#Smaug Fire Drake

[savage-kult-of-gorthaur]

"WELL, WELL, WHAT DO WE HAVE HERE? A TINY CREATURE DARING TO ADDRESS THE MIGHTY SMAUG. THE MIGHTIEST IN MIDDLE-EARTH."

PIC INFO: Spotlight on a piece titled "A Conversation with Smaug," Bilbo Baggins in Smaug's treasure hoard under the Lonely Mountain, from the fantasy/adventure/children's book "The Hobbit" (or "There and Back Again”), artwork by Ted Nasmith. Color sketch/gouache on illustration board.

PIC #2: Finished painting of "A Conversation with Smaug."

"Bilbo Baggins cautiously entered the dark and treacherous lair of the fearsome dragon, Smaug. The air was thick with tension as he hesitantly made his way towards the immense creature, whose body was adorned with glittering gold and jewels. "Smaug," Bilbo called out, his voice trembling slightly. "I have come to speak with you." The dragon's eyes flickered with curiosity as it turned towards the hobbit. Its deep, rumbling voice filled the chamber, resonating with power. "Well, well, what do we have here? A tiny creature daring to address the mighty Smaug. The mightiest in Middle-Earth. What brings you to my domain, little hobbit?""

-- A CONVERSATION WITH SMAUG, from "The Hobbit" (1937), written by J.R.R. Tolkien

Sources: www.picuki.com/media/3191630386592751836 & www.tednasmith.com/tolkien/a-conversation-with-smaug.

[saphronethaleph]

The Dragon's Fire

Smaug, the Dragon Dread, the Terror of the Lonely Mountain, furled his wings and chuckled slightly as the last of the smoke rose from his muzzle.

That, he was sure, was one wizard who was not going to be sniffing around here again. Gold was scattered all across the floor to the sides of his mighty hoard, coins and artworks that he had piled up to serve as his bed and that had been cast aside when he had burst from the gold, but the surprise had been either total or as near as made no difference at all.

Leaning down, Smaug examined the scorch mark, which was glowing faintly as the stonework cooled and which had a drift of ash around it… unfortunately, his experience with the clothing of mortals was not sufficient to actually work out in any detail what he was dealing with here.

Clothes, perhaps? In the moment’s glance at the wizard, as his intense flames reached out, he had seen… robes, a hat, and a staff that glowed with light and might and power.

Perhaps it was the staff that was part of it?

Regardless, either the wizard was dead or he had received a clear warning to never return. The light was dim, here in the depths of Erebor, and there was smoke aplenty, but the glow from the scorch mark was sufficient that Smaug could identify two of the burning cinders as parts of a snapped wooden staff.

But there was something else odd, as well, and Smaug leaned more closely.

The glow of his scales, sign of the flames that burned within him, flared a little lighter. It illuminated the stonework, and Smaug’s paw picked up the metal circlet.

In the dim light, it looked… quite pleasant, really. Understated, a golden band with a red ruby set in a housing. Perhaps it was some sort of diadem, if wizards were prone to wearing such things… and, more than that, it was a trophy of his victory.

Toying with it, Smaug realized after a few seconds that it was of a size to fit onto his foreclaw, and slid it into place. It fit quite snugly, and he chuckled.

If wizards were going to bring him such trophies, he could almost look forward to the next visit.

-Smaug awoke with a jolt.

His paws clenched into claws, and he growled, then shook his head.

There had been something he was dreaming about – something that had woken him up.

But what had it been?

He tried to remember, turning his mighty mind to the task, but it was a struggle… for all that he tried, it seemed that the details attempted to slip away regardless of how much effort he put into holding onto them.

It had involved… flying, Smaug was sure. Soaring above the earth below, with clouds all around him, such as he had not done since he had first burned his Devastation many years ago. Flying, wings caressing the air, carrying his immense but light form in sweeps through the clouds.

And there had been… other dragons, as well. Drakes of different sizes and colours, winged cold-drakes and fire-drakes alike, soaring between the mountains that ringed the Withered Heath…

...but as he tried, the last elusive details slipped through his claws, and Smaug’s paw smote the gold of his hoard. Gold coins and halves of gold coins flew everywhere, and there was a minor avalanche, but Smaug cared little.

There was an ache in his heart, and it took him a long moment to work out what it was.

Loneliness.

He growled, and thrashed his tail against the wall.

He was a mighty fire-drake, greatest of the dragons. He should not be feeling this pain over loneliness!

Smaug needed nobody else.

Smaug had nobody else.

And that had never bothered him before.

The faint light filtering into the hall told Smaug that it was during the day. The dwarven hall was well designed, and it allowed shafts of light in so that the burning torches that would have thrown light were an adjunct, rather than truly necessary. They would have needed them by night, but not while the sun was in the sky or even when the clouds veiled it.

And Smaug rested his great bulk up on one of the high places, a mezzanine thirty feet and more above the main hall which was filled with his hoard, and he glowered down at it.

As if it had offended him.

As if it posed an impossible challenge.

Because… in the final analysis, what was he going to do with it?

He was a mighty dragon, that much was obvious. The greatest of the dragons that yet lived upon Middle-Earth. He had won this hoard, mighty gold and treasures almost beyond counting, himself.

It was his.

And yet… since winning it, all he had done was sleep in it.

“This is foolishness,” he growled, then almost winced at the echoing sound of his own voice – so long had it been since he had had cause to speak.

But it was foolishness.

He had everything a dragon could ever desire! As a young drake in the Withered Heath, he had dreamed of wealth, and the hoard of the Lonely Mountain was greater even than he had dared to dream.

And all he had done was sleep on it, sleeping away a hundred years and more. He wasn’t even sure of the exact number, just that… he had dreamed his dragon dreams submerged within the wealth that had been his goal, and it no longer brought him the least pleasure.

It might as well have been a pile of rocks.

After a moment’s thought, Smaug shook his head, for – no, it was not the case! Gold was gold, and rock was rock, and no dragon would ever sleep on a pile of rocks!

Except… all the others.

If there were others.

His thoughts were going around in circles, and he growled, then looked down at the hoard again.

What was he going to do with it?

Sleep here, buried in gold that would never again do anything, until he was too large to fit through the door? Or until the ages of Middle-Earth had turned again, and again, and the Lonely Mountain itself wore away and there was nothing left? Never gaining anything from the gold beyond a sleep that was troubled by unquiet dreams anyway?

Or go elsewhere, use the gold to do something?

The idea felt like a sore tooth.

