Welcome to Gaia! ::

Approximately 2,300 aquatic miles south of the tail end of the Western Gaian mountain range, there lies a small, lonely chain of islands, their sizes ranging from roughly 45 to 4000 square miles. It is a beautiful place, as close to paradise as any place could ever be. The islands are rich in resources as well, home to large subterranean deposits of iron and aluminum ore, and a sizable oil reservoir under the seabed just west of the island chain. On top of that, the fishing grounds around Virconia are teeming with sea life, and the land itself is rich with game and rainforests. Despite this, the islands' resources remain mostly untapped, due largely to their inhabitants: the Draconians.

For eons, the Draconians have protected their homeland from the greed and perversion of power-hungry tyrants that would have bled the nation of Virconia dry. They are a proud race, incredibly powerful and intelligent, at the peak of evolution. By their might alone, their sacred soil has remain untouched by all but a handful of explorers and traders that have been granted passage by the island chieftains. For centuries, they have protected these islands without fail.

Recently, however, the Draconians have fallen upon difficult times. Their population has burgeoned quickly in last few decades, and soon the ecosystem will no longer be able to support their population. Their leaders, realizing this, have decided to open the borders of their nation to the rest of the globe. By offering trade contracts to other countries, they hope to draw in enough resources to support their steadily-growing race.

With the Virconian Islands, a place that has been shielded from outsiders for countless years, now open and ready to receive the rest of the world, one question is on everyone's mind:

What happens next?

Appearance-

If one who had ever seen a Draconian were asked the simplest way to describe the appearance of a Draconian, they would probably say that they look like the result of cross-breeding between a human and Dragon, which actually paints quite an accurate mental picture. Draconians have a body structure that is almost identical to that of a human, the major differences being the head, the presence of wings and a tail, and the feet.

Draconians average between six and nine feet in height, often towering over most humans. Females of the species tend to be shorter than the males. Their weight is usually somewhere between 400 and 900 pounds and, like height, males tend to weigh more than their female counterparts. When it comes to muscular structure, though both genders are incredibly strong and fast, males are usually burlier and stronger, while females are more slim and agile. The differences between the sexes end with the appearance of the torso where, like humans, males have flat and broad pectoral muscles, while the females have a swell of the chest, like the breasts of a human woman. However, neither gender has nipples, since Draconians lay eggs and do not need to nurse their offspring. It should also be mentioned that they do not have navels either, since they are not born with umbilical cords.

Draconians are covered entirely in reptilian scales, thick and overlapping, and strong enough to rival Kevlar. Whenever a scale becomes old or damaged, it is soon shed and replaced by a new one. The color of a Draconian's scales varies, depending on what color their parents are, since it is a blend of the colors of their mother and father. For example, two Draconians with red scales will produce a red child, while a red Draconian and a yellow one will create orange offspring. Each one also possesses a thick and muscular tail that is as long as the Draconian who owns it is tall, and a pair of black, leathery, bat-like wings that can grow out as far as 20 feet in span. Folded, they can be tucked tightly against the back, and protrude only a couple inches over the top of their owner's head. Such wings allow them to power through the air at speeds nearing 35 miles-per-hour.

The Draconians possess black, curved claws in the place of toes and fingernails, sharp enough to puncture sheets of steel and slice through the trunk of an oak tree like warm butter. They are able to partially retract the claws on their hands into their fingers for safety, but are unable to do the same with the ones on their feet. On that subject, their feet only have four toes of equal size and length each, similar to a Dragon's and causing them to bear a resemblance to the feet of a carnivorous dinosaur.

Their heads are their most noticeable trait, easily described as, with the exception of size, identical to head of an adult Dragon. They possess long, dinosaur-like snouts, brimming with yellowed rows of long, edged teeth, perfect for crushing bones and slicing through flesh. A pair of black, pointed, and slightly-curved horns protrude behind their head from the top-rear area of their skulls. Their eyes are obviously reptilian, with brownish-yellow sclera and black, slit-like pupils. Their pupils widen in times of stress, and in an enraged state the eyes become bloodshot, making them appear red and yellow.

