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This is a character from Book 2 of Pax Draconica, which I should really start posting here like I did with the original series. He's a scrawny green dragon who has been living in isolation for a long, long time.
Falnar awoke and clambered off his hoard, stretching himself. As with most dens, he had scooped out a shallow depression so that the items would naturally roll back towards the pile, and few of them scattered much beyond the chamber in which he slept.
Once, a band of humans had breached his den. The entrance was on a high ledge on the cliff he'd made, but they had used grapples to scale up to the tunnel. He still recalled their appalled expressions when they saw the hoard, expecting a vast pile of treasure, only to find that it consisted of rubble from the excavation of his lair.
He had tried to explain, in broken Common, that a dragon couldn't easily carry masses of gold coins with their large clawed hands - it would be like a human carrying sand - but either they did not believe him or did not understand.
Even if they had found the two small chests of valuables, they would never have believed that a dragon could have so little in the way of treasure...
Falnar shuddered, remembering how he had bitten the head off the burly one. The others had fled, chased away by sheets of flame from an angry dragon's maw.
Even now, centuries later, Falnar still felt guilty about this, but the crossbow they bore would surely have killed him, and all for a heap of stones. He wasn't even sure how they had intended to steal a vast pile of coins even if he'd had one. Probably carry it in portions to the edge of the cliff and throw it down so they could later scoop it all into a cart. He had buried the warrior that night.
Falnar, as realised by
featheryflukes. Thanks for this, he turned out really well!
Falnar awoke and clambered off his hoard, stretching himself. As with most dens, he had scooped out a shallow depression so that the items would naturally roll back towards the pile, and few of them scattered much beyond the chamber in which he slept.
Once, a band of humans had breached his den. The entrance was on a high ledge on the cliff he'd made, but they had used grapples to scale up to the tunnel. He still recalled their appalled expressions when they saw the hoard, expecting a vast pile of treasure, only to find that it consisted of rubble from the excavation of his lair.
He had tried to explain, in broken Common, that a dragon couldn't easily carry masses of gold coins with their large clawed hands - it would be like a human carrying sand - but either they did not believe him or did not understand.
Even if they had found the two small chests of valuables, they would never have believed that a dragon could have so little in the way of treasure...
Falnar shuddered, remembering how he had bitten the head off the burly one. The others had fled, chased away by sheets of flame from an angry dragon's maw.
Even now, centuries later, Falnar still felt guilty about this, but the crossbow they bore would surely have killed him, and all for a heap of stones. He wasn't even sure how they had intended to steal a vast pile of coins even if he'd had one. Probably carry it in portions to the edge of the cliff and throw it down so they could later scoop it all into a cart. He had buried the warrior that night.
Falnar, as realised by
featheryflukes. Thanks for this, he turned out really well!
Category Artwork (Digital) / Fantasy
Species Western Dragon
Size 1920 x 1241px
File Size 997.8 kB
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