The Great Bog Wyrm Arjax and the Mute
Over countless ages the sucking mud has cradled her. Deep in sleep she looses track of the arc of time and space, the woes of dragonkind and the wars of mortals.
Recently she stirs, called to by a distant soulflame. Though she fights it and roils deeper into the mud that shelters her the call is clear and she is pulled ever upward. Emerging from the timeless bog she understands and accepts that her destiny lies in blood and battle, not the shelter of the fen.
The one that called her is a curious creature,, directing its kin through posture and sheer force of will instead of words. The wordless one is imbued with the old and powerful magic granted to those who have made great sacrifice in service to dragonkind and she has been called to repay the debt with tooth and claw.
Recently she stirs, called to by a distant soulflame. Though she fights it and roils deeper into the mud that shelters her the call is clear and she is pulled ever upward. Emerging from the timeless bog she understands and accepts that her destiny lies in blood and battle, not the shelter of the fen.
The one that called her is a curious creature,, directing its kin through posture and sheer force of will instead of words. The wordless one is imbued with the old and powerful magic granted to those who have made great sacrifice in service to dragonkind and she has been called to repay the debt with tooth and claw.
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