the chronicles of Dreyst: uncertain past part 1
Well, anyone who follows my stories knows that I recently posted a chronicles of Dreyst story. It was basically just a yiffchat transcript that I cleaned up, and then posted to give some people a few minutes of derision from their daily routine. This is different. This is a new series that I'm starting up that delves into the past of my yiffchat character. Don't expect this to be a flimsy attempt to get females to chat to me either, this is going to be a full-scale series like every other one I do. (with yiff of course :) )
Of course, if you can find me (Dreyst) in the lobby, then you can whisper me and we can chat for a while if you want. I'd be happy to answer any questions you have about my stories. I can usually be found there between 01:00:00 and 04:00:00, and then 05:00:00 till 07:00:00. (These times are the ones on the yiffchat clock seen at the start of every post.) These translate to about 3:00 to 7:00 p.m. and 8:00 till 10:00 p.m. for Americans.
But, sadly, these times will be subject to massive changes in about a week or two. I'm moving to a different location. As such, my Internet access is going to be about as random as an episode of family guy. I may not even be able to post any stories for about a month or two. Sorry people. That's just the way it is. So if you want to chat, you'd better get moving.
Oh, since I may not be able to post or write anything for a while, I am honour-bound to tell you all the resolution of the cliffhanger that is currently happening with Dinosaur Island. Serafina does not die. The laser is just like a laser-light; only it's got a bit of a charge behind it. That is...until the room is activated properly...
The chronicles of Dreyst: An uncertain past part 1.
(Um...part of this story has been kind of taken from a very brief conversation I had with a certain fur in a chat-room. But all similarities end there. If she should read this and take offence, then she should feel free to flame me.)
Dreyst opened his eyes, blinking blearily in the blinding light. He squinted for a second, turning his muzzle to the side to try and get away from the light. The light reflected off the white walls, floor and roof, making it seem to come from everywhere at once.
The light seemed to pierce his skull, drilling through his brain and causing as much pain as possible as it went.
He tried to roll over and get off whatever it was he was lying on, only to find that his wrists had been firmly tied down with strong leather straps.
He struggled for a second, feeling his legs and wings similarly tied, and sighed, relaxing back and closing his eyes, concentrating on keeping his heat-beat and breathing at a steady pace. Panic would only serve to make him do something stupid. He could feel the wispy membranes of his tattered right wing brushing against the scales of his back. It wasn't tied down, but then again, there wasn't enough muscle-mass on the wing for him to lift it at all, let alone fly or hit something with it. He was a dragon confined to the ground for the rest of his life. He pushed everything out of his mind, trying to concentrate.
He concentrated until a point where he could hear his own heartbeat strong in his ears, like the pounding of a gigantic drum, and then let his awareness come back in a rush.
Every detail of the room suddenly came into sharp focus, as if etched onto the back of his eyelids. A map made for his eyes only.
He could see the multitude of wicked looking tools on a low white table, even though at his current angle it was impossible for his to see anything at all.
He could see the tumblers in the lock on the door, and knew exactly how to press each one to unlock it.
And he could feel the vibrations through the cement floor. The vibrations that meant that someone was walking down the corridor towards the room.
He resumed his struggles, knowing on some deep, subconscious level of the mind that if he were still immobilised when it made it into the room, then it would be very bad for him.
He roared with anger, realising just then that his muzzle was clamped shut, only letting him open his mouth enough to breath, or insert a straw into his mouth to feed him.
He struggled harder, tensing every muscle in his body, arching his back as hard as he could, inhaling as hard as he could, every fibre of his body straining against the restraints, scales rippling along over his muscles...
Something in his back snapped, or broke, or just plain refused to do anything more and Dreyst let out another roar, one of pain this time, convulsing as the waves of raw agony engulfed every cell of his being.
He must have blacked out for a few seconds, because when he awoke again, he saw it.
It hovered above him, face hidden behind a reflective mask, body bound by gaudy orange fabric.
It leaned in close, bringing its mask so close that it almost touched the tip of his muzzle.
He wished he could loose his muzzle and bite it.
Several more of the figures came into the room, moving towards him, holding more straps in their ridiculously spindly paws, tying him down so much that he couldn't move any part of his body at all, all the while speaking soothing words into his ears.
One of them leaned in close again, opening his eyes and inspecting them intently.
