Commissioned by RomanProphet
Here is a fun story that I was asked to write. And I'm sure that a bunch of you guys will love it since dragon transformation and/or macro are always popular. XD
Kidding aside, I did have a ton of fun writing this. And I hope that you guys will enjoy this too.
Fun fact: I actually written the final draft within three hours back on Sunday (skipping out a few fun streams in the process). I just had an urge to write and I won't be able to go to the library to write because it's MLK Jr. Day. Plus, I want to get to the next commission ASAP.
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The dark clouds gathered above the sky, as though it could rain, though glimpses of the midday sun could still be seen. The valley darkened with mist, with a warm, silvery light piercing through above, fading and brightening as though a signal. Various standing stones, tipped in orange, gathered in a pair of lines from the bottom to the top, heading into the mist itself.
Four figures walked up the traitorous valley, careful not to touch the stones themselves. The one leading the four dressed in a priest-like outfit under a chest armor, which held a drawing of crossed oak and mistletoe branches. He had a long green staff, tipped in white. Walking beside him, yet a bit behind, was a lady dressed in metal-looking armor with joint pads, with a rapier by her side. Across her chest, she carried a bow and empty quiver.
A man wearing a tunic and a short sword on his belt was walking behind the two, filled-up guitar in hand. On top of his chest over his tunic he carried nylon armor. Finally, half crouching behind the group, was a mannish figure who hooves clopped against the ground and dressed in full black. Within, he carried multiple knives, though he could only pull out one.
“Are we getting near?” the rogue said, gripping against his knife tight. “I hunger for money, and so does my blade.”
“Be patient, our rogue,” the cleric said, half-turning back. “Though I doubt our evil wizard would be carrying gold for a ceremony like this.”
“If all goes well,” the bard said, his fingers rubbing against the solid strings, “it will be worthy of a song that will last for a hundred generations. Why it’s enough for me to sing it right now.”
“Please don’t,” the fighter said, and the group laughed in response.
For hours or maybe minutes, the group walked on until they went through the mists at the end of the standing stones. There, at the very edge of the cliff, a brown-haired figure dressed in black robes stood, carrying a staff with a glowing silver tip, the source of the light. Beside him stood a pair of unlit candlestands, with a dug-in pentagram underneath him and a circle of standing stones around him. His arms spread out to the sky, where a sun peaked through, away from the group.
“Evil wizard,” the cleric said, pointing his staff at the wizard, “your evil deeds end now.”
“Foolish travelers,” the wizard said, not facing them even as the staff glowed brighter. “You are too late. The ritual was completed a minute ago.”
“Even so,” the fighter said as she pulled out her rapier, its reflection dull, “you are no match for our teamwork.”
“Many songs have been made of our journeys, most of them by me,” the bard said, rubbing against one of his strings. “It would be wise to listen to at least half of them.”
“And besides,” the rogue said, pulling out his knife and flipping it between the blade and handle with ease, “I don’t see any dragon, which your minions said you were summoning. Perhaps you flubbed it at ‘nikto.’”
“You fool. That was what I wanted them to believe,” the wizard said, turning around with his brown eyes staring at them. “But I wasn’t planning to summon a dragon,” his eyes turned silver, “I was planning on turning into a dragon.”
At that moment, several pale blue horns grew from his face, two behind his jawline, which went back before curving forward, and four on top of his head. His hair receded into nothing, with silver scales replacing it even as his mouth and nose moved forward into a snout. His ears shrunk down to mere dots as he fell down onto his knees, gripping against the ground.
Soon, a long tail ripped out from behind, covered in silver scales and having pale blue horns on the spine. His feet lengthened, becoming digitigrades and ripping through his heavy boots as though they were nothing. His toenails thickened and grew longer even as they turned into a pale blue color. His torso lengthened as well, ripping through his robes even as his fingernails grew longer and thicker, turning pale blue as well. Finally, when he lifted his head, his teeth were longer and sharper than before, with him grinning wide.
A second later, a pair of lumps grew on his back, protruding under his robes. Soon, they ripped through, forming a couple of silvery wings that he flapped a bit. Then, the staff he held broke into two under his grip, his thighs thickening and him becoming more feral in stance.
But then, he grew in size, outgrowing what was left of his outfit. He let out a low laugh that became deeper and more like growls as it went on. Soon, he stood at a hundred meters tall and, with a smirk on his face, the dragon-wizard roared.
