CW: NSFW themes and violence will be present on this page!
NAME: |
Durian |
SPECIES: |
Dragon with Sphinxoid ancestry (capable of limited shapeshifting) |
ELEMENTS: |
Electric, fire, & light |
AGE: |
Young adult |
PRONOUNS: |
Any pronouns except for they |
GENDER: |
Bigender trans man + butch woman |
SEXUALITY: |
Bisexual |
OCCUPATION: |
Gardener, cook, artist |
LIKES: |
Bodybuilding, fresh fruit, seafood, liminal spaces, weird subcultures & countercultures |
SMELLS LIKE: |
Fresh dragonfruit, mango, citrus, & leather |
PLAYLIST: |
Durian grew up in a microscopic speck of a town situated in a greyish rocky valley. Its name appeared on no maps, if it even had a name at all. It boasted a population of just over 250. Sheltered and blissfully unaware of the outside world, other than vague snippets overheard from the conversations of travelers stopping through, or maybe the occasional maildragon. For nineteen years, Durian stayed almost exclusively within the town's bounds, staring at a screen for most of the day. Ze was heavily discouraged from leaving due to how harsh the surrounding wilderness could be; it was expected that ze would live out hir entire life in this town.
But something happened very suddenly. It was a day like any other when the Cataclysm began. The footsteps of something unfathomably massive pacing a single circle thousands of miles away knocked out the town's little power supply with ease. A significantly more powerful volcanic eruption followed. The sky went white, or was it black? Panicked screams and roars echoed, but from just outside hir living quarters' walls this time. Durian peeked hir head out, eyes greeted with a massive and rapidly expanding wall of fire spanning the entire horizon. Consuming thousands of trees per second, it made the distance between the great far off cities and this town look miniscule.
There wasn't much time to take shelter. The moles and a few old timey earth dragons in town were the only citizens with homes either partially or entirely underground. Dragon bodies pressed tightly into the darkness, leaving barely enough room to move. Forcing hir way through the crowd in a panicked fit of self-preservation, the last thing Durian saw before taking shelter was a lightning dragon midflight, desperately flapping their wings in a futile attempt to outmatch the fire's speed. Their body erupted in a bright flash of white hot electrical sparks as they were consumed, so insignificant against an endless tsunami of flame. Durian's vision began to haze.
Significant blood was spilled by the panicked beasts tripping over each other. Hir hide grew stained by blood of the other dragons packed tightly against hir. A few moles were nearly trampled. The fire raging above was deafening and quickly turned the home into an oven. The sole ice dragon in this shelter quickly lost his ability to maintain a livable temperature. Dragons swayed and lost their footing; it felt like the entire chunk of earth the town sat on had begun drifting off into space, and demands for an explanation were, of course, met with no answer. The earth shook and roared for what felt like days, though ze was unable to rest. Smoke choked hir. A few other dragons lit up the room with breaths of light, and Durian's scrawny and feeble shadow, suddenly cast against the nearest wall, haunted hir, and ze believed ze would die here.
Finally, the crackling of flames died down, but the earth continued to drift for an amount of time. Durian had stopped counting. When everything finally lay still, an elder was the first to volunteer to open the hatch to the outside world.
Somehow, the world had been put back together. Sunlight filtered down through the treetops, somehow untouched by the devastation. The grass, too, had been restored to life. The landscape, however, was visibly and significantly changed. The horizon was now dotted with floating isles, and many rocks and mountains had been shifted around. Cries of astonishment broke out among the crowd, and confusion spread. What the hell was that? Why weren't we warned? Did anyone know this was going to happen? Traumatized and terrified of dying without accomplishing anything, Durian opts to leave the town behind and fly to the great city of Okron, even if it took hir life.
