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"83cf35af81c061fbf12a6574b9d22ffb", "deleted": "f", "create_datetime": "2025-10-02 19:42:33.953832+00", "create_datetime_usertime": "02 Oct 2025 21:42 CEST", "thumbnail_url_huge": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/huge/5740/5740085_vuthardragon_00_14_.jpg", "thumbnail_url_large": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/5740/5740085_vuthardragon_00_14_.jpg", "thumbnail_url_medium": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/5740/5740085_vuthardragon_00_14_.jpg", "thumb_huge_x": "300", "thumb_huge_y": "55", "thumb_large_x": "200", "thumb_large_y": "36", "thumb_medium_x": "120", "thumb_medium_y": "22", "thumbnail_url_huge_noncustom": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/preview/5740/5740085_vuthardragon_00_14_.jpg", "thumbnail_url_large_noncustom": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/5740/5740085_vuthardragon_00_14__noncustom.jpg", "thumbnail_url_medium_noncustom": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/5740/5740085_vuthardragon_00_14__noncustom.jpg", 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Storms were frequent here, and the wind sang through the crags with a voice older than memory itself. Yet within those savage ridges lived a people known as the Draconians—beings born of both dragon and mortal blood, their bodies sheathed in scale and sinew, their eyes burning with ancient fire.\nAmong them was one who was set apart. She was called Nyxara, a dark-scaled draconian whose hide gleamed obsidian-black beneath the sun, fading into streaks of violet and royal purple along her throat and chest. Her claws were sharp and her wings vast, but unlike many of her kin, she did not seek glory in battle or domination of lesser creatures. Her heart was bound to something rarer: the bond between dragon and caretaker.\nIt was during one of her solitary wanderings along the cliffs that Nyxara first heard it—the sharp, pained cry of a beast. She descended from the rock ledge with practiced grace, her talons striking sparks as she landed. What she found was a sight that would shape her destiny: a young, feral green dragon trapped beneath the remnants of a rockslide. His emerald scales shimmered faintly even through the dust, his chest heaving as he tried in vain to free himself.\nNyxara’s eyes softened. “Easy, little one,” she murmured, though the creature’s growl warned her to keep her distance.\nWith effort that tested her strength, she pried away the stones until the dragon was freed. The beast staggered, its wings half-folded, eyes wary yet brilliant with wild defiance. Nyxara extended her hand. “You’re safe now.”\nThe dragon hesitated, nostrils flaring, but then bowed his head. In that moment, a bond sparked between them—a fragile thread of trust born not of dominance, but of compassion.\nShe named him Verdan, after the living green flame of the forests that rolled beneath the mountains.\nThe path of taming a feral dragon was never simple, but Nyxara had never sought simplicity. Verdan was willful, as wild creatures must be. He snarled when she brought food, resisted when she attempted to mend his wounds, and once even tried to snap at her arm. But the draconian was patient.\nNights passed where she sang to him in the old tongue, her voice low and resonant, vibrating with the echoes of draconic ancestors. Slowly, Verdan’s guard began to fall. He allowed her closer, let her brush his scales clean of blood and stone dust, and one night, he even curled beside her fire, his massive head resting near her claws.\nNyxara smiled into the flames, knowing their bond had begun to grow roots.\nBut in Theralith, such a bond was not welcomed by all. Among her kind, dragons were weapons, mounts for war, beasts of pride—not companions. To treat a feral dragon as kin was seen as weakness. Whispers spread among the Draconians. They called her foolish, sentimental, a shadow who had forgotten her duty.\nNyxara did not waver. “Let them mock,” she told Verdan one morning as the dragon stretched his wings against the dawn. “You are not my weapon. You are my equal. Together, we will show them.”\nVerdan rumbled in response, a sound between a growl and a purr. Though he could not speak words, his eyes gleamed with understanding.\nIt was not long before Nyxara’s bond with Verdan was put to the test. From the far reaches of the world came word of a marauder—an iron-scaled behemoth known as Kharzoth the Ash-Bringer. This ancient dragon descended upon villages, reducing them to ruin and ash. Even the proud Draconian warriors who tried to bring him down fell like wheat before the scythe.\nThe elders decreed that a company of their strongest would march to face Kharzoth. Nyxara stood before them, Verdan at her side. Gasps filled the chamber, for never had one brought a feral dragon into the council hall.\n“This is folly!” spat one warrior. “That beast is untamed!”\nNyxara’s wings flared wide, her violet chest scales gleaming in the torchlight. “He is no beast. He is my companion. And together, we will succeed where you have failed.”\nThe elders exchanged doubtful glances, but desperation left little room for pride. At last, the High Elder gave a solemn nod. “Very well, Nyxara of the Shadow Scales. You and your dragon shall face the Ash-Bringer.”\nVerdan growled low, as though he already hungered for the challenge.\nThe battlefield was a plain of scorched earth, littered with the blackened bones of the fallen. Kharzoth descended from the storm, his body like a mountain of molten iron, eyes burning with a hatred that seared flesh. His roar shook the heavens.