"From The Reckoning of the age of the First War of the People. A passage from the Ancient Books of Lore from the lands of Yslandeth and of Her Exalted Holiness, Maradwynne, Champion of the Skies, Savior of Men."
The Battle of Arondayre
Once when time was young and man was without malice, all lived
as one within a single land. But as with all good things, this too
passed in the tide of the years and man grew restless; his desire and
ambition became fuel for the fire of self promotion and advancement.
Heroes arose from masses of men, calling forth great armies of
followers; some to peace, but others to conquest. Thus were the days
preceding the great darkness, in the days prior to the great purging of
mankind in the first war of men. The lands became separated with
imaginary lines of demarcation. Clan territories and allegiances were
formed. Nations rose and fell as borders between neighbors were
established, creating another rallying cry for war. Peace was scare for a
time, and mankind seemingly could find no use for life, save to end one another’s existence, until the first Great War against that unspeakable
The evil came in the night. Some say man's blood lust brought
the plague of doom upon the people. The evil had no preference; it
hated no one more than the other. Ages of strife among men became a
distant memory. These same foes who had in days prior sought to slay
the others' sons, now strove for peace and alliance against a common
threat. The demonic forces of evil and darkness crushed army upon army,
leaving strong men to ponder their choice of profession and many a man
to flee to the hills. But alas, there was no safe haven, and the enemy
showed no quarter and no mercy.
The orc and goblin swords, poisoned with the vilest potions, spread
disease and death throughout the land until a final Yslan legion,
cobbled together from the remains of all feuding mankind, made a final
stand before the plains of Arondayre, at the foot of the Altyr
Mountains. There, the hero Puryn and his sons stood bravely, their
banners flowing in the cool autumn breeze, the sound of horses whinnying
and armor rattling. A prudent band would have run for their lives as
the black mass approached the open field, with odds of 100 of them to 1.
There Maradwynne, mother of the Dragon kind, and future Goddess of
the Yslan, did see the mortal Puryn give his final address to his men.
Her gaze, fixed upon the wonder of this tiny armored creature seated
upon his horse. Maradwynne gazed into his soul and saw it bright as
metal pulled straight from a fiery forge; she saw his heart was pure and
honest, and that he was prepared to die to defend those who could not
Puryn then exhorted his men thus,
“Stand tall, young and old,
Yslan with your sons so bold,
Raise high the sword and shield,
Cut them down, to bleed and yield,
“Stand strong, O you men of Hodan,
Ride your steeds upon this field today,
Send the evil ones to Odin.
“Stand strong, O men of Cinnog,
Raise high your pike and lance to bear,
Rain death upon their icy stare.
“Stand strong, O you men of Suden,
With your swords and shields locked tight,
Keep our archers in the fight.
“Stand strong, you men of Eden,
Your loss was heavy but ne’er for naught,
For Love and Honor have you fought."
Maradwynne, so inspired by this final act of bravery and
courage, left her cave within the mountain that touches the sky, rearing
back with a roar that pierced all upon the field that day. So fierce
was her shout that the demons themselves stopped in their tracks to see
what had made such a sound. Upon that moment, and at that given time,
when Maradwynne did roar thus, a return roar came from a distant
mountain in the north, then the south, then the east, and west. Within
moments of her cry, men shielded their eyes from the sun to see on the
horizon a sky filled with dragon kind of all ages. These same dragons
rained fire and misery upon the evil ones at that field of Arondayre,
sparing the small band of humans who were preparing that day to die.
The exchange of blows went on for a full day and night. In the
end, Maradwynne and her band of dragons prevailed but none of her kind
survived save she. Many dragons lay dead upon the ground in a grisly
heap of orc, goblin and demon. Maradwynne only smiled and said in her
native tongue, “Who truly desires to live for eternity, rest well my
family," but her words fell upon deaf ears, and no one heard a word, but
instead a roar.
The people cheered and cried out to the Dragon, some swore their
allegiance, some their worship. And as with all good legends and
stories, the truth became skewed, faded by time’s hand and foggy
recollection. Dragons became Gods of men, and men once again became the
enemy of man.
For it is a truth of all things, that all things return in a
circle, and all things have their season under the sky. Thus ended the
glorious victory of Maradwynne, our Savior, and of the hero, Puryn, her
chosen. May she reign above forever.