Folding his wings Tamaral alighted in the main courtyard of the tower and frowned at the drab stone decor. The mage who ruled this tower had no sense of style it was all brutalistic stonework and little else. The fountain in the middle was a new addition and the fox and leopard holding up the amphora from which water was pouring looked lifelike. The crystal orbs filling their muzzles where a peculiar design choice but at least it added some colour.

Adjusting the blue ribbon that hung about his neck he made sure the golden medallion proclaiming him as a herald of Garnthor the Splendid was front and centre. Satisfied he looked the part the blue and cream coloured dragonkin approached the doors of the massive tower. He felt a little surge of satisfaction at the way they opened for him, at least the otter’s servants still knew how to show respect.

The creatures that moved to fill the opening doorway where peculiar two of them were tall, grey gargoyle like creatures. They had black horns, folded wings, blank expressionless glass eyes and empty muzzles where their mouths should have been. As he got closer Tamaral could see stitching holding them together which meant they where some sort of fabric or plush golem. The oddly silent things stood at attention flanking a much shorter, three foot tall fox or maybe it was a kitsune, it had more than one tail.

With bright green fur, blue paws, feet and ears the creature had expressive blue eyes and a mouth. An oversized blue metal zipper hung from its chest just below its throat and it swung as the creature bowed.

“Welcome sir, I am Meddal, may I enquire as to your purpose here today?”

“I will see the Master of this tower golem,” Tamarral declared, running his eyes over the trio of living fabric creatures, “His tribute to the lord of this land Garnthor the Splendid is now a month overdue, why does your Master insult him so?”

“I couldn’t possibly know my lord,” the plush kitsune bowed again and stepped back, permitting Tamarral to pass and enter the hall, “If you will follow me I will lead you to my master.”

Snorting Tamarral looked down at the kitsune, “Of course you don’t know golem, and I need no non-living tool to lead me. I am Tamarral of the court of Garnthor remember that.”

“Certainly,” Meddal murmured and stepped back, “I shall follow as is proper for a golem Sir Tamarral, my master is in the throne room.”

Tamarral squared his shoulders, set his wings and walked forward, putting the plush creatures out of his mind. He was vaguely aware that the doors were closing but that was beneath his notice. The green kitsune was following but the gargoyle creatures had returned to stand on either side of the door

It was such a peculiar method of golem, but the mage probably didn’t know how to make anything better. As he moved out of the entrance hall and up the stairs toward the large door into the throne room the dragonkin paused to examine the pillars flanking the doorway.

“Those are peculiar,” he noted, walking over to examine the blue fox on the right. It was standing perfectly straight atop the floor pedestal for the column. With its arms above its head it was the column, its hands holding the ceiling pedestal as it’s furred, blue body filled the gap where regular stonework would normally be.

“My master makes them himself,” Meddal supplied, slipping past the dragonkin and taking hold of the metal ring on the door, “He is quite proud of his collection.”

“I bet,” Tammaral walked over to examine the yellow wolf holding up the other pillar, “Yes these are exquisite, they will no doubt make good restitution for the insult given to Garnthor.”

“Of course sir,” the kitsune turned the latch and pushed the door and it swung open, “My Master awaits you…” the plush golem bowed and Tammaral swept past into the throne room.

The figure lounging in the onyx throne was dressed in green velvet robes was not the otter mage he'd dealt with before. He was some long legged, green maned mammal with horns and a sardonic smirk on his long muzzle. Curiously his throne was being supported by more of the life like statues with the orbs in their mouths. It was a very impressive display of wealth and just added more affronts to Tammarl's mental tally of matters that needed to be addressed.

“Where is the otter mage who owns this tower?” he demanded, folding his arms and staring down his snout at this upstart. The creature lifted one arm, their stylish robes cuff hanging low off their thin wrist. Tammarl flicked his eyes to look at what they were pointing at. It was the otter, standing on a plinth, ball of blue crystal filling their maw as they stared rigidly ahead.

“Oh I see,” Tammarl sniffed, “How pedestrian, well mammal as you're new some concessions may be made with regards to your tribute being late,” he flicked a claw at the seated figure, “Though it is customary for incumbent rulers to give up their thrones to visiting emissaries of their Lord Garnthor.”

