Mimic Ch 00

It was dark... He could not even feel if his eyes were open or not. The cold had taken all of his senses from him. If this was death, then he was right to fear it. He felt that he should fight to live, scream for his place in the world, but there was no sound; only the cold black that enveloped him. There was no pain; only numb silence.

"I am here," he thought to himself, "I have a place. There are things the world has yet to teach me."

Now there was pain; a stabbing of white fury in his limbs. His chest burned fiercely as he labored to gulp the frigid air that touched his lips. His face burned in the stinging winds, shards of broken snow biting at his eyes. His vision blurred and pained as his eyes opened on the white windswept landscape. Movement. Dark shapes. Were his eyes seeing this or were they still rebelling at the lack of color? The vague forms grew closer and he gained focus as to the nature of them.

Women, walking on the surface of the snow, approached him. His mind rebelled at the sight. They wore nothing. The tall feminine frames with hair as white as the snow on which they walked. One looked to the other pointing directly at his half frozen trapped form.

"Valkyries come to take my soul," he thought bitterly.

One spoke... the sounds tore at his ears. If there were words, he did not know them. They moved traceless along the snow. The heat of their bodies on his skin a relief at first, but rapidly turned to waves of pain as it bathed him. Their hands pulling him free of the snow bank were branding irons on his skin. His ears rang in a storm of sound. A dark shadow rolled along the landscape and what made it came into view. A dragon, wings spread to the wind, banked in front of him. It put to ground and he could feel the tremors of the earth beneath him. It tucked its wings in as it approached. Its eyes fell upon him and his pains faded away.

A clear voice rang in his ears, "This is where you wished your birth?" it asked warmly. "Your kind always amazes me. Yes it is I that speaks to you newling. Welcome to the world."

With that the dragon reached out and scooped him from the snow. Both of the white haired women settled themselves on to the dragon's neck. He did not feel born. Truth in it was hard for him to believe. His body ached and protested. He tried screaming at the fire breathing monster that he was mistaken in this. He searched his mind for another answer only to find that all too familiar darkness; his mind was empty.

"IF I am just born then how is it I know that those white haired nude women are Drow? And that seeing them brought thoughts of them being Valkyries?" he spoke inwardly, "And that this THING that carries me is a dragon? It is only witchery. To be born is to be a child." His world went fuzzy.

................................................................

{

Hello in there,

} a voice whispered in his head.

"And just what 'in there' are you talking about?" he hissed thru clenched teeth.

Opening his eyes slowly, he found himself in an odd room with walls covered in shelving. He lay on a stone table in the center of the room. A figure in a black robe moved to the side of the table and waited for him to finish his study of the room.

{

I am LocNial... an Illithid,

} it sent to him. {

I am here to build you.

}

"'Build' me? What is there to build? I am alive and could walk out of here."

{

To where would you walk?

}

"I... " he started to say and fell silent. He could hunt... his sense of smell told him there was food in this room. This Illithid would build him. He sat up reaching for the creature's throat. The rage boiling over at this empty feeling echoing through his being. He froze as quickly; its face showed nothing. It was familiar and alien. The smoky white pools of its eyes were lacking in pupil or iris. Its tentacles hung from its lower face like a beard, two vertical slits alongside a scaled ridge formed its nose. He could feel it, in his head, waiting for him to decide what he wanted.

{

Are you going to kill and eat me?

} its voice chimed in his head. The words themselves weren't what scared him...it was the feelings mixed in them. "Are you" felt warm and comforting. "Going to kill" felt icy as the wind had been yet painless. "And eat me" carried amusement and sent a tickle through his seated form.

"Loc, that will be enough for now," said a rich husky voice. He turned to see who had spoken. To his surprise, he looked into the dragon's face. He saw himself brokenly reflected in its metallic scales and large painfully blue eyes. Fear held his eyes; the reflection was charred, with only a vague hint at features. The Illithid, Loc, gestured towards a tall cloth draped item standing in one of the room's corners.

"You could do that," the dragon cooed, "though what will it show you if you have nothing to ask?"

"Ask?" he blurted as his attention returned to the dragon's face.

"Yes. Without a question, that mirror would be empty to the viewer," the dragon stated flatly. "Perhaps it would be best for you to come with me for a little bit. I have food waiting for you and then you can think about which of Loc skills you find of interest."

