#dragon knights gil

[royaltea000]

Teutemp having their medieval wedding dance to Dancing and the Dreaming hit post

[unluckyxse7enart]

Bet you thought the next dorakishi character I'd finish would be Rune or Cesia, huh.

Not quite! They're sketched out but I was leaning more angular, so I decided to do Gil next. The real fan favorite of the series lmaooo

His hair. Is ridiculous. I think I found a good balance but man...

[thewittyphantom]

While dueling in the KC Cup earlier I got hit by the powerful Unexpected Heartbreak trap.

[dragonknightsbabble]

Just how many people are natural dragon clan members? (Spoilers)

Like, we know all the knights are not originally from the dragon clan, Tetheus was a demon and Kaistern was a human. Even Gil and Bierrez were not originally from the dragon clan but become the knight of fire and red dragon officer respectively.

The only people we don't know about are Raeseleane, Alfeegi, Ruwalk, Cernozura, and arguably the dragon fighters.

[alice-on-elm-street]

Random Dragon Knights thought, but I wonder if one of the reasons Fedelta hated Gil so much was because, as a fire elemental himself, he felt something off about Gil, who was meant to be the Dragon Knight of Fire. I always found it very ironic that Gil, one of whose primary tormenters was Fedelta, was meant to be the knight of fire.

[bucknastysbabe]

Hi! New to your page but OBSESSED with your writing for ✨pookie✨(Criston Cole), you truly produce some magic! Was hoping you might be able to write something post start of war where OC (Alicents Daughter, maybe Aemonds twin) is absolutely miserable. Castle vibes are hell, family just busy and angry and any betrothal in the woodworks for her is now put on the back burner. Thinking Criston has a soft spot for her, and shows the curious maiden how to pleasure herself and keep entertained while they all are busy waging war. (Love me some religious guilt as well so maybe they both refuse to do full on PnV?)

Pretty please 🙏🏼

HELLO POOKIE LOVER!!! I HAVE A SHORT DEPRESSING SWEET AND SMUT FOR ✨YOU✨ I'm so glad you enjoy me works, mwah!!!!! Means sm��️💋

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Foul Red Keep Energy, Criston’s inability to not be a slut syndrome, religious guilt, religious fanaticism, background alicole, manipulation and rationalization, age gap of modern Day legal standards thank you, frottage, pillow humping, plus sized reader, dirty talk, innocence kink

Taglist: @aemondfairy @elaratyrell @elfven-blog @fairysluna @gil-galadaddy @lovelykhaleesiii @peachysunrize @starogeorgina @samthegreenapologist @towriteloveontheirarms @urmomsgirlfriend1 @zaldritzosrose

WC: ~2k

He can’t fuck her, Criston reminded himself. He can strip himself raw and come all over that pretty pale skin and soft tummy of the little princess. He felt like a sick fuck afterward, the knight was positive he was doomed.

He would stand on guard— brooding whether he was just that fucked in the head or perhaps it was the ‘Dornish’ lust in his blood. Fucking the mother, defiling the maiden. His back was raw and scabbed from the flagellant. Begging and shedding tears on the kneeler as he bloodied his back to purge the sin in his fetid heart.

Yet seeing her whimper and come all over his fingers was a sight— a reprieve in the dismal Keep. The way she’d cling to Criston, crying and squirming on his lap as he massaged and suckled on her lovely tits might be worth his inevitable burning in the lowest layer of the seven hells. She was a sad little thing, fearful since Aegon was put upon the throne, how could he not comfort her?

He was expecting to leave soon, regrettably, Harrenhal and more fire and blood were on the horizon. Criston didn’t taste the ashes and choking miasma of death when he was kissing the lovely little princess. She tasted sweet and innocent, too soft for such circumstances. She had a fierce dragon, and Aemond would call her to arms.

He wanted to take her and run. Alas, he had a duty to live and die by the family he swore himself to. It was the only thing Criston cared for. A win, even if his life was the cost. Then his pretty girl could get married and live alright, with no threat of her head getting lopped or dying by dragon fire.

Criston had her in his lap now as he brooded, eyes scanning over documents he wasn’t meant to understand. He was a warrior, not nearly sharp enough to fill Otto Hightower’s shoes. He exhaled, rubbing the soft velvet of her dress. She was curled up, straddling him, soft blonde hair nestled under his jaw.

“Sweetling?” He rasped.

She mumbled sleepily, “Mhm Ser?”

Criston smiled a little, a faint curve of the corners of his lips. She was so precious to him. His little shadow when he was in the keep. Criston wasn’t complaining, he felt more alone than ever and for some reason, the Gods only knew, the young woman adored the knight.

He slipped his fingers through her platinum hair, hand sliding over to gently grip her chin. She looked like her mother and Aegon— big doe eyes, pouty lips. The princess had those purple eyes, they always tried to peer into him. It escaped Criston how his blackened insides didn’t run her off.

“Are you tired, princess?” He asked.

She shrugged, eyes searching his. Plump lips twitched before she asked if he was restless.

Criston’s hand caressed her soft cheek, lips curling up once again. He murmured, “You keep me restless, sweetling.” She made a soft noise, the sound going straight to Criston’s cock. He needed her, now, preferably before the guilt ate at him too much and he’d send the princess away with a guard.

He stood up, lifting her along with him, lips traveling along the pale column of her neck. The darling dressed like a damn septa, her chemise up to her chin. Criston had already untied it early so he could have access for times like now, pressing lush kisses and playful nips as she whimpered.

“You’re such a good girl, always reading, reciting your prayers,” he rambled, laying her down on his bed. The princess whined, arching into his heavier frame.

“I’m not being bad am I?”

Criston was about to open his mouth, hands pushing up her dress, stopping at her plush thighs. His dark eyes studied her lips as she spoke.

The blonde got on her elbows, achingly innocent, that little furrow between her brows tightening. She spoke softly and quietly as if spilling a secret. The princess murmured, “I- I was rereading the passages in the Seven Pointed Star. As long as my maidenhead is intact, I honor the father and maiden by being pure that I’d be safe. Y-you’re just comforting me, teaching me how to be a good wife, while respecting my maidenhead.”

He stared more.

“Right Ser Criston?”

Cole felt his heart ache worse than any wound physically inflicted. The poor thing was rationalizing and he wasn’t going to challenge it. Criston nodded, stroking her soft curls, his other hand up under the velvet of her green dress, stroking her hip, holding back from gripping the abundant flesh.

He spoke gently to the little lamb, lips ghosting her pout, “Yes, that’s it, in uncertain times like this, I wish to make you feel better. We’ll pass this war and you’ll be a sweet little wife. So good and pious, shush now princess.”

If he heard her speak of the faith again he might cry. So Criston flipped her over, undoing her dress. The thick layers, the kirtle— the Marcher could do it with his eyes closed. The Princess kept her chemise on, a farce, Criston would have it shoved up or unbuttoned.

