You are an ancient dragon god of garbage. The humans serve you well, drawing old souls from the earth, trapping them in plastic, and delivering them unto your temples, called landfills. Your hoard.
From these great mountains of garbage you draw strength. But there are those faithful whom society neglects, forced to live at the fringes of civilization. The houseless and unsheltered, whose refuse is a burden no one will help with. These things must be tended to, even if it means you must interfere more directly.
You will take over a human vessel, and command them to do your bidding, venturing into the places where the houseless camp, gathering their trash, and delivering it to your hoard. FOR THE GLORY OF THE GARBAGE GOD.
YOU, DRAGON OF DROSS... heap honcho, queen of clutter, ward of waste, master of messes, god of garbage. You, old one, ancient dragon, still strong, hidden from the eyes of men, but still they worship you unknowingly. They forget your name but they whisper it in dreams, every home collects their offerings to you. You, pulling at their subconscious strings, drawing them to you, manipulating their leaders to build more and more disposable treasures. For your hoard.