"He's having a bad reaction to the solution..." It said, it's voice strangely flat and without any inflection whatsoever, it left the words hanging in the air, like a declaration of doom.
"I'm sorry about this big boy. But your body is having a negative reaction to the nanites. We have to remove them. Sorry. But you knew the risks." It said to him. It tried to sound apologetic, and stroked his eye ridge in a reassuring way as the others flipped him over expertly, never once letting any of his limbs free to move. He was soon securely tied down again, only muzzle-down this time.
He could only watch in abject terror as one of the suited figures took a saw off the low table, the others watching on impassively as the one with the saw came closer, lowering the implement until it reached the base of his wings...and started sawing.
* * *
Dreyst sat up suddenly, wings and upper body covered in sweat, his breathing hard, blankets and sheets twisted around his body, binding him in place.
He blinked a few times, trying to shake off the nightmare. They were becoming more frequent. He used to only get them once a month of so, but lately; there was rarely a morning when he didn't wake up after having the same recurring nightmare.
He sighed and pulled the sheets off himself, growling with frustration as they caught on his wing. He eventually lost patience with them and tore the sheets off completely, throwing aside the tattered remains.
He watched the desecrated sheet flutter to the ground, the wind flowing in from the open window lifting it slightly and setting it to rippling like eels.
He shuddered as he remembered that his wing used to be like that. He pulled his wing in close clutching at it in fear for a second, afraid that it might have changed back overnight, but he still felt the reassuring feel of a full wing there where there had once been a twisted mockery of torn membranes that had once held him aloft.
He sighed again, trying to get a grip on himself.
It was always like this. Every time. He would wake up from the nightmare, and be scared that his wing was once again crippled, before the horrible recollections of his past slipped to the back of his mind once more, ready to mock him again the next morning.
He stood up, and went over to a low bench. On it were various maps; each one was a blueprint of medical buildings. Anyone who saw them could see that Dreyst was searching for something with a desperate intensity. He was searching for his past.
It was ten years ago that he had awoken in the centre of this tree, the base of it carved out, the walls still wet with tree sap, as if it had been cut just for him. He could remember nothing of the time before that, only what came to him in the solitude of the night, dark recollections of white-washed rooms filled with horrible medical implements and people in hazmat suits doing things to his body that he couldn't even guess at. He didn't know if it was real, or just a figment of his imagination. But it was the only thing that even hinted at his past, so he searched for any connection with the nightmare, hoping that one day he would know who he truly was.
He sighed a final time, deciding that he needed something to calm him down.
He sat down on a specially made chair that he had carved himself, lazily waving his paw over his tail-tip, the blade dissolving into a sparkling powder that vanished before it hit the ground.
He took a cup from the table, setting it down on the bench while his tail disappeared into a jar containing clean water.
He swirled his tail a few times to make sure that it was clean, while he waved a paw over a jug of water, the liquid inside suddenly heating up, before he tipped it into the cup, his tail diving into another jar, this one filled with sugar.
The wet tail picked up the sugar. Dreyst pushed it in until a certain point, and then withdrew it, his tail-tip now sparkling with a multitude of sugar crystals, looking like it was encrusted with thousands of tiny crystals, before he slipped it into the boiling-hot water in the cup, stirring it around to get all the sugar off it, before he lifted it once more, this time dabbing it into a jar full of coffee, a much smaller amount this time, and then stirring it into the water.
He then took a jug full of milk and poured a small amount into the cup, still stirring with his tail. He lifted his tail clear, and then licked the tip with relish, loving the taste of freshly made coffee.
He lowered his tail, a paw-wave giving the tail-blade back to it.
He sat for a while, just drinking his coffee, not thinking about anything in particular. He finished his coffee, magically cleaned the cup after licking it completely clean anyway, and then walking outside into the morning light.
He shut the door to his strange home as he left. The old-fashioned map hung on the nail swung wildly.
The map was a map of Australia, pictorials of dragons bordered the seas, and one rather large one rested about where New Zealand was. Underneath the rather imposing draconic pictorial was the warning 'here there be dragon's'. It was one of the maps made by long-ago explorers, who thought that if you sailed too far then you would sail right off the edge of the world. Dreyst had made his own amendments to the map.
Underneath the 'here there be dragon's' was an arrow pointing to the dragon, and the large, bold words saying 'YOU ARE HERE'.
