The dark dragon enters, the light reflecting off of his obsidian scales. All across his ebon-colored frame are gorgeous stripes of orange. These stripes glow, pulsating as if to some constant, solemn, rhythm. His black wings, folded upon his back, suddenly open in a dazzling flash of orange. Your unintentional scrutiny reveals that the inside is made from naturally intertwining metallic threads of orange and a gunmetal black. The wings opening reveal the full awesomeness of his entire frame. You cannot help but to sweep your gaze upon his remarkable 7’ tall form as he stands before you.

An impregnable countenance of quiet strength sits upon his draconic features. A white, metallic, vertically striped headband is tied around his forehead with a large orange, glowing gem set in it. The center of the glossy stone reveals a design resembling a live dragon’s eye. The eye seems to focus upon everyone in the room at once as if it sees all with its unblinking stare. His gunmetal colored under-scales are lined in protective bands down his underside. Wrapped smoothly around his waist, just below his belly, is a smooth metallic band with what your vision soon uncovers to be two holsters on each side. Sitting smartly in each of such holster is a firearm. A uniquely crafted hand firearm of indiscriminate type sits in each, being a bright, burnt, candy-orange, metallic color. You peer even closer, elucidating upon upon the details of each. Down the barrel of each sexy nine millimeter are bright blue dancing symbols. These perplexing symbols move and sway to the same unheard beat as his stripes, each dancing its way down barrel slowly. His broad chest flexes, showing off more of his robust physique.

His arms are the seamless mixing of sinew and muscle. Upon his wrist sits pure white metallic bracers with the same gems set in each as the headband. Upon his hands, each situated upon a powerful finger, are white metallic claws like razors. As your eyes move down his belly, you notice an awesome bunch of muscles resembling a six-pack, sloping gently to disappearance down the curve of his tail. His bands of under-scales reveal no gender, at first making him appear androgynous, but a powerful feeling of pure masculinity command all doubt to dissipate as quickly as it was fashioned.

His mighty tail is held elegantly in a bowed manner, the middle curved and not quite touching the floor with the tip sitting in echelon with the center of his back. It is ended in a simple point. At the base sits an additional bracer, a perfect match with the others. His thighs are thick and powerful, leading down to his equally substantial calves. On each ankle is another bracer, matching the ones upon his wrists. No gem is inset upon these.

Upon each of his plantigrade foot-paws sits another collection of wickedly curved claws of the same strange, metallic substance of their brethren on his hands. Your gaze sweeps back to his forehead where, with the sound of an antique sword being called from its sheath after an eternity of complacency, a long, precise, blade rotates slowly out to its full, magnificent length. As if sensing your desiring thirst to see more, a whole anthology of the primordial weapons suddenly revolve out from his spine, extending down his entire back, the smallest culminating at the tip of his tail.

The eerie sound saturates the air, as a slight gasp escapes your mouth. The orange, metallic, blades glint in the light, pulsating in deep orange colors to the same unheard melody of his markings, the alien material the same as in the firearms at his hip. Bright blue, flaming characters dance across the blades slowly in some prehistoric language created beyond remembering. The pristine edge of the each blade is honed so perfectly that it cannot be seen with the eye. His fore-blade, sitting atop his forehead, suddenly cracks loudly down the center. As your ogling soon elucidates, the long, elegant blade has a thin, black, but perfectly formed, line down the middle.

At your awed horror in seeing such a beautifully crafted weapon seemingly destroyed, an uncountable amount of more lines follow the first, dividing the blade into infinitesimally small strands. To your utter surprise these strange fall gracefully to the dragon's head, crowning his skull with a crown of brilliant white metallic hair. The tumbles down to the midpoint of his back a in thin, even, strands. The symbols still dance across his hair like flamenco dancers and appear on dancing down his hair as if projected there from some other source. Those strands intertwine into gorgeous, tight cornrows upon his head, some strand being the normal white metallic and the other being the warm burnt, candy orange as his stripes.

His Powerful muscles, as if to sense your awed intrusion upon them, ripple suddenly across his frame like the disturbance of a drop of water plummeting invasively into the quiet serenity of a pond. His bright eyes, brim with a deep orange, almost fluid substance, like liquid energy. His gaze seems to slow time as you glimpse into a pillar of ancient wisdom, ages before measure. He smiles at you, revealing a row of white metallic fangs. A dark shiver surges through your body as his stare, after an unknown eternity, turns away. He walks slowly, his every step as if written before in the annuls of the eons… confident, proud, humble, powerful, and graceful.

There is an air of purity and goodness upon him, as the pleasant smell of a flowering meadow in springtime pervades throughout the area. Through some innate instinct welling up within you, a feeling of trust and serenity eases your fear of such a strange dragon. He extends his heart to yours, offering all that may come to know him, friendship.