Namir

Lore written by DireDragonar

Most dragons underestimate the dirt. It takes back what is stolen. Dead things go back where it came. Dirt takes everything back. Mushrooms grow on rotting entities that have given up. On bark. On flesh. It doesn’t matter. Everything goes back. It doesn't need sunlight. It feeds on the flesh of decaying beings. It is a hardy survivor.

Even when I was young, the dark fascinated me. The mold that inhabited the darkest crevices of every humid cave. The fungus that managed to thrive where other plants could not survive. I was a smart hatchling. A bright kid. The adults all said so. My teachers favored me over the others. I was respected by dragons younger than me. They called me beautiful. I suppose I was. I wouldn’t know. I tried not to look at myself too much. My teachers always taught me to look out, not in. To be selfless and kind.

As I grew, the admiration only increased. I was growing to be quite a beautiful young lady, or so they said. Males would try to woo me with their empty words and senseless smiles. I was too smart for their tricks. They didn’t know me enough to be able to compliment me. They couldn’t have been so happy with me to smile. As such, they came to see me as arrogant and picky. I didn’t believe I was, which only made me seem ever more snobbish. It was an awful feeling, to have the dragons I once considered friends ignore me because of a misconception. Nevertheless, I still kept many admirers. They called themselves my friends. They were not.
I soon began to realize that my companions were only sticking with me because of my outward appearance. It disgusted me. Dragons couldn’t possibly be so shallow and selfish, yet, they were. They were awful creatures, I thought. Physical appearance was something I began to shun. Why should I judge someone because of how bright their scales shine? Because of how neatly-cropped their whiskers are? I am more focused on what I see inside of them. I’ve gotten particularly good at seeing. Seeing things others usually ignore. The sly smile of a jokester picking on another dragon. The quiet chatter of two dragons talking of another dragon, of whom they believe is lesser. The look of disgust a soldier gives a passerby. I see it all.

I became tired of others judging my soul from my appearance. Therefore, I devised a plan to make sure they only stuck with me because of what was inside of me. It hurt to rip the skin open, of course. A small price for a lifetime blessing. I would no longer need to watch others so closely. Surprisingly, the spores thrived underneath the skin. Mushrooms grew. They were accompanied by the moldy, rotting smell I was so fascinated by. After that, I quickly learned who was really loyal to me. No one. It is no matter. My mushrooms will forever be loyal.

Poem written by yeezy13

Mushrooms slowly spread
Admiration turned feral
A slow betrayal