As the sun’s light caressed the lip of the mountain range, the heart-stone was ignited in a Golden inferno. From his perch on one of the highest mountains in the realm Aravaeldravarywynn breathed his mighty flame upon the pillars of the Dragon’s Roost, the ancient home of all dragons, signifying the call to all Uruloki across Arda to unite. It was once foreseen that when the time of need was greatest the dragons would come and unite, and would press back the scourge. They would take Ea back from the darkness that surrounded the world, and their combined flame would be the beacon when all other lights had disappeared. They would be the warriors of Nature, the Air, the Light and the saviors of Life.
The Roost was one of the most ancient havens across the world. Its stone façade was carved from the obsidian from the side of a dormant volcano. Pillars of granite, marble and limestone marked the beautiful roost, and doors as large as the ancient dragons who carved the great halls marked its entrance. Only the great winged Uruloki could reach the Roost, and would find what appeared to be the extended claw of a dragon jutting into the air. It welcomed the visitors into its den, and inside in the main hall – nearly one thousand feet high – stood the great stone Obelisk, the Heart-Stone. A golden flame lit one of the many holes in its surface, and the power of the Sun burning in its heart. The power of fire, water, earth, wind, and all of the other elements comprising existence lay asleep, waiting, with the inscription “Breath your great flame, your power of the soul, and enter our home my brothers now, and those yet to come.”
And so he had. The first dragon to return to the Roost in over a decade, Aravael had cast the power of the sun upon the Obelisk, and it had taken up residence in the great hall. The call had then rung out like the symphony of a thousand orchestra’s, the sonata of their race’s very existence, and he could feel it pull on the strings of his heart, to all dragons in the land willing to listen and to heed its call. None knew of the Roost’s existence, but all of his race could find it – they would know where to come. The call left an impression on the heart, which was more than just a whisper. It was the roar of a thousand dragons of the past, whose voices had combined to form the Heart-Stone.
He merely waited, astounded by the spectacle within. The architecture within the great halls was amazing, and on a scale that no human could ever understand. Every room in the building was illuminated by globes of white light, spells long since cast and bound to their place in time and space, and the figures of the great dragons covered the walls. Reds, blacks and whites were easily distinguished by their features, and the elemental symbol carved upon the shield on their chest. Each of them bore the majesty expected of the ancients of their race, and even locked away in stone he could still feel their power. For a moment he closed his yellow eyes just to be in their presence, and then as they opened he smiled the only smile a dragon could, and proceeded to wait in that very room – the biggest room in the entire Roost – the hall of the elders. It was a fitting meeting place for the coming days…
It had always been Marcus' belief that aloneness and solitude had been a source of strength for him. Centuries had passed and the elder dragon had aged and matured. Never before had any event stricken Marcus with this sense of warmth and understanding. All his prior decisions were foolish and self-righteous. Oh, the white knight could claim all day that he had pursued the ladies of Life and Light for selfless reasons but anyone who knew Marcus would argue. He was only mortal after all, selfish and uncaring at times and yet in a split second caring and compassionate. Marcus' was a...complex being, never before had he been able to admit such truths to himself. Never before could he assert scrutiny onto himself; he had committed horrid sins and yet he had been forgiven. Who was he to shun this?
A cool shadow slowly began to wane away from Marcus, the silver lined Temple of Light had cast relief over his supple skin, and slowly his comfort began to fade away. Soon the sun would bake down on him and the heat of the morning would dry the cool dew that pressed against his nude skin. Soon Marcus would have to move body, mind and soul. Similar to the receding shadow Marcus would have to abandon the comfort of his own ambition and concern to face the turmoil ahead. The soft, white skin on his slender neck began to tighten as he turned his neck to the east. His deep brown eyes scoured the horizon in search of the growing darkness that he would soon confront. Marcus slowly began to shift his young body; he still yearned for the comfort of the cool brisk morning and the soft bed of grass he was gradually rising from.
