Once We Were Dragons

Once We Were Dragons

There was the Dragon King Filumthemir whose ire knew no limit. He
dwelt in the lower planes of Quelm and Surin. He dominated his own kin
with both violence and intellect. He was the most powerful dragon ever
known, more adept in the arts of magic and dragon kind than even the
first Dragon, Ortumir. He was a mile in length from the tip of his tail
to the point of his snout. Like all dragons he was broad and powerful.
Capable of flight from wings on his back. His forearms were thin and
his hands were small and nimble, even if they carried retractable claws
that could slice trees in half. His back legs were solid and muscular
allowing him to leap into flight. As with all dragons he could produce
natural napalm, capable of scouring the earth in flame. The larger
older Dragons were able to harness the natural power of their
surroundings and to concentrate it into magic. His shield like scales
could change colour to match his surroundings, consequently visitors
would think it empty.
The land was that of contrasts. Endless plains, deep forests, dense
mountain ranges, deep lakes and raging seas. That was just Quelm. Surin
was a land of deep oceans, spacious caverns, ranges of volcanoes,
rolling hills and deserts. They were linked, like all planes of
existence bar the hells, by a Bridge. Quelm and Surin were served
jointly by the Karzai bridge. It was long, flat and wide, made of
ornately carved stone. It was indestructible and a fine memorial to its
designer, the first Dragon King Parembor. Such was the ferocity, skill,
cunning and ability of the Dragons that few dared to enter the twin
realms. Even the mighty Griffons, who were blessed by the Gods
themselves, or the Demon-Gods of Zamok dared not enter.
In return the private beasts usually stayed content in their worlds.
Not being distracted by the infighting and politics of the playthings
of the Gods. The stupid things that dwelt in the inferior realms were
beneath the Dragon. They considered them nothing more than a vague
source of curiosity and amusement. The only things they feared were the
true Gods, the creators and maintainers of the world. But recently the
Dragons had not had it so good. There was a time when the line of Kings
fell in blood, none stood to replace it and the Families of the Dragon
lords fought for supremacy. But none found it. Filumthemir was
disgusted by the level that his people had sunk to. But, he knew in
turn that it was the only way to unity. Filumthemir had be challenged
from both home and abroad before, from rival males for dominance of the
family to rival families for dominance of the region.
But over the last six millennia he had waged a war of his own. He
fought across Quelm gathering his hordes together, defeating minor
families and absorbing them. Some gave in to his will, others fought.
He had fought countless duels and won them all. This was all to some
cost. He had lost a few teeth and gained numerous scars. He had found
himself staring across the mighty bridge of Karzai. From within Surin
the Dragon lord Sastoye stared back with equal venom. Each had united
their Realm and now wanted the other. Sastoye was larger, older and
more powerful than Filumthemir. But the Lord of Quelm had more Dragons
at his disposal, for Surin could be a harsh land to endure.
Fierce battle erupted across the twin-worlds, only the Karzai bridge
was spared of damage. The plains burnt as napalm rained down from the
skies. The snows of the tallest mountains melted and the lakes
evaporated in the heat. Quelm was struck by constant violent
thunderstorms for years. The oceans of Surin boiled while its deserts
grew in size. Filumthemir took refuge in the deep mountains of
Vostok-kul while Sastoye took hold of the caverns of Bostok-Azur in
Surin. They fought wars from afar. The high God Thurim sent the Gods
Sueren and Zelom down to Surin and Quelm respectively to ask for a
cessation of violence. Neither God returned but were cast into the
whirlwinds of Shurgol.
After countless centuries of internecine warfare Filumthemir feasted
upon the flesh of the defeated Sastoye. He then mounted a peak and
lorded over the race of Dragon. Before him the entire race bowed down
in honour of him. Both he and Sastoye knew that whoever won would
inherit the people of the other. The peak over looked the wastelands of
Plamienien. They had once been fertile fields but now the long blades
of grass had been roasted by flame and swayed no more in the gentle
breezes. Filumthemir looked over his people, saw his mate, Ellunmir, he
let out a roar that shook the worlds. 'Today is a day of destiny for
all Dragons, not just my own kin. At last we are reunited, the needless
shedding of sacred blood has ceased. We will fly through all the
dimensions, they will be ours. We will reign in fire, our flames will
bring justice to this world. We have languished here for too long,
furial amongst ourselves. We are the oldest race in the world, we are
the only true race of this world. We deserve to take our homes back,
especially Iselm, or Gerrol as they call it. My flames will not be
quenched until Thurim lies crushed beneath me.'
What happened next is scarred upon the memories of every High race
that exists today. Filumthemir broke into the hells of Machol and
Niangol. Once there he freed Valineir, father of Zagon. Valineir's
allies joined the ranks of the Dragon forces. He restored all manners
of beasts to his side and led them across the heavens. The lands of the
elves, Allhall, was spared. On the plane of Sierke his armies were held
back by the alliance of Griffons and Giants. But, other planes fell to
him and the Gods felt powerless. Sickened by the wholesale destruction
of his realms, the God Vorlath mounted his Giant Eagle, Shernir, and
flew to meet Filumthemir. They met in the icy plains of Correldebir.
The God, who stood fifty foot high, was dwarfed by the Dragon. Vorlath
drew his two swords and charged into battle.
