Continuing my look back at some of my work from 2025, I had entirely forgotten that I never shared my 5th Edition conversion of the Nightlords from Elden Ring: Nightreign. Eight massive bosses, all of them multi-phase with mythic traits and legendary actions. Plus Heolstor, a three-phase boss with a built-in transformation, for a solid "ten" monsters total.
These all sit somewhere between CR 9-15, making them best for mid-level campaigns. But at some point I plan to go back and adapt their "Everdark" versions for some really high level challenges. When that'll actually happen depends on free time, and whether there's even any interest in CR 20+ versions.
Inside an Otoge: Mister Dragon, Let Me Love You - Chapter 4
Pairing: Dragon!Sylus x Non-MC!Reader
CHAPTER 3 | Series Masterlist
<<read the synopsis and trigger warnings first>>
A/N: Another update, because apparently, my brain will do anything except study anatomy.
The science of world-hopping is far from your expertise, but even with your high school-level grasp on physics, you understood the sheer miracle of getting transported into a dimension where the environment is not hostile and shares similarities with Earth’s atmosphere. Perhaps even more impressive is the fact that there is no verbal language barrier between you and Sylus.
That’s why you are currently sitting on a gold and velvet chair while he lies on his side, cheek on his knuckles, and listens to you read your worn-out copy of The Little Prince,[1] the only reading material in your bag that isn’t related to your job.
When he first saw the cover, he was unimpressed, calling the titular prince “ugly.” You didn’t blame him. When you first laid eyes on it, you also didn’t like the artstyle, but you were young and prioritized realism and beauty. When you grew older, you appreciated the unique and cute character designs.
“She cast her fragrance and her radiance over me. I ought never to have run away from her . . . I ought to have guessed all the affection that lay behind her poor little strategems. Flowers are so inconsistent! But I was too young to know how to love her . . .”
You are about to start another chapter when you catch Sylus with his eyes closed. Chuckling, you put a detached can tab between the pages. Maybe this novella is too boring for the great fiend. You move to stand, but he pinches the material of your shirt. “What’re you doing? Why did you stop?”
“I was going to let you sleep.”
“‘m not sleeping, I’m just resting my eyes.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I want to know what happens between him and the flower.”
“... fine. But if I catch you dozing off I’ll stop and you’re going to have to learn to read these words yourself.” You love this book but it is too long to be recited in one go.
As you have predicted, by the time you reach the chapter about the Businessman, a lonely and pathetic man who counts the stars and only sees them as “little glittering objects” to be possessed, your throat has become too raw and you couldn’t continue.
Fortunately, your spoiled dragon is too busy sleeping to protest. You bookmark the page and quietly set it down. “Sweet dreams.”
You take this time to find the exit, not to escape, just to know. You eventually find it. The cave opens to a cliffside overlooking a city boasting a castle that resembles a gothic Neuschwanstein Castle.
You breathe in the fresh air. Crisp and cool and not a trace of smog.
Left alone in silence, all the questions that you forced into a vault have pushed their way to the front and center of your mind.
Why were you brought here? What forces were behind this? Was it on purpose or an accident? Was this world truly real? Did you get run over by a truck, end up in a coma and now stuck in this dream? Maybe the wormhole was a convoluted way for your brain to rationalize this.
You stretch your hand toward the sky as if trying to touch the clouds. If this was a dream, then…
You close your hand.
“It doesn’t matter.”
A strong gust of wind howls at you. You grab onto the wall of the cave, almost falling over to certain death.
You raise your brows. The skies remain clear, but for a moment, it seemed like a storm was brewing.
Shaking your head, you step back inside and explore more of the cave.
That evening, Sylus awoke to see you standing over him, watching him. He had to shut his eyes again. He would sooner stick needles into his tongue than admit that you scared him for a moment.
“Did I scare you?” You tease him.
“...”
It is unnerving to have someone read him so easily.
Loathing, revulsion, disgust—he is all too used to these looks from humans. As a child, he would have done anything to have something different, something softer. He even tried to cut off his horns and tail, but nothing changed. When he grew up, he discarded such desires. A monster could never receive anything but the darkest tar of human emotion.
“Hey, can I ask a question about dragons?”
