#love the decor fandom #sculptures #art #dragons #this post was queued because my to-reblog list is too long and I didn’t want to dump it on you all at once
So D&D’Souza black dragons are supposed to live in swamps, right? Pretty amphibious, live in swamps, lair in…
caves. With a main entrance and a back entrance.
In swamps.
I really have trouble with the idea that there’s these dragon-sized caves in an area with such a high water table, y’know? We have to go through miles of swamp to reach this lair, it’s not one little boggy place in a mountain valley otherwise filled with nice caves. And the cave has to have two entrances, too? I can believe in dragons, but not this geology.
So… maybe it’s not geology. Because a lair in a marshy place with exacting design specifications sounds a lot like a totally natural thing –
A beaver lodge.
So now I have this new image of black dragons industriously gnawing down giant trees to construct their mighty swamp lairs, and I am so much happier.
Tags:
#dragons #story ideas I will never write #D&D #this post was queued because my to-reblog list is too long and I didn’t want to dump it on you all at once
A dragon who decides to hoard mint and various types of mint plants (and not knowing that mint has the mushroom’s blessing of inevitability were ever its planted) can go one of two ways.
1: The dragon is absolutely horrified as the mint engulfs and takes over its den. Its gold? Mint. Its gems and goblets? Mint. Its stores of wine? Mint. No matter what they do they can’t get rid of it.
2: The dragon is delightfully ecstatic as the mint engulfs and takes over its den. It’s a self growing hoard. No matter what any adventurers or knights do, they can’t get rid of it.
✨✨✨ ヽ(✿ﾟ▽ﾟ)ノ ✨✨✨
there is a mature dragon in the game I play in who knows perfectly well what mint is like and, in the giant puzzle maze devoted to showing off eir collections, the largest room is the Room of Minty Paradise, which is packed with mint, has walls full of guides to mint usage, and has magic to further enhance mint growth.
Tags:
#plants #gardening #dragons #adorable #story ideas I will never write
still thinking a lot about how I want sci fi and fantasy to coexist in more settings… mainly cause I want a warrior girl who goes into battle on the back of a dragon but can take also take apart and upgrade said dragon because it’s a masterpiece of bio-engineering technology and she’s a brilliant mechanic in addition to being a warrior
the dragons’ memories, skills, and bonds with their riders are stored in their brains, which are gemstones that grow to sizes that make them virtually priceless as the dragons grow and age. no matter how badly a dragon is wounded, if the gembrain can be saved and installed in another body its essence will live on.
transporting the gembrains is dangerous as hell, though. as soon as word gets out that a dragon fell, the pirate ships start descending from orbit to try and steal the brain away.
whomst do you sell them to, though? because obviously if the citadel that grows/builds/raises (???) the dragons catches you, they’ll come down on you like a ton of bricks, and you know there’s got to be a lot of political power there as well. only those living on the edges of society would chance it – witches living on isolated moons, warlocks whose towers drift, unplottable, among the stars
there’s this image haunting me of a dragon under construction. it’s not a machine, and this part is vital – it’s a living thing, jewel-colored blood racing through its veins even as it hangs, suspended, with most of its body exploded for examination. its head has been opened so the brain can be recalibrated but it watches the dracomancers work with calm, intelligent eyes, bred to accept this handling as calmly as a horse to a saddle. if you stand in the right place, you could look up right into its cavernous chest and watch its beating heart.
and if I could circle back for a second to the far-flung warlock towers
these terrifying towers turned free-wheeling independent of any orbit. the interiors are managed by entities that tread the line between AI and household spirit – both, neither, something else altogether. they grow sharp and dangerous under their dark masters’ direction, creating ever-shifting patterns of rooms that swallow unwanted visitors alive. open the wrong door and you find yourself staring into the maw of a black hole.
when the most feared warlock in the galaxy is deposed, the gallant warriors from the citadel are able at last to force their way into her tower. it comes easier than they expected, disconcertingly so, and it isn’t until they reach the tower’s heart that they understand why: the AI wanted them to come inside.
the warlock left behind a child, you see. a small boy who’s been alone in the tower, cleaned and fed and tucked into bed by the AI’s black tendrils extended from the walls, who has learned to fall asleep to lullabies sung in an eldritch approximation of a human voice.
the boy is healthy, as far as the gallants can tell, if a little skittish. he has no idea how unconventional his upbringing is. but the AI has been downloading tomes on human development, and it is very aware that it is not a sufficient caregiver. the boy needs the light of a sun, the touch of human hands, companions his own age.
the gallants agree to bring the boy back with them. it is advantageous, they reason. if the child has inherited his mother’s prodigious talent for magic, he will need watching. perhaps he can be trained in the ways of heroism, to use his power for the good of the galaxy. and if not, well, then that venomous rose will be easily nipped in the bud.
or perhaps not. the AI wants the boy to go, yes, but not alone. it leaves behind its any shifting rooms and tendrils and instead uploads itself into an archaic suit of armor, one that will become the boy’s constant companion in the citadel to ensure he’s never mistreated. the gallants are reluctant, but on this point there is no compromise. (good negotiation tactic: wait until you’ve them in the very middle of your murder tower to make your demands.)
they go fly away on their ship, and the tower falls dormant behind them, locking itself tightly away behind a layer of perfectly smooth ebony scales. despite the best efforts of countless gallants, fortune hunters, and rival magi over the next two decades, it will remain sealed. it waits for the boy, to come home and do with his mother’s power what he will.
You were born of a sacrilegious union. Your green dragon mom never figured the knight she seduced while masquerading as a noblewoman was a silver dragon in disguise. You’d no idea either, born a human orphan. When your dragon blood awoke, so did the dangers which all your heritage entails.
Brinens and Things 