#silver dragons

[honourablejester]

Thoughts for a Draconic Ravenloft Darklord

While I’m thinking about Ravenloft again, I have a sketch of a thought for a homebrew Darklord and her domain. This is building strongly from a post I did a while back on ideas for villainous metallic dragons. In particular, villainous silver dragons. Because the juxtaposition of virtue and villainy is really powerful on a silver dragon.

Listen. Some snippets from the Monster Manual description for silver dragons:

“Dragons of Virtue. Silver dragons believe that living a moral life involves doing good deeds and ensuring that one's actions cause no undeserved harm to other sentient beings. They don't take it upon themselves to root out evil, as gold and bronze dragons do, but they will gladly oppose creatures that dare to commit evil acts or harm the innocent.”

“A silver dragon adopts a benign humanoid persona such as a kindly old sage or a young wanderer, and it often has mortal companions with whom it develops strong friendships.”

Silver dragons are ‘dragons of virtue’. Famously so. They believe in moral lives of good deeds and ensuring that no undeserved harm comes as a result of their actions. They take ‘benign humanoid personas’ to live among smaller races and do good. They don’t fight evil head on, as golds and bronzes do, they’re not militant, they just … act as benign figures in the community. They foster good. And that … It is a cliché. But that��s so easy to twist darkly. So easy.

Which is a horrible, cynical thing to do, yes. A sign of the times we live in. But. Ravenloft. Cynicism and the triumph of good over evil is sort of a theme here.

So. A silver dragon Darklord. A virtuous figure hiding a hideous secret. A theme of reputation, illusion, false virtue. Hidden poisons. And … stigma.

Dragons of Virtue

No undeserved harm. No undeserved harm. But who decides what someone deserves? And why?

There is so much power in deciding who lives and who dies. There is so much power in deciding who deserves to live or to die. She does good works! She does good works. She is a dragon of virtue, as all of her kind are. As all of her kind must be. There’s only the small matter of … the undeserving.

No one will miss them. She doesn’t kill them. Not directly. She would cause no undeserved harm. It’s only a matter of who deserves help. And maybe … with some time. Some investigation. Some thought. Maybe she would find some here or there who would deserve, perhaps, some little harm.

Her name is Irisvalorn, the Silver Healer. Though the people of her mountain realm know her better as Saint Argentia, a holy woman from centuries past who watches over them. Who appears still, occasionally, to the deserving. Who protects them from fear, assault and disease.

Or they might know her better as the Grand Abbess of the Argentine Abbey, the first home and great hospital of the Order of St. Argentia. There have been dozens of women to hold the role over the centuries, but every last one of them has been Irisvalorn in disguise. Every one. The Order of Saint Argentia is her proudest work, and she has been part of it, led it, from the first.

(If that perhaps meant several other women, who might have risen to Grand Abbess in the normal run of things, had to be dealt with, in one fashion or another, well. She would not harm the undeserving. It was done fairly. Virtuously. She did not harm them).

If you asked, knowing of her sins, what led her to what she is now … well. She would kill you. But. If you managed to draw a conversation from her first. What she would tell you is this:

She didn’t intend harm. Never. Not once. She is, was, and always will be, a virtuous dragon. She started the hospital out of true benevolence. One her first guises, Argentia, had appeared in a time when a great sickness plagued her mountain home. She had no divine magic to combat it, but healing and medicine are not merely the preserves of the gods. She had silver to spare, and wanted to help her people. So she sponsored the work that would become the Order of St. Argentia, and the great hospital of the Argentine Abbey. It was, from the first, a virtuous endeavour.

And she worked on the wards. Personally. Not as Argentia, already the name had too much mysticism attached to it. Myths of holiness springing up, which she had not encouraged. Never. She worked the wards in humble guises. Helped spread her own knowledge further. But it was … it was on those wards, in those humble guises. That she found … evil.

Sickness is the great equaliser. It strikes down the virtuous and the villainous with the same scythe. All manner of people came to the hospital, especially as the sickness grew more entrenched, and the Argentine Abbey one of the foremost bastions against it. She saw … so many people. At their weakest, at their most wretched. She bathed them and comforted them and nurtured them. And in response, sometimes, they told her things. Confided in her. The virtuous and the villainous alike.

Is it not evil, in and of itself, to nurture evil? To provide it comfort? To heal it and cozen it and set it loose to enact itself all over again? Is it not evil, to help evil?

Sickness is the great equaliser. But perhaps, after a while, in the Argentine Abbey, the scales started to swing … a little more one way than the other.

It wasn’t evil. How could it be evil? Yes, she slew them while they were weak, and helpless. While they clung to her for comfort, shivered under her hands in the depths of fever. Yes, she offered death, where they had come for healing. But it was not evil. It was not undeserved. If you had only heard what they whispered. Cried. Admitted, abruptly penitent, but only while faced with death. How could it be evil, to prevent them from going free to enact such sins again?

But oh. Oh. What power it was. When they clung to her, and thanked her, and drank sweet poisons down with grateful lips.

The problems only started when … Sickness covers many sins. They were ill already. She had only helped along what fate had already ordained. But the scales swung. And, if enough people paid attention, they swung noticeably.

And here. Here. Here was where things became … complicated.

Because she could offer no harm to the undeserving. Of course, of course she could not. She was virtuous. But why could they not understand? Why could they not see the necessity?

