!" cried out one of the robed figures, another female by the sound of it, but this one more humanoid. Slowly smirking, rows of teeth flashing her grin, the warrior nodded her head towards the table. "His wings made a fine cloak of flying."
Once more there was an shaking rage that filled the room, not just from Rezmir, but from other robed and masked figures. Only two wore a draconic mask, making the warrior smirk as another robed figure approached. "Bitch of Bahamut - do you feel nothing for the slaying of your own kind?!"
Once more, a roaring laughter burst from Snoutbreaker's ample chest, smoke billowing from her nose. "Own kind? Nitwit- Dragonborn have nothing in relation to dragons. Those are half dragons. DragonBORN were created by dragons, but we are not dragons. Actually, we're rather racist against them. Well. Most of them. Few exceptions. It has been my life's goal to slay as many dragons as possible... like those two acid-spitting twin adolescents you attempted to hide guarding some of your treasure hoard. I'm assuming it was meant for Tiamat- Bahamut thanks you."
It took at least three of the cloaked figures to restrain Rezmir's anger from slaying the woman where she sat, bound in chains. "Not. Yet. It is not time - we must know more. She has been doing untold damage to our plans! We have to know where he is-"
Rezmir took a deep breath. No more games. Her voice rumbled low, the build of acid dripping between her teeth. "Girl. You've already admitted to slaying the guardians we placed. So I will ask you - where. Is. the boy?!"
"Boy? Boy... you are going to have to be specific, there are many boys in the world-" came the answer from the gold.
"THE boy! The one we hid with the black twin dragons! In a giant golden prism we kept him buried in the earth! You admitted to having him! The five year old!- Where is he?!"
"I do not know any five year old boys-" she answered, fighting everything within the zone of truth. Yet she wasn't entirely speaking of lies. There was a connecting pain that suddenly seared through her scales as one of the robed figures pierced her with one of her own lightning javelins through the shoulder, her entire body convulsing from the electricity as she stifled the urge to vocalize her agony. "Enough - you'll make her pass out-" Rezmir waved her hand and the pain vanished. Snoutbreaker trembled and shook, panting in her bonds, wanting to puke. Going a little far weren't they?
Snoutbreaker smirked outwardly at her captors, though her mind was racing and agonizing in pain. She knew time was about to run out. For a lot of people. Just a little longer. She could resist longer.
Rezmir flicked her staff. "Let's try this again. Who are you? Who sent you? What is your mission? Where is the golden dragon child?!"
"Delmirev Snoutbreaker, Aspirant 5389726-"
"We KNOW that! What is your given name?!" Rezmir demanded, the five-draconic-headed mask raging with glowing eyes.
"Snoutbreaker. That was the name given to me," the beaten captive smirked with defiance. If she could keep her focused on that, then she needn't answer the other questions.
"How?! How is that your name?!" the half-dragon rolled her eyes in exasperation, though the dragonborn threw her head back and laughed to her fury.
"Oh now THAT is a tale -" the woman did not even seem to be fighting the zone of truth, readily accepting the answers as they flowed from her snout. "Was when I first tried to join the ranks. Some brass shit stain older than me stated that I was being favored if I was let in. Called me spoiled. Well. I busted his snout for it in a duel. He seemed to have me beat down, but no such luck for him!" she laughed, as if the memory brought her joy. "Man has his face permanently marked by me."
Rezmir paused for a moment, and gestured to one of the guards. "You mean like -" Suddenly the door being so heavily guarded was opened and a towering figure wrapped in chains was hauled inside. A massive male dragonborn, stripped of his armor and with dark brass colored scales. A burlap sack over the great winged head was suddenly yanked off to reveal the finely-handsome cut snout. A long, jagged scar ran from the tip of his nostrils to the corner of his eye, his muzzle bound in rope. Sardonyx eyes glaring straight ahead with dead defiance, and at the sight of the golden female dragonborn beaten, tortured and bound in chains... rage. "... him?"
The gold sat stoic and silent, barely the whisper of a name brought forth from her lips "- Khyber -" They had him. She twitched in fury. Wrath began to cross over to wrinkle the scales of her snout, much to Rezmir's delight. "Oh, so you know one another? Is he one in the same? If you are Snoutbreaker, is he Snoutbroken?" There was an uproar of laughter as each of the dragonborn seemed to flinch. The gold wouldn't dare say that was the name she taunted him with for years. She fought against the zone of truth spell now, making Rezmir tsk.
Marching towards the gold, she yanked back that golden head of hair to look upon the five headed mask and then at the bound, near seven foot tall man, who gave the most subtle of struggles against his chains as hands were laid upon the golden woman. "You may not answer who you are - but who is he? Hmm? We caught him right after we dragged you in here, no doubt trying to rescue the pretty damsel," the half dragon laughed, cupping the woman's face in her claws. Jerking her maw away, the golden dragonborn leered death upon the Priestess. "Who is he to you? Maybe we can break you after all-"
Snoutbreaker fought to answer that question. "He is a vassal to the Delmirev royal family and my commanding officer Delmirev Berron Fleet Flame 402-"
All at once, the brass male gave a burst of fight, using his broad weight to slam the nearest guard on his left between himself and the wall, nearly crushing him. "FOOLS! Get him under control!" Rezmir shouted, the guards and robed priests attempting to wrangle the fighter. It was then, at this angle, Rezmir noticed a necklace upon the golden Snoutbreaker's neck. "What is this, girl?"
The gold bit her tongue. "A scale necklace, what else does it look like? Just a trinket from a defeated opponent-" She was fighting the truth spell now, much to Rezmir's delight. Sharp claws ripped the choker away, holding the scale up to the light... before the mask began to echo with a bone-chilling maniacal laugh, one that caused most to pause in wonder, looking upon the Priestess.
