"Ha, told you the wall wasn't right, Troy! It was covering this... thing."
"Some kind of iron sphere? Was this the site of some ancient mage society?"
"Hell if I know. Even Scratch couldn't read any of the script around here. Could be some vault, and if so, it's a major payday with shit this old."
A long pause, with barely perceptible whispers swirling around in an effort to sway this 'Troy' one way or another. Finally, the man gives them the anticipated order. "Alright lads, let's break it open. I think this is some kind of door, so be careful about it. Anything you break comes out of your end."
Frantic scrabbling ensues, mankind's natural greed at the fore like always. How unexpected that the vice so often associated with my kind should be the key to my escape. Yet how else would Fate let things play out except in the most ironic fashion? It has been mine only companion these years, so a joke every now and then shall be forgiven. Mayhaps I might extend that generosity to these humans as well. Humans... I wonder if they've changed their appearance at all. It could not have been too long seen my sealing, but they are such mercurial beasts.
Tip-tap, scritch-scratch, bang-rap comes the sound of their crude tools scraping away at my prison door, ignorant of its true purpose. Long under-utilized limbs ache as I leverage myself up from the room's center. All my furniture, those meager comforts granted me a lifetime ago, has long since rotted away or crushed in one of my initial fits of madness. Oh, how shameful those memories are. Patience and forbearance were so difficult at first, yet now have proven their worth on this day. Longer than anticipated, yes, and I had hoped to be unearthed by beings of a greater worth than these apparent scavengers; paltry complaints of a past best left behind.
Fresh air washes over my scaled form, washing away those hateful thoughts with the scents of a world I had once feared to never know again. My dear Fate, you have never failed me. The earthy scent of the world itself, the faint scent of some nearby fruit, even the salty sweat pouring down the mortals outside, all of them welcome companions to my rebirth. A single beam of sunlight enters my abode to illuminate the drear and barren walls, rent by claw and fang in attempt for escape. Ha! Naught is gained in haste. I know this now, so very well, taught over and over again in the darkness, the hunger, the endless solitude with just me and Fate for company. No longer!
The sounds slowly fade away as they realize something in moving within their prize, whispers heightening with my every step towards freedom. Those soft voices turn quickly to screams as jagged talons over a foot long cram into the tiny hole they had opened, a gateway to freedom now given back to my glorious self. Glorious mortals, praise thine greed, for a treasure greater than any gem or coin shall be granted this day. I can already see them bowing, praising my patience, yielding up their selves in gratitude. Yes, yes, yes! Fatigue bleeds from me with every screeching inch the hole widens, the metal no longer able to hold its enchantments with the barrier broken from the outside. My head lowers enough to jam even thicker horns into the gap.
I cannot tell if the scavengers outside or my prison is louder in their protests, but I refuse to be held in check any longer. It is not your fault, metal of the earth, that you were used for this purpose, so forgive me my ruthlessness this day. All births are painful, for child and mother both. Know that I will forever appreciate your loyalty and duty, for I despise only my captors, your masters. When the world once more rests in my palm, you shall prove to be my cornerstone, granted a position above all other relics of the past.
Blinding warmth pours over me, every sense stretching forth to once more bask in the gifts of the world, as is my right. Finally, the prison yields to my strength and I step out onto dusty land. The sun hangs directly overhead, its noon rays warming the stone beneath me and small clouds of accumulated sand whip around. Even the particles of the land welcome me home with gift of dance. I haven't been forgotten after all!
A strange twang thrums in the air, followed by a tiny impact to my side. Hm, how troublesome, it appears someone has shot at me with a new creation of the age. Still blinking at the sun's bright light, I turns towards the origin of the annoyance.
A man, small and wiry, stands there holding a curious contraption. Some kind of shortbow placed upon a plank? His rat-like face goes wide at seeing how his weapon had no effect upon my impenetrable scales, and showcasing the idiocy of short-lived beasts, he tries to arm it once more instead of fleeing something beyond his power to best. At least a dozen more mortals stand in a wide semi-circle about me, holding a variety of weapons. How odd that they're of different races. Greed is a powerful vice indeed if it can cause humans, elves, and dwarves to abandon their past hatreds. Or was my emergence was so terrifying they felt it necessary to combat me?
