[Drakaar] Gudour - The Night Terror

[ScreamingDingo 16990]

 

“The skies wrought of lightning shows the call of the Night Terror, a plague to the world.”

ORIGIN

Birth of the Night Terror

 

A beast that was wrought of the depths of the mountains, the Dragaar rose upon its wings upon the breath of life that was bestowed by the Bastion of Knowledge. The peaks turned into monumental wings and, as such, stretched forth. As those who were his siblings were wrought from the earth, the coal and blackstone of the world formed the scales of grandeur that he once sat upon.

 

Gudour as an entity is not well-known for his exploits and early histories. He was a figure deemed of little significance by most scholars, who find trouble finding any proper depictions of this beast. There are rumours that he travelled within the Kingdom of Horen and offered some scholarly knowledge, but there was little confirmation of this by historians.

 

The Battle of Horen’s Ridge is one of significance, where the true story began for this Drakaar. This battle was fought upon the edges of the Kingdom of Horen, where his people built onwards from the pain of the Thirty Years War and the affliction of the Betrayer’s Curse. The remnant forces of Iblees still plagued the land, where Azdromoth himself placed his sights upon humanity, to conquer for his now fallen lord. This battle was one of ill-repute, where the devastating effects of this conflict still reverberate to the stories told in the modern mythos. Gudour himself was positioned on the side of humanity, where he fought against the remnants of Iblees with vicious fervour. It is unknown whether he marched into battle with those soldiers, but such aggression was aimed towards the embodiment of Ruin that marched through these mountains. The battle itself erupted with violent flurries and exchanges from both sides, where the Horenic forces drove cavalry and infantry into the hordes of undead that still remained tethered from the forces of the Nether itself. The decaying soldiers of countless battles would stand tall as they charged against one another, with wizards and warlocks that threw molten metal and lightning from the skies into the waves of humanity. 

 

As in the clouds above, the exchange was held between both Dragonkin. The Titanic behemoth of Azdromoth turned the skies into an abyssal haze as his form stretched across the heavens, as Gudour himself intertwined in exchanges of Dragonsflame and physical clashes. The sheer brutality of Azdromoth was countered by the twisting turns of Gudour, underhanded swipes and pivots as the demi-gods themselves shook the clouds. The steel of man itself started to overcome the forces of Iblees as the scales of fate tipped towards chaos, as Azdromoth grappled upon Gudour in the skies and sunk his teeth into the neck of his brethren. The sky itself rained blood, flesh and miasma as the festering wound was left within Gudour. His jet-black scales cracked akin to glass, a fractured reminder of what would become of his mind. As the Titan flew high upon the battlefield, the Night Terror was born amongst the clouds and ash that scattered in the battlefields. The corruption of Iblees emerged through his mind as he dove towards the battlefield below, a scorching trail of thunder and lightning heard throughout the lands like a beating war drum. The beast descended from the ash-ridden clouds, as forces of both humanity and undeath were decimated by bouts of violet and green dragonsflame. Rock and stone melted into puddles, as metal and bone were eviscerated into horrific amalgamations, where strikes of lightning trailed behind the Drakaar and tore asunder the land itself. 

 

This battle was a disaster for both sides, where the main forces of Horen were decimated in flame, as the undeath and Azdromoth’s armies crumbled to dust. To Elven scholars, this battle was seen as a monumental deciding factor between the fall of Azdromoth and Horen respectively, weakening their forces beyond repair. This has never been confirmed and to human scholars, they quote the madness of Malin’s Kin creating delusion with their long-lived lives.

 

Gudour himself fled to the south within his deluded madness, where the emergence of the horror dubbed, “The Night Terror” was carved into the foundations of history. A beast that would plunge fear into those that knew of his wrath, that slaughtered all that he encountered. This driving transformation of the inner soul of the dragonkin dwelled madness and confusion within his mind, as his very being rejected the poison of darkness that flowed within his veins. Years passed as the beast struggled with his inner turmoil, slumbering in periodic rhythms where he would hibernate for months on end and then decimate the closest population that dwelled near the lingering horror. Villages and castles were decimated by flame and thunder, as a sight was placed upon an instrument he believed would soothe his madness. The Sword of Horen.

 

Upon the edges of Paradisus,  Gudour himself ravaged upon the decaying Kingdom of Horen. The walls of stone were scorched as the skies themselves were stained with the abyss of darkness, the thunderous drake slaughtering the remnants of the crumbling town in a fit of rage. Scholars contest the exact details of this battle, but in Horen’s feeble state, his knights under the banner of the Red Dragon rode to fight Gudour with the Blade in hand. With as such, the Lord Commander Reginald Felder charged with his retinues with the dormant weapon, a violent flurry and vicious exchange left the battlefield in ashes. The knights themselves were melted beneath the heat of flame and lightning, with the Brightsteel blade between its corpses. For now the mantle of Horen was claimed, Gudour seeked true salvation. 

