[b][u][center]The Beginning of the Golden Alchemist For Engy By Draconicon[/center][/u][/b] There wasn’t much of a career field for a retired adventurer, particularly if you were unlucky enough to lose a limb or three during your time in the field. Engy had only lost one, but the golden dragon often felt like he’d lost much more than that. The deaths of multiple friends – and several more idiots – were weights that he continued to carry, even now. Ever since his retirement to the small mountain town of Arrowdell – so called for the arrow storms that had claimed it from a bunch of elves in the past – the dragon had tried to make a living as an alchemist. Even with a somewhat clunky metal arm, he could mix potions as well as most of the master alchemists in the big cities, and he’d hoped that would be enough to earn him a living, and maybe, just maybe, feel like he was doing a bit of good. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. “How dare you give my husband something like that?! I sent him down here to get a simple cure for his lungs, and last night, he tried to – to mount me!” Trying to hold onto a decent attitude, Engy forced a smile. It was a tired, weak smile for the human woman shouting her lungs out at him, but it was the best that he had. “I’m sorry. I just thought –” “No, you didn’t think! I told him exactly what he needed to tell you, and just like the cursed beast you are, you decided to tempt him with something else!” That couldn’t have been further from the truth, but Engy knew that he wasn’t going to get a word in edgewise. This woman was already determined to believe that he had corrupted her husband, that he had given him some devil’s brew and stolen her money. All that he did was offer the human some choice. A potion to cure sickness, a potion of vitality, or one of vigor. All three would get rid of the cold, and the man had asked for the last one, saying he wanted to feel some energy again. The dragon had warned him of side-effects, but apparently, the middle-aged man hadn’t listened. And now, Engy was the one paying the price. His smile felt like it was carved out of stone as he kept staring at the woman shouting at him. He looked at her features, at anything that would serve as a slight distraction from the barrage of insults and curses that she kept heaping on him. Hints of golden hair were still shining through the gray, and he imagined that she might have been pretty at one point. However, a busted blood vessel in her nose, two lost teeth, and a series of boils on her forehead took away anything good that was left. She wasn’t running out of steam, either. Eventually, she’d either ask him for a refund or a free potion, and this time, he didn’t dare give her a choice. He just had to wait it out, even as his soul died a little more with each passing second. “I don’t know why the mayor bothered to let you settle here. Your sort might look civilized, but all you think about is…is debauchery.” His teeth hurt from clenching them so hard, but he knew that he had to hold tight. Arrowdell’s mayor had let him in due to his former party’s reputation, how they’d helped out in the area before, but the town was mostly human. Those that weren’t were dwarves rather than the beast-folk and anthros that were common further towards the edges of civilization. If she thought he was being belligerent, then she’d run to the church, or to the mayor, or someone. Then, he’d be lucky to be banished. [i]It doesn’t hurt that much to be hated,[/i] he tried to tell himself. [i]It doesn’t hurt THAT much to hear this every day,[/i] he lied. By the time that the woman finally finished shouting, his teeth felt like they were going to crack, and his hands were clenched tight on the wooden counter between him and the human. She was red in the face, and he was half-sure that she was going to burst another blood vessel in the face. Reminding himself not to speak through clenched teeth, he forced himself to nod. “I’m sorry…for your inconvenience…ma’am,” he said, missing the days where he could tell the truth. “Is there anything I can do to make up for this?” “You can get me a [i]real[/i] health potion, right now!” “Right away.” He turned around, and his face almost immediately felt better when he dropped the smile. It had been one big lie plastered on his face, and being able to glare and make mocking faces immediately soothed some of the ache. Not much, not enough to want this woman to ever darken his door again, but enough to take some of the sting out of her being there in the first place. [i]I’m just making the best potions I can,[/i] he thought as he tapped his claws along the glass vials on the wall. [i]Does she think it’s going to be that easy to make a potion that does just one thing? There’s a hundred different interactions between any two ingredients all on their own. You throw more than that together for strength, and – god, I’d like to see her trying to balance all the shit out and not kill someone.