"The brass gave you his heart-scale? Is he your bonded!? How... delightful," her sickening voice twisted in the air, peering over at the now subdued warrior as he was brought to his knees. "Hmm, he is rather handsome - " Chains rattled as the gold's muscles flexed and bulged in her seat as Rezmir walked towards Berron, giving a fond caress over his horn. "Perhaps I shall wipe his memories of you... he may be a lowly brass of Bahumut's metallic ilk, but I can always use a bed servant-"
A resounding crack split ears as the air of the room tightened. Chains broken, clattered to the floor. Thickly muscled, golden-scaled thighs and biceps oozed blood where the warrior had flexed against the links until metal had given way to her will. Slowly, the figure rose from the seat of torture, her talons scraping the floor. "Take. Your claws. Off my bonded. You bitch."
"How... how did you... break those chains?!" came the outcry of a robed figure.
"High constitution." Golden hair whipped around as a great inhale swelled her breasts. A mighty roar of vengeance erupted from her jaw in the form of a whirlwind of silver-blue fire. Bahamut's fire. A fifteen foot expanded cone of flames that consumed all within its path, leaving screaming victims and ash in its wake. "And maxed strength."
"I-Impossible-" Rezmir stammered, watching her companions go up in smoke and silver fire. "You utilized your flame in battle! It was red!- Why is it now silver?!"
Kalarys chuckled, flames dancing silver in reflection on her golden scales. "Potions of Fire-Breathing come in handy to deal with the piss-ons. Reserves my true flame for my actual targets."
Rezmir sucked through her fangs, snarling as she began to gather magic through the head of her staff. "Impertinent bitch of Bahamut! Do you think your efforts will matter?! Soon the world will belong to Tiamat! Everyone shall submit and bow before our goddess as we receive the bounty of her rewards! And there is nothing you or any pathetic comrades may do to stop us!"
Fierce, aqua eyes slowly turned, the draconic rumbling growl filling the room as the golden warrior lay a bloodied hand upon her sword, fingers clasping around its dragon-bodied hilt. Metal sang off key as she slid the long-sword off the table, her strength blessing her to wield her divine instrument in one hand. "Five heads to choose from - and you decide to talk from your ass-" the gold snarled, stalking towards the half-dragon as she would prey, clicking the wrist-guard upon herself and slipping the Helm of Dread over her horns for what little it may provide what was left of her health. "You really think Tiamat will do anything more than consume the rest of you for her own gain? She eats her own children if they are born with more than one head."
Rezmir stood in shock momentarily, before pushing the bound brass to the ground and stepping on his head. "I will crush his skull if you take one more-"
With a veil of mist, the dragonborn was behind the woman and with a sickening sound of metal cleaving through flesh and bone, Talon poked through the other side of Rezmir's gut. "M-Misty Step?! H-How-"
"You did not ask the right questions- Zone of Truth is useless if you do not ask the right questions..." the gold dragonborn grunted as she pulled the sword from the half-dragon's guts. "For instance - you never specified to ask my birth name- You would have learned... that I am Lady Delmirev Kalarys -" A fell strike cleaved the woman's staff in two, the now useless weapon bouncing off the floor. "If you had asked to specify my occupation, I may have answered Captain of the Radiant Talons -"
Rezmir's eyes narrowed. "Radiant Talons?! You - I knew you were part of that band of meddlesome adventurers! What is your mission?! Who sent you?!"
"Correct. My mission - seek out and destroy all Tiamat tit-sucking scum. Who sent me? Officially - every noble along the Sword Coast wants to see you dead. Unofficially? God. Bahamut specifically." Stalking forth, talons clicking upon the floor as she placed herself between the bound High Paladin Khyber Berron and the threat of Rezmir, Kalarys flicked her wrist as the guard upon her arm suddenly sprang outward a spiral of tiles, all forming a perfect sentential shield like a blooming lotus. "Anymore questions before you die, Terd of Tiamat?"
Snarling, Rezmir raised her hand once more, a blast of fire striking from her claws. "Where. Is. KARTHONOX?!"
Kalarys raised her shield to a blast from Rezmir's hand, skidding backwards. "The dragon child is safe. Where you will never find him. Where Tiamat can never sink her claws into him." Her hand clenched tighter upon her sword, a sudden surge of healing erupting through her form. Her ears however, perked to the sudden noise outside the tower. From the high window, Rezmir was able to view the scuffling below. The flashes of a nobly-dressed warlock's fire. The sudden explosion of blood as a mini spotted tabaxi cursed a doorway filled with rotating knives just as a horde ran through. A teenage copper dragonborn, no doubt a squire, breathed streams of lightning through the ranks. A halfling mutton-chop cleric was ... pimp-slapping his opponents with a giant spiritual hand. Raging roars of a half-ogre barbarian shook the grounds, and the twang of a wood elf's golden bow sang, finding her mark through the window. Rezmir was only just able to avoid it. Amid all of that, a small, black cat-like shadow darted between the ranks, unseen until blood gushed from a slit throat. A stone rune-knight goliath suddenly dropped from the skies next to two falling bodies with a resounding, splattered thud, roaring as he grew to the size of a giant and began to kick away her warriors as if they were toys. All bearing a cloak with the same mark...
"Ah... seems my Lieutenant finally arrived," Kalarys smirked, hearing the goliath's roars. "My father shouldn't be too far behind-"
"Your... Your father?" Rezmir asked, the panic now truly beginning to settle in as she watched in horror the forces of her castle being destroyed.
"Yes. Delmirev Vraknarr. Duxx of Clan Delmirev - Higher Paladin to the Order of the Sacred Flame - is my father. He should be here any minute now with our legions. Do not get me started on my mother - High Priestess Duxxex Talvyna -" Kalarys' tongue clicked in resolution of her words.
Rezmir was growing pale under her mask. "Duxx.. Prince... you... you are-"
"Princess Delmirev Kalarys, yes. I'm the ultimate package - The knight. The dragon. And the princess. Are you not impressed? You should be - to be trembling in reverence of my glory." Rather full of herself wasn't she?
Rezmir panicked. Out of spells from torturing the woman. Where had she gotten all of this magic from suddenly?! The chains had bound any that she would have had, but the power emanating from the girl - "Delmirev Vraknarr's heir was cursed by Tiamat herself!"
"I got better." She was stalking the woman now, cornering her.
"... This... this was all a trap!?" The way the priestess spoke, it was more a statement than a question.
