Rhazor stood on the top of the black basalt platform situated right at the center of the primary caldera, his scaled arms folded across the broad, still-warm chest, where the recent seat transfer still lingered in its aftereffects. Dark crimson scales ran down his jaw to his neck and forearms, growing thicker around the shoulders, where the Dragon authority had settled the most firmly. His eyes burned a steady molten gold. Around him the high-ranking dragonkin maintained their positions with the discipline that was less common for the forces with the less disciplined officers.
