The village of Lothering had been experiencing terrible storms for the last few days now, each one seeming to be worse than the last. The skies grew darker to the point where some would swear that morning looked no different from night. Tendrils of lightning flashed across the sky like phantoms waging war against each other, clashing and booming with thunder to accompany them. 

Lothering was by no means a large city, nor was it a tiny village either. It had its own guard station with regular patrols, and enough revenue and trade to keep it on the map, but with the Dragon War, very few felt the need to travel down the roads. 

Though there were a few conspiracy thinkers out there who preached about how the lightning storms that raged over Lothering were part of something much larger, most just stuck to the agreement that it was bad weather, and didn't let it stop them....oh how they should have listened to the preachers. 

On one particular morning when the storms were far more terrible than they had been before. So bad, in fact, that the guardsmen had prepared buckets of water should any lightning strikes start a fire. What they hadn't expected was something *far* worse. 

As the afternoon turned into evening, many of the townsfolk were finishing up their work days and heading back to their hovels, ready for a hot meal and maybe a mug of ale at the Drinking Troll Inn before heading to bed for the night. So few were out and about, in fact, that they didn't notice the large gray shape fly above the village, a strike of lightning illuminating it for *just* a moment before it disappeared. The guards blamed the sight on a simple trick of the eyes, born of their fatigue, continuing their patrols without worry. 

It was the not-so-distant roar, however, that roused the guard's attention. A sound that pierced through the night sky, sending shivers down spines and causing hairs to stand on end. Adrenaline pumped through the guardsmen as their eyes frantically looked up at the darkening sky, their eyes constantly blinking as they were pelted with raindrops that had increased in frequency since the sound of the roar. 

"I'll be damned..."

"Where is it?!"

"Keep your eyes peeled."

"All of you, shut up!"

These were the terrified whispers of the guards, who, for all their training were not ready, physically or mentally to face a dragon. Before they could continue to think, however, a [voice](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=szMoqvy2I8g) rang out amidst the sky, harsh and terrible, **"Watch your breathing....I can *smell* your fear."** An ear-piercing **thud** resounded throughout the village as something *large* landed on the thatch roof of the city hall, the wooden construct groaning and creaking with the added weight, ready to collapse at any moment. 

The streets soon *filled* with terrified townsfolk, screaming and practically trampling each other to run away from the terrible threat that was the dragon. 

The guardsmen, shaking as their knees were, stood their ground, staring at the drake. "Wh-who are you, Beast?" One of them, braver than the rest, called out. 

The dragon laughed cruelly, his terrible cackle booming into the night sky. **"I am Zevlassan, Lord of Lightning. The Herald of Thunder. And this...is Lothering. What a quaint little place."** The dragon added, a loud growl coming from deep within his throat. It was true, he remembered Lothering from his time as a human...but alas, that time was done. 

The guards, stoically silent slowly raised their crossbows, Zevlassan just seeing the bolt aimed at him before a pull of the trigger sent it flying, the bolt grazing the side of his snout. 

Letting out an angered roar that caused some's ears to bleed, Zevlassan took in a deep breath before unleashing a volley of lightning from his mouth; the torrent of blue, purple, and white was blinding as it shot out like a battering ram, colliding with the guardsmen who began to burn inside their own armor, overcome by the storm. 

Zevlassan then began his reign of fury on the town, reducing every building in the village to rubble, and those who stood in his way to blackened bone. 

The screams of the townspeople rang out, but all that answered, was a sound of thunder. 

~~~

Flying high above the night sky with a full belly and his need for conquest sated, Zevlassan sought the land of Valhalla, answering a summons for all dragon lords to arrive, to work together to reclaim their home. There was a time when the Lightning Lord loved humanity as though they were his own, treated them with great respect. But they betrayed his kind, looked at him as nothing but a terrible monster....if it was terrible monster they would want; it was a terrible monster they would *get*. 

Flying a good ways behind Zevlassan was his bodyguard, a single storm dragon smaller and sleeker than the rest, built for aerodynamics and speed. He willingly agreed to fly with his lord and protect him in the human land, lest the other lords become too greedy and ambitious...