Sam watched the dragon circle overhead. The thing was huge, a hundred feet long from snout to tail if it was an inch, with a leathery wingspan at least three times that. He felt his heart racing just standing here looking at the creature, his monkey brain screeching in terror and demanding that he go hide in the deepest hole he could find.

If what he knew about Dragons was accurate, hiding would only delay the inevitable.

“Um, think it’s a trick?” he asked Araxes. The lich too was staring up at the great reptile, but with a more calculating look on its face.

“A trick.” The lich turned and gave him a flat stare. “An Ancient Sky Tyrant is circling directly above you, calling out its desire to speak neutrally with you without roasting you and everyone you love into charcoal. You are a level 6 adventurer—yes with some very exemplary equipment but nothing that would faze a dragon. Why on earth would it expend effort to try and trick you? I certainly wouldn’t, at the height of my power. I’d vaporize the mountain and call it a day.”

“Right. Right, because he’s strong enough to not need to trick me.” Sam nodded and swallowed hard. “So… I should call out to him then, yeah?”

“Unless you’d care to spurn him and take your chances with the whole ‘roasted alive’ thing. Yes, I should say so.”

There were times, Sam reflected as he cupped his hands around his mouth in preparation to holler at a dragon, when he really wished he’d gone into real-estate.

“Dragon!” he shouted at the top of his lungs. “I am Samuel Tolliver! I am here to talk to you! Uh… Come on down?”

“You must tell me where you learned etiquette,” Araxes murmured. “So I can send a series of bombs to the place and make sure its foul work never spreads.”

The dragon banked overhead and began a slow sweeping turn back towards the village. Had it not heard him? He started to yell again, but then the creature banked again and began to lose altitude, aiming right for where he was standing.

“Listen to me now Tolliver,” Araxes said, bony hand gripping his arm. “Dragons prize etiquette and social niceties above gold or jewels. Show this one respect, treat it as an honored guest, and for the love of all that is unholy do NOT cast your blasted identify spells on it unless invited.”

Ma and Pop were almost to him now, close enough that he could see the worry writ large on Ma’s face, and the grim set of Pop’s jaw. Behind them, it looked like half the town was jogging in their wake. Men and women and even kids, halflings, dwarves, humans… Sam assumed they’d just followed the two high-level adventurers when the dragon had been spotted.

Sam(Dungeon Man): Uh… Another change of plans folks. Apparently the dragon wants to talk. Um… I’m gonna go out and talk to it.

Skee(BestGobbo): Ten gold right now says he gets eaten. I’ll give twenty to one odds on.

Bugruk(Roley Poly): I’ll take that action.

Pearl(Secrefairy Of War): Bugruk Marianne Shieldbiter, you had better not be betting that Sam will get eaten!

Bugruk(Roley Poly): For 20-to-1 odds, I’d bet on the apocalypse.

Booger(SecondBestGobbo): … Yer middle name is Marianne?

Bugruk(Roley Poly): I could end you using just my thumb. Did you just say something?

Booger(SecondBestGobbo): Weren’t me. Was somebody who looked like me.

Sam tuned them out, focusing on his parents as they got closer, and the dragon as it got closer. His parents were going to arrive first, but not by much.

“Sam!” Ma’s alto could be loud enough to etch steel when she needed it to. “Get these people inside! Why aren’t you answering!”

Sam blinked, not computing what she was talking about. Then he got it.

“You’re being blocked,” he called as they drew nearer. “I think the dragon’s doing something!”

Sam(Dungeon Man): We’ve got refugees incoming. Make room for them where you can.

Chesek: Refugees?

Sam(Dungeon Man): Until I figure out what else they are, that’s what I’m calling them.

“Damn, I was hoping that wasn’t the case,” Pop growled as they finally pulled up in front of him. “Only the great wyrms have that kind of juice. You okay boy?”

“Near to pissing myself,” Sam said glibly, watching as the townsfolk streamed into the dungeon past him and his allies. “Yourselves?”

“We were just coming to an understanding with the townsfolk when Scaley here showed up,” Ma said, turning to glare. The dragon was on its final approach.

“He says he wants to talk,” Sam said, keeping his eyes on the wyrm. “I want you guys with me in case it goes sideways. Please?”

“Where else would we be,” Pop said, and his big hand thumbed down on Sam’s shoulder. “Wouldn’t be the first dragon I’ve had to kill, not by a long shot.”

“Nor mine,” Ma said as her hands clenched. “Wish I had my old mace though. Feel naked without it.”

“Not a bad look on you at all, dearest,” Pop said with a low chuckle.

“You always were the randy one before battle,” Ma said, swatting at Pop’s shoulder. “Get your head in the game.”

Sam made a mental note to talk to Sheshek about memory-wiping spells. Surely the old shaman would have something to erase what he’d just heard.

“Samuel…” Char started, and he heard the nervousness in her voice.

“Get inside Char,” he said. “You and the rest, get the refugees settled while we talk this out.”

“Thank you.” The kobold woman bowed, turned, and scurried back into the tunnel, taking Sheshek, Sally and the rest along in her wake.

