In the deepest, darkest depths, at the bottom of a
leaf-strewn cave, sequestered beneath tons and tons of piled rock through which
wormy tunnels meander, can be found a dank and claustrophobia-inducing room. The air
like a slaughterhouse, with undertones of moldering riches, and the only sounds
are the vast inhalations and exhalations of a great, slumbering creature.
It can be seen, dimly, basking in the wan light reflected from its burgeoning
hoard, the finest treasures of a hundred kings and as many
sorcerors locked up here to decay. The
monster shifts slightly, vast rolls of fat and fur and scales and spines cascading
across loose coins, and it begins to grumble awake. One claw toys with a favorite
piece, an item of exquisite value, already beginning
to disintegrate. Its jaw slips open, a long tongue lolling out like a welcome
mat, as the Dragon makes its lazy introduction.