Crowbait sighed as he leaned against the side of the wall of a long destroyed home as he watched the large mycotic rummage through the garbage that was once probably a nice village. It was obvious a fire destroyed most of the buildings, but large claw marks still could be seen in a few places, on the side of buildings, cutting through the ground; it was clear a dragon did this and probably more than one. The man kept his eyes open, watching to make sure that whoever or whatever did mess the place up didn’t come back. He was glad he was wearing his armor, even if it wasn’t in as good condition as it used to be, the shine dulled down by a thin layer of dirt and grime. His sword at his side was no longer razor sharp, but it would do. The whole area unnerved him and had since they flew over nearly thirty minutes ago. The place was emanating a feeling of dread.

He looked out at the field, his eyes looking up toward the clouds more than out at the tree line since the most danger would come from there. Empty skies…was this a good thing? He turned to ask Ostios what he thought and nearly staggered over. The dragon had buried his front half in the pile of rubble and was actually humming to himself as he push and pulled things aside. “Must you do that, my friend? You look like a fool when you do that.” He sighed loudly and began to step closer, hitting his head on a piece of wood sticking out of the ruin, knocking his head from his body. “Gah! Ostios, catch me! I don’t want to sit somewhere in this ruin until you are done like last time!”

The dragon was busy digging through the treasure pile of trash, telling himself that there was going to be something really good at the bottom, there always was. He was in the process of pulling free a loose log when he heard his rider call out to him about losing his head which made him sigh loudly, “Again with the losing of your head? That is the second time this week you went rolling along, Rider mine. Hehe, I am beginning to think you prefer to roll in the dirt.” He laughed to himself as he got the log free and looked in the hole it left with great anticipation. Unlike so many times before, Ostios was greeted with a true treasure in this ruin and his cries of joy were very evident of that fact, “Haha! I told you this one would be different! I told you we could find something here.”

The mycotic stood up and for the first time since he can remember, he lifted his helm off his head and revealed his whole face to the world. Long strands of moss fell free from the confines of the melted together pots that had once been his helm. The scales that lined the top of his muzzle were pale in comparison to his other scales. It had been years since the sun cast its warming light against them. He let the make-shift helm fall to the ground, the heavy object leaving a small crater in the mud at his feet. Slowly, probably too slow and dramatically, Ostios lifted a dirty skull out of the pile, one that once belonged to a much larger dragon than the mycotic was. The skull was nearly covered in mud and dirt, a long crack opened between the two horns that extended from the top of the skull and traveled down to the long empty eye sockets. The larger dragon had clearly been killed by a cracking blow to the skull which resulted in his crashing into the building below, whose ruins Ostios now stood upon. He didn’t care, the battles of the war were over, for now, and he didn’t really care what the other dragons did to each other anyway as long as he was left out of it.

Ostios brought the skull down over his head, wearing it over his own skull like a mask. The skull was a little too large for his head, his horns and the shape of his skull did not make a perfect fit. “Hmmm, no problem lets see. Crowbait, I need to borrow your sword for a moment.” The dragon turned to look at his now headless rider and burst out laughing, “Haha! Really Crowbait, you need to keep your head on your shoulders. Otherwise you are going to have rats eating out of your neck again. Remember the rats?”

He shuddered as he thought back to the first time he lost his head. It took Ostios nearly a day to find him and attach him to his body; a rather large rat had made his head its home, and it reeked badly. “Please, my friend, don’t remind me.” He waited as the dragon put his head back on his body. He was very thankful. Ever since he had died it was getting harder and harder to move. “Sure thing, Ostios. Just hold it still.” Swiftly, but careful not to damage the skull too much, the man used his sword to break and cut free large sections of the bone, making places for Ostios’ horns to extend past the skull. hen, he cut little indentions in the bone that would make up for the shape of his dragon's own skull. It took a good while, but when he was finished he was smiling. “There you go! Should fit you like a glove now, my friend.”

Ostios grabbed the skull from his rider and slid it back onto his head. It did indeed fit him much better, almost like the mask he was hoping it would be. He laughed loudly, turning in a circle as he did, “Ha ha ha! Yes! All look upon me and despair!” He said in an maniacal sounding voice, which only made him laugh more. “Great, this will be. Yes. No more hiding behind the helm. Much better this looks, yes.” The mycotic laughed to himself once more, completely oblivious to the world around him as he reveled in his discovery.