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'''The Legend of the World Dragon'''<br>
#redirect [[Legend of the World Dragon (book)]]
- Huntress Sable<br>
<br>
TABLE OF CONTENTS:
<br>
CHAPTER 1: The World Dragon ...................... Page 1<br>
CHAPTER 2: Dragon Worship ........................ Page 6<br>
CHAPTER 3: The Legend of Sithsia ................. Page 9<br>
<br>
=The World Dragon=
The World Dragon was born from the fourth moon when it hatched. No one is
quite sure how it came to be, but many are certain that one of the gods' dark
aspects got loose and planted the creature to bring about the end of Elanthia
(some suspect it was Huldah, who -- unlike Truffenyi -- despises mankind and
Elanthia).
<br>
The World Dragon is terrible and yet beautiful to behold. Its scales
glitter like black metal, and its claws are thick and razor sharp. It is all
but indestructible, its maw as wide as some mountain ranges and its tail
stretching from horizon to horizon. Its eyes were a glowing pool of red, its
pupils slit horizontal, and its wings were leathery and long, blotting out the
sun at times.
<br>
When the World Dragon hatched, shards of its egg hit Elanthia and caused
massive changes. Some civilizations died, cities were crushed, when one hit
an ocean it caused a massive tidal wave that drowned the entire western side
of the continent upon which The Crossing resides and killed many of its
inhabitants. Since the waters there have now receded, much of that area as
yet still remains wild and untamed, although the ruins of that shattered land
are rumored to still exist.
<br>
The Dragon's first attack was upon Elanthia itself, which it was drawn to
because of its inner fire. The creature landed upon Truffenyi's domain and
began to drink the fire from its depths. In terror -- for Truffenyi was
certain that his world would die if the World Dragon continued -- the god of
Elanthia called upon the others to aid him. He was ignored mostly, until he
pointed out that if the Dragon drained his world, it would move onto the next
closest source of fire -- the sun.
<br>
A great battle ensued between the Immortals and the World Dragon as it, in
turn, spat its own fires across the world, scorching some of the lands. One
of the moons set on fire as it blew its flames across the sky. Eluned
quenched it with her waters, but the moon would be black forever after.
<br>
As the great war continued, the Immortals despaired, for the Dragon seemed
unbeatable. Truffenyi rallied all the Immortals for a final, great battle
against the World Dragon. The battle was so awful, that the sun hid itself
for seven days behind a veil of clouds, and mountains trembled before the
wrath of the Immortals.
<br>
When the battle ended, the World Dragon was weakened, but not dead. It was
then that Phelim decided that it could not be destroyed, and so waited until
it had slunk away and ambushed it, casting his sands of sleep in its face.
The Dragon, feeble from the struggle, succumbed to the sleep and fell into a
slumber as deep as Urrem'tier's void.
<br>
Truffenyi, now free to think of something else, realized that his world was
dying because the World Dragon had all but drained it of its marrow. It was
Peri'el who stepped forward and, in her soft and sibilant voice, put forth the
idea of housing the Dragon in the place it had desired the most -- the inner
earth of Elanthia. Many of the Immortals thought this idea was disastrous,
but then Peri'el -- who was one of the greatest of the Immortal warriors --
pointed out that the Dragon's very skin was certainly hot enough to heat all
of Elanthia, and, so long as she watched it and sang to it, it would remain
sleeping.
<br>
Peri'el had been crippled during the combat with the Dragon. Her right leg
was lame and her left eye had been torn out; as the Dragon was undefeatable,
so were the wounds it had dealt unhealable. Peri'el had been wounded the most
and was nearly useless now as a warrior, but her voice was still clear and
beautiful -- and very lulling, even for vain Idon. With the Dragon and a full
sack of Phelim's sands on her hip, she descended into Elanthia's inner earth,
where she remains with the Dragon in its lair, playing her gold-stringed harp
and singing in her soft, reptilian voice that the Dragon -- reptilian itself
-- apparently finds very lulling.
<br>
It was during this war that the Immortals learned how much they needed
Elanthia. While all the gods have their own worlds, only Elanthia is
inhabited with the creatures they find the most amusing and inspiring:
mortals.
