|William E. Brower II|
| THE CHRONICLES OF THE DRAGONíS BANE
BOOK ONE : THE QUEST FOR THE DRAGONíS BANE
The realm of Mysidia had seen great transformations throughout the ages. Upon the creation of the lands,
came distant thunder as evolution brought forth many wondrous creatures. The sheerness of the Ivory Mountains in the north were mere hills as great dragons roamed the world. Among the lore of dragons was a tale about the elder. The wise one had been created with infinite wisdom and although his age was advanced, his strength held on. In the human language he was given the name Clarok.
When the realm existed for one thousand years, there came a change in the landscape. The Ivory Mountains rose and towered over the northern areas. Around the eastern section rose what would later be called the fields of fury. The grass that grew within the vast region was thick and held a poison that brought a constant rage into oneís bloodstream. Western Mysidia had the sea of serenity where the crystal waters acted as windows for all to see down thousands of fathoms deep.
It would be in the west where humans would evolve over time and harvest the land. Southern Mysidia became the birthplace of humanoid creatures, their vast species adapted to the harsh desert climate where even a drop of water boiled into steam. Clarok and his kind saw the formation of wondrous things as time passed. It was decreed by Clarok that all draconians were to act as guardians of the realms creatures both great and small.
There was peace and harmony throughout the world, humans and humanoids lived together in groups. There was the constant feast where all living things gathered to celebrate life and love. Clarok sat in the heart of the western realm teaching his wisdom to those who thirsted for knowledge. Along the subtle lines, seeds of hatred lay harvested and began to blossom further.
It was in the midnight hour that Clarok had a dream of horrible premonition. A fire of rage scorched the land, from the ensuing flames of chaos rose torrents of blood that spilled over the realm. A great war was about to come. The realm was to be divided and the battles would turn the sounds of laughter into the screams of torment as the innocents became victims. Within time, a chosen one will appear bearing the mark of the dragon. He will unite the realm when their darkest hour will be at hand.
Clarok awoke with the warning bouncing throughout his mind. Calling forth to his kind, he gathered the draconians and held council. It was decided that the draconians would use their powers and forge the weapons for the chosen one. The ice dragons shaped an edge of crystal and huned it to a sharp point. Out of the Ivory Mountains themselves came the hilt decorated with the runes of the ancients. Blade and hilt were shaped into one massive crystalline sword whose blade would never blemish.
Dragons of fire swept deep into the bowels of the realm and created the breastplate and armor. The golden silver hues were magical and beautiful. Neither sword nor arrow could pierce them. Along the breastplate itself, a dragon with itís wings extended and claws poised in a defiant attack. Clarok oversaw and created the helmet. Constructed of materials unknown to the realm, the golden helmet was a dragonís head. The great horns rose and then wrapped around forming the sides. Using divine magic, Clarok cast the mighty spell of knowledge upon it. Rendering the wearer the ability to have the senses of a dragon.
Upon completion, the draconians separated the magical armory and spread their parts throughout the realm itself each concealed within an ancient temple. Clarok knew the time had come for the carnage to spill across the land and using his powers he cast a spell across all of the draconians. They would entered and alternate realm beyond the folds of space and time and await the arrival of the chosen one. Before entering the void, Clarok etched the prophecy of his dream onto the walls of his former home.