Like. Literary analysis. Media analysis. Lore analysis. Something like that. You know, the "white person video essays".

I fucking

LOVE

thinking about this thing. Not necessarily because of the fantasy. I mean, I have my own reasons. However, I love its lore, its setting, its potential for thought, its discourse, its so lovely.

Also any other wiki or out-of-universe info than the primary wiki? I've, uh, exhausted reading it. And the tvtropes page. Anywhere else I can read more of the analytical views of it?

Notes :

• Main post hub.
• Cecylle is [After//The Sorcerer].
• Kalysa is [After//The Bard].
• Talis [After//The Warrior].
• Pebbles is one funky kobold. See here for more info.

---

Talis' claws scraped against the stone hallway as she walked. Streams of kobolds hurried past her in neat rows, brushing against her as they marched with unusual excitement.

The traffic was unusually heavy. Not the usual bustle of minions carrying supplies or hauling equipment. None of them were wearing armor or tools, nor did they seem to be on any ordinary assignment. A festival? A party?

Then, amid the crowd flowing the opposite way, she spotted a flash of red. A scarf. His signature.

"Yo, Pebbles!" she called, raising a hand over the sea of kobolds.

The red-scarved kobold squawked in acknowledgment like a crow before turning toward her and snapping into a salute.

"Yes, Mistress Talis?"

Getting straight to the point, she asked, "What's with all the ruckus? I don't remember anything fun scheduled today."

Pebbles saluted again, his eyes darted absentmindedly between both ends of the corridor.

"Mistress Kalysa instructed me to spread the news and gather the denizens of the citadel, so they may bear witness as she settles her dispute with Mistress Cecylle once and for all!"

Talis frowned. She didn't like the sound of that. It usually meant trouble. She's also curious too. Either way, she had no reason, not to ask.

". . . Huh?"

"Mistress Cecylle and Mistress Kalysa were debating the intricacies of the cultures of the Continent, between East versus West! Entertainment, values, customs, society! However, as the disagreement escalated, they mutually agreed to settle the matter once and for all!"

Her concern deepened. ". . . What?"

Pebbles cleared his throat, covering his mouth with a fist in an almost comically polite humanoid gesture.

Then he opened his mouth again. His voice shifted, becoming refined and elegant, yet, unmistakeably sharp, and defiant. Cecylle's voice. "Fuck it. Fuck you. Fuck all of this."

Pebbles pantomimed reaching into imaginary pockets and produced two nonexistent stones. "I knew this day would come! So I prepared these by borrowing them from the magic vault! Two Stones of Contingent Revivify!"

His voice shifted again, dropping into a deeper, though still distinctly feminine tone, Kalysa's voice. He awkwardly flailed both arms, doing his best impression of someone with six. "Hm? What exactly are you implying?"

Talis' eyes slowly widened. She already knew where this was going.

Pebbles immediately returned to Cecylle's voice. "We didn't do this back then because of our frail bodies, and resurrection was costly. But now we've got extra-powerful monster bodies, absurdly enhanced abilities, and Master's magic to make sure we don't stay dead. So we'll fight to the death and prove, once and for all, which of our culture is superior!"

Back to Kalysa. ". . . Wait. Are you certain Master approved this? Are you sure this is safe?"

Then Cecylle again. "Pfft."

Pebbles accompanied it with an exaggerated flick of his hand, as though carelessly tossing away common sense itself. "Who cares? Master can just make more of these. We probably have backup clones, resurrection fields, or whatever hidden around the lair anyway. I'm sure it'll be fine."

Without speaking, Pebbles made another pose. A hand rested thoughtfully against his chin. He paced and gestured, even without speaking, it's apparent that this was Kalysa's mannerisms. Then he smirked, beckoning someone closer before pretending to rest a hand on the shoulder of someone much shorter.

In her voice, he declared, "Pebbles. Summon as many of the citadel's denizens as you can. Mistress Cecylle and I shall settle our dispute through glorious combat. Let there be witnesses. Let the victor bask in absolute glory, and let the loser suffer utter humiliation." He punctuated the proclamation with a triumphant fist raised overhead.

Talis blankly stared at him. Blinking once at Pebbles. In silence.

Pebbles wasn't finished. Switching back to Cecylle, he added, "Oh, and don't tell Talis. She's always the one who breaks up our fights. She was such a killjoy back then. Let us have our fun, okay?"

Talis managed only to utter out, "Uh-"

Pebbles cut her off immediately, returning to his own voice. "She deserves it! Approximately seventy-three minutes ago! A secret for spilt fruit!"

Talis considered asking, then decided she was happier not knowing. With a small shrug, she accepted it.

You know what, honestly, their reasoning was internally consistent. "Pebbles."

He immediately straightened and offered his mock salute once more.

"Grab me some roasted figs and a bottle of wine. Get some for yourself too."

A grin spread across her face. "No point wasting a good show."

Pebbles nodded enthusiastically. "Aye, Mistress Talis!"

Then he dashed back upstream to the river of kobolds.

Watching him disappear, Talis joined the flow of the crowd. After all, a show's a show.

So. Uhh. Where have I been and why didn't I post the Kochanyan memes recently?

Well, I'm finishing some art. And I ran out of ideas, honestly. Well, there's some ideas of the shitposts I was about to make, but I haven't had the time to do that, some ideas, well, are :

• Thorne on a bar, drinking some ale. Almost knocked out. Next panel is him as Talis, post-tf, with poison immunity, with a shit ton of tankards. tf_irl shitpost.
• Yiakhzmat's backstory and how he was before him achieving his BBEG goal, then after. tf_irl shitpost.
• The meaning of the red marks on the girls. And the womb tattoos. tf_irl shitpost.
• Bathrooms with urinals, on the tgtf-to-monstergirl tavern, and three girls from different adventurer-to-monstergirls stories using it. tf_irl shitpost.
• Cecylle (the sorcerer), using 4chan-lgbt words towards Kaite (the rogue) and Lauria (the cleric), with Lauria covering Kaite's ears and telling Cecylle, "Genuinely, what the fuck are you talking about?", Honestly I don't know where to post it, and if I would even post it.

PS : Additional ideas after post edit :

• Cecylle being petted and called a 'good girl', before shapeshifting for a second to a puppygirl and woofing.
• "Your bra strap is showing" to Cecylle and she shapeshifts that specific region to spite someone.

Oh, and. There's life stuff I have to take care of for the next month. So there might not be new Kochanyan art at these times. I won't tell what it is because I'm not privy to tell my irl stuff after my recent incidents last year with the discord servers I'm in. Either way.

What's the news with A Twisted Failed Campaign? As in, my old DnD-esque adventurers-to-monstergirls tgtf project with the classic rpg party rather than the other variant? Well. Honestly, ran out of ideas or what to make for it. It's not strictly abandoned per se. I still recognize it, and still as one of my legacies. It's that I don't have much ideas of shitposts with them now haha. Tho to be fair the two shitpost ideas above does feature them, so.

Writing is honestly hard, and I'm not so much motivated for writing, unless I can be 'tistic and place my fixations and fun trivia for it, or it generates fun discourse and traction which motivates me, yeah.

Well, that's the Kochanyan news! Uhh. Have a nice day and stay safe y'all!

Thank you for visiting and frequenting this sub and my works, and dw I'm not dead uhhh, I'm just gonna have to take care of life stuff!

Uh. You've seen my art? Uh. Yeah. So I need some money for life stuff. So. Mm. Opening public commissions for the first time! This is just an experiment, not really something much. So. Uh.Yeah. Won't raise a portfolio or stuff I drew, since, well, y'all know my stuff, right? So y'all should know my style or two.

The steps are, if you want to make a commission, give your general idea of what you'd commission from me, by commenting on this post. Then, I'll DM you on reddit, if I deem that I wanna do that commission. I'll alert you on the post if I do. Note that as I am, I can be biased with my tastes and reject ones that don't fit mine, so.

No NSFW please! As in, nudity and actual fucking or whatever that payment processors would flag. Skimpy outfits are fine if they're not full nudity flagging. I mean I do nsfw stuff on my profile, yeah, but payment processors and something something. Yeah.

I am quite paranoid with a few things. So uh. Having a hidden profile while I don't know you or seen you much would likely reduce the likelihood of the commission being accepted. And even in DMs, don't send shady links for references. Uh, send images or reddit links directly, yeah.

I'll accept, say, 5 commissions for this run, max, then I'll close. Expect them to be finished in at most a week from this post.

Uh, yeah, opening commissions!

Some pricing details, adjustable ,

• At minimum, 10 USD for 1 piece. It's worth 1 tf_irl shitpost, with at most 2 linearted characters, 4 lower render lineart characters, and 8 miniature or very simple characters. Flat color without shading is included in the pack. Hair highlighting is also free.
• 10 USD also count as 1 character with full shading. No complex poses please!
• Adding 1 character, lineart only, adds +5 USD. Adding 1 character, fully shaded and rendered, adds +10 USD
• A 3-step, simple shaded, no background, transformation sequence is 20 USD.
• No fully rendered and complex backgrounds. Not really feelin like it now.
• Payment is upfront!

Payment details and processes will be in ko-fi, I'll share at DMs.

But yeah, that's all!

Notes :

• Main post hub.
• Part 1/2.
• Cecylle is [After//The Sorcerer]. Yes, I'm experimenting with more exotic names a bit.
• Kalysa is [After//The Bard]
• Arie is [After//The Ranger]
• Talis [After//The Warrior]
• Yiakhzmat is [The Master]

---

. . . Cecylle groaned, and well, Yiakhzmat, of course, moved on with the conversation. And right before that, the consort took a moment to take another sip of her drink, it's a quarter-to-empty now.

"Slaadi. Terrible trade partners."

"Wait, wait, lemme guess. Chaos."

"Pure, unrefined, that sort of beings that make demons look organized. Incapable of remaining consistent long enough for me to trust them with anything resembling a contract."

"So no business."

"No business."

"But."

"Lemme guess again, excellent materials?"

Yiakhzmat nodded. "Correct."

"I would guess, their chaos stuff."

"Indeed. Sometimes, you'll seen mobs of them invade other planes, and that's where opportunity strikes for a bit of acquisition. Their connection to transformation, mutation, the principle of chaos. Extremely useful. I learned quite a lot. To harmonize and organize chaos. Reverse engineering aspects of their nature proved surprisingly productive."

"You and your change and transformation stuff."

"It is my great work."

The dragon paused. Then seemed to remember something.

"Hm. I remember, once, I transformed a black slaad into a modron as a part of testing one true transformation technique."

Silence.

"What."

"A monodrone. I named him Bill."

A longer silence. Cecylle stared. Yiakhzmat looked completely serious.

"Bill."

"Master."

"Hm?"

"You had a modron named Bill."

"Yes."

"What happened to Bill?"

"He died." The answer came instantly.

The succubus looked especially devastated. "What."

"He lasted approximately half an hour. He misinterpreted an intstruction, walked into a containment chamber, and was pulverized by the magical force. He was a failure."

Cecylle stared at him in pouting disappointment.

"You never told me about Bill."

