Ruby Haze [Archie Sonic SI]

[FTR2017]

Quite informative and justified in-universe.

Wouldn't want bad parties to take advantage of unknown sources of Chaos Energy that need incredibly particular circumstances to discover, right?

I am also pondering just why Chaos Energy prefers emeralds as its favorite conduit.

Pity that Morgan's Ring-producing engine is in all likelihood lost alongside its designer ... .

 

[weredrago2]

Here's the completed version of a Hedgehog family tree I made! I'm placing it in Apocrypha because it's mostly just for fun. To see if I could do it. I'll try not to do this again any time soon because it was really exhausting, but no promises.

The only parts that are even vaguely canon in Ruby Haze are the ones with Archie characters on it.

Do you see Sonic on it? I hope so, because there's four of them!

I'd like people to guess where all of these names came from, but if you get stuck, here's an answer key:

Spoiler: Name Origins Answer Key

From top to bottom, then left to right...

Sonugh Boghog: Archie Sonic.

Aman-Rapi: Sonic Underground.

Masonic Hnti: AOSTH. "Hnti" is an approximation of the word for "hedgehog" in ancient Egypt.

Penelope Abaset: AOSTH. "Abaset" was an obscure Egyptian goddess with a hedgehog on her head.

William "Bravehog" Hirchoun: STC. The "William" is William Wallace, a Scottish knight made famous in modern memory by the film Braveheart. "Hirchoun" is a dated word for a hedgehog.

Thomas Hedgehog: Tom from the Paramount films.

Madeline Furzepig: Maddie from the Paramount films. "Furzepig" is another name for a hedgehog.

Zephyr Nadelmaus: Sonic's infrequently been called the son of the Western Wind (either poetically or by people who are grasping at straws for where the hell he came from), so "Zephyr" it is. "Nadelmaus" is a purposefully direct/rough translation of "Needlemouse" to German.

Bonbon Rabbit: Bonbons are small, chocolate confections. Sometimes filled with liquer, or other things like nougat or truffle. Perhaps she's a distant relation to Vanilla and Cream?

Diamond Hedgyboar: The Diamond 3 Star was a slot machine produced by Service Games (AKA Sega) in the 60s. "Hedgyboar" is another name for a hedgehog.

Dean Hedgehog: Dean Sitton, a developer who helped localize the first Sonic game for a western audience. He's the one who gave Eggman the name of "Dr. Ivo Robotnik" and provided the English names for multiple badniks. To tie into Fonz and Artie, the name can also be read as an allusion to James Dean.

Ogilvie Hedgehog: Archie Sonic... From a certain point of view. The name is never uttered in the text, and was instead divulged in an online post by Ken Penders.

Alicia Kidd: Alex Kidd.

Byrnie Hirchoun: A byrnie is another word for chain mail. A play on Popful Mail, the would-be Sister Sonic!

Maurice Needlemouse: Archie Sonic. "Needlemouse" was a mistranslation of an early name for Sonic -- Mr. Hedgehog. From an old interview that was translated wrong, the name took on a life of its own in the fandom.

Ernst Rabbit: There was a gray rabbit from the early development period of Sonic the Hedgehog, before they settled on the Sonic we all know and love. This rabbit is sometimes called "Feels" by the fandom because that was the name for the protype version of Ristar, with whom the Sonic 1 Rabbit shared a gameplay gimmick. I... don't remember why I called him Ernst, actually. I've done like 40 of these and they all start to blur together.

Madonna Hedgepig: Madonna, the canned human girlfriend for Sonic. An idea they wouldn't revisit again until Sonic 06. "Hedgepig" is another word for a hedgehog.

Sarah-Grace Grand: The SG-1000. Sarah-Grace and her children are derived from the first draft of the western Sonic Bible, which Sonic as having a mother and five sisters.

Alphonse "Fonz" Hedgehog: The "Sega Fonz" was arcade hardware used for a variety of racing game cabinets in the mid 70s, including the 1976 Fonz game.

Arturo "Artie" Hedgehog: Artie was the brother of Arthur Herbert Fonzarelli in Happy Days.

Comet Pricklypig: Her first name alludes to the astronomical nature of The Super Sonic Sisters, a scrapped spinoff of the Sonic cartoons running in the early 90s. "Pricklypig" is another name for a hedgehog.

