#Lore24 – Entry #123 – Muckenmyre Month #2 – Awakening Upon an Unfamiliar Bed

From the journal of Takara, Slave Inquisitor of the Stellae Illustris.

I have vague impressions of the times following the storms.  The seas were peaceful once more, perhaps within minutes following the sinking of our fleet.  I can recall the sunset as I lay upon the piece of shattered wreckage, too incoherent to attempt to free myself from the rigging.  I could tell I had many broken bones, that I still bled.  Pain is a constant companion for one such as I, and though I can deal with it far better than most, even I can become overwhelmed if it is great enough.

My next memory is perhaps of the following morning, or perhaps it was a day or more later; regardless, it is of the ship approaching, turning alongside the wreckage.  Ghostly images then, of the sailors cutting me free, hauling my shattered body aboard their ship.  I cannot remember their colors, only vague images.  I think I had began to hallucinate, perhaps I even had a fever as my body stubbornly refused to submit.

As they cared for me the best they could, perhaps only in the hopes of giving such a pitiful creature as merciful ending as they could, I dreamed.  Strange visions, likely caused by the fever that ravaged me, or perhaps it was the souls of those who were lost alongside me, coming back to try and draw me into the void alongside them. 

Perhaps the tormented screams I heard were my own; I had not screamed from inflicted physical pain in decades, so perhaps this was purely my own internal suffering given voice by the fever?  I have a vague remembrance of one sailor’s face, pale and terrified as he backed away from me.  What demons did I release during my lapse in control?  Perhaps I will never know.

It was sometime after this that I awoke on land, in an unfamiliar bed, in a strange room.  It was the morning sun beaming through the window that awoke me, the sound of distant thunder filling my ears, normal thunder, not that of the Dragons’ Fury.  Beneath the heavy aroma of healing poultices, I could smell odd scents, people I didn’t know, a land I had never been to before, the thick, sickening odor of the swamps.  Beyond the small room, I could hear the din of a busy town, the chatter of its people as they went about their lives.

For a wonder, I was not restrained, and I had survived the fever, though some of the visions within my mind will forever remain burned into my memory.  For a wonder, I was not bound, aside from the bandages that were wrapped around my various wounds.  I could immediately feel the pain in my bones, knew immediately that some had begun to knit crookedly. 

I then realized that I was naked.  Not for lack of clothes, for I had been covered in a simple linen smock that smelled faintly of dust and age.  No, someone had removed my collar and cuffs, the spiked steel that marked me as not only a slave but a trainer of slaves, the metal that had been sealed upon my body for over a century, perhaps never to be removed.  As I breathed faster and became more aware of the place I found myself, I realized that I could not feel their reassuring weight, could not feel the internal spikes that constantly pricked and pinched at my flesh, their reassuring touch that signified that I was property of the Inquisition, of the Emperor’s most loyal Stellae Illustris.  Perhaps in another few decades I may have even earned the privilege of wearing a mythril version of them, that I would have become a full-fledged slave knight as a reward for my loyalty. 

To my horror, as I forced myself to rise from the bed, my body protesting with fresh pain that sharpened my senses, though I made not a sound, I saw my cuffs and my collar sitting on the nightstand by the bed, the metal ravaged by rust and sea salt, their once welded clasps broken and newly melted in order to remove them.  Panic filled me, for it was not allowed that a slave of my position ever allow their collar and other adornments to show such lack of care.  I reached simultaneously for my collar and my neck, wincing as the broken arm I extended to the collar refused to move as I had intended it to, the fingers of my other hand finding my throat, bare but for the bandages. 

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed then, gritting my teeth against the pain of a shattered femur and broken ribs and picked up the spiked collar once I could finally reach it.  My tail twitched anxiously as I stared at the broken, rusted steel, my mind struggling to come up with some way that I could fix it, some way that I could atone for the offense of going uncollared, that I would dare disrespect my Emperor in such a way.

That was when I heard the sound of heels crossing the wooden floor, then that door opened, revealing a human woman, wearing a most curious smile upon her face.  It would be some time before I understood what her smile indicated.  At that moment, I was simply too distraught over the loss of my adornments to process matters.

I may have even had tears in my eyes.

#Lore24 – Entry #122 – Muckenmyre Month #1 – Shipwrecked off the Dragon Isles

From the journal of Takara, Slave Inquisitor of the Stellae Illustris.

I have little memory of the Dragon Isles; we really weren’t there that long, just a few foggy images of rocky islands in the distance.  I was there to assist the Emperor’s Inquisition as they tracked the remnants of a group tied to the Res’Teringal rebellion, the last of those who would dare oppose his rightful rule, driven from their hiding place after several months of searching.  The remnant rebels had taken up with a pirate fleet, hoping to flee the emperor’s grasp, perhaps to live long enough to mount another attempt to buck the control of the Empire.  Once our chase fleet had caught up with them, they made straight for the Dragon Isles.  We knew they were bound for Cypress Isle at the tip of the island chain, but they were desperate. 

