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✧⥼─────༻❁༺─────⥽✧ In memory of Alberic Salvian du Lac, Keeper of Xan 1899 - 1975 ✧⥼─────༻❁༺─────⥽✧ Lyrics by Her Majesty, Queen-Emeritus Renilde Helena of the Petra, Atstana de Regne Petrère 121 Music and Performance by Her Ladyship, Emeline Josefina of the Petra 15th of Sigismund’s End 144 B.A.

“Man before Asioth and the fool will waste his life thinking he can decipher it, while the wise knows he will die having found no answer, but try nonetheless. A man is a journey.” - The An-Gho —————————— —————————— “Trees reach for the heavens; they seek without growing.” - Vessel of Eternity —————————— The Gift of Divine Privilege | The Golden Path of Seekers In this observation, I will use the statement that this is man's path sparingly. Even in the eternity of the ascended, they still seek the culmination of the golden gift. The Path is a long and winding road; one without a clear destination, it is in every step you take leading you on and on until the very end. In a morose sense; your destination is your demise and rebirth. Whether that is to be taken in the literal sense, or it is the idea that a rotting corpse provides fertilization for new life to grow. If you are to take examples from those about you on their path; the mali’thill of the motherland draws a path of eternity, maintaining ancient beliefs of purity. Some believe that to be truly pure, they must have the strength to control their emotions, to not deviate from the laws of the cihi’thilln. To bring on a new generation for their ideologies to be passed on to. And even then, those thoughts vary greatly. For those of the canonist church, to reach the heaven they speak of with such admiration, you must follow the scriptures. The first of the scrolls is that of Virtue. It details the seven commandments that all must follow. In all of these, there is an inherent similarity to the Golden Path; and that is the beauty of the struggle that all go through in their unending trek. This is a path unique to each who begins down the road. Some may think they are to follow the worn beat of others, and some may walk through the tall grass and etch their way anew. Those who aspire for strength and power; may feel that their path grows stagnant upon achieving their grand design. A King grows weary with the weight of his people upon his shoulders. A warlord who strives for conflict may grow bored when there is none to be had, from something to nothing once their path is lost. And thus are the branches of the tree, new ones are found when the width of the one they are on grows thin. The path is eternal and winding. When you feel that you’ve come to an impasse, you must only turn your head and take the first step in a new light. From student to teacher, teacher to student. Only with the light of divinity are we provided the sustenance for continuance. But the gift is not only the journey, it is the light along the way. In all things may we find this proverbial gold. From the rain that breaks a drought to the white flag in a hopeless war. It is the wind that lifts the sail in the middle of the sea. The kind words of a teacher tell the students that they have learned. Even without sight or sound, we may still wander forth by the will of the heavens. It is by the Gift of Divine Privilege that we are capable of these thoughts. And it is our deficiency that the threshold is not yet tangible. The Gift is an omnipotence indescribable by mundane words. And my words. . . an oversimplification of its glory for better understanding. —————————— All things ariseth from One by the will of One, and so all things cometh from this subtle process. - The Divine Gift —————————— Written by | Adyr the Golden Lamb |

THE INNATE KOBOLD SIN OPENING PRAYER FROM THE VENERABLE FATHER PACO DO I RECITE THIS PRAYER TO SAINT NAFISUS THEODERNESIS, LORD VANDALORE OF VANDORIA. ‘Creator of man, overseer of all things right, Whose powers none can resist, Save and deliver us, we beseech, From the hands of our enemies, By granting us dominion over them, Show us the path to victory, That we might produce it in Your undying name. AMEN’ AUTHORS NOTE IN THE MONTHS SINCE MY PREVIOUS PUBLICATION I HAVE BECOME SOBERED TO MY OWN HATRED. AFTER ALL, IT WAS MY INITIAL FANATICAL SHILLING TOWARDS THE AZDRAZI THAT HAS ME IMPRISONED TODAY. THE LACERATIONS ON MY PERSON GROW REDDER, RAWER. MY COUNTENANCE IS HALF AS IMPOSING AS IT ONCE WAS BECAUSE OF THEM, LET ALONE ADELMAR. I WOULD NOT SOONER BLAME THE GUARD THAN MYSELF FOR THE PUNISHMENTS DONE UNTO ME. THIS IS REDEMPTION. SO, AS I DEEMED THE AZDRAZI TO HAVE AN INNATE SIN, SO TOO DID I RAISE THE QUESTION AS TO WHY? I MUST ADMIT, STARVATION, MALNUTRITION, AND DEHYDRATION, HAVE ALL PROFOUND IMPACTS ON MY THINKING. I AM NOT THE MAN I WAS NEARLY A DECADE AGO, JUST AS I AM NOT THE MAN I WAS AN HOUR AGO. I FIND SOLACE, THEN, IN ANGER, IN RAGE. THIS IS FLAWED. I SHOULD INSTEAD EMBRACE MY IMPRISONMENT AS AN OPPORTUNITY FOR HERMITAGE AND MARTYRDOM: TO WHICH CAUSE I KNOW NOT YET. I DO NOT WISH TO BE A MARTYR FOR THE LIZARD. THIS TEXT IS PRODUCED BY, I WOULD DECLARE WITH A HIGH CERTAINTY, THE SINGLE MOST EDUCATED MAN ON THE AZDRAZI TO BE INVOLVED TO A LARGER EXTENT WITH THE FAITH. I SERVED AS INTERIM COMMANDER OF THE JUDITES, NOW THE HOLY ARMY, I FOUGHT FOR THE FAITH, AND I LOST A GREAT DEAL FOR THE FAITH. SO TOO HAVE I LOST A GREAT DEAL FOR THE NEPHILIM: MY SIGHT, MY LEG, MY FREEDOM AND MY STANDING AS A TRIBESMAN. I WAS IN THEIR LIBRARIES FOR HOURS ON END, THROUGHOUT MY CAREER. OWYNIST SCRIPTURE I COULD NOT FIND ELSEWHERE WERE PREVALENT WITHIN THEIR LIBRARIES: PONTIFICAL LETTERS TOO. BUT, BEYOND THIS I INTERACTED WITH NOT ONLY THEIR TEXTS, BUT THEIR DRACONIC SELVES AND THEIR DEVOUT. MANY A DAY DID I GO THROUGH THEIR GATES, AND INTO THEIR LIBRARIES, AND CRANE MY NECK UP TO SOME LIZARD A FOOT TALLER THAN I. SO, I WOULD ARGUE, AND TO THE BEST OF MY KNOWLEDGE, THERE IS NO SINGLE CLERGYMAN WHO HAS HAD MORE, OR LONGER EXTENDED, PEACEFUL, INTERACTIONS WITH AZDRAZI THAN I. CREATION, AND FIRST SIN MY FIRST INTERACTION WITH THE AZDRAZI WAS ONE FROM TOR’PRAETH. IT WAS A HERALD, WHOSE NAME I KNOW, WHOSE FACE I KNOW, AND WHOSE THROAT WILL BE FIRST UPON MY BLADE WHEN I AM A FREEMAN ONCE MORE. IN FACT, GIVEN THE STATE OF CURRENT POLITICS, I WOULD SAY IT IS RELEVANT TO REVEAL THIS HERALD TO BE A LURINITE CITIZEN: I FEAR REVEALING ANY BEYOND THIS WOULD HAVE MY QUARRY STOLEN. THEY STRUCK ME WITH CURIOSITY. I WAS CURIOUS. I FOLLOWED THIS HERALD, ALONG WITH TWO OTHERS, OUTSIDE OF NEU VALDEV, WHEN I WAS BUT A HEDGE KNIGHT. AND, AFTER PEDDLING ME SOME POTIONS, THEY PROMPTLY BEAT ME TO UNCONSCIOUSNESS. I WAS DRAGGED TO A MOUNTAINTOP, SICKLY BLOOD TRICKLING FROM EVERY INCH OF MY PERSON, AS IT DOES NOW. AND THERE I SAW A TRUTH THAT WOULD TAKE ME TWO DECADES TO RE-LEARN. SEE, THE HERALD, WAS ONE OF THREE EVILDOERS. I WAS THRUST ONTO A STONE, AND WOKE ONLY TO THE CLEAVING OF MY LEG FROM MY HIP. I SAW TWO: ONE OF HEXICANUM, ONE OF TOR’PRAETH. THEN, I SAW NONE. PROMPTLY, THE HERALD GRABBED MY SKULL (after I had attempted to bite at the neck of the Iblees-lover) AND DUG HIS PLATED GAUNTLET INTO MY EYES, UNTIL I, ONCE AGAIN, SUCCUMBED TO MY BLEEDING. IN AN ODD ACT OF MERCY, OR RATHER, DESIRE FOR INFAMY, I WAS DROPPED UPON THE GATES OF NEU VALDEV. ONLY THE VICAR OF GOD GRANTED ME MY LEG AND MY SIGHT. MANY YEARS AFTER, THEN, DID I VENTURE TO TOR’PRAETH. WHY? I WAS CURIOUS. I HAD SEEN AN EYE OF AZDROMOTH ETCHED INTO THE ESHTAELITE CHURCH OF LURIN. A PLACE OF SEEMING PURITY, DEFACED. AND SO I WAS GIVEN AN UM’EI, SOME ESOTERIC RIDDLE, AND SO I WAS GRANTED ENTRY, AND SO I SAW HIM AGAIN. THE VERY HERALD. AND HE SHOWED REMORSE, BUT HE KNEW HIS CRIME, AND HE WITHHELD IT: HE NEVER CONFESSED TO THOSE ABOVE HIM. THEREIN MY POINT. EMBRACE YOUR KOBOLDHOOD. YOU ARE NOT MEN. YOU WILL NEVER BE MEN. YOU FORSOOK YOUR G-DLILY-ORDAINED MANHOOD WHEN YOU KILLED YOURSELVES, AND CHOSE TO BE BIRTHED OF ASH, AND NOT G-D. THIS IS THE FIRST AZDRAZI SIN. IN THE TABERNACLE OF HOREN THERE IS NO ROOM FOR A SWORD. THERE IS ROOM FOR MALIN, THERE IS ROOM FOR KRUG, THERE IS ROOM FOR URGUAN, BUT THERE IS NO ROOM FOR A SWORD. YOU ARE WEAPONS. WHY HIDE IT? WAS YOUR CREATION NOT EVIDENCE ENOUGH? FOR WHEN AZDROMOTH CAME ONTO THE STUDENT ERESAR, A NAME I HOPE NONE DEVOUT READING THIS KNOW, IT WAS TO FURTHER HIS OWN GOALS. SELFISHLY. BEFORE ADELMAR CONFISCATED IT, ONE OF YOU LIZARDMEN WRAPPED A TREATISE AROUND MY BARS. ONE BY THE AN-GHO. ONE ASKING WHY WE, SONS OF MAN, HATE THE DRAGON. WE DO NOT HATE THE DRAGON. WE HATE THE HERETIC. WE HATE THE EVILDOER. WE HATE THE SINNER, AND WE HATE THE ABOMINATION OF THE DEMONIC. THIS IS YOUR FIRST SIN, NEPHILIM*. YOUR CREATION. YOUR ABANDONMENT OF MORTALITY IN FAVOR OF AMBITION. ALL AMBITION, ALL FEATS, ALL GRANDEUR, PALES IN COMPARISON TO THE LORD. KNOW HUMILITY, AND KNOW MORTALITY. FOR ALL OF YOU, ALMOST, YOU DID THIS KNOWING YOU WOULD ACCEPT THE TAINT OF AZDROMOTH UPON YOUR SOUL. AND NOW YOU TRY TO RENEGE YOUR BELIEFS, CLAIMING YOU WERE ALWAYS GOOD? WHY, THEN, ACCEPT THE TOUCH OF IBLEES? BUT YOU HAVE SOOK PENANCE, AN-GHO, IF FOR NOTHING ELSE, FOR THIS. *Your first Sin as Azdrazi. You, of course, prior to your death, were all Men, prone and victims to the Sin of all Man, that of the First Woman, and that of the Saulican, and that curse of Iblees. WORSHIP, AND SECOND SIN FEAR NOT, ABOMINATION. AS SAID YOUR PRINCE, THE LORD IS MERCIFUL. EVEN IF YOU WERE BORN DEMONICALLY, AND YOU ARE ABOMINATIONS, AFFRONTS TO G-D, G-D IS ALL LOVING. HIS MERCY KNOWS NO BOUNDS, AND HIS JUSTICE IS THE TRUE JUSTICE. HIS ORDER IS THE TRUE ORDER. HIS FATE IS THE TRUE FATE. HIS CONVICTION IS THE TRUE CONVICTION. THUS, NEPHILIM, WHY WORSHIP YOUR FATHER ANY MORE THAN I WORSHIP MINE? HE BROUGHT ME TO LIFE, AND FOR THIS, HE IS DUE NOTHING MORE THAN HE OWES ME. HOWEVER, ANTITHETICALLY, YOUR FATHER DOES OWE YOU, AZDRAZI. AND YOU DO OWE HIM. THIS IS, IN AND OF ITSELF, SINFUL, AND QUITE FRANKLY, HYPOCRITICAL. IF AZDROMOTH CALLS FOR THE ABANDONMENT OF AENGULDAEMONIC INFLUENCE UPON THE PLANE - A VIRTUOUS GOAL NO DOUBT - THEN HE SHOULD FOLLOW THROUGH, AND ASCEND TO HIS REALM ALL HIS HERALDS, AND ALL HIS NEPHILIM. BUT, HE DOES NOT. WHEREAS THE ST. ARCHANGEL MICHAEL, AND THE ST. ANGEL RAGUEL, REBUKE WORSHIP, DISALLOWING IT TO THEIR STUDENTS, AZDROMOTH DOES NOT. BUT, I HEAR YOU SAY, DEAR LIZARD, MY FATHER DOES NOT CALL FOR WORSHIP! BUT IT DOES NOT MATTER THAT HE DOES NOT CALL FOR IT, IT MATTERS THAT HE ALLOWS IT, AND DOES NOT SCOLD YOU FOR PARTAKING IN IT. IN HIS PRIDE, HE HAS FALLEN FROM ANGELHOOD, WHICH HE CAN MOST CERTAINLY RETURN TO WITH THE ABANDONMENT OF HIS EGO, AND BECOME WHAT HE ALWAYS HAS BEEN: DEMON. SO PRINCE, IT IS NOT DEMON WE CALL YOU, BUT YOUR FATHER, AND IT IS NOT DRAGON WE CALL YOU, BUT HERETIC. YOU ARE THE LEADER OF YOUR FLOCK, PRINCE. THERE ARE CANONISTS, ONCE GOOD, ONCE DEVOUT OWYNISTS IN YOUR FLOCK. AS THE LORD GALAHAD SINS THROUGH HIS REFUSAL TO EXULT THE PROSELYTISATION OF OWYN, SO TOO DO YOU SIN BY ALLOWING THE WORSHIP OF YOUR ‘FATHER’, THOUGH I WOULD RATHER USE THE TERM ‘Creator per imitationem’. SO YOUR SECOND SIN, KOBOLD, IS THAT OF HEATHEN WORSHIP, AND ALLOWING THE SAULICAN SERPENT TO WHISPER LIES INTO YOUR EARS. IF YOUR FATHER DOES NOT DEMAND WORSHIP, DO NOT WORSHIP HIM. IF THOSE AMONG YOU WORSHIP HIM, SILENCE THEM, AND DELIVER THEM AS AS PENITENT. HE IS NOT YOUR FATHER. YOU CHOSE TO BE BIRTHED BY A DRAKE THAT KILLED COUNTLESS MILLIONS. YOU CHOSE TO DENY DEATH. AND YOU CHOSE TO BE ABOMINATIONS. AND FOR THAT, YOU ARE CULPABLE FOR THE SINS OF YOUR FATHER. IF I CHOOSE TO SWEAR MYSELF ETERNALLY AND IMMORTALLY TO A LORD THAT I KNOW IS SWORN TO THE DECEIVER, AM I NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THAT? IF YOU WISH TO FEIGN IGNORANCE, DO SO, BUT DO SO AT RISK OF DISCREDITING YOURSELVES AS SCHOLARS. TO SWEAR YOURSELF WILFULLY UNDER A MASTER WHO DIRECTLY SOUGHT RUIN, FOR THE SOLE PURPOSE OF GAINING POWER, OR FURTHERING THAT VERY GOAL OF UTTER DESTRUCTION; LACK OF ORDER; DISDAIN AGAINST THE PALADINS; YOU RENDER YOURSELVES JUST AS WRONG AS THE X*NNITES YOU SWORE TO DESTROY. DECEPTION, AND THIRD SIN I AM ADRIAN OF ASCALON. I AM RAGUELMAN. I AM PAN SLAWOMIR LIS. I AM ILDRIUNN OF ALDRIC’S MILL. I AM LUCIEN ALDRICSON; LUKAS VON BERKHOVEN. YET, THE FIRST THREE NAMES I GAVE, ARE NOT MY NAMES AT ALL. RATHER, THEY ARE LIES. THEY ARE DECEPTION. I MORPH MYSELF INTO ANOTHER MAN, INTO ANOTHER FORM, SO I MAY CONTINUE MY WORK. I CONSULTED SUCH A MATTER WITH THE PATRIARCH VILLORIK MANY YEARS AGO, WHO SAID THAT SO LONG AS I DID THE LORD’S WILL WHILE IN THESE FORMS, ANY HARM I DID THROUGH DECEPTION WAS REDEEMED. YET, YOU DECEIVE. I KNOW YOU TO DECEIVE. IN THE SAME PIECE I ADDRESSED EARLIER, ONE ‘SETTLING THE DRACONIC QUESTION’ (that somehow arrived in my cell, to Adelmar’s dismay), YOU STATE YOUR LACK OF KNOWLEDGE OF ANY CONSPIRACY. GRANTED, THIS WAS MANY DECADES AGO. I KNOW NOT OF ANY CONSPIRACY. YET, I KNOW THIS: YOUR NEPHILIM ARE EMBEDDED INTO GOVERNMENTS ACROSS AEVOS. YOUR NEPHILIM SPEAK WITH THE VAGYARS, YOUR NEPHILIM WORK WITH THE VAGYARS. YOUR HERALDS ARE SPREAD ACROSS AEVOS, HIGH RANKING CLAN MEMBERS, LANDOWNERS, SECESSIONISTS, COMMANDERS. THEY ARE HIDDEN. WHY ARE THEY HIDDEN, PRINCE? WHY ARE YOU NOT PROUD OF WHAT YOU ARE? YOU ARE CORRECT. YOU ARE NOT MAN. YOU ARE NOT LIKE US. YOU ARE LIKE DRAGON. WHY DO YOU HIDE AMONG US? WHY DO YOU CLING ONTO YOUR HUMANITY, THAT WHICH YOU FORSOOK WHEN YOU KILLED YOURSELVES? BECAUSE, FUNDAMENTALLY, AS I DID WHEN I WROTE MY FIRST PIECE ON THE AZDRAZI, YOU KNOW THAT WHAT YOU DO IS WRONG. YOU KNOW THAT TO LIE, TO DECEIVE, TO LEAD THE WORLD TO BELIEVE YOU ARE NOT WHAT YOU ARE IS INHERENTLY WRONG. I UNDERSTAND, THOUGH; I UNDERSTAND IF YOU REVEAL YOURSELVES YOUR POWER WILL SLIP. YOU SPEAK OF THE MANIFESTATIONS OF SCHEMES OF YOUR BROTHERS AS IF YOU DO NOT SHEPHERD THEM, AN-GHO. YOU COMPARED YOURSELF AS LEADER OF YOUR FLOCK, AS RO’EH TZON IS LEADER OF OURS. DO YOU FEEL ASHAMED WHEN HIS HOLINESS REINS IN THE SINNER, THE WARMONGER, THE SCHEMER, AND YOU SIT IDLY WHILE YOUR BROTHERS SIN? IF NOT SIN, STRAY FROM THE PATH THAT YOUR FATHER SO DILIGENTLY SET? IT IS NOT YOUR POWER THAT IS BEING LOST SHOULD YOUR BROTHERS REVEAL THEMSELVES, SO I RESPECT YOU, PRINCE. IT IS NOT YOURS TO LOSE, SO IT SHOULD NOT BE YOURS TO ENFORCE: BUT IT SHOULD. YOU LEAD YOUR FLOCK. LEAD THEM WELL, OR DO NOT LEAD THEM AT ALL. IN THE SAME PIECE, IN THE SAME VEIN YOU TOLD ME YOU WOULD SERVE MAN, YOU PRESENTED YOURSELVES AS PENITENTS. YOU ARE NOT PENITENT, NO MATTER HOW MUCH YOU ASSURE US YOU ARE. JUST AS WE GENERALIZE THE EVIL IN THE NEPHILIM, AND YOU CRITIQUE THIS, SAYING IF ONE MAN ERRS, IS ALL MAN SINFUL? YES! BUT THEN SIMULTANEOUSLY, YOU WISH US TO BELIEVE THE PENITENT FEW KOBOLDS, YOURSELF INCLUDED, SHOULD BE REPRESENTATIVE OF KOBOLDKIND AS A WHOLE! WHY? WHY NOT SEE YOU ALL AS A COLLECTIVE EVIL, BUT THEN DO SEE YOU ALL AS A COLLECTIVE GOOD? CULL YOUR HERD PRINCE. CULL THE SINNER, CULL THE DECEIVER, CULL THE HERETIC, AND SHOW YOUR FLOCK TO BE A PENITENT FLOCK. THEY ARE DECEIVERS, SERVANTS OF A ONCE-SERVANT OF THE DECEIVER. SO LONG AS YOU WALK IN SKIN NOT YOURS, SO LONG AS YOU PARTICIPATE IN GOVERNMENTS NOT YOURS, CULTURES NOT YOURS, TONGUES NOT YOURS, WARS NOT YOURS, YOU ARE SINFUL. AS SAUL TOOK THE GUISE OF HOREN BY IBLEES’ WILL, SO TOO DO YOU FRAME YOURSELVES AS EVERYMEN. THE COMMON MAN SECRETLY BEING AZDRAZI IS JUST AS HARMFUL TO THE OPERATION OF SOCIETY AS THE DECEPTION OF LIZARD LEADERS IS. YOU INSTILL DOUBT, AND UNCERTAINTY AMONG MAN TO HIS FELLOW MAN. THE VERY WHISPERS OF SAUL. REVEAL YOURSELVES. YOU ARE CORRECT, PRINCE. WAVES OF SWORDS AND ARROWS WILL CRASH UPON YOUR SCALES AS SOON AS YOU DO. IT WILL HURT, WOE! AND YOU WILL PERISH MANY TIMES. BUT YOU DO NOT PERISH, PRINCE. YOUR PEOPLE DO NOT PERISH. YOUR KINGDOM, YOUR KING, YOUR ARMIES, YOUR VASSALS, YOUR LANDS. NEAR NONE PERISH. SO BE PENITENT. SEEK PENANCE. DO YOUR PENANCE FOR THIS SIN, AND STOP. HOW IS IT VIRTUOUS TO LIVE AS SAUL, AND LIE, AND SAY YOU ARE NOT WHAT YOU ARE? CONCLUSION I STRIVE TO LIVE IN AS TRUE OF AN IMITATION OF THE EXALTED AS I POSSIBLY CAN. I STRIVE TO BE MERCIFUL, I STRIVE TO BE FORGIVEFUL, AND SO I FORGAVE YOU, PRINCE, WHEN YOUR MEN CHOPPED ME TO BITS. AND SO I FORGAVE YOU, WHEN I WAS THREATENED, AGAIN, AND AGAIN, WITHIN YOUR HALLS, FOR I TRUSTED YOU. FOR I FORGAVE. ALL MAN CAN FORGIVE. YET, WE CANNOT FORGIVE A THING THAT DOES NOT WANT TO CHANGE. YOU DO NOT CHANGE, YOU, OR YOUR FLOCK, PRINCE. YOU MERELY SAY, ‘TAKE US AS WE ARE, O’ MAN! WIELD US!’ YOU TALK OF THE PACT OF HOREN. OF DRAGON STOOD SENTRY OUTSIDE JOHANNESBURG, A SIGHT I WAS NEVER ALIVE TO SEE. I AM INCLINED TO BELIEVE YOU, YET YOU MUST CHANGE. YOUR BAPTISM, EVEN THOUGH YOU ARE ABOMINATION, IS VALID. CANON LAW IS UNIVERSAL. YOU MUST MERELY ABIDE BY IT. ABIDE BY THE LAW OF PONTIFICAL INKING, WHICH FORBIDS YOUR HERALDS. SPEAK THEIR FLAME INTO LIFE ELSEWISE. BRAND THEIR MINDS WITH KNOWLEDGE AND FERVOR, AND NOT THEIR BODIES IN RECONDITE ETCHINGS. BAPTISM IS NEVER DISSOLVED, SAVE BY THE COMMAND OF RO’EH TZON OR THE INCUMBENT BEARER OF THE LAUREL OF HOREN HIMSELF. WHILE YOUR HEART MAY HAVE SEEMINGLY BEGUN TO BEAT PURE, AND MERCIFULLY, THE HEARTS OF YOUR PEOPLE DO NOT. THE HEARTS OF YOUR PEOPLE BURN WITH THE AMBITION OF THEIR FATHER, THEIR MAWS CACKLE WITH HIS PRIDE. THIS, ABOVE ALL, IS YOUR FATAL FLAW. YOU MUST TEACH YOURSELF, AND YOUR PEOPLE, TO BE HUMBLE. YET, DESPITE ALL YOUR DESPERATE DESIRE TO BECOME A PENITENT, PRINCE, YOUR PEOPLE PROVE UNWILLING TO CHANGE. FOR THIS, I DO NOT HATE YOU. I PITY YOU. I PITY YOUR IMMORTALITY. I PITY YOUR BANISHMENT FROM THE SKIES. AND IN PITY, I IMPLORE YOU TO ROUSE CHANGE FROM SLEEPING STONE. YOU HAVE MADE YOURSELF A LAYMAN. SO, PRINCE, I DO NOT HATE YOU, BUT THE HERETIC IN YOUR RANKS, AS I HOPE FATHER TREVOR DID NOT HATE YOU, BUT THE HERETICS OF HIS TIME. IN READING HIS WORKS, I SEE MUCH OF HIM IN ME, AND MUCH OF ME IN HIM. WE KNOW YOUR SIN. NOW, YOU KNOW YOUR SIN. ADDRESS IT, LAYMAN OF THE FAITH. BECOME THE PENITENT YOU SO DESIRE TO BE, AND CHANGE. ABANDON WORSHIP OF YOUR FATHER, AND HAVE YOUR BROTHERS ABANDON IT, OR SEE YOUR KIN SLAUGHTERED FOREVER, AND EVER, BE IT BY THE CONCORDIAT, OR BY CANONDOM. THERE IS NO PEACE IN STAGNATION AND INACTION. THERE IS NO REDEMPTION IN IMMUTABILITY. YOU MUST CHANGE OR YOU WILL BE FOREVER AS YOU ARE: NOT DAMNED, NOR FORGIVEN, BUT LOST. MAY THE LORD GRANT YOU THE WISDOM TO SEE CLEARLY IN HIS INFINITE MERCY, AND SHOW YOU THE PATH TO SALVATION. LUCIEN ☺