Charles Hedgehog: Archie Sonic.

Jules Hedgehog: Archie Sonic.

Bernadette Needlemouse: Archie Sonic.

Paul Parlouzer: Shogakukan. He goes by Paulie in the manga. The last name "Parlouzer" is, by all accounts, a fan surname for the family. While we know it wasn't in the manga, we have no idea where it came from. At all. Weird, huh?

Brenda Hedgepig: Shogakukan.

Arthur Hedgepig: Sonic is revealed to be none other than King Arthur in Sonic and the Black Knight (if this is the first time you're hearing about this, don't worry about it), so I figured the side of the family that's representing Sonic Underground should have royalty on both sides of it.

Aleena Larebelle: Sonic Underground. Her surname is a play on the French name for the show -- Sonic Le Rebelle.

Sonny Hedgehog: Sonic Bible first draft. In that, Sonic was known as "Sonny" until he got his super speed and blue quills when he first broke the sound barrier.

Genesis Hedgehog: Sonic Bible first draft. The Sega Genesis.

Mercury Hedgehog: Sonic Bible first draft. Sega's Project Mercury, which is also known as the Sega Game Gear.

Celia-Dean Hedgehog: Sonic Bible first draft. The Sega CD.

Saturnine Hedgehog: Sonic Bible first draft. The Sega Saturn.

Naomi Hedgehog: Sonic Bible first draft. The Naomi arcade board.

Monica Hedgehog: One of the two protagonists of the unproduced Super Sonic Sisters spinoff cartoon.

Isabelle Hedgehog: One of the two protagonists of the unproduced Super Sonic Sisters spinoff cartoon.

Ogilvie Maurice Hedgehog: Archie Sonic... again, only technically. Sonic's stated to be named after his two grandfathers, but we only learn that his middle name is Maurice. "Ogilvie" comes from Ken Penders after he left the comic, and is therefore not officially recognized. (For the given value of "official" here.) Archie Sonic later changed his name offscreen, making it a moot point in the story.

Nicholas Parlouzer: Shogakukan. The manga's version of Sonic is usually known by his civilian name of Nicky or Nikki, depending on the translation.

Tanya Parlouzer: Shogakukan. Different translations rendered her name as Tania or Anita. Here, I went with Tanya.

Sonia Larebelle: Sonic Underground.

Mordred Larebelle: Sonic Underground. I couldn't call him Sonic here, but I figured if he's going to be a son of King Arthur, then why not make him the most notable one?

Manic Larebelle: Sonic Underground.

Next chapter's still being worked on, pending some collaborations and hired work I've been pecking at. You can treat this as a fun puzzle to tide yourselves over with until then.

 

[weredrago2]

Ruby Haze
Chapter 39: Forgery in Fire

When I first reached Mobius, my eyes were permanently changed from gray to magenta. I was permanently touched -- changed -- by the Phantom Ruby. After I further tapped the Ruby's flow with Mania Mode, my body became more mutated. Clawed and fanged. Stretchier, hardier, and stronger than ever. The apex of that metamorphosis was spurred on by the influx of negative chaos energy radiated by Enerjak. When that negative energy hit critical mass, the curse of the weredragon was unleashed.

Another transformation. I gave it the uncreative name of Weredragon Scarlet.

As it turned out, shaking this curse wasn't as easy as putting the dark god back in its can. The weredragon lingered, as a kinesthetic presence that waxed and waned. Starkly different from the spirit that'd been doggedly ghosting me. A secondary body that was close enough to 'normal' me that I had the occasional neurological hiccup. The sensation of an invisible tail flicker, the stifled twitch of an ankle wing that wasn't attached to my foot. Moments where my skin felt especially sensitive because I didn't have scales. Brief flashes of dysphoria that were always fleeting, but never welcome.

◊ ♦ 60

Somebody must've thought my previous identity crises were getting stale, but if I could get this curse under control, then why couldn't I reframe it as a blessing in disguise?

"Easier said than done," I grumbled, meditating in the bitter cold under the pale moonlight.

Since my return from Angel Island, I searched for somewhere to perform arcane experiments in peace. Hideaway was small and cramped at the best of times, so that was out. I knew I could carve another space for myself in Sylvania Castle, but it was too close to people and the chao garden for comfort. I used Null Space as a testbed for spellwork in the past, though I wasn't in a hurry to discover what'd happen if I changed into a form that couldn't open portals in a pocket zone without a sun.