<br>
<br>

=Dragon Worship=
After the fall of the Seven-Star Empire, many people turned back to
religion to console themselves over the war that the Empire's
crumbling caused. One inspired priest by the name of Sh'kial --
a S'kra religious zealot -- brought about the worship of greatest
fear of all Elanthians -- the dragon that dwells within the heart
of their very world.
<br>
Sh'kial's theory was that, through worship and devotion, the
tempermental personality of Elanthia could be controlled and
prevented. If the World Dragon was appeased, then It would cease
its rumblings and a golden age of Peace could be achieved.
<br>
While well-intended, the reign of the Dragon Priests (as the
followers of Sh'kial soon became known) soon turned into a nightmare.
Sh'kial's original doctrine followed the belief of existential
offerings such as goat flesh, roses, pearls, and other valuables.
His followers soon twisted this by offering up human sacrifices
or -- in a special case -- S'kra sacrifices. The S'kra race
in many places became a dominant force, crushing and subverting
all other species in the belief that "those who were fashioned
in the shape of the Great Dragon should hold power over all others."
<br>
Sh'kial, when he learned of the terrible things his followers
were performing, ordered them to cease, and was promptly named
a heretic by his closest protege, a S'kra female by the name of
Dzree. Backstabbed when he was bending over to pick up a babe
from a cradle by one of Dzree's students, Dzree immediately took
over as the leader of the nations the Dragon Priests had brought
under their control.
<br>
Her greatest opposers were the Bards of Elanthia. Their leader,
an Elf by the name of Neithrel Silverfrost, lead an army against Dzree,
but was defeated. Dzree began a war upon all Bards at that point,
and the songsmiths became prime targets for sacrifices to the World
Dragon. All guild houses were destroyed beyond repair, and the
ways of the Bards lost save to the Bards that remained in hiding.
Neithrel himself was taken captive as Dzree's personal slave and
scribe, and was kept chained at the foot of her Throne, with the
command to record all that transcribed within her chambers.
Consumed by hate but compelled by truth, the bard could do nothing
but what she ordered.
<br>
The next one hundred and fifty years were a living hell for all
races other than S'kra -- and even then, many of the serpentine
folk found the horrors the Priests brought upon others intolerable.
Dzree lived in paranoia of her own students, and had many killed
outright if she had even the slightest notion that they might
be after her throne. In all, the Lorethew have accounted for over
one hundred thousand deaths from sacrifices alone over the course of
Dzree's reign as high Dragon Priestess.
<br>
<br>
The Prophecy of Sithsia
Old but still bitterly clinging to life through dark enchantments,
Dzree finally met her end in the year of the Silver Wyvern at
the hand of words alone.
<br>
In her time, Dzree had made many enemies, and when she turned her
eyes to Leth Deriel in the hopes of taking the city as her own,
she made her greatest enemy of all. Ten thousand of her highly
trained soldiers went marching toward the Elven city. One returned.
<br>
The one that returned babbled like a madman, but told the tale
of how the army had walked the road to the city and encountered
a darkling forest midway there. As they had passed through it,
strange things began to happen. Mist rose up from the ground
and seemed to choke some of the men, while ravens flew down
from the trees and distracted or blinded others. Then, from
the forest, many dark figures appeared -- Fae of some sort, but
hideously twisted. The soldiers were wiped out and this one
sent back as a messenger.
<br>
Dzree became enraged, and began to send army after army toward
Leth Deriel, each one growing in size as they went, each one
destroyed with only one member left to recount a tale of horror
and destruction beyond belief.
<br><br>
The following passage was written by Neithrel himself:

It was late in the evening, for the shadows were darkening
the Throne of Blood into the color of dried crimson. The high
windows of the citadel let in little light, but I could still
see.<br>
Seated on her throne was Dzree, old and bony Dzree, her eyes
flickering with the fires of madness, cold and amber. Her
scales were now faded to a white-gray, and she sat in the
throne like a hag-queen, hunched and watchful.<br>
The raven landed on the window above me, and I was the first
to notice it. It was larger than any black bird I had ever
seen, with a wing span that I would estimate at seven feet.
