Child Support

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The winged shadow hovering above them stares down with bilious, reptilian, green eyes, the pale moonlight reflecting in his obsidian scales. With a single flap of leathery wings, he dives down into a dark, empty courtyard tucked away between buildings, his draconic form folding into itself like a shade shrinking in the light as he does.

In a moment, the dragon is gone and a bald, bulky, fair-skinned human man dressed in a black tunic stands in the courtyard, leaning gently against a barrel. Delilah, Jaezred, Fog, and Kavel variously make their way towards him, climbing down from the rooftops using crates stacked against walls as makeshift stairs, whilst an invisible Silvia remains in the shadows where she sits and hugs her knees to her chest.

“Rough night?” Jaezred remarks casually.

“Not for me, though perhaps it is for you?” replies Kurtz.

“Oh I’m fine, but it seems Miss Silvia there has had one too many. Too many dragons on her arse, that is.”

Kurtz lets out a grunt. “Those were not dragons. They were devils.”

“Abishai, yes? I assume Glasya sent them?”

“No, not Glasya. Tiamat.”

Jaezred blinks and grimaces slightly. “Really now. Pissed off another powerful fiend, have we? Whatever for?”

“I used to be chromatic before all this, naturally Tiamat was my deity. She was not pleased when I went to Glasya for help. Devils are… jealous creatures.”

Subtly, so as not to disturb the conversation Delilah sends a message to Silvia. “Sister, are you coming over? Or are you going to continue to sulk?”

“I’m not sulking I… I just need a minute,” comes the slightly defensive reply.

She sighs. “Silvia will be with us momentarily,” the pale-half elf tells everyone with a pointed look at her father.

“There is too much happening here,” Jaezred says with a tired sigh. Of all the things that could have interrupted poker night, it just happens to be Delilah’s twisted family drama. “So why have you come, Kurtz? Silvia said she received a note from you asking to meet here, but I guess it wasn’t actually you?”

“I sent no note. Those abishai are fearsome assassins under Tiamat’s command. They must have laid an ambush for Silvia in order to draw me out of hiding.”

The drow nods. “Right. I’ll just get straight to the point now then. I know what it is you want, Kurtz. You wish to be uncorrupted.”

There is a flicker of surprise in Kurtz’s eyes when he says that. He continues, “I think I can give you what you want. I have connections high up in a fey court. The Fey Ascendant may be able to help you if you enter a bargain with her. She is powerful, and I know she is in the process of curing a divine curse over time. I have done some reading and I believe that would be the safest way of de-corrupting you, slowly and gradually.”

“Bargains and deals are how I got into this ordeal in the first place. The fey would not be any different from the devils,” Kurtz says bitterly. However, he looks Jaezred up and down with a curious stare. “You said you have done some reading on shadow corruption…?”

“Indeed I have, but I have no other solution other than what I have just offered you. Fey bargains are different from infernal contracts, you see. There is still freedom to be had within its bonds. And it will cost you zero of your offspring’s souls, which is a great deal compared to six, don’t you think?”

Delilah feels a light tap on her back and a soft whisper from Silvia, letting her know she has arrived.

“Jaezred has a point, father. The Fey Ascendant is a powerful being, capable of many things. But before we consider ways of removing the shadow corruption there is the little hurdle of destroying the contract you have with Glasya.” She turns her dark eyes to Kurtz. “You have your copy of the contract, right?”

“I do,” Kurtz replies.

“Then it’s a simple matter of infiltrating the crumbling fortress of Malbolge and taking it right out from under her nose,” she says nonchalantly, but her eyes remain hard as steel. “Do you know if it is there?”

“I do not, but I imagine she would keep such things close.”

Silvia suddenly materialises from the shadows behind Delilah. “There may be another option.”

Everyone turns to look at her, varying levels of curiosity and scepticism colouring their faces.

“I’ve done a lot of reading on infernal contacts recently — thank you Bones — and they are something of a currency in the Hells. What if we get another contract and ask to exchange it for yours?” she suggests, gesturing to Kurtz.

There’s a dark chuckle as Kurtz shakes his head. “Bless you, Silvia child. Though the sentiment is appreciated, you’d be hard pressed to find another contract worth the weight of mine.”

