The Dragon of Roads - War of Bone and Ash
A cool spring breeze swept through the courtyard of World’s Hope, the fortress that I, The Dragon of Roads, built at the request of the gods to contain my world’s largest existential threat. Though the enemy remained shrouded in mystery, refugees had just arrived from beyond the portal at the center of the fortress, and they would prove to be a valuable source of information.
Behind me stood my children, Queen Tamadora and King Kaisadoro, along with my adopted daughter, Princess Nanu. All of us remained in our draconic forms lest we be confused for the mortal races. By my side, as ever would be her place, remained Skull, a human woman as fearless as she was capable, as long as her tasks did not involve reading or paperwork. Behind me stood my entourage, my inner circle of trusted individuals and those of my children.
Before me stood Polemarch Kirov, a creature the likes of which I have never before laid eyes on before today. Though he stood at twice the height of a tall orc, I saw no flesh and bone in his form, but rather metal and crystal somehow imbued with life. With him stood his bannermen, and behind him, what few of his kind that he and his had deemed worthy to escape the destruction of their world in favor of the mercy of my own. Also, there were many saurkin and their beloved dinosaurs, the whole of them a riot of color and decoration as they proudly displayed the culture of their own people.
With myself not yet known in those days as The Dragon of Roads, for I had not yet become a demi-god, I introduced myself to the apparent leader of a dying world.
“Salutations, Polemarch Kirov. I am the Emperor of The Crossroad Wayfinders, one of eight flights of dragons in this world. I welcome you and yours to planet Gyldvir. You are on the continent Rubioco and in the territory of World’s End, a city only recently established to deal with the crisis before our peoples. The province is under my leadership, and I have prepared housing for all of you to the best of my ability considering the gods remained cryptic about what manner of creatures would be living within them.
“Let there be peace between us, for we expect nothing of you other than mutual cooperation, that you educate us on the nature of our shared enemies and offer what little support you can. Your people should focus on settling in, rebuilding, and adapting to your new world, for the nations of Gyldvir have rallied to defend our world. I see that saurkin are among your forces, and though they have been absent from this world for some time, we welcome our wayward kin home as well. I encourage you to remain patient and open-minded, for we know nothing of your people, your culture, your needs, or ambitions.”
The figure before me bowed lower in response, the ethereal tendrils that sprouted from his back shrinking down to perhaps twice his height as they formed a fan of sorts facing me, much like the tail of a peacock.
“You honor me with your words and hospitality, Emperor of The Crossroad Wayfinders. My race is the crixtali, from the planet Crixli. On my honor, my people will aid you in what ways we can to ensure that this world, too, does not befall the fate of my own. Though only the smallest fraction of my own people and the saurkin have traveled to this world, we appreciate the sacrifice you and yours have made to support us.”
More pleasantries and introductions followed so that communications between the refugees and my own people could transpire smoothly. Basic laws were outlined, essentially following the pattern of “only doing to others as you would have them do to you” and “stay in your refugee camp until we know there are no weird diseases or magical mishaps between our peoples”. I invited Polemarch Kirov and the esteemed elders of his people to meet with me on the morrow in a more relaxed setting so that we may discuss matters of concern, but otherwise released him and the remaining refugees to settle in. In his parting wisdom, he performed a headcount, and finding everyone accounted for, advised us to kill anything and anyone that came through the portal, even if they be his own kin.
On the following day, in a meeting room I hastily made overnight to accommodate the large and alien bodies of the crixtali and the humanoid but likewise large bodies of the saurkin leaders, we held a meeting to discuss matters moving forward. My flight and I assumed humanoid forms so as to be less imposing and so we could fit more people in a tighter space. More pleasantries were exchanged and I asked how they were settling in, the whole conversation civil but uninteresting as everyone went through the motions of appearing polite. Finally, we got down to the real matter at heart.
“Kirov, honored elders of crixtali and saurkin both, I have some questions that have been on my mind, and indeed the minds of many in this world, and I would appreciate any wisdom you may have to illuminate the mystery that is your world and history.”
“Give voice to your questions, Emperor, that there would be no misunderstanding or secrets between us concerning the nature of my former world,” responded Polemarch Kirov as he put aside his plate of choice bits of various metals and crystals that I had prepared for him. I noticed he especially enjoyed the titanium cubes and the topazes. Well, not real topazes one would find in the depths of the earth, but rather the artificial ones I had made that are chemically the same but lack the sweat of impoverished miners and the blood of conflict over their possession that presumably would increase their worth to the wealthy.
“Would you kindly provide me with a brief overview as to the nature of your world, how the saurkin came to it, the nature of the relationship between your peoples, the invasion of the enemy, and what went wrong such that you had no choice but to abandon your world?”
Solemn looks of shame, sadness, and regret greeted me from the ensemble of beings across from me. Some quiet conversation took place before an agreement was reached, and a saurkin that appeared to be older than dirt stood and hobbled over to a central speaking platform between us, that the voice-amplification enchantments placed upon it would carry his words to the gathered masses of important and self-important people gathered in the room. Though he leaned heavily on his staff, his eyes still held the alertness of that marriage of something like a T-rex and humanoid that made up his ancestry.
