[As I Went Down To The River To Pray...]

The Great Lysaneer River, once it was sacred to dragon kind: before the elves came, and then the humans, fouling it with their ships and locks and millwheels and all of their other artifice.

You are going to go down to the river, and find a spot where it is still relatively clear and clean and bathe in its sacred waters, begging the gods of dragon kind for insight and clarity on your journey ahead. Sculling your wings to gain speed and altitude you begin your trip in that direction, soaring over the landscape far below. You think back as you do, times and places long gone, friends now dead, lovers too, whole villages that once worshiped you as an intercessor with the divine for your abilities to call storms or calm them that have been burned to the ground by the crusaders of Lesherach, the God of ****, who has sought the extinction of all dragons from the world for reasons of his own for as long as you can remember. Were it not for Lesherach and his hell-spawned minions you would have been able to live a calm and quiet existence you believe. Dragon kind is greedy by nature, it's true, but you were not hated and hunted for it as you are now until Lesherach and his priests appeared two thousand years ago...

This long pageant of remembrance carries you many hundreds of miles through the cool air of the upper atmosphere as you fly south-east, but around noon your stomach begins to growl and you start looking for a place to find food...