“Garnthor…” the strange mammal said after a few moments consideration, “I don’t believe I know anyone by that name. Are they someone important?”

Tammarl gaped for a moment then hissed through clenched teeth, “His is Garnthor the Splendid, ruler of this land and your Lord! You will speak with respect or he will crush you.”

“Is he, now? I can’t say I’ve ever heard of him.” the mammal spread in arms in an expression of flippant disregard, “One overinflated up mortal ego is much the same as another in this world.”

Spluttering at the affront the dragonkin raised one hand, “Is that the message you want me to take back to him? I suggest you think again none can stand against a dragon.”

“Oh, a dragon, is it?” the green robed creature purred stepping of the throne dais, he grinned, showing far too many sharp teeth for a mammal. “You’re right, if I send a message like that, I’ll have the beast bothering me for weeks.” The mammal paused at the base of their throne to consider him, and Tammarl gathered his power, ready to defend against any trickery, “But I’ll probably have to give the message myself. You’re going to be too busy doing other things. I need more hands to keep this place tidy, after all…”

Drawing in a deep breath to flame this insolent cur Tammarl lunged forward, but at the same time, something grabbed the end of his tail, and he felt a sort of tension as it came free of his body. He stumbled forward as his body overbalanced with his missing tail, and fell flat onto his face with a puff of smoke from his jaws and nose, swallowing his own fire. With a snarl, he twisted his head to look back, and found the plush golem holding his severed tail, turning it over in its hands. Something seemed off about the tail, and after a moment he realized the tail had become plush of the same material as the golem.

He would not be humiliated this way! Determined not to let this mammal’s toy golem make a fool out of him, but the golem glanced over at him as he started to get up, then flicked the severed tail they were holding. Tamaral saw a glint of something in the air, like thin, barely visible strings moving towards him, before his body went tensed up involuntarily, then went completely limp. He collapsed back to the floor bonelessly, and made a slurred sort of snarling sound as he attempted to speak, but his tongue didn’t properly respond.

The mammal walked over to him, looking down at the helpless dragonkin with evident interest, and asked, “You haven’t done this before. Is it another new power?” Tamaral felt his body shift slightly, and found himself in a familar grovelling posture, snout flat against the floor and arms splayed out in front of him. He’d done it before for his dragon lord when he wanted to apologize for doing something stupid. But something was going on with his arms, they had become softer and rounder looking, like his tail had. They were also fading to a dull, lifeless grey, granite or slate.

“Looks like it. Not sure where they all come from, it’s just sort of instinctual, I think. Stand and salute our lord and master, my new puppet.”, Tamaral felt himself being lifted off the floor like he was a puppet on strings, his body feeling light and weightless, and he found his body forming into a rigid-backed at attention salute. With an intense effort, he managed to force out words.

“How…” he slurred, trying to turn his head. Something tugged at him, and what came out was an entirely different question than he wanted “How… may I serve you… my lord?”

“Interesting. I’m sure that’s not what you wanted to say. Meddal has never mentioned having control over someone to that level, after all.” the creature commented in amusement, and almost companionably put an arm around Tammarl’s shoulders, then pulled back their hood, revealing two long horns and unnatural colors of fur. They were definitely not mortal! “But I’ve always had an eye for a bargain, and you, my draconic friend, positively reek of envious desires.”

The creature dragged a claw down Tamaral’s chest, and he could hear the sound of fabric being scraped instead of scales. The dragonkin struggled to push away from the daemon, or do anything, even lift a single foot, but he just remained in place, helplessly still as he faced forward, saluting. “So, help me take down your dragon, and I’ll give you a chance to get more out of life than he’s giving you. Or you can be my pet Meddal’s toy… it’s up to you. Let him speak, Meddal.”

Tamaral saw an opening to warn his lord, and possibly gain more favor than he had before. A plot against him had to be stopped, and he would play this daemon fool who dared to threaten his dragon. He struggled out words again, “I… will…” abruptly, he felt that tug again, and what words came out were different that he wanted. “... I will… never help you… demon!”

The daemon sighed in disappointment and pulled away from the dragonkin, shrugging his shoulders. “Ah well. Mortals are so much more fun when they are pliable, but I guess you’re one of the boring ones.” He reached out with one hand the creatures hand closed around Tammarl’s medallion! Magic flared for a moment as its enchantments tried to stop it from being taken but the green fire that curled up around that black furred hand snuffed the enchantments out like they were nothing.