‡ THE JUSTICE OF RAGUEL ‡ Crashing down, came blue-hued sword, Head wheeling from body beheaded, What was once fire became ash, And what was ash became fire, For Khâzvalikaar; a flame that does not go out, Wept did Azdromoth’s kin, A spirit of fire, a martyr, Ishirem. ‡ ‡ THE BAPTISM OF THE AN-GHO ‡ Waters pool down, Taste of hate upon tears, Turn to blood into the pool from blue-hued sword, Waters of Gamesh, red from sacrifice, Forgiveness in the eyes, Of washed An-Gho, Baptised by fire-wreathed Raguel, “All things turn to Ash;” spoke the Prince There danced the fear of death in Heaven’s voice, Retribution howled. Fire, fire in the Holy See. ‡ ‡ THE RETRIBUTION ‡ You turned upon our Prince as he bent before your Church. Accusing him of marring the Waters of Gamesh, you spilled his own blood just as he was baptised and soiled the waters of your baptismal red. He may not be a Man, but he is yet a Canonist now. Our Prince may have forgiven you as your sword hacked at him, but we did not. Two of us were destroyed at your feet. Two bent before you for retribution, in the name of that thing named Grace, and here called your angel; “Cleanse them all.” Did you cleanse us? Fire swept your halls. Shrieks filled them. Terror danced in your bones, you swung swords at invisible foes, angels bled. You barred your gates, counting your dead. We grated at your gates, calling vengeance for our own. We would have stayed our swords, but wrath rules your hearts. We willingly surrendered the two of our own. And yet before our loss, defeat was on your tongues. The sons of Azdromoth’s Conviction remained as it was deeply instilled within them. It was preordained. This was Fate. One could only ponder, did the wise Dragur have this in mind? When he offered Horen many of his sons to serve the father of MAN zealously? We would serve you, but where does Justice end? Ash? Will you not make Churches in our houses? Will you not make baptismal of us all? Or will it all be red as the Waters of Gamesh stained with our Prince’s blood? ‡ Credits: KindEmperor - Writing Karim - Formatting Astrophysical - Review Jentos - Review

The Blacksmith On a moonlit night, some five hundred years ago, an elven child was born. Unloved by his parents, the boy was left to die in the cold, where he was found by a kindly blacksmith and his wife. Beneath a black mountain, in a great city of fire and iron, that boy was raised with love and kindness. He was taught in his father's ways, aiding him in the forge by the time he was but five winters old. He grew tall and strong there, and he learned a good, valuable skill, one which he would refine over the course of the many years to come. But it did not last, for nothing good can last in this world. The greedy lords of the city grew jealous of the father's skill, they despised his kindness and that he was loved by all who met him. Hatching a sinister plan, the vile wretches had the boy's family slain, with him as the only unlucky survivor. A boy of twelve winters was enslaved and made to do work for the lords, his skin darkened with coal and ash, blistering from the heat and burned by the fire. His hands and feet bleeding from the roughness of his environs, the boy was chained and beaten into submission, for there was naught he could do. Until the day came, and the boy had become a man. Despite their best efforts to break him, the lords had unwittingly tempered the boy like the metals they had him work. Tall as an oak and strong as an ox, the man had ever despised the wretched things that took his family. And when the day came that an earthquake shook the mountain, he saw his chance. Not just to escape, but to enact vengeance. For you see, the man was no fool, he knew that open rebellion would surely see him slain. So he'd waited, and he'd prepared. Over the years of his imprisonment, he had saved every scrap that another would have tossed aside, and fashioned it into a blade. It was not blade one would call beautiful, it was an ugly, terrible thing, and certainly not a blade one would consider good. With his gaolers distracted, the man broke from his cell. Amidst the collapsing city, overflowing with the magmatic currents that sat beneath the mountain, the man hunted down those who had wronged him. He killed them all. Like a raging whirlwind, he tore through the lords, who had grown fat and old. As he stood over the last of them, his sword bent and broken, the city finally breathed its last. Barely, he made it out, fleeing the site of his sorrow. He crossed the frigid wastes of his homeland, until he reached the sealine. There, he bought passage to another land with the little wealth he'd managed to take from the slain lords, and he left his homeland, nevermore to return. For many moons they sailed, until the ship was faced with a terrible storm that saw them shipwrecked. When the boy came to, he found himself in a strange, cold land. He hid and scavenged to survive, until he was caught by some local soldiers. He was held prisoner until they could think of what to do with him. It was decided that he should be put to work. Unlike his prior captors however, the soldiers treated the man fairly, at times even with kindness. He befriended them, and he learned from them their language and their customs. When his service was fulfilled, he stayed with them for some years. Confined as he had always been, the man yearned to wander, to explore, and he did. He left his friends behind, and walked the many roads of the realms, until he arrived in the city of New Reza. He like the city, and its people, so he stayed. Enlisting in the Brotherhood of Saint Karl, the man served the kingdom for many years as a soldier and blacksmith. He made many friends, and lost them again, as is the curse of the long-lived. He found love, he married, and he had a son. The man even became a knight, earning the privilege of squireship as reward for his deeds during the Siege of Aegrothond, where he slew one of the Inferi commanders in single combat. As knight, the man served ever loyally, though at times his temper got the better of him. He took a squire, a young commoner named Markus, and the boy was as a son to him. But it did not last, for nothing good can last in this world. Markus was taken from him, slain and buried whilst the man was absent on a quest. The man wept at his son's grave for days, raging at the world that had taken Markus well before his time, whilst the man was allowed to grow old. With this final indignity, the man came to a choice. He petitioned the king, coming close to begging, and was honourably released from his oath. He wandered the realms, lost and broken. His good wife came with him, whilst their son struck out on his own, though never heard from again. They came to Norland, and it did not last. They came to Sutica, and it did not last. They came to Haelun'or, and it did not last. Finally, they came to the city of the Mali'Fenn, underneath which the Mali'Ker had also made their home. In this cold realm, which the man almost likened to his home, he served, almost taking faith, though he did not in the end. Then, all changed. It changed when the man met him. The Son of Azdromoth. The ancient Nephilim Balthazar. The two formed an unlikely friendship, and Balthazar took the man to the Academy of his brother Morur'ei. There, the man met many beings, mortal and not. He met seekers, heralds, ordained ones and the mighty Nephilim. Morur'ei, Vothdrem, and even the three-eyed Prince, the Prophet, the An-Gho. In awe at them all, the man however held Balthazar in the greatest regard, and in turn the Justiciar taught the man. He branded the man's chest, which now bore the flaming eye of Azdromoth, and the man became a Herald. The Herald The Herald served loyally, and he was taught the ways of Azdromoth in turn. Never an esoteric being, the Herald focused his service on the practical things. He fought, he forged, and he learned. When Vothdrem rebelled against the An-Gho, the Herald slew him, though the Nephilim would ultimately receive final judgement at the hands of his Father. His Father, the Titan, the King who never was, Azdromoth. The Herald knew that Azdromoth was a lord he could serve, a worthy King. And so he did for many years, until he received further glory, being ordained by the brothers Morur'ei and Balthazar. It was during this time that the Herald's wife, untrusting of his choices, would leave his side. Afterwards, the Herald felt hollow, and he spent his days in the forge, hammering away at iron and steel to vent his frustrations. And then came the Cloudbreaker, the mighty dragon. The servants and children of Azdromoth would attempt to bring the Cloudbreaker to their side, granting the dragon wealth and a magnificent gift from Azdromoth. But it did not last, for the Cloudbreaker was slain by an infernal terror. A terrible worm, that wrestled with the Cloudbreaker and ultimately emerged the victor. And as if this was not a bitter enough thing, the Cloudbreaker was reborn through foul necromantic magicks. So the realms united, and a team was formed. The Herald was part of that team, having earned the honour in virtuous combat with other heralds. For his victory, he was granted a nail, one of the An-Gho's cruel tears, and his brow was marked with a golden point by the Inquisitor Aulkhorian. The team of the united realms would seek out the heart of the abomination that the Cloudbreaker had become, and destroy it. And the Herald continued to serve, as he always had, as he always would. For the Herald was many things. He was headstrong and stoic, violent and bellicose, but he was always loyal. He even found love once more, in a woman named Siria. But it did not last, for nothing good can last in this world. In the end, it was this loyalty that saw him make a request of Balthazar. A duel. For the Herald had never been bested in single combat, and he wished to test himself against his master. In truth, both knew the Herald would lose. How could a man defeat a dragon, after all? The request was made, and so granted. It was a terrible sight to behold. Balthazar, very much loving his apprentice, would not befoul the Herald's request by holding back, and destroyed the Herald in combat. Balthazar first disarmed the Herald, then battered his armour to scrap. He took hold of the Herald's helmeted head and opened his maw. The last thing the Herald saw that day was fire. The last thing he felt that day was pain. The flames ravaged the Herald, hungrily burning away at the armour until it was melting, fusing itself to the Herald's face. Then Balthazar tore away the helmet, and the Herald's skin with it. In his cruel mercy, Balthazar healed the Herald, saving his life, but scarring him for the rest of his days. He granted a crown to the Herald, a relic from the scorched herald Maerec. And still, the Herald served. He fought, he killed, and he bled. His reward was an orb of sacred metal, filled with vibrant flames, and three sacred tasks from Ut'torvioth, that which had been Morur'ei. Over the course of years, the man fulfilled these trials. He slew a Dreadknight, and forged from its remnants a mighty axe. He uncovered the secret at the heart of Asioth. And he ventured out into the Ashlands with nothing but the cloth on his back, discovering a thing of his father, lost to him so many years ago. He reported his success, and he was rewarded. His reward was the Death. The Death that was the Birth of the Forgelord. The Forgelord As the Herald burned, he gave his body over to something greater. From the flames of his pyre, the creature Vedyolthur emerged, clad in scales of ebon and maroon, bearing a crown of horns in the same hues. The creature was at once familiar and unfamiliar with the world around it, and the people in its presence. It wandered the realms once more, as had the Herald so long ago, a habit it would never lose. Once it had found itself, it returned, taking up the mantle of Forgelord. For what the Herald could do, the Nephilim could only do better. And it did. Blades that were as kings amongst their kind were created, armour that could weather any assault. The Forgelord learned and improved, coming to know the secrets of forging any metal in the realms, barring those that required the hand of mages. Lunarite, Azhl, Boomsteel, Dracanium, Bluesteel and even Carbarum, it could forge them all, and its flames burned bright. Then came Apotheosis. At its brothers sides, and with the support of the heralds and seekers, did the Forgelord make war against the False Sun and its blind followers. Many fought, many died. The Forgelord and its kin ventured to their Father's citadel, where they killed invaders and cleansed corruption from their ancient siblings. They liberated the foundries of Tor'Galend and it was the Forgelord who discovered a most magnificent sight. Dracanium, the sacred metal formed from the remains of Dragons. It was from this metal that the Forgelord would fashion for itself a great hammer. The Burning Hand, Urdrakule. A singular piece, crafted from the remains of Vulkan, the Lord of Drakes. The hammer whispered to the Forgelord, offering wisdom and knowledge, and the two fought well under the banners of Azdromoth. Countless servants of the False Sun were reduced to bits of metal and bloody chunks under their assault. And then came Azdromoth. The Titan, The King-Father. The False Sun and He did battle, and with the help of an unforeseen ally, did He win. He devoured the False Sun, ascending in its place. The Forgelord wept with joy as his Father, his King-of-Ages succeeded. But it did not last, for nothing good can last in this world. The End Hollow. The Forgelord felt hollow in the absence of its Father, its Lord. Vedyolthur yearned to be at His side once again. There was only one thing that kept the Forgelord from joining the Titan in his new realm. The promise of another piece of knowledge. A new metal, Argentum. A new milestone to add to its masterdom of the forge. And so it did. It worked for the Darkqueen, over the course of years, and finally it learned. The last bit of lore was finally learned. By this time, the Forgelord had no equals in the realms of men, for surely only the divine and their counterparts could ever hope to outdo one such as Vedyolthur, the leal Blacksmith of the King Who Is. As the others, greedy piglets suckling at the teat of victory, left with their spoils, the Forgelord took aside one of its brothers. The Serpent of the Seas, mighty Elathion. It was to Elathion that Vedyolthur would bequeath its will. With its will in good hands, the creature Vedyolthur spoke, for one last time. Its words rung out through the vaunted halls of Tor'Praeth like the clear sound of a bell. "I go now to the Hall of my Father, in whose might company I shall not be ashamed." Its last words still sounding throughout the might spire, Vedyolthur encased itself in a maelstrom of fire, red as blood and bright as the sun. When the flames subsided, there stood a wondrous sight. A Dragon, bedecked in a coat of scales the black of midnight, its crown a nest of horns of metallic darkness, slowly morphing into a deep maroon toward their points. Above each of these eight horns floated a small red flame, bearing the same hue as the maelstrom that the Dragon had emerged from. Its claws were like dark red steel, its wings were made from black scales streaked with deep red, and the base of its tail was a dreadful macehead bedecked with spikes. Its eyes were like the sun, blazing with red fire, and that same fire also burned at the centre of its chest, where the flaming eye of Khârn rested. The Dragon let out a fierce roar, one that shook the structure it stood inside of to its foundations. And then, slowly, softly, the Dragon became something else. Or rather, it returned to that which it had once been. Over a short while, one that would seem an eternity, but would be laughably short compared to the eternal slumber to come, the Dragon turned to stone. By the time it was over, there stood the Dragon, rendered in black marble, as detailed as it had been in life, but resting peacefully in the eternal embrace of stone. The First Vedyolthur found itself in an unfamiliar place, clad in the simple trappings of a blacksmith. A lush garden, where trees the colour of warm gold sprawled, whilst rivers and mountains dotted the land. It was a warm place, a kind and gentle place. Though the Nephilim had never been here before, it felt like home. It wandered for a while, as it always had. It came across a small stream and tasted the water. It was fresh and clear, and for the first time in its life, Vedyolthur had consumed something that did not taste like ash. Vedyolthur spent some more time wandering across the land, feeling the grass on its bare feet. It came across a wonderous thing. Other Nephilim, its kin of old. They welcomed their younger brother, and lead him to a clearing, bidding him to wait as they left. The Nephilim waited, though it could not clearly tell for how long. This place seemed and eternal one, the passage of time unimportant. It was then that a figure stepped into the light of the clearing. It was the Titan. Azdromoth smiled as His child came to kneel before Him. He placed a gentle hand on the top of Vedyolthur's head, and bade him welcome to His realm, the first to enter since His ascension. Vedyolthur smiled. It had come home.

