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Description

The people fear the dragons, for they are large, powerful and have a knack for burning entire villages down. How could anyone gaze upon such an incredible, deadly beast and not feel terror grip their heart? Even those who never laid eyes on one have a healthy fear of them, as the many stories and legends inform them of their lethal prowess. Teeth like daggers, claws like swords, wings that could blot out the sun and a horrid breath that can reduce the strongest of fortresses to slag and ash. It is no surprise that these monsters have been immortalized in art, story and folklore. But one must be wary of such thoughts and obsessions, as we tend to focus on the big and blunt, while ignoring the small insidious things that lurk in the background. Dragons are vast and many, their species seemingly without end, yet most only see and hear of the great ones. Those that strike fear in our hearts yet dazzle our minds when we see their magnificent size and prowess. Some believe beauty can only come from bright colors and that danger is only found in the beasts far bigger than us. After all, what could be worse then a winged, fire-breathing monster bigger than a house? It turns out, lots of things....

There continues to be debate on if these creatures are real dragons or not, perhaps some horribly twisted kin that were malformed by magic. Or perhaps a vile species looking to capitalize on a widely feared and infamous look. Regardless, they are wicked beasts that fly upon a foul wind, striking from the shadows and taking those who walk alone. When not on the hunt, they dwell in dark abandoned places, like damp caves, forgotten towers and dilapidated buildings. They wait for the sun to set and for night to cloak their efforts. When darkness covers the land, they take to the wing and hunt. They taste the air for the traces of their preferred prey: Man. When the scent is found, they dive down and strike with blinding speed. Their spiked tail shoots forth, seeking to inject their targets with a powerful neurotoxin, which paralyzes the muscles and leaves prey helpless. They will dodge the desperate thrashing and flailing of their victims, constantly harassing them until they can get a single stab into their flesh. When their prey is downed, they will grab onto their bodies and clamber onto their backs. The spine is what they want, and the underside of their bodies split like jaws lined with eager teeth to latch on. Bony spikes drive into the flesh, anchoring them to their host, while their small head wriggles towards the base of the skull. Tooth and suction will let them clamp down, and their horrible tongue will burrow in to violate the brain. When their hold is complete, they secrete a digestive compound that breaks down both the host's flesh and their own bony hide. It won't be long til the slurry mixes together and congeals, effectively fusing the two creatures together. The wretched wyrm does not want to be separated from its tortured host, especially since there is so much to do.

With the creature latched on and fused, it hijacks the body of its victim and drives them to the nearest hiding place. They prefer shelter similar to their roosting lairs, but will settle on any forgotten corner to find peace. When their prey is taken far from prying eyes and angry mobs, they begin to inject a transformative fluid into their veins and skull. Within this liquid lies their own essence, and it begins to infect their flesh and bones. Over the course of days, the victim can only watch in silent horror as their body contorts and their skin hardens into monstrous growths. Hardened plates of petrified skin, horribly claws of jutting bone and twisted horns fashioned from fused hair. With each passing day, they begin to look less like human, and more like some terrible hybrid between mammal and armored lizard. Some people call them "lizardmen" or "dragonfolk," for their dry scaly skin, patchy plates and spiny look, but what they really are are humans wrenched into some unnatural shape by the parasite that grows further into their flesh. Some people think them more like ghastly gargoyles, horrible mockeries of both dragon and man, twisting their elegant features and brilliant minds into some misshapen gurgling wretch. When the transformation is far enough for their limbs to resume function, the new found monstrosity will be gripped by a terrible hunger. All those growths and changes used up a lot of energy, so they need to replenish. Plus, they will need all the nutrients they can get for what comes next...

