The End of Dragons, Winter of 1283
Anaximander the Vermillion flew high above the clouds, shaking his wings violently, and pushing against the wind. The Vermillion Dragon made the mistake of falling asleep on the ground without first patrolling the parameter. When he awoke, he was covered in hundreds of the risen dead, all frantically biting and clawing at him and trying to crawl under his scales. Now most of them had fallen to the ground, hopefully from far enough up that they would never walk upright again. After about ten minutes of his efforts, the last was shaken free, but injuries had also been sustained.
This was the third time this had happened in the last year. For the last few decades, Anaximander had felt his power diminishing, but in recent years he found himself mostly feeling tired and old. His lineage stemmed from both red and yellow, his color and power a unique anomaly. His powers were intertwined with time and so he had some awareness of the past, present and future, as well as a healthy knowledge of the multiverse. He knew what had caused the world to spiral into the doom they suffered from now, more specifically he knew the man responsible. The blood of the red in him was much stronger than the yellow and so at times his rage would surface demanding to be satiated; this was one of those times. He would die soon, he could feel it, but not before the person responsible was burned to ash and so Anaximander headed to the west with all haste.
As he flew on, he spotted a skeletal dragon wrapped around a mountaintop peak, risen dead savaging at old and rotten meat from its bones. This had to be the remains of Teligrim, and it seemed ironic to see him as a skeleton again, this time devoid of any life. “When I die will my carcass be picked at the same?” He wondered.
The grassy mountains turned to stone and finally were covered in snow and ice, as his trip took him deep into the north. In the distance he spotted a large crescent moon shaped gash in a mountainside, it was large enough for a dragon to pass thru wings spread out. He sored through the opening in the mountain and came out inside of a huge ice cavern, large enough to fit dozens of his kind. The room was vastly empty except for a human sized sarcophagus in the middle and two skeletons on the floor nearby it covered in torn rags and armor.
As he flew down to land in front of the casket, he felt something, the presence of another dragon. It was faint at first, but quickly became stronger and stronger, until an ethereal shape took form, equal to his size but translucent to the eye. He recognized it for what it was. “Be’gone ghost! Shouted Anaximander, “This mortal must pay the ashen price!”
“This mortal is protected!” screamed Mirrormere
Anaximander was angry. “Protected? By whom, you? Do you not see what the world has become because of this mortal? Justice is long overdue and it will come to him now, at the end of our time!”
The ghostly dragon would not back down. “It was not his fault! It would have been impossible to have foreseen these ramifications. His act was that of kindness and he was doing good, not ill to the world!”
“You call THIS good?” Anaximander slammed a fist down causing the cavern to tremble. “This world is unsalvageable, it is finished! Begone ghost, or die again for this mortal!” Anaximander paused to draw in a long and mighty breath, unleashing a cone of pure dragon flame at the sarcophagus.
Just as the dragon flame spewed forth, the outline of Mirrormere bristled, phasing into a majestic, corporeal form. The ice dragon, living in flesh and scale, stood tall to absorb the full brunt of the fire. Steam instantly flooded the room obscuring everything from view. Anaximander cleared it away with a hard swipe of his wing. He could not believe the site that he saw. Was this a long dead dragon returned to life by sheer force of will? No such tale had he ever heard in likeness to this event, let alone with the world in such a decline of mystical power.
Mirrormeres majesty was short lived and she no longer looked impressive. Hunched over, her ice scales were melted into segmented clumps making it difficult and painful for her to move around. She panted heavily, as she frantically checked to make sure that the casket beneath her was still unscathed. “This mortal gave me what no other being could; pure and unbridled vengeance for the death of my son… He did not judge my methods or actions or try to stop me, no matter the risks involved. He was unapologetic for his faith in me. He understood the greatness of a mothers revenge and he gave it to me willingly, when no one else could! He quelled countless ages of my suffering and so I will die a thousand deaths for this mortal!” She repositioned herself again to fully shield the coffin.
It had taken Anaximander too much power for the first breath, and he was not certain he could muster another. His strength was sapped from him and with it most of his rage. “You need not die that many times, dragonkin; but make no mistake, your second death is coming soon, as is mine.” Anaximander turned around to pace himself away from Mirrormere and give her space. “For you to go through such lengths to protect a simple corpse speaks louder than any words you could say. I willing relent to you.” He bowed his head solemnly. “Let us spend these last moments in silent dignity…”
“It may be too late for us and for the people of this world, but it is not too late for others.” Mirrormere said cryptically, awakening an inquisitive stare from the vermillion. “Yes. I know of you and your power” Mirrormere pinched her claws together and formed a spark containing all of her remaining draconic might. “Take the last of my energy and warn who you can. As guardians of the world, it is the very least we can do before we die…”
Anaximander stared long trying to understand and when he did, he agreed. The vermillion walked closer and absorbed the spark. As he did so, the life fled her completely, and Mirrormere gently laid down upon the casket to die.