Weak and untrained in hunting, Durian's stomach cramped with starvation throughout hir journey, sustained mostly on rare rocks and minerals from the earth, which had been upturned during the shifting of the land. Clumsily, ze flew across massive gaping wounds in the earth, but noted that despite being wounds, they didn't look particularly unhealthy; most of them were lined with moss and lichen, and some birds and small mountain beasts had begun to build nests in the crevices. Small floating islands had begun to develop their own unique ecosystems, and Durian became accustomed to resting upon the ones closer to the ground, usually on a warm rock beneath the sun or moonlight.
While it had been so easy to lose track of the days in front of a computer screen, the wild forced Durian to be obscenely, grotesquely aware of each passing hour. With nothing else to keep hir hands busy while in flight, Durian began chewing on sticks and plucking the spines off of pinecones one by one. Zella and Adrano limped across the sky, and the world only gave way to more endless rolling hills, jagged mountains, and coniferous woodlands, though these slowly faded into deciduous as the climate slowly grew warmer. I must be flying south. Ze finally managed to catch and torch an unfamiliar breed of squirrel, sinking teeth into meat for the first time in weeks. For once, ze didn't bother separating out the fat and organs; ze was hungry enough that the texture didn't matter.
More weeks pass, and Durian finally spots a massive red archway off in the distance. The valley of great red rock arches, surrounded by clusters of brightly striated clay mesa plateaus. This was it: the biome that surrounded the outer region of Okron.
A hollowed outcropping in the side of one of these pleateaus, just across from a massive red rock arch, is where Durian decides to build hir new home. Situated at the very top of this plateau is a small oasis, a divot in the clay where groundwater would surface, spotted with a few fruit trees. A pathetic trickle of a waterfall careened off the cliff to the side opposite of the outcropping. Flowering plants sprawled around pools in the clay. It seemed as though someone had once maintained this garden, but it now lay in disuse, and the plant growth spiraled out of control. This is where Durian collapsed into exhaustion, mumbling to hirself incoherently and swallowing fresh fruits until hir stomach felt like bursting.
Ze fell into a feverish state and rested for multiple more days as the violent, aching soreness of untrained travel and starvation quickly caught up to hir. As ze lay limp in the warm sand, tongue lapping at the cool water as it washed dried blood from hir scales, ze passed into many long and deep sleeps.
As the days passed, Durian began maintaining the garden, eating ripe fruits and allowing more to grow, trimming plants, and digging out canals in the soft clay, allowing the groundwater to flow smoothly. And as ze worked, ze felt alive, hir body growing in both mass and muscle; it finally felt like it belonged to hir.
For the first time since arriving here, Durian actually thought about the great city of Okron. The city skyline was very much visible from hir outcropping, situated between dozens of colorful tropically-styled walls. Countless massive buildings of marble, granite, and various other stones whose names ze couldn't recall dotted the land, and even the noise of millions of busy dragons was ever so slightly audible from the open air of the garden, a sharp constrast to the painful everlasting silence of hir hometown. The ocean, too, loomed in the distance even further away, a gently undulating line of dark blue water ribboning the left side of the horizon.
Hir trips to Okron began incredibly slowly, stopping at smaller settlements outside the main gates, and never actually going downtown. Ze learned first and foremost that hir only language was largely unknown here, and that most of those around her could speak at least two or three languages and understand four or five. A circle of rickety wooden shops, communicating through gestures, allowed hir to pick up a few language books, additional produce, minerals, and fish. . Durian showed that ze had nothing to trade, but was always given a share of food anyhow. Ze learned that most dragons were friendly, at least a little bit generous, and largely inquisitive. Ze received many confused and awed interactions about the fact that ze would sometimes shift in colors and shapes, coming into town looking a bit different each week (and often times more muscular and well-fed than the week before). For the very first time, ze became accustomed to showing off hir shapeshifting abilities as something to be proud of, rather than something to fear, and sparks of genuine confidence flickered to life in hir chest.
