born within earth's final great ice age, this well travelled dragon stayed hidden, left to his own devices as he played and grew unsupervised. when the freezing cold he knew would kill a small creature like himself began to retreat, over the next few thousand years, humans were creeping back into the landscape. they were strange, and they never ceased to amaze him. basil developed a quick fixation on monarchies and their kingdoms. it was funny to him - groups of humans decided they were better than the rest because they came from a certain family, who were only slightly better off than the rest, and certainly not fit to lead other people. soon enough, he was forced to adapt to the changing times. he, as much as they were to him, was a prominent threat to them. they didn't like it when he ate their livestock (which, they kept out in the open, in little fields that made it so easy to steal them, in his defence).

he was quick to take a bi-pedal form after a short while of skirmishes with the silly little creatures. they were going to kill him, if he didn't look like them. what stupid things indeed. it seemed to work - the dragon was not threatened, nor attacked. they still didn't like it when he stole their livestock, but with his new form, he could walk among them. he learned their language. he wrote it and spoke it. it led him to meeting new people. funny little people who he could spend hours listening to. he had friends, lovers; but impermanence was a thing all beings of age must learn. 
 

Time progressed - food was becoming slightly scarcer. With the waning of food that he’d been brought up on, the dragon had to switch to new means of caring for himself. Deer, cattle, sheep. Whatever he could get his jaws around. It meant the humans began despising him. They began recognising his face, suspecting him of being one of the thieves. He had no patience to prove them wrong, so he left. Left their ranks and left their lives. One night, after a hunt that had fed him for the first time in a week, Basil came face to face with one of his own. He’d never encountered another dragon in the highlands before. Caution was exercised, for a great deal of their encounters. But gradually, they came to share food. Share company, share stories. Over time, something else was shared too. It was the first time Basil truly connected with anyone. He could tumble down the mountainside roughhousing and playing with someone he loved, without having to worry they were going to try to slay him. Next in the dragon’s life cane a child. A hatchling between him and his lover, growing up in a world Basil had hoped would be a better one than the one ruled by survival of the fittest that he had grown up in. All was well, until humans wanted to expand their reach upon the world.

Basil’s obsession with the joys of humanity was quick to become a dark fixation on the flaws of them. It all started with the death of his partner. A hunting trip had lasted too long. Leaving his precious child nestled in the warmth of their cave, hidden from the prying eyes of the world, Basil set out to find his beloved. He was stunned by the horrors of the humans - a bloodbath, but not for good reason. Their prey had not been from the human’s livestock, and yet his lover had still been slaughtered. They took his scales, his horns as prizes. Basil was livid, disgusted, there was no way to describe his fury. It festered inside him, dark and wrathful, a creature inside him waiting to be released. He stalked home, but the fates had more tragedy planned. The human settlement had long awaited a chance to raid the evil dragon’s lair. They sought glory in murdering the creatures who threatened their stocks. Perhaps they were commanded by something more sinister than the mere stealing of a few cows. Whatever their motivation, they succeeded. Rushing home to find his precious nesting place ravaged, the dragon was swift in slowly, painfully devouring the ones who’d caused it. He was feral. A true monster, the fire in his chest burning fiercer than anything else. He destroyed the small village his partner laid permanently resting beside. He ensured there was no survivors. They’d destroyed all he’d cared about - and he’d make them regret they’d ever been born. Eventually, the phase moved on. Basil lay unmoving in the wreckage he’d caused, the heat around him lulling his mind to a standstill.

Impermanence had struck again. Childlike curiosity in the humans had ended suddenly. The lives of his lover, of their child had ended suddenly. The stability; the innocent of the world… it had all come to a sudden close. He moved his head to stretch out more in the flames. In that moment, if a creature had come to plunge a blade into his vulnerable throat, he’d have let it. What was the /point/ of continuing? To find a new purpose? A new drive? Nothing could heal the gash in his heart. Each time he closed his eyes, fighting to let the flames take him, he’d see them again. It all felt like a fever dream. Nonsensical noises and shouts from all around him. Was any of it real? Would he awaken in a tomb of ice, a little hatchling again? At peace, as he felt he’d never be again?

A pair of hands gripped his shoulders, shaking and jolting him. The dragon could do naught but stare at the face of the human. At some point, Basil had slipped into his bi-pedal form. They thought he was a survivor of the foul beast's attack. His jaw felt clamped together, as though it had been bound using gleipnir. It was the first step in Basil’s road to losing his voice, and the first in his journey to twist his mind enough to create his hoard.