Molten dragon ichor boiled in the valley, black fire, and magma churned violently, rising from the fire a stronghold whose foundation was made of blackened rock built before the valley was tainted. Stories say it was a Eden that was lost, banished from the world of Crel to the Otherworld, Annwfyn where the damned suffer for eternity, ruled by its king Arawn the exiled. No truth remains in the tales of Arawn's downfall, all that is certain is that he is king of his own prison, within Dragon Keep he rules over the damned trapped within its stone walls. A fresh hell during the day or night the stone of the stronghold is heated by the black fires, hotter than a oven the damned become shrivelled and weak unable to die, wanting to end a existence of suffering.
Annwfyn made them anguish in their prison cells in the lowest part of the keep, there it was the hottest, often times he'd walk down those halls to torment his prisoners, jealous of them for their misery could end. Jumping into the black fire destroys their essence completely freeing them of their torture, such a luxury was not allowed for Arawn, his suffering would be only greater in the fire. Such thoughts of that fate kept him in perpetual waking nightmare, fear of falling into that burning abyss has kept him from walking the battlements of the keep. Only one prisoner in the keep was undying like him, a living god who long ago was banished to the Otherworld.
Treading down the narrow passageways of his dungeon Arawn went to the cell of that living god, through the narrow slits between the bars of the cell Arawn beamed with joy as he saw him writhe in his chains. The heat was especially hotter that day and Arawn had cruelly given each prisoner a small sip of water, doing that made their throats feel dryer when they didn't have the cold taste in their throats to compare. Only one prisoner refused, chained against the wall Arawn with iron crafted by goblins to make sure that the prisoner didn't break loose, for if he did he might overpower Arawn. A mix of fear, envy and wrath burned in Arawn when he looked at that prisoner, only seeing the look of anguish on his face made him happy, it was his only true joy.
"Furbaide," Arawn said "it's getting hotter down here yes? Perhaps I might be convinced to give you a few drops of water to ease your suffering."
Furbaide was silent, his deep sky blue eyes just glared at Arawn, in the darkness of his cell his eyes seemed to glow, a contrast to his dark olive brown skin, and large black dreadlocks that rolled down to his thick shoulders. That look Furbaide gave Arawn and his silence infuriated the exiled king, who started to lose the joy he had tormenting his prisoner.
"If only I could die from your cold stare you foul thing, what joy I'd feel not to feel anything, you'd be all alone then, no one to come to see you, I'm the only one here who can talk to you." Arawn said, trying to sound softer Arawn held a flask of water he kept on his belt. "This is mana from the gods, a prize I brought with me, every year it fills with fresh cool water, it never lasts long though, even if I had a drop on my tongue each day it'd be gone before the next season. One time I drank it all at once, even while the cold waters streamed down my throat it was raw and only got tighter each time I drink from it. It's a cruel punishment, even if we know it'll never satisfy the thirst we drink it for hope, a hope that we will not feel this thirst even for a brief moment."
A grim state of mind soured Arawn's mood, without saying a word Furbaide had made him depressed that grew into resentment to his prisoner.
"You think by not speaking that you can harm me?" said Arawn, "it doesn't bother me whether you plead for water or stubbornly stay silent, because I know that the next time I come down these halls I'll see you chained to that wall, you can languish over that thought and despair!"
Speaking his peace Arawn walked away, thoughts of seeing Furbaide again chained in that cell for all of eternity made his torture less severe, walking up a stairway he stopped halfway. Something was disturbing the air in the Otherworld, something of a magical nature, like a cold wind Arawn felt something tearing through the thick fog that separated Annwfyn from Crel. Tremors shook the stone beneath his feet, the walls felt like they were going to give way, almost losing his footing Arawn slumped against the wall. Moments of trembling and the tremors ceased, there was commotion in the lower parts of his keep, the prisoners were riled up, and something lingered in the atmosphere.
Someone was gone, running back down the stairs Arawn checked on his prisoners many seemed scared, others languished in the heat noticing anything, checking each cell Arawn thought he was mistaken. That was until he saw one cell was empty, chains hanged from the walls with no prisoner in their hold, Arawn was livid more so when he noticed which prisoner was gone. The cell door was still locked so he couldn't of escape, in a mad dash he searched every hallway, chamber and cell in the Dragon Keep. Overcoming his dread of falling into the fire Arawn searched the battlements and towers, and came to the dread realization that Furbaide had escaped that hell hole.
A rage exploded from Arawn blood red fire sprayed out of his hands, the fire spread out and burned on the stone of the keep and continued to burn becoming nearly as hot as the dragon ichor boiling below the keep. No one escaped the Dragon Keep since the ichor started to burn, a desperation seized him greater than him satiating his thirst or easing the agony of living in that heat. The exiled king leapt between the gaps of the maze like battlements till he stood at the edge above the centre of the lake of dragon ichor, there it burned hotter than anywhere else in the valley. Above the ichor a pillar of black fire burnt upwards endlessly, that is where Arawn had to focus on, raising his hands over his head he bent his fingers to point at the pillar of fire.