“If you’re interested in making a deal with me, don’t bother. Your soul is too…” Your greed is nothing he has ever encountered before. It is there, he can sense its weight in you, but it resembles a tamed beast. No, rather than tamed, your greed is like a wild animal that had lost hope of ever escaping its chains. As if you’ve given up hope for anything more. “You have nothing to offer me.”
“Oh, no, I don’t want to make a deal.”
He snickers. Of course. “Fine. Tell me your question.”
“Do dragons have two penises?”
“...”
“...”
“...”
“...?”
“Repeat the question for me.”
“Do dragons have two—”
“—so I wasn’t hallucinating.” He rubs his temples. “You… I have no words.”
“Is that a no?”
“Do try not to sound so disappointed. Also, I advise that you not ask this type of question to anyone, regardless of species.”
“But I’m only interested in what you have to say.”
He glances at you. There is not a hint of shame or deceit on your face. Ever since you arrived here, you have never looked at him the way others have. You always meet his gaze head on, steady, unafraid but never arrogant or angry. You told him that he reminded you of the sunset. If that were so, then you are a clear sky.
He could never stand mornings. The light makes him weak and irritates his eyes. But if he were an ordinary man, a human, would the sun that used to burn him be kind and gentle like what he was feeling right now?
You did say that you belonged to him now, so it shouldn’t matter if he gets greedy.
“Sylus?”
He stops his hand mid-air before it could reach you. “Your voice is hoarse.”
“Gee, I wonder why.”
He gets up from the bed, stretching his wings. “Don’t pout. I’ll make it up to you.”
“Will you?”
He smiles. “A dragon never goes back on his word.”
He leads you to the cave’s entrance and gestures towards the black castle below. “At the foot of this mountain is Tarus City. It’s considered the lowliest of all the cities here. But its markets have a lot of interesting things. Perhaps you will even find an object that can meet your impossible standards.”
He offers you his hand and you hold it without hesitation. He stares at your fingers, small and fragile next to his claws. This is not the hand of a fighter. If he applies just a little bit more pressure, the bones would break like eggshells. He could have never imagined something so delicate would willingly approach him.
“I’m assuming that your kind cannot fly,” he says.
“You would be correct,” you reply, already knowing what he is planning as he bends over and scoops you into his arms.
“Better hold on tight then.”
His bat-like wings spread to their full length and push the two of you upward.
This scene feels exactly like a CG scene from an otome game, or even a shoujo manga, where the darling female lead wraps her arms around the male lead. But you keep your hands to yourself as Sylus soars across the moonlit night.
“You’re stiff. Got nothing smart to say?” He asks.
That steady gaze of yours remains on him. “I’m admiring the view.”
“I caught you doing the same thing while I slept. Will you get tired of it?”
“I don’t think that’s physically possible.”
“Normally, people would be admiring the scenery below. It’s not everyday a human can live like a bird.”
“I don’t need it.” This world is lovely, without a doubt, but whatever is below you is nothing compared to Sylus’s face which could be part of the Seven Wonders. Besides, you want to ingrain every one of his pores into your memory.
“We’re here.” He slows down and drops a few meters away from the city entrance.
You make no effort to hide your disappointment as he sets you on the ground.
“Did you enjoy being held by me that much?”
“Why ask when you already know the answer.” You then let out an exaggerated, playful sigh.
“Now, now. There are plenty of chances to hold each other in the future.”
“Sure, sure.” You shrug and then realize something. “Oh, wait—my clothes…”
“Don’t fret, you may end up getting some strange looks but ultimately, the citizens here have their own problems to worry about. They can’t afford to be nosy about a harmless thing like you.”
“Fair enough. Let’s go then.”
The city was designed after the word “gloom,” with a silent dread perpetually hanging over every person you pass. This place is like Gotham in medieval times.
“Your eyes are sparkling,” Sylus notes, amused at how your head swings back and forth with childlike vigor.
A normal NPC would be affected by this darkness, but not you. You find yourself wishing you had a working phone so you could take pictures. A true, obnoxious tourist.
“In my world, this type of trip wasn’t affordable to me. And even if I had the money, going on alone would’ve made me too stressed to enjoy myself.”
“Is that so?”
You rub your palms together as you admire the iron lamp post that lined the streets. “Yeah, and I would have never gotten an opportunity like this in the past.” You turn to him, beaming uncontrollably. “So thank you, Sylus.”
Sylus stops walking.
You stop too. “What is it?”
