Solomon Grandymire: Psion

In the coastal lands of Irtia there is an old folk tale shared from mother to daughter. The myth tells of the adolescent girl Milda, who goes against her mother's wishes by meeting with her lover, Hans, on the beach near Milda's house. The star-crossed pair meet three times in the tale, each time at night on the shore. After the first and second meetings, Milda's mother warns her that a terrible creature lurks in the dark depths, but Milda does not listen. On the third night, Milda finds Hans dead on the shore, and a foul reptilian creature drags Milda deep into the sea. The purpose of the tale is purely to keep young girls out of trouble, but these tales often bear small truths. The creature of Irtia's coast is very real; he is called Grall, and he is a dragonborn. Grall was a towering powerful figure even by his race's standards, but his intelligence was quite lacking, and his jaw slacked. He was hatched with a deformed left leg and spine, giving him a terrifying gait; the perfect creature to feed children's nightmares. Grall did not inspire the myth of Milda alone, however. For what would Grall be without his master Dreadustraszus? The cruel black dragon used Grall among other servants to collect mage women for his prison in Izer Reef. There his servants tested the sorceresses, looking for a rare type of spellcaster known as a psion. Dreadustraszus did indeed find his psion, and the tower of Izer Reef is now long gone, washed away by the servants of the dragon. Hundreds of women were tortured to death in that tower, and only one escaped with her life. Only she didn't really escape, for she is Deadustraszus's psion.

Grandymire is what they call the woman who survived Izer Reef, but her mother named her Asha. The name means hope, but there was little for Asha and her mother, Casslyn. Asha was born on the outskirts of the desert city Ridge during a time of famine. Casslyn was an assistant in the apothecary. Despite the horrible conditions she could still get most plants to grow, and used to raise grandymire flowers near their home. Asha's father, Solomon, worked in the city's gemstone mines, but not long after Asha's sixteenth birthday he had been killed in a terrible accident. Asha could remember the sound of her mother weeping for many years after. Everything changed when Solomon died. Casslyn lost her apothecary job, and with no income they could not stay in Ridge. They sold their belongings and traveled to De Calivaria to start a new life. On the road north, their party was attacked by our friend Grall and his fellow minions. Almost none survived the massacre, and Asha saw the creature Grall stomp Casslyn's life away. Barking and snarling about a "mage girl", they pulled Asha by her hair and tossed her into a caged caravan with seven other girls her age. Asha didn't fight back, she just cried. She cried the entire journey to Izer Reef, and she cried long after that. Her mother and father were dead, and she was alone. Nobody called her Asha anymore. There were no grandymire flowers blossoming in the spring sun, and no hope left in the heart of the young girl. All that remained was a number, number 496. She didn't want the number, she wanted her home.

Six years had passed since then, and the woman who survived Izer Reef was known as Grandymire. She stood in the main hall of Lord Dekarus's castle, north of Ash Lake. The hall was large, but not excessive, featuring a dark marble floor and stone walls. Several fireplaces along the sides of the hall kept it warm, and many hulking armored creatures stood like vicious statues. The handsome nobleman Dekarus was her master now, and it was useless to deny or resist this fate. Against what most rulers of Bandelore would insist, and despite his attractive human appearance, Dekarus was actually a black dragon of terrible power and malevolent intent. He paced back and forth along the reflective floor, eyeing Grandymire carefully, as if absorbing her every detail. The two had arrived at the castle from Izer Reef only a day prior, and Grandymire had been given a much needed bath and an elegant dress. Dekarus halted his pace in front of her, and placed a hand on her chin. She grit her teeth and tried to shake away his hand, but he tightened his grip too quickly. Pulling her close, he spoke with his exacting voice, "Have you any idea why I have spared you for this long, girl?"

When it took a few moments for Grandymire to respond, Dekarus released her chin and turned his back to her. "Well? Not even a thought?"

"I am a strong sorceress, you want to use my power." This was the first she had spoken in a very long time. Her voice cracked at first, then regained it's normal rhythm. Her voice was sharp yet traveled softly over the air like a bird's song. Dekarus seemed pleased with her answer. "You are strong, for a human," he turned to face Grandymire once more, and took a step towards her. "I do want to use your power, but not directly. You are missing something..."

Grandymire searched Dekarus's face for some sort of meaning, but the dragon was beyond comprehension. Dekarus took another step towards her. Raising his hand, he conjured a small fireball and let it float along his fingertips. He watched the fireball dance with a hint of displeasure. "You see, Grandymire, I have mastered every bit of magic worth using. There is one form of spellcraft I do not yet understand, however. The power of the psions. Have you heard of these beings?"

Grandymire had heard of the psions. Legends said the psions were beings who could use magic and effect the world around them with their minds alone, whereas a wizard must learn spells and cast them with specific requirements. She had never given much thought to why she was so adept at spells, but it did make sense. "You think I am a psion?"

Dekarus dispelled the fireball and laughed, "If I thought you were a psion, you would have burned in Izer. I know you are a psion."

Grandymire couldn't help but be offended by the dragon's laughter. It was as if everything he did was a stab at her character. "Well then... what do you intend to do with me? Train me? Study me? Torture...?"

"None of the above. No such luck for you. As I said, you are missing something. Something that happens to be very important to my plans."

Grandymire squinted her eyes at the dragon, hoping to see some hidden detail to this situation. "And what exactly am I missing, Dekarus?"

"Please, call me Dreadustraszus, it's no secret that I am a dragon. There is no need to use petty human names on me." He tugged on his robes, ensuring they were in pristine condition, and continued. "As for what you are missing, it's quite simple. You are not a dragon."

Grandymire looked around as if there was a joke she had missed. "Not a dragon? What do you intend to do about-" Then it hit her. She had heard tales, but she never thought they could be true. Dragons shifting into human form and having human children with dragon blood. Dreadustraszus wasn't just looking for a psion at Izer, he had been looking for a mate. She grimaced at the idea and stepped back. "I won't! Never!"

Dekarus dropped some of his charm in preference of command, and hollered "Shut up! Don't play the quivering princess, we both know you are above that. I won't force you into giving me a psion heir, but I will make the other options... intolerable."

Grandymire continued to step back, and shook her head. Dekarus stepped forward with her, reaquired his inhuman charisma, and said, "Just think, your child could be the greatest force to walk this realm! You and our child would be rich and strong for the rest of your long and healthy lives. Nobody would harm you, or stop you should your tastes grow more... draconic."

Grandymire stopped backing away. She was shaking, not from fright, but from the exhilarating realization that Dread was right. Since her birth humanity had given her family nothing but anguish. Giving this dragon his spawn would be a more satisfying revenge than anything she could accomplish on her own, and she and her child would be happy for the rest of their lives. There was only one thing stopping her. "What about you? You tortured me, murdered hundreds of women!"

"I wouldn't call it torture. I see it as creation. I made you what you are, I made you strong! Suffering is the genesis of capacity, is it not?"

Grandymire smirked, still shaking. "If I do this, there are a few conditions I want met."

"Name them."

"I want everything you have promised, health, longevity, power, and wealth. Second, the city Ridge caused my family great suffering, I want that city destroyed."

Dreadustraszus smiled, "I think that can be arranged..."

"Your servant, the one that killed my mother. He has a twisted back and a limp."

"Grall, what about him?"

"I want to kill him."

"That can also be arranged."

"Lastly, if the child is a girl, I want her to be named Casslyn."

Dread tilted his head and raised an eyebrow at what he found to be a curious request. "And if the child is a boy?"

"Name him Solomon. Solomon Grandymire."