Anaximander regained a great deal of strength but he knew it would be fleeting at best. Up he flew and out of the cavern, high into the sky. He surged out chrono power from withen in great quantities and with each flap of his great wings, he sent it out to reverberate into other timelines; other worlds. The message was sent for as long as he could send it, and when he could bare no more, he fell lifelessly back to the earth and dragons where no more.
((OOG – A message of warning has reverberated across several time-lines. Any or all of the stories within the “Peace Comes at a Cost” forums can be referenced as a vision for your character to have seen in a dream. It feels like more than a normal dream, but you know that none of it has yet come to pass in your world. You may also include knowledge read in the final story below, “The Count and the Duke”))
TLDR of “Peace Comes at a Cost” – The world almost suddenly became less threatening and less hard. Over the next forty years peace reigns supreme and a golden age of prosperity is enjoyed by all. During this prosperity mystical forces of the world weaken and Travance’s heroes grow old and weak. New heroes are not truly tested and are comparatively much softer and weaker. Near the fifth decade to pass, a powerful demonic threat emerges, and the people of the world are not equipped to face it. Because of this, the threat triumphs and sends the world spiraling very fast into a dark apocalypse.
The Count and the Duke, December of 1219 (64 Years Prior)
The count raised his hands up as if to hold the boulder from crushing him. How foolish the automatic movement felt for but a fraction of time, but the boulder did not crush him after all. Had a powerful psion interjected? He whipped his head around to see the duke, unmoving with his eyes closed, and out to the crowd, Travancieans with looks of abject horror upon their face, but likewise unmoving as if frozen in time.
The count tried to move but found himself unable to make but the tiniest of adjustments. Mist swirled along the floor before him and formed into the outline of humanoid shape. He was quick to realize that this was the dukes djinn.
“I wanted but a moment to meet the man my former master dislikes so much.” It said aloud to the count. Sebastian obviously was unsure what to say, and so the djinn continued. “Innumerable possibilities at a final wish and what is truly in his heart is to command your death. What did you do to this man, for him to hate you so?” The count wanted to say something, but was too busy realizing the reality of the situation he was in. His mind was busy listening, analyzing and calculating options. “I must fulfill the wish. You must die and be cast into oblivion, never to return. However, an enemy of my enemy is my friend, and my former master has wronged me such that he is now my enemy. Before your death I will grant you one wish, so that you leave your existence feeling fulfilled. What is your wish?”
Sebastian’s mind skipped back a beat to the dukes conversation with the djinn, just moments before the trembling rocks began to fall. A promise broken he thought. A wrong I will right he decided. “I wish for you to be free of your curse and released of your prison.”
The djinn’s face contorted in sheer surprise. “What?” the djinn whispered too low for the count to hear. The emotional impact of the counts answer warped the djinn at his inner core and it was obviously suffering in some way. “No.” The djinn finally said aloud after a moment of silence past.
“But I am your master, and so I command you to free yourself” The count spiked back.
“You are not my master” said the djinn, “This wish is a courtesy to you and so at my discretion. I will not allow myself to be freed by the same man whom I am forced to kill… Pick something else, or get nothing at all.” The Djinn seemed in an emotional struggle, yet he was firm with his words.
The counts mind drifted back to his current predicament. “I wish to undo my fate here as it appears to be written.”
The djinn look dejected by the request. “If only this wish was made by another, it could be done, but alas you cannot undo your own fate when it is caused by a djinns power…. I am sorry but you are running out of time and must think fast.”
The count looked back out to the faces of his people and a single thought raced quickly to his mind. He turned back to face the djinn. “There is a creature that is trapped deep beneath our lands. It is called Ammatoth and it is the underlying source of all my peoples woes. If truly I must go, then I would take this creature with me. This is my wish!”
The djinn seemed apprehensive, “The creature you speak of is very powerful and that would be no small task to manifest.” It then thought back to the counts first attempt at a wish and suddenly changed its tone. “But for someone who would put the wellbeing of a stranger before his own, I will make this effort. You may not be my master, but I would have been proud if it had been so. I am sorry that I must kill you now.”
The count didn’t feel prepared for the moment, but he owed it to those who looked up to him, to die with dignity and so he gritted his teeth slightly and gave a stern approving nod to the djinn as if forgiving him for what he was about to do. And then the rock fell turning the count and the duke instantly into a fine red paste.