“Long ago, many thousands of years for this world, this world was the center hub that connects many worlds through random and natural portals that open between worlds. It was an age when races moved freely between worlds, and though conflict ensued, it was never on the scale that threatened the very existence of one world or another. It was then that the saurkin opted to travel to a distant world, or at least a great nation of them did. As I understand things, those that remained behind perished at the hands of the foes my own ancestors sought to escape.
“The tales of my people say we wandered through several worlds, always on the run from one enemy or another, in the Age of Strifeful Exodus, until we arrived on the world of Crixli. There, we found worthy allies with the crixtali, for our peoples desired different habitats and could offer one another useful trade. And so an age of peace and prosperity followed where our peoples grew closer in our alliance as to almost be inseparable. Through our combined efforts, other hostile races were subjugated or eliminated, and incursions from other worlds were repelled throughout the generations. Such continued to be the way of things until the alignment of the spheres changed, and a different world became the hub of connections, one further away from our two worlds, and so portals became more and more rare.
“However, that hub has since moved back in our direction, and with it, a connection was reforged to a world forgotten. Our gods had forgotten about portals between worlds, as have we mortals, for such is the mystical nature of portals and how not even the gods can remember them when they do not exist. Taken by surprise, we rallied to defend our world, much like you are doing now. Honestly, the similarities between the response of this world and Crixli are eerily similar.
“Our gods warned us only a few years in advance, and so we built a fortress to contain the portal and the enemy. We held the main breach and smaller ones scattered around the world, for a time. For centuries, we were united in harmony of purpose like no other. However, we grew complacent, and old grudges and ambitions that had been set aside in favor of fighting the common enemy were brought to the forefront as we relaxed in our vigil, for the enemy had become almost predictably simple to contain. Such seemed to be their plan, for it became our downfall.
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“The enemy surged forth with renewed vigor and ferocity. Our guard lowered, we were taken by surprise and overwhelmed. Though we rallied to retake the breach, our efforts were in vain, and seeing the writing on the wall, we made the most difficult of choices.
“The best and brightest among us were selected to preserve our peoples while the rest held the line to buy as much time as possible. Our history, our relics, our culture, all of it that we could take with us to preserve who we are and where we came from, we brought with us, for we knew this world would only tolerate and support so many of us.
“Our peoples numbered in the tens of millions, and now, only ten thousand saurkin and ten thousand crixtali remain. All others are doomed, and any of them who pass through the portal are to be considered corrupted, infested, or otherwise thrall to the enemy. Hubris, avarice, and complacency proved to be our downfall. So thoroughly humbled, we hope to never again make the same mistake, and we pray our descendants learn the lesson we paid for with such great loss.
“This world offers much for the saurkin, for it is the world of our origin and filled with lush plains for our people to thrive upon. The crixtali may struggle to survive here, for they do not need such things, but rather crystal, metal, and sunlight to survive. In the time of need of my own people, the crixtali took us in and accepted us when none would. It would be my honor and the honor of all saurkin to return the favor and repay that debt in full, for we will work with them and you to ensure that they have what they need to survive in this world that must seem strange and alien to them.”
The elder, finished with his lecture, slowly turned around and hobbled back to his seat, apparently not waiting to see if I yet had any more questions for him to answer. Perhaps such was their culture, that they would decide who would answer the next question, and so I waited for him to sit before continuing my inquiry.
“Thank you, honored elder, for that concise explanation of events. I believe the only remaining pertinent information we need at this time concerns the enemy. What is “the enemy” that you speak of, what is their nature and what threats do they pose?”
More chatter erupted among the elders gathered, and indeed among the masses in the peanut gallery behind me, but I had enchantments in place to block them out as they were not permitted to speak at this meeting. In an extension of magnanimity, I permitted them to listen in and left it to their own devices to open diplomatic channels with the refugees. After a minute of debate, Kirov was selected to answer.
“I am not the most noteworthy of my kind, for the greatest generals with the most experience are either dead or holding off the enemy for as long as possible. My title of Polemarch was not one earned, but granted to me on account that so many are dead or otherwise lost to us. However, I have faced the enemy in battle on countless occasions and can share what I know.
“The enemy, which we call “The Devourers” in Common, are a host of different forms, more akin to some strange machine or hive than living things. Most individuals are mindless drones that are sent to attack us, their forms varied and changing over time as ineffective casts are phased out in favor of those that perform well. Some are of strange flesh and blood, grotesque and foul, made only to attack and die, not to feast and survive for many years like normal creatures. Others are of metal, or stone, or other inorganic materials. Some fly, others burrow, or have many legs or no legs. There is no real pattern to their form.
“What I can say is that they are singularly devoted to their purpose. They have no pity, remorse, fear, or emotions of any note. They never seem to tire and will exert themselves to death without hesitation. They cannot be negotiated with, nor can their more intelligent members be trusted, for they regard us with disdain.
