Dread Linnorm

No other Norse dragon is known to have two heads, and none is more infamous for razing human towns. A dread hatches with tiny glossy black scales that coarsen and lose their shine as it grows, turning black or gray as the beast pleases. It speaks its own tongue and will talk with no one but fellow Norse dragons.

Spells open the assault. Next come the breaths, one head at a time: left first, right the round after, then back and forth every round until each has exhaled three times. More spells follow for whoever is left standing, and finally the linnorm slithers in with two bites and a tail slap. Some prefer to keep fighting on the wing by casting fly.

From the right mouth pours a magical blast of freezing wind, a cone 120 feet long that widens from 3 feet to 60; every point of damage it deals shoves the victim 2 feet away. From the left comes a 30-foot-high cloud of scalding dust, 80 feet long and 50 across. A successful saving throw against either halves the harm.

Enchantment/charm spells never affect a dread, and it casts wizard spells. Its spells and powers work at level 8 plus combat modifier. Abilities by age: juvenile, telekinesis every round; adult, move earth 4/day; old, power word stun 3/day; venerable, an energy drain delivered with a bite that hits; great wyrm, antipathy-sympathy 2/day.

The scarcest of all linnorms, dreads turn up in every climate, always in bleak, empty country, lairing in twisting caverns full of traps meant to baffle and slay trespassers. They respect their fellow linnorms and keep out of their lands, yet feel no qualm at devastating human territory and settling in the wreckage. Pairs come together every 40-50 years to breed, stay only until the eggs hatch, and then go their own ways, leaving the hatchlings to survive alone.

A long life fills a dread's lair with wealth, but it feels none of the usual draconic lust for gold. It hoards by instinct alone, never takes stock, and leaves the riches in loose piles that sometimes serve as a bed. It takes neither slaves nor captives.

Little food seems to satisfy a dread, though it craves wood steeped in seawater and sinks ships to get it. Once past the young stage it has nothing to fear except, perhaps, daring giant war bands. Hatchlings and young are another matter: giants stalk them for meat and trophies, and heroes hunt them too.