An Excerpt On The Archdrakaar Azdromoth

This page is currently being worked on! Beware of conflicting modifications and updates.

Chronicle of the Archdrakaar

On my brother Azdromoth, for whom we wept:

Throughout the desolate and unfinished lands of Aegis, there lay the dull visage of stone alongside what other deities had woven.. In that stone, vision was seen by a singular Daemon, Dragur. Over an expanse of time Dragur elaborated on thought, teetering on the edge of brooding, sight cast upon all that which others made. In this time, he took to the very stone that none had gazed over. Time passed, and he carved from the stone his own imagined child. Detail rolled across its form like an ocean’s ripple; scales overlapping one another as though they all greedily sought to show themselves off. The beings form was lean, taut in what could only be assumed to muscle from earth’s strongest substance. The features were bestial, but personified, adorned with the maw of an apex predator that could easily curl into the cruelest or most joyous embodiment of emotion. Talons stretches and eyes stared, lifeless in its initial sequence. Dragur could not have such a beautiful formation lay dormant. Life energies sprang from the Daemon’s form, frolicking over and within the scales, giving each the attention they oh so desired. These same energies peeled back the being’s lids and lips, showing off their animalistic pupils and blade-like teeth.

It was with this that the first dragaar was wrought to the world. Dragur’s child, Azdromoth, was born and thoughtful. He and the Daemon conversed, finally giving Dragur something more than simply watching all the others and collecting thoughts on their every demeanor. He so loved Azdromoth, and bestowed upon him the greatest things that he could. More and more dragonkin were made, but none truly surpassed Azdromoth, both in attributes and the amount of care Dragur held for them. Time eroded at memory and none wholly remembered the origin of Archdragaar aside from Azdromoth and Dragur, content with the shadowy mystery of whence they came.

The goodly Azdromoth mirrored the nature of his divine father. For what Dragur had, Azdromoth had not: knowledge. Azdromoth strived to learn. The primordial world mystified the Archdragaar, and he made certain to see all that he might. The colossal being took to the skies, casting great shadows beneath his wingspan. Beloved by his brothers and sisters, Azdromoth was regarded as the chiefest of all dragonkin, and so they pursued him across the world to take its secrets for their own. Azdromoth tested himself and his kind, growing fond of performing feats consummate to his capacity for power. He romped freely and wildly, gulping down the milk of wonder. Thought it was not long before the demeanor of Daemons would show itself; change.

The war between good and evil ravaged ancient Aegis. Dragur’s children had made covenant with the line of Horen, the forerunner of Man, and so Azdromoth took great interest in mortal men, ever impressed by their ingenuity and capacity for greatness. It is recorded that some knights of old took dragons for their standards, and even fewer practiced dragon reverence. The tradition is one of secrecy, passed down by the descendants of those who witnessed the glory of the dragonkin. While the Archdragaar was beloved by his divine father, he collected only the ire of the Archdaemon, Iblees, the enemy of Aegis. He knew that if he were to soil the dragonkin, he would wound Dragur. How better to do so than to take from him his magnum opus? His firstborn son, Azdromoth, chiefest of the dragonkin, fell victim to the machinations of the Archdaemon. His pure, whimsical mind was rent asunder and plunged into darkness. His scales blackened and the bright radiance of his eyes darkened. A strain of madness overtook him. He would be used to wage war against his goodly kin, and through the will of his master, spread the corruption that overtook him. He became known to all as the Archdrakaar, the first of a new breed of evil. More followed as Azdromoth was bestowed the duty of growing his forces. One by one his brothers and sisters were to join him in his wicked duty.

Iblees made apt use of his titan-like servants. Azdromoth’s flight of drakaar led the Archdaemon’s forces into battle, dressing his kind in wreaths of immolating flame and talons that could render even the most stalwart soldiers naught but ash. Their wings were Iblees’ own heraldry, shadowing armies beneath their grandeur before disintegrating the darkness away with newly smoldering cadavers. Veterans could only recall the smell of flesh, the feeling of charcoal and the sound of crackling only comparable to a feast in preparation. It was hard to imagine the two were not much alike, most said, after they witnessed how corpses were removed after the battle. It goes without saying that Azdromoth was noted to be one of the most predominant commanders under Iblees’ regime, a foe to be trifled with. It was in this time that Eshtael took his chance amidst another ordinary battle. Divine shield bearing fire and blade rending scale, the Aengul took hold of the Archdrakaar’s throat and dragged him down from the smoke-blotted sky. They landed with a tremendous tremor, shaking the morale of both combatting powers before Eshtael rose through the displaced dirt. Amongst all the slaughters Azdromoth had caused amongst the forces of good, this was the first victory. After the blood soaked into the earth and they rose to victory, Eshtael dragged Azdromoth’s malformed state to imprisonment; sealed deep within Khaz'Bokkdwedohin for what shall hopefully be an eternity.

The age-worn seal of Aruzond, Warden of the North marks the page.