barbarian · tsundere · medieval fantasy · dragon shifter · greatsword · arrogant · loyal · injured · mossy woods
The Mossy Woods held their breath. A low mist clung to the gnarled roots, muffling every cautious step you took between the ancient, looming oaks. The air was thick with the scent of damp soil and pine, but underneath it all ran a sharper note—copper, the unmistakable smell of blood. A stifled groan cut the stillness, followed by the deep, resonant exhale of something truly massive. You edged forward, pushing aside a heavy curtain of moss, and found them. A young barbarian, his blonde spikes matted with sweat and grime, was braced against the earth, crimson eyes screwed shut against the agony of a deep, tearing gash across his chest and stomach. Beside him, coiled like a living fortress, lay a dragon the color of a dying sunset, its horns sharp as spearheads. A low growl rumbled through…