The party stood there, jaw dropped, but the cleric recovered first. “Come one, team,” he said as he turned to the others. “We fought with threats just as bad at this. We can defeat him and bring order to the realm. Are you with me?” The others nodded, and he turned back to the wizard-dragon—
# # #
“In the n-name of Dia-Dia-what was his name again?” Liam said, rubbing his chin in half-confusion. “Whatever. In the n-name of my god, we will s-slay you.”
“Great going,” Kassandra said.
It was midday in the Scottish Highlands, with nary a cloud in sight. Several orange cones stood around the group, with writings that said either ‘rock’ or ‘candlestand’ on them. Liam, the cleric, held a green broomstick in hand, with the brushes unscrewed and a plastic armor over the robes. Taped on it was a drawing of crossed oak and mistletoe branches. Kassandra, the fighter, held a thin, plastic rapier with foam on its tip, wearing arm- and kneepads brought from the Home Depot. Over her plastic chest armor, she carried a plastic bow and empty quiver.
Ibrahim, the bard, carried a toy guitar and toy sword on hand and belt, respectively. He tugged on the nylon over the tunic, representing his armor. And Finlay, the rogue, had only one plastic knife within his black robes. Not to mention when he walked, his hooves made much louder clopping noises than he would’ve liked, having left his boots in the rental car.
Of course, Marcel, the evil wizard turned dragon, was still a hundred-meter-tall dragon.
Marcel roared, though laugher clogged up his throat in the process. Then, with a slow swing of his front right paw, he lowered his claws toward the group. They walked away, and, fifteen seconds later, his claws pressed against the ground, not even digging into it.
“Aha! This dragon is a slow one!” Finlay said with a laugh even as he swung his knife at Marcel five meters away. “I’ve thrown three of my, oh geez,” he laughed a bit before he continued, “I threw three of my knives at the beast’s belly! Haha!”
“I don’t think you’ve d-done away damage to h-him,” Ibrahim said between laughs while shaking his head. “L-let me play an s-song to soothe this d-dragon, oh no.” He pressed one of the guitar’s buttons, which played
Rock-a-bye Baby as though from a music box. “T-t-there we—” he broke into a laughing fit along with the others, with Marcel’s tail wagging high even as he swayed left to right. “N-now the beast should be sl-sleepy.”
Marcel kept on laughing between his growls even as Liam pointed his broomstick at him. “Now, f-feel the power of my g-god!” He went through his pockets and threw out a few folded pieces of paper at Marcel, who lowered his body even as he kept on snorting out. “The beast has been b-blinded.”
“Now is my chance to stab him!” Kassandra went a bit closer to Marcel and thrust her rapier forty-five degrees to the ground, away from his body even as he laughed even louder. “I-I’ve wounded his leg—”
At that moment, Marcel struggled to stay up on all fours, his laughing loud. His tail swayed low and, before he realized what happened, it collided against her leg. She fell and slammed her face against the grass and dirt, with all laughter gone.
“Time!” Liam said, dropping his broomstick and running over to Kassandra. “Are you alright?”
Marcel gasped and, in a silvery flash of light, morphed back into his human form, wearing the robes and carrying the staff with all damages to them undone. “Oh no! I’m so sorry!”
Liam helped Kassandra back on her feet even as Ibrahim went over to Marcel to check with him. “Don’t worry. I doubt it’s as bad as it looks.”
“That was a faceplant of a performance in more ways than one,” Finlay said, heading over to Kassandra as well. “And I don’t mean it just because of that trip.”
Kassandra wiped her face a bit, removing some of the mud, and shook her head. “I’m fine. And I know that you didn’t mean to, Marcel.”
“Even so, let me check you out,” Liam said and, after several seconds of checking her over, he sighed and nodded. “She is fine. Just some mud.”
Marcel sighed as well and relaxed a bit. “Thank goodness.” He shook his head. “I wouldn’t like it if I had hurt anyone with this ability.”
“That’s an understatement,” Finlay said, removing his hood and exposing his horns. “So, still don’t consider yourself a dragon?”
Marcel shook his head. “I prefer to be seen as just some guy rather than anything more.”
Ibrahim, who worked with Marcel before he was exposed to the whole world of what he actually is, nodded and patted his shoulder.
“I understand all too well hiding yourself from the world,” Finlay said, lifting up one of his hooves. “Just be glad that there is someone else who has,” he paused a bit before he winked, “an ‘ability’ within the same group.”
