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The secret of this tale is known only to a few, and is protected by the highest orders of the Temple itself…

When the Old Republic tried to expanded across the western sea to the Kingdoms of the Ancients, the Ancients took unkindly to it. They used their great magicks to forge fearsome beasts of war to slay their enemies. Thus the Dragon’s were created, to slay and feast on the bones of the dead. Mankind had no powers to resist them, and the Dragons overran the Republic and it’s people lived constantly in the shadow of fear.

The Dragons were more mighty than their masters might have conceived, and after conquering the lands of me they set out west and turned on those who created them. Thus the Ancients Kingdoms fell. Those who could fled from this world, others fled to the farthest reaches of the globe, the deepest roots of the mountains, the darkest shadows of the forest. This is how the ancients disappeared.

One among them sought to right what wrong they made and sought out the realm of men where he was greeted with fear and superstition. Some attacked him, but his magic held them at bay, others fled. But he sought a man of certain courage, and but one man greeted him as any traveller, a humble smith by trade. The Ancient whispered to the smith that his sons and daughters might inherit the earth if he were to follow his advice, and Phaedrus listened.

Phaedrus and the Ancient laboured over the forge, and made weapons infused with the magic of the ancients, a mighty spear and sword forged hot and an aegis proofed of fire. With these mighty tools Phaedrus sought and slew a wyrm, and drank of it’s blood as the Ancient chanted songs to bind it’s power to his own blood. Phaedrus and kin and his friends became slayers of Dragons, liberators of Man, and like unto Gods in their power.

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Burning Blood DurandDurand