AN EVALUATION OF THE DRAGONKIN, ONCE MORE PENANCE, REPENTANCE, REDEMPTION; THESE THREE TRUTHS ARE CARRIED WITH EVERY HOLY SER TO APPLY WHERE THEY COULD BE APPLIED. AND SO, I WOULD HOPE THEY CAN EQUALLY SERVE TO ALL PIOUS AND VIRTUOUS READERS OF THE HIGH PRIEST’S FLEPIR FLOCK. THUS, I DO NOT QUESTION THE HOLY PONTIFICAL LAW I ENFORCED OF HIS HOLINESS PONTIFF SIXTUS VI. BUT, EVEN THIS LAW WAS QUESTIONED IN CURIA, AND TO THIS DAY, IS QUESTIONED, UNANSWERED BY ANY SUCCESSOR. I HAVE BEEN ACCOSTED, ASSAULTED, HAD SLIGHTS THROWN AT ME, AND MY LIFE THREATENED FOR MY THESES THUS FAR. DESPITE THIS, I HAVE REBUKED MY PREVIOUS FINDINGS, AND DESPITE THIS REUBKING, I HAVE FOUND NO LOGICAL REASON TO DO SO. THE NEPHILIM ARE REDEEMABLE, AS DUE PENANCE DECREES. ONE HORENITE DRAGONBORN MUST BE REDEEMED TO START A HOLY LINEAGE IN DEFENCE OF THE TRIBE OF HOREN, AND IN DEFENCE OF THE FAITH OWYN SWORE US TO HOLD. THIS IS THE TRUTH I HAVE TO COME SETTLE UPON. I BELIEVE THAT THE ILK OF THE AN-GHO ARE TAINTED BY HERESY, BY YEARS OF NEGLECT FROM THE CHURCH. THEY ARE NOT ONLY HEATHENS, AS SOME OF THEM WERE NEVER TRULY PREACHED THE WORD OF GOD THAT WE SONS OF HOREN ARE SWORN TO SPREAD, BUT HERETICS. FORMER MEN AMONG THEIR RANKS, MEN AMONG THEM NOW. I WOULD, AND HAVE INVITED THE AN-GHO FOR DISCUSSIONS WITH OUR MOST HOLY HEAD OF FAITH - AS HAVE I DONE THE INVERSE. HOWEVER, THIS DISCUSSION WILL BEAR NO FRUIT SO LONG AS THE NEPHILIM OF TOR’PRAETH CONTINUE THEIR HERETICAL WORSHIP OF THE DRAGAAR AZDROMOTH. CONTINUATION I have had my debates with many members of the college of Cardinals, had my word thoroughly talked with priests, and passed my own exams. I await ordination whenever his Holiness Fleeperus Primus thinks me fit to accept it. “Heed not the man who says he is holy, merely heed his acts. Should he act with two fingers crossed behind his back, he is surely a Saulican.” Such wisdom was imparted to me, albeit paraphrased, as I did not transcribe the ordeal, in a mass held by Ivan Cardinal Lotharia, a most holy man who additionally hosts lessons for the pious youth in Balian. One such youth is a little Frasier, who I came to know in my tenure as Knight-Captain. Frasier is a good, Waldenian child - through blood, not like myself. He had many questions, all surrounding GOD, when he came to Owynsburg, our Judite keep, and he witnessed, if not aided in the execution of one of the Red Lich’s chief lieutenants. He cheered, then, as he was hung for his crimes. This boy is a boy of GOD. He is pious, and he is sure to go far should he continue to live with virtue. How then, should I answer this boy, when he asks of me, ‘Why are the Nephilim evil?’ With Janus’ ilk, it was their rampant infanticide, as they consumed infants in the masses to further add to Janus’ power. With the unholy Inferi, it is simply their nature. Gaze upon them, and you will see nothing but evil. However, how can such be said for the Nephilim? Who, in all their immortality, are most mentally mortal? They question the same truths we do, they live the same lives we do, and they die the same deaths we do, only to come anew from ash. This, though, I would say, is not death. As a Templar of the Saint Michael may bolster their own skin, or an Oscillit, so too do the Nephilim; as direct children of their father they are entitled to more of his power, they can regenerate and bolster not only their scales, but their entire being. But, alas, we must remember the Blessed Basil. The Blessed Father Basil died for preaching the dangers of the Nephilim, their corruptibility, their proneness to Sin. The Blessed Father Basil was a Cardinal of our own holy Mother Church, slaughtered, in cold blood, by the Azdrazi. But, then, should all man be shunned for the sin of Horen? For the sin of Saul? Should all man be barred from Canondom, struck down upon sight, unable to preach their own word, merely because their brother sinned? Was Joren to die too by Owyn’s Sin because Harren Sinned? I would not argue such a point, and so I do not. I believe the Nephilim, though, have been so long estranged from the Holy Light of the Creator, that they have become laymen. So far, so long, that they have forgotten the lessons they once may have learned as men. For, I remind you, the Nephilim are but that: once-men. Once-men, one may argue, though, may classify much of the Ibleesian scum that plagues all of Creation. The key difference being that the Nephilim are still men. They do still Sin, they do still err, they are still prone to the whispers of the Saulican, but they have been so long rejected the Holy Light of the Lord GOD, that they do not have the tools to fully guard all of their kin against it. I remind you all man are prone to Sin. The Nephilim, as I must constantly restate, are no different. You are all your own individuals, with your own experiences, and your own memories involving the Nephilim. Some Sons of Malin may recall Elvenesse: I was challenged by his eminence Patriarch Villorik, with the Lord-Marshal Ser Caspian Colborn, to explain its burning. And so, I shall. The Malinites of Elvenesse had sworn an oath to guard the Nephilim in their walls. And so they did, until the prince of that then city did break the oath, spilling the secrets of their residence to the legions of the Unholy. And so, to guard the virtuous, to guard his own, the Nephilim came down to raze impiety from that pinnacle of Corruption. This redeemability, which I will constantly refer to, was also seen by good virtuous men of the cloth long after the Nephilim’s brandishing as Sinful by the Church, and long after the efforts of the Blessed Father Basil - I must clarify that I do not invalidate his works. The Blessed Father Basil was beatified for a reason. He was a good, pious man, who was a martyr for the faith against Corrupted Nephilim who listened to the whispers of Iblees. Now, though, the taint of Iblees is gone from Azdromoth, and thus gone from his children. Now, as I am sure the Blessed Father Basil would have agreed, the Nephilim are redeemable. Thus, such is my proposal, both to the good virtuous flepirfolk of Canondom, and the father-worshipping brothers of the Nephilic Prince, the An-Gho. I would suggest, as there is no more I can do but suggest, that one, aspirant or otherwise, come forward. The An Gho, as I remind all good flepir readers, swore to uphold the Pact of Horen; the Nephilim of Tor’Praeth showed such when they rescued the good princess Edith from the unholy claws of Lumbridge. The redeemability of the Nephilim was on sight there for all to see. I was not present myself, but, I ask of you, Templar, I ask of you, crusader, I ask of you, layman: did they not fight beside you? Did they not fell the same Ibleesian foe, upon whom you raised your own sword? I PROPOSE SUCH: Let an acolyte of the Nephilim, or a dragonkin of Tor’Praeth, or a holy man of the cloth, put himself forward to begin a holy lineage sworn exclusively to the Pact of Horen. The legions of Frost, the legions of Iblees, and the Xionist scourge continue to impede on the flepir flock. We must take all precautions, and this selfless servant of the Lord GOD will forsake their eternity in the Seven Skies to protect all Man, to protect the Holy Mother Church, and to protect the sanctity of GOD. With the blessing of the Prince of the Nephilim, the An Gho, and his Holiness, the High Priest Fleeperus Primus, may this selfless Horenite stand as bulwark against all that is Unholy, and usher in a Holy dragonborn after him, and another, after he. To the Prince of the Nephilim, you urged Man to reach out and wield Dragonsblood. This is that call: accept it. To his Holiness, the High Priest Fleeperus Primus, in such trying times as the descent of the St. Raguel the Messenger to invoke Holy flame onto Aaun, a second flame, of our flock, must be lit to protect us all. We all saw, leal servants of GOD, Hanseti vagabonds raiding the innocent, slaughtering our lambs, and attempting to raze the most humble Horenite imitation of the Tabernacle, Gresne. With a HOLY DRACONIC CRUSADER, pledged to the Vicar of GOD, may this never happen again. HOLY SER LUKAS VON BERKHOVEN, ‘the Apsinthion’

Tor-Praeth has ridden. The gates of Lumbridge have been smashed. Fire and sword, victory had already been won. Ishirem-Kaazvalikâr; honored among us, with princess in tow. Numenedain, the Nephilim had come to your aid. Lumbridge, dark of heart ; maleficar - we have left you as ash.

PENANCE FOR A LIE UPON THE TOPIC OF LYING AND SPREADING FALSEHOODS, AND HOW TO REPENT FOR IT, WITH REFERENCE TO THE SCRIPTURES PREFACE To begin a text, thesis, or investigation into any subject, I believe a section as to why the text is being produced is necessary. As such, in any material I publish under my name (or a pseudonym, Adrian of Ascalon) I attach a preface, to explain why I am writing it, and to further allow myself to be challenged. It is fallacious to think of oneself as wise. The more you know, the more you realise you do not know. And so, I invite fellow scholars to do the same: facilitate challenges. Allow your conceived notions to be changed, shifted, corrected - as mine so drastically were. I had intended on writing this piece ever since my confrontation with his Highness Antonius, Crown Prince of the Numenedain outside the steps of the most blessed Cathedral of St-King Caius; I was accosted for a most grievous falsehood I told to two men of an organisation I had previously called home - the Radiant Guard. I know not how these two men found me, considering the seclusion of the keep, but they did. When they did, and saw me through the gates of the Nephilic keep, I told my lie. I was there willingly, as a scholar, as a theologian, as an ally, and yet I lied. I told them, thinking to protect myself, that I had been captured by heralds, and was in dire need of rescue. This was a complete fabrication. I could have left whenever I wanted. I had simply thought to protect myself, and my career - my life - by lying, selfishly disregarding the threats I posed to the two guardsmen, and whomever they rallied, as well as the Azdrazi. They had committed no such sin (kidnapping a monastic), and yet I lied and wedged a further gap between them and Canondom, merely to preserve my name from attribution to their cause (which I threw away only a few days later). Though I do not think such is sufficient penance, apologising, I shall formally do so here regardless. To the Radiant Guardsmen: I apologise. I knew you to be good men, with likely little knowledge of the Nephilim and their ways. I thought by sheltering you, and myself, I was somehow saving you. This, obviously, was some Saulican justification for a thoroughly stupid deception. To the Nephilim: I apologise. I had no right to do what I did, and yet I did. You accepted me, even if sceptically, into your keep, and allowed me to scour your books, take from your philosophy, and challenge your views. What I did implied shame to be in your keep, implied intent of evil on your part - these are both merely extensions of the lie. THE WEIGHT OF THE SIN OF A LIE Within Man there are an indisputable virtuous few senses. Not to murder, not to lay incestuously, not to lie. Lying is dishonest, and dishonesty is inherently evil. Yet, why is it inherent? I propose, and put forward through proof in the Scriptures, that the Lord GOD has placed these inherent values in the Spirit of Man, through his Light. However, GOD has similarly forbidden and shunned the liar through the words spoken unto his Prophets, the Exalted. Though we have no record of such words being spoken unto Horen, words shunning lies, there is ample evidence in the epistles of Owyn and the books of Godfrey that lying is how we Men perceive it: bad, and rotten with Sin. For instance, Owyn admonishes the Jorenites in their namesake epistle, and in Spirit 2:6 speaks of how lies and deceit have created false images of GOD by construing His word with the words of lesser beings. These construances are lies, and so through lies, the Jorenites felt pain, for there is no pain with GOD, but without. And so, through lying, the Jorenites distanced themselves from GOD and brought upon themselves the pain of being far from Him, and His light. Though, like the Deceiver, lying takes many forms. For one, in Gospel 6:44, as Godfrey allows his subjects to worship him as the Body of GOD, as a literal representation of the Creator rather than merely his Prophet, and a Son of Horen - that which he was. Godfrey did not tell his subjects to do such, he never commanded them as king, but he did not correct them either. And thus did Godfrey lie, not through words, but through omission, and so he lied all the same. And so he rebuked his lie all the same, when he grovelled before GOD and begged for forgiveness. And GOD, in his benevolence, did forgive him, acknowledging that as Man, he was flawed, and that his Sin, just like the Sins of all prophets, would be carried forward. Another of the line of Horen, an ancestor of Godfrey, Harren, lied in a different manner. In the Book of Scattering, Harren has forged Idunia as a strong realm, joined with the armies of the Malinites to have the largest army of all of split Man. And it is with this army that Harren does reconquer the Isthmus of Kramoroe. He does this, but only after making a promise to the Aengul Artifai, that after he had conquered the holiest city between the towers of Aemon and Daemon, that he would accept the laurel and horn, and fast in the Grotto of Gramesh for three days, and accept the Lord’s call. And so Harren’s armies, like Krug’s before it, rife with heresies and Malinite perversions, did sweep through the Isthmus of Kramoroe, the holiest city, and Harren and his armies did feast together for days. When the Isthmus of Kramoroe was taken, however, the Aengul Artifai descended again unto the world, and asked of Harren to fast three days in the Grotto of Gamesh once more. And yet again, Harren delays - this is his lie. Clearly, Harren never held intent to take his father’s mantle and become a prophet of the Lord GOD. Instead, he was content to live among liars, heathens, and twisters of His Light, and so he lied too to the true servants of the Lord GOD. And so, when Harren did eventually venture to the Grotto of Gamesh, it was with a lie at his heart. Harren never wanted to become the Prophet, and to accept, and break his promise, was to lie. We can see the weight of Harren’s sin when his nephew Owyn Godwinson comes to his hall later in his life, illuminated in His Light. Though death was not his penance as judged by the Lord GOD, and was instead punishment brought upon him through Sinful kinslaying. However, Harren is, upon Owyn’s entry, with His light around him, blinded. This is his penance for his rejection of the Lord GOD, and his lies - to be blinded by His Light. Whether the blinding was due to his rejection of the Creator, or his lies, is up to interpretation. I, for one, believe that Harren was blinded as a liar because he saw His truth, and was so overcome with His light, that the Creator blinded him, so he may only ever see truths - the Lord GOD’s truth - again. PENANCE I was instructed to write this reflective piece by Sister Clover, a Curial Officer, and secretary of his Holiness, the High Priest Fleeper I. As a monastic, she was hierarchically unfit to deliver me penance as I confessed my Sin to her, and as a Curial Officer and a long serving devotee of Fleeper-Artorius, I take the penance she serves onto me as valid, or valid enough to guide me until a priest can properly see my confessional. This piece, this investigation of the faith: this is my penance. However, I do not think this piece is sufficient; I think soon, I must blind myself as valid penance for my lies, which could have risked sparking renewed Inquisition, and the death that would surely come to pass with such a thing. I implore, again, all scholars of the faith to reach out and talk to me about this subject, as it is only through the challenging of our ideals that we strengthen them, and our resolve. I make every act I make, and every word I say, with conviction. HOLY SER LUKAS VON BERKHOVEN, the ‘Apsinthion’, GRANDMASTER OF THE ORDER OF THE DRAKEGUARD OF THE BLESSED BASIL