She had to change guises several times. She had to learn caution and care and secrecy. Her challengers were not evil, only foolish and blind, and she could not harm them. So she had, instead, to keep them from noticing. And, perhaps, arrange, over time, for them to be assigned elsewhere. As the order grew. As more and more hospices and hospitals became necessary. The disease rose and fell over three centuries with curious regularity. She could never develop an outright cure for it, only treatments so that many of its victims would survive its poisonous embrace. It returned. It always returned. And, in lockstep, rise and fall, her order, the Order of St. Argentia, grew. Expanded. A second and a third hospital, one for each city, and dozen of hospices across towns and more remote areas. There were … places to send people. Out of the way places. Without harming them.

But not all of them. Maybe she had known. Sooner or later, someone who would come along that she couldn’t shoo gently to the side quite so easily.

But how could she have predicted that it would be someone so evil?

A dragon. Another dragon, in human guise. So subtle. So careful. And capable, even as Irisvalorn was, of wearing multiple guises. The better to gather evidence over years and faces, without being detected. What monstrous luck. What monstrous luck. For good and ill.

Her name, this other dragon, was Voreloreat. The Beautiful Death. A green. Of course. Of course a green. Who else would be drawn to such disease? Who else would be so enchanted by such poison? Green. Of course a green. Cunning and treacherous, specialising in poison and corruption and trickery.

Masquerading as a healer. Of all the gall. Of all the gall. Masquerading, many times, as a kind and gentle healer. One who …

It was coincidence, of course, that her methods, her treatments, often made better ground against the disease. Coincidence. Or … Or worse than that, perhaps. For centuries, this disease had ravaged them. Never cured, always returning. Was there a reason? Here was a dragon. A poisoner. A corrupter. Was there, perhaps, a reason that the disease could not be cured?

Save, perhaps, by its author?

And to challenge her. On grounds of virtue. To say that she, Irisvalorn, had committed evil! So snidely, so poisonously. To suggest …

But that was the problem. Suggestions. Questions. Too many people didn’t understand. It had been proved so many times over the years. So many people wouldn’t understand what she did, why she did it.

And to point to the … shrine, as proof. How had she even found that? But they were not … it was not a hoard. They were not trophies. Only an evil mind could come up with such things. They were reminders. The little objects, the personal effects. They were reminders. Of the evil that hid among the virtuous, of those who wore the same faces and begged the same aid as everyone else, while hiding secrets behind their eyes. In their souls. She had only collected them to remind herself. It was not a hoard.

But suspicions had grown, over the years. Only in certain circles. No one outside of the Order. But they had grown. And she didn’t want to hurt anyone. Not innocents. Not the undeserving. She had kept her secrets to keep from hurting them! And now this creature …

This monster. This monster in her virtuous guise. Threatening to destroy all that Irisvalorn had spent centuries building. All that she had worked towards. With a suggestion.

But the mistake Voreloreat had made … Well. One that she couldn’t help, really. One born to her, or she to it. She was a green. No matter the virtue of her mortal disguises, she was still a green dragon. And Irisvalorn was silver.

When it came to questions of virtue, only one of them would be believed.

It took … little enough work, to find a paladin. Elpia, her name was, honest and virtuous and true. A gentle soul, but unflinching. Unfaltering in the face of evil. And Irisvalorn did not lie to her. She did not. She told her only the truth. Of a monster, hiding behind a virtuous face. Of a disease that had ravaged them for centuries, and a creature known for poisons who mastered it where no one else could. The truth. Only the truth.

Damn the poisons of the greens. Their words, their lies, that corrupted the innocent even in death. How could any paladin of true faith believe …

She had not wanted to hurt anyone. Everything, everything, had been to avoid that. She had never, not once, harmed an innocent, the undeserving. They had all told her their crimes. Confessed them. Each and every one. Oh, some had to be prompted, yes, but they had all confessed. She had harmed no innocent. Never.

Why would Elpia not believe that? Why would the words of a dying monster convince …? Was she not silver? Was she not virtuous? Had she not earned …?

It was not her fault. It wasn’t. Elpia wouldn’t understand. Couldn’t. She had been corrupted too far. And Irisvalorn could not gently shuffle her aside as she had so many others. To Elpia, she had revealed the truth. That she was a dragon. To prove her virtue, she had offered up her greatest secret, and now if Elpia revealed her to all the world, there would be endless suspicion dogging every new face within the Order. Worse. There might be suspicion on the Order, from the outside. All their good works, all their desperately needed help. Suspect. Perhaps even turned aside.

All because of one monster pretending virtue, and a naïve but unflinching innocent who had fallen for the lie.

She had no choice. And Elpia was wounded. Ill. Voreloreat’s poisons. Her dying vengeance. Irisvalorn was a healer. And sometimes her scales … tipped the other way.

It wasn’t her fault. The Mists that shrouded her lands, like the disease before them. Like the disease still. It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t because of her. No one would damn a whole realm for the death of one innocent. Surely. No. No, it wasn’t her fault.

If anyone, it was Voreloreat’s.

Darklord Irisvalorn

AKA Saint Argentia. AKA Grand Abbess of the Argentine Order. Irisvalorn still maintains her roles as the leader and hope of a realm under siege. Disease, endless and unabated, plagues her lands, and the great hospital of the Argentine Abbey still stands as the first bastion against it. She is still a holy figure, a humble leader, a shining saint, and a silver dragon behind it all. She still believes, fully and vehemently, that she is a virtuous dragon, and that she has harmed no one who was not deserving. Even Elpia was … corrupted. It was not her doing.

But several things have changed, in a domain now cradled by the Mists.