They turned toward the inner islands. 

They brought the storms…the Dragons’ Fury.

These storms were…like nothing I had ever witnessed in my life.  No storm within the many regions of the Empire that I have traversed in my two centuries of life were anything close to the fury that came from those islands, rolling down from the skies to the north like a gray and black wall of roiling death.  Our fleet was doomed the moment Inquisitor Dama decided to follow the pirates closer in.  I don’t know if they made it out; we lost sight of them within moments as the seas began to surge, lightning struck all about, and hail slammed into us.  The thunder…it really was like the roar of dragons.  That is the only way I can describe it…what else could sound so terrifying, even to someone like me, than a roar from a legendary dragon?

We tried to turn away, but it was far too late for us.  Our decision to follow the rebels toward the inner islands had sealed our doom.  Our ships were shattered in minutes.  I had already made my peace with my death, to whatever fate my soul would face.  My life had been nothing but suffering, either inflicted upon me, or with myself inflicting it upon others.  It was all for the Emperor of course, may He live forever, and I certainly would change nothing that I had done in his name…but to die so quickly…I certainly could never have imagined such a…merciful end.  It was not an ending for someone who had been responsible for causing so much pain to others, especially those of my own kind.  Most of my brother and sister slaves certainly did not deserve what I did to them, but I am a loyal slave to my great Emperor, and it is his will that I channeled; I was his vessel, his voice to those who could not understand it.

I felt the cold of the virulent sea, felt the electric charge in the air and water from the lightning as I was tossed around, felt my bones break from the impact of the hailstones, from my body slamming into the broken hull as it was tossed from one massive wave to the next.  Somehow I became entangled with the rigging or some netting, became stuck fast to a portion of one of the broken ships.  In my last moments of consciousness, I was certain that I would be sinking below the waves, would become one with the sweet, cold, void that lay below.

My expectations were perhaps too high.

My hopes for death were premature.

For I am still here.

#Lore24 – Entry #91 – Fantasy Month #31 – Draconic Disappearances

 

From the journal of Angeliqua “Goldeneyes” Cartacustos:

Finally, we return to a proper topic!  And no sign of any Yurisayan priestesses anywhere!  Yet.  I’m still on guard, and shall be for another several days, I’m sure.

Dragons.  They are an everyday sight in some form or fashion, for they are the primary symbol of the Empire. The very arcane magics wielded by arcanists across the face of Andyllion are based upon their legendary spellcraft, and the very language of the arcane is Draconic, or, to those who are capable, even High Draconic.  Supposedly the kobolds are descended from the dragons, and some even still possess a version of their legendary breath.

And yet, true dragons have not been seen upon the world since before the Great Cataclysm.  Many who haven’t educated themselves in the matter assume they were wiped out during the Cataclysm, but in fact they were gone for a substantial period of time before then, perhaps for hundreds if not thousands of years.  There are lesser descendants of dragons in the form of drakes, but these are essentially wild animals in comparison to a true dragon, possessed of a fraction of the intelligence, none of the arcane ability, and the largest of them only reaching the size of a young adult dragon at best.

It would be safe to assume that the ancient dragons perhaps were aware of the coming apocalypse, given the timing of their vanishing.  Records and tales indicate that they were quite long-lived, filled with knowledge that we of this time cannot begin to fathom.  Certain historical records do exist indicating that when dragons once ruled the world, there existed alongside them great technological wonders that have simply been impossible to replicate. 

The question remains, however:  what happened to the dragons?  Given my study of the subject, I lean towards either of two theories being the most likely explanation.

The first theory is that the dragons simply left Andyllion, known as the Great Draconic Migration theory.  Records indicate that dragons were often revered or feared by the lesser races while they were here, sometimes worshipped as gods themselves, and were often responsible for ruling over many of the greatest civilizations, as the number of draconic ruins we have discovered may well indicate.  In the history as told by the civilized kobold peoples, who once served dragonkind as loyal retainers, there came a time in which their true-dragon masters began withdrawing from the world, relinquishing their leadership roles and pulling themselves away from the lesser races.  This was the case for the goodly dragons, at least; those of an evil nature were more likely to remain to plunder the remaining holdings of their now-departed enemies, ruling as tyrants and hoarding wealth, until their inevitable destruction.  Regardless, there are tales that have been passed down within kobold society in which they worked tirelessly for centuries, gathering up the wealth of their masters and relocating it into the great cities that were supposedly built for dragonkind.  Once these dragons had enclosed themselves within their fortified cities and withdrawn from the events of the world, there is little in the way of record as to what happened.

