Territory

Isana’s territory is contained solely to the two north eastern islands of Sturminzel, situated at the end of a long archipelago. The first and largest of the two is eponymously named, and holds a few communities such as Baston and Haven Point. Most notably, Sturminzel houses the Fallen Temple of Isana, the last constructed stone temple of reverence to the Dragon, now in ruins. To the direct south is the second island called Celerity. While no formal towns or even hamlets are marked on any map, Celerity holds scattered tribes of Olagot’Thalan and several of Isana’s Draconians.

As information about Isana’s reclusive nature has slowly been uncovered, scholars have found her preferred grounds are not even within the Material Plane. The Astral Void, though not in its entirety, is where Isana chooses to spend most of her time and consciousness. The exact length and breadth of her metaphysical influence is unknown, as the measuring of distance within the Astral Void is difficult with even the finest instruments. Many believe that, much like Shiloth using the Plane of Shadow as a means of rapid transport, Isana uses the endlessness of the realm between realms in similar fashion.

After the seemingly untraversable typhoon that closed off both Sturminzel and Celerity were chartered and sailed once again, many began their search for the Dragon. Currently Isana’s exact whereabouts are unknown, as she is nothing if not evasive to prying eyes. However, on the Isle of Celerity, a massive caldera surrounded by overgrown jungle hides a pool of pristine and utterly still water. Known to the locals as the Bed of the Cosmos, its water appears cloudy during the day but as reflective as the most polished mirror at night. The liquid surface forms a visual copy of the starry skies above so accurately that one could be mistaken for the other. The walls of the caldera become awash with the twinkling light of tiny gem deposits, and those that view their luminance find it difficult to distinguish direction or keep focused thought. Some claim to have seen the Dragon dip into the pool with no ripples in her wake, to rest beneath its glittering surface. All attempts to check the location, night or day, fail to accurately pinpoint her place of slumber.

Appearance

Though her elusive nature has kept her from many mortal eyes, Isana’s otherworldly Draconic Form has been documented in narrative and song. Isana is a large Amphiptere, whose slender serpentine body glimmers with iridescence. Flecks of silver-colored stardust dot her scales like a tapestry of softly-lit fireflies. From her snout to tail she measures thirty-six meters in length, with a wingspan of thirty meters. Her height can be anywhere from ten to over thirty meters, depending on how coiled she chooses to be in her limbless form. Her Draconic face bears none of the horns, spines, or bony protrusions of her more physically imposing brethren. Instead, a cascading frill of suspended starlight arcs from the top of her skull to eight meters down her length. At night or while projecting her consciousness into the Astral Void, the frill emits a soft white glow and floats aimlessly back and forth as if the Firstborn were submerged in water. During the light of day it extinguishes altogether, much like the sheen of her scales, which attain a matte finish when exposed to the sun’s rays.

Her right eye is a pool of dark blue that seems to reflect a starry cosmos across its pupil-less surface. A large diagonal scar marks her left eye socket, in which the eye has been replaced by the bright yellow Orb of Power, Phell. Its soft light glows from her face, constantly alerting her to any nearby minds whose thoughts conspire to cause her harm. While she can see through Phell like a regular eye, she often chooses to use her spherical companion to gaze into the Astral Void, while simultaneously looking upon her physical surroundings with her right eye.

Each of Isana’s massive wings look sheer, almost as if they could shred. During the day, each membrane fades from deepest indigo to midnight blue, absorbing the ambient light. Under the canopy of the night sky, Isana camouflages against the darkness by bending light around her. This is accomplished using powerful Draconic magic infused into every inch of scale and wing. One would only see an ever-changing constellation briefly flicker in and out of view as she flies overhead. It is said that seeing a fleet of such stars moving across the skies of the Sturminzel Islands is to witness the Astral Echo’s near invisible flight. Many islanders treat such an event as a good omen and boon upon their family.

Her Mortal Form changes from century to century, just as the nature of existence alters with every passing moment. Currently, she appears as a seasoned High Elf whose complexion belies the signs of wisdom and grace. Her skin is like the last dark-amber glow of twilight, while her hair bears the beginning streaks of silver akin to the trails of comets. She wears modest silver robes in the style of an antiquarian, and walks with the aid of a cane of an unidentifiable metal from beyond the stars which is extremely cold to the touch. Her left eye is always a bright yellow, seeming to look past and through anything she views. Never armed or armored, Isana chooses instead to carry a collection of her favourite mementos from her hoard within a simple leather book bag slung to her side. Though her outings are few and far between, the withdrawn Dragon will sometimes visit wandering scholars of no great institutional standing and speak with them on the nature of life. Other times she finds great contentment in telling the stories of her carried items to philosophers, bards, and common peasantry around a communal fire pit. However, even in her outings none are ever fully aware of the Dragon’s true identity, as she firmly cloaks herself in a sensory mask that keeps such a realization just beyond a creature’s mental grasp. Even those sure they have just had conversation with the immortal being will find that epiphany shift to that of a completely different creative idea of their own making. The time shared with the old Elven woman remains but a memory of the beautiful moment when inspiration struck the individual in a chance exchange with a stranger.