“Not only that, what you’re suggesting would take you on a very dark and dangerous path, Silvia,” Delilah says, a deep frown cutting her features into sharper, concerned lines. “There are more risks, more chances for things to go wrong. Where would you suggest finding such a contract?”

“It was only a suggestion,” the young woman says, crossing her arms over her chest. “Thought it might help having more than one option, which can be limiting when trying to find a solution. Or you can just ignore what I said.” With that last comment, her form fades into the shadows once more, invisible to all but Kurtz.

He walks up to Silvia, looking her over before his eyes fall to the knife at her hip. He holds his hand out, the question in the gesture. She slowly fades back into view, unsheathes the blade and places it in Kurtz’s hand.

He studies it. “It seems you no longer use this merely for protection. Taking more of an offensive stance these days, hmm?” Kurtz asks, looking up at her with a half smile.

“Time has passed since I was a pacifist it seems… These days necessitate fighting up close and personal. Plus I wouldn’t want to let Delilah down.”

“Hmm,” he intones, thinking.

Kurtz then holds the dagger out in front of him and they all see how the blade splits, becoming two, then three, then four, then five, all joined together at the base. The handle extends into a long dark pole and when the transformation is complete, what he holds is no longer a fang-like knife, but a claw-like trident. He passes it carefully back to Silvia.

“May this serve as a better weapon for your needs, young Silvia.” He then turns to the others, addressing them. “I am grateful for you helping Delilah and Silvia in this fight. My hoards have been compromised, but I have been experimenting with distilling my powers unto others. Silvia here is an extreme example, I can do something smaller for each of you…”

He reaches out to Delilah and lays a hand on her shoulder. There’s a brief moment when she tenses, but it’s more from reflex, than from feeling his touch. The shadows swirl around Kurtz, spinning up his body to extend down his arm, then to his hand on his daughter. She shudders from the chill, familiar yet foreign, Beastie at her feet shaking themselves in reaction to the surge of magic. When it finally settles she looks down. On her right wrist, encircling it like an elegant bracelet is a small, wispy black dragon tattoo. Her dark eyes widen and the Pale Daughter feels her heart swell a little.

She looks at Kurtz and says, “Thank you… father.”

He gives a nod and turns towards Jaezred, whose crimson eyes have narrowed in suspicion, his natural instinct of distrust having evidently kicked in. “What’s the catch, Kurtz?”

“Nothing. It is merely a show of my gratitude, a tattoo with a spell imbued in it.”

The two men stare at each other for a long moment before eventually, Jaezred sighs and relents. He rolls his left sleeve all the way up.

A warm smile spreads across Kurtz’s face as his dark eyes light up with amusement. “I know exactly what you need.” He lays two fingers on Jaezred’s upper arm and inky black shadows seep out from his touch, forming a black dragon similar to Delilah’s that coils down to Jaezred’s forearm. The drow recognises the spell that has been imbued into his body and his face twists into an expression of abject confusion.

“Ceremony? Isn’t that a cleric spell? What am I supposed to do with it? Bless water? Lead a funeral? Marry som— Oh.”

Delilah laughs.

Next, Kurtz looks at Fog. “And you, my tall friend?”

Fog’s attention snaps down to him, the firbolg’s form also snapping to focus from where it was starting to blur to mist in the dark shadows. “Oh, more tattoos?” He contemplates between which of his two bare arms to offer forward, settling on his right. “I wouldn’t say no to a dragon amongst the fog, thank you.” With Kurtz’s touch another black dragon is transcribed to skin, it finally rests so as to look like it’s emerging from the swirling fog already tattooed on Fog’s upper arms, maw wide and ready to strike.

Kurtz’s gaze fell onto Kavel next. Kavel was not an active listener in all the talk about devils and contracts. The goliath had some areas of expertise, strength training was one of them, inter-planar politics was not. He could barely wrap his head around the revelation that a dragon was Delilah’s father. He did, however, understand he was being given a gift.

Kavel extends his hand towards Kurtz. “I am Kavel.”