A sadistic sort of smirk slide over the maw of Kalarys, fangs glistening in the firelight, the stench of burning bodies around them. "Correct. I knew you would capture me if I staged the circumstances. I knew you would torture me. I've been preparing for this for the better part of a year." With a roar, Kalarys punched the woman with her shield. The ends of the lotus blossom stabbing through her body, causing her to fly backwards from the sheer force of the impact.
"H-How... how is it possible you are alive, that you are healed?!" Rezmir was choking on her own blood. Waves of golden hair was all she could see, as Kalarys stalked forward, muscles rippling with her fury.
"Now... you are asking the right questions. When I slaughtered Cryovein, I fulfilled my oath to destroy what had cursed me to deformity and sickness - the curse that took my flame from me and left me the shame of my family - the curse that left me barren so I would never know the love of a mate or children and the Delmirev line would end. The moment Talon in my hand cleaved his skull, my body was encased in golden light. Silver fire poured from my jaws as I was blessed by Bahamut for my defiance of Tiamat. My body healed, my deformity gone." Draconic topaz eyes narrowed upon the woman. "And you threatened the one man who loved me as I was then, and as I am now."
Rezmir's eyes widened behind her mask. "What... are you?"
Kalarys smirked as she loomed over her victim. "That's the best question you have asked yet. I'm the Lady of the Silver Fire. Bahamut's blessed Paladin-"
"A... Paladin?! Mercy! I am unarmed! Paladins, you cannot murder, right?!" Rezmir attempted to stall for her inevitable death. Kalarys seemed to be almost enjoying hearing her beg for her life. As countless others likely had before Rezmir - as countless more would have done before Tiamat. "Only... when we fall," Kalarys spoke, her growling voice breaking through. "A Paladin of Devotion might stow his sword at your cries for mercy, though I would gladly fall from divine grace to rend your head from your shoulders. Thankfully..." she paused, giving the woman the slightest bit of hope. "I am no saintly priest. I am the furious hand of my god. The deliverer of Bahamut's divine justice. I am a Paladin-"
That sword raised, a great silver-blue glow of fire pulsing around the blade, the power of a Paladin's Smite. "Of Vengeance."
The five-headed mask flew across the room, breaking apart against the wall into the five masks it was made of. The headless half-dragon Rezmir slowly slumped to the ground with a lifeless thud.
Silence fell over the scene as Kalarys looked down her wrinkled, snarling snout upon the lifeless body. Her own imposing silhouette still aglow with Divine aura as she stalked away from the burning corpse. It was done.
Kalarys bent to cut the bonds from her beloved, "Why were you early, ixen?" she pointed out, the massive man shaking off the chains as he pulled his bloodied bonded into tight embrace, nuzzling against her snout in dragonborn's affectionate kiss. "I was worried when you did not answer the sending stone, mitne-" his overly deep voice rumbled, giving a chuckle then- "Who are you to give your Commanding Officer orders?"
"Your future Queen, Vassal Baron Berron -"
He chuckled, pulling her close to him. "By the Flame, I thought the worst. When I saw them torture my mitne, my light -" The massive man shuddered, muscles tightening as he did not even want to think of it. "How did you manage to stall them?"
"They didn't ask the right questions in the Zone of Truth," she chuckled before suddenly his hand gripped the back of her head, fingers tangling to her golden hair as he delicately lifted her chin between his thumb and forefinger to look upon him.
Khyber's sardonyx eyes peered to the deep teal hues of her lagoon gaze. "Then let me ask this now, before the spell has faded in duration, as it may be the right question... Will you marry me, Kalarys?"
"Yes." There was no hesitation behind that smile. Nor any hidden joy brought from the answer as the two wrapped themselves to passionate kiss. Kalarys swept up into the arms of her beloved as battle raged outside. "Thought you'd never ask."
The spell of forced truth cast from the thin lips of a darkly robed cleric of Tiamat, before he stepped aside for the head priestess to take control. Towering figure of a half-dragon woman, bearing a mask of five draconic heads, hiding her own face from view. Voice dripped with venom as she practically hissed at the bound figure chained to a chair. It had taken at least twenty of her finest to compound the armored dragonborn into submission. Whatever the armor the fighter had been wearing - it was certainly worth the amount of gold she must have paid. Stripped from the warrior, it lay on the table, glistening in gold with a silver dragon motif on the breastplate, an enchanted hum coming from it whenever the half-dragon approached.
A mighty sword of dragon wings with a red jewel lay in the center - and she did not care for the aura of that jewel at all. Every fiber of her draconic being said to stay well away from the jewel, the armor, even the shield that lay upon the table. The gear of the woman they had stripped. And had been torturing for hours, to no avail.
Tsk. No matter. Now. To Questions.
Cold eyes cut over the impressive stature of the dragonborn warrior. A gold, of course it HAD to be a gold. With shimmering scales and ... hair? Dragonborn did not have hair. Well. Few of the golds with purer bloodlines did. Narrowing down who she might be. Those well-formed muscles forged from years of battle and training were straining against the chains that bound her. The masked woman tsked. "The more you struggle, girl, I will return to tortures. It is best you answer my questions." She had to admit to being impressed by the constitution and strength of the woman. Most would have broken by now. Of course, her natural fire resistance helped her. They needed to get answers and keep her from resting to replenish her flame.
As the dragonborn stilled, aqua slitted eyes glaring up to the half-dragon as she sat as nobly proud in that bound chair as she might upon a throne. Near the same height, the two were almost six and a half feet tall with their horns. "Who are you?" Even the caster of zone of truth was forced by their own spell to speak true as long as they were inside its aura. Harsh sounds of clicking and hisses of draconic voices were exchanged as the two spoke, lacking lips to form human pronunciations, but were attempting. The half-dragon suddenly backhanded the dragonborn across her beautifully curved snout. "Rezmir - Priestess of the great goddess Tiamat - and I will ask the questions, girl! Who are you?"
The dragonborn's face turned by the strike, but a slow, cocky, almost menacing smirk pulled over her lips, white fangs glistening with a rumbling, draconic growl from within that overly-ample bosom straining beneath a painted on tunic. "Delmirev Snoutbreaker, Aspirant 5389726-" That was all she said.