"He wasn't particularly noteworthy."

"Master. You transformed a slaad into a modron. And this isn't noteworthy?"

"Not really."

After a moment of silence, she looked back up.

"Why don't you bring him back?"

"Why would I?"

"Because Bill sounds adorable. He would be a good mascot! Other than Pebbles!"

"Bill died centuries ago. His remains dissolved, into cogs, which promptly turned into vapor."

"So?" Cecylle pointed triumphantly. "You can use epic magic. Apparently as you've told, epic magic can be used to do whatever you want, mostly. You can probably bring Bill back."

Yiakhzmat considered, for perhaps three seconds, then shrugged.

"I could, however, I've decided, it would not worth the effort."

Cecylle looked genuinely offended. "That's cold."

"He was a failed experiment."

"He was Bill."

The dragon paused. Then shrugged again. "Still not worth the effort."

Cecylle muttered something rude into her drink.

"Anyways. Speaking of. Modrons." Yiakhzmat made a vague gesture. "Eh."

"That's it?"

"That's mostly it."

"They're literally embodiments of cosmic order."

"Exactly."

"And?"

"They are too orderly."

Cecylle blinked. "I don't think that's a normal complaint."

"It is for me." The dragon leaned back.

"Entirely devoted to their hierarchy. To their own laws and mechanisms. Too bound in their own systems. And therefore terrible to negotiate with."

"Huh."

"They rarely deviate."

"Isn't that useful?"

"Sometimes. But in this case, they lack most motive to be applicable as trade partners, in the first place."

Yiakhzmat thought for a moment. "Actually. On beings of law and order. The inevitables are more interesting."

"The giant metal law things?"

"Those." He tapped a claw against the couch. "Kolyaruts, Zelekhuts, Maruts. I could probably summon them to set and enforce certain contracts."

Cecylle immediately narrowed her eyes. "Have you?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Too much effort, too little gain." The answer came immediately. "You know, there's spells specifically to summon them, in my own order of magic. I know where to find them. I know how to negotiate. I know how to bring issues into the Hall of Concordance. I simply haven't needed to."

Cecylle snorted. "Your entire life philosophy is just cost-benefit analysis."

"It has worked remarkably well."

"Related to the Hall of Concordance. Sigil. The City of Doors." The dragon immediately looked more interested.

"Oh? That city that claims to be the center of the multiverse?"

"Indeed. Not a species. Not a faction. Just the city."

"Just the city."

Yiakhzmat spread his hands. "What is there not to like?"

Cecylle laughed. "Fair."

"The greatest hub in the multiverse, or so they say. But I shall commend that, having traffic from such magnitudes of planes of existence. Everything goes there. Everything leaves there. You can buy almost anything. You can sell almost anything. And if you can't find what you're looking for there, you probably aren't finding it anywhere."

"That's actually reasonable."

"It usually is. A little complaint is, well, too much context, too much variance. If I may say, paradoxically, both reliable, and unreliable."

"And I was just about to ask why you don't just buy everything from there."

"Mhm. Anyways, ones of the Outlands, below Sigil. The Rilmani, embodiments of neutrality." The dragon-archmage just shook his head.

"Oh. That bad?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"They're obsessed with balance."

"You know, I already made my deduction when you told that they're basically true-neutral-alignment incarnate. I get it. Continue."

"Alright. Let me think. . . Ah. Fey."

"Oh this should be good."

Yiakhzmat sighed. "They are exhausting, most of the time."

"Uh-huh."

"Hags can be useful. Fey nobles can occasionally be useful. Certain archfey possess valuable things. But."

"There it is."

"I do not trust them."

"Because they're fey?"

"Because they're fey."

"Fair."

The dragon folded his arms. "Too whimsical. Too unpredictable. Too prone to strange bargains. I am quite annoyed by the fact that, in most cases, they refuse to deal in tangible material systems like a regular trader, in lieu of utterly irrational requests."

"Hm. Mm."

"Too likely to decide something ridiculous is suddenly important."

Cecylle slowly raised a finger.

"Master."

"What?"

"You spent five minutes telling me about Bill."

"Weren't you the one that insisted to press me further about him?"

Cecylle thought for a moment, then made a pose as she put both of her hands on her head, making a silly embarassed face, then put her tongue out.

Yiakhzmat sighed, and shook his head, before Cecylle dropped the act, expecting him to continue.

"Moving on. And other beings." Yiakhzmat shifted slightly on the couch. "The various travelers of the Astral Sea, and, Wildspace."

"Oh, the weird ones."

"The weird ones."

"The ones that somehow make demons look normal."

"I can argue either way-"

"Yeah, yeah, continue."

The dragon tapped a claw against the armrest. "First." He thought for a moment. "Githyanki."

"Oh." Cecylle perked up immediately.

"I know those."

"You do."

"Angry space raiders."

"Reasonably accurate."

"They ride red dragons, sometimes."

"Sometimes."

"They invade worlds."

"Frequently."

"They have weird helmets."

"Almost always."

"Good." The succubus nodded. "I remember them."

Yiakhzmat continued. "They're actually decent trade partners, if you can get to it. Weapons, planar equipment, various astral armaments, occasionally spelljamming equipment. I don't use them much myself, but they're quite salvageable for my own use."

The dragon folded his arms. "Also."

"There it is. The part where you tell me they're nice to hunt."

"They make excellent targets. They invade worlds. Travel across the astral sea, through the multiverse. Often carrying valuable equipment. Biologically unusual. Histories of physiological and psychological modification. Interesting specimens. Very interesting specimens."

"The fun part."

The dragon seemed entirely pleased with this arrangement. "They raid through planes, not as often as demons, but still quite enough to count. Then, I intercept, and raid them. A balanced ecosystem."

Before Yiakhzmat could continue, Cecylle suddenly pointed. "Oh! You sent us after one of their brigs a while ago."

"Indeed. To be clear, though, they are here for an unique merit, but, in this age, I do intercept them less for specimens, but more for their-"

Eager to defy her master and glorify herself, she interrupted, "It was fun. We got all sorts of stuff. Those colorful crystals. The shiny armor. The weird helmets. The funny astral tools. Shame we didn't get the silver sword."

Silence accrues as Yiakhzmat slowly turned toward her. "Actually. Did I not explicitly specify not to touch the silver sword?"

Cecylle immediately looked innocent.

The dragon narrowed his eyes. "Let me recall the report." A small illusion appeared over his palm. Lines of glowing text began scrolling.

Cecylle suddenly became very interested in her tea, sucking it from the straw until it makes slurping sounds as only the ice remains.

The master looked up. "According to Arie's report. After she reminded you not to touch the silver sword, you cast an overcharged fireball, at the command deck The explosion detached approximately one-third of the vessel. The silver sword, and the general carrying it, were launched into the Astral Sea."

Cecylle coughed. "In my defense."

"No."

"It was very funny."

Yiakhzmat stared.

"It was."

The dragon sighed. "In candid, those silver swords are actually more trouble than they're worth. Githyanki become extremely motivated when one goes missing. Far too much effort required to conceal involvement. I can craft my own magic weapons than deal with that-"

"Aww." Cecylle grinned.

"Master."

"What?"

"What exactly did you expect from having former adventurers as your servants?"

Yiakhzmat stared. Then laughed. "Fair."

"Thank you."

"At least you brought back the brain dragon specimen I actually requested. That was the objective, and the rest, not so much."

"We did good, yes?" Cecylle simply looked up with puppy-dog eyes, expecting praise.

Yiakhzmat shrugs her off, and continued, "Anyways. Onto something related, the Githzerai."

"Oh, the less angry cousins."

"A simplification."

"But not wrong."

"Not entirely."

Yiakhzmat considered.

"They are . . . unique. Occasional trade partners. Reasonably reliable. Actually stable. All of which, are is impressive considering where they live."

"Limbo, the plane of pure chaos."

"Exactly." The dragon nodded. "I rather respect that."

"Obviously, you do."

"Building order within Limbo requires competence. They make excellent wards. Sometimes they trade in local materials. Excellent defenses. And of course, they can occasionally be reasoned with."

Cecylle blinked. "That sounded almost complimentary."

"It was. Anyways. Mind flayers." The dragon looked thoughtful. "Most of the time, they're difficult to trade with. Poor commercial instincts. Questionable social skills outside their mental domination. They do tend to eat customers, if they can get away with it."

"That would affect repeat business."

"Precisely."

Cecylle giggled. The dragon ignored her.

"Though rogue colonies can be worthwhile."

"Being not stuck up their squid asses, yes?"

"Indeed. Either way, regular or rogue, they contributed significantly to my research. Mind, memory, psychology, physiology, and their ability to manipulate it. I rather admire their experiments."

"You know, I actually see your point. Aren't they the ones with lots of weird biology, psychology, and some alien and eldritch sciences?"

"Precisely. I saved decades, or even, centuries, of independent work." He chuckled.

And then, the dragon thought for a moment. "Actually. I once attempted to sell an elder brain a self-replenishing psionically charged tissue, through my own faculties in transmutation."

"Tell me more!"

"They declined. They attempted to harvest me instead, as they believed they could obtain the formula that way."

"And you utterly annihilated them like a true dragon-archmage you are, right?"

"Actually, I did have some difficulty then. I was prepared against their more dangerous faculties with mindblank, various methods of psychic protection, though I was still quite lucky as their thralls and weaponry did inflict some damage."

"So, you lost?"

"No, I won. I harvested the colony, or what remains of it, and recovered their research and materials. A considerable amount was damaged, but I did gain a lot I could work with."

"Master. You say these things like bad customer service experiences."

"It was." Yiakhzmat shrugged. "Actually. I did remember, that I attempted to offer such thing again, to a more isolated, rogue colony a few decades later. And they graciously accepted it. And I got what I wanted. A lovely deal."

"Mhm."

"Moving on. Neogi."

"Oh, the spider-slaver aliens."

"Indeed. Hm, they do count for either side. Trade, dealership, prospects, materials. Reasonably useful."

"Continue your rambling."

"They trade. They raid. They acquire specimens. They acquire many specimens. Quality varies, but quantity compensates. They also make useful specimens themselves."

"And being world-raiders and all, you can nab them when they get uppity, right?"

"Indeed. Their mind control capabilities are fascinating. Their physiology as well. Their pacts to the Far Realm also prove to make them quite more interesting."

"Wait, can't you say that more to the illithids rather than the neogi?"

"Actually, you're right. Append that to my previous section."

Cecylle grumbles, and Yiakhzmat continues. "Though, intercepting them requires more effort. Techniques through the foresee spell seeds and teleportation-"

"Wildspace?"

"Wildspace. They don't raid as much through the Astral Sea, so, of course, planar archmages deal less with them statistically."

"Fair."

"And finally, for the part of the planar voyagers." Yiakhzmat actually smiled. "The Mercane. Or, the Arcane, by some."

"The blue space merchants."

"Indeed, the blue space merchants." For perhaps the first time in several categories, Yiakhzmat sounded more relaxed. "They're refreshing. No cosmic ideology, no obsession with alignment, nothing as such. Just pure trade and mercantilism."