[/i] He was getting dangerously close to an eruption, and he knew that he had to calm down. Engy took a deep breath, shoulders rising, then falling. His metal arm ached where it was connected to his shoulder, and he knew that would need a tuning soon, as well. The materials weren’t as good as he liked, and the dragon knew that it’d need to be seen to by more than alchemical hands in the future. But that was the future. He finally found one of the more in-date healing potions, grasping it by the neck and turning around. “Here, I think this will –” “What is this?!” “It’s…a healing potion –” “What, you think you’re too good to actually brew a potion for me? I bet that one’s just left over from the last alchemist that owned this shop. And look! Look at this!” She grabbed the vial from him, pointing to almost invisible marks on the glass where he’d touched it. “Claw marks. Hmmph! Dumb beast! Just one more reason we should have a human here instead of you!” He watched as she threw the potion to the floor as if in slow motion. The glass hit the stone tile, shattering on impact. The glass sparkled, beautiful before becoming nothing but trash, the shards harmless against his scales but still making a mess. The potion, something that should have brought in enough silver to give him the chance to buy some new ingredients, bubbled for a few seconds on the cold tiles before dying off, the magic fading. “What were those bubbles? Were you trying to poison me? Or was that one of your bestial sex potions again? I swear, if you were trying to poison me –” “Fon, phrina, and gihosie.” “What sort of gibberish is that? Speak human.” “Common.” Engy said, his voice almost…empty. “You mean ‘common.’ And humans didn’t come up with the language. A collection of elves, humans, dwarves, and dragonborn did. And that isn’t gibberish. They are ingredients. Ingredients to the healing potion you just threw all over the floor. You ugly bitch.” “What…what did you call me?” “What did I call you?” Engy had completely slipped. His mind was somewhere else, still in shock as his tongue seemed to run away from him. “Did I stutter? Or do you need a potion to cure the deafness that your constant shouting has caused? Or maybe you are just as stupid as you are ugly? I have a potion for that, too, but I’m not going to give it a fucking [i][b]BITCH[/b][/i] like you!” The older woman leaned back from the counter, staring at him with shock and indignation. Her mouth worked in stutters and sputters, threats that would have left him choking back any response if it wasn’t for the fact that something had completely broken. Her threats, her rage, it didn’t matter anymore. Nothing mattered anymore. He didn’t even have to look as he grabbed one of the other potions from the wall, one in a waterskin rather than a glass vial. The yellow dragon wasn’t even breathing hard, not even shaking. He thought that rage was louder than this, more violent. “You say one more word, you – you dumb animal, and I’ll have the church on you. You’re on thin ice, remember? Nobody wants you here.” “I’m done doing what you say.” “I’ll be back!” “Who said you could go?!” He threw the waterskin at her, the volatile potion inside exploding on impact. The woman shrieked, falling head over heels backwards, her clothes melting as the potion sunk into her skin. Already, the beginnings of scales were forming on her skin. [i]Fucking bitch deserves so much more,[/i] he thought, turning around and grabbing more potions, more vials, more skins off the wall. [i]They don’t want me here? Fine. They don’t get a choice anymore. They had every chance. Every [b]fucking[/b] chance. If they can’t learn, then I’ll teach them. I’ll teach them…I’ll teach them…[/i] He popped the cork off the first potion and chugged it without hesitation, swallowing every drop of the bitter-sweet potion. Throwing the glass vial over his shoulder, he swallowed the second, and the third, and the fourth, all while the screaming customer continued to writhe on his floor. By the time he’d finished the fifth, the high-pitched shrieking had dropped several octaves. The shift from she to he had already finished, and the screaming was dropping to something else. [i]Call me a beast. That’s what you are. Rutting, frantic, but