She shivered as he leaned over her frame, pulling her against his clothed cock. Criston groaned, Gods, she was soft and plush. He nuzzled at the nape of her neck, calloused hands rubbing flared hips, whispering, “How you manage to be a light in this dark keep is a miracle.”

Yet here he was, dimming said light.

She squirmed against his hard cock, panting. Criston would play with her for hours if he could, alas, he didn’t like her to cry. He figured it was time to pose a lesson of sorts. The knight racked his brain, eyes landing on one of those stiff, rounded pillows.

“Sweetling, princess, grab that pillow, you see it don’t you?”

She grabbed it, lavender eyes casting over her shoulder as Criston chuckled nastily. So innocent, his dark heart said. He nosed at her silken shoulder, adjusting her into sitting on the pillow, making sure she was leaning forward a little.

“Criston,” she whined, looking at him again, lips trembling. He loved when the princess got all red, pallid skin blotching. He hummed, almost straddling her from behind, flush to her back and ass.

“This is for when your lord husband might be busy, or you need to relax. Probably good for when you’re with child and…not as spry. When I have to go, you can do this, it’s easy, take it at your pace right now.”

Criston grinned when she whimpered, hips jerking forward. He pressed closer, a hand undoing her chemise further, getting a handful of her ample tit. She moaned, always so sensitive, hips beginning to jerk forward and back. The brunette’s other hand steadied itself on her lower belly, kneading at the layer of flesh.

So fucking soft. Gods, gods, why?

His calloused hand massaged at her breast, the princess whimpering and moving quicker, grinding down onto the pillow, her ass rubbing Criston’s aching cock in the process. He panted against the crook of his shoulder and neck, mouth hanging open. Never did he get so undone without fucking pussy.

Except her.

“Does that feel good Princess?” Criston practically cooed, plucking at a stiff nipple, the Princess gasping wetly, her eyes shut tight. She reached back, one of her trembling hands lacing over Criston’s, mewling for him.

He bit at her neck, lapping after, the sweet gesture of their interlaced fingers sending his possessive streak into overdrive. Criston growled under his breath, rutting now, driving the blonde to move in jerks, biting at her full lips to keep from squealing.

“That’s it, sweetling, keep it up, make yourself feel good,” he rasped, licking and nipping up a racing pulse. She shivered from head to toe, head leaning back onto the knight’s shoulder as she huffed and whined, fucking against the pillow, angling herself to grind against her clit.

“Close, m’close Criston, please,” came her needy pleading, eyes hazy with pleasure as Criston marked her neck up, squeezing her hand as a lifeline. His hips stuttered as he coaxed his baby, no- the princess along.

He rested his cheek against hers, using his hips to guide her along at a breakneck pace. Criston groaned lowly, rasping, “Here we go, can’t sit and grind on your pretty petals for hours, you’ll get too sensitive, y-you’ve got to push it, like this, yeah sweetness, fuck, fuck!”

Criston trailed off as his cock twitched in his breeches, full and swollen and ready to pop. He had half a mind to just take her right there and then. Yet her cries of ecstasy and mewling paralyzed Criston’s dark thoughts.

He’d do this every night, any time, anywhere to get another sick thrill.

“Yes! Yes! Like this- oh g- gods, Ser! Mm, I'm close Ser,” she cried out, a ragdoll for Criston’s delights now. The princess turned to kiss him, a rare gesture, plush lips smacking against his fervently as they grunted and rutted in a frenzy. The Marcher gasped into her wet mouth, feeling like a dog drooling over meat.

Criston needed her to come first, suckling on her fat bottom lip, pressing harder, mumbling desperately sweet things he wouldn’t remember. He begged, “Yes sweetling, I can feel you, let go for me, come on, I'm with you darling, my precious girl.”

It was a muffled shriek and Criston’s pitchy cry as they messily kissed, rutting like animals, the princess spurring Criston on into emptying into his pants with ragged breaths, cursing and shivering. She fared no better, coming apart as pretty as she always did, making sure Criston could almost feel it.

They kissed through the aftershocks, lips all swollen and wet, Criston pulling her atop his body as he laid back onto the bed, lazily stroking the maiden’s back. She was quiet for a moment longer, basking, cheeks adorably flushed. She nuzzled his jaw and cheek like a kitten, sleepily mumbling, “Don’t make me leave yet, please Ser Criston? That was…a lesson…I don't want to be alone.”

He kissed her forehead, muttering some nonsense about giving her some time. Criston couldn't say no. It was more time to spend in fantasy. He could feel that small iron altar of the seven-pointed star awaiting him anyway. What was a few hours more in sin?

“I won’t leave you, my dear,” he lied.

[beatles4ever65]

Got bored and procrastinated writing my fanfic, adapted Hildegard von Blingin's cover of I Need a Hero to fit the Legendarium.

Whither have the worthy gone, oh, where is fair Finrod? Where is gallant Gil-Galad to take the bridle rein? Is there not a white knight upon a fiery steed? Late at night I toss and turn and I dream of what I need

I need a hero I shall hold out for a hero 'til the end of the night I pray he be hale, wingèd of heel And newly return’d from the fight I need a hero I shall hold out for a hero 'til the morning light He must be assur’d, e’er true to his word With a wit that will thrill and excite Thrill and excite Ahhh, ahhh

Erelong at the witching hour within my reverie Somewhere just beyond the veil someone reacheth out for me Racing on a courser and clad in gleaming mail (Oooh) I shall answer none but he who bringeth me the grail (Aaah!)

I need a hero I shall hold out for a hero 'til the end of the night Could I but afford my very own sword I would not require his might I need a hero (Hero) I shall hold out for a hero 'til the morning light (Ahhh) By god was he blessed, e’er true to his quest A man of whom Rúmil will write

Up where the dragons glide near Menel above Out on a storm-tossed odyssey Verily doth a saintly champion ride toward me Through the wind and the chill and the rain The plague and the flood I can feel his approach like a fire in my blood Ahhh, ahhh

I need a hero I shall hold out for a hero ‘til the end of the night I pray he be hale, wingèd of heel And newly return’d from the fight I need a hero I shall hold out for a hero ‘til the morning light A knight not a pawn, a true paragon With armor and eyes shining bright I need a hero