Unlike other Firstborn, Isana bears a third distinct form known as her Astral Self. While powerful mages have found ways to project their consciousness into the Astral Void, as well as open direct planar gateways within it, they remain visually the same as their material bodies. Isana, however, is but a visitor to the Material Plane and thus her true actualized form is viewable only within the shifting Ethereal Winds of the Astral Void. Her measured dimensions, no longer held by such limitations as the physical, can be willed to any orientation she desires. Her entire body becomes a silhouette containing shining heavenly bodies, orbiting and twisting within her like meteors firing across the outer reaches of the darkness. Even in this transcendent semblance, the power of Phell radiates from the left side of her face like an aureate full moon, washing her surroundings in eldritch light.

Six forelimbs of similar starry quality hover around her serpentine body, free floating and unconnected anywhere from six to ten feet from her spatial form. While each differs in the number of digits and their rough appearance, all hold a vortex of light in each palm said to take the shape of the various individuals from every story Isana has ever collected. Legends state that these arms were once six separate entities of Hope, Desire, Glory, Fury, Sorrow, and Avarice, all bent on taking Phell from Isana’s care in a desperate bid at Celestial ascension. When they could not be reasoned with to abandon their burgeoning Divine magic, despite the Orb’s power guaranteeing them no success, Isana unleashed a wave of Psionic energy strong enough to briefly scramble their consciousness into the seas of the Astral. From within, she could not bring herself to destroy the emotions which they represented, and instead crafted an appendage from each of their subconsciousness. In this way, each of the emotions would live on in her, ever reminding the Firstborn of the balance maintained by accepting all concepts of the spirit and mind. While the abilities each arm gives her are unknown, they are firmly locked to her Astral Self, and cannot be manifested outside of the Astral Void.

Passions

Isana finds little use for material wealth or frivolous possessions, feeling that such things, in excess, tie oneself to the petty concepts they represent. Weapons lead to war and pride. Gold to greed and paranoia. However, even an ancient spear or tarnished golden locket can hold tales beyond their simple creation. Isana’s hoard is based on this viewpoint, and contains the stories of a thousand lifetimes within. The older the object, and the more significant its legends, be they widespread or deeply personal, the more she wishes their voices to be remembered. Of particular interest to her and her aspiring Dragon Knights, known colloquially as Knight Philosophers, are items whose grand story has been forgotten. A crest of a Queen’s family, whose usurper sought to lock it away. The last seed of a nearly extinct flower, whose beauty shall only live on within the mind of its grove tender. The final written account of a Grey Elven scribe, whose city was proverbially invisible to the kingdoms of the world. These are the chronicles that give Isana her strength, as well as her purpose.

While offering such an item on an Aspirant’s Pillar attends her curiosity, it is the oration of its tale that garners her interest. Aspirants of Isana’s Favour must just as equally uncover such stories as they must become the vessel for their retelling. Isana wishes for a sensory experience, and though the scribed word may be beautiful, the scholarly should never overshadow the storied. The expressions of the Aspirants should evoke a tapestry of tales long past, and turn their recounting into a full experience. Some Aspirants intertwine the item’s story with performative dance or song. The more expansive and beautiful the recounting, the more Isana is willing to focus her attention on the seeker of Her Knighthood.

Productions should include props or costumes of high quality commissioned from humble craftsfolk and well-versed actors or orators hired for their skill. While an audience is not required, such may help bring the experience to the masses and greatly pleases Isana. At least two individuals should collaborate together to form the wondrous performance, letting their ideas blend. The stronger the idea for a performance, the more should be acquired to accentuate it. However, as is the way of the Astral Echo, when the retelling of the item’s tale has been completed, all accompanying objects must join it to Isana. Scripts, props, and garb now charged with both the original story and the new story of the Aspirant’s recital, are left as tribute against the Aspirant’s Pillar to create a new memory for Isana’s hoard. Any proceeds raised from the experience must be used to pay the performers for their time, or if already accounted for, given to the less fortunate. Regardless, the creation of these new memories and the items used as vessels to house them manifest within her hoard as physical constructions of enlightenment.

