Prologue
The trees rustle in the lazy breeze, the golden leaves crinkle like thin whisps of paper. Amidst the rustle the rhythmic beat of footseps resound in the forest. A dark silhuette of a man apears among the shadows of the trees. At first it looks like a man, but as it nears the clearing, signs arise that point otherwise.
The Being nears eight feet tall, broad shoulder and garbed in leather that looks deceptively drab being worth more than a dragons horde. It is a dark green and blue, shimmering between the hues with the different angle of the light. Its feet are coverd in dark leather boots, but are soft, form-fitting but strong and empowered. The only visible weapon on it are what look like handles, carved intricitly into the shape of vines and dragons, hidden at his writsts in a strap and holster that secures the rods but with a flick of the wrist they fall into its hands.
The most unusual features are the parts of it you can see. Its hands are strong but end in sharp points, the elongated nails resembling claws. Its face looks like that of a man, his hair short and combed back, jet black and thick. His jaw is strongly set and bears three scars like a claw mark that runs from the left side of his jaw down the right side of his neck. His eyes, so odd and compelling, show a youthful luster but are deepened with infinite wisdom. They demand attention, taking in the whole image in all its angles, seeing things that so many others will never witness. Not to mention they are silver, periodically becoming orbs of liquid Mercury.
His walk is gracefull, showing the lightness of a dancer and the strength of a runner, the walk of a warrior. He holds no cape and needs noe for two great wings extend from his back, the silver apendages folded up against him like a cloak.
He stops in the middle of the clearing, a place so old and ancient that no man alive has ever seen, nor shall he ever. Looking at the sky with his silver eyes, he raises his hand, no longer clawed but normal, to the air. A small funnell cloud forms in his hand gathering up power. Closing his fist, a glint of gold and platinum shine on his fingers. Concentrating at the task in hand, he places his right hand over the ground and with the simple movement of opening his hand , the funnel cloud flows forth like a great tornado tearing a chunk of the earth out of the ground. Looking like an upturned mountain it floats in the air, as a small breeze circles around above it, taking with it little blades of grass and leaves. Just then he turns swiftly, his left hand extended toward the sun. Just as swiftly a little flame forms in his palm, becoming a minature sun. He moves the orb of flame over the floating land and places it directly above the land. Slowly the small sun moves around the divot of earth. Clouds form in the distance and rain starts to fall in the clearing. Smiling he opens his hands into a bowl shape. the rain pools in his palms and he moves one hand to scoop out some soil, the collected water keeping its bowled form. He pours the water into the opening and left the rest stand above, quickly evaporating from the sun and become clouds about the floating island.
Just as quickly as the phenomina began, the rain ended leaving a floating land, a miniture earth where life can grow and thrive. He smiles sadly remembering a day so long ago when he first created somthing.
"How long has it been?" he asks the trees. Predictably they dont answer him. He reaches behind the tree, leaving the Miniture planet float paces away. In the tangled roots he finds a book. It is not finished, not yet. He opens it, the first pages blank. He didnt know how to start it, but now he knew. He takes the quill and dipps it in the ink he stored in the roots. Carefully he sits and pens:
"It is... It has been too long. I have lost track of the time. i am unique, a one and only and thus isolated from all. Not only am i forced to isolation but i am too forced to fight. For being who I am grants me the responcibility to protect this world, for I am the only one that can. In me is the power to destroy life... and create it.
"I write this to you, my loves, a document of my life. This is my curse. This is my burden. This is my duty. This is my blessing.
"This... This is my Life."


DracoLich
The cave is dark, which is saying alot considering I can see deep into the night without any light at all. The walls are hidden in the shadows and the air, the atmosphere is cold. Not the cold you would find in the Winter, but the Cold the drives the deepest of Blizards in the North that saps not only his warmth, but his energy as well. I put my hand to Loyalty at my hip. It is warm, and pulsing, directing me to this spot of preternatural cold.
"What ever it is, I am still going to have to go in there."