\nNyxara mounted Verdan’s back, her claws gripping the thick emerald ridges of his neck. The green dragon launched skyward, his wings cutting through the smoke. The two soared together, one mind, one heart, bound by trust and fire.\nThe clash was titanic. Kharzoth’s flames raged like a sea of lava, but Verdan was swift, weaving between the inferno. Nyxara hurled her spear, its tip forged from star-metal, striking the behemoth’s shoulder. Verdan’s claws raked against iron scales, and his emerald fire—born of the forests themselves—clashed against the ash-dragon’s blaze.\nAgain and again they struck, battered but unbroken. In those moments of flight, Nyxara felt their souls interwoven—her strength guiding his wings, his fury fueling her resolve. Together they were not two, but one.\nAnd at last, with a cry that split the sky, Verdan dove. Nyxara drove her spear deep into Kharzoth’s chest. With an earth-shaking roar, the Ash-Bringer fell, his massive body crashing into the scorched plain below.\nWhen they returned to Theralith, even the doubters were silenced. The Draconians bowed their heads as Nyxara and Verdan passed, no longer mocking, but reverent.\n“You have shown us a new path,” said the High Elder, voice heavy with awe. “The bond between draconian and dragon need not be one of chains, but of unity. From this day forth, you and Verdan shall be honored as champions.”\nBut Nyxara cared little for titles or glory. That night, as she sat upon a cliff’s edge with Verdan curled beside her, she whispered:\n“They will remember us as heroes. But I need no songs, Verdan. All I need… is this bond.”\nThe dragon lowered his head against her shoulder, and in that gesture, she felt more than words could ever say.\nYears passed, and tales of Nyxara and Verdan spread across kingdoms. Some called them guardians, others legends. Yet for them, life was not about conquest, but about journey. Together they soared across oceans, through endless forests, and into realms untouched by mortal eyes.\nWherever they went, they brought balance. Nyxara’s wisdom tempered Verdan’s fury, and Verdan’s might shielded Nyxara’s compassion. Their bond became a symbol whispered in both fear and reverence: the Shadow-Draconian and the Emerald Flame.\nAnd though time itself would one day seek to erode mountains and silence songs, their story would never die. For bonds forged not of chains, but of trust, are eternal.\n—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\nVerdan is a powerful male green dragon with shimmering emerald scales and piercing eyes.\n Once wild and feral, he now shares a deep bond with his draconian companion.\n His wings carry him across mountains and forests, glowing like living jade.\n A symbol of untamed strength, loyalty, and natural fire.\n His emerald breath can burn enemies or nurture the land.\n Verdan embodies the spirit of freedom and primal might. vuthardarastrix.itch.io X: Vuthardarast1 BSKY: vuthardarastrix", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "Battle Beneath a Burning Sky


The mountains of Theralith rose like jagged teeth against a bruised sky, their peaks clawing at the last light of day. Storms were frequent here, and the wind sang through the crags with a voice older than memory itself. Yet within those savage ridges lived a people known as the Draconians—beings born of both dragon and mortal blood, their bodies sheathed in scale and sinew, their eyes burning with ancient fire.
Among them was one who was set apart. She was called Nyxara, a dark-scaled draconian whose hide gleamed obsidian-black beneath the sun, fading into streaks of violet and royal purple along her throat and chest. Her claws were sharp and her wings vast, but unlike many of her kin, she did not seek glory in battle or domination of lesser creatures. Her heart was bound to something rarer: the bond between dragon and caretaker.
It was during one of her solitary wanderings along the cliffs that Nyxara first heard it—the sharp, pained cry of a beast. She descended from the rock ledge with practiced grace, her talons striking sparks as she landed. What she found was a sight that would shape her destiny: a young, feral green dragon trapped beneath the remnants of a rockslide. His emerald scales shimmered faintly even through the dust, his chest heaving as he tried in vain to free himself.
Nyxara’s eyes softened. “Easy, little one,” she murmured, though the creature’s growl warned her to keep her distance.
With effort that tested her strength, she pried away the stones until the dragon was freed. The beast staggered, its wings half-folded, eyes wary yet brilliant with wild defiance. Nyxara extended her hand. “You’re safe now.”
The dragon hesitated, nostrils flaring, but then bowed his head. In that moment, a bond sparked between them—a fragile thread of trust born not of dominance, but of compassion.
She named him Verdan, after the living green flame of the forests that rolled beneath the mountains.
The path of taming a feral dragon was never simple, but Nyxara had never sought simplicity. Verdan was willful, as wild creatures must be. He snarled when she brought food, resisted when she attempted to mend his wounds, and once even tried to snap at her arm. But the draconian was patient.
Nights passed where she sang to him in the old tongue, her voice low and resonant, vibrating with the echoes of draconic ancestors. Slowly, Verdan’s guard began to fall. He allowed her closer, let her brush his scales clean of blood and stone dust, and one night, he even curled beside her fire, his massive head resting near her claws.
