Draknor: Curse of Agrata

The dracoz’s mind was swirling.

Memories of times long passed surfaced, when his people - second only to their great ancestors, the dragons - ruled supreme.

A civilization of wonders... But that time was over. Their civilization was now simply ruins: The survivors of the cataclysms scattered about the world as other races came to dominance. The dracoz had only their own hubris to blame for their downfall - So much had been lost or destroyed.

Draknor felt a cold shock to his face. His eyes snapped open as he realized a bucket of cold water had been thrown at him.

“Hurr!” Draknor growled he tried moving his arms but found they were immobile. He glanced up to see his arms chained to the ceiling, leaving him hanging - his feet barely touching the floor. He glanced down to see that he was completely stripped, reduced to wearing nothing but a ragged loincloth covering the privates of his otherwise naked body.

“Knew that would wake you up,” a bald man clad all in black grunted. He gave the dracoz an unpleasant gap-toothed grin.

Draknor glared at the man. “Get on with it, torturer.”

The man guffawed. “I wouldn’t be so eager. Do you have any idea what’s in store for you, lizard?”

“Whatever it is, I’ve had worse.”

The torturer grunted. “That’s what they all say. But soon you’ll be begging for death,” he said, smiling sadistically. “Fear not, it will come. You are to be the sacrifice in the upcoming feast.” Draknor didn’t reply as the human prattled on.

“...First though, we need you nice and weakened. The feast is in a few days. Plenty of time to get you all softened up for the sacrifice.”

The man grabbed a long bullwhip and took position behind Draknor. The whip lashed out against the dracoz’s hide.

Again and again, the lash bit - but Draknor made no sound of pain or discomfort as the torturer kept up his assault. Draknor merely scowled as the lashes landed home.

“You’ll scream eventually,” the torturer growled whipping his brow. “They all do, eventually.”

Truthfully the torturer hoped it was soon - his arm was getting tired. In the middle of the session, the door opened: It was another guard.

“Grint, I brought you the water you asked for.”

“Just set it on the table - I’m about to make this reptile scream.”

The guard looked from Draknor to Grint.

“Grint you idiot! He’s a dracoz, he can hardly feel that lash: Thick scales.” Grint scowled and threw down the whip as the guard grabbed a different instrument from the wall. “Here use the cat-o-nine-tales, it’s got metal on the end. He’ll feel that.”

Grint snatched the whip away and growled. “Get out of here, Hull! Torturing is my job!”

Draknor rolled his eyes. Hull strode away as the torturer turned back to Draknor.

“Now we can really get started.”

Draknor growled. “When I escape, you’re going to be the first one I kill.”

The whip smacked across Draknor’s back. “You’re not going to escape, lizard.”

*whCHACK!*

Grint smiled. “This is where your journey ends.”

*whCHACK!!*

*whCHACK!!!*

Over and over the cat-o-nine struck. Draknor actually began to bleed from the constant strikes, but he still did not scream - at most he gave a hiss of pain. Draknor had no means of telling the time in that dismal place, nor could he say with certainty how long the lashing persisted. Being chained with his arms above his head was its own torture as they began to throb in protest.

Grint eventually set the lash down as he hummed to himself.

“Not done with you yet, lizard,” Grint said as he set himself down on a bench attached to the stone wall. “Just resting my arm.”

“Ramble away,” Draknor rumbled.

Draknor could hear Grint shuffling around with tools and instruments behind him but he couldn’t see what the torturer was doing...

*FwhsHHHHSSsssss!*

A burning sensation in his side.

Draknor smelled the stench of something burning as Grint put a hot brand to scales.

Draknor let out an involuntary roar at the unexpected pain.

“You feel that don’t you?” Grint taunted as he removed the brand, leaving some kind of sigil on Draknor’s side. “Part of the ceremony to come, adorning the sacrifice with the marks.”

Three more brands followed on Draknor’s back and chest. The brands resembled lightning bolds that seemed oddly familiar to Draknor. He tried to focus on where he’d seen the marks from, anything to keep his mind off of the pain. Where had he seen that symbol? But the dracoz found it hard to concentrate.

The familiar creak of the dungeon door opening interrupted Draknor’s thoughts.

“Ahh, lucky you,” Grint chortled. “My meal is here. No food for you, I’m afraid.”

Draknor looked as the torturer pulled up a stool several feet away from Draknor.

“Your meal, sir,” a feminine voice said.

“Over here serving girl!”

“Ri- Right away.”