Anything else he tried to do with it would mean giving it up, surrendering it, letting it slip out of his control. It was… a sickening thought, one that made his stomach roil.

What else could a dragon value but his hoard?

But… in what way could a dragon value his hoard?

It was a bed.

A bed.

Smaug yawned, wings half-flaring, and clambered down from the mezzanine.

He was tired, and sleep might bring him more insight. Or a solution to his conundrum.

Though it would… probably not. He had had these thoughts too often, lately.

The feeling that something was missing. And that what he had was… nothing.

Sunlight slashed into the main entrance of Erebor’s dwarf hold, and Smaug held a fine coat of silvery mail in the light. It was tiny, to him, a mere trinket.

But he knew what it meant.

He knew, roughly, how it would have been made.

Every one of the links was made of mithril, a metal that was difficult to find and difficult to smelt. First it would need to be mined, the ore taken from the ground, by miners who tunnelled through the rock with pickaxe and hammer and chisel, and that would give them rocks.

To smelt the metal would have required… charcoal, or coal, cut and burned once to make it into truly black material that could be used in a forge, and then burned again to fuel the forge. Turning the ore into a bloom of the metal, then shaping the metal into wire, then turning the wire into links of tiny metal.

The links of this particular coat were so fine that Smaug could barely see them, even when he looked his closest, and there were a lot of them.

Then they would all have to be fit together, tens of thousands of rings, all assembled and held together with tens of thousands of rivets.

And it was just one item. One part of his hoard.

The artisans of Erebor had been able to make so many things, with their skills at working wood and metal and stone. Beautiful things. So many things that were so beautiful, not merely mining out gold but then shaping it into the things that were far more appealing.

He would not have been so pleased with a bed of lumps of solid metal. It was that they had been turned into coins, or finer things, that gave them much of their value.

And… he had killed so many of those dwarves. Struck them down with flame and tail and claw, and driven out the rest.

For what?

For his hoard, of course, which was his by right. But… Smaug could not help but look at this tiny, exquisite suit of mail.

And wonder what they could have made for a dragon.

Wonder if something that had been made for him, at his direction… would have closed the ache inside him.

Wonder why he had never even considered it, before.

“Are you sure that this is a good plan, exactly?” Bilbo wondered, looking up at Thorin.

Thorin grumbled.

Bilbo supposed that, really, that was all he could hope for.

The original plan had been for each of them to get an enormous part of the share of a dragon’s hoard, and Bilbo’s role had been… well, to put it simply, to be a thief.

But they had been captured by Elves, and one thing had led to another, and after a rather significant amount of negotiation and a rather more significant amount of arguing between Thorin and Balin and Gloin, with Bilbo’s assistance, the way it had all worked out was that now the shares they were going to get of the dragon’s treasure were somewhat less enormous – but still sounding like quite a large amount of gold, all things considered.

The Elves would be getting some, for their own help – a fine way of saying that they would release the Company from captivity and accompany them to Erebor, while keeping them safe from spiders and goblins alike in the dangerous Mirkwood – but they would not be getting the Arkenstone that Thorin so valued and they would not be getting the mountain itself, either.

Bilbo still remembered the decisive question that had turned the trick – which was when Balin had asked Thorin what he would give to restore Erebor to its old glory.

And Thorin had admitted… he would give much. Even, when pressed, half the treasure from the dragon’s hoard… a deal which Thranduil had rejected, as too generous to the Elves.

Bilbo didn’t quite like Thranduil, because he could only compare the Elven king unfairly to Lord Elrond of Rivendell who was rather more like the sort of Elf that Bilbo liked. But he was rather taking a shine to the Prince.

Not least because Legolas seemed willing to actually tell him things.

“Is it a good plan?” he asked, then, looking back at the noble Elf.

“Perhaps,” Legolas replied, with a slight shrug. “A lot depends on if there is a dragon there.”

“Do you think that likely?” Fili asked.

“It hasn’t appeared in over a century,” Dori noted.

“I think it more likely that goblins have moved in,” Legolas suggested. “And if they have, we will be glad of our outriders.”

He looked up. “...though it seems trouble may be on our way.”

“Why do you say that?” Thorin asked, roused out of his general sullen mood.

“Hoofbeats, moving fast,” Legolas explained, then looked around. “There’s a ridge – there. We should get a good look.”

He scrambled up the rock with a grace that was enviable for anyone, and especially enviable when the one doing the envying was a Hobbit, and Bilbo did his best to follow.

Then Dori picked him up, and did his best to follow, which worked a little better.

By the time they reached the top of the ridge, though, Legolas was already scanning the northern horizon in worry.

“There,” he said, pointing, and Bilbo squinted.

There was a sort of smudge, he thought.

Thorin’s expression was stormy.

“A goblin host,” he said.

“Yes,” Legolas agreed. “I make it eight or nine thousand.”

Bilbo looked back at the Elven army, which was significantly weaker – maybe sixteen hundred, all told. They were better armed and equipped, he knew, but a difference of this size was going to be a large problem.

“We should find a place to deploy,” Balin said. “Set up where they can’t-"

“They’re closer to the Mountain than us,” Thorin pointed out. “If they’re going for it, we need to try and head them off.”

“They have wargs and warg riders,” Legolas warned. “We have scarcely a hundred horse, we don’t want to fight in the open plain.”

He pointed. “Our outriders are coming in. Father will be asking them…”

His voice trailed off.

“What is it?” Thorin asked. “Out with it.”

“Dust, on the horizon,” Legolas said, nodding to the northwest. “There’s another army coming this way – I doubt they’re friendly to us.”

“It’s the wrong direction for the Iron Hills, that much is true,” Balin said.

Then a flash of movement caught Bilbo’s eye, and he turned to look – and his jaw dropped.

A massive creature with red-golden scales was emerging from the mountain, huge wings flaring, rising into the air like a hawk taking flight, and it had to be well over a hundred feet in length though Bilbo didn’t have a great sense of scale. It circled once, then swooped down towards the goblin army, and Thorin made a grim sound.

“We will have to sell our lives dearly,” he said. “Elvish prince – can you or your elves put an arrow through the scales of a dragon?”

“It’s not something I’ve tried yet,” Legolas admitted, as the dragon – as Smaug – hovered over the goblins, presumably having some sort of fell conversation. “But I’m sure I can find my mark.”

He reached for his bow, then paused.

“Look!” he said.

Bilbo followed Legolas’s gaze, and a jet of green and scarlet flame flashed down from the enormous dragon… and doused the goblin army in flame.

