The stone stairs before you descend into the seemingly ever-deepening darkness, while eerie echoes issue forth from below. Carefully, holding your torch before you in a fitful attempt to ward off the fear that threatens to engulf you, you begin your descent. With each step, your footfalls echo from the walls, carved from the living rock itself. Your mind wanders for a moment, recalling the events that brought you here. The memories seem distant, as though from another place and time, far from the present. You recall the words of your lord and liege as if in a dream, "Go forth and discover the lair of the beast. Return my daughter to me or avenge her loss!" The dragon has held the lands of your lord in an iron grip for generations. King Theris is the sixth such noble to bear the weight of the beast's demands for sacrifice and he has vowed that the cycle will end with him. And you, his bravest knight, have sworn on your honor to fulfill his prophecy.

A misstep nearly carries you headlong down the crumbling stairs and your mind snaps back to the present and the task at hand. You can smell the odor of death now, hear the clink of coins and the sounds of deep, rhythmic breathing. The air grows warm, almost hot, and an eerie red glow can be seen below. You are all-too-aware of the gentle clinking of your own armor as you near the bottom of the stairs. Hopefully the beast sleeps and you may catch it unawares.

Here, at the base of the stairs, the heat from within the cavern is oppressive, threatening to melt your armor. You peer carefully around the corner into a scene from nightmare. A river of glowing lava enters the massive cavern from a good-sized passage in one wall and forms a fiery pool about a central island. There, nestled atop a glittering mound of coins like some giant cat is the great red dragon, Izelldern. All about the chamber, mounds of coins, cords of barrels, art treasures, goods, and stacks of boxes lay as though carefully categorized. And against the far wall, suspended from great chains mere feet above fiery death, is the limp figure of the princess, Alurianda.

Slowly, as quietly as possible, you creep across the only bridge of land between the island and the main floor of the cavern. The dragon lies between the two of you, but you carefully skirt around the great beast. Your foot slips on a loose gem only once and the beast stirs, but does not awake. Deftly, you make your way to where the princess hangs suspended over certain death. From your vantage point she seems a little red from the heat, but otherwise well. But the chains that hold her above the lava are fifteen feet above the fiery river and each link is the span of a knight's sword!

And then, behind you, you hear a deep sigh. You spin about, sword at the ready, only to find yourself face to face with the yellow, glowing eyes of Izelldern. The beast's nose is level with your torso and it's great jaws drip gleaming saliva. Each great canine is as a sword and when it speaks, the stench of death and decay and the odor of sulphur assail your nostrils even as the force of it's breath threatens to throw you from your feet.

"Yessssss, mortal? Can I help you in sssssome way?"

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