Some Words from Denzog Dragonblood,
a Goliath Sorcerer
I’m only doing this cause Kira recommended it, and it’s kinda hard to tell her no. She seems to think it’ll do me some good, getting me thoughts down on paper. I ain’t much of a writer, but I guess I might as well give it a go.
So, where to start? Probably with the fact that I hate dragons. I really do. And not for the typical reasons. I don’t hate em cause they kill hundreds of people with their flame or frost or whatever breath. I don’t hate em cause they’re greedy fucks who lord over mountains of gold and jewels. I don’t even hate em cause the rest of me old clan hates em. I hate dragons cause I’m fucking related to one.
I’m not sure how far back it goes, but some stupid ancestor of mine either fucked or got fucked by a dragon. But not like an actual dragon, you know? See, dragons can do this magic thing where they appear in the form of a human, or some other humanoid form like an elf or goliath or whatever. I figure they do that cause some of em fancy us smaller creatures. So, my ancestor either fucked or got fucked by a dragon, but not really the dragon dragon, more like a dragon in a different form.
Get the point?
Now, however many years later, here I am, cursed with the blood of a dragon. A silver dragon. Which I guess isn’t terrible. Silver dragons, at least, aren’t colossal dickheads like the white (or any other chromatic) dragons my clan has faced for decades. Silver dragons and their metallic kin, like the golds and coppers, are kind, social beasts. Or so I’ve been told. They’re apparently some of the nicer creatures you’ll find in this world, despite their appearance.
Doesn’t change the fact that I hate being related to one of em.
They call me Denzog Dragonblood for a reason. I’ve got dragons in me blood. That might sound cool, but it isn’t. It’s a fucking curse. All this blood has ever done for me is made me look like a freak and turned everyone I care about against me. It’s nearly cost me everything.
What’s so bad about having dragon blood? Well, for starters, the scales. Yeah, I said scales. Gleaming, tough, silver scales. They cover my right arm and the upper right half of my chest and back, bleed up the right side of my neck a bit, and stretch the full length of my spine. My own mother, Vrocka Treesnapper, as hardened a goliath as we come, only ever saw me as a freak because of em. Most of my clan, the Kev-Anshalohai, did.
Life was never easy while I was with the clan. Ever since I was a pup, I had everyone else looking at me funny or looking down on me, treating me like dirt. I did my best to prove em all wrong; I was a good fighter, stood up for myself, never backed down from a challenge or when I was being taunted. Didn’t change the fact that I took more shit than any other goliath in the clan.
The physical changes were just half the fun. This dragon curse of mine also gives me some control over magic. The big word there being “some.” Since I was born, I’d give off these… magical outbursts at random. I could never really tell when or how the magic would show itself, but it was never convenient, I’ll say that much. It took me a long time to gain any ounce of control over my power, and I’ve only really gotten better with it more recently, thanks in no small part to Kira, but we’ll touch on that a bit later. Most of my magic is frost-based, but I’ve learned a few other tricks over the years as well.
The only one who ever at least tried to understand and love me back then was my dad, Bron Stoneback. While the rest of the clan, including my mother, harassed me, my dad was… compassionate. At least, he was as compassionate as any goliath could get. He tried to understand and help me. Emotions aren’t generally our strong suit, but Dad did the best he could. He supported me in ways no one else in the clan would. I always loved him, and more importantly, I respected him, and he in turn loved and respected me. He was the only person I ever really cared for.
Mom, on the other hand, couldn’t stand me, like I’ve said. She was tough on me, tougher than most in the clan. She could never stand having me as a son. At times, I didn’t blame her. She wasn’t wrong to think of me as a freak. It’s not entirely normal for a goliath to be born like this, and it’s certainly not natural for us to wield magic. My clan especially hated that. Because of it, I received more than enough beatings from Mom to last a lifetime; I’ve kept many of the scars to prove it.
I avoided her as much as I could and did my best to stick with Dad. He could only do so much, though. I always knew it hurt him and his position in the clan to have me hanging about. But he put up with it. He made do. The only time I ever disappointed him was when I got my first, and only, tattoos.
Goliaths wear tattoos not just for decoration, but for their symbolic nature. They become a part of each and every one of us. At age 16, I received tattoos resembling the spines of a silver dragon on me face and head. I don’t have any hair, so there was lots of room to work with up there. I got those tattoos as an act of defiance against the clan, tryna show em I didn’t care what they thought. I was hoping my father would understand and support my decision. But when I was met with disdain from him, I felt nothing but shame.
