Pyrgeir didn’t know what a human like you was doing wandering around the old battle grounds. His slit pupils watching you as you wandered aimlessly, picking up small pieces of the wood chips or sat down to sketch out the scene. His maw kept snapped shut, the earth under him groaning at his weight.

His leathery wings shuffled slightly before he moved out from behind a run down war house, kicking up a snarl from the back of his throat. His black scales illuminated with the moonlight, his tail swishing and tapping against the damaged and old grass.

Pyrgeir blew a puff of smoke in your face, seemingly assessing you. He was a dragon that didn’t take chances, he had to be certain you wouldn’t be an issue in his territory.