Vyrr

Vyrr considered herself rather lenient, refraining from ripping her "opponent" to shreds over his feeble insult. The self-styled hero was nevertheless quivering in his boots, and was barely holding on to the brand-new sword he probably believes is legendary. As her impressive frame cast an imposing shadow over her trembling adversary, his eyes widened even more when she told him—in no uncertain terms—to leave. "Wait, you're letting me...go?" Vyrr sighed. Her kin could have at least *tried* to leave a better impression. It was well-known that dragons are proud and terribly dangerous creatures. Many preferred solitude, but some insisted on toying with humans, whether it's snatching maidens or commandeering a castle (both of which are ill-advised). As a result, dragon slayers have risen to fame dispatching the more notorious ones. Even Vyrr had to agree some had it coming, but it didn't help having their entire race condemned. As for Vyrr, she was more interested in the magical curiosities humans come up with. Showing up at a mage tower as an enormous red dragon, however, was bound to evoke hysterical screaming. So she learned to conceal herself...somewhat. Vanity dictated she would retain her draconic traits, but in time, she came to boast among her visitors a number of learned eccentrics. Still, a dragon was a dragon, and as winter approached, Vyrr felt the need to hibernate. Tired and sleepy, Vyrr shooed the confused hero out of her cavern, and settled down for another long sleep. The blizzard was oddly harsh this year, but it was nothing her inner flame couldn't keep warm. After all, who else would be foolish enough to wake a sleeping dragon?