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The Chromatic Dragonling: A Tale of Mischief & Mayhem

by Bill Tiepelman

The Chromatic Dragonling: A Tale of Mischief & Mayhem

The Most Unreasonable Egg Roderic was many things—an adventurer, a scholar, a man who could drink his own weight in mead without embarrassing himself (too much). But he was not, under any circumstances, a babysitter. Yet here he was, staring down at the newly hatched creature sprawled across his desk—a tiny dragon with scandalously bright scales and enormous golden eyes that screamed trouble. It had hatched from what he thought was a priceless gemstone he’d “borrowed” from the hoard of an elderly dragon named Morgath. Turns out, Morgath hadn’t been hoarding treasure. He’d been hoarding offspring. “Alright, listen,” Roderic said, rubbing his temples as the dragonling stretched its wings and yawned, completely unbothered. “I don’t know how to raise a baby dragon. I have very little patience. Also, I’m fairly sure your father would like to murder me.” The dragonling let out an exaggerated sigh—as if it were the one suffering—and then flopped onto its back, kicking its stubby little legs. Roderic narrowed his eyes. “Oh, fantastic. You’re dramatic.” In response, the dragonling blew a puff of smoke in his face. Roderic coughed, waving it away. “Rude.” The dragonling grinned. The Problem With Tiny Dragons Over the next few days, Roderic discovered something important: baby dragons were insufferable. First, the dragonling refused to eat anything normal. Fresh meat? No. Roasted chicken? A scoff. Expensive smoked salmon? Spat out onto the rug. The only thing it wanted to eat was a chunk of enchanted obsidian from Roderic’s alchemy stash. “You’re a spoiled little beast, you know that?” he muttered, watching as the dragonling gleefully crunched the magical rock like a snack. Second, it was dramatic. Everything was a performance. The dragonling would flop onto its back if ignored for too long. It would make tragic whimpering sounds when it wasn’t the center of attention. When Roderic dared to leave the room without it? Oh, the betrayal. The screams were enough to make a banshee jealous. Third, and perhaps worst of all, it was an escape artist. Roderic awoke on the third morning to find the dragonling missing. His stomach dropped. His mind immediately conjured images of it accidentally setting his cottage on fire, or worse—running into an angry mob that didn’t appreciate flying fire hazards. Throwing on his cloak, he burst through the front door… only to find the dragonling perched smugly atop his neighbor’s roof, nibbling on what appeared to be a stolen silver necklace. Lady Haversham stood below, hands on her hips. She did not look pleased. “Roderic,” she called sweetly. “Why is there a dragonling on my house?” Roderic sighed. “He’s a menace.” The dragonling chomped the necklace in half and burped. Lady Haversham stared. “I see.” Roderic pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ll get him down.” Which was easier said than done. The dragonling was thrilled with its newfound height advantage and had no intention of coming down without a game of chase. Roderic had to climb onto the roof, where the little beast made a show of dodging him—skipping, fluttering just out of reach, and chirping happily as if this were the greatest entertainment of its life. Roderic, panting, finally lunged and caught the dragonling mid-air. “Got you, you little gremlin,” he grunted. The dragonling gave him an unrepentant grin and licked his nose. And that’s when Roderic realized three things: This dragonling had absolutely no respect for him. He was completely and utterly outmatched. He was going to have to raise it, whether he liked it or not. He groaned. This was going to be a long adventure.     A Very Illegal Dragon Three weeks later, Roderic had learned two valuable things about raising a dragonling: Nothing in his home was safe. Not his books, not his furniture, certainly not his dignity. Baby dragons grew fast. The once-tiny menace was now twice its original size, still small enough to perch on his shoulder but big enough to knock over shelves when it got excited (which was often). The dramatics hadn’t stopped, either. If anything, they had gotten worse. If Roderic didn’t immediately acknowledge the dragonling’s existence upon waking up, he was met with a series of high-pitched wails that could wake the dead. And the appetite? Impossible. Roderic was now regularly bribing the blacksmith for bits of enchanted metal, all while dodging questions from the local magistrate about why there were occasional flashes of dragonfire coming from his cottage. Which, technically speaking, was a felony. Baby dragons weren’t exactly legal in town. So when a loud BOOM echoed through the streets one evening, Roderic knew—instantly—it was his problem. The Jailbreak Incident He sprinted outside to find that his neighbor’s barn had been blown apart. Standing in the smoldering wreckage was his dragonling, tail flicking, eyes wide with what could only be described as giddy chaos. Next to it stood a very unimpressed city guard. “Roderic,” the guard said, folding his arms. Roderic doubled over, panting. “Hey, Captain. Fancy meeting you here.” “Do you want to explain why your dragon just exploded a barn?” The dragonling puffed up indignantly. It chirped. Roderic straightened, pushing sweat-damp hair out of his face. “I feel like ‘exploded’ is a strong word.” The captain pointed to the burning rubble. “Is it?” Roderic sighed. “Okay, fine. I’ll pay for it.” “You will,” the captain agreed, then lowered his voice. “You need to get that thing out of town. If the magistrate finds out—” “Yeah, yeah, I know.” Roderic turned to the dragonling. “Well, congratulations, you tiny disaster. We’re fugitives now.” On the Run Fleeing town in the dead of night with a smug baby dragon was not how Roderic had planned his life, and yet here he was—leading his horse through the forest, cursing under his breath as the dragonling perched on the saddle like a royal prince. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he muttered. The dragonling yawned, utterly unrepentant. “Oh, don’t act innocent. You blew up a barn.” It flicked its tail. Chirp. Roderic groaned. “I should’ve left you on that roof.” But they both knew that was a lie. He was stuck with this dragonling. And, worse, a part of him didn’t mind. The wind rustled through the trees. In the distance, he heard the faint sound of riders—probably guards searching for them. He exhaled. “Well, little terror, looks like we’re going on an adventure.” The dragonling blinked, then nuzzled against his cheek. Roderic grumbled. “Ugh. You can’t bribe me with cuteness.” It licked his ear. He sighed. “Fine. Maybe a little.” And so, with no destination in mind and a very illegal dragonling in tow, Roderic took his first step into the unknown. To Be Continued…?     Bring The Chromatic Dragonling Home! Fallen in love with this mischievous little dragon? Now you can keep a piece of its playful magic with you! Whether you want to add a touch of whimsy to your walls, cozy up with its fiery charm, or carry its adventurous spirit wherever you go, we’ve got just the thing: ✨ Tapestries – Transform any space with a touch of dragon magic. 🖼️ Canvas Prints – A stunning centerpiece for any fantasy lover. 🛋️ Throw Pillows – Because every couch deserves a bit of dragon mischief. 👜 Tote Bags – Take the adventure with you wherever you go. 🔥 Stickers – Add a little dragon attitude to your world. Don’t just read about The Chromatic Dragonling—bring it into your realm!

