I sit, the pinnacle of the hoard, built around me are the massive piles of gold and silver and gems. The beauties of the world collected as tribute from the masses and bounty from the foolish, collected by my followers and laid around me. I can hear a rumbling from my core guardian as she quietly shifts in the piles of gold. My gaze turns to the rest of my volcanic lair, the smaller lizard and drakes scurry around hard at work. But for now my attention is drawn from the scurrying four legged draganoids to the more bipedal sentients who have pledged obedience to me and mine. Kobolds where the lowliest of the low when it comes to dragon sentients, but I have also found the only ones the lessers won’t cause a fuss about. A shame I am bound by their covenant even after these many long generations, but my pride shall not let me break the agreement.
The Kobolds where busy as always, and I took a certain pride in their ability to work as diligently as they did. Unlike most dragons, my guardian and I saw even these creatures as part of our the hoard, and thus are kept in the same splendor as the rest of our treasure. The village is simple, and rather quaint, with primarily stone carved homes decorated in draconic iconography. But what brought my attention the most at this moment was the shawmen who was waving a staff trying to get my attention.
“Great one, I have words from the world for thee” He spoke in that strange way Kobolds do, not quite a roar or growl of other dragons, but also not the smooth sounds of those who give tribute.
“speak Clix”
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
He bows at me with hide arms, the bangles and feathers he wears sway with the movement.
“Great one, the world speaks of a new one like you, of great potential and low power.”
I feel my dragons pride flare but I know better then to let that do the thinking when the world speaks to the shawmens, for it means something powerful is baking the words. “What else have we been told.” The growl in my non voice does echo as I can’t suppress every ounce of annoyance in my mind, the rumble begins rousing my Guardian from her lazing, a sharp glint in her eyes.
“They say it is one of the ground and the dead, and it is young but can grow stronger then even the fiend touched one.”
That could be impressive, but as it stands that doesn’t mean anything, as the fiend touched one continues to grow to this day. And with the Robed ones going around, destroying others like this, well there is not much that can be done to see that destiny. I was about to let my thoughts be known in words when something pulled at me that hadn’t in a very long time since I had entered this routine of the centuries.
The Gods Have taken Interest
and have issued a quest.
“Dragon’s Protection”
The gods wish you to protect
the new dungeon and will
reward you for doing so.
I almost dismiss it out of claw, but then, it had been so very long since the lesser non dragon things had learned their place. And so I poke my guardian awake fully and tell her there is something that must be done. Those foolish enough to battle with my creatures have gotten complacent, seeing me as a place to be raided, and sated. But the gods and I Both see a way for me to show them just what a dragon can do. It also helps that maybe, just maybe, there is a new tributary to my hoard in the making, the dead and the earth have the prettiest treasures after all.