“They were loosing arrows at it,” Legolas said. “At him. Then he just… destroyed them.”

Bilbo could only see smoke, now, hovering over the ruin of what had once been a mighty force of goblins. Then Smaug’s wings cut the air, sweeping away the smoke in coils, and he approached them at speed.

It had to be at least two or three minutes that the dragon took, to reach them, but to Bilbo it felt like an onrushing avalanche. Then the massive creature landed on the far side of the slope, wings flaring before they furled like those of a bat, and Bilbo found himself regarded by a head that rivalled for size the largest entire creatures he had seen.

“Greetings,” Smaug said. “Hmm… two Elves, thirteen Dwarves, and a creature I know not. And an army, besides… what brings you to the Lonely Mountain?”

“Revenge,” Thorin replied.

“Revenge, is it?” Smaug asked, sounding quite amused. “Revenge, on me, I’d assume? Well, I’ll admit that I assaulted your mountain, and slew many Dwarves – and Men, as well – but I don’t recall killing any Elves, and nor do I know what that other fellow’s race is at all. So what brings hither the Elves, and their army, terrible with banners?”

Thranduil had ascended the hill, as well, and Bilbo realized that Legolas must have informed his father about the… battle… that had its smoking ruins in the distance.

“We are here in alliance with the Dwarves,” the King of the Mirkwood Elves declared, and Smaug nodded.

“A reasonable thing to do,” he said. “If, that is, you were planning to fight goblins. But one of the goblin armies here has been destroyed, for they made the mistake of attacking me – and that is something I will not abide.”

His eyes flashed. “Of course, I could leave you to fight the other goblin army yourself, if you wished. They seem at least twice as strong as the one I destroyed, and I do not think you would have brought so few to fight so many… so let us dispense with the subtleties. You are here to reclaim the Lonely Mountain, and to take from me the hoard that I took from the Dwarves of Erebor so many years ago. Am I wrong?”

“Revenge is not the least of our motives,” Thorin said, displaying a lack of concern for his own safety (and the safety of everyone else who was in flaming range) which quite worried Bilbo, but Smaug raised a paw to his chin.

“But not the most of it, either, I think,” he replied. “As you would have brought far more if you wished to fight me.”

Incongruously, Bilbo noticed something on Smaug’s forepaw.

It was a ruby ring, which caught his eye, though he knew not why.

“So consider this,” Smaug went on. “What makes me different from someone else, who came in with fire and the sword to conquer a land and make it their own? The Men and Elves and Dwarves did the same, as did the Orcs and the Goblins – history is a long tale of battles fought and agreements made.”

“Do not try to bewitch us with your words, worm,” Thorin said, and Bilbo noticed that several of the other Dwarves were edging away from him.

“Would you prefer we argue?” Smaug replied. “But, very well, then… the mountain is yours, and the contents.”

It was such a sudden shift that Bilbo practically fell over.

“...what?” Thranduil asked, completely baffled, and not the only one.

“However,” Smaug continued. “I will be offering protection, in return for which I would appreciate tribute. Not acres of gold, but… fine things, few in number and wrought with a purpose.”

“You give us back our ancestral home, and then ask for some of our wealth back?” Fili asked. “I’m – don’t get me wrong, I’d rather not be set on fire, I’m just very confused.”

“What is a kingdom?” Smaug asked, his voice stern. “An empire? Any state, or monarchy? It is, at the core, farmers who grow food, and an organization which takes the surplus food from them, in the form of tax. Surplus Men and Elves and Dwarves, to work its armies. And it uses that food to support those who do not farm, for a purpose… and that is how art is made, and how you all can enjoy yourselves, and march to war wearing weapons and armour and clothes that would take you all years or decades to make yourselves… if you can. You offer protection, and you take tax, and sons, and horses, and that is how your kingdoms work.”

He stretched his wings.

“I am proposing the same thing… but I will not demand sons. All else, all the specifics, are negotiation.”

Thorin still did not look happy.

But… Bilbo had seen that expression before.

It was quite possible that the Dwarf could be… brought around.

The peak of the Lonely Mountain was just the right size, and – after decades – there was now a ridge around it, in just about the right place. It was perfect for a dragon to rest on, and to curl around, and that was exactly what was happening.

King Smaug the First, Smaug the Golden, King Over Mountain and Dale and Lake, was looking out over the Long Lake, at the spot about halfway from the nearer end to the further.

Water splashed and fire spurted, and though it was far too far for him to hear, he could imagine the shouts of laughter and growls of protest rippling across the smooth waters of the lake.

Two of the six young dragons down there, he was fairly sure, were his children. His journeys to the Withered Heath had resulted in a few dalliances, and a few recruits only, but… the example was slowly taking hold.

The amount of gold and treasure a dragon got from the new arrangement was far less than it would have been under the old. But he now bore a chain of electrum and gold around his neck, and a mail coat of his own, and they were really quite precious to him.

The other four young drakes down there… cold-drake or fire-drake, they were young, and they were interested. And, right now, they were playing.

Smaug lay his muzzle on his paw, feeling fond, and lounged in the evening sunlight… then his head twitched, as he heard the sound of someone ascending the stairs.

A white-robed figure, white-bearded and carrying a slender white staff with a latticed shape at the top, came into view, and halted some steps below the top of the mountain.

“Greetings, King Smaug,” he said, sounding pleasant enough. “I must ask you the same as I asked King Thorin – have emissaries of the Dark Lord come this way?”

Smaug considered, then nodded slightly.

“They did,” he confirmed. “I bade they leave immediately.”

Smoke leaked from his nostrils. “Then they offered me one of the remaining Dwarven Rings, and I set them on fire.”

The white stranger nodded.

“I see,” he said. “Thank you for your answer.”

Smaug tilted his head, slightly.

“You are Gandalf, aren’t you?” he asked. “At first I thought you Saruman, but the staff is wrong…”

“Quite,” Gandalf confirmed, pleasantly enough. “I also wished to ask you if you were willing to help with the defence of the Free Peoples, beyond the Mountain, Dale and Lake. There is a war coming, and it is not known where the Enemy will strike.”

Smaug frowned.

“I will think on it,” he said. “I have a responsibility here.”

Then something occurred to him, and he raised his paw – showing the ruby ring.

“Do you want it back?” he asked. “I… suspect that this is yours… originally, at least.”

Gandalf smiled.