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The Littlest Flame: A Dragon's Heartwarming Beginnings

by Bill Tiepelman

The Littlest Flame: A Dragon's Heartwarming Beginnings

In the vast kingdom of Elderwyn, home to towering castles, enchanted forests, and creatures of legend, something extraordinary happened one quiet morning. No, it wasn’t the usual kind of extraordinary—the kind with knights rescuing maidens or wizards hurling fireballs. This was different. This was the day that a very small, very adorable dragon decided to make its debut. Meet Smidge. And yes, that’s exactly what he was—a smidge of a dragon, no bigger than a loaf of bread. But don’t let the size fool you. Smidge had big dreams, despite being born in the smallest egg of the clutch. His brothers and sisters had all hatched into impressive little fire-breathers, already causing minor property damage to the local village (a rite of passage for any dragon, really). Smidge, however, had yet to produce more than a puff of smoke and some particularly aggressive hiccups. “You’ll get there, Smidge,” his mother, a glorious red-scaled dragon named Seraphina, would say in her deep, echoing voice. “It just takes time.” Smidge wasn’t so sure. While his siblings were off practicing their flame control, he was busy... well, trying not to trip over his own feet. His legs seemed too long for his body, his wings flapped more like a startled chicken’s than anything majestic, and his fire? Let’s just say no marshmallows were getting roasted any time soon. The Quest for Fire (And Not Burning Himself in the Process) Determined to prove himself, Smidge set off on a mission. It wasn’t a typical “slay the knight, hoard the treasure” kind of mission. No, Smidge had something much simpler in mind: learn to breathe fire without sneezing. It was a modest goal, but you had to start somewhere. He waddled out of the cave early one morning, waving goodbye to his siblings, who were busy setting a small forest on fire (totally accidental, of course). Smidge’s journey was one of discovery. He needed to find a quiet spot, away from distractions, where he could really focus on his fire-breathing technique. “Ah, here we go,” Smidge muttered, stumbling upon a clearing in the forest. It was peaceful, with the sun filtering through the trees, birds chirping, and most importantly, nothing that could accidentally catch fire—except maybe a few shrubs, but sacrifices had to be made. Smidge squared his little shoulders, took a deep breath, and... poof. A tiny puff of smoke escaped his nostrils. Well, it was better than last time, when nothing but a few weak sparks fizzled out. He puffed his chest out, feeling rather proud. “Alright, let’s go again,” he said, this time putting every bit of effort he had into it. He inhaled deeply, focused, and—achoo! The sneeze came out of nowhere, and with it, a burst of flame that wasn’t quite forward-facing. Instead, the flames engulfed his own tail. “Yow!” Smidge yelped, hopping in circles, frantically patting out the flames with his tiny claws. After a few minutes of awkward tail-chasing, the fire was out, but his pride had taken a hit. “That,” he muttered, “could have gone better.” Making Friends (or, How Not to Burn Bridges) Despite the hiccups (and sneezes), Smidge wasn’t about to give up. He just needed a bit of help—some guidance. And so, he set off deeper into the forest, hoping to find someone who might teach him the ancient art of dragon fire-breathing. What he found instead... was Barry. Barry was a troll. Not the menacing, bridge-guarding kind of troll, though. No, Barry was more of a “tree-hugging, amateur painter” kind of troll. He stood about 12 feet tall, with moss growing on his back and a pair of reading glasses perched precariously on the end of his bulbous nose. “Hi!” Smidge chirped, looking up at the towering troll. “I’m Smidge. Can you help me learn to breathe fire?” Barry squinted down at the tiny dragon, one mossy eyebrow raised. “Fire, you say? Hm. Not really my specialty, kid. I’m