Chapter 1/ Prologue
Prologue:
It is the Era of Strife and unease across the small moon known as Serenity. A dry, bitter wind blows constantly across the arid continent as mighty powers that once reigned now stand fractured, new and dangerous forces rising like tangled chains, the clink and scrape of metal on stone audible even from the surface as each society struggles against the bindings keeping them from advancing to their true potential. For ages, the single desert continent has been home to four intelligent yet wildly different races.
In the deep underground caverns below, the dank, musky scent of earth hangs heavy in the air. Here dwell the Goblins, their strict industrial empire echoing with the clamor of machinery. Ruled by the mysteriously vanished god-queen, their rigid caste system is dominated by rare, ethereal female “queens.” They fight with bared fangs to protect their technology, its hum and buzz seen as magic to outsiders. As the second oldest race, goblin males have short, sturdy frames of red or gray skin contrasting with the tall, slender physique of their divine females, seen but once in a generation.
The coastal forests sigh softly in the breeze, the scent of pine and honeysuckle thick under the canopy. Here live the communal, free-spirited Sauryn, their scales shifting in harmony with the flora. The raptor-folk humanoids bask in the sun-dappled scarce woodlands locked between desert coast and forested mountains, valuing art, music, and communion with nature and ancestors through religious veneration of each living thing. As the most recent to gain sentience, they are harshly persecuted.
Scattered across the dunes in walled cities, the ambition of humanity is evident, feudal lords constantly vying for wealth and territory in the loose empire of Stormhold. An ancient kingdom held together by sand and familial bonds, humans are confined to the desert surface, the sounds of their fierce battles with others carrying on the dry winds. Enslaving one another and following sects of the single god of light, their religious dogma is as changeable as the sands.
In hidden jungle oases within the dunes, pockets of verdant life shelter the pacifistic Floranu. The humanoid plant people live amongst whispering leaves, nurturing great trees and solving all problems through herbalism and nature’s ways. Isolating themselves, they listen but do not speak, absorbing all that the desert brings upon the breeze.
But now, the long era of conflict has taken its toll. The vanished goblin queen’s empire lies in ruins, its clamor silenced. Sauryn forests decline as their ecosystems wither. Among humans, uprisings rise between embattled kings and emerging republics. Peaceful Floronu retreat deeper into solitude as the land changes around them. In this chaos, bands of prophets and warlords vie for followers to shape what comes next, and for the first time, the four races uneasily comingle in the cities of trade and conflict. The fate of the world hangs in balance upon the shifting sands.
Our story opens in the desert castle city of Ultima. Marble walls loom over bustling markets as paths will cross between heroes, and the night will change them all...
Chapter 1: part 1
The dank gray marble dungeon walls of castle Ultima deep in the Human kingdom of Stormhold seemed to close in on Dran as he paced his cell in frustration. The musky scent of damp stone hung heavy in the stale, cold air. Once again, the hot-headed warrior had found himself imprisoned by King Reginald’s guards after another tavern brawl. But this time, the king had vowed it would be for life.
Dran paused, catching a glimpse of his reflection in a grimy bucket. Through the crusted blood - the coppery scent filling his nostrils - and dust from the tavern brawl, his light brown skin and angular features were still visible beneath his wild purple dreadlocks. The piercings along his left ear, caked with dirt, caught the faint flickering of the torchlight.
His piercing dark brown eyes smoldered with rage - partly at the king, but also at his clouded past. Five years ago, Dran had awakened in darkness with no memories. All he knew were the cryptic thorned tattoos glowing along his left forearm and a stumped right limb from an injury he couldn’t recall, the rough scar tissue a constant irritation.
Inspecting his new cuts and bruises, Dran winced as he shifted his muscular frame. The missing arm had sapped his old fighting confidence, an ache lingering in his phantom limb. But the walls of this dungeon wouldn’t hold him; he had to reclaim his freedom and unlocked identity - tonight.
“Fuck this shit! I didn’t do anything....” King” Regi-Nerd is just mad I beat up his little brat!” Dran stared down at his nubbed forearm and cursed tattoo markings going down it where his right arm used to be. “Ever since I woke up without my arm....my life has really been shit”
Dran eyed the rusted bars warily. If he didn’t escape tonight, he would never see freedom again. As the moon rose over Ultima, the guards changed shifts. Dran tensed, listening for their receding footsteps. Then, grabbing the iron bars, he began to slowly bend them apart, channeling all his rage and strength.
With a groan, the bars at last gave way. Wasting no time, Dran slipped into the darkened corridor, the white marble floors and walls glowing eerily in the dim light as he stole toward the exit. But around the corner, he collided with a smaller figure sneaking through the shadows. A whiff of leather and oil met his nostrils as they both let out a silent gasp. As their eyes connected, Dran’s face contorted, taken aback by the female goblin’s exotic beauty - her silvery hair catching what little light there was, intense orange eyes seeming to glow.
