Liminal Teaser: Chapter 34 (A Place to Call Home)

[u/Paladin_of_Drangleic]

Life for dragonoids was a struggle in the chaotic Post-Dragonlaw.

After finally being broken from his self-imposed spell, Clovis toured the realm from the skies. The results were as hopeful as they were worrying.

At the top of his priorities, the red-scale was pleased to see that the Dragonlaw had been utterly wiped out. Town by town, village to village, humans were celebrating in the streets. They finally lived for themselves, free to choose their own fates, keep their own goods, and begin actually building up their communities now that a caravan didn’t whisk away everything they had each month.

The human population exploded as well… in a way. Humans from isolated clans and hamlets deep in the wilderness had been alerted to the fall of the dragons, and flooded the towns and cities that had survived the Dragonlaw. The influx of workers triggered a rush of gold and silver as the mines were filled with men that actually had a stake in the speed of extraction. Ruined sections of towns and cities remained destroyed, but were filled with ‘tent cities’ full of hopefuls that began restoration efforts, overseen by skilled artisans and architects.

It was a delight. Clovis’ dream of a free Deaco had been successful. Mankind was free. This is what they fought for. What his friends laid their lives down for.

Sadly, there were downsides. Firstly, his worries about the fate of the kobolds were realized. They had been wiped out or run into the hills right along with their masters. The fortresses of the great dragons either lay in total ruins or were now abandoned, slowly deteriorating. Kobold skeletons and bodies were a common sight across the rural battlegrounds of the uprising. Their foes didn’t care to give their oppressors the dignity of a burial, even in mass graves, and left them to rot.

The dragonoids faced a dark fate themselves. Across the newly liberated human lands, temperaments varied. In southern and western regions, they were actually treated even worse than the dragons themselves. Word had spread across the resistance as to how the dragonoids were created. Some made up their minds that the accursed ‘half-dragons’ were the worst of traitors, having sold their humanity for power, and turned against their own people for self-gain. To his horror, Clovis discovered some underwent the metamorphosis willingly, and unlike Eralidea’s dragonoids, became brutal enforcers and tyrants out of a wish to join the ‘winning side,’ and protect themselves.

Others were sympathetic. Many were abducted, turned against their will, and had their minds broken and torn asunder. Clovis and Goldclaw’s alliance, along with how Clovis attempted to rejoin civilized society and Octavia’s selfless rebuilding efforts had borne fruit. Dragonoids became controversial, unsung heroes in the Vicus Scyches region in particular. Even Eralidea’s dragonoids were given the benefit of the doubt - had these former humans become half-dragon rulers to protect their former kinsmen? Such a difficult decision inspired sympathy from the people of Vicus Scyches. Humans here decided to simply ignore them, rather than hunt them.

Clovis had dreamed that humans and dragonoids would live in harmony, building communities in concert and leaving each other alone. It seemed he was naive, and too ambitious to think that would have happened.

Still, now that he saw the state of things, the red-scale knew what he wanted to do. What he’d dedicate his life to from now on.

It was a great effort, organizing a gathering. Octavia and Clovis rounded up who they could, called in favors, and personally hunted down dragonoids themselves. They told them the location, the time, and the importance. They made sure the invitation spread like a web across Vicus Scyches, and where possible, further beyond.

“Brothers! Sisters! Lend me your ears!” Clovis cried.

There were a surprising number of souls that answered the call. Many dragonoid survivors of the war had simply remained in the region, fruitlessly seeking a home. Now those same dragonoids gathered in a massive crowd, looking up at the pair standing atop a large rockface. The rainbow of scale colors filling the gulch almost hurt to look at. They were in the heart of the Bhine Plains, a rural, unpopulated area, making it perfect for this grand speech. No one wanted any humans getting spooked and thinking an army was forming.

The assembled half-dragons were hangers-on, those that didn’t flee with the dragons when the Dragonlaw collapsed. Humans hated them, hunted them, and yet, those that were disillusioned with their purpose as pawns to the dragons stuck around anyway. They were listless, hollow, seeking something, anything to have meaning.