What there is, however, are many ruins that have been studied in past centuries which indicate the distinct possibility that the dragons had constructed some form of great arcane portals, which they used to travel to worlds or planes unknown.  Though long destroyed and dormant, these portals are, as recorded in various records, massive in size, easily able to accommodate the largest of dragons.  The information pieced together from various ruins have been used by modern-day arcanists to create the typical teleportation circles and short-range translocation spells currently in use, in fact, and though it is kept under the strictest of secrecy, supposedly the Emperor himself possesses a working example of one of these portals, which could allow him to travel to any part of the Empire, likely why there is a push for frequent expansion.  The Dragon Isles themselves, long sought after by treasure hunters, is rumored to contain the last of the great dragon cities, and perhaps it too holds one of these portals, maybe even still intact and working.  One can certainly dream.  Could it be that the draconic portals of ancient times were able to reach even further, to the very stars themselves?  Or into realms beyond, the elemental planes, the realms of the gods, the hellish abyss the demons call home, or perhaps worlds we cannot begin to imagine?  Perhaps.

The second theory to explain their vanishing is more esoteric, but nonetheless compelling.  What if the dragons never truly left us?  What if they are still here, walking amongst the lesser races, completely unaware of their true nature?  What if the dragons decided that they needed to change their very nature, to perhaps enter a period of dormancy for whatever reason that only they would know, and their essences, their draconic souls, were refined, changed, and diffused throughout the world and into the lesser races?   Could this perhaps explain the prevalence of draconic imagery and their remaining presence in our imagination even though thousands of years have passed since they vanished?

This is the Soul Transference theory, which posits that the dragons, foreseeing the coming apocalypse as an event they simply could not survive in their natural state (though one would be hard-pressed to imagine something as powerful as a dragon being unable to withstand what many lesser races managed to survive), and collectively worked to change the very essence of their souls.  Per the theory, dragonkind as a whole, or mostly so, for there are those records of evil dragons tormenting the lesser races for some many years following the draconic withdraw, somehow forced a rapid and unprecedented evolution into beings of pure energy, which was then spread across the planet and infused into the many lesser races. 

Though initially one may scoff at the theory, one must pause to consider the very nature of the dragons.  These beings were far more complex than simply massive reptilian creatures.  Their essence was closely tied to the very fabric of the magic that fills our world, as evidenced by their mastery over all forms of magic as we understand it; they did not perceive magic as we do, into distinctly separate types (arcane, divine, and natural), rather simply as the foundational essence of the world to be manipulated as they required, thus enabling them to use any form of magic as easily as another.  Perhaps it is our nature as “lesser beings” that we cannot fathom how this is possible, thus requiring us to separate our magics into distinct types, unable to make use of more than single form?  Their entire bodies, then, were filled with this magical essence, draconic life-essence, vitae draconis, if you will, which may explain how such incredibly large creatures were capable of flight and moving their massive bulk around at all, and without consuming a city’s worth of food daily.  What if the Great Cataclysm would taint the very essence of magic that sustained them, and would have essentially acted as a poison that would have doomed them to oblivion?

Thus, to retain their presence within the world, they conceived of Soul Transference, transforming themselves into the beings of pure magical energy that would merge into the lesser races.  This could explain why certain individuals are gifted with either a greater understanding of the arcane arts than others, why they are capable of learning what is known of High Draconic, or those who are possessed of a natural ability with magic that requires honing one’s instincts instead of long hours of study.  This could also explain why these naturally talented sorcerers eventually begin to develop some draconic features (scales appearing on their skin, claws and horns and the like).  This could likewise explain why some kobolds are much larger than others, and why these individuals have a more strongly draconic countenance and often exhibit greater control and power of their breaths, and their own efforts to reproduce children that possess these traits typically fail; perhaps there are only so many dragon souls to go around?

Though typically not associated with the theory, I hypothesize that certain individuals who have recorded frequent dreams of dragons in some form or another, may actually be reliving past-life experiences and memories of ancient times when they were once what we know as true dragons.  Perhaps this would also explain why some are so driven to explore the ancient past, and seemingly have the uncanny ability to locate lost relics with a “gut instinct”; dragons were known to acquire vast amounts of treasures, after all, and could supposedly know if a single coin was missing from their hoards, indicating some kind of link with objects of great wealth. 

Again, I could continue for some time discussing the intricacies of these theories, but I have duties I must attend, and I would not want to be late, lest Mother decide to step back into the gutter for her choice of tomorrow’s topic.  Perhaps I shall return to it later on; it is certainly one of the topics of which I most enjoy a spirited discussion.