Their legs are pillars of muscle, powerful enough to knock a hole in a steel-reinforced concrete wall with one blow or propel them as high as twenty feet straight up into the air without the aid of their wings. Their arms also possess similar amounts of power, allowing them to perform amazing feats of strength that are far beyond the abilities of most humans. Yet they are not lacking in agility and reflexes either. Draconians can move with surprising speed, a fact made even more amazing because of their size. Needless to say, they are formidable creatures.

Listed below is a decades-old account by a man who was part of a sailing crew that stumbled upon the islands, and claims to have witnessed his captain and a few of his fellow crew members die at the hands of a single Draconian:

" . . . Then one of those things walked up, a red one. He started pointing at the captain and talking in the strange language they used. It seemed pretty angry about something. The captain stole something from them, I think, but instead of giving it back, the captain just drew his sword, and a few of the boys jumped behind him and did the same. Me and the rest of the crew just stood back and watched . . . After that, everything just went badly . . . One moment, the thing was completely still, just standing there and glaring at the captain . . . But the next . . . there was just this flash of red- if I'd blinked, I would've missed it- and the next thing I know . . . they're on the ground, dying or already dead . . . The captain was making this weird gurgling noise, and I looked at him, and . . . and his face was . . . was . . . . . . . . . He . . . he shouldn't have pulled his sword . . . I mean, I didn't even like the guy, but still . . . not even he deserved that . . ."


History-

The Beginning: As mentioned earlier, Draconians look like the result of a mating between a human and a Dragon. As it so happens, this is not far from the truth . . . .

Millennia ago, the Dragons were suffering at the hands of the humans. Despite their superior size, strength, and magic, they found that these were not enough to secure victory against the technology, tactics, and far-greater numbers of the enemy, and were slowly being overwhelmed by their new nemesis. What they needed was a secret weapon; something that would allow them to face the humans on their own terms. One young and intelligent Dragon, named Polyemus, had an idea for such a weapon, and proposed it to the Dragon High Council. His proposal, though heinous, was considered and the Council members, realizing that drastic measures were needed if they were to have any chance of surviving the onslaught of the humans, gave him approval to go forward with the production of his 'weapon'.

Polyemus, along with a number of captured humans and a pair of willing Dragon volunteers, disappeared into an underground cavern with the promise that he would one day resurface, bringing with him the instrument that would turn the tide of the war. He sealed the cave shut behind him.

Many months passed. Then, one day, there was a large earthquake in the area surrounding the cavern. Several hours later, Polyemus emerged from the cave . . . . with a small army of Draconians in tow. Using the flesh of both humans and Dragons, he had combined them to create the ultimate predator. Strong, fast, and intelligent, they were the perfect example of what a combination of magic and evolution could do. They were, as Polyemus thought, perfect.

And all of Dragon-kind, with the exception of Polyemus, detested them. They had a strong dislike for anything that had even the slightest association with humans, let alone beings that had been partially created from their flesh. However, this did not stop them from realizing that they needed such creatures if they wanted to end the war before the Dragons were exterminated entirely. As such, though they did not enjoy the idea of having to rely on the Draconians, they sent them into battle.

They were every bit as effective as Polyemus and the Council had hoped them to be. Acting as the new infantry of the Dragon army, they managed to strike fear into the hearts of the humans as they ripped into their ranks with every battle, destroying their enemies with unrivaled ferocity. Soon, the humans had no choice but to abandon their campaign against the Dragons, if only temporarily.

In the time that followed, since the need for Draconians as soldiers was no longer present, the Draconians became regular Angaran citizens. However, their actions during the war had not changed how the Dragons felt about them. Because of their beliefs, the Dragons tolerated them, but that did not stop them from mistreating the Draconians. They were openly looked down upon, and were denied many of their rights. Most of them were poor and lived in poverty, and the ones that were fortunate enough to possess some degree of wealth still lived in poor conditions when compared to Angara's native citizens. On top of that, in a fashion similar to the treatment of black people during the early 1900's, they were forced to live apart from and use different facilities than the Dragons. As one might imagine, the Draconians were not happy with such arrangements, and fought hard to be recognized as equals. And so, on one fateful night, several prominent members of the Draconian community met to discuss the matter.

