A bit of history

History


Vanity, they name is dragon. Actually, it isn't, it's vanity, but that's really beside the point, and that point is that dragons are almost unbelievably vain. They'll spend hours upon hours boring you with their detailed family trees that have roots reaching back to the dawn of time. (Why is it though that it's the branches we put our ancestors on? Shouldn't it be two people at the base and their descendants, children and so on that grow out of them? People are strange.) And if they're not doing that, they're lording over large piles of gold or terrorizing villages. Dragons have wealth, power and in a lot of the more bawdy legends, sex. Since dragons are all part of the rich mythology of humans, this may tell you more about those naked apes than they wish you to know.

However, reality being what is is, most dragons do not in actual fact have such splendifourus genealogies, their family trees being more like squat bushes, with a lot of the branches looping around. Many couldn't tell their grandparents from a hole in the ground. (And in the case of Kikiri, or whirlpool dragons, those strange beasts who place only their mouths into this world of fresh air and sun, thus becoming whirlpools or sinkholes, they are the same thing.)

Too Zai Zi was one of these; while dragons in the west are loners on average, preferring to lurk in places that even a sewer rat would find uncomfortable. (But roomy mind!) those in the east have an interesting tendency to form heirachies or dazzling and confusing complexity. Those on the top of course come with the full complement of high class snobbery and eccentricity. (What is call rudeness and insanity in the poor.) while those lower down had their own ancient traditions, like petty theft. (Many strange and outright stupid explanations have been given for the disappearance of odd socks in washing machines, the truth is that they are taken by poor dragons and knitted together to make tailwarmers. Likewise the tooth 'fairy' is also actually a group of rather strange alchemist dragons who figure, since Jason and the Argonauts, among others have successfully sown dragons teeth and produced skeletal warriors, the right human teeth, when planted in the ground should produce and almost invincible army of skeletal dragons. As of yet, they have been unsuccessful.)

Too Zai was, in the general scheme of things (As opposed to say the corporal, private or even specific schemes.) middle lower class, being responsible for the distribution of rain over quite a large area. Now, a lot of gibberish has been written about eastern dragons, snakes, lizards and water, but the whole truth of the matter is, that again, while western dragons are about as useful as a second rear end, and positively deserve to be slain by bold knights, eastern ones play a vital role in the ecosystem, herding clouds and guarding waterways. (And thus no knight had bothered to slay one since the great Saharan Dragon Slaughter of 1266.) Now of course every stream, waterfall, puddle and well had a guardian dragon, but as these lowest-of-the-low dragons didn't really see the point of anything, they were seldom seen. (Except for particularly lazy or mischievous ones who went around doing small time magic, enchanting rabbit holes and such and generally polluting the mythological landscape with dross suitable for children's bedtime reading.)

Too Zai however was in charge of an entire landscape, putting him in a position to receive a reasonable salary and occasionally, when they bothered to show up, to boss around other dragons. And here there were a lot to boss around; as it happened he was in charge of one of the world's wettest areas. Contrary to popular belief (Which is about as reliable as George Bush's 'intelligence' reports.) dragons themselves do not make it rain, they only manipulate it. (Indeed, most dragons would wait until there was a nice dark clouds and a wet patch before making any predictions of precipitation.) Their job was to shift clouds, alter winds and temperatures and in general imitate silver iodide. (Of course dragons don't want you to know this; the DBI and DIA spend a lot of time covering this up. Just what 'covering up' is is not known, but knowing dragons, it's probbably just putting a large blanket over it.)

To do this they employed what was known in the trade (Whatever the hell that means.) as 'applied majick' (Yes, with a 'k' dragons, like many humans think adding extra letters or strange words makes them look smarter instead of like prats. The best way to annoy a dragon [Or modern witch for that matter.] is to refer to this as 'majikkkk']) Basically this was any number of strange and impossible machines that, because they were magic, actually did what they were supposed to. (Like the Chinese Army Knife, which, aside from all the usual implements, was a two way radio, dowsing rod and pair of chopsticks to boot, vastly more useful than its European cousin.) These were things like Brownian Motion Inducers, Neutrino Burst Injectors and Inference Conflectors.

Too Zai sat on the soaked rock and tapped his fingers idly. Dull, dull, dull. Amazingly dull. Just like yesterday, and the day before. It had rained 423 days last year, which was technically impossible. Sure,he was an eastern dragon, but this was going way to far; he now resembled an eel far more than a dragon, coated permanently in a layer of green algae. What had once been a magnificent set of whiskers and spines were now beginning to rot in the moisture, and he was suffering from finrot, which usually only affected pet goldfish. (The less said about his wings, the better.) And what was the cause of it? What regulated the rainfall of the entire area? One small stupid machine, no bigger than a microwave. (The oven, not the electromagnetic radiation, dragons had tried nanotechnology before; their first microcomputer was accidentally inhaled when someone sneezed, the Mark II worked fine, but they forgot where they'd put it.) One stupid machine and it'd keep him in mist, rain and fog for the next millennium. He gave a contemptuous snort and kicked it. It sparked, spluttered and stopped. The sun came out.

