So lets try red.

Smoke bellows out of the entrance of a lone cave filling the dark moon and star filled sky with circles of it's might. The cloaking mess just barely covers the sky that occupies the space above the mighty mountain that the cave lies embedded in. From the front, one will find a fruitless task of looking into the dark smog fixed cave. The entrance leading to untold peril and treasure. All in which why many different creatures attempt to make their way into the home of the nefarious dragon's home.

The physical traits of doing such a voyage is merely child's play when it comes to the metal preparations it is needed to undergo before even approaching the dreadful place. Dead uncleared bodies lay clung against the sides of the mountain and impaled on spikes. Their guts wrap stay wrapped around the fearsome points like rotten ropes of red and brown. Blood both dried and fresh cling to almost every last point as you get closer and closer to the top all while avoiding the traps that others have fallen to. Many turn back at the gruesome sight of the indescribable horror at the base of the mountain. The body of a pony missing it's original limbs lie impaled from anus to mouth covered in eyes with other creatures limbs crudely attached to it's joint as in some mockery declaring that nothing, no matter what race, may make it through this alive.

But all of this is merely the beginning of the adventure that many have decided to take in order to bring down a great force that plagues every living creature's life. One would simply think to fly to the top avoiding the gruesome and crude traps and gory sights that mark the way to the top and land to take care of such a thing. The reason why no one every does anymore is for the rumor of what happens to said fliers. Every flier that has gone up into that billowing smoke in order to reach the top has never been reported of have ever landing. Not a single Pegasi body is marked there on the mountain except those that walk. Many hear of the horrors of the blood clouds that come from the mountain. Such is enough for them to think about for as how and why the Pegasi and Griffins never report a landing.

If an adventurer were to make it to the entrance, they'd have to deal with the smoke naturally. It's dark gray bog creating effect would fill the lungs to near capacity just from one small breath. It takes a magi in order to keep the smoke out of the lungs for the smoke itself is magical in property. This killer smoke is only the second of challenge of many more. The killer smog they call it. Birthed by a vile dragon.

Further in lies the dank lava filled cease pool that may keep whatever creature that lives within warm even during the most bitter of winters. Such a thought is terrifying enough to make any creature want to turn back, but the steps, once in the area, are always unclear. What might have once been a hard patch of earth that held footing strong and true may now just very well be a soft spot ready for any unsuspecting hoof, talon, or appendage to land on in order to be engulfed by the ever changing magma flow beneath. The hunger of the magma is never quenched consuming bones, flesh, and fur in a slow quicksand effect.

The first indicator of someone being caught in this cease pool trap is the ungodly scream of pure agony as the creature's vision turns white with pain and the body slips further into boiling sea of red and orange while it tries to find purchase to pull itself out. But the land is unforgiving once it has decided you are to be claimed. As one finds them self already half engulfed in the magma struggling fruitlessly screaming for their god to save them or death to finally take their pain ridden world, they can't but help wonder if all of the trials were worth this horrible death. Than all is lost as their burning flesh and fur sink below the surface of the every changing land leaving nothing by their echoing screams and the smell of both burning feces and once live meat.

A rotting meat house they call it. Only this meat in this slaughter house are tenderized by their own screams.

Further on one sets their eyes on something truly beautiful. Something so magnificent that the eyes bleed upon the sight. Little is known about it, but what stories have been told are told by those of the blind and mad that have some how found their way back home. They mumble about the creature of light and the creature of beauty. They talk of dancing fairies of beauty inside of their minds urging them on to dance and make love with them even if there is nothing there. They have been placed away from others of their kind in order to not bring about trouble for loved ones and innocents. Special precautions have been made in order to prevent this from happening to others.

The testing is apparently still "in progress". My advise is to just not look.

Only than. After the four challenges of the cave can you find the vile villain. It's scales colored a deep mineral enriched purple, claws that blaze when caught in the light of his mighty horde of treasure, teeth stained a crimson red from base to point from the many victims that have fallen beneath him, eyes a deep shade of yellow with irises of pitch void black, and a grin that is permanently plastered upon his face as if amused by whoever stands before him.

A frighting last visage.