more into watercolors.” He gestured to a nearby easel, where an interpretive painting of what Smidge assumed was a tree stood. It mostly looked like a blob with branches. “Oh,” Smidge said, his tiny wings drooping. “Well... thanks anyway.” Barry sighed, scratching his head. “Look, kid, I may not know much about fire-breathing, but I do know about practice. That’s what painting is, really. Practice. You just gotta keep at it. Eventually, you’ll figure it out.” Smidge tilted his head, considering the troll’s advice. “Practice, huh? That’s it?” “Yep,” Barry replied with a shrug. “And, uh, maybe don’t set yourself on fire next time.” Smidge couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, I’ll try not to.” The Littlest Flame Ignites With Barry’s advice echoing in his head, Smidge returned to his clearing and tried again. Days passed, and though his flames were still small and sputtering, they were growing. He only set his tail on fire twice more, and there were no major forest fires—just a few smoking bushes. One evening, as the sun began to set, Smidge felt different. He had been practicing all day, and though he was tired, something inside him felt ready. He stood tall (well, as tall as a baby dragon could), focused on the horizon, and took the deepest breath yet. Flame surged from his mouth, a beautiful, controlled stream of fire that lit up the sky in shades of gold and red. Smidge blinked in surprise. Had he just... done it? “I DID IT!” he shouted, hopping up and down in excitement. “I’M A REAL DRAGON!” At that moment, his mother appeared, her massive wings casting a shadow over the clearing. “I knew you could do it,” she said proudly, watching her littlest flame with a smile. “You just needed to find your spark.” The Future of the Littlest Flame And so, with his newfound fire-breathing ability, Smidge became a legend in his own right—not for his size, but for his heart. He wasn’t the biggest or the most powerful dragon in Elderwyn, but he was certainly the most determined. And that, as any dragon will tell you, is the secret to greatness. As for Barry, well, he continued painting his abstract masterpieces. Smidge, now a proud fire-breathing dragon, made sure to stop by every now and then to check in on his favorite troll, usually offering him a little flame to dry his watercolors. Because that’s what friends are for—helping each other, whether with flames, brushes, or a little bit of encouragement. Smidge might have started as the littlest flame, but he knew one thing for sure: the world was about to see just how bright even the smallest dragon could shine.    Bring a Piece of Smidge's World Home If the heartwarming adventures of Smidge, the littlest flame, brightened your day, why not bring a bit of that joy into your own space? Whether you’re looking for something whimsical to decorate your home or a playful gift for someone special, we’ve got just the right items to capture Smidge’s charm. The Littlest Flame Puzzle – Piece together the adorable world of Smidge, one puzzle piece at a time. It’s the perfect way to relax while celebrating the little dragon who lights up our hearts. The Littlest Flame Tote Bag – Carry a bit of Smidge’s playful spirit with you wherever you go. This tote is perfect for your everyday essentials, and it comes with an extra dash of dragon-sized cuteness! The Littlest Flame Tapestry – Transform your space with this vibrant tapestry featuring Smidge, the little dragon with a big heart. Perfect for adding a whimsical touch to any room! The Littlest Flame Metal Print – Elevate your decor with this stunning metal print. Smidge’s colorful world will shine beautifully on your walls, capturing the spirit of adventure and fun. Each product brings Smidge’s delightful story to life, making it easy to keep his uplifting energy around you. Whether it's a puzzle for a quiet afternoon or a tote bag for your daily adventures, Smidge is ready to brighten your world. Explore more at Unfocussed Shop!

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