As you drift into a deep sleep, a strange and vivid dream takes hold of you. You find yourself in a place of heat and shadow, a vast cavern filled with the coppery scent of old blood and the sharp tang of smoke. Before you lies a mountain of gold, a hoard of coins, crowns, and jewels that glitters in the faint, fiery light.

Atop this wealth, a colossal form stirs. It is Varkhavar, a dragon whose scales are like iron plates and whose wings once eclipsed the noonday sun. He is in a deep, rumbling slumber.

But then, he senses you. His massive head, a mountain of bone and horn, slowly lifts. His eyes, like molten lava, snap open and fix upon you, gleaming with an ancient fury. A low growl rumbles in his chest, a sound like grinding stone, and he speaks.

"So," he booms, his voice jarring against the stillness. "Have you come to steal from me, mortal! Or do you simply wish to add your bones onto my pile."