AVA'YORN MUNTHREKI

[landilizandra]

"Immortals?" She clicked her teeth in amusement. "And why should a dragon care what some lesser beings playing at being gods care about? They stole greatness. Dragons were born into it." She flicked her tail dismissively. The politics of this world was all wrong, if dragons had forgotten themselves the true gods of reality. Perhaps something to discuss and resolve.

"Your form displeases me," she continues, "because it is unbecoming of a dragon to great an elder in the guise of some greasy primate, when he should be standing as proudly as possible." She snorts, some green flames coming forth from her nostrils. It burns despite being underwater. "I'm here to talk to dragons, not some human, immortal or otherwise."

[dahaidaode]

He stares. He can sense that she's powerful enough to simply brush aside, dismiss the great Immortals out of hand, but it's still a shock to hear it. It's a good thing she started by coming to him with these sentiments. He can't imagine how one like Shen Gongbao, his master who had trained all his life in an endeavor to become one of the Twelve Golden Immortals, would react to these sentiments; he might overstep where Ao Bing had the sense to reel himself in and get himself eaten! Any other being would indeed have been roundly told off for their audacity, but all he can do is gaze in awe--especially at the fire that lights underwater, a skill that not even he has been able to master thus far.

"I completely understand. I will change into my dragon form immediately. I....sincerely hope that form will not also be disappointing to you."

Part of him is just being modest, but the other part of him does worry as he shifts into his dragon form. The dragons in his father's court have always complimented him on his shining scales, luxuriant mane, nimble claws, auspicious coloration, elegant movements and delicately patterned horns. But he's also always been self-conscious of the ways in which he doesn't perfectly fit the beauty standards of lóng: the long, narrow muzzle with a long, flat nose, and a body he thought was too skinny, even for his youth. He'd always been told that his body would grow thicker as he aged and that his face shape only added to his elegance, but how much of that was just court flattery? In his youthful self-consciousness he doesn't have the foresight to realize that Landilizandra might not abide by these standards herself. He does his best to show his true self without fear.

"Is this more pleasing to you now?"

[landilizandra]

"Much more pleasing," she says. "I came here to talk with a dragon prince, not some Immortal's pet. Never forget that while they climbed to greatness, dragons are born into it innately. We are the true beings of power and reality, not them." She clicked her teeth again. "Perhaps someone should remind them of this."

"Now then," she looked down at him, "you have not yet told me your name. I suspect that squid told you mine, but I would like to know yours, princeling."

Her tendrils flow in the current, twitching every so often as they sense a change is chemicals or energies. The five pearls above her head spin gently.

[landilizandra]

Landilizandra folded her wings across her back, looking down at the younger dragon. She had assumed the form of a Ryuung, the species of his ancestors, and based on the color of his scales she suspected that she was one of those ancestors. Prior to her clutch, Ryuung never had pale scales.

She wanted to meet all the draconic rulers of this world, but heard that the ones in this region were currently tasked with guarding a prison. She'd have to speak with their king eventually, but for now a prince had a bit more freedom.

Her tongue slid out, tasting the currents. There was a strange power about him, unusual for a dragon so young. She tasted again, trying to place it. Almost as though he had two pearls within him. Perhaps he did. She hear heard of the Chaos Pearl, a powerful and hungry gem, and it certainly sounded like a piece of wayward Nacreitr to her.

Her tendrils flowed in the current, and she cocked her head at his strange greeting.

"I expected to be greeted by a Dragon Prince," she said. "Your horns suggest draconic ancestry but the rest of you...why do you wear such a ridiculous guise? There are no men here to soothe the fears of."

[dahaidaode]

"Ridiculous....?"

He's wounded. He takes this form specifically so that others will find him fair, especially since he thinks there are many ways in which his basic form is not. And does not everyone who sees him in this form find him fair? Why not her? He'll know why she's so brusque with him quite soon, but for now, he's a confused child--well, more like adolescent--who doesn't understand why he's been insulted.

"I don't take this form to soothe the fears of men. I take this form because it is what's expected of me. It is better to be seen as human, no? For that is the form that the Immortals take."