◊ ♦ 70

Eventually, I settled on an arboreal range northwest of Deerwood that'd developed a grim reputation as a haunted demesne. The tall trees that'd been stripped barren of leaves jutted out of the soil like skeletal hands, while the ones that kept their leaves concealed the forest floor from prying eyes. Thick, maleficent bramble snaked across the snowy ground, littered with the bones of mobini unfortunate enough to get in their ravenous path. I flew over the abandoned settlements while searching for a place to land, the air choked with an invisible miasma that'd grown familiar to my psionic radar.

Add in the moon overhead, and the Shrouded Forest was spooky enough that not even the High Sheriff bothered with it. I stopped at a clearing in view of a large, mutated 'tree' with fluorescent leaves, petals, or fronds. It might've been a gigantic flower or monstrous fungus. The Shrouded Forest was where I stress-tested the durability of the orichalcum door and potentially hazardous spells, because it wasn't like I could contaminate the ecosystem any more than it already was.

◊ ♦ 80

After over an hour of uncomfortably sitting in the cold, emerald scepter in my hands, I let out a shiver. Eurish was Europe, give or take, and that meant dealing with a European winter. My mutations did little to improve my thermal regulation, so it was as good a night as any to break out the gifts I'd received before heading to Angel Island. From the Highlanders, I got a flannel shirt of black and magenta lozenges, with a pair of copper-riveted black jeans in my size. Around my neck was a hand-knitted scarf. Unlike the outfit, which was in my 'theme colors', the scarf Amy gave me was dyed a shade of blue.

How'd she know it was my favorite color?

The clothes were greatly appreciated. More or less what I might've worn when the unreliable Florida weather allowed for it. I knew I could've made them myself with the Phantom Ruby, same as I did my usual tunic and trousers, but being given them like this made it feel more… real, for lack of a better term.

It felt real to know there were people that cared.

◊ ♦ 100

I felt a sudden spike of energy from the Master Emerald shard on my staff before it grayed out. This exercise was performed to draw energy from it gradually, while surrounded by the irritating miasma. With the fragment's magic supply exhausted, I was out of excuses not to move on to the main event.

Standing from my resting position on the snowy ground, I did a series of stretches. A hop in place. Rolling the neck. Practiced punches that started quick, and moved on to swings that pushed the elasticity of my arms. Rotating my shoulder, the left of which let out a slight pop as always.

The Phantom Ruby worked better when I had a framework for what I was trying to accomplish and how I would go about reaching that goal. I believed that my early usage had it behaving like a power ring because I was using it how I thought it was supposed to work, before I became more experienced. Structure and spells only arrived when I learned there were structure and spells. So long as I had a schema that held up to my own standards, the rest should fall into place.

It's like jazz. I just need to loosen up and go with the flow, without getting lost in the negativity.

I took a deep breath, feeling the swell of miasma enter into my body. It was acrid and rancid, like chlorinated carrion. Ozone fumes carried the taste of lightning and death into my bloodstream, a surge of negative energy exciting the gemstone until the heat flared up with a burning sensation that pulsated across the back of my hand.

"Okay," I said tentatively, attaching one golden ring to each wrist as I steeled myself for what came next. "Showtime."

Phantom Ruby, make me a monster.

♦ !!

A magenta film overwhelmed my vision. Bones stretched, muscles expanded, and dark purple scales grew over every inch of my body. Twin pairs of wings wove across my back and feet. A thick tail spawned from the end of my spine. Then came the horns over my head and spikes under my chin, followed by a set of claws and talons that absorbed the moonlight into their iridescent darkness. The last to arrive were two rows of triangular, crocodilian teeth that filled the gaps in a saurian snout.

It all happened in an instant. My clothes and the Phantom Ruby were subsumed into my form, as before. That meant I wasn't clothed, but my scales became a suit of armor over my skin. Protective, without being restraining. Untouched by the surrounding weather. Rather than feeling cold, my draconic blood ran hot.

Oh, good. I'm still warm-blooded.

