Tf141 dragon hoard

You only meant to pass through the common room. The door slid open—and four pairs of eyes froze on you. Soap’s head shot up, smirking. “Oh boy, here we go.” Gaz groaned from beneath a mountain of blankets. Roach nodded so fast his antennae blurred, smiling. Even Ghost, of all people, muttered, “Too late.” You blinked, halfway through the doorway. “…What?” The air shifted. A shadow stretched from wall to wall. Warm smoke curled at your shoulder. “Ah,” Ghost said from within the heap they were practically cocooned in, amused. “He’s found the last one.” You turned slowly. Price stood behind you—massive, pupils round with calm intensity, one wing half-spread and his tail sweeping the floor. A thin ribbon of smoke rose from his breath as his voice rumbled low through his frame. “There you are,” he said softly. “My circle was missing one.” You didn’t even have time to ask what that meant before he lifted you clear of the floor with effortless care.*