"Aww crud!" Said Too Zai

There was no doubt about it as the hot equatorial sun beamed down on the lakes and lush valleys of the south American continent. (As its name suggests, its south of the *real* America, the one with a capital 'a') This wasn't good, there was a two point downgrade in it now, he wasn't getting any more clouds until this was fixed, and no clouds meant no rain, and no rain meant he'd be in deeper troubble than Yangwei Diao. (Who, when teaching the art of writing to humans had mistranslated 'Dragons need steak, its good for the heart' as 'Give a dragon a stake in the heart' and had set off the entire field of dragon bodypart medicine, which he didn't live to see.)

He'd need a new injector, and for that he'd need to see his boss, the chief assistant of the assistant chief. He made his way grudgingly to his office, a rather large and grand affair over north south America. (Eh?) He knocked on the door and was shown in. Sadly however, they were fresh out of injectors, and were awaiting the new batch from the chief of chief assistants. Too Zai was sent to see what was holding up delivery of these. As it happened, the order had been sent through, but the parts depot hadn't provided any. Thus it was that Too Zai was sent off again to enquire as to what the problem was.

At the Depot he was informed that although the injectors had been mostly constructed, all were missing the fourth and final piece of their framework, the positron input valve. None had arrived from the manufacturing store in years. This was Too Zai found out, because although the parts had been machined, they couldn't be welded, they welding machines were all out of flux; none had arrived from the parts depot, who explained that yes, they were all out, as none had arrived from their usual supplier, chief of chief assistants. When he'd tracked the hapless dragon down again and asked for some flux. (Asked was perhaps not the right word for holding someone down and whipping them with your tail until they talked, but what they hey?) he was informed that yes, although flux was distributed here, it was actually a byproduct of the South American sector 13 rainmakers, and no doubt the chief assistant of the assistant chief would provide him with some, and could he perhaps stop hitting him? As it turned out the chief assistant of the assistant chief had no idea where the flux was; some was supposed to have been gathered from the neutrino flux injectors, but perhaps there was a downgrade this week delaying manufacture.

"Aww crud!" Said Too Zai


* * *

Personally he thought banishment was vastly unfair. What did the Atacama Lakes need that much rain for anyway? A little sun would do them good in his opinion. But that was beurocracy for you; one small meltdown throwing the world's weather patterns into random chaos and they got all iffy at you. (The extra rain was eventually found to be directed to some place called Fijordland New Zealand and a motion was carried to have a meeting to discuss the possibility of a committee to investigate plans for rerouting the rain, but sadly, everyone was busy.)

And that was how he'd ended up banished to Pitcairn island, a small spot of nothing in the middle of the pacific island. He'd had to change his name due to a few locals being rather annoyed about the weather change. (Something about cattle and crops and all the jazz.) He was quite proud of his new moniker; Santo Smith. Not only did it sound good, but it would allow him to escape all notice. (Granted, it was a bit egotistical, but when you're renaming yourself, you can do that, and dragons have never been subtle; negotiation was eating the knight, diplomacy was sparing his horse.)

Of course he did miss his homeland, and made regular visits there. (He was a twenty foot long dragon; when he wanted to go somewhere, who was going to stop him?) as well as to various other places of interest, nearly all the world over actually, so long as he steered far away from his own kind.  He financed the trips by selling himself. (Not all of him, small things like nail clippings, humans were *so* gullible, they'd buy anything!) and made numerous trips to Shanghai, one of the few cities where a dragon down on his luck could have some fun. (How the hell can you be down on luck? Are the rest of us up on it? Do you trip over it in the dark?) It was during one of these he met the person who would change his life forever. (Actually, when you think about it, everyone you meet does this, so there wasn't anything particularly special about this.)

At the time they were both drinking at the Pi Hua, a small and seedy bar on the outskirts of the city. It sold cheap liquor, and didn't ask questions, even when their customer was twenty feet long (And trying vainly to disguise himself in a large, large trenchcoat and hat.) and that was enough for Too Zai. His friend Puff (Strange guy, dabbled in magic a bit much, but had a lovely seaside cave.) often joined him, though he couldn't hold his drink well. (Clumsy you see, like most westerns.) As with most nights they were well on the way toward utter stupification when the bartender kicked them out. (Technically his splatters did this, a splatter is like a bouncer, but with more force; and even then it was more a dragging than a kicking, though a good stamp to the tail can do wonders with uncooperative dragons.)

