Journey of Morality
((Sidenote: This is the backstory for Daza's disappearance for the days that I was stuck without a computer.))
I love you.
The words of his mate rang in the black dragon’s mind as he was taken through the large prison by two heavy-set dragons. His muzzle clamped shut, and his eyes blindfolded.
This was a mistake. He thought to himself, fear ripping him inside. He was ready to take his words back and return to his new home, though, the inner conflict within him needed redemption.
The blindfold and shackles were taken off the dragon as he was forcibly shoved into the small cell. The dank, dirty and lonely cell in which he had once been on the outside of, laughing, was now his own prison.
“Enjoy your stay, Doommaker.”
Doommaker. I hate that name.
Tears welled within his eyes as the regret of his actions made its way to realisation. He promised his mate he would return alive, and he was determined to. But when would he? What of his family? He spoke nothing to them about this. He had left so quickly, so suddenly. Who would notice him leaving?
In his past, he was exiled. Many decades had passed in this realm during the dragon’s time on Istaria. The dragon had returned to his home to redeem his conscience. Returning to the castle to take the toll of his actions. He was no longer a warmachine, though he refused to be called a deserter.
The Prince who had been a friend of his in the past was now the King. This worked in good fortune, lessening the sentence from execution to seven years serving the kingdom. Seven harsh years. Five years in prison, two in the military. Make his life hell… I am sorry, Daza.
“Sorry indeed.” Daza spat as he looked out the bars into the snow-covered town.
Anyone without eyes would know the bloodshed now reeking it, the entire town seemed almost red. Morality had departed this once peaceful place; executions ran within the city on a daily basis, turning into massacres.
The black dragon turned around to face a human, standing there proudly. The fat on his body seeping out of the gaps in his armor, jiggling everytime the fatman moved.
“If it isn’t Doommaker. Our amazing warrior of the land. Though, what happened to you?”
“Wha-“
“I didn’t say you could speak. Prisoners should niether be heard nor seen. And in fact, you shouldn’t be seen here, either.”
“What?” The weariness of the dragon’s trek here was evident.
“You see, there was a mistake. You belong lower down the building. Remember where that leads?”
When no reasponse came, the fatman snapped angrily, “Answer me!”
“You just told me not to.”
“You foul creature.” The guard snarled, pulling out a large whip, on the tip, a flash of metal was seen before it was flung at Daza’s left shoulder, the blade digging into his flesh. The dragon roared loudly in utter pain. “Answer me. Where does it lead?”
“Solitary confinement.” He wimpered as the blade was pulled forcefully from his shoulder.
“Good. Take him there, but let him see where he is.”
Daza didn’t resist as he was pulled and shoved through the prison. Each prisoner looked more destroyed than the last. No one dared make a sound, no one dared move a muscle. Discipline and horror had struck each one to the bone.
“Meet your new life, Doommaker. We will strip your name, and you will be lucky to have one again that won’t make you cringe.”
“My name is Daza.”
A shriek of pain flashed through the dragon’s body as he was whipped again, this time the blade dragging itself along his tail, ripping multiple scales with a line of flesh. “Doommaker.
Another forceful push, the door was slammed shut. Daza could smell the stench of a corpse in this dark room, though the only light he had was a small square from outside the peephole in the door. This was Solitary Confinement, it hadn’t changed.
*
The next day, Daza was taken to the interrogation chamber, tied to a large plank of wood. Each chain connected to a pulley. This was the beginning. The same guard stood in front of him, waiting to begin.
“So, Doommaker. Where have you been?”
“Hiding.”
Another whip, followed with another shriek of pain.
“Where?”
“Where what?”
One more.
“I’ve been hiding underground. With the thieves.”
“Ah ha. Now, how did you get your eye? It is well known, Doommaker only had one eye.”
Daza gave up, he knew that there was only one way to protect the identity of his realm and everyone he knew and loved. “It didn’t. It’s an illusion.” You idiot.
Multiple whips, each more painful than the last. Tears welled up in the dragons eyes again, though he refused to answer the guard’s interrogation.
“I… I… a healer. A healer.” Daza spluttered between coughs of blood.
“And the healer’s name?”
“Rolly-polly Fatboy.”
Again. The whips became harder and more intense.
“This is your first day, dragon. Don’t make it be your last.”
“Make my day.”