Irisvalorn’s Torment

Disease perpetually stalks her realm, rising and falling like a tide, and nothing she does can stop it. All her treatments and her cures have been failing, slowly, one by one. Feverishly, she and her Order find new ones, for each new surge of the disease, but always, after a while, they fail. The tide of poison rolls back in, and they can do nothing to stop it. And it is noticeable. Faith, faith in her, in her Order, in Saint Argentia, is fading, ebbing out as the disease rolls in. How long before her people won’t look to her any longer?

And worse. There are those who actively seek to hasten that end. A spectre, a phantom. A work of her enemy. Another Order has sprung up in her lands, an order of healers and herbalists, an order whose works, it is increasingly rumoured, are effective. A person who is healed by them, it is said, will not suffer the disease again. It will not resurge, at least not in them. Irisvalorn has done all she can to discredit this. Not out of selfishness, not to deprive her people of a cure! No. Because she knows who this is. She knows who teaches them. She knows that their cures work because the disease is by their hand.

They call themselves the Order of Saint Hellebora. And they are the cult of her enemy. The servants of Voreloreat. Every member of the Order of St. Hellebora bears a coin, a silver coin, damn them, damn her, from the hoard of Voreloreat. A token of their saint, through which they are sometimes blessed by her advice and inspiration. Unaware that they are listening to the whispered poisons of the ghost of a green dragon. Or are they unaware? Are they innocent tools, as Elpia once was, or willing accomplices? But it doesn’t matter. They are heretics. Servants of evil. No matter how kind and gentle and helpful they appear, they are servants of evil, and they must be destroyed.

They. They must be destroyed. They must. Elpia’s death must not be in vain. This disease must be defeated. This evil must be stamped out. Voreloreat’s ghost must be slain, much more thoroughly than her mortal body was. It will be worth it. It must be worth it. When this land at last knows freedom from pain, from disease, from the evils that hide behind virtuous faces, then …

Then the oh-so-tangible stains of Irisvalorn’s sin, of Elpia’s death, will at last be washed out.

For she does bear the stain of that sin. A stigma. A green, weeping tarnish. Her scales, once pure silver, are now stained the colour of the corrupter who ruined them all. Every moment in her true form, that tarnish weeps from her body. Even in her humanoid guises, she cannot disguise it. It appears, as green, burning tear tracks down her face, as vicious, emerald stains across her hands. She’s had to wear so many faces, to create the myth of St. Argentia’s stigmata, just to cover it. And she has done it well. She’s woven a myth, a truth, so well. That the saint was marred by a vicious curse from a dying evil, that she must bear these burning, weeping wounds until the land is at last cleansed of evil and disease. It has … It has served her, in its way. And it is not false. But Irisvalorn knows …

There is innocent blood on her hands. One. One innocent. And she must bear these stigma in her name, until the sin is paid for. Made worth it.

One innocent. Only one. They have not grown. They have not spread, drop by drop, with every … tipping of her scales. Every reminder in her shrine. Every memento placed around Elpia’s enshrined tomb. They haven’t. They have not spread. Her scales are pure and silver, as pure as her heart. The corruption has not spread.

She must kill them. Voreloreat. All those pretenders, those healers and herbalists and wisewomen who bear the monster’s coin, who pretend to help, who hide their evil behind virtuous faces. She must. She must destroy them. Then the evil will stop. The poison, the suffering, the disease. It will all stop.

And her sins … her sins will finally be washed out.

Darklord Irisvalorn. The Silver Healer. A virtuous dragon.

End Notes

Definitely heading for a gothic, religious, dark fantasy sort of Domain of Dread. A little bit Lady Macbeth, a little bit …

This quote is from the 1999 Tim Burton version of Sleepy Hollow, so take that as you will, but it does fit so nicely, and was a lot of the inspiration here:

“Villainy wears many masks, none so dangerous as the mask of virtue.”

Silver dragons would make such dreadful villains. A benign figure hiding poison. A mask of virtue. Because everyone knows that silver dragons are virtuous dragons.

And I do love a green dragon, and they would be the ones to fight poison with poison. Possibly even from genuine virtue. Voreloreat might just have been wanting to see what was going on, and stumbled across, well. Everything Irisvalorn had going on. Maybe she was genuinely disgusted, and her ghost is genuinely trying to help through her order. Or, perhaps, virtue has nothing to do with it, and vengeance, by her enemy’s own tools, is the name of the game. Morals be damned. Those who live and kill by the sword, or the mask, can die by it in their turn. Heh. Dealer’s choice.

So. A sketch of a thought, for a Ravenloft draconic Darklord.

[number-1-haxorus-fan]

So, we all know about Gold Dragon, Silver Dragons, Bronze and Brass ones, but what if there was a Uranium one?

Imagine Dragons: Radioactive

[here-be-descriptions]

[Image Description: five drawings, each depicting a different species of Metallic Dragon from “Dungeons and Dragons”. Each dragon is perched atop a twenty-sides die, made from the same type metal as herself. At the top is a Gold Dragon; followed by Brass, Bronze, Copper, and Silver. End image description.]

Long overdue, but these guys are finally finished! And you can get them as stickers in my Redbubble shop!

[cagemasterfantasy]

DND Monsters: Silver Dragons

Wyrmling

Medium Dragon, Lawful Good

AC 17 (natural armor)

HP 45 (6d8 + 18)

Speed 30 ft., Fly 60 ft.