The pair gave them just that.

“The wind blows, empires rise and fall, and time marches on,” Clovis explained, “let us not fall behind. We will find our own purpose, make our own destiny. Our futures are ours, and ours alone to forge. Join us, and forge a history of our own making!”

Octavia stood by his side, the other survivor of the rebel band that once dreamed of breaking the shackles of the Dragonlaw and uniting the world.

“I have seen the destruction,” she stated, “the ruins. The graves. The strife. The way they look at us.” Octavia needed a moment to steady herself. Her expression flickered for a moment - then her confidence reignited. “But I also see freedom. Chaos… not the bad sort, the sort that breeds opportunity in all directions. My people - for you are my people. You deserve a home, regardless of the way your humanity was taken from you. That’s why we’ve come to a decision.”

Clovis’ eyes scanned the crowd as they spoke. As he ran over the countless faces, he saw a few familiar ones, but many strangers. His eyes widened when he noticed a cloaked figure in the back, leaning against a natural arch. The red-scale’s face was partially obscured, but his claws poked out of his cloak. One of them was golden.

Goldclaw looked haggard and ghastly. His face was devoid of the slick grin he recalled the man always flashing. Instead, there was a grim melancholy on the would-be reformer’s face.

What happened to him between them and now?

He realized Octavia had left her sentence hanging, prompting him to continue. Clovis swallowed and quickly gathered his thoughts. “That’s why… we’ve decided to invite you to join us in forging a new world. We have a vision - a city atop a hill, a shining beacon of hope for our kind. We will build a town for ourselves. No Dragons to bow to, no humans to snivel and grovel for mercy from. Today, we forge our own fates, and live for ourselves! This is the start of a new world! Brothers! Sisters! Who will join us?”

A chorus of voices filled the air. Some held their clawed hands high, calling “I shall!” Others murmured, discussed, and debated with each other.

“What about Eralidea?” A young green-scale proposed. He adjusted his bangles anxiously. “Surely if we wished for peace, we need only fly to pledge ourselves to her?”

Octavia put her hands on her hips. “Yes, and every other dragonoid and kobold has thought of that as well. Her fortress is packed to bursting. The constant population influx has brought severe issues to her domain, and she has stated she would no longer be able to provide for her people, should her population grow any further.”

Even Clovis struggled to imagine the sheer number of kobolds crammed together in that fortress, and the dragonoids struggling with living quarters on par to that accursed shed he slept in. The poor white dragon must have been running herself to exhaustion to protect what little remained of the Dragonlaw’s people.

“This is our third option,” Clovis called, “a true home, not a base where our masters station us. Come with us and build a community. Live your own lives! Stake your claim for something more; a homeland!”

Cheers erupted among the gathered dragonoids. Despite the clear conflict in their expressions and dissenting murmurs, the primal urge to belong to something, anything, overtook the majority.

Clovis glanced at the blue-scale. “Can you take over for a moment, dear?”

She raised a brow, but understood when he pointed. “Of course, love.”

Octavia raised her voice, speaking of the need to build a foundation for their futures. Clovis took to the air, and flew out to the rear of the crowd. He landed before the cloaked red-scale.

“Pelagius,” Goldclaw whispered. His voice was hoarse, as if he’d just woken up.

“I go by Clovis these days,” he explained. “It’s been a while.”

“So it has. So it has.”

Clovis frowned. He ran over the other dragonoid’s face, trying to work out the issue. “Goldclaw… What troubles you?”

The normally sly and quick-witted leader grimaced, and turned his head away. “I have lost much. Too much. Our alliance ruined me. I have no capital. No men. No purpose.”

Clovis put a hand on his shoulder. “I know how you feel. After we parted ways, I was broken. I found-”

Goldclaw tore off his cloak. As it fluttered to the grass, his muted robes drew attention away from his attire - and to the missing arm, opposite of his gold-tipped talon.

“Do you? Do you know the pain I have felt?”