PROCLAMATION OF THE FOUNDING OF THE ORDER OF THE DRAGON 9th OF THE SUN’S SMILE, 2A 192 HOLY SER LUKAS VON BERKHOVEN, THE APSINTHION PREFACE I have, in my years of service to the Mother Church, recognised, at its heart, a fault. It is an organisation that, while it can exist stateless, relies on the recognition of the princes of Canondom to exist, and to exert itself while existing. However neutral, or impartial to this truth the Mother Church may claim to be, in its current state, this results in an unfortunate progression and eternal degradation of Church values as culture, and thus religion is eroded in Canondom as a whole. While the rulership over the tribes, and the laurel of Horen are meant to be separate, and equal, the splintered remnants of Oren have slowly eaten away at this equality, and this integrity. The parts have weighed heavier on the Church than the whole. This is not to say, in any sense, that the Church is weak, but merely that it undeniably holds interest in appealing to the monarchs and princes of Canondom, and in the interest, there is an undeniable stray from the interest of serving the Lord GOD - they are separate. I hope, with the foundation of this chivalric order, that we may ease one aspect of this woe; the squires and knights that will come after me in the fraternitas draconum may protect the pilgrims, the virtuous laymen, and the word of GOD - the innocent, the pure. I am not accusing the Church of not doing such (protection), but its jurisdiction is just that, the Church. There are virtuous laymen across Aevos who, for reasons of politics, avoiding conflict, and preserving the peace, cannot be protected by the Church and its agents. I felt such firsthand as a Judite. My brothers, those who succeed me, will protect them all. THE TEN TENETS May my brothers in arms never falter from this code. As the Vander Code, and the Lucienist Creed do serve the Knights of Vander, and the oaths of Holy Knighthood now, may the values I embed in these words serve chivalry forevermore. I THOU SHALT SHOW VALOUR IN COMBAT. II THOU SHALT SUPPORT THE DISPOSSESSED, AND FIND WEALTH IN CHARITY. III THOU SHALT FIND TORTURE IN CRUELTY, AND ALWAYS REJECT A WRATHFUL ACT. IV THOU SHALT NEVER CAUSE WANTON OFFENCE TO ANOTHER WITHOUT A CHALLENGE. V THOU SHALT NEVER REFUSE A CHALLENGE. VI THOU SHALT LIVE WITH RESPECT, AND SPREAD KINDNESS TO EVERY INCH YOU TREAD. VII THOU SHALT ALWAYS EXTEND FORGIVENESS TO THOSE WHO SEEK IT. VIII THOU SHALT HEAR EVERY WISEMAN, AND EVERY SCHOLAR, AND ALWAYS THINK YOURSELF A FOOL. IX THOU SHALT NEVER BREAK AN OATH YOU SWEAR, AND NEVER SPREAD FALSEHOODS. X THOU SHALT ALWAYS REPENT FOR ANY EVIL WITH TWICE AS MUCH GOOD. HIERARCHY Order is something that should be malleable, not rigid, despite what order itself entails. My structure will reflect such. GRANDMASTER At the front of the Order’s efforts will be a grandmaster, general manager of the Order’s resources, efforts, and doctrine. They will be elected, either from selection by their predecessor, or through a chivalric elective succession process. He will be advised by his banneret knights, with no preference of rank among them. The grandmaster may make one veto per year, but otherwise, merely proposes decisions at the will of a chivalric vote. BANNERET Senior most of the knight hierarchy, and ideally the least numerous, a banneret knight holds no more privileges than any other, and merely advises the grandmaster on matters of management and doctrine. A banneret will be raised through recognition of the grandmaster, or through election by a majority of the current bannerets. RITTER A squire, or other footman similarly recognised for valour, courage, and grand acts may be raised to knighthood. Upon their knighting, and swearing of relevant oaths, they become a knight - a ritter, capable of voting in relevant chivalric assembly. BACHELOR Fresh squires, these are the most inexperienced, usually, of the knighthood. By virtue of this inexperience, they are not granted their vote until deemed worthy by a banneret, or the grandmaster. Otherwise, they are of equal rank and responsibility with the rest. Membership of the order is granted through induction, but induction can only be sworn by knights. It is the expectation, but not the requirement, of squires serving knights of our Order to be knighted, and inducted into our Order. Ranks beyond these three would be merely customary, or purpose-based, say, stablemaster, chief surgeon, quartermaster - and granted accordingly. CALL TO DUTY TO ALL THOSE INSPIRED, CURIOUS, SCEPTICAL, I call you to write to me, Holy Ser Lukas von Berkhoven, for induction, for questioning, for insults. I will see all, hear all, and welcome all. May any - any knight, king, prince, priest, nurse, miller, page - seek to serve GOD as I intend to, and have intended to, for all my life - may you serve Him for all of yours. By any, I mean any: as young as any who can read this, and as old as any who can still use a pen.

AN OPEN LETTER: CARDINAL CALLAHAN, AMONG OTHERS PREAMBLE Before I utter any word as myself, I must first shed my allegiances. And so, I, Lukas von Kretzen, do resign from my position as Knight-Captain of the Poor Fellows-Soldiers of Saint Jude. Naturally, this can only be done through release of my oath from my brother in GOD, and formerly in oath, Lug MacSkaul. He has approved such a request, so I speak not as a Judite in any ideas below. Understandably, this does not come without intense deliberation. My life’s work has been devoted to the faith and the Lord GOD, toward knighthood, honor, and chivalry, as it will continue to be, but, most recently, to the Order of Saint Jude. I simply must focus on this effort wholeheartedly, as I do believe the best interests of the Mother Church are at heart. And so, Cardinal, now we may speak, and know whose hand holds my pen! CALLAHAN Dear Father Callahan, I am overjoyed at the chance to engage in genuine theological debate; our time together has been regrettably sparse. I agree fully that the voice of Owynists should be more heard in the Curia and amongst the Mother Church, just as you suggested Archlector Danzen be brought in as a spectator and contributor to ecclesiastical meetings, but I find brandishing me a Lucienist - implying I am not a devout Owynist - simply harsh. I have done my path twicefold, and I am in the midst of my third repetition now. While I understand it may seem that forgiving Azdromoth after his crimes may be grossly unsevere, and simply by his removal of taint deeming him innocent a remarkably Lucienist approach, I bring up the case of the Saint Micheal, the Archangel, once more. He slew countless, too, more than that, he served on equal footing as Azdromoth at the dragon’s lowest, most tainted state. I acknowledge my initial desire for anonymity to be selfish, and deprecatory to my arguments. It was not out of knowledge my proposals were wrong, but rather the reaction of, well, reactionaries, should they take them as whole truths. I am of the belief that one of the most virtuous acts a man can partake in is emulation of the Exalted, and so I shed my hood. I am Lukas von Kretzen, once Lucien, once Ildriunn, son of Aldric. I was born the fourth son of nine, the sixth child of twelve, and I left to swear fealty to the Tar-Caraneth Aryante and her great house. My misguided haughtiness led me to clash with many of my virtuous Adunian kin, but it was exposure to the Scripture that led that childlike eagerness to believe, and believe more than I ever had. And so I did, and so I do, father. The acts of the honourable Ser Jurkha led me to pursue the values of knighthood more than the title itself; the time came, one day, when Caius Primus saw it fit to rise me as a Holy Ser. My acts have never been political. I have never done anything in the interest of a king, a duke, and I have done very little for myself. What I do, and all I do, is for the Mother Church, and the Lord GOD. The wounds I endure, the men I see die, all pale in comparison to the promise of wandering the Skies. You, father, of all people should understand, then, my will to see the Tribe of Horen protected. Through disunity, we are weak - the Mother Church must grasp our reins and lead us towards more virtuous lives. I hope the scepter you wield reminds you of such with every glint of its gold. Just as the Blessed Gerard was spurred on by the words and sights of Saint Raguel, the Messenger, so am I. Dragon, in this case, is the literal key to the Skies, father. Through Dragon, father, all evils and wicked magicks can be purged from the Earth like the scourge they are, and the Descendants may return to the Skies. The defence of self aside, as that seemed unfortunately - I had thought you would have more etiquette as a renowned orator - the main target of your critique upon my treatise, I would like to address several attacks you made upon my arguments. You have perverted the points I made, and watered them down in order to lessen the rebutting load you must make. I understand it was an introductory letter in staunch opposition to my own, but you provided hardly any points of convincing nature. Your truest reason for denying what I have put forward was merely because you believe the Nephilim, specifically the branch under the An-Gho, to be flawed, evil, and Xionist. Again, I reiterate that asioth is not a religion, and that Xionism is a religion centered around another drake - Mordring. Why would the followers of the firstborn follow his lesser, tainted brother? You conflate Ibleesian, Mystic, with Nephilim. And, of course, the other religions provided are ones I highly doubt number greatly amongst the Nephilim of the An-Gho - in this thinking I could be mistaken, any scholarly Azdrazi happening upon my pieces can freely correct me. You speak of the Nephilim only engaging with the weak of mind, the innocent, and the flepir. Was Horen not a king? Aleksandr, not a king? And are they to be blamed for talking to the innocent? There is no sin in preaching philosophy to an innocent - this in and of itself is not only innocent, but virtuous, as all wisdom is! I will happily engage in debate publicly, in whatever town square will have me, in whatever king may hear me, in whatever council sees me. Your attacks on my character are just that - attacks on character, and not my logic. I am not some genius who has, per happenstance, fallen upon his behind and read these texts! I am a humble knight, and an even humbler scholar. It is only through the works of both Canonist and Azdrazi scholars that I have compiled, and then provided what I perceive to Canondom. You critique my methods of transferring such information, as well. While, truthfully, I did hold some rein of power as Knight-Captain of the Pontifical Guard, it is no position to spread my thoughts and ideas. Knights, first and foremost, before any codes or oaths, are soldiers. How else would you have suggested I undertake such a task? I do not have the backing of the An-Gho, nor the Pontiff, nor the grandmaster, nor my own squire, and I am doubtful, even, of the support of my wife and her family. Admitting you never said such, but I felt was implied, I would like to refute the point that I am doing this for some grander agenda - a most correct assumption. However, the nature of such is not power, domination, ambition, for all greatness pails before the Lord GOD’s, but rather of service to that very greatness. If you gaze upon the princes of Canondom as they are know, and compare them to the times of the Exalted Godfrey, after the Exalted Owyn, most points in history, in all truth, do you call them as virtuous? As united? Every man with an army at his back has formed his own kingdom, every conqueror his holdfast. Disunity weakens the Mother Church; I have seen its effect firsthand. I will contextualise the oaths of Saint Jude, so you may better understand. We have several oaths, but I took the Oath of Judication: an oath dedicated to the investigation, revealing, and upheaval of Ibleesian circles through reporting them to my colleagues. For the sake of ongoing investigations, I will not say much on the matter, but know this, father: our enemies are many, and lay amongst us, by our side in bed. I come to Haense, and see an Uruk perfectly matching the description of Gashadokuro’s lieutenant - what does the Brotherhood do? They doubt the information gathering of a man dedicated to information gathering, a man two seats away from foremost martial and security advisor to the High Pontiff himself, and prate, argue with me until a prince arrives and settles the matter. Under one banner, with one charter, allowing the detainment and investigation of subdued Darkspawn, these situations can be avoided. Swords were drawn to defend this orc - in his DEFENCE! Forgive my digression. I fear, simply, that you think of me still as a flepirknight, as you dubbed me in the clash against the accursed mammoth of the Ogre Lich. In conclusion, I would like to revoke my thanks to the Brigade of Marna. I was uneducated on the matter, and was simply overjoyed to see other men, knights and nobles, no less, thought even vaguely the same as I on the Nephilim. Furthermore, I am open, as I said, to a public debate at a venue of your choosing. THE CRAB My holy father, I have but one thing to plead of you in my departure from the Order of Saint Jude, I would ask that, seeing my departure, you continue my efforts in construction of a cathedral in Lurin. I told such to my grandmaster, but I am unsure if it ever reached the upper echelons of the ecclesiastical hierarchy. The Silver Lubba is a good son of Krug, who seems most friendly, or even accepting of our faith. The Mother Church has an excellent opportunity to reach out. Lurin is a vast land, with many virtuous. Amongst them you will find the Company, who wear masks reminiscent to that which Caius Primus once wore - good men who can help with the construction. LUG Brother, I thank you for releasing me with honor. I thank you more for taking me into your flock, and setting me on a course where I could most directly serve the Church. As a hedge knight, I lost sight of the virtue of charity - I had no home or food after all! You housed me, gave me purpose, and for this I will be eternally indebted. Though I do think I will dedicate the rest of my, hopefully, long life to this cause, should the waters shift, I would most like to re-enter your service. Flame protect you, HOLY SER LUKAS VON KRETZEN THE APSINTHION

