On that day, flame was born from breath, and it scorched the air in blaze.
The bells tolled uncontrollably, as a grim shadow hovered above. A winged menace, one covered in scales and forged in lust for all that glitters.
And from above, his breath scorched everything rested below.
The city burned red with torches of flame singing in the wind.
Shattered metals and barricades,
Splintered amour and shields,
Spears and blades forged from fine steel, all crumbled like twigs before him.
With fire he purged the mountain halls, sparing only its runes of beauty and treasures within.
Gold and fine gems, stretching as far as the eyes could see, invoking lust in the eyes of all who gaze upon them, all in his keep.
He was the vengeful hammer, when greed is unchecked.
The festering sickness of gold madness has called the dragon Smaug to Erebor.