Owner Of The Black Lance

Standing tall before him was a brown, wingless dragon with stone-like scales. In terms of size, Astaroth felt like he was looking at a cruise ship.

His head was bent upward, looking the dragon in the eye, while the latter was staring him down like prey. Astaroth stayed immobile, trying not to make a sound.

Then a voice resounded inside his head, deep and guttural, closer to stone grinding on stone than actual words.

"Mortal. You have landed in my domain. Speak your purpose."

Astaroth was half-reassured, since the dragon didn't go for a second attack instantly. He hoped he could reason with the beast.

Bending his head slightly downward, to make a gesture of respect, all the while keeping his eyes on the dragon, Astaroth spoke.

"Benevolent Lord dragon. I come bearing no intention at all, other than passing through. I landed here because I could no longer fly, and am on my way home."