no less dumb than you started. Call me stupid now, why don’t you? If you’re still smart enough to say anything, you…you…[/i] There were no words for what the woman had been. Harridan, hag, bitch, they were so…small, so worthless compared to the cruelties that she’d heaped on him again and again. She’d been the source of so much torture. Not the only one, but one of the worst, accusing him of every crime that happened in the village, pushing her ‘theories’ about him being a baby-killer, a rapist, a thoughtless beast. Not the only one, but a bad one. Well, there was a word for her now. Kobold. Tiny. Stupid. Completely obsessed with dragons. If it wasn’t for the fucking attitude adjustment, he was pretty sure that he wouldn’t even be able to tell a difference. She was barely half his height, basically on crotch level as the kobold rolled onto its back. A cock stood out where a pussy had been, and the kobold’s clothes had been completely melted away. Nothing feminine was left; nothing human stood out against the scales. All that was left was the beast the fucking…thing…had accused him of being. “I’m better than you,” he muttered, stepping out from behind the counter as the potions started to take effect. “I’ve always been better than you. I’ve just been too nice to say it. I’m not feeling nice anymore. I’m feeling very, very not-nice right now…” He growled deep in his throat, his blue robe starting to swell in the crotch as the heat of the potions finally made their way down to his balls. The thick, heavy feeling that was always down there, the fertile blessings of every dragon, swelled all the more beneath his scales. Reaching down, he undid the rope around his waist, letting it fall to the floor as everything began to swell. “I’m going to turn every single one of you into what you accused me of being. Beasts. Fucking. Dragon-worshipping. Beasts. That precious church of yours is about to get a brand-new god…” It wasn’t just his balls that grew. Everything did, his scales swelling and tightening around thicker muscles. He swelled, filling with all the power that he’d brewed into his potions. His artificial arm stayed the same size, but it was no longer the bulkier of the two. If anything, it was slightly smaller than his other, more muscular limb. He took a step forward, feeling the raw power that burned in every scale, every limb, every inch of his body. His scales shone as he broke out in a sweat, a heat almost feverish burning through him as his body took in the various ingredients. A strange regret mixed with a sense of accomplishment. The potions could have easily killed him; a tiny part of him, he realized, had almost hoped they would. Instead, his skills had been good enough to blend them perfectly. He was riding on a fever high, but that didn’t mean that the power wasn’t real. He was more muscular than the greatest minotaur, and better endowed than the wildest, most virile stallion. The potions had unlocked the true power of a dragon in him, and his scent, that dominating, powerful scent that held entire nations under the sway of feral dragons, filled his shop. It burned in his nose and the kobold’s, and it spread, spread out the door and the window, and soon, it would fill Arrowdell. Growling, he stepped on the kobold, almost crushing him beneath his foot. Nonetheless, his scent forced his past tormentor to grab him by the ankle, leaning down to desperately lick over his toes, worshiping him even as the yellow dragon crushed the air from his lungs. No…not the yellow dragon, Engy thought. He deserved a better title than that. He [i]was[/i] better than just a yellow dragon. He was… He looked at his arm, both the metallic one and the living one. His scales were yellow, but in the sweat that ran down his body now, they looked almost more golden than yellow. [i]The Golden Alchemist…[/i] The name echoed in his head, and he chuckled. Then, he giggled. Then, he guffawed, almost collapsing with laughter. He lifted his foot away, and the kobold immediately lunged for his balls, worshiping them and hugging them the way that a thief would hug a sack of gold. He was half-sure he felt the throbbing need of the kobold’s cock against them, too. He grabbed for one last potion, a simple, clear vial, and he upended it over the kobold’s head. With his metal arm, he drew an almost childish ballsack on the little reptile’s forehead, a sack that almost immediately turned gold. “Mine…” “Yours, Master,” the kobold gibbered before going back to worshiping the dragon’s balls. [i]Mine…just like the rest will be…[/i] [b][u][center]The End[/center][/u][/b]