In the first days of Mynochral, the great, coiled serpents were known to dance and play upon the lands and in the skies.
The only creatures that would, before the caress of awakened magic and the fleeting drag of unseen gods’ fingers traced iridescent lines upon the souls of so many races, be known to be more than mere animals. More than what grew from nature. More than what the world waited to bring into being for its own sake.
Dragons were “those creatures,” that brought forth primal, gut-wrenching fears which paralyzed the first people of the knowing races. Their great, glimmering, metallic eyes would hold one in place; entranced by the vast, slitted pupils that were etched from within by a glow that spoke of fires that would consume stone, the twisting, searching power of lightning as from the skies, or the bone-freezing cold that only the tallest mountain peaks could stand against.
In the first years, Dragons alone held that place within the collective psyche of the masses which would later accept other great creatures of myths, the outer planes, and the imaginations of children, heretics, and dabblers in magics beyond their control.
Before the Great Sundering and the end of the First Age, Dragons reined as the greatest unknown.
And some remain, even into the later years of the Third Age, that once knew the world as it was in it’s birth. Wyrm’s of such age…and size…that only the handful of hearty souls to have witnessed the sight for themselves can possibly believe…