It was a short while later while the two of them were in (Or rather along) the street that they met up with a rather strange looking person who was gradually making his way along the street, though not with out difficulty since he seemed determined to blunder into the side of ever single building along the way. It was only Too Zai's relatively recent experience with all things south American (Notably his attempt to breathe fire by eating chili plants.) that allowed him to place the figure (Specifically he picked him up and placed him across the street where he wouldn't keep blundering into Puff's tail.) It was none other than a 16th century conquistador, looking very out of place on the Asian subcontinent.

"I say we eat him." said Puff.
"Seriously? We don't know where he's been!"
"Just a bit?"
"No! Sir? Sir? Do you speak english? I really hope so, because that's all this story will be written in."
"What? Sorry, I was thinking of eating you and got a bit distracted."
"You can do that?"
"Oh yes, they sell bits of dragon here regularly; teeth, bones.."
"Those are dinosaurs, ancient lizards that lived millions of years ago and have been turned to stone after their world was ended by a collision with a miles-long rock from the skiy."
"What kind of nonsense is that?"

They talked briefly,t he knight introducing himself as Juan García-García y García-García. (An odd name perhaps. He had an identical twin, Ahmal who was making a living fighting the crusades for the turks, but there's no need to tell you about them; if you've seen Juan, you've seen Ahmal.) Apparently he had set out to explore the world and become a grammar knight of the first order. (As opposed to his brother, who'd become one of the mail order, joining the millions who have gained satisfaction from correspondence colleges.) As it was he'd also been kicked out of a bar, for upsetting patrons by spellchecking their slang. (In his case however he really had been kicked out, by a particularly large patron whom he'd asked if what he meant was 'Flick, flock or fink.') Luckily he also knew the way to a great party that was taking place in the city's english town district.

The party itself was in full swing by the time the three arrived and was apparently a gathering of legendary and folkloric creatures. There was an coven of witches in the corner (Right next to an oven of whiches that immediately caught the grammar knight's eye. [And fortunately for him, tossed it back, it was a false one.]) a pack of werewolves (The 'where?' wolves had got lost, as usual.) a few sprites (They'd managed to escape the secret levels of their respective computer games.) and some elves tossing a dwarf. (At least hopefully that's what they were doing.) There was even another dragon present. (Aside from puff, who, on account of being male is immediately excused from the selection of people Too Zai was willing to chat to at parties.)

She was certainly something, being so large she had to curl up just to fit under the ceiling with muscles that looked like someone has stacked a bunch of beer barrels under her skin and a body not so much built on large lines as constructed; if only they'd managed to build her a few dozen feet taller she would have been perfectly round. She was proportioned differently too, possibly because she was a western, possibly because she was deformed, or likely both. Her hide was thick and black, rough like asphalt, her wings were large and tattered as old curtains, her hands and feet sported foot long claws stained with grime and blood that curled into wickedly sharp blades that could slash a man in half at a stroke. She had eyes that smoldered like burnt coals, a mouth of teeth so jagged they could be broken amongst which the remains of a dog were caught stubbornly, being pried loose by a tounge longer than most snakes and breath reminiscent of a Japanese whaling boat in midsummer when the bilges haven't been emptied for a week. The overall effect meant that half the room was unoccupied and not just because it was filled with the large mound of twisted violent reptilian flesh.


All in all, she was utterly irresistible. (Hey, dragons have different standards of beauty than we do; if you see a good looking dragon they've probbably been kicked out of proper dragon civilization for hideous deformity.) Too Zai wasted no time in introducing himself. (He only got 24 hours a day and didn't like to use it up all at once; he was always saving it to spend later, or when in a bad mood, kill.)

"Hello there, you're looking particularly charming this evening, I'm Too Zai, who might you be?"
"Mariposa La Caída, and what in the seven moons of nasreem are you? a horned snake?"
"I'm an eastern dragon, surely you've heard of us?"
"Not that I recall, if that's what all of you look like, no wonder. You're a pipecleaner attached to a head; I've had tapeworms that are better built."
"Madam, I assure you I am 100% draconic."

Mariposa swept her tail across the room, neatly knocking a dozen people through the wall and into unconsciousness. (Saving them the dozen or so drinks they'd need to do this the normal way.) and eyed the newcomer with an unsteady stare filled with amusement, mischief and liquor. (Mostly the latter it must be said.) The meaning was quite clear, her tail itself in most places was thicker than Too Zai's neck. He felt that peculiar sensation dragons get when, if they were mammals, they'd sweat. (Their bodies unconsciously know they're missing out on something; that's why they get wings and all that, it's compensation, it's also why their tounges are so long, they have to pant to stay cool.)