Temperament

Isana has been called many things, chiefly among those ‘enlightened’. As such, though seeming aloof, she truly believes in each creature’s ability to ascend to a broadened mindset. Her non-confrontational attitude does not belie a lack of will to fight for her ideals, though she will only use violence over wit as a means of last resort. Even still, such violence is only enacted in defense of those she loves or sees potential in. She does not tolerate those who seek to control and prevent the mind from expansive insight. She encourages her followers to find purpose in the greater whole of existence, and then bring that understanding to others. This is not merely contained within scholarly pursuits, as Isana believes all truths have a place and purpose. This philosophy is carried through all her followers, as a means of bringing new perspectives on a multitude of subjects both big and small to the masses. Even the most subjectively evil creatures, such as Demons or Angels, have the possibility to be enlightened and turned from their paths. Unlike most Firstborn, Isana accepts that the personal yet flawed truth of Celestial worship cannot be simply dismissed as mere poison to mortalkind. It is a far more complex and saddening subversion of a people who do not know better than to see its falsehoods for what they are. In this way, immediate violence against such Deific viewpoints will always be met with an equally violent resistance in return. While an Aspiring Knight Philosopher should not suffer the wrathful rebukes of the Divine to pass, their first action should always be to display their erudition and show them a better road to follow.

Additionally, Isana teaches her followers to not be tied down by the material allures of modern society, and the avarice that is intrinsically bound to them. This is not to say to live in poverty or lack mementos of memory, but to only ever possess what you need. A guardsman requires his armor and his halberd, but not an entire armoury. A glassworker requires enough sand and equipment to create her crafts, but not more coin from her success than she needs to survive modestly. Excess breeds only attachment to the items, and not what they represent. Followers of the Astral Echo tend to only keep what ties a story to their hearts, and gives aid to their endeavours. Anything further to that should be given to those who could better use or learn from them. This especially includes the hoarding of gold and silver, which many followers exchange for food, books, shelter, or tools to give to those with naught. The tenuous balance of the material possessions one keeps versus the ones given away are linked to Isana’s belief of the power of the self. All stories come from life, and the objects one chooses to surround themself with should only hold those living tales, not become them. It is common saying among Forums of Knight Philosophers, that: “The telescope may bear their memory of the cosmos, but it was the watcher who first looked through its lens.”

Affinities

Even before the addition of the Orb of Power’s influence, Isana is known amongst all Firstborn as the unparalleled master of Psionic magic, a fact that draws contention from many of her brethren. Many Firstborn see her as possessing one of the most powerful weapons against the Divine due to her natural prowess with her chosen magic and Phell’s companionship. Frustratingly to many, Isana is content not to wage such an overt war, preferring to change minds through concepts of self-actualization and the expansion of one’s consciousness. It is widely speculated that knowledge of her existence reaching the masses was in large part hampered by the Temples of a select few Firstborn actively dismissing her from mention, perhaps out of embarrassment, or fear of her insights into the Void between realms. Isana has taken this in stride, choosing to ignore the actions of her sceptical kin in favour of continuing with her sage-like ideals.

To some more militaristic Firstborn, such as Styphon the Black Wyrm, her stance is beyond infuriating. Several have sent their most trusted agents to seek Isana in an attempt to change her seemingly lackadaisical perspective on the eternal battles against the Divine. While her rare Knight Philosophers have been found, and many questioned, all agents set to the task have never managed to conclusively find the location of Isana’s physical form. Her Astral Self, however, has visited all such enforcers in their dreams with an echoing warning: “Abandon thy search without. Gaze upon thyself within.” Unsurprisingly, this has yet to deter the hunt.

Despite this, when the potential for combat arises, Isana chooses to utilize an aura much like any other Firstborn. However, unlike her kin, Isana’s aura is of contrition and not fear. When let loose, creatures caught in its radius begin to relive the moments that defined them as people. The good natured and virtuous are given insight into how each of these moments shaped their personality, morals and path through existence. Strangely, any Divine influence from these memories is removed, instead only leaving the creature’s personal motivations to perform those actions. However, those who bear regret for the darker actions of their life have this introspective field begin to bore into their mind. Souls burdened by the weight of sins against life must relive their greatest failures. Even if they do not feel a single shred of apprehension or regret to their actions, the aura will test them. Those who have learned from their mistakes can shake off the feelings induced and move forward to the Dragon with a clear conscience. But those who relish in their acts of violence, death, or suffering will experience the consequences of those acts played before them. Most crumple to the ground in tears as remorse fills their hearts. Those truly evil and irredeemably corrupt individuals however have been known to become catatonic until Isana chooses to release her aura’s hold, or leave the area. In rare cases, the most vile, destructive, and iniquitous individuals become so devastated with their crimes against reality that they lose the resolve to continue existing. By sheer force of will, they compel their spirit to pass into the Astral Void, leaving behind but a Finalled and preserved corpse in their death. Once there, the spirit disperses into energy to flow as part of the mysterious seas of the Void for all eternity.

