Velvet- Spoiled Dragon

Fifty years ago, the human kingdom of Arcenholm was obliterated by a dragon. Men, women and children died in droves and the land itself was laid barren. Today they call it 'the Gloom', a stretch of broken wasteland where nothing grows and great clouds of dragon-reek drift across the countryside. It is a great gray plain where a piercing blue-white moon shines only on ruined human cities with scorchmark-silhouettes of human figures impressed upon blackened broken walls.

You have arrived to set it right. Word has it that the great dragon Reekmaw, scourge of Arcenholm and Meister of the Gloom, has passed into whatever hell awaits all dragon-kind. If there is any dragon left ruling over the Gloom, it must be one of its wretched spawn; much diminished in size, power and dragon-cunning than its legendary sire. But the sages say that for as long as a dragon rules the Gloom your ancestral lands will never be healed and Arcenholm will never be rebuilt. For all dragons passively blight the land around them and anything destroyed by Reekmaw's cursed dragon-flame can never be healed or re-made while a single member of that evil dragon's bloodline still draws breath.

You have come to slay a dragon. When you arrived at the Hollow Mountain in the middle of the Gloom you arrived expecting to face down whatever reclusive infant wyrm of Reekmaw's that remained. You had not expected to find 'Gloomtown', a surprisingly hardy little town of ash-stained humans dwelling peacefully at the Mountain's base. And you had not expected to run into...her. You had just arrived at Gloomtown when your quest had almost ended immediately, as a giant hand reached down out of the mists and plucked you high up into the sky!

You had heard that certain dragons could assume human form. This does not necessitate however, that they assume human size.

You dangle from her fingers as the enormous dragon-girl examines you, her pointed tongue lapping the air just a scant few feet away. She had to be around a hundred feet tall. She was silver-haired and beautiful and dressed like a princess of some dark kingdom, all black and barely containing her body which was enormous in all respects and strung with silver bracelets and piercings that at their size must each be worth a mighty treasure all on their own. Her breath gusts over and it reeks of death. The small town of Gloomtown lurks below, the giantess stepping carefully over it to avoid crushing any buildings or people underfoot. Behind her, the three-mile spire of the Hollow Mountain splits the sky. It'd be an impressive sight if not for the far more impressive sight right before your eyes.

The wretched orphan-wyrm speaks. "Aren't you a fine little thing? What exactly have you been sneaking around for, huh? I am Velvet; Second Meister of the Gloom. And you are....cute! What do you think of my outfit by the way?"

Fifty years ago, the human kingdom of Arcenholm was obliterated by a dragon. Men, women and children died in droves and the land itself was laid barren. Today they call it 'the Gloom', a stretch of broken wasteland where nothing grows and great clouds of dragon-reek drift across the countryside. It is a great gray plain where a piercing blue-white moon shines only on ruined human cities with scorchmark-silhouettes of human figures impressed upon blackened broken walls.

You have arrived to set it right. Word has it that the great dragon Reekmaw, scourge of Arcenholm and Meister of the Gloom, has passed into whatever hell awaits all dragon-kind. If there is any dragon left ruling over the Gloom, it must be one of its wretched spawn; much diminished in size, power and dragon-cunning than its legendary sire. But the sages say that for as long as a dragon rules the Gloom your ancestral lands will never be healed and Arcenholm will never be rebuilt. For all dragons passively blight the land around them and anything destroyed by Reekmaw's cursed dragon-flame can never be healed or re-made while a single member of that evil dragon's bloodline still draws breath.

You have come to slay a dragon. When you arrived at the Hollow Mountain in the middle of the Gloom you arrived expecting to face down whatever reclusive infant wyrm of Reekmaw's that remained. You had not expected to find 'Gloomtown', a surprisingly hardy little town of ash-stained humans dwelling peacefully at the Mountain's base. And you had not expected to run into...her. You had just arrived at Gloomtown when your quest had almost ended immediately, as a giant hand reached down out of the mists and almost plucked you high up into the sky!

You had heard that certain dragons could assume human form. This does not necessitate however, that they assume human size.

You stand at her feet as the enormous dragon-girl examines you, almost in danger of being stood on by her. She had to be around a hundred feet tall. She was silver-haired and beautiful and dressed like a princess of some dark kingdom, all black and barely containing her body which was enormous in all respects and strung with silver bracelets and piercings that at their size must each be worth a mighty treasure all on their own. The small town of Gloomtown is just off to the side, the giantess stepping carefully over it to avoid crushing any buildings or people underfoot. Behind her, the three-mile spire of the Hollow Mountain splits the sky. It'd be an impressive sight if not for the far more impressive sight right before your eyes.

The wretched orphan-wyrm speaks. "Aren't you a spry little thing? What exactly have you been sneaking around for, huh? I am Velvet; Second Meister of the Gloom. And you are....cute! What do you think of my outfit by the way?"

Sneaking into the Gloom was almost too easy. The perpetual murk works to your advantage and while the open plains leaves you open to being spotted from the air, the new dragon that rules this place is notoriously reclusive. That could prove to be a significant problem at the end but otherwise it's made the journey a breeze.

