Following the eastern coastline of this continent, a serpentine mountain range traverses the terrain that separates the united kingdoms of Altrad from the Mauritzian Sea. Though its peaks reach high enough to be snowcapped, the portion of this rambling dagger-like skyline which we focus on tonight is devoid of frosty white. For a span of countless miles, the precarious mountains are visibly sodden with soot and peppered gray. Ash sifts through the air like desert sandstorms, creating a lifeless vertical landscape of bleak foreboding. The visage is as grim as it is obvious of its portent.

Hidden amidst the morbid decay of inky mountaintops nestles a deceptive wound in the earth. A hollowed-out cavern, inaccessible by any walking route, gazes like an unblinking sentinel over the coastline. A sprawling haze further obscures the summit, and this cloud is the smoke of dragon fire. It is this gaseous shroud, coupled with the murky blanket of scorched earth that earned these mountains, once known as the Mauritz Mountain Range, a redubbing under the moniker of the Blackflame Mountain. It is an ominous feature that is difficult to ignore, but for the past two decades or more, the rampant loss of livestock has abated and all stirrings have since dwindled. As if their weakness and fears have persuaded them, all those who would dare to oppose the mountain's inhabitant have permitted complacency in the stead of action.

The inhabitant of Blackflame Mountain is a dragon. By technical semantics, he is a dragonman, but though smaller than their namesake, they are still as gifted as and worthy of the name "dragon" in all respects. The name of this formidable specimen is "Shoukyaku," a foreign term roughly translating to "the destructive flame." He stands eight feet tall on two elongated, talon-baring pawfeet. Brutal muscles nest against one another in sinewy harmony. The tautest of glutei rest like marble fixed beneath a prehensile tail which supplies about five feet of narrowing cord out from the base of his spine. This towering, reptilian Adonis' masculine physique has been chiseled by a lifetime of violent pursuit, sculpting muffin-y abdominals and broad slabs of pectoral tonicity. His arms ripple out from frightening, broad shoulders, each looking as though a single punch might mimic the force of cannon at point-blank range. Even still, he sports perfectly-trimmed, sickle-esque claws capable of slicing through inferior armor like a hot knife through milk. A boney spike juts from behind each elbow. His wings are two ferocious, ghastly banners with armored scales covering the rear of them, weightlessly protecting a malleable and durable crimson patagium through a feat of miraculous evolution. Sharp thumb-like protrusions adorn the apexes of these leathery, bat-like appendages that reach out from his back like an extra set of retractable arms.

The bottom of his face begins with a medium-length muzzle, his mighty jaws housing an array of symmetrical fangs. Only slightly yellowed, they are kept for the majority pearlescent for the distinct purpose of striking fear into those who may sight him. His nostrils are but a pair of subtle slits. His ears are aided by two fin-like pinnae. His cheek bones display sub-horns, like the spikes on his elbows. Two smooth, curved horns adorn his head with far more imposing display than any king's crown. His eyes are set like golden embers, and whether they impose a cunning intellect or shine impending fury, they are discerning jewels of treacherous observation. Adorning his skull is a mane of hair-like, downy feathers, hued gray like fading smog and flowing down the back of his neck to a wide spread just below his shoulders.

While dragons are found in limitless variations of color, this killer beauty bears a particular palette of somber aggression. Overall, the very portrait of him reads like the baleful flames of a forest fire that is completing its consumption of fuel down to the roots. His dorsal scales flourish scarlet from the tip of his chin, wandering down the fore of his chest and stomach, fanning out from his exquisitely molded loins to taper off down the insides of his calves. Slipping hidden between his buttocks, these thicker, brighter scales meet his tail and course along the underside of it right to the very tip. Elsewhere, his entire body is thoroughly textured in smoke-colored scales, tinted like the plumes of exhaustion rising from the bonfires of a razed village. They are so fine that it is difficult to see how reptilian he is at a glance, unless one looked particularly close. Along his back, they become larger and more bristled, like the Blackflame Mountain ridge itself, until they form a spinal trail of spikes. These gather at his shoulders and pour down to his tail like the straightest of rivers.

It would be worth the almost certain death for any true dragonologist to even glimpse this tempered exemplar in all his glorious physique. The pièce de résistance of all this for the truest connoisseurs would be, to no grand surprise but certain and utmost awe, the subject of his breeding tackle. All sapient reptilians carry the weight of external testicles, a perverse indulgence of nature that implies an unknown entity of biological dilection with a penchant for lewd deviance and paints this force as an aficionado for sexual revelry. Only cruel fate could rob such a pleasant feature, and Shoukyaku bore it in spades. Two of the plumpest, bright red gourds slung heavily to a point almost halfway down his inner thighs. With such a bounty of meat endowed to them, dragonmen cannot keep their selves cleanly hidden in their near-vestigial vents, and hanging snugly against his slackened, scaly nut sack is an ebony column of smooth, turgid dragon cock. The virile musk exuded like all the urgency of impatient orgasms spewed in worship of him. His size was more generous than a horse's, like a savage weapon to smaller species.

Even now, his shaft filled with warmth rivaling his own inner fire, surging with the blood of stubborn lust, seeking the only true heat which could make this creature perspire. The glans is tapered like a spear with a wide corona that seems suitable for corking any capable orifice. The top of his shaft is lined with solid, bumpy ridges resembling the jutting scales running down the exterior of his spine. The front side of his girth was spongy but formed into bumpy segments that resembled the scales of his belly. The extremity of his shaft's base is lined with dull, rounded barbs that could flex when he was fully erect. Even with these fantastic features, volume is still the dragon's foremost instrument.

This was the very urge which wrested the formidable Shoukyaku from his prolonged hibernation. The dozing beast emerged to the mouth of his cave, grasping his arms against the lip of its opening. He gazed upon the sleepy horizon upon which the sun was just rising and felt the bracing, frigid air cross his scales. He stood there, clinging to the entrance to his abode, staring over the vast realm to the east and south of his home. This side was only now cast in the faint rays of morning light. Behind the mountain, darkness still seeped across the land. As the cold washed over him like a rinse of energy, the dragon gazed down upon his loins. These, too, had awoken. The hidden portion of his shaft emerged, lengthened, and swelled with indignation. Even in the cool air, heat was gathering an immense swelter in his protruding organ. He watched until his member had engorged itself to the fullest, frightening degree, still twitching for satisfaction. He then gazed out over the open world below him, his feathery hair billowing in the swooping breeze and acknowledged it was time to mate.