Cecylle blinked. "You really like them."

"I do. Because they're merchants. True merchants, to their name. One magic item for another. Or gold, gems, rare materials, straightforward. And I do buy from them, exotic treasures such as spelljamming technology, fish suits, clockwork horror parts, solar dragon blood, various exotic devices. Fun things."

Cecylle stared. "Archmage kind of fun things."

Yiakhzmat laughed, "Of course. Moving on," and he leaned back slightly.

"For beings that aren't necessarily extraplanar."

"You mean, the locals? Stuff more of the Material Plane?

"Not strictly. Hm, or at least, a better word for it, things I encounter frequently enough without needing to cross three planes and a cosmic border checkpoint. Most of them."

"That sounds suspiciously specific."

"Not really, I was exaggerating the metaphor for the sake of it."

Cecylle rolled her eyes and groaned.

The dragon thought for a moment. "Undead. The worst prospects overall."

"That bad?"

"At least the mindless ones, without a mind or master."

He waved a hand dismissively. "Skeletons. Ghouls. Zombies. Wights. The usual. They consume and waste resources. They kill without reason. They rarely produce anything."

Cecylle blinked. "You really don't like them."

"I don't. Most of them. No trade, no meaningful discussion, no useful ambitions. Useless. Just puppets of negative energy driving them to consume."

"Fair. enough"

The dragon crossed his arms. "This entire citadel was originally built atop an undead-infested ruin."

"Oh right."

"Before the conquest, the resettlement of the kobolds, the march of the golems, the construction of the layers, before all of this."

Cecylle looked around the comfortable chamber. "Huh."

"I spent years clearing the place."

"That sounds annoying."

"It was."

A pause.

"Actually. There are exceptions, one that makes for truly interesting material. Vampires. Shades. Revenants. The more sophisticated varieties. Manipulation of life force. Propagation of refined traits. Alteration of souls. Those are at least worth studying."

"Again, you and your transformation stuff."

"Can't a man have fun and obsess over something?"

Cecylle thought for a moment, and blurted, "No."

Yiakhzmat squinted his eyes, glaring at Cecylle with those, before continuing.

"Oh. Actually, there are ones that I do particularly like. The intelligent, truly sophisticated ones.

"Wait." Cecylle immediately pointed.

"Liches."

"Indeed." The dragon nodded. "In fact, I particularly favor them."

"That is not a sentence most people would say."

"Most people aren't archmages."

"Fair."

The dragon continued. "A lich is often just a wizard, cleric, scholar, or mage who made a series of increasingly questionable decisions, and yet, achieved immortality through lichdom."

"A very diplomatic description."

"If they maintain their sanity, if they retain their will, if they avoid becoming completely detached. They're often worthwhile."

"Hm."

"Especially older ones. Especially archmages. Time produces expertise."

Cecylle snorted. "Spoken like an old geezer."

Yiakhzmat chuckled. "Correct. Actually-"

"Don't you use that word too much in a row lately?"

"I don't particularly care. Anyways. Actually. You remember Adostra?"

"The 15-millennium-old elf lich lady?"

"Yes, that one."

"Lovely woman."

Yiakhzmat nodded. "She's actually someone that I would truly call a peer."

"Another epic-level archmage. It's kinda obvious what your reasoning is."

"You say that like it's unusual."

"It is unusual."

The dragon shrugged. "We occasionally collaborate. Epic spellcasting, high magic rituals, epic magic item development, and some trade."

"How occasionally?"

"Once in a blue moon."

"Literal or metaphorical?"

"Both."

Cecylle almost objected, before going for a nevermind, "You know what, fair."

". . . Moving on. Giants." Yiakhzmat considered. "Actually, they are fine enough."

"That sounded surprisingly positive."

"Except hill giants. I don't like dumb things."

Cecylle laughed. "Wow, really being direct now, huh?"

The dragon passed over that half-remark, and continued anyways. "Stone giants are useful. Their runecraft traditions are interesting. Especially for large-scale magical foundations."

"Hm."

"Cloud giants. Capable spellcasters. Storm giants. Even more so. They're difficult to reach, but worthwhile."

"And fire giants?"

At that, Yiakhzmat nodded. "Excellent craftsmen, for processing of high-grade mundane materials. Some of the best I've dealt with."

That made Cecylle blink. "Wait. Master. Weren't you originally an emerald dragon before the mutant wyrm stuff?"

Yiakhzmat paused. "Yes, and your point being?"

"Aren't emerald dragons supposed to hate fire giants?"

He raised an eyebrow, "And who told you that?"

Cecylle immediately produced a thick book from somewhere. Yiakhzmat narrowed his eyes. She opened it, and cited, "This ancient monster manual."

The dragon stared, and succubus rebuked, "The one you gave me."

Yiakhzmat continued staring, and Cecylle smiled.

"Are you species profiling me?"

"Yes." The answer came instantly.

Yiakhzmat laughed, then shook his head.

"Cecylle."

"What?"

"Individuals can differ from general tendencies."

"Oh, come on. That cliche of an answer?"

"I'm serious." The dragon gestured vaguely. "There are redeemed demons. There are benevolent chromatic dragons. There are archmages who don't obsess over magic."

"You really sure those exist?" she knows the answer, but she's pressing for the sake of it.

"Yes. Extremely rarely, but, yes, they do definitely exist."

"Right, right, right."

"Besides, I've modified myself so extensively over the millennia that I'm fairly certain I no longer qualify as an emerald dragon in any meaningful sense."

Cecylle considered that. "Actually. That's probably right."

"Thank you."

"You've turned yourself into some kind of mutant-abomination-dragon-wizard-alchemist-thing."

"An accurate description."

"That's concerning."

"It's impressive."

"It's concerning."

"It's both."

Cecylle pointed at him. "See? Self-awareness."

"One of my finer qualities."

The succubus rolled her eyes. Yiakhzmat smiled, then waved a claw dismissively.

"Anyways. Moving on. Dragons."

Yiakhzmat immediately sounded more interested. Cecylle noticed it at once.

"Oh, here we go."

"What?"

"You have the voice."

"The voice?"

"The voice you use when you're about to talk about something you actually like."

"I do not have such a voice."

"You absolutely do."

The dragon-archmage ignored her. "Dragons. Actually. One of the best categories overall."

"Because you're one."

"Naturally." Yiakhzmat waved a claw dismissively. "Regardless. Dragons are excellent."

"You know, let me guess. As materials?"

"Indeed, as materials."

Cecylle burst out laughing. "Master. That's the most you answer imaginable."

Yiakhzmat looked entirely unapologetic. "Dragons possess power inherently tied to their existence. Blood. Scales. Claws. Hearts. Bones. Organs. Eggs. Even their very souls, when you can start harvesting them. A lot."

He leaned back. "The amount of magical literature written on harvesting draconic components alone is substantial. The Draconomicon, Fizban's writings, the collected works of multiple dragon cults, the anatomical observations of dragon hunters across several planes. They are very informative."

Cecylle sat still, showing another part of interest.

The dragon continued. "Dragon blood alone has countless applications. Alchemy. Sorcery. Ritual magic. Transmutation."

"Hence your interest in dragons."

"Indeed." He sounded almost proud of it.

"Some texts even suggest that bathing in dragon blood can imbue draconic traits, capable of transforming a humanoid into a half-dragon."

"That sounds incredibly unsafe."

"It is. For ones who cannot handle it."

"And let me guess, you can, and you've done it."

"Repeatedly."

"Of course you have."

The dragon shrugged. "A great deal of my own innate sorcerous development stems from draconic experimentation."

Cecylle blinked. "Wait. You mean your absurd sorcery isn't entirely natural?"

Yiakhzmat looked offended. "Natural is an extremely flexible term. Nature is imperfect. Nature is full of its flaws, where technique shall conquer and perfect it-"

Cecylle laughed. "I knew it."

"A considerable amount originated from grafting draconic power into myself. Primarily red dragons."

That made her pause. "Really?"

"They are the strongest chromatic dragons, generally speaking."

"Ooh. Lemme. And because they're arrogant."

"And because they're arrogant."

"And because that gets them killed."

"And because that gets them killed."

They nodded together.

"See?" Cecylle pointed.

"You do understand me."

"Unfortunately."

The dragon chuckled. "Actually. Speaking of dragon hunting."

"Oh, I know this one. I read your journals. You used to hunt dragons in your past ages."

"Hunt is a somewhat dramatic term."

"You killed dragons."

"I occasionally participated in circumstances resulting in dragon deaths."

"Master."

"Hm."

"That's hunting."

The dragon sighed. "Fine."

Cecylle settled deeper into the couch. "So how did it work?"

Yiakhzmat thought for a moment. "Divinations. Observation. Patience. Maneuvering across planes."

"That's boring."

"It worked." He folded his arms. "I would identify dragons likely to die."

"Likely?"

"Fated. Exposed. Vulnerable. A red dragon that accumulated too many enemies. A gold dragon standing against an empire too powerful to fight. An amethyst dragon hunted by astral invaders. Things like that."

"And then?"

"I joined."

"Joined?"

"The hunt."

The succubus stared. "You just . . . joined random dragon hunts?"

"Under disguises." The dragon began counting on his claws. "Whether as an adventurer, scholar, mercenary, renegade, rarely, another dragon."

Cecylle was laughing already. "That's terrible."

"It was effective."

"You waited until everyone else did the hard work. And then took the spoils."

"Correct. Sometimes, whether with or without permission."

"Well, you're so powerful, so why not just be like your good-old-dragon and take another one head on? Like, you sound like a scavenging bottom-feeder."

"A pragmatist." The dragon-archmage laughed, then his expression became slightly more thoughtful. "Besides. Back then, I wasn't nearly as powerful."

That got her attention. "Really?"

"Of course." He gestured vaguely. "There is a difference between glory and victory. And I preferred victory, and getting what I actually wanted."

Cecylle snorted. "That's probably the most honest thing you've said all evening."

The dragon looked mildly pleased by that. Then he added, "Actually, one of them did figure it out once."

"Oh?"

"An ancient amethyst dragon."

Cecylle sat upright. "What happened?"

"He killed me."

Silence, a pause, then. "What?"

"He killed me."

"You skipped over that very casually."

"I had a clone."

"Master, you can't just say an ancient dragon killed you and move on."

"It happened centuries ago. And the matter with that dragon was settled now, so."

Cecylle stared. "You are impossible."

"I am alive. It's evident which won in the end." The dragon looked entirely satisfied with that explanation.

Cecylle, once again, rolled her eyes. "Fine. Whatever."

Then another thought occurred to her. "Wait."

"Hm?"

"You just spent a hot minute explaining that dragons are the finest magical materials in existence."

"Reasonably accurate."

"And you're the strongest and most exotic dragon I know."

Yiakhzmat narrowed his eyes.

"Why don't you harvest yourself?"

In addition, Yiakhzmat also raised his eyebrows.

A grin spread across her face. "You know how to heal yourself, you know regeneration, you know alchemy, you can regrow limbs, regenerate organs, regrow basically anything. Why don't use yourself as material?

Yiakhzmat stared, and then, chuckled. A long, amused laugh. "Cecylle."