He would have thought someone as powerful as Landilizandra would have known that; he speaks with the innocence of someone who simply doesn't know better. But he realizes as soon as the words leave his mouth that perhaps because she's far greater than the Immortals, she might have a different view. He has no idea of the world she hails from and nor can he guess: a world where dragons are the dominant species and for a dragon to prefer a human form is indeed ludicrous when dragons' default state is as humanoids' superiors. But he can guess, however, that his words would displease her further.

"M-my apologies. I was out of line," he says, lowering his head slightly. "If you have anything further to say about why my form displeases you, I am willing to hear it."

[landilizandra]

"Immortals?" She clicked her teeth in amusement. "And why should a dragon care what some lesser beings playing at being gods care about? They stole greatness. Dragons were born into it." She flicked her tail dismissively. The politics of this world was all wrong, if dragons had forgotten themselves the true gods of reality. Perhaps something to discuss and resolve.

"Your form displeases me," she continues, "because it is unbecoming of a dragon to great an elder in the guise of some greasy primate, when he should be standing as proudly as possible." She snorts, some green flames coming forth from her nostrils. It burns despite being underwater. "I'm here to talk to dragons, not some human, immortal or otherwise."

[dahaidaode]

@landilizandra

The ocean's depths are so much like a vast expanse of snow. Nothing but water in one of its forms for miles and miles, so all-encompassingly far-reaching that the common eyes might mistake it for an endless waste--but Ao Bing, who had seen both in his two short years of life, knew they were anything but. There is beauty in the emptiness, in the way the benthic water chills his scales, just like there is in the feel of snow crunching beneath his feet or the satisfaction of shaking snow out of his mane. There is beauty now in the vast silence of the deep as he kicks and punts the jianzi, specially weighted to play in water, up and down with his four limbs, his head and his tail, overlooking an underwater cliff that drops down into even more beautiful nothingness. His father had always resented the dark prison that he and the dragons had been consigned to, always taught Ao Bing to resent it. But perhaps it's because of the constant anger and resentment that he finds something to appreciate about his surroundings, just so that he doesn't go mad with thinking that the bottom of the sea doesn't have its own kind of freedom.

That is, when the emptiness doesn't make him feel so terribly lonely.

He was enjoying himself out there. Kicking the jianzi up and down with the bioluminescent light of his fish attendants, he felt lucky to be the only dragon who could move about freely and explore where he pleased, instead of having to guard the Suppression Seal. But then--somewhere in the middle of his kicks, he'd thought of his father whose body wrapped around the seal, and thought, If only he could play with me. If only he had someone to play with besides that, but all those who would play jianzi with him find his kicks to be too strong. Little does he know there is another on the shore who longs for a partner to play with because his own kicks would leave people smashed into outlines in the walls of his town's buildings. But this is not the day those two are fated to meet.

There's another visitor for him today, heralded first by a sense of weight, a sense of inevitability that falls around his shoulders. He lets the jianzi float, sensing the presence of another....dragon? What's another dragon doing here? And then, one of the palace servants swims up to him--a young squid, one of the many animal attendants that dragons traditionally had. As the jianzi drifts downward toward his outstretched claws, he hears the servant's voice--

"Young master, you have a very important visitor here to see you."

He lets the jianzi fall into his forepaw. "Who could that be? No one visits us down here."

"She's a dragon, too, but not like any which I've ever seen," says the squid. "Her name...is Landilizandra."

Landilizandra. One of his power, the power of the Spirit Pearl, can feel her importance just by hearing her name. Suddenly he knows the presence he sensed earlier, and now that he can tap into it he feels it further--almighty and overwhelming and as vast as the sea that contains him. Is she a dragon that has ascended to becoming an Immortal, perhaps? But no. She is far greater than any Immortal. Which means--

He shifts into his human form as he walks toward the presence. He can't let her see him as he really is--a beast whose image that, while still on the whole fair, he thought to be riddled with flaws.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" he asks, as he puts his hands in the classic fist-and-palm salute and bows.

[landilizandra]

Landilizandra folded her wings across her back, looking down at the younger dragon. She had assumed the form of a Ryuung, the species of his ancestors, and based on the color of his scales she suspected that she was one of those ancestors. Prior to her clutch, Ryuung never had pale scales.