Kurtz shook Kavel’s hand and the goliath could feel the controlled strength of the dragon’s grip channelled into a human’s hand – it was for Kavel one of the few times he had been impressed with a person’s grip here in Kantas, and it took a dragon to achieve this. Kurtz let go of Kavel’s hand as an inky, black, dragon manifested on Kavel’s right bicep, visible for all to see as Kavel wore only a breastplate and vest on his upper body. This tattoo granted the big man a one time access to the Hex spell.

Kavel looked at the dragon on his bicep, and then held his arm out in a standard bicep pose and flexed. The goliath liked what he could see – with the dragon on the peak of the bicep it created the outline of a mountain if you were looking straight at Kavel as he flexed his bicep. The mountain-born was pleased.

“Thank you Mister Dragon man.”

“Perhaps the least I can do, given that I am the cause of most of what happened here tonight.”

Kurtz glances around the wooden crates and barrels that lie strewn between the alleyways. He gestures at it all, damp, dirty and open to the elements.

“Might we perhaps retire somewhere a little more pleasant if we are going to have a conversation. I assume you have questions? It will take a short while for the failure of those Abaishi to be reported, we have a few hours before I will need to relocate.”

“How about the Gilded Mirror,” Delilah suggests.

“Very well, lead the way.”

---

The same patrons are there when they return. The red haired elven woman with her magical choker and glass of whiskey, the two tabaxi (though they have finished their meal of roast chicken at this point), the three human men who have somehow gotten even more boisterous, and the pair of blue dragonborn sitting in the corner, smoking their pipes. None of the staff seem to have noticed their missing co-worker as of yet so for the time being there won’t be any interruptions.

Kurtz still takes in the occupants of the Gilded Mirror with caution. A practised gaze assessing threats and exits. Slipping into a booth and keeping his back to a wall, he is positioned with a good view of the main entrance. He pulls 5 platinum from his trousers and lays them in a small stack upon the table. Jaezred, settling into a seat opposite him, chooses not to tell him that he is overpaying by about 500% and re-lights his pipe of smoke monsters with a flame summoned on the tip of his index finger.

“Well, who would like to go first?”

Delilah, sitting beside Kurtz, noting his choice to take the best seat at the booth, is primed and ready. “You said Tiamat was your deity. Is there a reason you did not go to her for help in removing the shadow corruption?”

Parsing through the question takes Kurtz a second, he looks puzzled but then connects the dots. “My deal with Glasya was not to undo this corruption, from her I wanted power for other reasons, baser and by no means altruistic. My desire to revert came later. I chose Glasya because the opportunity was there, I was power hungry and she had evidently identified an advantage to be had. She is one of the most intelligent and devious minds in the planes, she found her moment and struck a deal with a desperate creature. While I spent some time praying to Tiamat in my youth I have now seen her to be no more powerful than any of the other arch devils in the hells, I stopped worshipping after I awoke in the shadowfell, my once verdant world turned grey and lifeless. I wonder whether her involvement is in part revenge from Glasya, a quiet word passed between devils, here or there, the right ears, of a dragon who decided on a different path. Anger the 5 headed queen and add another set of hounds to my heels. I doubt I will be afforded the luxury of asking such questions.”

The smoke that billows out from Jaezred’s pipe clumps together and forms the shape of a five-headed dragon, each cloudy maw open in a silent roar. It drifts upwards into the mirror-paned ceiling and disperses slowly upon touching it.

One of the waitstaff comes over, apologising for leaving them waiting so long, and asks what they would like to order. Kavel ordered a flagon of Cooper’s Pride and a glass of Stoneford Reserve. Delilah asks for a glass of Four Poisoned Roses Whiskey, neat, and Silvia and Jaezred gesture that they will have the same as Fog also registers an interest. Deciding a bottle would be better with glasses enough for all, the woman looks at the stack of coins on the table, raising her eyebrows in a silent surprised question. Shrugging, she takes them, bows and hurries off to fulfil their order.

“I know that you have been searching for a long time for a way to uncorrupt yourself,” Jaezred says. “Why do you want to do such a thing? And why did you not say that it was your goal the last time we met?”

