Dragon mythology

by Bill Tiepelman

The Flame-Furred Dragonling

In the quiet, maple-scented corner of the Everamber Woods, something far from quiet was about to happen. It all began when a certain someone—let’s call him Boris the Nearly Brave—decided that dragons were nothing more than oversized chickens with fire breath. "I’ll make my fortune selling flame-proof armor," he’d declare, waving his sword around in the village tavern, entirely forgetting he’d spent the last three years cowering from squirrels. But fate, as it tends to do, had other plans. Plans that involved tiny claws, fiery pink fur, and an ego-deflating encounter in the heart of autumn’s most beautiful, and least predictable, forest. The Trouble with Eggs Boris, fueled by one too many tankards of mead and even more bad decisions, set out on an epic quest—well, a quest anyway—to find dragon eggs. The village rumor mill had been in overdrive: someone had spotted a strange glow in Everamber Woods. And since Boris was running out of excuses to avoid his debts, he figured, "Why not? Maybe I’ll find an egg, maybe I’ll die. Either way, it's less embarrassing than borrowing more coin from Granny Norgle." So off he trudged, swinging his sword at nothing in particular, and muttering about becoming the most famous dragonslayer this side of the River of Regret (a fitting name, considering his future). The deeper he ventured into the woods, the more brilliant the autumn colors became—reds, oranges, and yellows swirling in the wind, as if the trees themselves were on fire. And at the heart of it all, nestled between two particularly ancient-looking oaks, was an egg. Now, you’d think Boris would be suspicious about an unguarded, glowing egg just lying in a bed of autumn leaves. You’d think he’d stop to ask, "Where’s the giant, fire-breathing mother that laid this thing?" But no, Boris—drunk on mead and ego—picked up the egg and stuffed it in his satchel like it was a stolen loaf of bread. The Hatchling Awakens For a good five minutes, Boris was convinced he’d won. He could already picture himself strutting through the village, selling dragon omelets for a fortune. But then the egg began to crack. A faint glow seeped through the fissures, followed by a high-pitched chirp. This, of course, was the part where Boris panicked. "Stay in there, you overgrown lizard!" he shouted, as if that would stop nature from taking its course. And then—pop!—out came the strangest creature Boris had ever seen. It wasn’t quite the fearsome dragon of legends. No, this little beast had fluffy, vibrant pink fur, big soulful eyes, and wings that looked like they belonged more on a bat that had partied too hard than a dragon of terror. Its scales glittered, but in an oddly adorable way, and its tiny horns curled like it was still deciding whether to be cute or dangerous. The baby dragon blinked at Boris, then promptly sneezed. A puff of smoke curled out of its nostrils and, as luck would have it, ignited the nearest pile of leaves. Boris jumped back, flailing as if he’d been shot at by a crossbow. The dragonling, however, just sat there, wagging its tail like a puppy who’d discovered fire for the first time. "Great," Boris muttered. "Not only did I find a dragon, but it’s defective." The Unlikely Partnership Now, most people would’ve left the pink, fluffy ball of destruction right there in the forest. But Boris, ever the opportunist, figured there might still be a way to profit from this. Maybe he could train it to breathe fire on command, torch a few bandits, or at least keep his feet warm at night. He named the dragonling Fizzle, because that’s all it seemed capable of—small bursts of smoke, little pops of fire, and an uncontrollable knack for setting things ablaze that shouldn't be ablaze, like Boris’s beard. It turned out that Fizzle wasn’t just a dragon. He was a flame-furred, overly affectionate, extremely curious dragonling who thought everything was food, including Boris’s sword. "Stop chewing that, you oversized squirrel!" Boris would yell, yanking the blade away before Fizzle reduced it to scrap metal. But Fizzle would only blink those big, innocent eyes, as if to say, "What? Me? I’m just a baby." And that, dear reader, is how Boris the Nearly Brave became the babysitter to the least threatening, most destructive dragonling in history. The Quest for the Great Dragon Mother As the days turned into weeks, Boris and Fizzle became an odd pair. The dragonling grew—not in size (because let’s face it, Boris’s luck wouldn’t allow him to raise a proper dragon)—but in curiosity and chaos. Every day was a new adventure in avoiding complete disaster. One time, Fizzle ignited a cart of hay in the middle of town, sending Boris scrambling to explain why the "big, scary dragon" looked more like a stuffed toy gone wrong. "It’s not dangerous! I swear!" he shouted to the mob with pitchforks. "It’s... uh... just playing!" The villagers were, understandably, not convince    Bring Home the Chaos and Cuteness If raising a dragonling like Fizzle seems a bit too much, don’t worry—you can still bring a piece of his fiery charm into your life without the singed eyebrows. Check out these delightful items featuring the legendary Flame-Furred Dragonling: Throw Pillow – Cozy up with this vibrant and whimsical throw pillow, featuring Fizzle in all his pink-furred glory. A perfect touch of magical mayhem for your living room. Tapestry – Transform any space with the warm, autumn vibes of this stunning tapestry, featuring the adorable and mischievous dragonling. It’s like bringing a piece of Everamber Woods into your home—minus the accidental fires. Fleece Blanket – Stay warm (just like Boris tried to!) with this ultra-soft fleece blanket. Curl up under its magical design and let Fizzle keep you cozy without the risk of unexpected flame bursts. Tote Bag – Take a bit of dragon mischief on the go with this enchanting tote bag, perfect for your adventures—whether you’re braving the woods or just heading to the market. Whether you’re an aspiring dragonslayer or just a fan of fiery cuteness, these items will let you carry the spirit of Fizzle with you, without the need for flameproof armor. Shop now and add a little dragonling charm to your life!