Rezmir sucked through her teeth. "Clan and nickname, rank and serial number - so you are a soldier of the Delmirev clan?"
"That is what I just said, isn't it?" the dragonborn chuckled. "Are you slow, Rezmir of Tiamat?" That earned her another backhand, one of the many guards lining the room clenching fists. Obviously extremely loyal to the woman asking questions. "Impertinent child of Bahamut, aren't you?" Rezmir snarled.
Chuckling with a harsh rumble, the dragonborn licked blood from her gold maw. "Well, I am only sixteen in my years-"
"Sixteen?!" One of the guards, a human, actually shouted. "There is NO way, with tits like hers, that she is sixteen-"
Rezmir cut her eyes to the guard with a low, draconic growl. "You fool, she is a dragonborn -"
"How very observant," the bound woman answered swiftly, "Next you shall be telling everyone I am a GOLD dragonbo-" Another strike silenced her as the woman twitched her snout with a huff of smoke. "That's getting annoying."
Rezmir needed to test the zone of truth, and this woman was stalling. "What is sixteen years to you... draconic experiments again?"
This actually earned a snarl from the Aspirant bound in her chains. "Sixteen years of a human's growth - you add seven years to the age of a dragonborn. We age rapidly when we are born, from the time we are three of human years, we look, think and act to be ten years of age. The rapid growth stops around that time, and we age normally afterwards until we near the end of our lives, then it begins again. I have been alive for sixteen years, but in all intents and purposes of growth, I am twenty-three years of age, a fully fledged adult."
Such new information actually seemed to bring a collective sigh of relief from a few of the men standing nearby. Even with the scales, the rows of fangs that could tear flesh, the claws and three-toes of talons, the fighter still cut a fine figure of a woman.
Rezmir circled around the woman, the five-headed mask giving nothing away of the half-dragon's facial expressions as the purple robes hid most of her draconic features. "Still, so very young for an Officer rank in the army of the clan Delmirev. How did you come about such a rank?"
A wry grin passed over the golden dragonborn's maw. No need to fight the zone of truth on this question. "As your so called elite forces found out - " she gestured towards a few of the guards with broken noses, "I'm a heavy-hitter. Joined the ranks when I was three - er, ten years of age, earlier than most due to... lacking peers my age to train with. I joined the older ranks rather than the younger."
Giving a raised brow beneath her mask, Rezmir was beginning to slowly put things together. "Lack of peers... lets see, sixteen years... Oh..." A sickening smile formed beneath the mask. "You must have been hatched right around the Great Cleanse -"
Now that did evoke a reaction of rage in the young draconic appearing woman, smoke huffing through her flared nostrils. "Do not you dare speak of the Lost Ones-"
"Remind me again, girl, what happened that day? How many of those unhatched never saw the sun?" It was a cruel question, meant to make the girl emotional, to pry out more information later.
Snarling, the dragonborn did not even fight it. "... Your cult of Tiamat sent the cursed white dragon to destroy the Temple of Sacred Fire. Where our hatchlings were kept for safety... I was unhatched yet, but the dead... beyond the counting." She would not cry for them. Not yet. Her brothers and sisters, those she would have fought beside.
"Do you know what happened to those souls of the unhatched?" the robed devoted of Tiamat asked, pressing for the fighter to break.
"... Yes." Her aqua slitted eyes raised with fire behind them. "Their souls were rendered as sacrifice unto Tiamat's power. They ceased to exist."
"Very good, girl. You are beginning to show promise for information. Especially for someone who was not even alive the day it happened- Why is that?" Rezmir pondered aloud, circling the gold woman.
"I simply have intimate knowledge of the events... being the only survivor," Snoutbreaker snorted upon the robed figure.
"Impossible! No one could survive- no one WOULD survive without us knowing!" Rezmir spoke, earning a low cackle from the gold. "Seems Tiamat neglects to tell her precious little piss-ons everything."
Hissing through serated teeth, the half-dragon clutched at the woman's golden hair. "Again. WHO are you?!" she demanded, her eyes falling upon small lines of ever so slight discoloration between the scales of the captive's hair line and further back. The line ran all down her body on either side in randomly waved patterns. What in the name of Tiamat-
"Delmirev Snoutbreaker, Aspirant-" she was smacked before she could finish.
"You seem to be so very far from home in Tymanther here upon the Sword Coast. What are you doing here?" Rezmir asked of the beaten woman.
The dragonborn huffed, fighting the spell, but letting some truth slip out. "Slaying dragons and filthy cultists mostly. Originally was sent to see to a Clan Armory debt being paid, and one thing lead to another. You save one dwarven Master and slay one cult and kill your first dragon, people begin to expect it from you. That last White Dragon had a goodly sizeable hoard for my vaults, and his hide made for a fine set of scale armor for my squire -"
Rezmir's eyes widened beneath the mask, a growling rumble coming from her. "So it was you who killed the Great Glazhael the Cloudchaser?!"
Shaking her head with a laugh, the fighter's muscles flexed. "Great? My five year old ward dealt the death blow with a measly little wand of magic missiles-"
A roaring outcry from the gold was suddenly stifled by her own willpower as the priestess knocked her staff against the woman's horns, almost breaking them. One of the robed figures with only a singular mask stepped forward to calm the half-dragon. "If she is dead, my lady, we cannot use her-" The five-headed mask turned with a sharp look and huffed, gathering herself before looking back to the dragonborn... who was smirking. "My grandmother hits harder than you-" Never-mind the fact her grandmother was a barbarian.
Rezmir sucked through her teeth. "How many... dragons have you slain..."
"Hmm... half-dragon scum like your General Cyanwrath included? Well to be fair, it was my squire who slaughtered your pathetic excuse for a General." the warrior smirked in her arrogance, seeming to shake off the pain and to only poke and prod at her captors' furies. "At least a dozen by now. I should thank you for bringing them enmasse. Their hide and bones, their blood and organs have filled my coffers to brimming."
