Animos

The stores are stacked one atop the other, creating a looming wall of shopping opportunity for visitors in Whisperwind City. The ebb and flow through the streets picked up and dropped off a steady stream of tourists and locals alike, none of which seemed to mind the compression of the crowd. You, on the other hand, do not care for the constant bump and push of the mainstream path.

As soon as you are able you slip away an into a quiet little shop and close the door. The thrum of talking and movement immediately droped away, leaving you with the steady tick tick of a clock and the (not so steady) hum of the Skydancer behind the counter.

Upon noticing you the Skydancer hopped in your direction with a broad smile and an overly sweet greeting. "Well hello there! Welcome to Ana's Junk Shop. You'll find our selection of gizmos and gadgets quite expansive. I'm sure we'll have what you're looking for and if we don't I promise we can get it."

You inform her that you were only there to look, which caused her happiness to plummet into disappointment. "Oh, I see," she said with a sigh. After a moment she shook off her disappointment in favor of her happy smile. "Well, let me show you the shop then." Without waiting for your approval she set her paw against your shoulder and lead you towards the displays.

Against the Left Wall there was row upon row of shelves filled with gadgets and gizmos. On first glance all that stuff looked like garbage, but a trained eye could find the jewels among the junk. "We have an extensive inventory of materials, heirlooms, and just gadgets... can you believe dragons just throw this stuff away?" The shop attendant plucked a ruby brooch from one of the shelves and turned it over in her paw. "So shiny," she whispered. She cleared her throat when she noticed you watching and promptly returned the brooch to the shelf. "Anyway..."

She spun around and lead you next to the Right Wall and all of the wearable items displayed there. If one looked they would find armor, new and old, mixed with scraps of clothing. Again, if one paid close attention you had no doubt they would find the exquisite suit among the rags. "Everything here is in excellent condition, cleaned and stitched or mended where needed. And everything in the store has been improved." She leaned in until her shoulder tapped yours. "It's better then it was before if you ask me," she whispered, as if that fact was privy to only you.

"I'll leave you to your browsing," she said. The Skydancer moved a way a few steps and lifted an arm out towards the Counter. "If you should need anything I'll be..." Her sentence was cut off by another's hail from the back room. "Magpie! I need you back here!" Her first reaction to this bellowed beckon was to jump from the start and then slump. "I hate when she calls me that," she mumbled. After a shake of her head she redirected her attention back to you. "Please excuse me, I'll be right back. In the mean time, feel free to look around."

@Azurenight

As the sound of the busy streets fades behind her, the Wildclaw scans the entirety of the shop she's entered. She takes in the clutter on the shelves, the tick tock of a clock, and the bright colors of the Skydancer behind the counter in one quick scan. Keeping her eye on the two exits, the one she entered through and the one at the back of the shop, she focuses on the Skydancer in the room.

There is something disturbing about this Wildclaw. She constantly scans the area around her, tapping her killing claw on the hardwood floor. When she speaks, her voice is hoarse, as if she hasn't used it often; or as if she'd roared for quite some time. A strange energy emanates from her armor.

When the Skydancer hops over the counter, the Wildclaw--Animos is what she calls herself--reactively goes into a slight crouch, flaring her wings. But her body language isn't threatening; wings tucked in at her side, relaxed stance, friendly facial expression...Animos slowly straightens out of her crouch.

Suddenly realizing that the merchant is waiting for a response, Animos cleared her throat. It took a few tries, but she finally got it out: "N...nnn…nooo." The rasping of her words against her throat hurt, and she swallowed a few times.

Despite her obvious disappointment, the shopkeeper persevered. "Well, let me show you the shop then," she said with a smile. She put her paw on Animos' shoulder, which resulted in a snarl she seemed oblivious to. As she showed her the wares, cheerfully chattering on, Animos shrugged off her paw and looked around the shop. She heard footsteps. Muttering. Something moving around--

"Magpie!" Both dragons jumped. Animos slipped back into her crouch, feathers bristling. "I need you back here!" The Skydancer slumped, mumbling something Animos didn't catch. Animos heard as if through a haze, "Please excuse me, I'll be right back. In the mean time, feel free to look around." The Skydancer hurried out of the room, leaving Animos on her own.

Untrusting, Animos crept towards the door, but tripped over a piece of junk on the floor. With a loud crash, she fell into the armor and clothing on the right wall. Oof!

