"Wait!" Citrine cried out, holding her hand out. She was covered from head to toe in dragon flatus, but she was suddenly very alive with an excited energy. Her eyes were surging with a flame of intense intellectual interest.
"Hmm?" Roala the Half-dragon turned about, her large tail wagging behind her, "What is it goblin whelp? Do you want me to gas you into a green smear?"
Citrine stood up and did a triumphantly confident pose, "Nay! After experiencing your nasty gas, I have come to the ultimately scientific conclusion that Dragon farts are the most powerful form of stink-magic! And since it is my quest to become the most powerful stink-mage in the world, I must master your special brand of stench. So I humbly ask you to show me how I can master it."
The tension in the air rose. In complete silence, aside from her own rumbling breath, Roala moved forward, crushing rocks between her clawed toes as she went. She wrapped around Citrine with her long scaled tail and breathed on her for an uncomfortably long time before...
"You? You want to master the power of my mighty gas? Well that's quite a proposition.... You know of course that there's only one way to gain the stink of a dragon..."
In all honesty, Citrine didn't know ANYTHING about dragon stink. Dragons were so powerful and elusive that studying them or their smell was next to impossible.
"Of-of course I do!" She lied. "I'll do anything!"
"Hmm... excellent. You're eager, but do you really have what it takes to attain my stench? The only way is..."
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