Fraemirth Lord of Ice

Just information tidbits about my wyvern-sona Fraemirth! Hope y'all love him as much as I do

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-Domain consists of vast arctic tundra and frozen mountains dappled in sparse villages, he sleeps deep within a cavernous opening at the base of the largest mountain

-Earned his title Lord Of Ice through decades of fear struck into the hearts of the locals. Burning homes, devouring livestock, stealing away children all while thriving in the harsh Northern climate

-Flying is one of his favorite things to do

-Fur colour shifts towards shades of white as winter comes

-Serrated claws on his wings allow the massive wyvern to grip the icy terrain with ease. The golden spines littered throughout his fur form naturally through gold particles clinging to the strands and will drop off once they get too heavy. These golden sheddings are considered highly valuable to the surrounding villages

-Has been known to gorge himself excessively. Some villagers have noticed this behavioral pattern and plot to use it to their advantage

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Future Happenings:

-The villages begin to conspire, leaving generous offerings of livestock at the mouth of his lair. The offerings are often stuffed with grain and corn before hand to add substance

-Fraemirth allows his greed to cloud judgement and continuously accepts every last offering placed by the people, foolishly believing them to be out of admiration. In reality, the villages of his domain knowing that they couldn't possibly slay him in any traditional method, have agreed to try fattening the wyvern to death

-As time progresses Fraemirth's supplemented diet begins to ruin his once magnificent form, every inch of his body layered in thick blubber that seems to pile on at an alarming rate. But he can't stop. He enjoys the offerings more than he'd like to admit to himself, and continues to gorge despite the consequences.

-Before long the wyvern can no longer fly, his sheer obesity preventing even attempts at lift. Doughy mounds and folds of pure draconic lard choke every square inch of his body, the high fat offerings sticking to his frame like glue. Walking is moreso dragging at this point, his now useless wings and barely functional hind legs providing pathetic attempts at locomotion while his blubber heaves and wobbles around him. Breathing has become difficult, each breath laborious and uncertain, sides heaving.

-Eventually Fraemirth finds that he can no longer move his gargantuan mass at all, let alone turn his head more than a few inches, so grotesquely obese his lard choked body can barely be recognized for what it once was. Despite this the villagers continue to feed him and only when the ruined wyvern becomes blinded by facial fat does he realize what their true intent was. But it's too late. Fully immobilized, fat-blind, and struggling to suck in a single breath at a time the wyvern lets out a low rumble of agony. How long until he succumbs? How long until this severe obesity kills him? I guess we'll find out

-Village smiths and jewellers pluck his golden spines as they form and some have even set up shop near the entrance to his lair-turned-prison in order to streamline their processes