“A long time is pretty subjective. But yes, for more than 20 years now I have sought the answers of how I might return to my original form. Settle back into a life of hunting the forests, collecting a modest horde and protecting my domain. I didn’t reveal my goals last we met because I’m not a reckless idiot. You may have been accompanying my daughter but I know neither her nor you well enough to simply spill my deepest desires and their accompanying vulnerabilities, particularly only minutes after reneging on a deal with an archdevil.”

Delilah lets out a low chuckle. “The feeling was quite mutual, if I recall. Something something… ‘I’ll take your fingers if anything happens to Beastie’… sound about right?” she teases. The shadow cat appears on her lap, tail swishing back and forth as they look at Kurtz with their not-eyes. “What’s a little, casual distrust between family?”

Silvia shifts awkwardly. “Delilah he did save my life, please can we just relax a little.”

“Don’t worry Silvia. He won’t be losing any digits.” She winks at the younger woman.

The waiter returns with their drinks, quickly laying them on the table and then departing. Delilah picks up her glass, the laughter slowly fading from her eyes as she holds it. Swirling the dark amber-red liquid she casually casts a minor illusion of shadows over her lower face when she takes her mask off then takes a generous sip of the beverage. Replacing the mask she turns back to Kurtz as Silvia takes a sip herself before sputtering and awkwardly apologising.

“You wouldn’t have built your lair next to a portal. How did one suddenly appear? Do you suspect this was done to you?”

“I do not, at the time of my corruption, I was in one of the quieter periods of interaction with the outside world. There is nothing that I would imagine might trigger anyone to decide to try and summon the shadowfell within my lair, certainly not anyone with the power to succeed. Unless I accidentally killed some famous wizard’s favourite deer or grandson while hunting.” Kurtz shrugs without a hint of emotion. “Sometimes it really does just come down to bad luck.” He reaches over and tries to scritch Beastie’s head.

Their dark nose lifts up, sniffing the reaching fingers. One of their front paws lifts up, claws extending slightly, then they half step onto Kurtz’s lap, butting their head into his hand, arching closer to get the scritches.

“The fickle finger of Fate, huh?” the pale half-elf murmurs, watching Beastie lean into the attention. She glances at Jaezred and they share the same thought.

Jaezred sips appreciatively from his glass of whiskey as he catches her gaze, before looking back at Kurtz. “So, what were you doing up there in the Angelbark? Buckets of blood and fun, so I’ve heard.”

“I needed somewhere away from prying eyes, somewhere I could try and tease the answer from a collection of books I had, as well as an expert on shadow dragons. A professor I had on retainer. Unfortunately my presence was discovered by a couple of warring mercenary groups who kept vying for my approval and power. I chose one side, armed them with some of my power in the hope that it’d be over and I could go back to living in peace, but they just kept making noise, so eventually I rounded up as many as I could and turned them to shadow. That was about a week before your wizard friend came and took that book of mine.” A slight grimace passes over Kurtz’s face as he mentions Veridian.

The mention of the Angelbark, and the tussle in the alleyway against hell creatures prompted Kavel to voice his thoughts, “I fought a sexy devil man called Adhyël in the Angelbark not too long ago – smashed his head off with my poleaxe, and sent him back to hell. Is this related in any way?”

“Sexy Devils are to be avoided my large friend. They will never grant you what you seek, and they will extract a heavy toll while you still believe they might. I have not heard of this Adhyël, but then the Angelbark is a reasonably large forest. I hope for your sake he didn’t know your name when you killed him, devils have a habit of returning for vengeance. Only when killed in the Hells do they truly die.”

“Sexy devils, eh?” Jaezred mutters thoughtfully as he puffs on his pipe. From the rose-scented smoke, the silhouette of a buxom woman with horns and a pointed tail forms and wafts outwards from the booth, blowing a kiss at Kurtz.

The Pale Daughter’s gaze is intense and calculating as she looks at her father. “If some of your hoard is there perhaps, if I were to retrieve certain items for you, it will make your evasion of those who seek you, easier. A sign of trust and further proof that siding with me was the right choice. Unless you have been back there yourself?” she asks, curious.

“That spot in the Angelbark was known to Glasya’s minions, I have not risked returning since we met in the shadowfell and I was forced to run. I would be very surprised if my hoards remain unwatched, but accessing their wealth would only be of use if we needed money or one of the specific items for a task. Otherwise we would be risking detection for little gain.”