He always stays laid down never needing to stand before anyone. He only rises to hunt, pillage, destroy, and threaten. Anything in he sees with his eyes is fair game ranging from his fellow dragons to the smallest of amphibians. Anything that tries to challenge his might best come prepared to die in a magnificent death. A blaze of pure white fire that caresses and melts the skin in the slowest way possible despite being so painstakingly hot. You'd cry more from joy than pain at the sheer beauty of it all as the last surviving relentless breath leaves your mouth for the great beyond. Than his maw closes with a resounding snap. The sound echoes through the cavern letting all know that someone has reached the end. Of both their adventure, the gauntlet, and their pitiful life.

"Oh? You say I'm making this up? Well I'm sorry to say that I'm not. In fact, I was there to watch the whole thing happen. I've seen creatures die and disappear faster than sweet rolls from an unprotected cart. I have see the mighty dragon known as Spike the Destroyer in person."

Laughs rise from the many tables around the story teller cloaked in robe with a larger than normal quart of mead sitting in front of him.

"But his name is wrong you know. He does merely more than just destroy the lives of the creatures that make it to him. He rejuvenates them in those white hot flames of pure agony. Looking into the pure spectrum of power that is his thu'um, the creature is reborn. They're reborn as his loyal army of drakelings that go beyond the comprehension of the magi and full mortal creatures such as yourselves." The cloak figured says chuckling as the voices die down as he talks.

Looks of both concern and confusion go about the tavern as both drunks and sobers try to figure out what he means.

"Hahaha! Sorry to break it to you mate! But you're just as mortal as the rest of us! Stuck under the awful tyranny that's Spike! No matter how ya sugar coat it, it all ends the same. Dead and forgotten." A changeling yells slamming his mug down bringing a few eyes on to him, "And if he is making "a army" as you say, than why haven't we seen them leave that bloody cave than? Stop trying to feel these milk heads with even more ridiculous stories to spread around."

A couple of hardy here here and laughs rise up bring back some of the warm glow that was taken away from the tavern by the cloaked creature.

"Well. It's pretty simple to answer your question actually. There was no need for us to leave the cave." The cloaked creature stands to his full seven feet height catching many by surprise.

Some of them start to wonder how such a huge creature managed to get in her in the first place. Other start to wonder how they missed him when he came in. Another stares at what looks to be a scaled hand with three long taloned fingers letting go of the mead he was once drinking.

Two others rise from their respective table around the tavern catching a couple of drinkers off guard. No one seems to say anything more and all breath is caught when all three standing figures throw back their hood and cloak revealing what it hid underneath. From top to bottom the figures are both a glorious sight to take in and still yet frightening enough to make the legs weak and the heart quiver.

Their faces are all a bronze colour with scales going down their impressive maw and neck. The story teller wears a gigantic smile revealing his impressive row of sharp white teeth. They're like that of the dragons. Their eyes, from left to right, are green, blue, and red irises slit. Their eyes speak violence and malice.

Lower their bodies are built like bricks. Their muscles are quite visible in their leather and chain chest plate that seems to be made from gold while the leather has purple jewels embedded in different points. They have no matching pants set to go with the chest plate, but their scales probably make up for it. They say the scales of the dragons are harder the the toughest iron, but does it apply to the drakelings?

Their feet match their hands with the long talons that look ready to rend and shred anything apart. Aside from the dragon claws, they each have a different weapon on their waist. The middle one, the story teller, has a short sword sheathed on his belt without a sheathe. The one to the right has a quarter staff that comes from the ground to his chest clutched in his left hand ready to go. The left most has a book clutched in his right and a short branch with what looks to be a red orb clutched at the top of it. Perhaps a magical instrument?

With the tavern silenced the story teller makes his way towards the owner of the tavern who's been serving drinks all night long. He stands upon the counter and turns to the crowd bringing out a scroll from the other side of his belt. He lets the bottom portion fall revealing what seems to be a long list of items.

"First off!" The drakeling yells his terrifying smile still plastered on his face, "This town now belongs to the great and powerful lord Spike. And any who wish to disagree... well. You'll have to talk to the captain. And if you think we seem terrifying."

The drakeling chuckles and shakes his head, "Let's just say that you'll try to do your best of not putting up much of a fight."

Author's Note

Does anyone else feel like Spike doesn't get enough love?