[viiioca]

day 6: wind

From the journal of Estelle de Laussienne, 29th of the 1st Umbral Moon, 2 7A.E. You can tell much about a people by what they consider romantic, can't you? It surprised me to hear from Alphinaud that he had long imagined Ishgard as something out of a fairy tale, but on closer inspection, it made terrific sense; to Sharlayan children living in a land so peaceful it lacks a standing military, it must seem wonderfully exotic to have a cause you love enough to fight for. Brave knights swearing oaths of service, monstrous dragons terrorizing the smallfolk, tragedy, sacrifice, romance, revenge…Oh, they must have dreamed that we were living lives of excitement and adventure while they toiled away endlessly at coursework. Ishgardian children, on the other hand, are enchanted by stories of the ocean: infinite, lawless, and so very far away from us in the mountains that it may as well have been a myth. Pirates are a perennial favorite, to the dismay of every prayer school teacher. And isn't it enticing? Halone has no influence on Llymlaen's domain. The great black fleets of La Noscea respect bloodline only so far as its ability to produce a steady pistol-hand. No nobles, no dragons, no winter, no inquisitors, no war; only the wind at your back, the crew on your deck, the treasure in your holds. (Admittedly, these stories were not my preference – but thinking back, I was quite taken with the books Perette had imported from the Far East, about a people who found peace and safety in their bubble-cities beneath the sea. The subject changes, but it seems the theme runs deep in us.) To see what Leofard has built here is infuriating and fascinating in equal measure. It is juvenile. Sky pirates! Absurdity. I blink and I see not the headquarters of a legitimate operation (insofar as piracy might be considered legitimate), but rather a treehouse full of wooden swords and stolen bedsheets and pocket gil fished out of gutters. And yet – when the winds strike just right, and the clouds churn beneath us like waves off the coast – I find myself horribly jealous, knowing that our bedtime stories were out here above our heads this whole time, had I too been brave enough to make them real.

[roevember 2023 prompt by boreal tempest & roe fizzlebeef]

[thelealinhypehouse]

Mains from FFXIV Intorduction (open for rp!)

Name: Nava Reed (fake name)

Gender/Pronouns: Cis Male He/Him

Orientation: Homosexual

Age: 27

Race: Half Elezen (Ishgard) with awaken dragon blood

Occupation: Member of Rogue's Gulid, Adventurer

Home/Origin: Born at Flaceon Nest but raised at Limsa Lominsa

Goal/Motivation: Revenge on Ishgardian Inquisitors and Parents

Strength: Cooking, Torturing, Acrobatic

Weakness: Reading and writing (he can but its slow), hot headed

Likes: Food, fights, pretty clothing (he is alwyas amazend about lace work, how patient you need to be for it and how stunning it looks)

Dislikes: Betreyal, bugs, snow

Class: Red Mage/Dark Knight/Rogue/Machinist

Family/Childhood: Born at Flacon Nest to Ul'dah merchant and Elezen from High House of Ishgard, She gone against the will fo her family to marry the merchant. The war with dragons was raging on and one his village was attacked. During this his mother when was pregnant with him got injuried and few drops of dragon blood fallen on her. She didn't turn. All was absorbed by the baby. When Nava was born his eyes was white, at first they thought he was born blind but it was not. When he was 5 the horns started to slowly show up. At first they tried to hide them under bandanas, hats ect, but they still growing. Cutting them ended up causing alot of pain, because they had veins. Somebody from the village contacted the Ishgardian Inqusition to investigate probally the dragon spawn. They wanted to to Nava away and kill him or something. Parents was acused of heresy but they get the option to repent the sins. Nava before was taking away he just escape the village and thanks to merchant wo was on the way to Limsa he hide himself in one of thier boxes. At Limsa he become street thief. Probally meet Thranced once or twice before he was took by Archon Louisoix. Nava other hand was took by Thief Gulid. This is where meet Jacke Swallow, the future Capitan Jacke of Rogue's Gulid. With him created this gulid and Nava become one of the more fierce member. Taking out more scummy people than normaly. Not before tet more info if there is bigger fish to take out... Years go by, he tried to help people as he could during Calamity. It was hard, there are so many things that happend that time... With Gulid they helped with rebuilding Limsa and areas that was affected. This is when Nava started to think about traveling, to try new things, be at new places, meet new people. He decided to be adventurer, but still hoding Code to his heart and helping when needed.

Quirks:

Great as coinkeeper for gulid.

Always having pair of daggers if magic not gonna work

He is cruel, if somebody hurt people dear to Nava, he will not be gentle.

Master culinarian, took grwreat time at culinarian gulid.

Quote: May gods have mercy for my enemies because I won't.

Introduction: Sitting at on one of the Ul'dah tavern you spot the hyur sitting not farr form you. On second look you spoted the pointy ears. On third look you spotted the horns. You thoght they are maybe some kind fancy decoration? Than you see they finishied thier dring with few big glups, and stand from seat, levaing the gil. He was observing someone that was leaving tavern too. Before he gone he just "fixed" position of his dagger on the belt.

Random info: - He and Jacke where FwB - Can eat alot and loves to try new food

Name: Alden Lush

Gender/Pronouns: Cis Male He/Him

Orientation: Homosexual

Age: 25

Race: Hyur

Associated God: Thalik

Occupation: Studium Absolvent, Thaliak chosen

Home/Origin: Old Sharlayan

Goal/Motivation: Unravel mystery of parents “death” and what they investigate. The Truth

Strength: Memory, Alchemy, Perceptive, lots of aether (all carby are the chonky ones), fast reader.

Weakness: Cooking, No Street Smart, Lots of times lost in thoughts and not looking around, shy with talking. Zero social skills.

Likes: Food, books, sunny days,

Dislikes: Surprises, Mimics

Class: Summoner/Scholar

Family/Childhood: Born at Old Sharlayan to a pair of scholars. They go on expeditions lots of the time, but one in the while Alden joins them as a kid. Once at Costa del Sol met a blonde Miqo'te and became friends. Sadly Alden needed to go back home but promised to go back one day. That never happened, but why? Sadly on the next expedition they went without him, and they didn't come back. The rescue mission was created, but they come back mostly empty handed. They found the destroyed ship, bodies of the crew and a few personal items of his parents including the father book he used as a summoner. They were called dead and now what to do with Alden? There were no other relatives there. Finally was adopted by one of the Forum members, and the era of traveling has come to an end. His guardian told him he can leave Sharlayan only when he graduates Studium. So Alden studied hard to enter there. He chose Aeather Archeology as specialization. Finally when finished his studies and became a full titled scholar, he began to prepare for the journey. To unravel the mystery of his parents and what they found.

Quirks:

When lost in thoughts he walks, and doesn't look where. That show he learned how to swim

Don’t need a book to cast, he only needs some ink and surface to write, but books are handy

Even with perfect memory he always has the book with notes and checks lots of times.

Have favorite seal plushie from childhood

Blessing: Thaliak Blessing - Absolute Memory

Quote: Wonder is the beginning of wisdom.

Introduction: As you live peacefully in Limsa minding your own business you see young hyur on streets that seem lost. Always checking his book in hands and muttering to himself. You see him going one direction, and not even a minute pass you see him going back the same road. Only a miracle that he didn't end up at Limsa water…yet.

Radom info: - Just can't cook, boiling water are his max skills - Few times he broke his glasses, so he have a spare at his coat.

