«Legend: Legacy of the Dragons»

Altarie

War of Fire and Earth: The Tale of Magmars and Humans

Prologue: The Awakening of Chaos

In the ancient world of Faeo, two races had long stood in opposition: the formidable Magmars, born from the deep volcanos, and the resilient Humans, who thrived in lands lush with trees, grass, and flowers. For centuries, an uneasy peace was maintained, with the Islands of Eternal Frost—a frozen archipelago separating the Magmars’ scorching lands from the Humans’ verdant territories—acting as a natural barrier between the two civilizations.

But peace is a fragile thing, easily shattered.

High above in the heavens, Sheara, the great dragon goddess, stirred from her eternal slumber deep within the heart of Faeo. Her scales shimmered with every color of the storm, and her eyes blazed with the power of both creation and destruction. For eons, Sheara had watched over Faeo, ensuring the delicate balance between order and chaos. But now, the winds of change carried with them a prophecy—a prophecy that foretold a cataclysmic war, one that would reshape the world and determine the fate of all its inhabitants.

The time had come for fire and earth to clash.

Chapter 1: The Call to Arms

In the blazing heart of Dartrong, the city of the Magmars, preparations for war were in full swing. The city, built in a ring of active volcanoes, glowed with an ever-present fiery light. Rivers of molten lava flowed through its streets, and the air shimmered with heat.

Gidver, the leader of the Magmar forces, stood at the edge of the Great Forge, where the finest weapons in all of Faeo were crafted. He was a towering figure, his skin the color of cooling magma, his eyes glowing like embers. He had led his people through many trials, but he knew that this war would be their greatest challenge yet.

"Striagorn!" Gidver called out, his voice echoing through the forge.

From the shadows of the volcanoes emerged a massive form. Striagorn, the great red dragon, had guarded Dartrong for millennia. His scales were the color of molten iron, and his breath was a searing inferno. As he approached, the ground trembled beneath his weight.

"Gidver," rumbled Striagorn, lowering his head to meet the Magmar leader's gaze. "The time has come, hasn't it?"

"Yes," Gidver replied, his tone grim. "The Humans are preparing for war. They march even now, crossing the Abode Ice Islands to reach our lands. We must be ready to stop them."

Striagorn's eyes narrowed. "They dare cross the ice? They will find only death in our flames."

"Do not underestimate them," Gidver warned. "The Humans are tenacious, and they have their own strength. But with you on our side, and with the might of our people, we will burn them from our lands."

Meanwhile, far to the north, in the city of O'Delvays, the Humans were also preparing for battle. O'Delvays, a stronghold surrounded by lush forests and rolling meadows, stood tall against the backdrop of nature’s beauty. The air was filled with the scent of pine and wildflowers, and the walls of the city were built from stone and wood, sturdy and strong.

Damirus, the leader of the Human forces, stood atop the highest tower, gazing out at the distant horizon where the ice islands lay. He was a seasoned warrior, his face marked by countless battles. His armor, a masterpiece of northern craftsmanship, was forged from steel and adorned with symbols of protection and strength.

"Erifarius!" Damirus called out, his voice carrying on the wind.

A shadow passed over him, and moments later, a great white dragon descended from the sky. Erifarius, the guardian of O'Delvays, was as majestic as he was powerful. His scales were as white as the purest snow, and his wings cast a wide shadow over the city below.

"Damirus," Erifarius greeted the Human leader, his voice deep and resonant. "The time has come."

"Yes," Damirus replied, his expression hardening. "The Magmars march to war, and we must meet them on the battlefield. We cannot allow their fire to consume our lands."

Erifarius nodded, his eyes gleaming with determination. "I will lead our forces across the Islands of Eternal Frost. The journey will be perilous, but we will reach the lands of the Magmars and bring them the wrath of the north."

Damirus tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, Heartseeker, feeling the reassuring weight of its enchanted blade. "We will fight with all we have. The fate of Faeo depends on it."

