O Relâmpago Vermelho
Ano 22 da Era Otesiana. Primeiro ano das Guerras de Renascimento. Ano da Conquista Guerra! A barreira que protegia a divina cidade de Otesis abaixou. E a luz desafiante de de Gilias, o Farol de Otesis, brilhou para todos os cantos do mundo, alcançando os olhos dos tiranos que o agora recém-formado Drakynium desafia. Em um primeiro ano avassalador, o descomunal e motivado poderio militar do Drakynium formado pelos lendários cavaleiros das Legiões Otesis, os inquebráveis soldados do Exército Otesiano, e os poderosos magos do Magis Solis, marcha para todas as direções da terra, atropelando os poucos inimigos deixados próximos de sua capital Otesis, conquistando um território significativo e crucial dos inimigos do Drakynium em tão pouco tempo. Ainda assim, toda onda, por maior que seja, frequentemente encontra uma rocha ainda maior em seu caminho. Foi isto que o general Roist do Exército Otesiano descobriu em Reg’livar, uma fortaleza a sudoeste de Otesis, que mais poderia ser considerada uma cidade. Uma fortaleza dos Anões da Calamidade, os Sindarklai. Por conta de uma situação única, as forças de Roist, após meses de vitórias ligeiras e avanços contínuos, se encontraram bloqueadas pela singular defesa da fortaleza em seus caminhos. Após duas semanas de diversas tentativas diferentes de anular ou contornar o que os impediam de se aproximar de Reg’livar e conquistá-la, o general Roist, por conselho de seu companheiro de campanha, o goblin e segrarca Aistran, convoca uma pessoa dita ser capaz de abrir as defesas da fortaleza, e tirar essa pedra de seu caminho. Abaixo do céu noturno um Draco Otesis voa em direção ao solo, recuando seu corpo e batendo suas asas para pousar adequadamente. Uma fera majestosa, semelhante aos dragões, contudo menor em tamanho e sem capacidade de fala. Era um draco da legião Brasali, a legião vermelha; isso podia ser percebido em sua coloração que espelhava a legião da qual fazia parte. Esses detalhes muitos podiam notar, mas poucos saberiam reconhecer aquele draco em específico. Chamado apropriadamente de Skycross, ele não era o draco mais rápido apenas da legião Brasali, mas sim de todas as cinco Legiões Otesis. Como de costume, um Draco Otesis é montado por um Cavaleiro Otesis. Skycross, já em solo, se abaixou suavemente para seu cavaleiro desmontá-lo. Ao lado do rosto de seu draco, o cavaleiro o acaricia, como se o agradecesse por mais uma viagem, e Skycross gostava muito. “Chegou mais rápido do que eu esperava,” disse o pequeno goblin parado ali próximo, em pé já algum tempo, esperando eles chegarem. Esse era Aistran, segrarca do 4º segmento da Legião Brasali, os Scarlet Stars. Vestido com a característica armadura vermelha de sua legião, com exceção do elmo, pois eles não estavam em combate, e não havia necessidade para tanto aperto, ainda. No peito da armadura ficava esculpido orgulhosamente o símbolo da legião Brasali, e em ambos os ombros o símbolo dos Scarlet Stars: um círculo com diversas pontas, semelhante a uma estrela e a uma explosão. “Aistran,” disse o cavaleiro que acabara de chegar, feliz em ver o goblin. Ele remove o elmo, revelando um belo rosto élfico. Um sorriso surgiu no rosto de Aistran ao ver seu colega. “É bom te ver, Itrian.” O draco rosnou inocentemente, como se quisesse lembrar que estava ali presente. “Assim como é bom te ver também, Sky,” disse o goblin, e o draco ficou feliz e satisfeito. Itrian deu uns últimos tapinhas antes de entregar Skycross aos cuidadores que logo se aproximaram. “A gente se vê logo, parceiro.” Se separando de seu draco, Itrian foi até Aistran. Como todo elfo, Itrian era alto e bonito. Cabelos loiros, incomumente curtos para sua raça, sempre voltados para trás como grama fina e amarela; aquele cabelo sempre dava a impressão de velocidade para quem quer que olhasse, e não estariam errados. A luz da noite refletia bem em seus olhos azuis claros. Coloração oposta a de sua armadura que, assim como a de Aistran, era vermelha, mostrando que eram cavaleiros Brasali. Em seu peito também carregava o símbolo de sua legião, mas seus ombros eram decorados com asas de anjos formadas por raios, a marca dos Storm Bringers, o 2º segmento de legião Brasali, segmento que Itrian era segrarca, assim como Aistran era para os Scarlet Stars. Segrarcas de seus respectivos segmentos, cada um era líder de um quinto de toda legião, um dos cinco segmentos, e ambos estavam abaixo apenas do legrarca, líder de toda a legião. Mesmo tendo uma aparência adulta, Itrian era jovem, aos olhos de um humano, e praticamente um recém-nascido para um elfo. Entre aqueles dois, Aistran era o mais velho. Velho o bastante para ter visto Itrian ir de uma criança até o elfo que era hoje. E, depois de meses sem se verem, o pequeno verde enxergou Itrian como antigamente. “É bom te ver, garoto,” ele disse, sorrindo. Itrian retribui o gesto. “Fico feliz em vê-lo bem, Aistran.” Itrian tinha quase 1,90m de altura, enquanto Aistran não chegava a 1 metro. Mas foi o elfo que se abaixou até a altura de seu amigo para abraçá-lo. Eles viajaram e lutaram juntos num bando de guerra antes deste bando se tornar a corajosa legião Brasali. Pelo que eles passaram antes de seus nomes serem glorificados, apenas eles e seus outros companheiros de bando sabiam. Guiando Itrian, Aistran caminhou pelo acampamento do exército. Barracas, tendas, fogueiras e muitas vozes de tédio, ansiedade, palpites e piadas. Soldados, magos e cavaleiros Brasali do segmento dos Scarlet Stars, todos estavam presentes no acampamento. Por mais que a armadura vermelha fosse comum naquele local, aqueles que o viam chamavam atenção para Itrian quando ele passava. Olhares de admiração, surpresa, e alguns de desgosto. “Sinto muito por afastá-lo do Storm Bringers, Itrian,” Aistran se desculpou. “Mas eu não teria o incomodado com essa convocação se não fosse preciso.” “Eles não vão perder apenas por uma ausência tão rápida. Além do mais, vai ser bom para Iskor se ocupar,” Tirar um segrarca de seu segmento era algo que geralmente
