ㅤ
(Like sadness personified, fire poured from its lips, heating the air and igniting rooftops.) But the populace stood. In desperation, not glory, shields were raised. They could hear their allies' bones breaking beneath the clamor and feel the heat biting at their skin behind their metal walls.

WE ARE ONE, UNITED.
“Not as lords and peasants,
sinners and saints.”

There was no need for a crown. There was no sermon. Only the rattling of chains dragging through dust and the hiss of steel being drawn from scabbards.
ㅤ

ㅤ

                  STILL, WE DID NOT RUN.


The counterattack came next.  Through the red darkness, blades flashed, not to kill but to harm, to stall, to weaken. Scale and sword collided, and while many of them broke like twigs on stone, enough flesh was discovered. A roar that smashed windows and made the living want to crawl into tombs was the dragon's shriek. Its wing gave way. Its flames wavered. Then the chains appeared.

          ⚚ IMPRINTED: DRAGON'S BLOOD.
                 TOGETHER, SIDE BY SIDE,
                  ZIPPLEBACK, RYVALTHORE.

But they bound it, arm by arm, inch by inch, limbs confined like a fallen star in a rust cage, wings pinned, neck twisted. No one knew what the beast was saying, but it thundered, thrashed, and begged. They slashed it to a massive wagon made of steel and stone, their faces burnt and their hands shaking.


          | It was a weary voyage, through
          | the woodland that roared of ancient
          | monsters, through the empty streets
          | where it had once lit ablaze, and
          | into the inside of an abandoned
          | structure where not even the light
          | feared to go.


Beneath the chapel was a staircase. Beneath the staircase, a sealed gate. And beyond that, a vault carved not for gold, but for monsters.
ㅤ

ㅤ
(Like sadness personified, fire poured from its lips, heating the air and igniting rooftops.) But the populace stood. In desperation, not glory, shields were raised. They could hear their allies' bones breaking beneath the clamor and feel the heat biting at their skin behind their metal walls.

WE ARE ONE, UNITED.
“Not as lords and peasants,
sinners and saints.”

There was no need for a crown. There was no sermon. Only the rattling of chains dragging through dust and the hiss of steel being drawn from scabbards.
ㅤ

ㅤ

                  STILL, WE DID NOT RUN.


The counterattack came next.  Through the red darkness, blades flashed, not to kill but to harm, to stall, to weaken. Scale and sword collided, and while many of them broke like twigs on stone, enough flesh was discovered. A roar that smashed windows and made the living want to crawl into tombs was the dragon's shriek. Its wing gave way. Its flames wavered. Then the chains appeared.

          ⚚ IMPRINTED: DRAGON'S BLOOD.
                 TOGETHER, SIDE BY SIDE,
                  CLOUDJUMPER, MOREL.

But they bound it, arm by arm, inch by inch, limbs confined like a fallen star in a rust cage, wings pinned, neck twisted. No one knew what the beast was saying, but it thundered, thrashed, and begged. They slashed it to a massive wagon made of steel and stone, their faces burnt and their hands shaking.


          | It was a weary voyage, through
          | the woodland that roared of ancient
          | monsters, through the empty streets
          | where it had once lit ablaze, and
          | into the inside of an abandoned
          | structure where not even the light
          | feared to go.


Beneath the chapel was a staircase. Beneath the staircase, a sealed gate. And beyond that, a vault carved not for gold, but for monsters.
ㅤ

ㅤ
(Like sadness personified, fire poured from its lips, heating the air and igniting rooftops.) But the populace stood. In desperation, not glory, shields were raised. They could hear their allies' bones breaking beneath the clamor and feel the heat biting at their skin behind their metal walls.

WE ARE ONE, UNITED.
“Not as lords and peasants,
sinners and saints.”

There was no need for a crown. There was no sermon. Only the rattling of chains dragging through dust and the hiss of steel being drawn from scabbards.
ㅤ

ㅤ

                  STILL, WE DID NOT RUN.


The counterattack came next.  Through the red darkness, blades flashed, not to kill but to harm, to stall, to weaken. Scale and sword collided, and while many of them broke like twigs on stone, enough flesh was discovered. A roar that smashed windows and made the living want to crawl into tombs was the dragon's shriek. Its wing gave way. Its flames wavered. Then the chains appeared.

          ⚚ IMPRINTED: DRAGON'S BLOOD.
                 TOGETHER, SIDE BY SIDE,
                  DASHWING, CHESALIE.

But they bound it, arm by arm, inch by inch, limbs confined like a fallen star in a rust cage, wings pinned, neck twisted. No one knew what the beast was saying, but it thundered, thrashed, and begged. They slashed it to a massive wagon made of steel and stone, their faces burnt and their hands shaking.


          | It was a weary voyage, through
          | the woodland that roared of ancient
          | monsters, through the empty streets
          | where it had once lit ablaze, and
          | into the inside of an abandoned
          | structure where not even the light
          | feared to go.


Beneath the chapel was a staircase. Beneath the staircase, a sealed gate. And beyond that, a vault carved not for gold, but for monsters.
ㅤ

ㅤ
(Like sadness personified, fire poured from its lips, heating the air and igniting rooftops.) But the populace stood. In desperation, not glory, shields were raised. They could hear their allies' bones breaking beneath the clamor and feel the heat biting at their skin behind their metal walls.