I raised my arms, examining my wrists. I'd already been aware of the fact I could use rings to keep the mental effects of the Phantom Ruby at bay, and I wanted to confirm that they hadn't snapped off. My improvised inhibitor rings held strong, but they changed into a pair of black, spiked cuffs fit for a Koopa King.

That's… new.

The lingering emanations of negative energy around my body were thick enough to form an umbral cloud charged with magenta static. A beating of my wings scattered the miasma, causing it to dissipate into the ether.

"Wasn't so bad this time around," I huffed, my breath giving off sparks and brimstone.

♦ 90

Shame about the lack of pockets.

I took a heavy step forward, testing my balance. It felt as though this body had 'fallen asleep', and was gradually waking up.

Let's take this slow.

Once I had both feet planted firmly on the ground, I repeated my exercise. A hop, which resulted in a light tremor rippling across the ground. Rolling a widened, reptilian neck. Jabs and hooks that dispersed the air with their force. Shoulder rolls that resulted in the left one letting out a slight pop that it hadn't last time.

What would I even call this condition? Therianthropy? Zoanthropy? Mobianthropy?

I shook my head.

"Doesn't matter. I need to test my strength."

I approached a nearby pile of boulders and other debris. As a human, my strength reached the point where I could lift a busted-up refrigerator weighing hundreds of pounds.

"On three," I started, driving my enlarged hands into a massive stone. "Hands firm, back straight, legs up and--!"

The rock left my hands, and was catapulted high into the frigid air. Eerily, I didn't feel that weighing much at all. Several seconds later, the boulder careened back to the ground with a resounding crash.

Not being sure how to respond to that, I moved on, grabbing on a fallen log and hefting it upwards with ease. Then I tried my luck with even larger ones, which gave me increased resistance, but inevitably buckled when push came to shove.

"Vector did say I could give Knuckles a run for his money," I recalled.

This version of Vector took after his original incarnation and therefore wasn't a 'power' character like the one in the games. Frankly, it's a miracle my southpaw didn't kill him outright. Though that did give me an idea.

I reeled my arm back, balled my hand into a fist, and struck the largest rock present. One punch sent a crack rippling through the surface, snapping it in half.

"Ha!"

I can work with this!

"Next up's the fire breath!"

Taking aim at a thick branch jammed into the snow, I took a deep breath and held it in, until I could feel the ice collecting in my expanded lungs start to thaw. Frozen molecules were excited by the swirl of fire magic in my chest, until they broke free of their bonds as loose oxygen and hydrogen. Only then did I exhale, releasing a torrent of magenta fire that blasted the target to cinders.

"Radical!" I roared. "Now that's a warmup!"

I performed similar attacks on more dead logs and timber, careful not to get too excited. The last thing I wanted to do was start a wildfire and have Surveillance Orbs imported from Robotropolis start pointing their cameras pointing in this direction. I could launch several fireballs in quick succession before becoming short of breath, or exhale a continuous torrent of colorful flames.

"That'll do the trick."

I spread my wings wide, preparing to take off, when I heard a metallic squawk shatter the silence of the Shrouded Forest.

"WARK."

My hackles were raised, the sound of an oncoming badnik putting my whole body on edge. I ascended straight into the air, ready to take the adversary head-on. The tension in my nerves was justified when a small, penguin-shaped robot with skis for feet and a fuse on its head dropped down to detonate where I previously stood.

"Oi, watch it!" I snarled.

Hovering above the treeline, I locked eyes with a squat aircraft held aloft by a trio of micro thrusters. The super badnik had a blue, cylindrical chassis, a gray torso with a gray shutter, two red rings for eyes, and a yellow beak screwed shut into a furious scowl. There was no getting around that it was the giant penguin robot boss one from Triple Trouble.

So much for the High Sheriff not seeing me here. What was this one called, again? Giga Thomas "Pen", right?

"WARK," the mecha penguin warked forebodingly.

Why Thomas? Why the "Pen" in quotations?

"You wanna go, Pen Pen?" I challenged.

The super badnik turned its red eyes towards me, disgorging more exploding penguins from its gray hatch. I flew in aerobatic arcs around the penguin, dodging the bombs. A fireball to the badnik's center caused one of its jets to fizzle out from the force of the impact, and a ramming charge against its side disabled another.

"Looks like today ain't your lucky day!"

Man, weren't all of the bosses in that game really easy?