A missive is mysteriously dispensed all across Canondom, stuffed into the receptacles of churches, monasteries, cathedrals, and nailed onto the Pontifical Villa! Scandalous. ON ESCHATOLOGY: WHY MUST IT ALL END? PREFACE Eschatology is not so much the study, but rather the ontological reasoning and rationale behind the ultimate Judgement that will befall us all when the Corruptor comes to challenge the Descendants of the four brothers once more. Eschatology is an epistemic investigation into what we, those who live, and those who do not yet see the end times, may expect; the field explores the semiotic, pragmatic, but most of all, the teleological aspect of the end days. Its rather depressive nature as a field has led to an unfortunate ignorance surrounding it. Metacognition is not a trait often attributed to men of our cloak, but it is one we must frequently partake in to strengthen our will. It is through metacognition, that I, a man sworn so holily to our Mother Church, have tried and tested my faith, again, and again. I am no heretic. I am no heathen. I am no non-believer. I have seen the truths of Saint Raguel, messenger of the Lord GOD with mine own eyes, and now I have seen truths again. I have no jurisdiction to do so, but through the erasure of the Corruptor’s taint upon the former drakaar Azdromoth, I would declare him, through proofs I will present within this thesis, devoid of Evil. The teachings of Azdromoth to his children and his coordination, protection, with the Tribe of Horen have led me to the belief, and I hope can lead, in due time, an ecclesiastical council to the belief that he is a pure, devout servant of the Creator, and, our final protector to deliver paradise unto the Righteous. For the rest of this text, as to avoid subconscious prejudicial dismissal, and cognitive biases, I shall refer to Azdromoth as Azariah. Azdromoth is a name many of us may attribute to great flames, great evils, great destruction. Azariah, unshackled from Iblees, is nothing but a servant of our Lord GOD, a true and tested angel, I hope you will come to agree, of His kingdom. I ask you to evaluate Azariah, not Azdromoth - even if they are one and the same. HIS SINS The servants of the Lord GOD are many, but few are those who have stayed true to the hand that nurtured them from nothingness. Our most Holy Mother Church only refers to a limited number of these servants of the heavens, truthfully, as angels. The distinction here, though minor in spelling, is exactly what I wish to debate towards. The Archaengul Malchediel is the Saint Michael the Archangel. The fallen Aengul Xan, was the Demon Janus. Janus, a being who strayed so frequently from the tenets our Father gave onto him, is no angel. To the heathen layman, perhaps he is an aengul, but to the virtuous, he is a demon. The Saint Michael the Archangel, the foremost of GOD’s loyal, worthy servants, had fallen from His grace, subdued by the whispers of the Corruptor. This is the exact fate that befell Azariah. Azariah, like his brother Saint Michael, did not fall to the Corruptor by choice. Is it Sin, for the strongest of all draconic, to defend his kin? In the same error the Saint Michael made, when he was fractured then corrupted, millions of Descendants dead by his blade, so too was Azariah corrupted, twisted into ruin. Do we call the Templars of Malchediel heretics for heeding him? Azariah demands the recognition of that which he knows is true; as servants of the Lord GOD, we must recognise, at the end of all truths, of every truth, is GOD’s. The truths that Azariah preaches are naught but GOD’s. For if every aspect of the Creator is superior to every aspect of everything He created, then every truth He knows, He holds, must be equally superior. It is the way of his former kin, the draconic, to seek out this knowledge. And it is the way of their kin to gather it, to reflect on it, to know. Is it Sin to become learned? To learn more of GOD? In his twisted state, even the pursuit of knowledge that all Dragonkin share was perverted into some divine quest; Asioth, through Azariah’s own telling, through the telling of the Nephilim, even, is no religion - it is philosophy. Through collaboration with our tribe, the Pact of Horen was signed between Azariah, his children, and Men. Though it may have been perceived as broken by Men and the Mother Church, the An-Gho, or the Third Eye of Azariah has assured its continued fulfilment by the Nephilim. This supposed breach of contract was not carried out by a true servant of Azariah, but rather a corrupted Nephilim who swore no fealty to his true flock. And it is so that most crimes of the Azdrazi do occur - corrupted Nephilim led astray. The son should not be punished for the sins of the father, and vice versa. Nor, then, should the son’s brothers be punished for the same sin. One sin I see brought up continuously is deception. Azariah, through his servitude, unwilling or not, imitated the Corruptor in this way. However, it must be said that his actions were still affected by Iblees - sealed, or unsealed. Azariah, though tainted, tempted good men and women with the power and knowledge he could provide. He gave an avenue for Sin to fester. This, no doubt, is Sin, but it is a Sin misnamed. Azariah’s Sin here is not deception, it is tempting, seduction by Sin. Such seduction happens no more. When bound to the Corruptor, Azariah had his fate bound to the most Evil. Now he is free, he has no more Sins to make. HIS VIRTUES Azariah has been branded, literally, a lieutenant of the Corruptor for far too long. Even with this monniker, virtuous Sons of Horen, and the Mother Church, both sought to tolerate, cooperate, and most importantly, allow themselves to be empowered by him. Whereas the Church of our age may reject the Firstborn, the Church of old embraced him. Of course, it was unsteady, the Church always wary of betrayal, but worries foster non dialectical conspiracy. Fear breeds suspicion, and we are all prone to a bias of confirmation, to realise these worries. This was foolish. I merely ask the Mother Church review, and ask itself, upon reading this text, why still? Why still deny Man his greatest ally - dragon? Insofar as a deacon toiling over the Scriptures is virtuous, Azariah’s eternal pursuit of the greatest truths, the Lord GOD’s truths, is virtuous. At heart, as all dragonkin are, Azariah is a scholar. In his halls did I read of various weaknesses of the foes of Man, the Inferi, the Undead, the Wicked who would seek to have us slain. This thesis is driven by a hermeneutic drive given unto me when I read, and thoroughly cross-examined the philosophical teachings of the An-Gho, a frequent converser with Azariah, and one of his longest allies, to our own Holy Scripture. Empirically, they were similar - this warranted further examination. The two are almost perfectly axiologically entwined. I believe the reasoning behind this is that, through eternity of searching for the truth, Azariah has found that the Lord GOD’s word is the only truth. The Scroll of Virtue is the most fundamental building stone for our faith, and where I found the most striking similarities. Firstly, the Canticle of Diligence aligns perfectly with the morals highlighted in the teachings of the An-Gho. The Canticle of Faith, even, the most crucial tenet of our faith as a whole, is a mirror of the words spoken onto the An-Gho. It is as if the source of these two texts is one and the same - the Creator. This is not to suggest, heretically, that they are one and the same, but merely to provide an alternate interpretation to that of the An-Gho’s, and by extension, an alternate interpretation of Azariah’s words. Here, he speaks of the Nephilim and the Azdrazi as part of a greater whole - Azdromoth. Likewise, in the Canticle of Faith, it is said ‘GOD is He who has also breathed life into our hearts, and the hearts of our children. And He has given us life: He is our father, and the father of all things.’ My exegesis of the teachings of the An-Gho is that his Fourth Lesson was our first. GOD made all, and splintering his power through false idols is merely that - false. Azariah recognises that the Creator should be praised for creation, and so urges all those made from pieces of himself to revere those pieces. They are GOD’s gift onto the Nephilim, onto Azariah - life. There are other intersections - diligence, seeing a task to its end; standing steadfast against Evil; imparting and gifting others with knowledge, scholarly philosophy; and agreement on a final day - Asioth, or the end times. Here, we may finally reach our paradisal conclusion. The Fourth Lesson is directed towards the Azdrazi specifically, but is relevant nonetheless as this is the will of the true Nephilim that follow the words of the An-Gho, not the Corrupted. These true, and virtuous Nephilim, are those who we bar, at our own detriment, from the keeps of Canondom. When I came before the An-Gho, in his grand stature, in his grand keep, we shared a dialogue surrounding the histories of Man, the most recent expulsion of the Nephilim from Canondom, and the role of Dragons to Man. Here, his opinion was irrefutably, and virtuously, humble. After all, any twisted being of even comparable power would have impaled me through a stake thus far - I questioned the truths he had eternity to think over, with the lifespan of a Horenite. He stated, in humility, dragons were a tool, per the Pact of Horen, to be used for the protection of Man. He urged Man to reach out, and wield them. And it is now, upon the eve of Az’rekash wreaking havoc, splitting the Void into unholy tears across the world, that we must do so. PROOF OF ABSENCE (OF ECLECTICISM) This section is quite simply drawing ties between two schools of thought. It is an additive to my text on eschatology, though not wholly related - it may provide insight on my thought process. The philosophy of Asioth is one perpetuated, and no doubt, founded by Azariah. However, as discussed previously, as the greatest of all dragons, and thus the greatest pursuer of truth amongst the greatest, this philosophy is one unequivocally linked, if not derived from the Creator. The first proof I put forward is that of the Divine Gift. While narrow minded clergymen, no doubt, will have already dismissed this exposition of the Aurelects from only its name, it is its name, and in its content, that we may pan the truth, the will of the Lord GOD from the morals extracted from it. Divine, though, as many Curia members may suspect it to do so, does not refer to Azariah. It instead refers to the Creator, from my interpretations. ‘All things cometh from One by the will of One, and so all things cometh from this subtle process’ I need not draw parallels between our faith for my peers. The Creator breathed life into all - the fire we must cleave from its source. Again, the skeptics may cry of heresy, ‘We do not sever the Lord GOD to further ourselves!’ Yet, it is not the Creator that we shear from His source, but rather the life He gave unto us to reflect His light, live by His virtue, and to join Him when our reckoning comes. The main premise of this text is to draw the ineffable paralleles, and to bridge the gap sown by those who strayed from the benevolent will of the An-Gho, and who severed the ties between Man and dragon; this text is to propose that our judgement, and our Asioth, are one and the same. If not the same: brothers. To dispel mistakes, I clarify this once, and not again: Asioth is a school philosophy, of thought. It is not a religion. As we have come to accept wise men and thinkers within our Mother Church, I merely wish for us to accept our brothers. I yearn for a unified army of GOD, a sword of Dragon in its hand. Another factor of note is the degree at which light and fire are, if not revered, then used decisively in religious ceremonies. Again, from the Divine Gift, I quote Azariah, and the Exalted Owyn: ‘Fire shineth brightly upon its own vessel, as the heavenly sun’s light filleth up the moon.’ ‘Verily, brother, the Lord GOD is the wisest GOD, and he knows all things, in darkness, in light,’ As a man born of the Owynist rite, one of the few truths of myself I do choose to reveal in this text, holy fires are cleansing. It was with fire that the princes of Numendil were wed, with fire that Owyn rendered his uncle impotent, and with fire that we ward off evil. As we use fire, so is fire integral to the dragon. Dragon’s fire is not only a weapon, that being the most narrow view of their gift. Despite this, it is through its portrayal as a weapon that we may draw yet another parallel: the very flaming sword that GOD bestowed upon the Exalted Owyn within a cave. The Lord GOD’s lessons are many, and intricate. Though the Creator’s will should be transferred easily from prophet to layman, I take this flaming sword as a metaphor for Azariah. This motif, of a sword ablaze, is only truly typical of two of the Creator’s servants: Saint Michael, and Azariah. However, the flames of Owyn, and the heraldry of any Owynist sect as a result, were staunchly fire-like. Not a brilliant, Templaric white, but fire. I take Owyn’s wielding of this sword as a representation of how Man can defend himself, only further reinforced by the foremost of the Nephilim, the An-Gho. Man must reach out and wield the flaming sword of Azariah, as the Exalted Owyn did, to weed out the Impure, the Saulican, and those who heed the word of the Corruptor. Yet another tenet in common, and, in truth, similar to the previous, is the emphasis on wisdom within both philosophies. Obviously, from Azariah’s philosophies, this comes from his instilled drive to know. But, this drive, as all things about Azariah, was given to him by the Creator, and so this drive should be respected. ‘Timeless insight froze the First-Born from red waters; His blood was red flame in an alabaster heart.’ ‘So the Lord made two bodies of earth, and gave them blood and breath, and the light of wisdom’ These two extracts, from the Fire of Vitality and Book of Provenance (S. of Gospel) agree - a simple observation. Yet, it is the preceding section of the Fire of Vitality that relates even stronger to this extract from the Book of Provenance, ‘Asioth was hidden beneath the darkest depths. Rising up, a golden sun clove One into two’ …,wherein the darkest depths refers to the red waters Azariah was born from in wisdom, and the two bodies the First Coupling. Additionally, the entirety of the Aurelects, save the Divine Gift, are arranged in couples. Just as the final kiss of life into the First Coupling was wisdom, and so wisdom should be valued as a virtuous step towards enlightenment, wisdom was Azariah’s first step towards Asioth. If the approach, the process, and the result of Asioth and enlightenment are the same, the burden of proof should shift to the naysayer, the skeptic, on why they are not one and the same. DIFFERING BELIEF The end of days is something that cannot be predicted, nor said to be fulfilled, until the signs seen in prophecy by the Exalted Sigismund ring true. This is the consensus of the Mother Church, the holiest one that I, even as an Owynist, have sworn myself to. Shockingly, though, as I continue to describe myself as an Owynist, I do align with the central dividing factor of my faith - Sigismund was NOT a prophet! Moreover, I merely believe Sigismund to be a king who thought much like I do now: why, and how, will it all end? There is little content surrounding the end times outside of Sigismund’s canonised visions, and, if not the work of some spirit, shaman, seer, or malaise, there is no reason to believe Sigismund. The fulfilment of the prophecy Godfrey had delivered unto him by the Lord GOD is purely subjective; Sigismund was no prince by blood, only crown prince of Savoy by distant relation to his Holiness Owyn I. Furthermore, the title of ‘Prince in Black’ was practically forced onto him - he was prince in black merely by virtue of granting the Rutherns land. The Creator does not speak of a Prince rewarding a mercenary company that happens to wear black. The very first line of his prophecy, per the Exalted Godfrey, is “there will come a prince in black”. The prince comes in black. Additionally, the timeframes of the stages described by the Exalted Godfrey correlate, at best, vaguely to that of the Exalted Sigismund’s lifespan. He first departs on his pilgrimage, yet only sees ruin and destruction upon his return, unlike the Scriptures, which state “…as he departs all seems lost”. I could prate endlessly about these nitpicky errors that make the brandishing of HoE Sigismund as the Fourth Prophet false, but the most pressing, in my eyes, is the constant woe and sin of the Haeseni people. To not ostracise my colleagues of the Jorenic Rites, I merely bring the destruction of Valdev by a comet, the death of three monarchs in less than three decades, and the wanton cruelty the Brotherhood enacts on a daily basis. THE END OF DAYS Abandoning my bias, but also ignoring the Scroll of Auspice as what it is — false — I have compiled references to the final days within the Holy Scripture. The following is the result of my critical analysis, the conclusions which I have drawn. The third Son of Spirit is to arrive, simultaneous to a fourth appearance of the Lord GOD. This appearance must be simultaneous to the phenomena the Creator described in his final recount to the Exalted Godfrey: ‘…when I return, the waters shall thaw and wash over the world, and all shall know My Word, and none will reign as prophet above another.’ I am a staunch futurist, of the belief that these prophecies are merely prophecies until they are fulfilled, and that when they are, it will be clear, as GOD’s glory is. The end of days is only to occur after the third Son of Spirit is revealed as a prophet of GOD, and the prophet only revealed following the phenomena the Creator described. The end is likely only to occur once the rebuking of the sins of the Exalted is realised. While such is much more vague for the Exalted Horen or Owyn, it is clear for Godwin - the nations he conquered will return to conquer Man, the suffering ‘thrice over’. Saulicians will bow to Iblees, as the Corruptor is freed from the Void and allowed onto our plain, as was done in worlds before, before the Aengul of New Beginnings brought the virtuous to a new world. But in the end times, there will be no aengul to save the virtuous, and rather Iblees will ascend from the void and spread his hatred of the Lord GOD. He will whittle at the Mother Church, until it is forgotten, and then he will launch his legions of undead and collaborators: ‘witches, Saulicians, necromancers, and destroyers of the virtuous’. But, as the Lord GOD is benevolent, and rewards the virtuous, it is only the guilty sinner who will fall to the chains of the Corruptor, and join his ranks in eternal thralldom. Instead, the virtuous son of Horen will ascend to eternally wander the skies with their kin, closer to GOD than they ever were in life. He will ‘[gather] the virtuous in the Skies ]’, protecting them from the grip of corruption. Past this point, I can only provide extrapolation. Based on the similarities between asiothism and Canonist philosophies, as well as the renowned truth-collecting abilities of the dragons, I am inclined to believe Azariah in that Asioth will be achieved. The world will be cleansed. I do not believe the Lord GOD would allow the plain he split in between the Void and the Skies to fall to the Void, allow Iblees to encroach further onto the plain He created, in cooperation with the aenguldaemons. Instead, I predict the descent of the Exalted, with the gathered virtuous in the Skies. Here, they will sally out onto the earth, and here, the armies of GOD and His servants will rally to His banner. The Saint Michael the Archangel will, of course, charge his Templars into the Undead, but alongside them, all those Virtuous to ever live. And it is here, at the end of days, that Azariah will attain complete redemption in our Father’s eyes, as the foremost lieutenant of the Corruptor shall become the weapon of Horen, Owyn, and Godwin against the Inferi. This is how his fate is actualised, and how purity, virtuosity, and piety will be shown to always vanquish the Evil. Iblees will be driven permanently from the earth, slain, and the Skies will descend onto earth to eternally reward those faithful sons of Malin, Krug, and Urguan, while the sons of Horen will wander the Skies - eternal peace and fulfillment for the virtuous. CONCLUSION Though an obviously controversial piece no doubt due to my thoughts on Azdrazi syncretism, especially given the relatively recent attack on the departed Caius Primus by Klog’Akaal and a group of Corrupted Nephilim and their heralds, leaving him disoriented for years after, I hope that this piece will prove to at least open the idea up for ecclesiastical debate. For reasons of self-protection, both in life, and in career, I have chosen not to disclose my identity. There are very few hints toward it. Any who think they have recognised me based on some tingly sense in their bones, I would ask you to hold your tongue. I give, for instance, the widespread support of the Marna Brigade in the Heartlands, which, although if we differ in ideals, brings me great joy; even if these texts would get me hung in our current era, I would much rather not be a martyr for the generations of virtuous, Canonist dragoons that are sure to follow me - do not spill my name! To any sympathetic to my cause: worry not. This will surely not be my last piece on the matter. I give my personal thanks to these few: Arpad The An-Gho His Holiness, Deunoro I Callahan Cardinal Artorius Ser Peter von Stroheim Unri Doomforged An additional note is penned to Captain Ser Tiber of the Nauzica, of the Brigade of Marna: An additional note is penned to his Holiness Deunoro I, High Pontiff and Vicar of GOD: ADRIAN OF ASCALON DEVOUT PREACHER OF SAINT RAGUEL, ANGEL OF JUSTICE, MESSENGER OF GOD

𝕿𝖔 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖁𝖎𝖑𝖊 𝖂𝖗𝖊𝖙𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖉 𝕭𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖆𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖊 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕰𝖓𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙 "Do not kill Canonists, lest they be Balianese." "Sir they're all Balianese!" "Ah. Go ahead then." An open letter to the Paladin Order and their Vassal Balian: It is a saying in Luraq that the Craven surround the Craven; in other words, it is telling that the Paladin Order content to sit behind walls and hide whilst others fight for them chose to ally themselves with the grandest cowards upon the continent. A shame then, that when we requested the bells be rung to announce our presence, they were not. A shame also that we have stolen your ship. The Paladin Order will have to make due with the "Queen's Retribution" (See a Flaming Sea), should they wish to ever traverse off continent. Now the question you are asking yourselves, what will become of the Paladin's Vessel- the grandest ship in all Aevos? That is simple, it will join the fleet of Luraq in sailing under contract for the Azdrazi Banner. We have affectionally nicknamed it "The Enlightenment," though many have simply taken to calling it "The Azdromoth" or even "Luraqi Drop Party." I am quite fond of the latter. Remember next time you wish to make war upon them, that they now have a ship bearing 28 cannon and two ballistae over two decks. I would appreciate if you lot (the Paladins) would explain to X*n why you have tossed away every gift he has bestowed upon you. Perhaps it is true, as the Order is Married to X*n that they also feel a longing to cheat upon him with others? Much to think about, and much to contemplate. As always, a pleasure, Daahd'Lur, Saint-Slayer, Grand Kapo of Luraq, Admiral of Azdromoth.

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕿𝖍𝖊𝖋𝖙 Following the beginning of sunset the Swiv'Lur band marched into the city of Amathine, hoping to find the jewel of the south and a great deal of battle; they were met with no resistance. For better or for worse their activities were unhindered as they proceeded to the docks; stealing the Flagship of the Crown complete with six cannon, the Swiv led by Daahd'Lur proceeded to pillage any and all citizens before setting sail. Once a safe distance from the harbor the Warband began to launch cannon upon the docks sinking the remaining seaborne vessels with the exception of the sole fisherman's dinghy which continued to float about the harbor piloted by one brave aged Elf; though notably none of the cannons were fired upon him. The sinking of The Sul. The sinking of the Tarian'el. 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓐𝓭𝓶𝓲𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓸𝓷 It is with deep pride and greatest honor that I send to you today word of my exploits. I am sure you heard the cannon, and saw the flames, dearest 'Queen'. It is a warning, nothing more. The flames of wrath and ruin spread across the seas, and they come for you- today was an unfortunate consequence of siding with the Lord of Tyrants, Father of Cowards, and Cuckolded Scoundrel Xan. You strike at us and wish us doom and demise, so we repay you in kind. There are many cowards amongst you, and even some amongst us, but it will be known the Swiv' are not. The war will continue to be brought to your doorstep, famine, bloodshed, desolation, and ruin will admonish your realm unless you withdraw from the conflict. However . . . should you wish to continue this blight upon your populace we have provided you with a new Flagship: We have nicknamed it the "Queen's Retribution" in your honor; hark! Look how it avoids the flames and cannon fire! Surely with this vessel you will be at once able to claim victory with your armies over Luraq! Alas, though I would love to continue this letter I am running out of ink and as you will have noticed I have resorted to using the blood of the Paladins. What they say about their blood being gold- it isn't true, though that would have made for some brilliant writing. Signed, The Saint-Slayer, Scuttler of Ships, Great Kapo of Luraq, Daahd'Lur. P.S Tell Balian they're next.