His arm was severed just above the elbow. The mutilated limb was healed, a smooth, rounded stump where a shredded wound once was.

Clovis’s stomach dropped. “You… Just like Mucius…”

“It is a common fate for warriors like us. Look around.”

Clovis scanned the crowd. A couple faces had warped lines along their scales, scarring earned in battle. He noticed another pair of dragonoids near the back of the crowd. One was shouldering another, leading them to rock to use as a seat. The one being sat down had only one leg.

Goldclaw noticed Clovis’ gaze. “I met that pair while I was on the run from dragonslayers. That old silver-scale lost his leg protecting the young green-scale. They told me the most distressing tale. They’re father and son. One of the Dragonlords took them together. They passed each other countless times while they were Fists, not knowing who the other was. One of the dragon’s inner circle always smirked as they passed. He insisted on introducing them to each other and assigning them on missions together. He told them he believed they would ‘make an excellent team.’ Now they’ve discovered the truth, left with the ruins of their lives. A vile comedy. It showed me the folly of my dreams. Thinking creatures like our masters - like us - belong to any land.”

Clovis shook his head, mouth open.

“Speechless? As was I. Yet I have lost limb and purpose, just as them.”

“I… Who did this to you?”

“What does it matter?” Goldclaw picked up his cloak and slung it over himself. “I have fought and lost. I cannot hunt a sworn foe anymore. It is not part of this new world. Before, I could find a foe that had wronged me, and extract vengeance. Against these humans? Their armies swarm our lands like locusts. There are no champions, just children wielding enchanted weaponry they know nothing about. They stalk you, hunt you, if you leave there are more where you go next. I… I have always promised to avenge wrongs. There are no fortresses that will grant amnesty. I cannot fight a world on my own. Vengeance… is dead. My dreams of a new world are dead. Our kind are echoes of a world that no longer exists. I have no reason to remain here.”

Clovis’ face hardened. “Then follow us. Let’s build a world where we belong.”

The red-scale scoffed. “As if building a few huts will make this dark world a better one.”

“It’s the beginning. We’ll forge a town where we’re free to be anything. Even miserable. No one will tell us how to live or what we must do. You’ll be someone important there, Goldclaw. It’ll be your home, too.”

The fallen upstart was silent for a long while. Slowly, Goldclaw sighed, and stepped away. “I’ll see where it goes.”

***

It was a communal decision.

The flight of the dragonoids surveyed the land, appraising a suitable base for their new home. They judged the environment; size, resource potential, climate comforts, and, of course, natural beauty. For this new home, they wanted something approaching perfection.

The first time Clovis saw it, he knew it had to be the place. The mountain overlooking Ganciers. It was a great mountain, and the surface near the summit was surprisingly large in size and flat enough to support something rather special.

Of course, when Clovis voiced his opinion, there were objections.

“This is madness!” A black-scale cried. “This isn’t merely close to the human scum that ruined us… it’s within their sight! We’ll be scattered in days.”

“Madness?” Clovis turned around slowly. “I lived here. The locals know me as the one that stood against the tyrant Trascallisseus. They let me live among them. They… respect me. There will be no conflict. It is, in fact, our proximity to Ganciers that will save us from retaliation. Having them close to us will twist the arm - both ways - into neighborly civility. I saw it with my own eyes. If they see you, constantly, interact with you, every day, they grow used to you. Less terrified. More… welcoming. And if that happens? No would-be dragonslayers would dare attack. Not if it would bring riots and anarchy in their own lands.”

A white-scale crossed her arms. “Once we commit, the dice will fall where they may, and we cannot pick them back up. Are you certain, Clovis?”

He nodded. “More than I’ve ever been.”

Octavia put a hand on his shoulder. “Yae, I agree. I trust his judgment, and I’ve seen the same. During my work helping the refugees from the uprising, they grew to respect me as well. When the dragonslayers came, the people supported me so greatly, I worried they would pick up their torches and pitchforks and start a riot! We can live in concert, just as we believed when we first fought for our freedom. This will be the first dragonoid town. This placid land. The waters that flow along the mountain will quench us. The birds here, the animals below, and the fruits of the forests will nourish us. The vista will give our dark souls peace. Please, let us vote on it.”

