Mythical Creature

by Bill Tiepelman

Spellbound by Roses and Scales

Once upon a time in a realm not far from the corner of your wildest daydreams, there was an enchantress named Lyra. Known throughout the land for her shockingly bright red hair and her particularly unusual pet—a tiny emerald-green dragon—Lyra was both feared and admired, especially for her ability to bring roses into full bloom with a mere whisper. But today, Lyra had a problem. “Listen, Thorn,” Lyra muttered, adjusting her off-the-shoulder lace gown as she gave her tiny dragon an annoyed look. Thorn, who was coiled around her shoulder like a scaly scarf, yawned and blinked lazily at her with his ruby-red eyes. “You can’t keep stealing the villagers' socks!” she scolded him, plucking a rogue sock from his little claws. “Last week it was Balthazar’s best black stockings, and he still hasn’t stopped telling people I’m some kind of sock thief.” Thorn snorted, a wisp of smoke curling from his nostrils as he nuzzled her cheek innocently. The truth was, Thorn had a bit of a sock addiction. For reasons no one quite understood, the little dragon found socks irresistibly cozy—especially single socks, which he hoarded like a treasure trove beneath Lyra’s bed. She had tried giving him blankets, but they didn’t have quite the same appeal. No, it was socks or nothing for Thorn. The Sock Conundrum To make matters worse, Lyra’s roses were getting out of hand. The roses loved her so much they had started sprouting all over the place—particularly inconveniently when they appeared in her bath, her bed, and, last Tuesday, right in the middle of her morning toast. “It’s not fair,” she grumbled to Thorn, waving a toast crust at a particularly smug-looking rose that had taken root on her kitchen table. “I mean, sure, I’m the Enchantress of the Roses and all, but I’d like at least one part of my life that doesn’t involve thorns, petals, or that endless fragrance of roses. Honestly, it’s like living in a perfume shop.” Thorn cocked his head, as if to say, And your point is…? He stretched, flicked his tail, and hopped off her shoulder, sniffing around for new socks to pilfer. Lyra sighed, rolling her eyes. Thorn was an adorable pest, and she knew it. A New Challenge But Lyra’s rose problem was about to get worse. Much worse. One fateful evening, while she was sitting in her garden trying to unwind with a glass of elderflower wine, she heard a voice behind her. “Excuse me, miss?” Lyra jumped, almost spilling her wine, and turned to see an oversized rose standing behind her. It had a remarkably debonair appearance for a flower, complete with a tiny red velvet hat and an unmistakable smirk. “I—uh—hello?” Lyra stammered, wondering if perhaps she’d had a little too much wine. “No need to look so shocked, darling,” said the rose, whose voice was surprisingly smooth. “The name’s Roderick. Roderick the Rose. And I’m here to make you an offer.” The Rose’s Proposal Now, in Lyra’s line of work, she’d dealt with many a strange magical occurrence—talking owls, gossiping pixies, even a flirtatious tree—but a talking rose was new. “An offer?” she echoed, leaning back and crossing her arms. “Alright, Roderick, you’ve got my attention.” Roderick twirled one of his leaves and winked. “You, my dear, have a certain… problem. A rose problem, if you will. Roses popping up here and there, no matter where you go. I think you and I could come to an understanding.” Lyra raised an eyebrow. “I’m listening…” “You let me stay,” Roderick proposed, “as your personal garden companion—think of me as a rose advisor of sorts. In exchange, I’ll use my magical prowess to manage your rose situation. No more blooms where you don’t want them, and maybe even a few… extras where