The Lord of Greed

Axxtyklysstykor [AXE-tie-KLIS-ta-kor] was born almost at the dawn of the world, in the second spawning of dragons. He was sired by a mighty red dragon who had been created directly by Tanarus. From his inception, Axxtyklysstykor possessed an exceptionally fiery spirit. He fought tooth and claw with his mother until she drove him from her side and forced him to make his own way in the world.

Losing size and strength by the year, the wandering red desperately sought metals and minerals to feed his power. At last, in a recently extinct volcano, he found exactly what he needed: rich loads of ore and ample veins of minerals, all close to the surface. It was an unworked hoard vast enough for Axxtyklysstykor to grow to enormous size.

There was only one problem. His own sire had already claimed the treasure and lay upon it.

Most chromatic dragons, evil though they are, would hesitate to attack their own parents, for such an act is an insult to Tanarus, the true parent of dragonkind. Axxtyklysstykor did not hesitate. Before he lost any more power, he treacherously attacked his father while the elder dragon slept, maiming him and wounding him terribly. But the larger dragon awoke, and a fierce battle followed. Axxtyklysstykor was hard-pressed, but his first blows proved telling. Slowly, with much bloodshed, he overcame his sire. When the elder dragon lay at his mercy and begged for life, Axxtyklysstykor showed none. He tore out his father’s throat with his fangs.

Reveling in his newly won treasure, Axxtyklysstykor settled into the volcano and began absorbing the power of the metals and minerals he had claimed. He burrowed into the thin crust of the crater itself, drawing ever closer to the rich veins beneath him.

For centuries the dragon slumbered and grew. Then, without warning, his rest was disturbed. Small creatures, long of beard and short of limb, attempted to take up residence in the extinct volcano he called home. They mined and built, their hammers ringing through the crater and making true rest impossible. Worse still, they too coveted the ores and minerals of the mountain and established complex works to extract them.

This insult Axxtyklysstykor could not bear. Had he not fought and shed his own blood for the treasures of the mountain? He rose in fury, bursting through the floor of the crater and taking to the air on his great wings. He attacked the high workings of the creatures called dwarves, slaying many in the blink of a dragon’s eye. At first the dwarves, surprised by the assault, offered little resistance and fled into the narrow tunnels they had already carved. But Axxtyklysstykor turned his breath against them, filling the new burrows with gouts of flame. From that day the dwarves called the terrible beast Firefight.

Eventually, however, the dwarves rallied. Under the direction of the wily Agralin, they managed to drive the dragon away, forcing him to flee his home for the first time in centuries.

Greed for his treasure burning in his breast, Firefight swooped over the lands around the mountain that would later be called Wawmar. Again and again he attacked the busy dwarves, seeking to drive them from the volcano, but the folk of Mar were stubborn. At last Agralin could endure no more and led a hunting party into the wild lands to slay the beast.

This venture nearly destroyed both Agralin and the young settlement of Wawmar. Firefight understood that if he could slay the hunting party, he might reclaim his hoard. He fought savagely and slew many brave dwarves, but he proved no match for Agralin’s tactics. As he tried to flee, Firefight was slain on the outer slopes of Wawmar.

Agralin recognized the malice that burned within the dragon’s heart. He ordered a low cairn built over the corpse and forbade any dwarf from dwelling near the bones, for he knew the oppressive evil of Firefight would curse the place. Indeed, nothing ever grew there again. So impressed were the dwarves by the power and evil of the dragon who had first called Wawmar home that they recorded the early battles in their histories, immortalizing the name of Firefight.

This act would prove to be their undoing.

Millennia passed, and the Dweller in the Vale worked insidiously to unlock the secrets of the Book of Seven. In time it became clear to that fell being that the Book contained the long-sought key to the conquest of Farland. The secret was to recruit seven Lords of Sin and imbue them with a dark will, allowing them to command vast hordes of otherwise chaotic dark folk. Because of the nature of the relic, each Lord had to embody the sin of his namesake.

The Dweller’s spies had even infiltrated mighty Wawmar and gained access to its libraries. There she learned of the ancient dragon who had hated the dwarves and coveted the treasures of their mountain above all else. She understood that the future Lord of Greed would be tasked with conquering and inhabiting Wawmar. The legendary Firefight was the perfect candidate, for the dead dragon possessed both a special hatred for the dwarves of Wawmar and a burning desire to reclaim the treasure he believed was rightfully his.

The Dweller then mounted several abortive attacks against Wawmar. These assaults were merely distractions, allowing her powerful clerics to reach the cursed burial cairn of Axxtyklysstykor. There the evil priests raised the dragon from the dead. In his small and weakened state, they transported him to the horrid Nameless City in the Wintervale and into Frostspire itself.

There the Dweller imbued Firefight with the power of a Lord of Sin. She also allowed him to rest upon her own vast treasure hoard until he grew far larger than he had ever been in life. The Dweller promised the new Lord of Greed that if he served her well, he would come to possess the bulk of that treasure. Greed clouded his judgment, and he was convinced, for he wanted desperately to believe.

Thus the Lord of Greed flew forth at the head of an army of dark folk and assaulted the dwarven stronghold of Wawmar. For three years his army weakened the defenders. Then, on one fateful night in 7801 F.R., Firefight personally launched a treacherous and unexpected attack.

This time, the assault succeeded.

Firefight bypassed Wawmar’s still-formidable defenses by flying over the rim of the volcano while carrying several powerful troll warriors. As the dragon rained fire upon the city and drew forth the defenders, the war trolls crept to the gate and opened it to a regiment of oluk orcs and trolls. These dark soldiers poured into the fortress, though by the time they reached the crater there was little need of them. Firefight had already wrought havoc among the unprepared dwarves, at long last gaining his revenge.

The oluks and trolls hunted the dwarves who had gone to ground in the deep passages of Wawmar. Fortunately for the legacy of the folk of Mar, many dwarves escaped through the southern gate during the assault.

Firefight then set himself to rule his ancient home. Yet ever the vast treasure of the Frostspire burned in his mind. He sent word to the Wintervale, demanding that the Dweller honor her bargain and send him his due. But the Dweller put him off, promising year after year to deliver the reward while placing ever more conditions upon its acquisition. She allowed small pieces of her hoard to trickle to the Lord of Greed, swelling the already great treasure he had taken from the dwarves, but these gifts only stoked the dragon’s hunger.

Worse still, Firefight began to shrink, for his new hoard could not support the massive size he had attained while siphoning power from the treasures of the Wintervale. Loathing for the Dweller grew in the heart of Axxtyklysstykor, but he feared both that fell being and her terrible captain, the Lord of Wrath.

Thus, as of 8170 F.R., Firefight still dwells in Wawmar, with greed and hatred burning in his breast. Though he has conquered the mountain that once cast him out, reclaimed his ancient lair, and amassed a hoard that would make lesser dragons tremble with envy, he remains unsatisfied. The treasure of the Frostspire still lies beyond his grasp. Each coin added to his collection only sharpens his hunger for the next. Such is the nature of Greed. It is not merely the desire to possess wealth, but the inability to believe that one possesses enough.

So the Lord of Greed sits atop one of the greatest hoards in the world and dreams only of another. One day, he swears, he will possess the treasure of the Frostspire. He will join it to his own hoard, regain the size and strength he has lost, and become the most powerful dragon ever to walk upon Núrion.