After Durian learns enough of a local aquatic umbrella language to hold basic conversations, ze awkwardly asks one of the shopkeepers about the near end of the world, or whatever that tsunami of flame had been. Hir questions come out confused and jumbled, and the poor dragon on the receiving end drops her butcher knife, unable to keep slicing the hunk of meat sitting in front of her. She doesn't know where to begin. "You don't know about Malefor?!" she sounds shocked, even a bit offended.
Durian shakes hir head, unsure whether ze should feel ashamed or not. This is often how social interactions went for her- painfully unaware of basic facets of culture that everyone else seemed to be born into.
"You weren't kidding when you said you were from out of town," the shopkeeper mouths. "I- you- we- all of us," she stutters a bit and moves her claws around in the air before continuing, "We fought Malefor's army for some grueling years, though historians first knew about him over a thousand years ago when he was just a hatchling. So yeah, he's old. He almost succeeded in destroying the realms last year... he cast the world in a veil of fire. Everything started falling apart. There's another aether dragon, much younger, he- he put the world back together, or something like that." Durian doesn't quite understand this part- the words are niche and complex. "Haven't heard from either dragon since, but I hear our savior survived. Barely. No idea what happened to Malefor, but they say he's dead. Can aether dragons really die, though?"
Durian had only heard of 'aether' in technical terms. Tears of frustration well in hir eyes.
"I suppose you didn't know, then... about the belt of fire?" The merchant's voice drops to a hushed whisper.
"No. I don't know what you're talking about. No one told us fucking anything."
--
A few years of growth and self-love go by. Durian, now twenty two, has finally completed building hir home by hand into the cliffside. Though basic building tools and supplies were usually handed out hir free of charge as long as they were available, ze discovered that ze could trade a certain number of fruits from hir garden for decorations, lanterns, candles, and even new seeds and live pond fish for the garden. And accessories as well; a small collection of punk gear quickly spiraled out of control into a hoard of collars and harnesses and artistically designed costume pieces, some of which made by hir own claws. Ze made a habit of working out in addition to the labor of home-building.
"Hey Durian," the butcher who ze'd asked all hir questions to greets him, as she often did. "I know you have a thing about not going into town, but hear me out." She points one turquoise claw at the massive gate which interrupted the outer wall of downtown Okron. "They're hosting a convention this month. The first one since before the war."
Durian tilts hir head. "A convention?"
"The largest convention in the world!" The butcher slams her knife into her table in a show of excitement. "Hundreds of thousands of dragons gather from across the realms. Arts, shows, food, entertainment! Met two of my mates there a few years back!" There's an air of pity in her voice, and Durian hopes she hasn't noticed that ze always comes to grocery shop alone.
Ze still feels an impenetrable glass wall separating hir from larger society, separating hir from even being a dragon. But hir pulse is quickening, and hir heart beats loudly in hir chest. Perhaps a gathering of dragons of every variant and culture would finally tear down hir walls. After all, confidence only does so much for you when you don't have many friends. "I'll think about it," ze says.
The following weeks pass uncomfortably quickly, and the morning of the first day of the convention soon slaps Durian across the face. Ze races to put on as much punk gear as would physically fit on hir body, weighing hir down quite a bit. Perhaps ze won't need to be a good conversationalist if ze looks cool enough. Ze ignores a few prickles of pain from hir spiked wristbands poking at hir underbelly as ze soars down towards the gate. Ze picks up a map from a tour guide at the outer gate, barely noticing the panic rising in hir throat as ze passes beneath the great white, orange, and turquoise clay wall. The gate of Okron shadows overhead.
"Need help getting somewhere?" a passing tour guide inquires in a nature umbrella language ze doesnt speak but sort of comprehends, clearly noticing the look of awe as Durian's maw hangs open.