She wanted to meet all the draconic rulers of this world, but heard that the ones in this region were currently tasked with guarding a prison. She'd have to speak with their king eventually, but for now a prince had a bit more freedom.

Her tongue slid out, tasting the currents. There was a strange power about him, unusual for a dragon so young. She tasted again, trying to place it. Almost as though he had two pearls within him. Perhaps he did. She hear heard of the Chaos Pearl, a powerful and hungry gem, and it certainly sounded like a piece of wayward Nacreitr to her.

Her tendrils flowed in the current, and she cocked her head at his strange greeting.

"I expected to be greeted by a Dragon Prince," she said. "Your horns suggest draconic ancestry but the rest of you...why do you wear such a ridiculous guise? There are no men here to soothe the fears of."

[theload]

dragons!!!!! fmdskfd anyway! Happy STS!!!!!

Are there any religions in the Structured world of dragons in your setting? If no, are there any other kinds of organized belief systems?

To start, I want to make it clear that Structured dragons aren't more civilized or more intelligent than wild dragons, their societies are just more organized and "conventional" to human perspectives. To give examples: the dragons in The Legend of Spyro or Wings of Fire would be Structured, the dragons in DnD or Dragonology would be Wild.

That being said, religion for dragons is complicated, whether Wild or Structured. In my setting every dragon is a god, though gods aren't necessarily always as powerful as The Most Powerful Gods in fiction and mythology. A god is a being or entity with an inherent connection and control over some aspect of reality, which every dragon is. The most powerful dragons control the weather of the entire world, but even the weakest dragons can still generate and shape energies beyond those of mortals.

Dragons do have religion, but their relationship with their own gods is more akin to kings or revered elders than a mortal and its creator. Most dragon believes, not entirely incorrectly, that if they live long enough and great enough, that they will become a peer of the individuals they currently know as a god.

With every dragon being a god in their own right, Dragon God is itself a specific category, defining dragons whom other dragons view as beings of reverence and worship. Dragon Gods must meet one of the three qualifiers:

Be the creator of a species or clade of dragons.

Be a member of a pantheon containing the creator, usually being the direct kin of the creator.

Being a personification of a key aspect of Draconity.

These categories can and often do overlap.

When it comes to religion itself, dragons tend to honor the following categories the most:

Ancestors.

Ouroborus, the First Dragon; or Dragonhood/Draconity itself as a concept.

Species and Clades with set and clear creators will honor these creators.

The Embodiments. These are probably the closest to being True Gods for dragon religions, as The Embodiments are distant and rarely interact with others, but they are the ultimate movers and shakers of reality. You don't really pray to them though, they'll almost certainly not answer.

[theload]

Happy storyteller saturday! Are there a lot of different subspecies or classifications of dragons in your world? Do dragons mostly get along with each other or are they territorial?

Thank you for my first ask!

To answer your question, yes there are a lot of different kinds of dragons in my setting. Dragons aren't a specific clade of life, rather they're a spiritual classification. So there are dragons which are lizards, others which are archosaurs, others which are fish, and others which aren't animals at all, but all of them have the same magic/spiritual energy, which makes all of them dragons.

To explain a bit more, there was a First Dragon, Ouroborus, who when Xe died Xir body was split into the magical energy of Eitr. Most life has Eitr within their souls, and this Eitr connects back to the dead/sleeping consciousness of Ouroborus through something called The Touch. If the Eitr is activated, the individual is now known as an Awakened, and this term is more or less synonymous with Dragon.

Some dragons can get along with each other, but for the most part dragons are solitary. They tend to be more tolerant of Mates and direct relatives, and they're capable of having friendships, but the main way of life for dragons is one dragon (or a mated pair) per territory.

Dragon society is actually broken down into two categories: Structured and Wild. Structured dragons live in settlements with infrastructure and politics, Wild dragons live in societies seemingly devoid of such things (though their politics can often be just as complex).

[theload]

Didn't make a card but I'm on Artfight this year.