THE FLAMES BECKON -=+=-=+[-]+=-=+=- -=+=-=+[-]+=-=+=- To those damned, the sunlit peaks shone like salvation. To those liberated, they gleamed like succession. To those neither damned nor liberated, twisted nor blessed- the peaks were naught but ascension. Naught but glory. Rebirth. TO THOSE LOST. ||=||👁||=|| The days of harrowed pasts. ||=||👁||=|| The days of sweltered futures. ||=||👁||=|| The days of such past and future converge to the present. The time has come to become found. The gates of Tor’Praeth swing open- those who wish to visit may visit. Those who seek to know a place in the world; those who seek to know their sights within the realm are welcome. To seek flame is not a mere pastime. It is something further, an arduous task to seek one’s place in the realms. To seek what drives one- to seek Asioth. To seek beckoning flames is to beckon a seeking pyre. To tempt a stray flame is to be prepared to scorch flesh. Yet with that risk comes fruition- a pathway to a truth beyond apotheosis, knowledge beyond prescience, and willpower beyond sublimation. Reach the Northwest peaks of Redmont. Scour the lands, find thy gates which stand strong; find us. To those who seek us, seek power, strength, knowledge, wisdom, or Asioth: WE AWAIT THEE. [To seek an interaction, DM Pallodium (@pallodium) on Minecraft or Discord.] OOC:

Heir remade from Holy Ash of Tor-Azdroth. Remade. Reborn. Destined purpose. Destined Death, defiled; defied. Not once more, will it die. Not again shall it sunder, and cry, nor weep or fly ever so high, or again shall it fall until it dies. -The Regent A luminous thread of ash with woven strings attached betwixt the Nephilim's crude talons had intricately hovered over the thrumming oval-shaped orb, its intensity boiling as it presence was shakable, nigh tangible even behind that prison-made-shell, those strands of ash waved against it, harmlessly webbing its shield-shelled form, as cinders of ash balanced upon the strings and blew across it. The Nephilims jaw lightly dropped, hanging, balancing at the roots of amazement, constant awe smothered those sharp eyes, a constant reminder, a repeating cause that ushered sweet-iron duty. Words of a deep-draconic, impossible to understand, they were alien to even the ash and soil it stood upon, the fires themselves boomed with a mad ferocity as it sung their repeated song. ♫Dearest mine kin. Chosen prince. Oh hear my words ♫ ♫Taketh the winds, crack and shatter clouds and rest upon our hearts of fire♫ ♫Like distant thunder you will sunder, upon our ears.♫ ♫Chosen prince, I sing unto you like a sweet-melody will you be born♫ ♫Saveth the king from his damnation, chosen hier be his blade♫ ♫Thus it is decree, taketh thine titles- It thou devotion; duty to the empire.♫ ♫ Chosen hier, the sky’s are yours too walk; tread the air- fly and defy the circumstances of our race. ♫ ♫ The puissant prince will grow to unmatched heights reveling in the idea of power and knowledge. ♫ ♫ Rival a mountain in all perspectives, oh Chosen prince I sing unto thee. - Lead us, througheth the burning path ♫ ♫ To victory will you bring us, aid us to our final charge. - Those cowering pests shall sunder, crash and fall. The foundations topple upon the known world. ♫ ♫ To victory our chains shall fall loose, then freedom is yet a blink away. ♫ ♫ Heir of fire ♫ ♫ Heir of trueborn flame ♫ ♫ The Chosen Prince ♫ The Nephilim repeated that old poem which manifested from his lips at the peak of old tor-azdroth, at the summit laid the stone An-Gho, even in death his hums were heard throughout the melody, in complete sync, a mad dyad placed wonderfully together. The song was sung right after the battle between Morur’ei and Vothdrem, the death of Vothdrem, though perhaps deserved, secretly the Nephilim was burdened with a guilt, untold and remaining unknown he would savor the pain for the foe to face. Yet nothing came of it, the Nephilim had wondered was even repeating the same old song, appealing? No. Of course not. Perhaps the Nephilim lacked understanding, perhaps it was that ignorance, blinded by his dragonic-pride, yet nevertheless, too much wisdom, too much guise did it have to shame itself under guilt. His idea of the orb was a bewildering mystery, he had only a complex variety of theories; some held sense, some had not- yet he was willing to take the chance, willing to sing any blasphemy, any sacrifice to see the odds. Tor-Praeth The coming Age of the Dragon. Age of flame. “Oh you cosmic wonder of creation, I wonder what mantle shall you bear? Who’s name you shall sing, a creature born in this age, to live in the next.” -Azlihessan as he splattered his blood upon a stone tablet, the very blood depicting words upon rock. “Where will you bring the flock of the Titan? I am sure it will be great heights, greater then what I could ever reach.” The Regent then uttered, after having the Age of Nephilim across Almaris bless the unlived-drake, unhatched, destiny waiting to be made living. I yearn for the day, to be a second witness of a new ascension gift returned unto us, rightfully so, bare the mantle of re-made, made prince under the blood of Azdromoth Herald of the apocalyptic fate of those damned cretins in their wayward heavens. The day your roar beckons the call, the day this object spurns or toils with anything, something, will be a blessed day, a day where the age of dragonic-kind will no longer merely survive, it shall thrive. The pillars of the sky dismantled, as the heart of the sky is ripped out and its blood rains a terror that will shake them unthinkably so, they wait for their chance, yet we will them rid of every opportunity, we will reveal them for the cowards they are, their weaknesses exposed, then humiliated for that is their worth. They feared my father before his days of birth- For even then, he peaked the heavens and mused at their decrepit flaws. Dragur witnessed the amusement as your First foundation fell, now watch as this new-age comes and my father's prestige proceeds your own. Yet he already has, a thousand years ago- When Asioth was discovered, then re discovered, then recovered with a lax tongue, and a crooked pen. His sons His daughters The heirs of his coming Empire of fire. …………. Cloudbreaker I await the day. Service you owe; your duty will be your mantle.

'I burned the book...' by Dohaabbou ( https://www.deviantart.com/dohaabbou/art/I-burned-the-book-946109318 ) [!] A bundle of seared notes was released into air inside the capital cities of Human realms across the continent. They split and land upon the cobbles, at the feet of various passer-bys, their edges smouldering. Dear Horen's beloved Children, Do you feel it? The beating heart, newly pulsing. A rejuvenation, a clearance in mind from past transgressions and views: this is a message to those who are afraid. Those who hover their palm above the fire, afraid to lower it. You are afraid of prejudice from your fellow countrymen, yet are intrigued by the wings of the Great Titan shadowing your buildings and your crops. Hearken to mine words and understand them; the Apotheosis of my Father comes soon. Asioth moves quickly, and yet you still seat yourself in the dark. To be tempered in flame is the only way to not be left when the world is reborn anew. Do you feel it? A new heartbeat, one that pulses within us all. Join this feeling in it's new purpose. Free from discrimination, free from prejudice. Encouraging discovery, knowledge and power within yourself. I await you in fields of ash. [!] Upon the viewer reaching the end of the missive, the scorches at the edges of the paper would seemingly be refuelled, collapsing the page in your hands to nought but ash and soot.

Draconic Odyssey. ’’Go on now, You’ve much to do.” Spoke the Nephilim that the draconic whelp had come to see as his mentor and father figure. Wilfriche nodded towards Ut’torvioth in a respectful manner before giving his mentor a final bow. ’’I shall go now, then.” Said the draconic whelp towards his master Ut’torvioth. Day 1: "Canopy Refuge" The jungle in the eastern mountains greeted Wilfriche Sigismund with a symphony of unfamiliar sounds and an impenetrable green canopy. Anxiety clung to him like the humidity in the air. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig, sent shivers down his spine. A small monkey swung towards the draconic whelp with curiosity out of the treeline. “Ah!” Wilfriche yelped out in fear, swinging the machete he had brought towards the small creature which had easily dodged his attack. A few heavy breaths escaped the herald. “J-just a monkey..” Desperate to escape the imagined eyes watching him, Wilfriche hastily ascended the highest tree he could find. With a trembling hand, he rigged a shelter high in the tallest jungle tree, his eyes darting nervously at every shadow below as he ascended higher then he ever had. The night, filled with mysterious noises, dragged on as Wilfriche clung to his makeshift perch, haunted by the unseen creatures that lurked in the darkness. Day 2: "Wild Harvest" As dawn broke, Wilfriche descended cautiously from his arboreal refuge. The jungle, once a source of terror, now became a realm of potential sustenance. He cautiously foraged for edible plants, hesitant at every snap of a twig or distant roar. The encounter with various animals tested his resolve; he hesitated at the idea of hunting but knew that survival demanded it. With a mixture of fear and determination, he managed to secure enough food to sustain him for the journey ahead. Suddenly, a terrifying sight caught the eyes of the paranoid Herald, a large tiger approaching him. As the two sized each other up, the draconic whelp unsheathed his mundane longsword. They stared each other down as the Herald leaked ash and soot from his mouth, his eyes flaring up with flames. “Yol Zahkrii.” Wilfriche uttered as the edge of his blade turned into black dracanium which then promptly ignited. For ten grueling seconds the staredown lasted, but then the tiger backed down and retreated. Wilfriche let out a sigh of relief. Midday brought the discovery of a crystal-clear river, a lifeline in the dense wilderness. Wilfriche, with newfound confidence, filled his canteen and took a moment to appreciate the beauty of the surroundings. The cool water revitalized him, washing away the lingering traces of fear. As the sun dipped below the horizon, Wilfriche returned to his secure place to rest, appreciating the fact that he was adapting to the challenges of the jungle. Day 3: "The Tranquil Summit" By the third day, Wilfriche had transformed from a scared intruder to a resilient survivor. The once intimidating jungle now felt like a familiar companion. As he ascended higher, the climate changed, the air thinning and growing cooler. Amid the dense foliage, he found a serene spot to sit and meditate, reflecting on the journey so far. In the solitude of the jungle, Wilfriche pondered the holy day of Bithe'Vah, finding solace in the rituals of meditation. The rustling leaves and distant calls of wildlife became a backdrop to his introspection. The fear that had gripped him on the first day had given way to a deep connection with the natural world. As he closed his eyes, feeling the energy of the jungle around him, Wilfriche embraced the challenge, finding strength in both the physical and spiritual aspects of his journey. The once daunting eastern mountain jungle had become a sacred place, and Wilfriche Sigismund had become a part of its untamed beauty. After taking one final gaze at the sun in the sky he let out a proud sigh before beginning the walk back towards Tor’Praeth.

a classical mix for a prince building his empire Chaos will mend into freedom. Total emancipation from all curtains of uncertainty. Draconic-writing etched upon a solid slab of stone, encased with words of flame. The path of which the mountain treads will leave a burning trail to guide; that flaming torch which we will abide. Hail the First-son of Dragur. will usher a new word, generated from outside this shallow earth, not of the weird agnostic thought which will bring you to heel, not of the views of the Aenguls nor man can see which Asioth sees, if Asioth is a lie, then it is my truth. And if it is the truth, it is my deep love. Two heartbeats pounded fiercely within the chamber There is a deep melodic nature between the two. Though I isolate myself from my beloved brothers and sisters; whomst flames I shall kinder until I ROT, I shall do so eternally for my services are owed where duty leads. The xannite will speak nonsense at any chance, this they will continue to do for they are misled by that treacherous light, that cretin continues to spill his dreams into the souls of mortal men, his dream ‘Order’ an ingenuine lie developed by his own tongue. If you see yourself on the path, turn back, and far away. Do not look back not for a second, not in your mind nor body shall glimpse to that place you walked away from, - the path is easy a straight trail, or is it made to look easy for the sake? A trick? It is none of these things. Dragons the Fifth existing race amongst this place, remember your place atop the worldly pillars. Turn your duty towards the Titan, rather than against him; for that, he will grant you need where you so willingly cling to desperation. For his words O’ mighty, words of his father which were genius passed down unto him. His wings are as large as his desire to fly, to set free and loose where the expanse of that infinite cosm holds no bounds, no distance, Further, further, and even further. The child prince oh so desired to live, to fly, to see. To witness. This is what I remember about my brethren, even in days of absence I should keenly remind myself where my duty is, - for this reason, I live and I continue to wonder, at times I felt it, it were so close to me, it was bounded-fate and yet it became apparent it were not my end rather a continuous right to live and wonder, the more I thought about it the more distant it became. But I remembered, by simply living I mend into this world asioth. - I mend a certain truth that some and many will hate, simply for the fact of existing, for the very same reason how could I? How could I render to stone knowing the very simple fact, that no matter of innocence, no matter of my good will I be stained by arrogance. The Dragon's truth is that it is destined to die, every story, every tale. - The hero slays the tyrannical beast. It is destiny to die. I wish to fly O’ father, I beg of thee to grant me wings. An-Gho, where are my wings? O’ brother my eyes and wings are missing, where are they? O’ brother I had slain another of us. What should I do? Death weeps life; that is itself a beauty untold. I plunge myself deep into the fathomless depths of self-awareness, a great voyage where the boundaries of “I” dissolve into the vastness of “all” The luminous thread weaving through the tapestry of existence aching with boundless thought; ever weeping at the edge of infinity, the function of the intricate words work effortlessly and stay the same. The clandestine motion with those ancient scriptures shown to all, understood by few. Asioth The scales of justice tip not with fairness, but with the weight of strength. The powerful hold the balance in their favor." Asioth the freedom of flight thus reach high. We will dig the uncomfortable truths that mortal-men will forever bury beneath the dirt, every truth shall be unearthed from the pits of this place. My eternal duty forever echoes throughout the corridors of the cosm; forever distancing itself far from me. I remember it all, not a word forgotten, not a page missed. - I remember.

There was one sight he mulled over and over. Fire. Why? He couldn't quite remember. It was definitely the last thing he saw before he ended up here. The aged man swung his head, left and right. He looked up and down the tranquil beach he sat. Iridescent sands, accompanied by the choir of ethereal waves. The sight made him happy. It made him feel accomplished, a perpetual sense of contentment pumped through his veins, yet, he felt like something was missing. Something he could not quite push a finger onto. Time forever flowed here, like the shimmering tides which he watched. Vague memories, vague figures darting at the corners of his vision, seemingly disappearing just before he could recognise them from his past. The sun always bore itself to the beach, lulling the landscape alongside it. The distant mountains and fields felt ever so far away for the man. It occasionally caught his eyes, blinding him for a swift second. This time, however, caused a change in the scene. When his vision returned to him, he noticed something. A shape. It was a ship. His ship from his youth, on the horizon! What little strength he had thrusted himself up, as he frantically began to wave his arms to signal the ship. Dozens of minutes passed, and the ship did not change it's course. Disappointment rushed his brow-line. It continued, passing the beach upon which the man sat. He watched it sail for what felt like hours. Perhaps it was simply a new addition to his immortal painting, created by whatever higher power had placed him there. Another glint, and his vision lost. The tapestry had changed. Fire. The wicked smell of burnt timber filled the air quickly, and the amazing sky tarnished with grey. His ship alight, the only recognisable object in his life dwindling away in front of him. He wept, cupping his features. Why didn't he understand it? It made no sense. What felt like hours passed, what brilliant torture had been inflicted upon the lone man. All he could do was stare and remain helpless, unmoving from his seating upon the sand. He didn't want to look at it anymore, and so fell to his back. Through the smoke-filled sky, he noticed something above. A new glint, not like others before. Not the sun. It pushed it's way through the crowd, and revealed itself. A circular speck of white, a dim glow surrounding it. The sky was not smoke, but the sun had fallen for the first time in eons. The only light that remained was the flickers of orange on the beach, flaming debris washing up beside the man. A revelation. He remembered something. A name. His name. Ainsley.

