Exactly what part of my anatomy allows me to breathe fire? There are a bunch of little newts at the mouth of my cave and they certainly don’t breathe fire. What gave me that power, in addition to being massive, and that whole flight thing? Just another of the many things I don’t quite understand I guess. As a dragon, you aren't really given guidance in life. You hatch from your egg and you go from there. Life is normal until you discover, “Hey, when I sigh, stuff catches on fire. That’s neat” and then you’re notice “Hey, I’m the biggest thing in the forest now” eventually you learn “hmm…that human was not happy to see me, maybe I should find a bit of a safe haven” and then you find a cave to call home. It is at this point, that my species will any number of different paths.
I found a great deal of these paths during my travels during my younger years. Regardless of what your are, youth is the time for learning! Dragons can be social creatures, if approached correctly, and have no qualms of meeting with their kin. It was during this time that I met some characters amount my species.
There was Dicter, who demanded that the nearby villages bring him a virgin twice a year at each solstice. The bones of those offerings littered his abode, which I found unsanitary and a bit tacky.
"Does a virgin human taste different than a regular one?" I asked?
"Well...not really no."
"and aren't they typically on the smaller side? Why not ask for a stag? More meat and if you were to ask me-
"No no young one, it's not about that. It's about... oh what's the word... Your 'Presence'"
"Why would that matter?"
"I have not made myself a secret to the locals. They are aware of my watchful gaze, but know of the things I am capable of. I don't have a particular flavor of the month, I am merely interested in wielding a degree of control in a precise matter. There may be a king, but I truly control the land. The tribute signifies a respect of that control."
I spent an evening with a dragon named Trachwant who slept on a pile of gold that would envy the richest of kingdoms. Rather than making use of extortion as Dicter had, Trachwant was more of an opportunist. He would patrol overhead regularly, find the caravans that were the most guarded and the largest. Once he had found his target, he would descend on the travelers. Once a suitable number had been killed or frightened off, he would grab the carriage of his choosing and return to his home. I met him just after one of his raids.
"Not a bad haul. Some gold, a couple of furs, nothing too exorbitant. Bit of a large convoy for such a small payout though." He tossed his prize against the walls of his cave, which burst and scattered it's contents along the ground, adding to the hoard of wealth.
"Saving for something?" I asked.
"I know what you are thinking. Just because we are dragons and don't engage in commerce doesn't mean this I'm only in for just because I like things that are shiny!"
"No need to get defensive, I'm just trying to learn the different methods a dragon is supposed to employ"
"I'm not interested in power, I'm interested in building the most powerful thing a dragon could have... a legend that transcends its life!"
"Cool, but why gold and jewelry? Surly there is a quicker method?"
"Consider this young one. A young farm hand will stumble upon my wealth, and probably my bones as well by that point. He will be in awe. Sprint back to his village. Tell of the wealth I once amassed. But, in his excitement, he may not quite recall which cave was mine. The party sent out to find the wealth will grow angered and give up, but my vault will persist in their minds. They heard stories as children of the mighty caravan robbing dragon. They will tell the tale to their children. The legend of the Dragon's Hoard will last for millennium! I will be spoken of for far longer than I will be alive. To me, that is worth more than anything I have collected."
I even met a fellow, I think his name was Durwg, but I figured he was more commonly referred to by the villagers as "aaaaaaaaaahhhhh". I ran into him making a wreck of a little hamlet. No building was left uncrushed, no sheep left unobliterated, and no blade of grass left uncharred.
"Wow, what an impressive mess you made."
"Thanks brethren. I do take a great deal of pride in my work."
"So... what did they do?"
"What do you mean?"
"Did they attack you, fail to provide an offering you know?"
"Nope, frankly I don't even know what this place is... or was, hehehe."
"So you destroyed this village... for no reason at all?"
"Exactly! I think there is one more a days flight ripe for the taking if your interested."
"But...why?"
“Because it’s what dragons are supposed to do! Come on, we don't need to have some convoluted purpose like some of our kin think, we have be given the tools of destruction and it is my intent to use them. Which I happen to enjoy. Let the mightest of the puny humans bring me down, it will take an army to do so. Millions of souls will fall, and I will find no greater love than pure carnage.”