One dark eyebrow lifts up ever so slightly. “Hmm, perhaps you’re right.”

It’s at this point that Fog, who had been relatively quiet till now, speaks up “I think I have mostly absorbed what is going on here. This story has certainly evolved since I last saw you, Silvia. But if I may say something, it seems this pact with Glasya is quite the issue and I know some ideas have been pushed around but perhaps some outside thinking is needed? I have a friend who knows lots of random things, and it’s a very long shot, but they potentially might have an idea of other things Glasya might exchange for a contract.”

“A friend who knows the mind of Glasya? I did not expect this from you tall one, who might I ask do you know who could be privy to such things?” Kurtz leans forward interested, his gaze locked on Fog in a friendly but intense assessment of the answer that follows.

Fog gives a slight chuckle at that, face still calm under Kurtz gaze, “I think knows the mind of Glasya might be an extreme statement. But they travelled the planes a lot before they met me apparently, and they like to observe the chaos of people and their stories. Like I said it’s a long shot, but who knows, they might have something. But I thought it only polite to ask you before I do so.” The blue firbolg smiles as a way to end his statement, purposely avoiding Kurtz’s second question.

“And do you perhaps think you would be able to ask without revealing anything regarding my location or true identity? Is your ‘friend’ able to seek out information? You mention that they travelled before they met you, do they travel still?”

Fog nods as he answers. “Yes, I understand the situation so I won’t reveal details, I certainly don’t want to put anyone in danger here. Though they don’t travel anymore, their form is incorporeal these days, so any knowledge they have would be older.”

Kurtz nods, not wanting to push the questions any further where they are unwanted. “Anything you might do would be appreciated. If you need resources,” he says, pulling another couple of platinum from his trousers, “I can provide a little, albeit nothing compared to my previous wealth.” Fog immediately waves the gold away with many reassurances that it’s appreciated but not needed.

As Kurtz and Fog have their exchange, though his gaze remains firmly on the firbolg, Jaezred subtly points a finger at a waiter standing across the room and mutters something soundlessly. The waiter nods and turns to walk up the stairs leading to the suites. “Miss Delilah, I have not forgotten that it was your birthday yesterday,” he says with a smile to Delilah, though the words feel as if they are being directed at a certain dragon at the table. “My gift was delayed due to Master Samed being swamped with orders, so please accept my apologies…”

The pale half-elf shoots a quick glance to Kurtz before facing Jaezred. “Lord Jaezred, you really shouldn’t have. Let me guess, Oziah told you, didn’t she?” Delilah’s voice is sickly sweet and pleasant, the grip she has on her tumbler of whiskey tightening.

His grin grows wider and cheekier. “Why, of course. Her ladyship made quite a big deal out of it. If you’re displeased about it, do direct any and all complaints to her.”

A moment later, the waiter arrives at their booth and places a wooden box in front of Jaezred. He flicks a silver coin at the waiter and opens the box, turning it around so Delilah could see what lies within: a twin pair of sleek, curved daggers of dark steel with smooth ebony grips and obsidian gems carved into the shape of a cat’s head as pommels, a rare vintage reserve bottle of Marthammor’s Dew Dwarven Whisky from Vorsthold, and a simple leather belt pouch.

Her dark eyes roam over the two blades, appraising their craftsmanship. Even without picking them up Delilah can tell they are fine daggers, and Samed is not called a master smith for no reason. When she looks up to the drow lord again her feigned appreciation almost sounds genuine.

“Those look like they cost a pretty copper… What’s in the pouch?”

“Well, go on and open it.”

Eyes narrowing, she summons a magical clawed shadow hand to carefully open the drawstring of the pouch. The moment it opens, Beastie, who had fully migrated to sit on Kurtz’s lap, still enjoying the occasional pet, suddenly sits upright, nose sniffing the air. Curious, Delilah directs the magical hand to reach in and pulls out a slice of dried and smoked salmon.

Delilah laughs, shaking her head as the mage hand quickly seals the pouch again. “A very thoughtful gift, Jaezred, for both of us.” The hand picks up the wooden box, bringing it over to her. “You did not have to but the gesture is much appreciated.”