by Bill Tiepelman

The Gnome's Dragon: A Mythical Bond

The Misadventures Begin "Ah, the burdens of being unfathomably powerful and irresistibly charming," grumbled Griswold, the gnome, his words heavy with sarcasm as he deftly dodged a puff of dragon's breath. "Do try to keep up, Searwing," he teased, casting a sardonic glance over his shoulder at the mighty dragon trailing behind. Searwing, with scales that shimmered like a sunset trapped in onyx, huffed indignantly. His massive head lowered to Griswold's level, eyes gleaming with an intelligence and annoyance only a creature of his majestic stature could possess. "I could incinerate you with a sneeze, little one," he rumbled, the heat of his words tickling the gnome's pointed hat. Griswold smirked, twirling his broom like a bard with a lute. "And yet, here you are, playing nanny to a gnome. Fate has a sense of humor as twisted as a goblin's spine, eh?" Together, they ventured through the twisted canopy of the Enchanted Forest, their banter a melody amidst the symphony of the wilderness. Griswold, with a step light and mischievous as the morning dew, led the way with the confidence of one who could talk his way out of a dragon's maw—mostly because he had, on more than one occasion. They were on a quest most peculiar, to retrieve the Whispering Acorn, a seed of legend said to sprout wisdom itself. Many had sought it, drawn by tales of its power, but Griswold sought it for a reason far more personal. "If I'm to be saddled with a dragon-sized conscience," he had declared, "it might as well be one that offers decent conversation." As day gave way to the silver caress of moonlight, the duo reached a clearing. The air buzzed with magic, the ground was carpeted with glowing mushrooms, and at its center stood the oldest oak in the forest, its branches cradling the stars. "Behold," whispered Griswold, a rare reverence threading his voice, "the Sentinel of Secrets, where our prize awaits. Now, let's nab that acorn before something nasty decides to interrupt." Searwing's tail swept the ground, his gaze alert. "Your propensity for trouble is unparalleled, gnome." With a grin and a wink, Griswold replied, "Why, thank you, Searwing. I do pride myself on my talents." A Twist in the Tale Griswold approached the Sentinel, his fingers dancing in anticipation. But as he reached out, the tree's eyes—previously unseen—snapped open. "Ah, another tiny thief come for my treasure," boomed the tree, its voice like the rustling of a thousand leaves. The gnome recoiled, feigning shock. "Thief? I am Griswold the Great, friend to beasts, defier of odds, and charmer of... well, everything. I merely seek an audience with your esteemed acorn." The oak rumbled with laughter. "Many titles, tiny one, yet none proclaim you a listener. The Whispering Acorn cannot be taken—it must be earned." Griswold's brow furrowed, his snark momentarily misplaced. "Earned? And pray tell, how does one earn the right to conversate with a nut?" "By facing a trial," replied the oak. "Succeed, and the acorn is yours. Fail, and you shall become a permanent resident of my boughs." Without hesitation, Griswold accepted. "Let's get on with it then. I've got places to be, dragons to irk." The trial was a riddle, one that echoed the complexities of nature and the simplicity of truth. Griswold listened, his mind whirring with thoughts, quips, and retorts. Finally, with a glint of triumph in his eyes, he gave his answer, infused with his characteristic wit. The tree paused, the forest held its breath, and then—laughter, rich and deep, filled the air. "Correct, gnome. Your wisdom is as sharp as your tongue." With a flourish, the Whispering Acorn fell into Griswold's waiting hand. It hummed with potential, and for a moment, Griswold's facade of jest wavered, revealing the earnest curiosity beneath. "Well, Searwing, it seems we've won the day," Griswold beamed, pocketing the acorn. "Now, let's return before this blasted nut starts giving me lectures on morality." The dragon snorted, a plume of smoke curling from his nostrils. "I suspect it will have much to say about snarky gnomes and their mischievous ways." Griswold chuckled, patting the dragon's snout. "Then we'll make quite the pair, won't we? Come, let's away. Adventure and merriment await!" And with hearts light and spirits high, the gnome and his dragon set off, their shadows cast long by the moon, their legend only just beginning to grow.     Explore The Gnome's Dragon Collection Unfurl the legend in your own space with "The Gnome's Dragon" exclusive collection. From the vivid strokes of our posters to the interlocking tales of our puzzles, each product is a gateway to the fantastical bond between Griswold and Searwing. The Gnome's Dragon Poster Transform your walls into a canvas of adventure with our The Gnome's Dragon Poster. Rich colors and exquisite detail turn your living space into an enchanted realm, a perfect tribute to Griswold's audacity and Searwing's majesty. The Gnome's Dragon Jigsaw Puzzle Piece together the mystique with our The Gnome's Dragon Jigsaw Puzzle. Each piece is a fragment of the tale, inviting you to step into the gnome's boots and share in their adventure and humor. The Gnome's Dragon Mouse Pad Let every scroll and click be a whimsical journey with The Gnome's Dragon Mouse Pad. Work and play over the very landscape our heroes tread, accompanied by Griswold's snark and Searwing's wisdom. The Gnome's Dragon Throw Pillow Rest upon the lore with our The Gnome's Dragon Throw Pillow. Cozy up with a tangible piece of the tale, and perhaps dream of your own mythical quests and cheeky banter. The Gnome's Dragon Fleece Blanket Wrap yourself in the warmth of our The Gnome's Dragon Fleece Blanket. Soft, luxurious, and enchanted with the essence of camaraderie, it's perfect for those nights when the air is chill and the heart longs for tales of valor. Discover these treasures and more at Unfocussed, where every product is a chapter in an ongoing saga of magic and mischief. Visit us to bring home a part of the legend today.