On that night, these Draconians met with one another in a small encampment just outside the City of The Elders in order to decide what their demands would be when they approached the Council of Elders the following morning. However, it seems that Fate had decided that this was not meant to be, and had other plans in mind. These plans apparently involved a small group of Dragon radicals, who believed that the Draconians were all abominations with no right to exist. Hearing that the creatures that were the focus of their hatred were gathering outside the capital and preparing to make a plea for equal rights to the High Council, they gathered their numbers and set out to ensure that the Draconians would never get the chance . . . .

One of the many Draconians gathered at this meeting was a young adult male named Kratos, as well as his mate and two offspring. Him and his elder son were both representatives for their village, and were scheduled to speak before their fellow representatives. Leaving his wife and younger son in his family's tent, the two left for the meeting. Later that night, as the pair stepped forward to let the desires of their village be known, a surprise attack was suddenly launched upon the camp by the group of radicals. The encampment quickly fell into chaos as the Dragons fell upon them, and the Draconians, unprepared and unarmed, were quickly overwhelmed.

As fighting raged all around them, Kratos and his son attempted to find the other half of their family so that they could escape, only to find their lifeless corpses amidst the burning ruins of their tent. At that point, they were suddenly attacked by a pair of radicals. Kratos flew at them without hesitation, and yelled at his son to flee. Though the young Draconian tried to as his father commanded, he was killed by a blast of magic as he attempted to take to the air. Kratos, who lost his will to fight after watching the last of his kin perish, was struck down, stabbed several times, and left to die. He passed out shortly afterwards, his life slowly draining away into the soil beneath him. Over a hundred Draconians died that night, and only a little more than a dozen of them had managed to escape.

Two days later, Kratos awoke to find himself in the care of Polyemus, the creator of the Draconians, and one of their few Dragon supporters. He had been planning to assist the Draconians appeal to the High Council, and had seen the flames of the burning encampment from across the City of The Elders. He had hurried to try and help his 'children', but arrived after the slaughter was already over. He had searched for survivors, and found only Kratos, whose wounds he had tended before taking him back to his home to recuperate. In the following weeks, he assisted the young Draconian in his recovering his health and his will to live, intending to send him back to his village when he was fully healed. However, when that day came, Kratos refused to return home. Instead, he expressed to Polyemus that he had realized that the Draconians could never live happily amongst the Dragons, and vowed that he would find a way to free his people from their oppressors. Inspired, Polyemus pledged to help him however he could.

With that, Kratos began a movement to convince his fellow Draconians that they could not wait for the Dragons to give them their freedom, and that they had to take it into their own hands instead, using his tragic story in order to convince them that the Dragons would never give them equal rights. Though the High Council had publicly denounced the actions of the radicals, none of the perpetrators were ever caught and punished, leading many Draconians to believe that while they didn't support what had happened, they didn't really mind either. As such, it only took him a few months to convince all of them of what needed to be done.

On a fateful day later that year, and with a formal message to the High Council from Kratos himself announcing their intentions, the Draconians traveled en masse to the southern shore of the continent, where a fleet of sailing ships that they had been constructing for the past few months awaited them. They intended to conduct a mass exodus from Angara, to find a new home where they could be free from oppression. And the Dragons were not sad to see them go.

However, as the Draconians were making preparations to leave, they sighted a large number of Dragons heading towards them from the north. It was a group of radicals, the same one that had staged an attack on the Draconian encampment so many months ago. Nearly a hundred of them, each one convinced that they could not let the 'abominations' spread to other parts of the world. And the Draconians despaired, because they realized that the Dragons would slay many of them, and that even if some of them managed to get away, several hundred of them would inevitably die.

Suddenly, Kratos stepped forth along with Polyemus, and over sixty other Draconians. Kratos then announced to the others that they would stay behind and hold the Dragons for as long as they could, buying time for everyone else to escape. And so, the Draconians set sail, leaving behind the place that had made them unhappy for so long, as well as those few that had chosen to stay behind.

Though no one knows exactly what happened in that battle, it can be said without doubt that Kratos, Polyemus, and the others died bravely that day, buying enough time for the rest of the Draconians to escape. Though the radicals searched for the escapees in the waters surrounding Angara for quite some time, they were never found. Eventually, they stopped looking, and returned to normal life, always lamenting the fact that they had failed.

Only months later after leaving the Angaran continent, the Draconians discovered the land of their dreams: Virconia.

