It is said when the warriors first crossed the seas:

Surt is the name of him who stands on its border guarding the world.  He has a flaming sword in his hand, and at the end of the world he will come, vanquish the Gods, and burn up the whole world with fire. Thus it is said:

“Surt from the south fares

            With blazing flames;

            From the sword shines

            The sun of the war-God.

            Rocks dash together

And witches collapse,

            Men go the way to Hell

            And the heavens are cleft.

                        - Prophecy of the Vala



So the Skalds sing…

The great crystal gives structure to the universe. It brings balance between chaos and order. The gods each seek to control the Crystal of Power. Men were summoned to battle, and when no army persevered, the gods dispatched their demi-gods to offset the balance of power that existed. Behold, the DragonLords first appeared in their magnificent glory. The Dragon Wars had begun and the first age was brought to an end.


During the Dragon Wars, the sky shimmered with bolts of light as the DragonLords clashed. Thousands of men ventured forth from our realm in the longships of war, and all that remains are tattered standards on distant fields. It was a terrible time for all. Year after year, men fell like waves on the rocks. The cries of the DragonLords shook the very ground, and then there was silence, a terrible silence. It was though the whole world was held with baited breath.


No one knows for certain who held the Crystal aloft and was declared by victory to be the Ruler of the Universe. It is known that his intentions were not certain. Some will say that he was a madman bent on destruction. Others tell of a nobleman on a fateful quest to save the world of a danger that was awakened. The knowledge is lost to all but a few.


Then came the apocalypse. The earth split and mountains erupted in fury. The heart of our world was torn from its body and cast down. A wall of fire raced across the face of our world that seared the eyes from all who bore witness. Then darkness fell. For months, perhaps years, we wandered aimlessly. Not even the sounds of sorrow were to be heard. Nothing. When light first appeared to break the night sky, it was blood red. Now the full devastation could be seen. All that was, was lost!


We followed the light as though it was a cool drink to heal our parched lips. We made our way over jagged peaks to a valley. In the distance, we could see the gloom circling round the mountains. As we drew closer, we could sense a force emanating from the center of the valley. A crystal lay in a pool of turquoise blue. About the pool, was life. This had to be a shard from the Crystal of Power. We had been truly blessed by the gods. This was where we would rebuild. This would be our home. We would survive!  


Many years have passed and our people have prospered. We managed to survive the devastation, and have in our possession, a shard of the great crystal. Within this small crystalline form flows enough energy to place fruit in the trees and earth apples in the soil. It is our fate to gather the shards. Others will come, and we must prepare.


So the Skalds sing…

Midgaard is the land of the people. Above lies Asgaard the land of the gods. Yggdrasill, the tree of life grows here. Its roots bore through Midgaard to Niflheim, the land of the dead. Nidhogg the greatest of dragons rests here devouring the roots of the tree of life. Dragons are the progenies of Nidhogg. They feed off the dead in the fields of war. The tree of Yggdrasill brings life and the dragon takes it away. The Crystal of Power is the embodiment of that balance.

With the destruction of the crystal, the balance is lost. Perhaps the planes of existence have been breached? Perhaps the teleportals are tears in the planes of existence. The wizened ones use the teleportals to move from place to place as do the dragons. It is said that when the crystal is healed, the doors will be closed.


There must be shards in each Kingdom of the other known civilizations that survived the devastation. Is it possible to collect these shards and re-forge the Crystal of Power? Will we be able to muster enough strength by arms to accomplish the greatest of tasks? The oldest amongst us tell tales of an omnipotent force that has eluded our people: DragonLords, servants of the gods. The very name, when whispered in the halls of power, causes the blood to chill.

Was the apocalypse the final battle of Ragnarok - the battle between the gods? The prophecy says there will be peace after the final battle. Is the peace gained through war or some other means? If the apocalypse was not the final battle, what path lies before us? Maybe balance or peace is just a poet’s dream. Maybe it is our destiny to be in a constant state of war to grow. Perhaps the tree of Yggdrasill cannot grow without the dragon suckling on its roots?

