*Aurthur glanced around carefully. The coast was clear and all was quiet. He crept through the lair almost like a thief, making his way to a hidden spot in the lair, a place he was fairly certain even his mate didn't know about. This hidden room with every spell, seal, and guard that Aurthur knew of, to keep it hidden. It was without a doubt the smallest room in the lair, and would barely accommodate he and his mate, much less anyone else. But there was a reason that he kept this room hidden. It contained his treasure......and his curse.
Dragon armor. The very same he had worn years ago, when he was still a mercenary. The black armor was made so that it would stand out against his scales while also providing camouflage under night skies, when the mercenary struck the most often. The wing guards and the gauntlets that would protect both his fore and hind limbs, as well as the belly guard and helm, were all in perfect shape, an kept so by he himself. He made visits to this room every so often, whenever he could sneak away. But there was one piece of the armor that was not kept in good repair. The breastplate held a massive hole in it, where a projectile weapon had struck him years earlier. Remembering, he held his paw to his breast, where the old injury had been. By all rights, he should be dead, but he wasn't. He had survived, somehow.
Now there was a creature in the lake that was threatening his family, and it had to be put to rest. When he had first met his wife and they were still courting, he promised her that he would stop being a mercenary, so that they might have a family. He had kept true to his word. But now.......He sighed softly as he looked at the armor, placing a claw lightly on the damaged plate.::
Something needs to be done, and I think I can do it.......But I need my armor, and the repairs will give it away that I still have it......My spells have kept my wound concealed for years, but if my mate sees this, questions will arise......I need a sign, some kind of sign.......
Dragon armor. The very same he had worn years ago, when he was still a mercenary. The black armor was made so that it would stand out against his scales while also providing camouflage under night skies, when the mercenary struck the most often. The wing guards and the gauntlets that would protect both his fore and hind limbs, as well as the belly guard and helm, were all in perfect shape, an kept so by he himself. He made visits to this room every so often, whenever he could sneak away. But there was one piece of the armor that was not kept in good repair. The breastplate held a massive hole in it, where a projectile weapon had struck him years earlier. Remembering, he held his paw to his breast, where the old injury had been. By all rights, he should be dead, but he wasn't. He had survived, somehow.
Now there was a creature in the lake that was threatening his family, and it had to be put to rest. When he had first met his wife and they were still courting, he promised her that he would stop being a mercenary, so that they might have a family. He had kept true to his word. But now.......He sighed softly as he looked at the armor, placing a claw lightly on the damaged plate.::
Something needs to be done, and I think I can do it.......But I need my armor, and the repairs will give it away that I still have it......My spells have kept my wound concealed for years, but if my mate sees this, questions will arise......I need a sign, some kind of sign.......