Its eyes were amber as well, and it glided down to land at the feet
of Dzree.<br>
In that moment, it changed, shifting from raven to Human
within moments. In its place stood a stunning woman of
approximately five feet. Her hair was long and silver, her
eyes the yellow of the raven's. Her clothing may have been
fine once, but was now tattered and bloody, ground in with
dust and the ravages of time. She smiled at Dzree and bowed,
the silver circlet on her brow winking.<br>
"You seek the city of Leth Deriel," she said in a soft
voice, "and I am here to tell you you shall not have it.
The Elven Village is mine."<br>
Dzree narrowed her eyes at the woman and hissed, "And who are
you to sssay thisss, woman?"<br>
"I am Sithsia, Mage of the forest. Leth Deriel is under my
protection. You will not take it." I drew in a breath as
she said this. Everyone knew of the mad mage Sithsia. The
tale was legendary.<br>
It was easy to tell from the look in Dzree's eyes that she
knew the name too, for she looked startled for a moment
before snapping, "How dare you defy me, upssstart! Guards,
sssseize her!"<br>
I stopped a cry as the guards rushed toward the mage. Sithsia
merely laughed and gestured, and the men froze where they stood,
then began to scream as their flesh smoked. They turned to
ashes as I watched, leaving naught but a sword and shield to
mark that they'd ever even existed.<br>
Sithsia smiled at Dzree. "I prophecy this, fool priest. In
a years time, a warrior shall come who shall smite you where
you stand and destroy you and your empire. All you have
done will be as your former guards there -- ashes to the wind.
This I promise, and this I say to be, I, the mage Sithsia."
With that, the air swirled around the mage and swept her
up. As I watched, she became enrobed in a tumult of feathers
and took again the form of the raven, flying through a high
window.<br>
And in her wake was her breeze, stirring the ashes of the guards
on the wind....
<br>
Enraged, Dzree ordered her men to hunt down the insane sorceress,
but they all fell to the same fate as her army. Feeling the pressures
of karma, Dzree ordered the remains of her army into her citadel,
closed the gates, and remained pent up there, waiting.
<br>
A year passed, as Sithsia had prophesized, and nervously Dzree sat
on her throne. Blood ran in the citadel as she slaughtered anyone
she suspected to be her killer, and her sermons became more and
more twisted, foreseeing a time not of golden Peace, but one of
terrible war, where the World Dragon awoke and consumed all of
Elanthia.
<br>
It was one year to the day that Sithsia had stood before her throne
that Dzree met her end. As she paced in her chambers, one of her guards
knocked on her door to tell her a message had arrived for her. Nervous
and waiting for the deathblow, Dzree drew her knife as the guard was
speaking to her, her crazed eyes mistaking him for the assassin Sithsia
had said would be coming for her. The guard died as she stabbed him,
then drew his own sword and chopped his head off.
<br>
Old and unuse to exertion, the strain of the evening were too much
to Dzree's heart, and she collapsed on the ground over the guard's
body. Empaths rushed in to attend to her, but she was past their
skillful aid. At long last, Dzree was dead -- killed by a self-fulfilling
prophecy.
<br>
While Dzree had been mad, she had still kept a tight reign on her
empire. With her death, the great undulating snake of the Dragon
Priests became headless. Contenders rose for the Blood Throne,
but each consumed the other, leaving the empire thrashing in its
death throes.
<br>
An uprising, lead by Dzree's former slave Neithrel and a young
Elven warrior named Savrin, wiped out the remnants of the empire,
toppling its bloody fist. Together, Neithrel and Savrin sought out
the various former royal houses of the realms and, where they did
not exist, set up good and wise people as leaders. An alliance
was forged between many clans during this time, and an unsteady
peace descended soon after.
<br>
Savrin removed herself from the public eye soon after the downfall
of the Priests, fearing for herself and her children's life at the
hand of former members of the Dragon Worship. Neithrel began the
restoration of the Bards, passing on much of his knowledge to his
daughter by Savrin, the Bard known only as Silverfrost. Soon after,
Neithrel vanished, and has remained unseen since then.
<br>
So it is that history has brought itself up to now, with the Dragon
Priests defamed but still lurking, and all the lands recovering
from shattered promises.
[[Category:Book]]

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