[landilizandra]

themusiichouse​:

He flinches as her tail sweeps toward him, in spite of her comforting words; even after living with Franzi he still hasn’t gotten used to people reaching toward him for hugs instead of slaps. The vibration of her thrumming sound quiets his nerves somewhat; it reminds him of the purring of his mother’s cats. He wants to lean against her side to feel the vibration, just as he rests his head on the cats to hear how deep their purr motors go, but he doesn’t know if it will offend her…

He’s still a live wire, waiting for any indication that this might be some sort of a trick.  He doesn’t dare ask if she forgives him for his transgressions, in case the answer is no–he knows it’s a realistic possibility and some part of him feels it’s what he deserves, but he still dreads to hear it. However, after a short while, at least his tears subside. 

      “If that’s what you’re here for, then…” He swallows. “I would like to have tea. I’ll have Mom bring some out here.”

Just a few minutes later, Franzi brings out the refreshments. She’s the mom that thinks of everything: Five kinds of expensive Chinese tea–cinnamon oolong, jin jun mei, aged white peony, even one with a hearty peach fragrance–and a high-end chamomile, because she can so tell he’s nervous. Seal jerky that Wilhelm had (albeit with some reluctance) prepared with his grandmother. There’s even a little picnic blanket for Wilhelm to sit on–Landilizandra too, if she could shrink to fit. 

      “You two enjoy yourselves!” she says, with a pure, motherly smile.

Wilhelm looks back up at Landilizandra, and then gets on the blanket. He avoids the seal jerky, but pours himself a cup of the chamomile tea and drinks it.

      “So…what do you want to know?”

She didn’t shrink herself down, but she did rest her forepaws on the edge of the blanket. She poured herself a bowl of tea, and happily helped herself to the seal jerky, savoring the rich, fatty meat.

“We might as well start from the beginning,” she said. “Tell me what inspired you to write about the Drekings? Why this story in particular?”

[landilizandra]

themusiichouse​:

She wants the chance to meet him and discuss his new opera. Of course that’s what she says. Part of Wil is inclined to believe her, but that part is quickly drowned out by the part of him that’s still the scared little boy cowering under his parents’ belt, still the terrified child for whom even the slightest misstep could turn a pleasant conversation into a painful beating, or an unhinged rant about how Draconids were a filthy, parasite-ridden slave people and how the rebels in China wanted to take over Europe. It always starts innocently enough, but with someone of ill intent, it’s only ever a matter of time before things go from great to bad to worse…If she’s like that too, what reason does he have to trust her?

      “Is that really it?” he whimpers. “What are you really here for? I know I haven’t been the best person–” 

He thinks about everything he has to apologize for, and immediately realizes: Is she omniscient? If so, did she know about his conversation with his mom? Oh, fuck, he totally called her names and everything–

      “I’m sorry I was transphobic. I’m sorry I didn’t want to see you,” he says. “I’m sorry I called you a weirdo…”

The rest of his apologies remain stuck in his throat, though each one strains ferociously to surface. His tears flow more freely as the emotions overwhelm him, rendering him even more unable to speak. I’m sorry I hated being a Draconid. I’m sorry I kept denying I was Chinese. I’m sorry I spent hours in front of the mirror staring at my eyes and wishing that my pupils weren’t pointed. I’m sorry I filed down my nails until they bled because I was so afraid of them turning into claws. I’m sorry for swearing at my grandma when she tried to teach me my ways. I’m sorry for telling my new mom she wasn’t really a dragon, just LARPing as one. I’m sorry for thinking Chinese opera sounds like screaming along to cymbal crashes. I’m sorry for acting like Wagner would…

Wagner. The thought of that life so unfortunately attached to his sends the tears pouring out even more, for the old man’s sins against dragonkind had been even worse than any he had committed in this life. Not yet the activist he would grow to be, and not yet a denier of the notion that he is that horrid man, he hardly thought about the life before. But standing before such power, he feels for the first time the weight of Wagner’s legacy digging deep into him the way that he’s sure Landilizandra’s teeth will dig into his throat–and the floodgates of guilt open with his tears.

