Though Vrghr has mellowed a lot in recent years, he wasn't always the overweight, jovial, chef and "inflatable marshmallow of a wuff".

In his youth, he used to be quite the adventurer.

He hooked up with a very motley group of folks who were adventuring in the Northern Wilderness. They'd taken it upon themselves to put an end to the slave trade of the city of Hellsforge, and took to attacking the slaver caravans every time they caught them venturing into the Northern territory, hunting down the locals to auction off later.

The group became known as the "Red Ribbon Irregulars", from the time they'd teamed up with a bunch of local town's-folk to mount a raid on a nearby caravan. Not having anything like uniforms, one of the adventurer's suggested tying a ribbon on each of the "good guys" so the towns people wouldn't get confused in the midst of battle.

Vrghrs adventurer's adopted the tactic, and left a red ribbon or two behind, prominently displayed on a spear stuck in the ground near the smoking remains of the destroyed slaver's wagons, or on similar gear.

The slavers didn't take this laying down; they began hiring guards and others to protect their caravans on those expeditions. But that didn't stop the destruction. It just made the job more challenging. And the slavers lost profits as they hired more and more guards, and began adding mages and others to the mix.

Here we have Vrghr leading a surprise attack on one such later caravan. The wuff made a great "first wave" for those: He could attack in near silence - the fur on the leading edges of his wings muffled the wind noise like the down of owls' wings. Flight meant that he could swoop in and out before many of the guards could load a crossbow or bring arrows to bear, and it kept him out of melee range.

As for the mages, a fast-moving target is hard to hit, and he had the advantage of being able to channel and redirect electricity and other magical energies.

As the caravans reacted to his surprise attack, his friends would spring their own ambush from the flanks. When the guards turned to those, the wuff would swoop in for another run, breath weapon freezing foes and fogging the scene to provide cover for his friends.

Here we see Vrghr on his initial run, eyes blazing in rage, breath of bitter cold, like liquid nitrogen, gushing toward a cleric and a mage who are returning fire.

The cleric's lightning leaps from his staff, only to crackle across the membranes of the wuff's wings and arc back at the ground. The wuff banks to avoid a hail of magic darts from the mage. His friends have yet to leap from cover, but the chaos is already mounting.

Soon there will be nothing but wrecked wagons, torn up ground, and a lonely pike with a sporty red ribbon twisting in the breeze announcing the freedom of yet another shipment of slaves, and a rising ire on the part of the slavers back at Hellsforge! The Red Ribbon Irregulars strikes again!

This wonderful art is a commission from  Sugarboy and posted with his permission. Wuff is absolutely delighted at the results. A most unusual depiction of the "currently civilized, chubby dragonwuffy". But a look into his past, and the predator that still lurks under all that padding today.