The pre-story.

The dragon's lair was dark and seemingly abandoned, smelling rather like an open grave than a dwelling place of anything that was even remotely alive. The fact that the dragon's skeleton was curled over the hoard as well only confirmed the situation and the image of a tomb.

Suddenly, there was noise in the "tomb", and it was followed by movement, as a tall, lanky figure, armed with a longspear, calmly and openly stepped into it. The figure was masculine and it was dressed in some colorful rags, looking like he had fought an entire covey of green hags in a nearby swamp – and barely won. "Hey, anybody home?" the man yelled, brandishing his spear. "I come in peace!"

Nothing in reply… but did the dragon's bones shift slightly? No, probably just a trick of the light…

"Well, guess the home's empty for me to take," the man shrugged, and began to purposefully walk towards the dragon's skeleton and its' hoard.

Suddenly, the lair exploded in activity, as the skeleton abruptly jumped to attention and lunged at the intruder, intending to shred him with a single bite. The man was barely able to get away. "Hey, don't tell me that you just awoke – nobody is that fast if freshly awoken after hundreds of years!"

The dragon's skull turned towards him on the bony neck. "Did you think to attack me unawares?" the dragon snarled.

"No, I thought you were dead – really dead, not one of us!"

"One of us?"

"Ri'Avim. The undead."

"You're undead?" The skeleton froze, actually surprised. "You're no lich; otherwise you'd be attacking me in earnest. And you show surprising restrain for a vampire lord…"

"I," the man said, and was there a bit of smugness in his voice, "are a bhut, and it's unlikely that you have met any like me outside of Kara-Tur."

"A bhut?" the skeleton's voice turned thoughtful. "How interesting. Prove it!"

In the next moment something emerged from the man's body: something disproportionate, and savage, and dripping venomous saliva from a toothy maw… and then it was gone, and the man was back, glaring with actual indignation at the skeleton. "Now, you," he said.

The skull actually managed to look incredulous. "Me? You dare to question Dredhlammer, wizard and worshipper of the Night Dragon?"

"Dredhlammer, eh? This body's original name was Hagstrom, so I guess you can call me that. And the Night Dragon? Doesn't your kind worship Tiamat, no?"

"Yes, we chromatic dragons worship Tiamat, but since during that time I was interested in trying to become a hullathoin-type creature, I was dealing with Falazure instead. Oh, how hard did the Night Dragon laugh, I wonder, when the Time of Troubles began and I became this thing of bone instead, neither a proper dracolich nor a skeleton dragon!"

"The Time of Troubles? That was about three centuries before I was born and dead," Hagstrom said thoughtfully. "Yes, that calculates about right."

"Oh?" Dredhlammer stopped his ranting and in turn became calculating. "Just a third of my overall age, eh? Well, that may do… Anyways, how'd you find me and what's with a rough look."

"Oh, for that I have to thank that kelpie that lives in the swamps downwards," Hagstrom shrugged, sounding still a bit angry. "Apparently, over the centuries you've attracted some neighbors – that kelpie that I've mentioned, and a gang of satyrs, whom the kelpie described as weird. Since I think that that kelpie is a bit crazy itself, anyone that it describes as 'weird' is probably a gibbering lunatic or something like that."

"No," Dredhlammer's skull shook, and there was a new note in his voice. "Not something like that, no… Tell me, Hagstrom, do you think that you and I can work something out?"

"I don't exactly follow your line of reasoning," Hagstrom said, now with more wariness than before. "Care to explain?"

And Dredhlammer did.

"I still think that you're crazy," the woman protested loudly to her companion as the two of them made their way through the swampy forest. "What, the dragon's ghost wasn't enough for you?"

The man looked at his companion with aversion clear in his eyes. "To you everyone is crazy, aren't they, fairy? And also, you knew that there was someone or something in the lair? Well, give me a good reason why I shouldn't hang you by your stringy hair."

The woman's eyes darted around, but overall she didn't seem too scared. "No, you won't, and you know why? Because I'm useful, and you don't seem too interested in killing things for some reason that I can't fathom."

"Then I suggest you continue to prove your usefulness further or we'll discover just how uninterested in killing I really am."

"Who spoke here about killing?"

Several figures emerged from the leafy gloom onto the path. They looked like satyrs, but they were twisted and corrupted versions of them, as their overlarge, misshapen frames, scythe-like horns, and membranous, bat-like wings showed.

"Well-well, what have we here?" the head satyr grinned like a delusional hyena. "It's our water-loving neighbor, isn't it? And who's your friend?"

"The name is Hagstrom," the male replied flatly, "and you're Syrtak and his band, aren't you?"

The satyrs' leader frowned. "What you got to do with us, mate?" he enquired, suspiciously.

In return, Hagstrom produced a moderately-sized crystal ball and rapped on it. "It's your cue, Dredhlammer," he uttered, rather smugly.

Something yellow flashed from within the crystal ball, and a transparent image of Dredhlammer's skull appeared in the mid-air. "Ah, hello, thief."

The satyrs whirled around and tried to bolt. Angrily, Dredhlammer spat-out a spell – and the lesser creatures toppled, with both Hagstrom and the kelpie smirking gloatingly.

"Enough!" Dredhlammer quickly reminded the lessers who was still in charge of here. "Syrtak! Centuries ago, you and your band took something off me, have they not!"

"Yes," Syrtak hissed back, a bit angry themselves. "That staff of yours – it was supposed to make us stronger, but not like this!"

"I am – I was a chromatic dragon. What did you expect?" Dredhlammer replied flatly. "But overall, I am pleased to see that you're still around, yes."

The kelpie snored. It was a jarring, horsy sound. "Not for long, the way things are going," it said. "If the centaurs won't get them, the wild elves will."

"Centaurs? Wild elves? Go on?" Dredhlammer's attention shifted towards the kelpie.

"There's nothing to go on about," the kelpie protested weakly. "There're just some centaur and wild elf bands in the neighborhood, that's all. Syrtak's band has made itself really unpopular with everyone around here, and only the bad reputation of this place - enhanced by my own activities – kept them alive so far."

"Well, that's going to change," Dredhlammer said with a sureness that only a dragon could pull-off, "because now you're in my employ."

"We are?"

"Yes, even if I have to waste several days of bringing you back from the dead."
"Ah," Syrtak said, slowly, "this is all well and good, but how is this going to change our situation?"

Needless to say, Dredhlammer had had a very good poker face, not to mention a perpetually grinning one, but this time the smugness could be heard in his voice. "Well, allow me to tell you…"