Legion part one

The forging of an alliance is never easy. It is by far something both parties are weary about. It is no different now than in ancient times. We are still prejudice against things that we do not understand. Why are we this way? I cannot give no answers, however I do know that just like all things can be healed if given long enough, some bonds can last longer than blood and pass through the generations like a rivers wild current.

The land of dragons florished with enternal springtime. The inhabitants were roaming freely among the skys, seas, and land all basked in the glory of their might. The legends of the past were not forgotten but used as bedtime tales for the hatchlings. The deeds of the elders were something of mere ritual and tedious assignments. The Dragoness herself was always away roaming worlds beyond worlds and rarely seen. This was the way of the world as they knew it.

 Far beyond the dragonic borders a land much like theirs existed. Many knew of each other though none roamed beyond their personal comforts.It was called the "Elfglen" A haven for beings said to be older and wiser than any other in known existance. These beings rarely thought of many as equals and with the long life span they recieved dubbed many below them as mere dust.* The tales of heroism of these beings were still unknown to the world. 

The world had changed in this time line. Humans were growing in vast number. Their skill at first glance was meaningless almost nothing. However humans found ways to adapt and tap into nature for food, shelter, and magic. The land was consumed by these beings and soon had to be expanded to ever compensate for the growth. many stories were told and escalated frenzies unrivaled in todays world. 

In this time lived a mighty sorceror named Zantonith. A human half elven born of an unlikely union. The union was not a blessed one as the elf maiden was ravenged and defiled by a host of drunken men in whom found her and carried off her host. The man stayed with the elf maiden until he knew his seed was in her womb. After the birth took place the father kiled the mother and took the boy into his home and taught him the ways of man. This was the story many knew of Zantonith.

As a young boy Zanatonith was an exceptional athlete. Though shunned for his pointy ears and fair face he was better in all respects to many his age. He was also an adapt at the art of magic: Something also from his heritage as an elf off spring. With the world at his finger tips Zanatonith was guided in falseness by his father, who was wicked and cruel. Each day as the boy returned from his studys his father would beat him until he could no longer stand."Boy I am teaching you humility and respect" his father would tell him. 

Each morning he would wake up still sore from the day before but his wounds would not show for he had an exceptional healing. After so long from these punishments Zanatonith entered a state of change. No longer smiling to the world became cruel and uneasy. He experimented with many forms of blood rituals and hunts for the innocent creatures. The cruelty became so apauling that his teachers refused him study. At this notion they were impaled with their writing tools. This was an outcry among the villagers.

They gathered in secret ceremony to discuss the ill manners of this father and son. They were immediately cast in a balet of banishment. Crys from widows could be heard among the halls echos. "Why should we harbor such beast. They are no better than the things we hunt. They prey on our lives and at a whim we too can meet a similar fate. Please if you have any sense at all cast them out now." These words rang true to everyone and so it was decided to cast them into the wilderness.

They were taken from their home on a moonless night. The villagers beat them so they did not resist and dragged them from the home into the woods. The house was set ablaze and as it burned the people danced wildly in a sadistic glee of retribution. The father and son could only watch as the life they had was taken from them. In a storm of rage the father turned on his son and began to beat him ever harder. Zanatonith finally realizing the last breath could be near killed his father as an act of despiration. Thus when the blow was struck Zanatonith ran toward a cave only he ventured into it was here he plotted great schemes.

 Since the time after Zantatonith would only talk seldom save if he was in ritual. The past haunting him would become his fuel of the cruelty of the world no matter the face. He vowed to rid the world and become the name all feared. In his frenzy he gathered like minded souls and thus began a movement of cleansing. Called the "Purgetory Unbound". Soon the  leader swelled in knowledge of dark arts and learned of many secrets long hidden. He began to talk with the demons long forgotten in the underdark. The more he learned the less noble his spirit became.

 In the days soon after the forrest itelf began to turn dark and weary. No longer a haven for the sacredness of the earth, many animals fled. The Trees became sick with disease and the water to poisoned to drink. The land was foul and in his triumph Zantatonith laughed and smiled with sick pleasure. In the name of that was beautiful was now scarred and left for ill fates.

Soon the village became to troubled by these events and knew that it had to be stopped or else they perish. With waterways unsafe and food scarse the had little choice. They gathered many able bodied soldiers and immediately headed to the dark woods. They made a plan to enter midday in hopes that in some small way light would guide them. They prepared for many days to hone their skills as warriors and huntsman. They were lead by an uncle of Zantatonithshis name was  Ashnew .He was an experienced veteran of many battles and knew the land well. He trained day and night and was hard on the new warriors but worse yet he had doubts.

His doubts were laid to rest as the final water source was now black with sludge. The people could no longer drink and were preparing to leave. Seeing no alternative left he gathered the men for one final look over. He bid them to go seek wife and children and said to be ready at day light. At this the men hurried to their tents and homes. They were each given a potion of sleep to help them rest. The night they had dreams of happiness.

 As the day approached the men gathered around the meeting place. The final plans were set in motion and they began to march forward. Armed with their weapons they moved to the entrance of the forrest. The forrest was silent and the light unpiercing. It was the scene of many nightmares, however the men knew they needed to press on or else risk death from starvation. They entered the forrest with all their courage however they were never heard from again.

 The village never saw anything from the forrest for many days. The sounds of wild hideous beast could be heard in the darkest of nights but no word on the party. Soon the villagers with no men to protect them fled to more safe surroundings. They abandoned all that was unnecessary save only a few trinkets or heirlooms. The journey was short however as the beast of the night hurried to over take them. Not a single being lived for it was in cruel act Zantatonith found his revenge complete. With no more troubles he began to look for other possibilities. As he looked to the sky he saw the Great Dragoness make a passing as she headed toward her land.

Daves Vault