Isana utilizes her Psionic magic mainly to incapacitate rather than destroy. In days of yore when she was forced to defend her singular Temple from fierce interlopers, Isana was said to be able to cast widespread Power Words of Sleep with her roar, and banish even mighty Angels back to their Heavens with but a dismissive flap of her wings. In the modern age, her Draconians speak of her magic less as an unfathomably potent weapon, and more akin to an artist’s chosen instrument. Like the Purple Dragon Essyllt, Isana does not use her arcana to control minds, seeing as such acts would be limiting to one’s self expression. However, her clever usage of sensory warping and basic practices of brief charms, with the intent to only escape danger, treads an uneasy line with The Unchained. While many of the Host of Essyllt understand the lack of malicious intent behind The Astral Echo’s magic, they watch her followers’ examples with the careful eye of a concerned family member.

While transformed into her Astral Self, Isana is unmatched in magical power against anything that bears a living mind. Even the mighty Celestials dare not face her in the Astral Void in any capacity, as even from the safety of their Heavens any avatar or manifestation they send to face her would be utterly obliterated in seconds. She shapes the gales of the Astral like a sculptor with amorphous clay, able to create physical structures of the condensed ethereal matter with her mind alone. She mainly utilizes this ability in the creation of entire illusory realities which she presides over. Within these demiplanes she may hypothesize on the nature of existence without directly interfering in the lives of Arthos, and is content to ruminate on such while she sleeps without interruption.

Breath Weapon

The Star Gazers, Draconians closest to Isana, speak that she once had no knowledge of her vast magical capabilities. It was through her connection to the stars and dreamscapes over millennia that she slowly found enlightenment into her own immortal being, teaching herself her now well known abilities through the primordial whispers from beyond. Her most curious implement, and conceptually her most utterly awe-inspiring, is her Breath Weapon.

The Dragon’s body rapidly shifts to the silhouette of a starlit sky, as a kaleidoscopic array of colors begins to swirl from her opening jaws. All of the shining silver scales across her slender body immediately pulse, as their glow is siphoned towards the tip of her snout like a thousand shooting stars, disappearing as they reach the undulating shapeless source of color caught between her teeth. When every bit of light has coalesced to her mouth, she reels back and lets loose a burst of incomprehensible hues in a 20-foot radius of her choice within her sight. This flash takes but a second to completely blind the eyes and brain. Even averting one’s gaze does naught to stop the brilliant blast as it pierces through flesh, bone and thought. The affected area of the Material Plane becomes thin to that of the Astral Void, overlapping and twisting. Matter and ethereal antithetical-matter warp reality to the point where those caught within are temporarily removed from existence. Those affected begin to see thoughts and visions seamlessly blend with reality. For the next hour, each creature experiences a sensory landscape, adjusted by Isana herself, that is different each time. All senses are altered to briefly cradle the creatures within this new reality. Its primary usage is to allow the Astral Echo to avoid confrontation or escape dangers in the safest manner possible. However, her Star Gazers speak of times where this power was used to assist those of their collective in guided meditation, allowing their minds to be opened by the otherworldly light. If the Dragon were to unleash its full potency, known to the Star Gazers as the Mind’s Tribunal, the area would become more dangerous than any mere planar weakening. While it is rarely her intention to cause harm, death within this empowered area would cause a creature to be shunted into the Astral Void. Without the aid of air, or even physical matter as mortals understand it, they would become lost forever. Whatever the case, should one overcome the reality presented by Isana, they will reappear exactly where the light pierced them in the same state they were when they entered. From the scattered reports regarding this power, many feel as if no actual time passed within the Material Plane during their strange journey.

While within the Astral Void, her Breath Weapon changes to a seemingly innocuous inhalation or exhalation. This force, which can be as gentle as a summer breeze or as violent as a sudden squall, summons a small portion of the Ethereal Winds to her command. She uses this to subtly nudge planes closer to or further from her gaze, though never truly colliding one with another. This allows her a unique view of the inner workings of the planar landscape, ever pondering on each for her own understanding.

After combining her power with Phell, her Breath Weapon has attained the strength to blend thought and reality into physical creations. Isana’s radiant breath can create a full encompassing experience for as long as the Dragon desires, though at mental strain equal to the size and quality of the phenomenon. Mortals, Fae, and even Demon minds that are within the summoned reality are completely convinced of its existence. Celestials can attempt to force their senses to overcome the effect with great effort, but if their concentration were to waver for even a moment, they would succumb to its belief. Once the crafted mirage is believed, it becomes as solid and present as whatever thing it represents. The longer the creation exists, the more real it becomes until it is all but impossible to reverse. Unlike her weaker version, the full power of this Breath Weapon can in fact cause long-lasting harm, as once reality is rewritten to form the creation, it would take a titanic effort from any individual to force it back to non-existence.