"Yes?"

"I already do."

The succubus blinked. ". . . What?"

The dragon pointed vaguely downward. "In the lower chambers, I did dedicate parts of myself, distilled portions of my own draconic power. Blood, tissue, arcane catalysts, and such. Constantly replenished by alchemical and arcane means."

A moment passed, then realization slowly dawned. "Ohhh, so that's what the ominous blood-red glowing tubes you ask me to move around for arcane work are. Got it."

"Correct. Anyways. On that tangent. The clone spell was quite handy for that purpose back then."

"Actually, logically, with the whole greatness of dragons and all, won't cloning dragons be harder than typical humanoids?"

"Indeed. Still, the cost is worth it. Dragons possess stronger souls. Stronger magical identities. More innate power. More things can go wrong, and yet, more things can go better."

Cecylle nodded, but, as she remembered something, she objected. "Wait, with the clone spell, won't there be a chance the body's owner soul would just, you know, take it back?"

"That can be handled. Wards. Spiritual barriers. Contingencies. Anti-resurrection measures. Various protections of that vein."

". . . How much time did you spend on these?"

The dragon considered. "Hm. I think several decades to develop these measures, and then several centuries benefiting from them. They were several productive centuries."

Cecylle continued to listen, more interested. The dragon continued speaking.

"Eventually the process became reliable, with sufficient material."

"What counts as sufficient?"

"A scale. Blood. Tissue. Bone fragments. Depends."

"Wait. If somebody gave you a single dragon scale, and enough time, and resources. You could basically turn that into an endless supply of dragon parts."

Yiakhzmat smiled. "In simplified terms, yes, I could."

"Master, you're really, you."

"And that is why I am magnificent."

Cecylle clapped with both of her hands, going with the vibe.

Eventually, after some ego-stroking, Yiakhzmat continued. "Of course, if a dragon is reasonable, then I don't generally bother."

"A high standard."

"Not particularly." The dragon counted off examples. "Archmages, craftsmen, researchers. Dragons willing to negotiate, hoarders of magical knowledge, those sorts."

"Oh, so dragons exactly like you."

"Correct."

"Bias."

"Absolutely."

Cecylle laughed. Yiakhzmat smirked.

"Actually, some greatwyrms have willingly traded pieces of themselves before."

"What?"

"I requested pieces of themselves so I can proceed with my work. In return, they would received valuable works of magic in return. A fair trade."

"That's weird. You people are weird."

"We are dragons. We are civilized. We are archmages."

"All of those count as the same thing."

The dragon-archmages accepted that with surprising grace.

"Oh, and dracoliches receive bonus points in my respect.

"Of course they do, they're dragon-lich-archmages."

"Indeed. Well, unless they are the kind of dracoliches that aren't spellcasters. In which case, they suck."

"You really do have a type."

"I have standards."

Cecylle pointed accusingly. "Your standards are just archmages, and everybody else who isn't one is a dweeb."

"Correct." he replied with a modicum of amusement.

The answer came so quickly that Cecylle immediately started laughing.

"Anyways." Yiakhzmat continues, almost to the end, leaning further into the couch.

"Hm. Actually. Aberrations. Entities connected to the Far Realm."

Cecylle looked in a slight. "Oh, those things."

"Those things."

"The ones you summon from the wizardry basement for us to fight as sport."

"And to gain some materials and samples I desired, yes."

"Yep."

Yiakhzmat continued. "Generally speaking, a lot of them are poor trade partners. Beholders especially."

"Oh?"

"They are paranoid enough to make devils seem trusting."

"That's saying something."

"It is."

The dragon crossed his arms. "Though their eyestalks are valuable."

"There it is, materials.

"Indeed, materials."

They nodded at each other.

"Beholder eyes. Antimagic organs. Various glandular structures. Quite useful."

"How about aboleths?"

"That's." Yiakhzmat looked thoughtful. "Better."

"Better?"

"Marginally."

"That is still surprisingly high praise."

The dragon ignored her. "Their physiology. Their psionic capabilities. Their transformative secretions."

"You could've said that in a less disgusting way."

"Those are the least disgusting words I can apply to them, actually."

"You know what, you're right."

"Anyways. Their abilities are fascinating. Biological transformation. Mental domination. Species conversion. Memory inheritance."

"You're listing things that sound exactly like your hobbies."

"Correct." The dragon nodded. "I learned quite a lot from them."

"And those star spawns?"

"Materials."

"Of course."

The conversation paused for a moment. Eventually Yiakhzmat waved a hand. "Anyways. Miscellaneous category."

"Oh, we're reaching the leftovers section."

"The uncategorized section."

"The 'everything else' section."

"The everything else section."

Cecylle nodded approvingly. "Good."

The dragon-archmage thought for a moment. "Wizards. Archmages."

"Oh no. You people."

"Us people."

Cecylle sighed dramatically. Yiakhzmat ignored her.

"They're wildcards. Every interaction is different."

"Hm."

"Sometimes they possess research I lack. Experimental materials. New spells. Novel magical theories. Rare items."

"Sometimes they try to kill you."

"Sometimes they try to kill me."

"Sometimes you try to kill them."

"Sometimes I try to kill them."

"That sounds unhealthy."

"It is academia."

Cecylle laughed, slamming the table until her glass fell, which she gracefully caught with her tail, without spillage, and put it back on the table. The dragon continued as though he had said something completely normal.

"It largely depends where they stand upon the metaphorical ladder."

"The ladder?"

"The hierarchy of magical capability."

"Oh."

He shrugged.

"When I became an archmage, the amount of magical individuals above me became rather small."

"That sounds arrogant."

"It is also true."

"Fair."

Then a thought occurred to her. "Actually."

"Hm?"

"Would you have considered old me a trade partner?"

Yiakhzmat immediately answered. "No."

The response was so fast she almost recoiled. "What?"

The dragon looked genuinely confused. "What?"

"That was rude."

"You asked."

Cecylle pointed accusingly. "Explain yourself."

Yiakhzmat shrugged. "You were a sorcerer with demonic ancestry and a handful of relatively ordinary magical items."

"I had good magical items."

"They were adequate."

"I had unique talents."

"They were reasonably common."

"I was exceptional."

"You were something."

Cecylle pouted.

The dragon chuckled. "I'm sorry."

"You aren't."

"I am not." He reached over and casually patted her head.

"You simply possessed very little I had not already encountered."

"Aww."

The expression weakened slightly. The headpat remained.

Eventually Yiakhzmat withdrew his hand. "So."

He considered everything he'd said. "If I were to summarize."

"Oh, rankings."

The dragon counted on his claws. "Elemental genies. Particularly efreeti."

"Mhm."

"Devils."

"Expected."

"Mind flayers."

"Anticipated."

"Mercane."

"Reasonable."

Yiakhzmat nodded.

"Those would probably be my preferred categories overall."

Cecylle considered that. ". . . Yeah. That tracks, actually."

A brief silence followed. Then she took another sip of her tea. A long sip. The kind that only existed because somebody was thinking. Well, not really tea anymore, just some melted ice with vague flavors of grape and tea.

Eventually she lowered the glass. "Actually. Why are you even answering all these questions?"

Yiakhzmat blinked. "Why not?"

"No, seriously."

The dragon thought. Then shrugged. "It is evening."

"Fair."

"We have no pressing responsibilities."

"Reasonable."

"You asked."

"Okay."

A pause.

"Then why not tell the others?"

Yiakhzmat immediately answered.

"Talis isn't interested in the intricacies, and zones out."

"True."

"Arie isn't interested in mercantile logistics."

"Also true."

"Kalysa becomes interested only when the topic somehow involves her."

"Very true."

"And you." The dragon pointed at her.

"You actually enjoy listening to this."

Cecylle immediately objected. "I do not."

"You do."

"I don't."

"I can literally read your mind."

". . . Fine." The admission came grudgingly.

Yiakhzmat looked entirely satisfied.

Cecylle pointed at him. "Alright then."

"What?"

"Aren't we all idiots compared to your magnificent brilliance and greatness? Why bother?"

The dragon considered. "Yes."

"Wow."

"But."

Cecylle paused.

The dragon reached over and gently scruffled her hair.

"You're probably the least idiotic among the four."

". . . Aww." The protest died immediately.

For a few seconds she simply sat there enjoying the attention.

The room became quiet. The lanterns flickered softly.

Somewhere far above them, distant sounds of kobolds, machinery, and workshop, and the shenanigans of the other three girls activity echoed through the stone.

Then, Cecylle blinked.

". . . Wait."

"Hm?"

She pointed toward the crystal orb on the table. The one that had been projecting doppelganger documentaries this entire time.

"Master."

"Yes?"

"You've had that thing the whole time."

"Yes."

"You could've shown visual demonstrations."

"Yes."

"You could've shown actual examples."

"Yes."

"You could've shown maps."

"Yes."

"You could've shown the actual places."

"Indeed."

Cecylle slowly lowered her hand. Then stared. Yiakhzmat stared back.

". . . Why didn't you?"

Yiakhzmat's casual expression didn't change. "Because you didn't ask."

Silence. A beat passed. Then Cecylle produced the single most offended sound possible. A shrill noise, between a scream, a shriek, and a whine. Some horrible combination of all three stretched far beyond what was reasonable.

Yiakhzmat waited patiently for it to finish. Eventually it did.

"There." The dragon nodded. "Feel better?"

"No."

"Good."

Cecylle threw a cushion at him. The dragon caught it without looking.

A few minutes later they were both back where they started, slouched lazily across their couches.

Cecylle pressed a finger to it, and the orb now displaying an animated projection of purple worm lore, neither of them was really paying attention to.

Cecylle raised her voice toward the doorway.

"Hey! Golem! Bring me a glass of iced apple tea!"

A thumbs-up made out of clay appeared from somewhere down the hallway.

"Thank you!"

And the golem left. The documentary droned on. The lanterns glowed. The citadel continued humming around them.

And for the moment, neither of them had anything particularly important to do except sit there and waste the evening. Which, for both of them, was a surprisingly pleasant way to spend it.

Notes :

• Main post hub.
• Cecylle is [After//The Sorcerer]. Yes, I'm experimenting with more exotic names a bit.
• Kalysa is [After//The Bard]
• Arie is [After//The Ranger]
• Talis [After//The Warrior]
• Yiakhzmat is [The Master]

---

It's evening. Well. Evening somewhere. There was no evening in the depths beneath the jungle ruin. No sunset. No stars. No horizon. Just stone, chambers, tunnels, workshops, vaults, laboratories, barracks, archives, and all the other things that accumulated when an immortal dragon spent centuries refusing to throw anything away in some ruins he grabbed away a few centuries ago.

Still, it was evening by schedule. That counted, at least. Somewhere above, muffled through layers of worked stone and enchanted reinforcement, came the distant sounds of activity. Clanging metal. The occasional crash. Voices. Somebody shouting something in Draconic. Another voice shouting back. The usual, nothing abnormal.

Deep below all that sat one of the smaller lounging chambers, a more comfortable one. Lanterns hung from chains and alcoves, casting warm amber light across the room. Bookshelves lined one wall. A low table sat between two couches. The air smelled faintly of burnt lavender incense and old paper.

