Interlude - Off-Season
Your immortal blood has restored you to life.
You are afflicted by Resurrection Sickness. All Attribute effectiveness -50%.
The creature formally known as atball awoke to an all-too-familiar pair of notifications, its body lying face-down in so foul-slling mud. As per usual, it took a few disorienting minutes for its soul, mind, and body to readjust being made whole again. The last thing it rembered was seeing its creator and master vanish in a puff of smoke, followed by unimaginable pain as the Ether Storm scrambled its flesh. atball had the profound experience of witnessing most of its lower body turning into soap bubbles before blacking out. It was nothing short of a miracle that there was enough of the forr man left for Limited Immortality to kick in.
Master, it groaned. Find.
With consciousness now firmly in its grasp, the creatures first thought was to return to its owner. However, it found itself struggling to crawl. This puzzled atball imnsely. Resurrection Sickness or not, it should have had enough power in its arms to fling itself forward at considerable speed. Yet here it was, barely dragging itself across the ground as if pulling along a wagon full of steel ingots. atballs befuddlent grew further, as it was quite certain its missing body parts would have made it lighter, not heavier.
The warped knight glanced over its shoulder and confird that its lower half was indeed gone. What it hadnt counted on was that the rest of its body had been fused to a dragons corpse. More specifically, the body of the youngling that Boxxy had caught and corrupted so it could serve as Fizzys furnace. The Ether Storm had not been kind to the beast in the slightest, having turned several limbs and a few chunks of its torso into either glass, wood, stone, or a gelatinous green goo. atballs upper body was glued to the top of the unfortunate creatures scalp, causing it to stick out like a man-shaped horn.
Baggage, it gargled. Remove.
The corrupted figure pressed its palms against the dead dragons forehead and tried to push itself off with all of its might. Unfortunately, it soon beca apparent that it wasnt simply glued to the carcass. The two mutated bodies had unified so completely that it seed as if the flying lizard had been born with atball sticking out of its scalp. This setback did not dissuade the creature as it kept trying to pull itself free. It would have attempted to amputate the dragon-tumor, but it did not have a blade on hand to do that with.
atballs innards scread with pain as it poured every ounce of effort it could muster into pushing its upper half out of its predicant. After going at it for a few monts, sothing gave way, another thing snapped, and a third thing ripped. The razor-sharp pain of being torn asunder spread up the creatures spine and, much to its shock, down the dragons neck. Before atball could fully process the implications of that odd sensation, it found itself being thrashed around while a garbled high-pitched cry filled its ears.
It beca clear that the juvenile dragon was not, in fact, dead.
Settle! Settle! atball demanded.
Argh! Pain! Strange! the dragon roared with fury.
Calm! Storm! Accident! its other half continued yelling.
Accident?! Storm?!
Accident. Storm.
The twisted mass of scales and teeth started to settle down sowhat now that the situation had been explained to it. On the surface it seed as though the two of them were simply throwing single words around, but each syllable was loaded with subliminal aning that only Boxxys creations understood. The verbal part conveyed only a quarter of what was actually being said. Even that would sound like a bunch of guttural gibberish to any mind that hadnt been touched by an eldritch abominations particular brand of madness.
Master? Where? the dragon asked impatiently.
Gone.
Alive?!
Alive.
atball could sense Boxxys presence, though extrely faint and impossibly far away. It was most definitely there, however, which told the mass of mutated muscle that its creator had already left the Shattered Isles.
Rrrrgh! the beast finally cald. Master. Find.
Find, the other agreed. Stand?
Crippled.
Fly?
Sa.
Crawl?
Wont.
Why?
Painful. Slow. Risky. Stupid.
The dragon was right, but atball wasnt giving up just yet.
Plan? the forr knight demanded.
Regenerate.
Hours?
Days.
Crap.
This was distressing news to say the least. atball had died roughly four days before the Dragon Festival was supposed to conclude. Coming back to life had already taken three of those, which ant the conjoined duo had less than thirty-or-so hours to escape the Shattered Isles. Considering the enormous distance and the short deadline, the pair might have made it out if the dragon flew at top speed and avoided any confrontations. Unfortunately, in its current state, there was absolutely no way to drag its mass over the border in ti.
atball considered pursuing its original intent and splitting away from the dragon. That seed to be its only shot at reuniting with Boxxy, but the endeavor was not without significant risk. Trekking across the Shattered Isles while alone, legless, and suffering from Resurrection Sickness was no different from suicide. Even then atball did not feel confident it was fast enough to make it that far. It also did not like the idea of leaving its corrupted cohort behind.
Problem? the dragon asked.
Festival, the ex-knight replied.
Master?
Left.
