Psalm of Dragons

[Inception]

Like the leaves of autumn their bodies fell. They embraced not only their own blood, but the blood of their many bretheren that were pulled unforgivingly into the afterlife. There was no hope for their survival, they were mere mortals that stood before colossal tyrants whose every breath was fire and every movement impacted the world vitally around them. The gears of war had never been more fatal, costing thousands and thousands their lives by the talons of creatures far superior in intellect, strength, an every other aspect imaginable.

The few dragons that ravaged the plains were soon forced to their deaths at the end of magical bolts and blades that struggled to cut through the tough scales the beasts had to offer. However what they couldn?t have predicted was darkness that suddenly captured the world, no golden rays falling?only to reveal thousands of dragons in bloodlust falling from above to feast upon the flesh of all that were inferior. When hunger consumed the dragons, the flying blanket of dragons descended upon the plain to make it their own. The world would not only be their?s, but they would have the history of the previous inhabitants death to remember what they had done in glory.

Gaping maws consumed several men and women at once, and only babies themselves were spared and left in a pool of blood. Men, women, even teenagers and the like were devoured, swallowed and digested in the pits of despair that was considered a dragon?s stomach. Their remains were burned, a festering hell that could be compared to a fiery forge of abyss itself. It only took an hour for the entire plain to become devoid of any life that was not a dragon. Only the beginning of the conquest that was the Dragon?s, the age was before the world. Glorious was their stampede and hunger for life, and it was truly unheard of to experience such a joyous movement.

A cry pierced the skies, emotional and carrying the triumph and glory in its tone and magnitude. The dragon?s heads rose from the ground, and their eyes gazed at the dragoon stood at the peak of the Dragon?s Den. A mobile fortress resembling a mountain, several coves were engraved in its sides for the dragon?s home, and within was the true inhabitance and home of the dragon?s. Outside it appeared to be a large mountain, and at the peak of the largest silver mountain he stood.

Evaristus Methandron. And by his side the bodies of many other dragoons that thrusted their weapons into the sky began to roar. Then the dragons were last, blowing the clouds in the sky away with their cheer of victory. Another battle was won, this center of Astrum Noir would become the very home of the dragon?s and their capital. All that Evaristus could see was victory, and all that his mind could think about was his future proposal.

ACT II

[Cor]

Act II

His world, his new found world, was covered in the blood of the lesser race. Though he saw his reflection in the sea of dragons who all sank their faith into him, he was unsure of what he looked like. He knew he held himself higher than the sky itself. He walked with a pride stronger than the blades he fought with. He spoke with a voice of a general, but no one could register the uncertainty that was coded behind each word he spoke. He never had a contradicting thought when it came to leading his dragon army, though, his life had been a contradiction. Now was not the time for these thoughts. He had a city to claim.

"This..." he spoke, with a voice like a wicked storm, "...is what we live for!" He picked up the lifeless body of a pregnant mother, who could have been assumed to have had about eighteen years of life. He retracted his blade from the leather holster and placed the blade against the pale, thin neck, partially black from the early stages of rigamortis. He smiled. "Fear not, you cow, you have served your purpose on the face of this planet...we have come to take back what is ours, and what is ours, will not be tainted by you, nor your spawn. Alas, we, dragons of spirit and death, claim this land for ours, to restore it to it's full and respected power..." he began to slide the blade against the young woman's throat, letting loose a river of purple blood, which dripped down her breasts and parted between her sides and the top of her pregnant stomach. "You, nor will anyone else, will feel any mercy. Death to you for death to Astrum Nor!" The bloodied blade retreated from her neck and was instantly inserted into her impregnated womb. With a mighty force he dragged the blade down the swollen stomach, releasing fluids and blood into a cocktail of death, rage, emotion and cheer. When the fetus - half developed - slid out of their mother's safe womb, it was picked up by Evaristus Methandron, and eaten without a moment to spare. "There be no hope for humans here; for all who still remain alive, come out now, or face a death worse than your God could ever curse upon you!" The crowd of dragons went quiet for a moment, when the sound of moaning erupted from a pile of rubble, close to the dragon pack.

Act III