Chapter 1 – Let’s Walk
Arcacia was panting with exhaustion and pain. Giving birth always hurt her. It always hurt physically, mentally, and emotionally because of him. But this time, the pain was only physical.“Strength, love,” Beud, her consort, said, gently resting his head on hers to remind her that he was with her. It made her smile between the countless sighs of exhaustion, pain, and memories.She steeled her will because of Beud’s support, and with one last strong push she laid an egg. The egg was gray, fresh, still a little sticky, but hard and intact. It was covered in scales like a true armor while at the same time being a recognizable characteristic of its species.She tilted her head to see the egg beneath her. Perfect, she was relieved, finally resting. Beud’s two other heads rested against Arcacia, giving her even more comfort and relief.“Well done, Arcacia,” Visena said. “Well done, my friend.”Visena, the other and first of Beud’s two consorts, approached. A beautiful and powerful green female dragon with pure yellow eyes. He walked over to join them.“Are you okay, my dear?” Beud asked, concerned. She was more exhausted than he had expected. “What can I do?”“You’ve done everything for me,” Arcacia said wearily. “You’ve given me joy in life again.”“You’re exaggerating,” he said.“She’s not,” Visena replied. “For the first time in our lives, we can give birth to offspring we love. You didn’t just save us, Beud. You reminded us what true love is. And what beautiful lives can come from it.”For dragons like Arcacia and Visena, giving birth to offspring was a nightmare. They had been present at “Dragocide,” a massive dragon massacre led by the most violent of their own kind, Gralgor. With only size, fire, and strength, the Winged Death challenged the world, and won. When others of his own race came to participate in this immense conquest, some willingly and others forced, Gralgor showed that he shared no sympathy or affinity for anyone other than himself. Even though he was a dragon, he conquered the continent not for the dragons, but for himself. Hundreds of the winged beasts fought the Beast, but almost all were slaughtered by the claws, teeth and fury of the End of the World.The ones who survived fled, but two were captured: Arcacia and Visena. Both were tortured and abused by Gralgor to bear his offspring. Having only each other’s trust and faith in that terrible moment, they both swore to step on and destroy the eggs laid by the other, so that they would not feel the guilt of killing their own children and preventing that monster from having descendants.For years it was like this, and none of Gralgor’s offspring remained intact to hatch from the egg and breathe. The monster then decided to separate them, keeping Visena where she was, and taking Arcacia to another place. Even alone, Visena’s hatred for the monster was so great that it gave her the courage to destroy the eggs she had laid herself. After Gralgor was killed by the legendary duo Otes Abiak and his dragon Beud, Visena was found and rescued. Unlike before, she was treated with respect, affection and care, few examples of the many qualities with which Beud treated people. Shortly after, Arcacia was found in a fortress to the north, built on the base and inside the Warm Mountains. Confused and broken, she was brought to the safety of Otesis, where she was reunited with her friend and was well cared for and restored to health. Of all of them, Beud was the one who dedicated himself the most to helping them, as he was disgusted that a being of his own kind would be capable of doing something like what Gralgor did to those two.Even with all the violence, trauma and abuse suffered, Beud’s kindness and genuine goodness helped them heal from these brutal wounds. He transmitted simple security, comfort and well-being just by his presence; the kind of person who makes you sad to see him go, even knowing that he will return soon. With their bodies revitalized, and their minds healing after years of mistreatment, mainly due to Beud’s continuous support and care, Visena and Arcacia became the consorts of Otes’ dragon. And the dragon granted his two companions nothing less than the immense love that one is capable of feeling for another. The love of a family. Arcacia was a beautiful and slender young female dragon, just like Visena. But, unlike her green friend with yellow eyes, she was red with green eyes. And the more sentimental of the two. The red one laid her entire body down, with her neck wrapping around the egg she had just laid; a gentle smile formed as she rested her head on her offspring. “I’m happy for you, my friend,” Visena said, genuinely. “This is just an egg,” Arcacia replied without even opening her eyes; It was as if she wanted to start dreaming about that being that had not even been born yet. “You have already given birth to two, Visena. I saw you give birth to the second one myself, and with such ease and effortlessness. I wish I was as strong as you.”