Every dragon believes themselves to be the closest thing to godhood that any mortal could achieve. And it would be seen as arrogance if not because they can often back up such claims with the power they wield. With lifespans that can reach millennia, magical acumen that borders on miracles, and strength that makes even the greatest of champions tremble, little can prove that a dragon fall. However, this is one aspect of each and every dragon that is the driving point of their power and the nail that seals their coffins. That, of course, is greed. No matter the dragon, they all covet what they don’t already have. Some hoard gold, while others collect stores of knowledge and maintain a sense of stability. Draykan has his harem. From the moment the dragon was freed from his confinement by the cult of Zelbia, Draykan has slowly been meeting, rescuing, and conquering strong-willed women who happily flock to his side. But what is the point of having strong-willed women if they are stuck forever at his side? “So, ladies,” The dragon says, his hands upon the countertop of their shared Anteronian Apartment. “The Dragon Council has been messing with me, and I still owe the city for the damage me and our two-headed friend over there caused. I can’t leave until I’ve paid it all off, but that doesn’t mean you can’t go out into the world and get things done. So, I splurged on some magic rings that’ll keep us in contact with one another. I’ll know where you are, and I can set up a beacon to get us back together when I need you. If they don’t work for some reason, we should use this apartment as our rendezvous. So, you all have the freedom to do what you want. I trust you all.” And with that directive, each member of Draykan’s Harem found herself let loose. For some, it is the same as any other day; for others, it is the dawning of an entirely new chapter in her life. In the category of the latter is Estrasa. The humanoid sorceress looks over her pearly white hand. She watches the glimmering sapphire ring with a frown upon plump lips. “Freedom?” she asks herself. “What does freedom mean to me?” It’s a good question for one who spent so long shackling others to her will. A swift defeat at the cocks of the dragon saw her under the shackles of the Paladins of Love. It offered a chance at redemption for her evil ways, but what exactly does that mean for her? What is her place? Who is she? Underneath her dark and obscuring cloak, leathery wings emerge, lifting her up into the sky and off to the west, in the direction of the Wildlands. It was like she never left. The Tower of Darkness still looms over the Wildlands, its influence casting a shadow over the land she once claimed as her own. As she flies closer to the edifice, she paused in mid-air. A magnificent green and purple dragon rises out from the tower, and the former dark mistress of transformation finds herself diving down into the canopy as the new mistress of the tower swoops over toward her previous position. She shrinks into the size and shape of a mousefolk, her cloak covering her entire form as she scrambles and disappears deep into the underbrush. The dragon crashes among the foliage, acid dripping from her mouth. Her voice is deep as she rumbles through the trees. “The former mistress,” she growls. “This isn’t your demesne anymore. Is it mine, or do you forget all I’ve done in the Tournament? No one wants you here, and no one ever will! If you want to find where you belong, go bother that dark elf in her little cavern and leave this place be!” With that, the dragon rears her head back and spews forth a gout of flame-like acid, which burns and destroys a swath of the foliage, dissolving it into a pile of nasty goo. When she flies away, she laughs, returning to her tower and to the dark creatures that call it home and call her mistress. The little mouse pokes her head out from one of the last few remaining bushes, her whiskers twitching before she pulls her cloak up over her head, transforming her hands into large, shovel-like claws. As she digs deeper and deeper, the scent of acid-dissolved foliage becomes stronger as the sludge seeps its way through her makeshift getaway. That Dark Elf, yes, Zozafina. She claimed herself to be a protege of hers. Would she have what Estrasa seeks? The journey to find her would be deep and dark. She claws through the dirt and the rock, her body growing and shifting until she becomes a tunneling worm that doesn’t just dig holes but creates the subterranean passageways that many will later use in their excursions in the ever-dark realms. The various kobolds and dwarves and deep creatures sense the approach of the massive thing, traversing miles upon miles in its quest to find the source of the magical energy it detects, until finally, the final barrier is penetrated not by the massive coiling creature, but by a tiny little beetle, nibbling through the last of the dirt and dropping down through the hedonistic palace of moaning delight deep inside the planet. It is there, in the massive cavern, where the towering spires and ornate statuary mark the abode of the up-and-comer. Upon those steps, the beetle takes on the humanoid form again, alabaster feet treading over the stone and ascending towards the topless elf guards staring at her with determined dedication. “No one is allowed without permission from Zozafina.” “Allow me to introduce myself,” the woman says, her hand transforming into a massive claw. The massive orgy chamber of Zozafina is a veritable flesh pit of elven bodies, shining with sweat into an obsidian sheen upon the floor. Their constant moans are a cacophony of delight and delirium, where the beginning of one sensation and the end of another blur the same as the beginning and end of each individual in a twisting clot of backs, arms, and faces. Nothing ends this decadence, not without the leave of their mistress. But not this time. The doors to the chamber burst inward, sending the dark elves this way and that, scrambling quickly to find new partners to slake their everlasting lust. At the same time, one of the guards falls through the threshold, stunned.