From above, the island curled like a sleeping moon upon the sea. The eastern curve glows with emerald canopies and shimmering rivers that spiraled from the great Tree's roots. This part was Elvenland.
The western arm rose into jagged gray peaks, where the Dwarves had carved their cities deep into the mountain's ribs. This was Ortbon, the land of Dwarves.
Presently, an unprecedented storm waged through the whole island, it had began without any warning and was now the rain was pouring unceasingly all over. The mana that was thrumming in the air somehow reverberated even more as if charged up with more power.
"Oh, dear Lord of Dragons, please save me!" A Dwarf who hair short cropped deep orange hair and flowy orange beard shouted as he was high up in the air.
Among the seven Dwarves who were at the mountain, Thrain Ironbeard who was youngest of them was tasked with the responsibility of bringing the Dragon to the King of Dwarves.