“No. You are stronger,” Visena affirms. “You were rescued two years after me. You were at the mercy of that monster’s minions. So tormented that you can barely remember your time in that fortress. Any more and your body would not have the strength to keep you alive.”Arcacia opened her eyes and raised her head slightly to look at her companion, for her words of consideration had struck her.“Visena…” she was saying, moved.“Don’t strain yourself,” Visena said. “Rest. Live. Enjoy this moment. Because you were strong enough to reach it.”“I will be here for whatever you need, my dear,” Beud said, gently bringing his three heads closer to Arcacia again.“No,” Visena interrupted him. “You will not.”Before their faces could change to one of awkward doubt, Visena continued, “Your friend, Beud, has been gone
Prologue – A Dream
There once was a dream. A dream that people who had never met before shared. For this to be possible, only by experiencing the same nightmare. This nightmare had a name. Gralgor. Not just one, but many. The Winged Death, Rage Incarnate, Evil In Scales, Doom From Above, Ruin of Life, Black Devastation, The Last Fire, Burner of All, The Beast, The First Calamity, The End of the World. The number of its names grew along with its fame. That thing was more than a dragon, it was a punishment, as soothsayers said all over the world. It killed, destroyed and burned without distinction. Good. Bad. For Gralgor, there were only victims. That is until there were servants. The Beast began to see value in the existing and potential tyranny wherever it went. The dragon seemed to have an incredible and arrogant sympathy for the oppression that beings he considered inferior were capable of carrying out against beings even more inferior. Gralgor’s disgust for the wretched was so great that he felt no motivation to even blow a spark of his fire to incinerate them, or even move his colossal paws to crush them like vermin. No, the suffering and despair of those who were already slaves did not amuse or delight him. There was no pleasure in taking the lives of those who did not even have one. Thus, Gralgor preferred to allow the existence of tyrannies that exploited and removed the pleasure of life from the lives he would no longer take pleasure in taking. Devotion and tributes. Everything that Gralgor asked of those who remained governing due to his benevolence. Whether with statues, monuments, temples and prayers, they paid their devotion. Whether with gold, jewels or slaves, they paid the tributes. All in exchange for not having their empires that took years to build, destroyed in a few days. The continent was then taken over by corruption, cruelty, violence, ambition and tyranny. Gralgor took possession of the region of Swormundí, in the center of Eredwyn. A flat region of vast green fields, now obscured by the presence of the Beast and his fanatical followers. Because it was located in the center of the continent, Gralgor kept its territory close to all the governments that owed it money, moving an immense amount of resources and people to the core, like a true funnel that unified and monopolized everything on the edges. False devotion and forced payments. This was how the tyrants supported by the dragon kept their governments and themselves alive. Always keeping their proud heads low, for they were afraid to look up and see nothing but the dragonfire that would extinguish their ambitions for great conquests. Through strength and fear, Gralgor brought the greatest names on the continent to their knees, and kept them that way throughout his life. All these tyrants who had their plans and ambitions curbed would be known as “Successors”. In the south, there was Maliris. The oldest, at least among those born in Eredwyn, of the tyrants conquered and allowed to continue existing by the First Calamity. His government was the Dranate, which he ruled with his descendants generated and multiplied over 300 years. Dranis, they called themself; all who had the blood of Maliris in their veins. Being an elf, Maliris tolerated the elves in his Dranate, but only Dranis were true citizens with rights and true freedom. Any other race and individual who was part of them and did not demonstrate great usefulness was promptly enslaved and assigned to carry out the activity that their drani master found most necessary. Through 3 centuries, countless descendants, and blood supremacy, Maliris made the Dranate the largest empire in Eredwyn. In the east, it was the domain of Golenat. One of the two Successors who were not born in Eredwyn. He was an Interegor, a being born from the essence and will of a god, in his case, the god Horblash, The Peacemaker and The Ruler. Horblash was not even a god of the planet