That earned her a punch to the gut, making the dragonborn spit up a bit of blood. Rezmir was fuming, and looking now to the weapons and armor on the table - beyond expensive, especially a belt of storm giant's strength, the lightning javelins, a ring of warmth, a greater ring of protection... a flying cloak made from dragon wings, a set of hide boots, goggles of night-vision, a helm of dread, a dagger of poison,... the warrior had been outfitted to slay. And they were continuing to pull things from her Bag of Holding. "Is that how you bought your arms and armament? With the blood of Tiamat's children?!"
A scoff was the only sound from the woman. "I'm an Adventurer - rewards come to me where they may as I deserve them."
Rezmir realized then she would have to be specific. "This armor is... unique. I cannot touch it - where did you get it? Why can I not touch it?"
Aqua eyes gave a roll, but she did not fight the spell. "My armor was named Dragonguard by the ancient ghostly spirit of a dwarven forge master who created it. It is resistant to all forms of dragon attacks from draconic beings - including your Fear. And before you ask, no, I did not steal it, it was gifted to me by the maker himself for setting him free." A slow grin came upon her face at that.
"And what of your sword? How did you come across such a thing? I have never seen its make before-"
"Ah, Talon. He's a few hundred years old, a family relic you might say," she responded, looking fondly upon the sword. It had served her well, and would continue to do so.
Rezmir was growing impatient of the vague answers. "You name your little toys, how quaint. What is the jewel there?" A moment of silence passed before Rezmir demanded again. "I asked - what is the jewel upon the hilt of Talon?"
"... A ruby." It was the truth, after all.
Rezmir wanted to scream. "Impertinent bitch of Bahamut - what does the ruby do!? Where did you find it?!"
The bound dragonborn gritted her rows of sharp fangs, resisting the urge to speak by the zone of truth. At least that's what it appeared to be. "Found it... in a dragon-slayers tomb ... on her melted sword - imbedded in a giant green dragon-"
Rezmir's eyes widened. That tomb... "A Dragon-Slayer's sword - " Seemed that whoever this woman was, was forging herself to be the next legendary Dragon-Slayer. "And this strange wrist-guard, what does it do?"
"... It guards?" the golden dragonborn posed, almost laughing at the fury of Rezmir. "Its something commonly worn by my clan-" she stated, not untrue.
Picking up the altered Dread Helm, (seemingly a Roman helm in design) she studied the way it had been customized to fit over a snout and sets of horns. "Quite a customized piece, where did you get it? Does it also repel dragons?"
"That? Heh, doesn't repel dragons, but... I did take it from one's treasure hoard," the dragonborn smirked. "A dwarven smith outfitted it for my regal self-"
Rezmir scoffed and tossed the helm back upon the table. "Is it the same ancient dwarven spirit who forged your armor?"
Not expecting that question, the dragonborn blinked. "Technically I have to answer yes, but also no."
Questioning eyes roamed over the woman. "Explain. ... What do you mean?" Of course, zone of truth required questions to be asked, not commands given.
Smirking, the dragonborn shook her long golden hair, the beauty of it shimmering in the light. "I do not entirely understand the magic of it, I'm just a warrior of Bahamut after all. Ancient dwarf spirit merged himself or his knowledge into a living dwarf, as far as I know."
Useful. Very useful. They could use a forge master who could create such fine magical weapons in their ranks. "And where might we find this forge master dwarf?"
"... Do I look like a travel guide?" the dragonborn huffed with grunt as her horns were struck again. "Ugh, last I heard, he ran off with a nereid, have not seen him since. She might have drowned him from kisses for all I know," she shook her battered face in remark.
Tsking at the answer, Rezmir moved on to another item. "This... wine bottle... it is putrid in its odor. What is in here?"
Giving a small huff of laughter, the bound woman cast eyes over the wine bottle. "Spicy wine. A druid I know slaved over that. Go on. Take a drink, my blessing."
"Hmph... " Rezmir popped the cork and immediately returned it to its place, dry-retching from the odor within. "That- that is Wyvern Venom!" Anyone recognized that scent when they spent any amount of time around the creatures. The only question was - "How did you come by so much of it?!" The wine bottle was nearly full!
Laughter rang from a draconic maw, the dragonborn shaking her head at these idiots who held her captive. "Interesting story actually - my companions and I raided a cave. We killed a male wyvern and was gutting him for his parts when his mate showed up. Heavy with eggs. Knocked her out with a single blow, so we decided to sell her to Neverwinter since she was mostly unharmed. Druid milked her venom for a week."
That was almost an impossible story to believe. Another robed figure held up a red blade with a blooming rose upon the end, though immediately dropped it, burning at the touch. "And what tale is attached with this abominable device?"
"Hmm? Oh, the Blade of Thorns - a gift from an Ifrit we freed from his prison," came the ridiculous answer, but it was true.
"Ifrits do not give GIFTS!" one of the robed figures insisted, looking back to the blood-red blade. "Not unless they are cursed in some form."
Chuckling a bit, the muscled warrior rolled her shoulders. "Well, this one had a particular liking for my cat - and we fed him barbequed jerky, he rather enjoyed that."
".... Is that a euphemism?" one of the robed figures asked, clearly looking over the young dragonborn female. She was a woman after all, a fine one at that, and an Ifrit, while a magical being, was a man, and a man locked up for some time -
"What? Ew, no!" Snoutbreaker snorted, smoke coming from her flaring nostrils. "I mean I have a cat, a feline, that the ifrit took a liking to. He liked his sass, go figure."
Silence followed that statement. "... Who are you?"
"Delmirev Snoutbreaker, Aspirant 5389726-" Her head snapped to the side from another backhand across the maw. "And again... growing really annoying there-"
"As are you-" Rezmir added as another robed figure picked up a belt that looked to be of storm-giant strength. "Where... did you get this?"
Sitting up a little straighter to peer upon the belt, the golden dragonborn cracked a grin. "Oh, a gift to me from one of your former allies, a Cloud Giant I do believe. Blagothkus I think his name was -"
"BLAGOTHKUS?!" a collective screech from around the room coupled with aghast whispers and angry murmurs. "Not a chance! Why would Blagothkus betray us?!"