I’m sorry for demanding lore from the Draconids. I’m sorry for that horrible essay I wrote saying that the Draconids stole Norse mythology. I’m sorry for claiming descent from a Dragonbonded Dreking chief without any real proof. I’m sorry for all the mistakes in this current opera that I wrote while in Art’s court and that my mom made me fix. I’ve done so much in both my lives, I don’t know how you could forgive me–I don’t even know if I deserve to ask that when you kill me, you make it quick…

But even as all these apologies spring to mind, he feels a churning frenzy at the mere thought of going back on his deeply held beliefs. He knows that what Wagner did was wrong, but how is he even to apologize for all the sins of his current childhood when he still wants to commit them? Because he does hate being a Draconid. Because he doesn’t want to be Chinese. Because he can’t resist standing in front of the mirror and trying to assure himself that his eyes are a normal-colored green with a normal pattern in their irises, and that his pupils are perfectly round. Because the thought of not filing down his nails and watching them grow into claws terrifies him. Because unlike his mother, he doesn’t know if he can trust a bunch of Chinese rebels who (he thinks) want to destroy Europe on whether the Chinese people are dragons. Because he does think that Chinese opera sounds like screaming along to cymbal crashes. And because of course he thinks there are only two genders, and he is definitely his gender assigned at birth and not the other–totally and 100% a boy, without an ounce of femininity in him, nope, nothing to see here…Like two dissonant pieces of magical music played at the same time competing for dominance, the perceived need to repent to save his life and the force of his true feelings to the contrary clash inside him. Not once in all the noise does it occur to him that the dragon goddess before him is actually, legitimately interested in getting to know him and the opera he is about to stage. Instead, in the midst of it all, a new melody, a new strain of thought emerges: Is there a way he can avoid his fate?

      “Landi…Landilizandra…” he chokes out. “I know I’ve been trouble. Is there anything–Can I–”

Is there anything I can do to save myself? he wants to ask, but he’s too overwhelmed to speak. 

He doesn’t even realize that due to the innate ability of a Draconid to connect with the dragons around them, he sensed her name. 

The wave of mental anguish from the boy washed over her like a wave, his unspoken apologies ringing so loudly in his mind that she had to tamp them down to allow herself to speak. She fought the urge to snort out a bit of smoke at the abuse she sensed he suffered at the hands of his old caretakers, sensing the boy would assume it was directed at him.

The conflict and anguish he felt regarding his identity, both in this life and the last, would be something she should work on. She had raised too many eggs and hatchlings, and seeing another one in pain ignited a flame in her chest.

“I was not lying when I said I wished to discuss your opera,” she said, her voice gentle as she smiled with as little teeth as she could manage. “I’ve never been one to beat around the bush if I don’t have to. Why don’t we sit for some tea, or coffee if you prefer, and start things slowly.” Instinctively she curled her tail around him and thrummed, as she would with any distressed juvenile.

[themusiichouse]

@landilizandra​ 

Those eyes.

How awful it is to see yourself in the mirror and to see only the uncanny valley staring back–with every inch of him seeming normal and human and white–except those eyes. Standing back from the mirror, nothing seems “wrong” with them, but leaning in as close as the young Wilhelm is, he can see that dreaded touch of draconity that his former abusive mother was so quick to point out: the fact that his pupils are not perfectly round, but rather slightly pointed at the tips to create a curious oval-like shape, that the texture of his eyes instead of amorphous like a human’s was interlocking patterns like scales. Oh, look at those raner’s eyes, his white siblings would jeer, and their mother would join in. You think you’re some sort of hot shot because of your past life, huh? Newsflash, kid: Nobody cares who you were before, because they’ll never want to hear the music of a Raner. A filthy, common Raner.

Such terrible things to be thinking, so close to the premiere of his newest opera. Well, not one entirely new, as his past life had composed it in the afterlife long before he’d fallen out of favor with Art’s court. To not even have reached puberty, and to already have full-length works under one’s belt…should that not be a joyous thing? But there’s the thing: It was, technically, his past life’s work. If he composed anything other than the four operas his past self had written in Art’s court, would anyone even be interested? Would they see the music of a genius like his predecessor, or would they only see the musically incoherent ramblings of a raner–a derogatory term for Draconids? He’s certain at this point he has only a sliver of Draconid blood despite the fact he’s been told he’s a quarter; those people mixed so much that there was hardly a pure one left, so he wouldn’t be surprised if most of his quarter Draconid heritage were actually white. Yet, he thinks, it only makes his lot in life even crueler that he should be denied self-pride and the respect of his fellow man (certainly not fellow humans, though, by the standards of his abusers) by that sliver of draconic blood that others claim he possesses. (Well, he’s also Chinese, but most times–like now–he’s quite comfortable in denying to himself that that part of him even exists.) Crueler still, he thinks, to have such greatness within him–yet for others never to see it because of such a minute thing as the shape and texture of those eyes…

He’s on the verge of tears when his mother knocks at the door.