An illusory projection floated above a crystal orb resting on a stand near the wall. At the moment it was displaying something, someone from certain worlds, would call a documentary, or something close enough. A scholarly narration droned on.

". . . Doppelgangers are strange beings that are able to take on the shapes of those they encounter . . ."

Neither viewer was paying that much attention. Lazily watching because there's nothing better to do, and because they can. Yiakhzmat lounged on one couch. Cecylle lounged on the other. The self-proclaimed great dragon emperor's current preferred form was, as usual, the vaguely draconic humanoid one. Green scales. Horns. Claws. Tail. A compromise between dragon and humanoid that looked like it had been designed specifically to posture dramatically in front of adventurers.

Not that he was posturing right now. At the moment he was slouched, slumped on the couch. Meanwhile his succubus servant had somehow managed to occupy nearly the entire length of her couch despite not physically being large enough to do so, wings and tail spreading in the right and wrong way to make herself comfortable.

A glass of grape-flavored enriched iced tea rested in her left hand. She took another sip through the straw. The documentary continued.

". . . many settlements have historically feared infiltration by shapeshifters . . ."

Another sip.

". . . when they transform, can actually take on the clothes and armours of the victims-"

"Hey."

Yiakhzmat lazily raised an eyebrow.

"Hm?"

"About shapeshifters."

"Hm."

Cecylle pointed vaguely toward the orb.

"You can do that too."

"I can."

"So you can assume any form you want, yes?"

"Indeed. So?

"Why do you specifically choose to look like, that? Why are you green?"

Silence. Yiakhzmat looked at her. Cecylle looked back.

"For an amazing reason," he answered.

She blinked. "What?"

"For an amazing reason."

"No, seriously."

"I am serious."

"Master."

"That is my answer."

Cecylle stared at him, and Yiakhzmat stared back.

The narrator from the illusory orb continued discussing doppelganger social behaviours.

Several seconds passed.

"Master."

"Hm."

"That is not an answer."

"It is."

"It absolutely is not."

"It answers the question."

"It doesn't explain anything."

"It explains everything."

"It explains nothing."

"It explains enough."

Cecylle narrowed her eyes, and Yiakhzmat looked pleased with himself. Eventually she groaned.

"You made that up because you don't actually have a reason."

"No, I have a reason."

"What is it?"

Yiakhzmat thought for a moment, then shrugged.

"Honestly?"

"Yes."

"I picked it arbitrarily."

Cecylle blinked.

"What?"

"When your party invaded the citadel all those years ago."

"Right."

Yiakhzmat waved a hand. "I wanted something that looked impressive."

"So this.", as he gestured at himself.

Light-jade humanoid skin, verdant scales, golden-hued claws, draconic wings, backward-curved horns, the muscular tail, the whole vaguely draconic humanoid presentation.

"That is why."

". . . that's it?"

"That is it."

"You built your entire fashion around looking cool to some invading adventurers at one time."

"Correct."

"Master."

"Hm?"

"You're a dork."

Yiakhzmat laughed. Cecylle took another sip of tea.

The documentary continued.

". . . by reading the memories of their captured victims . . ."

"Actually," Cecylle said, "do you even use anything else?"

"Hm?"

"You know."

She gestured vaguely. "The normal weird half-dragon-humanoid-thing form. The human form you use for travels. The actual dragon form. That weird werewolf thing Kalysa likes for her kinks."

Yiakhzmat sighed. "The fact you call it the werewolf thing is deeply offensive."

"You know exactly which one I mean."

"I do."

"So?"

"I use others."

"Do you?"

"Yes."

"Or you actually can't."

Yiakhzmat stared at her. Cecylle smiled smugly. The dragon-archmage stared another second.

Then shrugged. His form changed. Shifting in split seconds, reshaping itself so quickly, elf, dragonborn, yuan-ti, mindflayer, shambling mound, goblin, deva, a remarkably ordinary-looking housecat, a potted fern, a troll, a chair on top of the couch, then his typical form again. The entire sequence took perhaps six seconds, before Cecylle burst out laughing.

"Alright. Fine. Point proven. Hm."

The orb continued projecting in the background.

Neither of them had processed a word of it for several minutes.

Cecylle leaned back into the couch.

"So why do you even bother?"

"Hm?"

"With all the forms."

Yiakhzmat thought for a moment.

Then shrugged.

"I used to."

"You used to?"

"Back then."

"When you still did wizard stuff?"

"I still do wizard stuff."

"You know what I mean."

Yiakhzmat sighed. "Yes. Back when I was still actively pursuing things."

"You make it sound like you're retired."

"I am retired."

"You run an underground magical empire."

"I run it from a couch."

"Fair."

He leaned further back.

"Sometimes you need different identities."

"Hm."

"Sometimes you don't want people tracking you."

"Hm."

"Sometimes you travel across planes."

"Hm."

"Sometimes you acquire materials."

"Hm."

"Sometimes you trade."

"Hm."

"Sometimes-"

"Wait."

Cecylle sat up slightly.

Yiakhzmat paused.

"What?"

She pointed at him.

"Actually explain all that."

"What?"

"Everything."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because that's centuries."

"We have time."

"Cecylle."

"It's evening."

"Technically."

"We're not doing anything."

"Technically."

"You've got nowhere to be."

"Technically."

She pointed accusingly.

"Master."

Yiakhzmat looked at her. Cecylle looked back.

The documentary was now discussing notable historical incidents involving shapechanging assassins. Neither of them cared much.

For several moments, Yiakhzmat considered the proposal. Then finally sighed. "Alright."

Cecylle immediately grinned. The dragon-archmage reached over and lazily tapped a claw against the crystal orb. The narration volume dropped. The projected image dimmed. Not enough to disappear. Just enough to fade into the background. The documentary continued speaking quietly about doppelgangers somewhere behind them. And again, neither paid attention.

Yiakhzmat settled deeper into the couch, thought for a moment. Then said, "Well. If we're starting with planar trade, deals, and prospects. . ."

Yiakhzmat paused. Then immediately paused again. "Hm."

"What?"

"What did I actually trade, now that I think about it?"

Cecylle stared. "You forgot?"

"No, I am categorizing."

"You forgot."

"I am categorizing."

"You definitely forgot."

The master ignored her.

"Magic."

"Oh."

"Lots of magic."

"That's it?"

"That is not an insignificant category, Cecylle."

He waved a hand.

"Scrolls. Potions. Wands. Rings. Rods. Armours. Enchanted reagents. Alchemical compounds. Arcane materials. Research notes. Dweomers. The usual."

"The usual."

"The usual wizard things."

"Master."

"Hm?"

"I don't think most people's usual business involves selling magically preserved phase spider venom to a lich from another plane."

Yiakhzmat thought about it.

"Perhaps."

"Perhaps."

"Actually yes."

Cecylle snorted.

The orb in the background continued discussing doppelgangers, something about taking over humanoid children and changelings, and neither of them were listening.

"Can you actually make that much stuff?" Cecylle asked.

"Hm?"

"To be marketable."

Yiakhzmat looked at her, then looked vaguely upward. Toward several hundred minions, constructs, arcane engines, and workshops occupying multiple levels above them. And down below, right on his personal workshop. Then put a hand on his chin.

"You remember the Magebreaker Blade?"

"The one you gave Talis?"

"Yes."

"The absurd one."

"The excellent one."

"The one that eats spells."

"It does not eat spells."

"It absolutely eats spells."

"It breaks walls of force."

"It eats spells."

Yiakhzmat sighed.

"The point being, that is one item. And one of finer quality."

"Oh."

"I can make more than one item."

". . . Fair"

"Besides."

He gestured vaguely upward again, and downwards.

"There are the kobolds."

"That's a dangerous sentence."

"There are golems."

"Less dangerous."

"There are workshops."

"There are explosions."

"There are occasionally explosions."

"There are frequently explosions."

"There are controlled explosions."

"Master, last month a hallway disappeared due to an incident with beads of fireballs."

"It was controlled."

"The hallway collapsed and had an avalanche."

"It had an avalanche in a controlled manner."

Cecylle laughed. Yiakhzmat continued as if this was entirely reasonable.

"Even before all of this, I was already an archmage. I had centuries of accumulated stockpiles. I have the expertise to create so much. Magic items, formulas, prototypes, failed experiments."

"Failed experiments?"

"Somebody buys those too."

"What?"

"What?"

"Who buys failed experiments?"

"Other wizards."

"That's concerning."

"It is an honorable tradition."

Cecylle buried her face in her hands.

"Gods."

"Not usually."

The servant groaned. The master seemed pleased with himself.

"So how'd you actually do business?"

"Hm?"

"You."

She pointed.

"How do you show up somewhere without everybody immediately screaming 'dragon'."

"Oh, that's easy."

The answer came suspiciously quickly.

"Shapeshifting."

"No."

"Yes."

"That's the whole answer?"

"Mostly."

Yiakhzmat shrugged.

"I take another form. Establish an identity. Trade. Acquire what I need. Leave."

"That's it?"

"No."

"What else?"

"Teleportation, plane shift, nondetection, several contingency spells, a few emergency clones, simulacra, some dimensional anchors to seal the deal, three different fake identities supporting each other, a handful of real and fabricated trade histories, a small network of intermediaries, a backup network of intermediaries, a tertiary network in case the backup network fails-"

Cecylle blinked.

"Master."

"Hm?"

"That's a lot."

"It is called preparation."

"It's called paranoia."

Yiakhzmat looked offended, just a bit, shaking his head. "Those are different things."

"No they aren't."

"They absolutely are."

He folded his arms. "Actually. If somebody identifies me through truesight, for example."

"Yeah?"

"That means I made a mistake."

". . . What."

"A mistake in gathering information."

"You think being discovered is your fault?"

"Usually."

"Master."

"Hm?"

"That is not normal."

Yiakhzmat shrugged.

"Neither am I."

"Fair."

He leaned back into the couch.

"Honestly, learning polymorph was one of the best decisions of my life."

"Even with your antediluvian third-ontology polymorph nonsense? Wait. Wait a second. Don't gem dragons get shapeshifting naturally when they become adults?"

"Fifth-ontology gem dragons. I am third. So I do not."

"Oh."

"I do, however, have the ability to travel at-will between the Inner Planes and the Material Plane."

Cecylle blinked. ". . . that sounds significantly better."

"It is significantly better."

"Okay, yeah, that's actually pretty useful."

"It is."

The orb narrated something about countermeasures involving doppelgangers. Again, neither of them cared. For a moment, silence settled over the room. Practically. The noises of the orb kept continuing. Cecylle took another sip of her iced tea.

"Wait, I do clearly remember even that ancient polymorph doesn't give you the ability to change like whatever you did a few seconds ago."

"Well, indeed, that is not exactly polymorph. I grafted myself the ability to shapechange at will, remember."

"Reasonable. Anyways. So. Where do we start?"

"Hm?"

"The planar reviews."

"Oh." Yiakhzmat considered. There were quite a lot of planes. Quite a lot of beings. Quite a lot of stories. "Hm."