There was almost a maniacal smirk upon the golden dragonborn's feminine snout, lips curled back in revealing rows of teeth. "Perhaps because someone told him you were planning to summon Tiamat in a bid for world domination and dominion over the giants? An enemy of my enemy is-"
Rezmir silenced the prisoner with her staff across her maw. "Silence you arrogant child - You lie."
"How can I when you cast a zone of truth upon me?!" the struck woman laughed, shaking her head to dull the pain away. She didn't know how much longer she could keep this up.
A moment of silence passed as Rezmir contemplated what to do with this troublesome warrior. Why did so many of her stories sound familiar - "-Priestess-" one of the guards interrupted. "WHAT?!" Rezmir snapped, the five-headed draconic mask whipping around in time to witness the guards pulling a heavy and large saddle from the bag of holding belonging to the warrior woman. They plopped it upon the table, wood groaning from the weight. "What... is this?"
The dragonborn looked incredulous at the Priestess. "... A horse saddle, imbecile-" The sudden sting of the half-dragon's strike was well worth it just for the look on her face.
"Obviously, a horse saddle, but for what?" Rezmir was quickly losing patience.
"... My warhorse, acid-breath-" came response from the dragonborn. Rezmir snorted behind the five-headed draconic mask peering down at the golden warrior. "OBVIOUSLY. But I saw you not sat astride a warhorse on approach - why do you carry his saddle?"
Not even fighting the zone of truth, the bound woman chuckled. "Because a horse needs a saddle to be ridden - you know, you're a rather cranky bitch and hung up on the saddle business - you trying to see if I'll take you for a ride in my saddle, Rezmir?"
A small snort of laughter escaped the rather laxed lips of guard. The rage that followed only broadened the woman's smirk, as Rezmir struck out, not at the captive, but at the guard who dared to make a sound of humor at the jabbing remark. Because she had to kill something useless, and couldn't kill the so called heroine before it was time.
It took a few moments for the half-dragon to collect herself, sliding the dead guard off the tip of her spear. She would revive him later if she saw fit to do so. "You test my patience, Bitch of Bahamut."
The warrior did not even flinch at the man's death, seemingly that controlled, or that unbothered by it. "You know, Cryovein said the same thing before I hacked off his head-" she smirked, cracking her neck.
That fact brought some whispers, Rezmir shaking. "... it was you who slaughtered the white dragon Cryovein?!"
"I just said that -" the dragonborn rolled her aqua eyes, looking around to the other robed figures. "- is she partially deaf?"
"Insolent girl! What proof do you have that you have slain Cryovein?!" cried out one of the robed figures, another female by the sound of it, but this one more humanoid. Slowly smirking, rows of teeth flashing her grin, the warrior nodded her head towards the table. "His wings made a fine cloak of flying."
Once more there was an shaking rage that filled the room, not just from Rezmir, but from other robed and masked figures. Only two wore a draconic mask, making the warrior smirk as another robed figure approached. "Bitch of Bahamut - do you feel nothing for the slaying of your own kind?!"
Once more, a roaring laughter burst from Snoutbreaker's ample chest, smoke billowing from her nose. "Own kind? Nitwit- Dragonborn have nothing in relation to dragons. Those are half dragons. DragonBORN were created by dragons, but we are not dragons. Actually, we're rather racist against them. Well. Most of them. Few exceptions. It has been my life's goal to slay as many dragons as possible... like those two acid-spitting twin adolescents you attempted to hide guarding some of your treasure hoard. I'm assuming it was meant for Tiamat- Bahamut thanks you."
It took at least three of the cloaked figures to restrain Rezmir's anger from slaying the woman where she sat, bound in chains. "Not. Yet. It is not time - we must know more. She has been doing untold damage to our plans! We have to know where he is-"
Rezmir took a deep breath. No more games. Her voice rumbled low, the build of acid dripping between her teeth. "Girl. You've already admitted to slaying the guardians we placed. So I will ask you - where. Is. the boy?!"
"Boy? Boy... you are going to have to be specific, there are many boys in the world-" came the answer from the gold.
"THE boy! The one we hid with the black twin dragons! In a giant golden prism we kept him buried in the earth! You admitted to having him! The five year old!- Where is he?!"
"I do not know any five year old boys-" she answered, fighting everything within the zone of truth. Yet she wasn't entirely speaking of lies. There was a connecting pain that suddenly seared through her scales as one of the robed figures pierced her with one of her own lightning javelins through the shoulder, her entire body convulsing from the electricity as she stifled the urge to vocalize her agony. "Enough - you'll make her pass out-" Rezmir waved her hand and the pain vanished. Snoutbreaker trembled and shook, panting in her bonds, wanting to puke. Going a little far weren't they?
Snoutbreaker smirked outwardly at her captors, though her mind was racing and agonizing in pain. She knew time was about to run out. For a lot of people. Just a little longer. She could resist longer.
Rezmir flicked her staff. "Let's try this again. Who are you? Who sent you? What is your mission? Where is the golden dragon child?!"
"Delmirev Snoutbreaker, Aspirant 5389726-"
"We KNOW that! What is your given name?!" Rezmir demanded, the five-draconic-headed mask raging with glowing eyes.
"Snoutbreaker. That was the name given to me," the beaten captive smirked with defiance. If she could keep her focused on that, then she needn't answer the other questions.
"How?! How is that your name?!" the half-dragon rolled her eyes in exasperation, though the dragonborn threw her head back and laughed to her fury.
"Oh now THAT is a tale -" the woman did not even seem to be fighting the zone of truth, readily accepting the answers as they flowed from her snout. "Was when I first tried to join the ranks. Some brass shit stain older than me stated that I was being favored if I was let in. Called me spoiled. Well. I busted his snout for it in a duel. He seemed to have me beat down, but no such luck for him!" she laughed, as if the memory brought her joy. "Man has his face permanently marked by me."
Rezmir paused for a moment, and gestured to one of the guards. "You mean like -" Suddenly the door being so heavily guarded was opened and a towering figure wrapped in chains was hauled inside. A massive male dragonborn, stripped of his armor and with dark brass colored scales. A burlap sack over the great winged head was suddenly yanked off to reveal the finely-handsome cut snout. A long, jagged scar ran from the tip of his nostrils to the corner of his eye, his muzzle bound in rope. Sardonyx eyes glaring straight ahead with dead defiance, and at the sight of the golden female dragonborn beaten, tortured and bound in chains... rage. "... him?"