The Nation of Virconia: The Draconians embraced their new home with open arms, quickly colonizing the islands with earnest. They named the largest island after the first Draconian, the second island after Kratos, and the rest after other significant figures in their history. For many centuries the Draconians lived happily and peacefully, growing accustomed to a pleasant and indulgent lifestyle.

But one day, their lives were interrupted as a new threat appeared in the skies above. A Dragon, known only as Severus, happened upon the islands accidentally when a storm happened to blow him off course. He was a young, powerful Dragon who had only been a hatchling when the Draconians had had conducted their mass exodus from Angara. As it so happened, Severus' father had been one of the Dragons who had attempted to stop the Draconians at the coast, only to be waylaid by the small group left behind. His father had also been one of the few Dragons to die that day. As one might imagine, Severus held no love for the Draconians . . . .

Without hesitation, Severus struck like a bolt of lightning, and attacked the Draconian settlements with savage ferocity, using his magic and brute strength to destroy homes and maim the inhabitants. The Draconians were caught by surprise and completely unprepared, so they were unable to muster a defense quickly. By the time they managed to regroup and drive Severus off, many Draconians already lay dead.

As the Dragon landed on a small island off the coast of Rakul in order to plan the next attack, the Draconians regrouped, and quickly gathered the necessary supplies to begin construction of a small stronghold on Nokohai from which they could combat the Dragon more effectively. Using what magic they could remember, they laid down a protective barrier over the island. With hundreds of them working together, the stronghold was completed in the midst of the night, and it was there that most of the Draconian fighters awaited Severus' next assault. They did not have to wait long.

At sunrise the following day, Severus fell upon them with just as much wrath as the day before. Despite their preparations and superior numbers, they were barely able to hold their ground, such was his power and rage. Only a few hours later, most of their magic was depleted, but he still had large reserves of energy within him, fueled by his fury, which left him free to rain fire down upon the island . . . .

Within an hour, most of Nokohai was ablaze, and only the fort itself had yet to burn. However their magic, already weak, was fading fast. The only Draconian defenders that remained on the island threw themselves into the sky in a last-ditch effort to end Severus' threat, latching themselves on to his body even as he tore many of them to shreds. With their combined effort, they managed to injure his wings, causing him to to fall from the air and smash into the fort far below. The last of the magic shielding the stronghold withered away and all of them, including Severus, died thrashing in the throes of combat amongst the flames. Soon, the inferno died, and all that remained were ashes. Since that day, the island has been rumored to be haunted by the ghosts of all who died there, even Severus himself. Access to the island is forbidden to all except their priests, and those who break this law are never allowed to leave Nokohai, left there to die and become one of its many ghosts . . . .

The attack, which resulted in the deaths of many and the desecration of one of their beloved islands, left a painful scar upon the hearts of every Draconian and made them realize that they needed to be prepared and ever-vigilant, to prevent anything like the incident with Severus from ever happening again. Their old textures from the days when they had still lived upon Angara were dusted off, and from them they re-learned that which they had been created and bred for: the Art of Combat.

Using these scriptures, they formed a military force that was every bit as fearsome and effective as the very first Draconian warriors had been. Weapons and equipment were forged, using the wood from the trees and the iron from the vast deposit beneath the island chain. Tactics were learned. Magic was revived. Thus, they were ready to defend their home if the need ever arose again. Their preparations were fortunate, because only a couple of centuries later, the call to arms was sounded once again . . . .

A few thousand years ago, a military ship from a small foreign nation called Lethopia, blown off-course by a hurricane, stumbled upon the Virconian Islands. They were low on fresh water and food, and begged to come ashore to replenish their stocks. The Draconians, wary of these humans but not wishing to let them die, allowed them to do so. Their visit was short and mostly uneventful, and they left only a couple of days later.

Unfortunately, the Draconians didn't realize that Lethopia was a power-hungry, warlike country, eager to gain more territory. So, when the ship returned home and the spoke of the small and beautiful islands that were inhabited only by "animal-like creatures", the king of Lethopia ordered his entire navy to set sail for Virconia. Determined to claim more land for their nation, the navy forced its way through the currents that circumvented Virconia, and arrived a few weeks later.

