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THE DRAGONS CURSE Recorded & Journaled by, The Brightiron Prince Asioth; A rigorous test of mind, body and soul one must surmount before reaching their enlightenment. Whilst in servitude to The Arch-Drakaar one finds themselves eternally in pursuit of his likeness. To be Almighty, To be Triumphant, To reap the fields of Splendour. A mortal is not frugal in their efforts to achieve Asioth, for then they are privy to their questioning of existence. “As the once 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 Book of Epochs It was not long after a mortal’s branding of Azdromoth’s mark did he begin to ruminate the scope of Asioth. The mortal, blinded by greed for gold and jewels lain deep within the realm, hadn't understood that this curse would inevitably be His Asioth and His Folly. The mortal sought yet did not find. Through all his triumph and all his glory he could not sunder the aching thought from his mind. If the Obsidian Throne was not meant to be His, then was his existence merely to fulfil a Destined Death whilst in servitude of The Great Titan? The mortal cast a smouldering gaze to his brethren who no longer bore Him as their ilk. The mortal made way to swallow the earth; The path had been alit and all seemed foreordained. Yet it would be the mercy of Him and His Kin that would serve as folly to the mortal’s campaign. Struck from the heavens, Fallen was He. Yet, the ember gaze of his ashen visage did not fade and the pursuit of Asioth did not sequester. The earth endured, unswallowed. . . But, The Sun was Broken. Much like the archetypal Dragonkin of yore, it is in the image of Our Father that we achieve Asioth whilst faring the Auric Path and all its encapsulating calamity. Clung to life amidst rumination atop The Sage’s Seat is where I learnt, Dear Reader. Exalted was I; to have conquered the tundras treachery and seek haven beneath the tree. Sublime was I; to have withstood the suffering offered solely by the frigid Night. Since the mortal descended that fateful night it was He whom was rivalled by none; And in the image of The First-Born, it was He whom served as a weapon to bring about Ruin. So that Chaos may trounce Order. Derived from The Book of Asioth “Fire of Exaltation” “For First-Born, his royal kin climbed the bright heavens, and brought him the sparks of starry grandeur held there. Loving, he lapped up the red waters of their muse, and raised them upon a throne of shining thunder. In turn they filled his vessel with timeless insight, and wrote his name upon the book of Asioth. Like the golden sun was above the misty weald, a thousand lives were warmed by but a single source. Asioth held the power beyond all power. Each was raised above his brothers: exaltation” Derived from The Book of Asioth “Vessel of Sublimity” “For First-Born, his loving kin plumb the darkest depths, and give him the seeds of earthly beauty held there. Being, they tear down the white branches of his cage, and put upon him a crown of humming crystal. In turn he lights their fires with lively knowledge, and seats them all beneath the tree of Asioth. Like the silver moon is within the tossing sea, a thousand lights reflect from but a single source. Asioth reveals the subtle and hides the known. Each is found within his brothers: sublimity.”
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A Dragon, He Is A mortal born from the ashes to lead his ashen kin unto a new world. Ushered in only by He, The Arch-Wyrm Azdromoth. The mortal walks as a dragon, talks as a dragon and fights as a dragon. A Dragon, He is. Aurelect from The Book of Asioth; “Fire of Splendor” First-Born wreathed his household in a sublime beauty; from empty silence, a fallen prince hated them. An adversary soared from his silent limbo, pledging First-Born glory greater than Asioth. Thus First-Born conquered nations with his glowing voice; Asioth was the noble grandeur of his throne. Full of vengeance, royal subjects turned against him, and their silver seals held him in the darkest depths. In limbo, First-Born clove the fire from her source, the adversary of the fallen prince: splendor. Aurelect from The Book of Asioth; “Vessel of Triumph” First-Born guards his people with a noble grandeur, from silent limbo, a fallen prince envies them. An adversary broods in his empty silence, vowing First-Born vengeance greater than Asioth Thus First-Born watches subjects with his blazing eyes; Asioth is the sublime beauty of their crowns. Full of glory, loving nations bow before him, and their golden bands hold him in the bright heavens. In silence, First-Born shines between them all like light, the adversary of the fallen prince: triumph. It was the eve of Elvenesse’ demise and Draakopf found himself at the Sage’s Seat. There, he sat and remained dormant in silent prayer to The Firstborn. For, as long as his faith held true, so too would his blade fell its foe. And so, the mortal Dwarf of Urir’s ilk took stride and soon saw the walls of the elven capital come into sight. It was swift. . . The blue sky turned black. . . It was as if the Gods themselves had struck the Sun from the very sky above. Azdromoth’s shadow had been cast from each end of the continent and his smouldering gaze set upon that of the city below. Hellfire, or was it Dragonsfire? Fire like this kind Draakopf had never witnessed before. These flames burned black and sapped the very life from those who found themselves engulfed within. Even this inquisitor of The Arch-Wyrm found the carnage overwhelming. With each turn he took he was surrounded by his bredgren clashing against the united descendent armies. Soon, Draakopf was surrounded and as descendents clashed, so too did the forces Unseen. A great beam of celestial origin came thundering down from the sky, narrowly missing Azdromoth. Whomst remained breathing stygian flames from his gargantuas maw which was rivalled by none. Draakopf did not stay to watch the smoke clear and the ash settle. Azdromoth was the force of Triumph and it was The Firstborn who was Triumphant. Dormant deep within the earth is where the mortal dwarf of ash remained. . . Until the Sun Broke. Triumph was Azdromoth’s, rivalled by none, envious are they.