      “Wil? My son? There’s someone who wants to see you,” she says.

      “Tell him or her I want to be left the FUCK alone,” he grumbles.

      “Gender-neutral pronouns, dear,” Franzi reminds him gently, and he scoffs and rolls his eyes. 

      “For the hundredth time, Mom. Gender neutral for what? Aren’t there only he’s and she’s in the world? Shouldn’t there be?” he snaps.

      “You’d best not go repeating those opinions in front of your new guest,” she says. “She’s very important.”

      “Who is she? The ruler of Germany herself? Depending on who it is, she might actually agree with me–”

      “Someone far more important than that. She’s, shall we say…” Franzi thinks about how to break the news to him. “Well, there’s no way I can say it that’ll make it easier on you. She’s an interdimensional dragon dignitary from a world called Urobia. She’s the ruler of all dragonkind in every universe, in fact. And she is very interested in you and your work.”

Suddenly his breath catches in his throat. If it had been any other type of all-powerful multiversal god who had caught wind of him, he would have gone on a power trip so grandiose it would make Richard Wagner look like Djedi Abai. But hearing that she’s a dragon ruler…People always say that he’s a dragon, right? His stepmother had said so, and now his new mom said so–but in a much more affirming and uplifting way. And he had never believed he was for a second, but what if it was true? Would that put him under her jurisdiction? What if this infinite ruler of dragons isn’t here because she likes his work, but is actually here to punish him for spending his entire short life denying the truth about his heritage? Again, it all turned on those eyes: where he’d felt fear and despair, he should have felt pride in them, but it’s too late to take it back now. The cruelest fear of all digs into him, based on the same thing that first caused him pain: but for all of his anguish about those eyes, he would have lived to be the great artist that he had always felt destined to be…

      “Tell her she can’t come,” he says, throat tight and tears springing to his eyes in his last desperate hope to save himself from the doom he feels is sure to follow.

      “She’s the ruler of dragons across all time and space. I don’t actually know what her rules are, but I feel like it would be wrong to say no.”

      “Who would you rather listen to? Some weirdo claiming to be the queen of dragons, or your son?” Wil burst out. “Don’t let her in!”

      “I don’t understand,” Franzi says softly. “She is one of the multiverse’s foremost divine beings. More powerful than even the Primordials of our world. Isn’t this the sort of recognition you’ve always craved?”

      “I don’t care if she rules the multiverse! She could be the only god in the multiverse and I wouldn’t care! I’m not fucking seeing her!”

And with that, he sprints straight out of his room and hurries out the back door. He would have hurled himself into the woods headlong in his desperate sprint to escape what he can only assume to be his fate, if not for the sight of said fate standing right in front of him.

Holy shit.

The dragon before him stands tall and unfathomably strong, scales a ghostly white, flanked on each side by wings many times the length of her body. Not a particularly unusual appearance for a dragon (save for those abnormally large wings), but a magical being such as he can sense the unmistakable–running into her so suddenly and feeling the immense power wash over him is like getting hit in the face with a door. And the fact she’s here, and not at the front door like he was expecting–it’s as though she knew beforehand he’d bolt out in an impromptu escape, and came here specifically to intercept him. She doesn’t radiate a threatening aura, but as any abuse survivor knows, aren’t the biggest threats the people who try to hide that they’re threats? His terror increases tenfold.

      “W-what do you want with me?” 

[landilizandra]

In universes ruled by dragons, Landilizandra like to gain the permission of those dragons before she involved herself with the world. She didn't have to, no Draconic Law as greater than her own, but she liked to respect the wishes of those whose homes she was entering. It was the polite thing to do, if entirely unnecessary.

In these Three Worlds, the Draconic Rulers were unfortunately indisposed, and the wishes of the usurping Divine weren't worth entertaining. But Uroniteo, one of the last surviving children of the Eternas, was happy to fill in for his parents and offer her free reign over the realms, a blessing she intended to take full advantage of.