They expected little resistance from the natives. However, when a landing force neared the shore and fired their muskets at the small group of Draconians that had come to meet them, they were all slaughtered before they even had time to reload. Though surprised by this show of resistance, the Lethopians sent another, larger landing force. They were killed as well, this time without even coming within a hundred feet of the shoreline.

The ships then chose to start using their cannons to bombard the shore. The Draconians, whose level of technology was far below that of the Lethopians, were caught off-guard by the first couple of volleys, and some of them were killed or injured. Still, they managed to regroup quickly, and proceeded to launch an aerial assault on the attacking ships. The battle was won the moment they boarded the ships, since neither lead bullets nor steel blades were able to pierce their scales and armor. Within a couple of hours, every single sailor was dead or had abandoned ship. The victorious Draconians then salvaged the treasure trove of weapons, devices, and technology upon the ships, and adopted it as their own. As a side-note, Lethopia was left almost completely defenseless without its navy to help protect it, and was subsequently overthrown and assimilated by the growing Gaian nation only months later.

Since then, though they have suffered dozens of invasions and attacks over the millennia, they have never lost, a testament to their skills in battle. Truly, it would require the might of the Gods themselves to take their beloved home away from them.

Present Day: Yet to be recorded.


Culture-

Coming Soon


Government-

The structure of the Draconian government is simple, consisting of only four different classes. At the very bottom is the 'peasant' class, which is made up of commoners, farmers, hunters, and the like. However, despite the label of 'peasant', the members of this class live in relative happiness and comfort in comparison to similar classes of other cultures. This is thanks to a combination of their physical abilities and the natural abundance of the islands. Due to these factors, the Draconians do not have to work as hard as most humans to keep themselves fed. Obviously, it does not have to be said that they are very fortunate.

The next tier of the political pyramid is the military. In times of peace, the members of this class are few, made up only of officers. However, in times of war, nearly every capable adult Draconian- male or female, rich or poor, young or old- becomes a soldier. Extremely proficient ones. 'Nuff said.

Occupying the third rung of the social ladder are the 'nobles'. This is a class that consists of priests, stewards, and wealthy landowners. The members of this class either possess considerable wealth or hold a high-ranking office, sometimes both. The priests and stewards are particularly interesting, the former acting as religious and magical guides for their community, and the latter performing the roles of various government officials- record keepers, royal advisors, diplomats, etc. The landowners are simply Draconians who acquired large amounts of wealth through various means.

The top of the government hierarchy is crowned by, unsurprisingly, the Royal families and The Wise Ones. The Royals are comprised of the Chieftains who administrate over the different parts of the islands, like territorial governors, and their relatives. The latter are a large group of Draconians, mostly old, each of which has proved themselves to be very wise several times in the past. These two parties act as the leaders of the Draconians, and hold equal amounts of administrative power. Each group keeps the other in check, ensuring that neither grows too powerful. It is a rough and somewhat accurate comparison to say that the two powers working in tandem are similar to the United States Congress or English Parliament.

[LET US BEGIN!!!]

They stood alone on the Eastern shore of Virconia, unmoving as they scanned the ocean horizon. Ten Draconians.

Two of them were Chieftains, chosen as representatives for the other Chieftains of the entire island chain. One of them, a male with dark crimson scales, was named Farun. The other, a navy blue female by the name of Diera, stood beside him. Both stared at the dark speck that lingered in the distance, on the border between sea and sky.

Farun wore an elegant tunic that was reminiscent of a roman toga, woven of blood-red silk and fringed with golden trimmings. Diera wore identical attire, the only difference being its size and color, which matched that of her scales. The red Chieftain had a large and incredibly heavy-looking broadsword strapped to his waist, while his female counterpart had a scythe that was small and elegant, but deadly in appearance hanging horizontally across her lower back. Both appeared tense, as if ready to draw their respective weapons at any moment.

Beside these two stood a Draconian Priest, dull yellow in color, a representative for both his fellow priests and The Wise Ones. He leaned lightly upon the tall wooden staff that stood beside him. Though he appeared ancient, his gleaming golden eyes were clear and emanated intelligence as he too observed the distant speck. His robes were brown and simple, like the attire of a monk. His name was Thalzun, a Draconian that was quite skilled in the ways of magic, and one of the oldest and most respected members of The Wise Ones. Behind him stood a young green Steward, a scribe, holding a wooden tablet with a piece of parchment tacked to it, and a sharpened piece of graphite. On either side of this small group stood a trio of heavily-armed soldiers, totaling six in all.