But ze doesn't have the capacity to respond. Hir eyes are locked on the life of the city. Buildings of all different tropical colors accented with white sprawl on for countless miles ahead, many roofed with friendly round shingles, while many others are flat-roofed to allow for cooking fires, musical performances, and social gatherings beneath the sunlight. A massive wooden sign hangs from the very nearest building advertising the convention, it and the walls of the buildings around it hand-painted with spiraling ocean waves, a beautiful sunset, and tropical flowers. Some of the tallest buildings feature pillars laced with flowering ivy and beautifully carved statues circling domed rooves.
Hundreds of dragons circle ahead, and hundreds more talk on the streets, taking up every inch of free space available. Those trying to walk carefully worm their way through the crowd. Moles, cheetahs, gemcutters, and dozens of species Durian had never seen before also spot the crowd, visible in slivers between the generally-larger bodies of the surrounding dragons. Temporary wooden signs have been erected with arrows pointed in various directions. The text on each sign is incredibly small, rewritten in dozens of different scripts, most of which Durian has never seen before in hir life. Hir native language, north-subarctic subterranian, was not present at all as far as ze could see. However, most of the languages ze had come to learn in the city were present. Some were written with different dialects which were similar enough for hir to mostly decipher. "Great hall," reads the largest sign at the very top, with an arrow pointed down the middlemost street, leading straight to the heart of the city.
The tour guide gives an understanding laugh as Durian completely ignores him and begins padding down the towards the great hall on all six limbs, trying not to stare too obviously at the most interesting passersby.
A hydra with three heads, whose body is split down the middle, each head's section of the body featuring a totally different color scheme. A dragon whose element(s) Durian cannot determine from their appearance; their horns resemble tornado sirens, and their beaked mouth opens uncannily wide as they speak to a furred blue and green drake. The drake's front arm is outstretched, and a trained falcon perches upon the back of their wrist, awaiting command. A handsome shirtless orc woman with a boar-like snout and a tusky grin, whose chest and bicep musculature rival that of hir own; she looks lovingly into the eyes of a lanky whiskered fire wyvern next to her, and they share a few kisses between whispered words. An ampithere whose scales flash rainbow in the sunlight picks up a cup with the prehensile tip of her tail and chugs a shot of some vile-looking liquid. She almost gags as her friends point and laugh. Some sort of feathered humanoid-avian with long, pointed ears offers a ham stick to a needle-thin dark teal nature dragon, who opens its maw to reveal multiple rows of sharp teeth and swallows the ham in one smooth movement. A group of dwarf and dragon children playfully shoot fire and ice magics back and forth before a nearby elder snaps his teeth at them, and they run off screaming in mortal terror.
Durian carefully paws hir way through a busy intersection as a parade of dragons dragging carts full of haybales, mounds of rock, and large hexagonal crystals wheels by, making their way beside hir towards the great hall. As ze steps aside to let the carriages pass, the axe-like blade at the tip of hir wing prods a burly brown earth dragon in the haunch. They turn around, revealing a "beard" of rocky spikes protruding from their chin and trailing all the way down onto their underbelly, glaring at hir with angular onyx eyes.
Durian bows hir head and gulps, "Oh, sorry," and the other dragon blinks and nods, turning back toward their companions.
The road begins to widen into a circle surrounded by brightly decorated wooden stands, each one offering a different type of food. In the center of the circle is an impressively tall marble dragon statue depicting an individual ze didn't recognize, but could assume was a water dragon based on the impressive amount of frills and fins. Upon approaching a fruit stand, a fresh honeycrisp apple is forced into hir hand before ze even finishes pointing at it. Ze finishes it, core and all, in just two bites. Just ahead, the dragons leading the carriages have screeched to a halt and begun carrying artifacts into the hall.
The great hall itself finally looms ahead, certainly the largest building Durian had ever seen. Tall enough to be at least four stories, but it is not; rather, it is just one massive open floor supported by marble pillars all the way around. At least four times as long as it was wide, Durian can't even begin to fathom where the back end is. A delicate archway welcomes visitors with a much larger version of the convention sign, though this time the name was written in even more languages, at least sixty, each in a different style of writing, as if each greeting had been added by a different individual. Finally, ze recognizes an absolutely tiny greeting in hir own native language, however small, scrawled onto one of the farthest corners of the sign.