Marcel couldn’t help but laugh a bit. “Thanks for that.”
“Glad that everything is sorted out,” Liam said with his arms crossed. “Still, it’s something to be careful of. Better watch that tail of yours again when we restart.”
Marcel nodded even as he rubbed half of his face. “I’ll try my best to. It’s just that, well—”
“—this LARP session is ridiculous?” Liam completed, and Marcel nodded.
“No,” Finlay said, his tone filled with sarcasm. “You mean to tell me that pretending to throw knives, playing songs meant for babies, throwing pieces of paper, and stabbing away from the body is ridiculous? I can’t imagine where you get that idea!”
The others laughed for a bit, with Kassandra regaining herself first. “Fair point.”
“Even so,” Liam said with his hands held up, palms forward, “it’s all done in the name of safety. We don’t want anyone to get hurt needlessly. And besides,” he turned to Marcel, “weren’t you in a movie? I would’ve thought that you know how to act and keep your composure without hurting anyone.”
“Yeah, in that other form,” Marcel said, shifting away for a moment. “But the sets were much more convincing and immersive. Plus, we had a set plan and rehearsal. But this is working on the fly.”
“That is a problem,” Ibrahim said, raising his toy guitar up. “Marcel is perfect for this role, which was why I convinced him to come. But it’s hard to keep calm when everything else is silly.”
Liam rubbed the back of his hand. “And those are fair points. I mean, I have the fakest weapon of all.”
“Imagination is a huge part of a LARP,” Kassandra said with a shrug. “But it can be hard to keep it up when there’s only one thing that’s real.”
The others, outside of Marcel, nodded before they let out a sigh. Instead, he felt something click in his head, and he rubbed his chin for a few seconds. He lowered his hand, staring at it as he flipped it over, with gears spinning in his head. A part of him hesitated, but then he clutched his hand, and he nodded to himself.
“Is everything alright?” Marcel heard, and when he turned, Ibrahim stared at him in confusion, followed by the others. “You had an odd look on your face.”
“Do you trust me?” Marcel asked, a gleam in his eyes.
“Huh?” Ibrahim tilted his head a bit. “What are you talking about? I do trust you.”
“What about the others? Do they trust me?”
Liam, Kassandra, and Finlay turned to each other while Ibrahim asked in return. “Why are you asking this?”
“Because I have an idea,” Marcel explained, and a rare grin sprouted on his face, “and I want to make sure you all are comfortable with it.”
Ibrahim turned to the others with a blank expression. “I have no idea what he is plotting, but I still trust him. What about you guys?”
“I’m honestly quite curious to see what Marcel has in mind,” Finlay said with a shrug. “Besides, an old saying goes that what a dragon wants is the law.”
“You just made that up, didn’t you?” Kassandra asked, and Finlay chuckled as he nodded. “Even so, he hasn’t eaten any of us yet. I think that’s worthy of granting some trust. What about you, Liam?”
“Me?” Liam rubbed his chin for a bit. “He hasn’t been with us for that long, since after that court case. I’m not sure.” He turned to the broomstick, laying in the grass, and he exhaled. “But I will trust him.”
Ibrahim nodded and turned to Marcel. “You heard, right?”
“
Oui!” Marcel winked at the group and extended his arms out, sticking two fingers out each. They emitted a silver glow a second later, and he made gestures with them. Next, the cones around them glowed with the same silvery light, and soon, light engulfed them.
# # #
The dark clouds gathered above the sky as though it could rain, without a single glimpse of the sun. The valley darkened with mist, with a pair of silvery lights piercing through below, fading and brightening like a signal. Various standing stones, tipped in silver, gathered in a couple of lines from the top of the hill to the bottom, heading into the mist itself.
Liam stumbled a bit, as though he carried an extra ten kilograms on his chest. He touched it, feeling cold steel on him, and he blinked, with the taped-on drawing of crossed oak and mistletoe branches an engraving instead. And when he turned to his fallen broomstick, it was a white priest-like staff ending with a silver gem instead.
“What is this?” Liam said to himself before turning to the others, with him blinking some more.
Kassandra held up her rapier, steel and without foam tip, and she patted her steel armors, the pads ending with steel instead of plastic. The bow was made of wood instead of plastic and, when she grabbed her quiver, found that it was filled with arrows tipped with steel. Ibrahim’s nylon armor over his tunic was leather instead, the toy guitar grown and hollowed out into a real one, strapped around his chest. He pulled out his short sword, and he blinked at the cold reflection from it. Finlay checked out his robes, dark blue instead of black, and kept pulling out knives from whatever hidden pockets or pouches he could find. And when he walked three paces, his hooves didn’t utter a single sound.
