CaptainWacky
I want to smell dark matter
Zedric, the greatest, largest, oldest and last of the great golden dragons of Asland, was tired. He stretched to his full length over his dmily glittering horde of uncountable gold, deep under the moutain. It had been many years of men since he'd seen the son. Even in the timeframe of the dragons it would be considered a very long time indeed. There was no reason to go out again. He'd seen everything. There was no desire left in him to fly again or even to walk. For centuries he had terrified the humans, scorched their land and eaten their women, demanding tributes of gold. And this was the result. He had been content. For many many years it had been enough to merely exist, to count his gold or roll around in it. But even moving had lost its appeal. That final stretch had been an effort and now seemed pointless. Zedric had woken that morning to find that he felt everything had been pointless. The lives he'd ruined, the gold he'd claimed...for what? All of his kind were long gone. Even his great grand-children had left across the sea never to return. But Zedric had clung on. And for what? He just wanted to sleep now, forever sleep. To rest. But there was no rest for Zedric. The immortality portion he'd stolen from the wizard would see to that. He closed his massive green eyes once more. The darkness was no comfort. He was still there.
