I do own Forgotten Realms. All the charaters are mine however.

This is the third rewrite of my Dragon Chronicles (don't look at me like that Gwen6) and hopefully I'll get to finish this one.

Far, far away from the world of Aber-Troil, beyond that plane of existance entirely was Mount Celestia.

It stabbed upwards from a shimmering sea of holy water, streching up to a starry sky. Against the celestial tapestry was silouetted a massive beast.

It desended, heading for Mercuria the Golden Heaven, the second layer of Mount Celestia. The light from the night sky illuminated it.

It was a dragon... of sorts. It was much larger than any dragon on Faerun, that was true, but its strange apperence came from the fact that it appeared to be made from many different kinds of dragon melded together.

Five heads scanned the air and ground in all directions. Each one was a different metallic dragon's head, one gold, one silver, one bronze, one copper and one brass. The scales on its body merged to form a platinum colour with a hint of gold. A wyvern spur was attached to the end of the tail and five ivory claws adorned each paw. Other claws decorated the wing joints.

No one on Mercuria though him strange for he was in fact Tiamet, God of Dragons, wearing just one of his many guises.

He landed, with surprising grace for a creature of his bulk, and survyed his kingdom.

In the golden light that suffused everything here dragons of all kinds went about their daily business. They were Tiamet's pentioners, worshippers that had died and passed on to their eternal reward. The slopes flowed gently down towards the first layer of the mountain and small streches of flat land held settlement of archons.

It was only went Tiamet's eyes settled on the north flank of Mercuria that a faint amount of anger flared up. The north side looked as though a battle had raged there. A long time ago one had. The golden light did not pentrate this place and both Tiamet's pentioner's and the resident archons avoided it. This was a desolate place, everything was grey and dead. Strewn about the slopes were ruins, ranging from archon villages to the massive glittering shell that had one been a sudstantional protion of Tiamet's palace. The rest of the palace was embedded in the soil, shining spars of anicent treasures.

It was called the Grave of the Dragon Gods.

Tiamet shook his head and took to the air agian, this time heading for a dip in the slopes where a lake of holy water had collected. Shedding his five-headed guise, the dragon god waded into the water as a bronze dragon.

As he luxuirated in the lake other facets of his mind answered his worshipper's questions, granted his clerics spells and ensure that the dragon race was still functioning.

Abruptly one facet noted that several of his worshippers were being attacked. After a moment's consideration Tiamet decided to go there himself, just to strengthen the faith of his worshippers.

As he lifted himself into the air with a great flap of his wings he changed his form yet again, into one more appealing to these worshipper's nature. In seconds a black dragon burst onto the landscape of Faerun.

The air was cool here were the wind blew off the mountains, bringing the snows with it. The trees below were lightly dusted with icy powder... but there were no dragons.

Tiamet growled in irritation as he flew around the perimeter of the forest, putting it down to a practical joke.

He beat his wings once, sending himself toward the portal he left behind in his passing, his mind already working at the mental locks he'd placed there.

All of a sudden pain lanced through his body. Tiamet dropped like a stone, despite the frantic beating of his wings. He hit the trees, sending anicent oaks scattering as his body spasmed in pain. Unbelievable agony enfused every particle of his being and he roared. Tiamet's body began to shrink,

"No... no. Noooo!"

As quickly as it had come the pain faded, leaving only a memory. Tiamet growled and struggled to get all four legs underneath himself to stand. Unable to move he lay on the ground. As he moved a paw over his eyes he saw something that made him gasp.

A mammal hand... a pale, pathetic mammal hand!

What did he do to deserve such a fate? It was like being blind and nearly deaf...

Limited to five senses...

Cut off from his home...

He knew what had happened though the thought made him want to curl up and cry. He had been made mortal. Could this be a second Time of Troubles?

Shaking he managed to get to his knees by clinging to a tree truck. A pool of water was nearby and he peered into it.

A mammal's face stared back.

Tiamet screamed.