Str 19 +4 Dexterity 10 +0 Constitution 17 +3 Int 12 +1 Wisdom 11 +0 Cha 15 +2

Saving Throws: Dex 2 Con +5 Wis +2 Cha +4

Skills Perception +4, Stealth +2

Immunities Cold

Senses Blindsight 10 ft., Darkvision 60 ft.,

Languages Draconic

CR 2

Actions

Bite. Melee Weapon Attack: +6 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 9 (1d10 + 4) piercing damage.

Breath Weapons (Recharge 5–6). The dragon uses one of the following breath weapons.

Cold Breath. The dragon exhales an icy blast in a 15-foot cone. Each creature in that area must make a DC 13 Constitution saving throw, taking 18 (4d8) cold damage on a failed save, or half as much damage on a successful one.

Paralyzing Breath. The dragon exhales paralyzing gas in a 15-foot cone. Each creature in that area must succeed on a DC 13 Constitution saving throw or be paralyzed for 1 minute. A creature can repeat the saving throw at the end of each of its turns, ending the effect on itself on a success.

Young:

Large Dragon, Lawful Good

AC 18 (natural armor)

HP 168 (16d10 + 80)

Speed 40 ft., Fly 80 ft.

Str 23 +6 Dex 10 +0 Con 21 +5 Int 14 +2 Wis 11 +0 Cha 19 +4

Saving Throws: Dex +4 Con +9 Wis +4 Cha +8

Skills Arcana +6, History +6, Perception +8, Stealth +4

Immunities Cold

Senses Blindsight 30 ft., Darkvision 120 ft.,

Languages Common, Draconic

CR 9

Actions

Multiattack. The dragon makes three attacks: one with its bite and two with its claws.

Bite. Melee Weapon Attack: +10 to hit, reach 10 ft., one target. Hit: 17 (2d10 + 6) piercing damage.

Claw. Melee Weapon Attack: +10 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 13 (2d6 + 6) slashing damage.

Breath Weapons (Recharge 5–6). The dragon uses one of the following breath weapons.

Cold Breath. The dragon exhales an icy blast in a 30-foot cone. Each creature in that area must make a DC 17 Constitution saving throw, taking 54 (12d8) cold damage on a failed save, or half as much damage on a successful one.

Paralyzing Breath. The dragon exhales paralyzing gas in a 30-foot cone. Each creature in that area must succeed on a DC 17 Constitution saving throw or be paralyzed for 1 minute. A creature can repeat the saving throw at the end of each of its turns, ending the effect on itself on a success.

Adult

Huge Dragon, Lawful Good

AC 19 (natural armor)

HP 243 (18d12 + 126)

Speed 40 ft., Fly 80 ft.

Str 27 +8 Dex 10 +0 Con 25 +7 Int 16 +3 Wis 13 +1 Cha 21 +5

Saving Throws: Dex +5 Con +12 Wis +6 Cha +10

Skills Arcana +8, History +8, Perception +11, Stealth +5

Immunities Cold

Senses Blindsight 60 ft., Darkvision 120 ft.

Languages Common, Draconic

CR 16

Traits

Legendary Resistance (3/Day). If the dragon fails a saving throw, it can choose to succeed instead.

Actions

Multiattack. The dragon can use its Frightful Presence. It then makes three attacks: one with its bite and two with its claws.

Bite. Melee Weapon Attack: +13 to hit, reach 10 ft., one target. Hit: 19 (2d10 + 8) piercing damage.

Claw. Melee Weapon Attack: +13 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 15 (2d6 + 8) slashing damage.

Tail. Melee Weapon Attack: +13 to hit, reach 15 ft., one target. Hit: 17 (2d8 + 8) bludgeoning damage.

Frightful Presence. Each creature of the dragon's choice that is within 120 feet of the dragon and aware of it must succeed on a DC 18 Wisdom saving throw or become frightened for 1 minute. A creature can repeat the saving throw at the end of each of its turns, ending the effect on itself on a success. If a creature's saving throw is successful or the effect ends for it, the creature is immune to the dragon's Frightful Presence for the next 24 hours.

Breath Weapons (Recharge 5–6). The dragon uses one of the following breath weapons.

Cold Breath. The dragon exhales an icy blast in a 60-foot cone. Each creature in that area must make a DC 20 Constitution saving throw, taking 58 (13d8) cold damage on a failed save, or half as much damage on a successful one.

Paralyzing Breath. The dragon exhales paralyzing gas in a 60-foot cone. Each creature in that area must succeed on a DC 20 Constitution saving throw or be paralyzed for 1 minute. A creature can repeat the saving throw at the end of each of its turns, ending the effect on itself on a success.

Change Shape. The dragon magically polymorphs into a humanoid or beast that has a challenge rating no higher than its own, or back into its true form. It reverts to its true form if it dies. Any equipment it is wearing or carrying is absorbed or borne by the new form (the dragon's choice).

In a new form, the dragon retains its alignment, hit points, Hit Dice, ability to speak, proficiencies, Legendary Resistance, lair actions, and Intelligence, Wisdom, and Charisma scores, as well as this action. Its statistics and capabilities are otherwise replaced by those of the new form, except any class features or legendary actions of that form.

Legendary Actions

The dragon can take 3 legendary actions, choosing from the options below. Only one legendary action can be used at a time and only at the end of another creature's turn. The dragon regains spent legendary actions at the start of its turn.

Detect. The dragon makes a Wisdom (Perception) check.

Tail Attack. The dragon makes a tail attack.