“I don’t think I do,” he said. “You have been gaining quite the benefit yourself, and I would not wish to punish you for becoming who you always could have been…”

[thorinsspringforge]

Smaug the Golden was a fire-drake who dwelt in the Grey Mountains. He heard of the great wealth of Erebor and desired it for himself.

In TA 2770, he descended on Dale and the Lonely Mountain in flames.

Most of the Dwarves who escaped the rout fled to the Iron Hills. Others, including King Thrór, his family, and some of their kinsmen and faithful followers, went southwards into long and homeless wandering.

Sources: J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings, Appendix A, "Durin's Folk"; The Hobbit Chapter 1, "An Unexpected Party".

In the next few weeks, the mods will be sharing posts about Thorin and his life to get everyone inspired for the event! So keep an eye out for these posts and let us know if there’s anything in particular you’re curious about!

[hellish-npts]

Pearl Dragon ID Pack

Pt: Pearl Dragon ID Pack /end pt

Names: Aphrodite, Blaze, Draco, Dracul, Drago, Fafnir, Ivory, Jewel, Kaida, Maisie, Margo, Meg, Megan, Meghan, Nacre, Pearl, Perla, Pinctada, Priscilla, Pteriidae, Pyro, Ryuhiko, Ryuhito, Ryū, Smaug, Smog, Soot, Venus

Pronouns: collect/collects, dragon/dragons, drake/drakes, fire/fires, hoard/hoards, ignite/ignites, inferno/inferno, intrude/intrudes, irides/irirdecent, iridescent/iridescents, nacre/nacres, oyster/oysterys, pearl/pearls, sea/seas, wy/wyrm, wy/wyvern, wyrm/wyrms, wyvern/wyvern, 🌊/🌊s, 🐉/🐉s, 🐲/🐲s, 🔥/🔥s, 🦪/🦪s

Titles: prn that wears pears, prn who can fly, prn who is revered / feared, prn who lives by / in the sea, prn with fire breath, the [little] dragon, the bane of heroes / villages / oysters, the collector / hoarder, the iridescent / pearlescent dragon,prn who collects / hoards pearls

Genders: Nightpearl, Daypearl, Deathpearl, Genderpearl, Pearlescean, Dragonfirena, Crowndragona, Dracomav, Allegoricalgender, Dragonprotag, Dragonmesta, Dragonplushic, Amphitheatreblood, Dragonblood, Wyrmblood, Wyvernblood

Other ids: Aquaniser, Dragonsensus, Draconincarnate, Dragon flag, Cassdragon, Dragon Ambitherian

Text in bold is: Name, Pronouns, Titles, Genders, and Other ids respectively

All term names are links.

Requested by Anon

Tagging @id-pack-archive

[midnightsun-if]

*cracks fingers*

FIRST AND FOREMOST are there different types of dragon shifters based on ethnicity. i.e. shifters of Asians descent are they "Chinese dragons"? Do we have drakes or wyrms? Do they look more like Smaug in the Hobbit or (my personal favorite) like Draco in Dragonheart?

How big are....actual dragons? How big do the dragon shifters get? have watched How to Train your Dragon Too Much Can we ride them?

Actually are there still dragons left in the "wild"?

If so are they like a protected species or do people just leave them alone cause they have the advantage of, quite frankly, being a fucking dragon? If not how did they die out?

Are there scales/blood/horns/ect useful in alchemy? Is there a racket for dragon parts? Or if they are not useful, is there still an underground market because of superstition that they are useful?

Can dragons speak somehow? Magic or otherwise?

...CAN THEY BREATHE FIRE? (Any ideas lore wise why?) Tagging on, can shifters once shifted breathe fire?

Are they able to manifest scales out of the shifted form this would be beyond useful in a fight and so damned cool?

Speaking of scales, does the color mean anything? Like bloodline/clan/house, from a specific region, or personality?

Do any of them have noticeable features in their human forms? Like fangs/scales/claws/reptilians eyes/this shouldnt be so sexy, I shouldnt want to grab them horns ?

Dragons in lore are infamously territorially and possessive. Are dragons in this IF the same? Do the shifters experience a reflection of that?

The gold thing, do dragons have that? Do the shifters at all have a fetish preference for gold?

It was mentioned that there was...tests to become a dragons shifted fated mate. Could a human undergo these, and live? If they cant would that mean anything per say in the long run between the couple?

Are there different types of dragon shifters?

There could, in theory, be. However, there aren’t any at the given moment due to the history between dragons and the realm that the majority of supernatural species reside within.

Are there drakes and wyrms?

There are! Just not any within this realm. At least none that stay for too long.

What do dragons look like?

Dragons have a variety of appearances, but Dragon Shifters typically take on the form of what you’d recognize as a normal dragon (Inheritance Cycle // Dragonheart // Etc). In fact, there are even some Night Fury type dragons within their realm too.

The biggest dragons, that Dragon Shifters do not take the form of, are actually wyverns (think Game of Thrones for their appearance).

How big are actual dragons?

Actual dragons can range through a variety of sizes— some are as small as a cat (though they’ve never appeared in the mortal realm). The biggest, as I’ve mentioned before being wyverns, can have a wingspan of upwards of 200 feet.

How big do Dragon Shifters get?

Dragon Shifters can have a wingspan ranging from 40 to 80 feet.

Can you ride a dragon?

In theory? Yes.

In reality? You’d more likely get fried instantly.

Dragons have to trust another being implicitly in order for them to allow you to become their rider, something that very few people are able to accomplish, much less so within a realm that has a history it does with them.

Are there any dragons left in the wild?

Within this world? No. Not really.

However, all dragons are wild. A dragon is not a slave, you’ll never be able to truly tame its spirit. Even if you were to be its rider.

Are they a protected species?

Very much so. Though they rarely ever come into this realm anymore. The Voltaire Family has a direct connection to the entrance into the Draconic Realm within Transylvania; something that’s bonded them to that realm as they were the family that stood in front of the ones that wished to ransack the nesting grounds and steal the defenseless eggs (as no one would be stupid enough to go after a fully grown dragon).

Dragons aren’t dead nor are they extinct, but one could easily make that distinction as very few still remain within the mortal realm. The majority of them stay within their own realm (think of it like a Westeros/Middle Earth type place).

Are there scales/blood/horns/etc useful in alchemy?

Absolutely, but good luck getting them.

Is there a racket for them?

Yes. The Voltaire Family has been constantly met with offers of various amounts of money in order to allow people to be able to get said materials (they’ve refused every time and have killed the ones making said offers).

Can dragons speak somehow?