 

Yet, with the blade in hand, this soothed him only temporarily. The corruption of the Dragaar was one that was quick and brutal. The first few weeks of corruption had twisted his soul beyond redemption, he could not turn himself to stone or could muster the willpower to end his own life. He faltered with his challenges of polymorphing, where his draconic form was what was kept almost permanent between his bouts of rage and chaos. He drew upon the canvas of the world with hatred and malice, his flames and lightning cascading across all that drew its ire. 

 

 

HISTORY 

Strike Against the Sun

 

The Night Terror set his sights upon the edges of the Atherian Coasts. The Order of the Golden Lion had emerged amongst the chaos, and Gudour’s own intent was to strike against the heavens itself. To be awashed with the flames that would combat the poison of his blood and very soul, to be freed of the madness inflicted by the King of Ruin, Azdromoth. For the Athna’s were figures known by the world, as were the first mortal agents of the Aenguls that were establishing their foothold upon the mortal world. He sought out one particular agent, one that would strike the most forceful ire of them all. Zyanna Athna. The Cleric of Xan. She continued her pilgrimage on behalf of her master, to restore a tower of antiquity to the lights of order. 

 

For Gudour waited days, the Blade of Jophiael held in his hands. The soothing voice of the Seraphim spoke to him in many tongues, and showed his future, his past and his present. An intertwining chaos, a battle of the corruption of Drakaaric madness, with that of cosmic chaos. Then yet, a night of storms emerged as she rose to the tower itself. Her robes and armor of gold glistening with each striking bolt that rampaged through the skies.

 

The twisted irony of the weather is the blessing of Lightning of both Drakaar and Aengul. A night that was seen to symbolise the guiding light and order of Xan, was a night of sheer terror. Gudour emerged from the shadows, barely retaining his polymorphed form and impaled Zyanna with the Blade of Horen. A vicious and brutal attack, as the blade tore through flesh and stone. Blood splattered across the tower as the heavens howled and Gudour’s own hands rose to point towards the howling Cleric. Begging to be saved, she demanded the heavens would reprimand, yet no voice shouted back. The Drakaaric magics of Gudour encased the screaming lover of Xan in jet-black crystals that encased her. Her preaching arms frozen in constant fervor as the shimmer of the Blade of Horen was seen through her chest and protruded outward. Yet Gudour awaited on this tower till daybreak, the storms ravaged but no person walked those halls. None traversed to the towers, none were ready to grant Gudour his true release.

 

With that, he left the symbol of ire upon that wretched tower. A grudge made of hatred and malice, aimed towards the heavens.

 

HISTORY 

Madness Brews

 

The Night Terror was well-known for his exploits against the descendants. Those of holy orders were challenged by the beast through vicious sieges and attacks. Those of the Rivel Mages were attacked at the height of their power, as were various sects of Tahariaen and Ascended members to attempt to dislodge them from their places. A response is all Gudour wished for. The voice of Jophiael kept a semblance of sanity upon his actions, but a self-righteous death was all he wished for.

 

For now his life was a cycle of hibernation and destruction, where Gudour would slumber for years at a time and then emerge at his most maddened, to aim to send destruction upon the world. There were also rumours of instances where Gudour had confronted both reputable figures of Xannic and the Horenic Empire, challenging them to duels and wishing for a rightful end. These never came to him for many years, as this beast was a constant threat to all those around him.

Final Battle

 

Gudour’s own prayers were answered in the year of 1758. After the re-appearance of descendants on the fallen continent of Athera, Gudour emerged with intent to slaughter those that invaded those isles. With the Blade of Horen, he finally saw a future that was clear. An end. A purposeful provocation of the descendants led to the emergence of a party of assembled adventurers marching towards the Tower where Zyanna first fell.

 

The adventurers were successful, able to beat back the attacks of Gudour and land violent blows that wounded him deeply. Blood caked his scales and skin, as his vision blurred from the fatigue and weakness of near-death. A welcomed acceptance, as the Blade of Horen whispered to him once more. The tone of the angel is well known.

 

“It is time to rest, Warrior of the Storm. My brother shall continue your journey.”

 

Searing pain kept through the body of Gudour in his final moments, as a vigilant, armored figure of light appeared on the edges of the battlefield. Jophiael glowed as the figure went to retrieve the blade, as Gudour sent a final, vicious ire towards the tower were Zyanna laid. His draconic form collided with that of Starlight, as the form of ivory and stone crushed the head and body of the dragon itself. A final, distinct crush heard in Gudour’s last moments. Freedom for the accursed beast.

 

The aftermath of Gudour’s death were bards and artists demonstrating depictions against the Night Terror. A legacy of hatred immortalised by his fall. Zyanna did not appear in the rubble of the tower, shards of black crystal were visible in the debris but there was no true sign of what happened to them. A final act of defiance.

 

Credits:

ScreamingDingo - Writer