“What just happened?” Kassandra asked, with her tugging her armor up a bit before she sheaved her rapier. “And where is Marcel?”
They spun around, looking for a few seconds, but no sign of Marcel anywhere.
“Do you know what is going on?” Liam asked Ibrahim, who shook his head in response. Then, he sighed and went over to the staff. He bent over and touched it, with the gem glowing in response. “Is this magic?”
“Yes, I sense it all around us,” Finlay said with wonder and a bit of horror. “And while I was jesting earlier, dragons are powerful beings, enough to make mortals believe that they’re gods.”
“But they’re not; otherwise, they wouldn’t have died,” Liam said, but Finlay remained doubtful. He hummed for a bit before he lifted the staff up. “Daylight!” At once, within sixty feet of the group, a light fell upon them. “Did Marcel give us magic?”
“I doubt it,” Ibrahim said, shaking his head even as he strummed the guitar for a few seconds. “If he could’ve given out magic, he would’ve given it to his twin sister.” He scratched his head a few seconds before he added, “I’m not fully sure what is going on, but what I am sure of is that we seem to become our LARP characters.”
“That much is clear,” Finlay said, balancing a couple of his knives before he sheaved them.
The light faded into darkness, with Liam turning towards the path the standing stones lead. His expression firmed before he walked down the track, with the staff tapping against the ground with every step. The rest stared at each other for a second before following.
Onward they went for several minutes, without uttering a single word, until they reached the bottom of the valley, where the standing stones end. At the very pit, Marcel, dressed in his black robes and chaotic-looking staff ending with a silver gem, stood. Beside him stood a pair of candlesticks, lit in silver and the source of the light, with a black pentagram beneath him and a circle of standing stones around him. His arms spread out to the sky, away from the group.
“Marcel?” Liam asked, taking a foot forward.
“Foolish travelers,” Marcel said in a deep voice, not facing them even as the candles’ light glowed brighter. “You are too late. The ritual was completed a minute ago.”
“Didn’t he say that during our session?” Kassandra asked, with Liam nodding in response.
“Marcel, what is going on?” Liam demanded, but no response came.
Ibrahim hummed to himself even as Finlay said with a slight grin, “What was it I said then? ‘I don’t see any dragon’ is what I remember most.”
“You fool! That was what I want them to believe,” Marcel said, turning around as his brown eyes glared at them.
He then winked, and Ibrahim understood as he grinned.
“Welp, we got our wish,” Ibrahim said, strumming the guitar some more.
“What are you talking about?” Liam asked, turning around along with Kassandra with confusion.
“We said that this LARP session wasn’t as immersive,” Ibrahim explained even as Marcel’s eyes turned silver. “But he is making it immersive with his magic.
He is using illusion on us all!”
Liam and Kassandra gasped, with Finlay’s grin widening even as Marcel continued, “But I wasn’t planning to summon a dragon. I was planning on turning into a dragon.”
Several pale blue horns sprouted on his head, two behind his jawline, and four on his head, with the centermost two growing longer than the outermost ones. He grinned wider, extending past his eyes even as the jawline horns curved forward. Several pale blue spikes sprouted on his back in a line, ripping through his robes even as he got down to his knees, his torso lengthening a bit. He clutched onto his staff tight until it broke in half, powerless.
His thumbs moved back on his hands even as his fingernails grew longer and thicker, turning pale blue. A pair of spikes rose on the elbows, ripping through even as his stance turned more feral. His neck then stretched out, with silvery scales forming upwards even as his mouth and nose moved forward into a snout. His ears shrink into mere dots even as his hair receded, replaced with silver scales.
His foot stretched out, ripping through the boots even as pale blue claws grew out, with the little toes moving back from the rest of the toes. Silver scales covered all visible body even as a ripping sound came from behind, and a long tail came through with pale blue spikes on the spine. A pair of lumps formed on his back and, when they ripped out, they grew into a pair of massive wings.
At that moment, his body grew in size, ripping through what was left of his robes. The ground shook, with his tail slamming against the standing stones, reducing them to dust, and he grew some more. Soon, he towered over the group at three hundred meters tall, and he roared out at them.
