Trapped inside her mind, unable to perform even the most basic of tasks within the stasis-chamber, Ilzhara brooded upon her hatred for her captor. For over a decade, she had been experimented upon by the cruel hands of Veronyx, the mad red dragon who served as the Matriarch of Gimrold's Spire, the mountain where her brood roosted. Veronyx had immensely enjoyed playing with her new toy, ripping off limbs to replace with new ones in an attempt to bring about the perfect half-dragon that breeding could not.
But, Ilzhara knew, even that could not hold the attention of the insane Veronyx for long, and so after declaring her experiments "on hold," the dragon shoved Ilzhara into a stasis-chamber, meant to free time around the object so that its contents would not degrade over time. The poor woman had to admit, being a minor spellcaster herself, that the stasis-chamber was a work of genius, but so were many of Veronyx's other tools, all of which were not made for the furtherance of others, but merely to experiment upon the "lesser" creatures of the world, which (in Veronyx's eyes), were everything else, including other dragons.
Though she could not tell how long had passed, Ilzhara knew that one day the time would come when Veronyx remembered her once favourtie pasttime of toying with human bodies, and she would return to Ilzhara's patchwork body to resume her experiments. Even if she couldn't look down at the moment, Ilzhara's horrific body was seared into her mind - large, rending claws now acted as her hands and feet, razor-sharp scales peppered the flesh of her torso in varying shades of purple, a grafted on tail swung from her permanently arched back, and one of her eyes had been plucked out and replaced with an orb from a dead dragon. That all of these still functioned was even more horrific to Ilzhara, as it showed that Veronyx's mad mind was still capable of wondrous feats, and that the dragon's mind was far from done with Ilzhara. Death was not as terrifying as the idea that Veronyx had found a way to truly blend the draconic and human during this period of stasis, and that Ilzhara wold have to live out her days as Veronyx's crowning achievement.
Barely had she managed to push that thought away when Ilzhara felt the spells binding the stasis-chamber begin to fall away, and the now half-breed woman felt sensation returning to her already flinching limbs, anticipating the tortures soon to come. Light entered the chamber, burning her eyes and causing her to curl into a ball, both to shield herself from the light source and to hide her deformed body.
But the condecending voice of Veronyx never came, nor did Ilzhara feel the terror that always seemed to precede the dragoness. Slowly, cautiously, Ilzhara peered through her overlapping arms at the entrance of the stasis-chamber, where a group of humans were standing, their swords and bows in hand but looking upon her in shock. One exclaimed "The fuck is that thing, Tristan!?"
The best-dressed member of this group, likely Tristan, smacked the shouting individual on the back of his head and said "It's probably one of Veronyx's experiments, you idiot. The very reason we're here, remember?" Though he just reprimanded the man, even Tristan could not completely hide his own disgust at Ilzhara's form, but he nonetheless opened a pack on his belt, holding out a piece of dried jerky to Ilzhara, saying "I won't ask you to trust us, but that dragon Veronyx isn't here anymore."
Ilzhara tentatively reached out with a long arm, her massive claw closing around the piece of jerky while Tristan tried hard not to flinch away from the obviously unnatural limb. She had to work her jaw a few times to reawaken her nerves then began tearing into the dried flesh, the humans looking away as her sharp fangs shredded the jerky. During this time, Tristan told Ilzhara that the dragoness Veronyx had left Gimrold's Spire over 20 years ago and it has only been recently that adventurer parties, like his, had begun exploring the massive complex of the mad red. Vast hoards of treasure had been found alongside unexplainable magic items, but even more disturbing were the other living experiments of Veronyx, some of which had gone made upon their awakening. Thus, it had fallen to Tristan's party, as the ones with the most combat experience, to clear out the stasis-chambers in exchange for first picks among the scavenged treasures of Veronyx. Ilzhara had not been the first half-breed encountered, but the others had far more flaws, either attacking in a fit of mindless rage and having to be put down, or else killing themselves to escape the pains of their mutated bodies.
Ilzhara listened in silence until the very end, saying only "Very well" when Tristan asked her to accompany his party back to Morhaine, the Kingdom of Scholars, in order to find out if Veronyx's experiments could be reversed in any way. Tristan was surprised by the seeming calm of Ilzhara, but he was ignorant of the boiling rage and hatred within her, though Ilzhara was still sane enough to realize taking that out on her rescuers was both stupid and ungrateful. So, she accompanied them down the mountains, her new body far more hardy than even theirs, a point the humans began to respect as they watched Ilzhara rip one of the fearsome mountain wolves in half with her new claws.
Even more, the adventurers came to respect Ilzhara's composure, as she would explain calmly the years of torment at Veronyx's hands in between the long-lost myths of her time - 300 years ago. Hardly a long time to the elves, perhaps, but to Ilzhara, the entire world had changed, and the stories that were once commonplace during her kingdom's time had become long-since lost. Tristan's party slowly began to tell Ilzhara of the new stories of great adventurers and marvels of the world, careful not to overwhelm the horribly lost woman in this new place and time. Though, not nearly so different as they believed, for Ilzhara - despite her monstrous appearance and occasional fits of rage at her draconic tormentor - was exceedingly normal. The adventurers had, on the second day, finally been brave enough to cmment on Ilzhara's lack of proper clothes, and offered their set of spare leathers to cover herself in the harsh weather of Gimrold's Spire. Ilzhara thanked them, trying on the leathers only to find them ripping apart on her razor scales, leaving her body and blush quite exposed. Thankfully, the adventurers were quite tactful in looking away, and one gave Ilzhara his breastplate to use instead, but the entire party had shared a laugh with Ilzhara many times along the way to Morhaine over the incident.
So it was that Ilzhara finally found herself back among humankind, 300 years after her capture by Veronyx, wearing a poorly fitting breastplate over a scaled torso and a set of baggy cloth pants to cover her bottom half to give room for her tail as she walked into the guard station set up a few days from Gimrold's Spire. She was not very happy, especially with the often hostile looks she received from the guards and townspeople, but Ilzhara was nonetheless glad to be doing something, anything, after her long imprisonment. Today, she was to meet with the female elf, Thoriel Ciris, who was acting as the Chief Magical Inspector of Morhaine.