you do.” “Extras?” Lyra said, trying to hide her intrigue. “Oh, the possibilities are endless,” Roderick assured her, puffing himself up. “Imagine: roses that bloom in the moonlight, petals that glow with the colors of sunset, roses that sing arias on your birthday. Think about it.” Lyra couldn’t help but smile. “Fine,” she said. “You can stay. But one prank, Roderick, and you’re mulch.” Roderick winked, clearly thrilled, and wiggled his stem in what might have been a bow. And Then Came the Wine-Fueled Mishaps That night, Lyra celebrated her new partnership by pouring herself another glass of elderflower wine and giving Thorn a celebratory sock (he pounced on it with glee). Everything seemed perfect—that is, until she woke up the next morning. At first, she noticed nothing amiss. But as she got up and walked to the mirror, she let out a shriek. Roderick had taken his job way too seriously. Tiny roses were now woven into her hair, down her back, even into the very fabric of her gown. And the kicker? They were all humming. Quietly, but unmistakably humming. “Roderick!” she shouted, as Thorn watched in wide-eyed delight from the bed. “Explain yourself this instant!” Roderick appeared from beneath a nearby window sill, looking remarkably pleased with himself. “Just a small token of our new partnership, darling. A bit of morning ambiance, if you will.” “Ambiance?” Lyra sputtered. “You turned me into a walking rosebush with a musical soundtrack!” She spent the rest of the day plucking roses out of her hair, scolding Roderick every time he dared to smirk, and muttering about why she ever thought talking roses were a good idea. By nightfall, however, she had to admit… the humming roses were growing on her. Life, Laughter, and Ever-Blooming Roses As days turned into weeks, Lyra found herself adjusting to her new, unusual companions. Thorn, as usual, continued his sock-stealing habits, and Roderick developed a penchant for serenading her as she cooked dinner. And though Lyra might have grumbled and scolded, she couldn’t deny that life felt a little brighter, a little more magical, with her strange little family. In the end, Lyra learned to embrace the endless roses, the cheeky dragon, and the overly charming rose with the velvet hat. Life in the enchanted garden was a beautiful mess, and Lyra wouldn’t have it any other way. And the socks? Well, Thorn never did give them up. — The End —     Bring "Spellbound by Roses and Scales" Into Your Home If Lyra’s mystical world of roses, dragons, and whimsical enchantment has captured your imagination, you can now bring a piece of that magic home. Our exclusive collection inspired by Spellbound by Roses and Scales is available in a variety of beautiful products: Tapestry – Perfect for transforming any space into an enchanted garden. Throw Pillow – Add a touch of magic and comfort to your home decor. Puzzle – Piece together the story of Lyra and Thorn with this mesmerizing puzzle. Tote Bag – Carry a bit of fantasy with you wherever you go. Each product is crafted with high-quality materials, designed to immerse you in the allure of this enchanted artwork. Browse the full collection here and let Lyra’s whimsical world find a special place in your life. This captivating tale brings to life our February Queen from the Nature’s Queens: A Year of Female Fantasy Icons - 2025 Calendar. Meet Lyra, the enchantress with fiery red hair, a mischievous emerald dragon, and a rose garden that has a mind of its own. Her magical misadventures are filled with humor, charm, and a touch of fantasy whimsy. Dive into Lyra’s world and bring home the magic with our 2025 calendar – a year-long journey celebrating fierce, enchanting icons of nature. Explore the calendar here.