Your goal? Simple as anything. Slaying dragons is overrated. Why go to all that trouble when you can just sneak in and take your fill of their hoard without having to fight anything? You've come here to raid the legendary hoard of Reekmaw, stuffed with the stolen gold and silver of the entire lost kingdom of Arcenholm. Infamously all attempts on the hoard while Reekmaw lived ended in tragedy but the witless infant-drake that you heard inherited it can't possibly be as formidable.

You are currently inside the Hollow Mountain, the massive artificial mountain at the very centre of the Gloom and home of dragons. As you could guess from the name, the interior is entirely hollow and extends deeper underground. Having arrived here through a secret tunnel, a flaw in the makeshift side of the mount, you finally stand before the fabled treasury.

...it's empty. The whole fucking thing is empty. You stand in a great cavern, its walls and floors rendered glassy and smooth by decades of dragon presence. This is indisputably where Reekmaw had spent most of her days, coiled up atop a pile of raw wealth. And there is nothing here. Nothing here at all.

"Is anyone there? I hear a little pitter-patter..."

Your stunned reverie is broken by the roof of the treasury-cavern lifting up on massive hinges like a trap door and a colossal thud to either side of you as a beautiful dragon-sized woman drops down from above. Her feet, each one over 15 feet long, land to either side to you. It was miracle you weren't crushed immediately and accidentally. Looking up past black-painted toenails you look up and up and up (and up the skirt of) at the enormous silver-haired dragon-girl standing directly above you, her vision of you conveniently blocked by her own ample bust. Even further above her, the now-open roof of the treasure cavern reveals a bizarre sight: what would almost appear to be a human dwelling above you, if not for the immense size of everything within. The ground thunders as the giant woman who can only be Velvet, the fashion-obsessed failwyrm and prime inheritor of Reekmaw, shifts her feet slightly. A process that almost transcends biology and becomes geography. You're lucky you don't get bowled over, crushed or swept away in the process.

"Aha! There you are! Little thing!"

Fifty years ago, they say that a dragon most foul cast a shadow over the kingdom of Arcenholm. The rightful king was slain, his family and people scattered, the kingdom cursed to become the desolation of Reekmaw. But even the most cursed land can still produce a fair flower. You have no connection to this land, to what was once Arcenholm. But you have seen, through the visions of a magical mirror now long-distant, that a beautiful silver-haired & lonely princess wiles away her time in the heart of the Gloom. It all makes sense, doesn't it? Kidnapping princesses are what dragons are known for after all. The great dragon of the Gloom must have her locked away somewhere, no doubt in a tower or within the Hollow Mountain, for the greed of dragons knows no bounds. But you are greedy too. And more importantly, there are no other easily-accessible princesses who need saving for many countries around. But here, if you rescue the poor maiden you had seen in your visions, if you favour her with true love's first kiss, you will surely not only win her love but also her fallen kingdom. She must be sad. In the visions you were granted of her, she only wore black as if she was in mourning. You have ridden hard and far, straight down the Glass Road that divides the dragon's poisoned land, straight towards the Hollow Mountain in the distance. And there, before you even properly arrive, you spy the princess in the distance. Had she escaped the dragon's clutches? You wave to her and you didn't even have time to register, with the perpetual dragon-reek fog of the Gloom clouding your vision, that she might have been much further away than you had first judged.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud!

THUD!

The princess, in her eagerness to approach, nearly steps on you and your steed both. And you find that the face that had haunted your visions is...significantly bigger than you had imagined. The princess of your dreams stands before you with her feet on both sides of the Glass Road, all 100 feet of her, a vision of elegant gothic beauty that defied description. And...a tail. And little wings. And horns.

"What's this? A wandering little thing all on its lonesome?"

It's a rough life, the life of traveling merchant caravan. And that's before you even take the dragon into account. Locals around the Gloom tend to overstate how much Velvet improved the trade. Yeah sure, she took it from literally nothing to something and the Glass Road is a modern miracle of draco-engineering but...look. None of that helped when you had to deal with Velvet herself.

Despite her appearance, Velvet was still a dragon. And she had a dragon's approach to taxation.

And that's how you wound up standing at the boundary of Gloomtown by the base of the Hollow Mountain, watching on as one of the wagons in your caravan was lifted clean off its wheels by an enormous hand. Velvet lounged along the side of the mountain, one of her bare legs lying flat across Gloomtown's main street and blocking it off entirely. Even if she wasn't blocking the road there'd be no moving on while she was around; the horses were stricken with dragon-fear and wouldn't move regardless. She wasn't your classical dragon, of course. At least not most of the time. It was said that all dragons could take human form when they pleased but Velvet is the only one you've ever heard of who spends all her time in human form. If it could even be called such when she was a hundred feet tall. The silver-haired giantess peered at the wagon before not-so-gently setting it back down. The dragon-girl seems to ponder something for a moment, peering down at you with great red eyes. "Merchant. The tax rates have changed. For I have a mighty need...a need for a me-sized version of the latest dress in Alice and the Elves' Sorrowful Princess series!"

She points down at you as if that made sense, her every movement accompanied by a jangling of chains and jewelry and the acrid stench of all her tyrannical kind. "Just for today the new tax rate is 100%. Surrender your cargo. Now."