The gold sat stoic and silent, barely the whisper of a name brought forth from her lips "- Khyber -" They had him. She twitched in fury. Wrath began to cross over to wrinkle the scales of her snout, much to Rezmir's delight. "Oh, so you know one another? Is he one in the same? If you are Snoutbreaker, is he Snoutbroken?" There was an uproar of laughter as each of the dragonborn seemed to flinch. The gold wouldn't dare say that was the name she taunted him with for years. She fought against the zone of truth spell now, making Rezmir tsk.
Marching towards the gold, she yanked back that golden head of hair to look upon the five headed mask and then at the bound, near seven foot tall man, who gave the most subtle of struggles against his chains as hands were laid upon the golden woman. "You may not answer who you are - but who is he? Hmm? We caught him right after we dragged you in here, no doubt trying to rescue the pretty damsel," the half dragon laughed, cupping the woman's face in her claws. Jerking her maw away, the golden dragonborn leered death upon the Priestess. "Who is he to you? Maybe we can break you after all-"
Snoutbreaker fought to answer that question. "He is a vassal to the Delmirev royal family and my commanding officer Delmirev Berron Fleet Flame 402-"
All at once, the brass male gave a burst of fight, using his broad weight to slam the nearest guard on his left between himself and the wall, nearly crushing him. "FOOLS! Get him under control!" Rezmir shouted, the guards and robed priests attempting to wrangle the fighter. It was then, at this angle, Rezmir noticed a necklace upon the golden Snoutbreaker's neck. "What is this, girl?"
The gold bit her tongue. "A scale necklace, what else does it look like? Just a trinket from a defeated opponent-" She was fighting the truth spell now, much to Rezmir's delight. Sharp claws ripped the choker away, holding the scale up to the light... before the mask began to echo with a bone-chilling maniacal laugh, one that caused most to pause in wonder, looking upon the Priestess.
"The brass gave you his heart-scale? Is he your bonded!? How... delightful," her sickening voice twisted in the air, peering over at the now subdued warrior as he was brought to his knees. "Hmm, he is rather handsome - " Chains rattled as the gold's muscles flexed and bulged in her seat as Rezmir walked towards Berron, giving a fond caress over his horn. "Perhaps I shall wipe his memories of you... he may be a lowly brass of Bahumut's metallic ilk, but I can always use a bed servant-"
A resounding crack split ears as the air of the room tightened. Chains broken, clattered to the floor. Thickly muscled, golden-scaled thighs and biceps oozed blood where the warrior had flexed against the links until metal had given way to her will. Slowly, the figure rose from the seat of torture, her talons scraping the floor. "Take. Your claws. Off my bonded. You bitch."
"How... how did you... break those chains?!" came the outcry of a robed figure.
"High constitution." Golden hair whipped around as a great inhale swelled her breasts. A mighty roar of vengeance erupted from her jaw in the form of a whirlwind of silver-blue fire. Bahamut's fire. A fifteen foot expanded cone of flames that consumed all within its path, leaving screaming victims and ash in its wake. "And maxed strength."
"I-Impossible-" Rezmir stammered, watching her companions go up in smoke and silver fire. "You utilized your flame in battle! It was red!- Why is it now silver?!"
Kalarys chuckled, flames dancing silver in reflection on her golden scales. "Potions of Fire-Breathing come in handy to deal with the piss-ons. Reserves my true flame for my actual targets."
Rezmir sucked through her fangs, snarling as she began to gather magic through the head of her staff. "Impertinent bitch of Bahamut! Do you think your efforts will matter?! Soon the world will belong to Tiamat! Everyone shall submit and bow before our goddess as we receive the bounty of her rewards! And there is nothing you or any pathetic comrades may do to stop us!"
Fierce, aqua eyes slowly turned, the draconic rumbling growl filling the room as the golden warrior lay a bloodied hand upon her sword, fingers clasping around its dragon-bodied hilt. Metal sang off key as she slid the long-sword off the table, her strength blessing her to wield her divine instrument in one hand. "Five heads to choose from - and you decide to talk from your ass-" the gold snarled, stalking towards the half-dragon as she would prey, clicking the wrist-guard upon herself and slipping the Helm of Dread over her horns for what little it may provide what was left of her health. "You really think Tiamat will do anything more than consume the rest of you for her own gain? She eats her own children if they are born with more than one head."
Rezmir stood in shock momentarily, before pushing the bound brass to the ground and stepping on his head. "I will crush his skull if you take one more-"
With a veil of mist, the dragonborn was behind the woman and with a sickening sound of metal cleaving through flesh and bone, Talon poked through the other side of Rezmir's gut. "M-Misty Step?! H-How-"
"You did not ask the right questions- Zone of Truth is useless if you do not ask the right questions..." the gold dragonborn grunted as she pulled the sword from the half-dragon's guts. "For instance - you never specified to ask my birth name- You would have learned... that I am Lady Delmirev Kalarys -" A fell strike cleaved the woman's staff in two, the now useless weapon bouncing off the floor. "If you had asked to specify my occupation, I may have answered Captain of the Radiant Talons -"
Rezmir's eyes narrowed. "Radiant Talons?! You - I knew you were part of that band of meddlesome adventurers! What is your mission?! Who sent you?!"
"Correct. My mission - seek out and destroy all Tiamat tit-sucking scum. Who sent me? Officially - every noble along the Sword Coast wants to see you dead. Unofficially? God. Bahamut specifically." Stalking forth, talons clicking upon the floor as she placed herself between the bound High Paladin Khyber Berron and the threat of Rezmir, Kalarys flicked her wrist as the guard upon her arm suddenly sprang outward a spiral of tiles, all forming a perfect sentential shield like a blooming lotus. "Anymore questions before you die, Terd of Tiamat?"
Snarling, Rezmir raised her hand once more, a blast of fire striking from her claws. "Where. Is. KARTHONOX?!"
