Wednesday, October 30, 2019

dragon poem

Dragons are living
In coils
Where the sun doesn't shine
Far below the water
They laugh
They scoff at us

We are fast
They have been together
Pierced by daggers
Memorialized in quatrain
But alive
Their eyes are red
Their tongues, red
Sleek, shining
Finely adorned
Who eat
Who cut
They come out at night
And fill
And return to their waiting nests
Where rivers pour

I wish I could see them
But, hidden, underground
They are safe
And can exist apart

Last week my players fought their first dragon: Corvenon, Son of Valathex, who guards the Flying Fortress of the Sky Witch, and finally decided after enough of their shenanigans that they deserved to die. They weren't expecting this, and he stripped their wizard and bard of 2/3 of their HP in his first round with his poison dream fog breath breath, and they put up a wall of force and ran. I'm very proud of Corvenon. I hope he never dies.

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