Eredwyn, in fact being one of the Profane Universal Gods, with reach and influence throughout the universe. Golenat was brought to the planet by Maliris to help him against an enemy which the king of the drani was having great difficulty in overcoming. The Interegor and his allies were the leader of the Dranate, but not beyond that enemy. After the victory, Golenat took the newly conquered territory for himself, reaching a stalemate where Maliris or even Golenat himself were able to defeat each other without great losses. In this way, Golenat established itself in eastern Eredwyn as a profane kingdom where cruelty, malice and wickedness are more than valued, they are rewarded. This union of different beings, mortals and immortals, servants and devotees of malice and cruelty became known as the Unholy Alliance. In the northeast, there was Hanadon. Along with Golenat, Hanadon was not native to the planet, nor even to that Plane of Existence. Being a member of the spiritual race of the Oni, Hanadon warred against the natives of the isolated region of Desoria. Despite the number and strength of his race, born of the spirit Rekonitar, The Great Arm, the oni were the monsters hunted and massacred in the region; that is, until the arrival of the Winged Death. Gralgor turned the tables on Desoria, making the oni the dominant ones in the region, now hunting and enslaving the mortal races that lived there. Being the strongest of his kind at that time, the dragon placed him in command. Since then, the oni ruled Desoria with great strength and hatred for those who hunted them and who were now oppressed by them. Without the mortals of Desoria to contain the oni population, the day would come when these monsters could no longer fit in the isolated region alone. In the north, Voligar emerged. In the icy region of Joturn, the giant Voligar was not allowed to continue ruling by the dragon,
Kaelos
Race: Wukong Drake: Nelthos Weapon: Resalia and Irzelia, the Rapiers of Kaelos (Legionary Treasure) Kaelos, Death Winner, is the founding Legrarch of the Karnost Legion, one of the five legendary Otesis Legions. Among the Successors, the Drakynium’s greatest enemies, their main focus is the Unholy Alliance. History Origin All Horblaria, the region ruled by Golenat, knew the legendary couple Kaelos and Karnost, his wife. In a land so consumed by cruelty, malice, corruption and depravity, a couple of bandits like them were seen as heroes by the very few good people who lived there. They dueled as one, they seemed like two halves of a single being who fought for something decent in a world of indecency. Karnost was the most well-regarded of the pair, being very charitable, caring and concerned with the people she helped, always giving them large portions of her treasures. Kaelos helped, but never made a point of showing affection; for him, pleasing those he helped didn’t matter. However, what affection he didn’t show to others, he had in abundance for his wife, who seemed to be the only person in the world who could make him less serious. The time came when Karnost became pregnant. This did not interfere with her performance in the couple’s attacks, but as the weight of carrying another being began to weaken her, the couple, who were famous and known for being incredible duelists and fast ambushers, began to only be able to flee, and with difficulty. In the final stages of the pregnancy and the most critical, Karnost could no longer continue fleeing, being captured by the enemy and taken away, while Kaelos fought to reach her. A child born of pure and true love in the lands of Golenat was something very rare, their son would be taken to the ruler of that land.On the day of the birth, Kaelos managed to find out where his wife was being held. He turned into a monster that night, killing everything he found on his way to the room in the mansion where his wife was. He found her dead, with her womb open, and some doctors, one of them holding his son. Kaelos eliminated them in the blink of an eye, and then held his son Kailan in his arms while regretfully checking if there was any way to still save Karnost. That was when one of the two tanels, leaders second only to Golenat, Sadomos, arrived in the room and intended to take the child. Kaelos promptly fled while setting the mansion on fire. Alone with his newborn son, he sought refuge in the homes of those he and his wife had helped in the past. Those who did not sell them out of greed did so out of fear or paranoia. He ended up on the streets, doing everything he could to survive, and above all, to keep his son Kailan alive. Luckily, Kaelos was not the type to be defeated by mere hardships. He not only survived, but managed to recruit followers until he formed his own warband, and all this while raising his beloved son. When invited by Otes to found one of the five legendary Otesis Legions, Kaelos suggested that only men be part of the legions, as the time, resources and value placed on each legionnaire was too great for him to be lost due to something like pregnancy. In the words of Kaelos: “An Otesis knight will only stop fighting when he is dead or when he is no longer capable of killing.” His request was eventually accepted and applied to all legions.
