Of all the magical beings that permeate multiple facets of the Great Dream, the Inner Dragons are perhaps the most widely-known yet poorly-understood. It is easy to see why they are the subject of so much speculation. Even their lesser cousins, the Outer Dragons, are beings of immense power. The Inner Dragons, who have a deep resonance not with any physical element such as Fire or Stone but with the abstract elements of thought itself, must surely then be all the mightier, yes?
The truth is more complicated, but perhaps none of these dragons so well represents their kind as the Dragons of Want. Vanishingly rare creatures of whom few depictions and fewer still photographs exist, a Dragon of Want embodies exactly that; want. “Want” does not reach even the lofty heights of desire or greed. It is almost more basic an instinct; “I see the thing I do not have and I wish to possess it.” It goes no further; no consideration is given toward whether the thing is needed or not.
The Dragons thereof are, yes, fearsome creatures, as one might expect. They are large even by draconic standards, and many rival in size the floating peaks of Somath that the species originates from, and many still call their home. Despite this, they are eternally gaunt. Their bodies resemble thin dragon skeletons constructed of cloudstuff, with their only other external physical feature being the stormy dark gray pits that serve as their eyes. Their appearance provides ample camouflage in their native environment—a necessity even for dragons, given that their primary prey is the mighty Deepsound Whale—but also serves as a useful metaphor for the nature of the Dragons of Want themselves. They are forever hungry, and never truly sated. This applies not just to literal prey, such as the Whales, but to everything. Many dragons, including several other species of Inner Dragon, are known to converse with and sometimes make demands of other beings. (Dragons of Power, for example, are often such adept tyrants that they are unwelcome entirely on many worlds.) This is not true of Dragons of Want, who perhaps simply do not see a reason to converse with what they consider to be mere objects. It is of course, at the same time, worth remembering that all dragons, even the personable sorts, are embodiments of their associated element. A Dragon of Want cannot stop wanting anymore than a fire can choose to stop burning.
In any case, Dragons of Want often do develop proclivities. In addition to their food, Dragons of Want will hunt down treasures of almost any sort imaginable, driven as they are by their own invisible needs. Dragon of Want hoards I have personally aided in raiding have included massive collections of hand-made wooden toys, an astonishing variety of magical objects such as tomes, scrolls, and orbs, varying samples—in all shapes and sizes—of a single specific kind of stone, and, in one particularly bizarre and gruesome case, a massive throng of the undead, which the dragon had systematically removed the lower limbs of, so as to prevent them from escaping. This dragon, I do distinctly recall, nested among the still-writhing creatures, unbothered even as they bit and clawed at it. A strange sight, but one that is representative of the nature of such beings.
It is of course also worth noting, Dragons of Want do not stop their instinctual coveting, regardless of how large their treasure trove may grow. By their nature, they are never truly satisfied. The aforementioned wooden toy hoarder had dug an immense pit into the floating mountain that it called home, of such size that the mountain itself was in danger of collapsing and crumbling into rubble. This did not deter the dragon who, like clockwork, set out at dawn each day in search of new baubles, often ranging far and wide over the plane to find them.
One might wonder how such a massive beast could possibly accomplish this. In fact, they cannot. Instead, Dragons of Want are capable of changing their size and shape quite easily, as is the case for many sorts of dragon. Such that the mountain-sized creature can reform itself as a stealthy wisp barely the size of a small lizard. It can then enter a home undetected, locate its item of interest, and then abscond with the ill-gotten gain. Of course, if it is found, a Dragon of Want will generally simply unleash its foggy breath; this dense gas can knock out almost any living being in a few minutes at most. Even I once succumbed to it, only to find myself waking days later in a hospital. (Fear not, readers, I was well-cared for by a beautiful healer.) Less fortunate marks may find that the dragon simply reverts to its usual size, taking care not to crush its trinket but not extending the same level of delicacy to anything else in its immediate environment.
A Dragon of Want’s avaricious nature can extend even beyond its own death. A minority of the creatures, when faced with a fatal end, simply refuse to die. Instead, they shed their body and become living embodiments of the sleep-inducing smoke they once held in their bellies. Worse, these phantasms are capable of possessing other creatures, and while they cannot speak and thus pose no real risk of passing as their hosts, this can still cause a great many problems, as the possessed is eventually turned into a ravenous, greedy ghoul known as a Wantwretch. (This is all the more problematic because this possession is far harder to resist than that of an ordinary ghost.)
Even I, hunting the same dragon previously described, found myself face to face with such an apparition once, and was nearly laid low by it. (Luckily, Oraclos, the personable witch-worm who serves as my hat, defended me from the creature’s phantasmal attack. Still, I came dangerously close to succumbing to the dragon’s possession). If you, all gods known and unknown forbid, find yourself facing down such a creature, I wish you good luck. Still, if at all possible, I'd avoid the beings. Such ferocity and majesty are best appreciated from a distance.