Chapter 2: The Perilous Crossing

The journey across the Abode Ice Islands was fraught with danger. The islands, a frozen chain that separated the Human lands from the realms of the Magmars, were a place of treacherous beauty. Towering icebergs loomed over narrow passages, and the frozen sea beneath was a constant threat, ready to claim any who dared to cross its brittle surface.

But the Human army pressed on, led by Damirus and guided by Erifarius, who soared above them, his keen eyes scanning the horizon for any signs of danger. The cold was biting, but the Humans, accuomed to the temperate climates of their homeland, were resilient. They knew they could not turn back.

As they traversed the islands, the Humans faced not only the harsh elements but also the dark magic of the Magmar witch, Brugilda. Loyal servants of the Magmars, they had foreseen the Humans' advance. From their hidden lair deep in the mountains of Dartrong, they cast sinister spells upon the ice, summoning blizzards and creating illusions to confuse and mislead the Human forces.

"Hold your ground!" Damirus shouted, his voice barely audible over the howling wind. "Do not let their magic break your spirit!"

The Humans pressed on, their determination as unyielding as the earth beneath their feet. Erifarius flew ahead, his breath carving paths through the storm, his presence a beacon of hope. But the witch magic was strong, and they began to summon creatures from the depths of the ice—yeti, towering beings of ice and dark sorcery.

The Humans fought valiantly, their swords and spears striking at the snowy forms of the yeti, but for every creature they shattered, another seemed to rise in its place. It was as if the very ice was against them, testing their resolve with every step.

But Damirus refused to yield. With Erifarius by his side, the Humans pushed through the storm, their will unbroken. Slowly but surely, they made their way across the treacherous ice islands, their eyes set on the fiery lands of the Magmars that awaited them on the other side.

Chapter 3: The Clash of Titans

As the Human army emerged from the Islands of Eternal Frost, they were met with the blazing heat of the Magmar lands. The transition from cold to scorching heat was jarring, but the Humans were resolute. Before them lay the city of Dartrong, a fortress of fire and stone, where the Magmar forces awaited.

Gidver stood at the gates of Dartrong, flanked by his warriors, their bodies glowing with the heat of the lava that flowed beneath their skin. Above them, Striagorn circled, his eyes locked on the advancing Humans. The sky above was a darkened red, the sun obscured by ash and smoke from the surrounding volcanoes.

"This is where it ends," Gidver muttered, his gaze fixed on Damirus, who led the Human army from the front.

Damirus stopped a short distance from the gates, his sword drawn, its blade gleaming in the firelight. "Gidver! Today, we end this war!"

Gidver raised his hammer, a weapon forged from the heart of a volcano. "You will find no mercy here, Human. Our fire will consume you."

At that moment, Striagorn and Erifarius roared, their voices shaking the very earth as they took to the sky. The great dragons clashed in mid-air, a storm of fire and frost erupting between them. Their battle was a sight to behold, two titans locked in a struggle that mirrored the war below.

On the ground, the two armies collided. The Magmars fought with the fury of the earth itself, their weapons blazing with molten fire. The Humans met them with the strength of the land, their swords and shields forged from the finest steel, their determination as solid as the mountains they hailed from.

The battle raged for hours, neither side willing to give an inch. The earth shook with the force of their conflict, and the sky was lit by the fiery breath of the dragons above. Gidver and Damirus, leaders of their people, fought with unmatched ferocity, each strike of their weapons echoing the ancient enmity between their races.

But as the battle reached its peak, a sudden silence fell over the battlefield. The ground beneath the warriors began to tremble, and a light brighter than any fire filled the sky. Both armies paused, turning their gaze upward as a colossal form descended from the heavens.

It was Sheara, the great dragon goddess, who had come to witness the final act of the prophecy. She descended from the heavens, her massive form dwarfing even the great dragons Striagorn and Erifarius. Her scales shimmered with every color, and her eyes blazed with an ancient power that made the very earth tremble.

