Gallajorn Jarlkin had awoken from his century long power nap a few months ago. Dwelling in the mountains of Jarlun, this specific Drogon had secluded itself away from the others and was proud of the collection of odds and ends he had...procured over the years.

Gallajorn was a proud thing. Excited to be awake, to check on his things, to guide his people. His long endeavor to breed enough humans to start his own colony had come to fruition many years ago. He decided to slumber for such a short amount of time, for you see a hundred year nap to a Drogon was but a few moments.

So when he swept down from his Mountains to his Humans colony, he was not prepared. At all. For as he swooped down upon what he thought was just a smattering of huts and fires and 20 of the damned things, there were solid free standing structures, barns and shops. The colony had turned into a town. A bustling, vibrant thing that spread out neatly for the Humans. Which baffled Gallajorn.

What amazed the Drogon Gallajorn the most, was that the environment around the Human colony wasn't desolate. It was serene. Green, well maintained fields, livestock everywhere. Even brief puffs of steam could be seen. A sad sign, Gallajorn thought to himself. It was always the steam engine that began the ending of most Human colonies. It always rapidly progressed from that point, and they always destroyed themselves. It was a perpetual cycle of futility to them, but endlessly amusing to the long living Drogons.

Inspecting the lands of the Humans, and noting that they had indeed listened to his only command before going to sleep: Do not leave the shaded valleys of Jarlun. Though secluded from the rest of the Drogon Empire, Gallajorn was dangerously close to the Dyadic Accordant. A small Dyadic college town was many leagues away, yet he had not worried about any of his pets escaping that far. Not overly concerned, and from the way things looked his experiment was a rousing success.

"I must speak to their leader." he rumbled to himself, tilting his wing and dipping to find a place to land. His large Drogon form would certainly bring terror to the Humans below. He had flown high enough, his vision good enough that he was sure he hadn't been seen.

As he swooped in to land, he noticed that the humans in the town had begun to gather. A large, open field had been cleared in its center, and near its edge, closest to the largest and most ornate building stood a tall tower, bright flags flying. Gallajorns sharp vision caught a sight that made him smile.

Humans had gathered on the Tower, and all around its base, and in the clearing, which Gallajorn noted was roped off so no one could get into it. In the tower, gray bearded and hunched Human males stood.

Gallajorn smirked at himself, huge teeth gleaning in the bright twin suns of Terragia. His dull gray scales started to shimmer, turning a faint silver. If they were expecting something great, Gallajorn was gonna show up scaled to the nines!