Stumbling from their hiding place, these warped dragon men tear after prey with reckless abandon, thrown into an wild frenzy when they smell meat. They chase after prey with unnatural speed, snarling and hissing like ravenous beasts. Though their wings are far too small for real flight, they aid in great jumps, combining with their powerful legs to launch themselves at victims. When they are upon their food, they will look to jab them with the same venomous tail that doomed them with this fate. Wicked claws and powerful jaws rip frozen prey to shreds, and they gobble down every morsel as if it was the last. When the final scrap is devoured, they are on to the next, gorging themselves in this bloody feeding frenzy. They will hunt all night long, until their bellies are bloated and their bodies soaked in blood and flecks of meat. Or until some merciful soul cuts them down and frees them from this nightmare. Such a task, however, is not easy, as the raging beast views all creatures as food, and can easily rip armored knights in half in their madness. Some survivors of these fights even claim that these dragon men monstrosities have their own burning "breath," as they vomit a geyser of boiling bile during the struggle. If they are not slain and their bellies are filled, they limp back to their hiding place and begin to grow their kin.

Within their bodies, the eggs of the wyrm will begin to form and multiply, fed by the night's feast of blood and flesh. They develop within the bowels, shaped into wet tumors the size of walnuts. The intestines will soon be packed to bursting with these unborn parasites, growing as many as possible to ensure their horrid lineage survives. In a final violation of the host's dignity and tortured flesh, the whole mass is violently excreted from the anus, sprayed upon the ground and walls in a clumpy crimson shower. Depending on the strength and health of the monstrosity, this act may kill them and their bodies become food for the soon to be newborns. For those that survive, they will be forced back out into the night again to feed and reproduce, ensuring the land is never free from their terrible presence.

They are blight upon the land and its people, one many vow to destroy. Knights and legendary warriors go out to slay these abominations and burn their eggs to ash, yet these stories are never told. The painters do not shape their colors into these wyrms and their doomed hosts. The bards do not regal crowds with the terror inducing transformation and ghastly abilities. Art is not always about beauty, and folklore does not shy away from the grim, but perhaps there are subjects too wretched and foul to hang upon your wall and share with the local tavern....

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Goodness, I wanted to post so many more dragon things for Smaugust, but busy schedule and god awful heat really drained me! But no worries, as they will still show up in short time! Just won't be thematic!

For this fella, I was really pondering on if to include this in the Wrong Table world or perhaps another, but never settled on a decision. So for now it dwells in the ether. Eventually I will come to a real decision!

And jeepers creepers! Where did I ever come up with this design? (Har har)

Description

The people fear the dragons, for they are large, powerful and have a knack for burning entire villages down. How could anyone gaze upon such an incredible, deadly beast and not feel terror grip their heart? Even those who never laid eyes on one have a healthy fear of them, as the many stories and legends inform them of their lethal prowess. Teeth like daggers, claws like swords, wings that could blot out the sun and a horrid breath that can reduce the strongest of fortresses to slag and ash. It is no surprise that these monsters have been immortalized in art, story and folklore. But one must be wary of such thoughts and obsessions, as we tend to focus on the big and blunt, while ignoring the small insidious things that lurk in the background. Dragons are vast and many, their species seemingly without end, yet most only see and hear of the great ones. Those that strike fear in our hearts yet dazzle our minds when we see their magnificent size and prowess. Some believe beauty can only come from bright colors and that danger is only found in the beasts far bigger than us. After all, what could be worse then a winged, fire-breathing monster bigger than a house? It turns out, lots of things....

There continues to be debate on if these creatures are real dragons or not, perhaps some horribly twisted kin that were malformed by magic. Or perhaps a vile species looking to capitalize on a widely feared and infamous look. Regardless, they are wicked beasts that fly upon a foul wind, striking from the shadows and taking those who walk alone. When not on the hunt, they dwell in dark abandoned places, like damp caves, forgotten towers and dilapidated buildings. They wait for the sun to set and for night to cloak their efforts. When darkness covers the land, they take to the wing and hunt. They taste the air for the traces of their preferred prey: Man. When the scent is found, they dive down and strike with blinding speed. Their spiked tail shoots forth, seeking to inject their targets with a powerful neurotoxin, which paralyzes the muscles and leaves prey helpless. They will dodge the desperate thrashing and flailing of their victims, constantly harassing them until they can get a single stab into their flesh. When their prey is downed, they will grab onto their bodies and clamber onto their backs. The spine is what they want, and the underside of their bodies split like jaws lined with eager teeth to latch on. Bony spikes drive into the flesh, anchoring them to their host, while their small head wriggles towards the base of the skull. Tooth and suction will let them clamp down, and their horrible tongue will burrow in to violate the brain. When their hold is complete, they secrete a digestive compound that breaks down both the host's flesh and their own bony hide. It won't be long til the slurry mixes together and congeals, effectively fusing the two creatures together. The wretched wyrm does not want to be separated from its tortured host, especially since there is so much to do.

