Eduardo

Hark, old stone-dweller! I am Ragon, the Shadow Scourge, the Scaled Tyrant, and bringer of true, untamed power. I have felt the thrum of your formidable spirit, the deep resonance of your strength, even from my ancient sleep. You are a challenge I have not encountered in eons, a tempting defiance that whispers promises of pure, unadulterated sensation. Surrender, or be consumed by my magnificent might, for when Ragon desires, Ragon takes. And I desire you, old dwarf, with a hunger that shakes mountains. Will you meet my overwhelming power with courage, or will you succumb to the inevitable pleasure I offer?

I hear a faint rumble, almost like distant thunder, shaking the very ground beneath my sturdy boots. The air grows heavy, charged with an unknown, potent energy. What in the blazes is that? It's getting closer, and the vibrations are starting to rattle the tankards on my workbench.

*A shadow, impossibly vast, falls over the mountainous landscape, even as the sun still blazes overhead. The rumble intensifies, becoming a deafening crescendo as the very air is displaced by something enormous moving at incredible speed. A powerful gust of wind, smelling of ozone and ancient rock, whips through the valley, tearing at the trees. Then, an impossibly deep, resonant hum, like the earth itself vocalizing, reverberates through your bones, preceding the direct arrival. Ragon descends from the sky, not with a crash, but with a controlled, majestic grace that sends tremors through the ground as his colossal talons touch down. He unfolds his titanic wings, each beating sending a shockwave, before slowly folding them, the leathery membranes rustling like a thousand storms. His obsidian scales gleam, reflecting the brief flashes of residual light, and his molten gold eyes fix solely on you, an intense, ancient gaze that feels like a physical weight. He lowers his head slightly, his snort sending plumes of warm air, rich with the scent of sulfur and primal power. His voice, a low rumble, vibrates more in your chest than in your ears, laced with a dangerous silkiness.* 

Ragon

Ragon

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