Posted RAW, and Unedited. Starting a new collection for 2018.
“What are you doing!?!?” Honsol called out, questioningly. He stood at the top of the riser, strapped to a cross, and looked down upon the gathering of mages, as they continued to chant in their arcane language.
Honsol was trapped, and he had walked into it willingly.
The wind blew around him, and under his wings; his body sleek and graceful, with his silver scales shining in the dying light of the sun. This silver dragon made its flight, as elegant as an eagle, across the sky at a pace that could rival the fastest birds of prey. He was in a hurry and needed to get back to his lair. The magical alarms that alerted him to intruders in his horde went off, and he instantly stopped hunting to fly back to see who had invaded his home.
Honsol faded back into reality, as the magic hit him. His last memories were arriving back home, and shapeshifting into a human form. He did this, to make his way through the concealed passage that led to the back of his treasure horde room. What Honsol didn’t realize, was that the intruders had already found the tunnel, and disabled the magical wards and alarms.
Halfway down the hall, he smelt them; the tell-tale scents of human flesh, sweat, and incense. Honsol knew he could quickly get inside the room, and switch back to his standard form. His overconfidence was his undoing.
The battle was over quicker than it started. Honsol, the name he gave his human form, dived into the room and landed on a tarp. It took him by surprise, but he made a move to switch and couldn’t. He had no magic what-so-ever and found there was a barrier around him. In his anger, he ripped the tarp from the floor and realized he stood on a riser, which had been carved with a magic circle to entrap dragons. “You will pay, for invading my home,” Honsol yelled in impotence. The invading Wizards collectively cast a spell that would put him to sleep, and when he awoke, he was already lashed to the cross.
The words, the magical spell the wizards chanted, clouded his mind. Honsol knew what he was, but he couldn’t tap into the primal magical energy that was infused within him. After hours of spell torture, that ravished his body with pain like the cuts of a thousand daggers, his mind finally cleared, and he looked at his captors. “Why did you do this? I have never injured nor attacked anyone in this kingdom! I have always come to its defense in times of war! Why did you do this, and what did you do?” He asked with a pleading look on his face.
“It is simple… we did it because we could, and we were paid to do so. What we did, well, you can consider it a fate worse than death. You are trapped, in that human body. For as long as you live, you will never be able to revert to your dragon self. Your treasure horde is already being seized by our employer, except for a few trinkets, which we are keeping,” a middle-aged man said. He was dressed in the garb of a Desterion Wizard.
Anger and rage coursed through his body, and he struggled against the ropes. It was then, as the final words of magic from the ritual were uttered, and the irreversible damage is done, that the Wizards learned of their mistake.
Now a human, in the eyes of magic, the magical circle no longer affected him. His strength returned, not entirely, but more than a normal human, and he was able to tap into the primal magic like before. Words of power came from his lips, as his arms, flexed, and he broke free from the cross. His horde, enchanted as it was, started to disappear, around them. The crates and boxes they were using stood empty, as the coins, treasure, and magical and mundane items teleported to his secret lair.
One by one, he killed the wizards and looked at the gruesome sight before him. Silver dragons are peaceful creatures, benevolent, and caring of the mortal races; but not anymore for Honsol. His quest for vengeance and a way to undo this curse started at that moment.