DragonCodex

How did he get here? His endless curiosity would surely be the death of him eventually. Cold snow began to pile on his belly as he lay there, sprawled out amidst the wreckage of fence surrounding him. Iok sighed heavy, brows furrowing. Who knew sheep could be so wild?  Who knew they could stampede and near flatten a fence? He schooled his features into neutrality, taking his time to breathe in through the nose and exhale through the mouth. By the time he pulled himself to his feet, the sheep were long gone – little watercolour blots on the distant horizon. Another sigh echoed. Iok lifted his head to his companions, finding a sneer on the face of the bloodmarked vay and an almost mournful look painting the face of the seafaring one. Hunter deigned not to respond, instead shouting annoyance through her sharp, clouded gaze. Iok could never tell if she were truly looking at him, or through him. The thought always caused him to shudder. Letting his breath hang in the frozen

“So, how many clams go into a Clam Chowder anyway?” questioned Rousseaux. “What’s a chowder?” queried Rheya with a tilt of her pretty little head. Beside the two, Rhi’avi closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Inhale, Rhi, inhale. She tempered her annoyance down, grounding herself and splaying her toes. Were they here to test her patience too? Was testing her cooking skills not enough? “The cook book says three clams,” she answered with a steely voice, “and a chowder is a thicker soup, usually with seafood.” Rheya pouted, “Huh, who knew.” “We did,” responded Rousseaux with a laugh. She quickly received a sharp smack to her shoulder from the little glittering runner. Rhi did not have the energy, instead, she turned her sharp focus to the ingredients list. Her tail was curled around a patch of snow that held the clams (extras, in case of failure). Roenden had that going for it, at least. The snow worked as a marvelous ice-box. She pondered the recipe as she plucked at the clam

The night fell like a cloak over Roenden. Red, pupilless eyes gleamed from the rooftops of the small huts, flitting over the homes. His form was small and lithe, features still uncarved by youth. His short, obsidian fur drank in the moonlight of the snowless night, flecked patches of red turning burgundy. The muscles of the reosean bunched as he tightened his form into a smaller ball, laying in shadow. Those eyes of his bore down into the village. One of the large, previously empty huts had lanterns on, sparks of fireflies gathering in the light. Duquesne shivered in anticipation. A new resident, hmm? He thought to himself, lips curling into a grin at the idea of new, easy prey. What fancy trinkets would they bring? His claws scraped on the thatched roof. Inside of the bright home, its new occupant sighed.  Leitner felt muscles in his jaw twinge as he surveyed the large interior. Something deep in his chest ached. He briefly turned his head to peer out of the open doors draped with

The duo remained in Vitalus for another eight weeks, each practising their respective arts as they travelled. They had ventured further into the region, delving into the vast underground space, crossing through Nepte. The walls shone with bright quartz and jewels, admired by both Hezekiah and Carcosa for varying reasons. Each vayron traded with tyrians, offered favours and garnered their own selection of crystals and gemstones, each held with reverence. Carcosa had a keen hunger as he scouted, whilst Hezekiah let the hum lead him where he needed to be.  Hezekiah’s little fox, carved from the heart of a blazing fire opal, had become a fixed companion at his side. The skeleton along his flank sighed often, barrelling air through his chest into the empty space where the fox once occupied. He wondered just how many he could summon at once if this creature was born of a mere fragment of him. Would a larger beast command more sacrifice of him?  Thoughts poured through his mind with