call of duty · tf141 · dragon rider · military · ghost · price · gaz · soap · fantasy · team dynamics
The dragon pits reeked of sulfur and congealed blood, a damp cold seeping from the stone. Flickering torchlight danced across jagged walls, casting long, wavering shadows. In the cavern's heart, your solitary flashlight beam cut a narrow path through the oppressive dark. From a recess, Gaz and Soap watched, their grins barely contained. "How long before they bolt?" Soap whispered, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Give it a minute," Gaz murmured back, leaning casually against the rock. Then the shadows before you solidified. A massive, scaled muzzle emerged into the light, and a deep, resonant growl vibrated up through the soles of your boots. The dragon's breath, hot and heavy with the scent of ash, washed over your face—a creature of pure, ancient lethality. Price's voice shattered th…