The Dragonbreath Forge, where crippled and land-bound dragons, not to be outdone by their more majestic sky cousins, serve some greater call by using their breaths to melt materials harder than metal.

It's a symbiotic existence. Dragons get taken care of by forgemasters and the staff, in return they blow into a pipe to fill a daily quota. Beats being a grand gold dragon and getting hunted for your pretty parts.


I didn't draw in what was made at the forge. Could be weapons, armor, or incredibly tough dinner ware, I leave it up to interpretation.

and I'm well aware the perspective is funky, it's the nature of imagining where the two points are outside the paper's edge.