The building's sheer size is tested by an absolutely massive wind dragon, whose pastel orange and green splotched scales move between the pillars with ease. They take care not to trample on the four rows of tables beneath their feet, which seem to continue on forever into the depths of the building.
As Durian ascends the ramp and looks around, hir mouth falls open once more. Each table has one to four individuals of all shapes and sizes seated behind it. A many-languaged sign tells Durian this is the art gallery, but further into the building will apparently reveal an indoor entry-level sparring arena, and behind the building a second outdoor advanced one. Below this lies a schedule of planned events for the week-long convention. Today at the sun's peak, a musical battle between six bands of differing genre will take place on the main stage at the center of the hall. This evening, a cook off. After that, a special guest speaker whose name was unfamiliar to Durian. Tomorrow's main event is an elemental dance, where masters of each element will fly and perform impressive magics. After that, a bizzare show featuring dragons and other magic-users with unusual abilities. The night market opens at dusk each night in the outdoor arena, adults only, followed by a nightly rave in one of the other buildings that continues long into the night. The Okron obstacle course, always open, has been updated with twelve new themed tracks. There are more events listed per day for the rest of the week, ending in a closing ceremony and a final dance on the seventh evening.
Below this sits a schedule that details events taking place in the smaller buildings outside the great hall. Meetups for dragons who speak the same language families, plus introductory classes on those languages. Meetups to celebrate a specific element, or a specific dragon physiology (the meeting for wyrms includes a speaker who discusses the challenges of living without limbs or wings, and is offering to teach younger wyrms introductory wind magic if they wish to learn how to levitate items or fly). Meetups for orcs, dwarves, and... "elves"? Meetups and presentations for those with certain disabilities, for those with certain professions or nerdy interests, and those who follow a specific spiritual belief. Lots and lots of meetups happening all day, every day. Various sporting tournaments at nearby parks. A building whose walls have been designated public space for anyone to paint on. A designated park for those with pets to unleash them. A playground for kids, and a much larger one for adults. The address of a few public libraries and computer centers. A list of nearby restaurants, bars, and food vendors, plus the location of public food gardens and crystal farms. A guide to reducing harm while taking recreational drugs follows, as does a guide on where to go if you're harassed by another congoer.
There's plenty more information, but Durian's attention span switches back to the real world as ze begins making hir way through the art gallery.
At first, the wares start out small, tables hosted by jewelry makers, weaponsmiths, painters, seamsters, and miniature sculptures. Some of the vendors nod a greeting as ze walks by, while others are painting or sculpting or sewing in front of a small crowd, explaining their work process. Though some crystal and mineral vendors had been situated outside with the food vendors, the ones inside the art gallery displayed much larger and more decorative specimens. Though most were intended as sculptures, altars for prayer or meditation, or simply decor, others were still labeled for eating. These specimens were usually advertised to provide specific emotional or physical effects in addition to their basic mana-restoration ability.
Larger painting, sculpting, and armorsmithing tables lay a bit further inside the hall, these tables at least double the size of the first ones to provide enough room to display custom-made steel helmets, gold-encrusted bracers, marble dragon heads, and beautiful landscape paintings depicting places Durian couldn't tell if were real or not.
Someone's claw pokes at the tip of hir wing, and a voice in an unfamiliar language barks a sly-sounding comment.
"What was that?" Durian turns to lock eyes with a canid-faced emerald teal dragon with short legs and a long body.
This stranger's snout, claws, and antlers are plated in bronze scales, which pose a stark contrask to a forked red tongue and white furred underbelly. They flicks their ears towards a dwarf woman to their side, who speaks for them this time. "You from Bronfell?" She speaks in an unknown heavy accent, but is mostly understandable.