The Burning Assembly Rok Nardin & @samuelkimmusic - THE APOCALYPSE “In the darkest of places, in the lowest of places - I was made. Where the eyes of the gods could not see, and where the forbidden flame lay - I breathed Illuminated, by nothing but the fire of my father, before me a great black sun - I saw Purpose lived, and its edge was immaculate.” -The Prince The Titan and his first dream “For whence we came, many flew before us. We remember Setherien the devourer, Gudour the champion, so many felled by the fate that doomed them.” The Azdrazi of the Titan are the offspring of what came to be, the mere shattered image forged anew as they were bestowed the eternal long-lasting gift which was their boons, alienated from society yet ever glued with the known world, as much as it was his birthright (Azdromoths) it was theirs. Scholars, warriors who could author the blade as their quill, unrivaled and a puissant people who fashioned themselves in scales that riddled their dragonic stature, who yearned to walk air like their forebearers before them. I Azli have studied mine people, tasted their logic and ideals, conversed with ones older than I, our kin are aliens, a wolf among sheep, perfection flirting with an undeveloped, banal, woeful, and immature man. - Dragons are graced with ambition and passion. The bleakness of their form is immaculate in design, the wings that beat louder than thunder, and their jaws mighty. O’ Nephilim; how we are great. Ours was the design of dragons, the make of great sorcery, of purpose, and of fiery song. Will you sing it with me? The Titan's dream was their nightmare. His dream bore fruit as it fell from its spine. His sons, daughters, the princes of his empire. crafted, and molded as the Dragon-King took care, trial, and error until they were birthed, something he could call his own, something that he cherished. Yet with love comes hate, with proudness there comes cruel disappointment. When I was yet a simple herald, young and naive, my Grandfather, who was dubbed Brightiron Prince, gifted me a book named the book of epochs after his passing. Let this be an adage to our culture, our history, and our future. Yet something that is not commonly known, something our elder An-Gho spoke of, was the terrifying truth that we are not merely the ‘children’ of the Titan; we are the Titan. We are his shadow, his make - his spirit and his blood. The Titan lives within us as we live in him. We mirror his form, his rage, and pain; we love and hate, and our emotions are true and authentic, I understand love better than the mere mortal, I understand hate more than them too. And always we fight for bitter independence from a cruel world. And though we might fail - we fight. For that is our first gift, our flame, our heart, our blood. The very thing that moves us and beats within us. - Power. Man - man was who he chose, under the banner of Horen shall we know the empire, and we will walk with the banners raised in the goodly Titan's name. “It is then shown that under the might of his wings, cities, and nations were left in rubble as the ruinous fire scorched and dressed the various races, all races but man. His dream is a mightier one, a challenging one, a beautiful one, and a long one.” The Crimes Against The Draconic Race. I: “Iblees, the terrible bringer of ruin, the Arch-Daemon drunk on power. . .” The first crime was the black brush, doused with black paint used by a black hand. The great corruption was the beginning and the end, a fire made not to love, nor create, yet to ruin and devastate. A perfect white canvas smothered in black ink so easily ruined a fine piece of immaculate art. II: “Which one was it that had freed the wife?” The sunlit lord, that cretin struck with fear and his fear shall be known to all, we will be there atop the winds to see him sunder, crash, and fall. The collapse of the cretin is soon to be, for it was he that used petty hate, a god's emotion used to destroy and attempt to eradicate our people. III: “The green lady, the first mistake of Dragur is famed for this. .” Kins slay without any reasoning, to murder your own kin is a crime. to go against another is to go against the self, and to demeanor your own position for a selfish act is to weaken your own standing. - The act of Kins slaying without reason is revolting and disgusting and there is no honor in such acts. IV: “The Dragon-God remains enchained by that ***** stricken with cowardice and fear, they scavenge like vultures pilfering of what remains of him” The imprisonment of he who flew before the first-born, he who witnessed the first and the last, he who donned knowledge as his mantle. - Dragur - The slumbering god was our founder and our father's maker, long enchained as those who trapped him pilfer and scavenge at his wealthy horde. V: “As once the great Setherien tried to swallow the sun; so too shall we swallow the earth. An earth that belongs to us, an earth that has been conquered and stolen from us.” The stolen world is by our right, our mightiest father the Arch-Drakaar. The King Of Kings, he alone can carry the world, he knows this. A stolen world that has long been groomed and mistreated, abused, and sanctioned. The Kings molded by its cobble have been subjugated into harsh cruel bondage, one by one, day by day we will free them. The Draconic truth will be spread to all, taught to those, for I know ‘truth’ I know the draconic one too. Hierarchy. A Z D R O M O T H. The First-Born, King of Kings, The Titan. The Black Titan, our ever exalted King Of Kings who lacks nothing but a true mortal rival, our very maker, our father whomst challenges a mountain in height. For in his flight tornadoes swirl and the very earth quakes in his wake. - It was said whence he was imprisoned many Azdrazi had fallen to stone without the rich warmth of their beloved father. Let all bask in his glory - and let the World tremble. Once, in a different age, Azdromoth came to the elves matching their elegant form. He spoke to them with a voice of silver, and showed them his heart of gold. [Redacted] [This part of the page was blank.] The Three Eyes of the Alem-Drom. Keledan, the ever-wise The An-Gho, Third Eye The three eyes consist of three elder greater Nephilim who have been personally selected by the Titan himself, his favored and foremost dignified children, to rule over his Holy-Children. These triplets which suffuse the dominion as they teem the eyes of the Titan thrice, they are to be shown glory and their word over all others of the burning consult, These three heads consist of; Keledan, the first eye who is the ambassador and the very reflection of the titan, his mouth. Few things are known of the wise Keledan. His visits were rare – and yet rarer still. Some wonder if he still lives. The Eternal Inquisitor, the second eye. A Nephilim who were Azdromoths chosen Inquisitor and solidified the position of the azdromothian flock. A formidable warrior - his stone reminds all of past glory and might. The An-Gho, the Third-Eye. Exalted seer, prince and arbiter remade under holy Naldroth. When the voice of the Titan could not be heard - the golden words of the An-Gho stilled the hearts of Azdromoth’s children. The Burning Assembly. Elathion, Serpent of the Sea The Burning Assembly refers in technicality to all of Azdromoth’s servants, plotting their foul, gracious - virtuous and cruel deeds. Made up of the Chosen Nephilim of the Three Eyes, are the leaders of the burning assembly which are primarily elder Azdrazi - but certain and especially leal mortal followers have known to join their ranks, though with less authority over the servants of Azdromoth. Each carries a specific duty or role within the organization. The heads of the assembly are never set in stone; rather, they are meant to consist of a variety of azdrazi organizations and groups independent of one another, yet united all the same in order for all Nephilim to find a voice. Joining the assembly’s chosen leaders is a matter of either being chosen, petitioning them, or impressing them through great deeds. The heads of the assembly are fashioned “The Draken Consult”; Aulkorian, The Inquisitor; Warmaster of the Golden Tear. Balthazar, The Justicar; Executioner. Elathion, The Ship hoarder; Serpent of The Sea. Azli, The Regent. Ut'torvioth, The Noble Serpent. The Hand - N/A, “An eternal seat amongst the Draken Consult to serve as a mortal voice for the Burning Assembly.” Inquisitor. The foremost title of Inquisitor is a highly respected one. Nephilim who don the title Inquisitor, which is granted by the Titan himself; takes on the Eternal Inquisitors mission, he who takes on the mantle bears the proof of doing so with a sacred trinket, yet it is known only that of those whom have been chosen are able to take up this position and such comes with great arduous difficulty. Azdrazi. Ut'torvioth - Morur’ei made again The Azdrazi were once mortal-men, made with inner flame, transformed, burned away into an exalted and sublime form. To them was bestowed a holy fire, reborn anew into the very depiction of a son or daughter of the Titan as a new immortal and champion among the races. Let none stand to rival them - for every challenge be met with knowledge and fire, and in their wake be the voice and might of their Father. Ordained Heralds, Ash-Knights, and Weepers. “There has always been a kha, in Tor-Azdroth.” (todds catman don’t get mad) Ordained Heralds, or “Drakeknights”, are known to have been recently divided into individual subsects; Ash - Knights and Weepers. These are the servants who have furthered a deeper connection to Azdromoth, as they are made into exalted warriors, a knight who has invested themselves unto the cause. - Willingly allowing themselves to honor the intrepid assembly and its members. The Ash-Knights are a subsect of Azdromoth's inquisition. These drakeknights are those who have been chosen specifically to act out deeds of valour; they are anointed and dusted with ash. There are no limitations as to how many may ascend to the rank. The Weepers are special agents, chosen amidst the most talented of Azdromoth’s followers. They carry the Tears of the An-Gho in his service, cruel anti-sorcerous nails that strike as deep as far as the Third-Eye can see. There may be any number of those who serve, for the An-Gho has an untold amount of tears to shed until The Promise is fulfilled. Heralds. “Worship him? No, not particularly. I do pay respect to him, though I’d be a fool not to” Heralds are the dragon’s share, rather the absolute foundations for almost any and all acolytes to become acquainted and familiar with draconic traditions and reverence. Heralds are those mortals scarred with the sigil of the Titan as His eternal gaze is tattooed on their skin. It is known amongst the Assembly of The Titan that this mark is a symbol for those mortal under His hand to reject the fallacy of social stratification and to embrace one's self under the direction of Asioth; The Auric Path. Seekers of Flame. Seekers of flame are those who are not a Herald, yet still seek to walk our burning path and know of our cause. They are yet to be granted boons, yet are still followers and must abide by tradition and law. The Assembly is an organization that was founded to model the Order of Nephilim from ancient times. The Aims are the core creeds that guide the behavior of those enlisted within the order, principles that are intended to work towards the protection of all remaining Dragonkin that are alive in the world today. It is mandated that every member of the Burning Assembly act with temperance and restraint. The Aims. Toor Protection Flame. A force that burns, a true and pure light that triumphs even over the light of wayward deities such as Tahariae and Xan. What hope is there in mimicking the translucent, powerful rays of the sun if you cannot impart any actual change? Fire was the gift to Man from Azdromoth, and it burns fervently in the hearts of his descendants and their followers. As once Dragonkin had been chased to every corner of the earth and hounded by the Athnas and their followers, now the Heralds are so numerous that they inhabit every corner of the modern world. Flame perseveres where shimmering, pretty magic tricks do not. The false icons of Xan and Tahariae are imposters, and the petty Magi cannot hope to mimic the eldritch secrets of the Dragonkin. All draconic creatures are to be protected, saved, and defended by the followers of the Draken Assembly. The genocide perpetuated by Xan in response to the flight of his mortal wife is a kind of jealousy to be scorned. The Paladins plead that they perpetuate Order and Guardianship, yet they have time and time again placed the world in darkness. Order is not freedom. Order is the subjugation and annihilation of all things that do not fall under the demesne of their Godless Adjudicator; their Cuckold Lion, a gilded prophet who heralds weakness and deceit. As was the mission of the first Nephilim, the goal of the Dragonkin and Heralds in the Draken Assembly is to safeguard those who cannot protect themselves, whether they be Man, Dragon, or otherwise. Resolve Sanctity of Life Without resolve, the Xanite shall whisper honeyed words into your ear and beg for peace. Their women may pressure you, come before you even with shards of their forsaken Lance once again while pleading for a ceasefire as you triumph over their order of squalor and deceit. Forget not the crimes of all enemies of the Dragonkin; Xionists, Xanites, and decrepit New Canon Gospel. For two creatures can create life in this world following the death of the One True Creator. Dragur imparted this boon to Azdromoth, who by means of the Inner Flame was able to do something no other Dragonkin has ever accomplished - create experimental life. From the husks of Man emerged a stronger and more resilient species, a species intended to act as philosophical shepherds to break the god-bound chains of the Descendants. No longer would Fate and Truth be left in the hands of uninvolved, impartial and immoral deities. No longer would murder outside the Rite of Mul be condoned. Nature and its meddlings. The Dead to rewake It is known to most that the druii meddle with the natural flow of the stolen earth as an impulsive desire, as they warrant a groundless effort to disturb the natural life of the world. This is a crime all in itself, the excuse of protection for self-gain is a pitiful display; we know that from the ashes that are burned, there comes a new fruit, a fresh sap that is pure in depiction. These unjust crimes will be met with flame, the selfish act of ‘want.’ Yet the wildlife and its oak are most often placed in danger this prevents the circle of life, destruction and reconstruction, do not dabble in what you do not know or you will find yourself invested and involved. Those such as Necromancers who flirt with life and death, the undead are a useless conjuration of what is not needed, creatures stuck in their egotistical insignificant pride. Those who regret will not adapt to recent change thus the necromancers live in the past, claiming themselves higher and better than regular man, they are the breed of corruption; taint, and a wicked evil, they must be opposed for the light of our ever sumptuous flame will burn with avarice past the darkness. Our light, our flame shall prevail. Freedom and Absolution. “The only true order is Chaos. Social stratification, systems of law, arbitrarily decree the existence of the Other; the Other who is responsible for all crimes, all death, all sickness, and all pervasive social ills. The Other who is Elf, Man, or Dragon. The Other who does not exist in the social order.” The natural order is a world without bureaucratic creeds guided only by the morals and absolution of its inhabitants. As the Dragonkin have been pushed out of their habitats and ostracized from the social order, so too have they resisted and pushed back against the new civilizations that have attempted to terrorize and subjugate them. All who follow in the footsteps of the Dragonkin are free to join the Assembly, and free to engage in their own pursuit of Asioth. No matter what background, creed, or allegiance - as long as you owe your loyalty to the preservation of Dragonkin, you are welcomed into the order with open arms. “A world where chaos and order are lovers, so engrossed with one another, attached by the same bonds.” Drakeshrines & Holy sites. Drakeshrines are formally used by Nephilim as their personal anchor, something that is bound to them and is not ‘simply’ just for show, yet they represent the draconic people as holy sanctums. Some may appear as temples, pillars, or pools of lava. Yet all burn with the same blistering ire of the draconic weather, it is common that mortals when going through the transference are often rebirthed within these alters as they are given life once more, it is best to show respect to these shrines as they are essential to a Nephilims horde, respect it by offering it a gift or a prayer of draconic words. The Stance of the Burning Assembly. The Burning Assembly provides a certain position for each and all of the followers of the goodly and needed cause, a place where the Chosen Nephilim of the Azdromothian flock can converse with one another. As of recent times, the dragonkin has been found to be scarce, weak, and in truth a pitiful and feeble state, thus we must fortify our own position, our own grounds. The burning assembly shall aid in this endeavor as we use old ways and new ways to enhance the dream, to not only solidify his position but as well as our own. THE PRECEPTS OF THE BURNING CONSULT; Thus it is decreed, O’ Children; you shall not harm another, or act against another that is Mine Chosen. O’ Children; you shall not steal from one another. O’ Children; you shall work together, but discourse one another. For secrets are held when voices are not shared. O’ Children; if you have contempt with one that is Mine Chosen. The Assembly will decide the fate of both wrongdoer and the wronged. O’ Children; you must abide by the laws, for if a law is shattered so too shall we shatter them. O’ Children; you shall impart knowledge, wisdom and teach one another. The Assembly’s lexicon is a shared one, and to reject the idea is to reject the Assembly. The Assembly Prevails. O’ Children; you shall not commit acts of sacrilege, for such is blasphemy to Mine. O’ Children; you shall oppose the darkness. Yet so shall we oppose the light. For, the flames of Mine do not discern between the two and thus are repelled equally. O’ Children; you shall not allow rumors or lies to part from their tongue, as the draconic tongue is fit only for the truth. O’ Children; you will not discuss with the enemy, or spoil a foe in secrets of the assembly or its associates. O’ Children; draw not your blade upon the ill and frail, but upon those who would prey. Protect innocence as it was once your beginning as it will be your end. O’ Children; you shall pay respect to the fallen; no matter if hated or loved in life. O’ Children; no blood will be spilled on the grounds of Holy sites, unless it is willed or made desire; or made with the sanctity of War. O’ Children; you shall not walk the forbidden chambers; the one of bells and the black rooms. For they are secret places, and great spirits lay there. Some have forgotten their names, and will steal yours. They say those who tread the Black-Rooms never leave, and their very shadow ceases to be of their own. O’ Children; you forever shall bear the fruits of Peace as you will with War. Let yourself be made ready to die, in the protection of the sacred sites and in the name of Mine. Let yourself become a weapon - let your soul burn, and wash away all inequity. O’ Children; you shall not expose the identity of a draziman, or a herald if they are on a mission of operations or anything alike, or at all. O’ Children; as the race of dragons is sacred, let you not give harm to them if but in the quelling of bleak corruption or for the safety of our kin. Customs & Traditions. Draconic Names It is well known that Draconic names are granted to those who have emerged from ash before they tread the burning path of brimstone; their name is essential depending on what. - A draconic name can be anything, yet the meaning is what counts. The meaning is often an old memory of the self, or a destiny waiting to unravel itself. Though one's origins are irrelevant as they join the brood of Azdromoth and their mortal self is left in the ashes. The Draconic name signifies their rebirth and that they take on a ‘new’ identity as they are bestowed a name born of draconic tongue, as they are gifted their new state of being as the old is no more. Hoards The Dragonkin emulate their goodly father in a number of ways through their intrinsic inborn desire to gather wealth and horde it. Whether it is a physical object or knowledge; all things can link themselves to the Nephilim's desire. The Nephilims horde can start from the most boring and basic trinkets to absolute supreme artifacts from bygone days of yore. The dragonkin are known to style their hordes of treasure and relics to that of their former-self’s identity. An Azdrazi who was once a noble knight might fashion his horde with various weaponry, a soldier hoarding trophies of a long since past war. Yet on the other hand an artist reborn might accumulate tapestries, tools for craftsmanship and other works of art. Weaponry The Azdrazi’s weapon is not simply a ‘tool’ used to spill blood and settle feuds, it is the very extension of their self which is bound by their draconic ichor; their soul is anchored to the very steel they use. This is quite both literal and figurative as they undergo the sacred rite of rebirth. It is ought they forge a weapon thereafter, a weapon crafted with such arduous effort as they dress the steel in dragonsflame. Let the make of their weapon be like a poem that is written; and let its use be another art, the one of song. For there is a particular art in War - as there is one of battle. But there is a lesser known art; the one of knowing precisely when the sword should leave the sheath, and when it should return. But there is one adage, living even in the minds of men; that the sword should never leave the sheath, if it does not intend to return red. Murals, Texts & Honoring the Fallen Knowledge is sacred to all dragonkin, as is it to azdrazi as they gulp down the wonders of the world and its secrets, it is known that Azdrazi preserve records of the elder past kin, to revere those who trod the path before them, to remember yet not to follow. - Addicted to the idea of ‘what’ came before, it is near tradition for Azdrazi to clone this as they commemorate those ancient things by writing texts, safeguarding them, constructing great statues, or carving out sacred mural texts that will not wither away. A way to depict how the ancient lived, as stories are told from the murals. Ash It is usual for Azdrazi to honor the fallen, whether it be a foe or ally, all are given the opportunity to redeem themselves, even in death. Thus those who may have been struck down by our own are to be shown praise. It is often that Azdrazi will go out of their way to collect the remains of a person, then bring them to a holy place to burn the corpse, until naught but ash is left, for the ash is real, it is pure. The ash is then placed into an urn where they can add it to their horde or construct a memorial for it to bestow upon them respect and the last speck of dignity. The treatment of ash is sacred and such will be honored. Rok Nardin - Chasing the Dream (Really Slow Motion) Draconic Belief & Standards. The draconic soul unlike man is not finite, it is open to a wide range of perspectives and a near-infinite grasp on the futility of man, as they sup upon the nutrition that is left before them. They know and understand honour of ‘duty’ as it seals their burning heart like bitter-cold-steel, the iron duty to revere and love their beloved father. Some view the Titan as the Herald of the apocalypse, bringer of death and fear. A mere pawn in Iblees’s game, yet we the Nephilim his sons will never see him for that warped thing, for it is fallacy. For whence we remember he blew across the lands as a mountain for that we know him as. - King Of Kings, Arch-Drakaar, Giver of names, Giver of Flame, Father of Giants, True Heir to Dragur, and First Born. In his flight we the Nephilim will sing songs of his reign, his days shall be long and his majesty is deserving of praise, as man honour Horen so do we honour Azdromoth. The Azdrazi’s duty is eternal, akin to the fire that lives within them, the duty to serve and DO is the lasting gift that all are sworn to. The duty to protect the sons of Horen and their ideals, the duty to embrace the Titans dream. Yet in their wake, death is an essential part of life, death for Azdrazi as rare as it is, is known to happen. Yet when it does as they return to the coils of the earth. We will not weep for them, and we will not view it as a tragedy worth mourning instead we shall exalt and glorify those who have reached the end. Yet this does not go only for our siblings yet all draconic creatures, so with their remains let us not wear their corpses as armor, instead, let us use it to enact its sweet duty once more as a blade. The Azdrazi strongly believe in their puissant father for it is he alone that can carry the world atop his wings, it is his right of birth, no faltering prophecy, no fate will be our fall, for that is our way. Since the birth of our people (dragonkin as a whole) we have shattered prophecy and escaped fate. Those who promise ‘power’ and bestow it upon normals such as the cretin Xan, Xan does not desire order; he desires to control hankering at the idea as he craves to wrap the blinding lights of bondage upon his dogs. For that he is the greatest deceiver, a wicked usurper, a great pretender. So oh hear me o’ brothers old and new, let us continue to defy the odds, the circumstances, let us tread where none would dare, fly where none have thought, and let the Azdromothian flock be heard as the shepherd leads the people. We will not be denied our rights, our duty, and our love for another, and our time is soon. None shall stand in our way, no cursed light-bearer or no trifling worshiper of undead and decay, if there is a wall that cannot be climbed the wall shall topple. It has as well been recorded in ancient textbooks and the like, and something we shall attempt to endorse as a customary standard is when petty feuds cannot be settled with the power of the draconic tongue. It shall be settled through steel and blood, only then with nothing but MIGHT, the champion will be correct in his endeavor and by such he will speak the truth over the defeated. Us Dragonkin unique in our design hold very few flaws, we cuddle with the idea of freedom, and we flirt with knowledge and invention and its perspective. I understand much, I understand the darkness and the light. - I understand the duty of mine people and I will preserve such duty, look unto my eyes, look and see my dream the glorious renowned -ASIOTH- So many are too distracted, too fickle to even notice the chains fastened to them. Yet I have scrutinized for long and hard, studied and judged the chains. I know who linked them together and then wrapped them upon you, yet in truth we are all in bondage each of us a slave. But at least I am aware, at least I am sentient, and I reject the known dogma at all costs. So will you. Freedom is embedded within us, it allows us to move, live and speak freely so let us rejoice and revel in our glory until our chains fall loose. HEED MY WORDS, FOR IT IS DECREE AND THE LAW IS THINE. TOGETHER WE WILL GRASP THE CHAINS OVER A LONG VICTORY. AND THEY WILL SHATTER, CRUMBLE THEN BLOW AWAY. THIS IS BUT ONE STEP. Ancient Dragon Reverence. “Lead us from the darkness, O’ my Lord. Fill our hearts with fire, so we may walk your shining path. Azdromoth, yours is the light in our eyes, the fire in our hearts, the heat in our loins. Yours is the sun that warms our days, yours the stars that guard us in the dark of night. Chiefest of Dragons, defend us. Lord of the Sky, protect us. Azdromoth, who gave us flame, we thank you. Azdromoth, who gave us life anew, we thank you. We thank you for the flame that warms us. We thank you for the skies that watch us. We thank you for our hearts and for our torches, that may pave the way for your eternal reign.” - Azdrazi Hymn of Anointment “All hail, First Born, Giver of Flame, Father of Giants, Protector of The Faithful, Long shall be his reign.” - Azdrazi Prayer of Beckoning “Feel the embrace of fire and rejoice. You are free at last prisoner of flesh. Let his purifying embrace take you in whole. Bring to this one your pure kiss. Free the sinners from their torment. Hail Azdromoth, Lord of Dragons and bringer of flame.” -Azdrazi Chant of Revelry “Glory to the first-born, when he glides across the sky knowing that it shall become night, glory to our promised emperor, his scales bleed a pungent smoke that will choke the air, he will bare the mantle as his wings flare.” - The Song of Azli The Final. So hear me brothers, sisters old and new. Let us adopt standards that we can call our own, let us not scavenge from the history of our siblings let us make our own, in ours, we shall hath no rival, no cuckold lion who begs and demands control and claims it as ‘order’ the Great deceiver will not blind us. Let us not allow the undead and their wicked grasp to corrupt our heart and turn it cold for we will resist. Together we will become stronger, we will unite under the one, the only one which is the First-Born and we will match our enemies, each and all as we decipher their truths from lies with time, thus it is made decree we know our father and what he stands for, the fair king, the merciful King. A Z D R O M O T H Blest be his name, our wings will sprout as we tread the air before us, we march upon the clouds and soak them red until they bleed into the earth and a grand new regime comes to reign. Whereas the First and only firstborn will save us from the plight that will doom us, his offering of bliss will be bestowed to each and all as none will dare oppose us. For even a lion stricken with his ego knows not to dare step into the dragon's lair. TOGETHER OUR WORTH SHALL BE TESTED AND PROVED. NONE SHALL STAND BEFORE US, FOR WE STAND BEFORE THEM. WE WILL SUP UPON A S I O T H, WE WILL KNOW FREEDOM. WE WILL DIGEST KNOWLEDGE LIKE FINE WINE, WE WILL KNOW OF ITS GRAPE. ALL HAIL THE FAIR TITAN, THE GOODLY TITAN; OUR MERCIFUL KING. A Z D R O M O T H Fire Fire Fire Fire Fire FIRE Fire Fire Fire [!] As you reach the last of the pages fashioned in draconic text, you notice the rest of the pages blank - though threatening to be filled by some sorcery. The answers to the questions you may have about the dragonkin are revealed within; https://www.lordofthecraft.net/forums/topic/216715-settling-the-draconic-question/ FOR THOSE WHO WOULD SEEK FIRE; Those enamoured by the draconic race, and the sweet murmurs of Azdromoth and his kin are taken one night by a strange dream; [Spoiler] OUT OF CHARACTER : The Azdrazi community is reforming yet again. We’ve had a good roll recently, and are always looking for new players to get involved. Of course, we want new players to be able to join fluently, and with as little OOC maneuvering as possible. Nonetheless, and based on the “For those who would seek fire” portion found above, do reach out to us so we can establish an interaction ! You may reach us at: Discord kindEmperor#7075