"Oh yes snake boy? Prove it."


* * *

Too Zai woke the next morning feeling worse than he ever had in his life. It felt as if someone had taken his brain, lightly fried it in garlic and butter, then tenderized it with a sledgehammer. His mouth tasted as if his tounge had been used to line the bottom of a bird cage and his entire body ached as if he'd been tied into a knot then used as a hula hoop by a sumo wrestler. His mind slowly replayed the events of last night in the same cautious and foreboding manner his tounge explored his mouth and then many blanks spaces in it that once held teeth. Slowly the pieces fell in place. (As did one of his teeth that had been hiding near the back of his throat.)

He'd got drunk. And then he'd got pissed. After that, he'd drank some more and got kicked out. There was something about about a  knight, then more drinking. But this was far worse than a hangover. (Dragons actually have very bad hangovers, simply because there's so much dragon to hang, but also because the sheer volume of alcohol needed to produce one can take days to exit their systems.) He remembered another dragon, a huge one looming out of his memory like an iceberg before the titanic. They'd talked, and he'd yelled and strutted, full of the dutch courage you got from drink. (This is why the dutch are so wimpy, they put all their courage into their beer.) He'd said things no sane dragon would have, and challenged and drawn himself up to his full height and seen everyone stare at him, and not caring. Good lard, what had he done?

More memories surfaced, like icecubes in a cold drink. They involved the dragon, and kicking and clawing and slashing, and fire breathing. Oh God yes, there had been fire breathing. And he'd made it rain, which wasn't good at all. He remembered being tossed across the room like toy, and slashing and biting and hitting something so hard his head rattled. Boy had it been some fight, what was he thinking? Another memory, which had been hiding in the background proceeded to sneak up on him and prod him mentally in the back. With growing dread Too Zai began too look around at his current sleeping quarters.

They had evidently once been a room of some kind though the gouge marks in the wall, scorch marks on the ceiling and puddles on the floor had ruined it somewhat. It had also developed a lean from weakened foundations, and what furniture had been present had been smashed into matchsticks. (Complete with those little red ignitable heads, what had he been doing?) It was difficult to see more, or even to ascertain if this was the bar he had been in last night as most of the view was obscured by a familiar wall or black scaly hide.

Too Zai gingerly eased himself out from underneath the prone body of the western and gently shook his tail until the feeling came back. (Followed by several minutes writhing on the floor yelping 'Pins and needles !Aaah!')

"Awww crud, crud crud!" Said Too Zai.


* * *

It was several years later the package arrived. It bore many postage stamps and had its own passport. It had evidently seen a  lot of traveling and was looking rather beat up. No wonder; after the party Too Zai had fled the city before any police showed up (They took a real tough stance on drunken dragons, mostly because just one offense could wipe a small town off the map.) He'd managed to hide out in Argentina a few months. (He would have left earlier, but everyone he met spoke some sort of gibberish and he couldn't get good directions. Of course a lot of people he met spoke gibberish anyway, and wet themselves, so either the country had its own unique dialect and mannerisms, or was more wary of dragons than most.) and had eventually made his way to Costa Rica. (He liked the 'coast' part of the name, and had a friend called Ricky, so why not?) It was there the parcel had arrived, after making detours through most of Europe, Taiwan, Burma, and oddly south Australia. There was no return address.

Too Zai opened it. It was full of straw and ostrich eggs. Strange, very strange. But tasty, if the eggs were still OK. There was only one way to find out! It took almost an hour to light the fire. (Easterns can't breathe fire like their more traditional counterparts, and in Too Zai's case he had an unfortunate tendency to ignite his tail whenever he tried to burn something.) and another hour to find some butter and parsley. (The dragon method for making butter is to take a cow and shake it for 15 minutes, after this they give butter, or, in the case of more modern ones, margarine.) Some of the eggs had broken in transit, but the others were fine, and of excellent quality. (What with battery hens these days, you  just don't see a good quality egg anymore.) He ate his way through most of them, but didn't have the stomach space for the last one.

It had been a good day. Taking the remaining egg and promising himself a quick breakfast the next day he placed it at the back of his cave next to his hello kitty lunchbox. (Many people wonder what dragons keep in their caves, well now you know!) There was something else in the package as well, tucked under the last egg. It was hard to read as spilt egg had got on it, and some mice had consumed a corner, but it was quite evidently a note, probbably from the person who'd mailed him the nice surprise. Too Zai unfolded it and read the strange gothic script it was written in. It was english and read quite simply.

'These are yours; love Mariposa."

"Awww CRUD!" Said Too Zai.


END.