Yet, a DragonLord has the power to make our armies and fleets invincible! Enemy hordes are gathering on all sides. It is our most desperate hour. We must venture to Vigrond – the Wastelands and embark on a fateful quest: The Quest for the DragonLords. We must save our people, conquer the other Kingdoms, gather the shards and re-forge the Crystal of Power. May the gods bless our Quest for the DragonLords.

                                                                                    -Lord Buldrik



The blood warrior has reached the summit. He pulls the last companion up to join him on the precipice. He catches his breath and looks around trying to spy a crack in a wall of stone, the final clue to overcome this errand for his King. The King had his scholars searching through scrolls for years looking for clues of its whereabouts. The text described a plateau in Vigrond that may be found in the highest mountain in all of Midgaard. The warrior raises a hand to his face to shield his eyes from the ice pellets that beat upon his brow. A smile slowly lights up his chiseled features that reveal the cost of this venture. There in the distance is the crack in the wall of stone. He beckons to his comrades and hurries across the plateau. The warrior just manages to squeeze into the fissure and emerges on the other side.

The Warrior’s face glows in the light and he squints to see. There before him stands a tree. It roots are blackened as though they have been scorched in its thirst for nourishment in the rock. The trunk slowly turns to silver as the tree reaches for the heavens. The crown is made of leaves of gold that flicker in the breeze. They have found it! This must be the tree of the life, the Yggdrasill tree. But wait, he is not alone. There at the base of the tree is a woman, resting in the gnarled roots. She is wearing a translucent gown that does little to protect her from the elements. Her hair is crimson colored that cascades around her shoulders down to her waist. Desire instantly seizes the warrior, but he chuckles and jests that he has been away from home far too long

As the warrior’s companions join him at his side, she rises to stand before them. For an instant the warrior swears to himself that her eyes flickered with malice. When she speaks, the hairs on the back of the warrior’s neck raise in fear. “Who dares to enter”? It was the deep resonating voice of a dragon. The heart of the warrior chills as he realizes that she is a dragon in human form. “It is I, Lord Persuverik, here on behalf of my liege, King Buldrik,” says the warrior refusing to show his inner fear. “I am here in respect to the gods and seek the power of the DragonLords to aid my people” declares the warrior. Lord Persuverik finds new strength as he recalls the anguish that his friends and family must face at home. The woman stands still, gazing at the warrior, her eyes firmly fixed on him. He does not cower as he can feel her searching his very soul.

He does not take his eyes off of her as he reaches into his satchel for the amulet, that many of his comrades died to obtain. He pulls it into the light and holds it out to her. It is a crystalline ball that is held by gold, shaped into the claws of a dragon. Inside the crystalline orb is a sliver that now glows silver. Funny, he never noticed that it was there before. He thought it was a defect in the Orb’s crystalline form.

Suddenly she reaches out and the warrior instinctively pulls the orb to his chest. His comrades quickly draw their blades in alarm. But she doesn’t grab the orb; she takes his wrist that is shielded in a gauntlet. The warrior grimaces in pain as waves of energy pulsate through his armor. His comrades are horrified as flames shoot out of the warrior’s eyes and they fall to their knees cowering. At that moment the woman’s body is torn asunder as wings and talons emerge. She has revealed her true form, a gold dragon. It’s iridescent eyes blaze as she roars to the gods. “That which was is reborn”. She folds her wings and lowers her torso to the ground in supplication. The warrior turns to his comrades and speaks, “I am here to serve”. The warrior’s eyes are now blackened sockets and his face is set as though made of ice as cold as the heart that now occupies his soul. His men are unable to move a muscle in awe of the presence that stands before them.

The figure that was once Lord Persuverik now turns and mounts his steed. She spreads her wings and a torrent of flame erupts from her jaws that scorch the rock face. The DragonLord once again looks to his comrades and in a voice that fills them with dread says “King Buldrik” and then his voice softens and says “is in for a surprise” and just for a few moments, the quest party recognizes a chuckle that always followed a jest from Lord Persuverik.

The air about the quest party sizzles with energy and the golden leaves on the Yggdrasill tree quiver. There is a loud crack and all the men and the DragonLord disappear. All that remains to bare witness to the transformation is the blackened wall and the rustling leaves of the silver tree.