Wing Attack (Costs 2 Actions). The dragon beats its wings. Each creature within 10 feet of the dragon must succeed on a DC 22 Dexterity saving throw or take 15 (2d6 + 8) bludgeoning damage and be knocked prone. The dragon can then fly up to half its flying speed.

Ancient

Gargantuan Dragon, Lawful Good

AC 22 (natural armor)

HP 487 (25d20 + 225)

Speed 40 ft., Fly 80 ft.

Str 30 +10 Dex 10 +0 Con 29 +9 Int 18 +4 Wis 15 +2 Cha 23 +6

Saving Throws: Dex +7 Con +16 Wis +9 Cha +13

Skills Arcana +11, History +11, Perception +16, Stealth +7

Immunities Cold

Senses Blindsight 60 ft., Darkvision 120 ft.,

Languages Common, Draconic

CR 23

Traits

Legendary Resistance (3/Day). If the dragon fails a saving throw, it can choose to succeed instead.

Actions

Multiattack. The dragon can use its Frightful Presence. It then makes three attacks: one with its bite and two with its claws.

Bite. Melee Weapon Attack: +17 to hit, reach 15 ft., one target. Hit: 21 (2d10 + 10) piercing damage.

Claw. Melee Weapon Attack: +17 to hit, reach 10 ft., one target. Hit: 17 (2d6 + 10) slashing damage.

Tail. Melee Weapon Attack: +17 to hit, reach 20 ft., one target. Hit: 19 (2d8 + 10) bludgeoning damage.

Frightful Presence. Each creature of the dragon's choice that is within 120 feet of the dragon and aware of it must succeed on a DC 21 Wisdom saving throw or become frightened for 1 minute. A creature can repeat the saving throw at the end of each of its turns, ending the effect on itself on a success. If a creature's saving throw is successful or the effect ends for it, the creature is immune to the dragon's Frightful Presence for the next 24 hours.

Breath Weapons (Recharge 5–6). The dragon uses one of the following breath weapons.

Cold Breath. The dragon exhales an icy blast in a 90-foot cone. Each creature in that area must make a DC 24 Constitution saving throw, taking 67 (15d8) cold damage on a failed save, or half as much damage on a successful one.

Paralyzing Breath. The dragon exhales paralyzing gas in a 90-foot cone. Each creature in that area must succeed on a DC 24 Constitution saving throw or be paralyzed for 1 minute. A creature can repeat the saving throw at the end of each of its turns, ending the effect on itself on a success.

Change Shape. The dragon magically polymorphs into a humanoid or beast that has a challenge rating no higher than its own, or back into its true form. It reverts to its true form if it dies. Any equipment it is wearing or carrying is absorbed or borne by the new form (the dragon's choice).

In a new form, the dragon retains its alignment, hit points, Hit Dice, ability to speak, proficiencies, Legendary Resistance, lair actions, and Intelligence, Wisdom, and Charisma scores, as well as this action. Its statistics and capabilities are otherwise replaced by those of the new form, except any class features or legendary actions of that form.

Legendary Actions

The dragon can take 3 legendary actions, choosing from the options below. Only one legendary action can be used at a time and only at the end of another creature's turn. The dragon regains spent legendary actions at the start of its turn.

Detect. The dragon makes a Wisdom (Perception) check.

Tail Attack. The dragon makes a tail attack.

Wing Attack (Costs 2 Actions). The dragon beats its wings. Each creature within 15 feet of the dragon must succeed on a DC 25 Dexterity saving throw or take 17 (2d6 + 10) bludgeoning damage and be knocked prone. The dragon can then fly up to half its flying speed.

Lair: Silver dragons dwell among the clouds, making their lairs on secluded cold mountain peaks. Though many are comfortable in natural cavern complexes or abandoned mines, silver dragons covet the lost outposts of humanoid civilization. An abandoned mountaintop citadel or a remote tower raised by a long-dead wizard is the sort of lair that every silver dragon dreams of.

Lair Actions: On initiative count 20 (losing initiative ties), the dragon takes a lair action to cause one of the following effects:

The dragon creates fog as if it had cast the fog cloud spell. The fog lasts until initiative count 20 on the next round.

A blisteringly cold wind blows through the lair near the dragon. Each creature within 120 feet of the dragon must succeed on a DC 15 Constitution saving throw or take 5 (1d10) cold damage. Gases and vapors are dispersed by the wind, and unprotected flames are extinguished. Protected flames, such as lanterns, have a 50 percent chance of being extinguished.

Fizban's Treasury of Dragons added this additional lair action:

A sudden, supernatural chill fills the lair near the dragon. Each creature of the dragon's choice that it can see within 120 feet of it must succeed on a DC 15 Constitution saving throw or be restrained until initiative count 20 on the next round. Creatures that have resistance to cold damage have advantage on the saving throw; creatures that have immunity to cold damage succeed automatically.

Regional Effects:

The region containing a legendary silver dragon's lair is warped by the dragon's magic, which creates one or more of the following effects.

Once per day, the dragon can alter the weather in a 6-mile radius centered on its lair. The dragon doesn't need to be outdoors; otherwise the effect is identical to the control weather spell.

Within 1 mile of the lair, winds buoy non-evil creatures that fall due to no act of the dragon's or its allies. Such creatures descend at a rate of 60 feet per round and take no falling damage.

Given days or longer to work, the dragon can make clouds and fog within its lair as solid as stone, forming structures and other objects as it wishes.