Durian shakes hir head in confusion, not even knowing where that is.
"Well, Senk here said xe likes your gear," she grins, gesturing to the dog-faced dragon, who nods in approval. Senk speaks again in that same honey-like tone, and the dwarf once again translates for xem. "Where'd you get it?"
"Oh, thank you!" Durian flexes hir bicep to show off the additional spiked cuffs around hir wrists. "Made it myself!"
Senk and the dwarf exchange an impressed glance, eyebrows raising in unison. "You part of the leatherworkers' union?"
Once again shaking hir head, "Uh... what union?" The usual burning embarrassment that comes with social interactions starts to rise in her throat.
The dwarf suddenly puts both her shovel-like hands on the table and leans forward, her voice dropping. "Where are you from?"
"Some little nameless village up north," Durian retorts with embarrassment. "We uh, didn't really have unions, or teachers, or any contact with the outside world. So I'm self-taught... You know how it is." Ze adds that last bit despite knowing very well that these two do not know how it is.
But the dwarf seems genuinely impressed. "I see. Welcome to the city, then! Well... stop by a computer and sign up for the union, alright?" Despite the commandeering wording, it's a genuine suggestion rather than an order.
"...Sure?"
She sits back down all the way and strokes her beard. "Lots of benefits. A whole community to share tips and tricks with. How-tos, best supply sources, guides to making fair trades. Find others with the same interest near you. Lots of folks who'd kill for gear like yours."
That does sound incredibly appealing. Despite having spent so many years online, the internet in the Realms is rather disconnected and independent. Such things can easily fly under the rug. Regardless, ze takes a moment to examine the gear that these two are selling, laid out neatly on the table. It's a very different style, mostly brown and rustic rather than Durian's own sleek black and gold. Collars, adjustable harnesses of different shapes and sizes, fingerless gloves with knuckle spikes (including one black pair that are roughly hir size), a few hoods with and without eye holes, plus a sign advertising inquiries about custom-fitted pieces. A second sign advertising what trades the pair are seeking: wind and electricity themed arts for their home, crystals (specifically ametrine, lapis lazuli, and rhodochrosite), and local produce.
Recalling that ze did, in fact, pack a bunch of fruit in hir tail bag, Durian turns around, opens the flap, and places a few different kinds on the table. "How much fruit would you trade the black gloves for?"
Both of their eyes light up, and they exchange a few sentences in their own language, the dwarf taking an extra moment to translate their prior conversation to Senk. They appear to bicker for a moment as Senk seems briefly dissatisfied, but quickly shrugs it off, xyr voice returning to a satisfied rumble. Finally, the dwarf offers, "Four dragonfruit, four mangos, and four peaches?"
That's almost all of what Durian brought. Expensive- far moreso than anything ze'd ever traded prior. Ze hesitates for a moment before deciding these two sound like experts on the subject. They're probably right to price their work so highly. "Sounds good to me," ze says, placing the requested food on the table, plus a bonus fifth peach as a tip.
The dwarf slides the gloves across the table. "Trade em back if they dont fit, but... it looks like they will."
"Oh, don't worry about that," Durian grins even wider before shapeshifting hir horns into a twisting antler-like shape, mirroring Senk's own horns. It takes quite a bit of energy, but Durian has grown exemplary at hiding this fact.
The two gasp in surprise. "Holy fuck."
The leather of the gloves has a softer texture than that of the rest of hir gear, and its shade of black is ever so slightly lighter, but this wouldn't matter at all to anyone who wasn't looking closely. Ze plays with her hands a bit, examining how the gloves feel and shapeshifting the edges of hir hands a bit to better fit the necessary width.
The dwarf speaks up once more, "I don't think I caught your name."
"Durian. You?"
"Folgrith Bonebuckle at your service!" She reaches out a hand and Durian shakes it, the extreme strength, width, and density of her hand wracking hir forearm with the most robust handshake ze'd ever received. "I'll be watching for your future work on the union website in the coming months."