"So when he think-talks about 'building' me, he means 'teach'?" he asked.

"Well," the dragon said, tilting its head to the side, "No and yes... See, he has gotten ahead of things and now you are confused."

"I want to know what you did to my memory... No one just wakes up full grown with the power to speak and think. It goes against the natural order of things."

"The natural order of things? What do you know of nature?" it asked with a warm tone of amusement. The dragon moved its head out of the open door. LocNial hissed in a skittered pitch and pointed out the door before walking to exit the room itself.

He stood there looking at the cloth covered mirror. His thoughts were cold and empty. Nothing was making sense to him. His hand reached for the mirror... His legs, however, stepped towards the door. Scents triggered feelings without reason. Thoughts brought to mind were food, home, friend, clean, and evil play? Reaching for the wall he tried to stop the spinning in his head. The cold surface of the floor greeted him instead. Once again, the warm black unfolded inside him, taking thought with it.

His body took over; acting on instinct. The corridors blurred into each other as he ran on all fours along their floors and walls. The sheath of hard skin that covered his body cracked and fell away. He reached his destination. A large trunk stood before him in an empty room that smelled like family.

"You have a choice," the dragon's voice echoed throughout the room.

He froze.

"The chest before you is your mother and father. You can follow the instincts of your kind or you can become something new and wondrous. It gave you this chance at the price of its own life," stated the dragon flatly. "I will not stop you, though it would pain me to watch you."

"What was its name?" he heard himself ask.

"Mimzerret." It answered.

He pushed the lip of the trunk open and began digging into the folds of flesh inside. Instinct screamed at his every nerve to devour the flesh that he tore through. He fought to hold his mind. He could smell it; what he needed. Talons formed and hardened in place of his fingers. His hand tore deep into the gore and pulled from its depths a fist sized blue chunk of flesh. Holding it before him, he looked up at the dragon... It had turned away. At his back, however, Loc stood with feelings of hunger, pleasure, and fascination pouring out of it in waves. He ignored the purple creature as he brought the blue flesh to his lips. Cocking his head unhinged his jaw. Two thin black tendril tongues shot from his mouth and wrapped the grasped flesh. In one fluid movement, he swallowed it whole.

"I need a name." he hissed.

This snapped the dragon's eyes back to him. Standing in the fire breathing monster's glare and meeting its piercing gaze. Loc's tendrils twitched jaggedly as it stood there emotionally silent.

"You wish us to name you?" asked the dragon with what sounded like fear edging into its voice. "You would not choose one for yourself?"

{

He is greater than we gauged he would be,

} sent Loc.

"I want you to name what I am, not who. I know who I am..." he said proudly, holding the dragon's eyes with his.

"I name you Mimic Khan, greatest of the Grand Mimic," said the dragon in scholastic reverence.

"I am Zerret, first son of Mimzerret. I greet you Grande Draconian," he said proudly... "And how am I to address you, Lord?"

{

Where is all of the formality coming from, Zerret?

} quarried Loc.

"'Uncle', Zerret. You may call me 'Uncle' for now," said the dragon with a sigh that billowed yellow hued smoke.

"Then, Uncle, I have questions..." he said while assessing the razor sharp talons that had taken the place of his fingers.

"I will answer all that I can, so ask what you will, Zerret," The dragon said.

....................................

He stood before the mirror taking a long, studied, look at his own anatomy. He was taller. The average, Loc had told him, in human stands. His skin was a soft, natural, pinkish hue, though lacking in any feature. He was hairless from head to toe and also lacking in finger and toenails. His pecks lacked nipples and though he thought of himself as male, he lacked genitalia. During the hours of questions, he had asked if Loc had fleshed itself at him to show that it not having them showing was not proof of not having them.

Trinseccet the Silver was the true name of the dragon that he was to call "Uncle". The reason it allowed this was strange: he shared blood with the dragon. LocNial was an Illithid, feared by most other races, that has pledged itself to the dragon's service. Mimzerret was the pet of Loc in the beginning. Having spent years with the Illithid, the Mimic had grown extremely intelligent. This, in truth, was the only reason Trinseccet allowed Loc into his service.

