Lost

A dragon rose, snorting smoke from its scaly nostrils. The slitted eyes of the beast flew to and fro, examining the small cave. It was a dark brown color, with bright purple eyes. Its underbelly was a tan color, not uncommon for the Earthen Dragon flight. It had two large wings on its back, which rustled and writhed as it rose. He wore a long duster with a leather undershirt and smooth, leather pants dyed ebony.

The dragon fell to their scaly knees, putting a hand on the uneven ground. It put its snout in its arms and roughly coughed, the arm coming away with scorch marks. He grimaced and rubbed the area with his sharp digits.

The dragon, Therieus, stood. He stood at around eight foot one. Finally ready for the day, the dragon trundled forward. His feet made clacking noises as the hardened keratin of his talons clicked against the stone.

"Leverul better have his special tonic ready..." He mumbled, scratching his back as he yawned loudly. He glanced around the slowly moving corridor.

Rocks, rocks, and more rocks. A few gems in the wall, but he did not care for greedy pursuits. He was an abnormal dragon, as he was born without the 'greed growth' gene. It was a recessive and unseen trait to have, that has not been recorded in eons. He, of course, did not know this. All he cared about was finally escaping the horrible slum that he had called home for years.

He reached the door rather quickly, which was a plain and unassuming stone door. It was made of some random volcanic rock, and had Dragon-Steel hinges. Therieus glared at the door, then shot his hand to the left. He turned his head, choosing a sword on his weapon rack.

The blade was long and serrated, meant for stabbing. It was double-edged, of course, and had an iron hilt. He felt the hilt, where the metal had bent from continued use. His clawed hand comfortably gripped it, before he quickly sheathed the weapon on his back. "Time to head out," He murmured.

He pushed the door open...

KRAK-THOOM!

Thunder cracked, and lightning struck. I quickly ducked my poor little bird head under a nearby overhang.

The villagers had not been bothered by me, and I felt no need to show my hand just yet. Them knowing I could speak could possibly mean being stuck in a lab and experimented upon, which is something I want to avoid as much as possible. I have no idea what this world could have in store. Xenophobic horses? As far as I knew, they could be cultists. This looks awfully like one of those towns with all the weird people who want to secretly murder you...

Wait, how do I know about that? Does that mean I could possibly learn more if I got in situations similar to this? I don't know.

"Hello, friend. What are you doing here?" There was something in front of me. I focused, and found that it was a wren. I didn't know crows and wrens got along. Eh, whatever. I suppose I should talk back.

"Hmm?" Just then, I realized that we were speaking in some language that I magically knew, somehow. It felt different. There were clicks and clocks, ticks and tocks. It was very odd.

"I asked what you're doing here, not in the air." The wren replied, a little annoyed.

"I don't really know. I was never taught how to fly." I stated. The wren looked surprised.

"Friend, we must teach you immediately! And look at the state of your feathers, tis dreadful!" The wren pointed to my wings, one of which was still bandaged. I glanced at it.

"I don't know if I can. I broke my wing, very recently." The wren had a look of horror on its face. It sounded feminine, but I could not assume. Assuming makes an ass out of you and me.

"Come along, we've got to get to more suitable shelter."

Therieus blinked. It was quite bright outside, the sun hurting his eyes. He took a look around the immediate area, finding the market a horrible place to live. Despite that, it was quite convenient to be able to buy fresh meat and vegetables as soon as he left his door. He glared at one of the stand owners, who was scamming a little dragon girl. He scowled, the scene making his mouth have a horrible taste in it.

Of course, he could not do anything about it. He averted his eyes and began the journey to the old and run-down bar that he worked at.

Being a very strong and intelligent creature, he worked as a bouncer at the bar. It smelled of sweat, blood, and alcohol. The place was expecting a rush hour tonight, as it was currently Saturday. That meant that most of the bar's customers would be wasted, or drunk off their asses as his boss put it. Which was good for business, but not good for the one-dragon security team.

He rolled his head, pops and snaps signifying that he had removed the irritating crick in his neck. He rubbed his jaw.