All of them watched silently as the ship drew closer, bearing emissaries and travelers from a multitude of other nations, wishing to see this wonderful place known as Virconia . . . .

For nearly an hour as the woman lay there, the only sounds that could be heard on that small beach was the quiet sighing of the warm breeze through the tropical trees, the lapping of the sparkling blue waves upon the sand, and the occasional chirping of an exotic bird or animal.

This peaceful cacophony was soon broken by a splintering crash not too far away. About 40 meters, to be exact.

At said distance, a young green Draconian sat amongst the splintered remains of what had been a palm tree, rubbing his shoulder slowly as a smaller female that was slightly different shade of green laughed at him and spoke softly in the language of the island natives.

"I have to say, Lanuk, that when it comes to the hunting of trees, there are none better," she said, chuckling.

Lanuk glared at his sister as he picked pieces of bark out of his hunting garments. "My claws nearly tasted the blood of that boar,' he muttered, glancing at the thick screen of brush through which said animal had disappeared after he failed to slay it. "And I would have succeeded, had you not distracted me with that ridiculously loud breathing of yours, Lani."

"Next time, pay less attention to me and more to your intended prey, brother, and you might actually ma-" Suddenly, Lani cut her sentence short. The wind had changed as they had been talking, blowing towards them from the sea. Hanging upon the breeze was the scent of a creature that was unfamiliar to them. Lanuk had managed to pick up the smell as well, and silently pulled himself off the ground.

Both siblings were experienced hunters, and knew that an unfamiliar scent meant something that was not native to the islands. Cautiously, they started to pick their way slowly and silently through the tropical growth, heading straight for the beach that the woman had landed on . . . .



Meanwhile, off the shore of the opposite side of the island, the 'Questing Albatross'- the name of the mid-sized passenger ship that carried the men and women bound for Virconian soil- drew steadily closer to the island. In the last 45 minutes or so, they had come within a few nautical miles of the shore.

One brown-haired man stood alone on the bow of the ship, leaning upon the railing as he looked toward Virconia through dark and expensive-looking sunglasses. It was still early/mid-morning, which meant that most of the passengers were either still asleep or eating breakfast belowdecks, as-yet unaware that they had almost arrived at their destination. This explained why he was the only one admiring the breathtaking view.

A salty breeze tugged gently at the long black coat that he wore, providing an occasional glimpse at the dark blue tank-top and arctic camouflage pants that he wore beneath it. It was far from what most people would consider appropriate attire for such a tropical environment, but he didn't care. Such a wardrobe had served him well for years, and he wasn't about to forsake it just so he could look like a goddamn tourist.

He stood there for a long time, unmoving as the ship drew nearer and nearer to the shore. When the ship had closed the distance to its destination by another mile, an announcement blared from the speakers scattered around the 'Albatross', finally alerting the other passengers that they were only about an hour away from setting foot upon the island. At that point, the man pulled away from the railing and headed for the door that led below as dozens of people began to stream on to the deck, crowding the spot that he had recently been occupying. As cameras started to flash behind him, the man disappeared through the door without a single look back.

"Finally . . . I'll get some answers," he thought to himself as he made his way through the corridors within the bowels of the ship, heading for his cabin.

Only seconds later, the pair of Draconian were crouching in the brush at the edge of the beach, scanning the surrounding area slowly. It took them a few seconds, but the siblings finally noticed the movement going on above their heads, and when they did, it took them a bit of time to believe what they were seeing. After all, neither of them had ever seen a human before, much less the disembodied hand of one conducting magic.

After another minute or so, the siblings finally snapped out of their trance and Lanuk made a few subtle motions to his sister, who nodded once. Lanuk then took a few steps backwards . . . . and barreled forward, charging straight for the trunk of the tree in which the woman currently resided. He tore across the ground that stood between him and his goal within seconds, and slammed into it shoulder-first, causing the entire tree to shudder violently. Without stopping to look up, he stepped back, then rammed into it again, hard enough that the four-feet-thick trunk splintered and began to lean.

With the tree being subjected to such a violent assault, the woman could not possibly hope to hold on for long . . . .