Myorr

The dark sky overhead glitters with thousands of beautiful stars. You land softly in the grass, your humongous wings shutting out half of the sky as you silently descend. The village is gathered below, well-illuminated by the torches encircling the meadow and the moon shining down from above.

You are scouting the territory you have laid claim to - a near sixth of the entire continent, mainly the Western portion. This village must have caught a whiff of your journey and projected path, because they have already gathered sacrifices. An altar lies before you, glittering of obsidian and steel. Piled high upon are gold and jewels, and scattered beside the altar are the carcasses of fallen prey. They hope to impress you with these sacrifices so that you will be a merciful leader.

Internally, you grin, but your dragon face shows little emotion and humans would have a hard time recognizing it anyways. You were expecting to have to burn villages and threaten leaders to humanity submit, but it seems like that won't be necessary.

You take a deep breath, preparing to speak.