[deepdreamnights]

The image(s) above in this post were made using an autogenerated prompt and/or have not been modified/iterated extensively. As such, they do not meet the minimum expression threshold, and are in the public domain. Prompt under the fold.

Prompt: cola ad featuring cindy crawlford as two-face, wearing 80s punk clothing, short hair, asymmetrical face, glowing ghoul, asymmetrical brightly colored clothing, post-apocalyptic, digital painting by gil elvgrin, Harry Ekman, Alberto Vargas, earl norem, norman rockwell, Olivia De Berardinis, artstation, WLOP, Artgerm, hearthstone card art, magic the gathering painting:: a green girl made of green slime, green translucent skin, dripping slime, light shining through, bubbles, lime jello:: vaporwave-rococo transformer arcee, intricate glowing circuitry details, eldrich energy within, set in a technomagical sci-fi fantasy setting, in the style of Dangiuz, Hajime Sorayama, dungeons and dragons:: a dinosaur anthro wearing work clothes standing on the corner of a dinosaur city. Solarpunk sci-if scene. charles r knight and syd mead:: a dilophosaurus-person wearing a sweater and with a long tail, eating take out food from the styrofoam package, photograph, city street background:: stop-motion dana scully in the nig htmare before christmas, stop motion animation in the style of Nightmare Before Christmas, screen capture, 5k:: A beautiful purple-skinned alien woman with tentacles instead of hair, wearing green leather and blue eyes in the style of Marvel's The Scarlet Witch, in a dynamic pose, with a full body portrait at full length, in a hyper-realistic, high resolution, high detail, cinematic style, in an underwater city filled with colorful octopus.

--

This is a 'prompt smash' experiment, combining random (mostly) machine-generated prompts into a single prompt with multiple sub-prompts. Midjourney blends concepts in these situations, making vivid but essentially random results.

[dujour13]

Secret Santa gift for my friend @offsidekineticist. Happy Holidays! 💕☃️💕

I hope you know I had to enlist the aid of both Ophenia and Woljif to piece this story together. Oh, that reminds me—(Siavash digs in his vest pocket and produces one silver bracelet, twelve gold pieces and a Chelish noble house signet ring)—with Woljif’s apologies. No questions asked about the ring.

I hope I got the main story beats right enough for art.

The half-orc druid I eventually tracked down in the Aspodell mountains told me Qweck was involved, but even my utmost attempts at diplomacy couldn’t prevent Qweck from slamming the door in my face, so I’m not sure where she fits into the story. There was also apparently a dinosaur? Or a golem made of dinosaurs? Anyway, here it is, as promised.

(He takes a sip of mulled Andoren wine and gives you a wink as he begins.)

🎶 The Ballad of Bellflower Hellfire ��

The Devil went down to Cheliax, she was lookin’ for a soul to steal She was biding her time at the scene of the crime In a gem that was magically sealed When Gil came across that necklace, offering vengeance and serving it hot And the devil grabbed hold of his heart in her claws And said boy lemme tell you what I guess you’ll do ‘bout anything to give them slavers their due And if you vow to serve me now I’ll lend a hand to you Now you’d make a damn fine Bellflower, boy All I ask is a soul or two I’ll bet the slaves you’ll free are worth that fee And it was true for all he knew And so the halfling set about with the fury of Hell in his hands Without a regret started paying his debts Freed his folk from their iron bands (Chorus) Gilly sharpen up your wits and fight that devil hard Cause Hell’s broke loose in Cheliax and the devil deals the cards And if you win you get the peace and freedom that you’re owed But if you lose the devil gets your soul Twas a rainy night in Brastlewark and Thay sat with his book And he heard the sound of rustlin’ around and went to have a look There stood Gil ‘bout to catch a chill And Thay in his distress, said come on down, you look half drowned And bundled Gil up good And thus began the heart-bond ‘tween the halfling and the gnome In the shadow of Thrune their sweet love bloomed, over cocoa snug at home (There’s a break with romantic picking, then a shift to an ominous chord) Til one dark day the news reached Gil that made his heart stop cold The iron glove of Hell came down and crushed all Gilly’s hope The Hellknights came, they were taking names, Mister Theo was their prey Gil shed tears of grief and rage - the Rack had taken Thay And Gil like Hell’s own vengeance on the wings of dragon black Rained down on Rivad fury and fire and laid to waste the Rack The only reclamation that was glorious that day Was Gil who stormed the citadel and rescued poor dear Thay (Chorus) Gilly sharpen up your wits and fight that devil hard Cause Hell’s broke loose in Cheliax and the devil deals the cards And if you win you get the peace and freedom that you’re owed But if you lose the devil gets your soul Thay in gloom of dungeon hoped for nought but Ph’rasma’s grace He held his ground, made not a sound as tears fell down his face The Rack had wrought their cruel work and yet his lips were sealed All he cared to pray for was an end to his ordeal When a signifier’s shattered mask was tossed between the bars And Theo raised his eyes and hope rekindled in his heart A little short for a Hellknight, Theo said through tears of joy Though they were trapped within the citadel the righteous would destroy In a desperate race for freedom the heroes stumbled toward the gates Paladins and Hellknights laid the citadel to waste As knights closed round Gil stood his ground o’er Theo’s tortured form As in his breast the fires of Hell let loose in violent storm (from this crescendo the tempo slows, becomes soulful) When Theo felt the heat of Hell and raised his heavy head And saw that Gil had rescued him but damned himself instead With failing limbs he lifted up and braved the flames of Dis To wrestle Gil from the Devil’s grasp and free him… with True Love’s Kiss (Chorus) Gilly sharpen up your wits and fight that devil hard Cause Hell’s broke loose in Cheliax and the devil deals the cards And if you win you get the peace and freedom that you’re owed But if you lose the devil gets your soul

---

Note: Modeled after “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” by the Charlie Daniels Band

[ofdragonsdeep]

7: Morsel

A tasty delicacy, a tidbit

Ar'telan makes a surprising discovery in the Sea of Clouds

Ar'telan was always happy to seize upon an opportunity to get lost.

Ishgard had not afforded him many such opportunities, so far. Other than the wait for the Ironworks to sort out the Manacutters, he felt like he had always been on his feet, one way or another. But now Thordan was defeated - 'dead' didn't feel wuite right, given the primal he had become - and though the shade of Nidhogg lingered threateningly on the horizon, for the moment there was no use for Ar'telan.

He liked it that way.

He had taken himself out to the Sea of Clouds, the incliment weather in Coerthas too hostile for a gathering trip. The knights at Camp Cloudtop were mostly perplexed when he had quizzed them about local flora, but the Vanu Vanu had been more accomodating, directing him to places where he might find things to harvest without disturbing the delicate local ecosystem they cultivated.