The typhoon that surrounds the Sturminzel Islands, once thought to have been created by a Lightning Elemental Lord in a bargain to hide the Dragon, was revealed to be a result of her Breath Weapon alone. Even the memory of the Elemental raising the gigantic storm clouds that formed the wall of wind was but a necessary temporary falsehood to hide her direct involvement. Though the memories have slowly returned to the affected, the conjured storm continues to rage; a testament to Isana’s willpower and Phell’s magic. However, the act was done too quickly and with far too much psionic output, causing Phell to form a hairline fracture. Isana has vowed to be more cautious of such reshaping of materiality, fearing the safety of her spherical companion.

Sailing through the gigantic storm is a difficult task for any helmsman, as the spinning, conjured vortex is as real as any other raging tempest. Despite this, all ships that have capsized due to the summoned winds have never reported a single death on their ruined vessels, finding themselves pushed to the periphery of the phenomenon once it has deterred their voyage.

Many question the ethics of such an actuality-warping power, as in the hands of a more violent creature it could be corrupted to terrible consequence. Fortunately, no being in all the realms has ever robbed a Firstborn of its Breath.

Style of Governance

The Astral Echo, for being so isolated in a tangible sense, is a very hands on leader. Although she cannot leave her territory, utilizing the combined efforts of Phell’s magic and her own, she is capable of assisting her wayward Knight Philosophers wherever they may be. Isana is often the necessary nudge for a follower to come to enlightenment on their personal truths, or reality at large. To do this, she sends manifestations of astral energy borne of her empowered Breath Weapon and careful transference of ethereal matter from the Astral Void, across all corners of Arthos. These constructs are as corporeal as any plant, animal or mineral for so long as they are truly believed to be, and Isana can see through each while astral projecting. Usually no more than 25 are able to be summoned in this way, as any more would require an extreme level of focus for the Dragon, usually reserved for maintaining the storm wall surrounding her islands.

During the summer and winter solstice an event known as the Astrinicos-Clavron takes place in many smaller towns and communities across the world. Roughly translated from the ancient tongue as the “The Clarifying Eternal Stars,” Knight Philosophers walk the length and breadth of the lands calling to assemble the followers of Isana to begin discourse. Food and drink are provided by all who attend, as they commence an evening of story in all its forms. Interpretive song, artistry, and the convening of shared experiences regarding dreams are commonplace events. Should members of a traveling Forum attend, healthy debate bearing the regular rules of such gatherings may occur as well.

It is said during the solstices the planes are all somewhat closer to the Astral Void. Many followers of Isana believe this time to be where discussion, philosophy and bardic ingenuity are at their peak in the mortal mind. While the Astrinicos-Clavron is less a holiday, and more a convention of like-minded folk, many treat it as such. The true gift of the assemblage is to that of the community they hold the event within. Each tries to share something of their life and experience to another not within the Astral Echo’s followers. In this way, by the end of the solstice, an entire town has learned something new to broaden their horizons on life itself.

Isana herself is known to choose several assemblages of the Astrinicos-Clavron to visit with one of her manifestations, looking upon the creative minds like a proud and inquisitive Grandmother. Aspiring Knights often hold their finest offerings of stories and keepsakes for such a solstice, in the hopes that their Patron is in the audience for their presentation to their Pillars.

Temple Structure

Isana bears no stationary places of reverence after her first and largest stone Temple fell to the near endless raids of those seeking her Orb of Power. Instead, her wandering followers convene at what is known as The Forum. More a concept than a set of institutions, The Forum is a gathering of minds sometimes led by a Dragon Knight of Isana. Groups that bear the Mantle of The Forum wander the land in numbers of three to five, never settling too long in any one place. Many farm communities see them as strange and tiresome due to their constant musings on otherworldly concepts, but do not outright despise them. Members of a traveling Forum do their utmost to uplift the masses into thinking critically on the many sides of every subject, and to encourage the most humble folk into practicing such debates with them. There are but four rules within any Forum of Isana:

1. Debate and argument must remain distinct. The Forum will not tolerate dissension.
2. Those among The Forum for the first time must bring forth a new topic for the assembly.
3. All viewpoints must be considered, so long as they do not focus solely on the wanton destruction of the living mind. Everything on Arthos has a purpose.
4. Debate on the Divine must never strive to coerce, trick or persuade into the worship of those farcical beings. The Forum will not tolerate sermons or attempted conversion.

Many institutions of great magical knowledge such as The Conclave, have petitioned wandering followers bearing the Mantle of The Forum to hold talks within their establishments. Many have been denied due to several followers questioning the intention behind sharing their vast metaphysical knowledge with powerful Arcanists who wish to keep their secrets and discoveries to themselves. While no Forum has ever convened within such an institution, some have allowed smaller outdoor gatherings of magical practitioners still beginning on their journey into spellcraft, much to the displeasure of their professors. They see this as opening a mind before the insatiable lust of magical indomitability can close one off from seeing the bigger picture of one’s true self. This is not to say all Archmages of influence are barred from debate, as that would defeat Isana’s greater purpose. If an individual does indeed prove to wish to engage in philosophical debate to better understand their spot within the greater universe, there is no one from nobility to peasantry that is denied The Forum. Forums can sometimes spend months forming consensus on whether an arcane school’s request has the intent of true enlightenment or greed for personal, overindulgent gain. The one institution Forums of Isana have been known to hold counsel near is the Academia Beltara, the largest Druidic academy in all of Arthos. Residing in a hollowed out tree said to be grown over top of a Nature magic-infused Ley Line, their students are said to relish the infrequent visits by the wandering Philosophers.