The warriors on both sides fell to their knees, their weapons dropping to the ground as they gazed in awe at the divine being before them.

“Enough!” Her voice was like thunder, reverberating through the battlefield. “This war has gone on long enough. Faeo belongs to all who dwell within it—Magmar and Human alike.”

Sheara’s wings spread wide, casting a shadow over the entire battlefield. “Let there be peace between your peoples, or face the wrath of the heavens.”

Striagorn and Erifarius, sensing the will of their goddess, ceased their battle, descending to the ground beside their respective leaders.

Gidver and Damirus exchanged a long, weary look. They had fought fiercely, but now, in the presence of Sheara, they understood the futility of their conflict.

Slowly, Gidver lowered his hammer, and Damirus sheathed his sword. The war was over.

Epilogue: A New Dawn

Under Sheara’s watchful gaze, the Magmars and Humans forged a new alliance. The Abode Ice Islands, once a symbol of division, became a place of face the monsters of these lands. The dragons, Striagorn and Erifarius, returned to their respective realms, but their bond remained. They had fought as enemies but would now protect Faeo together as guardians of the peace. Sheara, satisfied with the balance restored, returned to her eternal slumber, knowing that the world of Faeo was safe once more.

And so, a new era began, one of understanding. The fires of war had been extinguished, and in their place, a brighter future for all who called Faeo home.

Heisenberg -

The Broken Truce

For centuries, the Humans of Ogriy and the Magmars of Khair fought an endless war. But deep within the ancient forests, an old power waited: the Sylfrith. Once guardians of balance, these nature-bound spirits, connected to the World Tree, vanished, leaving Faeo to descend into chaos. Their roots, which once sustained harmony, were now corrupted by the relentless war between Erifarius and Striagorn, the dragons of the Humans and Magmars. As destruction spread, an older threat began to awaken.

The Call of Queen Altheira

Queen Altheira of the Sylfrith felt the tremors at the heart of the World Tree. The chaotic magic enveloping Faeo was corrupting the sacred roots, threatening the existence of their race. Altheira knew the time had come for the Sylfrith to step out of the shadows. But they could no longer remain neutral. Choosing between the Humans and the Magmars was inevitable, as the war consumed Faeo. The Humans sought wisdom, while the Magmars wielded the destructive power of lava, capable of burning away the corruption.

The Shadow Assassin

As Altheira deliberated, Morghast, a mysterious assassin sent by an unknown force, infiltrated the Sylfrith. His mission: to steal an artifact hidden within the World Tree, the Heart of Faeo, a precious relic placed by Shanara, Sheara's twin sister, a crystal stone containing the pure magic of creation. In the wrong hands, the Heart could bring Faeo to the brink of total chaos. Blinded by ambition, Morghast didn’t realize he was being manipulated by a far more malevolent force.

The Battle Beneath the Roots

During the new moon, as Erifarius and Striagorn resumed their eternal duel, Morghast slipped into the Sylfrith sanctuary. Altheira, sensing the intrusion, called upon the World Tree’s power, but the assassin was ready. Using an ancient spell, he unleashed a portal of Chaos, allowing shadow creatures to flood the forest. Altheira and her Sylfrith fought bravely, but the forces of darkness were overwhelming.

When all seemed lost, a roar echoed through the valley: Erifarius and Striagorn, abandoning their duel, turned their might against the portal. With combined breaths of fire and light, the dragons sealed the rift, driving back the shadow creatures. But the Heart of Faeo had been damaged, and the World Tree now bore the indelible marks of Chaos.

As Altheira gazed upon the battlefield, she whispered, "The true enemy has yet to show its face."

