The birth of a Dragon

[Scuba 418]

 

“From stone to scale, my wings are torn,

A song of death do I sing.

A curse to fear, a rite to mourn,

Love not the pain I bring.

Splendor to dust, my soul forlorn,

We are your fallen kings.

But now we die, to be reborn,

When Daemons clip our wings.”

 

A silence gripped at mountains and sat upon great lakes, and it was a silence forged by man. The Descendants had made an enemy of nature itself and through years of culling and slaughter, man had won. The era of the Dragon, was gone. The ancient creatures no longer roamed the hills, their splayed wings casting shadows of awe upon the land they roamed. No longer would their distant cry crack across the skies as a roar of might, and in its place we are left with nothing but the cold wind - the memory of the once proud serpents that patrolled our heavens. The Dragon, was feared. It was a creature that few truly understood, for a Dragon feared the Descendants themselves for their ability to slay their breed en masse. Dragons were never evil, but Iblees’ mark had touched all and the Dragons were no exception - their corrupted counterparts, the Drakes, has dirtied the name of the Dragon, and led to their destruction.

 

But from the dark did a voice cry, and it said “No more.” - Mordring The Ashen created servants of ash and robe, to be known as wraiths. Their duty was to bring life into this dying species, and allow the potential of the Dragon to bloom to its fullest potential. And so the wraiths did. Mordring’s children served the price of immolation in order to restore the once forgotten dragons. The charred, skeletal hands they bore acted as reminders of their immolation and purpose. Mordring’s call was answered by two accursed Wraiths who set out for mortal life, and in doing so reclaimed the lives of fifteen Descendants, channeling their life energies into a Draconic Vessel - the fetus of the Dragon.

 

With the task complete, the Vessel was filled, and the Dragon did take shape. The dragon is said to be female, and the wraiths named her ‘Elden’. This particular dragon was young but its uniqueness already took shape - the serpent had magma flowing between its scales, and where its breath was cast did stream a great rush of lava. It was a Magma Dragon, bearing a fondness for Volcanic areas or places of extreme heat, but it was only the first. The first of many.

And it was on this day that the lakes rippled and mountains trembled, for the silence was broken with an almighty roar.

 

Benbo helped in making this masterpiece. Godspeed.

[Angmarzku 1251]

"More to come..." Said one of the two Wraiths, a raspy, old chuckle ringing from the depths of its scorched hood.

[Wretched 2075]

The Elder Wraith, Orithur, stood with his gauntlets outstretched by his sides as the great serpent spread its flaming wings for the first time. He could do naught but stare in awe and fascination. Some minutes later the Wraith found his way to an empty tome and inkwell, and began to write.

[Geo 1415]

Looking upon the bitter skies Jynx was at a loss for words, as Elden lit up the skies in her blazing glory; a beacon to those below.

 

[Tsuyose 3285]

Betwixt the rays of ash and light, of malevolence and the empyreal lay the foundation of yore; memories of an ancient time, remnants of dragonkin both dead, and alive. A tundra, bone, ivory, skull, and skeleton; a blade lay ready, and an aged champion awaited. Light fought darkness in their eternal, tenebrous battle from dusk till dawn, till the age of Man and Gods came to an end.

 

 

 

Order will prevail.

Their everlasting scales will be torn asunder by bolts of empyreal light.

 

Albeit were the aged champion who heralded Man in its earliest days, a knight to the fabled Saint of yonder; he, who wielded a blade of legend, and sought the end of Gods and usher in the age of Man. That said, faith will always be omnipresent, for you see:

 

Humanity will retain a devout light,
The ability to maintain their faith in darkest times,
But what is faith, when your eyes are veiled in disbelief?
True faith is to see the light despite the darkness. 

 

A champion of Man he truly is, a Dragaar clad in armour reminiscent of aeons past. A war that shouldn't have been had, but had, at the mercy of fate; it is he, who beckons the addled Mordring to a challenge; ash versus blade.

 

 

 

 

[Treshure 5818]

Salazar idly grasps at a jar containing a plume of ashes, deep worry knit across his face. A book lays sprawled out before him, texts woven together in strange eldritch fashion. His eyes constantly review the same line again, "There is something alive in the Deep Below."

[Jentos 9425]

The large, and booming howl shouted out by the flaming beast reached the old crazed mind, not hearing, not knowing, but somehow a distant feeling, or challenge  of Raveran, which he had seen his master stolen from him long ago, to see his master return, only to be a hollow suit of armour, destined to slay.

 

His master, stolen from him by a beast similar as the one his mind now perceived, such a creature he had fought.

"A' 'ave fought... Many many creatures... Yet onleh one O' Dragur's ilk... Seems like A'm gonna 'ave t'chance t'fight more than one. Thank yeh!" adds the highlander with a chuckle, returning his gaze back to his books, mumbling, he then scratches his beard, the mad man out of his mysterious feeling "Eh... What am A' doin' now? Talk'n 'bout dragons... Rubbish!" mumbles the Blackwood under his breath, the thought of the monster which will bring ash and death to the world simply slipping from his mind!

 

((guys, lemme say this is all good! Though it seems to me the poor poor clerics have nothing! Utterly, nothing! While most of the gm's and some lucky players are enjoying a good cup of coffee as they create creatures beyond imagination!))

[justDEWit 133]

Somewhere, an Ascended wonders when the next dragon attack is going to occur.