* *. *. *. *
Mirrormere instantly shot up and out of the counts body, her ghostly form hovering in the vast cavern now with its walls crumbling inward. Frantically she looked for the counts spirit, but it was unable to be seen. For just a second her shock was interrupted by the screams of dying Travanciens. As quickly as she could, she used remnants of ancient draconic power to save as many of the counts people as she could. When all where either safe or dead, her ghostly form flew over the proper scanning frantically for any sign of the count.
* *. *. *. *
Sebastian was now in his spirit form, his earthly body now no more. Almost instantly after becoming this way, he felt a strange shift of power around him and his surroundings changed. He was now in a large circular room that he had never seen before, and he heard a clittering of legs and the other telltale sounds of an enormous arachnid. He had been transported to Ammatoths lair. The void spider clattered over to the center of the room, apparently aware of some disturbance, but not aware of the counts presence precisely. Sebastian was not entirely sure of what he was supposed to do, but he trusted in the djinns power and its promise and so he walked swiftly towards the creature and tightly grabbed one of its large spindly legs. The grip took hold and appeared unbreakable. The void spider hissed sounds of panic and thrashed at the count, all of its attacks passing harmlessly through his ethereal form. Sebastian turned around and yanked hard pulling the creature behind him as he walked. As he pulled Ammatoth towards the door, the creature seemed to fold in on itself many times, getting smaller and smaller until it appeared in less of a physical form, and more as a nebulous energy source causing resistance. Finally, that energy entered the counts spirit which acted somehow as its cage. The count walked through the door and felt the same strange shift of power around him and found himself elsewhere once again.
This time he recognized his surroundings, he was in the tower field in the proper and far in the distance near the path to the Kaladonia Statehouse, he saw what felt like his intended destination, a dark gateway with energies swirling inwards. He walked towards his doom, with Ammatoth in tow, but the creature screamed out and resisted against him with every step. To the count it felt like walking against the wind, in the middle of a blizzard, but he proceeded on with all his willpower. If the creature somehow escaped his cage, it might be unleashed onto the world, and so he pushed hard onwards and towards their oblivion…
* *. *. *. *
Mirrormere had been in the skies frantically searching for any sign of the count. She expected to at least find his spirit, but its absence alarmed her to no end. Finally, as if her calls where answered, the counts spirit appeared at the far end of the tower field. She breathed a sigh of relief and swooped closer. Her alarm rose once again when she noticed the gateway to oblivion, and his relentless struggle to reach it. She landed on the ground and grasped out at him with her claws to stop his march, but she had not enough energy to interfere. As he was getting closer to the dark gate, her sense of panic was legendary. Then she heard her name cried out in the distance and floating on the wind.
She shot up to see whom was calling her, for the sound was coming from near the Inn. Dozens of heroes stood encircled around the counts great sword “Tundra’s Edge”. The heroes where calling out for Mirrormere’s aid in saving the count, though they did not know the situation as she knew it now. She could see them offering sacrifices of power, and she spiraled toward them as fast as she could fly. Her ghost slammed into the great sword, and she immediately began absorbing all of the heroic powers that was being sacrificed willingly. Within moments, she felt as strong as a dragon again and she shot back out towards the counts spirit. She could see that it was almost at the gateway and so she had to muster every ounce of speed she could to beat him there. Mirrormere slammed full force into the dark gate, shattering it into tiny obsidian shards which dissolved into the ground. Spinning around she scooped up the counts spirit and flew with it back towards the heroes. She forced them both into the sword and within seconds, the counts physical mortal form manifested around it.
* *. *. *. *
The count felt his spirit slam back into a body. He wanted to allow the two to merge and awaken as whole, but as he slowly attempted to welcome his spirit back to the realm of the living, he could feel Ammatoths excitement for freedom rising within him. With every movement toward a return to life, he could feel the part of his spirit holding Ammatoth get weaker. When the count realized what would happen, he withdrew from the process and hardened his spirit as a singular form trapped within his physical body. It was the only way to keep the creature contained. How he had gotten to this point was a blur in his memory, but he knew that something unintended had happened, that they had not proceeded into oblivion. In this state, the creature could not pierce his soul the same way it pierced the door of the tower. For now, it would not plague his people, but if he faltered it would be free and unchained to do its worst. The creature would often scream to be free and claw at his soul, but the cage would hold strong for as long as he would endure the pain. It was a small price to pay and he was determined to pay it for as long as needs be. Time passed and he could not tell if it was days or years. He would sometimes see glimpses of townspeople and feel their happiness or their sadness. His mind often drifted to the Heroes he had come to call his friends and he wondered; did they even know? Would they find a way to set things right or would he pay this price until the world ends?