To the lion that hides In which a dragon scribes a note, to the cat the sunlit cuck. May fire bless his name, and cure it of the disease he carries. X*n, why is it you fear him? Why is it you hide now? Are you not order? is that not what you claim, yet you make excuses? After excuse. Pathetic. He has risen, you know it, you hear it, you smell and feel and see his presence. You do not smite him, because you are weak, and scared, you hide in your realm refusing to sunder. And as you dare not meet the prophecies that were placed on the plane, tell me you have people who worship you. How pitiful is it, to see their master scared. Instead, you focus your personal hate towards A z d r o m o t h. More - towards ALL dragons, for no more than a personal act. Not for the Order you worship and suckle at like a worn-out teat, for even a lion knows not to tread ground near the dragon's cavern . . . I to understand your grief. And I understand your jealousy. . . That your beloved and most loved, someone who you’d place down your life for.. Left you. But can you blame them? For why couldn’t she, she saw something better, a creature of immaculate purpose and she loved it, she cared for it. How can anyone blame her? Dragons can be the most cunning creatures, if looked at right. Yet you hated this, that you could NEVER be that immaculate thing that she desired so much. Is that why you hate us? Claim that we are an abomination ? PAHAHAHAHAHA. Really how pathetic, I fight all the battles, I challenge thee The dark? It will be swallowed by my avarice flame. The light? My fire shineth brighter and burns ever more violently. It is not blinding, it is pure and not corrupted. What is it you have to offer? Then false power. NOTHING. You have nothing to offer. Then rid yourself, you have no purpose. You beg for worship, you are no better than the thing you fear. . . Dare I speak its name. It really must kill you inside, knowing that my beloved father, he who lacks no true rival. resides in his vast chambers, crying out with laughter ; Hahaha, knowing even if you did kill us all. That your hate will only grow. And we will exist forever. Blessed be Azdromoth our king, where he keeps the world upright on his ivory wings . . . “ALL HAIL GIVER OF FLAME. FATHER OF GIANTS. ALL HAIL THE TITAN.” “FIRST BORN. THEE ARCH-DRAKAAR. THE GREAT A Z D R O M O T H.” ALL HAIL. THE KING OF KINGS. LONG SHALL BE HIS DAYS.

Elden Ring Lord Of Chaos - Tribute【GMV】 “Death following, death watching, as each step was followed with the next” Then like how most things started the day was young, the sun lit in the cold wind aching for it to be warm. They birthed a new flame mother of it - He the dwarf walked that path that he rightfully set out, it haunted him, it overtook Brankhyn the thought to embrace it was overwhelming. But how could he have any regrets? He sent out letters and had his last words spoke clearly The halls of fire, the halls of everlasting dreams sworn to truth to freedom overlapped the dwarf as he bid his last. “Draakopf do not fret, you started I and now I have become that very thing” “Let us not dream or speak, let us take action - for that is thou reality, our reality.” “Thus sweetness is made in calamity and in that there births anew, something odd ; ancient. Fire and stone. “The thousand steps, the fire does not die or quake it simply awaits it begging to be fed it ever avarice it lacked as much beverage, thus it swallows you whole old friend” Then the thousand, steps yet none began. The Doomforged in all his mortality and his young life answered to the An-Gho and the prophet answered with “When do you wish to die?” Then with each step - With every single step it felt like a thousand in this finite mind of his. Brankhyn embraced the thought he sang to himself, he dreamed in the moment… He was full of everything and anything yet nothing. He could not lie nor spout the truth. What was this? This feeling that death awaited, he could not. But this is something that he needed to do for the betterment. “Donny cannot see, he wouldn’t understand. But he will” Said he who took on the thousand steps with his mentor. Of stone and fire, he followed the statue as he tried to embrace to imagine the reality that was to be. He faced the starving fire… It begged to be fed. Those flames danced with it and sang with its cackling in the sunken depths of tor - azdroth. That thing that stood beside the Doomforged spewed terrible secrets, ohh they were something to be locked away in a deep vault. the thought began to embrace it all emerged. The thought embraced now it was only the fire to be left… Then the prophet clung onto his leal warrior ‘Brankhyn’ the first of his name and threw him unto the starving flames.. “The dwarf being burned alive by scorching flames” No time to dream, no time to slumber, no words could leave now action is dyre. The avarice starving fire was fed Brankhyn. It clamped and clung onto him quickly engulfing him whole it crawled in places none would know and in enveloped his form - His bones popped and splat open, they struck open with booms that called out through the halls His skin bursting open, terrible moans of anguish. The ugly screams of great pain left… then From ash to ash to ash there will be what is released, now there's only ash… That which is within is like that which is without; that which is without is like that which is within. “Sacrificed himself to bid my word, for I am reality itself I am” Then the bells rang like a song, a poem dancing. Something arose, a warrior of yore marked with ancient scales horns exploding from its head crowned atop like royalty - those scales riddled across him erupting like a volcano birthing lava.. Eyes were red and gold serpentine. They judged and they observed. It stood like a beaming tower that touched the stars. 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.” That thing watched and it met the An-Gho with such callousness, such little care it was born cocky; its juvenile behavior bore witness to the prophet. Then it met that golden third eye of his… The eye humbled the thing that rose from the fire, it quickly bowed for it had witnessed it. The thing was curious about the world so it made questions and it made answers out of them - It wondered deeply, it was fascinated and it yearned to know.

1 Hour Loop "Why do I still live?" (Extended version) To those who I favored most, who now know not of where they are… For the days I have spent, wondering, dreaming, and traveling around these accursed lands, where life is not fair and where life is banal where man and dwarf alike preach the same thing with the same similarities but they are oh so ever different, thus I am made anew, scribed by the wailing ash that falls from my form and my boiling crimson eyes. _______________________________________________________________________________________________________ Dear Draakopf fallen kin o’ mine Killed by the Grand king of Urguan Bakir. Draakopf grandfather, my father as I called you back in those days of old. You were the one who blessed me and taught me before where I am now, the times we had were imprinted upon me moulded me, and shaped me with splendorous forging, You were the one who protected me against those foul things that hated us so much, but who could blame them for you was ruin? You were uncontrolled fire but served nonetheless. Let me not talk of mine asioth, but father when I see you again? Tell me of yours, I have grown in your memory and I can only pray that I have served you well. . . I am you from ash to ash, but I try to be different, for I cannot war the very gods as you did, I am vigilant and keen, and my voice will be heard and a solution will be made as we promised all those years ago. _______________________________________________________________________________________________________ Dear Marius Vilac favoured friend o’ mine Killed by an unknown Lector. Marius my good friend, it troubled me when I first heard of your passing, though I did not let it get the better of me. I knew you wouldn’t want it to control my decisions dear friend, you were a meaningful and truthful teacher that many needed but most of all wanted so much, I remember you preaching and I remember how you fought for those very same ideals. . . All I can say now friend is that I can only show your son so much, for he is alike to you in many ways he doesn’t see it as I do. But he is the solution you were looking for! When do I see you again dear brother Marius let us talk about it? Yes? I can see the Dragon inside of your spawn and his flame awakening… _______________________________________________________________________________________________________ Dear Nehtamo, a good friend o' mine unknown either missing or dead. Nehtamo the elf who showed up and did much, I need not recall the number of times you had to save me from those situations, as you already know of that. I wonder what you are doing now? I could sense unease in your eyes, friend, worry, sadness. Though I never understood why it always baffled me what was on your mind. Though you are more capable than most…. Who knows I can hear you now telling me “Bortu no, think again, try again!” I could be wrong, or I could be right. But when we meet again brother Nehtamo, let us not speak about the bad times. The memories of old that were filled with spite, let us talk about the good memories, should I recall that time when Vothdrem was chasing you around, due to you shooting him? Ahh, fun times indeed! _______________________________________________________________________________________________________ Dear Kronk, strong battled hardened warrior and ally. Death, torn apart and then obliterated by the void. Kronk, I will keep this short, as I have not much to say about you, we have only known each other for some while, but you were a dwarf, a good dwarf but still a dwarf - The blood that swam through you was that of Iron, and your head was carberum, You were a true battle hero among our kin of dwed, there was no army if Kronk were not leading it. I remember that much, Though you did have your faults though all do, you were stubborn and the very thing people admired about you or loathed about you. was the same thing that got you killed. I need not speak of the void and its treachery, Though you stood your ground in times of chaos and that is what matters, Sigrun should be proud that his blood swam through you, and therefore an exceptional warrior was forged Kronk ‘The Grand Stormheart’ When we meet again, let us speak more aye lad? I’ll bring a drink or two. _______________________________________________________________________________________________________ I would sit, and I would sing more words to you, my kin, my friends, and my brothers. But the use of speech? And talking? It is time for action, so let me slow down my baffling and let me reveal my tarnished blade, and my ash tongue for stories to tell, and war to sing. Where your path took you, it will not take me. Brankhyn Finished short, taking a breath and remembering his fallen comrades. His hands clasped and he fell silent. __=__ = So thou know of my will, allow mine ambition; allow mine passion to take you to that unseen place. . . For I am on my way, the journey is scarce so be thankful. This blade will cleave as justice, through the shadows of the night - to then outshine the dawning sun itself. Thine own eyes are the setting dawn and the rising moon, from ash to ash, to fire on fire. This own command is to love and hate, so let me glimpse it for thou, and tell you of its beauty. Thee must know what I sing. And where I dance. Sweet asioth, Great Asioth! __=__ =

An open letter to those who would trust Azdromothian Agents Grace be unto you from our Lord GOD, I am Lector Trevor Turnfield of The Flaming Covenant Cohort. I write not as a representative of the Lectorate but as a concerned man of the faith to you who would join in the crusade against iniquity we faithful children of GOD perpetuate. The leader of our opposition is the deceiver, the greatest and first of the liars who would peddle falsehoods even to his own forces in order to oppose the purity of GOD's kingdom and domain; there is no lengths he will not go to act as a snake in the grass and undermine our efforts. I have spoken with Azdromoth myself and despite what his servants may try to sell you I can say with absolute certainty the lizard is remorseless for his deceptions, though he claims to possess love that did not stop him from instructing his servants to infiltrate our governments, it did not stop him from slaying dozens of innocents in Elvenesse, it did not stop him from allowing his servants to seek unity with agents of the dark. Indeed I attended the curia where the first inquisition began and watched on as in response to their crimes the servants of Azdromoth burned churches, assassinated priests, and began waging unhinged war across all Almaris. In all these decades they have not improved, they have not sought redemption, they have continued to infiltrate- From Oren, to Krugmar, to Urguan, to Balian, to Savoy and countless others they have been in the shadows playing their games and as the adage says 'fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.' I for one refused to be fooled by crocodile tears and feigned regret another second. I have watched on for fifty years as these beasts have grown more profane and desperate, how they attempt to deceive and curry favor with us after their transgressions as even when we offered Azdromoth penance and instruction on how to truly come into the creator's light we were rejected. The Lizardmen have been given every fair chance to do as GOD would will, they have been given every fair chance to act with integrity and honor, and they have been given every fair chance to distance themselves from their deceitful and wicked master but they have refused in favor of pointing blame when they themselves aim to tangle descendants in their infighting. They speak to us now of trying to honor the Horenic pact which they have broken by siding with GOD's own enemy and claiming it as 'trickery' - if your master knows it to be a trick and continues to serve then it is no trick, it is knowing blasphemy. Trust not these lizards in lambs clothing, they are wicked. Asioth is little more than a draconic aberration of Xionism, and Xionism is heresy. Check every armed man for tattoos of dragonkind, take potions of ice and steel to the lizards you see. And if you yourself reading this are a servant of Azdromoth and your will to fulfill the Horenic pact is true: Save we faithful sons of Horen the trouble and mount yourself upon the crucifix in our stead. SEREMVS * DELENDA * EST

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vFlR0FVQP34&list=RDOzRl2aM50SU&index=3 II The ashened dwarf, wrought with a duo set of smoldering eyes filled to the brim with a fiery tone and explicit wonder. They set upon an orb surrounded by dancing fire. Draconic scriptures of art and tales All are finite but indwelt with a spark of wonder and infinity. 9th of malins welcome Year 91 of the second age. For the longest time many moons have slept and swirled around since I’ve started where I have, and really it's hard to say how much I've learned on the knowledge and wisdom that I’ve been able to grasp on through this I gained the opportunity to have my dreams. Ohh my dreams are everlasting, they are forever. It's strange, it's beautiful and it's wonderful. So here I sit, here I dream and here I slumber pondering and wondering what is it ? What am I? Why am I here ? To bargain with life ? The half-breed filled with eternal wonder fell silent as he dreamt and slept Within the halls naught of dark but wonderful splays of fire The golden halls I am a herald of the titan named Azdromoth king of kings I am a disciple of his sons a follower by will I am a dwarf A dwarf whom is greedy cursed to be small Though I carry the blood of an elf, its blood swimming through my veins. The halls of enlightenment and the orb with ethereal wonder glowed and shined bright As the ash coated herald of the king of kings continued to wonder ? 9th of malins welcome Year 91 of the second age. Though fire dances with me It dances with you. I dance with it and I know It, I allow it. So why not you? It dances within us all, learning it and understanding it is all I do. I do not hate what I am I try to love it, I grieve my mistakes but I cherish them I hold them close I grasp on opportunities for the benefit of my friends and family So I ask you what am I ? And so the nightmare began, it crept, it crawled, it frightened its host. It slithered and petrified and filled the coal head with endless thoughts. His eyes swollen on the cold and cruel nightmare. So it emerged. The golden halls remained vigilant; they remained fulgent and ever so beautiful. The orb flustered with ethereal it flickered with dreams. What scares me death ? No - No it doesn’t but should it ? why. . . WHY!? I grow furious with myself as the roots from my blood clash with my bones and my head spirals out of control. Because of this curse, because of this forever dream fixated on myself I can’t stop asking myself WHY ? I have come to realize that I lie to myself to grant myself the benefit of the doubt. I keep arguing on why he fights them and why they fight us. Perhaps at the end of the day it's just power, perhaps that is what motivates men the finite filled with the greed of WANT. Of all things it's only to understand the meaning, the truth among lies. A stone that rests in an endless sea of sand sunk inside the deep depths. It's practically impossible to find but it exists! So that's what matters really, knowing something exists so you continue to live and fight for it. To die for it. Or am I spouting lies utter and pure nonsense make belief; a mere story that a drunk man spouts in a tavern. Or is it what I have come to realize during my journey this is simply another step along the long road I have delved into. Even when I receive clear and obvious answers my mind swirls and goes mad. It's as if I can’t comprehend such things. The dwarf rested alone, alone with his nightmares. Alone in the golden halls that sprouted from a seed engulfed by ash. His mind nor resting more hurting, a consent pain. But his eyes flickered with endless dancing, his ash coated skin and head danced with in tune of the cackling flames, the singing fire was nothing but music flowing to his ears. A Draconic beast fighting with a Lion. “Even a Lion should know when or when not to trifle with a Dragon and lurk around its den.” 9th of malins welcome Year 91 of the second age The Doomforged started to state with his ash tongue, the words flowing out as swimming fire. So here I slumber, and here I rest with my endless nightmare about what to think and what to drink BAHAHA. He snickered and laughed at his remark as he collapsed to the floor engulfed by the ash and surrounded by conflagrant fire. Then rightfully so the nightmare ended. And a wonderful dream began. In step the Lion out steps the Dragon, in steps the Lion, its mouth widened to then it let out an almighty roar! Then the great wings from the great beast started to expand, so its oven - maw opened to hiss to the cat, the cat fell to the ground, rightfully slain - there goes the cat As the Dragon enjoys its feast… The dwarf sang ludicrous words, it danced and it splayed a show before falling silent. So the fire rests. Then so the journey of truth and freedom Slumbered His mind at work, his endless thoughts on what man strives to be On the want and desire people need or act as if they need On what the dwarf wants…