“The leading theory is that they are something left behind by The Makers, the gods above gods that made all the worlds of our universe before they departed. Whether they are operating as intended or corrupted in purpose is a mystery, but they appear to travel the portals between worlds to lay waste simply because they can. They adapt, and their leadership shows a certain level of cunning beyond that of automatons. They are seemingly infinite in number, for they have the resources of many worlds to draw upon. Indeed, through the breach between worlds, half of their number serve only to haul the corpses of the fallen back through so that they may be recycled via mechanisms we do not understand, for we have only had a few glimpses at what lies beyond the portal.
“They are patient, willing to suffer losses for centuries until they suddenly strike in force. They may test out a certain cast of soldiers early on, see that it is effective, and then never use it for many centuries so that we forget about it, only to unleash their true force when we least expect it. They employ misdirection, with hidden agents in their rank possessing extreme intelligence, that they may assassinate our best and die at the hands of our worst, preying upon how we will promote such ‘valiant warriors’, which was part of their insidious plan for us to fall to internal corruption and incompetence. We even suspect them of having made dark pacts with traitors of our own kind, but there remains no definitive proof, only death and misery.
“The most salient fact for you to employ in military strategy is how their towering behemoths emit an aura of decay. Said aura will strip flesh from bone within seconds for most of you, and in the area around the portal, you can expect it to be one mile in radius, perhaps half again as large at some times. You will need to attack them at range or find fighters that can contest them in melee without suffering the effects of decay. The rest you can learn from combat reports that I can provide to you and yours.”
I started to notice a pattern that the refugees spoke in a very matter-of-fact tone about these topics that must be rather sensitive. I did not know if they were simply resigned to their fate or just really skilled at compartmentalizing. Kirov himself spoke with a soothing baritone, one that seemingly calmed those around him and invited them to listen. It was commanding, not in the harsh manner of the tyrant, but more like that of a father telling stories around a campfire. The others remained quiet; they did not voice their own opinions or speak while others spoke, unlike the small uproar of concern that erupted in the masses of locals in the exterior. I could not tell if they were so disciplined as a people or if that was part of being an elder.
“That is rather disturbing news,” I responded while assessing the mood of the room, which was far more dramatic than I felt strictly necessary. A lot of blustering, posturing, indignation, and name-calling came from the crowd that was not part of the conversation. With luck, a riot would break out and some would kill each other, such that I would have to contend with fewer pompous fools, but one can only experience so much fortune in life.
“However, it is not beyond our means to contend with such an adversary, provided we coordinate our efforts correctly. I know that Ossimandias, Emperor of The Bone Wardens, has cooperated extensively with Lenthnegrel, the god of Bone and Ash, to prepare for this invasion. It seems only one of our gods knew of the coming doom and had been stockpiling skeletons to create an army of undead to help in this fight. I would have thought by now that the rabble,” I said casually as I gestured vaguely to the various lords, ladies, knights, generals, merchants, and the like gathered outside the meeting proper, “would have been educated about such matters, but it appears that misinformation and rumor have polluted any trustworthy dissemination of fact.”
“That is another unusual similarity,” responded Kirov with an air of curiosity to his voice. “One of my gods also was the first to know of the incursion into my world, and he was seen as a strange doomsayer until the other gods caught on. We remember that he existed, that he was vital to our defense, but only months ago, he sacrificed himself and consumed his divinity to answer a few questions we had about the enemy. We will not know the answers or the questions he asked until the enemy makes it to the breach and invades this world. We can’t even remember his name, for his very existence has been stricken from reality, with only tiny motes of it lingering within our minds. Hopefully, the same fate will not befall this Lenthnegrel.”
Those casual words caused an uproar, and my money was on a few fights breaking out. In the interest of not causing mass panic, I had to resist the urge to stoke the flames of fear, for though it would net me a few casualties in the ranks of those who were ever a pain in my behind, it would undermine long-term plans of survival.
“That is news to me, and as you can see around you, rather disturbing. I have asked many questions, but do you have any questions for me?”
Kirov and the other refugees conversed amongst themselves, apparently coming to a consensus of phrasing questions that could perhaps be viewed as impolite. Seeing as how Kirov had rapport with me, they saddled him with the burden of being the one to ask questions that may cause some degree of insult, judging by their nervous looks.
“Forgive me, Emperor, if my words trespass into the realm of impolite conversation. We understand why we are quarantined, and indeed, such actions are prudent until we both know that we will not inadvertently harm one another through disease or our forms of magic conflicting. We are willing to share information with you, and since you specifically are hosting and protecting us, we understand that you may issue gag orders on certain knowledge being spread. However, we skipped over a custom of ours under concern that it may be too revealing.”
I could see that Kirov was dancing all around something as he hemmed and hawed with his words.
“Ask your question, Kirov, for I know you mean no insult.”
“In the interest of knowing who we are in allegiance with, it is only fair that you tell us what Classes you have and what level you are in each.”
Taken aback, I spoke before I really thought things through. “My what now?”