Draknor’s dry mouth opened in surprise at what he saw: A female dracoz!

Like all female dracoz, she had a mane of brown hair on top of her scalp. Her scales were a bluish green and her yellow eyes darted away from Draknor at his gaze. She was dressed like the other serving girls, a short sarong and chest cloth, despite lacking breasts. Though she towered over Grint, she submissively handed him his food before quickly bowing and hurrying out of the chamber.

A dracoz as a servant?

The thought was so foreign to Draknor: His once proud people being subservient would make many dracoz cry in anguish, though Draknor understood survival - he himself had served human rulers as a mercenary. His thoughts turned to Queen Ina, the dracoz who had usurped an entire human kingdom for herself. That mad tyrant would probably throw a tantrum at such a scene.

Grint made a show of eating his meal before wiping his lips and turning back to Draknor. “Where were we? Oh, yes.”

The man turned a winch and Draknor growled as he felt his body lifted even further from the ground. Grint held a cudgel in his hands as he advanced upon the trapped dracoz, grinning his same irritating gap-toothed grin.

Ylla hurried down the hall, empty serving tray tucked under her arm. She paused and slumped against the unfeeling stone wall.

Another dracoz? She thought.

How long had it been since she had seen one of her own kind? The look in his eyes... Was it pity? Pleading?

...Or disgust?

The dracoz serving girl couldn’t recall how many wandering bravos had met their end within the castle walls every solstice, with a few seemingly at random. Her mind returned - She’d been in the castle for three years now: Three years! She could see no end in sight! Perhaps she would live out the rest of her days with king after king taking the throne. Perhaps Ylla would even be the head girl one day.

She sighed in disgust at how low she had sunk as she watched one of her brothers being tortured.

Seeing another of her kind had stirred the embers that had been long dormant and Ylla recalled how she had come to this place. Before the calamity that befell her people, Ylla was a scholar in the old country, with aspirations of becoming a scientist.

Such optimism she felt in those days! So foolish.

*

Ylla had escaped the capital city as the quakes sent her home tumbling into so much rubble: Many were not so lucky.

As the years went on, the dracoz species became a less and less frequent sight as other races rose to fill the gap the fearsome dragon race had left behind. Ylla had done what she could to survive: she still had knowledge at her disposal.

Tutors were always in demand. From the schools to prominent families, she educated so many in the basics of mathematics, sciences, philosophy, and - of course - history. Ylla even learned some new things herself... and so long as the people did not mind a dracoz teaching them, she had a means of supporting herself.

She soon became the governess of the son of a powerful merchant family in the great city of Gevo, far away in more fertile lands.

Eli was the boy’s name. Quite the handful: too much for the usual governesses but Ylla could match the rambunctious youth. Those were blissful days... ‘til the ill-fated trip.

Ylla rode in the coach with Eli as the landscape went from lush to barren.

“Where are we going?” Eli huffed.

“Agratta,” Ylla replied.

“Why?”

“Your father insists on looking at new avenues of trade, and thinks you coming along would be educational.”

“Ugh,” the little human said simply.

Ylla had to admit she was apprehensive about travelling to Agratta.

She had heard stories of bandits and missing people. The young female dracoz did not find it wise of her employer to want to try and open trade routes there, but it wasn’t her job to advise him in such affairs.

Ylla felt the coach picking up speed - Odd, given the rocky terrain. She stuck her head out and saw several horsemen in pursuit.

“Should have traveled with a caravan and guards,” Ylla muttered as she sat back down.

“What’s happening?” Eli asked.

Ylla regarded her charge. “Just stay calm, Eli.”

The coach jostled and lurched over the rocky terrain before coming to a sudden stop, sending Eli and Ylla tumbling to the floor. Ylla hazarded a glance out to see the horsemen riding away, a glance forward and she saw a different band of horsemen charging in, these ones looked to be soldiers of some sort.

The troop pulled up, encircling the coach.

“Where is your master driver!” One of the troopers demanded. The driver flinched at the demand.

Ylla coughed. “I’m a governess. I suppose I will do.”

Eyes fixed on her as the soldiers took notice of her for the first time. “What’s your name dracoz?”

“Ylla.”

“Well, Ylla, we just saved you from bandits. You are in the domain of King Thurn. You owe him thanks, so we shall escort you to his castle.”

“How... kind of you,” Ylla said. She didn’t like it: this seemed like a shakedown.

“Marm,” Eli asked, tugging at his governess’s sleeve. “What’s happening?”

