Kaenor
(?)Community Member
- Posted: Sun, 04 Jul 2010 03:43:26 +0000
It is said that once every one thousand years, a purple dragon is born. This dragon has powers no other dragon can - deep powers known only to them, as well as the ability to master any element they can be taught. These dragons are revered - even worshiped - by some, and can often be a bringer of great peace, or great destruction.
The purple dragon born years ago had been combed and tended by the four Masters of the Base Elements - Tyfrador, the Master of Fire, the Master of Wind, the Master of Water, and the Master of Earth. Each of them had passed on their knowledge, and the purple dragon himself was a symbol of peace for the people of the world.
Until a strange creature came along, covering areas in darkness and decay, striking fear and anger into the hearts of mortals and dragons alike. Through many methods, this Tyrant gathered creatures for his armies - anything from the quick-footed Cheetahs of the Avalar Plains to the very Dragons themselves fell under his sway. Those not taken or killed rallied up, and all believed that the powerful purple dragon would save them. His Masters took great care in giving him what they could, preparing him for the final confrontation.
However, the purple dragon refused to engage the tyrant, much to the shock of his once teachers. Because of this action, a nursery was attacked, the eggs inside either taken or destroyed. However, the quick-eyed Master of Wind noticed the purple dragon in the distance, alerting the other Masters. Tracking him down to an abandoned monastery - far from the tyrant's kingdom, left behind by ones who had come long before - they confronted him, only to be met with a shocking revelation.
"I have seen ahead. Were I to engage him now, I would defeat him, but perish from my wounds after the battle. The world would be peaceful for a short while, but in a few years time, he would rise, more terrible than ever, and there would be none that could stand against him."
"If you cannot stop him, then who?" Tyfrador demanded. "Is there no hope?"
"No single dragon can destroy him for good. Which is why I brought them here."
Leading the masters deeper in the monestary, the purple dragon showed them a hidden room, where the eggs he had taken were set comfortably in safety.
"These eggs hold the mark of destiny upon them," he explained to his teachers. "Only together can they destroy the Tyrant for good."
"Even with the Mark of Destiny..." the Master of Wind said slowly. "They will be born as the rest of us, only able to command a single element."
"Normally, they would."
"Normally?" the Master of Water questioned.
"It is my destiny to perish if peace is to be restored for good," the purple dragon said quietly. "I will separate my essence into these eggs. While my soul will be erased, it will empower them, when they hatch, to become skilled enough to use many other elements."
"But only purple dragons can actually master more than one element," the Master of Earth put in.
"We've never seen a soul split like this before," Tyfrador interrupted. "While they may always be the most skilled with the one they are born with..."
"They will still be able to master the others at their command," the purple dragon finished. "I cannot say what elements they will know... likely, the ones that come from this split will be those you do not know, and even some that are seen in the more evil of dragons. But no matter what, you must not shun them for it."
"Because an element does not have to be inherently evil?" the Master of Water inquired, ever curious.
"Correct. And because these dragons are our only hope. You must stay here and raise them - guard and protect them until the time comes. But never let them stray far - if the Tyrant becomes aware of their presence too soon, all hope will be lost."
The Masters agreed, giving their words to protect the unborn heroes with their lives. As they set out to reinforce the monastery and gather what would be needed to provide for the young ones, the purple dragon commenced his ceremony, giving his power to each of the unborn whelplings. The Masters buried him at the foot of the monestary, where water touched earth constantly, the wind blew gently, and the sun's warmth touched every day, before turning their attention to the younglings, eyes trained each day towards the horizion for any sign of danger...