No, but some of have said that a bond between a dragon and its rider can lend to an emotional connection that doesn’t need words to understand.

You could probably charm a dragon to be able to speak, and if it allowed you to do so, if it’s something you really wanted to see.

Can dragons breathe fire?

Yes. Dragonfire is one of the hottest things in existence. Hotter than even hellfire.

Can Dragon Shifters breathe fire once shifted?

They absolutely can but, like with Phoenixes, their fire isn’t as hot as the actual thing. It’s still pretty fucking hot though.

Can Dragon Shifters manifest scales when in a fight?

If they have enough control? They absolutely can, but it takes a while to master, and, to the inexperienced, can expend a lot of energy that may be needed in other areas of the fight.

Do scales denote anything of importance?

Not typically, but some people commonly give the various scale colors their own meaning (even if it doesn’t mean anything). Like red dragons typically being seen as warriors.

Only real dragons, mainly seen in wyverns, will have two shades to their scales (again think of GoT). Not all dragons will though (it’s just something that’s not seen within shifters).

Do any of them, being Dragon Shifters, have any notable draconic features when in their human form? Fangs/Scales/Claws/Reptilian Eyes/Horns?

Some can, yes! It truly depends on the Clan of Dragon Shifters though. Some Clans, like with Lexa and Zephyr, do not have horns but others do (though horns are seen on male Dragon Shifters; the opposite of Dark Fae, wherein horns appear only on females).

Reptilian eyes just varies from person to person. Some can have them, some cannot. Scales and fangs don’t really make an appearance unless the shifter wishes them to do so.

Are dragons territorial and/or possessive?

Completely. They’ll defend what is theirs to the death.

Are Dragon Shifters the same way?

Yes, but it’s not to the same extreme.

Do dragons have a thing for gold?

I mean… Some could, but it’s not an overall thing.

Do Dragon Shifters?

Beside the actual worth of it? Not really, but again there are special individuals within each group.

Could a human undergo the Dragon Trials and live?

Not at all. No other supernatural species could either. As they’re designed for Dragon Shifters only.

What would that mean for the couple in the long term?

The Trials are a way to showcase to their potential mate that they’ll be a good protector. Usually when it involves two Dragon Shifters it’s decided between them who will take that role. When it comes to other species? It’ll only ever be them. Their instincts, their entire being, would not allow it to be any other way. It’s in their genes to protect their mate, especially if they’re the one that’s given the “role” of it. The protector is also the more dominant between the two… So, I wouldn’t ever romance a Dragon Shifter if you prefer to be the more dominant one (unless you were a Dragon Shifter and could take over that role).

[conkers-thecosy]

Drop some AUs that's you love! I want to read all the things >:)

P.s. hope your day is going well! Give your sweet pup a good scratch behind the ears for me 💜

Hullo lovely!

Ahhhhh!! This is a great ask, okay here we go!!

In June and June and More June by Dragonslaeyr:

"When Bilbo agreed on a trip to Erebor to clear up the last of his mother's estate, what he didn't count on was falling in love with its gorgeous landscape, the fiercely proud people, and yes, the delicious food. Now if only he could figure out why everyone was acting so strangely around his neighbours..."

- Whisper of the Heart by @abliafina-18782

"When Bilbo discovers all of his library books have been checked out by the same guy, a Thorin Oakenshield, maybe it will finally give him the push for adventure he's always wanted."

-

Love-In-Idleness by perkynurples

"Taking Bilbo Baggins, a successful movie actor who is only just getting used to the perks and intricacies of becoming A Face People Want To See, and putting him together with Thorin Oakenshield, with his very traditional (read: slightly backwards) ideas about what constitutes Real Art and Real Talent, might very well be viewed as just some clothead’s idea of a joke. But there are jokes, and then there are carefully calculated risks the size of controversial reproductions of classic Shakespearean plays - for Bilbo, it is the chance of a lifetime to prove himself to all those who have ever deemed him too one-dimensional to even attempt stage, while Thorin has the opportunity to get out of the rut that’s been hindering his career for so long now, and shine in a role worthy of his talent once again. That is if the two learn how to share the same space for more than ten minutes without wanting to tear each other’s hair out. The course of true love never did run smooth, after all…"

-

Dragonhearted by @lordoftherazzles

"The grandson of a greedy king and his dwarvish companions fall under the curse of literal dragon sickness - at least for Thorin. Bestowed by Smaug the Terrible, an enchanter whose other form is also that of a dragon, the vilest of fire drakes from the north, is seeking riches at the end of a hard trial for the prince of Erebor. Doomed to live his life as a ‘not-quite-dwarf’ and ‘not-quite-dragon’, Thorin and his companions are forgotten by the world around them.

The decades roll by and the curse shows no sign of lifting, for Thorin was tasked with proving that his heart was worth saving and that he would not be corrupted by gold lust like his grandfather. All seems bleak until the arrival of one quirky little hobbit of the Shire with his mother’s stubborn streak and his father’s gentility. Bilbo Baggins, a prisoner of this draconic beast, soon begins to show Thorin just what a heart worth saving feels like."

-

Bookbinder//Songwriter by @lordoftherazzles

"Thorin Durinul has always dreamed of making it to the big leagues in the music industry. Ered Luin’s newest citizen, Bilbo Baggins, an aspiring writer and all-around bookworm, has recently taken ownership of the mountain town’s dusty old corner shop, now, Bag End Books. They weren’t looking for love, but now they can’t imagine tackling life’s challenges without each other."

-

...There are so, so many more, but I haven't read half the fics I want to, and these are a good place to start if you're looking for AUs!

Let me know what you think!! 💛 

[glorf1ndel]

Do you have any thoughts on the land of the sun? There's no mention of it ever being destroyed so it could theoretically exist up to the fourth age. Occasionally I like to ponder how it's theoretically possible dragons (fire drakes even!) could be settled there even during the period of the main trilogy.

But even if they're not Smaug being the last fire drake at least doesn't stop cold drakes from existing in the north of Middle Earth.

Intriguing question! I have not given much thought to the Land of the Sun, but I imagine it could still exist in the Fourth Age. It’s certainly more fun if it does exist. I bet there are dragons there, living in the Walls of the Sun. Maybe the Ainur visit, especially Arien. I would like to think that there are all sorts of interesting beings living there, even though Tolkien includes the Land of the Sun in the so-called Empty Lands. Perhaps Elves have even ventured there. It might be cool if the Avari decide to leave home and discover the Land of the Sun while Arien is there, and that’s their first encounter with one of the Ainur.