Then the Tollivers turned back to face a dragon.

For all its size it glided in as gentle as a cloud and landed with a delicacy that Sam wouldn’t have thought possible. The thing was huge close up, with scales the size of wagon wheels and wings that blotted out the sun. It settled down onto its four legs with stately grace, its long neck rearing up and its head looking down at them from on high.

Up close, Sam could see that its scales weren’t a uniform red, but a shimmering gradient going from bright orange on its belly to red so deep it was almost black at the ends of its limbs. He could also see that its claws were the size of sword blades, and he heard the sub-bass harmonics rumbling out of its chest as it breathed deep.

Then the great head dipped down, and eyes the size of dinner plates and glowing a fiery gold focused on Sam.

“Thou art Samuel James Tolliver?” The question came in a voice deep as the ocean and alive with crackling fire.

“Uh, yes,” Sam said, speaking through a suddenly dry mouth. He paused, and then winced as Araxes nudged him hard in the ribs.

“Oh. Right, uh… And may I have the honor of knowing who I am speaking to?”

This seemed to satisfy the great wyrm. It dipped its head in an abbreviated bow, taking those glowing eyes away from Sam for the briefest moment.

“I am Quentin the Warmaster,” the dragon said. “Thou needs’t not search thy memory for the name. It is ancient beyond thy memories and those of thy forebears.”

“Quentin?” Sam blurted before he could stop himself. “I thought dragons all had really long names?”

Was that a hint of a smirk quirking at the corner of the beast’s long snout? “Yes. But to speak mine full name would take seven hours and require the services of a seven-piece chamber ensemble. I hadst assumed that brevity was the better choice for this meeting. Dost thou not agree?”

“Uh, right. Probably a good idea.”

“And wilt thou introduce thine companions?” Quentin asked, flicking glances at Ma and Pop and Araxes. “A strange bunch, to be sure.”

“Right.” Sam breathed in deep. Right, turn on the etiquette and the charm. He could do that. Probably.

“This is Jackson Tolliver, my father. And Annie Tolliver, my mother. Both strong adventurers, retired from the trade, and…” he stumbled. Once he would have introduced them as owners of Tollivers Dungeoneers, the foremost dungeon construction company on the continent. But that company was gone, buried beneath thousands of tons of rock and earth in a landslide. And the Dungeoneers themselves were waiting in limbo for Sam to collect enough essence to bring them back from Cora’s spawn lists.

“Advisors to Samuel,” Araxes stepped in smoothly, bowing from the waist. “And I am Araxesendenak, nobly wyrm, lord of Phyrexes and heir to—“

“Thou art a shadow-thing,” Quentin interrupted, turning those glowing eyes on the lich. “A soul-copy, torn from thy true power and humbled to thy current meager existence.”

“Yes, that,” Araxes said without missing a beat. “Very perceptive, lord Wyrm.”

“Mine eyes allow many forms of sight,” the dragon dipped his head again, then focused back on Sam. “But I did not come to bandy about flattering words. I come as emissary and enemy, honor-bound to deliver terms to thee and thine. Wilt thou hear me?”

“Pretty sure ‘no’ is the wrong answer here,” Sam muttered to himself before raising his voice to say “I will listen, Quentin. What is your message?”

The dragon drew itself up then to its full height, towering over Sam and the others. It stretched out its wings and raised them to the sky, and when it opened its mouth next the words felt as heavy as a continent.

“Samuel James Tolliver. Thou hast declared thyself enemy to she who commands my allegiance. Her legions are raised and marching, her aim is set upon thee, and her thoughts bend towards thy destruction. Honor-bound am I to deliver terms to any foe of noble worth, and whatever else thou may be Samuel Tolliver, thou art a worthy foe.”

“I did what!?” Sam burst out, staring. “When the hell did I do that, and to who?”

But the dragon continued as if he hadn’t even heard Sam’s outburst. “My terms are thus: Surrender thyself unto me, and I shall ensure thy death is swift and painless, and that thy servants and allies shall remain intact and unmolested. Thy lands shall remain in their care, thy goals may continue on apace. Only thy life is required to satisfy my mistress.”

“Over my cold dead body,” Ma snarled under her breath. “Jack, be a dear and back me up, will you?”

“Easy dearest,” Pop muttered. “Let the gentleman finish.”

“Thou hast been granted three hours in which to consider this offer, and to affect thy farewells. Should thou accept, come to the center of yon town and call out my name, and I shall come for you.”

“And if I don’t accept?” Sam asked out of morbid curiousity.

“Then I shall join with one of the many formations already coming to thy door, and we shall tear down thy gates and raze thy halls and devour thy servants one and all, and thine own death will not cease the destruction until everything and everyone thou hast ever known has been brought to ruin.

“Three hours, Samuel James Tolliver. Tarry not overlong, else thy doom comes for more than merely thee.”

The dragon did not wait for a response. He ducked its head one last time, spread his wings, and with a thunderclap of sound and pressure leaped into the sky and took flight. In mere moments he was a receding speck against the blue sky.

“Well,” Araxes said, breaking the brittle silence. “That could have gone worse, don’t you think?”