OMENSWORN: DRAKON OF THE MISTLANDS

THE DRAKON OF THE MISTLANDS: rivala - pITCH hIDES

Rivala Drakon, a "Pitch Hide".

Drakon are mishapen and terrible, with scales as hard as iron and eyes that glow like molten lava. They are feared and rightfully so by humans, for they have a dark history of enslaving and eating them.

Among their own serpent kind they are just as cruel and arrogant, they dominate and enslave them as well. But as time passed and the world changed, the drakon found themselves struggling to survive. Their once-great cities fell into ruin, their power waned, and their people began to turn on them.
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Desperate and afraid, the drakon turned to dark magic in a bid to save themselves. They sought out powerful sorcerers and made pacts with ancient gods, offering sacrifices of flesh and blood in exchange for the power they needed to maintain the status quo.

At first, their sacrifices were small, as humans meant nothing to them, but as their need grew more desperate, the drakon turned to the only source of flesh they had in mass: themselves. They captured other drakon by the dozens, dragging them screaming and struggling to their sacrificial altars. They spewed acid and used their razor-sharp teeth and claws to rend flesh from bone, consuming their victims with an insatiable hunger. Their bid for power worked, but at a terrible cost...

For centuries afterwards, drakon continued to prey upon humans, their culture and society twisted into something dark and monstrous. They built great temples for their dark gods, offering up sacrifices of humans and other creatures in exchange for power and wealth. And all the while, the humans lived in fear of the terrible creatures that lurked in the mountains, waiting to drag them off to a fate worse than death.

In the end, the drakon's greed and thirst for power proved to be their undoing. During the Black Crusade, the drakon were lead by their warlord Balaur, in service to the Slender Crown. Balaur was slain and the drakon's armies were crushed by the northern alliance after the sudden disappearance of the eldritch god whom they went to war for. They never recovered, and those who survived, once again betrayed their own kind. Turning on them in the last moments of the war in the hopes of a more merciful position afterwards when they were tried in the courts of the surviving human kings.
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Now, the Drakonian Empire is but a distant memory, a dark tale told to scare children and warn of the dangers of power and greed. But some say that the drakon nobility still lives, hiding in the shadows and waiting for the day when they can rise again and reclaim their place in the world.

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The Battle of Fell Hill

THE BATTLE OF FELL HILL: FALL OF BALAUR

Balaur, Warlord of the Scale.

The sun had just begun to rise over the Black Mountains as the armies of Balaur and Ashbrand prepared for battle. Balaur, a towering drakon warlord, led a massive army of drakon and dark creatures, while Ashbrand, a valiant Oronok king, commanded a force of human knights and warriors.

The battlefield was a wide plain, with no obstacles to hinder the movement of the armies. Balaur chose to divide his army into two wings, with himself leading one and his second-in-command leading the other. He hoped to use his superior mobility to outflank and overwhelm the human army.

Ashbrand, however, had anticipated this strategy and ordered his army to form a defensive line, with the knights in the center and the foot soldiers on the flanks. He knew that his men could not match the drakon in terms of speed and maneuverability, so he chose to rely on their discipline and numbers.

As the two armies clashed, Balaur's wing of the army charged forward, hoping to break through the human lines. But the knights held their ground, and their heavy armor and shields proved to be a formidable obstacle for the drakon. The foot soldiers on the flanks, armed with spears and pikes, drove back the dark creatures that tried to outflank them.

Meanwhile, Ashbrand led a charge with the other wing of his army, hoping to strike at Balaur's second-in-command while he was distracted. The drakon commander was caught off guard, and his wing was quickly routed.

With one wing of his army defeated, Balaur was forced to retreat, hoping to regroup and mount a counterattack. But Ashbrand saw his opportunity and ordered his knights to pursue the retreating drakon. In a fierce battle, the knights and the drakon clashed, their weapons ringing against each other.

Balaur, realizing that the battle was lost, chose to make a last stand. The warlord fought with the fury of a demon, cutting down several knights before finally falling to Ashbrand's sword.

With their leader dead, the drakon army lost heart and began to flee the battlefield. The human army had emerged victorious, but at a great cost. Many brave knights and soldiers had fallen in battle, and the kingdom was left to mourn their loss. Ashbrand himself, was dealt a mortal wound and was carried home on his shield.
 
The city of Ashweald in the Black Mountains of Stetmark is named in Ashbrand’s honor.

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"letter to the king of skane: year 841 fire"

The village was peaceful and content, nestled in the shadow of a great cathedral that loomed over the humble homes and businesses below. I had been sent there to serve as the town's priest, to tend to the spiritual needs of the people and guide them in the ways of the gods.

But one night, the peace was shattered. The sky was alive with the sound of wings, beating against the air with a thunderous roar. And then they descended upon us. Dragon men, with scales as black as the abyss, eyes glowing with an unholy light that struck terror into the hearts of even the bravest of men.

I watched in horror as they descended upon the town, their claws and teeth tearing through flesh and bone like a hot knife through butter. The screams of the villagers echoed through the night as the dragon men attacked, their acid spewing and fiery breath leaving a trail of death and destruction in their wake.

I could do nothing but watch in despair as these terrible beasts descended upon the cathedral, their claws raking across the walls and their teeth biting deep into the stone. They were determined to have their fill of human flesh, and nothing would stand in their way.

And then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. The doom-spawned horrors had had their fill and had taken to the sky, leaving the village in ruins and the people shattered and broken. I knew then that I had failed in my duties as a priest. I had been sent to this town to protect the people, to guide them in the ways of the gods, and I had failed. I had been powerless to stop them, and now the people were suffering because of my shortcomings.

But amidst the despair, I felt a sense of purpose. I knew that I could not undo what had been done, but I could help the people to pick up the pieces and rebuild. I vowed to dedicate myself to their cause, to use my faith and my strength to help them heal and recover.

And so I set to work, tending to the wounded and offering comfort to the grieving. I spoke of the gods and their power, of their ability to heal and to protect. And slowly, the people began to find hope once again, to see that there was a future beyond the devastation that had been wrought upon them.

Years have passed since that fateful night, and the wounds of the village have long since healed. But I have not forgotten the lessons that I learned on that terrible evening. I know that evil exists in this world, and that it is up to us, as people of faith, to stand against it. For as long as we have the strength and the will to fight, we will never truly be defeated.

​It's why I now request a stipend of gold my lord, please, I beg that you aid the church in this time of dire need.

"a large sum of coin was donated, soon after it was discovered that drakon do not have wings. a scandal ensued and numerous priests were tried and executed."