Destiny's Rider

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. Brenn Half-Blade, wood elf swordsman, could scarce remember a time where there were not though. However this was before the Great Calamity of twenty summers ago, during the Magi War which had wreaked havoc the world around. Dragons, as much as they could be given how territorial they were, had been fairly plentiful. In fact, they had strived to build lasting relationships with the villages and cities in their territories, and in exchange for acting as protectors of a sort, would be supplied food for their bellies and gifts for their hoards by the grateful people who lived therein. Brenn remembered the wise old green dragon who had protected his village of tree elves with sad fondness.

Now, Behemoths wandered the world of Myystral, wreaking havoc and killing all in their paths. These monstrous creatures had spawned forth from the gigantic portal which had been brought into being from the magical backlash of horrific spells and energies which had clashed together at the behest of the Mage Kings. All this because these foolish tyrants believed that to be the most powerful was to rule all. This had happened at the mountainous region of Uurgath, site of the final battle of the Magi War and the Great Calamity, which this historic and terrible happening became known as to all who lived through it. As large as a house or as titanic as a fortress, a Behemoth often looked like a nightmarish amalgamation of creatures commonly seen throughout the world. A veritable title wave of them had flooded from out of the portal, laying waste to all armies and the Mage Kings gathered there, as they attempted to flee in utter horror at the sight of these monstrosities. From there, they began to spread rapidly throughout the world.

Brenn shuddered at the memory as he walked through the mist laden forests of the Valley. He had been there as a mercenary at the age of 120, still very young for his kind, and had barely lived through it all. He had been struck and horribly scarred on his arm by that magical energy. And, as far as he knew, he had been the only survivor, somehow, and for some reason unbeknownst to him. His arm still ached at times, and seemed to pulse with a living energy under his skin, and rippled through his arm painfully even now. Grasping his limb and keeping his goal in mind, he trudged onward, now remembering with great sadness what had happened to the dragons.

Brenn recalled when his king, the king of the wood elves, Aeolyn Greenleaf, had discovered that the Behemoths had a great weakness to dragon-fire. He had been on the run with his people, months after the Great Calamity, searching for a safe haven for them after a Behemoth had laid waste to their city. Another fearsome Behemoth had appeared before the elves, and all seemed lost as the beast, which resembled a sabrecat and skorpt put seemingly together with the most dangerous aspects in mind, began to carve through his people. Brenn, still recovering from his wounds, could only watch helplessly. Suddenly, and with a furious roar, a dragon, who was most likely the protector of the area, dove with great force from the skies, clawing and biting at the monster. As the fearsome battle commensed, with the monster cleverly and quickly avoiding the dragon’s volleys of searing fire-breath attacks, the Behemoth struck the dragon with its long and venomous tail. The elves, trying to avoid being crushed to oblivion by the warring titans, cried out in fear. The dragon, instantly and mortally affected by the acidic venom, gave one final and great effort to destroy the Behemoth.

As his strength ebbed, the dragon managed to stun the monster with a great crack of his own powerful tail, knocking it to the forest floor. The creature lay there, not moving. The dragon, upon seeing this, heaved in one last, shuddering breath, and released a great gout of flame across the back of the stunned beast. With that final attack, the dragon lay still. As the elves looked on in frightened disbelief, they could not believe their eyes. Where the dragon-fire touched the monster, a hole had appeared in its hide. From within this hole, the onlookers were able to see what looked to be a swirling ball of dark energy, a core of sorts. No sooner than had the dragon fire touched this core, a bright and violent explosion flashed outward, leaving many stunned in its wake, and the Behemoth, unaffected by magic or martial weapons, disappeared, defeated, in a cloud of ash.

After this, Aeolyn immediately called for a conclave of any and all rulers still alive in Myystral. He told them what had happened during this attack on his people. All in attendance were overjoyed to learn of the Behemoths weakness. This included the Mother of Dragons, Tyrrania, who had kept her people from involvement in the Magi War as much as possible. He beseeched Tyrrania to call forth her people, and to allow them to partner with the races of the world to take on the Behemoths, wiping them from this plane. She reluctantly agreed, seeing dark days ahead for all unless dragonkind gave aid. Thus the dragon rider battalions were formed, with all inhabitants of the world, including those from the previously warring kingdoms, working together towards survival.

At first, all seemed to go well. The Behemoths were hunted down and destroyed, with dragon rider battalions hastily formed of any and all who were willing to fight from the backs of the mighty dragons. Many sacrifices were made, and heroic deeds were sung of by the bards. And many deaths were lamented. But the the dragons suffered the most in the end.

As the race were slow breeders, every dragon death took a heavy toll on Tyrrania and her people. Even though they were victorious in the end, the dragon lives lost made the victory a hollow one in the eyes of the Dragon Mother. But win they did, and in the end, the portal hung suspended, still and silent, no longer spewing forth its monstrous hordes. But, oddly, any attempts made, magical or otherwise, to either destroy it or even to enter it were futile. This left many wondering if the terror known as Behemoths had indeed ended.

As such, King Aeolyn and the conclave of rulers, together with Tyrrania's blessing, created the dragon rider academies throughout Myystral. These academies were created with the well being of both riders and dragons in mind, in the hopes that, through rigorous training, the dragon rider battalions would be better prepared should the Behemoths arise again. It was also hoped that this training would stem the future loss of more dragon lives so that should such an incursion happen again, dragonkind would not be altogether lost to the world of Myystral.

It was the hope of joining one of these academies that caused Brenn Half-Blade to make his lonely sojourn through the mist laden forests of the Valley. The wise old green dragon had sadly given her life battling the Behemoths, and was rumored to have left behind an egg, somewhere within the depths of these forests. Brenn desperately hoped to find the egg. He needed a destiny, a purpose, to believe in once again. Why had the gods spared him from the Great Calamity, when all else who had fought, including the all-powerful Mage Kings, had perished to the Behemoths that day? Brenn would give anything to bond with a dragon, and in doing so, join a dragon rider academy. Maybe, just maybe, that was his purpose.

And so, Brenn Half-Blade clutched his pained and scarred arm once more and walked on, while remembering the past, and moving towards what he knew was his egg and his destiny.