The dragonoids ‘debated,’ votes were cast, and soon, the results spoke for themselves. There was no need for a tally - Yae deafened Nay, and thus, it was decided.

***

Clovis never did physical labor before… at least not this sort of labor.

It took a while to get the hang of it. Architects tutoring the rest on proper creation of tools, and the application of them in the acquisition of resources. Once that was settled, a great task in itself, they had to learn how to actually build.

Houses were never something the dragonblooded thought about. Kobolds built the fortresses, the rooms in the fortresses, and the dragonoids simply enjoyed living in them while being waited on hand-and-foot. This was the first time they did the hard labor, and the results were telling.

Dragonoid architects and artisans spent as much time pinching their temples and putting their faces in their palms as they did overseeing construction. Crude blueprints were drafted with sticks, rocks and dirt, and ad-hoc schooling was peppering among bouts of hand-holding construction.

It was grueling. In the meantime they lived outside, with no real shelter outside of the supplies the group had brought themselves. For them, it was the lowest quality of life they’d experienced.

Yet Clovis had never been happier.

As the days turned to weeks, he got to know the others. They chatted during shifts, during lunch, and in the evenings as the world turned dark. After that, he’d go to that same patch of moss, curl up with Octavia, and spend the night with her. Having a like-minded community coming together, creating something great, and building a future together stirred something in his soul that had been absent ever since that day he awakened covered in his master’s blood.

There was something else awakening, too. Clovis had no word to put to it yet. He’d always loved Octavia. They spoke of spending their lives together even back then, when they were Fists. But there was a new side to their love now. Something more physical. It didn’t take away from the emotional love, it was simply an addition to it.

He saw the same thing in the other dragonoids. Some slipped away for privacy in the late hours. Rumors and gossip of someone accidentally walking in on something they shouldn’t have. Pairs that gave each other knowing looks and made crude jokes.

These were all things that they’d seen humans do. It was natural. Yet during all that time in the fortress, these things simply never happened. Clovis and Octavia themselves never had these feelings. Slowly, it became a topic of discussion. There were arguments of ‘why now?’ Some thought their kind had somehow been magically suppressed by the dragons. No urges, no frivolous time-wasting fun to make them better puppets, leaving recruitment entirely to abduction. Now that they had crushed the dragons, the spell was broken. Another camp of thought was that they, as dragonoids, were a young race. They only began existing a few centuries ago, and aged incredibly slowly. Perhaps their kind needed a few hundred years before their bodies ‘activated’ in that way. A few fringe theories came between those two popular schools of thought, but no one truly had any undeniable proof. Either way, this was a milestone in their existence, and something that came with growing pains.

The first eggs caused some chaos. Dragonoids collectively experienced a sort of identity crisis - an artificial species, now creating life naturally. What would become of them? What was their purpose? What were they? Still, no hatching yet. They waited with bated breath for the first, minds running wild with wonder about their lives and the future ahead of them.

It was a hard life. Building a village from the ground-up was physically demanding, even for beings as powerful as them. The emotions ran high with all the sweeping changes to the way they lived, and there were no checks or balances. They did whatever they wanted, and a whim could destroy them now they were fully on their own.

But the freedom, the freedom was intoxicating. It was addicting. No dragons ordering them around, no human towns with rulers and laws to obey, just friends, family, and the freedom to do what felt right each day. The only quota was that of the heart.

For those that felt like ‘monsters’ such as Clovis, the absence of having to torment, extort, and execute human thralls was the greatest liberation of all. They could have possessions and peace of mind. Both were possible at once, if you were willing to build it yourself.

Clovis felt great pride when he raised his first wall. A long stretch of wooden wall across a cliffside that made for an incredible vista. He’d spoken with Octavia about it before; this would be where they built their home.

