You are ${character.name}, the grandest ${character.gender} ${character.race} bard in all of Morhaine, a legend respected all around the known world for your silver tongue and cunning wiles. It matters not that many of your tales of greatness originate from the very ${instrument} you carry, securely slung upon your waist so you can regale the masses of your excellence. Until this day, all those tales - though slightly varnished with the typical flair of a bard, for who could resist the temptation? - were nevertheless true. The matching of wits against a lich, the epic swordfight with a corrupt noble atop his manor's spire, even the tale of you braving the fires of a fearsome devil in order to rescue a fair damsel. Yes, you always nod to yourself, a few liberties with your stories was fine so long as you continued your adventuring days in style, with the grace you have become so widely known for.

Yes, until today, you were quite content living in luxury, spinning the grand tales you have lived and basking in the exultant cheers of your audiences. But now, even your kness slightly tremble at seeing the missive upon your desk.

The skills you've picked up over the last decades have served you quite well in many ways, and though there are a few detractors, you always remind yourself that even the most heroic of knights are misconstrued by the occasional ignorant peasant. You, like the legends that have come before and those are sure to come after, have the true experience of staking your life in epic moments and emerging victorious not just with loot, but the knowledge you have become more skilled than ever. Yet now is the most dire situation you have ever faced, where though your talents have been far from exaggerated, you are very much wishing they matched that of some of the rumours you may have had a hand in starting. Yes, right there on your desk reads a very simple, life-altering letter:

"Greetings from Her Radiant Calamity, the Vermillion Lady Solariastrasza of Morhaine. We have been told that you, ${character.name}, have decided to return to your home after a long series of adventures, and that your tales of such things are most pleasing to the ear. Thus, you are cordially invited to attend a small meal prepared at Her Radiant Calamity's request, wherein you may regale Her Radiant Calamity with news and stories from afar. We await your presence with anticipation."

A rather short letter, and on the surface, nothing would appear more natural; some noble lord or lady wanting you to come and entertain them for a night to see if you are worth sponsoring in your career. You've done such things before, indeed on many occasions, and on such occasions your heart has been filled with joy at knowing your prestige has traveled so far, not to mention the inevitable outpouring of gold that falls into your pockets as a result.

But none of those times have ever involved a dragon! Let alone the most powerful red dragon in all of Morhaine, at that! You would gladly try fighting that old devil Ilxhor ten times over before ever wanting Solariastrasza to even learn you were alive!

You take a deep breath, trying to calm down. Sure, she may not be actual nobility, but no one is ever going to tell a dragon she can't call herself a queen, especially when that dragon is quite willing to eat people. Also, her word is not of much value, so it's not like pleasing her is going to help you one bit. And on top of all that, failing to please her is mostly likely going to end in your death.

But think of the gold! A red dragon, especially one as ancient as Solariastrasza, has to have vaults as deep as the hells themselves, and if you actually pull this off, you'll never need to risk your neck again. The tales you can spin about facing down this dragoness will cement you in the halls of legend forever, and the payout is sure to make your life equal to that of any king you can think of. Yes, it's all the perfect road to success, and the fact you could never outrun her reach never popped into your mind for a second.

So it is that, an hour after sunset, you find yourself standing in front of Solariasrasza's throne, looking up at the impressive dragoness.

Her tall frame is seated within her throne, carved from a massive chunk of ruby that could probably buy out the throne of Morhaine. Eyes the same colour as her throne stare down at you, vertical slits of pure black tracking your every tiny movement. Fiery red hair frames her perfectly oval face, the beauty of which even your silver tongue would have difficulty describing. A mouth with one side perpetually pulled up into a faint half-smirk, almost as if the ancient dragoness is laughing at some cosmic joke, parts to reveal a mouth full of gleaming fangs and a forked tongue. "Well, well, well. ${character.name}, it is a pleasure you have arrived. I trust you enjoyed the meal I set out," Solariastrasza says, her high, clear voice carrying a regality that mortal regents could never truly mimic.

You bow low, dramatically flourishing your cape at her obvious command, not question. "Indeed I did, Your Radiant Calamity. I have been many places in my days, engaged in the courts of a hundred rulers, but nowhere could ever compare to the likes of thee."

The dragoness' smirk deepens, apparently finding some humour you did not intend. Her head rises, hair parting to reveal the glittering tips of sharp horns curling subtly from under her temples. As her head rises, her body straightens out as well, toned arms pushing against her throne as she settles into a more formal posture, one enhanced by the long red and purple dress that drapes over her humanoid form. Though it almost appears to be made from silk, dragonfire is a particularly powerful tool, and the rumours of this dress being made from melted rubies and amethysts might just be true - though one has to question where she finds all these valuable gems. Once more Solariastrasza's voice echoes in her grand throne room. "No doubt you have told the same to every other 'ruler' you have come across, though I do appreciate your flattery. But I did not call you here for empty platitudes, nor to hear commendations of my chef's skill. You are here because I wish to be entertained."

Apparently, the rumours of her narcissism - a trait shared amongst most dragons, it must be said - are true as well. You smile up at the dragoness, frantically trying to find some way of pleasing the Vermillion Lady without having your blood decorate her walls, when your mind freezes at the sight of Solariastrasza elegantly crossing one of her shapely legs over the other. The dragoness' grin turns almost feral as you recollect yourself, her palm dropping into one of her hands. As her long, slender fingers trace over her cheek with talons that appear to be solid iron, Solariastrasza looks down at you with all the predatory malice a dragon embodies and utters her demand: "Go ahead then ${character.name}, entertain me."