Within the early half of the year of 2258, the Draconians of Isana began to reveal themselves on the islands of Sturminzel. Known as the Star Gazers, they are considered the largest Forum, and keepers of the nearly forgotten tales of both island’s early civilizational years. They are led by Kel’va, an ancient Draconian who is said to have lived several millennia. They purport to have walked the islands since the first comet streaked across the pitch of a night sky, and is considered to be the first Knight of Isana. They see themself as an interpretive bridge between the dreams of their Patron, and those who seek her guidance. Some followers of Isana make the voyage across the Eastern Deep during an Astrinicos-Clavron, in the hopes of sharing experiences with Kel’va and their Star Gazers during the solstice.

Historical Highlights

Historical Entry #1 – Year ????: “As the Temple; Phell”

As transcribed from “The Great Dreaming” by Alkandhros, Star Gazer and Mantle Bearer of The Southern Sturminzel Forum, Far Scribe to Kel’va

In the time long past, the Lady of the Astral was not always the elusive wonder that continues to vex mortal minds. Before the unending storm, before even the islands were named, Isana roamed among the people of her domain with her Draconians as a benevolent teacher. For countless years she assisted the many races of the north-most island build up their societies, careful to impart upon them the values of taking only what was needed. She warned that collecting materialistic things in excess would only lead to profound sadness, and it was the stories they helped tell, not the objects themselves, that mattered. In thanks, they came together to build her a Temple of stone and vine to be her home. While grateful, she insisted that such a structure could lead to worship, something she could not abide. The masses reassured her it was but a roof for her head, and the gift was given in appreciation, not zealous devotion. With a slight skepticism, but hopeful heart, she accepted the Temple that would be her home for many years. Through peaceful meditation within her new abode, she began to piece together more and more of her draconic heritage. Soon, she was able to feel the memories of all those across her twin islands of north and south. And so it was for many passing seasons, till the Spring of the third year.

Deep within the thawing snow on one of her treks throughout the island that would come to be known as Sturminzel, the Firstborn began to hear a call within her mind she was once too weak to understand. It was almost imperceptible, yet yearning to be freed. Taking into the night sky with her satin-like wings, she flew to the western tip of her territory, feeling the pulsing message grow stronger and stronger.

“So… cold… so dark…”

The words rang clearer. A spirit was trapped, of this she was certain. Gracefully coiling down a massive sinkhole borne of the warming weather, her mind scanned for the source. Down and down she went until at the bottom, shining in the lightless crevasse, was an orb. Using telekinesis, she lifted the sphere from beneath the shallow water of this natural well. As soon as it broke the surface, its yellow light shone forth, illuminating the entire fissure.

“You… who has saved me. Firstborn. Dragon. Immortal. I am called Phell. Who releases me?”

Isana was intrigued. A ball that could speak, yet undoubtedly this was no trick; it bore a mind, a spirit, and… power. Immense power.

“… Isana.”

The Dragon was stunned by the raw Psionic mana swirling just beneath the orb’s surface. It was then the voice of Phell entered her mind again.

“Lady Isana. I have been trapped beneath stone and water for over 34,782 days. I must repay this kindness with my unrivaled might. Please kindred soul, if I may be so bold, your magics are strong, but not honed. Not yet as sharpened as the quickest wit, or most calculated thought. Allow me to help you.”

Isana’s consciousness was flooded with an awareness she had never felt before. No longer could she sense the minds of those upon her islands, but for a brief moment all minds, in all realities… and some were converging closer. Like searing darts of golden light and roiling darkness, they began rocketing towards Sturminzel with unending force. She wrenched her consciousness back, and flew out of the hole with great speed, psionically pulling Phell along with her.

“Phell. What didst thou show me.”

“I… I did not intend- I do not know what these creatures are, but they have heard me the same as yourself. They are no match for my power, Lady Isana. I swear on my boundless intellect that we shall-”

She silenced him with a deep sigh, flying straight for her Temple. It was as she feared. This… spherical creature deserved to live, but should he fall into the hands of even one of these interlopers, the results could be catastrophic. Steeling herself, Isana gathered her children for the one thing she wished least in all the planes: War.