Therieus had finally entered the industrial district of the city. Blacksmiths and other vendors lived and worked here, if not in the impromptu market. While it was much cheaper, this was where the rich of Dragonia came to buy luxurious blades and couches made of the finest fur hides. Although he had never bought a couch or any other item of the sort, he had bought a few weapons of steel and iron with what little he had. He really wanted to buy a gun from the local gunsmith, but they were all too expensive for the Draconic bouncer.

Finally, he reached the district he was looking for. Known as the Tumbleweed district, this was where most drifters came into the city. It had bars, cheap hotels, and of course everything else a traveler under the sun or moon could want. Sometimes he debated leaving his personal hell, but he banished those thoughts.

He ducked into the bar, coming up to the counter. He rang the employees-only bell.

Leverul, his boss, came out of the kitchen with a tray. He placed it on the counter, holding out his hand.

"Pay up for the tonic, kiddo." He smirked. Therieus placed twenty golden bits in the bar-owner's scaly claws. The bar-owner counted out the money quickly, then dropped it into a pouch on his belt. Therieus took three bottles of tonic off the bar, chugging one down. He felt his stomach's fire die down.

"Alright boss, when will we be opening for the customers to come in?" He asked, tilting his head. Leverus usually opened at different times each night. Mostly due to his other employees being very bad at being punctual. Not Therieus, though. He usually came in before his shift even started.

"We're opening at nine tonight." He replied, cleaning out a glass.

"Mind helping me out and grabbing that flip lighter over there?" Therieus strode over to the table and picked up the lighter.

"Nice. Mind if I keep it?" The bouncer turned to his boss.

"Not really. I already have plenty of them." He jerked his head towards the case full of flip lighters of varying sizes and materials. Therieus mentally faceclawed at his blindness.

KRAK-THOOM!

I stared, lost in thought, out of the window of the barn we were in. The wren, named Mary, was very nice. She helped me preen and even recommended a doctor to visit. Rather, a veterinarian.

I'll end this entry here...

Therieus stared out over the bar, as he leaned on the counter. His vision passed over the crowd, watching many dragons and griffons, some zebras too, as they laughed and made merry.

The bar did not quiet down as the new pony entered. It continued making noise. They did not care. Ponies were rare around here, but not unheard of.

Said pony had a grey coat, a black mane with two brown highlights, and was wearing desert traveler attire. He had a duster, a pair of saddlebags, a holster, and a pair of black leather boots. He covered his eyes with a pair of opaque goggles. His mouth was protected by a scarf.

The pony lowered the scarf with his hoof. He seemed to look around the alcoholic's dreamland. Therieus had a hard time telling, even with his attentive dragon eyes. The stranger approached the bar with the gait of a relaxed bar-goer. He seemed to make himself vulnerable to the crowds, as if saying, "Come and get me, motherbuckers."

Everyone knew he didn't belong. But they still continued what they were doing.

The clopping of hooves snapped Therieus out of his intense state of concentration. The pony was quickly getting ever closer and closer to the bar. He aimed his eyes at a stool, a seat that was usually reserved for the most hated customer of the bar. Therieus knew there would be trouble, which is what he wanted to avoid. He approached the pony.

"Hello. Would you mind choosing a different seat, sir?" He asked, a look in his eyes that said, "If you don't move, you might get murdered."

The pony nodded wisely. He went to scoot over, but as he clenched the seat, the doors to the bar slammed open. Everyone immediately shut up as they realized the pony was about to get killed by Bartholomew the Eviscerator.

This customer was a wealthy noble and veteran of the Earth Flight and Fire Flight war, one that had lasted a hundred years. He was eleven inches taller than Therieus, meaning that he was nine feet tall. He wore a black waist coat with golden buttons engraved with scenes from the war.

The dragon approached the pony, who did not move over. He snorted on the back of the pony's neck.

"Move over, meatbag." The dragon sneered.

The desert-rat snorted. "You think I'd move over for a worm?"

Bartholomew, the tan dragon with red eyes glared down at the pony. He snarled, drawing his clenched fist back for a punch.

The pony jumped into the air, the punch missing him by a mile. He appeared on the dragon's back, .357 magnum in his ear.

"Pardner, I don' move over for no damned worm." The revolver's report came loud and clear, blood splattering on the bar's floor. Old Bart fell over, dead as a door-nail.

Everyone was silent.

The pony left.

Therieus followed.