“I’ll just take this, I don’t want anyone recognizing you and trying to claim I stole you.” They tossed the medallion once and turned away dismissively. Tamaral tried to speak, but the tug came again, and he found his mouth being held shut as if by an invisible claw. “Meddal, pick a different color scheme for it and the others, would you? Grey is such a boring and generic color scheme. Something novel and exciting.”

And then Tamarl found himself turning around and lightly prancing across the room, tugged on puppet strings from his tail he could clearly see now. The dragonkin found himself kneeling flopping onto his back. Behind him, he heard the doors to the throne from close, and the clenching feeling on his jaws faded. “Why… did you… do that…”

Meddal just smirked and flicked one of the strings coming out of the tail, making the dragon spread his wings wide, whereupon the plush sat down between them on his chest, as if they were a throne of its own. “Graezzit hogs all the new toys. Sometimes, I want a plaything of my own.”

“But you just… betrayed… you master…”

The plush kitsune waved a dismissive paw. “Pah. He’ll do fine without you. He didn’t need your help, he just wanted to scam you out of your soul.” Meddal set down his tail and Tamarl felt a tension in his body relax as if he was no longer being manipulated by the strings in them. They searched around in their robes and produced a couple of scraps of cloth, one black and one purple, and began sewing them together with some sort of magical thread they produced from their fabric fingers.

The dragonkin struggled to rise, to lift his arms as the fox plush was distracted with this, but it was difficult, as if his body was weak and tired. With a frustrated growl, he strained harder, with little more success, then found the plush fox grinning at him. “Problems? Don’t you know a puppet never moves unless someone is holding their strings? Now let’s see about a new color scheme for my moody master Graezzit, hmm?”

They pressed the scraps of black and purple fabric into Tamarl’s side, and they wove themselves into the fabric of his new body, before spreading out, slowly changing his colors to match, until half a minute later, when he managed to twist his head to look down at himself and found he was all black now, save for a purple swatch of frontal torso that went from the bottom of his snout down to his ground. “This looks… ridiculous. Can’t I have… my old colors?”

“Nope!” Meddal beamed down at him again, and patted the end of his snout fondly. “Ready to get to work?”

Tamarl glared at the fox plush as they picked up his tail again, and he felt tension in his body again. He tried to move his arms again, but now, they were holding themselves still as the damned golem continued to puppet his body. “I’d like to… work for your master… instead… at least he’s not… an insane golem. Call him back… so I can talk to...”

Meddal just gave him a wink and reached down, pulling one of the threads in his tail taut, and Tamarl’s felt his voice die in his throat, and his mouth hung open limply, as he lost all control over it. “No, no. I think we’ve had enough talking out of you.” And the plush kept pulling, harder and harder, until he distinctly felt something in him snap at the same time the thread did, coming loose from his tail and body at the same time. His mouth snapped shut silently like it had been pulled closed and sealed itself shut, the tension on it vanishing immediately. Tamarl tried to stay something or snarl, but it was like he had lost some part of himself that could figure out how. His mouth wouldn’t open, and he couldn’t manage to make any sounds in his throat. The dragonkin had become voiceless, and could only glare up at Meddal, trying to conceal his fear.

The fox plush reached up and cupped the side of his face with one hand. “That’s better. Talking would just give you too many confusing options when what you should really be focusing on is following orders.” They stretched out the broken string and ran two fingers along the length of it, and it shimmered, changing color from a generic white to a bright green. “But I don’t like wasting good thread. It’s bad practice. So we’ll just repurpose this one to something better, right? Obedience is more important than a voice for you, anyway.” Then they picked up his tail and attached the green thread to it, and he found himself turning over onto his belly as they hopped off him and gave a flick of his tail.

Frantically, he struggled to rise, and found himself standing up finally, though he wasn’t sure if it was due to the wishes of himself or Meddal. Tamarl began to turn towards them, but then they touched his lower back and a quiver went through his body as a new sensation flooded through him. It was like a new emotion superimposed over his own, one that was calm and expectant. It wasn’t overriding his emotions though, it just felt weird and out of place, like someone had thrown a wet blanket over his heated thoughts. But his body had relaxed into a passive standing position and he couldn’t work up the drive to move it now.