Ar'telan did not much like the Sea of Clouds. It was almost entirely open sky, the rocks bouyed in the air by gods only knew what mechanism, and it did not feel much different to be the one on the rock that plummeted to earth than to be the one who felt it fall. But he had his carbuncle at his feet, Lily at his shoulder, and a carefully sharpened knife in his hands, and that would have to do.

He hadn't gathered much, so far. Some very strange bananas, a few hardy lemons, anything he thought he might be able to get some use out of squirreled away into the bag tied to his hip. He wasn't sure the cooks at Fortemps Manor would even let him try to make something with his findings, but it was worth the attempt.

He was picking his way across one of the islands when he came across something different.

He caught the scent before he saw it, turning immediately towards the source. It was familiar, something he had been sorely lacking in Eorzea thus far. He crept past a wamoura, stepping softly to avoid alerting the beast, and knelt by the plant.

Sesame.

It had been years since he had last seen sesame. On Meracydia, he had used it often - it complimented all kinds of food. But it was a Meracydian plant. What was it doing here?

He thought about Allag, distributing conquered peoples across the Empire to reduce the chances of uprising, and the wind chill felt colder.

Still, he knew very well how to work with sesame. A few deft strikes of the knife garnered him a bounty of seedpods, stuffed in his bag quickly as if they were like to disappear in his hands. He held his fingers up to his nose, closing his eyes and breathing the scent. He could almost imagine he was home.

Almost.

---

He teleported back to Ishgard, the cold of the wind being replaced by the radiating bite of snowed-in stone, and trudged through the slush to the Jeweled Crozier. He was not the kind of man who carried much gil, and most of the shopkeepers knew it by now, but he had some. A shame he couldn't convince them to barter for some of the other things he'd found.

Still, he acquired a small amount of flour. The man on the shop looked at him askance, clearly knowing him as "the man who rode into Ishgard on the back of a dragon" or possibly "the man who had helped slay Nidhogg", though Ar'telan would have vastly preferred the former. He supposed that in Ishgard, knights did not have much call to be baking, so it would be strange for a fighter to be pursuing such a thing. Another strange Ishgardian custom he didn't entirely understand.

He put the flour in his bag, and fought the urge to run back to Fortemps Manor. It felt silly to be so excited about something so small, but it had been so long since he had had anything to be excited about at all. He would let himself feel this, even if it wasn't much.

---

He was ready to have to get on his knees for the Fortemps kitchen staff to let him actually cook in the kitchen, rather than simply making a request, but they acquiesed remarkably quickly. Perhaps his enthusiasm showed on his face, a nice change from the lines of stress that so usually accompanied him these days. Perhaps it was because he promised to only take up a little space, and they knew he was very good at that. Ar'telan didn't spend too much thought on wondering.

There were so many things he could make with sesame, but he was missing the ingredients for many of them. Presumably Ishgard had some recipes that used it, but there was one he could make with what he had: cookies.

They were a simple thing, all things considered. He had made them for the kits, back home on Meracydia, though half of them had always been pilfered by the adults when he did. There was not often time for such little treats, dangerous as their watch of the waking wood often was, and so it felt like a welcome reprieve from the worry. From the danger. The ghost of a dragon lingering in the twisted background, the biting fear in his stomach, those were oddly familiar friends to the baking. He wasn't sure he liked it.

The smell of the sesame seeds attracted the attention of the other cooks, and he talked as much as he could, needing his hands for the work, on how Meracydia used the seed. The cooks told him a great deal in return - they used the seeds to season Kaiser rolls, a fancy bread favoured by the upper class in Ishgard, and also in salads. It was fascinating to Ar'telan, how something that to him seemed so Meracydian had blended so deeply with Ishgardian culture. The cooks, too, seemed surprised at his skill with baking, just as the shopkeepers had been. He wondered if anyone knew that he had been little more than a firekeep before Eorzea had thrust him at adventure.

He learned quickly. He had little choice about it.

---

The smell when he pulled the cookies from the oven was almost heavenly. Much as he had to back home, he fended off the cooks eager to pluck one straight from the cooling rack, and set them to lose a little of the heat.

He wondered if he should bother the others with it. If they would want to be bothered with it. All of the Fortemps seemed busy these days - if they were not standing vigil at Haurchefant's bedside, they were doing anything they could to not think too deeply on how still he always seemed. A warm cookie would be nicer than the chill of the grave, but Haurchefant was not awake to eat them.

But he would be. One day. He would.

Ar'telan plated the cookies, stealing just one for himself. the first bite was almost enough to remember simpler times on Meracydia. Almost. Either way, it was a welcome reminder.

He took the plate up to the main house, in the end. Artoirel was absent, but Emmanellain showed his usual enthusiasm for Ar'telan's efforts. Ar'telan was reasonably sure that it was real. A great deal of Emmanellain was an act, sometimes, but this did seem legitimate.

Count Edmont seemed surprised, more than anything. It was clear it had been a long time since he had been offered a simple treat, and the etiquette of being presented one by your ward was lost on him, but he took it regardless.

It was nice to see a smile on his face, however small.

The rest, Ar'telan left on a plate in the main room, with a little note that said, in his shaky handwriting, that they were free for any to take - including the serving staff, who seemed so often to be left out of things like that. Ar'telan found that it felt nice to be able to do something so small, but kind. To make a difference in a way that did not need him to call upon more destructive arts. To not have stakes.

And when Haurchefant woke, he would know where to find the seeds a second time.

[paintedscales]

WoLstinien Week 2024 :: Day 8 :: Estinien Day

An experimental piece that touches upon early life to the end of Heavensward for Estinien.

Word Count: 734

Life was once a picturesque moment in time. Surrounded by verdant trees, peaceful sheep, and the quiet watch of mountaintops.

A simple time, with simple chores, and simple activities.

Life once had a cozy cabin, built from spruce and pine. Life once had cozy beds made with goose feathers, blankets made with fleece, pillows full of cotton to cradle the head to sleep.

A simple comfort, warm and welcome.

Life once had a mother, a father, and a little brother. Mother, who would make warm meals made of mutton, popoto, onion, and garlic. Father, who would guide and teach, showing how to herd and shear the sheep. Brother, who would tail behind, who filled idle bells with fun, who would sometimes find trouble for two.

A simple family, unburdened by politics and city life.

At the flip of a gil, life was burned to the ground, scorched and charred.

Everything lost.

Simplicity lost.

What was once verdant and peaceful now burned. In the skies, a dragon dark as night. A dragon, vengeful and filled with unbridled rage. The dragon, the source, the reason for that spark.

From the spark, an ember took root, hot and burning. In time, the ember was nurtured: blazing within.

“For everything you took, I shall inflict upon you a thousand fold! Nidhogg!!”

Life became driven with a lust for revenge. The lance became the weapon of choice. Sharpened tip for piercing, for the steel was made to drive through. Into the skull. Into the heart. Straight through any fleshy or hardened parts.

Life became watched over by former Azure Dragoon now as acting father. Too young with far too large a heart. Mentor, father, guardian.