[viciouslyfilthy]

" The Beast of Lust. "

(Ex) Judge Claude Frollo

76 years of age (though aging now does not mean much to him anymore since he's cursed eternally to remain in this current form, he doesn't grow weaker but he doesn't get better)

Awassi sheep-like type of drake. (Formerly human)

Personality:

A cruel Judge no more, now all there is left is an utterly broken and humiliated man, somewhere deep inside the animalistic, lust-driven creature he is now.

Claude's spirit has been shoved so deep in embarassment and self-hatred that over the years the beast rarely cares to entertain these feelings anymore, he either bottles them up and dissociates from them- has outbursts of rage- or, much less common, he cries and pleads to God hopelessly.

Of course- this happens during few moments of clarity where he just decides to be angry with himself. His internal conflict remains, if anything- it only accentuated. His nature is very hypocritical. On one half, he no longer cares and gladly indulges in his vices and entertains himself with what brings him comfort and closure (his imps), he feels at peace during these moments, feeling like a completely different person; on the other half, his mind still sometimes desperately tries to cling back to being fully against indulging, attempting to abstain himself again and begging God for forgiveness, leading to guilt for 'sinning', which leads him to remember about his new condition- which leads him to reflect, which leads him down a path where he begins to understand why he's been punished this way- which leads to one or two things: a complete emotional shutdown where Claude flat out is unable to feel anything towards his past actions and what he is now, OR complete and utter denial of guilt which leads to more self-hatred until he either spirals into a manic, self-righteous episode or his animalistic instincts force his self-awareness to become temporarily absent, forcing him to take a break. (He ends up often forgetting about his anger, emotional and literal memory loss is another thing he frequently deals with)

This is the other thing I was implying at the beginning of this with 'during a few moments of clarity', Claude no longer has full control over himself, his old mind is merely a passenger that often gets the privilege of being aware of his existence and his actual complications. The best way I can describe his 'mindless beast' behaviour when he is not aware of his old self is a mixture between the Ice King from Adventure Time and Smaug from The Hobbit; he's still intelligent but it's as if he becomes another person entirely as he temporarily forgets about his past and that he used to be human. In this state he only cares to please himself (sexually or otherwise), eat, sleep and boss around/tend to his imps.

His behaviour is also very reminiscent of a common fictional dragon's greedy behaviour (which makes sense since he's supposed to be a drake AND a fitting fate for him to essentially have become a dragon given that he was very selfish as a human hehe); he may not spit fire but he will attack and maul anyone that enters his den unannounced or tries to steal from his hoard (he collects green shiny gems, often emeralds. This is an unconcious impulse driven by his obsession with Esmeralda; emeralds remind him of her name and vivid green colors remind him of her eyes). If the beast brings you into his den willingly, it's because he wants to keep you in there as part of his hoard. (If he has a moment of clarity, he might allow you to leave)

Biology:

His body is completely unrecognizable from the slim, human form he previously had. The only remnant that confirms that yes- this is the very same Judge, is his voice, untouched by the grisly transformation.

He's adapted the shape of a land drake, flightless and without any special kind of power really; he can't breathe fire nor possesses any kind of common magic you'd imagine most to have. His body is not all scaly! Some remnants of human skin remain in some areas (lower half of the body, head, neck, lower parts of arms & legs); the parts of his body that are scaly have a sturdier built, providing him some kind of protection- should he get attacked.

And this is where we get to the imps. He doesn't have any kind of common magic, but there is something that has been granted to him that can be considered magical: the power of his imps, a hivemind of little cutesy-devilish-looking creatures at his command that will obey his every command without arguing. It's like a grotesque mockery of the political power he previously possessed over fellow men.

The imps are also being mentioned here because they are an extension of Frollo, in a way. They have literally split off of him and they serve him and only him, and if an imp is killed- he will feel that pain much like the rest of the hivemind; the imps can also merge together! Often to recreate Frollo's original, human form (with tricorn hat and all!). He doesn't do this often with his imps and most times it's just to kind of mourn his humanity- but he can command his imps to go out and pretend to be him if he wanted to.

Overall the imps don't have many different personalities from one another since y'know they're a hivemind, but they do act like baby critters when they're not doing anything in particular or feel safe with their 'master'; they display unbothered/unphased joy and happiness while playing with eachother which makes them a tad wholesome with their child-like nature. Frollo cannot hurt them even if he wanted to, much as he might find them to be unnatural or 'unholy', the one thing his mind physically forbids him from hating, the one thing he is completely unable to be repulsed by, is his imps. It's like they carry bits of his humanity that is still 'pure' per say. (And also over the years he's grown to be oddly fond of them since they're pretty much all the company he has left now).

Backstory:

Day of Judgement finally arrived... it just so happened to be quite peaceful and not as destructive and chaotic as the Good Book put it, it was like any other day... well, somewhat- the Festival of Fools just so happened to fall upon this fateful date.

The evening of the same day Esmeralda had been left trapped within the cathedral of Notre Dame (the Hellfire song never happens in this AU unfortunately💔), the Judge would recieve a messenger at his door- warning him of what was to come, as his fate had been irreversibly decided: he was to slowly transform into a beast- his outsides would finally match his insides.

And of course... although intimidated, the Judge was quite offended and angered at such assumption of his character! He would've ordered this person be arrested for such insolence towards him, but as soon as he would try to chase them out the door- they were gone... as if they were never there.

The man paid no mind to these words, although unnerved- he preferred to focus on keeping an eye on the cathedral.

Until the changes started happening. During which he reluctantly allowed Esmeralda to go free after hearing she escaped, as he had other things to worry about now...

They were small at first, like longer, sharper nails and feeling little bumps around his head- but in less than a week they became very evident: nails turned into full-on claws, those bumps would begin to sprout into horns, and the Public Official would begin to display impulsive, animalistic behaviour towards his guards and the people around him- like growling and snapping at them.

The messenger's words returned to him one night like a bucket of boiling water splashed in his face- when he ruthlessly attacked and mauled a guard with a force he couldn't have possessed before; when the man became self-aware again of what he had done- he was greedily devouring the guts of the corpse before him like an animal. He stepped back, shocked, horrified and disgusted- yet something... called to him. A primal hunger he couldn't help but to satisfy.

And so begins his descent into fully becoming a monster on the outside as well.

The Judge would lock himself up in his home for months, lying that he was terribly sick to avoid having anyone see him in these conditions. He wouldn't be able to bear the humiliation and dread of thousands of eyes watching him become something unholy, unnatural, all because of his own actions.