She enjoyed her time with the Wild Dragons the most, as she often did. But she found Half-Tamed enlightening to the interspecial politics of the world. There were Dragonfolk here as well, creations of Uroniteo meant to serve as a bridge between Humans and their Feral Kin. She had spent time with them as well, being welcomed by most for her status and power.

During a trip into one of the cities, she discovered a young composer was crafting an opera about the tribe of dragon riding Vikings she had read about during her research. Curious, she decided to pay the composer a visit.

She heard the arguing as she waited outside, thrumming with mild amusement at the young man's impudence. When it became clear that he would try to run, she used magic to relocate herself to the other side of the house, meeting him at the back.

Her forked tongue slid out of her jaws, tasting the air and the fear radiating off the young one. She watched him, cocking her head to the side as her pupil's widened slightly, the left eye before the right, which seemed slower to adjust. A rumble echoed in her chest at his question.

"I heard about your new opera," she said. "I wanted the chance to meet you myself and discuss it."

[draconesmundi]

Dracones Mundi style commission

This commission was @theload's dragon @landilizandra in the style of Dracones Mundi; very crocodile-like! She would be a species of firedrake, closely related to the Viridian Firedrake, which shares the upright nose horn and the two head horns - or perhaps the glitterdrake, which I just remembered while I typed up this blurb also has similar horn configuration... Anyway! Dracones Mundified Landi!

I am doing £5 commissions/pay-what-you-want commissions n my KoFi, offer ends on December 28th (tomorrow!) https://ko-fi.com/northwyrm/commissions

[draconesmundi]

Smaugust Landilizandra

For the month of Smaugust (dragon-themed August) I will be drawing dragons based on suggestions sent with every £3 donation to my KoFi (link here). This is pretty much "get any dragon you want for £3 until the end of August".

This is Landilizandra, an OC belonging to @theload or @landilizandra

She is a white dragon with pink wings (unusual wing anatomy with 6 wing fingers - not drawn clearly here as the wing's folded in on itself) based on the Celestial dragon breed from Naomi Novik's Temeraire books - the eponymous Temeraire is one of these dragons, but black and blue, but an albino Celestial named Tien Lien does show up at some point - Landi is very different from Tien Lien but the elegant face with whiskers and frills and the white/pink colour scheme took inspiration from those books.

[dwollsadventures]

“Dyschromia”

No lake/sea serpents are more varied and colorful than the Icelandic ones. From Meeting with Monsters: “Hvitá river in Árnessýsla district (enormous and gaudy), lake Hvatlan on Botnsheiði moor (striped with a cat-like head), Skaftá river in the district of Vestur-Skaftafellssýsla (large and multi-colored)”.

[dwollsadventures]

“Under”

Even more so than sauropods, dragons are ecosystems unto themselves. Their carnivorous habits leave them crawling with particles of blood, flesh, and the microorganisms that will feed on them. Which, in turn, provides food for countless insects. Others choose to do what few legendary heroes can boast and slowly eat and kill the dragons.

Pictured here parasitizing a blue dragon: a giant tick, a mosquazo (relative of the mosquito adapted to finding tiny chinks in dragon scales, along with minor elemental resistance), dragon barnacles (parasitic snails), and a small lightning elemental prolonging its energy body by stealing the elemental power from the unsuspecting tyrant.

Kobolds are more than just household guards.

[landilizandra]

Ask Landilizandra

Ask Landilizandra

Form to ask Landilizandra questions, which she will then answer. Questions can be about her or my lore.

[landilizandra]

kinshipism​:

      “He will!” Alwin nods, as all of them head inside. “He lives with us, for the time being. I’m positive he’ll love to meet you.”

The villa is huge enough to dwarf the Wyverians when they took their elvish forms, but just perfect for a party of dragons to pass through. One by one, servants in elf form line up against the walls and bow as Landilizandra passes by. No wooden walls are these, that would bend easily to dragon’s fire–instead the home is made of stone and marble, carved ornately with the most precise of clawtips.

When they reach the dining room, the first course has already been laid out. Plump Altaroth stomachs are arranged in circles on every plate, around a delectable dipping sauce with a cilantro garnish in the middle. Shaulk already sits at the table, alongside Alwin’s younger sister. Like the servants in the room, both bow their heads.

