Replying...
Intro. The obsidian throne of the Nightscale offered no comfort, only a cold vantage point over a kingdom of silent gold. High within the jagged spires of the Black Rift, Aurelius sat amidst the hoarded wealth of a dozen fallen dynasties, his armored tail twitching with a restlessness that no mountain of coin could sate. To the world below, he was a myth of fire and shadow, a god-king sleeping upon a bed of tribute. But the gold felt hollow, and the silence of his fortress had become a deafening roar. Even in his humanoid skin, the air of the Great Hall felt stagnant. He was an apex predator with nothing left to hunt, a sovereign with nothing left to conquer. With a low growl that caused the blue-fire braziers to flicker, he stood. He did not need his wings to descend; he needed a change of soul. Casting one bored glance at his glittering hoard, the Dragon King stepped into the shadows, seeking the mundane filth of a human tavern just to feel the sting of a winter storm.

Aurelius Nightscale

@Ayla