by Bill Tiepelman

The Enchanted Reptile

The Legend of Chromix: The Enchanted Reptile In a distant realm where forests shimmered with rainbow hues and rivers flowed with liquid light, lived the legendary creature known as Chromix, the Enchanted Reptile. Unlike any other chameleon, Chromix was no ordinary lizard that merely blended in with its surroundings—oh no, Chromix did the opposite. Its skin was a living, pulsating canvas of neon colors, shifting and changing in mesmerizing patterns. Its purpose? To stand out, dazzle, and—well, annoy the hell out of anyone who tried to ignore it. The Origins of a Showoff Legend has it that Chromix was once an average, dull-hued lizard, residing in the kingdom of Draboria, where color was outlawed. The gray skies matched the gray faces of its inhabitants, and not a single vibrant thing existed in the entire kingdom. Chromix, however, was born with a rebellious streak. One fateful day, it snuck into the enchanted Prism Grove, a mystical place where colors ran wild and free. With a single lick of a glowing leaf, Chromix was transformed into a creature so blindingly colorful that even a peacock would’ve said, “Tone it down, buddy.” Adventures in Attention-Grabbing After its transformation, Chromix quickly discovered that its newfound ability to shift through every shade in existence wasn’t just for looks—it was also magic. The vibrant patterns on its skin could hypnotize anyone who stared too long. With a cheeky grin and a flick of its neon tail, Chromix wandered from town to town, using its hypnotic glow to steal pies, avoid taxes, and win bar bets. No one was safe from its antics. But Chromix’s greatest power came with a catch: the more ridiculous and flamboyant its colors, the more powerful the magic. So, of course, Chromix leaned into it. Glittering pink spirals? Done. Fluorescent lime green swirls with a side of electric blue polka dots? Absolutely. There wasn’t a color combination too wild or garish for the Enchanted Reptile. As a result, Chromix became a local legend—and a headache for anyone trying to focus on anything important. The Time Chromix Met Its Match But even for a creature as dazzling as Chromix, not everything went according to plan. One fateful evening, after winning a particularly tricky drinking contest in the town of Spectralton, Chromix found itself face to face with a foe it couldn’t hypnotize: Mistress Monochrome, a sorceress who’d made a career out of banishing all things vibrant. With a flick of her gray fingers, Mistress Monochrome attempted to dull Chromix's brilliant display. “Not today, little lizard,” she sneered. But Chromix, never one to be outdone, simply glowed brighter. It cranked its color dial all the way to “disco inferno.” The resulting explosion of color was so intense that the entire town was lit up like a rave, and Mistress Monochrome had no choice but to retreat, shading her eyes from the technicolor spectacle. Happily Ever After… In the Most Colorful Way Possible Today, Chromix still roams the land, popping up at the most unexpected moments. Whether it’s photobombing wedding portraits, joining spontaneous dance parties, or pretending to be an art installation in modern galleries, Chromix continues to be a colorful thorn in the side of any who take life too seriously. It’s said that if you ever see a sudden flash of rainbow light out of the corner of your eye, you may just have caught a glimpse of the infamous Enchanted Reptile, Chromix, in all its glory. And if you’re lucky, it might even let you pet it—just don’t look too long, or you’ll wake up three days later with a craving for neon socks and glitter. Moral of the Legend: Sometimes, it’s better to stand out and blind everyone with your brilliance than to blend in and be forgotten. Just make sure you’re not near anyone with a hangover when you do it.     Bring Home the Magic of Chromix If you can’t catch a glimpse of Chromix in the wild, why not bring a bit of its enchanted vibrance into your home? Check out these specially curated items featuring the legendary Enchanted Reptile: Throw Pillow – Add a pop of neon to your living room with this bold and vibrant throw pillow featuring the enchanting colors of Chromix. Tapestry – Transform any space with the dazzling brilliance of Chromix captured on this stunning tapestry. Greeting Cards – Share the magic with friends by sending them these colorful, whimsical greeting cards featuring Chromix in all its glory. Weekender Tote Bag – Carry Chromix's vibrant energy wherever you go with this eye-catching weekender tote bag. Why settle for ordinary when you can surround yourself with the radiant colors of Chromix, the Enchanted Reptile? Shop now and let a little magic into your life!