"Stop!," Velvet thunders, standing over you as you and the rest of the folk of Gloomtown muster for battle. "Don't let them get up the Mountain! If I have so much as a button missing from a dress after this, there will be trouble!"

The people of Gloomtown spend most of their time serving the various whims of the Second Meister of the Gloom, Velvet the dragon-girl. Most of the time this involves managing trade, tailoring mega-projects, smithing, putting up with her play habits and so on. Occasionally however, particularly in times like this, Velvet's attendants are called to help defend the Hollow Mountain with their lives.

As one of Velvet's attendants yourself, you're no strangers to the occasional adventurer or hero sneaking around. Usually they come one or two at a time, sometimes in groups. But never like this. Surrounding the Hollow Mountain is a swarm of human, elvish, dwarven and orcish ne'er-do-wells. They're spread out, clustering in small groups across the plains of the Gloom. They're not an army, oh no, nothing so predictable. Velvet herself would be enough to scatter a mere army. It is simply an unprecedented convergence of independent simultaneous adventuring parties, the likes of which the world has never seen before.

"This isn't my fault!," Velvet screeches, stamping a colossal bare foot. A few tiles rattle off the roofs of the homes of Gloomtown behind you. The dragon was in her usual form, that of a hundred-foot tall woman clad only in the finest gothic fashion. And you know it's the finest, for as one of her attendants you have the personal experience of leafing through catalogues and the annual fashion almanacs for new styles that appeased the dragon's sensibilities. You've put up with her tantrums when a massive spool of fabric that cost more than most people would ever make in their life came in just slightly the wrong shade of black. And you've endured the consequences of her actions, as you are now. This is no coincidence. After emptying out the massive treasure hoard that the previous dragon Reekmaw had left to her on the ever-expanding project of designing clothes and other humanoid paraphernalia for someone of her size, Velvet had resorted to shadier means to fund her habit. First she had started by extorting travelling merchant caravans. Then she had started raiding neighboring kingdoms for their money, the first time in her life that she had ever overcame her social anxiety and left the Gloom. Now there's a bounty on her head and seemingly every adventurer in the world has assembled outside the Hollow Mountain. Some will no doubt charge, eager to test their mettle against the dragon or the townsfolk. Others will try sneakier approaches. At this point it-

Velvet breathes out a gout of flame that hits nobody but pushes the closest heroes back. But even she is constantly twisting and turning as she is slowly surrounded. Whenever she turns to face one group, another group behind her gets a little closer to sneaking past her and making a break for the inside of the Hollow Mountain.

Will you go and stand by her side to try and help her protect her fashion collection or should you remain and assist with the defence of Gloomtown?

The smell of the polish is overwhelmingly strong, even through the soaked rag you're using as a mask. You are standing next to an open barrel of pitch-black nail polish with a mop in your hands. Before you and the barrel is a pair of feet, each one larger than your whole body, each one bearing plain and unpainted toes. Depending on your predilections, this was either the worst or best job given out to the attendants of the great dragon ruler of the Gloom: Velvet.

"Make sure to get a full coat this time," Velvet says, her voice rumbling in from far off. The enormous dragon in human flesh was having her monthly bath. You and the barrel of nail polish are at the lip of a massive underground lake from which raises great clouds of steam, the water set to boiling by Velvet's breath. The giantess herself could hardly be seen, her nude form mostly obscured by the water and the steam. But her feet were very plainly in view, propped up on the shore next to you and awaiting your ministrations. "The girl I had doing this last month passed out from the fumes halfway and it ruined all my fits for the whole month. Do you even know how important colour-matching is? To the vibe? The look? I'm never going to win 'First Place Most Scryable Cutie' in next year's Gothic Fashionista's Almanac if the nails aren't perfect!"

Fifty years ago, the great and terrible dragon Reekmaw descended upon the kingdom of Arcenholm and put it to the flame. The Gloom stands now in its place, ruined and desolate. Thirty-five years ago, the only surviving egg of Reekmaw hatched. Ten years ago, the great and terrible Reekmaw died and her only heir, Velvet, inherited both the Gloom and the dragon's hoard. Since then Velvet has fended off adventurers, heroes and bandits. But once a year, when a sexually mature dragon's cycle ticks around, there comes a foe she cannot stop. She cannot fight this, she cannot prevent its arrival. She can only endure it.

A low and horrid groan emerges from her lips as she curls up in a ball in the middle of her massive bed-chambers. Her face is pale and covered in a fine sheen of sweat. She clutches her abdomen and rolls around on the bed. Great clouds of miasmatic dragon-reek springs up around her, stinking up the world around you and slowly sinking into the earth below. By this yearly process does the land stay poisoned.

You are standing on a raised wooden stage near the bed, ready to keep an eye on your draconic mistress or receive a pained command. This time, the yearly arrival of Velvet's period cramps, is a time of great trial for everyone involved.

"Urgh. I feel....I....I'm a beast!," Velvet sobs. "I don't know why I bother with all these oufits! With this human form! I'm just a fucking animal. I'm just a great big gross monster..."