*RP* Storyline

[Triston]

Rhamonaveth stretched his glossy black wings behind him, feeling the soft scales on the underside of them sliding against one another in a sweet symphony like that of a snake through dead leaves. The light of the new moon shone down upon him cooly, reminding him of his purpose that night. He had finnaly reached the age to read the sacred tablets of his roost. He calmly walked up the rocky mountian and for perhaps the hundreth time that day wished his wings could support him in flight. Not much further now.

The dark cave sat before him in the moonlight, like the yawning mouth of some long dead titan atop the mountian. Two large mounds that where small mountians in there own right stood at each side of the enterance, and as Rha drew near they unfolded with a speed that lesser eyes could not have followed. Rha's eyes followed the movement, but his muscles where not fast enough to react. Within a second the tail of one of the Grey Anchients wrapped around his long neck, and the claws of the other slid into the undercarrage of his wings, ready to cripple him in an instant. As though I can fly he thought bitterly. After a few moments that seemed like years a pair of bright green eyes opened before him, and a mouth spoke with a voice that had not been used in years.

"You have finally reached the age whelp. Tell me, do you know the word already?" He said in the Ancheint tounge. It was a language I bairly knew, but those words had been tought to me. It took him five minutes to say that much in the old words.

"Nay brother guardian, I seek the way to find it." I replied as cool as I could, articulating each drawn out syliable, and preying to all the elements that I said it properly. I would have to wait another ten years if I misprounounced a single letter. The Anchients eyes narrowed for a single terrefying moment, then the tail began to unwind from my neck, and the razor sharp claws withdrew from me. I turned my head slowly to look at the dragon that had come behind me, but all I saw was a blur. When I turned my head back, fast as I could I swear it, the two mounds where as they had been when I first arrived. Unmoving, unflinching. I sighed slowly and quietly, then moved into the cave.

At first the walls where blank, then eventually the walls opened up into a cavern wide enough to hold an entire roost of Anchient Dragons. Upon the far wall, glowing in runes that blazed like stone after a Dragon breaths very heavily upon it was a story, written in a tounge I did not know but somehow could read, and atop it all was a mural of a great purple dragon, twice the size of even Tymithichon, a warrior dragon of disproportinatly large size. Amazing though the the image was, I was drawn to the words like a load stone, and was soon reading the texts older then any Dragon in Istaria...

When the world was young, Dragons ruled all, sky and earth, and the lesser beings cowered before our awesome might. Dragons ruled as gods, and Mordak ruled as theirs, an overgod of such awesome might that he could turn an Anicent to dust if he thought upon him too long. The elves, the dwarves, and the humans lived out there wretchedly short lives in servitude to us, and all was as it should be. The mountians gave up there gold in great cascades, and the feilds raised sheep and cattle as large as whales. All of this under Mordak's everwatching eye happened, and so much more. Cities floated in the sky larger then any continent, and Dragon mages could channel enough energy to destroy the lowely ground borne cities the lessers tried to build. Then came the time of darkness. The weaker races where cowardly, and sought to find aid from afar to raise them to a position they did not deserve. From across the waves of eternity the gods of the lesser races came to retreive there children, the same children they had abandoned before the might of Mordak. Then they saw something, something they coveted. None of them could clame a relm as bountiful as Mordak's, or a race as powerful as the one he had partoned. So out of spite they banded together, determined to either destroy this land or to divide it amoung themselves. At first they sent there weak slaves, and Mordak did not even stir to stop them, has we Dragons easily crushed them by the thousands from above. Then, in the Battle of Valeshnoon, the gods themselves made there appearance, and in there trickery Mordak did not see there preciance until they made it known by unleashing wave after wave of there vile godly powers. Almost half of the Dragon Race died that day, most of the Anchients included. Then in there infinate trickery they coerced the weaker dragons to stand beside them, for they could not see that Mordaks light would save them. Soon all that was left was the Usheen, Mordak's holy warriors. The Usheen where choosen before birth and taken from there roost. The Usheen where trained to use holy power, arcain power, physical power, and the awesome power of there breaths all at once in a blinding array of death. So awesome was there power that there roost alone, spearheaded by Mordak himself, began to turn the tides. One hundred and one Dragons, lead by Mordak the Purple cut a deep scar of destruction across the land, ending the Age of Paradise. Each race was decimated to a few hundreds, and a final battle was to occure. Once again the gods banded together and threw all of there power at Mordak, but even combined there where not strong enough. After a battle that lasted for days and nights beyond count they suceeded in banishing him from his own relm, but where unable to destroy him. In this banishment lies out salvation.

So great was Mordak's power that he was able to set the terms for him banishment. The barrier that held him would shatter the instant that a desendant of the Usheen uttered a word in the old toung, a single word of such great power that all the gods of men and dwarves and elves would fall to there knees and begin bleeding from there eyes. Until that day, the Usheen where fully protected from the power of gods. Now young one, so close to your Rite of Passage, you know the story of your one God, and how the weaker races banished him through trickery and guile. No Dragon knows the word, but any would know it upon hearing it. Somewhere, among the land of Istaria, lies a mortal who knows the word, though they are oblivious of it. Seek them out through all possable means, and bring our Father back to his children.

Rha shivered for the first time scense his scales had hardened. This was why the adults would go out into the world and come back proud ancients, yet defeated. This was to be my journy. I would suceed, even if I had to gather every dragon, lesser races even, into a holy crusade. I would find the word, and I would not return to the roost until I have.

Rhamonaveth left that very night, taking only his closest friend with him.

*Let me know what yall think*

[Zemach]

Very Nice!