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.