WE ARE ONE, UNITED.
“Not as lords and peasants,
sinners and saints.”

There was no need for a crown. There was no sermon. Only the rattling of chains dragging through dust and the hiss of steel being drawn from scabbards.
ㅤ

ㅤ

                  STILL, WE DID NOT RUN.


The counterattack came next.  Through the red darkness, blades flashed, not to kill but to harm, to stall, to weaken. Scale and sword collided, and while many of them broke like twigs on stone, enough flesh was discovered. A roar that smashed windows and made the living want to crawl into tombs was the dragon's shriek. Its wing gave way. Its flames wavered. Then the chains appeared.

          ⚚ IMPRINTED: DRAGON'S BLOOD.
                 TOGETHER, SIDE BY SIDE,
                  KRILL, WHISKEY.

But they bound it, arm by arm, inch by inch, limbs confined like a fallen star in a rust cage, wings pinned, neck twisted. No one knew what the beast was saying, but it thundered, thrashed, and begged. They slashed it to a massive wagon made of steel and stone, their faces burnt and their hands shaking.


          | It was a weary voyage, through
          | the woodland that roared of ancient
          | monsters, through the empty streets
          | where it had once lit ablaze, and
          | into the inside of an abandoned
          | structure where not even the light
          | feared to go.


Beneath the chapel was a staircase. Beneath the staircase, a sealed gate. And beyond that, a vault carved not for gold, but for monsters.
ㅤ

ㅤ
(Like sadness personified, fire poured from its lips, heating the air and igniting rooftops.) But the populace stood. In desperation, not glory, shields were raised. They could hear their allies' bones breaking beneath the clamor and feel the heat biting at their skin behind their metal walls.

WE ARE ONE, UNITED.
“Not as lords and peasants,
sinners and saints.”

There was no need for a crown. There was no sermon. Only the rattling of chains dragging through dust and the hiss of steel being drawn from scabbards.
ㅤ

ㅤ

                  STILL, WE DID NOT RUN.


The counterattack came next.  Through the red darkness, blades flashed, not to kill but to harm, to stall, to weaken. Scale and sword collided, and while many of them broke like twigs on stone, enough flesh was discovered. A roar that smashed windows and made the living want to crawl into tombs was the dragon's shriek. Its wing gave way. Its flames wavered. Then the chains appeared.

          ⚚ IMPRINTED: DRAGON'S BLOOD.
                 TOGETHER, SIDE BY SIDE,
                  NIGHT FURRY, YORIC.

But they bound it, arm by arm, inch by inch, limbs confined like a fallen star in a rust cage, wings pinned, neck twisted. No one knew what the beast was saying, but it thundered, thrashed, and begged. They slashed it to a massive wagon made of steel and stone, their faces burnt and their hands shaking.


          | It was a weary voyage, through
          | the woodland that roared of ancient
          | monsters, through the empty streets
          | where it had once lit ablaze, and
          | into the inside of an abandoned
          | structure where not even the light
          | feared to go.


Beneath the chapel was a staircase. Beneath the staircase, a sealed gate. And beyond that, a vault carved not for gold, but for monsters.
ㅤ

ㅤ
(Like sadness personified, fire poured from its lips, heating the air and igniting rooftops.) But the populace stood. In desperation, not glory, shields were raised. They could hear their allies' bones breaking beneath the clamor and feel the heat biting at their skin behind their metal walls.

WE ARE ONE, UNITED.
“Not as lords and peasants,
sinners and saints.”

There was no need for a crown. There was no sermon. Only the rattling of chains dragging through dust and the hiss of steel being drawn from scabbards.
ㅤ

ㅤ

                  STILL, WE DID NOT RUN.


The counterattack came next.  Through the red darkness, blades flashed, not to kill but to harm, to stall, to weaken. Scale and sword collided, and while many of them broke like twigs on stone, enough flesh was discovered. A roar that smashed windows and made the living want to crawl into tombs was the dragon's shriek. Its wing gave way. Its flames wavered. Then the chains appeared.

          ⚚ IMPRINTED: DRAGON'S BLOOD.
                 TOGETHER, SIDE BY SIDE,
                  TIMBERJACK, LORIEN.

But they bound it, arm by arm, inch by inch, limbs confined like a fallen star in a rust cage, wings pinned, neck twisted. No one knew what the beast was saying, but it thundered, thrashed, and begged. They slashed it to a massive wagon made of steel and stone, their faces burnt and their hands shaking.


          | It was a weary voyage, through
          | the woodland that roared of ancient
          | monsters, through the empty streets
          | where it had once lit ablaze, and
          | into the inside of an abandoned
          | structure where not even the light
          | feared to go.


Beneath the chapel was a staircase. Beneath the staircase, a sealed gate. And beyond that, a vault carved not for gold, but for monsters.
ㅤ

ㅤ
(Like sadness personified, fire poured from its lips, heating the air and igniting rooftops.) But the populace stood. In desperation, not glory, shields were raised. They could hear their allies' bones breaking beneath the clamor and feel the heat biting at their skin behind their metal walls.

WE ARE ONE, UNITED.
“Not as lords and peasants,
sinners and saints.”

There was no need for a crown. There was no sermon. Only the rattling of chains dragging through dust and the hiss of steel being drawn from scabbards.
ㅤ