Marcus nearly allowed himself to lie back down for only a few more minutes when a sudden pain shot through his body. His limbs began to tighten and contort, his spine began to lengthen and soon he found himself sitting bolt upright facing the southeast corners of Arda. The cool long stemmed grass and its intoxicating glory rapidly lost its hold on Marcus as the young elf stood quickly to face this sudden change. He had barely managed to stand on his slender feet when a similar racking pain shot through his tall body once again. Marcus began to convulse and shudder as yet another spasm shook his ribcage. An echo sounded to the south and to the east as Marcus could feel his heart begin to slow and ache. He could not understand... or could he? Acumen flooded Marcus as he began to comprehend the call, someone was addressing the clove. The Dragon's Call.
Marcus' perception widened and the sharp burning lifted from his sleepy eyes as he allowed himself to be cradled within his silver shell. Marcus' submitted himself to the serve pain and the rippling shifting of bones. He allowed in hollow splendor for his body to merge and change rapidly to its true form. Silver scales began to ripple and flex down his sinuous skin. Smooth brown hair fell in clumps down his back as silver horns began to protrude from his scalp. His muscles stretched and grew with increasing vigor and a white colored smoke filled the air. Lengthy strands of mist wrapped around Marcus as the transformation completed itself.
As the magical fog lifted a tall and proud silver statue stood in its place. Marcus in his full splendor and wondrous beauty stood hundreds of heads tall. His scales began to ripple and lengthen as he shook his bloated body with an ever increasing anxiousness. He would need to wait patiently for an uplifting air current lest he twist his wings joints in an attempt to gain speed. The iron grip surrounding his heart reminded Marcus of the dire need for take off, so he began to walk forward. Marcus' stretched his wings outward he could plainly here the soft creaking of his mithril-like scales rubbing against each other. The leathery skin that clung to his boney wing joints flapped; a thunder like sound pirouetted around Marcus as his long wings began to beat. The ground slowly began to descend and the great dragon found himself in the elements his kind had for centuries called home. Warm air struck his snout as he took flight for the Ered Annon Mountain Range in search of the Dragon's Call.
Hours had passed and a silver streak pressed against the evening sun, the great yellowed orb was beginning to make its journey to the west for another night's rest. The pain and yearning within Marcus began to subside as his massive silver eyes crossed over the horizon to see the Ered Annon Mountain range. It would not be long before he discovered the location and source of the Dragon's Call. Countless curves and solid rock faces covered the mountain range; Marcus could barely identify the long curved claw hidden within the rocky chasms. Marcus shifted his bloated, oversized body into a downward spiral and began to ride the gentle wafts to his salvation and destiny. It was not long before Marcus could plainly see through the mountain mist. Long curved columns of the worlds most beautiful rock rippled down the Dragon's Roost; obsidian supported to massive structure. Marcus was enthralled by the beauty before him as he began to tumble through countless air currents to the plateau below. His scales were kissed with a white frost as his powerful body landed with a hard thump on the granite stoop.
The sound of scrapping claws could be heard as the great silver dragon drug himself with a proud air into the Roost. Warm air bashed Marcus in the snout as he entered the home of homes. He pressed inward only to find the most beautiful arrangements of stone and mineral. Spirals and solid columns filled the Roost supporting its immense weight. Marcus was nearly overwhelmed by beauty when he craned his neck in excitement and anticipation as the realization that more dragons would be within this coup. His great silver jaw tugged against his saddened expression as Marcus realized the numbers of the greatest of dragon lords had dwindled. A lone Gold resided within this temple; nevertheless it was not Marcus' responsibility to grief...no... It was his choice to live. In guttural tones and sharp tongued dialects of the most ancient of dragons Marcus spoke to the gold.
Inah Jiahs' Nomaid, lo comin noat Marcus Verilus Emir parnb satnos o' Kieraline. Eh Hafun comi ansins Uruloki caisn!
Naturally he expected the elder gold to know that he had meant for him to understand that he was introducing himself and was asserting himself as a heeder of the call. The great silver dragon pressed his wings inward and tucked them neatly behind his back. Marcus looked over the dragon before him inspecting each detail and crevice of the creature. He was saddened to find that such a young Elder had sounded the Horns of Hearts; a pity for Marcus had his proof that no creature of old still lived. No it would be up to Marcus as the son of a Vala to take up the mantle and lead their race to triumph.