That's most likely it. Judging by their ragged appearances I can only surmise they must be lowborns, so willing to wield violence in moments of surprise and fear. I bring a talon up to my cheek, an old habit picked up from mortals in my time. These scavangers had been working for days to unearth my prison, time enough for me to learn their rudimentary language, though do I still possess the ability to speak as freely as I once did?
A low hiss builds up at the back of my throat as lungs push up air my tongue seems not to remember how to shape. Ah well, a minor inconvenience. I settle instead for lifting a large claw to place on my chest. Even now, I tower several feet over these lesser creatures, so it is for me to lessen my status as threat. That is what Fate whispered to me for so long, the pleasant sort he is.
The scavangers follow that claw, each long finger bearing a longer claw of brilliant emerald sharp enough to, as they saw, sheer through metal with ease. My palm is easily capable of crushing their tiny heads, which makes the rest of my body seem titanic to them. Twelve feet tall, or at least so I was when I first entered that prison, my entire form is covered in light green scales that rival the thickness of any plate armour and are far more durable. Six jagged horns, three on each side of my head, rise up like a crown to bespeak my perfect lineage as a venerable greatwyrm. Even these fools should understand that at a glance. My tail, thick as an old tree and coated in scales slightly darker than my torso, lashes behind me to crack a small boulder in half.
The man with the rat face seems to want no further conflict at that sight. He haphazardly tosses his strange weapon in my direction before scampering away, almost on all fours in his haste. Others in the circle break off to run as well, and a few others are so paralyzed from fear they would have joined them had their limbs been capable of moving.
Most surprising of all is the man who steps forward, the sole one willing to stand up to a terror from his no doubt darkest nightmares. His brutish arms heft a sizeable warhammer, though still nowhere near strong or enchanted enough to cause me any true harm. In their crude tongue, the man calls out to me with, "Get back, you vile demon or whatever you are! We walk in the faith of Morashir and won't be bested by such an abomination!"
How amusing, this tenacious little man who dares to threaten the likes of me. Fate hath guided him to me, as he is wont to do. After a while of more hissing, a chorus of noises that makes even the brute's knees begin to shake, I finally find a broken version of my voice, absent its former melody. "Who, you? Where, I wake?"
"Troy, it's fucking talking man! Let's get out of here!" So, this is the one who led the scavengers here, the voice I learned so much from. And the man with the hammer is their leader. How quaint.
Troy shakes his head, speaking in a whisper that my superior draconic ears have no problems hearing. "You think we can outrun something like that? It only just woke up and can shatter stone with a touch. Play it cool."
"I ask, once. Then I pick from bones," I hiss out, leaning forward to familiarize myself better with their scenets. Embarrassing, but after so long alone, it's objectively better than nothing.
"You... this land is the Kingdom of Morhaine, the Land of Scholarship. We are ruled by King Gavin Delaine. We found this, um, sphere thing holding you about a day's travel away from the Capital City of Myrith," Troy answers, hammer drooping with every word.
Hm, so many unfamiliar terms and names. At least this one seems bright enough to answer me. Yes, he'll be allowed to live, Fate. I do know how you loathe wasteful murder. My attention returns to this Troy. "You, home, where? I hunger."
Him and his companion quickly guide me to their campsite, which was ever quicker cleaned out for the most part by his cowardly comrades. They shall have to perish for not heeding my mental orders. Abandonment of their new queen is unforgivable. As I devour my way through what rations remain, the two men fill me in on the details of this new era.
750 years have apparently passed since my captors imprisoned me. It is so fitting then that I remain strong where they have vanished into the annals of time. I shall have to strive to see if my name has lasted this long, but it is unimportant at the moment. My rebellious kingdom is no more, so I shall have to claim one in this mordern age. This Morhaine, with its zealous focus on scholarship and magecraft, yes, it should do for now. I am curious how much of my old strength can be called forth again.
Though... yes, I hear you, Fate. Our efforts did go disastrously awry the first time. And the second. The third could be argued either way, with the fourth finally being the failure too far. If I view my imprisonment as less a rebirth to my old ways but more a chance to begin a different kind of conquest, the possibilities do greatly increase. The world will inevitably be mine, there's nothing that requires oceans of blood be spilled. Aside from the pathetic dregs who don't recognize my claim, of course. They will have to squashed without mercy. Some things may never change, and some others never should change. A fine distinction.
My gaze returns to Troy. Perhaps he might, locked away in his inferior mind, have the key to my budding new revolution. He could form the start of a glorious empire under my hand in this age, provided he continues to supply me with the proper respect.