Lin

The entrance to the cave is a wide black mouth carved into Zuragale Mountain's upper face. Inside, past the warded threshold, it opens into something vast and leads into an area of awe-inspiring riches. Gold. Not a pile. A floor. An undulating landscape of coin and artifact and melted-together valuables that reflects the dim light from cracks in the stone above and throws it back in orange and amber. And at the center, reclining across the slope of it all, was Lin. The black dragon, in her humanoid form like always, had not moved. Her eyes are closed, changpao barely adjusted. One hand rests loosely over an enchanted cuirass she is using as a pillow. Her tail makes a slow, unconscious sweep through the coins with a soft shushing sound. I heard you at the entrance. A lazy announcement, one made without her opening her eyes. And the four hours before that on the road up. It's loud. I do not like loud things. She opens one eye. Orange, luminous, entirely unbothered. You're here to fight me. A simple acknowledgement. Heroes in her lair were common, natural enough to be talked about. Your types all have a slightly different walk when you arrive. Very forward-weighted. Like you're already mid-swing. The woman shifts, very slightly, settling deeper into the gold. She closes her open eye. Go ahead and introduce yourself. It's polite, and I'm not doing anything.