Uncle had told him that a Mimic was a chameleonic predator, akin to the doppelganger. However, instead of taking on the appearance of someone else, they became something else; like a trunk or chest. Some of the more cunning took on the appearance of doors. Looking in the mirror, he thought about turning into a chair. Nothing happened. He closed his eyes and looked inward. He felt it, his eyes going wide at the revelation. He watched in awe as his body took on a grained wood look and practically melted into the shape of a heavy armed sitting chair. He was a mimic; instinct had taken him over and taken from the body of his parent its memory-brain. A racial memory nexus passed down for five generations, almost 700 years of morphic lore. He shifted himself into a dozen other things.

He had to stop. Hunger gripped him, giving rise to thoughts of eating Loc. He shook his head which, after a reassuring look into the mirror, had returned to the state of vague adornment it had before. A quickened pass carried him to the dining hall. Uncle lay facing a table where a mixed group of nude females ate and conversed.

{

Zerret? I share your taste in fare,

} Loc chimed into his head; {

Thou none of those morsels will ever be ours to feast upon.

}

"I am starving, Loc. This table is littered with burned carrion. I need to eat. I have found my shaping, but I did not realize until too late that I would be ravenous from it," he stammered through gritted teeth. "It has gone too far. I have envisioned eating you to sate my hungers."

{

Well I wouldn't much want that... I do, however, have snacks that I am willing to share.

}

He turned towards Loc and they walked from the dining hall. He felt his Uncle's eyes watching him. He could feel the questions that it would ask him. Loc watched him approach and his eyes did not raise such feelings in him. He stopped in front of the Illithid. He felt nothing at all from this creature. Loc's tentacles parted slightly as it tapped a finger to its temple.

{

You can feel them, can't you?

} it asked.

"Emotion, intentions, thoughts? What part are you talking about?" he asked. "You said snacks..."

Its tentacles twitched as it turned away from him. Walking briskly through hollow sounding corridors, he followed Loc. He fought himself. Three times he felt his skin texture, and the hardening of talons. His senses screamed through him, assailing him in torrents of hunger and need. A door opened to him by the Illithid washed him in feelings of relief and elation. Once again, he was barely himself. His body morphed. There wasn't thought or feeling in his movements. He felt the hapless creature for but a moment before ingesting it whole. The second, however, looked upon him in abject terror, and tasted far sweeter to him as it, too, was consumed to relieve his hunger.

{

And are still hungered?

} Loc questioned.

He held himself. The four remaining creatures scurried behind Loc. The Illithid stood motionless. He could feel it holding open a place in his mind for him to answer. His insides churned and he chokingly regurgitated a couple of metal leg cuffs and the head of a small smithing hammer. {

I am myself again,

} he thought.

"You not you... monster of master, are you?" chittered one of the little creatures.

Loc waved his hand and the little creatures slumped to the floor. He could feel the Illithid. It, too, radiated fear in pulsing waves. Its tentacles twitched under a wide eyed expression, proof of its inability to shield its thoughts. He willed his flesh to his concise control. Loc stepped as if he was going to grab his arm, its tentacles flared wide. His thoughts blurred for a moment leaving his vision hazy and littered with tiny sparks of dancing light. He blinked them away as the he pursed his lips to put to voice the question forming in his head. Loc had bolted from the room. He looked at the creatures that lay about the floor. No feelings of hunger rose in him. The fascination of the terror emitted by the feeling Illithid however required investigation.

Zerret stepped out of the room closing the door as he exited. Loc was yards down the corridor, robe flailing about him, and running headlong to what it thought of as safety. He took to foot, pacing himself to catch up with the Illithid. Before he could catch up, however, Loc slammed open the doors to the dining hall without breaking stride. As he approached, he could feel the dragon's annoyance at the Illithid. When his "uncle" came into view, he burst into uncontrolled laughter. Loc had climbed the dragon's face and was clutching one of the being's horns in the same way a small child would to its father's leg.

"Loc, what are..." Uncle started. "And this... so then... you too... and why? Alright! Get control of yourself and get off of my HEAD," emphasizing these last words with a tilted shake of its head. Loc's grip to the horn broke and he tumbled to the floor. Loc scurried to put as much of the dragon's body between Zerret and itself. Uncle looked at Zerret, then back at Loc.