“Say anything and I’ll slit your throat, curr...” the gray-skinned goblin hissed through sharp teeth, their edges glinting faintly. Dran started to retort, then noticed the ornate obsidian and ruby-encrusted daggers hanging from her belt, their jewel-encrusted hilts winking in the dark, marking her as a high-ranked assassin among the goblin queen’s heirs.
“Silence, i said...” the gray-skinned goblin snarled, the sound sending a chill down Dran’s spine. Her hand, trimmed nails glinting, rested on a jeweled hilt as fiery orange eyes sized him up, taking in every detail.
The goblin’s voice was soft yet had an edge like a razor’s. “You look like a filthy mushroom hog. But a mangy slave could still prove useful. Want to make a few coins?” Her exotic scent of leather and spice hung in the air between them.
Dran met her fierce gaze, feeling the heat of her glare but refusing to back down. “Never seen a female goblin before. For all I know, you’re just another illusion sent to screw with my head.” He nodded at her daggers, the gems glinting hypnotically. “But if you fancy your chances, go ahead and try slitting my throat.”
The goblin Nazra’s nostrils flared, the scent of her anger filling the air. “Don’t be stupid...just-” Their words died as muffled shouts and the clanking of iron armor reached them from around the corner. Through the thick stone walls, they could just make out a cacophony of guards gathering, the arguing voices growing louder. “Get 4 squadrons to the front gates now! Seal the exits do not let that filthy Sauryn escape with the crown...by any means necessary!”
“Fucking around with you has cost me a contract! I’ll have your guts for this, I had a small window and now the whole kingdom is going to be crawling.... ” Her dagger flashed in the dim light as Nazra drew it, but Dran was faster, pinning her arm against the cool stone wall. Her free arm dug the blade into his cheek, the sharp pain mixing with the metallic scent of his blood as the tattoos on his stump began to glow eerily. His warm blood splattered onto her face and she winced in disgust at the wet stickiness.
“Some assassin you are! You missed my neck and now you dont have leverage...how bout we help eachother get the fuck out of here...” Dran barked confidently as the blade slid slightly deeper, a bead of blood welling and trickling down his cheek. Their faces were close now, heavy breaths mingling in the tense standoff amidst the clamor outside. After a long moment, the assassin nodded curtly.
“Deal. But you need to help me do one thing before we leave....” With that, she twisted free in a whirl of silvery hair and black robes, the leather catching the faint light as she darted down the corridor, her footfalls light and quick. Dran followed close behind, catching whiffs of her exotic scent trailing in the air.
Her petite yet lithe frame, now obscured by the veil, moved with lethal grace and poise. As he bumped into her in the close quarters, his hands brushed the supple leather of her cloak causing her to stumble forward into a narrow servants’ passage. The musky smell of dust and old stone enveloped them.
“You’ve got the brain of a cave hopper! Follow my lead and shut up... I just need you to pass off as a slave so I can get past General Argun...after that, you can do whatever to your ugly little face, M’kay?.” Nazra’s voice echoed slightly off the bare walls as she rushed ahead, the swish of her robes fading around the corner. Dran hurried to follow her scent on the stale air, catching sight of her petite form as it disappeared around another bend.
“YES YES YES YES! Oh sweet Stag-Lord this thing is so heavy.....oh fuck...” The wide eyes of the snaggle-toothed, snouted Sauryn stared at the two, his amber irises seeming to glow in the dim light.
The raptor-like humanoid stood about 5 and a half feet tall, his agile, slender frame covered in smooth green scales that shifted colors subtly with his rapid breathing. A crest of feathers near his temples, ruffling nervously, accentuated his raptor-esque head. His clawed hands and digitigrade legs, ending in curled talons, were built for speed and agility.
As the two feathers atop his head stood up mischievously, he quickly shoved something behind his back, the motion causing a metallic clink to echo off the walls. “Oh uhm...I think the intruder went that way, hey wait you two aren’t guards...” he said in a rush, flashing a toothy grin that gleamed faintly.
Before he could react further, Nazra leaped forward in a blur of black robes, her jump-kick connecting with a muffled thud as it struck his chest. The force caused King Reginald’s platinum moldavite-encrusted crown to go skittering across the floor with a clatter, coming to rest at Dran’s feet as the Sauryn’s eyes nearly popped from his head. His powerful legs kicked futilely in the air, talons scrabbling at space, as Nazra stood over him, pinning him down with her sandaled foot pressing into his heaving chest scales.
Nazra looked down at the whimpering dinosaur humanoid, his rapid breaths gusting against her leg, before she could even speak. But then the sound of cracked cobblestone footsteps speeding away down the corridor filled her ears. As she looked back she caught sight of Dran’s retreating form, the crown gripped tightly in his hand, “Hey, that’s mine!” both Zephyr and Nazra yelled after him, their voices echoing as Dran smiled and disappeared around the corner with his stolen prize...The cursed crown of the first human king.
To be continued…