Hrmm
Thus the dragon understood the dilemma. However, as a creature native to the Shattered Isles, it saw things slightly different.
Next? it suggested.
Oh! Next! atball exclaid.
It seed obvious in retrospect. Both of them wanted to reunite with Boxxy, but neither of them could do so before the current Festival drew to a close and the Isles were cut off from the rest of the world. Therefore, all they had to do was tough it out until the next one rolled around twenty one years later. Hardly an ideal solution, but a more preferable alternative to getting themselves killed trying to et an impossible deadline.
With the long-term plan decided on, atball considered its current predicant. It did not take long for it to realize the full extent of its rger with the corrupted dragon. Though their minds and souls remained independent from one another, both were bound to the sa vessel. As a result, they shared the sa Status. However, it was neither the dragons nor atballs, but sothing that could only be described as a cri against nature.
The Ether Storm had sohow combined parts of both creatures Jobs, Skills, Perks, and Attributes into one hot ss of a Status. atball was disturbed to see that over half of its abilities were nowhere to be found while the dragons were completely intact. The forr had also lost a significant chunk of its Attributes, though from the latters perspective they had more than quadrupled. It would appear that the dragon was considered the host body while part of atballs abilities were layered on top of it in a manner similar to Boxxys Malefic Union. This was made clear by the Status itself, which listed the amalgamations species as Dragon (Corrupted) and its na as Puff, the nickna Fizzy had given the youngling.
Over the next few days, the pair could do little while Puff grew back its lost limbs. The Dragon Festival drew to a close, its finale punctuated by a drastic shift in the sky. Terranias sun and moons were replaced with a breathtaking tapestry of stars. The twinkling lights above were easily ten tis what they should have been. There was no sun there, no day or night - just the eternal twilight caused by the exceptional radiance of this part of the cosmos. Like a snow-globe, the Shattered Isles would drift through space in a bubble of magic until the next Dragon Festival shook things up.
atball and Puff didnt have ti to stargaze, however. While the dragon continued to regenerate its limbs, the two of them worked hard on getting acclimated to their new situation. It wasnt difficult for them to reach an understanding. Since Puff made up the majority of their conjoined being, it was only natural to leave the physical exertions to it. anwhile atball would draw upon centuries of adventuring and combat experience to direct the abominable beasts fury in an optimal and efficient manner. The forr knight would have preferred to get a piece of the action as well, but its arms were too short to reach anything from its position atop the dragons head. The most it could do was use a bow to attack from afar, but its Ranger Job wasnt nearly well developed enough for that to make any noticeable impact.
Over the coming weeks it beca apparent that there was absolutely no need for atball to assist in combat even if it were able to. With the imnse Attribute boost it had gotten from the rging, Puff was able to easily outmatch any youngling who dared to challenge it through sheer strength. It felt powerful enough to take on an adult, but atball was quick to point out that it took a lot more than numbers on a Status to do that. Adult dragons had to be bested several tis in a row to truly defeat them, and Puff lacked the strategic flexibility necessary to make that happen. It needed to Rank Up into an adult itself and then challenge the others as their peer, otherwise it stood very little chance of victory.
To that end, the conjoined duo attacked what was left of Azzyths spawn and claid the slain broodmothers lair and hoard as their own. The rest of the brood resisted at first, but they quickly learned to fear and respect Puffs unnatural might. They recognized that the warped whelp shared (mostly) the sa blood as them, allowing it to assert control over the entire generation. Except that atball was the one actually in charge. Puff didnt have the ntal aptitude to lead even before Boxxy scrambled its brains, but Not-Therian was another story altogether. It still had the knowledge and force of personality to boss others around, though the language barrier made things difficult. Between atballs gurgles and the other wyrmlings screeches, it was a miracle they managed to get anything done. Thankfully violence was a language all parties were extrely fluent in, so they managed to get by.
Once things got rolling, they picked up speed fast. Within the year, atball and Puff had transford Azzyths chaotic brood into a war machine. A noisy, sputtering contraption kludged together from spare parts, but a war machine nonetheless. They hunted in groups, utilized teamwork, made patrols, and even put together so fortifications and traps. All of this was necessary because they had to protect their territory, both from other diamond dragon broods and invaders from neighboring islands.
The pair in charge took part in much of the fighting, of course. It was important to show their competition that Azzyths bloodline was under new managent. It took two more years after the first for the other dragons to get the ssage through their thick skulls, but eventually the skirmishes died down. The competing youngling broods had to concede that they were incapable of forcing atball and Puff out of their lair. The pair had also gained notoriety among their peers as The Half-Again Dragon. An odd title to be sure, but it was befitting of such an odd entity.
The Half-Again Dragon, sketch by dmaxcustom
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