“More bandits Eli,” Ylla whispered calmly. “Whatever happens do as I tell you to do, and do not tell them your father is wealthy.”

All too soon, they were through the gates of a mountain castle. The huge front gate was thrown open and the travelers led to the main fortress. Soon, they were ushered through the winding passageways and into the grand hall. At that moment, scantily clad mammal females flooded the hallway.

“Such debauchery!” Ylla gasped as she covered Eli’s eyes.

The music stopped as the three travelers found themselves before the throne, the driver instantly prostrated himself. Eli clutched to Ylla’s leg as the dracoz stood tall.

King Thurn grinned, “Well, well - travelers? Seems you owe me some compensation. After all, you were traveling through my lands and my men rescued you. I think that’s more than fair. How shall you pay though?”

There was laughter among the assembled in the hall.

Eli spoke up. “We can pay! M-my father is a... a merchant.”

Ylla sighed. She distinctly told him to keep his mouth shut.

Thurn laughed. “Is that so? Wonder how much he’d pay for your release then young one?”

Ylla pushed Eli back behind her.

“Your highness,” she bowed.

“Oh, it speaks!” Thurn cackled. “Marvellous!”

Ylla endured the slight as she spoke, her head still bowed. “A king such as yourself has no need of money or trade goods, I can tell by your hall yours is not a poor kingdom. I... have an offer.”

Thurn leaned forward. “And what do I need, drakoz? What can you offer?”

Ylla swallowed as she felt the fear rising in her with what she was about to offer. “I am a governess - a tutor. I offer my services if you let this boy and his servant go.”

Thurn looked intrigued. “I have no need for either... but your offer intrigues me. You’ll serve in my castle for as long as it pleases me?”

“No Ylla!” Eli shouted. “Don’t do it!”

Ylla nodded. “I will serve you in whatever capacity you wish. Think of it, highness: a dracoz servant. What better way to show your power?”

Thurn clapped his hands. “I love it. Send these two away: they have no value to me.”

Eli was dragged away along with the coachman. “No Ylla! Yllla!”

The doors shut and that was the last Ylla ever saw of them.

“Now, slave,” Thurn spoke haughtily. “You are mine now. You do as I say. Understood?"

Ylla bowed her head. "Yes, master."

Thurn grinned at that. "You are not properly attired. Remove that dress... it’s not fitting for your station.”

Ylla regarded the man but did not speak. The dress she was wearing had been a gift to her from the lady of the house. ...But obediently, she undid the laces and lifted the garment off of herself.

“Undergarments, too,” Thurn said, smiling.

Ylla sighed as she cast away the last of her modesty. The court was laughing at her the entire time.

“Well, there’s... nothing to really see is there?” Thurn cackled to the crowd of nobles, who returned his laughter. Ylla sighed.

What was it with humans and their fascination with their females’ nursing glands?

“Now, kneel before your betters!” Thurn commanded.

With bile rising in her, the dracoz knelt on the cold unfeeling stone, eyes downcast.

“That’s better," Thurn said approvingly. "You learn fast. Slaves, see to her.”

Two of the serving girls gently lifted Ylla to her feet and led her away as the chamber continued to laugh at her expense. The dracoz was taken to the slave quarters.

In a wooden tub she was escorted to and bathed. Wiry brushes scraped against her scales, all across her body. Ylla was then spritzed with a sweet-smelling perfume, and the slaves then dressed her in the skimpy attire of the female slaves of the castle: a short sarong and chestcloth.

A leather collar was fastened around Ylla's neck by two slave girls. They had to adjust the length a couple times, but by the third time it fit snugly. It was tight enough to feel, but not tight enough to strangle her.

“At least you’re ugly,” one of the women tried to console her. “Just do as your told, and don’t even think about escaping. We all pay the price for escape attempts.”

Ylla cried herself to sleep her first night on the uncomfortable mattress.

She shuddered.

The days dragged by as she went about her new duties. She used to hope that perhaps her employer would pay for her release, but gradually that hope died.

She was just a slave girl, now.

Ylla had watched the terrible rituals of adventurers being captured, tortured, and sacrificed to the dark thing these people worshipped. Her life had become numbing despair.

Now there was another of her kind in the torture chamber - likely to meet the same fate.

Her memories faded back into the present.

She wanted to help him, but she couldn’t: she was helpless. She was just a slave.

She shuddered as she heard Grint beating her fellow dracoz with the cudgel, hour after hour. Ylla screamed and ran down the hall, hating what she had become.