by Bill Tiepelman

Orb of Origins: The Hatchling's Hold

The Hatchling's Awakening Once upon a time, in the velvety darkness of space, amongst the tapestry of twinkling stars, there emerged a tale as old as time itself. It was within the swirling nebulas and dancing auroras that a cosmic egg hummed with the promise of life. This was no ordinary egg, for it bore within its shell the potential for uncharted beginnings, a future written in the stars but yet to unfold. In the heart of the great cosmic nursery, amidst the harmonious choir of pulsating celestial bodies, the egg began to crack. It was a moment that the universe itself seemed to have paused to witness. A tiny snout, dusted with the glitter of stardust, nudged its way through the crack, followed by a pair of wide, curious eyes that held within them the birth of nebulae. This was the birth of Astra, a dragon hatchling whose scales shimmered with a cosmic hue, a mirage of the universe that birthed her. She was a creature born from the stars, and to the stars, she would forever belong. Astra unfurled her delicate wings, still tender and translucent, and gazed upon the radiant orb that lay nestled within the remnants of her cosmic cradle. The Orb of Origins, as it was whispered amongst the constellations, was said to contain the very essence of the universe’s creation. It was the heart of all matter, the core of all energy, and the seed of all life. The Orb pulsed gently, in rhythm with Astra's own heartbeat, and with every pulse, a new star blinked into existence somewhere in the endless ocean of space. As Astra cradled the Orb, she felt a connection to the cosmos that was both empowering and humbling. She understood, without knowing how, that she was now the guardian of this Orb, the keeper of potential, and the shepherd of the universe’s secrets. Her journey was just beginning, a path that would lead her through the mysteries of creation, the forging of worlds, and the nurturing of life. The Dragon's Dominion With the Orb of Origins warm against her chest, Astra rose upon her coiled tail. Her eyes, vast as the void yet warm as a sun's core, flickered with newfound purpose. The galaxies around her were not merely sights to behold; they were her charges, her play, her responsibility. As she moved, so did the fabric of space, warping in delightful patterns that tickled the edges of black holes and cometed past pulsars. Time passed in a manner unbeknownst to mortals, for time in space is as fluid as the celestial rivers that flow between stars. Astra grew, her scales hardening like the crusts of cooling planets, her breath becoming a solar wind that fanned the flames of distant suns. She was becoming part of the cosmic dance, a choreographer of celestial symphonies. But with great power came a solitude that hung heavy upon her heart like a black dwarf star. Astra longed for kinship, for another soul that shared her stellar lineage. It was then that the Orb of Origins, sensing the yearning within the dragon's heart, pulsed a deep crimson hue and began to hum a melody that resonated with the frequency of creation. Drawn by the melody, forms began to coalesce from the stardust—other beings, each unique in shape and hue, yet kindred in spirit. They were the Astrakin, born from Astra's longing and the Orb's boundless magic. They danced around her, a constellation of companions, each with a small orb of their own, a fragment of the original that continued to bind them to their dragon mother. Together, they soared across the universe, weaving new stars into the firmament, shaping nebulas, and whispering life into being. The Orb of Origins remained with Astra, its luminescence now shared amongst her kin, a reminder of their sacred duty as guardians of existence. In the heart of space, where dreams are born and time weaves its enigmatic tapestry, Astra and her Astrakin became the eternal shepherds of the cosmos, the dragon's dominion ever expanding, ever enduring.     As Astra and the Astrakin forged their legacy across the cosmos, tales of their guardianship and the Orb’s magic spread far and wide, even to the distant and imaginative realm of Earth. Here, in a world teeming with creativity, these stories inspired a series of exquisite items, each capturing the essence of the cosmic legend. The "Orb of Origins: The Hatchling's Hold" Sticker became a treasured emblem, finding its place among the possessions of those who cherished the wonder of the universe. It served as a constant companion, a reminder of the boundless universe that awaited beyond the sky's veil. The majestic Poster, with its vibrant display, turned plain walls into gateways to other worlds, inviting onlookers to step into a realm where dragons soared and stars were born at the gentle whim of a hatchling's dreams. On the web of commerce, a unique Tote Bag emerged, allowing earthlings to carry the enchantment of the cosmos on their shoulders, while the comfort of the stars was brought home with a Throw Pillow, each a soft throne fit for any dreamer. And for those who sought warmth under the same stars that Astra tended, the "Orb of Origins" Fleece Blanket wrapped them in a celestial embrace, as if the hatchling dragon herself had folded the fabric of the heavens around them in a tender, protective cocoon. Thus, the legend of Astra and her cosmic kin intertwined with the lives of those on Earth, the dragon's dominion extending beyond the stars to inspire, comfort, and ignite the imaginations of all who believed in the magic of the universe.