I never got another tattoo after that. Couldn’t stand to disappoint my parents anymore than I already had. Not that I needed to work hard to disappoint Mom in the first place, but I wasn’t about to do that to my father again.
All of this grief, all of this suffering, all of this shit I never asked for, all because I had to be related to a fucking dragon. For a long time, I wasn’t ever sure if my life was one worth living. I only lived it because only a coward snuffs himself out; of all the teachings I received from the clan, I held fast to that one. Goliaths are meant to die with honor, to pass onto the next life or whatever with glory in their hearts and such. I’m determined to make sure I get a bloody, spectacular ending.
Although, much as I’m sure I’d enjoy something like that, I’m not sure I even deserve it. Not after what I did to my people.
See, when I was 20 years old, I was starting to gain a bit of control over my magical abilities. Mom was even easing up on me a bit. Things were generally getting better. My life was getting better. I never expected to win over the entire clan, but I had even managed to gain a few friends. At least, I thought I had.
One day, when most of the warriors of the tribe had gone out to hunt, my mates and I were running around, playing some games. But as the games went on and on, suddenly, everyone turned on me. It was like… what’s that phrase? The drop of a hat. Like everything just flipped on itself. They had planned it, obviously, and were playing me for a fucking fool. I don’t know how I was so fucking stupid not to see it coming; I tricked myself into thinking things were better. But all at once, my “friends” cornered me and started wailing on me. They kicked and punched and called me all the familiar names. It was nothing new, but it hurt more this time.
That’s when I snapped.
I let out a primal sort of fucking roar, and as I did, I unleashed a frozen hell on our camp. All the younglings pounding on me immediately froze into icicles. I started throwing snow and ice shards in all directions in a mad frenzy. There was no controlling this. It was years and years of pent up rage, all being loosed at once. It felt good.
But when it was done, the sight completely stunned me. Everything well within at least a hundred feet of me was ruined. Tents that acted as shops or homes were gone. The icicles that were my false companions just moments ago were now nothing but frozen dust. There was so much frigid destruction, I couldn’t believe it.
When my mom found me, she was furious. I looked at her, unflinching as she approached me with fire in her eyes. She threw me to the ground and wailed on me like never before. I took the first few blows, but that anger found its way back into my heart. Without a moment of hesitation, I formed a dagger of ice in my right hand, the one covered entirely by scales. I plunged that dagger into my mum’s gut hard, and though I wasn’t proud of myself for doing it, I wasn’t sorry either.
Before I could push her off of me, the ice knife exploded in my hand and sent my mother reeling back. I was unscathed by the explosion of ice shards, but my mother was lying in a pool of cold blood a couple feet away from me. I stood up and looked at her body; the fire never faded from her eyes. She died hating me, but I didn’t care. To this day, I still don’t care.
I knew I had to run, so I did. I ran as fast as I could, away from the camp and down the mountain. I haven’t looked back since the day I left.
Only thing I regret about that day is that I couldn’t say goodbye to my father.
I kept close to the Yeselian Mountains for a while. I’m not sure if the clan ever came looking for me, but I didn’t encounter any of them in those days. I kept close to the lake that sits at the bottom of our mountain, trying my best to clear me head and control my power. Nothing worked. For some reason, all my years of practice and control just blew out the fucking window. I couldn’t say why. All I knew was that I was angry.
One night, while I was sitting at the bank of the lake, nature answered my rage with an angry storm of its own. Lighting blasted through the cloudy sky, thunder shook the mountain, and the rain showered me for what felt like an eternity. And all I could think to do was to shout back at that storm. I managed to freeze the lake and walked out to its center. I stood there, screaming and shouting my lungs out, cursing the storm and the gods for what they’d done to me.
Most importantly, I swore against any and all dragons. I cursed their stupid fucking scales, their mountains of gold, their endless greed, that stupid shit they do with their breath, and the pride they all carried in themselves. Whoever my dragon ancestor was, I cursed him or her most of all.
I’d never screamed so loud and so hard in my life. It was invigorating. What was probably more invigorating, though, was when the sky decided to shut me up. A powerful bolt of lightning struck me down and sent me crashing into the water. It hurt, but only for a second. I let myself sink to the bottom, the sky’s energy coursing through my veins. It was almost soothing.
I looked over to my left hand and saw it crackling with energy. In my right hand, a frosty haze was leaking out. And, yet, the water flowed with neither electricity nor ice. The essences of these elements, of this magic within me, was suddenly… at peace. I had what people might call a moment of clarity; I had to focus this energy somehow. This was my moment to gain control.