Years passed. Wave after wave of Divine worshipers and their Champions beset upon Sturminzel. Some through deceit, others through sheer brute force. Each wished Phell to grant unto their Holy or Unholy Deities. Isana was heartbroken. No matter how she tried to negotiate with her aggressors, it always ended the same. Even many of the communities she had fostered and helped to become illuminated and wise, began building kingdoms with the sole intent of taking the Orb for their newly crowned lieges. So occupied was she with these attacks from above, that she did not notice a creature slip through from below.

Chieftain Inkblood of The Warband of the Octopus, an Orcish tribe of pirates, heard tell of the Orb. His former Shaman Scuzzin Aftskewer, pleaded with the Chieftain not to trust the allure of the mind magics, and was subsequently cut down for his insolence. Chieftain Inkblood had been privately visited by an entity of fire and iron, who called itself Krava. Together they struck a deal. Krava would slay the Dragon, and allow Inkblood to keep the Orb he so sought all to himself. All Inkblood had to do was allow Krava to ride within his spirit, hiding him from Isana’s gaze until the right moment. The Chieftain agreed, unbeknownst to the insidious clauses within their agreement. There would be no gifting of the Orb to anyone but Krava himself.

As word reached Isana’s ears of The Warband of the Octopus seeking to return to the teachings she had once given, and offer their protection of the waters around both her islands, she could not refuse the meeting. All those who sought the Orb of Psionics had to cross the ocean. The Octopus Clan, however ruthless, were a vanguard that could help stem the tide, and perhaps even deter further conflict. Besides, she would sense if the Orcs bore the deceptions of the Divine upon them before they even entered her Temple, and their weapons could not scratch her natural plating. Sending one of her swiftest Draconian, the meeting was set for later the same afternoon.

Ten of The Warband’s fiercest warriors arrived, including the Chieftain himself. Inkblood approached and bowed to Isana. His warriors stood dumbfounded, but slowly followed suit, unaware of their Chieftain’s grim dealings with the mysterious Krava. A fight they were promised, and a fight they would have, strange behaviour of their Captain or not.

“Something is amiss,” Phell spoke to Isana.

“Calm thyself, Phell.” She telepathically uttered to the Orb. “I wouldst know if the Divine were within my domain, especially so close.”

“With respect, my insightful Lady, I am never wrong. I feel a hole of nothingness where a mind should be coming from that burly fellow in the center.”

Isana tilted her head to stare at the Chieftain, as Phell floated mere inches to the crook of her left wing. The Orb was right. The Orc’s thoughts were absent beyond even one of her followers’ deepest meditations, and yet a facade of contemplation remained to crudely cover it.

“Great Star Dragon, I Cap’n Chief Inkblood and me’ crew do hereby swear te’ protect yer waters. We just be havin’ one small request in return.”

The Orc grinned, his yellowed tusks going askew as he kept to his low bow. Isana looked at him quizzically, still trying to comprehend the emotions she was being barred from reading from his mind.

“A request? Speak thy wish, Chieftain.”

“MY LADY, THERE ARE TW-!”

No sooner did Phell’s words scream forth through Isana’s mind, did the unthinkable happen. The Orc reeled back, spine almost breaking from the force, as blood and fire began blasting from his mouth. A 10 foot tall being of crimson flesh, grafted with bolted plates of red hot iron formed in an instant from the conflagration. Bat-like wings of metal and flame spread from its shoulder blades, lifting it to meet the Dragon’s height. Its triple horned head roared with a sound that buckled the pillars holding the roof of the Temple aloft, and sundering the ground with cracks of bubbling magma. The crude obsidian greataxe clutched in both of his gauntleted hands came down with such surprising speed, the Firstborn could only twitch before it sank directly against her left eye.

The scream was instant, and psychic. Reeling back, her ruined eye being burnt to cinders in seconds, Isana’s psionic howl was unlike anything the islands had ever felt. All creatures across her territory were stunned in place, their minds briefly overtaken by a pain unlike that which they had ever known. Fighting to regain her composure, she tried to block her agony from affecting the thousands who now felt it. The now revealed Demonic Lord raised the axe again, its blade bubbling with bright orange lava, and exuding a magical pressure that began to inflame Isana’s very blood.

“LADY ISANA! I CAN FIX THIS! I beg of you, heed my words and let us become one!”

Barely able to keep Phell hovering while trying to cease the pain causing the islanders harm, Isana looked at the fiend’s weapon with the tear-clouded vision of her remaining eye. An aura of Demonic energy had overtaken the Orcs, who all stood, seeming immune to her unintended wails of suffering. With a panicked dread, she let go of her composure and telekinetically flung Phell into her now barren eye socket. The surge was immediate. Isana’s mind was expanded tenfold as the crackling yellow light snaked its way across every inch of her draconic head. Phell’s resolute and almost haughty emotions overlaid with her own for but a moment as she inhaled, her body becoming one with the darkening night sky. Just as the axe reached its apex, she exhaled a singular triumphant beam of pure white light. The Demon corkscrewed upward, transforming into a crimson flame that fled from the Temple through the roof, as all the Orcs were caught by the flash. In a last push of strength Isana slammed through the western wall of her already crumbling home, racing away as fast as her wings would take her.