Alos
Race: Kyuubi Drake: Alygon Weapon: Locrio, the Trident of Alos (Legionary Treasure) Alos of the 6 Tails, Chain Breaker, Protector of Ninlary, is the founding Legrarch of the Arnem Legion, one of the five legendary Otesis Legions. Among the Successors, the Drakynium’s greatest enemies, their main focus is the Dranate and the Unholy Alliance. History Origin From an early age, Alos was raised by his uncle, Evolis, who was responsible for revealing the location of Mared, a refuge for the Helaw people in the lands ruled by Maliris. Evolis himself being a Helaw, he betrayed his people in exchange for becoming an Elevated One of the profane god Eiban. Those who resisted were massacred, with the exception of their leader Arnem. Those who survived were enslaved by the mind control of the mysti of the Order, of which Evolis was now master. After ruining Mared and contributing to the misery of his people, Evolis took only one small baby, his nephew Alos. Thus, under the tutelage of his uncle, Alos grew up surrounded by evil and tyranny. Yet, he managed to remain good, something that his uncle seemed not to mind. Upon reaching adulthood, after a life of study and training in the arts of combat and sorcery, Alos was ready for a ritual assisted by his uncle. The details or function were not revealed to him, as Alos’ participation would be simple: he would kill a slave. This was Arnem, the heleia who defended her people when they were betrayed by Evolis. She was a kyuubi, but she only had 6 of her 9 tails; 3 of which had been torn off and placed together on the altar around her. Evolis and the Lord of Chains Ikrian were present at the ritual. Alos was given a dagger with which he would kill the bound and gagged slave. Even though he had spent his entire life in an environment that supported villainy, Alos had never even killed anyone. Even so, he was led by his uncle. Arnem, the slave who would be sacrificed, struggled as she tried to say something with her mouth gagged; she did not seem afraid of what was going to happen, but rather unable to say what she wanted before she died. Hesitantly and without looking, Alos stabbed her, feeling no pleasure or even a desire to receive approval. It was at that moment that a portal opened in the hall, a gigantic cyan portal. Evolis and Ikrian threw their Chains of Order into the portal, which forcibly held and pulled something. A huge, energetic hand came out of the portal, which grabbed Alos and began to squeeze him. This was the hand of Helavis, the spirit worshipped by the Helavian people and their protector. Seeing that he would be squeezed to death, Alos cried out for his uncle, only to hear back that he could already die, as he had already fulfilled his purpose. The truth is that Golenat, the one whom Evolis serves, has a taste for subjugating good entities and forcing them to serve him in some way, and Helavis would be a great addition. However, reaching the Spiritual Plane, where he resides, would not be enough; they would have to go directly to the spirit itself. Helavis has a connection with all of his followers, the helaws, so a tragedy involving them even slightly would attract his attention, and nothing is more tragic for a benevolent spirit than a malevolent act. A matricide was the tragedy chosen by Evolis to reach Helavis, and it would still have to be an involuntary matricide. 3 is the number of Helavis, so they ripped 3 tails from Arnem, the sacrificed helaw, to increase the chances of connecting with the spirit. But the death of one of his followers was far from being enough to reach him; she would need to die at the hands of another helaw; however, Evolis had already lost the grace of the spirit when he betrayed his people. For this reason, he kept a genuine helaw nearby. The death could not be forced by mind control; it would have to occur naturally at the hands of a good and benevolent helaw, which Evolis was no longer. At his uncle’s insistence, Alos committed the matricide. Arnem, the sacrificed one, was his mother and Evolis’ sister, who had been deprived of her son’s presence since she was enslaved. A real Helaw killing his own mother was the necessary tragedy that involved Helavis enough for them to reach him. The spirit grabbed Alos in order to kill him because of his crime against his mother, since Evolis no longer cared about his nephew, since he had already committed the murder that attracted Helavis, all he wanted at that moment was to subdue the spirit. Still not understanding his uncle’s betrayal, Alos cried for the life he had just taken, even without knowing his connection to her. The tears fell on Helavis’ clenched fist, and from those drops of disgust, he knew who that boy was. Helavis has an intimate and deep connection with all Helaws, which allowed him to know, at least, the facts of their lives that they did not care to reveal. In a lapse of information, the spirit revealed everything in Alos’ mind. Who his mother was, and that he had just killed her, as well as the evil nature of his uncle. Helavis then opened her hand, releasing her devoted boy. Alos, now desperate for what he had done, but furious with those who had made him do it, tore off three of his tails and offered them as tribute to Helavis. 3 was his number, and despite being limited by the chains, he managed to use the offering to break the shackles that held him. With his freedom, the portal began to close, and Helavis took advantage of his last seconds in contact with the Mortal Plane to release a burst of furious destruction from which only the true
Harvam