I searched the water for a stone. I picked a large one up at random and resurfaced. When I did, the storm had calmed down. The sky was still crying, but it was gentler now. It was almost sort of… poetic, I guess.
I swam back to the shore and sat there, the frost and storm energies still slipping out from my fingertips. I looked at the stone, which, I thought, in a way, resembled me; grey with jagged marks and silver streaks.
I cast my magic into the stone. I’m not completely sure how I did it, but I did. I expected the thing to crack and shatter, but it somehow held together. It remained whole, despite the immense power I was dumping into it. I let out one more shout as I clutched my hands around it, sending one final surge of power into it and finishing the process. Holding the stone in my scaled hand, the silver streaks now glistened slightly, and it resonated with a little hum that you could only hear if you listened very, very closely.
I found, now, in the presence of this stone, I felt relaxed. I felt like a weight had been lifted off me shoulders. I would’ve been thrilled to discover I had completely expelled the magic within me, but sadly that wasn’t the case. I still had it, but I finally felt like I had some actual control over it. My frost magic was in check, and I discovered I now also had some control over lightning magic as well. I wasn’t happy about it, but I wasn’t exactly sad either. I was…
Kira says “melancholy” would be a good word to describe it. Sounds about right.
It’s been 17 years since all that.
Shortly after I left the mountains, I wandered around for a while until I found myself in the city of Frostburrow, a typically snowy place with some interesting folk, where I basically lived as an urchin. A goliath surviving on the streets was an unusual sight to some, but to most, I was just another sap. I didn’t beg—I fought for what I needed. I mostly kept myself alive by competing in fights and competitions. They paid well and helped me clear my head. Not to mention, I could actually use my magic, and I wasn’t getting yelled at for it. I still wasn’t the biggest fan of using it; I preferred my fists or knives, but it did come in handy.
Time passed kinda quickly living like that. Drinking as much as I did helped me lose track of time, which I considered a good thing. Life wasn’t anything special, but it was definitely better living like that than with the clan. I had freedom on the streets I didn’t have back home in the mountains. Sure, I was looking over my shoulder checking for morons tryna shank me, but most people knew damn well not to fuck with Denzog Dragonblood.
I embraced the name Dragonblood as a means of intimidation. Much as I hated it, it did have its uses. But that was about the only part of my draconic half that I shared with the world. I kept the scales hidden. Didn’t need everyone else in the world looking at me like a freak.
But yeah, if you spotted the goliath in the heavy, blue, hooded overcoat, minding his own fucking business and smelling of whiskey, you kinda knew not to fuck with em.
I guess fate does have some funny ways of working, though, because it wasn’t until one fateful day—well into my time in Frostburrow—that I got to meet the woman who’d change my life forever. Kira’s blushing a bit right now cause she’s a little too proud to admit just how much good she’s done for me. We’re both pretty stubborn like that when it comes to admitting things. But it’s true. She’s wonderful.
There I was, just finishing up yet another magic duel for some more coin, and here comes this little human girl, maybe a little younger than me, with her long, dirty blonde hair waving back and forth with each step she took. I tried not to look her way, but even with quick a glance, it was impossible to miss her soft red eyes staring at me.
As she stepped right up to me, we locked eyes, and she said…
“You’re really something, Denzog Dragonblood.” There was this… let’s say excited confidence in her voice.
“Can I help you?” I sternly snapped back.
“Actually, I was hoping I could help you. I’ve been watching you participate in these magic fights for a while now. You’ve got some potential. Ever thought about taking some lessons?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Well, would you like to?”
“No, I wouldn’t.” With that, I packed up what little things I had and made for the doors. The girl kept following me.
“You sure about that?”
As I stepped out, she was hot on my heels. I didn’t reply, and still she followed.
Eventually, I stopped in place and turned to her. “Alright, lady, who are ya and why should I care?”
“Glad you asked. I’m Kira Geraant. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Denzog.” She extended a hand to me. I didn’t return the gesture. “Right. Well, I’m a bit of a practitioner of magic. I conduct magical studies and such. I’ve had a fair amount of success in recent years, but I’ve been looking to take on an apprentice, a pupil of sorts. I’d like you to be that pupil, Denzog.”
I rolled my eyes at her. “Not interested.” And I continued on my way.
Still, she followed. “And why’s that?”
I let out a low growl. “Cause I’m not. Piss off.”
I thought that’d be enough to lose her, but she was quick to keep on my tail. And at this point, it was getting pretty annoying. Like, I could respect her grit, but she really wasn’t gonna take no for an answer, and it was bugging me.