He finds little comfort in anything as he's practically a prisoner in his own home, his sanctuary, finally being on the other side of the table with how Quasimodo must have felt for two decades. He hated it.

Then, memory loss begun to set in, which scared the man further- he would begin to forget verses from the Bible, he would forget he was ever human temporarily as he would devour raw meat and grow restless to leave his cage. His home begun to feel like an artificial setting within a zoo. His thoughts were not his own, and because of this- he chose to furiously write down his entire life and what led to him writing it down, which resulted in a genuine moment of self-reflection.

You'd expect some remorse from the wicked Judge, don't you?

He did too.

He slowly realized just how 'impure' his actions were that he did in the name of God and his duties as Official. He recognized them. He felt guilt and regret, but not out of remorse. He felt guilt and regret because this is what led to his hideous transformation.

He doesn't feel bad for who he has hurt, he doesn't feel a smidge of remorse for what he did to Quasimodo's mother, he doesn't feel a thing for Quasimodo in this context. Even when he tries to look for how he's supposed to feel, his heart is hollow. He doesn't genuinely regret his actions, only the fact that they're what led to him getting cursed.

And this is why Claude Frollo has been cursed to remain like this forever. His humanity stripped because of how far he separated himself from humanity with his cruelty, looking down upon others that were people just like him, and placing himself as high as the God he worships.

This curse is permanent because there never was redemption or 'making up' intended towards his past actions, there never will be because he doesn't truly feel bad about it. Although he may face guilt and accept being wrong behind closed doors, he does not feel remorse.

Eventually the beast suffered a manic episode that led to fleeing his sanctuary, leading him to burst out of his home in the middle of the night and escape somewhere he could be away from everything. He couldn't tolerate showing his horrendous face to the people of Paris, much less to admit any wrongdoings that caused this.

And so... here he is now, living in a den of his own making somewhere deep within the earth of France, his soul rotten by his vices he can no longer bottle up or abstain from (greed, lust, gluttony...).

A monster of his own making... but oddly enough he feels happy, in a twisted way. Happier than he has ever been when he was human. If he could choose to go back to being human and remaining a beast... in front of someone else, he would choose becoming human again- but if he was alone, although hesitant, he would choose to remain as he is. He wouldn't go back.

[savage-kult-of-gorthaur]

"THEY SHALL SEE ME AND REMEMBER WHO IS THE REAL KING UNDER THE MOUNTAIN!"

PIC(S) INFO: Spotlight on cover/box art to the BBC Radio presentation of J.R.R. Tolkien's "The Hobbit" audiobook, consisting of four [abridged] cassette tapes, and published by Bantam Doubleday Dell Audio in 1988. Artist unknown.

"My armour is like tenfold shields, my teeth are swords, my claws spears, the shock of my tail a thunderbolt, my wings a hurricane, and my breath death!"

-- SMAUG, "Chapter XII: Inside Information," from "The Hobbit" (1937), written by J.R.R. Tolkien

Resolution at 947x1357 & 900x1200.

Sources: eBay (2x), both found as eBay listings (too bad I don't play cassettes, though).

[daviddrawssometimes]

Something about the specifics in the classification of wizard/sorcerer/warlock/whtvr feels very close to the specific classification of dragon/wyvern/drake/ect... and frankly... I tire...

Like I think sometimes it's healthy to be like "I don't give a fuck if he doesn't have wings/ has two pairs of hind legs... that reptile can breathe fire and that makes it a dragon."

Like yeah okay, admittedly, my "druid" OC is more of a wizard than a druid... but they're a nature themed wizard get off my ass they're a druid...

Breathe in deeply and repeat with me while I hold you hands... "If a lizard/dinosaur looking mf has some control over an element... it's a dragon... Bowser is a dragon, Smaug is a dragon... a fucking Rathian is a dragon... I'm fine with the fact that they're all generally categorized as dragon..." Great! Wonderful! Glad we could come to a consensus...

There are a lot of things like that where umbrella terms seem to be regarded as wrong if they don't describe exactly 100% the thing they're generalizing (which, you know, defeats entirely the purpose of an "umbrella" term but okay i guess), but "dragons" and "wizard" feel like they're the most common...

[grantgfan]

Hey, May. Once, I had a dream that was a combination of a fairy tale, Pokemon and Middle Earth. And here’s the intro summary of said dream…

Once upon a time, there was a lovely princess of Hoenn named May. But she had an enchantment upon her of a fearful sort, which can only be broken by love’s first kiss. She was locked away deep within the Lonely Mountain, guarded by a terrible fire drake from the north known as Smaug. Many a brave knight had attempted to free the princess from this dreadful prison, but none prevailed. She wanted in the Lonely Mountain, in the deepest chamber of the Dwarven kingdom of Erebor, for the only one who could save her; a brave hero from Kanto known as Ash.

May: wow

[aspenrockymountainhigh]

Smaug the Terrible, the last great fire drake of Middle Earth, originally from Forodwaith, he invaded the Lonely Mountain of Durin's Folk in TA-2770 and occupied Erebor for near 200 years.

[setokaibapetty]

5 + 1 Fic Friday Roundup: Raised by Other(s)

Have some fics about kids getting to grow up with a different family (and/or organization) or that had additional family unit(s) (which can include adoption). It's a fun AU premise since how much does an altered childhood change a character (and, thus, their story)?

A Greater Purpose (AO3) - "A young Byleth is adopted by Archbishop Rhea under false pretenses and is raised within Garreg Mach. Although groomed for a singular purpose, Byleth finds her goals becoming complicated after being appointed as a professor at the Officers Academy. As history catches up to her, she will have to decide who she is and what is the right path for her."

The Beast from Mordor (AO3) - "A year after Smaug's death, a messenger comes to Erebor with terrible news - Prince Vili, husband of Princess Dis, and their only son, a dwarfling of four, have been killed in an orc raid. The messenger is right, but only on one count. For at that exact moment, the little dwarfling is on his way south to Mordor, clasped to a female orc's breast. Many decades later, a young dwarf emerges from Mordor, completely shorn of hair, heavily dyed, and believing himself to be an orc. Will he ever discover his true identity or be reunited with his family?

Pack Horde (AO3) - "Involving Janet Drake being the serial adopter instead of Bruce."

a watched kettle never boils (AO3) - "Endeavor doesn’t show up to Sekoto Hill, but Gang Orca does. This changes things."