@Freeflier181

Racks tumbled, tables collapsed, and clothing skittered everywhere across the floor of the store. In the middle of the mess was a particularly devilish set of sentient armor; crumpled up against the remains of a broken table, reviewing the result of her disastrous tumble. As the last article of clothing settled the store fell painfully silent. Animos had to take note that even the soft voices from the back room had fallen quiet. Undoubtedly they took pause to investigate the calamitous symphony that occurred in their store front. Perhaps this was a good time to make for the door as she originally planned.

Animos managed back to her feet, undoubtedly with the intention of leaving post-haste; however, before she could reach the door she caught sight of something (by something I mean two large eyes) hiding under a helmet. This little thing apparently noticed her looking and took off at an alarming speed to the right of the store. Alarmed by whatever the blur was, she jerked her attention back to the right wall where she found two mannequins wiggling back and forth. Eventually, the disturbed displays settled and silence fell on the store again.


Animos/Cinnamon is absolutely beautiful and I adore her lore =D

@Azurenight

Her ire raised, Animos jerked forward towards the mannequins. Lightning fast, she brushed them aside and pinned the creature down. Gotcha!

Mannequins once more spinning on their bases, the Wildclaw paused to inspect what she'd caught.

@Freeflier181 (Oh, curve ball to the face! lol)

Easing her cupped claws apart Animos discovers a tiny little creature staring back at her. Unmoving and mortified by the larger creature the animal, a hedgehog, stared back at its captor with large, moist eyes. It’s just a hedgehog? Was it possible that this was the creature from before? They were not known to be exceptionally fast creatures (well unless you include the albino of the species, of which this one was not), how had it moved at such blinding speeds?

Before Animos could work out all of the questions a bellow interrupted the process. “By the Deities! What happened in here?!” From the back hall the shop owner (a rather large Ridgeback) and the Skydancer had reappeared. Undoubtedly, to find out what caused the cacophony from earlier. It was the Ridgeback that questioned and it was she that came over to shoo Animos out of the mess. “My displays,” the Skydancer whined as she went about trying to restore tables and shelves back to their upright position.

“Okay, I think you’ve done enough. Off with you then.” The store owner waved one large paw towards the exit as she escorted her from the premises. “Thank you for stopping in,” she said before shutting the Wildclaw out. Animos was left outside, on the edge of the river of bodies, with a hedgehog still curled between her cupped paws and a dark red bow stuck to her tail.

The sight and sounds of the Coliseum are overwhelming. The stands are full of Beasts of all kinds, the noise of their milling hoots, shrieks and bellows a constant thrum. Harpies, Longnecks, Centaurs, Serthis, and many, many more fill the stands to capacity. What normally would have been a recipe for disaster is instead a giddy, overexcited crowd eager for the next Gladiator to fall. Overhead, dragons of all kinds circle, eagerly watching the arena below. Each sports a bit of gaudy gold or satin silks, as well as an impressive array of weapons. Their wings creak and boom with leathery claps as they each struggle to maintain the best viewing positions, creating rushing winds that buffet the stone walls surrounding the stands. Chains clink, stretching over the opening, blocking the dragons from entering the Coliseum…or competitors from leaving. Hisses of outrage trickle down to join the thrum of the throng as dragons react to rivals encroaching on their space. These are the outlaws, the bandits and the unwanted of Sornieth, come to enjoy a bit of sport at the Coliseum.

Standing apart from the stands is the Box. Sitting in luxury inside are the richest of the rich, those who benefit the most from the war between the Beastclans and the Dragon Flights. They are a variety of well-decorated creatures, but mostly elderly Longnecks who have long since worked their way to the top...or who had been born there. They are waited on hand and foot from servants who offer them succulent meats, sweet drinks and tantalizing treats, all while fanning them to keep them cool from the sun beating down from above. One old Longneck sits in prominence above the others. He nods slowly as an ominous looking Wildclaw, her claws constantly twitching, leans down and whispers hoarsely into his ear. She wears a set of ancient armor, a dark aura emanating from it and saturating the area around her.

You see all of this in an instant. Up until now you have been underground, seeing only darkness and cold, stone walls, hearing the crowd’s roar ebb and flow, smelling the dust and reek of unwashed bodies. Until the Beasts came and hauled you up a slanting corridor. Until they dragged you out of the dark into stabbing sunlight, when all the sights and sound of the Coliseum slammed into your straining body.

