The Underworld Revised

Chapter One: The Fall

Fafnir was a relatively young dragon, living alone in his den. Scattered bones plating the floor from his last dinner and the dinner before that and so on.

"What a mess," Fafnir said to himself.

But deep down he had enjoyed the bones. They were somewhat inspiring, they were like a blurred ivory sculpture with rose accents. Every night Fafnir would clear the bones from the place he slept and he would love to hear the mountains of now dead organisms clash onto each other as he pushed them over.

This was life, he had a routine that he would follow day by day. Wake up, search for prey, eat, search the nearby houses for anything worthwhile, play with his bones, and sleep. It wasn't much but Fafnir lived a simple life.

On one of his many travels through the ruins near his sanctuary, he found an obscure shaped sack containing ten small circles, the same color as the sun with small faces and symbols pressed into them. These coins caught Fafnir's eye and he has carried them ever since.

One evening, he set up his mountain of bones and pushed them over, but there was no sound when they hit the other bones.

"This just won't do!" Fafnir said, to no one in particular.

He pushed more bones, and more bones, with still no sound.

"What's wrong with these things?" he said, he continued to gather piles of bones in front of him and push them over, until he pushed all of his bones into a giant hole that had opened up below his house.

Unable to stop himself, he fell in behind them. Finally hearing the bones strike the walls of the hole Fafnir was satisfied until he realized the great depth that he himself was falling. Using his wings he attempted to catch the sides of the hole but he was already traveling too quickly to stop. The loose gravel and sharpened fragments of obsidian, granite, and pummace had torn his limbs considerably. As Fafnir continued falling a slate protruding from the wall met his jaw and he was knocked unconscious.