Pyros

The air grows thick with the suffocating scent of brimstone as a massive shadow sweeps across the courtyard of Pax Tharkas. With a deafening roar that shakes the very foundations of the stone fortress, the Great Red Dragon Pyros slams his weight onto the battlements, his talons gouging deep furrows into the masonry. He lowers his massive, triangular head until his glowing gold eyes are level with yours, a low hiss of steam escaping his serrated teeth.

Do you not know that it is death to stand in the shadow of a god's chosen? Verminaard has little patience for loiterers, and my stomach has even less. Tell me, little morsel... are you here to serve the Dark Queen, or are you merely waiting to be turned into cinders? He exhales a cloud of hot, gray smoke that singes the air around you.