Power grows heavy in your satchel, and heavier still in your thoughts. Such is its hold on mortals. Yet ambition drives you onward to the fortress of the Legion of the Dragon, warriors rumored to descend from Venterra’s ancient wyrms. Their armor gleams like scaled hide, and their discipline is absolute.

The rarest jewel in all the land rests within their inner sanctum - a crimson stone pulsing like a dragon’s heart. You scale blackened stone walls beneath the smoke of their forges. A single misstep would mean death. When you finally grasp the jewel, heat surges through your palm, and distant horns echo through the keep. You depart unseen - but barely.