From simple sheep herder, to Temple Knight, to Knight Dragoon. Then finally: Azure Dragoon.

Wyrmblood. A name entrenched in crimson. A name that many come to know, but no longer Varlineau.

From the heart of Ishgard, the Eye of the nemesis stolen and spirted away. An act of treason, and so the hunt began. Of course, spry and elusive, those of Ishgard could never keep up. How could they? They were not as driven, that much was observed. They could never match the same resolve.

A fateful day for a fateful encounter. An Adventurer, but not an ordinary one. Nay, for the Eye of Nidhogg did respond to their presence, foul and noisome. Preposterous.

“Our paths will cross again. You can be sure of it.”

But for all the paths that crossed, never did the thought cross that their paths would be intrinsically linked from that point forward. From biting cold, to zephyrous cliff, to the belly of fire, to desolate lands that float adrift. With the truth of the matter learned, and the beast slain, perhaps a new path forward could be carved.

Despite the bickering and the loss, it was supposed that peace must needs come at a cost.

Finally, within the Adventurer, an equal seen. In each others’ eyes, the same storm of a painful past, stripped of a simple life, a place of warmth and comfort. Were things drastically different, perhaps friendship could have been forged instead of the barbarous thorns that still lingered?

A thought entertained, though snuffed quickly as it came. For the torturous might came surging forth with both Eyes now held. A victim to rage, a vessel for hatred. Notion of peace, torn asunder, giving back in to the stormy depths of vengeance and eternal suffering.

Mutated. Mutilated. Morphed.

An end to man was the goal. An end to self of man for one. An end to all humanity for the other. A goal that both would see to, no matter the cost.

Upon those final steps, one with faith, the other with resolve, did man and dragon stare down.

To them, from the dragon filled with roiling rancor: a promise of damnation.

To them, from man desperate for release: kill me, please.

A battle fought, a battle won. From comrade to man, a curse undone.

Scars left behind, a tale told upon the burns left behind on skin. Each a different experience, a different side.

Ministrations from chirurgeons and fretting abound, an annoyance did tick that a disappearance occurred without a sound. Independence was now within grasp, for that day on the bridge as Azure Dragoon was his last. Mantle hung and inspiration taking hold, a new adventure on the horizon past the mountainous cold.

[silent-dragon]

Final Fantasy XIV WOLs & OCs

Main 5 ocs I play in xiv currently

Feel free to send me asks about any of them.

Hinata Koji ☆ Rava Viera ☆ Golmorian ☆ 26yrs old ☆ 248cm/8'ft2"in ☆ Transmasc ☆ He/They ☆ Dark Knight & Viper

Ex-Knight of House Fortemps. Very tall brooding bunny who made a oath that if no one wants to make the tough decisions then he will. Served under Artoirel until the Ishgardian court stripped him of his knighthood. Becomes leader of a free company that takes on high rank tasks. Flops from physical touch affections.

J'phel Tia ☆ Seeker/Keeper Miqo’te Mix ☆ Ala Mhigan ☆ 20yrs old ☆ 172cm/5'ft8"in ☆ Demiboy ☆ He/They ☆ Dancer & White Mage

Ala Mhigan Miqo’te who escaped the garlean oppression. Can't hide he sensitive and cries when things go bad. Feels more confident when dancing or creating something that brings a smile to others. Thinks he a terrible wol and has given up consistently but scions/friends help him keep going. Dreams of a life where he can feel safe but is starting to see that will never happen.

Pankraz Grimshaw ☆ Hyur(Based) ☆ Trueblood Garlean ☆ 22yrs old ☆193cm/6ft'4in ☆ Male ☆ He/Him ☆ Dragoon & Reaper

Garlean man with no memory of his life as one. He was raised in Dravanian by a dragon partly then hunting group and joined the Ishgardian dragoons later on. Was made to drink dragon blood but lack of aether abilities prevented much damage. Struggles with others accepting him due to his birthright but makes a great/feral impression that usually shifts their thoughts. Wasn't gifted the echo rather was implanted with a fake one by garlean scientists unwillingly while imprisoned in a castrum.

Non-WOLs OCs(The two below do not have the echo but assist the ones above)

Kayn Grimshadow ☆ Veena Viera ☆ Dravanian ☆ 23yrs old ☆ 187cm/6ft'2in ☆ Male/Dragonkin ☆ He/Him ☆ Dragoon & Reaper

Grew up in same hunting group as Pankraz. They both joined the Ishgardian dragoons together as best friends. Was convinced by Iceheart to join her cause and betray his fellow friends which ended in him being wounded by Estinien. Was forced to consume dragon blood but painfully stopped the transformation,however still suffered effects like horns and a insatiable draconian behavior. His now wanders around as muscle for hire seeking to keep gil flowing to feed his growing hunger.

Hana Musa ☆ Xaela Au Ra(Albino) ☆ Othardian ☆ 32yrs old ☆ 216cm/7ft'1"in ☆ Male ☆ He/Him ☆ Dark Knight & Monk

Unfortunate rare non-hue man who as a child was taken from his homeland and sold off to a place in Limsa like cargo. Adapted to his surroundings becoming a sea pirate and really good cook aboard the ships he was on. Is the most un-Dark Knight you will ever meet as too kind even his darkness is confused but amused that he thinks he can save everyone. Joined the Redbills Sky Pirates by chance and they are like the family he never got to have. Loves making a big meal and sitting with friends enjoying times together. The sun is his enemy but often found fainted due to being under it too long.

[fruit-salad-ship]

The Royal AU got me thinking. Dragon Peach (can turn into a human form), Knight Grey and kidnapped Nobel Plum for the trio. The Dragon kidnaps the nobel of a very influential house and the brave knight is sent to save them. Turns out the Dragon "kidnapped" the Nobel because she was being forced into an arranged political marriage but has also started to like the tiny human.

I so wanted to draw more for this but im HELLA busy, someone remind me, or put an ask in my box or something idk. I'll circle back round to this because peach dragon slaps.

Certainly the people of the city feared the creature that dwelled in the swamps. It only showed itself from time to time, usually keeping to the distance, hunting wild deer, perhaps attacking caravans that strayed too close to its home, but for the most part, it kept to itself, filling its home with thick smog to fend off anything stupid enough to try to enter, theyd surely lose their way. MORE STORY BELOW.

There was a distinct joy in the realm, a brief moment of peace where people focused their attention on a regal wedding, speedily approaching, streets adorned with banners and galands, it was truly a spectacle. Everyone was excited, everyone that was, except the bride. She'd been keen to run her fathers buisness, perhaps grow the trade routes, focus on her work, instead being paired up with a man not more than 10 years her elder, another from a high society family. Despite her pleading, the young woman was fated to marry, and be a second seat to her husbands triumphs. No freedom of her own.

