...the many styles when in the wild with forests kept within, like handfuls of diamond eyes given to a tree for passage into the forest prison, magicians and nymphs searching for treasure to bribe their way out, in unity and silence to not disturb the leaves using coordinating gestures, sassy flower seekers that cover the sleeping ones before they rest as much as vines of thorns that grow beneath the surface to protect the trees, but to find that all this time the wealth of darkness in pockets of oil make fire all but complete, and waving hands in ceremony fashion with the passion of orchestrated delight, spraying sparkling yellow sulphur as the path begins alight, streams of red and orange and ashen smoke billow arching from the ground, like the wings of butterflies in metamorphosis, my new form has now been found, I am angered wind sill burning as it waves against the breeze, give me rage and hate unturning as I lash against the trees, I am dragon in standing proudly ever loudly as the skies begin to cry, give me vapor never waver as the ground begins to die, cower as the dark in darkness gathers as I tell, arching over to devour all the kindling in this hell, wings of stone from ash and bones now breathe soot and veins of lava seething from my scales, I am hallowed unrequited without war from head to tail, break your throwing axes against my eyes and horns of bone unbroken, take this token of my bowing in delight and your next fail, all the allies now surrounding pushed beyond the pale, carve your living trees into arrows and throw your enemies at my heart, I shall eat the smiths and forges from the very start, a scream of volcano song and spray of fire-water, a path from my talons to my target burning friend and enemy to the grave, for your screams I will drag myself thru the remnants of the forest to coat my leather in ashy delight, to smell the meat of the great beasts and soon to be my treats, crawling my talons are anchors that hammer into soil, trapped would be to run in darkness between my furnace and my wings sweeping and raking rows with wing tips and mounds where my wings of armor span, so that my talons claw before me as I smash all those who stand, to the edge of your prison I slither like a ship of shadow sea, in the wake, my scaly scorching and a deathly smelling breeze, golden egg buried beneath these prisons of mere warlocks and witches infestation, beneath the black night sun, must hatch the other one...