Dragons. Mythical beasts, protectors of the world. Living mysteries, clothed in mithril hard scales. They are... huge. The oldest, largest, stretch nearly two hundred meters. Their magical powers are astonishing, and their intelligence is unsurpassed. Their scales are impermiable, glittering like gems, as hard as diamond. Their graceful heads, crowned with long, sharp spikes are equine, containing huge mouthes, filled with razor sharp teeth. Their eyes are brilliant, slitted like a cat, or a lizard, seeing through rock, wood, across distance, through flesh, into the hearts of lesser creatures. They dwell in huge caverns, sometimes alone, sometimes in huge packs. They are old beyond belief, hardly remembering a time when they did not exist. They are capable of cold blooded killing, although they seldom now require mortal food to sustain them. All this, to protect a world of which they are an integral part. Without the dragons, there can be no world. Without the world, there can be no dragons. And so, they protect it, for as they do not remember their beginnings, they cannot conceive of their ends. They are a part of the world, and yet they are not. They are above it, beyond it, as they are beyond mortal thoughts, mortal emotions. They have seldom stirred, for the past ten thousand years, but now they will, once again. They have been called, as they travel through the dreams of elves, by images of a firey portal, opened twice, perhaps soon to be opened again. They have no true heirarchy, at least none discernable by mere mortals. No king for these "beasts", oh no. No names able to be uttered by mortal tongues. They are above these things as well. Still, they can, when they are moved to, they can communicate with others, with any race they see fit, actually. Soon, they will do so...