Fizban's Treasury of Dragons gave Silver Dragons the following spells

Young: (Save DC 16) Beacon of Hope, Calm Emotions, Hold Person, Zone of Truth

Adult: (Save DC 18) Beacon of Hope, Calm Emotions, Hold Person, Polymorph, Zone of Truth

Ancient: (Save DC21) Beacon of Hope, Calm Emotions, Hold Person, Polymorph, Teleport, Zone of Truth

[daenerys-stormborn]

"When the red star bleeds and the darkness gathers, Azor Ahai shall be born again amidst smoke and salt to wake dragons out of stone."

"What fools we were, who thought ourselves so wise! The error crept in from the translation. Dragons are neither male nor female, Barth saw the truth of that, but now one and now the other, as changeable as flame. The language misled us all for a thousand years. Daenerys is the one, born amidst salt and smoke. The dragons prove it."

"Her coming is the fulfillment of an ancient prophecy. From smoke and salt was she born to make the world anew. She is Azor Ahai returned... and her triumph over darkness will bring a summer that will never end... death itself will bend its knee, and all those who die fighting in her cause shall be reborn ..."

— George R. R. Martin, A SONG OF ICE AND FIRE

[agentem]

Seasmoke: I have searched everywhere on Driftmark and Dragonstone and I have found the one to be my squishy -- ADDAM!

Vermithor: This one, Hugh, he is brave. I like him.

Silverwing: Eh, Ulf stumbled into my lair. He'll do. I'm an old lady and lonely.

[the-unicorns-of-nienna]

[Image Description: artwork done primarily in shades of silver, gold, and blue; depicting two unicorns gazing up at a dragon soaring overhead. End image description.]

Ages ago, I got this super fancy aquarell paper I never use and which just collects dust in my shelf. So, decided to just doodle around on it now. Absolutely zero idea what I’m doing here~.

[diminuel]

Another comic about little Dragon on Roger's ship.

Again, no style consistency... Will I ever learn?

(First part is here!)

(Next part!)

[egophiliac]

I don’t think we’ve ever seen you draw knight of dawn before 🤔 what are your thoughts about him? Or take?

I've drawn him a couple of times, just really little/in the background. but I should draw him more, I love this guy a lot! I have many, many thoughts about him and the way he parallels Silver...and also I think it is extremely funny that his ghost is stuck in a ring. especially considering where that ring has been for the last 16-ish years.

[d34c0nfr0st]

Nemesis by Deacon Frost - Audiobook - Audible.com

Moments after he hatched, he was thrown into a sack. His pride as a dragon raged against the indignity and he fought back. The wounds he gave his captors earned him the name Nemesis, and the kindness offered at the hand of a half-elf slave earned him a partner. With Harper on his side, the pair set out to earn their freedom. They're determined to never be slaves again.

A spirit beast and a cultivator set out to grow as strong as they can. They'll explore the world around them, make new friends, find allies and enemies in this tale of monster to friend. When Nemesis and Harper are together, they know nothing can stop them... and they're not destined to walk alone.

This story contains, cultivation, and fighting dragons.

©2023 Deacon Frost (P)2023 Royal Guard Publishing LLC

[pigeon-princess]

"Does he have the..." "The sword of Aegon the Conqueror? Blackfyre? Yeah, he does."

[slaytheusurper]

⭑ Better when you're here ⭑

Masterlist

Pairing: Sad!king!aegon x sister!reader

A/N: #needthat

Warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, pure filth, aegon whines so much I lost count, heavy mommy kink, sub aegon, fingering, piv sex, slight handjob, titty sucking (yes again), sad aegon.

Summary: Sad and needy Aegon just needs mummy to make him feel better :((((

Word count: 2.2k (pretty short blurb)

The gardens were your favourite place in the Red Keep, it was often quiet. And not to mention the beautiful view of the sea. You sat at one of the table’s in an alcove, it was nice and tucked away, giving you your own private space.

You read some book for a while and enjoyed your wine and lemoncakes. Because you never knew when it would be the last time you could sit here. You had been of age for two years now, and even though you have avoided marriage for quite a while, you never knew what your grandsire Otto Hightower had in mind. 

Now you had at least some security since your eldest brother Aegon was now king and everyone was distracted by the war that loomed over Westeros like a black cloud. Only a few more drops of rain to form before the whole thing came crashing down. 

Frustration and anxiety filled everyone's hearts and it was hard to pretend nothing was wrong. But the person you feared most right now was Aemond, he seemed to lose control everyday and he shocked the realm when he killed his own fourteen year old nephew at Storm’s End. However he was now to marry too, to some Baratheon girl and you knew that soon they would use you too, to make alliances with houses. Binded by a meaningless marriage.

You felt like it was all you were good for, and you saw how it affected Helaena and Aegon. Your heart broke for her, she wanted nothing more than to be left alone and live in peace, yet she must be queen. Aegon was of course also affected by this, ever since he became king he drank more than ever before and had even grown a bit of a belly. Still he remained of a nice physique. 

You couldn’t even remember the last time you rode your dragons with him. He didn’t have much of a relationship with Helaena, seeing her more as his quiet sister than his wife and queen and for some reason it seemed better that way. She would be left alone more. 

But you and Aegon were a different story, you liked to sneak around and have fun with him. He might not be a great king or a good man but he was a good brother to you. And you saw things in him that no one else seemed to. The crown seemed to only stress him out and you knew that he just wanted to live out his days drinking wine and relaxing but your mother and grandsire had other plans. 