The Uncertain Future

The battle over, the Sylfrith were weakened, but Altheira knew the real threat had not yet been revealed. Gazing upon the ashes of the forest and the Chaos-scarred roots, she declared:

"We will no longer remain in the shadows. We will observe Faeo, training alongside the Humans and the Magmars, not to join their wars, but to learn from their ways and teach them in return, to prepare ourselves. The true enemy is approaching, and when it shows itself, we will be ready."

She then added:

"We will teach all the brave inhabitants of Faeo who have reached level 11 the art of Essentia. This rare discipline, lost for centuries, allows us to draw from the primal force of nature. The Essentia will be represented by a new gauge, located just below that of mana, and will grant powerful and unique abilities, unleashed in the heat of battle. It is with this force that we will be able to face the forces of this mysterious enemy threatening our world."

Zeitlos

The Black Mountain: A lost legend about the she-dragon Chione

1.
The young warrior exhaled. Sweat trickled down between his muscular omoplates, making the tunic under his hauberk stick unpleasantly to his skin. But the work was necessary, and the warrior was far from done.

Looting it was, or so noble combatants and knights with their grand ideas about chivalry and honor would call it, frowning and looking down on him. He preferred "scavenging". He didn't consider himself a plunderer, or a marauder, or a bad person of any sort. He was just trying to survive. I forage the dead for what their murderers left behind, is that worse than what the murderers did?, he asked himself for the hundredth time. It was less dangerous than working as a sellsword, and certainly more honorable than as an assassin, jumping from shadow to shadow with bloody knives in blackened hands. Nobody gets hurt, and my wife and children don't die of hunger. And surely the dead don't mind.

The warrior bent down to the next corpse, an almost naked old man with strawy white hair whose skin was already rotting away. He found nothing on him and moved on, passing over the body of an already skeletal babe. Hours came and went, the sun sank and the moon rose; it stood high when the young warrior finally came upon the last killed villager, another old man, but one still dressed in a richly ornamented silken robe. How many corpses was that? Nigh 50, the whole hamlet, I'd wager. Maybe they had had enough and spared this one. Or he was some kind of priest, and they didn't dare touch him. That didn't stop them from killing him in the first place... savages and brutes. The warrior looked over at the pile of his looting: a pair of leather boots, mostly intact, a small tin box, empty but for some rotten herbs, a rusty hunting knife, two feathered arrows, a straw doll (he would wash it and give it to his youngest), a painted skull, of what animal he could not say. What little coin he'd found he had put in his purse right away. A meagre spoil. And so he reluctantly turned the dead priest over and searched him. He found nothing except for an old scroll, which unrolled showed three parchments full of symbols he couldn't read. Old Baguron may find this one interesting... with any luck it'll bring me a few coppers for a bowl of thick stew and a cold shiz beer at Marie's. And with warming thoughts about food and ale, the warrior shouldered the bag with his new possessions and left the burned village without a glance back. The way to the city square would be long.

Interlude.
It was an intriguing piece of scripture, that much was clear to Baguron when the young lad had handed it over. He wasn't able to read the symbols, but knew at first sight that they were ancient; few such documents were still known to men; almost all were shut away in the hidden library in the Aleveya catacombs. And what he also knew: the name of the only man who could decipher this mysterious folio. So for a few coppers more, he tasked the young warrior to bring it to the Shuar Forest, where a man even older than him lived his last years on earth among wild bears.

2.
Pandrik the Wise wasted no time. Soon as he saw the symbols on the parchment, he began the tedious task of translating them into the common language. It wasn't the first time, but Pandrik was an old man, with weak eyes and old bones and a scratchy handwriting, and so it took him several hours. He could hardly focus on the story unfolding with every move of his quill; when the work was done, the ink dry, his eyes and fingers rested, Pandrik sat on a whetstone outside his hut and started reading in the moonlight.

Long ago, thousands of years before the appearance of Erifarius and Striagorn, Chione, a majestic black dragon, soared through the skies of Khair and Ogriy. She was the first of her kind, or so it is presumed, and feared by men and beast alike. Chion's fiery breath kept the two kingdoms safe from invaders, but her heart was as cold as her exhalation was scalding. She cared little for humans, viewing them as fleeting shadows in a world she ruled.

