Commissioned by  bellotempestade on Deviant Art

It was an old shop.
Abandoned ages ago by owners unknown; no one really knew what happened there, or even what it sold. The signs were gone, and nature had begun to reclaim it. Through the roots and the urban decay, however there were rumors. It was whispered of all things, that a wizard once owned it, and experimented on people with his bizarre concoctions. Even stranger still was the claim that this wizard was puppeteered by a golden dragon, directing his mortal envoy to ensnare those foolish enough to enter. Sheer lunacy, of course.

It was just an old shop.

Abandoned places seldom stay that way for long, and looters and treasure seekers inevitably come to despoil. One such adventure had broken through an overgrown window and snuck into one of the old stock rooms. Across the matrix of pallets and shelves, he found boxes uncountable—some still sealed— marked “suit” or “costume” always followed by "dragon". Some bore mysterious inscriptions—but all were coated with a thin film of dust. Until—as all adventurers do—he came a cross something unusual. On top of one opened box, there sat small folded piece of golden and white fabric. The box’s inscription merely read in hard to discern letters: “rany” followed by “trus” which made no sense to the interloper.

It was a strange costume that he seized, but soon he found, that it had seized him as well. The eye sockets on the suit blazed to life, and with an unearthly force the suit clenched to him fast. The dormant spirit had found a host. It looked harmless enough, despite the sudden animation, until the adventure found the soft fabric spread over him like a wave— until it fit like a second skin. It flattened into his body’s contours and eclipsing skin and clothing alike. Almost like he was being swallowed up, and he felt both terrified and curious.

Then came the changes, like clay in a potter’s hand, his body was stretched into a new shape. Wings green from his hands, as his legs arched up, and the once lifeless tail attachment became a living part of his body. Claws and scales formed. His face was forever eclipsed in a dragon’s toothy maw. He sighed from his new lips as his body finished filling out. There was a new awareness now, as if that strange costume had altered more than just his form. The gold-scaled wyvern looked around, his original purpose forgotten and his future unsure. His eyes focused on a spotlight, and the creature knew then what it wanted to do.

Escape. Fly.

Rumors abound, and talk of dragons, curses and wizards soon became commonplace. The shop was closed, and the purpose forgotten, but it lived on the witness’ imaginations.

——
First of the Dragonsale, for  bellotempestade DA.
This commission is the first of the group finished, and the done-last in this group in this more rigid style, and one of the reasons is my comp-crashing.
Also i’ll say that this entire story is a homage to a friend who is no longer active online, but the rest is up to you to figure out.
How many of you remember?
Photoshop

2014

~Age

--EDIT: Just to clear something up, this is not a TF sequence, this is the SERIES of all the Dragonsale Commissions being posted together.--