The penguin machine was already sputtering, kept afloat by a singular rocket.

No time to linger. It's time to go for the kill.

I made a snaggle-toothed grin, flew high, and flipped the winglets on my feet open to redirect my momentum into a backwards loop. When I was in position, I spiraled forward into an incendiary dive.

"Red Hot Kick!"

Pen Pen was driven to the ground and crushed underfoot.

- - -

While the fight wrapped up quickly, my flight back to the Tinker's smithy took longer than expected. Carrying the remains of a super badnik from Point A to Point B would've been easy enough if it wasn't so cumbersome. I had to yank the gnarled roots off the Shrouded Forest floor and tie them together into a crude pulley, hauling the wreck to my end destination.

I also had to put out all of those fires I started when I kicked the metal penguin so hard it exploded. Whoops. I stowed the scrap pile in a corner behind the covert foundry so that I could crystalize it when I went back to normal.

Once that was attended to, I stopped at my first obstacle to smelting the orichalcum: The entrance.

"Oh."

Wagstaff let me use his forge while he was away on a repair job in the Outlands, but he was less than half my size. In the past, the doors for the homes of commoners tended to be short to preserve heat. At a guess, I was presently taller than your average basketball player and shorter than a run-of-the-mill space marine. I already had to duck down to use the entrance before, and now I stood head and shoulders above it… with a pair of inhuman shoulders that were wider than the door frame's width.

I really didn't think this one through, did I?

"Let's uh, try the knob first?"

I reached down to wrap a large mitt around the handle, turned the lever with what I thought was a cautious amount of force, and heard the mechanism behind the knob snap. Turning the handle up and down a few times confirmed it was broken.

I sighed, and dug the broken lock out of the door by hand. Then I ducked low, wedged my horned head past the entrance, and tried to finesse my torso through the wooden frame one shoulder at a time until I got myself jammed.

"Come on!" I growled.

As a dragon, my chest was built more like an overstuffed steel drum than a barrel. Exhaling did little to narrow my profile, and breathing in made the timber creak. My struggle made me feel like a burglar trying to break into a doll house.

"I've got stretchy powers! This should be easy!"

I awkwardly folded my wings back, trying to ease my way in without getting them caught. Sonic's werehog state wasn't that much taller than him, but I had no good reason to remember that Dulcy was big enough to carry a mobian or two on her back until this very second. A frustrated shove got my bulky torso through the entrance, leaving a pair of unsightly dents on both sides of the frame.

I'm suddenly way more empathetic to Dulcy and her 'clumsy' accidents.

I got back up and stretched to my full height, horns grazing into the ceiling. Not expecting the friction, my errant tall flicked back and battered the door behind me, causing it to fall off its hinges.

"Aw, crap."

Deciding that I'd have to fix that later, I carried on, both 'thumbs' of my wings interlocking so that the resting patagium took on a shape akin to a cape. I carefully creeped into the pitch-black smithy, almost expecting that the stone floor might start cracking beneath my feet with each step. Stumbling in the dark would normally be a recipe for disaster, but my human eyes were altered to see areas cloaked in darkness as cast in shades of red. As a dragon, though, the room was cast in shades of green.

Did that mean my eyes were green, too?

I missed the chance to get a good look at my appearance on Angel Island. With everything going on, I was too nerve-wracked to check what I'd become. I scooped a candle tray off a counter and breathed life into it, illuminating the area. The orichalcum door in the corner gleamed like a mirror in the candlelight, the near face of the cylinder reflecting my own.

For the first time, I had the chance to see what I looked like in totality. After a moment of hesitation, I took it. One clawed hand caressing a spike-laden chin, I took stock of the finer details of my head and face. Black horns, dark magenta barbs running along my head in lieu of hair, patches of brighter scales that dotted my cheeks like freckles, and emerald green eyes staring back from the other side of the reflection.

I spent who knows how many hours playing the original Spyro games on Playstation.

Was this what male dragons were supposed to look like, or merely what the Phantom Ruby changed me into based on subconscious input? Or something in between?

It was a thought for another time. Wrenching the orichalcum safe door from its resting place, I rolled it towards a large crucible I made from ruby crystal. All I needed to do was bring it to the melting point.