The mages of the First Brotherhood (the precursor that would later split into the two factions known today as Brotherhood of Virtue and Bringers of Evil), fearing Chione’s growing disdain and power, conspired to bind her. They gathered in secret, weaving ancient spells to imprison the great dragon. On a bitterly cold winter's night, as Chione slept on her favorite spot - an evergreen isle between the two continents, full of game but untouched by humankind -, the mages struck. Aboard swift platformed boats they approached the island, encircling it. Their magic, combining white and black and blood and dark to create enough power against the great she-beast, turned her flesh to stone, her wings to jagged peaks, and her roar to the howling winds. It would be the last great deed of the First Brotherhood, and a very long time until another dragon be sighted in Faeo.

And so Chione became the Chion mountains, as they stand today, warping over time and growing higher with every year passing. Though trapped between earth and sky, the she-dragon's essence remained. When the wind whispers through the mountain's crevices, the people of Khair and Ogriy say it is Chione, still watching, still guarding — and still waiting for the day the spell will break, freeing her once more to reclaim the skies. Some even say that the many openings of the Chion mountains are remnants of the great pores through which the beast let go the steam from the fires within her body; others consider the ever-appearing demons nothing else but Chion's warped children, born and bred in the magmatic womb from which they climb to avenge their mother. More such tales exist, to frighten children, scare maids and leave young squires in awe...

End.
There the tale about the supposed mother of all dragons ended. Pandrik sat on his stone bench, silent and motionless and thinking. There really was only one thing to do. He folded the scroll and tied it fast with a string made of Pkhadd tendon. Then he rose and sent for one of the Brotherhood's novices from the neighboring Wirgold estate. When the boy arrived, he handed him the document and said:

- Bring this to the settlement of Klesva. Hand it over to Chief Kort. Do not open it, you will not be able to read it anyways, and the information it holds is of no use to you. Order Kort in my name to have it entered in the library as soon as possible. He should ask no further questions.

And if he does ask about its content, Pandrik thought, amused, tell him it is the same as most of the other parchments in the catacombs: just another tale about dragons...

-KRÓL JULIAN-_387

The Covenant of Fire and Light: A New Land

The world of Faeo had been engulfed in war for centuries. The Magmars, mighty warriors born of fire, and the Humans, guardians of magic and light, fought relentlessly, with each battle consuming more lives. Every day, the earth trembled beneath the warriors' feet, the sky lit up with bursts of magical energy, and the divide between the two races deepened further. The war seemed endless, with chaos and destruction creeping ever closer.

In these dark times, a hero emerged who sought to change the world's fate. His name was Julian, a half-human, half-magmar, born from a tragic love between a magmar and a human sorceress. He was unique—bearing both the fire of the Magmars and the light of the Humans. From a young age, he felt his destiny was different, that the world could not continue in eternal hatred. Instead of following in his ancestors' footsteps by joining the endless battles, Julian chose to unite these two eternally feuding peoples.

Seeing that destruction loomed closer than ever, he set out on a mission to find a path to peace. He knew that the key to ending the conflict did not lie in the strength of arms but in wisdom and cooperation. Julian stood before the leaders of both races: Elder Verkiry, the new leader of the Magmars, and Elder Baguron, the protector of the Humans. Each of them initially rejected his proposal, believing there was no room for coexistence in a world soaked in blood and vengeance.

However, Julian, undeterred, told them of a new land, far to the west of the ravaged lands of Faeo, which he had discovered during his travels. It was a vast, untouched land, free from the scars of war, and rich in resources where both races could settle. There, far from the ruins of the past, they had a chance to start anew. "What divides us can become our strength," he said. "Your fiery hearts and our magic can create something greater than war itself. Together, we can survive what is to come."

