Dragons

## Dragon attack

Dragons are fierce creatures, their coexistence with mankind has often been unpleasant

*Many ages ago Mikoraza, the Mistress of Horrors, planted a magical seed from which the Tree of Horrors sprouted. Five fruits the tree bore, all of them filled with the arcane essence of Mikoraza. The first of the five was eaten by a great lizard, who climbed the tree to feast on the sweet-smelling fruit. Through the fruit, the magic of the Mistress was transferred to the scaly animal, which slowly began to transform. The beast grew and evolved, it sprouted wings when its legs could no longer carry its weight, its venom turned to flames when hunting for so much food became too troublesome. Nothing could kill the young dragon, and through the long years and with the seed of magic planted within by his creator, the beast grew wise.*

## Father of Dragons

It must have been more than five thousand years ago, when he fell. Dragashu was his name, the Father of Dragons. He was the first of their kind, the ones who brought us here.

*Flying high above the clouds Dragashu looked upon the world and saw the many wonders it hid. In the far west he felt a warm presence, yet a cold strife surrounding it. And in almost all lands he found towns and cities, and a fearful anger from the ones living there. But in the far east there was a quiet land, a land without strife, fear, anger or pain. In those lands, east of the Satin Sea, he made his home. The place we now too call home.*

*In a time we now call the Coming of Dragons, Dragashu fathered his first children. Both male and female dragons are capable of laying eggs, even when no mate can be found. Without this essential gift the dragons could never have persisted. In all lands of the world Dragashu laid eggs. Six eggs in total. In his eastern home he laid an egg beside the slopes of the great Mountain of the Sun in the heart of the continent, the peak where he slept. From this first egg would come the dragons of fire. In the northern lands of Vindikfill he left an egg in the white snow, which would birth the hardy Ysdramr, father of the ice-dragons. In the woods of Arkiun the Father of Dragons laid an egg, which would become the Dragon of Leaves, bark-skinned and fair. In the poisonous swamps of Sestiun where Dragashu himself was born, he left an egg that would grow into the first of the green dragons. In the dark caves on the southern continent of Berenost he laid an egg that would grow in utter darkness, and eventually become the first of the black dragons. Lastly, he flew over the Seglarin Seas to Ambaronau, land of the Silaman, the place where he had felt a warm presence many years earlier. But instead of a warm welcome, he found a continent on the brink of war. On one of the many misty mountaintops he found a shimmering vein of gold, and there he laid his final egg. The father of the golden dragons was among some of the wisest beings to have ever lived.*

*Unbeknownst to Dragashu, the woman who had created him many years earlier had been looking for him. She was one of the Masters, the gods of this world. But to the Silaman people of Ambaronau, she was nothing more than a weapon. And Dragashu, her greatest creation, would make a mighty ally in wars to come. The first meeting between Dragashu and the one who created him was in the City of Gold, in the heart of Ambaronau. Mikoraza lived there, in the capitol of the Silaman helping them prepare for the war, when she heard her creation call to her. The arrival of Dragashu could not have come at a better time, as the rivaling Hirumai from the southern continent of Berenost were advancing every day. Keen to protect his mother and his mother's land, the young dragon flew from the City of Gold to the island of Maratos where the Hirumaian forces were gathered. The Father of Dragons brought death upon them. Death by fire, death by claws. Death by any means necessary, without even a shred of the mercy a man might show. For the rage of a dragon is mindless, merciless, and naught but beastly. The enemy retreated back to their hidden caves on Berenost, where they remained, in hiding, for an age.*

*For thousands of years no actual war was fought, for the threat of the always hungry Father of Dragons and his growing legion of sons and daughters loomed too large over the southern Hirumai. And in those years of peace the dragons spread over all the lands of this world. Yet of all those lands, one remained most welcome. The eastern continent Dragashu called his home became a sanctuary for all dragons, that land where none of us two-footers lived. Not a single Human, Leafman, Silaman, Hirumaian, Delver or Nordman had ever set foot there. But with every new dragon egg laid came another hungry mouth to feed, another hunting dragon, and fewer and fewer animals to fill their bellies. Flying to other lands to hunt required more energy than it could yield. But it was over the arid plains of southern Sestiun where the dragons had an idea that would shape our fate forever.*

*Flying home from the front line of a war gone cold, Dragashu passed high over the dry lands and saw there a group of shepherds herding a flock of sheep through the brown fields. Drought had struck this land, but the shepherds, our forefathers, had always found a way to take care of their animals. Descending from the high sky, piercing the wet, fresh clouds, Dragashu landed beside the flock and its herders. The dew-covered scales of the huge beast glistened in the sun, and where the farmers ran as soon as their eyes looked upon the winged monstrosity, the parched animals walked over to the dripping beast, and quenched their thirst whichever way they could. The dragon spoke to the farmers, who were now watching their herd gathered around the belly and wings of the beast. Dragashu spoke to them of his home, a land far to the east, where the glint of rippling streams shines like silver stars in valleys of green. Where blossoms in shades of rose come dancing on the sweet warm winds in early summer. It is told that in those days long ago, our forefathers rode upon the backs of the dragons, from a dying land to this new home. High above the clouds, to this place shrouded in mist, a place where only those with wings could come. And they named this land Avanima, our Home in the Sky. And there they tilled the green earth, and they herded the deer and the oxen that lived there, and made them plentiful once again.*

*But Dragashu grew ever hungrier, ever more huge. And through the long years his wisdom too grew even greater. So much so that he started to doubt the goodness of the Silaman's hearts, and even the goodness of his own mother's intentions. But the connection between the Father of Dragons and his mother was still strong. Generations of Silaman had come and gone, but the nigh immortal pair had lived on as a beacon of hope that an all-out war would never come. But Mikoraza could feel doubt gnawing at the heart of her great creation, arguably her greatest one out of all five Monstrosities. She spoke with the Silaman, in hopes of changing their ways, or at least finding a way to change Dragashu's mind. But fear consumed them like a dragon consumes its prey. In the end they ordered the Mistress to use her arcane abilities to end the beast, or they would unleash the full force of all the Masters they had been breeding upon the dragon, and banish her as well.*

*Mikoraza agreed, but in secret she performed a ritual that would not kill her child, but instead she took the energy she had put into the fruit many years prior, the energy that flowed through Dragashu's veins, from the dragon and locked it inside her to remain there. On a day of Blacksun now long past, when the beast was weakened already in the abscence of the sun's golden rays, Mikoraza put Dragashu to rest. From high above the continent of Avanima, on the other side of the world, Dragashu felt the connection to his creator fading. He fell, and where his mighty being smote upon the earth naught but destruction remained. The land shook, crumbling mountains buried him deep, and Dragashu entered a slumber that continues to this day. And our forefathers lost the one who brought them their land and their lives. Grateful we are still, and our gifts to the dragons are ever plentiful. But betrayed and forsaken our Lord remains under the earth. Covered in countless layers of rock and earth he sleeps, waiting. Waiting to rise again.*