The crowd roars when you step out. Thousands of eyes are on you, wondering what you will do. Will you struggle against your chains? Will you attack the Gladiators, even now stepping onto the arena? There are three, a Serthis, a Centaur and a Harpy, whose armor and weapons glint against the hot sun. Perhaps you’ll turn and run, fleeing for your life? Choose wisely, for this may well be a turning point in your life.

Xiu bares her teeth into a menacing grin, barely flinching as she's led out into the fierce light of the Coliseum. They've had to do little to move her forward; the young Imperial has been strangely cooperative, almost docile, for the duration of her stay thus far. They've stripped her of the armor and weapons Leon had given her, but she would've left them behind regardless. The trappings of 'civilized' combat would only slow her down here.

The dull roar of the crowd washes over her, almost a life in its own right, the ebb and flow of the countless voices like a heartbeat. She digs her claws into the sand, feeling the heat, and the tremors caused by the footfalls of those around her.

She revels in the moment. This is what she craves; the undeniable surge of primitive energy that swells within and around her, the vague complexities of the world boiled down to one simple choice.

Fight or die.

Xiu rocks back onto her hind legs, flaring her wings open to their full length. She's smaller than many of her kind, but it isn't size or brute strength that she's banking on here. Her faceted hide almost glows in the sunlight, and as she brings her front claws down into the sand again, she angles her wings just so, throwing dazzling, blinding rays of light towards the faces of the gladiators before her. She lunges forward with the speed of a striking cobra, staying low to the ground, as she attempts to take full advantage of the distraction. White-hot flames lick from her claws as she slashes at her opponents...

With deafening cheers all around him, Odyssey can focus on little else as he is shoved out harshly into the arena. What do these creatures expect of him? Where is he? He shakes his head and looks around furiously, before taking to the sky as quickly as he can. Maybe if he can get his teeth around the chains above him he can escape. However, just as he reaches the opening, a blinding pain pierces through his wing. Screaming, he begins to plumet back to the earth. As he falls, the pain in his wing only worsens and he turns his head to see that a huge harpy has latched her claws into his membrane, where she is tearing at the soft tissue as best she can. Odyssey quickly brings his claws together and screams a spell to shoot a gust of wind at her, while simultaneously pulling his wing away from her talons. He is free, and she is off balance, but suddenly an arrow is embedded in his back leg and a spear misses his nose by mere inches . Then he hits the ground.
Coughing painfully, his senses come back to him slowly. First is smell, iron, his blood he realizes. Then taste, metallic and sharp mixed with dirt and dust. He blinks open his eyes, to see that he is back on the brown floor of the arena - with three menacing looking blurs racing towards him. Finally, hearing and touch come rushing back to him all at once. The cheers, the howls, the sound of hooves and wings all beating in tandem; and the pain, he is surely broken in multiple areas and his fur is worryingly wet and sticky. For a moment, he wonders if he should just stay on the ground and let them finish him. No. No, that is not who he is. He struggles to his feet, knowing that he has to get out of here, he has to get back to his clan. He snarls and gathers his magic about him, its time to fight.

The Coliseum: Sappho knew this place quite well. To her clan she was known as the philosophical, all-loving, peace-bringing Mother Empress ... but little did they know just how fierce she could get when defending the lives of her clan, and of course, her own life. She was no rookie, and she knew precisely what to do in this case. A Serthis, a Harpy, and a Centaur, she thought to herself. The choice is obvious. The Centaur is much too strong for me to handle without Tyr and Sakin beside me. The Harpy already has its prey, she looked in the direction of the Tundra who was already making its battle with the beast. The Serthis will be an easy catch. In one swift motion, Sappho took to the skies, seeking out soft spots in the Serthis' defense. It spotted her, readying a potion into its slingshot and taking aim. There, on its right flank! As the potion flew just past her neck feathers, she swooped in, ready to fight.

First of all, I want to apologize to everyone for the time I spent writing this. It shouldn’t have taken so long, and I told myself that I wouldn’t take as long…it’s been a year, but I had another door game kind like this where I took so long to finish it lol. But this time I kinda have an excuse…had life hit me hard a few times, but thankfully it was all near-misses and we’re on the up again.

I honestly only had a rough shape of a story when I first posted the first part of this, which is usually enough to go on, but thank you guys so much for the care you put into your responses and, above all, the lore behind your dragons! It really helped me shape the story, as I think you’ll find lol. This might be a quick read, but all in all it's over 3,000 words, so it's pretty big for my rusty writing skills :) This whole thing is shaped around the lore of my Animos, the dragon pictured just below; you can read up on her in her bio now if you want, but I recommend saving it for the end! I do explain quite a bit in the story itself.

