Arum

The Lightweaver had spoken to Her consorts, and they in their turn had spread the message through the land.

The bounty of the elements, an event of cataclysmic proportions, had spread through the land. In their turn, the clans of the area had trained harder than ever, sending exaltees by the dozens to serve. Dragons who in years past would have expected to be gardeners, librarians, or cooks to the Lightweaver found themselves drafted into military service.

Their was an emperor on the loose.

It seemed to have no particular destination in mind as it trundled it's great swath of destruction westward through the sunbeam ruins. At first the clans that it encountered tried to fight it. Leaders stood firm before their clans, caretakers protected priceless architecture.

All in vain.

In the end, the great three headed beast had taken the combined efforts of the Lightweaver's own force with countless clans to be taken down. Wise dragons where consulted, and the bodies separated, burned, and buried to prevent a resurgence.

And their was peace.

For three whole days.

The second Emperor could have been considered a fluke. Some clans who hadn't seen either beast assumed that the tales of it's defeat had been exaggerated as propaganda. In either case, the five headed beast, arisen from the outskirts of the Hewn City, staggered westward as it's predecessor had.

Arum, with their parents and siblings, had taken shelter in the quiet ruins after fleeing their home the week before. This second wave of terror further displaced the refugee dragons. Their father, a jingoistic and impatient dragon, concluded that the Lightweaver herself must have a plan. While their mother and siblings chose to flee to other flights, Arum swayed by their father's words, stayed to fight for their home.

Many of the smaller families who had made their homes in the banks and cliffs of the Froul River where reluctant to abandon the homes they had lived in for generations. Members of six families from Arum's birthplace ended up banding together to make a fighting force. As they marched north, Arum found it strange to be keeping pace with a Ridgeback from upstream his mother had spoken ill of on so many other occasions. But she, like all the others, had put petty animosities aside. They where united by duty, honor, and all those other things, though Arum suspected that an undercurrent of terror, of the understanding of what their failure could mean, held them stronger than anything as mundane as honor could.

Years later, scholarly dragons concluded that in their haste to flee many clans had forgone the proper burial of their brethren. This second Emperor had been a result negligence, and nothing more. Others, still researching the full effect of the Bounty, decided that the unnatural surge of magic in the area must be connected. Others still, suspected something more sinister at work. In either case, the beast had been slain.

Of the sixteen dragons who had set out from the shores of the Froul River, only three survived the slaying of the second Emperor.

The third Emperor was definitely not a fluke. Nor was the fourth.

Conceivably, it could have been finished by the Lightweaver herself if the fourth hadn't found its way into the Tangleled Woods.

Pressured by the others of the Eleven, She sat down to think about what to do.

It was almost a year before the Word came.

So the Lightweaver sent the Word, and Arum, exalted into her service three months before, was sent to carry it to the Southern Icefield. They brought the good news of the Lightweaver's decision to the dragons of Port Hugin and all the clans along the cost of the Bay of Talons.

They journeyed hard and fast, southwest along the coast of the Shifting Expanse and Ashfall Isle. Not bothering to charter a ship for this journey, they flew high to find and catch an air current to ride as only a Spiral knew how. Regardless, they where exhausted when they landed at Port Hugin. Unable to to even rise let alone make the trip up into the mountains to the Silver Guard, Arum threw back their head and screamed the Word for all to hear.

The fighting, the wars. It ended with the Word. Hope for peace. Hope for the future. The messenger was carried up to the Silver Guard, who sent their own dragons to spread the word to the clans under their protection.

And so the Word spread.

The Imperials must be eradicated.

Fiendish Emerald Pendants

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