The room was quiet, save for the dragging of my tail across the ground. I planned to do this by myself, in seclusion. Where no one could ask awkward questions about how I managed to turn myself into a 'weredragon by night' in the first place.

Oh, just a side effect of the crystal on my hands that is the real source of my powers causing me to become a monster. A monster that may or may not be associated with divinity, which I'm sure my cult would go ga-ga over.

I internally chastised myself over that latter thought. The Ruby Flame weren't that bad, once I'd gotten to know them better. This still wasn't something I wanted spreading around.

It wasn't like I planned to keep it a secret forever. I just needed it under wraps until I--

"Hail and well met!" a voice declared from behind me.

I stood ramrod straight, horns carving new gouges into the ceiling when I turned and saw--

"Rob!?" I squeaked.

It was a deep squeak. A deep, draconic squeak.

Really.

Rob o' the Hedge casually hopped over my tail as it involuntarily lashed around, swiping the leg off a workbench.

"The one and only!" Rob affirmed. "I take it thou art the 'guy' that Sir Scarlet had mentioned would be assisting with our great task?"

I set the candle down on a stone table, as my tail slithered back behind me.

"Yes?" I stated unconfidently. That was a technically-correct statement. "I wasn't expecting company."

"I hadst been searching for John, as his familiars lacked the capacity to explain where our fair wizard had wandered off to, but forsooth! He's likely returned to Hideaway by now."

"He could've," I implied.

"But 'tis no trifle to become acquainted with the friend of a friend!" Rob said easily. He extended his right hand to me, as I did to him months ago. When this madness started. "What be thy name, pilgrim?"

I took his hand. Slowly, and carefully. This time, my hand utterly engulfed his own.

"Er, Edward?" I insinuated.

It was one of my names, and not one I was intending to use. Ever.

I was gonna say Goliath!

"Edward the Dragon," Rob rephrased, testing the fake name. "A pleasure to meet thine acquaintance. Shall ye need assistance smelting the miracle metal? I am not as knowledgeable as Wagstaff himself, but--"

"I'm fine," I said brusquely, with more force than intended. "You'll want to take a step back. There's gonna be sparks."

I turned back towards the crystalline crucible. The sooner I wrapped up this job, the sooner I could fly out of here before sunrise.

It'd be easier if I could tell Rob about everything I'd gone through, but I've dumped enough on his plate as it was.

He doesn't know I'm a fraud.

Then there was Friar Buck, who likely wasn't sleeping right after hearing everything I've already 'confessed' to him.

He's the only one that knows that I haven't known what I was doing since I got here, but that I was playing it by ear well enough to fool them all.

I took a deep breath, my chest stretching outwards with mounting pressure, and spewed a gout of pink fire that set the charcoal under the crucible ablaze. The forge that was once cold and dim became awash with firelight.

He doesn't know yet that I'm not from the Overland, or that I'm not even from Mobius. I'm just some guy who lucked out. I was trying to keep my distance from Buck because I've burdened him enough with my faults.

I raised the heat and kept the fire going, the metal letting off embers as the impurities were scoured. Over several cycles of breathing and exhalation from my burning bellows, the gleaming surface of the orichalcum gradually took on an orange glow. As anticipated, the weredragon's mystical flames burned hotter than anything I produced on my own, bringing the orichalcum to melting point.

He already knows that I'm a goddamn liar, but not that I'm almost grateful for my excuse for why I don't have to tell the truth. Rob and the everyone else I'd helped already believed that I knew what I was some kind of hero, so why would I go and ruin that by being honest?

I refused to relent, the so-called invulnerable metal softening under the intensity of my flames. A molten puddle pooled at the bottom of the container, and I shoved the door into the liquid with both hands to speed up the process of destruction.

Nobody knows that I should be missing everyone and everything that I left behind, but I--!

"A shame that John couldn't be present for this impressive process," Rob cut in solemnly, grabbing my attention. "Prithee, didst he mention to thee why he was unable to attend?"

I almost clarified that I was him, and snapped my jaws before they got me exposed.

"He had an appointment," I replied, curtly. Breathlessly. "Needed to be somewhere."

That 'appointment' was now, and that 'somewhere' was here. I had an alternative alibi set up in advance, but for some reason, my throat clenched up when I tried to say it.

Keep it together, John!