A few steps in I see the wals around me, and the only path before me. The wall is not even Six feet from me, and yet from Seven feet it is all but lost in the shadows. I keep walking, feeling the slight breeze in the tunnel. There has to be an opening somewhere. The constant drip of water fills the back of my mind, at first ever drop reverberating around me, but by now, as the... Minutes, Hours maybe, pass, the drumming of the water is naught but background noise. My footsteps echo in the void, a clicking noise. I slow down as the passage way widens, and put my hands on Loyalty, feeling it pulse ever more with anticipation. It has to be near. I stop and look at the shadows, the dripping of water still evident. The cavern must be huge, I can still hear the clicking of my footsteps echo, echo, echo in the deep. I turn, the echo still going on for many moments.
Then it increases, the noise no more an echo but caused by something greater. The ground shakes, breaking apart. From the crevises rises old ancient bones, large and pearly white. At first it looks magnificent, a Being of huge proportions, shining white. Then the head is freed from the grasp of the earth. It is of draconian form, but of which kind I cannot discern. It is large, impressive by many standards, but its eyes are large, dark pools. The only light is the blue fire that seems to have consumed its eyeballs. Those eyes were pure malice, wrought from years of abandonment. In them I saw my life, my death, pain unspeakable, and the true form of this wicked beast. Skin falls from its bones, tatters of its old self, the bones no longer pearly white but yellow and decayed. As I took all of this in it opened its maw.
A huge black flame pools in its mouth and just before it is released towards me. I moved my weight to the right foot, and propelled myself to the left, spinning as the flames hit the ground where i stood, barely brushing my shoulder. Loyalty leaps from my hip to my right hand as I rush towards its legs, weaving serpentine before it. From the bottom of Loyalty a Burst of flame ignites, the making of a longsword in my hand. I reach the rib cage, the Hellfire close behind, hitting the floor with a hiss and splashing up the ancient bones. Quickly I spin, bringing the Flame blade up over my head, charing and severing the body in half. The body starts to collapse, but as it fell the bones hit an intangible wall, the magic that holds its bones together.
The flames are licking at my feet and quickly i move, running to the darkness, which in three steps shows to be a wall. Quickly, I run the wall at full speed, fuelled by instinct and fear, the blood of the dragon pumping hard in my veins. Without thought, I run up the wall 15 feet and push off it with all the strength I can muster, both muscle and magical. The flaming blade disipates and in its place a Katar of light forms, a Punching dagger of great length. I scream, a string of ancient dragoharic. The last light that I see is the Blue glow of the Dracoliches eyes, before they go completely dark, dead, as the katar erupts from the base of its skull.
I hit the ground in a roll, Loyalty just a handle in my hand. I stand and feel its pulse, feel a direction from its pulse. Quickly the Dracoliches bones lose its integrity, becoming dust. and in the spine, hidden for many years, the Sister blade, Duty lies. I reach for it hesitantly and it flies to my hand. I feel its power and the power of both blades erupt in full as they are reunited. I feel a wave of energy release from the handles, one that will go far and wide, I do not doubt. I look around and the room is brighter, or more accurately, the shadows disipate and the cold is gone. Part of the wall begins to glow.
I walk up to it, wondering what it can be, and out of nowhere, I spring to it and stab with both blades, blades made of an unkown energy, even to myself and the glow increases in intensity and instangly flashes out with a wave of power, like a release of some sort. The blades fall limp to my side. I sheath them, as much as u can sheath two metal rods, and take the junk of rock out of the wall. Behind the stone lies a purple scale, that still slightly holds a shine. the scale is pierced by two slits, my blades. Then it all hits me: the scale, the blades, the Dracolich. The scale was the housing of its soul, its Phylactery, the Dracolich was the ultimate corruption of such a magnificent creature, the dragon, and the blades, one of the Ancients greatest forgings embodied the Dragon Society, was bound by the Ancients to destroy the oddity in this proud race.
It all made sense now. The blades reunited, a perversion destroyed, another step has been taken.