Race: Human Drake: Dorzos Weapon: Peglia and Tyros, the Sword and Shield of Harvam (Legionary Treasure) Harvam of a Thousand Wounds, The Guardian of Gates, is the founding Legrarch of the Dolav Legion, one of the five legendary Otesis Legions. Among the Successors, the Drakynium’s greatest enemies, their main focus is the Kenastrins. History Origin Harvam’s efforts to follow in his father Dolav’s footsteps seemed to be rewarded, as when he grew up it was almost impossible to tell one from the other, whether in appearance, personality or vocation.Harvam was extremely proud to be the son of the leader of the Kamalar, the king’s golden royal guard. Just as his father was proud of his son for his honor, sense of duty and for having followed in his father’s footsteps, joining him among the Kamalar.It was a surprise to everyone when King Jamast disbanded the guard shortly after news arrived of the dragon Gralgor’s death. When releasing his guards, the king told them to fight for what they thought was right, they swore to fight for the ruler, but that would no longer be something right to fight for. A few days later the king was killed, and it was an even greater surprise to learn that it was his son, Kenast, who killed him, and who had taken responsibility for his own father’s death to the entire kingdom in broad daylight. For, he said that his reign would not be based on lies. Donning his golden armor, Dolav took his shield and sword, which shone like valuable golden treasures, and challenged the now self-proclaimed Sole Pharaoh Kenast to a duel on the main street of the capital during the busiest and most crowded time. Completely devoid of dishonor and cowardice, Kenast accepted the challenge, because Dolav had served and protected his father for years with dedication and loyalty, this call to combat was a right that Kenast believed he had. The pharaoh dueled and killed Dolav in a fight as clear as the sky above them on that clear and hot day. Harvam saw it all, saw his father die at the hands of Kenast. He took the deceased’s sword and shield and roared as he challenged the Pharaoh, who refused, because, unlike Dolav, Harvam did not have the same determination as his father. Kenast refused because he knew in Harvam’s voice that he himself did not want that duel to happen. However, if he still wished to die, Kenast would grant him the honor of a quick death. The courage left Havam’s body at that moment, Kenast defeated him, and he didn’t even need a fight to do it. If his father couldn’t do it, how could he? Seeing that there would be no fight, Kenast turned around, but spoke to Harvam, who was holding his father’s body in his arms, before leaving. “Your father was an honorable man. Never tarnish that. Be proud now and until the end of your days of the man who held you and who you hold now. Take him. Give him a proper burial.” – Kenast, The One Pharaoh. Harvam mourned at Dolav’s grave, and also apologized for not having had the courage to face the man who killed his father. But he promised that no matter how many battles it took for him to find the strength and courage to challenge Kenast, he would fight with everything he had in each one. No matter how strong the enemy, no matter how threatening and desperate the moment, Harvam vowed not to weaken anymore, he vowed not to stop fighting, never giving up a fight until the life left his body or that of his opponent. He spent the next few years fighting in the numerous revolts against Kenast that began due to the death of King Jamast and Dolav, until only his large warband remained among all those who tried to overthrow the pharaoh. He remembered the orders of the old king: to fight for what they believed was right. Even if this order was given to the Kamalar, of which his father was the leader, and he followed in his father’s footsteps, then he would also follow the orders given to him. A sense of duty along with the fame that Harvam heard about the man who killed the dragon, fame that made him very happy, made him swear loyalty and fight for Otes, the one he believed was capable of destroying Kenast.
Dayon
Race: Merfolk Drake: Sesaryon Weapon: Strapor, The Hammer of Dayon (Legionary Treasure) Dayon, The Giant Slayer, The Orbrean’s Last Chief, is the founding Legrarch of the Astov Legion, one of the five legendary Otesis Legions. Among the Successors, the Drakynium’s greatest enemies, their main focus is the Volgans. History Origin Dayon was a member of the great and venerable Orbrean tribe, one of the many tribes of the northern lands. He was not only a member, but also the younger brother of the tribe’s chief, Astov. When the Successor Voligar was on his campaign to conquer the entire Joturn region, the Orbrean were one of the many tribes they sought to subjugate and bring under their rule. However, the Orbreans proved to have an unyielding perseverance, which was irritating to Voligar. In anger, he decided not to assimilate the tribe, but to annihilate it completely. In a colossal attack, composed mainly of the giants of Voligar’s own tribe, the Jortar tribe, in a single night of cold, shadow and fire, the Orbrean tribe was annihilated by the tyranny they had so long resisted. Dayon managed to escape at the request of his older brother along with several other survivors, yet the number of people was now too small to call them a tribe, the Orbreans truly no longer existed. Astov, the eldest brother and chief, was killed in the attack, and he and his hammer Brelior were taken by Voligar as prizes. The tyrant tied Astov’s hands to the hammer and hung his corpse in his throne room, yet another in a long line of hanging corpses. Due to the extremely low temperature of the region, the corpses never became a problem or a nuisance, nothing more than a beautiful decoration. Dayon did his best to keep his people alive, while now fighting in the region dominated by Voligar, called Jortar. Although he did not represent a great threat at first, his name became legendary as one of the great opponents of Voligar. His fame came from his incredible proficiency in killing giants, especially the Jortars of Voligar’s tribe. Dayon fights to free his land from the tyranny of the giant who decimated his tribe, and dreams of one day killing that giant with Brelior, his brother’s hammer, as a way of paying him a final honorable tribute.