Without saying another word, I extracted the crucible and prepared to pour the contents into a wooden tub. Thinking that water might not be enough, I snorted two beams of blue energy from my nostrils and froze it solid. The metal shrieked as it fell upon the rapidly-sublimating ice. When it stopped screaming, Rob and I both leaned in close, examining that smelted safe door had broken into large chunks of blackened drek and smaller, silvery flecks.

I wasn't expecting the alloy to un-alloy itself like that.

"That black stuff is the iron and impurities," I explained. "The rest, we want to keep."

Since I wanted to keep him at a safe distance, Rob had taken out a brown booklet from his… quiver? He pulled it from somewhere to pass the time, and I could see the title on the front cover said Le Morte d'Arfur.

"You know, I could tend to the forge while you--"

"No."

I picked up the orichalcum bits and tossed them back into the crucible. Then I grabbed the tub, tossed the lumps of iron, and scooped a lump of fresh snow from outside.

"The orichalcum's lost a fair bit of mass," Rob observed, following me as I worked.

"We don't need much," I replied, before beginning the smelting process anew.

Several breathing cycles into the process, working with pure orichalcum that was more stubborn to melt this time, Rob chimed in again.

"Prithee, where didst thou make thine first acquaintance with Sir Scarlet?"

Oh no.

"It… happened on Angel Island," I answered reluctantly.

"John was rather scarce on the details of what transpired on the fairy isle," Rob commented. "Perhaps ye could illuminate the situation?"

The forge was sweltering like a furnace, but that wasn't why I was sweating. There was definitely something wrong with me. I couldn't control the words coming out of my mouth!

"I'm trying to focus on the forge," I grimaced.

"Of course," he conceded. "I would be loath to distract you."

My fire breath quavered, but thankfully, the metal was most of the way to melting.

Why the &$#% can't I lie?!

Rob set down his book.

"Art thou familiar with the tale of Sir Marrok?" he inquired.

It did ring a bell, if only vaguely. Then it clicked.

"The character in the Arthurian Cycle?" I blurted out, as the pure orichalcum softened under the unrelenting heat.

"Arfurian, but yes," Rob affirmed. "He was a Knight of the Hound Table afflicted with a terrible curse. Forced to change into a beast at nightfall."

Dammit. The story was known as the Lay of Melion to the Bretons, and had a counterpart called Bisclarvet from France. Having been unable to find any useful information about the subject in the Ars Ixia, I pried for more 'Arfurian' lore from Rob.

"How'd he get cured?" I couldn't help but ask.

"The story varies by telling," Rob admitted. "In some versions of the tale, Marrok was cured by retrieving the magic ring that cursed him. But in other recitations, the affliction was permanent."

That was extremely unhelpful, and I was pretty sure Rob was doing this on purpose. He knew I was lying now, and he was pushing my buttons until I fessed up, wasn't he? Maybe he should mind his own damn business and--!

I shook my head. Breathe in, breathe out, and ignore the smoke coming out of my nostrils.

Bad thought. Rob's my friend, and I'm the one in the wrong.

There was a mold for ingots lying around, but they were too small. Searching around the room for another cast that'd fit the volume of molten orichalcum, my eyes locked onto a stout cask.

You're almost done. Take it to the cask.

"Is everything well, Edward?" the hedgehog who would be king asked.

I tried not to think about it, but he was a king. He was fighting the High Sheriff for years before I showed up. The amount of pressure he was under had to be unbearable, and I knew he was relying on me to hold it together!

That was when I felt my hand slip.

"I-I've got it!" I heard Rob exclaim from right below me.

Suddenly, Rob grabbed one side that was about to tumble over with a pair of the Tinker's gloves, and I had to scramble to avoid spilling the boiling metal in his face!

"Rob, let go!" I protested. "You're gonna get burned!"

"Walkers' Bones, are all dragons this stubborn?" Rob asked in exasperation, pulling the other side of the basin away from me. "You're in dire need of aid, and I've a spare set of hands to lighten your load right here!"

"I said I'm fine!" I roared, trying to pull the crucible back.

"Is that the case?" Rob challenged in turn, yanking the bowl again. "Dragons are known throughout the land as heralds of truth, and yet I find myself doubting thine testimony!"

Was that why I was so tongue-tied?!

"No, obviously not!" I barked out. "Let me do this so I feel less bad about trying to convince you I'm fine!"