With the creature latched on and fused, it hijacks the body of its victim and drives them to the nearest hiding place. They prefer shelter similar to their roosting lairs, but will settle on any forgotten corner to find peace. When their prey is taken far from prying eyes and angry mobs, they begin to inject a transformative fluid into their veins and skull. Within this liquid lies their own essence, and it begins to infect their flesh and bones. Over the course of days, the victim can only watch in silent horror as their body contorts and their skin hardens into monstrous growths. Hardened plates of petrified skin, horribly claws of jutting bone and twisted horns fashioned from fused hair. With each passing day, they begin to look less like human, and more like some terrible hybrid between mammal and armored lizard. Some people call them "lizardmen" or "dragonfolk," for their dry scaly skin, patchy plates and spiny look, but what they really are are humans wrenched into some unnatural shape by the parasite that grows further into their flesh. Some people think them more like ghastly gargoyles, horrible mockeries of both dragon and man, twisting their elegant features and brilliant minds into some misshapen gurgling wretch. When the transformation is far enough for their limbs to resume function, the new found monstrosity will be gripped by a terrible hunger. All those growths and changes used up a lot of energy, so they need to replenish. Plus, they will need all the nutrients they can get for what comes next...

Stumbling from their hiding place, these warped dragon men tear after prey with reckless abandon, thrown into an wild frenzy when they smell meat. They chase after prey with unnatural speed, snarling and hissing like ravenous beasts. Though their wings are far too small for real flight, they aid in great jumps, combining with their powerful legs to launch themselves at victims. When they are upon their food, they will look to jab them with the same venomous tail that doomed them with this fate. Wicked claws and powerful jaws rip frozen prey to shreds, and they gobble down every morsel as if it was the last. When the final scrap is devoured, they are on to the next, gorging themselves in this bloody feeding frenzy. They will hunt all night long, until their bellies are bloated and their bodies soaked in blood and flecks of meat. Or until some merciful soul cuts them down and frees them from this nightmare. Such a task, however, is not easy, as the raging beast views all creatures as food, and can easily rip armored knights in half in their madness. Some survivors of these fights even claim that these dragon men monstrosities have their own burning "breath," as they vomit a geyser of boiling bile during the struggle. If they are not slain and their bellies are filled, they limp back to their hiding place and begin to grow their kin.

Within their bodies, the eggs of the wyrm will begin to form and multiply, fed by the night's feast of blood and flesh. They develop within the bowels, shaped into wet tumors the size of walnuts. The intestines will soon be packed to bursting with these unborn parasites, growing as many as possible to ensure their horrid lineage survives. In a final violation of the host's dignity and tortured flesh, the whole mass is violently excreted from the anus, sprayed upon the ground and walls in a clumpy crimson shower. Depending on the strength and health of the monstrosity, this act may kill them and their bodies become food for the soon to be newborns. For those that survive, they will be forced back out into the night again to feed and reproduce, ensuring the land is never free from their terrible presence.

They are blight upon the land and its people, one many vow to destroy. Knights and legendary warriors go out to slay these abominations and burn their eggs to ash, yet these stories are never told. The painters do not shape their colors into these wyrms and their doomed hosts. The bards do not regal crowds with the terror inducing transformation and ghastly abilities. Art is not always about beauty, and folklore does not shy away from the grim, but perhaps there are subjects too wretched and foul to hang upon your wall and share with the local tavern....

------------------------------------------

Goodness, I wanted to post so many more dragon things for Smaugust, but busy schedule and god awful heat really drained me! But no worries, as they will still show up in short time! Just won't be thematic!

For this fella, I was really pondering on if to include this in the Wrong Table world or perhaps another, but never settled on a decision. So for now it dwells in the ether. Eventually I will come to a real decision!

And jeepers creepers! Where did I ever come up with this design? (Har har)