If I Had Known
If I had known. If I had known then what I know now, that night would have been very different. Worse for that family. Better for me. I remember it well. Everything about our last fight reminded me of that night. The night I met the man who in just over twenty years of war would kill me and destroy what I had built for three centuries. Oh, how I remember it. Things would have been so different. So much better. It was raining that night, but I didn’t get wet. I was waiting at the door of the tiny house after knocking softly and politely. As I waited, I heard quick footsteps and murmurs, as if they were preparing or hiding something before opening the door. I didn’t care. How could I? There was nothing that this family could hide or show me that would surprise me. While I waited for their goodwill and obligation to welcome me into their miserable residence, I distracted myself with the surroundings. The house was located near a sea cliff. The waves crashed against the rocky walls continuously, without stopping. Their sound was only muffled by the rain.Everywhere I looked, except for the ocean, there were irregular fields of short grass, as if that ground were covered by a thin green carpet. Next to the house, a huge tree, whose trunk would still take years to begin to push through its walls. Its crown was even larger, umbelliform in shape, and with its monstrous size, it served as an umbrella for the house in it East side, and, at that moment, for me.I won’t lie, it was a calm land. It brought me tranquility. That’s why I chose that place for Olesis to live. I wanted the person who helped me to live in peace. It was the most I could do for a human like him, even for what he did for me. In a government like mine, gratitude cannot be confused with kindness. The footsteps inside the house slowed. They were both in the room just inside the door in front of me. They seemed to be preparing to let me in, as if they had a choice.I smiled slightly. It felt good to know that my presence had caused such desperate preparation. They were afraid of me, and I liked it. I knew I wouldn’t do them any harm, but the fact that they knew I could, even without reason, and feared me for it amused me. I couldn’t ruin that. They whispered about how they would welcome me. Poor things, if they knew how much I didn’t care. As I waited, the darkness of the night was broken by a flash of lightning that lit up the east. My peripheral vision noticed something, something that hadn’t been there the last time I’d come. I turned my head to the right, and saw it. A swing. Pretty basic, a plank hanging by two rough ropes from one of the branches of the tree. It wasn’t anything special, but it was something different, something new, something that surprised me. I liked it. I was about to start thinking about that swing, it would be the most exciting thing I would do in months, when the door opened, interrupting me.“King Maliris,” Olesis, the father of the family greeted me with a fearful smile as he held the humble door. He looked up to look into my eyes, or where he thought they were. I was hooded and the lack of light outside did not allow the human to see my face.“Hello, Olesis, my friend,” I greeted him calmly. He seemed to tremble a little at the sound of my voice. “I thought you were sleeping. I’m sorry if I woke you.”“No need to apologize,” he said with an evasive voice and look. My apologizing to him bothered him. “We just weren’t expecting your visit today.”“And no one else’s, I imagine,” I said, looking away into the house. Nothing out of the ordinary. “May I come in?”“Of course, I’m sorry,” he said as if my question had awakened him from his fear. “Please, make yourself at home. The house is yours.” That much he could be sure of.He said as he stepped out of the way, still holding the door for me to pass through.“Excuse me,” I said, entering the house with the top of my head scraping the opening.“I’m sorry, King Maliris,” Olesis said, starting to get slightly desperate. If I didn’t stop him, he would start begging on his knees.“It’s okay,” I said, calming him down. “You built your house thinking of yourself and your family, there’s nothing wrong with that. Besides, I’m just a visitor. And visitors, when invited, have no right to complain about the residence that welcomed them.”No one in that family was taller than six feet, and the doorway was almost seven feet wide. My “favorite” children had to duck to get through if they didn’t want to destroy part of the wall that their heads would pass through.I removed my hood, freeing my pointy ears to breathe outside the stifling air. Olesis, after closing the door, quickly approached.“Please let me keep your cloak, King Maliris,” he said, already pulling it away from my body.“Thank you,” I thanked him, while my long, straight orange hair hung down my back. The house was no higher than that floor. The entrance room I was in was both a living room and a kitchen. It would only take me three or four steps to go from one side to the other. Absolutely different from the palaces I lived in. On the other side of the room, which anyone could see directly upon entering the house, was a very dark hallway. There were candles on the walls of the hallway, but they didn’t light them. They limited the light in the house to the entrance hall where I was, as if that were the limit. I didn’t mind. A human
Fire and Rage
Fire and Rage. These were the things that made me admire him. That made me follow him. Our entire career of battles and war was based on these two qualities. They were something we had in common, something that everyone in our segment shared. All the knights of the Vengeful Fires possessed these two qualities, but no one surpassed him in these two aspects, absolutely no one. Few could follow him into the fiery hells that his rage took him. I was one of those few. More than that, I was the first of his allies that his fire had ever wounded. It was the day we met. And our first meeting could not be without Fire and Rage. It was the time of the dragon Gralgor. After his journey of world devastation, all that was left on the continent were the tyrannies that the Beast allowed to exist. As long as they continued to pay tribute and worship to the dragon, he would support them and not destroy all their territories.We were in the territory of one of these tyrants favored by the beast: Maliris, king of the Drani. Of all the cruel rulers who prospered during Gralgor’s reign, Maliris held the largest territory, conquering almost all of southern Eredwyn, where his Drani propagated the supremacist, oppressive and cruel ideology of their king.Dranis are nothing more than elves, with the detail of being descendants of Maliris. At the beginning of his career, Maliris defeated and dominated three elven families. The Airvoline, with dark hair. The Beltif, with blond hair. The Coilav, with red hair. After taking the three families, Maliris left only the women alive. And for 300 years, he multiplied his blood, generating his infamous descendants