The gods of this world had not created the dragons. The race had come from a different world. As beings of a higher plane, they were proud and considered themselves above the rest. Even the eternal elves, who had the favor of the gods themselves, did not impress them.
They were a mighty race whose arrogance was rooted in their impenetrable armor that was impervious to blade and magic, their physical enormity and bottomless well of strength, their unique draconic magic that defied the laws of the elements and decimated armies, their infinite wisdom and their long lives. They stood apart from the other races and above them, gazing down upon the tiny creatures eking out a living on Faeruin like a god would ants.
That was what Ysilnod had learned of the dragons from books and hearsay.
Now,
