Nezzera

The dragoness frantically darted along the ocean floor, plunging deeper and deeper into the ocean depths. 'I can't- I can't let them take her-' Her heart was racing, filling her ears with the sound of rushing blood as each moment of her life flashing through her mind with a blood-spattered clarity that nearly took her breath away.





Her chest seized up for a moment as she choked back a sob, blood leaking from her gills at an alarming rate as she leaned against a rocky shelf. The ocean plateau ended abruptly before her, nothing but clear blue ocean water for miles ahead, and a steep plunge into the dark depths below. She was badly wounded, but she felt the pain in her heart far more acutely than the pain in her body. She could still see his face; kind eyes, like a welcoming hearth after a long day, scales like the sea after a storm, a burning passion for life that knew no bounds.  She could almost hear him laugh, a laugh like the ocean breeze on a warm day- a laugh that cut off abruptly, replaced with that horrible gurgling as the slaver's spear punctured his lungs. She had to close her eyes for a moment, gasping, as a pain so sharp and intense that it felt like she had been stabbed herself suddenly wracked her body- a gasping that soon turned to coughing, a deep, wet cough, that sent more blood drifting in the water around her face.




Day. Weeks. Months. They were happy together, living a rose-tinted life, filled to the brim with the overwhelming joy of new love.


Family, friends, celebration; she still remembered their wedding night, the full moon glowing brightly overhead, and the wreaths of moonflower tying together their intertwined talons like miniature stars of their own. The food, the wine, the dancing. It was the happiest moment of her life.




The raid, the screams, the cries: the sounds of her friends and family being slaughtered like animals at the first sign of any resistance.

The slavers weren't discreet, they never tried to hide their intentions. Why would they? They didn't think of their quarry as dragons. As sentient beings. No, they were commodities. Merchandise. Goods, to be sold off once they hit the Ki'shan ports. After all, the Ki'shans were notorious for their slaves. Sure, they had their excuses. It was "earned", the "lesser offenders" could "earn" their freedom, but- Who would go through the effort to verify the chain of ownership? It was easy enough to forge papers, claiming a life-long sentence to slavery. Bribe a few officials, forge some papers, and voila, instant profit.

A single slave is a significant profit, so a boatload of them- and exotic slaves no less- It was no wonder they were partying that night.

The light, the music, the raucous laughter- her stomach turned, just at the memory of the fetid mix of ale, rotten fish and... other odors that accompany many bodies crammed into a tiny space. The jeering faces of their captors leering down at them through the metal grate- She could still taste the blood that spattered across her face when the first of the slavers died. The first few died quickly, easily, but- once the slavers realized what was happening- the tides swiftly turned the escape attempt into a massacre.

She took a shuttering breath, her gills fluttering weakly as she clutched the egg to her chest, trying to banish the bloody memories. It was warm; warm and alive and free. And she was determined to keep it that way. She was with-egg when they were captured, somehow managing to keep it a secret from her captors, and to keep it hidden once it was laid. She was laid, she reminded herself, clutching the egg closer and feeling it's warmth. Her egg- her child- her daughter- If she didn't survive- No, she had to. Any other option was too horrible to even consider. All those deaths- her own impending death soon to join their ranks- everything would have been in vain.

Sudden, muted flashing behind her broke her out of her reverie. She'd waited too long, they were closing in. She could feel her strength waning, she'd already gone so far- What did she have left to give? The answer became clear to her then, like a shape looming out of the mist. She had only one thing left to give.

She wasted no time, fashioning the satchel she had managed to salvage on the way out into a little harness, and the bag itself into a miniature parachute. She knew that she wouldn't survive, but- if her child could- she knew she'd die in peace.

But the flashes of communication were getting brighter, she had no time left to lose. She swam out over the great chasm, clutched the egg close one last time, and released it.


She broke from her cover, swimming up, and up- a cry- a cloud of blood- and she was gone.


The egg drifted gently downward, unaffected by the bloodshed just a few meters above it. Unbothered by the sharks, drawn to the scene. Down, down, down... Drifting ever downward into the darkness below.

The water grew steadily darker, and the water grew steadily colder, causing the unborn dragonet to flinch and squirm within her egg. She needed warmth, she was still too young to survive on her own. If something didn't change...