who would be known as Drani. In the territory of Maliris, one must be very useful to not be an elf and not be enslaved or mistreated. Even among their own race, some Drani reach the level of arrogance to treat other elves with inferiority, simply because they do not have the blood of Maliris in their veins. What really surprised me that night was that some, even with this blood, never let themselves be influenced by the beliefs and teachings of their families and the Drani culture. Only that night, we met two of these precious examples. I was Movrik, a Minotaur from Ramos‘ warband, one of the five warbands that would become the legendary Otesis legions that fought in the long and gigantic Rebirth Wars after the death of the dragon. Like other warbands, we survived by wandering and fighting the tyranny in whatever way we could, which wasn’t much. It was night, a clear sky, with beautiful clouds floating by, but no risk of rain, and the moon’s brightness was not blocked by anything. We were in the Forest of Vergan, one of the few places not dominated by the dragon or its tyrants at that time. We had seen a light in the forest, a campfire. The warband, unnoticed and quick, surrounded the campfire, and then we began to approach, closing the circle. As I got closer, I could see. Two boys. Two elves still children. When the light from their campfire managed to reveal the members of my warband who were approaching, they stood up and armed themselves, with only fists. The caution with which we approached was replaced by a calm and carefree approach coming out of the forest, there was no danger coming from those two. It was only when I got closer that I noticed. Their hair. One redhead and one blond, both with long hair. Dranis, for sure. A redhead Coilav and a blond Beltif, both alone in the most dangerous forest in the world, far from the protection of their families. “What are you doing here, little ones?” one of my packmates asked, triggering our two discoveries. “Playing at camping?” We had already stopped advancing, they were already surrounded. The two young elves were facing me. “Itrian.” The redhead called to the blond, both still alert. “When I go after them, you run away. I doubt these guys will be able to catch you. Okay?” The blond didn’t answer right away. This idea didn’t seem to please him very much. Before I had time to do anything, the redhead ran towards me. I was a Minotaur almost three times his size. The impetuous redhead jumped to punch me, and I held him with one hand. As he struggled, punched and kicked my arm, causing no more pain than flicks, the redhead noticed that my other hand was also extended, holding the blond. “You idiot!” He complained, really irritated. “I told you to run away.The blond tried to keep up with the ferocity with which the redhead tried to free himself, but he couldn’t get close.“You’re crazy if you thought I would abandon you! Crazy, you hear me!” The blond replied, I even liked what came out of his mouth, I loosened my grip on his neck a little. After all, I didn’t hate the Beltif as much as I hated the Coilav.“Look what we have here, Ramos.” I said to the leader of the pack. “What do you think?”Ramos walked past the fire and sat on a cut tree trunk nearby.“You captured them, Movrik.” He said to me, nonchalantly. “What do you think?”I then turned my eyes to the two little ones in my hands. Long hair, one red and one blond. “If you hurt my brother, I’ll kill you,” the redhead said without hesitation.“Brother? But you’re from different families, aren’t you? A Coilav and a Beltif,” I said to the two who were still trying to free themselves. “What were you doing here alone? If you answer honestly, we can use you in a way that doesn’t hurt so much. Come on, answer, little Dranis.” I don’t know how it happened. It just happened. My arm was practically bigger than his body. But that word. That word gave him the
Ramos
Race: Loberian Drake: Extragor Weapon: The Spear Waberia (Legionary Treasure) Ramos, also known as Ramos Firebane, is the founding Legrarch of the Brasali Legion, one of the five legendary Otesis Legions. Among the Successors, the Drakynium’s greatest enemies, their main focus is the Sindarklai and the Dranate. History Origin Ramos was a slave of the dranis, the descendants of Maliris, more precisely of the Coilav family. By decree of the dragon Gralgor, the Dranate, as neighbors of the newly established Sindarklai, were to maintain relations of mutual benefit. Something they found compatible with both cultures was the slave trade. The Dwarves of Calamity bought Ramos because he was a loberian, a race known for its extreme physical capacity, so that he could be a training instructor for the Sindarklai, and this separated him from his son who remained with the Drani. The instructor would always be a loberian, so Ramos had to obtain the position by killing the previous one, and after that, new loberians were brought in year after year to prove that Ramos deserved to keep the position. Both Ramos and his enemies, the candidates to replace him, wore full armor, from the top of their heads to the feet. One year, another batch of loberian candidates arrived. Another year, Ramos proved his strength by defeating them. Nearing the end of the candidates, the Dranis brought one who had gone completely mad. With his entire body covered in armor, that Loberian screamed madly, fighting with extreme violence and ferocity, like a true enraged beast. It was difficult, but Ramos managed to defeat him. Despite the fatal blow, his opponent still had a few seconds to live. And it was in those seconds that his mind calmed down, and he managed to call him.“Father.”Ramos went to the weak and almost dead body. He removed the helmet, revealing his son. He had gone mad due to the power of the Chaos of the Coilav, which made it a fight that generated more entertainment and profit for the Dranis. After his life was condemned, he managed to talk to his father after years. And then, by and at the hands of his father, Brasali died.Ramos, at that moment, went crazy. Maddened by what he had done, he grabbed his spear and jumped out of the arena straight to attack everyone who watched and had fun. It was a small and normal event, without much protection or security. Far from what was needed to stop Ramos in that state. The Dwarves of Calamity, experts in the power of fire, were completely overwhelmed by Ramos’s fury, especially when he awakened his only and famous ability: the ability to absorb fire completely. Within minutes, the loberian was the only one alive in the area, covered in blood and moonlight. He gave one last howl as he hugged the corpse of his son. After that, he recovered, and held an honorable and intimate funeral for his son. He said goodbye sadly and regretfully as he left to fight against those who made him kill his own blood, as well as against anyone who was similar to them. Ramos founded one of the largest and most famous warbands in the world, dedicated to fighting the tyranny that had taken over the continent.