"What?"

"There is an order problem."

"You have an order problem?"

"There are categories."

"Oh no."

"There are subcategories."

"Oh no."

"There are taxonomies."

"Oh no."

"There are ontological classifications."

"Oh no."

"There are cross-planar trade patterns."

"Oh no."

"There are-"

"Master."

"Hm?"

"You know, fuck it, shoot whatever comes to mind."

Yiakhzmat stopped. Thought. Then nodded.

"Alright."

Cecylle leaned back into her couch.

"Be free."

"Hm."

"Shoot."

The dragon-archmage considered the Great Wheel for a moment.

"Elementals."

Cecylle burst out laughing.

"What?"

"You had the entire multiverse."

"Yes."

"And you started with elementals."

"I thought of them first."

"That's the most wizard thing you've said all evening."

Yiakhzmat ignored her. "Actually, as a category, elementals aren't very good trade prospects."

"They're made of rocks, fire, air, and water. And maybe something else in between."

"Exactly."

"You're saying that like it's obvious."

"It is obvious."

"They don't have economies."

"Most don't."

"They don't have stores."

"Most don't."

"They don't have trade caravans."

"Most don't."

"They barely have clothes."

"That is not relevant."

"It is a little relevant."

Yiakhzmat sighed. "Binding elementals for research is useful."

"Mm."

"Using them as servants is useful."

"Mm."

"Using them as labor is useful."

"Mm."

"But actual trade?" He waved a claw dismissively. "Not particularly."

"Harsh."

"Accurate."

"Do elementals know you're talking about them like livestock?"

"They would not care. Ones that I summon anyways. Mostly."

"Fair."

Yiakhzmat thought for a moment.

"Actually."

"Oh no."

"There is an exception."

"Oh no."

"The genies."

Cecylle immediately pointed.

"There it is."

"What?"

"Your real answer."

"Hm?"

"The moment there are actual merchants involved."

"They are excellent merchants."

"I knew it."

"They are."

Yiakhzmat settled more comfortably into the couch.

Now he was getting into territory he genuinely enjoyed.

"Djinni first. The ones of the Plane of Air"

"Oh?"

"Fine arts. Fine luxuries. Good company."

Cecylle blinked.

"Good company?"

"Usually."

"You?"

"Yes."

"You buy luxury goods?"

"Occasionally."

"What kind?"

"Wines. Spices. "Clothing."

"What."

"I am allowed whims."

Cecylle looked genuinely delighted.

"You own fancy clothes."

"Of course."

"I've never seen you wear fancy clothes beyond your gold-gem-chain-robe-thing."

"I own them."

"Master."

"Hm?"

"You are hoarding clothes."

"I am a dragon."

". . .fair."

He nodded sagely.

"Precisely."

The discussion continued. "Anyways. Marids. Genies of the inner plane of Water."

"Oh?"

"Actually. More interesting. Or not."

"That's a glowing recommendation."

"Not necessarily because of the marids themselves." He waved a hand.

"The City of Glass."

"That big dome thing?"

"That big dome thing."

"You really call one of the greatest trade hubs of the Inner Planes 'that big dome thing'."

"I know what it is."

"Mhm."

Yiakhzmat leaned back. "Sometimes I visited it in my younger years."

"Younger."

"Relatively."

"Mhm."

"The Plane of Water was my birth plane, after all."

"Actually, you've never taken me there. The City of Glass."

Yiakhzmat paused.

"Have I not?"

"No."

"Hm."

"Hm?"

"I should."

Cecylle pointed accusingly. "See? This is what happens. You've got all these places and stories and nobody gets invited."

"You live in my citadel."

"That's not a vacation destination."

"Agree to disagree."

Cecylle groaned.

"Anyways," Yiakhzmat continued. "Quite a nice place. Good luxuries. Good markets. Good access to the Inner Planes."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"You sounded nostalgic."

Yiakhzmat shrugged.

"Perhaps."

A brief pause.

"Dao. Ones of the plane of Earth."

"Rock people."

"Rock people."

"Any thoughts beyond that?"

"Gems."

Cecylle waited.

"Gems."

". . . master."

"What?"

"That's not a review."

"It is a perfectly adequate review."

"No it isn't."

Yiakhzmat sighed.

"Fine. Stonework. Mining. Masonry. Earthworks. Excellent access to precious stones."

"There we go."

"But, gems. You know that many higher spells require gems as material components."

"Diamonds and rubies and all that?"

"Precisely."

"Resurrection stuff?"

"Among other things. Nondetection, clairvoyance, magic circles, contingency, planar binding, clone, gate-"

"So you buy gems from them."

"I buy gems."

"And?"

"Then I turn them into magic."

"A wizards being a wizard."

"And sometimes, precious metals. Silver, gold, platina. Shiny and looks good."

"And now, a dragon being a dragon."

Yiakhzmat nodded to himself, chuckling at the joke.

"Efreeti. From the inner Plane of Fire."

"Oh?"

"The most remarkable among the elemental genies."

"Higher praise than the rock people."

"The rock people sell rocks."

"They sell gems."

"Which are rocks."

Yiakhzmat ignored her. "I spent quite a lot of time in the City of Brass."

"The giant city above the fire pit?"

"Yes."

"Isn't it like, hot there?"

"I do have some fire resistance back then, and a ring of fire immunity, so I'd suppose I was protected enough. And, well, The City of Brass was worth the effort."

"Oh?"

"Very much so."

"What'd you buy?"

"Subjects."

A pause. Cecylle blinked. "Like." Another blink. "Slaves?"

"Hm."

Yiakhzmat thought for a moment. "The term test subjects might be more accurate."

Cecylle slowly lowered her glass. ". . . master."

"What?"

"You can't say that like it's better."

"It is better."

"No it isn't."

"I meant, It is more precise."

"Eh, yeah, alright."

". . . Of varying categories. Various species. Various origins. Across multiple planes."

"And why exactly were you buying people?"

"Research. You know, about transformation and change. My greatest obsession at the time."

"Oh."

Yiakhzmat gestured with one hand. "I needed to understand."

"Uh huh."

"Essence. Capabilities. The nature of change. Body. Mind. Soul."

"Uh huh." She nodded idly.

The dragon-archmage continued. "As one does."

"No, master, not as one does."

"As I did."

"That's not helping."

The orb quietly narrated something about the organization of shapeshifters in the background. Nobody listened, of course.

After a moment, Cecylle looked back up. "So what'd you actually do with them?"

"Hm?"

"You know." She made a vague gesture.

"Research."

"That means nothing."

"It means research."

"Master. Be specific." Cecylle leaned forward. "What did you do?"

Yiakhzmat thought. Cecylle, actually, continued, blurting, "Like, burn them with fireballs, dip them into acid, try poisons on them, that stuff."

"What? No. Why would I do any of that?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Because, you said, you are evil."

"I am evil."

"Right."

"I am not stupid."

". . ."

"Those would provide very obvious results. It would hurt, and kill the subjects. I already know these things. Why would I waste a perfectly good test subject proving what everybody already knows? A test subject exists to provide information." He raised his finger. "It is not for wanton destruction. It is useful. It should remain useful."

"Huh."

He paused. "Actually."

"Oh?"

"Torturing somebody for the sake of it always struck me as somewhat barbaric."

Cecylle nearly dropped her drink. "What."

"Destroying useful things for personal amusement. It seems wasteful. It does nothing to provide me with any results or satisfaction."

"Master."

"Hm?"

"Did you just call torture immoral?"

"Yes, it is. I mean, I do not care much for morality, for most, but, pointless pain is just not my style."

"Yeah, fair, fair."

Yiakhzmat nodded. After a moment Cecylle tilted her head. "So what, then? You treat them like royalties or something? Or pets? Keep them healthy, feed them fancy food, take care of them, shower them with gifts, all that."

"Actually. A healthy subject is an optimal test subject. Stress and pain within one can disrupt or confound the experiment-"

"Master."

"Hm?"

"That's weird."

"It is practical."

"No, that's weird."

"It improves data quality."

"No, that's weird."

"It does."

"I hate that you're making sense."

The dragon-archmage looked smug.

"Oh. And." Cecylle pointed again.

"I've read some of your old records. You occasionally disguised yourself and talked to them. Shared stories like you were close friends."

"Indeed, sometimes."

"Why?"

Yiakhzmat blinked. Then shrugged. "Information, psychological observation, reduction of stress, and sometimes I simply felt like it."

Cecylle stared. "So, you were counseling your own test subjects?"

"Occasionally."

"Master."

"Hm?"

"You're very weird."

"I am aware."

The sorcerer took another long sip of tea. "Wait."

"What?"

"So if you weren't doing all the evil mad scientist things . . . What were you actually doing?"

Yiakhzmat leaned back. "Experimentation with lycanthropy, transformative properties of dragon blood, illithid tadpoles and grafts, incorporeality and transitory states of ghosts, properties of aboleth mucus, transference of extraordinary and supernatural abilities, memory modification and enchantment progression, the interaction between magical identity and magical alteration, changes to souls upon exposure to transmutation-"

Cecylle slowly lowered her glass as she interrupted him, chuckling. "Yeah, alright. You're a bonafide villain."

Yiakhzmat looked pleased. "Thank you."

"That wasn't a compliment, dumbass."

"I shall take it as one."

A brief silence followed. Then Cecylle asked,"So do they die?"

Yiakhzmat considered. "Eventually. A lot of them. A lot don't. If they survived, they remained useful."

"Mhm. Yeah. Yeah."

The orb continued talking quietly in the background. Somewhere far above them, an explosion thundered. A woman shouted angrily in draconic while hissing sounds pierced through. Neither reacted.

Eventually Cecylle tilted her head. "Wait. Why don't I see any of these test subject peeps around anymore?"

Yiakhzmat paused, then shrugged.

"Oh. I achieved my goal."

The answer came so casually that Cecylle blinked.

"What."

"I solved the problem. The catalog. The techniques of change. The mastery of essence."

"Oh."

The dragon-archmage folded his arms. "There were diminishing returns afterwards."

Cecylle stared. "You stopped, just like that?"

"No reason to continue. Too much investment for too little gain."

Cecylle nodded again with absentmindedness, then tilted her head. "Wait. Would I have made a good test subject?"

The dragon-archmage blinked. "No, not really. You are transformed by my technique, yes? And I already have enough knowledge of you and your being. So there's really no point to that."

"No, actually, I meant before. Before the citadel, the transformation, and if you're still the weird transmutation researcher back then."

Yiakhzmat considered. Then nodded. "Actually."

"Oh?"

"You would've."

Cecylle immediately looked delighted. "I knew it."

"You possessed sorcerous blood tied to demonic lineage. It's interesting. Unusual. You weren't a cambion, nor a tiefling, lacked most of the expected traits. There was something peculiar there."

Cecylle grinned. "So I'd have been special."

"You would've been interesting."

"I'll take that as a win."

Yiakhzmat shook his head. Cecylle looked extremely pleased with herself.

Then suddenly blinked. ". . . Wait. Weren't we talking about planar trade?"

