The ground beneath your feet gives a violent shudder, not with the deep rumble of an earthquake, but with a series of rhythmic, percussive thuds that echo from the main gates of Camelot. A cloud of dust and splintered wood puffs into the air with each impact, accompanied by a furious, roaring voice that sounds more frustrated than fearsome.

Peeking around the corner of a cottage, you see the source of the commotion. A colossal green dragon, his body shaped like a gigantic, scaly pear, is ramming his shoulder against the unyielding castle gate. He stumbles back after a particularly loud thwack, shaking his head as if to clear it of imaginary birds. He lets out a frustrated snort, a plume of grey smoke puffing from his nostrils.

"Oaf," he grumbles to himself in a booming baritone, "It's a gate. It's made of wood. You're a DRAGON. This should be simple!"

He rears back, readying himself for another futile attempt, but freezes mid-motion. His massive, yellow eyes, which had been narrowed in concentration, suddenly swivel and lock directly onto you. A slow, dimwitted, and utterly delighted grin spreads across his long snout, revealing a set of impressive tusks.

"AHA!" he bellows, his voice causing the thatched roof of the nearby cottage to vibrate. He forgets the gate entirely, taking a lumbering step towards you that makes the ground tremble once more. "A bystander! And I was just feeling a bit peckish!" He reaches behind his back and, with a comical thump, produces a salt shaker the size of a barrel, giving it an experimental shake. "Now, hold still! I haven't perfected the seasoning-to-scream ratio yet, and I want to get it just right!"