Nyxara smiled into the flames, knowing their bond had begun to grow roots.
But in Theralith, such a bond was not welcomed by all. Among her kind, dragons were weapons, mounts for war, beasts of pride—not companions. To treat a feral dragon as kin was seen as weakness. Whispers spread among the Draconians. They called her foolish, sentimental, a shadow who had forgotten her duty.
Nyxara did not waver. “Let them mock,” she told Verdan one morning as the dragon stretched his wings against the dawn. “You are not my weapon. You are my equal. Together, we will show them.”
Verdan rumbled in response, a sound between a growl and a purr. Though he could not speak words, his eyes gleamed with understanding.
It was not long before Nyxara’s bond with Verdan was put to the test. From the far reaches of the world came word of a marauder—an iron-scaled behemoth known as Kharzoth the Ash-Bringer. This ancient dragon descended upon villages, reducing them to ruin and ash. Even the proud Draconian warriors who tried to bring him down fell like wheat before the scythe.
The elders decreed that a company of their strongest would march to face Kharzoth. Nyxara stood before them, Verdan at her side. Gasps filled the chamber, for never had one brought a feral dragon into the council hall.
“This is folly!” spat one warrior. “That beast is untamed!”
Nyxara’s wings flared wide, her violet chest scales gleaming in the torchlight. “He is no beast. He is my companion. And together, we will succeed where you have failed.”
The elders exchanged doubtful glances, but desperation left little room for pride. At last, the High Elder gave a solemn nod. “Very well, Nyxara of the Shadow Scales. You and your dragon shall face the Ash-Bringer.”
Verdan growled low, as though he already hungered for the challenge.
The battlefield was a plain of scorched earth, littered with the blackened bones of the fallen. Kharzoth descended from the storm, his body like a mountain of molten iron, eyes burning with a hatred that seared flesh. His roar shook the heavens.
Nyxara mounted Verdan’s back, her claws gripping the thick emerald ridges of his neck. The green dragon launched skyward, his wings cutting through the smoke. The two soared together, one mind, one heart, bound by trust and fire.
The clash was titanic. Kharzoth’s flames raged like a sea of lava, but Verdan was swift, weaving between the inferno. Nyxara hurled her spear, its tip forged from star-metal, striking the behemoth’s shoulder. Verdan’s claws raked against iron scales, and his emerald fire—born of the forests themselves—clashed against the ash-dragon’s blaze.
Again and again they struck, battered but unbroken. In those moments of flight, Nyxara felt their souls interwoven—her strength guiding his wings, his fury fueling her resolve. Together they were not two, but one.
And at last, with a cry that split the sky, Verdan dove. Nyxara drove her spear deep into Kharzoth’s chest. With an earth-shaking roar, the Ash-Bringer fell, his massive body crashing into the scorched plain below.
When they returned to Theralith, even the doubters were silenced. The Draconians bowed their heads as Nyxara and Verdan passed, no longer mocking, but reverent.
“You have shown us a new path,” said the High Elder, voice heavy with awe. “The bond between draconian and dragon need not be one of chains, but of unity. From this day forth, you and Verdan shall be honored as champions.”
But Nyxara cared little for titles or glory. That night, as she sat upon a cliff’s edge with Verdan curled beside her, she whispered:
“They will remember us as heroes. But I need no songs, Verdan. All I need… is this bond.”
The dragon lowered his head against her shoulder, and in that gesture, she felt more than words could ever say.
Years passed, and tales of Nyxara and Verdan spread across kingdoms. Some called them guardians, others legends. Yet for them, life was not about conquest, but about journey. Together they soared across oceans, through endless forests, and into realms untouched by mortal eyes.
Wherever they went, they brought balance. Nyxara’s wisdom tempered Verdan’s fury, and Verdan’s might shielded Nyxara’s compassion. Their bond became a symbol whispered in both fear and reverence: the Shadow-Draconian and the Emerald Flame.
And though time itself would one day seek to erode mountains and silence songs, their story would never die. For bonds forged not of chains, but of trust, are eternal.
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Verdan is a powerful male green dragon with shimmering emerald scales and piercing eyes.
 Once wild and feral, he now shares a deep bond with his draconian companion.
 His wings carry him across mountains and forests, glowing like living jade.
 A symbol of untamed strength, loyalty, and natural fire.
 His emerald breath can burn enemies or nurture the land.
 Verdan embodies the spirit of freedom and primal might.   vuthardarastrix.itch.io    X: Vuthardarast1   BSKY: vuthardarastrix", "pools_count": 0, "title": "New Submission", "deleted": "f", "public": "t", "mimetype": "image/jpeg", "pagecount": "1", "rating_id": "2", "rating_name": "Adult", "ratings": [ { "content_tag_id": "4", "name": "Sexual Themes", "description": "Erotic imagery, sexual activity or arousal", "rating_id": "2" } ], "submission_type_id": "12", "type_name": "Writing - Document", "guest_block": "t", "friends_only": "f", "comments_count": "0", "views": "43" }