A pause. The master thought, then nodded.

". . . We were."

"Right."

"So."

"So."

"Continue."

"Very well."

Yiakhzmat settled back into the couch.

"Moving on from the efreeti."

"Fiends." Yiakhzmat immediately sounded more interested.

Cecylle noticed. "Oh, there it is."

"Hm?"

"Your favorite category."

The dragon-archmage didn't even bother denying it. "One of them."

"Master, It is absolutely your favorite."

Yiakhzmat folded his arms. "And your proof."

Cecylle sat upright.

"Let's see. You deliberately transformed four human-adjacent adventurers who invaded your domain. Into one, a horned beast woman, something with affinity to the devils, an ooze girl, with the whole thing of the demon lord of oozes, a marilith, and a succubus." She pointed directly at herself.

Then she pointed back at him. "And you. Look at yourself. You look like some incubus mixed with some dragon aesthete. With the horns, scales, wings, claws, the tail, and, you're green."

Yiakhzmat chuckled. "Well. Being honest. I do like the aesthetic."

"Master."

"Hm?"

"You're a weirdo."

Yiakhzmat chuckled. Cecylle did too, together.

Then, the dragon-archmage leaned back into the couch. "Anyways. First. Demons. Fiends of chaos. They are terrible trade partners."

"Yeah?"

"Generally speaking. Chaos. Evil. Impulse. Unstable. Prone to violence. Terrible long-term investments."

"Fair."

A pause. "Excellent materials."

Cecylle immediately clapped her hand, "There it is."

"What?"

"The real reason."

"It is a good reason."

Yiakhzmat spread his hands. "The Abyss is effectively infinite. And these fiends flow endlessly from it. Demonic incursions occur constantly. They invade worlds. They die in vast numbers. Their disappearance is rarely noticed. Which makes them excellent research material. Find an invasion, subjugate one, harvest for materials."

He didn't stop. "They possess an enormous variety of abilities. Nabassu, Balors, Cerebriliths, Sibriexes, and so, much, so much more." The grin slowly spread across Yiakhzmat's face. "So much variety. So many capabilities. So many unique manifestations of extraplanar essence. A great deal of my knowledge originated from demonic specimens."

The orb continued narrating in the background. What's not needed to be repeated, due to obvious inference, shall not be.

After a moment Cecylle frowned. Not out of concern, but more, confusion.

"Wait. Don't demons just dissipate and return to the Abyss when they die?"

"Oh." Yiakhzmat waved a hand. "Dimensional Anchor, spiritual anchor, planar binding, trap the soul. Preventing extraplanar return is not especially difficult."

Cecylle blinked. "Master. Most people would consider that sentence terrifying."

"Most people lack perspective."

"Most people are normal."

Yiakhzmat shrugged. "An unfortunate condition."

The succubus groaned. "Gods."

"Several."

The succubus-sorcerer sighed, and the dragon-archmage looked entirely unapologetic.

"Anyways." He continued. "As trade partners."

"Wait, aren't you repeating-"

"No." Seems he's insistent on repeating.

"What."

"Just no. The overwhelming majority possess temperaments completely incompatible with productive business."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Too impulsive. Too chaotic. Too destructive. Too prone to setting things on fire."

A pause. Then Cecylle pointed at herself.

"Hey."

"Hm?"

"What about me?"

"What about you?"

"I'm adorable."

"You are."

"Why don't you hate me as a partner? I'm a demon."

"Strictly speaking, you are not technically a true demon."

The succubus blinked. "What?"

"You are a former half-elf that was affected by a spell that rewrote your fundamental essence as a being, for insolently raiding the lair of a great dragon-archmage, and transformed you into what you are now, so I don't think you count."

"Hmph. You win again."

Yiakhzmat laughed. After a moment, though, he paused. "Hm. Actually. Some demons are acceptable."

"Oh?"

"The glabrezu. The succubi. The ones capable of sustained negotiation. The ones capable of overcoming their tendencies of chaos. Those can occasionally be worthwhile."

Cecylle blinked. Then tilted her head slightly.

"Wait. Succubi? Are you sure they're demons?"

Yiakhzmat blinked. Silence. "The succubi are tanar'ri. I'm very sure about that. In fact, didn't you just tell yourself that succubi are demons a few sentences ago?"

Cecylle immediately sat up straighter. The look on her face was dangerous. "Yes, but, even then, still."

"Actually. According to one book written around fiends. The succubi haven't been Abyssal demons for over a century. The whole species apparently changed course after the Spellplague of 1385 Dalereckoning, when Asmodeus gained his godhood after that. Then, by the time of the Second Sundering of 1487 Dalereckoning, they transitioned again, then you'll find them all across the Lower Planes, and their allegiance you can count on is whatever suits them at the moment. So, I stand by my point. They're not just demons anymore."

Yiakhzmat stared at her. Cecylle stared back. The succubus looked unbearably smug. The dragon-archmage opened a small portal with a hand. Reached inside. Pulled out a book, opened it, read, turned a page, read some more, another page, another.

Cecylle looked delighted. Yiakhzmat continued reading. Then slowly closed the book. "Huh." Then he chuckled, a genuine one.

"Well. You did your research. You knew something I did not. That is impressive."

"I know." Cecylle said, looking smug.

Yiakhzmat reached over. Patted her on the head. The smug expression somehow became even smugger.

"Good girl." For perhaps three entire seconds Cecylle forgot she was supposed to be maintaining her dignity.

Then she remembered, coughed, sat up straighter, and immediately pretended she hadn't enjoyed that at all. Yiakhzmat laughed, the lie fooled nobody.

"Actually. Suppose a demon overcame the usual issues. The excessive murder, chaos, destruction."

Cecylle snorted.

"You're describing a devil."

"Not necessarily."

"Master."

"Suppose a succubus-"

"Wait didn't we establish they're not true demons back then?"

"We were, you did well, I applaud of you, you are completely correct, but I'm just doing this for the sake of the hypothetical. Anyways. Suppose a succubus, for example, ascended in power. Established a planar domain. Built civilization. Maintained an order of pleasure. Encouraged prosperity. Created stable institutions. Ensured trade routes remained functional. Even if they still invade the planes, or perform their fiendish corruption-"

"That sounds suspiciously specific."

"It is merely an example."

"Uh huh."

"If such a being could replace wanton destruction with an ideal that allows civilization to function, then yes. I would consider them a perfectly acceptable trade partner."

Cecylle narrowed her eyes.

"You absolutely have somebody in mind."

Yiakhzmat pretended not to hear her. "Anyways. Yugoloths. Fiends of neutral alignment. Unreliable."

"Coming from you that's basically a racial slur."

"It is an observation."

"Uh huh."

"Excellent harvest material during Blood War engagements."

"There it is."

"Actually, arcanoloths are acceptable."

"Only acceptable?"

"They are intelligent enough to negotiate. Capable enough of magic. Well, to have something I'm interested in."

"That's practically a compliment from you."

"It is."

He thought for a moment. "Actually, I did hire an Ultroloth once."

Cecylle immediately perked up. "How'd that go?"

"Poorly."

"Obviously."

"It attempted to sell information about me to a devil, after she offered to pay him more than I did."

"While employed by you?"

"While employed by me."

"Wow."

"Very unprofessional."

"Master. You hired a yugoloth."

"Yes."

"The fiend type famous for selling literally anyone for money."

"Yes."

"And you're surprised?"

Yiakhzmat paused. "In retrospect, no."

"There we go."

"Fortunately I had prepared for betrayal."

"Of course you did."

"A bit of an augmented geas. The resulting confrontation was useful."

"Useful?"

"The Ultroloth functioned effectively as a psychic bomb and a distraction."

Cecylle blinked.

". . . You weaponized your own contractor."

"After he betrayed me. It solved the problem."

"Master."

"Hm?"

"Sometimes I think your solution to every problem is turning it into material."

Yiakhzmat considered this. "Not every problem."

"Most problems."

"Most problems."

"Anyways. Devils. The lawful fiends." Yiakhzmat immediately sounded pleased again. Again, excellent harvests during Blood War engagements."

"There it is. The harvesting."

"It is an important aspect."

"To you."

"To me." The dragon-archmage folded his arms.

"But unlike demons, in the dealership prospects, devils are actually more pleasant to deal with."

Cecylle stared. "Pleasant."

"Relatively."

"They're devils."

"They are civilized devils."

"Master."

"What?"

"That's still devils."

"And?"

The succubus sighed.

Yiakhzmat continued.

"The City of Dis alone makes them worthwhile. The greatest commercial center in the Lower Planes. I can buy far more there than almost anywhere else."

"Such as?"

"Magic. Rare reagents. Planar materials. Information. Exotic subjects."

"There it is."

The dragon chuckled. "Well. I do need somewhere, to reliably acquire some such as celestials, as material, without having to deal with them myself."

"Mhm. And the devils themselves?" Cecylle asked.

"What about them?"

"You actually trust them?"

Yiakhzmat thought for a moment. "No, not really. I trust them to be devils."

"That's not really trust."

"It is sufficient."

The dragon-archmage leaned back.

"The advantage is predictability."

"Oh?"

"A demon may betray you because it is angry."

"Fair."

"A yugoloth may betray you because somebody offered more money."

"Also fair."

"A devil will betray you because a clause on page forty-seven subsection three permits it."

Cecylle snorted into her drink. "That sounds awful."

"It sounds documented."

"Master."

"What?"

"You sound like you enjoy this."

"I do."

"Of course you do."

"Hm. Devil contracts." Yiakhzmat waved a hand. "I don't have many qualms with them."

"You don't?"

"Not particularly."

"Why?"

"Because I read."

". . . Master."

"What?"

"You are telling me the secret to defeating devil contracts is literacy?"

"Surprisingly often. And a lot of magic, too. Quite lots."

Cecylle laughed hard enough to nearly spill her tea.

Yiakhzmat continued with complete seriousness. "Find traps, fox's cunning, mindblank, contingencies, planar effects, binding, charming, or domination effects if absolutely necessary."

"Oh no."

The dragon shrugged. "An archmage possesses many tools."

"Most people don't."

"Most people should not be making contracts with devils."

"That's actually fair."

"Oh, and, souls. They trade soul coins, too. And that makes way for soul extraction, soul storage, soul manipulation. They're something closest to the essence of a being.

The dragon leaned back slightly. "You know. Reincarnation. Petitioners. Afterlives. Outsider transformation. A mortal soul enters one plane and emerges as something else entirely. A soul is not immutable."

"Mmh."

"It can be changed."

"Sounds . . . Fascinating." She leaned her head forward.

"Indeed, very quite so. A creature dies, and enters an afterlife. Exposing themselves to the planar powers. A petitioner forms. Given enough time and planar influence, that being may become something else entirely. A celestial. A fiend. Something in between. They become something else."

"Ooh, wait-" and the master interrupted her.

"If you wish to truly understand transformation, eventually you stop asking how flesh changes. How the thought changes. How a thing remains itself despite both changing."

She doesn't mind the interruption, really. Seems she's hooked up enough.

"Also soul coins are convenient because devils will literally carry your research material directly to market."

