the Cinder Drake
A young dragon of living coals, wreathed in its own smoke, scales glowing at the seams.
Letters, briefs and reports can be shown with their own typography. Automatic keeps that only while none of your settings above ask otherwise.
Everything the game knows, written down: commands and systems, the places in the world, and what there is to do in them.
A young dragon of living coals, wreathed in its own smoke, scales glowing at the seams.
An ancient tree-lord roused and furious, axe-scars open down its trunk.
The armour of four kingdoms fused into one warden, with nobody left inside it.
All four elements fused into one chorister: stone shot through with ice, flame and moving air.
A drowned regent standing bowed under the weight of a coral crown left deliberately half-made, still waiting on a king who has not come.
A librarian of the unwritten, lamp lowered, closing the aisles behind it as it comes.
A keeper robed in river-grey, barefoot on wet stone, old past any guessing.
A courteous doorkeeper filling a doorway's exact width, hands folded, a ring of keys at the belt that no longer opens anything.
A gate-captain in a frost-welded harness, body squared away from you and the head turned back over one shoulder, spear grounded with both hands…
A thunderhead given a will, a dragging weather-front with lightning stitched through its mass.