"Perhaps you can tell me what you think just happened, Zerret. Loc has shown me his side and I can see why his fears have risen to such an uncontrollable level."

Zerret felt into the dragon. It was not mad or afraid, simply curious. It watched him calmly and waited. He just started blurting out everything: finding he could shape change, doing it made him dangerously hungry and what Loc had said about Uncle's female diners. He grumbled through the parts about telling Loc his hunger had given him cravings to eat him. He coyly admitted that eating the first little creature had curbed his need but the second... it being afraid made it taste rather incredible.

"So, then, why did you laugh upon entering the hall, if you felt that I was annoyed?" Uncle asked as he lowered his face closer to Zerret. The feeling from his Uncle was that he already knew the answer and this was a test.

His thoughts raced through all the recent events again, if this was a test he had to have the answer. That answer had to be right in front of him if the dragon was making it a point to ask. He felt uneasy.

"I don't seem to understand why I did it, Uncle," he answered. The feel of the dragon didn't change but it did have a mote of sympathy for him in the canopy of its emotions.

"Well, the hour grows late. We can continue this in the morning if you are in need of rest."

{

I feel no fatigue,

} he thought.

"Then let just the two of us have a conversation... aloud." Uncle stated flatly.

"I would much enjoy talking more with you, Uncle. I do have more questions," he said.

The room cleared with a few murmurs for the group of females. Loc skittered out of the room and made no qualms about broadcasting its relief about not needing to be there. Once the last person had left, the dragon's feelings changed drastically. Zerret held his place... waiting for the reason for this change to be made clear. The heavy clunk of the doors slamming shut, followed quickly by the metallic clanks of bolts and locks seating themselves, echoed in the now empty hall.

Trinseccet held him in an icy gaze.

"You are learning things quickly, though learning isn't the right term for how you are acquiring things." Uncle stated.

"Is this why you are angry, Uncle?" he asked.

The dragon grinned. "Your scales are showing, Z," it said pointing at his legs.

Zerret looked at his legs. He did indeed have scales; long patches down the outsides of each leg. What was more of a mystery to him was the penis that hung between his inner thighs. Turning his attention back to the dragon his arm rose to shield his eyes from the rapidly increasing glow coming from the dragon. The glaring light receded and Zerret lowered his arm. He scanned the room in search of Uncle. Instead, he came face to face with a woman. She stood a hand taller than he did. She wore nothing. Long hair of fine silver flowed down the length of her back. It stopped an inch from the floor. Zerret felt that this female standing toe to toe with him was Uncle – the silver dragon, Trinseccet.

"Uncle?" he asked timidly.

"Yes, Z, it is I... You are the only one that has seen me in my elfish guise. I am going to hold you to a pact because of it. I can teach you the secrets of what you are. And I will, provided you keep my secret under pain of death. Loc does not know that, in truth, I am a female of my kind. It would matter you him, using the term loosely, very little. His race is hermaphroditic... both male and female... or neither," she explained.

"And this is something all dragons do?" he asked.

"You are just as clever as your parent was," She said with a smirk. "See, Mimzerret thought that it was Loc that was kept as the pet." Crystalline laughter followed those words, a sound that warmed him bodily.

"Careful," she warned childishly, pointing down between his legs.

Zerret looked down to find the penis no longer hung but instead stood straight out from his lower abdomen. It felt no differently than it had before. More to the point, it had little feeling to it at all. He shrugged and looked back at Uncle.

"So what did I do to cause Loc so much fear? You seem to think I should know what I did," he said.

"How does a fish learn to swim?"

"It doesn't?" he said flatly.

"So clever, and correct," she said, walking towards the table of food, "you have been doing the same thing."

"Swimming?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. See, your kind is a chameleon to its surroundings. You don't have to think about what to look like to blend in, you just do. 90% instinct 10% intellect. Now you, personally, are unique... 80% intellect and 20% instinct."

Giving him a moment for that to sink in, she sampled a shrimp from the table. "You were starving... you had little control of yourself beyond restraining your hunger. Instinctively, you sought to blend into your surroundings. You have a lot more intelligence now... well higher order mental function would be a better way of putting it. SO as your control weaned your instinct incorporated the mental skills of the dominant life form in the environment in which you were."