Kalarys raised her shield to a blast from Rezmir's hand, skidding backwards. "The dragon child is safe. Where you will never find him. Where Tiamat can never sink her claws into him." Her hand clenched tighter upon her sword, a sudden surge of healing erupting through her form. Her ears however, perked to the sudden noise outside the tower. From the high window, Rezmir was able to view the scuffling below. The flashes of a nobly-dressed warlock's fire. The sudden explosion of blood as a mini spotted tabaxi cursed a doorway filled with rotating knives just as a horde ran through. A teenage copper dragonborn, no doubt a squire, breathed streams of lightning through the ranks. A halfling mutton-chop cleric was ... pimp-slapping his opponents with a giant spiritual hand. Raging roars of a half-ogre barbarian shook the grounds, and the twang of a wood elf's golden bow sang, finding her mark through the window. Rezmir was only just able to avoid it. Amid all of that, a small, black cat-like shadow darted between the ranks, unseen until blood gushed from a slit throat. A stone rune-knight goliath suddenly dropped from the skies next to two falling bodies with a resounding, splattered thud, roaring as he grew to the size of a giant and began to kick away her warriors as if they were toys. All bearing a cloak with the same mark...
"Ah... seems my Lieutenant finally arrived," Kalarys smirked, hearing the goliath's roars. "My father shouldn't be too far behind-"
"Your... Your father?" Rezmir asked, the panic now truly beginning to settle in as she watched in horror the forces of her castle being destroyed.
"Yes. Delmirev Vraknarr. Duxx of Clan Delmirev - Higher Paladin to the Order of the Sacred Flame - is my father. He should be here any minute now with our legions. Do not get me started on my mother - High Priestess Duxxex Talvyna -" Kalarys' tongue clicked in resolution of her words.
Rezmir was growing pale under her mask. "Duxx.. Prince... you... you are-"
"Princess Delmirev Kalarys, yes. I'm the ultimate package - The knight. The dragon. And the princess. Are you not impressed? You should be - to be trembling in reverence of my glory." Rather full of herself wasn't she?
Rezmir panicked. Out of spells from torturing the woman. Where had she gotten all of this magic from suddenly?! The chains had bound any that she would have had, but the power emanating from the girl - "Delmirev Vraknarr's heir was cursed by Tiamat herself!"
"I got better." She was stalking the woman now, cornering her.
"... This... this was all a trap!?" The way the priestess spoke, it was more a statement than a question.
A sadistic sort of smirk slide over the maw of Kalarys, fangs glistening in the firelight, the stench of burning bodies around them. "Correct. I knew you would capture me if I staged the circumstances. I knew you would torture me. I've been preparing for this for the better part of a year." With a roar, Kalarys punched the woman with her shield. The ends of the lotus blossom stabbing through her body, causing her to fly backwards from the sheer force of the impact.
"H-How... how is it possible you are alive, that you are healed?!" Rezmir was choking on her own blood. Waves of golden hair was all she could see, as Kalarys stalked forward, muscles rippling with her fury.
"Now... you are asking the right questions. When I slaughtered Cryovein, I fulfilled my oath to destroy what had cursed me to deformity and sickness - the curse that took my flame from me and left me the shame of my family - the curse that left me barren so I would never know the love of a mate or children and the Delmirev line would end. The moment Talon in my hand cleaved his skull, my body was encased in golden light. Silver fire poured from my jaws as I was blessed by Bahamut for my defiance of Tiamat. My body healed, my deformity gone." Draconic topaz eyes narrowed upon the woman. "And you threatened the one man who loved me as I was then, and as I am now."
Rezmir's eyes widened behind her mask. "What... are you?"
Kalarys smirked as she loomed over her victim. "That's the best question you have asked yet. I'm the Lady of the Silver Fire. Bahamut's blessed Paladin-"
"A... Paladin?! Mercy! I am unarmed! Paladins, you cannot murder, right?!" Rezmir attempted to stall for her inevitable death. Kalarys seemed to be almost enjoying hearing her beg for her life. As countless others likely had before Rezmir - as countless more would have done before Tiamat. "Only... when we fall," Kalarys spoke, her growling voice breaking through. "A Paladin of Devotion might stow his sword at your cries for mercy, though I would gladly fall from divine grace to rend your head from your shoulders. Thankfully..." she paused, giving the woman the slightest bit of hope. "I am no saintly priest. I am the furious hand of my god. The deliverer of Bahamut's divine justice. I am a Paladin-"
That sword raised, a great silver-blue glow of fire pulsing around the blade, the power of a Paladin's Smite. "Of Vengeance."
The five-headed mask flew across the room, breaking apart against the wall into the five masks it was made of. The headless half-dragon Rezmir slowly slumped to the ground with a lifeless thud.
Silence fell over the scene as Kalarys looked down her wrinkled, snarling snout upon the lifeless body. Her own imposing silhouette still aglow with Divine aura as she stalked away from the burning corpse. It was done.
Kalarys bent to cut the bonds from her beloved, "Why were you early, ixen?" she pointed out, the massive man shaking off the chains as he pulled his bloodied bonded into tight embrace, nuzzling against her snout in dragonborn's affectionate kiss. "I was worried when you did not answer the sending stone, mitne-" his overly deep voice rumbled, giving a chuckle then- "Who are you to give your Commanding Officer orders?"
"Your future Queen, Vassal Baron Berron -"
He chuckled, pulling her close to him. "By the Flame, I thought the worst. When I saw them torture my mitne, my light -" The massive man shuddered, muscles tightening as he did not even want to think of it. "How did you manage to stall them?"
"They didn't ask the right questions in the Zone of Truth," she chuckled before suddenly his hand gripped the back of her head, fingers tangling to her golden hair as he delicately lifted her chin between his thumb and forefinger to look upon him.
Khyber's sardonyx eyes peered to the deep teal hues of her lagoon gaze. "Then let me ask this now, before the spell has faded in duration, as it may be the right question... Will you marry me, Kalarys?"
"Yes." There was no hesitation behind that smile. Nor any hidden joy brought from the answer as the two wrapped themselves to passionate kiss. Kalarys swept up into the arms of her beloved as battle raged outside. "Thought you'd never ask."
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