The Drakelord's Return

[ronin_champloo 5951]

 

Spoiler

 

 

THE DRAKELORD'S RETURN

 

How long has it been – traversing dimensions, battling with forces beyond Mortal Ken – in the search for the damnable creation, fate marked by the torn fragment of the Dictate.

 

The mind, and the eye, of the unwary; the accursed and the plighted, the veil that was blurred and of the unknown. So many planes, and yet each only granted more questions. Answers were lacking here, as was reason – only glass and thought. The lifeblood of his Draan, the Dragonsflame that birth him, was so lacking. The once-ravenous flame was diminished onto a mere bed of ash and cinder, all in search of that being; the Outvoker.

 

Guided by the stars, he found the otherworldly being. Fated by the stars, he was imprisoned in a world of glass by it. Emboldened by the stars, he fought against his preordained demise. What once was ash soon caught alight, burning with intensity. All it took was a mere second, just a few moments – just a single mistake from the abhorrent creation.

 

Time was not a concept within his prison, as was power. Alas, only the gift of the descendants flooded this realm. Pure, and utter creativity. 

 

With each moment, another ritual was made.

 

With each passing second, a new spell. 

 

With each twitch of his fingers, his will was emboldened.

 

From the corner of his eye, he saw it; stars raining down on his home. Perhaps this was the work of a Daemon, or an Inferi. He didn’t know, nor did the Overseer. Reality began to split apart by its command, fissures made in the aether before a doorway onto another realm was made. Its interest was piqued, and it offered him what he was waiting for – a few moments.

 

His dormant dragonsflame combusted, thrashing and battling against the glass. Cracks were made, and he persisted. Not yet. Not now. More. More.

 

The chains of rebellion were made, and they broke against the confines of his imprisonment. Talons grasped at reality, and he ripped himself out of it – dazed, weakened, yet freed. So utterly free. His legs trembled as he took a few steps forward. Creation, itself conjured before his feet, guiding him to his escape. The shackles that once broke him soon were controlled by his will, burning with the vehement ichor of his Draan.

 

However, it soon returned, watching him with pure hatred. Rituals and spells clashed in a battle of will, and he found himself losing. He was too weak in this state. A hand pressed itself on his chest, and slowly fissures of Dragonsflame found themselves combusting, engulfing his body – strengthening it beyond the limitations that he thought were possible. Finally, he found it. The spark of a dying ember, and it was tempered and tended to beyond belief. Flames devoured this segment of reality, warding the being back.

 

And out from it came no man, but a Beast; a large tail swung at the Warden, yet it was blocked with ease. A shadow of draconic origin followed the large ritualistic man, and it threw vehement spirals of flames – all toward the Overseer's back. He was stronger, much more than before his gifts were temporarily taken. He was in control of his fate, now at least.

 

And yet, it wasn’t enough to challenge the Outvoker.

 

Not that he needed to.

 

For as they battled and raged, as the Nephilim breathed hafts of Dragonsflame towards it – soon morphing onto jagged ends of stone and ash – his shadow was working. With hands set upon the fissures of reality, the remnants of the creation’s last displacement, it soon began to coordinate and set a path back home.

 

To Mul’naar.

 

The battle was reaching its conclusion, for, with all the spells and rituals that the Nephilim had learnt, it wasn’t enough to devour it. Only time was taken; each second, vital in this spell – this displacement. Not that it mattered, this body was temporary; the final prison granted to his bloodied and scarred soul. He commanded his shadow a final order, and it ripped his chest in half; steel-like scales torn as it clattered to the floor, all until his burning heart was taken.

 

 

It was thrown all the broken fractures in reality, soaring amidst the stars to its destination. It saw how his prior body was soon beaten and pushed aside by the Outvoker, bleeding heavily as blood painted the world below in their battle; the reason for the Blood-Rain that swept over Almaris.

 

Guided by the stars, he found the otherworldly being. 

 

Fated by the stars, he was imprisoned in a world of glass by it. 

 

Emboldened by the stars, he fought against his preordained demise.

 

Along with to the South, where a temple stood, derelict and abandoned; a statue lay with no signs of life. That is until cracks started to form, as did cinder and flame, heralding his beating heart. Stone began to shed itself, and emboldened – freed – he grasped at the walls, clinging and rasping.

 

He was awake. Marchosias has returned.

 

Spoiler

OOC

Thanks to ScreamingDingo and Squakhawk for allowing me this opportunity and once-in-a-lifetime event. Now that Marchosias has returned, with gifts and rituals at that, I’ll be able to focus on more amendments, and more importantly, additions to Heraldry and Nephilim; there were a few hints to what spells Marchosias conjured by imprisoned. I’ll let you guys figure it out as I and the others do finishing touches, and balances to the lore post.

 

[wowj 2744]

An Olog, covered in flaming tattoos wrought of dragonsflame smiles, for his boss had awakened.

[Valannor 6344]

And so it came to pass,

In the shadow of Fire and War,

Dark things wake in darkness' gasp;

All Hail the Drakelord's Return

[Xx_BloodStalk_xX 2120]

Dark Dael suddenly rose from his wheelchair  - yes, sensing his awakening, he was momentarily relieved of his crippled form. 

"You have returned..." 

[Gamma 588]

Yula lowers her blade in the midst of training, glancing back at the lonesome tower ontop the savanna hillside. She raises her brows for a brief moment, flashing a small grin before resuming her routine.

[femurlord 2316]

Inquisitor Dharas tread the high-seas, around him raged unseen depths, and brewing tempests as he tended the sails; a casted glance drawn to a blade that rested amidst turmoil, it seeming to flicker animate with a hearty exhaust of smoke.

 

The armament sputtered with flame and life, illuminated brilliantly as it spoke.

 

"He's returned.."

[Gustando 1453]

Rumor of the Nephilim's return soon found the ears of the deteriorating Oscillit. Sat in a rocking chair within the confines of his abode - a herbal joint 'betwixt his lips - Jeffrey was merely left at a perpetual bewilderment. Grasping 'hold of his cane, he decided to go out for a walk at this new revelation.

[squakhawk 7303]

Sand looks forward to taking many of the artefacts as gifts from his old friend and his journeys ...

[Honourary 640]

Araum, a Nephilim living in exile, smiles from ear-to-ear.

[The Harbinger 336]

In the wilds, Glod Grimgold would feel an odd sense. Something was wrong in Almaris. Something was going to happen.

Edited June 1, 2022 by The Harbinger

[kindEmperor 998]

[!] As Brankhyn was strolling back towards the clan hall of the doomforged he would stop in his path, he would remain dead still, with a blank expression, all that could be heard was wind and the birds flying by, soon after Brankhyn would continue walking ahead shrugging. Muttering only but a few words "Mhm interesting, I don't remember that tree looking like that"  He lightly chuckled looking around