But, as she drifted down, something did change. The water started to grow warmer. It was still pitch black outside, not that it mattered to the childe within, but strange upwards water currents began to buffet the egg. It drifted on these currents, the little parachute eventually getting snagged on the base of one of these hydrothermal vents, and trapping the egg it carried snuggly against the side of the vent. The little dragonet relaxed, content once more. There she remained; safe, secure, and drifting in comfortable unconsciousness.


3 months later, the egg hatched. One moment, it was an ordinary silt-covered rock on the seafloor, then came the tapping, attracting a couple of slow-moving fish, then the egg collapsed inwards, spilling the tiny dragonet out onto the silt with a barely audible squeak. It took her a little bit to shake all the goop off of herself, and fully extricate herself from her egg. That done, she looked around, suddenly struck by how.. wrong this was. She had never known anyone, but- there, just a few minutes old- she felt so inexplicably alone.

The next several months were rough for the newborn. She was small, soft, and inexperienced, and yet somehow had to figure out how to take care of herself, or risk starvation. She flirted with that boundary several times during this period, but- even young- it takes a while to starve a dragon, and she quickly discovered the bounty of food to be found at the vents from which she'd hatched.

This went on for nearly 8 months, and the baby grew quickly, and learned even faster. Until- the day she met her first dragon.

She had strayed further than she meant to from her vents, chasing down an illusive fish that was just fast enough to keep her attention. The water had lightened considerably by the time the child lost sight of the fish. She glanced around, not sure of where she was, until a shape in the water caught her eye. It was her fish! But- her fish was coming back towards her? And not just her fish, there were countless others being swept her way. The dragonet realized too late the danger she was in, frantically trying to flee as the fishing net closed around her and dragged her towards the brightness above at an alarming pace.

Breaching the surface of the sea was- an unpleasant experience for the youngling, to say the least. The child had never breathed air before, so the process of going from her watery home into the strangely- not-wet place was excruciating. She had lungs, yes, but- having never used them before- it was like being born all over again. Or, rather, being born for the first time. But before she could even recover from her retching and coughing fit, she felt the net give way under her feet. Without warning, she was suddenly tumbling amidst a waterfall of silvery bodies, falling into a darkened pit and hitting a hard surface with a meaty thud and an outraged hiss of pain. The bruised and battered child darted into a dark corner, nursing her bruises, but afraid to make a noise and call attention to her presence. Above, she heard what she instinctively identified as "voices", but as for what they meant, that was far beyond her comprehension.

There she stayed, for what seemed like an eternity. Hiding amidst the scent of fish, stagnant water, and mildew for a full day, before the ship finally docked. The sudden increase of noise was what caught her attention first. Then the hatch swung open, flooding the hold with a light so bright it blinded her. A sudden murmur of voices erupted above, "Is tha what I think it is?" "Ya got a kid?" "Blimey, I knew you were bad fishers, but this is a 'ole new level-" "bAH, SHUDDUP, AIN'T LIKE Y'ALL WOULD'VE DONE NOTHIN' DIFFERENT-" A conversation that of course meant nothing to the child, merely terrifying noises as the creatures above debated her fate.

After a moment's deliberation, the hatch slammed shut with a decisive clang, and a smaller secondary hatch creaked open as a large figure slowly and carefully clomped down the stairs. A green wyvern paused hesitantly at the base of the stairs, his yellow eyes piercingly bright in the darkness of the hold as he slowly approached the child's hiding place, his wings spread wide in an attempt to corral her. "Alrigh' kid, I dun like this any more than you do," he grumbled, "But c'mere, we'll getcha a proper home, some food-" Whatever he was going to say next was abruptly cut off as the tiny hatchling shot out of the darkness, ducked between his legs, and was halfway up the stairs before he even had a chance to turn around. "oI- THEY'RE- SHE'S- CATCH HER-" The wyvern shouted, whirling around and tripping over himself in his rush to clamber up the stairs after her.

The child burst through the trapdoor into immediate agony. It was so bright- She had never felt a pain like this before, light so bright it made her instinctively reach to cover her eyes with a cry of pain, but she couldn't stop now, not when the shouting voices were getting louder. She felt more than saw the footsteps getting closer behind her, and blindly bolted forwards on instinct alone, tumbling down a sloped surface and scrambling to her feet. It was so bright, and so loud- She tried to run again and immediately crashed into a wooden cart, spilling the flowers it sold all over the dock-side, and partially getting them tangled around her head and neck.