Behind him, Meddal reattached the tail to his body again, and the feeling of puppeted tension vanished. He had his body back to himself again… but he still couldn’t bring himself to do anything. Then the plush fox said. “There we go. Turn around and face me, servant.”

Tamarl turned around and faced Meddal, who looked up into his eyes and stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I guess it’s not the same as the collars, is it? You’re some kind of mindless, emotionless doll now, aren’t you?” Tamarl very much wanted to correct that, but all he could manage to do was stare blankly ahead. He felt trapped in his own body, under this blanket of ‘obedience’ that had been sewn into him. Forced onto him, he corrected himself mentally, with annoyance. He wasn’t a plush, this was just some evil demon enchantment.

Meddal sighed with obvious disappointment, waving a hand towards the door. “Well, that’s boring. I guess thought you would keep your mind like Graezzit’s minions do when he collared them. I guess I’ll just have to try with the next one.” They started towards the door of the throne room, and Tamarl simply turned to face them as they moved, his body reacting instinctively as he realized he was still following the previous order to ‘face them’. The plush fox turned and looked behind him, before obviously becoming vexed at his stationary position. “You don’t even have initiative? At least the others can take the hint that I want them to follow me! Useless!”

Tamarl just continued to stand there, wishing very much he could tell this Meddal that its incompetent use of magic wasn’t his fault, but it seemed evident that they had no idea he could still think under the enchantment. They began going on a frustrated rant about how difficult it was to get the geas just right, and something about Graezzit never properly studying it, just duplicating it for making more collars, so that Meddal didn’t know how it worked either. Was he supposed to care about this? He had never wanted to tell someone to shut up as much as he did during this tirade.

Finally, the plush said, “Ugh, there’s no use trying to talk to a mindless golem. Follow me.” Tamarl began moving forward to follow behind the fox plush, and for a time, he thought they were going to take him to a workshop somewhere to ‘fix’ him, so that maybe he would have a chance to express his displeasure at being treated this way. The least they could have done is put him under an enchantment so he wasn’t aware he was being compelled to obey. That’s what his dragon did sometimes when their minions weren’t working hard enough.

But it soon became clear that Meddal wasn’t going to do anything about his badly crafted enchantment. He simply lead Tamarl down to a guard room where he found several other golems standing at attention, who saluted Meddal the moment he entered. They all seemed to have a certain dazed lassitude about their expressions, like they weren’t really sure where they were right now. Meddal blinked up at them as they saluted, then turned to look back up at Tamarl. “No… you’re useless for guard duty. You’d just follow the exact orders I gave you, wouldn’t you?”

Tamarl remained unable to answer him or indicate otherwise, and his worry began to grow as he was lead deeper down into the castle. Was he just going to be stuck like this? Able to think, but unable to do anything to let people know? That would be a fate possibly even worse than death! As they passed by a number of creatures frozen into decorative positions on the walls, he began to realize that this must be what their life was like. But no… some of them actually turned their eyes to look at Meddal and him, so they clearly still had brains, the ones that hadn’t grown tired or comatose.

After a long, uncomfortable time where Tamarl was lost in his anxious thoughts and Meddal did not seem to think talking to him was important anymore, they reached a supply closet and the fox plush opened it, pulling out a broom and thrusting it at the dragonkin. “Here. If you can’t guard, then you can maintain the castle. Sweep the floors of every hallway in the keep. Start at this floor at the bottom, then make your way up to the top floor before coming back down.” Meddal turned and began walking away as Tamarl began to sweep the dust off the floor to the corners of the room. As he was leaving, he irritably waved a hand back and called, “Just… do that forever, okay? I don’t care anymore.”

Tamarl felt a surge of panic and pushed as hard as he could against the badly made geas, and actually managed to turn his head and reach out a shaking arm towards Meddal, trying to implore him not to leave. But the plush golem wasn’t looking at him, and they shut the door behind them with a bang as they departed, leaving the dragonkin alone. His arm dropped back to his broom and his head turned back to staring straight ahead. He tried to do something else again, but whatever mental resource he had tapped into was gone now.

And he swept.