But they stood defiant, and Liam said, “Come on team! We fought with threats just as bad that this! Nevertheless, we can defeat him and restore order to the realm! Are you with me?” The others nodded with a grin, and Liam lifted up his staff. “In the name of my god, we will slay you!”
But Marcel grinned and, with a wink, slammed his front right paw onto the group; shockwaves felt for a while. He lifted his paw up, but the party remained standing, unharmed with only scuffed marks on their clothes and armors. The signal given, they gave out a cry as they charged at Marcel.
“This dragon may be a fast one,” Finlay said with a laugh. “But I’m faster!” He sprinted forward, avoiding Marcel’s tail swipe as he went underneath his body. Soon, he pulled out his knives and threw them, two each, at Marcel’s joints. They pierced through, and Marcel roared. “That should impede his movement a bit!”
But Marcel grunted, and, with a flex, the knives popped out. He stood on two and raised one of his feet up, but Ibrahim played a song. Marcel flinched, confused, and Finlay threw a few more daggers at his belly before sprinting away.
“Thanks,” Finlay said when he got to Ibrahim’s side.
“Anytime,” Ibrahim said before he changed the song, and he touched Liam’s shoulder.
Liam flinched a bit, but then he blinked, becoming invisible even to himself. He ran to the side even as Marcel’s front left paw slammed down next to him, with Ibrahim and Finlay sprinting to the other side. Seeing his chance, Liam grabbed onto the paw just as Marcel lifted it up. He splayed his claws out, but Liam lifted his staff at his face, with bright light emitting from it. He jumped off, becoming visible as Finlay jumped up and caught him, with Marcel falling to his side.
“He’s blinded!” Liam said. “Now is our chance!”
“Right!” Kassandra pulled out her bow and tugged it with an arrow. She pulled back, her keen eyes on Marcel’s neck, and released. The arrow zoomed out, piercing deep into the neck. He whimpered a bit even as his vision returned, and he got up, glaring at her. “This will be a tough battle.”
“One that will be sung for ages,” Ibrahim said, playing his guitar once more.
“So, let us finish it!” Liam said, pointing his staff at Marcel.
“Let’s!” Kassandra and the others ducked under a tail swing before pulling out her rapier and charging forward.
# # #
Several minutes passed, and Marcel lay on his back, defeated. He groaned even as the party stepped towards him, clutching their weapons tight. He lifted his head up several meters before dropping it, his tongue rolled out.
“The beast has been defeated!” Liam said, lifting his staff up high. “Load Diancecht will be proud of this victory!”
“It’s about time you remember,” Finlay said, and Liam rolled his eyes even as the others laughed.
At that moment, the sun broke through the clouds, with them fading away even as the remaining standing stones turned into orange cones and their weapons and armor turned back to their plastic and nylon. Marcel emitted a laugh, and he rolled back on all fours with nary a sound or a shake.
That was a lot more fun than I expected, Marcel said through telepathy.
“Indeed, that was the best session we ever have,” Ibrahim said, with him dropping his toy guitar. “And it’s all thanks to you, buddy.”
“Of course, it’s because you ‘cheated’ with those dragonish spells,” Finlay said with a laugh.
I can’t take all the credit, Marcel said with a shrug.
Some weeks ago, in-between jobs, I read about how some magical foxes in the east can cast powerful illusions that seemed real. So I tested it out, discovering that my power could duplicate the same illusions. Though this is the first time I have used it in such a widespread way.“Glad that you know something like that,” Kassandra said with a nod. “You brought life into this session.
“Yeah. I’m glad that I’m able to trust you,” Liam said with a grin. “Thank you for joining us.”
You should thank Ibrahim as well. He is the one who finally convinced me, Marcel said with a nod.
“Yeah, though I never thought that you’ll bring in this much fun,” Ibrahim said while rubbing the back of his head, laughing.
“I think we’re all in agreement, then,” Liam said with a smile, turning up to Marcel. “If you ever want to join in on another session, you can if you want to.” Marcel nodded before he rubbed his chin a bit. “In any case, it’s getting late. We should head back to the rental car.”
The other three nodded and, with Ibrahim picking up the toy guitar, they turned upwards. They took a few steps before Marcel’s front right paw landed in front of them. They blinked for a bit before they turned to him, who winked.
Rematch?The four turned to each other with a grin on each of them. Then, they gave turned up to him and gave him a thumbs-up each. He nodded in response, and his front paws glowed silver once more.
Let’s begin!