Without further ado...

The crowd is a living thing. Filling the stands to capacity, Beastclan of all types hoot and howl, writhe and scream, in tandem with one another as a visceral entity with a thirst for blood. The stench of their fear and excitement drench the Arena, made ever more so by the beating of the sun. Everywhere it touches, the heat ripples outward, made visible by the countless dust motes in the air. Only where the shadow of the interlinking chains overhead settles on the ground is there relief. Shadows of dragons above pass rapidly over the Arena as each jostles the other for a good view of the action below. Their wings buffet the air into great currents of wind, flowing through the circular Arena and bringing everything, the scent, the sound, the feeling of what is happening, right now, on the killing grounds into one ominous looking Wildclaw’s nose.

Standing in the crowded Box, there is a space around Animos that no dragon or Beast would cross. Sitting in a place of prominence above his peers yet below her, an elderly Longneck pretends nonchalance as she hovers menacingly over his throne, but Animos can smell the fear in his fur. Ignoring him for now, she watches intently as the three dragons in the Killing Grounds, so graciously provided by the Longnecks, grapple with their opponents. Each has their strengths and weaknesses: the Imperial, strong but slow; her scales dazzle in the sunlight but is quickly dampened by the crowding shadows of the dragons overhead. The Tundra, scared but fierce; the Skydancer, analytical and quick but small of stature.

With a certain satisfaction, Animos watches the three dragons begin to work together and dispatch their foes, one by one. The crowd roars as the centaur is quickly crushed by the Imperial’s claw, the Serthis is dispatched by a sharp blow behind its head, and the Tundra is chased once more into the air by the relentless Harpy. The Skydancer is quick to follow, and as the Tundra tries to pin the Harpy against the flexible chains, she magics a brief breeze into life and blows the Harpy through the gaps in the chain, into the half-feral ranks of the dragons above. The Harpy disappears from sight, but a sharp cry and feathers floating down are enough to confirm her fate.

With their foes defeated, the Champions relax a margin and look about their environment, wondering. Animos leans down to whisper in the terrified Longneck elder’s ear.

“Your warriors have failed you,” she whispers hoarsely. “It is time for me to…intervene. Remember our bargain.”

Animos’ words are hoarse but insinuous, and the Longneck only manages a short, desperate cry of denial. It is the wrong move.

“Bury your honor in a thousand year pit,” Animos hisses angrily. Her claws twitch hungrily, but she holds back. “I warn you not to stand in my way.”

Animos’ armor clinks as she straightens up and moves forward, out of the Box. The Imperial, although smaller than others of its kind, is the largest of the three and thus the biggest threat. With this in mind Animos strikes out for her unexpecting victim…

…Only to be ambushed from above!

With the help of the strange Skydancer, Odyssey was rid of the fey Harpy and her stabbing spears and clutching claws. Still clutching the chains high above the Arena floor, he jerked back with a yelp when a spectator-dragon snapped a many-toothed maw at his paws. He swooped down to fly next to his rescuer, checking for damage, when he audibly heard her gasp in horror. He followed her wary gaze to the Arena below just as Animos was stepping out of the Box with deadly intent.

Her obvious target, the striking Imperial, was nursing the foot which had slain her centaur foe, back to Animos. So while the Skydancer was still frozen with indecisiveness, Odyssey dove for the Wildclaw!

His initial blow was a controlled crash-landing and struck her to the ground. Now he rips ferociously at her strange armor, seemingly unable to scrape a claw past it. Animos struggles against his vicious attack, trading blow for blow; he is already injured, and she seems possessed with the strength of a shade! Finally Odyssey lands a meaningful blow, just as she struggles out from under him; with a fwoop and a crash, he rips her helmet right off her head!

The sight of her face freezes his blood solid, and for a moment he just stands there, staring. Under the helmet, Animos’ face is frozen in a rictus of pain and struggle, her eyes lit with a crazed, feral madness. With a snarl she takes advantage of his lapse, striking a blow against his head that dazes and topples the Tundra. Odyssey scrambles to his feet, expecting another blow, but to his surprise, he finds Animos unmoving, staring at a spot over his shoulder. The moment passes, and Animos shakes her head slightly but renews her attack with fresh vigor.