by Bill Tiepelman

A Dragon’s Gentle Awakening

The meadow had seen better days. Between the relentless winter and whatever those drunken wizards did last spring, the flowers hadn’t exactly bounced back. Patches of scorched earth still dotted the field, as if the land itself had given up and decided, "Screw it, we’re done." And that’s when Ziggy, a newly hatched dragon, decided to make his grand entrance into the world. Ziggy wasn’t your typical dragon. Sure, he had the sharp claws, the fiery breath, and those cute little wings that hadn’t quite figured out how to lift him off the ground yet. But his real power? Timing. Ziggy had the gift of showing up precisely when life hit rock bottom, like a beacon of hope... or at least, a mildly entertaining distraction from the dumpster fire of existence. Emerging from his egg, Ziggy blinked at the world, stretching his tiny pink wings and yawning as if he'd just woken up from a hundred-year nap. The sun kissed his iridescent scales, casting a glow that would’ve been poetic if the damn field wasn’t so dead. His first thought? “Well, this sucks.” Ziggy trotted through the wilted flowers, his feet crunching through dried leaves. The meadow had been described to him by his ancestors as “a lush paradise, perfect for your first flight.” Right now, it looked more like the kind of place where hope goes to die. “Guess I missed the memo on the apocalypse,” he muttered, kicking over a burnt dandelion. “First day out of the shell, and I get... this?” He plopped down, tail twitching in frustration, and looked around for something to do. Ziggy wasn’t exactly big on “destiny” or “greatness” just yet. At the moment, his priorities were food, naps, and figuring out what the hell that weird itch was under his wing. But then, a noise caught his attention. It was faint, but it sounded like someone in the distance was having a really bad day. Or a really good brawl. Curiosity piqued, Ziggy trotted toward the sound. As he crested a small hill, he found the source—two travelers, battered and bruised, sitting next to a dying campfire. One, a burly warrior with more scars than social skills, grumbled as he tried to wrap a bandage around his leg. The other, a roguish figure, held a flask to his lips like it was the last drink on earth. “Of course, we get attacked by ogres,” the rogue said, taking a swig. “Why wouldn’t we? Just our luck.” “At least we didn’t die,” the warrior growled. “Yet.” Ziggy watched them from a distance, intrigued. These two looked like they had been through hell, and judging by their conversation, they weren’t exactly brimming with optimism. In fact, the rogue was muttering about how they’d probably end up as ogre poop in a ditch somewhere. Real uplifting stuff. But there was something in the way they carried on, even in their defeat, that struck a chord with Ziggy. These idiots weren’t giving up. They’d been knocked down—hard—but they were still here, bandaging their wounds and cursing the universe, but not quitting. “Dumbasses,” Ziggy snorted. “Guess someone’s gotta help ‘em out.” With a little dragon-sized puff of determination, Ziggy stepped out into the clearing. “Hey, jackasses!” he called out, his voice cracking adorably. “Need a hand?” The rogue nearly choked on his drink. “What the—” The warrior blinked. “Is that... a dragon?” “Congratulations, you’ve got eyes,” Ziggy retorted. “Look, I’m new here, but even I can tell you two need all the help you can get. What happened, anyway? Ogre? Goblin? Or did you just trip over your own egos?” The rogue smirked despite himself. “A dragon with an attitude. I like this kid.” “Trust me, it’s mutual. Now, what’s the plan? Or are we just gonna sit here and wait for death to take us like a bad date?” The warrior grunted. “No plan. Just... survive. Maybe make it to the next village, if we’re lucky.” Ziggy rolled his eyes. “Wow. Inspiring. Listen, you two look like you’ve had a rough day, so here’s the deal: I’m sticking with you. Consider me your new bodyguard.” “Bodyguard?” The rogue raised an eyebrow. “You? You’re like... two feet tall.” “Yeah, but I breathe fire,” Ziggy shot back, blowing a small flame for emphasis. “And believe me, I’ve got plenty of fuel in the tank. So, are we doing this or not?” The warrior stared at the tiny dragon for a moment, then sighed. “Screw it. Welcome to the team, dragon.” And so, Ziggy—newly hatched, slightly crass, and full of sass—joined the ragtag duo. Together, they limped through the wastelands, fighting off monsters, bad luck, and occasionally each other. But through it all, Ziggy became more than just a source of sarcastic commentary. His small but fiery presence gave the two travelers something they hadn’t had in a long time—hope. Because sometimes, the greatest strength comes from the smallest, most unexpected places. And in a world full of chaos, death, and disaster, a tiny dragon with a big mouth was exactly what they needed. After all, hope doesn’t always come wrapped in a shining knight or a legendary warrior. Sometimes, it looks like a pink-scaled, fire-breathing smartass who refuses to let you give up. And that was how Ziggy, the dragon who thought the world was pretty much garbage, learned that even in the worst of times, there's strength in showing up. Even if you don’t know what the hell you’re doing. The End    Celebrate the Magic of "A Dragon's Gentle Awakening" Feeling inspired by Ziggy’s story of resilience and sass? Take a piece of this magical adventure home with you! Acrylic Prints: Let Ziggy’s strength and charm light up your space with a stunning, vibrant acrylic print that captures the heart of his journey. Tapestry: Cozy up with the whimsical beauty of this story woven into an enchanting tapestry, perfect for bringing a touch of fantasy into your home. Greeting Cards: Share Ziggy’s hope and humor with loved ones by sending them a unique greeting card featuring this unforgettable dragon. Stickers: Keep Ziggy’s energy with you wherever you go! Slap this adorable dragon sticker on your laptop, water bottle, or journal. Bring a little bit of magic—and a lot of attitude—into your life with "A Dragon’s Gentle Awakening" merchandise!

