Once upon a time, there was a dragon. It ate things, sometimes, when bothered, and collected, and more often than not, it slept. It had worked very hard early in its life to obtain all the gold and jewels and riches in its hoard. And now all it wanted to do was hold it and hug it and rest by it. It had hoped that by not stealing princesses and all that normal hoo-ha dragons partook in that it would be otherwise left alone by adventurers. Sometimes they still came by, however, and the dragon would eat.
Lethargy was its goal, and lethargy treated it well. Or at least, it did, for a while. Something like 300 years. People began to forget about the dragon, and food wasn’t so easy to come by anymore.
So the dragon ventured out, slowed by the fatigue of hunger, and flapped its way towards civilization and away from its isolated cave. Quickly after, the dragon tread air as it looked around at the towers that filled the once empty expanses. Lifted by the wind, a cacophony resonated its ears and soon the dragon saw giant birds that moved without flapping their wings. It jumped into the clouds, to spy more discreetly, but couldn’t do so without freaking out.
And soon, the dragon fell, whether from the final stab of hunger or an overdose of anxiety, it didn’t matter. It crashed a few buildings on the way down, and a few people were squished. This new world knew about as much to make of the dragon, however, as it knew to make of them.