"You as well," Durian nods, hoping ze'd be able to find her again.
Senk shoots hir a finger guns, and the three exchange goodbyes.
--
To be completely honest, Durian was far more interested in whatever the advanced sparring arena contained than the beginner one. On hir way out the back of the great hall, ze had passed the safe arena, but had only managed to see a single small jet of fire bursting from somewhere within. It seemed, most likely, to be for kids.
Ze worms hir way through a crowd surrounding an absolutely enormous valley in the ground, surrounded by a chainlink fence which many smaller dragons and other creatures were perched precariously atop. Rows of rock surround the crowd as bleachers, giving those further away a fair view at the action.
Within the arena are four zones. The closest to Durian is mostly water, with small islets and glaciers to hop between and massive aquatic plants and trees sprouting from the depths. To the right and left lay a temperate forest zone and a rocky mountainous zone respectively, and furthest away sits a sandy desert zone. The entire thing boasted a diameter at least twice the width of the great hall.
Suddenly, a bolt of roaring lightning jolts through the air and electrocutes the water in the aquatic section of the valley. With a scream of pain and panic, a hulking bipedal cream and white dragon jets out of the water, twitching as the lightning magic courses through their body. They drag themself to the mountainous section as Durian notices several open wounds on their back, shallow but still real enough to have drawn a bit of blood. The crowd roars with excitement as the attacker emerges from the forest and reveals themself, a fierce looking wyrm covered in spines with a long, V-shaped snout. The wyrm tries to zap the water dragon a second time and just barely misses.
"Oh shit, they're really hurt," Durian mutters under hir breath.
A gemcutter atop the fence turns their head in confusion. "If you expected anything else, you're in the wrong place!" they scream over the roar of the crowd, springing up and down with excitement on jerboa-like legs.
"I didn't think this kind of thing was, um, allowed," Durian says.
"Consensual! Rigorous questioning and training! Find your boundaries and shit! Match you with similar fighters! Strict regulations!" They strain their throat to be heard atop the noise.
"Right..." Durian watches in shock as the piebald dragon sprints at the wyrm, hopping back and forth to dodge the electric arcs. Finally, just a leap's distance away, they fakes a dodge right before zipping left and latching onto the wyrm's throat with teeth and claws. They roll and jerk downwards, forcing the wyrm to the ground, screaming and hissing as tails and legs and coils tangle.
Durian sighs in relief, knowing the screams indicate their throat isn't being crushed. Latent electricity in their body jolt through both them and the dragon pinning them down, but it's no use. They tolerates it, and the wyrm gives up. A black wyvern perched atop a tree in the very center of the arena shoots three concurrent fireballs from their mouth, and for a moment Durian thinks they're about to take out both other contenders. But ze quickly notices they're wearing protective gear, so dark it nearly blends in with their scales and feathers. The fireball does not fall down onto the fighters, but rather explodes in midair. They're a referee signaling that the round is over.
The dragons roll apart and get up, dust themselves off, and nod to each other. The piebald dragon shakes hands with the wyrm's prehensile tail, the violence suddenly replaced with a sense of respect and good sportsmanship.
"You missed all the good stuff!" the gemcutter yells to Durian. "Stick around for a minute, will you?! Usually there's more than two competitors!"
Sure enough, as the first two walk away into a tunnel at the bottom of the arens, five more creatures replace them. One: a fat quadrupedal fire-water dragon whose body coloration is split perfectly down the middle with asymmetrical horns and spines. Two: A neon yellow wyvern with syringe-like spines and a nose that stuck out far past its face. Three: A surprisingly small dragontaur with three sets of wings, splotched with various cool colors all over. Five: a chocolate brown sphinxoid with leopard spots, layered body armor, and an electrically charged pike. The five are spaced evenly apart by the referee before a starting fireball is thrown.
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