“I’m not sure I exactly qualify that as a valid reason,” she continued. “Come on, what could it hurt?”
Again, I stopped and turned sharply to her. “What is it you think ya can fucking do for me, huh? I don’t think it’ll be all that fucking much. Unless you can do something about this,” I nearly shouted at her, pulling off the glove on my right hand to show her my scales, “then I really don’t want your fucking help.”
Kira stood there in silence for a bit. She looked pretty shocked, and I figured at that point I’d lost her for sure. But still, she held her ground. In fact, her look of surprise sorta shifted in a gaze of… curiosity.
She slowly reached out and took my hand.
“Amazing.”
And I think it was about then she started winning me over. I thought maybe she was just talking down to me at first, treating me with false amusement to get on me good side. But that fascinated, sincere look in her eyes… ya can’t make that kinda shit up.
“I had my suspicions about you, but… I had only ever heard of such things being possible… A dragon’s blood being passed onto a humanoid. But I never thought I’d actually get to see it firsthand.” She looked up into my eyes. “I… From what I know of goliath culture… I can’t imagine this was a good thing for you. I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah, well…” I stuttered. “It wasn’t.” I pulled my hand away and put my glove back on. “I’m guessing you can’t help me.”
She shook her head. “No. But, if you’d let me, I’d like to try.”
“Why? So you can have your own little pet project or something?”
“No. Because I want to.”
I kept silent with my eyes to the ground. “Just leave it alone.”
“Please, Denzog. At least let me try. I may not be able to rid you of this, but maybe I can help in some other ways.” She took both my hands. “You may not know it, but you have something of a gift here.”
I snorted. “Not what I’d call it.”
“Which is understandable. But I could show you just how great this is. Not many people are as lucky as you to have such natural spellcasting talents.”
“Yeah, I seriously wouldn’t consider myself lucky.”
“Look, I won’t pretend to understand everything you’ve dealt with, but really, what have you got to lose? Why not let me help in what ways I can? Who knows, you might actually come to enjoy some of your magic.”
“I doubt that very much.” I sighed. “I’m sorry, Kira, but I don’t think I’m your guy.”
“Well…” She smiled softly. “Can I at least offer you a place to stay? If just for a little while? If I can’t help you with… this, then maybe I can help you get on your feet a little bit.”
I sighed again and gave a weak shrug. Much as I wasn’t one to accept blind charity, the thought of sleeping on an actual bed did sound pretty good. Plus, she was actually starting to interest me, but only just a little. “Yeah, alright, I guess I could humor ya that much.”
Since then, I haven’t had much of a reason to regret going along with her. Kira had been living alone, and rather than just staying a few nights, I basically became her new roommate. Her home was a little cumbersome for someone as big as me, but it was still easily more comfortable than the streets. And after a few nights’ worth of solid thinking, I chose to let Kira start teaching me stuff.
The history and all that junk about magic didn’t interest me at all. I was more curious about how I could better control my power. And honestly, with Kira teaching me, it didn’t take long. She’s a natural teacher. She’s witty and talented and pretty understanding of my… condition. It still kinda surprises me she ain’t an archmage or something.
It’s been almost two years since we started my studies, and I like to think I’ve gotten pretty good with this stuff in that time. I can’t help but still hate it a bit, given all the grief it’s caused me, but Kira’s done a damn good job showing me just how amazing it can be to wield this kind of power.
And Kira hasn’t just taught me about controlling my magic; she’s also taught me how to control… myself. In some ways, I’ve learned to live with my blood, to live with my connection to that dragon. Again, it’s not something I’m completely comfortable with—I still consider it a curse—but there’s something to it now that fascinates me a bit, much like it fascinates Kira. So, putting it simply, I like to think I’ve grown. I’ve maybe still got a ways to go, but there’s definitely been some progress.
Much as it pains Kira, though, I’m still searching for a way to get rid of it all. Great as it seems, I still think I’d maybe be better off without the magic, the scales, and the name Dragonblood. I’m not entirely sure it’s possible, and if it’s not, I can learn to live with that. But given the chance to be done with this draconic curse, I’d still take it. I know it’d probably make Kira happier to see me keep the scales and magic, but sometimes, you just gotta do what you think is best for you. Something to think on, I guess.
And I think that’s about all I’ve got to say. This did actually help. My head’s a bit clearer, I think. I guess Kira was right, as she usually is. I do love that brain of hers. That, and how willing she is to help me. She’s pretty damn special…
Anyway, I guess it’s onto whatever comes next.