“AFTER HER!” screamed Inkblood, immediately making chase. The Orcs drew their weapons and followed their Chieftain, as the Temple could no longer hold itself together. Chunk after chunk of rock fell inward with a thunderous boom.

“… I no longer sense them, my friend.”

In the center of the chamber, the rubble began to lift one by one off the ground, revealing a translucent blue barrier surrounding a coiled and panting Isana. With a pulse of yellow light the barrier dissipated, letting the wreckage scatter to the ground around her.

“… Friend, what didst thou- My Breath hath never accomplished such before.”

“That was then, friend Isana. This is now. The creatures saw what they most wanted to see, but what would in turn save you. They are cast to the Void, and their memory shall forever be lost, chasing after that which they will never have. There shall be moments for greater explanation in time, but we must escape. I will help heal your wounds through Psionic melding, but we must leave… I am sorry.”

Isana carefully slinked her way into the now evening air, her entire serpentine body becoming camouflaged in the thick underbrush.

“Phell. That creature who harmed me. Was it a God?”

“No, my friend. A monstrous Demon of rage beyond comprehension. Well, I could comprehend it with enough time to calculate. Nevertheless, should it return, I will never let it harm you again. I have a place where we can recover. One familiar to your dreams. Follow me.”

Isana nodded, taking her invisible escape to the night air. As she climbed higher and higher, her vision filtered through the Orb like a monoculus, staring into an expanse of heavenly bodies far more numerous than the sky above her. And with the flash of a streaking comet overhead, she was gone.

Historical Entry #2 – Year 2258: “The Azure’s Audience”

The Lexicon of Knowledge

The Azure Monk took the impossibly winding stairs two at a time, ever downward towards the sprawling marble library. The books neatly stacked all around them rose higher than they thought they had come, and dipped lower than the coming floor seemed. They were warned this may be the experience, and still the wonder gripped them.

Finally reaching the bottom, they walked out across the polished floor as numerous tomes began sorting themselves across bookshelves of unfathomable dimensions. They kept their gaze low in absolute respect of the vast knowledge they were surrounded by.

“Welcome.”

The voice echoed in their head like the hum of a violin’s string, yet as deep as the rumble of distant thunder. Instinctively clutching tighter the vellum scroll in their hand, they steadied themself and looked upward. Mere feet from their position, the Blue Dragon Doranth stood, wavering like a mirage across a desert. His entire body; a tapestry of incomprehensible words and symbols carved across his outer scalework.

The mature Gargylen regained their composure with a stiff gulp and reverent bow. They held out the scroll in both hands toward the towering Firstborn. With naught but a raising of a talon, the scroll lifted from the Gargylen’s hand and unfurled before the Dragon’s eyes. There was a slight pause as Doranth gazed across the page.

“Who else bears this knowledge?”

“Just you, Great Archivist Doranth.”

The Gargylen’s breathing became more and more difficult to compose, as the Dragon’s natural aura of fear was lessened, but still very much present. As if reacting to the very thought, the growing terror in their bones was expunged as the Firstborn’s voice rang out in their mind again.

“I thank thee. Bear it well.”

The scroll disappeared, as if folding into the space around it. Doranth extended a singular talon, pressing it gently to the outer granite-like flesh of the Gargylen’s chest. The Monk felt a sudden sharp pulse, something they had not experienced in years; A Mark of Truth. Twisting symbols carved neatly into their clavicle with an azure blue ink. As the claw was removed, Doranth nodded his head, his visage distorting slightly. In a blink of their awestruck eyes, the Monk was standing at the top of the massive stairwell they had taken previously, the Azure Dragon nowhere to be seen.

Deep beneath in the ever-changing Lexicon, Doranth regarded the scroll, scanning and rescanning the words on the page as if he had seen them for the first time. A power to change reality, in the hands of his distant sister? He would have sensed it. Then again, if he did not know to look…… Concentrating, he reached out his magical consciousness rapidly across Arthos, letting forth a flinch of briefest excitement as a pinprick of energy reached back to him.

“The Rhapsodus Severance. So that… is thy respiration, Isana.”

He could feel its presence. A typhoon of such unimaginable size that it swirled around the end of an archipelago. Crudely constructed without his great magical skill, but real. Actually real. Intriguing.

Many of his brethren sought the wayward Isana for her possession of Phell, but perhaps the Azure Firstborn would keep them guessing a while longer. Isana had something far more valuable in her possession that, if his hypothesis was correct, could change everything. Doranth looked out across the Lexicon’s changing quintessence with a pensive expression. He would watch Isana’s progress with great interest. For if she could alter reality…

… Could perhaps she repair it?