Another Brother (FF) - "It was a mission of revenge. There weren't supposed to be any survivors, but Chief Hakoda couldn't bring himself to kill the Fire Nation boy. Against his better judgment, he brought him home. A Zuko joins the Water Tribe story."

Bonus: A Crown of Laurels (I Lay Upon Your Head) (SB) - "A young man, reincarnated as Criston Cole, remembers his past life, and Rhaenyra Targaryen is forever changed for it. For better or for worse, Westeros is set on a different path."

[special-agent-fiction]

Masterlist

All fics are under the cut

Star Trek (2009)

Seasons of Us (Jim Kirk x Reader)

Just a look through the seasons of yours and Jim’s life together in Iowa (pre-Starfleet).  One-Shot

The View (Jim Kirk x Reader)

The reader is totally in love with the view from their window and Jim can’t quite understand why.  One-Shot

Fragments of You (Jim Kirk x Reader)

Jim’s having trouble after the events of ‘Into Darkness’ and honestly, everyone else is still really freaked out over the fact that he died. Everyone but you that is. You’re helping him through it all.  One-Shot

New Rules(Jim Kirk x Female Reader)

You didn’t ask for their help. In fact, you actively declined their input into the situation but Uhura scares you and Bones has a kick-ass stare and suddenly you’re letting them come up with a list of rules for how to live your life without falling head-over-heels in love with Jim Kirk. One-Shot

Part 1

Part 2

How To Save A Life (Spock x Reader)

Emotional outbursts are dangerous to Vulcan’s who spend their lives bottling everything up and Spock is an expert at the art of stoicism. Reader is a Starfleet therapist tasked with helping him post-Khan and ‘Into Darkness’.  One-Shot

Ex Astris, Scientia  (Spock x Reader)

Written for a request -  “Hi can you do story (long please) about reader being depressed and insecure and Spock finding out and comforting reader…”  One-Shot

The Hobbit

The Promise (Thorin Oakenshield x OFC)

Taken in by the Durin’s when she was a child, Eleonóra has lived through it all; the glory of Erebor, Smaug, the journey to Erid Luin and now a Quest to reclaim the hallowed halls stolen from them so many years ago. With a promise to fulfill she will do anything to keep her boys, all of them, safe from whatever lies ahead on the road to their lost homeland.

Chapter One - The Glory of Erebor

Chapter Two - A Fire Drake from the North

Chapter Three - Gundabad Orcs and Hallowed Halls

Chapter Four - A Changed Face

Chapter Five - Women’s Work

Chapter Six - The New Normal

Chapter Seven - Mahal Giveth and Mahal Taketh Away

Chapter Eight - New Beginnings (Again)

Chapter Nine - Snapshots of Life

Chapter Ten - Reflections

Chapter Eleven - The Head of an Empty Table

Chapter Twelve - A Chance Encounter

Chapter Thirteen - Coming Soon

The Man From U.N.C.L.E.

Duo (Napoleon Solo x OFC)

CIA Agent Napoleon Solo only allowed two people in the whole world to use his first name, both were female and one was his mother, bless her soul. The other? Well that’s confidential…or at least it was.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen (Final Chapter)

Pirates of the Caribbean

Hoist The Colours (Jack Sparrow x OFC)

One-Shot, Prequel to COTBP The plan had been to sail the Caribbean together until they the deck of their beloved Wicked Wench splintered beneath their feet from old age. But the Wench had splintered early and now Jack was out for blood; he’d summon the Pirate Lords himself if it meant getting Her out of Beckett’s clutches and back at his side, where she belonged.

[orcristwielder]

Dale.

Thorin remembered that day as though it were only the previous day. Children's laughter and joyous cries rang in his mind as while taking in the ruins of a once great city. Bright blues lingered upon rubble - large piles of stone and brick lay still just feet away from him, the blue sky above hidden by grey cloud. Gaze shifting the dwarf slowly took in the disaster that Smaug left behind in his wake of taking the mountain, images of fire flashed in his mind while screams of fear filled his ears. A day that was meant to be a happy one quickly turned into one of the worst in all his life.

The company had stood behind their leader, silence lingering over them as the reality of what happened became much more clearer. No words could describe the pain that had filled them, no words of condolences or anything could be used to describe just how horrible the situation was and had continued to be long after Erebor had been sacked. He supposed that the saying 'the ghosts of the past' had a clear meaning this day. With nothing to say the brunette moved forward carefully, no wish in disturbing what had been there for years.

This was once a lively town filled with families and life all around. Businesses bursting with customers, husband's and wives walking the ways without a care in the world. Children running around flying kites, enjoying the sunny day like no other, and because of his grandfather's greed - no, the dwarfs greed, Smaug the Terrible had appeared. Thorin could remember it like the back of his hand, seeing the drake cast a rain of fire from the skies above to the world below him. He remembered clearly having warned Balin of what it was coming upon them. A fear like no other struck within him though he hid it deep down as he called out in warning.

The royal hadn't been aware that he'd stopped in his walk until a firm hand had rested upon his shoulder. His gaze shifted to whoever had been at his side — Dwalin. Ah yes. His faithful and loyal friend, his guard and confidant had interrupted the memories. A good thing at that because if the other hadn't Thorin was certain he would have allowed those memories to swallow him whole. Giving a slow, but silent, nod in thanks Dwalin had removed his hand. "....All of this in one day." The guard said, anger and sadness mixed within his tone. Thorin had simply stood in silence for a few moments, a deep breath taken before he turned away from it all " A dragon's destruction is no mere joke. " Was all the brunette said before he began to walk away.

Time was wasting and light was leaving the skies above, they needed to reach the door before Durin's Day. His kind set, broad sword in hand, the royal had commanded they begin the trek once more. Said command had pulled everyone out of their reverie, pulling them back to the task at hand. There was no time to wallow in their sadness, not now. Nor would there ever be time. There would never be another time in his lifetime that another attack would be allowed, no.

His grandfather was filled with greed to the very end, and Thorin was nothing like his grandfather.

[adventures-written]

“ did you kill innocent people? ” (for Smaug? 👀)

The Last Of Us

The question made the fire drake laugh. A low rumble starting in his chest, which seems to grow louder as it traveled. The glowing beneath the scales in his chest grew intensely for a moment, but no fire would come "Have you not heard of dragons before? What they do, what they eat...." Smaug stretched out his wings, as if making a show of himself. "Of course I've killed the innocent. There are no exceptions against my might!" His voice boomed, echoing the surrounding chamber.