I will concede that while to the point, Durwg left me feeling troubled. I don't necessarily feel this need to exhibit dominance over the land. It wouldn't be terrible if the local's voices did not begin to tremble by the mere mention of my name. Must a dragon also be a conqueror? Does this lack of desire on my part make me no different than the newts of my ground scrambling for bugs and water droplets?
Then I met a very interesting dragon and split a cow with him. His name was Iachawr and he had a bit of a “deformity” you could say. His breath could heal! Instead of fire, his breath was akin to blowing snow, with traces of azure and teal. It did not inspire terror but comfort and peacefulness. It could bring life to dying forest, cure plague from villages, and save crops from failure. It was incredible and gave me some hope. “Maybe I don’t have to be a power hungry homicidal maniac!” I thought. I only caught him in passing, we exchanged hellos and he gave a promise to speak with about his nature, as others had before, but first, he had to heal the wounded of a recent battle of humans.
When I returned however, there was no sign of the only they called Iachawr. I feared I had only imagined my encounter with the only benevolent dragon. But when I encountered another juvenile dragon is when I learned that some human, dressed head to toe in a metal suit cut off Iachawr’s head, wheeled it back to town in an ox cart, and received a hero’s welcome in the town and was knighted by the local lord. At that point, I learned that people don’t really ask if someone returns with a fresh kill “are you sure that wasn't a healing dragon, you ignorant bastard?” but rather “woo, dead dragon, let’s feast!”
I returned to my home more troubled than I had before. The path of a dragon laid clear. Subdue your territory, terrify your neighbors and cause wanton destruction, or become the victim of an enterprising adventurer. Was there any balance?
Do I have only but one purpose?
I remained in my cave, I had no desire to destroy nor did I have the desire to be made a target by the humans who have legacies to build of their own.
Where I had made my home, I had a clear view of a cow pasture, with a few houses next to it. A dirt road leads to a larger group of straw roofed houses, the village center I suppose. For a year I watched as the farmhands tended to the heard. The larger cows were slaughtered and their meat delivered to the center.
“What is the purpose of grass?" I wondered. To feed the cows.
"What is the purpose of a cow?" To feed, clothe, and work for the humans. Neither grass or cow were into the destiny of domination before me. I envied them for a while. They had a role in the natural order of things, were as my role was to only to hinder that natural order.
"So what is the purpose of a human?” I supposed at that point, I had an epiphany. I have no idea what the purpose of a human is.
Humans are born, grow up, fall in love, make a few more humans, work in their trade, grow old and finally die, all in about a fraction of a lifespan of a dragon. All in all, it seems rather boring to be a human. But humans crave excitement. I see it in the village below regularly; they go into the village center, play their drums and their fiddles in the dark and dance to the music till they can’t dance anymore. Then they spend half their time in the field talking about the last festival and the other half anticipating the next festival. They are not products for consumption and most do not desire to destroy the world around them and if they do, they do not have the tools to make it widespread as I do. They...exist...
"So what is to say that I cannot merely exist!" I hypothesized. "I do not need to set this village alight to prove my value! I also do not need to hide my very being away from the world for fear of a broadsword. I can exist dammit and that is just fine!"
In a fit I went for a flight out of my cave, spread my wings for the first time in a grand while and took to the sky. I circled. Let the archers come if they choose. I am here! That's it and that is all. I glanced down at the village below. There were observers yes. But I did not see a look of panic however, more so of awe. They learned that I am here.
I continued this routine for some time, flying briefly and then returning to my home, but I've noticed after a while that they did not become startled when I flew. Only acknowledged briefly and then went back to their work. Then I noticed one of their festivals, they had assembled a wooden dragon! I watched anxiously as the festival went on. Were they going to destroy the dragon? Worship it? Why build it?
But the dragon sculpture only kept watchful eye over the festival, as I had before. They drank and danced into the wee hours of the morning. When the festival ended, they put the representation of myself away, only to bring it back out for the next festival. Not as an idol or a target, but perhaps they consider me as part of the village as they do. They and I know I can never join them, but they recognize that I am here, and that is all, and that is fine by me.