#nonerotic

How is it done?

Of course, the difficulties of mastering dragons by no means mean nobody has ever tried. In fact, people try quite often. And sometimes, they are successful. In fact, there’s a large swath of history in which they were extremely successful! The Inquisition saw virtually all of wyrmkind purged from the Lacratian Continent, and one common tool was mind control.

There are three approaches, in a general sense.

First, subterfuge. Quite simply, wait for the dragon to lower their defenses, then strike while they’re vulnerable. If the dragon is badly injured, they will likely seek a healer. If you can get to the healer first, you can replace them, or better yet, compromise them. During the Horny War, this was how the Great and Awful Melchior was captivated—after fighting a pit fiend to a standstill, he fled to a trusted druid friend, not knowing that this druid had already been corrupted by a pair of succubi who were only too happy to ease the injured creature’s pain.

The first path is difficult, but nowhere near as difficult as the second path: Finding the chink in the dragon’s shell, the kink in the ropes that hold the wyrm’s will together. When this kink is found, the dragon is slightly more vulnerable. Slightly.

For instance, the Violet Terror Magdalene was one of the first targets of the first Inquisition, as discovering her weakness was relatively easy—Magdalene was one of the dragons who looked after multiple villages, treating each resident as a part of her “hoard” and the success of the villages overall as a measure of her hoard’s worth. For this reason, many mortals had had opportunity to learn much about her, as she walked among them frequently.

Quite simply, Magdalene had a preoccupation with ropes, and it was eventually discovered that a length of her own hair, braided and drenched in the waters of the Rose Well of the Northern isles, would completely negate her resistances when bound around her neck as a collar.

Most dragons’ weaknesses are obscure like that: Something likely determined only by consulting a seer, consulting a hag or demon, or consulting the dragon themselves. Some are a little easier to stumble upon, however. All are very, very difficult to take advantage of without being caught.

The third path is most difficult of all, of course.

Brute force.

It is said that there is only one creature that the head of the Mindweaver’s Guild, Lady Mistress, truly fears—and that creature is the reason she always wears her mask.

Once, long ago, before she founded the Guild, ‘Lady Mistress’—who then used another name—encountered a dragon.

How the Wraithstream Came to Be (and Why Pit Fiends Have Such Lovely Fluffy Coats)

It is said that the Wraithstream was created as a result of an ill-conceived wager between Wether and Mali, the Lavender Gatekeeper, whose task it was to usher recently departed souls into the afterlife.

Once upon a time, back when the gods still lived and the bread only rarely grew moldy, Mali and Wether entered into a fierce argument. Mali felt that Wether was too cruel to his charges, and demanded that he find a less vicious way of transporting the wayward spirits than dragging them with fishing line strung ‘round their littlest toes.

The two made a bet: Wether would let Mali take care of one of his largest rivers, and if they could collect more undead souls in that one river than Wether could in all the rest, Wether would adopt Mali’s methods. If Mali lost, however, they would have to wear Wether’s itchy wool for all eternity.

The contest began, and at once Mali realized that, as was quite often the case, they had made a reckless wager: Mali could not swim. They prepared to concede the bet.

Unfortunately, a tricksome demon god known as Birdcatcher had overheard the business. Birdcatcher was a malicious and mischievous sort, and as Wether was friend to the Unseelie Court and Mali was friend to the Seelie Court, Birdcatcher decided to play a wicked prank to spite the fey a little. It took the form of a young child and spoke to Mali, offering to bail out the river so that Mali could simply run along the riverbed collecting souls. Mali, who, as a rule in these sorts of stories, always makes the wrong decision, agreed.

So Birdcatcher opened its mouth wide, wide as a wishing well, and sucked up all the water out of the river. Mali was delighted, and immediately set about running north and south along the riverbed, capturing troublesome spirits in woven lavender baskets. But Birdcatcher wasn’t done. Birdcatcher gripped the corners of its mouth and tugged, opening its mouth wider and wider, until demons started to slip out—first a few imps, then dozens of succubi and sparkle fiends, and then the seven terrible pit fiends themselves. The hellish host poured into the empty river, gleefully collecting the helpless souls.

When Mali and Wether realized what was going on, they were horrified, and immediately called for help. Luckily, Mareil, the Goddess of Ropes, Cords and Bindings Both Sensual and Practical, just happened to be visiting one of her churches in the area. Mareil was aligned with neither demons nor fey, but greatly disliked Birdcatcher*, so when she saw what was going on, she clapped her hands three times.

On the first clap, her third husband, Mog (the God of Mud and Clay) was summoned from his prison, and he obligingly scored a great ravine such that the whole empty river sank hundreds of feet down, trapping the demons below.

On the second clap, Mareil sealed the ravine, preventing any sort of non-godly motion. The demons and undead alike were helplessly paralyzed.

On the third clap, as Mali and Wether had by now explained to her the terms of the bet, she took away Wether’s wool and trapped Mali in an uncomfortable woolen collar (this is why Mali is commonly depicted with a fluffy pink collar in artistic renditions). However, she felt that the bet seemed a bit unfair—she knew quite well how prone Mali was to reckless bets, and thought Wether had taken advantage a little. So she put the rest of the wool on the seven pit fiends.

And this is why, to this day, the Wraithstream traps all immortals who venture into it—and why pit fiends have cute fluffy wool coats, much to their annoyance.