February Sketches- Let's Make Some Dragons!

This month for the Year of the Dragon, we tried something new for our sketches- this is what you guys voted for! Introducing Brolax, a kobold obsessed with fighting and getting so much muscle he's as big as a dragon, and Nicolai, a decadently gluttonous noble who wants everyone in the room to know just how big his appetite is. Enjoy!

*************

"Come on!" The kobold yipped, thumping his fists against his huge pecs. "Who wants some? Huh?!"

Brolax had been a nuisance for the orcs of Dragonfall Citadel. At first, the shockingly strong kobold had done random good deeds for the villages around the citadel, and then he started killing monsters— monsters that the well-trained and hardy soldiers stationed in the Citadel had been struggling with for years. They couldn't be shown up by a kobold— but Brolax wasn't like most kobolds.

Even though he only stood about as tall as a goblin, he was as wide as a wall. No one knew how a kobold had gotten as big as he did, nor how he kept growing; rumors spread he wouldn't stop until he was as big as a dragon. His green scales were stretched over an awe-inspiring musculature, all sculpted artfully as if Brolax could shape his bulging body like clay, from his shield-sized pecs, enormously thick bullneck, and sprawling shoulders to arms with biceps thick as melons and triceps like anvils. His stubby legs were wider than they were long, with juicy teardrop quads and swollen calves, holding up his gigantic torso and a gigantic back packed with dense burls, riddled with scars from his many battles.

"Come on, beanpoles!" Brolax growled, hefting an axe taller than him and laying the shaft across his massive shoulders. "I'll take every single one of you on!"

The orcs shifted back. Honestly, with a big, green, musclebound hulk that loved fighting, Brolax should be one of them… If only it weren't so humiliating for them, losing to someone so short. Perhaps that was the real problem— Brolax, a kobold barbarian, was better at being an orc than many orcs. And he was only going to get bigger and stronger from here; perhaps it would be best to let Brolax have his way. It was becoming increasingly apparent that they couldn't stop him even if they tried.

-----

Lord Nicolai Sigmaringen was the richest man in the city of Tarnis, and he needed a way to make sure everyone knew it, and he thought he had found it. While most of his fortune was tied up in managing control of the city on behalf of the rightful king, he had spent whatever he had to spare on the most extravagant feasts the city had seen in ages. Gorging himself to spectacular dimensions, no one could doubt who he was, now. Large beyond reason and paired with proud, curving horns, and fangs that could— and did— tear through any meat put in front of him, Nicolai had blown himself into  an immense, blubbery orb of opulence and gluttony.

His fine clothes were made of yards of silks and velvet, stitched together to somehow encapsulate the circumference of his immense cauldron of a belly, so large it nearly sank to the floor. His limbs were swathed in thick reams of fat, his arms wobbling as he reached for another morsel and thighs thick around as barrels. Where the silks and velvet split from the sheer mass of his reams of fat pushing and outgrowing his clothes, his strained red scales showed through as he tore into the fattest roast hog his army of servants could provide him.

He chuckled to himself, his immense bulk sprawled out in luxuriant sheets of fat across the double-wide throne he had ordered for himself, and waved over a servant. "Send word to Lord Dranova— he has questioned my importance to the realm, and I want him to see just how much weight my name carries. Have a grand banquet prepared as well— I want to see if any of the other nobles can even dream of matching my appetite." He tore greedily into a leg of mutton when presented to him. "I want them all to know that Lord Sigmaringen always gets as much as he wants, down to the last bite."