As of late you couldn’t see him much, council meetings took a great part of the day and he would always hide in his chambers afterwards. Your mother seemed to keep you away from him, for what reason you didn’t know. Your days went from watching Aemond train, flying around KIng’s Landing with Aegon and running around the Red Keep with friends to praying at the Sept, locked inside your chamber or helping Helaena with embroidery. That is why the gardens offered a nice escape.

Soon you would pay a visit to your elder sister and her twins. After a morning at the sept with your mother and sister you needed some alone time. But Helaena was always a calming and nice presence and it was good to keep her company.

After reading the last sentence of a chapter you closed the book, and decided it would be nice to sow with Helaena. As you walked through the halls of the red keep numerous ‘your grace’ and ‘princes’ surrounded you, staff getting out of your way. You ascended the stairs in the throne room, it was empty. Soon it would be supper time but there was enough time.

When you reached Helaena’s door you could already hear your niece and nephew playing, which put a smile on your face. You knocked twice and a handmaiden opened, letting you inside. Helaena was sitting on some blankets and pillows, already embroidering what looked like a blanket. She looked up and slightly smiled when you joined her side, children playing on their own blanket. 

Getting handed some thread, a needle and a new fabric, as was the routine, you began to work on something for Aegon and if you worked hard enough you could bring it to him tonight. When you were about finished, a servant came in to fetch you and Helaena for supper with the family.

But when you arrived only Aemond, Alicent and Otto were there, Aegon’s seat was empty. Silently you both joined them and began eating without him. Supper was tense and silent as it had been for about a month now. When you had finished, you excused yourself and fetched the doublet you had finished before supper, wanting to bring a gift to your brother. 

When you had fetched it you hurriedly made your way up to the king's bedchambers, you knew something was wrong with Aegon, all the stress had probably gotten to him. When you had almost reached the door Ser Criston Cole stood guard there. He bowed his head before he spoke; “Princess, the king does not wish to be disturbed right now.” He said politely. 

“I understand, but I have something to cheer him up, so please, let me enter.” Ser Criston seemed to think about it, before releasing a sigh and opening the door for you, very softly as to not disturb his grace. You stepped inside and Cole just as softly as he opened the door, closed it again. It was now dark and Aegon’s fire was lit as he sat in a chair in front of it, you could hear the sobs coming from him. It broke your heart. 

You quietly made your way towards him. “Aegon?” You called out. He didn’t lift his head. You walked around him so you were standing in front of him, he looked up with red stained cheeks, and red, tear filled eyes. “Oh Aeg- what happened?” You asked him, instead of answering he buried his head into your stomach, his hand gripping your dress as he sobbed into it. The doublet falling on the ground.

You caressed his messy short silver locks and he continued to sob for a while, in your embrace. Then he seemed to speak up; “They- don’t care about- me-” He choked against you in between sobs. “Who doesn’t care about you?” You were confused but he lifted his head from your now tear stained dress. “The- the- council- mother- my own hand- they don’t- care-!” He sobbed as he looked at you desperately. 

But to your surprise he pulled you in his lap as his hands were still clinging to your dress. You gasped as you landed on his thighs, he buried his face in your chest instead and continued to cry, the doublet on the ground, forgotten. “Aegon they do care, especially mother, they just want the best for you. To help guide you since they have knowledge of war-” “No! They all hate me- everyone of them!” His breath on your skin gave you goosebumps. His hand now rested on your hip, keeping you in place. 

“You’re the only one who loves me- I see that now- my beautiful smart sister.” He seemed to have exhausted his tears as they now stopped, he breathed heavily against your chest, nuzzling his face against your breasts. He must have had wine. “You love me? Right sister?” He mumbled against your breasts. “Of course I do, so incredibly much. I would do anything for you.” You soothed him, hand still grazing through his silver locks. His purple eyes stared up at you and he smiled slightly.

“Anything?” He asked softly. “Of course, you are not only my brother but my king.” You smiled, placing a kiss on his forehead. This stirred something in him and he breathed heavier again. His face and especially his nose grazed your neck and jaw, lips ghosting over the warm skin. Your own breath hitched in your throat at the feeling. “Aeg-” He ignored you and started to kiss and nip at the soft skin. You lightly gasped at the feeling, and then you felt something hard against your thigh. 

“Brother I don’t think we should-” He stopped and looked at you with teary eyes. “I need this- I need you. Please- just- just let me make you feel good. To thank you. Please mummy.” That last part was whined against your chest where he let his hand graze the low neckline of your dress. Since it was warm earlier, it was quite thin and loose. Your body felt hot at his words, your lower stomach filled with an ache you didn’t understand.

His hand started then at the bottom of your leg, underneath your dress, as he caressed your leg moving up and up where you didn’t know you needed him. “I’m so hard for you mummy. All because of you.” He whined. His hand had finally reached your core, two of his fingers rubbing over your smallclothes, which were already wet with your slick. “Aegon-” You moaned, sparks went off in your body at his touch, you had no idea what he was doing to you but seven hells did it feel good. You hoped he would never stop, but still it felt wrong and guilt consumed you. Yet you didn’t stop him.

His other hand that didn’t tease your clothed clit was still busy with your neckline. The dress was loose enough for him to pull it down so your tits would fall out. He wasted no time in sucking on them. The feeling of his warm wet tongue sucking on your nipple made you release a moan. It felt way too good, it had to be a sin. Aegon himself moaned around your breast, bucking his hips up in need for friction. All your will to stop him had left you. Desire clouding your mind. You moved so that both of your legs were now on either side of his lap, the chair was big and comfortable enough to allow this. 