“You are welcome. However, this does bring us to a rather painful topic…” With a heavy sigh, he turns his gaze towards Kurtz and his expression suddenly turns grim. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but,” he says, putting a hand on Kurtz’s broad shoulder as if in condolence, “your daughter has pocket salmon.”

Delilah, in the midst of taking a closer look at the daggers, freezes. Jaezred shoots a sneaky smirk at her, clearly unable to resist embarrassing his friend in front of her father. Her casual grip on the new blade changes, as a deceptively pleasant smile appears on her masked face. But before a friendly stabbing between friends can happen Silvia speaks up.

“First of all happy birthday sister, I had no idea it was your birthday so my congratulations I guess. But secondly I have a small, selfish little question. I cannot help but ask in all of this what you really wish for us to achieve? Stealing the contract? Fighting Glasya? I’m struggling to see just how we, and more accurately I, can do anything to help because as it stands my main objective has quickly become staying alive after getting caught up in all of this.”

“Staying alive is not a selfish goal, Silvia,” Delilah says. “Sometimes that’s all one can do. In such a struggle you discover much about yourself, what you’re capable of, and how much you are able to endure. You also learn what breaks you, what can destroy you.”

She takes a moment to study the young woman. “But you must remember, not to flinch in the face of it all. The moment you let Fear rule your actions you lose. You become bound in chains that are heavier than any infernal contract or fey bargain. How you push through, how you pick yourself up again after being beaten down, how you plan your next move – all of it is a chance to prove to yourself you are made of more than brittle glass.”

Silvia seems to think for a long second before slowly speaking.

“I can’t plan a next move if I’m dead, which I almost was…” she seems to consider something. “Three times in the last month. But I understand what you are saying. I know I can help people, I know I can be stronger and I know I am not just dead weight, but it’s figuring out what my next move actually is that I can’t quite answer right now. But I will try, I’ll practise a bit more and I’ll help as much as I can. Who knows, maybe one day we’ll figure all this out together, for now I trust you all to understand what needs to happen, and when you need my claws I will be there.”

Delilah lays a hand on Silvia’s. “My offer to train you is still on the table. Whenever you want to take me up on it, all you need do is ask.”

Silvia smiles faintly. “Maybe tomorrow then, before I have to head off.”

“Tomorrow, after sunset.”

Kurtz watches all of this unfold without much if any reaction, there is little surprise in his eyes at the mention of a birthday, to the most perceptive he might appear puzzled at the phrase ‘pocket salmon’ but he mentions neither as Silvia begins to speak up and share some of her problems so freely. There is perhaps a small fatherly smile as Delilah offers training.

“If no one else has any questions, and presuming there is no surprise celebratory cake. Might I please ask for a few minutes alone with my daughter?”

Looking over the group, Delilah could see in Jaezred’s eyes a conflict — he seems to be fighting against his instinctual urge to listen in on the conversation, but his force of will wins out in the end and he gives her a solemn nod.

“I would like that, father.”

“Kurtz, would you perhaps sign your name in my book for the purpose of communication?” Jaezred asks. “I am aware Miss Silvia is able to commune with you but we are not always able to commune with Miss Silvia.”

He flicks a hand and a floating, black leather-bound tome is conjured in a burst of black flames. The book flies open to a list of names, from which he erases Veridian’s before turning it to Kurtz, a raven feather quill lying between the pages, inviting him to use it.

Kurtz looks down at the page, scans the list of names. “Two I know of, Imryll Elamaris is unknown to me. But as for some mages all it would take would be meeting me to allow such communication I don’t see why I shouldn’t add my name to this list.” He takes the quill and in graceful swooping letters writes ‘Kurtz’. I trust that will be enough for your needs?”

“Indeed it is.” Another flick of the wrist and the book flies shut, then disappears in black fire. “Thank you, Kurtz.”

Standing and straightening his clothes, Kurtz takes in the room with another practised glance, sees no one has been paying any particular attention and walks calmly outside. With a nod to the others, Delilah silently follows.


Continued in ‘Girl with the Shadow Dragon Father’ 🐲