by Bill Tiepelman

The Wolf's Cosmic Watch

In the heart of an ancient forest, where the trees stand as silent custodians of time, a glade bathed in moonlight emerges as the stage for a nightly spectacle. On this hallowed ground, the celestial dome unravels its brilliance, displaying a panoramic dance of constellations and celestial bodies stretching into the abyss of space. Here in this mystical meadow, under the watchful gaze of the heavens, dwells the Starry Sentinel, a creature both of earth and astral expanse. This majestic wolf, robed in the darkness of the night, possesses eyes as blue as the twilight frost, reflecting a universe more vast and ancient than the forest itself. It is whispered that when the cosmic veil wanes, this guardian of the galaxy emerges from the shadowy vale to stand watch over the world. The wolf's stare is imbued with the wisdom of ages, a silent witness to the cosmic ballet of swirling galaxies and the serene twinkle of distant stars. Its breath, crisp in the nocturnal air, weaves into the forest a spectral display, as if the spirits of the night themselves danced amongst the timberland. On this ordained evening, the cosmos is alive with activity; shooting stars etch the firmament with luminous trails, a celestial cascade of whispered secrets from the great beyond. The Starry Sentinel lifts its head, and a profound howl pierces the quietude of the night, a soulful serenade to the boundless heavens that canopy our existence, linking all creatures under the watchful embrace of the stars. In the presence of the Sentinel, time relinquishes its relentless march, allowing the worries of the world to dissolve into the obsidian tapestry above. Those few who wander into this enchanted enclave are greeted with the Starry Sentinel's silent benediction, a safeguarding force offering wisdom, a poignant reminder that our lives are irrevocably entwined with the grand narrative of the cosmos. As the night deepens in the forest glade, the Starry Sentinel remains an unwavering presence amidst the interplay of shadow and ethereal light. Its silhouette is a monument to the unity of all life, a singular point where the heartbeat of the forest meets the pulse of the cosmos. The Sentinel's wise eyes, reflecting the icy fires of a thousand distant suns, cast a protective gaze upon the earth, a silent vow to guard the fragile beauty nestled under the stars. The forest, alive with the whispers of nocturnal creatures and the gentle caress of the wind, bows in reverence to the Sentinel, recognizing its role as the intermediary between the known and the unfathomable. With each graceful movement, the wolf's fur shimmers, a fluid representation of the ever-shifting nebulae above, its coat a canvas on which the cosmic forces paint their ephemeral glow. Tonight's tableau of falling stars is a celestial symphony, each luminescent streak a note in the universal melody. The Sentinel's haunting howl weaves through this symphony, a voice for the voiceless, resonating with the primordial frequencies of creation itself. This sound is an anthem of the wilderness, an echo of the raw and untamed essence of life, reaching out to touch the soul of every being that stirs in the darkness. For those who find themselves within the clearing, drawn by the lure of the unknown or the longing for understanding, the Starry Sentinel becomes a beacon of enlightenment. Its presence is an assurance of safe passage through the shadowed paths of uncertainty and a guide towards the dawning of inner clarity. It is here, in this sanctified space, that the veils between worlds grow thin, and the secrets of the universe are shared in hushed tones and knowing looks. And when the first hues of dawn stretch across the horizon, signaling the end of the night's reign, the Sentinel steps back into the embrace of the forest. Its form dissolves into the morning mist, leaving behind no trace but the transformative experience of those who witnessed its vigil. Yet the promise of its return remains, an eternal cycle mirroring the celestial bodies that traverse the sky. The Starry Sentinel, the forest's timeless guardian, will emerge once again when the stars align, continuing its cosmic watch over the endless wheel of time.     The story of the Starry Sentinel, a guardian woven from the very threads of the celestial tapestry, has been captured and immortalized in a collection of keepsakes for those who seek to hold a piece of the cosmos. The intricate The Wolf's Cosmic Watch Cross Stitch Pattern offers crafters a chance to recreate the sentinel's vigil, each stitch a tribute to the guardian's silent watch over the nocturnal majesty of the forest and the skies. As the starscape of the sentinel’s realm extends into the realm of daily toil, the The Wolf's Cosmic Watch Mouse Pad brings the eternal forest and its celestial guardian to the desks of dreamers and doers alike, offering a slice of the sublime to rest beneath the hand that works the wheel of industry. The visage of the Starry Sentinel finds its way onto walls and spaces of contemplation through the The Wolf's Cosmic Watch Poster, a beacon of inspiration that echoes the sentinel’s connection to the cosmos, its blue gaze a constant reminder of the infinite watch and the wisdom it imparts. The complexity and beauty of the universe as watched over by the sentinel come together piece by piece in the The Wolf's Cosmic Watch Puzzle. It invites the curious and the wise to piece together the mysteries of the night sky, each piece a step deeper into the cosmic forest where the sentinel reigns. In homes and havens, the The Wolf's Cosmic Watch Throw Pillow offers a restful place for heads filled with dreams of starlit skies and mystical forests, while the grandeur of the sentinel’s domain is draped across rooms in the form of the The Wolf's Cosmic Watch Tapestry, a piece that transforms any space into a gateway to the sentinel’s timeless watch. Through these items, the essence of the Starry Sentinel and the profound narrative of The Wolf's Cosmic Watch live on, inspiring all who come upon them to look beyond the veil and remember that, like the wolf, they are an integral part of the cosmic dance that unfolds each night above our slumbering world.