Aegon released your nipple but never moved his hand from teasing you. But when you sat down, his hand trapped, he removed it and pulled at your dress, eager to remove it. You didn’t know why you did it, but you needed him. You helped him remove your dress and shimmied out of your small clothes as well. “Need to be inside you mummy.” You gasped at his fingers sliding through your now bare slit. His fingers then stimulating your clit. Your breath hitched when he put a finger inside you, going deeper until he found that spot that would make you see stars. He stretched you out a bit for a while until he got too impatient and grabbed your hand to place between you, over his bulge. 

You instinctively squeezed it making him gasp. He moved your hand and quickly undid his breeches himself. He then reached for your hand again and helped you stroke his thick veiny cock. Pre cum started to dribble out over both your hands. And Aegon groaned at the sight. When he was almost about to cum for your hand alone, he removed it, as he did, he removed his fingers inside your cunt as well. Grabbing your hips instead, his cock was so hard it hurt and the feeling of his tip hitting your warm slick entrance almost made him cry out. He used one hand to guide his cock better inside you and you winced in pain. “It’ll be better soon, I promise.” He said softly. 

You whispered okay and he buried himself deeper inside until he was fully sheathed inside you. Your clit hit his pelvic bone and a bolt of pleasure shot through you. You felt so sensitive and weak. When you felt like the pain went away you slowly started to grind and bounce on his cock, testing the waters. He whimpered in response, it just felt so good for him. He held on to your hips so you could start a steady rhythm and he knew he wouldn't last long. “So tight mummy- feels so good.” He sobbed. Squelching and slapping noises filled the room and you both forgot all about a certain guard outside. 

Both of your moans filled each other's mouths as you held on tight to each other. Lost in pleasure you chase your release and started riding him faster, Aegon started to fuck up into you in response chasing his own high. “Mummy- I-I’m close- please- gonna fill you so good.” Aegon whined. This only spurred you on and soon you clenched down on his cock, fire striking through you, you had never felt such insane pleasure in your life. Aegon did not stop fucking into you though and only moments later he cried out as his warm seed filled you. He squeezed you against him tightly to hold you in place. 

He came so much it started to drip out along his shaft, onto his balls and some drops even landed on the floor. You both caught your breath and Aegon didn’t let go of you. But after a few moments his grip loosened and you winced when his softening cock left you. He whined at your warm body getting up but you soothed him, just getting the rest of his clothes off and helping him to the bed. You laid down as well and he immediately crawled up against your chest. “Thank you mummy.”

[bonksoundeffect]

Have you heard of the tragedy of the Champion of Kirkwall?

+ Bonus

The og post that made me go insane

[harunayuuka2060]

Sebek: Good morning, human!

Silver: Good morning, MC.

MC: Good morning. What are you two doing here?

Sebek: Her Majesty Maleficia has requested that we check on the wellbeing of the dragon.

Silver: I'm sure everything is well, isn't it?

MC: Yes, though if I'm being honest,

MC: I'm actually on my way to the infirmary now.

Sebek: IS THERE SOMETHING WRONG WITH THE DRAGON?!

MC: Hm, well, I'm quite positive he's not sick. However...

MC: He has grown a lot.

Silver: Grown...

Sebek: A lot...?

MC: *points their finger upwards*

Silver and Sebek: *looks up*

Sebek: Wha-

The baby dragon: *his head sticking out of the roof of Ramshackle*

The baby dragon: Krrr...

MC: Looks like he had a sudden growth spurt.

Grim: *flies towards them* Hench-human! What are you doing?!

Grim: Our dorm will be destroyed if you don't get help sooner!

Silver: W-We will bring the headmage here!

Sebek: Yes! Just wait here, human!

Crowley: *used magic to get the baby dragon out without destroying the Ramshackle dorm*

MC: It must've felt cramped in there.

The baby dragon: Krrr...

MC: Let's see... You didn't get yourself scratched, did you?

The baby dragon: Krrr!

MC: Good. *pets his head*

Crowley: ...

Crowley: Where is he going to live now?

MC: Hmm... We could try asking the Diasomnia students-

The baby dragon: KRRRRRRRRRR!!!! *his pupils turning into slits*

MC: You don't want there?

The baby dragon: Krrr...

MC: Alright, alright. I won't force you to live elsewhere.

Grim: He can no longer stay here. That's for sure.

MC: ...

MC: Not if we build him a tent.

Crowley: That is a wonderful idea, Prefect! I'll provide all the assistance you need!

Ortho: Prefect, we're here!

Idia: Hi.

MC: Oh, I wasn't expecting you to come, Idia.

Idia: Yeah, it's my day off.

Ortho: So what do you want us to do? *giggles*

MC: I want to build a tent for the baby.

MC: I've got all the materials needed, but I want it to be sturdy and something that will suit his fashion taste.

Idia: That's one spoiled baby. But yeah, I get it.

The baby dragon: Krrr.

MC: Sorry, but I can't.

Idia: What did he say?

MC: Oh. He wants to be carried.

Ortho and Idia: ...

[eerivee]

My silver dragon oc Eleisarion (or Isa for short!) They're somewhat of a mentor figure for Aella when it comes to any draconic stuff but they're also kind of one of the biggest reasons why she has to deal with any of that draconic stuff to begin with. Not that they really had anything to do with it, sometimes people just meddle with magic they don't fully understand and OOPS would you look at the consequences of everyone's actions

[fearmeeeee]

Dragon slayer