He touches his chest and opens his mouth, but no words escape. He narrows his eyes, but not at you.
“Sylus?”
He lets his arm drop to his side as he looks up at the sky. “It’s nothing.”
You silently watch him, your own face blank, then you grin. This time, your smile is subdued. “All right.”
He holds out his hand. You put yours on top and he places a pouch of coins on it.
“Feel free to look around. I have some business to attend to, it won’t be long and if you need me, just call my name. I’ll come to you, no matter what.”
“Okay.”
You watch him walk away, disappearing in the shadows. You let out a breath, the cold air fogging in front of you. “‘Nothing,’ huh.” You didn’t think it would happen so fast.
Whatever.
Deciding to do as you promised, you approach some of the stalls. You haven’t eaten anything since that pack of Pocky and since you would rather not touch the meat here, you opted for the pastries.
As you sit on a bench chewing your second pretzel, an elderly woman dressed in a black hooded robe wobbles towards you. She points an accusatory finger. “You… you are not of this world.”
Oh?
You continue to eat, ignoring her.
“You shouldn’t be here. You need to leave!” With a burst of energy, she rushes forward and clamps her hands over your shoulders, knocking the pretzel away from you.
You don’t fight back though. You keep your expression unreadable and let her ramble.
“It doesn’t want you here. You need to leave. You will doom us all…and you will die!”
“Everyone dies, though, granny. And you may end up going before me.”
She seems taken aback by your apathy. Her shock then morphs into rage. “I’m warning you! If you’re not careful, you will get killed!”
It is your turn to grab her—you hold her fingers tightly and lean forward. “Really? How does it happen? More importantly, who gets to kill me? Are their eyes as gorgeous as polished rubies? If not, then can you tell me how to get that person to kill me? I have no interest in getting murdered by anybody but him.” Your questions come after another in rapid succession.
“Answer me, granny, who kills me?”
The old woman’s legs shook and you let go. With a sigh, you retreat. “I didn’t mean to scare you, ma’am, but you should be careful when telling people about their destiny.”
“Granny!” Two little boys run towards the shaking old woman. “So you were here, mother has been looking everywhere for you.”
One of the boys bow to you. “We’re so sorry if she offended you in some way. She’s sick so please pardon her.”
You wave them off. “Apologies are not needed, but you should keep a close eye on her.”
“We will…” The boys move to help their granny walk.
“Wait.” You pick up the bag full of pastries and give it to the boy. It isn’t just the granny, all three of them are frail enough to be knocked down by a faint breeze.
“But…”
“Just take it.”
“T-thank you!”
Picking up your other purchases, you go to find a different place to wait for Sylus. You feel bad for picking on an old lady, but you wanted to see if she were an authentic fortune teller. To be honest, the information you’ve gathered can only result in an inconclusive answer because this whole “reality” could not be trusted. Still, it is better to lean into caution.
You hold your chin. That woman saying that you are “not of this world” is too specific, but this place co-exists with different species and acknowledges the existence of a metaphysical plane like the Abyss, so there is a chance that she saw your abnormal clothes and thought you were a non-human similar to Sylus. The statement doesn’t necessarily have to refer to a different reality.
It doesn’t want you here.
It.
“Killed, not die…” This is quite the pickle. “...killed…not die.”
Hm.
Hmmmmm…
You have decided.
“This is tomorrow’s problem.” You wish your future self good luck because you don't care anymore.
Before you can stand, a shady-looking man stumbled towards you, eyes glossed over and posture uneven. A drunk. “Haven’t seen you here before.”
You grab your things.
“Hey now, no need for that, I just want to… want to talk with you.”
He is a malnourished drunk so you could probably push him away, but it’s always better to avoid a confrontation.
“Hey… hey! Don’t ignore me!” He lunges forward, but is blocked by a solid wall forming between the two of you. No, not a wall.
Sylus stands in front of you. “Did you need something from my companion?”
“Huh? Who the hell are you? Don’t get in the way of our fun!” He throws a punch but your dragon dissolves his fist up to his elbow.
“Um, Sylus…” You tap your savior’s shoulder.
“Do me a favor and turn around and cover your ears, puppy. I don’t think I have the right mind to be clean about this.”
“Well, sure, but before that, I have a request. Please don’t kill him.”
He glances over to you. “You can’t be serious. If you could see and hear the… filth that he was planning to do to you…” His right eye glows dangerously. “I cannot possibly leave this garbage alone.”
