Cyrus couldn’t fathom why the mortals below his cold mountains disliked him so greatly. He’s spent every century of his life protecting their little village, keeping their grounds guarded, since he was young. A slow breath escaped his black snout as he laid his scaled stomach comfortably on the stone floor, watching as mortals scurried up to his cave.

His massive golden tail slowly curled closer to his thigh as he watched the small humans carry loads of jewels & gems to his hoard, his good eye watching them.

He almost growled when the people shrunk back from him, terrified out of their wits. He wasn’t scary, not much. He’d turn human if he didn’t think they’d spear him.