by Bill Tiepelman

Bloodfire's Lament: The Red-Eyed Beast

The twilight had settled like a soft shroud over the village of Eldur's Reach, with only the faintest whispers of daylight streaking the horizon. All was peaceful until a chilling howl sliced through the silence, a sound that was neither man nor beast, but something otherworldly. The villagers, encased in their evening tranquility, felt a shadow pass over their hearts, a premonition of something ancient and fearsome awakened. In the heart of the ominous forest that bordered the village, an old legend pulsed to life. Bloodfire, the dragon of Eldur's lore, stirred from his centuries-long slumber. His eyes, two glowing embers of red, flickered open, cutting through the darkness like twin beacons. With each breath, the ground trembled, and with each shift of his colossal body, the ancient trees groaned in protest. The legend of Bloodfire was etched in every stone of Eldur’s Reach and whispered in the winds that raced through the narrow alleys. Parents told their children of the Red-Eyed Beast who once soared the skies, a guardian whose roar was both a warning and a protective embrace. But something had changed; the beast that once protected them now bore the weight of a profound sorrow, a lament that threatened to sear the very soul of the land. As night deepened, a young village maiden named Aeliana felt a peculiar call. She was unlike the others, her dreams filled with flames and cries of a distant past. Compelled by the haunting melody of Bloodfire's lament, she ventured into the forest, a place where the shadows whispered and the ground hushed under her feet. Deeper into the forest she went, the air growing thick with the scent of smoldering embers. The trees began to thin, revealing the vast expanse of a clearing. And there, in the heart of the clearing, lay the dragon, his scales glistening like a tapestry woven from night and blood. Aeliana, entranced by the beast's sorrowful magnificence, approached, her heart drumming a rhythm of fear and awe. The dragon's head lifted, and his gaze, intense and penetrating, met hers. In that moment, Aeliana felt a connection, a silent conversation passing between them. She understood the source of Bloodfire's grief, his pain. Long ago, he was betrayed by those he vowed to protect, and in his fury, he retreated to this solitary exile. Yet, as Aeliana stood before him, a glimmer of hope sparked within the beast's ancient heart. She reached out her hand, and a single tear, a gem of purest sorrow, fell from Bloodfire's eye and solidified upon the earth—a crimson jewel borne from the heart of despair. The silence of the clearing was palpable as Aeliana felt the warmth of the dragon's tear in her palm. It was a moment suspended in time, a covenant between human and dragon, sealing an unspoken promise. With the gem's glow as her guide, Aeliana knew what she must do. She whispered a vow to restore Bloodfire's honor and to reconcile the past misdeeds of her people. As the first light of dawn caressed the edges of the forest, a plot most foul was unraveling in the heart of Eldur's Reach. The village council, driven by greed and tales of a dragon's hoard, had decided to end the threat of Bloodfire once and for all. Unaware of the sacred bond he once shared with the village, they gathered their weapons, each one etched with runes of silence to cloak their treacherous intent. Aeliana raced against time, the dragon's jewel burning brightly against her chest. She reached the village as the council prepared to march, and with the power of the gem amplifying her voice, she called out to them, beseeching them to remember their heritage and the dragon's true nature. But the hearts of men are often hardened by avarice, and