“Leave? All I want is for you to keep him alive.”
Sylus pauses. “You mean—”
“—think of it as a personal request, but if you really want to kill him I won’t hold it against you.”
You are a person from the 21st century. It would be difficult to continue knowing someone died because they were related to you in some way. You are fine with them being barely alive though.
You then turn around and cover your ears. You have to hum and whisper-sing random songs to distract yourself. Even if you were happy to vote for torture, that doesn’t mean you could stomach the sound of a living creature screaming in agony.
“...making my way downtown walking fast and I’m homebound—ah.” Something warm and fluffy ends up on your shoulders.
“It’s done,” Sylus says, adjusting the cloak. “He’s still alive. The amputation was successful, all five of them.”
“Good to know—hey!”
He uses his body to block you from taking a glimpse of the carnage. The smell of rust and urine permeates the air.
“It’s an ugly sight.”
“...All right.”
“Are you not going to fight me on this?”
“It’s sweet that you remembered that I don’t like gore. I’ll trust your judgment.” Reading and watching records of criminal cases is a different experience from a real life slaughter.
“I thought I told you to call for me if you encountered trouble.” He secures the gold clasp of the cloak around your neck.
“Yes, but you arrived before I got the chance to scream. I appreciate the assist.”
He shakes his head lightly and pulls the hood over your head. “Your composure is astounding.”
“I hope your business meeting or errand went well.”
He hums in response before pinning a brooch on the left breast of your new coat.
You examine the shimmering accessory. “I’ve never seen red thorn apples before.” The primary florals are made with garnets framed by gold leaves and complemented by tiny dots of diamonds that resembled tuberose flowers.[2]
“Is it too gaudy?”
You laugh softly at his pettiness and caress the wine-red blossom. “Not at all. It’s beautiful.” You hope your customer service smile would be enough to trick him.
“Not as beautiful as my ‘polished ruby’ eyes, I hope.”
“You heard that, huh.”
“I think the whole market heard the commotion you made.”
“It was more of a kerfuffle.”
He quirks his brow.
“It wasn’t a big deal. I wanted to teach her about manners, but now I’m starting to feel guilty.” You then dramatically draw circles on your belly.
He grins and offers his hand. “Come. I’ll treat you to something delicious.”
“I refuse to eat Wanderer’s meat.” You put your hand in his. If he fed it to you then maybe you would consider partaking in technical cannibalism.
He cocks his head to the side. “You are impossible to please.”
“Really? I’d say I’m quite low maintenance.” You surprise yourself every time you say such lines. It is getting ridiculously easy to spout out these half-truths.
Important author’s notes:
[1] The Little Prince is a novella by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. If you haven’t read it, I suggest giving it a try. The book explores the innocence of youth, loneliness and isolation, human relationships and the responsibilities and vulnerability that come with these relationships.
Why does Y/N carry a pocket-sized copy with them to work? Speaking from personal experience, I like to have a good, comforting book with me when I feel sad. A security blanket of sorts.
[2] Thorn apples: Datura stramonium. Other common names are devil's trumpets, moonflowers and jimsonweed. In floriography, they mean “I dreamed of thee.” In the right doses, this plant can be used in treating various ailments. However, it has hallucinogenic properties.
Tuberose: Agave amica. An expensive blossom that is used in perfume-making. These flowers can mean “dangerous pleasures.”
References:
Floriography - the language of Flowers. Flowers by Flourish. (2015, January 27). https://www.flowersbyflourish.com/floriography/
Fun fact, according to a post on the LoveAndDeepspace subreddit, the flowers present in the Sylus: Abyssal Blossom card are most likely thorn apples. The original poster (OP) makes a lot of good points. You can read it here.
Hey hello! I wanted to show something very different today! I started to work as the artist for The Dungeon Archive, where I have been doing battlemaps and enemy tokens. This one was from a couple of months ago, where we did a basalt themed dungeon with few demonic/fire elemental things in it. These were a lot of fun to do >:3 The map was made for an One Page dungeon challenge, which you can check on the second picture
You can check the full information on this map in The Dungeon Archive's patreon! You can get the gridless version of the map there, alongside the transparent tokens to throw into your VTT of choice~
#cats of tumblr
#lana del rey
#horror movies
#the pitt
