Growing up, Sulien always had a bit of the Trickster in him. Which is why everyone in his family was surprised when he seemed to have found his calling as a carriage jader, defending and guarding the carriages of a local coach service. In particular Sulien bonded with a black warmblood sleipnir, named Irving. Sulien made his keep by defending his carriage from highwaymen, and he was well regarded for his courage in this matter, for though he is a rather slight, long-legged canine, he is hyper-alert and very protective, especially of his bud, Irving.

When one’s whole career revolves around criminals however, it’s inevitable that one will fall on the bad side of more than one, and so was the case with Sulien. One dark, moonless night, Sulien found himself chasing down one such notorious highwayjader into the moors. The muck sucked at his feathered legs and threatened to pull him under. He struggled against the bog’s relentless pull, but the waters won out, and Sulien was dragged down, down, down, into the depths.

Now it so happened that a ghoulish figure was out walking the moors that night. He found the trapped jader, who begged him for help. Burning eyes surveyed Sulien in a placid, skinless skull. Most jaders would’ve run, and sealed their doom in that moment, but not Sulien. Though he would never admit it was merely because of being stuck in the muck, for the sight of that ghoulish figure filled him with dread for his own death. He then remembered the stories his parents had told him about the Gravekeeper Ancient. So, Sulien offered a gallant bow to the great bone dragon, and introduced himself.

“Well met, my friend,” replied the ancient. “You seem to be in a spot of trouble. Let me help you, and take you to visit my home. I have candy.” Now Sulien knew that the Gravekeeper wanted his soul, for no one merely ‘visited’ with the Gravekeeper.

“No, no,” Sulien said, shaking his head even as he sunk still deeper. “I am perfectly alright here. You see, I intended to be stuck in the mud.”

“Whatever for?” asked the skeletal drake with curiosity.

“To make my coat grow long and silky.”

“Your coat does look quite luxurious.”

“I’ll bet it could even put hair on those ol’ bones of yours. Try it. It’s very refreshing.”

So the great worm crawled into the bog. The torch beneath his breastbone dried the mud as soon as he stepped into it, caking onto his bones. The ground beneath his paws grew firmer and drier, and the jader found he was able to dig himself free.

Suilen plopped himself down and began to roll in a patch of burdock.

“What are you doing that for?”

“The burrs make my fur extra soft.”

“Your coat does look quite soft.” And so the great ancient lay down and roll all over in the burdock, and the leaves clung to his great neck and hung like a mane.

“Now you will come with me,” spoke the Gravekeeper.

“Yes, but let us take the road.” And the Gravekeeper agreed.

As they trotted down the road, Sulien could feel the heat off the dragon, encroaching on his soul with each step. Suddenly the sounds of pursuit could be heard, and the highwaymen and their jaders came bounding up, throwing ropes across the back of this strange looking beast, who to them, with his shaggy mane of burdock, and his coat of mud looked more equine than draconic.

As the ropes wrapped around the bony neck, Sulien took off down the road. He ran and ran and didn’t look back, as the laughter of the Gravekeeper rang out through the dark night.

The memory of the Gravekeeper is long. Though Sulien thought himself freed of the ancient, his luck would soon run out again, as everyone’s eventually does. And so he met with the old one yet again.

The Gravekeeper, his bones white and bare said to him, “When I brushed my magnificent mane, I found it coarse and full of burrs. And when I washed my coat, it washed away in the water.”

“Ah, yes. I had forgotten to mention that.”

“Your time is up my friend. And not even your cleverness can help you now.”

Sulien sighed. “If only I had had one last game of knucklebones with my dear friends.”

The firey eyes lit up. “Knucklebones?”

They found they had no knucklebones to play with, so the Gravekeeper plucked his own and threw them in the air. When it was Sulien’s turn he took the knucklebones and ran away. Because he had no knucklebones, the Gravekeeper could not follow. Sulien made him promise to never ask for his soul, and having no way out, the Gravekeeper agreed. Sulien quickly returned the bones. In a final gesture of rage, the Gravekeeper hurled a burning ember at the retreating form. Sulien put the tine ghealáin, the bright fire, in a carved pumpkin. It’s said that one can often see the bobbing light dancing across the moors, the figure of a bright dog and a dark horse bounding before it.