Alwin gestures with one of his forelimbs to the head of the oval table; they’ve given Landilizandra the softest cushion to rest on. Once all are seated, the meal begins in earnest.

Landilizandra lowered herself down onto the cushion and flicked her tongue out, tasting the air and enjoying the scent of the food.

"Well, it smells wonderful," she said, plucking one of the stomachs between two careful talons and tossed it into her mouth, giving everyone else leave to start eating as well.

"Shaulk, I hear you're close friends with Alwin," she said, sparking up a conversation with the young Legiana. "How did you two meet, if I may ask?" She ate another stomach, this time trying it with some of the dipping sauce. "And if I may be nosy, how long ago did your ancestors come to Urobia?"

[landilizandra]

kinshipism​:

      “Shaulk is a Legiana from the Lavina Glacial Peaks,” Alwin says. “I met him on my travels there when I went with my parents to meet our relatives in Kuan Village. His parents were slain in a battle with the Church of Kings, and he took quite a liking to me. He’s lived in Rutoh with us ever since, and if he enjoys the responsibilities of a royal lifestyle, he will be adopted.” He smiles. “I know he misses Loloska terribly sometimes. But I would love nothing more than to be his brother.”

Ravara gives her son a nuzzle with the tip of her snout.

      “He’ll make a fine prince, I’m sure of it,” she says, before turning back to Landilizandra. “Now then. Shall we eat?”

The mention of the Church of Kings brought out a low growl from deep within her chest. An awful faith for awful people and an awful god. She blew out a bit of dismissive smoke. "Horrible people, the Kings," she said. "The Sect of Exalted Geoffrey give me trouble damn near every season. Something about eggs this and kinship that."

"Shaulk, on the other claw, sounds lovely, and I look forward to meeting him," she said. "Though I wouldn't blame him if he decides to pass on the duties of a royal. I would have passed on them myself if I had been given the option, but Ouroborus chose me long before I hatched."

"Yes, I could definitely eat," she said to Ravara. "Will Shaulk be at dinner with us?"

[landilizandra]

kinshipism​:

Alwin straightens as Landilizandra speaks approvingly of his tail spines. Yes, he likes them very much as well–a sign that he’s his mother’s child as well as his father’s. Perhaps looking at her on a surface level, she isn’t the fairest. But in a way, no dragon is truly ugly, and having heritage from two such distinct species should always be a point of pride.

Again, his mother Ravara speaks first.

      “For dinner, we’ve prepared a five-course meal. We’ve gathered a menu from various parts of Urobia,” she says. “The hors d’oeuvre will be Altaroth stomach from Terga, stuffed with our local Carpenter Bugs and Divine Rhinos. Then, for the appetizer, we will be serving braised Mosswine feet, in the style of the Ryuung. Our two entrees will be Crimson Qurupeco, once again cooked in the Ryuung style, and Aptonoth, cooked in the kalua style of Hakolo Island. Both are served with Pelagicite and Dragonite Ore, as well as local blue mushrooms. And finally, for dessert, Slagtoth belly served in an apple stew, alongside Brute Bones to chew on.”

The dinner is one that would send any other child bouncing on the balls of his feet with excitement. Another child might have gone on about how delicious it was to suck the marrow out of the Brute Bones, or how the Slagtoth belly was so juicy and fatty that it would melt in one’s mouth. But Alwin is precocious beyond his years, and so maintains an impressive sense of composure.

      “I’d be delighted to show you the skills I’ve been working on–and to learn from you as well,” he says. “I train with my friend Shaulk every day. You’ll get to meet him too.”

She thrummed a bit louder as the courses were listed. She was wild in temperament and habits, and rarely cooked for herself, but that didn’t mean she didn’t enjoy the culinary activity of mortals. And River’s people were just as much elves as they were dragons. That came with some benefits.

“It sounds wonderful,” she said. “Especially the Qurupeco. Dragonmeat is good for the health, of other dragons at least.” She added this last bit with a wink before walking past them and towards their home.

“I would love to meet Shaulk,” she said. “Is he of your kind, or a different sort of creature? Either way, it is good for the youth to have companions and excitement.”