In the silence of the dusk, the sound of something hard grating against stone broke in the air to echo among the stalagmites and stalactites lining a dark cave entrance. Then once more, silence. Only for a brief moment, before that grating reverberated again. And again. Over and over this pattern repeated in a sluggish momentum like the pendulum of measuring devices that were not knowledge of the common people, only experimental in the hands of alchemists and mages.<br/>As much as he wished he had such an invention among the many wonders of his hoard, that wasn't the case. It was merely his talon engraving the earth in despairing boredom.<br/><br/>It wasn't so much that he didm't have activities to occupy himself with. His hoard was brimming with with more than mere gold and precious jewels, it held precious knowledge: scriptures older than any walking man currently on this earth. Objects that the untrained eye would consider trinkets, but were great artifacts of a different time, a different place. Some held power unimaginable, while others were no longer as useful but still aesthetically pleased him. Each and every item he could name by name, who owned it, and when it came into his possession. Dragons were over the top obsessive over these kinds of things, and if any of his kin tried to deny otherwise they were most assuredly lying. It was their nature to collect, document and possess. That is why when humans speak of battles fighting one ferocious beast, the knight or traveler had merely touched it and put it out of place. Chaotic mess was a dragon's way of organizing their things, every coin in a pile in it's rightful place.<br/><br/>Yet despite boasting such mounds of treasure that nobles would lay down their kingdom's for, Amund was still dissatisfied. Perhaps his traps on the edge of his mountain and forest worked a bit too well, as he hasn't had proper entertainment in....years? Really with a lifespan like his own, it could have been a decade and still feel like less. How could humans stand it, time moving so fast for them? It was one of the few reasons he pitied those with mortality. Their whole lives must be so rushed, and then...poof, their life was at an end. Such a waste.<br/><br/>Then he also remembered all the times that they fell into their own madness, with themselves and each other, and the thought easily passed.<br/><br/>He must have gotten lazy recently, as his wings felt might stiff when he stretched them. Had he been slumbering for long? He was still unsure. Perhaps to stave off his boredom he would return to the Sandman's ever sweet cloak of dreams and stars, and let a few decades more pass.<br/><br/>Just as he was about to do such a thing, he felt a tingling buzz at the edge of his consciousness. At first it seemed like nothing, just the sensation of a passing deer or wolf that prowled his forest with his permission. It wouldn't be uncommon to even sense the migrating birds stopping for their customary rest before they proceeded on south before winter fell upon them. It was the season of autumn, after all. The leaves on his land's trees were beginning to fall, to make place for the cold of winter that would follow in it's wake. Perhaps the animals were getting restless in their foraging and preparing for their yearly hibernation.<br/><br/>That wasn't the case though, not when he was visited by an old friend who made his way to the cave's entrance and landed right in front of him. There was a swirl of bright luminescent feathers, before the bird like creature shifting into a more humanesque form. It made conversation for certain beings a lot easier.<br/><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff0000">"You pay me a great service by visiting my humble abode."</span>Amund rumbled amusingly in his throat, both of them knowing that humble was nowhere near a descriptor for him. Or his treasures.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff0000">"Yet your appearance is troubling. You don't visit me when preparing for the winter unless something dire has transpired. What brings you here, Egan, Phoenix of the southern flame?"</span><br/><br/>The feathers rested across his shoulders like a marvellous cape of plumage, always a sight that would make a queen turn green with envy. Especially when phoenixes held the beauty of the world in spades. His friend adjusted his head and rolled his shoulders, before turning his dark eyes towards the dragon still laying enshrouded in the darkness.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffff00"> "I'm not custom to disrupted your obvious slumber, either. But I was in passing over the edge of the mountain's forest -discreetly as ever, of course-, when I spotted....a man approaching."</span><br/><br/>Amund scoffed, a little bit of smoke puffing out from the cave.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff0000">"This is nothing new. Man has not learned to leave well enough alone, and I welcome their vain attempts to enter my woods. He won't get far."</span><br/><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffff00">"Perhaps not...but I sensed an energy about him. Beware, good friend, for even me passing by it left my essence feeling strained. This will not be an ordinary encounter, the young human possesses something even you should be weary of."</span><br/><br/>Once again, Amund scoffed, but this time said nothing. He didn't want Egan to know that the news he brought him didn't strike fear in him in the slightest...<br/><br/>...it brought about excitement.<br/><br/>Perhaps a challenge at last.<br/><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffff00">"Take care, Amund. The world is changing, and not in the way we immortals appreciate. Do not underestimate this one, that is my cautionary words for you. Adieu."</span><br/><br/>The man crouched, then jumped up into the air and transformed back into his true fiery form. The phoenix took off in a dazzling flight of bright flames, giving a small call when he flapped his wings a distance away.<br/><br/>The Dragon, known as the source of the Eastern mountain, rose and turned back into his cave.<br/><br/>He had preparations to make.