Even as his clothes burned and melt on him, he carried on his
struggle, slicing off one of the Dragon's claws. Their duel raged for
days across a number of realms, watched by creatures of all kinds. Both
sides prayed for their champion to win. To secure peace or to fulfil
their destiny. But the dragon eventually won and took Vorlath's head as
a trophy. Vorlath's sword and corpse lay rotting in the fields while
his soul floated down to spend eternity lost in Shurgol. The outer
planes secured Filumthemir marched on to Gerrol, the abode of
Gods.
Gerrol was a land of vast buildings and parks. The land was plentiful
and full of the chosen of heaven. Inside there lived the Griffons,
Hippogriffs, the Pegasus, Centaurs, the Demons, the Angels, many
creatures and all of the Gods. Once inside Filumthemir was consumed by
the art, the knowledge, the literature, the culture and the buildings.
Each day he dreamt of it being his. He took palaces and parks to be his
own as he moved across the realms of Thurim. Ellunmir shared his
passion and introduced him to every species and curiosity she found. He
talked with Sphinxes, feasted on Chimera and listened to Angels.
Thurim knew of the Dragon King's fascination and love of culture. As
his people panicked and rumours flew of an uprising against Thurim. The
high God waited patiently. One day Filumthemir received a guest. The
Griffon Manetheon, the Griffon bid him to listen and projected a
message from Thurim. The high-God asked for Filumthemir to meet in his
hall, Mer, where Thurim would, for the peace of his people, submit to
the Dragon's superiority. Full of lust for power, Filumthemir flew
straight to Mer to accept his foe's surrender. He would make an example
of Thurim to show his true strength to the Gods. The Dragons of
Filumthemir followed their master to witness their victory.
The hall of Mer appeared almost limitless in size. From one end to the
other they could not see a thing. It dwarfed even the whole Dragon
race. The hall was empty, there was no one. Filumthemir was confused,
where was the enemy? He could not tell. There was a blinding light. All
who stood in the hall were bathed in it. They felt weakened. Tired but
not sleepy. They could not fly nor had the will to flee. Then from
nowhere and everywhere there came a deep rumbling voice. 'Dragons of
eld I welcome thee to my humble abode. Do not fret you are quite safe
here in my fane of stone. I see you have been causing concern
Filumthemir. I am told you intend a take over, to be me. If you and
your kin so dearly want to be like me and my people then I shall bestow
that honour upon you. Are you aware of the prison plane, the land of
mortals?'
'What Surindinai? We have been misboden too many times already, must
we now suffer this final insult? Be held in your mewe forever?'
'The very place. It is a globe like plane, finite, a bit like Surin
and Quelm, but in one plane. You will feel right at home there; a
bastard race amongst the misbegotten of the world. Of course, you on
there will look like me, I will shape you in my likeness and then
fashion a new species worthy of the appellation Dragon.'
'But Surindinai has no power. How can I cast magic?'
'There is a lucky one of the traditional races who will be capable
using the powers. That person will absorb all the abilities needed to
read the natural powers of the world. You will have a new name
Filumthemir, I will name you Lasathkthern. King of Men.'
'I will rejoice when your blood is spilt and I will take you rank. You
will plunge into Shurgol and your loathly race will wane with time.
They will join you in the windy hells. I will be waiting for you, for
ever.'
Thurim laughed at the pathetic dragons as they cowered. He waved his
hands and pressed his palms towards the dragons. 'You should have
attacked when Ortumir was still alive. You have weakened while we have
grown in power. This is our world now. So the first dragons have fallen
from heaven and imprisoned in the mortal world. So, the line of man,
carved in my own image, has been created. They will come to heaven
again when they have served their sentence on Surindinai. If they do
not learn their lessons they will go straight to the windy hells of
Shurgol. Always remember Lasathkthern, we Gods may not have created you
but we can control you. Your tenure on this world is hanging by a
thread, it is a time for it to be cut. Now, be gone from this
place.'
Filumthemir arched his head back in pain as he shrank. He saw Thurim
for the only time. The God was tall and carried a staff tipped with a
fir cone. Ivy leaves, attached to a gold thread, draped down this wand.
His features were less than thin. His stomach stuck out and fat hung
off his arms he had a podgy nose and bushy eyebrows. He wore a piece of
cloth. His head protruded through a slit in the middle. It was made of
the finest silk with gold trim. His wings sank into his body.
Filumthemir's scales smoothed over and became pale. Everything got
smaller. His vision got worse. He grew small prominent ears. His tail
receded into his body. His talons became little nails. His skin was
pale, kind of pink, but also a little grey. He shouted upwards towards
the light. 'we will worship your successor, but never you.'
The pain receded and he looked at himself. He was smaller, but he did
indeed look like the Sapiens' Thurim. The he stood, on a grass field
with his brethren, despoiled. The sun beat down on his back and he
could see an endless field, before it would have been merely a bed. His
kin looked slightly different from him. Like the different
characteristics of the Dragon races the humans had differences
depending on which Dragon race they came from. Lasathkthern looked up
and the cloudless skies rumbled with thunder and the land was pierced
by bolts of lightening, Thurim was reminding him of his weak state. Now
virtually powerless Lasathkthern could not control them any more. They
all drifted throughout the warm lands of the world. Lasathkthern took
Ellunmir's hand and led his kin north to the lands Duarathurim. They
were the lands of snow and ice. He would sulk here for eternity
watching his kin grow old and die.