Xiu whirls around at the first hint of a commotion, keeping her injured paw off of the ground. Damned centaur had pierced her paw with his blade when she squashed him! She snarls and almost jumps in the fight, but sees the Tundra at the last moment and stops herself. Hesitating for a moment in fear of injuring the Tundra and the enemy Wildclaw, she has time enough to see the Wildclaw scramble up minus a helmet, and grimace in disgust at the rictus of pain and rage on that face. Xiu crouches menacingly, paw still held off the ground, as dragon shadows race across the ground.

When the Tundra dove for the strange Wildclaw, Sappho remained above him, watching. She glides in a slow circle above the fight, watching carefully for any hints that will help win the day. Now she is struck by the strange expression on the now-bare Wildclaw face. Fraught with pain and struggle, her face is an expression of internal strife, struggle, and unleashed rage.

Sappho considers a dozen different reasonings for where they are, what they’re doing, and how the Wildclaw is involved, but without conclusive evidence all she can do is theorize. Frustrating.


As Sappho passes overhead, her shadow covers and passes the Imperial’s bright hide, causing a brief flash of light to flash in the Wildclaw’s direction. Sappho’s breath catches as she watches the Wildclaw fixate on the light for just a brief moment before resuming her brawl with the Tundra.

That’s it! Sappho doesn’t know why, but somehow the flashing light dazed and distracted the Wildclaw. She calls down to the Imperial, her tone shrill and excited.

“Imperial!” The dragon’s head shot up from where she was watching the brawl. “Yes, you! I know you realize how much your crystal hide sparkles, I saw you posing earlier! Focus that light on the Tundra!”

A light of realization and anticipation grows in the Imperial’s eyes and she turns back to the fight. Pulling on her magical reserves, Sappho focuses on creating a shield around the Imperial’s scales; not a shield to defend, but a shield to augment, amplify and refracture the light glinting off her crystal hide. But just as she finishes her shield, shadows sweep in as dragons overhead cluster closer as the drama builds to a climax.

Far above Sappho and the others, an Imperial watches the fight with interest. He is Firestorm, a mature Imperial by any standard, and has been traveling Sornieth in search of stories. His elders scoff at him and tell him to focus on history that matters, but something about the alluring plot of an untold story draws him like a bee to honey. Having stopped by the Arena out of nothing more than curiosity, he has so far found it’s brutality to be undesirable at best, and is just about to leave when the helmet flies off of that Wildclaw’s face.

Something about her has bothered him since he first laid eyes on her. He couldn’t quite place it, but now he begins to wonder. If he’s not imagining it, despite being removed from her body, a shadowy aura permeates the helmet and connects it with the rest. It almost reminds him of a fragment of a story he’d heard long ago...his heart speeds up as he begins to catch an inkling of what’s going on down there. Something more than a flesh and bone Wildclaw stalked the Arena.

As spectator-dragons surge forward to watch the ultimate, epic conclusion of the events below, Firestorm watches the constructs of a magical shield go up around the female Imperial on the Arena grounds. Puzzled at first, he realizes what she’s up to just as the shadows of the spectator-dragons snaffles out her light.

With a desperation born out of his inkling of what the Wildclaw is and a desire to help the poor trapped Gladiators, Firestorm makes up his mind and begins to use his considerable strength to break up the crowd.

The little Tundra could put up a fight, but he was no match for Animos. A hoarse, feral laugh deep in her throat causes him to flinch, and flinch again when her blows cause him to stagger. Just as he goes down, light shafts strike down from above, striking the Imperial and refracting out across the Arena!

Animos staggers back, unable to look away.

A sweet susurrus of wind-over-wings wakes her from a period of great darkness. Opening her eyes slowly, a dragon sees a full moon rising over a dark landscape of flat plains, silvery rivers and irregular ruins. Digging deep in her memory, she begins to get a hint at a memory. A name. The…Sunbeam Ruins?

She realizes that she is cold. The wind tickling her scales aggravates nerves long-unused. For a time, she curls up, unsensable to the world, barely aware that she is being carried far, far away from…something.

After a time, the wingbeat changes, and she realizes that they are descending. A long glide, ending with a flurry of jarring flaps, and a surprisingly light landing. As the sounds of other dragons landing penetrates her psyche, the dragon is set gently on the ground.

