Venomweaver: Apex Of The Swamp!!

Once winged kings of misty skies, the poison dragons now trade venom for silence. Barbed tongues flicker in ritualistic swaps—one drop seals alliance, or doom. Shunned by flight, they stalk through ferns and fog, their scales pustule and rubbery. Death is not battle but ballet—slow, precise, inevitable. A bite, a gasp, then stillness. Nature watches, indifferent. The jungle reclaims what the air once crowned. The age of wings is over