The sunlight played along Dreyst's blue scales as he walked, his azure wings folded close to his body. His ebony talons dug into the ground as he walked, they were the exact same shade of colour as his elegantly curved horns, and they were something that he took great pride in maintaining. He didn't do it out of vanity, but out necessary. A blunt talon couldn't really do that much damage.
At a height of 8 feet, Dreyst was rather tall, and managed to look down on most species, but he tried to never seem imposing. Although it was pretty hard, because every time he smiled, he showed off his rather impressive collection of very sharp white teeth. Even though he was taller than most species, he wasn't skinny or bulky. He split the difference between normal and lean, each muscle just the perfect size for him to move smoothly through the air or on land, but still big enough for him to retain enough strength to do amazing feats.
He spread his wings, crouching down low, and then leaping into the air, flapping his wings hard, powering himself into the air.
He found a nice thermal, and rode it up high, gliding over to the local college, and the library on its top floor, of which he was a frequent visitor.
He landed on the roof, perching precariously on a ledge, before hopping lightly down onto the roof, folding his wings back and heading for the roof-access door.
He strode down the steps. It was mostly deserted. Only a few furs lingered around the area, as it was a weekend.
He made his way to his favourite classroom, and took down some books on molecular biology, and sat down at a desk, putting his feet up and getting comfortable, the book open on his lap, before he realised that he wasn't alone.
A cloaked figure sat to his right, a row behind him and a few seats to the side, absently using a PDA.
Dreyst tensed up, every sense alert for any sign that the figure should be hostile, eyes staring at the book but not really seeing it.
He finally relaxed after about ten seconds or so, realising that if the figure were going to hurt him, then he wouldn't know until it was too late.
He relaxed completely, withdrawing his consciousness, but still giving every impressing that he was paying attention to everything.
He let his attention come back, taking in every little nuance of the room and the figure sitting in it.
He could see that she only carried a dagger and the PDA. Nothing else at all.
He gave a soft chuckle; secretly blessing whoever it was that had gifted him with the all-seeing spell. No one would attack him with a dagger. No one who knew who the extent of his abilities anyway.
The figure twitched slightly under the cloak, as if startled. "I was not aware that biology was an amusing subject," she said coldly.
"It's not." Dreyst said flatly, inspecting the fur out of the corner of his eye.
He couldn't tell exactly what species she was. He could tell that she was a canine of some description, but there was a smell coming from her that was unidentifiable but which completely masked most of her other scents.
"So you laugh for no reason then." The figure replied with an icy cool.
"No. I laughed at you." Dreyst stated, turning slightly in his seat to watch her more closely.
"You find me amusing?" She asked coldly, an edge of danger coming into her voice, her robed paw slowly drifting closer to the edge of the desk, and by extension, closer to her concealed dagger.
"Not you exactly. I thought you might have been here to try and capture me, that was, until I saw that you only have one weapon with you." Dreyst replied, cocking his head at her.
"I have more than one weapon." She replied coldly.
The cloaked figure didn't notice, but Dreyst's outline seemed to waver and then flicker for a moment, wisps of black smoke drifting off his scales for half a second.
He turned fully in his seat to regard the figure with a look of curiosity on his muzzle.
"Just how would one defend oneself with such a tiny implement?" He asked, idly twirling her dagger between his talons.
The figure gave a slight canine growl of anger and swept to its feet, starting to advance on him.
Dreyst flicked the dagger. It hit the roof just above the cloaked figure, and then fell back to the ground, embedding itself, point-down, in a desk besides her.
She growled again, reaching out a paw and yanking it free. Dreyst caught a glimpse of her fur as she did. It was silky orange colour, under the forearm was white, and the paws themselves were jet-black.
Dreyst guessed that she was either a vixen or a Kitsune.
But then she leapt at him, dagger held low and to the side, her other paw held out in front of her to grab him and hold him still while she thrusted the dagger between his scales.
Dreyst watched her move. He saw every thing happen as if in slow motion, the ripples of her cloak as her lithe form moved under it. He admired her for the whole length of time it took her to reach him. He had all the time in the world to block anything she could throw at him, but he didn't bother.
She grabbed his shoulder with her left paw, spinning around him in a clockwise direction, slamming the dagger backhanded into his wing.
Dreyst yawned and pretended to read the book as the dagger bounced off the thin membrane of his wing.