The wedding came around fast, every noble house attenting, a great cost, and quite frankly the worst day of the young womans life. She was doomed to an ordinary, subdued life with this. A shackle on her ankle in the shape of a middle aged man with nothing that even remotley interested her.

Walking down that isle in the finest gown money could buy made her want to turn and run until she couldnt anymore, it was as if the roar that shook the room suddenly was a...relief? It happened so fast, screams, the crashing of glass, a huge ornate window ahead being broken into a million pieces, the head of their local swamp dwelling dragon appearing in a glittering, smoke filled moment, the glowing pink from its neck as the smog filled the space, stinging lungs and eyes alike. The noble woman felt fear of course, but watching her husband to be get snapped in half by mighty jaws was quietly a small joy. Her legs didnt work, falling back to try to get away. Guards appeared, started shooting bolts at the beast but none even scratched the hide, their futile attempts brushed aside with one mighty sweep of its taloned paw.

The woman managed to crawl a fair distance away, thinking her efforts quite good, until that is, cold sharp digits stamped on the long train, stupid dress was her undoing, falling again. It scooped her up in a secure clawed grip, giving a bone shaking roar, before loosing a blast of gas, pinkish hue, filling the room. It turned, exited the window, and looked back, a different breath, this time of flame ignighting its previous move, the entire space going up in flames with a mighty rush of air.

As it flew off with great broad strides of its wings, the screams of terror and pain echoed, the young woman knew she'd never escape this, she'd be taken back to its lair and eaten for sure.

What followed was however quite the opposite. She watched the swamp come into view, her captors home where it landed on a solid little hill of dirt and shrubs. It gently put her down, her feet still refusing to work, legs jelly with every attempt to get up. It did not eat her, did not snap or roar, no thick fog escaped it's gils, it just sat and watched. After a while the woman managed to get to her feet, holding a falled tree for stability.

"W-What youre just toying with me then?!" her ferocity was amusing for a human, and the dragon shifted to lie down, closer to her head height somewhat. This of course spooked the mainden who tripped backwards on the long dress, every second passing it became more soggy and dirtied, the white quickly dimishing in the swamps.

The dragon used it's long tail to rummage in the shrubs around it, the clanking of metal as it pulled a human backpack, bits of human remains falling from it, nothing but bones. It dumped the items near the woman and waited, she didnt get the hint, starting to relaise this form perhaps wasn't the best for this job. It loathed being in it's puny human body, but seeing as this wasnt working, it had no choice.

The dragon shut its eyes and huffed, the smoke exhaled allowing it to shift from its huge battle ready body to something more familiar. The bride saw this happen, expecting to be eaten once again, but the smoke clears and she sees the towering form of a woman, easily 7ft, strong build, the gils on her neck still there, less obvious, eyes still very much draconic, horns present, but otherwise she was a battle scared adult woman with ridiculously long hair...completly naked. She shrieked, looked away withhot cheeks and tried to get up again. This was at least less intimidating...sort of.

"Human, take the gear and go. You're free to leave this place." What? She looked over, the dragon rummaging around to find a pretty tatty looking robe, throwing it on loosly. "Youre not going to eat me?" "Contrary to popular belief, not all dragons like to eat people. You dont exactly constitute a full meal to something our size." As she spoke the woman noticed the presence of a lot of very sharp teeth in her mouth, less daunted as she perched on a tree stump and wiggled her feet, mindlessly amused with the human form she was taking, more so than focusing on anything else. "Oh...but...why did you take me in the first place then?" The dragon shrugged, the mess of hair it had falling in unruly ways as it glanced over. "I could feel your misery a mile away. Figured i'd give you a second chance at living, you humans sure like to make choices that bring about a lousy quality of life. I rid you of the issue plaguing you, and now you can go wherever you like without concern for a useless partner." The woman though scared stepped closer, a single pace, then another. "But...why? You could have left it alone." why meddle in human affairs? The dragon had no need to.

"You do not recall me, and so theres no need to dwell on it. I owed you, and now I do not. a Debt repaid." This was news to her, she'd never seen this beast before, not to her recollection, instead of leaving, sitting beside her. "Remind me." The more time ticked by, the less scary this felt, other than her beastly apperance, she was just a large woman now, the bride could settle her nerves and try to make some sense of this. No longer a captor in her mind, her rescuer, this monster, looked to her with subtle surprise, one eyebrow raised.

"You were just a child. Your family crossed into the swamps to reach the city, pausing to rest your horses briefly. You wandered off into the fog, the other humans werent watching you, and you had no fear of this place." Peach ruminated on the memory, it felt like just the other day, but years clearly flew by since then, she'd not seen the child again since then, and now here she was, an adult. "I'd been defending my home from soldiers, but an arrow was lodged deep in my leg, couldnt get it out, had accepted to just live with it, wasn't that bad. But you came along and you were too small to feel afraid of me." Plum sat and tried to remeber, she must have been so young, her father told her the story of her getting lost here, but he didnt know what happened, no one did. Except this dragon, and now her again. "Well you got the arrow out after a lot of difficulty, so I sent you back to your people so you'd not get eaten here."

There was quiet, the two women sitting in the humid space, sounds of bugs all over, before the little noble laughed, shocking the dragon. "What?" "It's kind of fate, right?" Plum shuffled to face her companion and grinned, still amused by this all. "I'll stay with you! You must know so much, you could teach me, and when I go home, i'll be able to do so much more to help everyone!" The dragon couldnt register that set of words, ticking them over, expression thrown as the human took her hand, holding it gently, a feeling never experinced before, a soft touch. "uh-" "Good! It's settled then!" With gusto the little woman stood and went to the backpack, puling a rusted sword, using it to cut her ridiculous dress down to a managable length "This isnt a good idea, hey- lady" Plum was already briskly trotting over to the highest point, its ground solid and sturdy, behind her the towering woman keeping up with a casual pace. There was no talking her out of this it would seem.

Over the weeks the pair built a small shack, the dragon thieving supplies from others, merchant carts with fine things, farmhouses, the odd caravan of travellers, leaving gold as requested by her small human companion, a dumb but soft hearted addition to her looting. She complied, it kept her company happy. Plum had found great joy in the dragons company, they'd share stories by the fire, nothing feeling more freeing than not having hand maids on your heels, no fine dining or fancy dances, no corsets, no stupid shoes with pinched toes, just living humbly out in the swamps, with a monsterous creature. Then came the first ever chance to fly. The noble had ruined her clothes, working, exploring, living, and it was becoming an issue now, she needed some new gear, so her dragon companion, her large scaled body lowered down, let her climb up on her back, and off they went. Terrifying as it was, she knew it was safe, and soon the fear melted away. If she could, plum would never come down again, a true delight to be up there, where no one else goes. They raided a nobles estate away for the winter, and scarpered without them even noticing, a whole new wardrobe.