"Dreq rise from your slumber, Dreq arise I have need of you," Arawn said, the sound of his voice echoed in the valley, the words was heard by Dreq deep in the molten blackness.
Awakening the black dragon caused the molten ichor to splash upwards in large waves, the keep shook from its foundation, it was pure luck that it didn't topple over and sink into the ichor. Bubbling the centre of the ichor started to ripple, emerging from the blackness was a deeper blackness, scales of shimmering darkness, claws blacker than pitch dug into the stone of the keep. Lifting itself from its resting place within the ichor, climbing up the side of the keep his claws left large holes within the stone as it ascended upwards. Stopping when its long serpentine neck lifted from its bulbous fat body, the dragon's neck slithered in the open air as its shimmering silver eyes looked down on Arawn.
"I am not yours to call upon," said the dragon "my name is sacred, for a low creature to utter is shameful."
Burning ichor dripped from his mouth as his maw opened wide to show rows of black teeth, large and blunt.
"My need is dire" said Arawn, "in my exile I was named king of this valley, as such I have the authority to call upon you and utter your name."
Scoffing the dragon lowered its head a few feet above Arawn's head, ichor spilled onto the battlements, Arawn moved aside to keep himself from being burned. Not speaking the dragon kept its eyes on Arawn, a low gurgle escaped its mouth followed by a downfall of ichor, Arawn leapt away from the downpour, when he landed he nearly rolled over the end of the battlement. Arawn almost fell over to his eternal suffering, the exiled king needed to speak quickly, no one calls upon a dragon for nothing and expect to suffer no consequences.
"A prisoner escaped," said Arawn, "Furbaide a living god banished here for his many atrocities on Crel, I need him returned here so he can continue to suffer as intended."
Deep hatred made Arawn's voice sound hoarse and rough, hatred were in his words, a mix of other bitter emotions were also burning deep inside. Tempted to just allow Arawn to stew in his own self torture but the sadistic dragon saw more pleasure in pursuing a escaped prisoner, robbing him of his freedom. Besides it pleasing Dreq's sick nature there was also a vendetta the black dragon had against Crel, when he was still in Crel the mountain god's forced him into exile, compelling him with their divine strength and magic. Dreq desired to burn kingdoms to the ground and committed genocide on all life in Crel, even if the gods stood in his way he'd craved to bring suffering and destruction.
'Such pleasure I've been denied for so long' Dreq thought to himself, jealous of Furbaide's freedom and of the living god being able to indulge in his desires.
Speaking no longer to Arawn the dragon unfolded its massive wings, twice the length of his body and hung them open until Dreq conjured up an unnatural gust of wind which got caught in the web like folds. Lifting him skywards the black body cast a shadow over the valley, blocking out the sunlight as it filtered through the grey skyline Arawn trembled as he witnessed its majestic size. Nearly large enough to cover the entire valley the long neck and relatively small head of the beast hid its colossal size, an assumption that Arawn made the few times he conversed with the dragon. In those times he never called upon him to retrieve a prisoner, never before had he saw its size as it soared in the sky, flying overhead caused a blowback of wind that nearly sent Arawn flying off the walls.
Hanging over the parapets Arawn cried out in terror as he looked at the boiling black fate that waited below, lifting himself onto the walls Arawn ran off seeking refuge in the keep. Enjoying the sight of seeing the presumptuous exiled king scamper off, Dreq was reminded of the time he saw a jackrabbit scamper off into its hole. Once inside of it however Dreq blew fire into the hole burning it alive, such fond memories started to stir in his mind as Dreq became more awoke from his long sleep. Eager to spread his devastation Dreq flew into the sky, through the dense gray clouds below the sun the dragon travelled to the dense fog wall that covered the horizon.
A long journey was ahead of Dreq, flapping his wings was enough to carry him a few hundred dozen feet, but he'd have to flap thousands of times over to even get one fourth of the way to his destination. Eager to see Crel again Dreq's mouth frothed with ichor as he remembered the carnage he unleashed upon the land and the life on it, a sting in his chest reminded him of how he was exiled to the Otherworld. Something he intended to make the gods pay for dearly, the next time he fought with the gods he would devour them so he could feel them writhe in pain in the ichor inside of his stomach. Something he wished he'd done the first time around, the thought excited him so much he let out a youthful roar as black fire shot out of his mouth.
Grimmly for the people of Crel they no longer had the protection of the gods, Dreq's return would be a apocalyptic end to the people of the land, for only a deities strength can compel a dragon. Described as a behemoth in old writings dragons can only be forced to submit by those of divine powers, then the dragon can be ordered into a deep sleep. Unaware of this Dreq would either way being as much destruction and death as he could and if the gods intervened devour them, though he'd do that anyway. Deep sleep made Dreq ignorant to events in Crel, but sleep made him hungry and filled his belly with excess ichor that he which to unleash.