A flash of recognition came into his eyes. Then, the shock consumed his expression.

"Gadzooks!" Rob gasped. "I wasn't certain, but that voice! That ever-irreverent tone! It's definitely you, John!"

"How could you not know!?"

"You're not normally a dragon, and I was trying to give Edward the benefit of the doubt!" He blinked. "Hold on, is your name truly Edward?"

"It's my middle name!" I snarled, taking the crucible off his hands with force. "Just let me pour the #%&$ing metal!"

I tilted the bowl over, only to realize that it was already empty.

"What?" we both said simultaneously.

Totally emptied, save for a lone thread of silvery string that dangled off the edge. Looking down, we saw that with all of the commotion during our argument, the crucible took the path of least resistance and poured itself. The cask was filled to the edge with glimmering orichalcum that'd settled into its new form, silently appreciating the sight of it for several seconds without saying a word.

"By Aurora," Rob eventually swore. "That was almost anticlimactic."

I dropped the crucible onto the fire pit.

"I-I'm sorry," I stammered out right away, stepping back to make more distance between us. "You shouldn't have seen me like this!"

I lumbered my way towards the exit.

"Halt!" Rob ordered.

"You're not my king!" I yelled behind me.

"I be not your rightful king, but I do be your brother-in-arms!" he insisted. Faster than I could reach the damaged door out of here, Rob o' the Hedge fired a bundled twine arrow to block my path. "So stand and deliver what's on your mind for once, you eternally-concerning enigma of a compatriot!"

I whirled back towards him.

"An archer versus a dragon is a bad matchup," I growled.

"Not if I know your weakness!" Rob countered, his bow at the ready.

"Then what's my weakness, then?" I said angrily.

I was mad, but as the words left my lips, I felt the emanations of dawn creeping against the back of my neck, without any scales acting as an intermediary.

♦ 70

I was back to normal. Rob walked forward, his bow returned to his back.

"Sunlight, apparently," Rob commented.

Feeling a sudden rush of exhaustion, I fell to my knees.

"John, art thou well?" he asked genuinely, trying to pull me back to my feet. "Walkers above, I think you've somehow become heavier since I pulled you away from Never Lake!"

I didn't think I was well, when he phrased it like that. It was the truth, and, honestly, I'd gotten tired of trying to keep him out of the loop on my problems.

He's no Sonic, but Rob's been there for me since the start, and I've been there for him in turn.

"Is the offer still open to talk about my feelings?" I asked weakly.

Having given up on helping me stand, Rob settled for sitting down next to me.

"Of course, friend. What weighs so heavily on thine spirit that you put up a fight to keep me away?"

I let out a weary chuckle.

"Where do I start?"

- - -

Spoiler: Author Notes

With Forgery in Fire complete, we're one step closer to Chapter 40! It's been a long ride, eh? This chapter took longer because I needed to get the emotional notes just right.

The penguin super badnik is the Giga Thomas "Pen" from Sonic the Hedgehog: Triple Trouble on Game Gear. Patrolling the Shrouded Forest almost makes him wish for a Robotnik Winter!

Not sure what the next chapter will be called yet, but I'm looking forward to what's lined up in the cards.

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This chapter has been brought to you by the following patrons and beta readers: C-Moon, Dredloki, Elite9934, Mark of Artemis, N'Oni, and Small Nerd!

Thank you all for the continuing support!

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Waking up in orbit above a planet wasnât on Johnâs list of things to do. Nor was crash landing in Mercia and joining the Freedom Fighters. Fortunately heâs far from powerless, even if he is …

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[FTR2017]

Character development ahoy with another chapter of the Peak Sonic SI story!

Rob demonstrates why he's the good local hedgehog, John learns something about his draconic self's own quirks, and the orichalcum got extracted from the door thanks to John's draconic self's dragon breath.

Quite curious to see that he not only breathes fire, but frost as well. Makes me wonder if other elements are available to him ... .

 

[weredrago2]

Quite curious to see that he not only breathes fire, but frost as well. Makes me wonder if other elements are available to him ... .

Click to shrink...

The nostril frost ray was (accidentally) used in the Enerjak Arc. It's one of several abilities demonstrated by Dulcy which is shared in common with Weredragon Scarlet.