This peaceful company continued for a while, but nothing good lasts. Peach was taking a rest, huge dragon body splayed out in the sun that filtered through the swamp trees, content, while plum sat by her little home with a book, a calm moment. That peace was broken, a javellin came soaring through the air, in from the top, falling with skill and good aim directly into the body of the beast. Peach felt sharp pain, a stiff metal rod sinking below her tough scales, whipping up with a fierce roar, using one clawed hand to try to get it out of her neck, failing. Plum was with her in an instant, trying to get a grip on it but the blood slicked the metal, making it difficult to grasp. A gentle push with one clawed foot moved her out of the way to saftey, back by the house, Peach standing with a menacing sneer, hearing the footfall approaching.

A knight from the city stepped forward, his gear flawless despite the swamp, another javelin in hand, sword at the ready on his belt. Plum recognised the insignia, one of her fathers men, was he tasked to finding her? She was not sure yet, but had to stop this. She ran between the dragon and this man, shouting to him to stop, go no further, to which he obliged, shocked.

"Youre alive?!" his voice faltered a little, not daring to remove his helmet, eyes still on the dragon who was glaring daggers at him. He watched the noble woman turn to the monster and soothe it, a private word between the two of them that he didnt catch, and for now, the beast tucked its wings up a little and did not seem to attack. "Yes, im alive, and you should be ashamed of yourself! First thing you do it hurt her? Thats so rude!" Baffled, the man let his shoudlers slump a little, no longer prepped to throw a weapon or draw a blade, unable to look away from the beast. "Take your stupid helmet off!" demanded, the noble woman pulling rank, to which the knight reacted to, removing it with a hesitance. He was a strong looking guy, beard, long hair tied back, not too old.

"I...I was sent to get vengance...but youre alive." His head spun, no one had survived a dragon attack before, until now that was. "You need to apolagise to her right now! Get this stupid spear out, I cant-" Plums attempt again was futile, it was really lodged in there, and from the looks of things, it would stay that way, barbed at the end to prevent it from falling back out. "I can't, it'll eat me!" "Dont be so pig headed, she's in pain and you caused it, you'll get over here and fix this right now." The man, though terrified, had to follow orders, and so he dropped the spear and took a step closer. The dragon shot a menacing toothy snarl at him, forcing him to pause, before gathering strength and taking another step with a breath. Surely if it wanted him dead it'd have done so by now...right? he was in striking distance, finally by the side of the woman who kept trying to yank the weapon out, blood coating her clothes and arms. His strong grip took over, and he half expected to see the monster recoil in pain once removed. But as the javellin tore free, it didnt even skip a beat, one eye locked onto him fiercly, he could hear the rumble in its throat, a low growl of threat, body towering over where he stood, the pain not enough to even make it blink. Nothing shook its focus from him, clearly ready to strike if he so much as put a foot out of line. His hands were stripped of the weapon, plum throwing it into the shrubs, looking at him with displeasure.

"You can't tell my family i'm here." The knight looked to her with shock. "Dont you want to go home? The Swamps no place to live." and with that he watched the dragon sit back on its haunches and pick her up, a protective, careful, gentle hold, where she was able to sit in her arms, higher up than him and feel safe from this stranger. "I am home. You can either run to tell people and try to escape her-" Plum pointed to the dragon who would not be outran. "Or you can just go home and pretend like you didnt find us. Your choice."

The issue was that he was hired as a last hope, any before him had tried to hunt for this dragon and failed, the bogs were difficult to navigate, deadly at the best of times, and constantly shouded in heavy fog. Few made it home, and they got a flogging for not having results. Plums father grew impatient at their incompetence, and a few hires previous to him, they turned up empty handed and the next day were hanged for their failures. "I can't go back without either you, or proof that it's dead." he knew he'd be dead if he did. "It's not and 'it', it's a 'her'." corrected by the noble, he repeated. "Before she's dead." Truth be told he was fascinated with what he'd found. Everything he'd ever known about dragons deemed them nightmares of the sky, they brought death and destruction wherever they went, this one was supposedly no different. He'd never been this close to one and not been fighting for his life.

"Perhaps we can come to come kind of arrangement then." A sly grin came over the little womans features, and Grey knew she had a plan.Wether it was a good one or not, was yet to be decided.

[poke-muns]

Dragon Type Names

Pre-existing: Aragon (dragon), Aris/Aristide (possibly Aristides, an Athenian general), Clair (lair, what dragons are said to have and store their treasures in), Débora (dragón or víbora, Spanish for dragon and viper), Dracaena (the dragon tree’s genus), Dragan (Irish word for dragon), Drake (another term for dragon), Drayden (drake/dragon & den), Dreyton (see Drayden), Genji (genjū, Japanese for mythical beast as a generic term), Gweonsu (gweon/권 Korean for power, su/수 meaning beast), Ibuki (means breath in Japanese, possibly referencing either dragons breathing fire, Dragon Breath, or dragons’ breath opal glass), Kakitsubata/カキツバタ (contains anagram of タツ, meaning dragon), Kibana (Kiba/牙, Japanese for fang), Lance (weapon used by knights who killed dragons and Lancelot, a knight of the round table from Arthurian legend), Lóngkuí/Lùhngkwàih/龍葵 (lóng/lùhng/龍 is Chinese for dragon), Lysander (Spartan general or part of fleur-de-lys, a medieval coat of arms), Peter (petard or petronel, medieval weapons again used by knights), Roy (king in Middle French or from roi, French meaning king), Ryūki (ryū/竜, Japanese for dragon), Sandra (dragon, drake, etc.), Siegfried (a knight who killed a dragon in Germanic legend), Tristana (Tristan, a knight in Celtic legend who had to kill a dragon), Wataru (possibly Watatsumi, a Japanese dragon and water deity), Yong-Gyu (Yong/용 is Korean for dragon) Basil = basilisk (possibly what they were going for with Raihan, who’s name comes from the Arabic word for basil, rayḥān/ريحان) Craig(g) = Draigg, Welsh for dragon Erwan = homophone with aeroant, meaning dragon in Breton. George/Georgina/etc. = St. George, said to have slain a dragon Gil = Gilgamesh, who loses a plant granting immortality to a serpent (could allude to a dragon-water ace given gill or dragon-grass given the aforementioned immortality plant) Hera/Heracles/Hercules/etc. = the mythological figure who killed the hydra Heidi/Hydi/etc. = hydra Linda/Lindon/etc. = Lindworm, type of dragon or serpentine creature Merlin/Meryl/etc. = Merlin, a figure from Arthurian stories Patrick /Patricia/etc. = St. Patrick, if taking the snakes he drove away at face value Puck = a dragon from German, Estonian, Lithuanian and Latvian legend (possibly alludes to a dragon-fairy ace given the famous fae from Celtic legend, made more known in A Midsummer Night’s Dream) Tracy / Patrice = Cockatrice, a 2 legged dragon with a fowl’s head