Still distrustful, but knowing that further fighting would only lead to their downfall,Verkiryand Baguron agreed to form an alliance. Julian led a joint expedition to the new continent, which he named New Madagascar — The Land of Salvation. The journey was fraught with danger, yet the combined magic and strength of the Magmars and Humans, fighting side by side, allowed them to overcome every obstacle. Together, they faced powerful storms, wild beasts, and mysterious threats in the new land.

When they finally arrived, Julian began the construction of a new city — O'Develion, a symbol of the unity between the two races. It was a city where Magmars and Humans lived side by side, their strengths blending in harmony. The fiery forges of the Magmars worked in concert with the magical laboratories of the Humans, creating wondrous works of art and technology the world of Faeo had never seen before.

Julian was chosen as the first guardian of New Madagascar, and his name became forever etched in the history of both races as the one who ended the centuries of war and found a new sanctuary for his people. However, he knew that the true challenge was not just building the city but maintaining peace between races that had hated each other for so long.

Under his leadership, the Magmars and Humans began to realize that the differences that once divided them could now enrich them. Together, they defended O'Develion against new threats that sought to destroy their new home, proving that the alliance of fire and light could withstand even the fiercest storms.
In this way, Julian became a legend—not only for ending the centuries of blood and vengeance but also for laying the foundations of a new, better world.

Pearlie

From Fury to Harmony

In the heart of the ancient mountains, where the air shimmered with latent magic, Sheara, the Mistress of Dragons, sought solace in the sacred hot springs. The waters, steeped in the essence of the earth, enveloped her in a comforting embrace, their warmth a balm for her troubled spirit.

Tonight, under the watchful gaze of the full moon, her two beloved dragons, Striagorn and Erifarius, would clash in a battle foretold by prophecy. Born from the energies of humans and magmars, each dragon embodied the power and spirit of their respective creators. Erifarius, with scales like molten silver, and Striagorn, a fiery tempest of ruby and gold, were destined to determine the fate of their intertwined worlds.

Sheara closed her eyes, letting the gentle steam curl around her like a protective veil. In her mind, she reached out to both dragons, feeling their hearts beat in rhythm with her own. They were not mere beasts to her; each was a part of her soul, forged in fire and bound by love.

As she meditated, Sheara recalled the day she first met them. Erifarius had emerged from the luminous energies of the human lands, a beacon of wisdom and strength. Striagorn, born from the fiery passions of the magmars, was a storm of courage and ferocity. Together, they had brought balance to the realm, their presence a testament to the harmony that could exist between disparate worlds.

Yet, the prophecy loomed—a celestial alignment that demanded a test of their true natures. The air buzzed with anticipation and dread, a reflection of the conflict within her own heart. Sheara knew she could not interfere with destiny, but she prayed for a resolution that would spare her beloved companions.

The water whispered secrets as it lapped against her skin, offering insights from the ancient spirits. Sheara's breath steadied, and clarity washed over her. She saw the potential for renewal in the destruction, the possibility of rebirth through the chaos of battle.

With newfound resolve, Sheara rose from the bath, her mind clear and her heart determined. She would not choose sides, for both dragons were dear to her. Instead, she would guide them, trusting in their bond and the strength they drew from their dual heritage.

As the moon ascended to its zenith, Sheara stood between the dragons, her presence a bridge of understanding. The night air crackled with energy as Striagorn and Erifarius faced each other, their eyes reflecting the light of the full moon.

In that moment, a choice lay before them—not just of conflict, but of unity. Sheara's silent plea reached their hearts, and in the moonlit Plateau, the dragons roared as one, their voices a harmonious symphony that echoed through the night.

Together, they rose, not as adversaries, but as allies, soaring into the star-strewn sky, their flight a testament to the power of love and unity. And beneath the moon's silver gaze, Sheara smiled, knowing that the future held hope, born from the courage of her two beloved dragons.