Deveraux

"Holy..." Ophelia stumbled backwards and tripped down into the granite floor of the cave.

The beast opened his eyes, a thundering growl coming from deep in his chest.

"What are you?" Ophelia squeaked, still crawling away. The Guardian lay curled in the back of the cavern, his massive body seemingly filling the mountain. His blood red scales glimmered against her torch, which now had rolled towards his monstrous left front claw.

"My name is Deveraux. And what is it, that you are, little thing?" his voice boomed, causing the mountain to tremble. While loud, he spoke softly and calmly, with some sort of warmth.

"O...O...Ophelia."

"Hmm, Ophelia...." the creature reflected, shifting his weight from one massive haunch to another.

"What a lovely name."

"Thank you..."

"Do you have any food, Ophelia?" the dragon asked, suddenly less lethargic.

"I don't..." she sighed, standing and dusting herself off. She reached into her satchel and pulled from it darksteel.

"But I do have these, if you like." she offered them up towards the Guardian. His wings un-crumpled and spread out, deep blue like the sky at dusk. He eyed the metal with a toothy, ancient smile of wisdom.

"For me?" he chuckled, a thunderous baritone chuckle.

"My home is in danger, and I need your help."

"I can see why you would, you are but so slight. But brave for your size." Ophelia blushed and sat before the Guardian.

"Let us see what we can make of this."