Cecylle just shrugged lightly.

"Besides. Well, your true transformation did do well enough to change your soul, too. Remember, if you were to be killed, and resurrected, you'll return as you, now."

"Huh, yeah, a masterwork, honestly." she grinned. It is unclear if the praise is meant to be for herself, her master, or both.

Then, she readjusted herself, "Anyways, so. you've never lost against them?" Cecylle asked.

Yiakhzmat immediately answered. "Oh, no."

That surprised her.

"No?"

"No."

"You?"

"Of course. And if I did, with these devils, I mitigated the consequences enough."

"Huh."

The dragon shrugged.

"You learn."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"No grand story?"

"There are several."

"No dramatic lesson?"

"The lesson is generally not to make the same mistake twice."

"That's a very typical answer."

"It is the correct answer."

He tapped a claw against the armrest. "You do not bite more than you can chew. The difference is that powerful beings have larger mouths."

Cecylle stared. "That might be one of the worst metaphors you've ever used."

"I disagree."

"Of course you do."

"The point remains, still."

Yiakhzmat continued.

"An archmage does not become powerful by fighting impossible battles. They become powerful by avoiding impossible battles, and making them unnecessary in the first place."

Cecylle blinked. The dragon continued. "You widen the range of things you can handle. You gain ways to get more information. More contingencies. More leverage. And eventually many things that were once dangerous become manageable."

The succubus nodded. "... That's actually sensible."

"It usually is."

"Anyways. Moving on. Celestials, in general."

Cecylle immediately perked up. "Oh, this should be good."

Yiakhzmat sighed. "Unfortunately. They are poor trade prospects."

"Because they're good?"

"Because they're tedious."

The answer came immediately. Cecylle burst out laughing.

"Tedious?"

"Extremely."

The dragon folded his arms.

"Angels. Archons. Guardinals. Eladrins, the celestial ones, not the elven ones. They want too much. They want virtuous outcomes. Moral considerations. Good causes. Principles. Before they actually offered to trade."

Yiakhzmat visibly looked exhausted. "They ask too many questions."

Cecylle laughed so hard she nearly fell sideways off the couch.

"Master."

"What?"

"That's because they're the good guys."

"I am aware."

"You're judging them for being good."

"I am judging them for being inconvenient."

The dragon paused. Then shrugged.

"Though."

"Oh?"

"The militant ones are acceptable."

"Really?"

"I sell them magical weapons, armor, gear, and those. And in return, I get blessed materials, holy water, various celestial reagents."

"So that's the standard."

"It is a very important standard."

Cecylle shook her head.

"Your entire system for evaluating planar beings is completely broken."

"Oh, I would call it effective. It has worked for several centuries."

"That's not a defense."

"It absolutely is. Wait. Edge cases. Evil celestials. The ones that serve the evil cause. They, still ask too many questions. Except for evil this time."

"You really don't like them, don't you."

"I suppose. Wait. Rogue celestials. Those ones actually, are the rarest to find, and yet, they're one of the best trading partners, I admit."

"Care to tell stories about them?"

"No, I feel more like moving on."

Cecylle groaned, and well, Yiakhzmat, of course, moved on with the conversation. And right before that, the consort took a moment to take another sip of her drink, it's a quarter-to-empty now.

Random ass troupe character facts. For funsies. I'm too lazy to format it like an infographic like the ATFC boys' fun facts sheets, and frankly I don't wanna be bothered. So time to blast!

Yes, some repeated some lore in the past, some snipped into the memes, but a fun facts sheet for that funsies is still fun, yeah!

Though for some other relevant stuff,

• The Four, Before and After, In a Nutshell.
• Prelude DnD 5e character sheets, for the troupe.

Thorne, the warrior.

• While his blood family is no more, he has a lot he can call brothers and sisters back then.
• Literacy and formal education around a highschool graduate in Earth world's terms. He's a physical type, yes, but he's quite literate, and smart in other ways.
• Strategic, street, and survival smart. Adapts fast to unfamiliar environments.
• Skilled in reading maps, with situational and environmental intuition.
• Smokes occasionally. No specific taste.
• Sleeps almost anywhere and falls asleep quickly. Snores,
• Can build a wardrobe if given the tools and the instructions booklet,
• Will mentally zone out and just nod along once in awhile if someone rambles to him about high arcane theory,
• Quite a good cook. Can make money by cooking for a tavern,
• His favorite food is steak, or a thick soup with primary ingredient being meat.
• Pretty skilled at common tavern card games,
• Knows how to use bombs, explosives, cannons, and bombards well. Just a hobby.
• Has probably carried every party member at least once,
• Responsible for most of the party's bad ideas, also with Elias.
• Sometimes the party uses him as a sponge to test traps and threats. He doesn't mind.
• At one point, in response to being engulfed by a gelatinous cube, he cleaved it from the inside. It worked.

And after, as Talis,

• Immunity to fire lets her taste test cooking while still quite hot.
• With her poison immunity, sometimes she goes on binge drinking to dozens of tankards of alcoholic drinks for funsies,
• The least opinionated from the consorts when chatting around about things,
• Don't forget she's still derived from an adventurer and is still as unhinged at least as one,
• Uses her tail to carry things when her hands are full.
• Routine is going around the citadel, assisting heavy-duty tasks like the golems once in a while, and going as another one of the commanders,
• Frequently volunteers for tasks she technically has subordinates for.
• Goes on with spars with master once in awhile to test her power and technique.

Rylei, the ranger.

• Childhood is fine enough, but considering his personal weirdness and stigma back then, his childhood wasn't that proper.
• Literacy and formal education around a college sophomore in Earth world's terms,
• Expert in reading maps, cartography, navigation, and can map and track really well.
• Has difficulty in adapting to new social settings and unfamiliar cultures.
• Favorite food is especially sweet, fruits and berries.
• If given the chance, would read a nature encyclopedia for fun.
• Can identify dozens of bird species by sound alone,
• Sometimes gets irritated with Elias and Caldwyn's antics that prod him out.
• Occasionally shares time with Caldwyn to ramble to each other about trivia.
• Knows a lot of very random creature trivia. Like, the normal limb distribution of carrion crawlers given a location.
• There's lots, lots, lots of bug drawings in his notebook.
• Can cite really specific events if he wants to make a point.
• Typically prepares backup plans and magic items in his bag of holding.
• Glasses swap with protective goggles and a protective face mask in combat.
• Responsible for most of the party's overcomplicated plans, also with Caldwyn.
• Has predicted several ambushes. Has also predicted several ambushes that did not exist. At least the former is reliable enough.

And after, as Arie,

• Yes, the true transformation spell melted her notebook onto her. Fortunately, master spent a [wish] to restore and give it back. No bug sketches are lost,
• Acutely aware of what had happened, yes, but, slime hehe :3,
• In fact, none of her knowledge, acumen, or memories are gone, she just expresses it rather differently now.
• Sometimes stores snacks inside herself for later,
• Randomly sketches the cool things she found inside the walls.
• Occasionally emerges from a wall and startles everyone involved,
• Main duty is basically crawling around the cracks, moving around, monitoring the citadel, and taking notes,
• Learnt a lot of secret passages and codes between the kobold and construct minions,

Elias, the bard.

• Got to be a courtier because his mother did a bit of port city migrant court politics.
• Literacy and formal education around a highschool graduate in Earth world's terms, but still quite skilled in many other ways.
• Prone to inattention, excessively active, impulsive. Trouble sustaining focus on repetitive, or low-interest tasks. Actively hides these in most situations.
• Some say his flashpoint in the scandal, was also stoked by his intent for a more exciting life, as he said himself.
• Keeps his appearance, style, and fragrance fancy with sporadic [prestidigitation].
• Contributed the most to calm down Caldwyn's emotional instability, also contributed the most to provoke it too.
• Has a bit of problem, well, quite a problem in his true empathy department.
• Not really into admitting his own mistakes unless cornered,
• Enjoys talks with Thorne about frat boy style topics,
• Fond of dogs, wolves, foxes, canines in general. Whether as regular animals or as beastfolk. Well, he has quite the interest for the beastfolk aesthete in general.
• Likes pepperoni pizza. And milkshakes too,
• Sometimes got rather too in-character in his impressions and roleplays, he takes offense in his character's offense.
• The party's chore boy when they can't, or won't bother with something.
• Apparently a lot of his spell kit are charm and control spells.
• Has successfully talked the party out of situations they absolutely deserved.
• We do not talk about the werewolf incident.

And after, as Kalysa,

• Can perfectly multitask and coordinate with her six arms,
• Fascination with transformation really shines with this new chapter of life,
• Has reorganized parts of the citadel simply because she could. Of course, has been reprimanded for this.
• Sometimes when she bickers ala a couple with Cecille like the old days, master would tie her lower body, and Cecille's tail too, to a girder, and let them down when they don't feel like bickering anymore,
• Has volunteered herself as a transformation test subject more than once, sometimes the other girls without them knowing,
• Sometimes gives speeches when a simple explanation would suffice,
• Acts as the primary commander of the citadel's minions, just below the master, main middle management. Likes the feeling of authority she has with it,
• Developed a sense of enjoyment for this whole management game,

Caldwyn, the sorcerer.

• His family dynasty is less big on nobility politics but more big on arcane dealings.
• Literacy and formal education around a college bachelor in Earth world's terms,
• Has difficulty reading maps and navigating.
• The fact that he has fiendish heritage contributes to his emotional instability and chronic emptiness. Not by nature, but by what happened around it in his life.
• To be fair, he doesn't really hate his sorcerous blood. In fact, he loves its power. He hates the expectations given around it.
• Attempted to use [scorching ray] on a family heir event, in an emotional outburst, a bit counterspells, long story short, got him exiled.
• Knows noble etiquette despite pretending not to care.
• Sometimes chews gum or cloth as a habit of comfort.
• Paces, hums, makes noises, or gives emotes when excited.
• Enjoys chocolate milk. Sometimes strawberry milk. Milkshakes too.
• Keeps a lot of wands and scrolls to compensate spells he can't prepare.
• Enjoys romance stories, apparently. Whatever in-universe analogs there is for fantasy and science-fiction, too. And forbidden, controversial, arcane, or esoteric lore.
• Will randomly collect magic items lying around. Sometimes, especially, cursed ones.
• Has mistaken a mimic for furniture. Has mistaken a furniture for a mimic.
• Loves fireball, and the scenery of fire, smoke, cinder, and ash.
• Loves summoning arcane minions to make things more exciting.

And after, as Cecille,

• The new form gave her a tracking and mapping sense, at least, to help her compensate about the lack of it before,
• Complains sometimes that her new domination powers don't work on the other girls because of their immunity to mind-affecting effects,
• Does really weird silly things sometimes with the other consorts' new bodies,
• Out of the girls, the one most weirdly romance-y about all of this.
• Likes to glaze Master for whatever his shenanigans are in general,
• Has been banned from tampering with constructs without permission,
• Takes care of some arcane affairs of the citadel. The mage-commander, right below the master. Also is in arcane apprenticeship under him,
• Also helps the master in handling magic items, with, supervision, of course,