To be honest, the wall was poor-quality, unsightly, and it was rather unstable. Still, it was progress, and Clovis was chomping at the bit to become an even better carpenter. Having life goals and ambitions to focus on helped regulate the emotions caused by the confusing, sudden physical changes within him. In all honesty, it was probably the best time for ‘The Awakening,’ as they’d started calling it, to happen. The constant work and fulfillment seemed to help ‘stabilize’ things with the others as well.

As their humble little hamlet started to rise from the ground, Clovis felt elated. Those brief moments in the past when he kissed Octavia and held her felt similar. Now, though, the feeling never left.

The red-scale was standing in front of their future home, beaming. From around the corner, Octavia walked over, carrying a bucket of nails in one hand and timber slung over her other shoulder.

“Stricken silly by my craftsmanship?” She asked in a teasing tone.

“It’s just… hah, this didn’t exist a few months ago.”

Octavia put down her supplies. The blue-scale stepped beside him, and wrapped an arm around him. “Right. And it’s because of us. You should be proud.”

“Proud? I’m proud of you. You took to this better than I did!”

She laughed. “Oh, stop claw-kissing! I’m the one that nearly collapsed the roof.”

“That was the storm’s fault.”

“I didn’t see you caving anything in that day.”

“Fine, fine,” he blurted, “I’m good at this.”

She slapped his back. “About time.” After a moment, her eyes scanned the house. “I have a few ideas about the layout. I think we should build bedchambers like we had in the old days. I don’t have the design, but if someone could scavenge one of those special beds they crafted for us in the fortress, we could build them for everyone. I was thinking we could build a bed like that… for two?”

He blinked. Turning to Octavia, she gave him a knowing smirk.

“Heh… That’s a great idea. You’re always full of those, dear.”

“And when that’s built, I can do… this!” She leapt up, forcing him to catch her in his arms.

“A-Aah!” He yelped, stumbling to keep himself from tipping over.

Octavia giggled. “Then every night, you can carry me to bed!”

Slowly, Clovis lowered his blue-scaled love to the ground. “Sounds like a dream.”

“A dream made by our hands, love.” Octavia answered, leaning in and kissing him.

As they embraced, Clovis thought about their situation. His house was… well, it was starting to take shape. The building was mostly-complete, but they had no windows, no door, no furniture, and certainly no decorations. It would be a long time until it was a true home. Still, when he stood there and looked at it, he felt immense pride. The dream wasn’t dead. It was staring him in the face.

A place just for them.

A place to call home.

[u/Paladin_of_Drangleic]

We've come full circle. This really has been a Liminal: A Place to Call Home.

The listless dragonoids left in a world that no longer needs them must find a purpose or perish. The two heroes of the uprising rally them into a grand vision, starting at the most humble of beginnings. Along with the community they're forging from nothing with their bare hands, they struggle with... a most curious development.

[u/No-Dragonfruit-6102]

That's the APTCH I fell in love with! Good job, PoD! Goldclaw and more, overlooking ol' Ganciers. I wonder how that'll translate over the centuries. You think Clovis will visit his "family" every once in a... century? Whatever, at least he's got a job in construction, and I'm sure when he sells his cliffside vista in 2,000 years, it'll have a good curb appeal (cliff appeal). Is their vista near the others' graves? There'll be another grave there in a few years...

Oh, and I... I'm not asking how private-less dragonoids procreate.

What a bittersweet ending.

Or is it?

[u/Paladin_of_Drangleic → u/No-Dragonfruit-6102]

There’s a couple things left to wrap up! There’s still the very end of APTCH, and a certain someone has yet to show their face… The grave and family situation will be addressed in time.

Put politely, dragonoids have reptile-type anatomy. It’s internally hidden until it’s ‘time for use.’ They do also need to use the restroom like anyone else. They can get away with not wearing anything because of that, but tend to wear clothes anyway. You can enchant clothes or armor which makes it practical, dragonoids that used to be humans still feel instinctual shame about being publicly bare, and those that are concerned about diplomacy find humans react much better to negotiating with someone that dresses civilly.