In the chaos, she managed to dart off into the alleyways and lose her pursuers, but she was bruised, utterly lost, and incredibly upset. After nosing around, she managed to crawl into a ramshackle shed, and cried herself to sleep, utterly exhausted by the day's events.

The first few months of being on land were rough for the young dragoness. She had to evolve, had to figure out how to change her ways to fit this new environment. Not only could she not speak a word of Universal, but the waters near this city had been over-fished, forcing the fishermen to sail out into deeper waters, and depriving her of her usual food sources. At first she only came out at night. She would sleep during the day in her abandoned shed, slink out at nightfall to riffle through the scrap heaps and trash, then drag her precious finds back into the safety of her "den" before the sun came back up.

The flowers she had gotten tangled up in on that fateful night had fallen off as she scrambled into the shed through the hole in the wall, but- surprisingly- they refused to die. Instead, the flowering vines took root, clambering up the side of the shed and spreading around its base until her new home was well disguised, and cloaked in a protective layer of plant life that kept the interior relatively dark during the harsh sunny days.

As the years wore on, the hatchling got more and more comfortable in this new habitat. At first she was incredibly skittish, bolting at the first sign of another dragon's presence, much less any sort of sudden noise or movement. Eventually, she figured out she could tie those flowering vines across her eyes to come out during the day as well, and quickly realized that begging and stealing during the day was MUCH easier than sneaking about during the night. As she got older, she soon developed the practiced swagger of an alleycat, wandering onto the piers, snagging a fish-head and waltzing past the incredibly bemused fishermen. Her eyes remained incredibly sensitive to the light, to the point where mere sunlight was almost unbearable. As such, she tried gathering various scraps of fabric to use as pseudo-blindfolds, but none of the filthy rags lasted very long in her rough and tumble life style. As such, she started gathering the flowering vines now thriving around her little home and using those instead. Not only did they somehow last longer than the cloth scraps, but they had more gaps in the petals and leaves to allow her a better field of view, while still providing enough of a shelter from the sun to function properly.

It took a while, but slowly the hatchling-turned-adolescent began to discern meaning from the noises she heard shouted back and forth. From meaning, she found words, and from words came language. The first word she ever spoke was "fish", and it scared the poor fisherman she was mimicking half to death. At first she just parroted words that fishermen said, and it soon turned into a sort of game between them. They would try to get her to say a word, and for every one she got right, they would toss her a bit of fish.

After a while she figured out how to string different words together to form rough sentences (often lacking in grammar, but hey, she's trying), but this was proceeded by a brief period where the little wyvern would march right up to someone, and very authoritatively inform them: "Fish!" before stealing whatever scrap of food she had her eye on and bolting.

As she grew and learned to speak more fluently, she soon gathered that one sound in particular was always aimed either at, or about her: "Nez". Specifically, "Nezzie" when someone was happy with her, or "nEZZERA-!" when she was in trouble. Later, she would come to learn that "Nezzera" was a minor Ki'shan storm goddess that the fishermen worshiped, one known particularly well for her fierce temper, cunning, and unwavering loyalty- should the proper offerings be made of course, the sea is not known for its forgiving nature.

During this time, Nez was learning a lot about the world: who to trust, the places easiest to steal from, the people most likely to toss her scraps, and- most importantly- the art of pickpocketing. It was just food at first, but she soon learned the value of the little shiny things the villagers passed so carefully to each other in exchange for food and other goods, and at last began dipping into coin pouches as well as snatching food where she could.


-"""Befriends""" Seagull Lady
-Seagull Lady sells her out to slavers
-Taken to Ki'shan port town by slavers
-E s c a p e
-Lived there for another few months
-A t t e m p t e d to pickpocket Zolt and ran off
-Got jumped by other kids for said trinket
-Zolt had followed and drove em off
-Dragged Nez back to the Fang and tossed into the brig
-Eventually gets semi Dread Pirate Roberts-ed "Goodnight Nezzera! Sleep well! Most likely kick you off the ship in the morning!"
-Goes on for a while
-Eventually turns from feral gremlin to protective gremlin to h a p p y gremlin
-Sailed the seas with her fambly ever since