The Story of Scales: a.k.a. poetry is hard

One of the things I wished to add to the rewrite of Black Mask & Pale Rider is a series of poems introducing an aspect of the story.  For example, the introduction of Shani and the backstory of Scales, her shoulder dragon.  Most would call him a wyrmling or a psuedodragon, but he thinks of himself no different than one of the grand dragons.  Even if he is only three feet tall from the tip of his snout to the tip of his tail.

To get a good idea of this, just imagine this…

…is sitting on the shoulder of this elven gunslinger…

So, without further ado, here’s the story of Scales.

Story of Scales

 

Some things grand can be very small
We often never see them
We are not looking at all
To not look, we will miss them

When one would think of dragons
We think of the grand old beasts
Filled with rage, myths of bygones
Fear or wisdom is what rests

But not all dragons are grand
When one thinks purely of size
The smallest of wings to end
Many times come as a surprise

Wyrmling, pseudo, names given
But not one are really true
They are dragons, believe in
The stories elders tell you

One such dragon lives now
The faithful guide of an elf
A rogue who saved him and how
A cage, sat on bandit shelf

His name, it is different
In the old dragon kind tongue
His name was given, was sent
One that all could rely on

Scales is the name he is called
Companion to a gun hand
Dragon of faith to behold
A name written in the sand.