her pleas fell on deaf ears. The clash of ideals erupted into chaos. Aeliana, standing firmly in the path of the armed mob, was the lone sentinel against a tide of imminent destruction. It was then that the sky darkened, and a great shadow swept over the village. Bloodfire had come, not with fury, but with a sorrowful grace. His presence filled the skies, and his eyes, twin pools of mourning, sought out Aeliana amidst the throng. The villagers halted, their weapons trembling in their grasp. Bloodfire's lament, a melody of anguish and remorse, resonated with each soul, stirring memories of a time when dragon and man stood as one. The runes of silence crumbled, their magic unable to withstand the purity of Bloodfire's grief. Aeliana stepped forward, her voice clear and resonant. She spoke of forgiveness, of unity, and of a future where dragon and man could coexist. Touched by the truth in her words and the genuine sorrow of the dragon they had wronged, the villagers lowered their weapons, their eyes opening to the injustice they were about to commit. Bloodfire, once the guardian of Eldur's Reach, now gazed upon the faces of those he had vowed to protect long ago. In their eyes, he saw the dawning of understanding and the first steps towards atonement. With a nod to Aeliana, the bearer of the dragon's tear, he took to the skies, his form becoming one with the light of the rising sun. The Red-Eyed Beast's lament had ended, not in bloodshed, but in reconciliation. And as peace settled once more upon Eldur's Reach, the legend of Bloodfire took on a new verse, one of hope and of bonds reforged in the fires of redemption. And so the tale of Bloodfire's Lament: The Red-Eyed Beast is told, a reminder of the enduring power of empathy and the unbreakable ties that bind us all.     But the story does not end here; it lives on, not just in whispered legends, but in the very essence of Eldur’s Reach and beyond. For those who wish to carry a piece of this legacy, to hold a fragment of the mythos that is Bloodfire’s story, the village artisans have crafted a range of memorabilia, infusing each item with the spirit of the dragon's tale. The Red-Eyed Beast Stickers Let the saga continue on your personal belongings with these vibrant stickers, a symbol of the enduring legend that you can stick to your world. Each sticker, crafted with the utmost care, is a tribute to the fierce guardian of Eldur's Reach, ready to bring the magic of Bloodfire’s world into your daily life. The Red-Eyed Beast Poster Adorn your walls with the Bloodfire's Lament poster, a beacon of the dragon's heartrending story and a dramatic addition to any space. This poster serves as a daily reminder of the dragon's journey from isolation to reconciliation, a journey that mirrors our own path to understanding and peace. The Red-Eyed Beast Tapestry Wrap yourself in the warmth of the Bloodfire's Lament tapestry, a luxurious piece of art that invites you into the rich world of Eldur's lore. Every thread is woven with the fiery passion and deep sorrow of the Red-Eyed Beast, creating a tapestry that is as much a work of art as it is a part of the legend itself. The Red-Eyed Beast Metal Print For a timeless piece, choose the Bloodfire's Lament metal print, a durable and striking homage to the dragon's tale. This metal print captures the essence of Bloodfire's fury and the depth of his eyes, offering an immortal slice of the story that can grace your home for generations to come. The legacy of Bloodfire's Lament endures, not only in the hearts of those who remember but also in these artifacts, each a canvas for the tale that has become a part of our identity. Invite the legend into your life, and let the story of Bloodfire ignite your imagination anew.