She stood there, as if stunned, her dagger pressed hard against his wings. She pushed it, hard, into him, but it still didn't penetrate.
"A bit lower..." He said, twisting a bit so that the dagger slid down his wing. "Right there..." He said with a fake sigh of contentedness. "You don't know how hard it is to scratch that spot." He continued, grinning at the book as she gave another growl.
She gave a louder growl, and leapt at him, trying to wrap her arms around his neck, but Dreyst slid from between her outstretched arms like the serpent that he was so closely related to.
She slid off his neck, accidentally hitting the desk, knocking it over and rounding on him, growling a deep, low, menacing growl as she leapt at him again.
He slid to the side once more, watching with a cocked head as she sailed into a desk, sending both her and the desk to the ground.
She picked herself up, and leapt again.
"Stand still!" She growled as he moved again, barely even seeming to be trying.
She leapt at him again, her arms outstretched.
To her, it seemed that she had moved too fast for him to move in time, but in truth, Dreyst was just playing with her.
She gave a 'ha!' of triumph as she wrapped her paws around his neck, her dagger sliding across the scales.
Dreyst gave her an apologetic smile, which lasted only a split-second, before he disappeared.
She looked around in confusing. All that remained where the towering clue dragon had been was a few small wisps of black smoke.
"My turn..." A voice hissed in her ear, before she suddenly felt a pair of strong arms wrap around her midsection.
She gave a yip of surprise as she was lifted and hurled across the room.
She could see the wall approaching, and at the speed she was travelling, it would be more than fatal.
She closed her eyes, wincing, ready for the impact, but it never came. Instead, there was a light settling sensation, and then she was lying back on the floor.
She looked up at the blue dragon that was staring down at her, watching her with mild amusement.
He offered her his paw. She hesitated for a second, and then took it, lifting herself to her feet and brushing off her cloak, staring around at the room, which looked like a cyclone had hit it.
"Another case of cyclone Dreyst" The blue dragon said. She stared at him, wondering if he had taken the thought right from her head, he was obviously not a normal dragon.
"So just how do you protect yourself with such a small weapon?" He asked again, looking down at her panting form.
"It's called finesse. Something you obviously don't possess. You couldn't cut steak with any accuracy, let alone use a dagger to protect yourself." She said icily.
Dreyst sighed, and then disappeared again.
She heard a whisper of air behind her, and started to turn towards it, before it suddenly came at her from a different angle, and then it came again, from a different direction completely.
"So you can play tricks with the wind." She said, unimpressed, as the blue dragon reappeared in front of her.
"My, my. Your cloak has seen better days hasn't it?" He asked, leaning forwards and plucking at it. A whole side of her cloak just came off into his paw, cut perfectly down the side. "I don't know how you keep it together." He continued, as the rest of it slowly peeled away from her body to reveal her to his searching gaze.
She gave a start of surprise and blushed slightly, trying to cover her body. She was trembling now, from fear, but maybe something else as well. She hadn't even felt the sword sliding across her cloak. To cut through her cloak, it would have had to brush her fur in several places, but she didn't even notice.
Dreyst leaned back comfortably and stared at her. She was Kitsune all right, and a very beautiful one at that.
She stood at a little under 6 foot, her whole body a vision of spectacularly soft fur, slightly windswept, the orange of her back and sides giving way to the white of her belly, which extended up to her chin, and down the inside of her thighs and the underside of her long tail.
"Nice." He commented, smiling at her, trying not to laugh at the look on her face.
He waved a paw over the tattered remains of her cloak, mending it, before handing it back to her, turning around so that she could put it back on.
When he turned back around, she was searching through her PDA.
"What does that do for you?" He asked.
"It tells me how much of a bounty is on a certain persons head." She replied icily.
"Looking for me? You don't even know my name" He replied.
"Facial recognition." She replied, showing him a small camera affixed to the back of it.
"Dreyst Draginion, bounty: 10000. Not even worth it." She muttered.
"I have a bounty? Who placed it?" he asked without delay, moving closer to her and trying to look over her cloaked shoulder.
"Vivatech." She replied, putting it away.
Dreyst gave a slight shiver. He knew that name. It remembered it well. He saw nearly every night. In his dreams...
* * *
Quite a bit longer than my other posting. Expect more soon. Or, if not soon, maybe a month or so.
10,000 characters an hour on this one. Expect there to be some minor (and some major) mistakes all through the story.