Opening her eyes once more, she realizes that she is in a ruin of an old circular fort. Its ancient stone blocks curl around her. Watching her warily – or pretending not to stare, warily – is a small group of dragons. A green Tundra, his thick fur sticky with blood; a reserved Skydancer, an obvious intellect behind her narrow eyes; a pearly Imperial, her hide gleaming even in the moon’s light; and a darker Imperial, his eyes wary and yet caring when he looks upon her.

“Hello, little one,” the dark Imperial begins. “Do you remember who you are?”

An odd question. The dragon twizzles her head to the side as she thinks it through. Most dragons have names, and there even might be one deep down…

“…Cin…Cinnamon,” she replies at length. “Who…who are you? What are we doing here?”

“Well, Cinnamon, there’s no easy way to say this. Do you have any memory from before now?”

She shakes her head hesitantly. “Bits, but nothing…solid.”

He nods sagely. “I believe you were possessed for a time,” His voice is deep and resonant, “by an ancient spirit inhabiting your armor. You see, I am a storyteller; and in my travels, I picked up a story of a dragon, years ago, who went mad and attacked and killed many innocent dragons. An enchanter, or a witch of some kind, trapped her in her armor. I believe, odd as it sounds, that that spirit is the same that possessed you.”

The Skydancer speaks up, her voice lilting. “We shocked you out of it by a series of flashing lights,” she explains. “This symptom is similar to those with multiple personalities, and is called a trigger. Firestorm here says that the last word of the armor had it buried at some unknown location. My theory is that after being so long in the dark, it was unable to withstand the flashing lights and swapped personalities – bringing you, Cinnamon, to the forefront.”

The Tundra limps towards Cinnamon. “You and I fought,” he growls. “I removed your helmet. The helmet and armor are connected, so I’ll be keeping the helmet safe.” He’s clearly not in an “asking” mood.

“What Odyssey means is,” the Skydancer interjects with a sharp look at the offending Tundra, “is it would probably be safest if the different pieces of your armor were separated. We don’t know whether the soul that inhabited your armor will leave you when the armor is removed, but there is only one way to find out.”

The pearly Imperial, who had been quiet until now, interjects softly, “But what about Firestorm? What reward can we repay you, who tore open the chains so we could fly free?”

Even newly awoken, Cinnamon can feel the two Imperial’s regard of each other. Smiling a toothy smile, Firestorm says, “I’m a traveler, in search of interesting stories. To visit your clan and learn its odd tales would be enough for me! But first we’ll need to find Cinnamon her home.”

As they speak, memories slowly return. By the time they’ve removed her armor, leaving Cinnamon feeling somehow naked, she remembers a clan where a heartsick Ridgeback watched her sink slowly into madness. Her heart's yearning points her in the right direction, and with wings strong from recent use but clumsy from her long sleep, she flies towards her home Clan.

@Cylence

+1 Firestorm! +1 Alchemical Eyewear

I insinuated a bit for the sake of the story, but you don’t have to make them mate if you don’t want to lol. Your turn to make the next door game! Don't feel like you have to go to the same extent I did, lol

@Akeva

+1

Butterfly's Helmet

Apparel

A helmet crafted from steel and lacquered wood.

250

+1

Bronze Steampunk Wings

Apparel

An impressively-constructed arrangement of bronze leaves, pistons, and rotors. With a constant supply of steam, the flying potential of the wearer could be doubled.

1000

+1

Butterfly's Shoulder Pads

Apparel

Shoulder guards crafted from steel and lacquered wood.

250

+1

Bloody Chest Bandage

Apparel

A long strip of white material meant to bind the ribcage and protect the dragon's chest. It doesn't look like it's been doing a great job of that.

900

@nennathriel

+1

Animated Armor

Familiar

A blessing and a curse, donning this armor will increase one's martial abilities, but also one's taste for battle.

1500

+1

Lion's Breastplate

Apparel

Chest armor crafted from steel and lacquered wood.

1700

+1

Burnished Gold Boots

Apparel

A pair of lobstered dragonboots, complete with protective kneepads. This set is burnished gold.

1000

Animos leaned back from the pool. Across from her, a mysterious draconic figure bent their magic to the task, magic swirling in their blue eyes. The pretty colors and the happy figures in the pool – a reunion of some sorts – crashed out of reality as Animos’ talon stroke slapped a wave across the cave. As the seer jumped in shock, Animos grinned.

“I know what to avoid now,” she snarls hoarsely. “My thanks, seer. The Arena is not the way; I will find another. Keep our deal in mind, if you ever wish to sleep well at night…or at all.”