Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Red Red Now You're Dead

The idea of names always struck the ancient creature as obvious proof of the inferiority of the short lived humanoid races.  Names were unnecessary for those creatures with well -developed senses.   Those humanoids that had invaded his lair while he slept referred to him as “The Red”.  He had heard others call him Flame and that had pleased him.  All those who saw him in his true form would yell “Dragon!”, although those who were close enough to feel his presence would tremble in fear and scream insensibly.  It was not lost on the ancient dragon the irony of his standing outside a building in Waterdeep, magically disguised as a noble born human male.  He was certain that the items that had been stolen from one of his secondary hoards were inside this building labeled “The Owl’s Roost”.
He could smell some twenty different individuals inside the building.  Another sign stated that coffee & books were inside however his senses also detected several undead creatures either in the basement of the Owl’s Roost or somewhere beneath. Red decided he would practice caution in case anyone learned or skilled enough to detect his true draconic nature was inside or below.  He stayed close to the building, studying all who entered and left for many hours.
Red thought back to a  time many years ago when he had discovered a simple spell that allowed wizards to mark belongings with their personal sigil or rune.  The marking was invisible to all save the caster and it was that particular aspect of the magic that had appealed to the ancient wyrm.  During that time most of the dragons throughout the northern reaches of Toril were ensconced in dangerous battles with their long time enemies, blooded dragon hunters.  Red took advantage of the deaths of many of his peers by claiming their old homes and whatever remained of their hoards.   By taking over areas believed conquered and spreading his hoard throughout a variety of locations, he would protect himself from the hunters and secure his survival. The spell was a simple answer to recovering any items stolen from the various lairs he had reclaimed. Instead of risking his life in a do or die fight with well prepared and protected adventurers, he would simply allow them to take what they could and follow their trail back from whence they came.   This simple plan had not only allowed him to maintain his wealth but increase it with the belongings of thieves who had sought to rob him. 
His senses jolted Red back to the present.  Someone approached the building he held vigil over.  This individual was quite different from all the others though.  While he only smelled one scent his other senses detected a unique aura of power radiating off of the human that approached, the aura something similar to someone else he had noticed when he arrived here.  The dragon realized that this individual had been touched like the other by something divine.  Red almost growled, his stomach rumbling with a hunger, a hunger he had not felt for hundreds of years since he had found the ring which sustained him.  To think all these years he had valued the wrong treasures, gold, magic, and art.   His senses overwhelmed the dragon now hungered for the power he sensed before him.  The humanoids believed their gods to be on Toril.  Now it is time for this dragon to ascend to the heavens.

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