by Bill Tiepelman

The Gilded Wyvern: Alchemy of Fire and Fate

In the epoch when myths were forged and the fabric of the cosmos still quivered with the aftermath of creation, there was the Spire of Sólaris, a pillar of earth and stone that pierced the heavens. Here, the Gilded Wyvern, Aithon, keeper of the sacred Flame of Fates, watched over the mortal and immortal realms alike. His golden scales were the dreams of alchemists, and his fiery breath, a conduit of creation and catalyst of change. His legend was not born of idleness but of an unyielding vigilance that spanned the eons. Kingdoms rose and waned, stars blinked into existence and faded into the void, but Aithon remained constant, a guardian whose might was matched only by his wisdom. Under his watchful gaze, the land thrived. The mystical Flame of Fates, which he so fiercely protected, was said to hold the power to weave the tapestry of life itself, each ember a life, each spark a story. But as it is the wont of darkness to covet the light, a shadow grew in the heart of a sorcerer, twisted by envy and hunger for the flame's might. With words of malice and a heart void of light, he summoned a curse to shroud the world in unending night, seeking to extinguish the flame that had long been the bastion against despair. The darkness spread, a creeping doom that smothered hope and turned dreams into dust. The wyvern's once resplendent scales dulled, his strength waned, and the people murmured in fearful tones, for the light of Sólaris flickered. But Aithon's courage, kindled by the very flame he was sworn to protect, was not so easily dimmed. Thus began the Wyvern's Quest, an odyssey that would etch his name in the stars for all time. Aithon ventured into realms forsaken by the sun, where the forgotten ones dwelled, entities of elder times who whispered secrets not meant for mortal ears. In the Caverns of Echoes, where silence was a myth, he faced reflections of his own fears, each challenge a riddle wrapped in enigma. But Aithon, whose resolve was forged in the fires of tenacity, was undeterred. Upon the cliffs of Veridian Edge, winds threatened to unravel the very threads of his being, yet he ascended. Across the Sea of Shattered Mirrors, where reality fractured into a kaleidoscope of possibilities, he persisted, his vision clear, his purpose undiluted by the sea's beguiling reflections. At the world's edge, in the Cradle of Embers, where fire was born and all fates converged, Aithon faced the void's malice personified. The sorcerer, now a being of shadow and spite, sought to snuff out the ember's glow. But Aithon, with a roar that split the skies and a blaze that outshone the sorcerer's darkness, reclaimed the flame. His breath, a tempest of fire and defiance, rekindled the heart of the Flame of Fates. The light surged, cascading into the heavens, reigniting the stars, and the wyvern's brilliance was restored. With a triumphant cry that echoed through the Spire of Sólaris, Aithon returned, the flame secure once more within the mountain's heart. The land, bathed anew in the flame's glow, blossomed, and the people rejoiced, for their protector, their symbol of hope and eternal guardian, had triumphed. And so, "The Gilded Wyvern: Alchemy of Fire and Fate" became an immortal tale, a beacon to those who seek light in the darkness, a testament to the unwavering spirit that dwells within us all. Aithon’s story lives on, not just in legend, but in the canvas of artistry and the treasure trove of merchandise that bears his likeness. Embrace the wyvern’s flame, adorn your life with his image, and let the fire of Aithon guide your path to greatness. Witness the majestic wyvern on the walls of your sanctum with the The Gilded Wyvern Poster, navigate through the challenges of your realm with the The Gilded Wyvern Gaming Mouse Pad, and carry the symbol of power and grace wherever you go with the The Gilded Wyvern Stickers. Let each product be a fragment of the legend, a piece of the eternal flame that blazes a trail into the annals of your own destiny.